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Working Waggle Dancers

Posted on May 1, 2013 by Professor Taboo

The pond and piles of leaves. Click for larger image.

Raking and picking up the fall live-oak leaves has been overdue. Not only that but living on top of a hill with never-ending breezes blowing the tiny leaves into the waterfall and pond, add to and make the job more tedious and longer! Then it soon reaches the filter which protects the pump, which quickly needs cleaning too! Last week and this week I have been Yard Man, Pond-n-Pump Man, and like the honey bees we have around, doing it all under the influence and motivation of my loud vocal trance music and the smell of jasmine: the Dancing Yard Pond-n-Pump Man. I must admit, there might be a better way of completing these spring chores, but for me there’s no other enjoyable way of doing them.

As I was cleaning out the pond, treating the water with algae killer, and rebuilding the goldfishes’ rock covered hideaway, I could not help noticing the number of honey bees buzzing me. They didn’t seem to be as interested in me as they were the water and Lilly-flowers; no need for alarm. They are worker bees obeying their Queen to go out, seek and find the stuff of food and honey for the hive. Such is the system of life in springtime. But curiously when I was at my laptop adjusting the volume from loud to louder, four to six of those buzzers were buzzing my speakers, sometimes the laptop. I thought “Now that is curious!” Why were they so interested in my speakers? Or were they interested in what was coming out of my speakers? Then I thought “Hah! They must be Vocal Trance and dance lovers just like me!” And that’s when it hit me…. bees communicate with each other by specific dances and by the flapping (or buzzing) of their wings: vibrations/sound waves.

I, like the bees, was working harder by my music and its vibrations.

While I continued to clean the pond and sit next to my music on the laptop to take breathers, I had no reason to be bothered by the honey bees. In a sense, we were both doing the same work, for our home/hive. We were dancing busy bees. We would come over to the music, feel it, and be re-energized. Then it was back to dancing…. back to work.

Being the inquisitor that I am, I decided to lookup how honey bees communicate with each other. Scientists have learned that bees talk to each other in remarkably similar ways humans do. Of their five senses, honey bees communicate through pheromones and choreography. Think about it, other than talking, how do we like to communicate when we are out in public? Certain perfumes and cologne mix well with our body’s skin oils, or pheromones. Other than talking, how else do we communicate? By how we move. Honey bees tell each other where a food source is by doing a waggle dance. All the worker bees (or in this case, dancing bees) pick up on it. For people our motions and manners convey who we are and what we are doing. Honey bees are not much different.

Our jasmine vine and blossoms

Speaking of attractive smells, there was a spot in the yard I particularly liked to work and work slowly. It was downwind of the jasmine vines. If you have not smelled fresh jasmine blooms, then you are missing out on one of nature’s sweetest addicting aromas you’ll ever have the pleasure of inhaling. Whoa! I asked myself, is there a way to bottle this or roll it and smoke it? Or put it in a low-burning oil fragrance bowl? Holy cow, is there a support group Jasmine-Anonymous for jasmine addicts? Because I’ll become a lifer! And no surprise, guess who else enjoyed the blossoms? My waggling work buddies the honey bees.

As a young boy growing up who had to rake and pick up all the leaves in our huge yard, and inevitably come down with allergies and sinus drainage and swelling, I never looked forward to or enjoyed early spring. However, this time was very different. This time I could blast my inspiring music, work and dance with the bees, and the entire time take big whiffs of jasmine like I was inhaling that cigarette after incredible sex. Though I don’t smoke, I know smokers know what I’m talking about.

In a weird way I want the work to go slowly. I’m enjoying it. I guess you would have to be here to understand.

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After Dark

Posted on April 24, 2013 by Professor Taboo

Milky Way in clear skies in remote America

When the sun’s light completely recedes, I bet you had no idea that with your naked eyes or a pair of inexpensive binoculars you can gaze upon constellations, nebulas, star clusters, planets, double stars, and even one galaxy that is only two million light-years away. With summer approaching many might be traveling west to our National Parks where very little to no extraneous light washes out the splendor of our night-time cosmos. This post is Part One of a three-part series. Check back later for part two.

Our moon is one of the brightest objects to gaze, however, there are many others. Our surrounding atmosphere has several phenomena and all the planets can be seen with the naked eye or binoculars except Pluto. Asteroids, meteors, and comets can be detected as well. And even further away you can spot star clusters, nebulas, and constellations including that one galaxy 2-million light-years away. Yet, most star-gazers do not realize there is a nightly twilight phenomena which is closer than our moon. It is closer than our own atmosphere. It is Earth’s shadow.

