Gratitude and
15,000 Thank Yous Every Day
15,000 Thank Yous Every Day
In a world full of pain and fear, I have learned that being grateful for the tens of thousands of blessings the Lord sends every day keeps me bouyed to Him.
There is a TV show that I’ve been watching since 1970. Every episode is new, but includes footage from previous episodes.
In 1964, when the first episode aired it was called “7 Up.” It’s a documentary. Subsequent episodes have been released every seven years, so the next episode was titled, “14 Up” and aired in 1970. The show focuses on fourteen seven year old children who had agreed to be interviewed once every seven years for the rest of their lives. I had completely forgotten about the project until about two weeks ago. When I googled it, I found that it was streaming on Britbox. The episode I watched last night was filmed in 2019 and was called, “63 Up.” It’s a sociological study of children, taken from a large swath of society in Great Britain. Some of the children were from families from high society. Some were from the working class and two were children whom they had found in a home for boys who’s parents couldn’t or wouldn’t keep them. The main idea was posed in the beginning: “Give me a boy til 7 years old and I’ll show you the man.” But of course, there were girls in the study as well. In every episode that question is asked again. And with the previous footage we can see for ourselves how true that statement became. Some of them seemed to prove that aforism. Of the fourteen, Tony is my favorite. He has always had that “naughty boy” look on his face. At the age of 7 he said he wanted to be jockey and if that didn’t happen, he’d be a taxi driver. He did work with race horses and jockeyed one winner. But it didn’t pan out as a profession so he became a taxi driver. At the age of 63 he had become a property developer and done quite well for himself and his. Family. At 63, two had died and one removed herself from the project. One had struggled so with mental illness that he had spent most of the years homeless or living in low rent boarding houses. it was obvious that he had not reached his seven year old dreams. I would have thought that this man would have dropped out of the program but he didn’t. Maybe there was recompense for his time and inconvenience. But, later in life he found Jesus and now works as a lay person in the Anglican Church and has gained much peace in his life. Almost all of the test subjects married and had children. And most had been divorced. One was dealing with cancer and didn’t expect to live much longer. I take a strange kind of pride in having seen all the episodes relatively near their cyclical debuts. The next episode will be in 2026, when they’ll be 70. I’ll look forward to it. It’ll be like visiting old friends. I imagine that some will have passed and that will be sad. Maybe, after the last participant has passed, someone will start the cycle over at the beginning and people will be able to delve into the sociological attitudes of the next generation. Maybe they’ll film in America.
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I’ve never quite understood the point of abstract art. I’ve heard it said that when looking at any abstract piece of art you’re not supposed to say what you think it looks like but rather, how it makes you feel. When I stand in front of an abstract painting all I can think of is what it I think it looks like. After that, I can analyze how it makes me feel. Wassily Kandinsky began his life of painting as a representational artist focusing on pastoral scenes. Even still, his representational paintings are quite abstract. He soon made a shift into artworks that were inspired by his devotion to Christian themes. He was a devout Orthodox Christian who included many biblical themes in his art. Born in Moscow on Dec. 16, 1866. He is considered a father of the abstract art movement. He believed the inner life of an artist could be expressed by brilliant colors in geometric patterns. His paintings have been labeled explosive in their design and execution Kandinsky lived with a neurological anomaly known as Synesthesia. His type was Chromosthesia, the ability to see (inwardly) color when hearing music. He tried to present to the world paintings that would explain the connection between music and color, as he experienced it. In Munich, Kandinsky was accepted into a prestigious private painting school and moved on to the Munich Academy of Arts. But much of his study was self-directed. He began with conventional themes and art forms, but all the while he was forming theories derived from devoted spiritual study and informed by an intense relationship between music and color. These theories coalesced through the first decade of the 20th century, leading him toward his ultimate status as the father of abstract art The Last Judgement For Wassily, paintings became more about the emotions colors evoked than a depiction of subject matter. Kandinsky was also considered an “art theorist” He believed that different colors create different moods within the human brain. For example: Red is an energetic color and those who see red feel more alive and focused. Blue brings up moods that dwell in our innermost places and is associated with supernatural thoughts. White is a cool, calm place just waiting for possibilities. In the following quote you can begin to understand how important linking color to music really was. “The sun melts all of Moscow down to a single spot that, like a mad tuba, starts all of the heart and all of the soul vibrating. But no, this uniformity of red is not the most beautiful hour. It is only the final chord of a symphony that takes every colour to the zenith of life that, like the fortissimo of a great orchestra, is both compelled and allowed by Moscow to ring out.” Creation Wassily was married twice and had a lover for ten years in between the two. Kandinsky worked for many years in as an instructor for the Bauhaus but eventually pressure from the Nazis chased the Bauhaus out of Germany in 1932. It was dissolved in 1933 and he moved to Paris. Wassily Kandinsky died in France in 1944, at the age of 77. His death was caused by cerebrovascular disease, a grouping of symptoms related to not enough blood flow to the brain. Kandinsky had one son, Vsevolod, who seems to have had an unremarkable life. His parents divorced when he was five years old and he was raised by his aunt and his father. This was the only information that I could find. How you do feel about a link between color and music? Have you ever experienced anything like Chromothesia? How do different colors influence your mood?
