Is the me,
I see in thee,
Really me?
Or simply me,
Looking back...
At thee?

Father/Son reflection. Alcatraz, CA

Wanna check out how many
people in the United States
have your name? Click here.

This smuggled photo is conclusive
evidence that aliens are being held
captive in AREA 51. Okay, sure,
maybe it looks like a horse's nose.
But, then again, that's what "they"
want you to think.

Alien behind fence. AREA 51. Nevada

Captain Alfred "George" Eamer -- February 13, 1933 - October 27, 2005

George's life took off on February 13th, 1933. It touched down
a year ago on October 27, 2005.

George was a great Pilot! A great Captain! And a great Dad!
It was an honor to be his son, his friend, and a crew member
on his flight.

The following poem, written by John Gillespie Magee Jr.,
was read at his memorial service last year. Take a moment
to read it and celebrate George being at the controls of his
plane soaring through heavens with his bride by his side.
I know he'd love that!

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth,
Of sun-split clouds -- and done a hundred things,
You have not dreamed of wheeled and soared and swung,
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung,
My eager craft through footless falls of air...
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue,
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace,
Where never lark, nor eer eagle flew--
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod,
The high, untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.

Carole & George Eamer. Lynn Lake, Manitoba. Circa: 1953

Crimson lives,
Cling to,
Autumn skies,
Of fate.

Resist; then,
Release,
Under Kismet's,
Weight.

For man, woman
Nor child,
Destiny doth not,
Wait.

Crimson Grape Leaves. Sebastopol, CA

A friend;
As if a golden,
Leaf.

Warmth;
In good times,
And grief.

Gentle;
A heart, offering,
Relief.

A friend;
As if a golden,
Leaf.

Autumn Grape Leaf. Sebastopol, CA

Everyone deserves a poem,
On their birthday;
Especially a Great-Grand Mom.

The day won't be complete,
Until my gift of,
Prose-in-ryhme is done.

There aren't many words,
That sound like,
The sweet name Hazel.

So, well, I'm glad your cake,
Was made with chocolate,
And not savory Basil.

Happy Birthday, Hazel.

Grape leaf. Sebastopol, CA

Nothing's more,
Dangerous,
Than,
When I get bored.

I'll do just about,
Anything to,
Avoid,
The Psych ward.


Like take photos,
And write 'bout,
A truck.
Good Lord!


Ford F100. Santa Rosa, CA

Unless you're an onion,
It ain't easy being,
Green.

Why do we try so hard,
Not to be,
Seen?

Sometimes I wanna go,
Back to being a,
Teen.

Is who we are where,
We're going, or...
Been?


Green onions. Arcata, CA

Reports from Bush,
Regarding,
Iraq, North Korea,
or South.

Suspicious I am,
Til it comes,
Straight from the,
Horse's mouth.

Horse. West Sonoma County, CA

This morn,
A Rembrandt,
Vision.

Brain 'n heart,
In a head-on,
Collision.


Vineyard. West Sonoma County, CA

No words describe,
The beauty of a rose. Except,
The ones I just used.

Perplexed these days,
About my life; which is leaving me,
Quite amused.


Yellow rose. Sebastopol, CA

Does a dog,
Really care,
The carpet's red?

Or simply piddle,
Upon it,
Without dread?

Dog on fashion runway carpet. Palm Springs, CA

Some days,
Sour,
Some sweet.

Accepting each,
As it is,
A masterful feat.

Grapes. West Sonoma County

Life can be sad,
Full of woes.

Heavy sighs.
Heavy loads.

Doing your best,
Not to explode.

Don't ya wish,
Ya were a toad?

Bronze toad. Brentwood, CA

The earth, round.
Once,
Thought flat.

Now a truth?
Or theory,
Turned fact?

Thinking hurts.
Dumb,
Is where it's at.


Austin Healy wheel. Petaluma, CA

Is it always,
The darkest,
Right,
Before dawn?

Is life,
Just a game,
Are we're,
merely a Pawn?

Do we,
Flame-out red,
Before,
We drop dead?

Think;
I will no more,
And go,
Shower Instead.

Red leaf on blue chair. West Sonoma County

Another year,
Another cake,
Better a birthday,
Than a wake.

Life's strange,
Quite insane,
Happy B-Day,
Dear ol' Duane.

Banana Birthday cake. Santa Rosa, CA

Life's a game.
Maybe more,
Like an auto race.

You get to steer,
Stop 'n start,
At your own pace.

One thing's certain,
Winning,
Ain't about luck.

And nothing'll,
Happen, til ya get in,
And start 'er up.

Austin Healey interior. Petaluma, CA

Rock beats,
Scissors, no matter,
The weather.

Though Rock,
Can be conquered,
With Feather?

Feather on Rock. Sebastopol, CA

To live in rhyme:
How sweet,
And sublime.

The word Ford,
Makes me,
Ponder the Lord.

The word TRUCK,
makes me...
Think what you're thinking.

Ford Truck. Santa Rosa, CA.

If I had feathery wings to fly,
I would.

Breath with gills underwater,
If I could.

But GOD gave me legs 'n lungs...
It's all good.

Austin Healey. Petaluma, CA.