rogerinblueongray

rogerinblueongray

May 10, 2020

Sheltered - a strategic poem




SHELTERED

From the old English: to shield
Opposite: to threaten, to expose, to endanger
Similar: to cover, screen, or protect

Goals:
Protect who?
Protect from what?
Protect how?

Actions:
Take refuge
Seek sanctuary
Retreat
Hole up

Outcomes:
Safe
Secure
Secluded
Isolated
Withdrawn

Questions:
But are we safe?
And, at what cost?
And, for how long?





Roger C. Lubeck©2020


Mar 6, 2020

The Cloverdale Arts Alliance, THE Jazz Club presents Carlitos Medrano’s Sabor De Mi Cuba

The Cloverdale Arts Alliance
THE Jazz Club 
3/5/2020
presents

Carlitos Medrano’s Sabor De Mi Cuba

Carlitos Medrano on  Bongos,  Cajón, Conga, 
Cowbell, Güiro, and vocals
Julio de la Cruz on piano & vocals, and Antonio Cortada on bass & vocals













Feb 7, 2020

FIVE TEN perform at THE Jazz Club - Cloverdale Arts Alliance


THE Jazz Club 
2/6/2020
A great night of jazz featuring five 
of the Bay Areas best musicians 

FIVE TEN



Steve Carter, Keyboardist
Marquinho Brasil, Percussionist
Dennis Smith, Bass Guitarist
Jeff Narell, Steel Pans
Billy Johnson, drums




Steve Carter, Keyboardist

Marquinho Brasil, Percussionist
Jeff Narell, Steel Pans


 Marquinho Brasil, Percussionist




Dennis Smith, Bass Guitarist


Billy Johnson, drums 





 















Feb 6, 2020

Casey At Bat - thought for the day


Casey At Bat

Poems that rhyme are often considered out of fashion - but Caset at Bat has a grace of rhyme, word choice, quality of music, rich humor, and final truth.  Perhaps it is the upcoming spring season of baseball or recent events.  Whatever the cause, reading Casey At Bat out loud was a cure for what I was feeling this morning.



Casey At Bat

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day:
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play,
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to the hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, "If only Casey could but get a whack at that—
We'd put up even money now, with Casey at the bat."

But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to the bat.

But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despisèd, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.

Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile lit Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt;
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance flashed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped—
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one!" the umpire said.

From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore;
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew;
But Casey still ignored it and the umpire said, "Strike two!"

"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered "Fraud!"
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.

The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate,
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate;
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,
But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck out.







Ernest Lawrence Thayer was born on August 14, 1863 in Lawrence, Massachusetts. 


Jan 20, 2020

Cloverdale Arts Alliance Opening night - New art at the Gallery 1 18 2020




New Art at the Gallery
1 18 2020


Resident Artists 

Laura Paine Carr
Jane Gardner
Pamela Heck
Terry Holleman
Paul Maurer
Hanya Popova Parker
Richard Sheppard

Guest Artists

Bob Cornelis, Printmaking
Kenyon Lewisi, Sculpture


Hanya Popova Parke Laura Paine Carr




Laura Paine Carr






Richard Sheppard






Terry Holleman

  






Hanya Popova Parker







Jane Gardner









Kenyon Lewisi, Sculpture





Bob Cornelis, Printmaking




Pamela Heck







Lynette Chandler for Paul Maurer


Paul Maurer