Hello everyone everywhere,

This week has been a real hoot. I was able to barbeque three times, and I was able to sit outside and have half a beer the other day, but since then no more sitting outside. And no more beer.

The band has been in rehearsals and that’s going well. We’ve been continuing our Monday meetings:  round-table discussions. They’re quite beneficial.

Onwards. It appears that I probably did sprain my leg, but somehow I ended up with sciatica. So I have to go for physio, but because I’ve been stretching and walking and stretching and playing, it’s almost better. But I think physio will still help.

I had to go to the chiropractor the other day, and that really helped too. When my body’s back in alignment I feel better, and I’m enjoying that I’m healthy. Michelle’s baking is keeping me on track. She sends Dean with gift packages every week. (Dean’s doing well, and Mama B is still loving the cats. And the cats are still loving her).

I want to get on to tonight’s story. I need to write this stuff once in a while to give my brain a rest from the search I have to make for some of my other writing. This one just fell out of my head. So enjoy it. And if you do, tell everybody. That’s it.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest.



One fine Saturday morning, Dan Flogg took a walk downtown in good old Walkintoatree Falls, population 826. Dan was on his way to change his life. (Or at best, allow for alterations). But how would one do that on a Saturday morning? Details. Always details.

First stop: Harry’s Fine Suits. “Look for sales. Big sales.”

Harry’s was next door to Haircuts For Eight Dollars (Sometimes we get it right). Dan was elated. It wasn’t that he was a cheap man, but he was in a rush to be ready for his date with Helen Swivel that night at the annual guacamole and garlic hoedown. He took pride in being astonishingly quick and precise. (He was neither of those).

Dan went into Harry’s Fine Suits. He had never before had a need to own a suit. You see, in Walkintoatree Falls, ninety percent of the population didn’t ever wear a suit (including the women).

Harry approached Dan and said, “Looking for a suit young man?”

Dan said, “Yes, I’ve got a big date in three hours.”

Harry said, “Okay. Have you ever owned a suit before?”

“Well,” Dan said, “I think I may have had one for church when I was a kid. The thing is, my dad was Catholic and my mother was Protestant. By the time they quit arguing about which service to go to, it was always too late to go. Point made, Harry.”

Harry looked quizzically at Dan and said, “Yeah I see where you’re going with that.”

Dan jumped up and said, “I need a suit that says Here comes Dan.”

Harry sputtered, “We’d better get you measured. So we’re searching for a little room around the waist and the hips. The frumpy look”.

Fitting Dan Flogg was more than a challenge. Dan would look in the mirror and tell Harry, “These ones all make me look fat. Is that mirror rigged?”

Harry was just about to call it a day when he saw a suit way back in the store. “Young man, we might have something here.”

Dan checked his watched and realized he was down to half an hour before he would pick up his date. “Let’s do it,” he told Harry.

Harry grabbed the suit. It was very rustic—well probably because it was covered in dust. It had been there for eleven years. No one would buy it. In fact, no one would even try it on. He checked the sizes and yelled to Dan, “We’ve got  a winner!”

Dan tried the pants on. They fit. He turned around, saw himself in the mirror and said, “They’re all right.”

Then Harry helped him with his suit coat and quickly spun him away from the mirror. “Don’t even turn around. It was made for you.”

Dan said, “Just cut the tags. You’ve got a deal.”

Harry quickly cut the price tags and helped Dan with his overcoat. “Classy,” Dan thought. He paid, then ran next door for a haircut. In shock, he said “Eight dollars or not, there are some scary cuts going on here. No haircut for me.”

That night, as Dan and his date were seated at the hoedown, Dan took Helen’s overcoat and then took his off his own coat. Helen smiled, took Dan by the arm and said, “I like a man who can wear a suit with a picture of Alan Ladd on the back.”

“Oh yeah, thanks. I have a guy who fixes me up.”

Dan sat back in his chair and thought, “Good suit. Everyone is staring at it.”

That’s all.


By jamesghutcheson


Hello everyone, everywhere,

I’ve really enjoyed working with the band this week. We’re playing new material so that really interests me. Then today we had someone come in who is going to work with us once a week to do roundtable discussions to help us repair old wounds, and perhaps see the light a little better. That’s all on that.

I’ve been feeling really good so I’ve been cleaning and focusing on writing. As time goes on, many more people are reading my material.  I’m hoping that you will like it and will tell more people and then they’ll tell more people. It’s hard to believe that I’ve written 167 posts in a row, and tonight will make 168. Michelle and I have worked very hard over the last three years. Well, she’s worked a lot harder because I’m a considerable challenge at the best of times.  I like things my way, but you know that doesn’t usually happen. I’m good with that too.

