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How many of you have been enjoying the Olympics? I have been watching as much as possible, and still feel like I can't get enough this year. Besides the fact that the U.S.A. is doing very well overall, with a few pleasant surprises, the underlying theme of sportsmanship and unity as one world that seems to be the spirit of this year's games has been a real inspiration to me these last couple of weeks.

It is too bad that we have these games only every four years (every two, if you count the Winter Olympics) during which countries largely put aside their political and cultural differences to compete in friendly rivalry for all the world to see and enjoy. Sure, I know there is a serious aspect in the race toward gold, silver, and bronze, and that China is under fire for their heavy-handed control over their populace, their athletes, Tibet, and, well, just about everything they touch. Still, they have proven themselves to be splendid hosts, if for no other event than these Olympics, and it is good to see that most people recognize that this is all about the games.

There are serious questions about the age of the Chinese gymnasts, the U.S.A. track and field athletes and diving teams have run into some serious competition, and we watch with our hearts breaking for Yao Ming, Manu Ginobli, Chellsie Memmel, and Laura Wilkinson as their injuries contribute to the dissipation of their dreams. We rejoiced when the U.S.A. men's gymnastics team, against all odd, snatched the bronze medal, but despaired when the women's team of our country had to settle for silver. We protested when He Kexin took the gold in a hotly contested tie against American darling Nastia Liukin on the uneven bars in women's individuals. We cried tears of joy and triumph when Michael Phelps bested Mark Spitz's seven gold medals for swimming by winning 8 of his own, 7 of those obtained in  world-record style.

 In years past, I have always tuned into the Olympics to watch women's gymnastics, my favorite event. The earliest gymnast that made an impression on me was Olga Korbut. She captured my imagination as a youngster, and I remember having a poster of her on the balance beam hanging on my wall. Then along came Nadia. No last name needed, no. She will be forever known by that single name and her perfect tens. Mary Lou Retton, Kerri Strug, now Nastia Liukin and Shawn Johnson, the list goes on. I have truly enjoyed the gymnastics this year, as I always have. But here's the surprise: I have loved watching nearly all the other events that I had given short shrift to in years past. The biggest surprise this year?  Beach volleyball, particularly the women's team (although, along with the women's team, the men's beach volleyball team also attained gold, a first double gold for any country in this event). The enthusiasm and teamwork of Misty May-Treanor and Kerri Walsh has been a thrill to watch. It was over with too soon.

Blue, yellow, black, green, red. You may have noticed these are the colors I have been typing in. These are also the official colors of the Olympic Rings. The colors, and the rings themselves, represent all that is right with the world right now and hold the possibility of what we could be and do if we but persevere and live our lives with purpose. These are the thoughts, scattered with wonderful moments from games past that are foremost in my mind as I watch the 2008 Olympics, a modern version of a noble tradition born so many centuries ago. The best of humankind is exemplified in these five rings, and our greatest hope for the future is personified in these young athletes who have shown us what greatness truly looks like on the world stage. I can't wait until 2012.

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Well now, isn't serendipity wonderful! I wrote the title (a great song by Traffic) to this blog because I literally have been feeling uninspired of late, unable to form even a decent thought for a posting. But lo and behold! There it is, in all its irony, precisely the moment I am typing it in! Traffic, or that is, specifically Steve Winwood, will be coming to Houston on August 29th, with headliner Tom Petty. I remembered seeing the ad for tix a few days ago in the Houston Chronicle, but it just kind of went over my head; I took notice of it but it didn't really sink in till now.

All apologies to Petty, it should in my book be the other way around (Petty opening for Winwood). I have seen Tom Petty in concert, and he is truly awesome. I had never before Petty been to a concert where the band just launches into a cover (and a very adept cover, at that) of Count Five's "Psychotic Reaction". That will forever stand as one of the greatest moments in concert history, as far as I am concerned.

