Mother was short and heavy.Religious.Father was slim,neither tall nor short.Emaciated in his later years.Everyone called Mrs.West,"old Granny"She taught sixth grade and ruled with an iron hand.She used the strap a lot.Kenny lived down the street at house #59.The first best friend I remember.He moved to Lewisville before we started school..I met the girl across the street by having a rock fight with her.Her name was Karen.She had an older brother and a huge doberman named Brandy.We used to ride Her dog like a pony."Grandpa was a carpenter,he built house stores and bank..."And he said he built ships.He also built an outhouse with as much care as it took to build any house.Howard was a large boy and his father a large man.A policeman.Uncle Bill was a mountie.Peter was the first new boy I met in grade one.His head looked like an egg.Robin was a toddler when he threw a whole room full of toys out the window and into a snow drift.His father drove an eighteen wheeler.Randy Hopper was a Sunday School teacher.He had a very red face.Mr.Wiseman was another Sunday school teacher,who was nearly blind.They called Patrick"Rabbits."He lived down the street and had a lot of brothers and sisters "Because they were Catholic"His sister and another girl were hit by a car one night.The other girl died.Ann and Pierre,and later their twin brothers lived across the street next to Karen's house.Mr.Duffy lived on the other side of Karen.Sometimes he would use an arc welder in his garage and light up the whole street.Robin lived on street over and was what was then called "retarded"We were not allowed to say"retarded."My parents knew a couple called Don and Linda.They had two older kids and lived in the West End.They were divorced,then Don died in a fire.Uncle Ernie ran an Esso station and store at the top of the hill in Canterbury.No one called Randy retarded,but he was never quite right.Big as a rhino,mean as a snake.He could be your friend,but he turned on a dime.Patricia was a ten year old flirt with long blond hair.Mrs.Johnson was a nasty old woman who treasured her own misery..The Clarks lived beside us and owned a store on St.George Street.Their kids were Suzanne,Nancy and Danny,all older than me.There were some tough kids who lived on the other side of Mountain Road who stole kids lunch money at school.Grandmother Davis was short and had a very sharp tongue.Mrs.Sherwood lived on our street and taught school.Everyone said she was nasty.My sister said she was sweet.Mr.Cormier lived beside us.He fixed televisions and worked long hours in his garden.Mr.Brooks was the church pastor.He was old,tall and very kind.Brad lived behind my grandmother Graham.We played together when we were small.He bit me on the hand once.He was there when I fell down the steps at his house and split my head open.There was a lunatic who lived near my grandmother,but no one called her that,until I got older.Laura was a cousin who opened a store in downtown Canterbury.I didn't like her children when we were small.Mr,McMillian was a school vice principal.We never saw eye to eye.His wife was a teacher and school librarian.My grandfather Davis lived in a large rooming house in Pugwash.There was an old woman there who could imitate bird songs and crow like a rooster.Art lived in Springhill,and taught me how to play golf.His wife was Eileen and her father was Ed.He liked to watch the ocean.Mr.Grant lived in a summer cottage close to ours.He once told me he'd seen a UFO.Aunt Roseanna moved around a lot.From Nova Scotia to Alberta and back.Her husband was a loud little Dutchman.My Grandmothers brother married Americans and lived in Maine.Uncle Clifford and his wife lived in Fredricton on Charlotte Street.He worked at the university.My great aunt was Anna English and her husband was Fred.She had TB when I was small and lived in a sanatorium.I asked her a question about God once.Her and Fred were religious and loved children.My grandmother may have had ADHD.She never stopped moving.The red headed kid was a pervert.A man with a fiddle came to our house every Saturday night.His name was Don Messer and he came via the TV.Uncle Fred Davis lived in Germany for a while.I never knew his family well.There were many barbers at the barber school,but they all looked alike.I looked like them too after they cut my hair.There was an old security guard who tried to chase me away from the hospital.Jeannie was a border at our house.She married a man called Ray who worked at the CNR shops.Her father was murdered by a man named Alan Legere.Old Jimmy ran a candy store in Springhill.He was Greek and loved seeing my father.I visited a barber in Springhill once too.We stayed at Mrs.Bantings house when my mother worked.I was standing with her in the driveway once and saw some ball lightening.Her children swore a lot and she fought with her husband and got angry when her son Robin threw toys out the window into the snow.Another neighbour,David was a bully.There were a lot of bullies about but I don't remember most of them.Father McKee was my hockey coach.The bullies would be mean to Robin,the "retarded"boy,but