96: When Do You, Release The Kraken?

A little over Thirty years ago, I was fortunate enough to attend a Film and Screenwriting Course at the Aspen Writers Conference. The course was taught by Ira Wood, a Fiction Novelist who went to Hollywood to write a Screenplay for his best selling novel The Kitchen Man. He used two books by Syd Field, Screenplay, and The Screenwriter’s Workbook, as a course syllabus. I was immediately enamored to the course by the beginning quote. “Writing is a personal responsibility -- either you do it, or you don’t.” I didn’t know at the time just how prophetic that quote would become in my writing life. You see I chose the latter, not to write for many years. All the essentials were there for my writing success. I chose not to write. I wanted to write. I had the ability to attend the best writing classes the motivation to do so and to participate in the process. However, like many people have told me in my life, Al you are your own worst enemy. I let life get in my writing way. Oh yeah I dabbled with poems here, a fiction story there, I said things like, “Writing is just a hobby, it’s not what I do for my living!” No wonder writing has just been my hobby and has never become what I do for a living. I don’t need to have an Avalanche roll over me, to get the point. I guess unless you structure you life around your writing and not the opposite it will always be a hobby and not a living. Now that I have retired it is time to move forward with years of writing projects. Working on several long range projects. My short stories about my mentor will be woven into a novel about my early writing years and later years in Colorado and finish in Cortina, Italy. The location of the 2026 Winter Olympics, Milano Cortina.

Both Ira Wood and Syd Field have said, “A screenplay is s story told with pictures.” I have just decided to go back to the Film and Screenwriting notebooks pull out my screenplay about The sale of Arapahoe Basin to the Ralston Purina Corporation in 1978 and polish the opening act that I have already written and to finish the project. (I am not foolish enough to think it a simple task! You must Conquer it or it will forever Conquer you.)

 So Picture this, I feel like Poseidon in the new re-make movie Clash of the Titans and I’m the God of my own destiny and I’m getting ready to say, “Release the Kraken.” 

Albert Bianchine

2 cents overdrawn

                           (The Further Trials Of The Worlds Greatest Ski Bum)

Mick Jagger on a full screen
MTV Video screaming
"I'm just waiting on a lady
I'm just waiting on a friend."

Golden Peak restaurant bar
warming my hands on a
steaming ceramic coffee filled mug.
Arriving one day later than,
the Vail Mountain employee draw.

Being 2 cents overdrawn and scribbling
like Gollum caressing his precious, precious,
my powder snow poetry.

Leaving the restaurant like that,
I mean blue words
on a white paper napkin
thinking them worth much
more than 2 missing pennies.

Pulling on down gloves
trudging into the wilderness,
like Strider the Ranger.

Never really fitting in
like a brown wood log cabin
mud caulked chinked
with a grey stone chimney
sizzling snowshoe rabbit.
Smoke billowing wafting
through silent Aspens.

It hangs drifting like
cotton ball clouds
sparkling crystals
bending emerald
boughs of pines.

A skinny ski trail snaking around
deep powder tree wells
to a stoked glowing fireplace
in the White River National Forest
warding off dusk.
Today's Song
"Please Come to Boston," Joan Baez

God Is The Boss, Francis

 

God Is The Boss, Francis

 

I was visited by an old friend the other day walking along the Rio Grande Trail through downtown Aspen. I had just passed the Aspen Art Museum on my way to the John Denver River Sanctuary, passing a stainless steel 30ft artist’s rendering of the “Last Tree.” The Rio Grande Trail is a beautiful scenic trail that skirts along the river and opens upon a small meadow by the river. There are large boulders with many John Denver song lyrics carved into them. It was there among the yellowing aspens that I sensed it, that very faint trace of the dampness of winter in the air. My good childhood friend came to me. I looked up and saw him hiding in the scrub oak turning red along the base of Red Mountain and the multi million dollar mansions that exist there. The Aspens’ turning gold along Smuggler Mountain, one of the last working silver mine, that made Aspen the Silver City.  How I used to wait on his arrival with great anticipation in Albany, New York. The fall season is different in the East because of all the hardwoods to be found.  In the Adirondacks, the Berkshires, the Green Mountains, and White Mountains, you will find an array of reds, yellows and golds. It signaled to me the coming of winter and my sport of choice, skiing. I imagined all of the hats that I have worn over the years to pursue my great love of the sport. How it has been my refuge through my trials and tribulations and how whenever life of the world got to me, I would simply choose another mountain to learn and ski.