A funny thing happened this afternoon when Michelle and I were  going over business by Skype. She asked me a question and I turned my head and held my hand on my chin and started thinking. And I completely forgot about Michelle. Then I finally turned my head and she said, “What the hell were you doing?” Whoops.

Dean’s doing well, and Mama B is too. She is coming upstairs every day to sit with the old cat and make her feel loved. It makes them both feel good. (And Mama B makes a great fire).

That’s it.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest.  May I present…



He was eleven or fourteen–it doesn’t really matter–

Standing on a strange highway in a strange place

With only the graveyard’s souls on watch

(The only friends he felt he could trust).

“Where are you going?” the birds would call.

“Not sure,” he would call back. “Just keep going.”

Very young to be taking in so much darkness.

On a grey or a sunny day, regrets can always be seen

On the reflection of the leaves.

That’s all.



By jamesghutcheson


Hello everyone everywhere,

This week has been quite something. It went from very nice to winter within a few days. I, of course, got my seasonal cold, right on time, but this time, I followed the doctor’s orders: I stayed home and rested and drag plenty of tea. Holy mackerel I’m getting better. I’m looking forward to getting back to playing on Wednesday. Yesterday I couldn’t get up. Today I’m smiling again. The power of antibiotics.

Because I was sick I didn’t make it to the big dinner at Michelle and Dean’s place. (Twenty-one family members and not one bit of turkey left. It was hard for her because she was under the weather too). I had Thanksgiving pizza and it was wonderful–it’s nice to be able to eat at all when you’re sick.

We’ll keep it short tonight because Michelle’s barely hanging on.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest. In keeping with Thanksgiving may I present…



My uncle, Bob Wilcumb, had just left the Thanksgiving table to stretch. All the family and some freeloaders (Whoops, I meant to say the granddaughters have nice boyfriends) were finishing up their meals. Uncle Bob had almost made it to the back door for his customary Thanksgiving treat–a single cigar.

But nope, there’s none of that! Aunt Maggie had turned Uncle Bob around and back to the table. That woman played old Bob like a symphony.

With a smile she said, “All right everyone. It’s time to give thanks.”

Okay folks, you know Uncle Bob wanted no part of this. Goodness sakes, it was 7:45 p.m already. But Uncle Bob knew to always be first.

“All right all right, don’t get your…oh yes, I’ll go first you pot lickers,” he said, as he gazed around the table. They were all staring at him. That would certainly unnerve even the strongest of men.

“Fine!” Uncle Bob said. “Listen and learn. Here’s my thankful list. First, I forgot my sunglasses at home so I’m thankful for the day being grey and wet. My second thanks should go to me. Mother was on me for three full days: ‘Bob will you bring the extra chairs from the back room!'” (Good thing the kids loved dragging stuff. End of story).

Uncle Bob’s third and final thoughts on giving thanks always came down to this. He smiled and said with great pride, “I look at the beautiful family that Maggie and I have accumulated. Memories…too many to forget. We got home yesterday in thirty-five minutes from across town. Good driving–damn traffic! And now it’s Bob’s time”.

And off he went to have his cigar.

That’s all.


By jamesghutcheson


Hello everyone everywhere,

This past week has been very interesting for me and I’ve been doing some real introspection. Today I want to talk about the strength I’ve seen from a young musician I know. He has so much to overcome before he can play even one note, but somewhere, somehow, through all the insanity he has to live with, he plays, and when he does he blows your mind. He’s quite an extraordinary musician.

It’s really hard to play with these damn afflictions and the crap that we’re all dealing with. My own journey has been long and arduous, but the load has been made easier by the people I have around me. I want to thank this young man for his intensity and his incredible drive just to play. I am humbled. That’s it.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts if only for a moment…and rest.



In a barren land of his mind lives James Highlander. On and on it goes, then something good happens. It has to–that’s the only time he’s heard.

Noise, confusion. “Excuse me,” say the polite everybody as they bustle by.

“When is it our turn to be heard?” scream the voices in the wind.

Things are different now. Kids raise themselves–too many confused babies. There’s hardly time to dream when you are fighting just to get through one bloody day at a time. No time to stop, to listen, to even give a thought to…

James Highlander watches then carries on–the best he can, some say.

He’d probably say, “I’ve come to terms with it.”

That’s all.


By jamesghutcheson