many kids were nice to him too.Dana was a gunsmith.My father was best man at his wedding.Anthony liked guns too.He was french and maybe even part Indian,though people never said so.My father brought people home from work for a meal sometimes.Sometimes even hitch hikers.One of them stole his car and abducted my sister once.Susan got a bad head injury the year before I met her.Her family owns a hardware store.The Harris family moved into Karen's old house.Their son Dick fixed furnaces.An art teacher once kicked me out of class and,to this day I don't know why.Ted was a friend of my father and he could fly planes.We went up for a spin with him one time.I met a couple of Rabbis once in Montreal.They asked me if I believed in God.My father bought a red trailer from an old French couple when I was small.The old woman spoke no English,but gave us some cookies.Mrs.Banting died when I was in grade one.Mr.Baxter was my teacher in grade two,then Mrs.Cale in grade three.She was tall and wore an enormous bee hive.In grade six my teacher was Mrs.West.She was fierce,but I liked her.Mr.Cohen was my seventh grade teacher and he was a bit of a buffoon.He gave me a hard time when I missed a day for my grandfathers funeral.In grade eight I had a notorious teacher.Malcom Ross.Thats the same year the pervert started hanging around.And the policemen were killed,and their killers sentenced to die,then had their sentences commuted.Then a little girl named Michelle disappeared and was never seen again.Everyone thought we were going to Hell in a hand basket.I searched for her with a man named Ray who lived across the street from us.Ray was a brute of a man.Holly was a girl I walked home with sometimes at noon.She was a plain girl who worried about older kids sneaking up behind us and mashing peanut butter sandwiches in our hair.We would play kick the can on the way home.Mrs.Foster worked at the bank with my mother.So did a woman named Rita.She had a beautiful samoyed dog that I liked to go play with.There was an old man who delivered milk in an old,old green truck.Old Charlie ran the Co-op in Fox Harbour.Norman Murray sold cars and my father worked for him for a while.Grandfather Graham was thin and almost stone deaf without his hearing aid.He smoked a pipe,chewed tobacco,and read Western novels and detective magazines.He hardly ever spoke.And there was more than one lunatic that lived on their street.My friend Steven was a Jehovah's Witness.A kind,decent kid but so very different.Never hung out with anyone from school when school was out.And there was a little girl that used to walk past our house on the way to school.When I first saw her my heart skipped a bit.She was wearing pigtails and that was in 1967.And when I last saw her,well,my heart skipped another beat.
Wednesday, 18 July 2012
Tuesday, 17 July 2012
A dream
I don't often write about dreams because it takes me such a short time to forget them,unless of course I write them down as I did this morning.I don't really impart any interpretation to this particular one,but then again I haven't really thought about it at length either.In fact I'm really not convinced that dreams have any real meaning,but they are truly interesting things to consider from time to time.
I am in a strange land.It's green with grass,but not leafy.It's cut everywhere with small crooked ravines.I am laying down rails and cross ties for a railroad,but as soon as they are in place they fade away.There are indistinct figures of animals and birds about.The land is very hilly but not mountainous.And a man appears in the dream.He is short and stout with huge arms.Over his left forearm he has several horse shoes looped.He is pointing at a building and saying something I cannot understand.The building is a place where cheese is made,and it's the only building anywhere on the land.I can walk towards it but it moves farther away.The mans presence seems malevolent.And there is a sense of being in the land but somehow separated from it.
I am in a strange land.It's green with grass,but not leafy.It's cut everywhere with small crooked ravines.I am laying down rails and cross ties for a railroad,but as soon as they are in place they fade away.There are indistinct figures of animals and birds about.The land is very hilly but not mountainous.And a man appears in the dream.He is short and stout with huge arms.Over his left forearm he has several horse shoes looped.He is pointing at a building and saying something I cannot understand.The building is a place where cheese is made,and it's the only building anywhere on the land.I can walk towards it but it moves farther away.The mans presence seems malevolent.And there is a sense of being in the land but somehow separated from it.
Photo Essay/After The Stampede
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| Going home. |
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| Stampede montage |
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| Morning after-Midway. |
Gate Ticket
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| Centennial. |
Just last night,everyone was a cowboy.