It had begun simply for me in the early days. My grandfather filled my head with dreams of the Adirondacks and the beauty of them. I quickly made friends with the other skiers in my class. One of those friends was my good friend, Frank Thompson who has become “Captain Zooms” in my stories. I, a shy retiring bookworm, who found great solace in learned knowledge versus outdoor activity, was immediately attracted to him. He was already a ski technician and worked with skis and understood ski hardware. He turned me on to my first pair of jet foamed form fitting ski boots, called Strohlz, and my Rossignol Strato 105’s, they were 215 cm’s long. “My steel beams to hell,” I called them. My boots were purchased for me by my high school girlfriend Sandy. Frank’s room was a classic of ski posters and equipment leaned up in every available corner. One particular poster of a buxom woman in a tight fitting yellow Bogner ski outfit, unzipped to her navel exposing her abundantly large breasts, she was exploding through this incredibly awesome mogul field, and the caption read, “Keep those tips up.” It was a K2 ski poster. I thought he was the coolest kid in school. He was a real rebel where I was the nerd.  Other  posters, like the infamous Solomon Ski Binding Poster that said, “Solomon, Deliver Us From Premature Release.” These have all become great collector items. Frank became my ski mentor, and mountain teacher. Every available evening, weekend or cut day from school was spent chasing snow flakes and sunsets, until at a very young age, I took a year off from college, to pursue my dream of being a true ski bum, (I wish to write, Every Ski Bum’s Bible, a commentary of all the things you need to give up in life to pursue that dream.)

The culmination of that dream was skiing at Arapahoe Basin, which at the time was the highest lift operated mountain in North America. I had arrived. The steep, the deep, anti everything that corporate society stood for. No material hang ups or needs with a true disdain for the Corporate Whores who would sell their soul for the almighty dollars. I considered myself the self appointed King of the Mountains. I knew every inch and every skiable trail in America. Many places in America that I had skied were not accessible by lifts and had to be climbed. I was young, “no problem.” I conquered and truly loved every one of them.

Every year my friend that first trace of the wet dampness of winter would arrive and I would gear up for winter. In the early years we would leave Albany on Sunday to ski the mountains of Vermont, a state that I came to love dearly.

Francis’s mom, Bea Thompson, was a devout Christian and practicing Catholic. Her greatest concern was for our almighty souls and redemption from sins, she was sure that we were committing. Her concern included where we would attend church on Sunday if we were skiing. We were quick to allay her fears by informing Bea, that we attended Mass on the Chapel on the Mountains, every Sunday. We  justified our lie by rationalizing that God invented Mountains and they were places of awe and inspiration since the days of Moses and we were somewhat of Biblical Characters ourselves with long hair and beards. Modern day Prophets if you will, we attended the almighty church of the high mountains. Our justification was dashed one particular Sunday Morning when Frank and I dressed in our White Stag ski sweaters tight fitting ski pants with our brightly colored ski jackets were confronted by Bea Thompson in her large blue terry cloth robe on her snow covered concrete steps in suburban Colonie, New York as were fastening our skis and poles to the roof rack of Frank’s Tan Dodge Dart. (Algernon, named after the Book Flowers for Algernon, yes it had push buttons on the dash to shift instead of a typical stick or automatic shift lever.) We had to face down the wrath of Bea who had found out about our lie, that ski areas did not have chapels on them. Like Moses, delivering her edict to the infidels who were worshipping the false gods of gold they had wrought, she stood with her outstretched blue terry cloth arm raised in accusatory fashion delivering a divine message straight from the mouth of our Lord himself.  The cold chilly air crackles and rings in my ears to this day as she yelled, “God is the Boss, Francis!”

