father’s day | The Direction of Intention

Enjoy The Mountain Calm [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

Posted on June 17, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

This one is for my dad. Actually, this one is from my dad. He was in his happy place when he had a line in the water. Catching a fish was not nearly as important as the peace and quiet he experienced while fishing. He had a special spot on the lake; the door to his sanctuary was a fishing pole.

One of my favorite memories is of the day that Columbus taught Kerri to fish. I sat on a rock jutting into the water and watched two of my favorite people enjoy the mountain calm. Late summer breezes fluttered the aspen leaves. The ziiiing of the cast. The plop of the bubble hitting the water. Click. A slow reel in. Repeat. No place better to be. Being there – and nowhere else. What could possibly be better than that?

read kerri’s thoughts on this saturday morning smack-dab.

like it. or share it. or comment. or buyusacoffee.com. all options are good and come with our thanks.

Filed under: smack-dab | Tagged: aarp, artist, artistry, cartoon, composer, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, father's day, fishing, inner quiet, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, memories, middle age cartoon, mountain lake, musician, painter, peace, presence, sanctuary, smack-dab, story, studio melange, the melange, trout fishing, two artists | 2 Comments »

Blink [on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on June 22, 2020 by davidrobinsoncreative

it flies by as it drags on copy

Yesterday was Father’s Day. 20 showed us a photo. His children when they were kids. “Where does the time go?” he asked. Thirty years. “That was the blink of an eye.”

We put together a video collage for my dad using images dating from the time that Kerri first met him. Seven years. “Doesn’t that seem like yesterday?” We had a hard time remembering the order of events; what visit came first? We looked for clues. The length of my hair. The color of stripe on my dad’s shirt.

In one of the photo sequences we are in Iowa, the little town where my dad grew up. In the photos he is showing us the house his grandfather built, the house where his father grew up. It is tiny. Today, it is someone’s storage shed. To my dad, it is holy ground, the place where as a child he ran free. This was his last touch. His final visit.

We had a phone conversation with my sister. Her pandemic experience is vastly different from ours. To her, it is a minor inconvenience. “People just can’t stay in forever!” she exclaimed. “I’m worried more about the suicides than this virus.” Time, 100 days, to her community, is an eternity. “People gotta live!” she says.

Eternity. “What day is it?’ I ask. Kerri looks off into space. Weird calculus. “Thursday, I think.” she says from some far off place.

Locating ourselves is not so easy in these times. The landmarks are covered over. The geography is changed.

“What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” Mary Oliver asks.

What did you do with your one precious life? With this day, this time, pandemic or not?

We look at each other and laugh. “I’m getting old!” We cringe. Look at me!” We wear our age and it surprises us.

“Time,” Kerri sighs, looking in the mirror. “It is so strange.”

read Kerri’s blog post about TIME

cloud watchers

Filed under: Identity, Merely A Thought Monday, Perspective, Uncategorized | Tagged: david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, eternity, father's day, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, locate, location, Mary Oliver, pandemic, Summer Day, time, time drags, time flies | Leave a comment »

Be A Pirate [on Chicken Marsala Monday]

Posted on June 11, 2018 by davidrobinsoncreative

When we were little, for our birthdays, my dad would disappear into the basement and make magical constructions from boxes. Squealing, we’d race down the stairs and jump into the airplanes and trains and mazes he created. When it was his night to cook, we feasted on fantastically shaped pancakes, the chef taking rowdy and enthusiastic requests from his diners. There were snowball fights and broken windows (“DAD DID IT!” we shouted to mom, throwing him under the bus). There were midnight raids with a squirt gun dubbed The Green Avenger.

Being a pirate came naturally to him. And, consequently, I and my brothers and sister have no doubt where our treasure is.