Talking to you crosses picket-line

[Ed O'Brien]

While the Writer's Guild is on strike, I'm not allowed to write. In Denver we have no front gate of a Mega-Movie-
Production Barn to picket... so I can't write and I can't picket. Damn Goofy situation. Fortunately, I have dogs, a great wife, a nice L2, Grandchildren, and another money making business... that will keep me going. I'm better off than most and happier than anybody.

Truth be told... we're all writing, all of we professional writers, I mean. We're not submitting anything but we're all madly typing. All of us have ideas that we never have time to develop. Suddenly we now have time. True, some are too depressed to summon themselves to any task. BUT, most of us are working. While it's not crossing the picket-line... it is crossing the only boundry we writers have. The borders demarcating our own imaginations.

For instance: My new movie manuscript pitch is: My Grandkids are flown in an L2 by my dogs to see my wife whose new made wealth comes from picketing at a computer in my basement... (sh*t), maybe I'm going a little stir crazy.
With regards; ED OBRIEN

[Forrest Barber]

Re: Talking to you crosses picket-line

Hi Ed , I AM stir crazy, and freely admit it!!
I did think of you during the inception of this strike, perhaps had you been on a picket line you could have gotten coffee and donuts from Jay Leno like he did for his writers.
OR come here to Alliance and picket my office, "NO MORE WRITING" , Foundation is unfair !! THEN we can go out for Wings & Beer tonight......

[Ed O'Brien]

Re: Talking to you crosses picket-line

Forrest and Tribe;
Life is short. Things are tough. Unfairness abounds. Sadness is everywhere. That is the glass is half empty
vision. That is the place to which each of us wallows, if only ocassionally. It does us no good but waste our precious-little remaining time, on such things. I'll take up the unfairness with those I think unfair and use the rest of the day to inspire as best I can.

Life is always a great gift. In the universe there is much matter and so little of it thinks or moves. talks or laughs, sings or dances, witnesses or cries. Most everything is intert. The elements that composed themselves to make me... could've just as easily been moon rocks, lead pits, or cometary dust. So much matter yet only a rarely is it animated into life.

Be grateful for everything you have. Shame on any us for complaining what little we lack. We may have a cloudy moment or a dreary day... but what of it? Too much joy is waiting to be discovered and so much fun is yet to be had. I'll not complain. Not that I have no right to do so... but that complaint is a waste... a waste of the gifts given to me by being alive and not inert. I'll rouse myself and call my grandchildren. I'll discuss in detail their holloween adventures and our impending Thanksgiving plans. I'll take my dogs for their walk. AND tomorrow, I'll tour a little of the planet in my L2. That should do me... just fine. Ain't it grand? I suggest it is! One day we'll become inert but until then we shouldn't. NOR, should we draw others to the wallow.
With regards;
ED OBRIEN

[Len Petterson]

Re: Talking to you crosses picket-line

Hmm I have 2 cars a Taylorcraft a nice dog and a terrific wife!
As they tougth me in a Dalle Carnige class many years ago, complaning dont help just makes the pepole around you miserable, and then you to.
Keep on smiling it's a true blue lager beer. soory You dont have Labbats Blue south of boarder!
Ok have Coor 's instead
Len

[Ed O'Brien]

Re: Talking to you crosses picket-line

A Coors with Len it is and hot wings with Forrest. I thank you both for your replies. All the best and plenty of it... everyday to every reader, wherever you are.
Ed O'Brien

[1938BF50]

Re: Talking to you crosses picket-line

Len,

I had nearly forgotten about the Labbat's 50/50. That was always one of the highlights of our Canadian fishing trips 30 years ago. Pop one for me!

[Ed O'Brien]

Re: Talking to you crosses picket-line

Yesterday was Saturday and Saturday was a perfect flying day in Denver. Practically no wind. Not a bump. Cool. Dry. Enough clouds to keep squinting to a minimum.

I flew to a $50 pancake joint about 20 miles from my hangar. As I taxied up to the restuarant, I noticed a young father and 2 boys. I'd say he was late 20s and the kids were 5 and 8. Obviously, this was their routine. Cradeling the boys in the crooks of his arms, squating down so he could talk into the ear of each boy over the engine's noise... the father was imparting the mysteries and majesty of flight. Each one waved as the parade of pilots shut down and trundled toward the eatery's doors. Each pilot greeted by the Father and his 2 sweet boys.

Twenty-five years ago - that was me. My boys and myself, loving flight, airports, and each other... on a perfect Saturday... out among pilots and planes. SO, I invited this group of 3 to my L2 and talked to them for nearly half an hour. Each boy sat in the cockpit and let them waggle the stick and listen to the radio. Yesterday, I flew just a few miles but a lot of years. Yesterday, I got pancakes and 3 new friends. I loved yesterday... and I guess I loved every yesterday I've ever had. Like I said yesterday was perfect.
With regards; ED OBRIEN

[Howard Wilson]

Re: Talking to you crosses picket-line

Pancakes..........$50

Innoculating the next generation with the flying bug.......$Priceless