I have been more fortunate than most and have had the ability to build a tremendously successful Plumbing, Heating, and Electrical Service Business in perhaps the richest Ski Town in the world, where the occupants ask questions like, “Is it the biggest, is it the best?” How wonderful that I who took a year off from my pursuit of an Industrial Engineering Degree to go skiing in 1973, could be designing and installing mechanical systems in multi-million dollar commercial and residential building in Aspen, Colorado, owned now by exclusive Billionaire Industrialists.

During my early tenure as a property manager, before opening my business, my job was to decorate 8 of the most prestigious Commercial Buildings in the downtown core of Aspen with Christmas lights and decorations. My then Supervisor, (now turned Wife) and I decided to change the drab white lights on all the trees and buildings to brightly colored Salsa Lights, The red, blue, green, orange, amber lights, tightly woven from all the trees in front of the buildings, and hung along all the rooftops, literally set the up tight establishment of the Aspen Town fathers on their ears. I was summarily crowned the “The King of Lights,” in Aspen Colorado in 1994, in a ceremony presided over by our entire Property Management Team, which has since become the most prestigious Property Management and Real Estate Company in Aspen and the Entire Roaring Fork Valley. I was presented with a tin foil crown and in a mock ceremony became the King of Lights of Aspen, Colorado, by my boss and future wife.

So as I stand among the Words of “Annie’s Song,” and “Rocky Mountain High,” and listen to the gentle waters of the Roaring Fork River cascading out of the pristine mountains of Independence Pass. I can't help but hear the refrain of Frank's Mom, "God is the Boss, Francis."
Today's Song
Cat Stevens, "Where do the Children Play"

Relativity of Time

 

The phrase that time is relative has never escaped me. I always knew that as a young man that time was the here and now. The book for my generation that was the rage was "Be Here Now," by Ram Dass. It reverberated with the message of the times. You know all the Sha-la-la-la live for todayer's. I was one of them. You guessed it a hippie. Of course I had long hair and a beard. My little sister was kind enough to put my hair into tight braids, so that when I took them out it made my hair frizz out and it looked good with my big gold ring in my ear. Yep! That was me the cool cat, or at least I thought I was in my mind. After all, I watched Doby Gillis and thought Maynard G. Grebbs was cool. I may have even bought a set of bongo's. However I learned early in my life that I have no rhythm and I can't carry a tune. Except for my brief try at chorus in eighth grade. (My friend Michael Metti convinced me to try out. I actually made chorus, but my sisters laughed at me and I decided to quit. Just like my engagement to Mary Corona, when I was five years old. I bought her a ring, gave it to her because she was the absolute love of my life. Again my sister's made fun of me, so I remember asking her for the ring back. God Rest her soul as she has passed away.) The Hippie movement was right on time for my friends and I. The signs were all there and it was exciting. Looking back on the times I am still amazed and surprised about how unaware our parents and the police were concerning the times and the drug scene. I remember a hippie jeweler in town who had a small three bedroom house and he painted it the color of the rainbow, and put large bubble windows in place of the traditional ones. When you walked into the store he had completely covered the inside walls with broken pieces of mirrors in every room and had large display cases with all his wares. He burned incense and had black lights everywhere with brightly colored T-shirts for sale. Even I thought it was slightly bizarre for 1968. However, neither the police, nor our parents ever voiced any concern about the house, even though it was a major source of marijuana and hashish. Good times, where you could charge your purchases on your credit card and be styling. I suppose that it was a real sign of the times. Every one I am sure has many stories like that. People just didn't catch on or if they did they really did not care.


