Smulan

Smulan
Originally uploaded by bibbi.nelson

THIS IS THE KIND OF DOG ONE WOULD LOVE TO TAKE TO THE BEACH AND TOSS THOSE ROUND PLASTIC DISKS CALLED FRISBEES. THIS DOG LOOKS LIKE THE TYPE OF DOG WHO WOULD LOVE TO JUMP THROUGH HOOPS AND PERFORM ALL TYPES OF TRICKS, A VERY INTELLIGENT AND FRIENDLY LOOKING DOGGY. CONGRATULATIONS TO bibbi.nelson for taking such a wonderful photo and sharing it with the viewers...

WHY BEACHES ARE SO ROMANTIC By R.L. Huffstutter

BEACHES ARE VERY MUCH LIKE MOUNTAINS in that they attract people from all other geographical areas; beaches attract people from the plains because there are no beaches on the plains. Kansas residents, for example, have only to drive five or six hours and they are in the Rocky Mountains. The beaches are still many miles in the distance. So, what is the magic attraction about beaches, mountains and Kansas? Kansas? Who mentioned Kansas?

Okay, I mentioned Kansas because I am tired of the flatest state in the United States always getting a bad rap because of its geographical features. What about political correctess here? Bashing Kansas is akin to bashing tall, skinny people in some ways. For example, if my Aunt Mary had told me to stay away from tall, skinny people because they were underfed and aloof, the two having both cause and effect upon their condition, there would be public censure of my beloved and departed aunt because of her predjudice against people of such stature. Actually, Aunt Mary once told me that some of her best friends were tall and skinny. Thus, when I confronted her on her demeaning comments about tall and skinny folks, she retorted that she meant no malice, that it was only her experience with a basketball player while attending Kansas University that caused her to adopt such judgment. May aunt Mary rest in peace; she married time and again and never really found true love.

Perhaps she should have gone to the beach or to Colorado Springs in search of romance. Afterall, can one expect to find the love of one's life in Quinter, Kansas, or Goodland, Kansas? And no, not even Hayes, Kansas.

They are, however, great little towns; I have spent some time in each one forementioned. My Morris Minor broke down in the middle of a winter night back in 1967 while I was headed for Pikes Peak to write poetry. What an experience. It was most unpleasant, explaining to my wife why in the hell I had gotten it in my mind to leave the home to go write poetry on a mountaintop. She was not a happy woman. It was, I believe, her first clue that she was in for a most trying marriage. Well, here it is 2009 and we are still together. I have yet to become famous as a poet and I no longer have my Morris Minor, two sad realities that could cause me to go on a binge if I still drank.

Thank God, I got rid of that nasty habit when the doctor told me not to expect to live to see him again if I continued trying to drink a fifth of Smirnoff every day. But about the beach. Actually, there is no one beach that is romantic, they are all romantic. No, the beaches during World War Two were not romantic and never will be to the men who fought for them. But for those who have walked the beach at Waikaikai hand in hand as man and wife, man and lover, lover and woman, or whatever combination thereof, beaches are romantic.

There are memories. Oh, yes, the sound of the surf, the thunderous roar of the breakers as they rush into the boulders along the shore. There is the infinite sound of the sea birds at all hours, even in the hours after midnight, one can hear the sound of the sand piper or some kind of waterfowl as it scurries along in the sand far from where you lay with your lover, embracing, making memories to remember some far off time in the future. Yes, beaches are so romantic, so different than mountain tops, so different than Kansas.