Having said that, I must admit, ashamedly, that as much as I love Steve Winwood, and as talented a musician he is, I have yet to see him in concert. Why? I just don't know. What a pity. I am looking to change that on August 29, however. I just won't let him get away again. I have far more Steve Winwood records, solo, with the Spencer Davis group, Traffic, and Blind Faith than I have of Tom Petty. I remember being in junior high and buying his "Arc of a Diver" lp and listenting to it over and over. I probably wore the grooves off that album. Have it still. Jeez, this guy has been at it for at least 40 years. I will say that again, guys.....40 YEARS.

That's as long as I have been on this earth. And he's still out there touring and being creative. Yep. I'm gonna go to see him come the 29th.

And that, my friends, is true inspiration. Steve would be proud. Looks like his times of feeling uninspired were few and far between. Lucky for us.

There has been an interesting thread on the VicAd discussion forum concerning Wal-Mart and peoples' experiences there. While I could jump in and join the fray, venting my frustration at the long lines and sometimes less than courteous associates at the big-box stores, I have been thinking all day about the smaller stores, the mom-and-pop stores, if you will, that seem to be a vanishing breed nowadays.

Contrary to one poster's sentiment, the mom-and-pop store is NOT yet gone, but is rapidly fading in the shadow of all the mega-stores, the Johnny-come-latelys of retailing. Wal-Mart, K-Mart, Target, and others have changed the landscape of the retail world, and have left their mark on American consumerism. Left in the dust are the smaller stores, the little guys who were always there, on the town square, to do business with a smile and a "How are the wife and kids? Have a good day, now, hear?". The days of walking in an establishment (not through a sliding, electronic-eye door, mind you), hearing that bell on the door announce your arrival, and being helped by a friendly and KNOWLEDGEABLE person are going the way of the dodo.

I recall even in Houston, we had a few small neighborhood stores that offered a welcome respite from the concrete jungle surrounding them. One grocery store in particular, Stutes' on Jensen Drive, was the one we would always patronize for small grocery items and meats. Mr. Stutes, the owner, knew every customer by name and would cut and wrap his own meat daily. He would cash a check for money for the customer, serving as the local bank in a way, as well. He always had a smile and a kind word for every customer. I remember well the old cash register, the kind that seemed to "talk" when the lever was pulled, not these modern electronic contraptions that have no personality. There was one cashier in particular named May, and whenever my parents would come in with me in tow, she would let me sit up on the counter while she keyed in the price of our groceries. She was always so kind and cheerful. I wonder if kids nowadays will have memories of this sort when they get older? It seems such an impersonal world now. In addition to Stutes', there was also a corner grocery called Doyle's and a service station (when service really was FULL SERVICE) called Jone's Gas. How I miss those small stores!

There are some small mom-and-pop stores left, particularly in the small towns. There is one place I love going to in particular, Morrow's Hardware, here in Yoakum. The wooden floors appear to be the original ones from its inception, and the shelving is likely the same that has always been there. The Gin and Feed in Yoakum has been transformed to a farmer's market but still has the original architecture intact. I must confess, I don't frequent these small stores as much as I should, finding myself in Victoria half the time and stopping by Lowe's or Home Depot, because it is most convenient.

 I am reminded of an especially poignant "Wonder Years" episode where Kevin finds employment at the local hardware store, yep, the kind with the bell on the door and the wooden floors, just like Morrow's. But the lure of the burger stand in the local mall is calling to him, and he leaves the hardware store to work in a "cooler" place, the mall, where he can be around all his friends. Meanwhile, the little hardware store is dying day by day, and the old man who owns the place has nobody to pass along his knowledge and concern for good customer service to. We all know the unhappy ending of stories like these, even though the episode doesn't go into all of that. Kevin has a decent job, making even more at the burger stand than he ever could have at a local hardware store, and he seems cooler to his friends. But what of the things that have been lost? How to put a price on that? How to restore pride, care, and love of a business that has been built through generations, from the ground up? It seems that many of us are too busy nowadays to ponder these questions. Someday soon, the whole point may be moot, as we mourn the demise of the mom-and-pop store.