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| Colossal leftovers |
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| Empty ponies,empty bleachers. |
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| Bike and volunteer shuttle bus. |
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| Sunrise through a Stampede banner. |
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| The Stampede. |
Monday, 16 July 2012
A New Place to Roost.
Firstly I want to apologize to all four of the people who read the piece I wrote on Calgary and The Calgary Stampede a few days ago.It was a low quality,lousy piece of writing and I'm amazed that anyone bothered with it.I wasn't happy with it ten minutes after I'd written it.
What I have to learn to do is to be more real.You see,I was raised to say nothing at all unless I could find something nice to say.By natural inclination,I am adaptable and tend to like to respond to my immediate surroundings in a positive way,and believe that things could always be worse.Indeed they could be but that doesn't excuse my lying,even if that were not my intent.So once again,my deepest apologies and I promise to try to have a bit more respect for anyone who reads my blog in the future.
So let me tell you how I really feel,keeping in mind that my attitude tomorrow may or may not be the same as it is right now.I've caught myself saying so many times in the past few weeks "man,I hate this city."And I well and truly do,I may as well tell the bare faced truth.It doesn't seem to matter if I'm waking up in the morning or going to bed at night,looking at the skyline or watching someone drift down one of our rivers on a raft,taking the train or walking,I just have no heart for this city,and I wonder why I ever came back here.
I don't want this to sound like sour grapes or a self indulgent pity party,but that's the way it is.I arrived here some three months ago with money in my pocket,rented a room,which are in short supply and then ended up being locked out of that room because my room mate failed to pay the rent.Never mind that I paid my rent.I found accommodations following that,but they are far from acceptable and certainly not sustainable in the long term.I also had a guitar when I arrived and one that was kept here for me by a friend during my eastern sojourn.Both of those are apparently gone since my old room mate cannot be found.They are with all of my cds and the majority of my clothing,not to mention much of the personal writing I've been doing over the past three years.I did manage to escape with the clothes in my back pack which are at least sufficient.Life's tough,then you die.I just didn't count on going to Hell before that happened.
During my time in this infernal city I've endured harassment,theft,flooding,a deliberately set fire,a lay off,default on pay that was owed me,crackheads banging on my door at all hours of the night,unjustified accusations of racism,and the garden variety intolerance of some Albertans for anyone who was not born and raised here.Well,guess what.I no longer have the energy for any of this.I simply do not have enough blood in my body to satiate the energy sucking vampires that are all too common in this city.It's time to find a new place to roost.
I've decided,and to be honest,it wasn't even that hard of a decision,to move west come the end of this week.Give Vancouver a try even if I have to crawl,which is a distinct possibility.Nevertheless,if I were to admit it,I simply hate it here and I just don't see how living in a city I hate is worth the effort.If it doesn't work out,I guess I can come back but I'd prefer not to think about that for the time being.
All of that writing I did about Calgary being an ok place...I take that back.All my readers saw right through that anyway.This is a boom town,like San Fransisco in 1849.A great place to work,but a miserable,low down,mean spirited,unfinished and dirty place to live.And,in point of fact,I don't recommend that you come here even to visit.
Yes,I'm possessed of a very poor attitude tonight and it may change tomorrow.In a way I hope it does,because I hate having a poor attitude.But,in truth I can still see myself looking around at this city tomorrow or next week or next year and thinking how much I hate it here and how I'd really rather be anyplace but here.So it's time to move on hopefully this time for good.And while I do have some very dear friends here,to whom I apologize for knocking their city and whom I will greatly miss,I will not miss the city itself.Good riddance!
Maybe I'll have to give my head a shake.I'm not sure how much of this being more real I can handle.
What I have to learn to do is to be more real.You see,I was raised to say nothing at all unless I could find something nice to say.By natural inclination,I am adaptable and tend to like to respond to my immediate surroundings in a positive way,and believe that things could always be worse.Indeed they could be but that doesn't excuse my lying,even if that were not my intent.So once again,my deepest apologies and I promise to try to have a bit more respect for anyone who reads my blog in the future.
So let me tell you how I really feel,keeping in mind that my attitude tomorrow may or may not be the same as it is right now.I've caught myself saying so many times in the past few weeks "man,I hate this city."And I well and truly do,I may as well tell the bare faced truth.It doesn't seem to matter if I'm waking up in the morning or going to bed at night,looking at the skyline or watching someone drift down one of our rivers on a raft,taking the train or walking,I just have no heart for this city,and I wonder why I ever came back here.
