One of the few benefits of getting older is having not only a lot of past to remember, but for some, the time to do so in a leisurely fashion, and with a philosophical bent. If we are lucky, and if we look back with clear eyes, we may actually begin to see where we’ve been, and maybe even to see how our past has impacted upon our present.
Archive for frustrated boomers
Roxanne Tellier – We All Loved You, Frank Gutch Jr – Tributes, Tales, and Tears
Posted in Opinion, Review with tags Adam Dawson, annabel (lee), Art, Astrid Guldenmann, Australia, Baby Boomers, bill jackson, blogging, bobby gottesman, Canadiana, Cargo, Chris Laterzo, Christian Anger, Cindy Lee Berryhill, Daisy House, Darrell Vickers, Dave Coker, David Graves, Davina Jackson, DBAWIS, Devon Sproule, Don't Believe a Word I Say, Drew Gibson, elliott randall, Eric Rife, Eulogies for Frank Gutch Jr, Frank Gutch Jr., friendship, frustrated boomers, gary heffern, Green Monkey, Green Pyjamas, hannah gillespie, Howie Wahlen, Indie Artists, Indie Music, internet, Ireland, Jeff LeGore, Jen Morris, Jim Gratton, Jim Parrett, Johnny Hicks, Julian Taylor, Julie Cain, Justin Smith, Keith Morris, Ken Stringfellow, Kevin Casey, Kim Grant, Laurie Biagini, life, Little Lonely, loss, Mad Anthony, Mark Strong, Maurizio Michelino, Maxine Dunn, McKendree Spring, michael fennelly, Michael Marino, Mimi Schell, mourning, music, Musicians, No Depression, No Small Children, Notary Sojac, Old California, Oregon, Patricia Davis, Phoebe Bridgers, radio, Ray Brandes, Records, Rich Krueger, rich mcculley, Richard E Further Out, Ringo Jones, Roxanne Tellier, Rue Hazel, Ryan Collins, Salton Sea, Sam Taylor, segarini, Sheila Ellis, Space Opera, Stephen Marcus, Suzi Stark Brubaker, Sweet Home Oregon, Terry Varner, Thane Tierney, The Adventurist, The Bobcast, The Minnows, The Posies, The Real Shade, The Survivors, Thomas Shelton House, Toby Schwartz Demain, Tom Braam, Tom Dyer, tom kell, Tom Smith, Witherwolf, Writing on April 29, 2018 by segariniYesterday I went through all of the private messages I’d shared with Frank Gutch Jr, since I’d first encountered him. It was in 2013, just after I’d begun writing this weekly column, and right from that first message, it was as though we were separated at birth.