Boy, the times, they are a-changin'. And this current generation certainly is not their parents' generation. I was recently reading the Houston Chronicle when I came upon an article about the demise of that rite of high school passage, the yearbook.

Yeah, you know the one, that tome of terror, that publication we clung to during our school years, the one with all the well-wishes (and maybe some not)of our peers....well, yeah, you know. The book wherein our poor choices in fashion and hairdos stand immortalized for all the world to see, for all time. The signatures of our friends, acquaintances, and teachers across the pages and across their pictures stand forevermore as a testimony to our popularity (or not).

So what about that demise? Oh, yeah. It seems that yearbooks don't have the cachet they once enjoyed. This article in the Chronicle caught me off guard, and I had to read it more than once to believe it. I never realized that owning a yearbook would become "uncool". My generation, and likely the couple of generations before me, seemed to take for granted that every year students would buy a yearbook, have everyone sign it, take it home, and keep it on a shelf. If the spirit moved one many years after, it could be taken down, dusted off, and a little game of "I remember" (or sometimes, "I don't remember....WHO was THAT??") could commence in short order so that one may feel one's appropriate age lest one be so disillusioned as to think that one IS INDEED NOT getting older, that Duran Duran and Wham broke up just yesterday, and love is still all we need, and we are still warm and fuzzy knowing Ronald Reagan is in office, and Michael J. Fox is still young and not showing signs of Parkinson's on "Family Ties", and Alf is as weird as TV will ever get, and Bill Cosby has not yet gone off the deep end........

Yeesh, but I digress. My point is, check out the article for yourself. And try not to shed a tear when you read a teacher saying, "They would rather go buy their tennis shoes or buy a grill for their mouth or something. A book is not as significant today to a child." Whereas in years past many high schools would sell yearbooks to 80-90 percent of the student population, according to the article, that figure now stands at 10-15 percent. A few high schools and colleges have shut down production altogether.

Do you think yearbooks are an antiquated notion? Did you or your child purchase one this year? Do you think they are relics better left in the years gone by? Since this is a new concept to me, and I have no children in school to help me stay informed on this trend, I would appreciate any input of the readers. Has this happened in this area, or is it mostly in urban areas where yearbooks seem to have lost their importance? Do you agree with the article that the "Facebook" and "My Space" generation have found suitable substitutes in the world of computers to take the place of what their parents and grandparents so cherished? Gosh, I just can't fathom my life without my yearbooks, and yes, I have kept every one since junior high, and am glad I did. Will today's generation be as glad they DIDN'T?

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So it seems the public should make a destination of the VicAd blogs in order to get the LATEST NEWS. Seems the Governor's Mansion in Austin was extensively damaged by fire early Sunday morning. Why isn't the Victoria Advocate reporting on this? I would think the public might be interested.

For the full story, go here. I sincerely hope that if this is arson, the perpetrator is caught and justice swiftly applied. The mansion has been a landmark since 1856, and it remains beautiful and functional to this day.

By the way, at the risk of biting the hand that feeds me, the latest "Latest News" posting as of 7 a.m., June 9 on the VicAd homesite was posted on June 6, 2008 at 10:48 p.m. Just thought you would like to know. 

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I have, thanks largely in part to NOT going to the movies in a long time. I had the pleasure of a repeat (or repeat repeat repeat, I lose count) viewing of a most eloquent movie, "Grand Illusion" (most definitely not to be confused with that mess of an album by Styx), made in 1937 by Jean Renoir (yes, of those Renoirs; his father, Auguste Renoir, was the famous painter - it seems talent runs in the family). It is a  French film, but don't let that scare you off; it's subtitled for those lacking in the French language (like me).

I saw this fine movie the other night on Ovation TV (just think of the type of station A & E used to be before it let itself go down the crapper), and bless their souls for playing it. I have caught it on Turner Classic Movies before, and it is available on DVD, from what I understand, although I don't own a copy. Gotta fix that, because it is one of the all time greats.