I don't want this to sound like sour grapes or a self indulgent pity party,but that's the way it is.I arrived here some three months ago with money in my pocket,rented a room,which are in short supply and then ended up being locked out of that room because my room mate failed to pay the rent.Never mind that I paid my rent.I found accommodations following that,but they are far from acceptable and certainly not sustainable in the long term.I also had a guitar when I arrived and one that was kept here for me by a friend during my eastern sojourn.Both of those are apparently gone since my old room mate cannot be found.They are with all of my cds and the majority of my clothing,not to mention much of the personal writing I've been doing over the past three years.I did manage to escape with the clothes in my back pack which are at least sufficient.Life's tough,then you die.I just didn't count on going to Hell before that happened.
During my time in this infernal city I've endured harassment,theft,flooding,a deliberately set fire,a lay off,default on pay that was owed me,crackheads banging on my door at all hours of the night,unjustified accusations of racism,and the garden variety intolerance of some Albertans for anyone who was not born and raised here.Well,guess what.I no longer have the energy for any of this.I simply do not have enough blood in my body to satiate the energy sucking vampires that are all too common in this city.It's time to find a new place to roost.
I've decided,and to be honest,it wasn't even that hard of a decision,to move west come the end of this week.Give Vancouver a try even if I have to crawl,which is a distinct possibility.Nevertheless,if I were to admit it,I simply hate it here and I just don't see how living in a city I hate is worth the effort.If it doesn't work out,I guess I can come back but I'd prefer not to think about that for the time being.
All of that writing I did about Calgary being an ok place...I take that back.All my readers saw right through that anyway.This is a boom town,like San Fransisco in 1849.A great place to work,but a miserable,low down,mean spirited,unfinished and dirty place to live.And,in point of fact,I don't recommend that you come here even to visit.
Yes,I'm possessed of a very poor attitude tonight and it may change tomorrow.In a way I hope it does,because I hate having a poor attitude.But,in truth I can still see myself looking around at this city tomorrow or next week or next year and thinking how much I hate it here and how I'd really rather be anyplace but here.So it's time to move on hopefully this time for good.And while I do have some very dear friends here,to whom I apologize for knocking their city and whom I will greatly miss,I will not miss the city itself.Good riddance!
Maybe I'll have to give my head a shake.I'm not sure how much of this being more real I can handle.
Sunday, 15 July 2012
Op/Ed-Integrity in Journalism.
Integrity is hard to find these days.But don't necessarily blame the younger generation.It's a godless,post modern,moral relativism thing.That seems to especially apply to journalism.Don't get me wrong,there are still a lot of responsible journalists around,even if I don't agree with them all the time.Even if they are sometimes imposed upon to to cast the"news"in a light that they are not always comfortable with just to be able to continue making a living.
My fight,in this case is not with some huge,politically slanted news agency-you know who most of those are,so I need not mention them by name.My quarrel involves a small "news agency"located in a medium sized city in Eastern Canada.For now they will remain nameless as well,for admittedly legal reasons.At any rate,it has no real bearing on the problem.I will say that this group gathers and distributes"news"in their local community.They display their version of the news both on Youtube and Facebook.As far as I can determine,most of their stories involve local interest.There tends to be a lot of coverage of auto accidents mixed in with arrests and the like.Also,there tends to be very little in the way of editorial content.I have not been able to determine if anyone involved with this agency has any formal journalism training,but what they do, they do reasonably well.The scene seems to be accurately represented without a profusion of leaking body bags,which is more than I can say for some mainstream media outlets.
What,then is the problem?Why do I direct my wrath towards this supposedly decent,hard working group of journalists?It all stems from the identity of one of their directors,who I found out about while doing an unrelated online search.Again,I will decline for the time being to identify this person by name.But the problem is that I know this person,this news director, to have made unsubstantiated and unsupportable statements regarding someones alleged criminal activity,specifically, alleged domestic violence..A simple criminal background check,made with the full blessing of the accused,I assure you,reveals no such criminal involvement.Yet this journalist steadfastly clings to their story,refusing to apologize or defend her statements even as the story,along with a good deal of journalistic integrity dissolves like a puff of smoke.