Leave a comment. I'd love to know! Our backyard In the year of 1996 my husband and I began looking for a new place to live. We had been in living in a suburban neighborhood for 10 years. We promised ourselves that we would be out that community within 4 years.\
My husband is an only child and when his parents passed on, less than a year apart, he inherited $150,000.00. We knew we wanted land. I can remember giving the Lord my wish list. It had to have a full basement, a front porch, a fireplace and most importantly, it had to be big enough for us to own a horse. We looked at a couple of places and did a little dreaming about each one of them, but our heart was already set on 16 acres of land that we had lived on when we first moved to Ocean County, NJ back in 1983. It was a mostly forested piece of land with 3 houses on it. It was owned by close family friends who had rented us the largest of the three houses. We lived there for 3 years before we decided that it was time to buy our first house. Ten years later, the sixteen acres went on the market. We didn’t think we could afford it. But it just kept nibbling at the back of our minds. So we went to see our financial advisor. He was also a trusted friend and we told us he thought we could make it happen we decided to go for it! We were the second people to make a bid on the property. A local business had put in a bid of $205,000.00. We didn’t know it at the time that we put our bid down. We offered $200,000.00 with a downpayment of $150,000.00, then entire amount of my husband’s inheritance. And we got it! It’s the most wonderful place in the whole world! Since most of the property is wooded, we set ourselves up with the NJ Forestry Stewardship Program, promising to keep our little forest clean by cutting only dead, downed, dying, damaged or dangerous trees. (AKA: the 5 Ds of forestry management. What we cut and sold could be used for farm tax assessment and we kept the woods in good condition for the natural habit that lives there. To me, 16 acres doesn’t sound so big, but the amount and varied wildlife is the best part of owning this place! We’ve had everything from squirrels and rabbits to deer and foxes. We’ve had turkeys and bats and so many different kinds of birds that we lose track! We’ve even had coyotes and although we haven’t seen one yet, we expect to see a bear anyway now. A man took a photo of a fisher-cat on the property next door to us. We haven’t seen him but I bet we’ve heard him a time or two. We do hear the owls! We’ve seen and heard a barred owl and heard but not seen a screech owl and a great horned owl. And we’ve had not “a” horse, but 5 horses! And 6 goats, a plethora of chickens and assorted inside animals. There is not place we would ever want to live! And we truly see it as a gift from God. We joke about the day we signed the contract. It was as if we could hear Jesus giggling. It had rained all the day but in the late afternoon the sun came out and we saw a rainbow. We knew we had made the right decision. Now, after 25 years of working hard to keep this place, we have finally paid the mortgage off and it’s ours, all ours! Very often we ride up the drive or look out a window or stand in the middle of one our fields and we can’t believe how blessed we are and how loved by God we feel. I have this friend named Phil Wyman. He entered Heaven back in May, 2023 but I only found out today. Phil told me that he had been pastor of a church in Salem, MA and when he began to reach out to the pagan population in Salem his overseers in the hierarchy of the denomination became concerned about his unconventional ways and eventually asked him to leave. He left that denomination but he didn’t leave Salem. He had a small body of believers that he fellowshipped with and he continued his work with the pagan population. I found out about Phil when I was doing research on the “Burning Man” festival held in NV every summer. I’ve long had a desire to go and be a witness of the Lord’s love in that particular place. As it turned out, he wasn’t going to Burning Man that year but he invited me to join him in Salem in October to do street ministry. Every weekend in October there’s a festival in Salam. People dress up. Street performers line the main avenue and perform for tips. Large crowds come out every year just to be in Salem during Halloween season. He asked me if I would like to come for the weekend and do some street ministry with him and I said, “Sure!” I arrived after dark and stayed at his house. The next morning we donned brown costume monk’s robes and walked down to the main street. We joined the street performers and help up signs that said, “ Hug A Monk” and “Hug A Nun” For hours we stood and gave big hugs to anyone who wanted one. Everyone who lined up was really happy to have a big warm hug! It was awesome! And I got to love on people while not scaring them away with a lot of words about salvation and judgement. And that was the point. Actions speak louder than words and anytime I get to be Jesus to someone I call it a win. It was an awesome day! You see, Phil believed in building relationships. He