If you like "The Great Escape", you will surely love this film, as it bears a resemblance to "Escape" but is so much more than that. I highly recommend this film because of its gorgeous photography and incredible acting (particularly by Erich von Stroheim as a complex German commandant). But mostly, I love this movie because of the beauty and truth of it story. It was filmed after World War I (the war to end all wars, an illusion in itself), and examines the quality of mercy between enemies, perceptively probing the emotions and motivations of prisoners of war and their captors. There is one scene in this movie that is the most beautiful, saddest, and most touching material I have ever seen. But you must see it for yourself; I dare not give too much away. Roger Ebert writes a very concise review of this classic here but read at your own risk, since he gives away this important part of the plot.

If you get a chance, do check out this film. You will be glad you did. I am, except for one thing - I have had "It's a Long Way to Tipperary" stuck in my head for a few days now. But, the scene in the movie that the song goes along with - well, trust me, you just have to see it to believe it. Do yourself a favor, and save a few $20 bills - skip the theater, rent this movie if you can find it, or just turn on Turner Classic Movies for a night, and curl up on the couch. You'll find the old adage is true - they just don't make 'em like they used to.

Where does the time go?? My "little" cousin, Coby, is graduating high school this Friday. I truly cannot believe it. He looks like he could well be in college, maybe even a college graduate, because of his size and maturity, but I can still see the little boy in his eyes, and remember when he was truly my "little cuz".

Because I am an only child, I consider my cousins (all boys but one, and I will get to that later) to be the brothers I never had. I have the fortune of being the oldest, but that double-edged sword means that I not only get to watch them grow, but grow UP and AWAY sometimes. I see them entering their teens, twenties, and even thirties, with failures and successes along the way, knowing that their hearts will get broken, they will feel rejection in one form or another, they will think themselves more mature than they are at that moment (don't we all?). No advice or wishing on my part can save them from all that turbulence; I realize it is something we all have to go through to come out (mostly) intact on the other side. How then, to tell my little cousins, "I love you, I want to protect you, I want to cherish these years, for we will never pass this way again?" The only way I know how is to let them see themselves through my eyes, the way I see them. So for my cousins, this is for you.

Jason Alexander, you are my heart. You are the next-oldest cousin after me, and you are the closest thing I have ever had to a brother. I have watched you grow into a young man who has charted his own destiny, with a few detours along the way. You have brought me joy, pain, and indescribable love with everything that you do. You have a heart of gold, and no matter how many obstacles you have come against, you have never lost that, and you have never lost yourself. You will also never lose the love of all of your family. I will always treasure the sweet boy you were and the loving husband and father you are now. There is something intangible that joins us, and no matter where you are, I know I will always carry a part of you in my heart. You are the moon to me, ever changing through your phases, sometimes bright and full, sometimes dark and mysterious. But, like the moon, you are always there, sometimes out of sight, but nevertheless a constant presence in my life.

Albert Pike, you are the next in line. You have given me the surprise of my life as you worked through your rebellion to become a fine family man with a wife and two sons, and a responsible, fulfilling career. You still have your mischievous ways, but they just add to the charm that is you. Your sense of humor, your lighthearted approach to life, and the joy I see in your eyes as you now watch your own sons grow make me smile whenever I am around you. I see so much of you in your sons that I think, yep, they're gonna be Pike 2.0, a newer version, but not necessarily improved. How can you improve on the original? You are like a cloud in the sky, always unique, and never duplicated. Sometimes you may float above me, but you always make time to give me that hug, to ask how I'm doing, and to tell me you love me. The feeling is always mutual.