The problem is obvious.Why is this person still a director of a media outlet?Any media outlet?Is it not fully apparent why this person should resign from their post at least until their issue is settled?At this juncture,it is unclear as to whether or not the agency was aware of the activities of this person.It has at least the appearance that the journalist in question may have actively concealed these facts,or,perhaps with no formal training in journalism,to mention nothing of a comprehensive course in media ethics,simply didn't que into the relevance of the matter.That is about to change.
This matter will be a true test of integrity for what I consider an unconventional form Of media.Again,I have no quarrel with the nature of any given report produced by this outlet.but I'm unclear as to what their position is regarding the ethical reporting of news.Perhaps they would like to respond to my doubts by asking their director to speak to the issue at hand.Because I don't see that we can trust the veracity of any reporter,to say nothing of a director,who has behaved in this manner and then,to be charitable,forgotten to mention it to their fellow colleagues and fellow directors.
Unconventional forms of media are not,in my opinion bad forms of media.I can see how they can play a useful role in local markets,perhaps even more effectively than remote agencies who have little interest in local matters and are largely politically slanted.
But this particular agency,it's directorship and it's reporters need to take a stand for moral journalism if they are to be recognized as a real force in their particular market.They can start by speaking to this issue,either by asking their director to support the claims made or withdraw them and issue an appropriate apology,and to resign,at least temporarily,pending the outcome of this unresolved issue.
My fight,in this case is not with some huge,politically slanted news agency-you know who most of those are,so I need not mention them by name.My quarrel involves a small "news agency"located in a medium sized city in Eastern Canada.For now they will remain nameless as well,for admittedly legal reasons.At any rate,it has no real bearing on the problem.I will say that this group gathers and distributes"news"in their local community.They display their version of the news both on Youtube and Facebook.As far as I can determine,most of their stories involve local interest.There tends to be a lot of coverage of auto accidents mixed in with arrests and the like.Also,there tends to be very little in the way of editorial content.I have not been able to determine if anyone involved with this agency has any formal journalism training,but what they do, they do reasonably well.The scene seems to be accurately represented without a profusion of leaking body bags,which is more than I can say for some mainstream media outlets.
What,then is the problem?Why do I direct my wrath towards this supposedly decent,hard working group of journalists?It all stems from the identity of one of their directors,who I found out about while doing an unrelated online search.Again,I will decline for the time being to identify this person by name.But the problem is that I know this person,this news director, to have made unsubstantiated and unsupportable statements regarding someones alleged criminal activity,specifically, alleged domestic violence..A simple criminal background check,made with the full blessing of the accused,I assure you,reveals no such criminal involvement.Yet this journalist steadfastly clings to their story,refusing to apologize or defend her statements even as the story,along with a good deal of journalistic integrity dissolves like a puff of smoke.
The problem is obvious.Why is this person still a director of a media outlet?Any media outlet?Is it not fully apparent why this person should resign from their post at least until their issue is settled?At this juncture,it is unclear as to whether or not the agency was aware of the activities of this person.It has at least the appearance that the journalist in question may have actively concealed these facts,or,perhaps with no formal training in journalism,to mention nothing of a comprehensive course in media ethics,simply didn't que into the relevance of the matter.That is about to change.
This matter will be a true test of integrity for what I consider an unconventional form Of media.Again,I have no quarrel with the nature of any given report produced by this outlet.but I'm unclear as to what their position is regarding the ethical reporting of news.Perhaps they would like to respond to my doubts by asking their director to speak to the issue at hand.Because I don't see that we can trust the veracity of any reporter,to say nothing of a director,who has behaved in this manner and then,to be charitable,forgotten to mention it to their fellow colleagues and fellow directors.
Unconventional forms of media are not,in my opinion bad forms of media.I can see how they can play a useful role in local markets,perhaps even more effectively than remote agencies who have little interest in local matters and are largely politically slanted.
But this particular agency,it's directorship and it's reporters need to take a stand for moral journalism if they are to be recognized as a real force in their particular market.They can start by speaking to this issue,either by asking their director to support the claims made or withdraw them and issue an appropriate apology,and to resign,at least temporarily,pending the outcome of this unresolved issue.