    Fortunately for me, I was the first year of the draft lottery for the Vietnam war. They were taking everyone with numbers 210 and lower. My number was 242. Free bird! I am sorry for all the young men who went to Vietnam, many did not come back or they did in body but not mind and spirit. It was my good fortune to go skiing and not to war. I remember thinking what a very lucky group of men my friends and I were. We all worked in our family business's or in local jobs and were free to take long ski vacations, In my case, and Captain Zooms, Touloose, and Creme-Kings we all were able to go and live in ski town's like Aspen, Vail, in Colorado, Brighton in Utah, Jackson Hole in Wyoming. It started out by skiing weekends, then week days, until we realized we could ski every day if we became bona-fide ski bum's. Every mother's night mare, a son or daughter with out a real career, drifting through life like the snows of winter. I remember my first winter at Arapahoe Basin, as beautiful as it was every one was talking about Grand Targhee, in Wyoming that was the first and last mountain to get snow. It was addicting, the freedom I mean. Get up every day and turn your boards until you were exhausted. Work where ever and when ever you could. It was a freedom that captured my heart and soul and I guess that is why I have always wanted to write about it. To explain why we all ran way, we were in a way a lost generation. I believe that I found myself in the running away. Subsequently each and every one of us did. I really want to follow the lives of the people I knew at Arapahoe Basin, and where they went and what they did with their lives after leaving.


   The mountain changed us all and touched us all in it's own way and we all found our individual truths that we were searching for. All in a winter's tale. We all moved on but we shared a special time in a special place with a group full of searchers. Sometimes I think I almost know what it is I want to say. These day's it is more pressing and wanting to come more as my time has been put into perspective. I always thought I had all the time in the world to write what I needed to write. Having been diagnosed with Cancer, (a non lethal form of skin cancer, that will require another unpleasant surgery, and six weeks of radiation therapy,) has put my time into perspective. Write, hell yeah, as often and as long as I am able. I suppose that when I look back at my life in my old age to come and Thank God! for the wake up call and the time that I was able to spend writing in my future life, I will say it was my singular greatest turning point and inspiration to pursue the dream I have always held so close to my heart. Time is relative! I'm sure that even Prince would love to have a little more time. No one ever thinks they are going to run out of it. Guess what? I have had my moment with time the past few weeks. My future is a little less certain. Time a little more relevant than it ever has been in my life. The future is mine to create..

   Thank you for your love and support Katarina.


   I would often listen to this first song when I was working out at the Athletic Club in Colonie and taking writing classes at Union College. It would help me to focus on my dreams of writing and forget the reality of living in a city. I remember how very unhappy I was in the city. I just couldn't get my act together there.

   The second song I would listen to with the artist Evelyn Wilson, we were kindred spirits in the city longing for new horizon's and distant frontiers. She liked Prince, I was not so enthusiastic. I hope she found her horizons. I found mine and a beautiful woman to share them with.

Today's Songs

"Never Surrender," Corey Heart

"Purple Rain," Prince

My little nurse and angel who has helped through my ordeal and I am sure will continue to lift my spirits through the coming battles! I can't forget her good friend "Boney".

Twenty Years A Horse Virgin

   Where do I begin? I had always liked horses. I grew up in New York State near Saratoga and always made the summer sojourn to the track in August. I learned from Touloose's Dad that a crisp one hundred dollar bill would get you a table in the Clubhouse when you where told there weren't any. Another Benjamin Franklin slipped to the Bartender would insure you would always be recognized and a wet gin and tonic would promptly appear. A trip to the Paddock to eyeball my choice for the next race and a sprint to the windows to place my bet. This was my exposure to the Ponies as we called them.

   Flash forward a half of a lifetime to Lake Tahoe, California on February 14, 1996 the afternoon of my wedding day. An elevated wooden boardwalk with a string of pleasure horses alongside the boardwalk, and my beautiful Bride smiling and saying, "Surprise, I booked a toy trot for us, and we get to ride across the Truckee River." I remember looking down at the horses backs and mumbling something like, " I didn't realize that they were this big." Second mistake, the first was acting like a landlocked Eastern man and not wanting to take my socks and shoes off at the beach in Encinitas. After all my wife was Western, so western they filmed all the western horse movies next to where she grew up. All the movies I grew up watching and wished I was out West were at her finger tips, places like Vasquez Rocks, and the Western Town of Calico. The ride was a real experience and we rode our horses almost belly deep in water across the Truckee River. Years later, after gaining much horse experience I would marvel at the audacity of the outfitters to take a pack string of inexperienced riders across a major river.

   It was the very beginning of my horse career. I would later work with hundreds if not thousands of horses through our Massage School and gain invaluable knowledge and have incredible adventures. I learned very important lessons.