Ric Allen, you are the fourth in line. You have a spirit that is indomitable and contagious. You picked up on poker quicker than I did, and were soon playing circles around me, putting me to shame. You are smarter than anyone gives you credit for, and that includes yourself. I don't think you have any clue of the things you are capable of, and my wish for you is that you fulfill someday the great potential that you possess. I know that right now, you are smack dab in middle of living your life; your desires are that of a twenty-something and you don't have time to plan or to think too much about tomorrow. Believe me, I was there. Once all that is gone, though, I hope that you turn your thoughts toward the future, and you accomplish all that you set out to do. I wish that you would set your goals as high as possible, for the old saying goes "Shoot for the moon; even if you miss, you will land among the stars." I will enjoy watching you fulfill your dreams and goals in the next few years, and even though you now tower above me and call me "little cuz", I will always be the older one, and maybe you should listen to your older cuz sometimes. She might even know what she's talking about, although I know you don't want to hear that right now. You are like a meteor to me, erratic and sometimes on a collision course with yourself, but you know what happens to meteors when they fall back down toward the Earth, to become a little more "grounded" as it were? They turn into fiery balls that glow brighter than ever, sometimes giving off red, blue, yellow lights as they become what they were always destined to become. And the impact they leave in the ground when they finally land? WOW. My little cuz, I can't wait to see you become that fiery kaliedoscope in the sky. I know you will shine brighter than anyone thought possible.

Coby Lee, the graduate. The classic middle child, caught between Pike and Tate, always searching for your own identity, your own trail to blaze. Well, my dear cousin, it looks like you have found it. I couldn't be any prouder of you. You have become quite a force to be reckoned with, Mr. Most Valuable Lineman on the New Waverly Bulldogs football team. You are why I am typing in this color, the color of your team which you hold so dear, and they in return seem to think the world of you. As you contemplate which college to attend, your goals of majoring in education and coaching seem to have not been a hard decision for you. I can't think of anything else that suits you better. One day, when you are coach of the year, leading your team (will it be high school? college? the pros? only time will tell) to victory after victory, we will be able to say, we knew you when. And we will be as proud of you as we are right now. You now know who you are and what you were destined to do. I was not that mature at eighteen. You have surprised, pleased, and impressed all of your family who have watched you become a real star. That's what you are, you know. Like a star in my universe, you shine so brightly and give a glow that is one now of confidence. You are the most beautiful star up there, Coby. Your "little" cousin is forever proud of you.

And now for the youngest, Nicholas Tate, or just plain "Tate" if you will. Although with your flame red hair and outsize  personality, there is nothing plain about you. You have come on strong from the day you were born. Never like the others, you have stood apart and been your own child, and now teenager. (Wait, I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the concept of you being a teenager). You are like a force of nature, a true flash of brilliance, like the sun. Sometimes you shine so brightly, you dare to eclipse all that is around you. I feel confident that you will someday turn all that brilliance and force of yours into something remarkable.  Your love of baseball makes you a true boy of summer to me, and this seems to be the season where you really come alive. After all, the sun shines hottest in the summertime. What awaits you after this summer, and the next, and the next? As John Lennon says, "I guess we'll both just have to be patient, cause it's a long way to go, and a hard row to hoe", beautiful boy. So keep shining like the very sun itself, and don't let anyone dim those bright ideas of yours. You will get there someday.

Looking at all this, one might be inclined to think that I am the only girl. One would be wrong. I found out a about a year ago that there is another cousin, a girl, that I never knew about. I have yet to meet her, but I know that will be forthcoming. Her name is Tara Annette, and she lives in California. She has always been a part of our family, unbeknownst to me, but is now more a part than before. I know she is beautiful; she looks so much like her mom, with her blond hair and a smile that can light up a room. I look forward to seeing her soon, and to say "I missed you but never knew it!" And to the day that I no longer know her just from photographs. What position will she take in my universe? Only time will tell, but I know she will be as important to me as all my other cousins. I will love her as much, but no matter how she tries, I will still be the oldest. A blessing or a curse? A little of both, I think. And something I wouldn't trade for the world.

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Like the color here? Blood red. That's why I do what I do. For the blood.