thought, how useful is it to tell someone about Jesus and then never see them again? The pagan people he knew in Salem had known him for years and had seen his consistency in words and actions. They knew he was a Christian and they knew that he loved them and appreciated their qualities of “otherness.” During the summer time, he traveled to Great Britain and worked the festivals there. He would show up and help with set up and sound and anything else he could do for them, including music reciting poetry. In the evenings he sat with them around their fires and listened and commented. His faith would come up and he was open about his life with Jesus, but he did not preach. He simply contributed to the discussion. He wanted his actions to speak his truth, not his words. He knew that many people who turn to paganism do so because they have been seriously burned by practitioners of Christianity. He was a very unusual man, dedicated to Jesus and a lover of all people everywhere, regardless of their faith or creed. Sikh and you shall find? That weekend in Salem is the only time I spent with him. But right away I could tell that we were kindred spirits. I listened to his blog and followed his exploits on Facebook. I would often comment and he always responded. Last year he felt that the Lord was calling him to live in Wales. He’d been there several times and really loved the landscape, the people and the language. He went pretty much broke. He knew he would be ok for the summer because he would travel from festival to festival and there he would find food and lodging. But as the season changed from summer to fall he found it difficult to find a place to live. He did eventually find a place but I knew he struggled financially. He decided that the next year, he would travel all through Wales, speaking and writing only in Welsh. When his posts popped up in Welsh I would answer in Welsh. (Thank you Google Translate!) Last summer he fell off my radar. I wasn’t seeing his posts. I prayed for him as he came to mind. Last month I sent him an email but I didn’t get one back.
Then, today I decided to check out his Facebook page and found out that he had passed. But I’m not sad. A little nostalgic maybe. But he lived his life well and I know that when he came through those pearly gates Jesus greeted him with, “Well done, good and faithful servant!” (In Welsh!) Starting when my 41 year old son was still a baby we used to travel from NJ to VA every year to celebrate Thanksgiving at a very special place called “Skyland Resort.” It’s a rustic destination spot located on the highest point of the Skyline Drive. (Shenandoah National Park.)
We discovered this treasure when we’d been to Virginia during the summer and traveled down the Skyline Drive just to see what we could see. There are many wonderful overlooks along the Drive that give a marvelous view of valleys and ridges, covered with trees. We also loved seeing the wildlife along the Drive; deer, skunks, foxes, chipmunks and even an occasional bear! When we stopped at Skyland the summer in 1983, we saw the notice for a Thanksgiving Special; 2 nights, breakfasts and dinners for a very reasonable price, so we made our reservations and wrote it on our calendar. Skyland has a main building that houses the dining room, bar, sitting area and gift shop. We would hang out in the sitting area on rainy days reading, playing games, just being together. On beautiful autumn days we would visit some of the nearby hiking trails and march off to see the overlook at the top of the Stony Man trail, or hike the White Oak Falls trail which offers several levels of water falls to visit. There is also a beautiful “all access” trail called the Limberlost Trail. The path has been laid with hard packed cinders so that wheel chairs and other mobility helps can use it. Once, when our children were older, we took a trail ride. My son had the spirited horse that kept kicking up his heels and trying to bite the butt of the horse in front of him. On Saturday afternoons we’d drive down to Big Meadow and sit in the rocking chairs in the visitor center. We’d watch the sun go down as the deer browsed in the low bush blueberries that are allowed to grow in the maintained meadow. Every year 1/4 of the meadow is mowed. That way it stays the same as when the Native Americans used it centuries ago. The meadow is so big, that when you view it, it’s a panoramic view. In the evenings there was live music in the bar and sometimes I would play a song or two while the main act took a 15 minute break. Weather was always an issue when traveling to Skyland. If the weather was bad, If there was snow on the Skyline Drive, the Drive might be closed and we would not be able to get to Skyland. That never happened, thank you Jesus, but there was a time or two when we were not allowed to leave on Sunday because of conditions on the Drive. After the sun rose high enough to melt the snow and ice we would be told it was safe to travel. The very first time we stayed at Skyland, we woke up to a world coated in rime ice. Every branch on every tree, even the very littlest ones were coated in ice