    Lesson # 1. Never tie a horse or horses to a movable object. I tied three horses that I was grooming for the school to an empty round bale feeder. Everything thing was O.K. until I tried spraying them with fly spray. When one of the horses spooked, I suddenly had a whirling dervish of horses spinning across the field like a top. Lucky for me, Kathy and the students showed up on cue to help rescue me from this predicament.

   Lesson # 2. Never bring more than one Stallion into a enclosed pen with lead ropes. I accompanied three young stallions into a small pen. Once the gate closed behind them they decided to play lets all stand on our hind legs and paw at each other and the air while this dumb cowboy stands in the middle with no where to go.

   Lesson # 3. If you are going to work with show animals you need to ask if they have any special cue movements they respond to. While a group of students were massaging several brood mares in a row of stalls. I was in the pasture in front of the stalls with Bo, The Buckskin Stallion. He was being a pest and stalking the mares. I immediately rushed toward him and began shooing him away from the mares. Unbeknownst to this cowboy, I was giving him the cue to rear up and to strike at the sky. Not a pretty picture of safety.

   I could fill the pages here with inexperienced horse virgin stories. I choose to remember all the wonderful miracles of the horses lives we touched and helped through the years. I am working on a collection of horse stories about our years on our ranch and work with Horse Rescue and Teaching Equine Massage. They are stories of joy, triumph, tragedy, and sorrow. I wouldn't have traded one moment on the ski slopes for a second of wonderment of my time with horses.

Today's Song
"Wild Horses," Gram Parsons and The Flying Burrito Brothers
 

Ski Colorado!

   So I am biased, I do believe that the order of ski adventure is rated, Utah, Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, and New Mexico. Many people would dispute my opinion but after thousands of hours and runs on the mountains of America I feel qualified to make that statement. I love them all each and every one, each and every state, each and every mountain, slopes and runs not to mention the quality of the high mountain snow. They all vary in size shape and technical difficulty. Unfortunately in Ski Area Management the designation of the difficulty of the runs vary tremendously. A Blue Run in Utah might be considered a Double Black Diamond in Colorado. They have the need to sell the experience to the consumer. I have learned to live with it. It is O.K. each and every mountain has their unique experience as well as the quality of snow. Some are groomed to perfection, the brush is removed on the sides of the trails and in places like Deer Valley in Utah and Beaver Creek in Colorado the tracks of the snow cats are sidestepped by the Ski Patrol so that the area is impeccable. No ridges left in the trails. It is all good. You learn to glean and appreciate each and every area for it's unique claim to fame.

   It brings me back to my reason for wanting you to Ski Colorado. This evening I was browsing through Facebook and I saw a post from someone who worked at the chain stores called The Ski Market. They were stores I grew up with in the East. The majority of my friends were managers or employees. They were a discount store for quality ski apparel and equipment. If you were a serious Ski Bum, you bought your gear there. Any way, they were posting to other former employees about a Ski Reunion in Aspen, Colorado, during the 2016 U.S. Ski and Snowboard Hall of Fame Induction & Skiing History Week, April 5-10. Aspen is a good mountain and it would be great to see the former managers and ski friends from this great chain and to maybe make future contacts to research the History of Arapahoe Basin. It has become a former hobby turned serious pursuit for my upcoming retirement years. I personally haven't skied in over twenty years. Retiring my sticks for saddles and spurs in my married life. Colorado has been getting very good snow and if you have never turned a ski downhill here you need to.

   The coming full moon has reminded me of my youth and climbing in the back country on Loveland Pass to Ski the abandoned mine dumps by the light of the full moon. Wow! is all I can say and remember about it. A kid from the East climbing mountain sides and skiing the wilderness by the light of the moon. Talk about gut wrenching and heart pounding stuff, these days a brisk walk with our toy poodle is my heart pounding endeavor. Don't feel sorry for me, I had my turns when I was young and could climb and ski these places. I have no regrets. I look forward to the work. In my future, I have researching and completing my Historical Novel. My motto is Retyre 2018. Then full pursuit of my writing dreams. All good things come to those who plan and prepare.  Hope you enjoy the pics of A-Basin and of skiing on Monarch Pass. Love the Verticals. While I miss the thrill of skiing, I find just as much joy from a well written piece. I have a lot to write about and a long future, I pray, in which to pursue it.
A Song for Colorado
"Colorado," Flying Burrito Brothers

My buddy Piper with her good friends.

