black and white

ticking clocks of passion /  by admin

©2011 gary garbett.com

Juliet's Romeo, Martin Luther King, my brother, Charlie Chaplin's Tramp, a scarecrow, Neil Young, the soldier.

Men of passion leave pages behind in history books, diaries, and liner notes; hold the hand of those in need; think differently but creatively; offer yes ma'am and sir without hesitation; are caregivers; believe in today; make mistakes but understand the importance of an apology. They dance; are quiet; prosper by thinking; understand the drawn out bugle call of Taps; make a difference in someone's life; have written a love note or two, maybe even three… and have hopefully delivered at least one. They welcome opinions; have plenty to share; cry; create an event from the average; and whisper quietly.

My life has been fully engaged by them, though most I've never even met. Those who happen to cross my path however, I hope will know differently.

61 mph and her name /  by admin

©2011 gary garbett.com

It's been nearly two years since my mid century mark and the celebratory used MINI Cooper purchase for having survived and lived that long. I've never had more people ask, "what's her name?" than with any other car I've ever owned. As if I don't have other things to be concerned with in my life, I've spent numerous hours over the past two years attempting to have an answer for the next person that asked. Nothing ever seemed quite right. In the mean time, the nameless six speed silver bulldog rests most days, sometimes months, under a car cover for fear of getting dusty.  Yes, I'm just like that and I never wanted her to be an everyday car. She's special and I plan to keep her that way. Now that I'm older and everyone has their day to day life to live, I have several friends that are kinda like that car. I rarely see them, but when I do, it's always a special reunion. The biggest difference is that all of my friends have names. She still doesn't.

With summer winding down, my 6AM morning commute today couldn't have been much better. It included a rare drive in the MINI, a hot cup of freshly brewed coffee, an open roof with stars and a crisp breeze, and a stellar soundtrack from the cd that I picked out as I headed towards the door, Derek and the Dominos. That was it. The stars aligned at 61 mph while I sang to the Clapton classics, pausing only for another sip from the steaming mug and to turn up the volume a notch or two. Hell, maybe even three. The wait was over and she finally has a name. Layla.

Perfect, now to find a project for my upcoming year 53.