Just as the Sun sets look opposite of it (easterly) close on the horizon. Within minutes you will start to see a dark blue band begin to rise just above the horizon. This is when the band is darkest. As it starts to move upward, it will fade, until it disappears into the night sky at the ending of twilight. This dark band marks the edge of the shadow of Earth’s horizon. Red light from our Sun illuminates our atmosphere above the band. The band is blue due to the blue part of sunlight which has been scattered into the shadow by dust particles. If you see Earth’s shadow vividly, then there is little dust or humidity in the air.

We are of course inside the Milky Way galaxy. The Milky Way is approximately 80,000 to 100,000 light-years across! Our Sun rests 30,000 to 35,000 light-years from the center. There are more than 1,000 clusters of stars within our galaxy, all of which are easily visible with binoculars. Beyond the Milky Way is a bunch of empty space, and then a lot more galaxies. The Milky Way is part of a group of galaxies called the Local Group and the flagship of this group is the Great Andromeda Galaxy. The Andromeda Galaxy is so large and massive that it is the only galaxy we can see with the naked eye. Out beyond our Local Group are more clusters of galaxies, as many as you could ever count in 50 lifetimes! In fact, it makes no difference what direction you look with whatever size telescope you view, all you can see are galaxy upon galaxies.

Stargazing Basics

One or three nights of viewing the night sky will not turn you into an expert astronomer. However, there are four basic principles to help you and your fellow sky troopers understand what you’re viewing in the after hours.

BRIGHTNESS The brightness of a particular star is measured by its magnitude. Its magnitude is governed by how bright it actually is and how far away it is from Earth. The brightest star in our night sky, Sirius, shines at a magnitude of 1.4, but its actual brightness is much less. It is less because it is very close to Earth, just a mere 8.2 light-years away. How exactly is magnitude determined? It depends on your location. If you are inside or near a large city, your 22 visible stars will be only a 1-magnitude or brighter. On average, stars of the 2nd magnitude are actually 2.5 times dimmer than those of the 1st magnitude, and so on down the line. In a moderately dark sky, you can view stars of about the 5th magnitude. On super dark nights (no moon) we can most likely find 6th and 7th magnitude stars (see table above).

COLOR A star’s color can reveal a lot about its nature. Generally speaking, the more blue a star appears, the hotter it is, and the redder it is, the cooler it is. We typically do not see stars easily with our naked eye, but the colors are a lot more obvious through binoculars. And kids see star colors a lot better than adults.

EVERYTHING’S MOVING It takes at least 15 minutes for our eyes to adjust to the darkness. During that time, pick the brightest object you can see near one of the horizons. Take note of its position relative to a tall tree, mountaintop, or building. Once your eyes have adjusted, notice the object is moving up if you’re looking east, down if you’re looking west, or mostly left to right if you’re looking south.

DISTANCE Because outer space is so unimaginably vast, it makes little sense to measure distances in miles or kilometers. Instead, astronomers use how far the speed of light travels in an amount of time. The Moon is about 240,000 miles away, but astronomers say it is 1 1/3 light-seconds away. Our Sun is 93,000,000 miles away, but 500 light-seconds, or 8 1/2 light-minutes away. When Jupiter is closest to Earth, it is 35 light-minutes away; in other words, when its reflection reaches us we are seeing 35 minutes into Jupiter’s past. Now here is a mind-blower: astronomers have determined that our Universe is approximately 13.8 billion years old. What this means is we cannot see any further than 13.8 billion light years beyond Earth, because the light from whatever’s farther out hasn’t had time to reach our eyes yet!

Celestial Assembly

Looking up into the night sky it seems as if everything is painted onto an enormous black sphere that’s far away. Astronomers call this the celestial sphere and find positions on it in similar ways we denote positions here on Earth. There is a celestial equator too, just like the Earth’s equator but projected up onto the celestial sphere.

Seasonal Big Dipper. Image courtesy of burro.astr.cwru.edu

As mentioned earlier, objects appearing to move in the sky from night to night (or, in the case of meteors and man-made satellites, a lot faster), are all inside our Solar System. To us, our Sun appears to move across the sky along a line we call the ecliptic. This term is used because eclipses of the Sun and Moon are related to this line. Tomorrow evening April 25th, 2013 there is a partial lunar eclipse. Since the nine planets all move in nearly the same plane as the Earth’s orbit around the Sun, they too appear to move about the night sky near the ecliptic. This is why on star maps they include the ecliptic as the narrow yellow belt.