and, because the wind was blowing, even the little blades of grass had prism bright flags that all blew the same direction! You know, the mountains have a smell all their own. In the autumn the mountains smell of leaves that have dropped and lay together in a carpet, and the fresh wind that blows off the higher peaks. It smells of wood smoke and woolen hats. What an incredible blessing Skyland has been to our family! Now that our children are grown and on their own, we haven’t been back. But we pray that we may bring them and their children to spend a Thanksgiving weekend. Wouldn’t that be a wonderful answered prayer? In 2013 I went on my first short term mission trip. It was to Nigeria. Nigeria is a place not often visited by missionaries because it is not a safe place. There is much corruption and lawlessness there. Our dear friend, Ignatius Umunna invited our church group to come for two reasons; to set up a 12 step program in his church and to take a prayer journey to Lakoja and Owerri, the second being the place where he grew up. After we landed in Lagos International Airport and were driven to our accommodations at a nearby hotel, we were gifted with beautiful clothes made by a woman in Ignatius’ church. We women received two dresses each and the men with a shirt and pants set. Sorry the photo is so fuzzy. The two piece dress that I received was quite form fitting, not what I am used to all, but I have to say it fit me well. The other dress what a beautiful pink muumuu with a wonderful bit of embroidery at the top. This is Susan, Papa Rod and Darlene, all decked out for our first morning in Nigeria As an artist, I’m drawn to pattern and color combinations . The whole time we were there was a feast for my eyes! The fabrics were so vibrant! Most of the fabric seemed to be 100% cotton, very good for wearing in an equatorial country. There were some that were polyester but they seemed to be more for show than for daily living. The dresses seemed to be all either muumuus or “mermaid” dresses, tight fitting at the waistline and hip, then fanning out at the knee. Everywhere we went we saw people in European attire but I just loved the native fabrics! Here are some of the patterns I took photos of the fantastic prints. I came home with a suitcase full! And, you know, I love it so much that I hardly cut into it at all! I was so concerned of waisting it by making some mistake. But, just last year I was able to bless a charity that makes dresses for homeless and impoverished girls in Africa and other places. That did my heart good! I saved out the ones I loved best. Lozie Umunna's Dad I think I like the pattern on Ignatius' brother best. But then again, it might be the green one., or the purple one with the deep purple flowers. That was one of Ignatius' outfits. Oh dear! Which one do you love best?
Twenty years ago I was folk singer. I used to travel up and down the Eastern Seaboard to different folk festivals and sing and play my guitar.
The year that my daughter was 12, we took our mini motorhome up 95 to the Altamont Fairgrounds in New York State to attend the annual “Old Songs” festival. When I first got the info in the mail for that year’s festival I carefully looked at the dates and sent in my check. (Check? What’s a check?) We left on the Thursday before the folk festival and drove up to the fairgrounds, about a 5 hour drive. When we arrived there, late in the afternoon, it was obvious that I had done something really wrong. There was no folk festival! There were no cars! There were no arts and crafts booths and there was no music! There was a handy man there, just where we pulled in and he told us the festival was next weekend! Well, I just couldn’t believe that I would make that kind of mistake! And it seemed to me that way back when I got the flyer it had said it would be this weekend “They must have changed the date and not let us know.” I told my daughter. So, we turned around and headed back home. With another 5 hours of driving before me I thought I’d better get a cup of coffee and seeing a Micky D’s up ahead on the right I pulled up to the drive through. I placed my order and the lovely young woman passed my coffee to me through the window. I had to reach down pretty far to reach it from my high perch in the motorhome. I put the coffee in the cup holder and gently hit the gas. Nothing happened. I tried again. No budging. I thought maybe the motorhome had stalled, so I turned off the radio and listened carefully. No, I hadn’t stalled. By now there were several cars behind me. I got out and looked up and saw that the top of the motorhome juuuuust fit under the drive through canopy, but not the AC unit on top! I wasn’t going anywhere any time soon! To make things even worse, the lane that led to the drive through window was a hairpin turn! Seriously? The cars behind me started to back out and around the hairpin, while I stood there looking up and trying to figure out what I was going to do! I got back in the drivers seat and put it in reverse. Now, I don’t do backing up well, generally speaking, because of an accident I was in years before. But I put it