Galena Street Aspen

 The Temperatures have soared into the 100's. Monday working on installing an Evaporative Cooler on a roof, I believe it was the hottest day I have ever worked in. I love the heat. I have always enjoyed starting a wilderness trek early in the morning and climbing and hiking all day long. The dog days of summer in Colorado last sometimes for almost 16 hours. It makes for having wonderful outdoor experiences. It is a juxtaposition of the winter. The sun is at a different angle and you often experience the flat light of winter and a dull dreary day. I love them both. I suppose it is indicative of my love for Colorado. It truly is a beautiful state.

   Why a picture of Aspen in the winter, during hot warm Colorado sun shiny days. I think because it was so bright on Monday working on a roof. That I was reminded of flat light. If you have ever experienced flat light on white snow you would know what I am talking about. You loose depth perception and large dips and even small cliffs blend into the snow and it is a danger that you would never expect to encounter in the mountains. Then add to the fact that when you are skiing you are generally traveling at a fair clip on skis and that it would be easy to ski off of a trail that is extremely steep into something steeper. I guess it is just a play on light that is unique in the mountains. The light on Monday was bright, hot and relentless. Hot long and incredibly beautiful all the colors of the foothills just popped out at you and you could see forever. I do miss the the Evergreens and the Mountains compared to the flatness of the foothills. It was the first day that I believe that I thought of the cold winter days of Aspen since leaving. Kind of like missing and old friend or confidant, something triggers a feeling or a thought and they are etched into your memory and for that brief moment they float through your mind. Perhaps it was that I was just delirious and suffering from sunstroke or maybe the light was playing tricks on my mind. I believe for the moment I was standing on Galena Street staring up at Ajax (Aspen Mountain) in a cool Winter Breeze. Stay cool out there and hydrate in the heat.

My Other Love
The Moody Blues: The Tide Rushes In

Aspen Colorado City Limits ( The Cross Roads Blues)

  If you use all available outward means, as well as  your natural abilities, to overcome every obstacle in your path, you will develop the powers that God gave you- unlimited powers that flow from your innermost forces of your being. You possess the power of thought and the power of will, utilize to the uttermost these divine gifts.

Sri Sri Paramahansa Yogananda

    I was a young man with many unhealthy obsessions, extreme skiing was one of them, not to mention several others. While it has made for living an extremely hard life, (Sometimes) it is the grist for extremely good literature.

   Our home in Battlement Mesa is finally set to close on Friday the 20th. It has been a long and difficult sale. Stressful to say the least on all of us, our plans for Oregon as you have seen have been temporarily put on hold. I have way too much inventory to sell and we just could not down size so quickly. Seven years of being relieved from our ball and chain of a bad investment in real estate  in Colorado since the economical debacle a few years ago, especially living in Gas Land. Home of gas drilling in Western Colorado. We lived in the boom or bust region and it went bust. Leaving our local economy in the Pits, no pun intended, well maybe a little one. We are leaving the safest neighborhood in America. It would have been a wonderful place to raise children, the Gas Company donated a new fire house, larger than in most cities of New York. They donated a new health clinic and new middle school. All of this was done for the express purpose of drilling ten gas wells within the town limits. There is currently a controversy over directional drilling. It is drilling a multi-well head in different directions from the same head. I do not have anything against progress, but Drilling and Fracing under suburban homes seems to me to be a recipe for disaster. When it comes to the rape of the land and the safety of the surface dwellers for the sake of gas in the ground, I draw the line on reason.

   It was premature of us to think that we could liquidate a large house, sell my inventory from my plumbing and heating business and move across country with a geriatric golden retriever all in one fell swoop, without the use of a semi and incurring large expenses. The move to Grand Junction, Colorado, the gateway to the West, has always made sense to us. It is the home of the Colorado National Monument and some very beautiful walking parks.