Most modern astronomers do not use identifiable constellations such as the Big Dipper or Little Dipper to locate objects. There are 88 recognized constellations that divide up the sky, many of which we never see here in the United States. They are too far south. Here in the northern hemisphere there is about 25% of the sky that is invisible to us. For example, Americans cannot see the Southern Cross. Only people close to the equator in tropical latitudes in the northern hemisphere can view the Southern Cross for a few brief hours during winter and spring. Conversely, for viewers in places like Australia, they never see the northernmost 25% of our sky or the Big and Little Dippers which Ferris-wheel around Polaris, the North Star.

Cassiopeia as seen by naked eye

Just as southern constellations never rise above our horizon, others never set. Even when the day’s Sun is drowning out the stars, there are constellations which despite the season never vanish. These are called circumpolar constellations. As seen in the image above, the Big Dipper is always visible to us in the northern hemisphere 24/7. During the Fall it is just above the horizon and in Spring highest above the horizon. For thousands of years ancient travelers of both land and sea used these circumpolar anchors to guide their way. They too used the “dippers” to orient themselves, but often they included the constellation Cassiopeia. Cassiopeia is always opposite the Big Dipper and is noted for its “W” shape.

Most all of the constellations tell a story, a mythical story of the ancients. This is why so many are fond of astronomy and stargazing: you can impress your friends with stories of gods and goddesses behaving badly or saving mankind.

Well before the time of TV and video games, ancient cultures had to find their amusement wherever they could. These myths, given by the stars to mankind, were most definitely the plots and schemes of the first “soap operas.” Because most of Earth’s landmass lies in the northern hemisphere, the southern constellations represent scientific tools which seafaring navigators used. And, of course, the 12 constellations that hug our ecliptic are the signs of the zodiac in astrology.

Some constellation figures like the Egyptian Orion, are fairly convenient to recognize, and others are simply “gap-fillers.” And despite those old stories reminding us of a bunch of angry child-like behaving deities, they are fun to share and find in the night sky. They connect us to our distant past. And if your friends, spouse or romantic lover isn’t that impressed by your vast knowledge of the sky, these cultural backgrounds are certainly justification for learning the constellations. No one should presume they can actually trace out a “reclining virgin” (aroused for an evening) when you are looking at the constellation Virgo! One must know what you are looking at and how to find it if you are to be a true romantic lover!

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In Part Two of this series, I will give a quick guide to the remarkable celestial shows and events arriving between 2013 and 2015. Grab your drinks, popcorn, lounge-chairs, and stargazing buddy. It’s going to be quite a show!

Rhythms

Posted on April 15, 2013 by Professor Taboo

There is perhaps no other auditory rhythm or pulse that reaches me as deep as music and its beat. The connection I feel, the alluring sound just captivates my senses like a euphoric drug! It is and has been my drug-of-choice for some thirty-five plus years. And then descending from a long line of family who religiously dance… it is no wonder why I spend hours upon hours on the dance floor. As I write this post I am listening to one of my favorite DJ’s in Dallas: Per, who is a regular at The Church. Like Per, I too am moved by Synth-Pop or Future-Pop, a European industrial-electronic-trance genre. Here is one of his sets he played at The Church:

I’ve had technical issues with the SoundCloud player so if it isn’t loading up, click here to go to Per’s set.

Have you ever danced so much and for so long that by 4 or 5 a.m. you are so exhausted that seconds after you sit or lay down you just slip into a deep slumber? If not, then I highly recommend you do it. It is like the deepest restful sleep you’ve possibly ever had. You lay there knowing you have been rebalanced, reconnected with Earth and the Multiverse. Not only do you “return home” but, it is a fantastic cardio workout! Something I’ve quoted before deserves repeating:

Here is the mystery: If the rhythm is right, if the translation between inner mood and the drum membrane are perfect, then you know it instantly. “Ah, this goes with my body tempo, this connects how I feel today, how fast my heart is beating, what my thoughts are, what my hands feel like.”

When the rhythm is right you feel it with all your senses, every corner of your soul and being. You don’t fight it, but instead allow yourself to be propelled and consumed by its insistent yet familiar feeling. All sense of the present moment disappears, the normal categories of time become meaningless.

