Saturday, September 24, 2005

September, 1938


September, 1938 Posted by Picasa

I never thought I'd see the day that I turned sixty seven
I used to think by twenty one, I'd be in hell or heaven

Hunter Thompson shot himself at seventeen plus fifty
And from his note his latter years were anything but nifty

I guess he never thought it through or felt the way I did
I want to live just long enough to burden both my kids.

Friday, September 16, 2005

Old Friends Being Older


Old Friends Posted by Picasa

From Left To Right: Unknown, Gene Hallock, Maude Bailey Haskin, Almon (Josh) Haskin, Evelyn Haskin, Leonard Haskin, Frances Marietta Barber Hubbard, Clifton John Hubbard

Maude & Almone and Frances & Clifton were at Mom's 16th birthday party.

Sunday, September 11, 2005

Coincidence

The day was 9/11, in the year of double zero when I took my mountain bike out for a ride
All tuned up with brand new tires, new chain & handlebars, that pretty “Specialized” could really glide.

As I rode out to the nuke plant, a 5 mile one-way trip, I noticed that the western sky was black,
Like all of life’s surprises, I didn’t have a clue; I was riding out but wasn’t coming back.

As I got out to the nuke plant and went into the turn, the thought occurred I might be running late
And I often sit & wonder as I think about it now if that fleeting thought determined that day’s fate


I thought I was Lance Armstrong as I rode that bike along and pumping hard to make a quick return
I could feel the cool wind in my face and smell the autumn leaves as I felt my back & legs begin to burn

I came up to a stop sign, a tractor trailer passed and I looked for cars from either left or right,
I thought the road was clear and as I slowed a bit to cross that was when someone turned out the lights.

I felt a flash of burning pain then bumps around my head and I knew that I was flying through the air
Then all went black with sparkling lights of red & green and blue that exploded in a searing brilliant glare.

A Buick going 55 was hidden by a shrub and I did not see her sudden fast approach
She hit me broadside, I flew up, the windshield caught my head, she hit the brakes and that was all she wrote.

I woke up on a stretcher in the gravel by the road, and I heard the sirens wailing, saw the clouds go rolling by
My neighbor Tom has said to me “I saw a bloody mess” and he always says he thought that I would die.

Mary Ann was by my side as the firemen did their work and they prepped me for my ride to the ER
The life flight to the trauma center seemed to take an hour as Tom & Mary Ann came in the car.

Contusions, lacerations, busted leg and broken arm, my helmet left some white scars on my head
Major wounds behind my knee and big cuts on my face and lots of shock because I wasn’t dead.


When I look back and think of all the accidents I’ve had, tractor, truck & car mishaps galore
I think I lost my seventh life that cloudy autumn day & I figure I’ve got just about 2 more.

The moral of the story is remember what you’ve got and never waste your time on little things.
That every next split second could quickly change your life or bring about that dreaded death knell ring.

I still ride my bike and run the highways near my home & rollerblade and have some real good times
But there’s one thing I’m cured of and have been since that day, I do a total halt at all stop signs.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

Hayden & Family, Banff, 2005


Banff August, 2005 Posted by Picasa

Happy Birthday Mary Ann Hallenbeck Hubbard


Born August 8, 1943 Posted by Picasa

August angel, shining bright
Sixty two years old tonight

How’d you raise those rowdy kids
And they turned out the way they did

And since the time that we joined hands
Good hearted woman, good timing man

Stayed with me for forty years
Kept your head through joy and tears

Loved your parents, loved mine too
Met all problems, saw them through

May we all see you old & gray
With grand kids ‘round you every day

August angel shining bright
Sixty two years old tonight

Sunday, July 17, 2005

Happy Birthday Craig Evan Hubbard


Craig Evan Hubbard, Born July 18, 1969, Trenton, Michigan.
Posted by Picasa

Chubby baby, laughed a lot
Hardly ever cried
Put a joy in all our hearts
Put our cares aside

Little blond boy, big blue eyes
Playing, running, smiling
A little bit afraid of things
Made him more beguiling

Seemed left-handed & unique
Saw a world of different hue
Always asked the reasons why
And when and where and who

High school kid, had lots of fun
Drove his folks insane
Had his share of teen age ills
Came through all the same

Went to school, became a man
Kept his boyish heart
Always searching for the truth
Taking other’s part

So keep your kindness, songs and smile
And keep your dreams on, up, above
You’ll always be our cherished son
You’ll always have our deep strong love.

Saturday, July 09, 2005

Orrin Hubbard's Suicide


Orrin Hubbard Posted by Picasa

Sidney, New York. Orrin Hubbard, about 52, shot himself in Sidney, brother of Mrs. Joseph Dingman of Prattsville...Death Notice December 19, 1900

Orrin Hubbard shot himself at Sidney in New York
I wonder what the pressures were that made him pull the cork

Was it the booze or opium, back then the drugs of choice
That made him do that final act to forever still his voice

Undated is his nephew’s death ’neath runners of a sleigh
I wonder if that accident got to him in some way

We’ll never really know, it’s far beyond our minds to figure
To conjure up that small last straw that made him pull the trigger

So Orrin Hubbard ended all his pain and tears and strife
And Orrin Hubbard took a gun, and then he took his life

I guess man’s minds' the only thing that takes the world unleavened
Then cooks a heaven into hell or a hell into a heaven


Sunday, July 03, 2005

The Three Musketeers


Three Musketeers Posted by Picasa



From Susan's Tribute To Her Mother: "She also renewed her friendship with Aunt Ella & Maude Haskin to the point where they were called the "Three Musketeers" by some of locals"

Maude Marquerite Bailey Haskin, Ella Briggs Hubbard, Frances Marietta Barber Hubbard

Thursday, June 23, 2005

The Death Of Charles Hubbard


"Charles Hubbard of Sidney died, drawing ice from the river, caught under sleigh runners."...death notice in Sidney, NY newspaper around 1900.....