reverse and slowly started backing up. The absurdity of the situation was not lost me and I had begun to laugh, uncontrollably. I think my poor daughter thought I must have lost my mind! Here we sat in the entrance to the drive through in a situation that neither of us could find a solution to and I was laughing my head off! So I tried backing up again and got about ten feet back and couldn’t go any farther. Enter my angels! As I sat there bubbling over like an idiot, two dusky young men ran up and told me to get out of the motorhome and they would back it up for me. By that time the other cars had already backed out. No one seemed angry, for which I was truly grateful! So my daughter and I stood to the side and watched these fine young men back my motorhome out of that hairpin turn and into a parking space in the parking lot! We stood there and applauded! Then they jumped in their car and drove off! Maybe they were angels. Could they have been angels? Whoever or whatever they were, they turned an awful experience into an event with a happy ending! The Lord has given me such a gift! In most desperate circumstances I can find the humor. I have the understanding that Jesus is going to get me out of whatever ridiculous situation I find myself in. And there have been so many! So, I just trust Him to solve my problem. And you know what? He solves each one! Thank you Lord, for the day, for the 5 hour trip up and the 5 hour trip home, for the coffee I purchased at Micky Ds, for the people behind me who didn't lose their minds because I was in the way, for my two dusky angels, showing up at just the right time to help two damsels in distress! Thank you. In 2012 I had my early onset cataracts removed. I was 52 years old. Early onset cataracts runs in my family. All the women had the surgery before the age of 55. For me this was a miracle! 50 years ago, when I was 2 years old, I was diagnosed with severe myopia and strabismus. That means I was legally blind. At the age of 2 I started wearing eyeglasses with lenses so thick they looked like Coke bottles bottoms. As long as I wore those glasses I could see well enough to go to school and learn to read and write. As a teenage I was able to get a driver’s license.
Two days before the surgery to replace the lens in my right eye, (the second procedure) I began having really strange floaters. I told the doctor on the day of the procedure about it and, “Uh oh!” was not what I wanted to hear from him! He got out his special little magnifying glass and pointed a really bright light into my eye. He had a good look and said, “OK! It’s not a detached retina. You can have the procedure today. One week after the procedure, while I was sitting in a bible study, I noticed that 1/2 of my vision in right eye was gone. It was like someone had pulled a black curtain across half on my eye and I could’t see around it. I called the doctor and he gave me the name and number for a doctor who specialized in detached retinas. For, indeed, that’s what I had; a detached retina. The procedure was scheduled for the next day. And when I woke up in the doctor’s office, he explained what he had done: He had put a needle into my eyeball and sucked all the jellylike “vitreous humor” out of it, leaving it like an empty sack. Then he put the retina back into it’s proper place and filled my eyeball up with nitrous oxide, commonly known as laughing gas. And here’s where the fun began: For about 2 weeks, looking through that eye was like looking through a fish bowl filled with clear jello. And at night, when I closed my eyes I saw darkness and a line of the most exquisite icy blue that glowed and diffused into a haze. It was so beautiful that I didn’t want to sleep! As the laughing gas dissipated it was replaced by new vitreous humor The second stage of recovery was a circle of clear vision surrounded with darkness. When I looked into a light with that eye shut, I saw a deep and rich orange that surrounded a purple circle in the center, ringed with black. It was breathtaking! As the days moved forward the purple circle got bigger and bigger. Eventually, the circle became so large that the colors disappeared and were replaced by a cluster of clear bubbles, each inside a black ring. And as time went on, the bubbles became smaller and smaller and then there was a little cluster of them that danced on a line below which was clear vision and above which was the clear jellylike laughing gas. I had a lot of fun making the bubbles dance when I shook my head! All told, the experience lasted eight weeks. And, I know I’m a little crazy, but I really enjoyed it! And, you know, that’s what it’s like, living a life of gratitude. I was thankful for the doctor, thankful for the procedure, thankful for the ability to turn 8 weeks of not being able to see into an adventure. Jesus gave me a point of view that made everything so much easier! I suffer for people who attend a fellowship with believers who do not understand that mental health is a real medical issue. That means that those who are plagued by depression or anxiety don’t feel like they have spiritual family they can turn to.
