The Fisherman and The Mermaid

I want to introduce you to this remarkable 18 page, "mostly true" story by my friend Brett Dean McGibbon. Brett drove the publishing experience when we produced "Badass - The Harley Davidson Experience" a couple of years ago. He has spent the last several years in Seattle sharing written tales of spirit and adventure. I think his is a great story but... you be the judge. Oh, and if this is your first e-book you are in for a great treat! You can read the whole thing right here by using the scroll bar on the right and you can toggle it full screen by clicking the icon in the top right.

Also, if you have any comments or criticism, good or bad, please share with Brett at this email address: BrettMcGibbon@DifferentFish.com

TheFisherman&theMermaid-byBrettDeanMcGibbon

Awwww Michael...

You crossed generations
With your amazing energy
Your creative genius

Your music that touched every heart
Your dances that defied gravity
You made simple motion poetic

You created the celebration of life
The visceral... aural... mesmerizing experience
In front of our very eyes

We will all look for you
In the great eternal concert
You will again be our star

I saw him dance to Billie Jean in the Motown 25th Anniversary television special. It was, in that place, at that time, the most remarkable performance I have ever seen. Here is a link to one minute video done later... a stunning performance:




And this poem, just in from a long time friend, Dr. Bernard Buecker:

"the little boy, dressed young with awesome talent
a gift to all the world
wrapped in bows of song and dance
with death as his escape"

And this in from my brother; husband, father and musician David Claud William Campbell:

"After living your life to please so many others, starting when you were a child. I wish you peace. May God grant you unconditional acceptance and love. Oh, and please teach the angels to dance."

And this, a tribute from son Tyler's band Arden Park Roots at the Sacramento 2009 Sammie Awards just last weekend:

$15(freakin).79!

Today.  At Costco.

Two very large boxes.

In the book section.

Filled with reprints of "Atlas Shrugged".

Normal book sized paperbacks.

With readable sized font.

For $15.79.

This, after my struggles a couple of months ago.

With a Barnes and Noble version...

At $20+ bucks a pop!

A thousand plus pages of  tiny paperback sized fine print like this.

I ask you...

Is there any justice?!

Hell no there isn't.

I love that book!

The Test

The student: Philosophy 101...he knew nothing about the subject. He didn’t want to be there either but it was required.

His professor: Not a person of pleasant demeanor. He didn’t act like he wanted to be there either. He seemed mostly bored and impatient.  His teaching philosophy “I lecture. You take notes. I administer tests". So he took notes. Tons of them. No time to think…just write.

The professor; “My final exam will include three of these 5 possible essays.” So the student converted his notes to outline form. Four levels deep; I., A., 1., a.

His wife did the prompting… her patience like no other. After his day job, he spent several nights on the couch moaning and groaning. Trying to force the four levels into his brain one level at a time. First the Roman numerals. Then the capital letters…and on and on. His wife suffered through it with him. They timed him to peak…right at the final. His brain was a piñata of philosophy notes.

The night of finals. Three essay questions as promised on the black board. “Fair enough!”…he decided to write his outlines first. Once finished, he began converting his outlines...notes to longhand. It was tedious but there was no stated time limit. Head down and busy, he continued. Finally, he looked up and there was no one.

No one in the classroom but him and the professor who didn’t want to be there. He had two of the three essays complete. Nevertheless, he gathered his paper and left his desk for the professor’s.

“Look, I am only done with two of three questions. But if you will review what I have and agree to give me an A, we can both go home”.

The professor looked at the outlines then looked at the two essays and said, “Did you bring these outlines in here”? “No, No!” he said, "I wrote them here when I saw the questions and I am converting them to essay form".

The professor pondered a moment. Perhaps he was thinking of a cold brew waiting in his refrigerator. “Okay” he said. They had a deal.

Philosophy 101... probably not quite the way Socrates intended.

His wife ultimately tacked on another of several degrees.  Her name isn't on any of the certificates but she owns them as much as anyone.

Four O

June 14, 1969

It snowed in Rapid City the day before...

Nothing unusual.

They were on the way to the church.

A little late, speeding a little.

The policeman pulled them over.

"We are heading for our wedding."

"I'm going to have to write you a ticket anyway Sir."

They got there even later.

It was a sign for them,

That life would never be boring.

That afternoon in a church,

The biggest Policeman of all found them worthy.

He gave them a long life together.

Two beautiful children,

And Friends then who are still with them today.

New friends along the way.

A treasure chest full of life experiences.

Good health and good  luck.

On June 14, 2009

They hit the Big Four O.

Thank you Julieann... for life.

Thank you God, for setting the stage.

White Satin Blades

Wind farm near Anita, Iowa

One hundred foot towers

Sixty foot blades

Of white satin majesty

Synchronized with the wind

Collecting energy

Driving it into the ground

Wires shooting it to the city

Bright lights 

Staring back at the wind

 

New Spot

This photo of an artist's rendering.

In from son Tyler's shows, 

A 4'x4' canvas

In Boulder Colorado last night.

The artist painted it during the show

And donated it to the cause.

Sometimes,

While dining on the bounties of life,

You glance down on your shirt

And see a bright new spot. 

You want to just leave it there. 

That way you won' t forget it.

No Man's Land

You know what I am referring to. Yes, it is the tiny armrest that fiercely separates two passengers on an airplane. There are no laws written for this freakin' war zone... no Geneva convention.

Usually it is first come, first served. Whoever plops their elbow down first owns the spot for the duration of the flight. If the owner moves their elbow for any reason, the pitiful vermin who was originally aced out gets to jump on it... elbow freely flying, relishing it's new found freedom. That's the way of life in the airborne jungle for all; from the seasoned, jaded road warrior to the untested innocent. Yet there is the occasional breakdown in this unwritten code...

Once, on a godawful small plane run from DC to Denver he was stuck on the worst seat there is on any airplane, the extreme rear window seat. That's right, the one that won't recline because it is up against the sweet smelling bathroom. He was a last minute add on because his earlier flight had been cancelled.

As you know a person in this situation is the lowest form of life... one who should be grateful to considered among the living let alone get a seat. Anyway there he was, and his elbow had claimed squatter's rights on the tiny middle armrest.  

Then a fairly large white collar Ivy League type sat next to him in the aisle seat. Things were okay for a while... but then the aisle seat snake placed his elbow on the arm rest and proceeded to apply pressure to the window sap's elbow. Remember, the window guy had been there first. The window guy had been in the reverse situation many times before and had always made a point to hang out over the aisle, giving the poor bastard on the window just a little more room. That made him consider the ivy guy all the more obnoxious. Finally he said something fairly unmemorable to which the thoughtless Ivy aisle snake replied, "I have a right to some of this armrest."... to which the window guy replied through clenched teeth; "Perhaps you would like to discuss this further on the tarmac after we land". Whereupon the lowly Ivy snake aisle guy relinquished the half inch of armrest space he had acquired without regard to unwritten airplane law.

He would have bitch slapped the snake right there on the spot but thought his sweet wife might be frightened by the sight of him coming off the plane in shackles. Plus, there wasn't enough room to wind up.  It was a small victory for peace talks.

Go Figure...

So this mass of skin and bones was crawling across the desert dry as a martini with absolutely zero vermouth.

He came upon a lady who was holding out a cold 16.9 oz. bottle of Crystal Geyser "Natural Alpine Spring Water. She said, "$2.43 please..."

He crawled on....

Wait a minute!

Was that the desert or was that the Denver International
Airport on June 5, 2009?

If it were gasoline it would have equated to $18.40 a
gallon.

Go figure....