Just fourteen words complete it
The ending of a life
No mention of a father
Of children or a wife

It might have been a sunny day
Or one deluged with snow
Or just with winter’s keen cold breath
I guess we’ll never know

I smell the sweating horses
Hear creaking of a sleigh
As Charles tugged and held the lines
The last time on that day

It might have been a patch of ice
A small uneven dip
That caused the team to buck and lunge
And start that fatal slip

About a hundred years ago
From a river hauling ice
Charles Hubbard slipped and fell
And ended then his life.
Posted by Hello

By Gerry Hubbard June, 20005

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Seasons On The Hill



And the seasons would come and the seasons would go
And our whole world would change with the flow
As the sharp verdant springtime resolved in soft focus
As the hills drowned in summer's warm glow
In Autumn, the mountains were like purple haze that muted fall colors soaked through
Then winter's keen breath brought the snow & white frost
And another new year to us, too.
Posted by Hello
By Gerry Hubbard

Sunday, June 12, 2005

Happy Birthday David Gerald Hubbard


David Gerald Hubbard Born June 13, 1967

David’s Song

How did you do it when only a boy
Composed all those songs of your life and your friends
Played with life’s music, with songs full of joy
With tempo and rhythm and rhyme without end

Learned every word of each song that you heard
And stored them away in a place in your heart
To birth them anew with music and word
And give them to others as doing your part

Brought kindness and beauty and light to the fore
With songs about loving and fun
But some about poverty, hunger and war
To focus on change where it had to be done

Going through life with your dreams always hoping
The world would do all right by you and your friends
Trying to stop all the sadness and groping
And hoping the fun and the songs never end

Not caring for wealth of material kind
Your kindness and music has set you apart
And the people who know you are rich in their minds
And you soon find a place way down deep in their hearts

So keep up the music and keep up the joy
Life’s journey is all in the fun
And never forget that the luckiest folks
Are the one’s who can call you friend, brother, or son.
Posted by Hello

Thursday, May 26, 2005

The Soup Stone


The Soup Stone Posted by Hello


There is an ancient folktale about a wanderer who pulls a magical soup stone out of his pack and shows it to the astonished villagers.

Asked to demonstrate it, he has an onlooker fetch a cauldron, into which he places the stone, with appropriate ceremony and gestures.

Now, he requisitions a bunch of carrots and several large onions from the village storehouse.

Eager volunteers contribute beans, scraps of meat, and various spices, all of which goes into the pot.

Two strapping young peasants fill the pot with water from the nearby well and hang it over the communal hearth.

The water begins to bubble, and soon a tantalizing aroma fills the air. The wanderer sniffs at the soup, tastes it, then nods sagely.

He reaches in with a ladle, removes the stone, and returns it to his pack after letting it cool.

The grateful villagers fill a large wooden bowl with the delicious soup for him, and he eats until his belly can hold no more.

His hunger satisfied, he departs, leaving behind him a wondrous tale of a magical stone that conjures up the best soup that anyone can remember.

I've played and sung this song for years but do not have any very good recordings of it. Charlotte Haskin heard me sing this at a family reunion a long time ago and wanted the lyrics:

Here are the lyrics by Shel Silverstein.

Enjoy Gerry



I swear you could taste the chicken and tomatoes
The noodles and the marrow bone,
But it really wasn't nothing but some water and potatoes
And the wonderful wonderful soup stone.

Hanging from a string in my momma's kitchen
Back in the hard time days,
Was a little old stone 'bout the size of an apple.
It was smooth and worn and grey.
There wasn't much food in my momma's kitchen,
So whenever things got tight,
Momma'd boil up some water, put in the stone
Say, "Let's have some soup tonight."

And I swear you could taste the chicken and tomatoes
And the noodles and the marrow bone.
But it really wasn't nothing but some water and potatoes,
And the wonderful wonderful soup stone.

It'd been in the family for a whole lot of years,
So we knew it was a nourishing thing.
And I remember momma as she stirred it in the water,
And we could all hear her sing.
"It's a magical stone and as long as we got it
We'll never have a hungry night.
Just add a little love to the wonderful soup stone,
And everything will be alright."

And I swear we could taste the chicken and tomatoes
And the noodles and the marrow bone.
But it really wasn't nothing but some water and potatoes,
And the wonderful wonderful soup stone.

So it carried us all through the darkening days
'Till finally the sunshine came.
And the soup stone started a'gathering dust,
But it hung there just the same.
Ever since then, Lord, the food's been plenty
But every now and then I find
That momma in the kitchen and the wonderful soup stone
Drifts across my mind.

And again I taste the chicken and tomatoes
And the noodles and the marrow bone.
But it really wasn't nothing but some water and potatoes
And the wonderful wonderful soup stone.
We were nourished by the wonderful soup stone.
Oh, the wonderful wonderful soup stone.

Thursday, May 05, 2005

Carol Fights Back: A True Story


Bonanza BB Hole Posted by Hello


Carol sat with a BB gun while all us kids were having fun looking at Bonanza on TV
A big gun fight at a mountain shack and Carol thought she'd fire back, she hit an outlaw with one brass BB
The television set just buzzed then died
While Carol grinned and looked around wide eyed
And we stared at that tiny hole till David dropped the popcorn bowl then we all laughed until we almost cried.

You're always young in your mind it is said, No matter the face in the mirror, That you see with surprise then say to yourself, "What is that old man doing here?"