A Boy Named Vinny...

Last year, in the midst of Klamath National Forest I was invited to a Memorial Day cookout. I knew two of the forty some people there, and four of the eleven dogs (two of them were mine).

I met some good people there, and more during the summer months I camped at the Hungry Hay Placer Mining Claim. I learned a lot about gold mining, and even found a very small bit of gold that took 4 hrs per day for six months to collect. Not even worth the gas to go to the store and back once, but it was fun.

I learned more about nature and used it to write more music and to write children stories. I remembered, and according to my notes, promptly forgot, parts of my life that had been blanked from my mind. Some memory lost to emotional trauma, some to physical trauma, and perhaps more to vanish as time goes on.

But this is about Vinny...a boy at the cookout who had spent the week at the campsite with his parents to hold the space for the gathering. And it is about a little girl, a friend of his family, who was celebrating her birthday. Now Vinny was a first year violinist and with some coxing from his mother had brought his instrument out to the camp. It was safe in their very long fifth-wheeler, and he had been practicing how to play Happy Birthday.

Vinny's mother felt he had mastered it well enough so she asked him to play if for the assembled guests. Uh oh! Stage fright set in and Vinny could not be persuaded to play. I saw fear in his eyes and a tenseness in his neck and shoulders. I had met Vinny a few days before so wasn't a complete stranger to him. I went over to where he and his mother were discussing it. She trying to persuade him, and him trying to back away.

"Vinny," I said, "I didn't know you played Violin. I played Cello for a very long time, but now I write music for people to play. I compose for most of the instruments in the orchestra." And so we chatted for a bit about his year of Violin playing. What he had learned, and the notes he knew. I told him I would write him a piece of music. And I did. That evening back at my campsite after washing some blacksands down to the cleanest particles...I pulled out a sheet of music paper and wrote Vinny's Tune.

The following day was the last of the gathering. I drove the four miles over there and presented the music to Vinny with his father present. These days it is not wise to offer children anything without a parent at hand. They need the security of knowing the offering is okay with their parents. The parent needs to know they have control, and that the offering is not something wrong. There is too much wrongness in the world as it is.

As most young boys, Vinny didn't really appreciate the gift immediately, but after his mother came over to join us and started asking him what notes this one, that one, and those, were he perked up a bit. I left him a message that the tune was his. Whatever his mood he could play that tune and take it slow or fast to suit himself. It could be sad, it could be speedy, it could be slow, it could be happy. And so it is. It is Vinny's Tune. I also told him that I hoped he continued playing for many, many years.

Why would I talk about Vinny and his tune? Because I have three children, whom I have also written music for, and named the pieces for them. They have yet to hear them, and may never hear them, as I don't know where any of them live. There is much I don't know, bits I do, and much I fear to know. Is it emotional? Yes. Is it physical? Yes. Will I live long enough to overcome either or both? Perhaps not.

This year I expect much of my music will be published and archived in other places than just on my computers. Someday perhaps my children will find my works, including the simple Vinny-like tunes bearing their names. They don't have to like them, but they will know that often I think about them and wish that the blanks were filled.

I am thinking that after I have posted Vinny's Tune for a short while I may post the pieces for my children. I may do that. I may forget because much of the present gets forgotten, but by writing here I may get around to it yet.

I seem to recall wanting a round-tuit.

On The Road...

March 14th -- Unlike most blogs that make multiple entries per day, or one per day, my blog is less precisely timed. You might say that it is calendorically challenged. (I could have used "calendric" but "calendorically" seems to fit better.) This particular entry may be updated over the next several days or weeks as I progress across country from California where I can nearly touch Oregon, to Memphis, Tennessee which Google Maps tells me is a "1 day, 17 hr." drive. I hope to have the cameras ready to go during the trip, several of my Recorders, music scoring paper, and the laptop. I just may stop at any moment whether there is a railroad crossing or not.

--- There are a number of photographic projects I've deferred working on until I returned to a more populous area. I hope to finish planning them out so that when I've completed moving into my Memphis house I can get started on them again. Of course the music writing and practising, and the child lit. is like a faucet with no turn off valve. I've spent a year now in camping mode, more secluded then ever before, perhaps even lonelier than ever. I'm not sure if that stimulates or retards my music and writing. I guess time will ... In the mean time, you may want to bookmark this blog and watch it for periodic updates during the travel.


March 24h -- Well that didn't work too well. My long slow drive across country turned into a race in front of snow storms and heavy rains. I am now in my home in Memphis and just this evening got the internet up and running with the new satellite dish on the roof.  The trip itself was a challenge. I got run off the road in New Mexico by a big dark green semi. If you see any, look for tan paint on the driver's bumper and let me know. I ended up in the median bouncing across rocks with my overloaded truck. Blew two tires and had to replace all four. I had no other damage and the rest of the trip was uneventful other than stormy weather.