   I have vowed to redouble my effort to bring my short story collection, White Dreams, and my unfinished novel, Out of America, and my research on my Historical Novel to fruition. The Historical work is the life and times of the people inhabiting Arapahoe Basin Ski Area through the winter of 1978-1979, their hopes, their dreams an their struggles. I have no doubt that the owner Joe, bought and built the mountain with the intention to sell to whatever company owned Keystone the larger area down the mountains and retire in Montana. What I would like to know by interviewing all the people there at the time was what where their hopes, their dreams, and where have they gone an what have they done with their lives since, and how did they feel about the mountain. Did they love it as much as I? What did they feel when it was sold? There is a greater underlying truth that still evades my perception. It is one of those obsessions that have made for hard living on my part, but as I have said it makes for great literature.

   We are settling in to our new little home. Soon I will develop a good writing routine and the stress of the move will be over. I have a lifetime to continue this quest. So over the next year, if we stay here after liquidating all our top heavy possessions, look for snipits of my short stories and chapters from Out of America. It began as a tragic short story (of course) titled a Terribly Bitter Ending. Another obsession, that has blossomed into a a Romance Novel of love, commitment, joy, and the personal fulfillment of unrealized dreams, and the triumph of one man against the odds. I will probably show the end chapter. It's Never Over Until It's Over first. The work is set in the 1989 World Alpine Skiing Championships of Beaver Creek, Colorado.

    Rome was not built in a day and writing careers don't happen overnight. They take years to establish. I am not foolish enough to think I will have overnight success. I know successful writers who have spent years at their craft and faced multitude of rejections. The most intriguing rejection I have ever received was for a story I wrote about a ski bum character. The rejection said that your central character has no obvious means of support. Really, that was the whole point of the story, that you sacrifice a lot in life to pursue a career of an extreme ski enthusiast.

   Now down to some serious writing and blogging. Spring has sprung in Western, Colorado. Yes I can go and see the Metropolitan Opera broadcast live in a theatre near us. Good to be back in Civilization!

Happy St. Patrick's Day! Beau and Murph















Beau in his PJ'S

Looking Forward to Oregon In The Spring

 I'm happy this minute to be living in Colorado. The East is destroyed by snowstorms, the Pacific Northwest by rain. The days here are unseasonably warm and sunny. It has allowed for long beautiful outdoor walks and drives into the mountains. Aspen is still snowed in and the mountains have great skiing. A plumbing client of mine skinned up Buttermilk and skied down the other morning before our appointment. Great skiing with a sunshine day. I miss skiing but not the hassle of equipment and getting to the hill. Will I miss Colorado if my house and business sell? Greatly, it has always been a respite for me. A place to run to find myself. I have had some of the greatest outdoor adventures of my life in Colorado. If you have never been then you need to get a backpack and a pair of hiking shoes and come on out! You will be glad you did. The opportunities are endless here. I have worked for and performed in a Children's Theatre, had my own business, worked for ski mountains, and met and married my wife here. She was able to fly hot air balloons, become a DJ and radio personality, manage a health club and some of the nicest property in Aspen as well as get a real estate license. Life has been very good to us in the mountains.

   They say that Eugene, Oregon is where old hippies go to die! I am not even close to my death bed yet, far too many books to write and stories to tell and places to see. I have only the Pacific Northwest to explore. Do we question the rain and our ability to handle it? Yes. I suppose I will spend a large amount of time indoors writing, or building something. Don't know about our ability to withstand the cold. As nice as this winter has been I cannot do the cold anymore! Me a child of the cold and wilderness seriously thinking of the warm belts of America. Time and life sure does change your priorities.  I am no longer fooled by Fairy Tale endings because a lot of nice things turn bad out there. You cannot give in to the fear of change. It is harder the older you get but you have to push through.

Remembering Aspen

Today with the bleakness and inundation of snow in Aspen, I would like to go to Portland Oregon and learn the proper way of tea. It might be nicer to be wet and warm and comfortably inside sipping Pu Ehr tea (fermented tea) than cold wet and snowy.

