Thanks Jimmy, that was like medicine to me, loved it. Hey how’d you do that... just make a song appear? Just email me if its some big secret but you know what I’m thinking… Yea. Something to share too.
Maybe I’m not crazy… cause I’ve been expecting and waiting for something like that to happen big time, for years, ever since experiencing something’s similar, many things, similar on a smaller scale and knew it was possible.
Reading the caption next to Bills first picture below ‘born to be wild’ someone let the cat out of the bag when it slips… ‘ KCAC remember, was pulling huge ratings AT NIGHT, long after sign-off.’ … Well the station may have been off the air but them people were still listening to something. Way ta go Bill,… I wonder if he knew that, all the while. Ummm must of.
While were honnering our dead… I do want to share something, Ron, I found on Daniels website this morning, written by Chief Seatle….
'The white man's dead forget the country of their birth when they go to walk
among the stars. Our dead never forget this beautiful Earth, for it is the
mother of the red man. We are part of the Earth and it is part of us. The
perfumed flowers are our sisters, the deer, the horse, the great eagle,
these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the juices in the meadows, the
body heat of the pony, and the man, all belong to the same family.
To us the ashes of our ancestors are sacred and their resting place is
hallowed ground. You wander far from the graves of your ancestors and
seemingly without regret. Your religion was written upon tablets of stone by
the iron finger of your God so that you could not forget. The Red Man could
never comprehend or remember it. Our religion is the traditions of our
ancestors -- the dreams of our old men, given them in solemn hours of the
night by the Great Spirit; and the visions of our sachems, and is written in
the hearts of our people.
Your dead cease to love you and the land of their nativity as soon as they
pass the portals of the tomb and wander away beyond the stars. They are soon
forgotten and never return. Our dead never forget this beautiful world that
gave them being. They still love its verdant valleys, its murmuring rivers,
its magnificent mountains, sequestered vales and verdant lined lakes and
bays, and ever yearn in tender fond affection over the lonely hearted
living, and often return from the happy hunting ground to visit, guide,
console, and comfort them....
Let him [the white man] be just and deal kindly with my people, for the dead
are not powerless. Dead, did I say?… There is no death, only a change of
Well enough for now. Just wanted to get that up and out.
Keep the faith