We live on a planet of rhythm and time. A planet that completes its cycle around the sun every 365 days, with a moon that cycles around us every 28 days, and we rotate around our own axis every 24 hours. These cosmic cycles and our bodily ones, all connected to the circadian dance of day and night. The mystery of rhythm and time found for a moment in the soul’s drum. When it is right, you feel it with all your senses, every thread of your being. It is the ‘sweet spot’ of connection.

Let your soul and body be carried away with the rhythm; feel it…drift, move. You will not regret it. No matter what anyone thinks, it is natural, it is genetic. Dance together as partners or dance solo. It makes no difference. Just connect. Let the rhythm take over, close your eyes, and move, dance like no one is watching.

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Unplugging Kids

Posted on April 10, 2013 by Professor Taboo

Interstate 45 Dallas to Houston

Several times a year during a holiday break our family would drive I-45 toward Galveston or I-35 toward Austin to spend time with family. It was a trip I would always be excited about because of how much fun and mischief was going to be had with my many cousins. One such game we would all play was bottle-rocket wars. We would have these wars at night for as long as our money and rockets lasted.

My Uncle Bill was a construction worker and always had scrap metal and various random work site throw-aways out near his barn. Three or four teams of two would have one cousin holding a 4-5 foot pipe while the other, with a bag of 30-50 bottle-rockets and two or three lighting pumps was the loader. The loader placed the rocket in the back-end of the pipe like a bazooka, light the fuse and the shooter aimed as best he/she could. Since most bottle-rockets were not an exact science as far as precision flight, these wars became hours of crazy laughing fun for us. This is just one reason out of many that made the 5-hour drive so unbearably long for me and my sister because Dad could never drive fast enough. For my parents it must have sometimes seemed like 12-hours.

This particular trip I’m sure my sister and I slept little the night before due to our growing anticipation; we were ready to come out of our skin. About two hours into the drive in our four-door light blue Plymouth Gran Fury sedan, zipping along at 55-miles per hour, sitting in back with my sister, she would inevitably say something or do something to provoke me. It was always her fault!

Several “stop its” and “you shut-up, no you shut-ups” later my Dad gave us our first warning. Ten minutes would pass. Again, my sister of course would whisper something mean to me or make a face at me, hence getting our second more firm warning from Dad. Mom would try to intervene, sometimes successfully other times not. She would not this go round.

**The We’re-About-to-Blow Speech and Vulcan Death-Clamp**

Maybe 15-minutes later, my father’s voice raised several decibels and gave us one final ultimatum. Had he not been driving he would have contorted out of the front seat and launched himself backwards to pop both of us on the legs or butts; and they would not have been love-taps. His pops STUNG for a good ten minutes. But the scariest part was knowing what was going to happen at the next stop. Thinking about it was pure torture. I’m sure Dad knew this too and worked it to the hilt. One of his most potent we’re-about-to-blow speeches were when it included the Vulcan death-clamp under the collar-bone. He’d stare at us like a drill sergeant. It paralyzed us making our eyes seem to pop-out as our little knees quaked! In my little mind not even God’s wrath scared me more than my Dad’s.

However, Dad explained he was not going to loose-it this time with us. He had something different planned. I doubt my idiot sister’s brain was processing as fast as mine trying to guess what “mystery punishment” was going to be thrown down. I couldn’t imagine it would be anything that delayed our arrival with the family; Dad was a stickler for schedules and planning and no misbehaving kids of his were going to spoil the appointed arrival time. After all, he was a mechanical engineer. Precision was his specialty. So what on earth could it be? What was going to be the final fate of my sister and me?

Mile-Marker 241

Then the loose gravel on the shoulder of the highway began hitting the under-belly of the car. Forty-five, forty, thirty, twenty-five miles per hour, then we came to a slow stop. “Get out” he said sternly. Mom looked at him puzzled. Her expression didn’t ease my fear at all. When I noticed that neither he nor my mother was getting out, I felt my palms get clammy and my pulse raise. “Get out on the right side, both of you!” he said more firmly. My sister looked like she had seen a ghost, but she exited the car with me. He pointed “See that green sign that says 241?” Then he explained what was about to happen for the next several miles. We were going to find number 251. Weird. Was this a hunting math game? Meanwhile, the traffic on the highway was whizzing by every few seconds, drivers and passengers all staring at our family moment as they passed.

