tag:thom.tollerson.com,2007-08-19:/journal//1 2006-03-10T03:02:33Z Movable Type Publishing Platform 4.0 tag:thom.tollerson.com,2006:/journal//1.10 2006-03-10T02:51:01Z 2006-03-10T03:02:33Z

This is just me writing something new and different!...

This is just me writing something new and different! tag:thom.tollerson.com,2006:/journal//1.9 2006-01-29T23:39:17Z 2006-01-30T07:13:48Z

Pretty neat, how he could come in and go out on the very same day of the year...

By Thom Tollerson My friend Moose died Friday. I was in my office working on some music when my cell phone rang an unknown number, in an area code I recognized: Maui. It was Tory Terrell. I haven’t seen Tory since maybe the early 80’s. “Thom, I just wanted you to know that Mu died yesterday in his home. He had a heart attack. Yeah, he went very peacefully. He’s probably up there laughing at us right now. Funny thing is, yesterday was his birthday. Pretty neat, how he could come in and go out on the very same day of the year.” We talked for a while about staying in touch. I told him financial considerations would make it impossible for me to attend the funeral in Maui. He was in a hurry to tell everyone of Jeff’s friends and family about Jeff’s passing. We ended the conversation abruptly with promises talk soon. Jeff Driscoll is (was) younger than me, by a few years, about the same age as my brother David. We once took a road trip to Atlanta, from California, and helped my father moved into yet another house after my mother passed on from her heart problems. She died at about the same age that Jeff just did. That fact does not escape me. I had flown to Atlanta at Dad’s behest to be with my mother during another time in the hospital due to the strokes she was having at the end. She would look at me and think that I was someone else. She seemed more distressed than she ever had and I was helpless to do anything for her; I could only go to the hospital and hold her hand. It was very sad for me, knowing that my mother was dying but I had known for a long time. She had been weak and tired through most of my childhood. But it must have been so much more sad for my grandmother, who was there through all the last days of my mother’s life. I was thinking about Jeff’s mom, and how she must feel right now. And I was thinking about when, when I was just a traveling musician looking for a meal and a mattress, Jeff Moose Mu Driscoll took me to his parents’ music shop and got me back into teaching the guitar – and the banjo - on a full time basis in my early days in Southern California, Thousand Oaks / Westlake Village. They took me in as a teacher, booked my students, and let me practice in their practice studio, even when I was just waiting for students. Then I would teach until 8 or 9 at night. Then, Jeff and I would run around and try to round up some dates for the evening, or we’d just play our guitars, even when it seemed like nothing else could happen. Jeff once taught me how to get girls to pull over so you could talk to them. That was some good stuff. Last June, Jeff told me that he was having some health problems, and that’s why he couldn’t get the dream catchers together that he was working on for Heather, Jenna, and Sarah, my daughters. I thought I would see Jeff again, at least once. But that won’t happen until I move on myself. But I can still hear his calming voice, reasoning with the Universe. tag:thom.tollerson.com,2005:/journal//1.6 2005-03-25T06:34:44Z 2005-07-21T11:36:42Z

I haven't written anything in so long, I forgot what it's like to type out thoughts. The reason is (insert lame excuse here) that I haven't even been able to access my site. With the help of the illustrious Jenna,...

Jenna, I am now "back in black" as you American hipsters say. So, more rambling thoughts will be forthcoming. To start, let's go with the first thing I remember in this lifetime. I was less than an egg, in this dark little room, I was a red wavy light thing, and there were other red wavy light things all around me. We were waiting, eagerly I might add, for something to happen. It was a timeless place, so I don't know how long I was there. Then, there was something else there with us, and I can only call it an angel, and it gestured to me with a smile, and it was my turn. I left the room and floated down a long tunnel. At the end, my eyes opened, and I realized that a place in the center of my belly was sore. Years later, I was told that I had surgury to repair a torn umbilical tie (belly button) and that it had taken several weeks to heal. Questions: What was the dark room? Was it spiritual, or was it just a place I inhabited before birth? Who were the others there with me? Why did some leave before I did? What was the thing I can only call an Angel? Does anyone out there have any pre-birth memories or am I the only one? Did I dream this? It seems too real to have dreamed, like when you've been hurt physically you usually remember and that's the way I remember this. Answers?]]> tag:thom.tollerson.com,2002:/journal//1.5 2002-11-30T20:48:03Z 2005-07-21T11:36:42Z

you will find that the value that you hold in the highest esteem lies deep in the eyes of another human being, or several

Jimmy and I were conversing about this again today. Sweet, Crazy Money... You'd think it caused the earth to actually rotate. Not so. Yet, so many on this planet uphold money as the ultimate belief system. Yes, money is worshipped with a faith, so solid, so sure, doubt is almost never countenanced in it's presence. Those of us who worship at the altar of money hardly even know what system of immateriality that we so firmly and confidently embrace.... What we agree on is simply to exchange energies in relation to little paper or plastic chits - and sometimes in real precious metals, gemstones, and computer memory chips. Just the tangible forms of our energy, unfairly distributed, scrambling as we do for more than our neighbor, when we instinctively know than with the acquisition of superior material wealth must most certainly come -- love, security, faith, and life. Did we not know, all along, that those last four ingredients were always free, an unbounded and unmeasured gift? Look around you -- you will find that the value that you hold in the highest esteem lies deep in the eyes of another human being, or several - a child, a lover, a parent, sibling, friend, cousin, even the enemy who hones our self and other awareness into sharp and merciless focus. There is the true faith. tag:thom.tollerson.com,2002:/journal//1.4 2002-08-03T21:55:40Z 2005-07-21T11:36:42Z

It's hard letting go, sometimes.. like of a friend who died, of a close companion who has moved away, or of a child, suddenly grown up and not needing you like he or she did. This is my third time...