--- Upon arrival I moved right in and began some of the repairs that still needed to be done. Papers are signed and the house is mine now (as long as I make the payments). I've meet some of my neighbors and shared some hardcore yard work with Barry across the street. He suffered gout and I had swollen joints from unloading. But we got the edging all done for both yards, and helped their landlady (also mine) move stuff. Benefits us all, so we did well.

--- Also had 750 emails to handle and only half were spam that the filters missed. I have several photography projects pending for which I had advertised via Craigslist. I had a slew of messages regarding them so those projects may be on the way soon. The studio space is not quite what I expected but I hope to make use of it so I don't have to rent a studio. It will work well for the recording of my music I plan, and the video recordings for YouTube.

--- My employee in the Phillipines has continued working while I was on the road so other projects are moving forward as well. All in all I guess the month turned out better than it started.

--- Just as I was preparing to move, and finishing helping my friends move a friend of theirs, a dear friend proposed. I am sorry to say that I have had to turn down the offer simple. As some of the stress evaporates from the move process, and the projects get under control again, perhaps I will be able to consider her offer with the illumination that considers the welfare of both of us and not just my own selfish reasons. I have, for ten years, been a single person, but I truly enjoyed being part of a family. Life will wait on me and we shall see what happens.

Final -- Since this did not turn into a daily journal of my 2500 mile trip this is the last entry for this blog title. My dogs are snoozing on the floor in comfort. They have had all week to stretch out in any corner, on all the furniture, and even convinced me to put a step-up to the very tall bed for them to get up there to sleep as well. They have checked out the woods, the yard, the neighbors' yards and have decided that this is home. At least, as long as the food dish and water dish are filled and they can give me directions to make their life pleasant, then they are happy with where we are at. For those of you whom have read this, you will see that it is different from my standard blog posts, but it was a major change in an old life that is springing forward with a new spark. If you enjoyed this I hope you will still read my other blog entries. If you didn't like this one, then you most certainly need to read the others because they are different.

(Book) -- It Is A Colorful Day...

(Sneak preview...seeking publisher...excerpt...send links to friends...by Daniel J Hay.)

It is a colorful day today. The sky is super blue and the sun is blazing yellow. A few puffy white clouds are floating along. I like those colors.

The grass is greener than a frog. The tree bark is browner than a worm. The house is painted pink. And I like those colors too.

I wonder what color I should make my clothes today? Should they match? Should they clash? Stripes, or dots, or perhaps ziggity-zaggity every which way.

If I had a rainbow I could wear it on my shirt.

If I had a cloud I could paste it on my shoe.

Or maybe I could mow the yard and cover myself with grass.

Okay now, I'm looking in my closet. I think I can find just what I want to wear.

Ah, a shirt that is light brown with short sleeves. On the back it has a big blue ball with white and green. Oh its the world. The entire planet printed on my shirt. On the front a big red heart.

And shorts, hmmm, blue, or green, or black, or brown, or... there they are... Stripped shorts in red, white and blue with gold and silver stars all over. Yes, those will be cool.

Socks will be fun to choose. I think I'll wear a neon-green sock on my left foot. It even has an orange stripe around the top. For my right foot I shall wear a black sock with lots of white dots.

Then I will put on a red sneaker for my left foot and tie it with yellow shoe string. On my right foot a green sneaker with a purple shoe string.

Look at me. I am covered with colors. All I need now is a funny looking hat.

Can you fine one for me to wear?

(Ends with a picture of many hats jumbled in a closet.)

Feeding Mind and Body...

In today's short blog I would like to introduce you to www.feedingmindandbody.com and their efforts to spread books to families. They are associated with author David Baldacci's literacy foundation - www.WishYouWellFoundation.org.

Why am I telling you about those organizations? Because I believe one of the strongest pillars in personal growth, in national development, and solutions to the world's problems begins with educated minds. Educated means minds that are aware, that seek, that enjoy, that learn, and that share. This comes from imaginations that are stretched and exposed to new ideas, that explore the history and the future, and from developing innate intelligence. This comes from reading.

And so, I hope you will assist by donating as you see fit. Give books and you give new ideas. Support reading and you expand minds.

My own effort to donate will be contributing one of my children's stories for Feeding Body and Mind to distribute in any manner and any quantity that grant or donation support will allow. My contribution is the entire title and rights. Could your contribution be the funds for them to produce and distribute to those eager minds they serve?