Forrest Gump

“Both of you will now run next to the car. Do not walk, do not stop. Run!” He slowly began to pull away. My sister and I stood there in shock. “Get over in the grass and run!” he yelled, like those were about to be his last words we would ever hear from him. In the spirit of sheer fear which would have put Forrest Gump to shame, I ran….I ran like the wind! My sister screamed and quickly found her legs as well. Dad pulled a bit ahead of us; we sped up. The long grass didn’t help our stride. I tried to glance down to see what not to step in or stumble over, but I couldn’t keep my cue-ball sized eyes off the car for fear of being left! “Come on…run!” he yelled out the windows.

A half-mile gone we are still running next to or just behind the car, but never ahead of it for some reason. About every third or fourth vehicle passing us would honk. I have no clue about why; maybe they were cheering us on, maybe they were expressing their hysteria. I don’t know. What I do remember was how embarrassing it all was every honk and quarter-mile as onlookers stared at us; some grinned, some laughing, some astonished but all of it humiliating.

Approaching a mile and a half my sister and I are panting. Will he show us mercy? Where the hell was the next damn sign? “Run!” was the answer. It was always his answer until our little arms and legs were becoming jello. I believe that was just over two miles later. I was trying too hard to suck in as much air as my mouth could capture to notice any mile-marker.

“Are you two finished fighting?” as he slowed to a stop. Since we couldn’t utter a word for lack of oxygen, we both managed desperate nods yes. Once back into our seats still trying to breathe, I laid my head against the door unable to say or think anything coherent about my sister. I didn’t care. I just wanted oxygen! Mission accomplished.

For the next three hours that drive was perhaps the most pleasant drive the four of us had ever had to date and would be for years.

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My Heretical Heritage

Posted on April 2, 2013 by Professor Taboo

Before the 15^th century word heretics had become common in Europe, three centuries earlier there was one group of non-conformists around the southeastern town of Lyon, France known as “the poor of Lyons” or the Waldensians. In the literature of the time these “heretics” followed the teachings of a man known variously as Valdes, Valdesius, Valdensius, and Waldo (Valdo) from the city of Lyons. Their apparent break from mainstream Catholicism began in about 1170 CE not because they gave up a life of comfort and wealth – in medieval Europe this was quite popular and common – but because Waldo began translating the Holy Scriptures into common speech and then allowed lay people to read it and share it anywhere.

Chambons, Italy

If anyone is aware and knowledgeable of medieval Europe and the stranglehold the Roman Catholic Church and Vatican had over its parishioners and daily life, then you know the punishment for dissension or heresy was no slap-on-the-hand. If the fathers or bishops deemed your behavior severe, you could lose your life or soul, or both. The practices of Waldo and his followers was ecclesiastical usurping: no one other than the church pontiffs could interpret and teach the Bible. This crime was punishable by excommunication. These are the times my maternal ancestors come from: Waldensians: the Bonnet clan of Chambons-Mentoulles of Cluson Valley, Italy and Lyon, France.

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Waldensian children were not spared – Piedmont

Groups of “heretics” began surfacing all over 12^th and 13^th century Europe as the Vatican and Pope Lucias III persecuted such dissension more and more. Many groups, including my ancestors, went into hiding or fled. My ancestors eluded numerous arrests and escaped massacre after massacre. During the late 1400’s several groups were fleeing into parts of Switzerland, and Germany, then Prussia the eventual birthplace of the Protestant Reformation. By 1532 because of many doctrinal similarities the Waldensians officially joined the European Reformation inside congregations of Presbyterian and Calvinist churches. The Bonnet clan (pronounced Bonné) and others found refuge in the Cluson Valley just outside of Turin. They would soon be tracked down there.

The Catholic Duke of Savoy located the Waldensians (also known as the Vaudois) in the Piedmont region of Italy in April 1655. This is known as the Piedmont Easter Massacre. The English poet John Milton pinned a sonnet about the slaughter:

“Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones
Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold,
Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old,
When all our fathers worshiped stocks and stones;

Forget not: in thy book record their groans
Who were thy sheep and in their ancient fold
Slain by the bloody Piedmontese that rolled
Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans

The vales redoubled to the hills, and they
To Heaven. Their martyred blood and ashes sow
O’er all th’ Italian fields where still doth sway

The triple tyrant; that from these may grow
A hundredfold, who having learnt thy way
Early may fly the Babylonian woe.”

