John David (JD) Souther co-wrote some of the biggest hits for the Eagles including Best of My Love, Victim of Love, Heartache Tonight and New Kid In Town. He has written for Linda Ronstadt, and collab...
This day in Dublin, Mandela shakes my hand. It's a most peculiar moment. I look into his eyes, he looks into mine, and somehow I know I'm in the presence of sheer, bloody greatness. Not because of what he's done or had done to him, but simply because of who he is.
For most South Africans, that long walk to freedom Mandela wrote about is on a much longer, stonier and more dangerous road than they ever expected. And it's taking far more time than their well wishers around the world ever predicted. Considering what's happening to his dream of a new, democratic and rainbow nation, maybe it's best that Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela has gone.
I accomplish more when the weather is rotten. It's strange, but thanks to the meteorological dreariness, all the little things that would be understandably ignored and overlooked if it were sunny outside take on a new life, and radiate brightly themselves.
I'm scheduled to golf tomorrow. First round of the season. Be prepared: you may need an umbrella. Or, if history repeats, you may have to skate to work. Around fallen trees and downed hydro wires. In this, the spring of 2013, it's all just par for the course.
We have abandoned our old folk, and done so effectively. Why? They are not wounded animals wandering off to the forest to lick their wounds and die. Seniors are not ugly because of their wrinkles or yellowing fingernails. Their folds and crinkles are exquisite like the trunks of an aging redwood. We are the unsightly ones.