If you are an artist able to illustrate this title with one or more contributed illustrations it will speed the donation along. If you would like to help a family read instead of starring at a flickering screen then email me at danielhay@gmail.com to see a story draft for which you can create art.

(Book) -- Enchanted Fire...

(Sneak preview...seeking publisher...excerpt...send links to friends...by Daniel J Hay.)

The Story of the Enchanted Fire...or...The Boy With a Measuring String...

Once upon a time... Oh bother! Its another one of those stories. You know the type. Those stories that just could not be real. Nothing in life could happen the way those stories say they do. Nope. Not at all.

Nevertheless, we will go on with the story. However, just so you know... this story is real. Don't shake your head in doubt. Really, it is a real story. Truthfully it is a true story. Honestly. Honest.

You don't believe me? Phooey on you. Just go ask your librarian. Do it tomorrow or the next day, okay? (Uh, don't mention my name though.)

Anyway, once upon a time...ah let's just skip to the action...

“Grrrr...” (See, action already.) “Pokay, mokey, slokay, hokey,” growls the old man in a tall pointed hat. “Scrats, bats, colo, bolo,” he continues, “within this room you shall stay for eternity. Fire, spire, flame, smame, my treasures here you will guard.”

(Note: never rhyme the last words of spells or they explode on you.)

If we were actually with the spell caster we would see a sudden explosion of flame as a fireball bursts throughout the dark room. You would have seen his grizzled face sizzling in the heat as flame burst into existence.

“Aiieiee...” screeched the man as he stumbled backwards. He turned and ran up the tunnel he had laboriously carved into the mountain. When at last he reached cool night air any hidden viewer would have seen... well... a mess.

The wizard, for that is what he was, now wore a charred black hat. His face was scorching red. His beard and eyebrows were turned to ash and fell off even as he shook ash from his badly burned robes.

“Well, that is that,” he grumbled to himself. “My treasures are safe. Nobody can survive that guardian flame,” he laughed as he staggered away.

You know, of course, that many years went by. As the wizard traveled from place to place he would tell of his wonderful treasures and how he had protected them. He bragged about his eternal flame guardian. He said none could stand... (the rest is hidden in the book...)

(Book) -- Big Sister's Crocagator Letter

(Sneak preview...seeking publisher...excerpt...send links to friends...by Daniel J Hay.)

Dear friends,

Daddy took us fishing. It was not far to go. Down the big wide road we went, brother, sister, and me. We bounced upon our seats and tried to guess where we would turn.

The road curved south. The sign pointed to the left. Daddy went the other way and somehow got it right. There it was, the river and fishing ponds. Here a camp grew where the river made a bend. It flowed one way and then bent the other way. Daddy said the big bend was like our elbows. We should just hope it doesn't bend right back on us. If it did we would have to bend down to walk straight.

We looked at each others, brother and sisters. We giggled with hands over our mouths. If daddy heard us he'd tell another silly story. And then soon we would be laughing so hard our tummies would hurt.

Then mommy would look at daddy in that special way and say, "Daddy!" And we could all take a breath and stop laughing. Whew! I am glad. Laughing too much is silly.

We got to our camping spot. We got out of the car. Mommy and daddy said we could play on the merry-go-round next to our camping spot. Wheeee! 'Round and 'round we went. Ohh... dizzy we got.

When all of our camping gear was set-up we headed to the fishing ponds. On the way we stopped on a long wooden dock. It went way out into the lake. We watched crocagators swimming. There were fifty, or one hundred, or maybe one thousand. Long tails swished the water. Big eyes watched us. Gigantic mouths with a billion long teeth snapped together.

Both mommy and daddy said the same thing, "Stay away from them!" Wow. That's a rule when both say the same thing. And I asked why the sign said, "DO NOT FEED CROCAGATORS, if all those other people were feeding them"

Daddy said that many people ignore signs even when it is for their own safety. He pointed to the dock and said, "See those people? They are standing just six feet above the water. That is about from my head to my toes. They think they are safe. But they aren't. And they are teasing the crocagators with food."

He told us that the crocagators were six feet long. Some were ten feet long. Others were even longer. Somebody could reach out to drop food and any of those crocagators could jump up and SNAP! no hand, or no arm. Or worse, no little child.

Then we walked on to the fishing area. We got to carry our own fishing poles. Little sister even carried a small fish net but she wanted to catch butterflies. She called them flutterbies because daddy told her that is what they are named. Brother used to call them that. I used to call them that too. Daddy grinned at us, so we didn't say anything.

Mommy had a picnic basket. Daddy had an ice chest and the fishing gear box. We were all ready. I like catching fish. I always catch more ..... (the rest is hidden in the book...)