Elisabeth Charlotte

The Bonnet clan once again escaped…miraculously. By 1699 persecutions and inquisitions by the Papacy and King Louis XIV forced my ancestors into hiding and fleeing again. They settled their families in Charlottenberg, Germany outside of Koblenz. There were 91 families remaining of Waldensians and Huguenot refugees from Italy, all welcomed by the Countess Elisabeth Charlotte Melander von Holzapfel-Schaumburg of Prussia (whew, say that 3-times fast!). The hills and castles still exist there today as the town of Holzappel, Germany.

The late 17^th century found many agricultural and economic hardships, even for The Poor of Lyons who graciously chose a modest frugal life focusing on others. During the decades of 1830 to 1840, many Waldensians and Prussians had heard about and read about the ease of acquiring land deeds in a place called The Republic of Texas across the Atlantic Ocean. The government there was ambitiously seeking Europeans of non-Spanish origin to come settle throughout central Texas. Texas was near bankruptcy after fighting Mexico for independence and desperately sought to grow and stimulate their economy. Johann Holzapfel from Charlottenberg had already started the immigration from Prussia, to Antwerp, Belgium, and on to Galveston, Texas in 1844. My direct ancestor Philipp Daniel Bonnet (sometimes spelled Phillip) arrived at the port of Indianola, Texas in 1845 just months before the Republic was annexed into the United States.

Much of the settlements of central Texas are of European heritage, particularly German. The group of Prussians my family followed were the ones who founded New Braunfels, Texas. Two generations later my great, great, great, great, great (five greats) grandfather Henry Daniel Bonnet moved to Austin, Texas and helped construct our state capitol building; little to no work could be found as New Braunfels and the surrounding towns had become over-populated with European immigrants seeking employment, land, and religious freedom. My mother’s ancestors and family still populate several towns around Austin, including inside its city-limits.

* * * * * * * * * *

During the flow of immigration into 19^th century Texas, my paternal ancestors arrived as well. Not as much (or as detailed) is known about my father’s ancestors. Perhaps they were not as fortunate inside the kill-infested parts of Catholic Europe. However, and to my good fortune obviously, the few migrated to, settled and stayed near Galveston. My paternal grandfather and grandmother are also of German-French heritage: Miller (Mueller), Konzack, both German on his side, and Tacquard (French) on her side. This side of my family is understandably much more distrustful of large organized religious institutions.

I remember my paternal grandfather had a strong independent personality. He was one of few sons that had graduated from the University of Houston working most of his adult life at a chemical refinery. Not surprisingly my father was agnostic. His mother, my grandmother, I remember had a most kind gentle demeanor with a little pizzazz that shined on the dance floor. She was an intermediate school teacher her entire life. Both naturally loved family life and had unbelievable work ethics; they had to coming from and living through two world wars.

The most precious memories I have of my childhood and adolescence was the never-ending fun me and my cousins would have during family barbecues, beer drinking (by adults of course! Well…), music and dancing on top of the saw-dusted pavilion or barn floor. It was no surprise to me either, that in my same spiritual journey, why or how my two families found each other and became attracted. The historical and genetic record fits nicely onto a most intriguing suspenseful family tree of how I came to be.

Magnolia bloom

I was born into the best two families – deeply bound in an intimate, intense, painful, passionate yet supportive SURVIVING two families – a person could ever wish for. It makes perfect sense why I have such deep Bohemian Free-thinking humanist-caring tendencies! And I thank God…no, correction…the family tree that I come from such an incredible history! I can picture my paternal grandmother teaching my father “We will teach you how to think, and not what to think” and my father passing down the same principle to me. Decades later my mother, working at Southwestern Bell Telephone in Austin, meets my father on a blind date, he a part-time engineering student at the University of Texas in Austin and putting himself through college while working for an electrical company. No surprise, there was a familiar (or familial) chemistry. About four years later cupid’s arrow found its mark and at the risk of stating the obvious…so did my Dad!

One of my dad’s favorite trees was the evergreen magnolia tree, especially when it bloomed. The flowers have a distinct smell, like fresh sweet lemonade. He, myself and my sister planted one in the front yard. When I last drove by the home of my youth, it had grown to some 40-50 feet into the sky. I could only imagine how the neighborhood smelled when it bloomed.

As the past weekend of resurrection stories and folklore prevailed, my larger perspective was much more personal, much more caring in small ways, like a close family who, to understate, has learned in so many ways over so many generations the real-life meaning of Easter.

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