I noticed in Aspen that the Explore Book Store is for sale for 6.4 million dollars. www.explorerbooksellers.com/What a joy my early days in Aspen were. The book store was a short walk up the street from my 200 E. Main St. apartment. I was working on several projects. My short story collection White Dreams, Out of Amereka (I have since mellowed and call it America) and outlining my Historical Novel. A hot cup of coffee and all the time in the world to linger in front of the poetry section and fiction novels. It is a unique Victorian in downtown Aspen. They sponsored the Aspen Writers Foundation and Winter Words, bringing in talented authors from all over the world. I will always have a special place in my heart for those creative times in Aspen.

I know that there are more creative times to come and I find myself gathering resolve and determination to complete the projects that are presently before me. I can't leave my projects  unfinished they need to be wrapped up and put to bed.

A Song of Conviction to a Goal
Voice of Truth by Casting Crowns

The Sage

Today with in excess of two feet of snow expected in Aspen, my thoughts have turned to Encinitas, California. I am picturing a quaint little bungalow on an estate overlooking the ocean and a wonderful garden that I am writing in. I am working on a screenplay for Appaloosa Lake, my wife Kathy's novel. She is working on the music score on her Roland Juno DI synthesizer and I am enjoying her music. Our hearts are filled with happiness and joy. There has always been a draw of enlightenment for me in Southern California. Often in life I have gotten in the way of my own success, when I should have, "let go and let God."



A Song of letting go and letting God.
Mr. Mister "Kyrie Eleison"

Aspen Summertime Blue

You know the saying, "We came here for the winters, but we stay here for the summers." It is a point well taken. Some of the most incredible outdoor experiences I have ever had have been in Colorado in the summer. While I no longer live in the Vail Valley and the great expanse of the Gore Range, I remember fondly climbing Mount Holy Cross, a fourteener there. The many all day bike rides up Vail Pass down in the Red Cliff and into Minturn and back to Vail, or just riding my mountain bike up to the top of Vail (Benchmark) and traversing the trails before dropping into West Vail. Yes, I did find lost lake up on the way to Piney Lake and no, I never could find it again after that day. It was pure joy in the fall to bike up to the meadows above Piney Lake and to traverse down in the late afternoon in the sunshine into the massive stands of Aspen's with their golden leaves forming a treacherous yellow brick road leading into the gut sucking steep downhill into West Vail. It helped me tremendously to be surrounded by young enthusiastic outdoors people in the summer. Although I remember leaving Vail for Aspen and saying that I was tired of the steep enclosed Valley and the Valley Fever and how it would be great not to be the oldest person on an outing. I do miss the view of Vail from the top of the Gore Range or walking across the Covered Bridge on a full moon night and listening to the rushing waters of Gore Creek heading toward the Eagle River.

It brings me to the somewhat more sublime photo of Ajax (Aspen Mountain) and the summertime blue. I first came to Aspen for a film and screenwriters conference and made my mind up then to move back here. It was where I thought I would actively pursue my writing career. Yes I have written some great things here. All the beautiful early morning love letters to my adorable wife, which helped me to win her hand. So I suppose that must be considered my best writing although some of those were pretty steamy and did get me in trouble for leaving them in her desk at work where any of our coworkers could have found them. Yes I have managed to publish “Of Mountain and Men” my book of poetry and I have finished, “The Lure of the Mountain King and Other Stories.”

The best thing about that and my writing is that some day I will be able to say to a publisher that the Olympics come every four years to a great mountain of the world and my writing can be published in almost all the languages present at the Olympics and if I am extremely lucky my work could become the book or books read around the world. In the meantime as I work in my plumbing and heating company in Aspen I often stop and step out on the porch of one of my client’s houses and am confronted by a scene such as this photo. The beautiful greens of the grasses and evergreens against the deep blue of the Aspen sky washes away all of my worries and doubts and reminds me that my six month plan to make it to Eugene, Oregon and a lovely house on Friendly Street with a cabin up the McKenzie and a condominium at Driftwood Shores in Florence at the ocean isn’t that far out of line. I just need to get publishing my e-books. Next will be “All God’s Horses,” then “Arapahoe Basin, The Legend,” and finally, “Out of America.” Until then whenever I get the Aspen Blues I will step out side and smell the pines and gaze at the Grandeur of my office.