For the love of blood, I mean. For the fascination it holds as all animals' life-giving fluid, for the secrets it keeps and for the secrets minds much greater than mine are just beginning to discover. For the most basic meaning to life that I have seen proof of: the graceful strands of DNA, the unfathomable capabilities of RNA, the frenetic dance leukocytes, erythrocytes, and thrombocytes do in their miles upon miles of vessels. For the sustenance of oxygen, proteins, ATP, and carbohydrates those cells deliver to keep us alive and well.

I am blessed and so proud to say, "I am a Medical Laboratory Technologist". Yes, I am a "lab rat" of sorts, and, yes, you may (and have many times) call me a bloodsucker, a leech, a vampire, and other names I cannot possibly print in a family paper. Yep, I'm the one with the needles who draws out those vials of blood (no, I am NOT draining you; yes, I will leave you some), the scientist you mistakenly call nurse, but of no offense to me. I understand you are anxious, you are worried, concerned, and just a little bit scared when you have to get your blood drawn. I have been spit on, vomited on, yelled at, cursed, hit, pinched, and kicked by patients who sometimes don't understand that the only reason I am here is to help them, to relieve them of their pain, to get them well, to lend a sympathetic ear if needed, to be a part of their healthcare team. I do what I do for you.

I do what I do because the fascination never wears off. There is a vast other world that exists beneath the lens of a microscope, and therein lie the clues that may reveal a diagnosis, sometimes common, sometimes rare, sometimes unexpected, sometimes devastating. I am, along with the dedicated pathologists, phlebotomists, and laboratory secretaries, the physician's detective, piecing together a puzzle so that patients may have a better chance at recovery. Did you know that 70-80 percent of a patient's "hard data" on their medical record is comprised solely of lab test results? There are people behind those numbers. I am one of thousands.

The microscope, needle, stain, spectrophotometer, fluorometer, cell counter, centrifuge, agar plate, incubator, refractometer, blood units, and chemical reagents are the tools of my trade. I measure, mix, separate, analyze, and "do the math" every day, day in and day out. I find myself at a crossroads when I culture out or find a microorganism that is not so common, exulting in my discovery and identification, but then remember that it is growing in a human being somewhere, causing serious damage, as bugs so often do. I find salvation in the fact that the physician can use this knowledge to now find appropriate ways to attack an infection, thus hopefully putting the patient on the road to recovery. Behind every tube of blood, every specimen jar, every bacteria on an agar plate, every cell on a slide, I remember that there is a person. This acknowledgement has kept me sane for the 20-plus years I have been a lab tech.

Last week was National Lab Week, a celebration in the medical community of laboratory personnel and the important work they do. For some reason, maybe because I sometimes feel that I have seen too many of these weeks go by, I just wasn't into it. Tonight, I am. What changed? A simple thank you. From a doctor. Because lab workers so often work behind the scenes, we are sometimes in danger of becoming invisible. So many times, the numbers we generate that go on a patient's chart seem to be spit out by a machine, not analyzed and scrutinized for accuracy by a real professional. We don't often hear "thank you", since we are not the nurses who are on the frontlines and answer your calls, and we are not the physicians who have a "Dr." before their name with all the answers. So every "thank you" we hear means that much more to us. And we remember why we are doing this, when our day-to-day workload sometimes seems more than we can bear. We remember we do what we do for the patient, and for the love of science.

I do what I do because those brilliantly bold scientists who have come before me opened up new frontiers, and the great scientists of today continue to blaze trails and make new discoveries every day. I do what I do because it never gets boring. I do what I do because I know that I can't imagine my life doing anything else. I do what I do because no other line of work allows one person to be so many - a blood banker, a hematologist, a serologist, a chemist, a microbiologist, a mathematician, a scientist, a dreamer.

I do what I do out of sheer love of science.

 I do what I do because I am a Medical Laboratory Technologist.

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There is an unfortunate trend I have noticed these days: Uninspired artwork (and I use the term loosely) on newly released music CDs. These digitally manipulated, boring (for the most part) and insipid covers shrunk to mere square inches in area cannot compare with the grandeur of the imaginative artwork of album covers in the 1960s and 1970s.

