Being a Bixby

Growing up a Bixby never really meant much to me. At a younger age I felt like an outsider being adopted into the  Bixby family by my father. Yes I say father despite the lack of a biological connection because as I've aged I've also educated myself. I can honestly say that NO other man could have done for me what he has. It's not just what he has done for me but who he has been for my family and my mother. She could not have found a better man to stand beside her. It takes one look around at a Bixby reunion to know that I'm the odd one of the bunch. I've lived my life to different beat. Despite all of our differences though I rarely feel like an outsider.
Perhaps I say this now because I see the similarities between my father and I. I also now realize the similarities he and Grandaden share. I see it is a trait or lesson learned or passed down from one to the other, so subtly it could almost be called osmosis. A lesson about trust, respect,  compassion, empathy, humility, and love. About being a family despite differences and disputes.
While I was in high school and after more then 50 years of marriage  Gramma woke Grandaden one night to tell him that she loved him, their family and their life together and then passed in his arms as he waited. She was an amazing women and I wish only that we could have had much more time with her. She taught me the most important key to happiness;  One day she pulled me aside while we were making her super special chocolate chip walnut cookies. Even back then it was noticeable that I was different from the rest of the Bixbys. She told me she didn't care what I did with my life as long as I did the best I could at everything I would do. Grandaden never remarried. Instead when Carl Bixby passed during the winter I spent in Chile he had survived Edith Kenyon by living for more than decade after her passing.
Of all the great lessons Gramma and Grandaden taught me, the greatest was the enormous power that a strong family has to flourish, grow, and support eachother.

Being A Bixby

She rode with the Guachos,
And inspired a passion for persistant perfection.
He dreamed of sailing seas,
And taught dedication to daily duties.
Together their garden bloomed with love,
And cultivated a tree stronder then any storm,
Heartier then any festive feast
That they themselves prepared,
And more bountiful then the falls dire harvest.
For generations that follow
I know I'll swallow
And savor like a fine wine
The love and acceptance of a family divine.
Together afain her, his whole.
Find the tide that takes you back to her ride.
It's meant the world that we yet to unfold.

Thank you Gramma and Grandaden. I'm trying.

adam

Ashevegas:

For the last few years I have been living in the Asheville, North Carolina area. For the first time in my life I have found a place that despite my travels, always feels like home. I'll be honest when i'm away I never want to come home. Asheville gives me a small city which I crave but with so much to do in the ways of hiking, kayaking, mountain biking, and camping just outside the city. As well it has given me one of the  closest groups of friends that i've ever had as well it has opened up so many amazing opportunities to me.
These two were inspire  by the wonderful little city I call home;


Ashevegas


Downtown is boring in the morning.
Nothing but delivery trucks double-parked.
Waiting on wait staff to be let in.
Weekday, no bustling breakfast cafes,
But a dozen coffee shops.
Mingling their aromas from around the equater.
Waiting for the streets to perk up.
With the aura ofAurora Borealis
That is this city’s persona.



                                                                                      



Little kids in unitards and winter hats.
Slightly uptight pretentious men,
And women in their over starched suits
With pleated pants and shiny shoes.
Local hipsters in tattered jeans.
Nothing but personal flair everywhere.
Johnny dressed all prim and promper.
In his fresh pressed uniform and too rigid trooper hat.
Watching over the hospitality.
In their single colored (appearing to look) clean
Established outfits.
Who are waiting on
All of us.

Around the Tree and Back Again:

Around the tree and back again was inspired by a mix tape that I had made for a women who was very special to me at the time. We had just gone through a very turbulent summer neither of us able to admit to the other what we really wanted or felt. As the summer came to a close I was preparing to leave the country for a couple months and felt like I needed to say more to her. I made her a playlist and found myself listening to it quite often while on my travels. While away in the process of writing her a 32 page letter I still felt like I wasn't saying what I really wanted to. This is the culminated inspiration of Lucy and her playlist .

Around the Tree and Back Again

Here I am.

Take it or leave it. Because this is me.

As I must be myself. You must be yourself.

Because as it rains all night

The filth will be washed away.

She (you) may be weird and I may be wrong.

Your mind and intelligence have infected me.

Like the rain you look like.

And I would for you, do what I must do.

To try not to scare you.

As I’m just lookin’ for a love

That may end up just another women in red that got away.

Maybe she just needs to go where she belongs.

Somewhere to be free and find a lover.

As I try to build a house fit for a lady.

Where I can empty my past.

And we can listen to the rain applaud our silent love.

Before I can’t take it anymore and abandon society.

To find the silence of only coyotes howling,

Whoo yip whooo.

And she wanders to bloom out with the other wildflowers.

Yet as I struggle.

There’s something about her,

That keeps me going on in this wild world.

Of  ups and downs, Dancing under lavender moons.

Walkin’ after midnight, searching for the nightlife.

Before I ask her to lay with me.

Because I’m afraid of a never ending lonely hunt.

As patience isn’t my strong suit.

And I want to know. I can’t take it any longer.

I’ll play you the flute.

As we set each other free and float by Venus.

I’ll take a picture of that sexy lady blowing my mind.

Who’s become my beloved behind a green light.

But what I really need to know is:

When you’ll let me in?

If not. Just let me out.

Because when the music begins, I just want you.

And a dance. And then I’ll chant:

I’m not perfect and this is how it’s going to be.

Not fade away!

This is real. I’m warning you baby. Give me one last dance.

We’re better than the real thing.

For those of you who are curious this is the playlist:

• Here I am (live); Lyle Lovett
• Be Yourself; Audioslave
• And It Rained All Night; Thom Yorke
• Is She Weird; The Pixies
• I Might Be Wrong; Radiohead
• You Look Like Rain; Morphine
• I Would For You; Jane's Addiction
• Lookin' For A Love; Neil Young
• The Woman That Got Away; J.J. Cale
• Wildflowers; Tom Petty
• If I Were A Carpenter; Johnny Cash & June Carter Cash
• Empty; Ray LaMontagne
• Society; Eddie Vedder
• Coyotes; Don Edwards
• Wildflowers; Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris, & Linda Ronstadt
• Something In The Way She Moves; James Taylor
• Wild World; Cat Stevens
• Kiko And The Lavender Moon; Los Lobos
• Walkin' After Midnight; Patsy Cline
• Would You Lay With Me; Johnny Cash
• The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter; Thievery Corporation w/David Byrne
• I Can't Wait For Your Love; Lyrics Born
• So Flute; St. Germain
• Sex-O-Matic Venus Freak; Macy Gray
• Let Me In, Let Me Out (remix); Lyrics Born
• Chant (bonus track); Xavier Rudd
• Not Fade Away; The Rolling Stones
• Even Better Than The Real Thing; U2

A couple from last summer that had me asking questions:

Waiting up

Why do I get all cleaned up?

Just to spend all night waiting up.

Not knowing if I’ll get to show up.

So what’s my hang up?

I just want to keep up.

And not let up.

I’ve got a long way to not give up.

Re-reading History

As I contemplate the history of what I’ve written,

It’s become perfectly clear.

I should really be queer.

But again I’ve found another,

And she has me smitten.

Scrabble Translation:

Scrabble Translation

Up late playing with words.

Randomly laying them down. Here and there,

This way and that. And maybe.

They can and will be something amazing.

Or something lost to a piece of clutter.

Tossed in the corner of the room.

And I still beat Candace.