It's hard letting go, sometimes.. like of a friend who died, of a close companion who has moved away, or of a child, suddenly grown up and not needing you like he or she did. This is my third time to have the latter feeling. Once, for my oldest daughter, once, for my middle child, and now, my last time, for my youngest girl, almost full grown. For their sterling lives, for thier good friends that became my good friends, for their true beauty and intelligence, for the sensible caution and bravery in tough conditions that is my trademark and that I have tried to instill in each one of them, I thank them. I am already missing you, girl. Missing how you needed me -- how you learned from me -- how you hugged me, always-- how I carried you around on my shoulders, and rocked you in my arms to sleep -- it all went by, so fast, too fast -- While you ache for freedom, for adulthood, for independence, and it looks to you like so many years away, so far that you must hurry, hurry out the door -- I want to hold you back, to ask you to wait -- It will be so quick, your going -- and it will be years to you before you know that your "grown-up-ness" is fait accompli. Will you ever cling to me again, like you did then? Will you ever need me like your younger self once did? Maybe. But the hope of every parent is that his child should grow up strong, and free, and able to outdo or outrun the sordid challenges she will face, with the innocence and courage that God provides, to see her through -- We, as parents, agonize for years about our chidren leaving us. Because that very thing is what we have raised them to do, and we will have few further chances to teach them and they already know everything that they will accept; They say, "I need to make MY OWN big mistakes". Now, we can protect them only sometimes, now, we can seldom rescue them, now, we cannot shield them from the things that will most certainly hurt -- those things which we can no longer prevent, that go in tandem with being grown. Someday, maybe you will come up to me, you will hug me, and you will say, "Thank you Daddy." And I will be drawn to a time and place long ago and far away, so much like heaven, the place from which you had so recently sprung forth to enlighten the lives of your mother and me. But as is, my reward comes from seeing the fine strong young woman that I have raised, and my hope comes from knowing the few small lessons that I taught you, that I have conveyed over and over again to you and your older sisters, will probably stick and take root and be passed on. God grant that this will happen, so that my life can be fully blessed. Then, I will see this old heart of mine grow young and strong in the lives of those yet to come. tag:thom.tollerson.com,2002:/journal//1.3 2002-08-01T17:19:22Z 2005-07-21T11:36:42Z

I think the title speaks for itself. Sometimes, I have a lot to say. Other times, I just hold my breath. This is one of those times, sort of in between having a lot to say, and holding my breath....

I think the title speaks for itself. Sometimes, I have a lot to say. Other times, I just hold my breath. This is one of those times, sort of in between having a lot to say, and holding my breath. Know what I mean? It's like when somebody takes your bed even though you had your hand on it at a camp ground. Is it worth fighting over? Probably not. But is it worth festering over, about the person who cheated you, and obsessing over ways that God might take revenge for you? Probably. Not. So, today I am a raving rambler. A lunatic lecturer of unfortunate predisposition. I can say no more. But I shall. It's hard to hit a moving target, and today the moving target is what I am thinking, as in "what am I thinking?" I DON'T KNOW !! So move on, unless you, too, my friend, are today having trouble articulating from out of the void that is your scrambled brain. If so, please comment. You are one of us. Yes, in here, with us. Congrats should be in order. So bye. tag:thom.tollerson.com,2002:/journal//1.2 2002-07-30T22:50:37Z 2005-07-21T11:36:42Z

When you're standing on the side of 316 in the dark with big truck whooshing by blowing down your safety lights... it makes you think of BAD THINGS THAT COULD HAPPEN, which I will not enumerate here. Suffice it to...

Jenna's Journal. She drove; I looked at our friend's engine while posturing and grunting like a man, which I am. I cannot help this superior feeling I get when my women friends say, "It stopped all at once and it won't start again. I think it ran out of gas." And I say: "We'll be right there." My chest starts to puff up in the manly way and Jenna grabs the car keys. We head out the door and our car overheats. Wooo! we're supposed to be rescuing people, so we put some more water and antifreeze in the Volvo and head to the rendezvous point. Our friends Jessica and Sam(antha) are there, so I say, "Never drive on 316!! It's too dangerous!" Then I realize that I am DE FACTO acting my age and need to pull back on the critique. So, we put the gas in and the car won't start for Jess. I want to try. Doesn't start for me. I sit there trying for about fiften minutes. I say to the ladies, "don't stand between the cars!" I yell paternally. "Move off to the side of the road! Further!" Then it won't start for the Gwinnette County Policeman (much younger than me) who comes by to check us out. He and I stand and shine our flashlights on the engine. I say, "I think the solenoid thingy is out or something," quietly, just to him. He replies softly, "I know absolutely nothing about this stuff." We commiserate as men yards away from "the girls" who are by now giggling and laughing at our macho stuff. I hereby refer you Jenna's Journal for July 30, 2002. Bye fer now!! (TTFN)]]> tag:thom.tollerson.com,2002:/journal//1.1 2002-07-30T00:38:10Z 2005-07-21T11:36:42Z

Yes, it does. Like, my FTP site dissapears even though I can still telnet and see my directories... But I'm cool... I'm cool.....

Yes, it does. Like, my FTP site dissapears even though I can still telnet and see my directories... But I'm cool... I'm cool..