What brought this subject to mind was hearing "We Will Rock You" by Queen tonight. This cut was from their News of the World album. It was one of the first new albums I received as a youngster, and when I hear a song from it, I always think back to the first time I ever saw the great album cover art by Frank Kelly Freas. It was on Christmas morning, 1977, if memory serves correct. My parents bought me that album, and smartly did not wrap it, but rather laid it propped up against the Christmas tree. I don't really remember anything else I got that Christmas, but I recall seeing that album and not really seeing anything else. The cover was amazing, and I scoped out every detail for the next week. I just could not get enough. Interestingly, years later, I discovered that the cover art was inspired by an image of a robot from the novel, "The Gulf Between", by Tom Godwin, a science fiction author. Queen guitarist Brian May (a GOD of rock who also holds a Ph.D. in astrophysics, but that is a whole other blog), being a fan of science fiction, asked that the robot be incorporated into News of the World,  and the rest is album cover history.

The 1960s were a rich period for music, with supergroup Cream leading the pack of imported psychedelia. Their definitive Disraeli Gears album had probably one of the most striking covers of the era, courtesy of artist Martin Sharp. The day-glo pop colors gave life to Disraeli Gears and signified the times as no other cover did. Try this: listen to SWLABR while staring at the album cover under a black light with some incense burning ("so many fantastic colors, I feel in a wonderland...."). I promise you will be transported to another time and another place. Of course, The Beatles, giants of pop music, were not to be outdone. The Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band album cover is easily one of the most recognizable of the decade, and one of the most imitated. The photographic collage was ably put together by Rober Fraser, and still fascinates today.

To usher in the 1970s, the Moody Blues commissioned artist Phil Travers (not to be confused with PAT Travers.....I kid, I kid!) to create cover art for their album, A Question of Balance. This elaborate artwork spanned two covers, opening up and down, rather than the usual side to side. The swirling colors and ethereal feel to this cover reflected the poetry of the songs to be found inside.

Which brings us to a most prolific artist, Storm Thorgerson. Alone, and with the art group Hipgnosis, Thorgerson created some of the most amazing album cover art in history. Examples include the iconic prism cover of Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon lp, as well as their Wish You Were Here cover. I have always loved those covers, as well as Led Zeppelin's In Through the Out Door. The unique thing about the Zeppelin album, I found out many years later, was the inside album sleeve. It was actually a "paint by water" picture. I boldly took a paintbrush, a cup of water, and lo and behold, a painted picture began to form. What a discovery, and what sheer genius. Just take a look at the covers to the left (there are several of them) and you'll see what I mean.

What are YOUR favorite album covers, from any decade?

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So claimed my favorite author of all time, Edgar Allan Poe. His intense poetry and spellbinding tales of the dark side of human nature reflected this. He is rumored to have perhaps died of rabies, or of alcohol or absinthe poisoning, thereby possibly explaining the madness that slowly took his mind. But nothing can quite explain the genius he was, the duality with which he wrote, at once perfectly lucid and maddeningly insane. His works are still unmatched by any author of modern times, in my opinion.

Growing up, I craved any type of writing from this man, and never grew tired of reading his books over and over again. I was entranced and enthralled by the images that formed in my mind that he could so clearly paint for me.

I have so many treasured volumes containing not only Poe, but also the masters of science fiction, horror, and drama - Isaac Asimov, Ray Bradbury, Robert Heinlein, H.P. Lovecraft, Michael Crichton, Aldous Huxley, Jules Verne, Stephen King, George Orwell, Rod Serling, Arthur C. Clarke, Philip K. Dick, Harlan Ellison, Andre Norton.....there are simply too many to list. All have enriched my life and introduced to me worlds beyond my imagination.

Who are some of your favorite authors, past or present? What genre do you enjoy most? Read any good books lately? I believe the world would be a very dreary place without our favorite books.

A cup of coffee, a good book to read, and a cozy place to curl up with both. These are the things that make life worth living. And hopefully let us preserve our sanity longer than Poe could.