I also suffer for people who feel that because of stereotypes, real or imagined, they can’t let anyone know how they suffer. Mental illness is one of the enemy’s most popular tools to keep saints from living their fullest, most authentic lives. As long as he has free range in the minds of those who don’t understand mental illness and really don’t want to, men and women will continue to hide their pain. How sad is it that those who so desperately need fellowship and someone to come along side of them, are so afraid of telling anyone because they think they’ll be judged for failing to lean on God to make this “go away” or are seen as unreliable, not to be trusted or just “not right.” I live with generalized anxiety and depression; the result of a traumatic childhood. My mother suffered with bi-polar disorder, again the result of a traumatic childhood. (and was never diagnosed or treated.) My daughter has bi-polar disorder and my son, anxiety and depression. How much of this was due to my lack of parenting skills? How much is a generational curse? Does it matter? Chains can be broken. Healing can happen. I know that the God I serve can remove the pain in a split second. But why doesn’t He? Why doesn’t He heal everyone with diabetes, or arthritis or any other illness? My point is, mental illness is as prevalent as any other disease, and maybe even more so. The treatment of mental illness is also possible. I take medication. I have since 1988, after the birth of my daughter. Without the serotonin supplement my brain needs I am incapable of the joy that I have and greatly desire to share with others. Mental illness is not a spiritual deficiency. Mental illness is not necessarily a demonic attack, although Satan will use our weaknesses against us. Mental illness is not always something that can be overcome by prayer, although we who have it should continue to live with an expectation that we could be healed tomorrow. Mental illness is not something that can be overcome by “pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps.” Mental illness is often linked with people who have a yearning to create whether as musicians, writers or painters and sculptors. Is it something we would trade away if it meant we couldn’t be artists? Not me. Using the creative tools that the Master of the Universe gave me so enriches my life! Artists see things differently than that rest of the world. We feel more deeply, we react more deeply. We rejoice and mourn more deeply. How can that be a bad thing? Please, if you’re a person suffering with mental illness, along with your prayer life, include a trip to the doctor. Find out if there are ways you can live a fuller life where joy is present at every turn of every day! Please, if you know someone who suffers with mental illness, ask them how you can pray for them. Encourage them to get help. Offer to take them to the doctor’s office and stand by in the waiting room until they’ve had their consultation. Remember that artists are feelers. Help them discover their “super power” of empathy. Help them serve their Lord in the way He created them. He did not create us to have mental illness but He did create us to feel and experience life differently than many others. My husband brought me a surprise from his Boy Scout excursion to Gettysburg, PA.
He brought me. Bottle of Monkees Banana Nut Soda!! Am I a believer? You bet I am! I LOVED the Monkees when I was a little girl! While other girls were playing house, my friends I were playing Monkees. I always wanted to play Mike. I loved Mike! He seemed so deep. He was quiet and the calming influence of the quartet. Not always, but sometimes. I always went for the quiet ones. With the Beatles, I loved George! Of the bubblegum pop, when everyone else was screaming over David Cassidy and Donny Osmond, I was home mooning over Bobby Sherman. On the TV show, “Here Come The Brides” Bobby Sherman was so quiet and shy he stuttered! I found out years later that he actually suffers from Agoraphobia. But I digress. I now listen to a pod cast called “The Many Moods Of Ben Vaughn” that sometimes features Mike Nesmith singing songs that aren’t Monkees. Did you know he wrote, “Different Drum?” One of Linda Ronstadt’s first hits. And his song, “Some of Shelly’s Blues” is a great song I can really get into. He had a very folkrock aesthetic and the first song that was released was a folk song. Too bad it tanked! He was great! The song, not so much. Remember that green hat with the four white buttons? Did you think it had some deep seated meaning? Was it an homage to someone who wore a similar hat? Did he wear it for religious or political reason? Nope! The day he had his audition to become a Monkee he rode his motorcycle He rode his motorcycle to the audition and wore the hat to keep his hair out of his eyes. He wore it into the audition for some reason the producers liked it and told him to wear during recordings. Mike also had his own record label, Countryside Records and Countryside Studios. He passed away recently. I know many people thought he was snob. I just really liked him. But, then, I always go for the silent, deep kind. Who was your favorite Monkee? Why? Do you remember bubblegum pop? Who was your favorite singer or band? |
Judy GoddardMusings of a Saved Confessed Eccentric. Archives
June 2024
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