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On the Edge
Sky Miles
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Half Baked

Slow Change
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The Heart Knows
Wind Mills
Broken Treasure


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© C Pembroke 2018


Happy New Year! I hope you are well and looking forward to the year ahead.

Yesterday I began meetings following a promotion at work. At 44, I am finally growing up the ladder rather than sideways.

The growth into new territory causes me to consider my anti-mainstream tendancies. When are they overgrown, unformed and lazy? I have a rebellion against America's football culture that I need to write about in order to firm up my stance.

I have learned lately to appreciate the good side of football. There are avid enthusiasts that have genuine passion for the sport. The platform gives people a venue to express, convince, look from the other perspective, listen, strategize. They judge the actions, motivations, skills of managers and players. Analyzing the group and how it works, or doesn't work.. That's good.

And I can listen to the posturing, presentation, timing, inflections of conversation, and enjoy that.

But what do I want to talk about, learn about? Not football!
And what do I associate with my college years? Not football!

I want to learn about the individual. And there are too many individuals in the world who are watching football, who are not passionate, and are going thru the motions. That is a waste of time and energy. Why not create something new instead of rehashing something old?

And my Alma Mater? I adored Auburn because it gave me a place to spread my wings. It was small and safe. On game day, all the crowds would clear from the local state park. The cliffs and creek bed below, burbling, gorgeous meandering from stone to stone. Sitting, the wind blowing. My place.

I found an alternative crowd, and hung at the fringes of it. So much a loner, yet still finding a place on the periphery. A vantage point to soak it all in.

I joined the school's karate club, and learned about physical discipline. Mr. Magee flew in once a year for testing. An old school Japanese master, he barked out orders. Not at all approachable. I could either win disdain or approval, and was surprised each time I earned a belt. I never considered myself very good at the sport, but it changed me. I learned to access intensity.

So that brings me to the school's mascot and cry, "War Eagle". I haven't known whether to embrace the mascot or not. I have a picture of me with a silly awkward grin, in graduation robe, posing by the eagle.

I had an inside story on that eagle. It's home was outside a duplex by a friend. I saw it on "off" days. Not presenting for the stage, just being.

At my age, I prefer to fold in toward inclusion whenever possible. I have held myself apart so long; It gets lonely. Typing now, I am touched. How can I not love that Eagle? It is magestic. Looming and large. And it spreads its wings, just like me.

Comments, Questions? Let me know what you think at

May we find our vision, learn our way, define our path, and meet our purpose.