Saturday, 14 July 2012
Since I live in Calgary,in the province of Alberta,in western Canada,my readers would likely view it as incredibly ignorant on my part if this whole week were to pass and I were to make no mention of the Calgary Stampede.But you see,even though I live here,I do not really partake of the Stampede.I did not take parade day off as many Calgarians do,to watch the opening of our cities biggest annual event.the reason is simple.I work for a living and that is simply not an option.Moreover,I do not enjoy rodeo events,though I don't dislike horses.and the Stampede is certainly about horses.All week long the rodeo and chuck wagon races go on at the Stampede grounds,and processions of horses interrupt the flow of traffic right in the heart of downtown.Many of these horses are amazingly beautiful,proud animal.
With this being the 100th anniversary of the Stampede,it seems to be a bigger event than usual.Streets are crowded as they normally are during Stampede,though this year there seems to be more visitors than ever.Judging by all the languages I hear spoken,people come from all over the world for this event.So,in a sense it seems really odd to live here and not participate.Everyone dresses the part of a cowboy it seems.Everyone but me at least.I don't much see the point of having a cowboy hat for only one occasion.Some people here will wear their hats year round,but I never have liked wearing a hat.Cowboy boots are in fashion too,and there was a time I used to wear them,but I found them rather uncomfortable for daily use.As to the pancake breakfasts,and there seem to be about a thousand of those,well,again I'm at work at that time of day,and I really don't care much for pancakes.Still the breakfasts are a well attended staple of the event.
Calgary Stampede never seems to pass without controversy.Often PETA has protesters picketing the rodeo events,believing them to be cruel.In point of fact,the rodeo stock is a valuable commodity to western ranchers and as such is well cared for.Sometimes though,there are accidents which result in tragedy,as was the case on Thursday night when a wreck occurred during one of the chuck wagon races and three horses were killed.Of course that brought the animal cruelty protestors out in force.And while they raise reasonable issues,I sometimes wonder where they go during the rest of the year.They certainly are not as visible.
Please don't misunderstand.I am not down on the Calgary Stampede.Come some year and enjoy the event,by all means.It's just that I do not personally participate in the lifestyle that the Stampede represents.Except for perhaps the exhibition of art by Charles Russell being held this year at the Glenbow museum.Russell was a an artist noted for his portrayal of western life,especially in Montana and southern Alberta.I think perhaps it's easy to take an event like the Stampede for granted when you live here.And,speaking for myself,though I know other writers who have similar difficulties,I seem to be cursed with an inability to write well about a place-any place-when I'm actually there.I'm trying to overcome that,but you'll have to bear with me.Hence,you don't find daily rundowns of events like the Stampede in my blog.
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With this being the 100th anniversary of the Stampede,it seems to be a bigger event than usual.Streets are crowded as they normally are during Stampede,though this year there seems to be more visitors than ever.Judging by all the languages I hear spoken,people come from all over the world for this event.So,in a sense it seems really odd to live here and not participate.Everyone dresses the part of a cowboy it seems.Everyone but me at least.I don't much see the point of having a cowboy hat for only one occasion.Some people here will wear their hats year round,but I never have liked wearing a hat.Cowboy boots are in fashion too,and there was a time I used to wear them,but I found them rather uncomfortable for daily use.As to the pancake breakfasts,and there seem to be about a thousand of those,well,again I'm at work at that time of day,and I really don't care much for pancakes.Still the breakfasts are a well attended staple of the event.
Calgary Stampede never seems to pass without controversy.Often PETA has protesters picketing the rodeo events,believing them to be cruel.In point of fact,the rodeo stock is a valuable commodity to western ranchers and as such is well cared for.Sometimes though,there are accidents which result in tragedy,as was the case on Thursday night when a wreck occurred during one of the chuck wagon races and three horses were killed.Of course that brought the animal cruelty protestors out in force.And while they raise reasonable issues,I sometimes wonder where they go during the rest of the year.They certainly are not as visible.
Please don't misunderstand.I am not down on the Calgary Stampede.Come some year and enjoy the event,by all means.It's just that I do not personally participate in the lifestyle that the Stampede represents.Except for perhaps the exhibition of art by Charles Russell being held this year at the Glenbow museum.Russell was a an artist noted for his portrayal of western life,especially in Montana and southern Alberta.I think perhaps it's easy to take an event like the Stampede for granted when you live here.And,speaking for myself,though I know other writers who have similar difficulties,I seem to be cursed with an inability to write well about a place-any place-when I'm actually there.I'm trying to overcome that,but you'll have to bear with me.Hence,you don't find daily rundowns of events like the Stampede in my blog.
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