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Well, the Lord has risen, but the sun has not…looks like it might snow, but it’s still nice…Emil Catt ran out to drink his morning water from the bowl on the back stoop, and a fat Mama Robin has been twittering wildly at him…
Am boiling some eggs for Easter breaky, put in some food coloring for effect. I would have done it last night, then hid them for myself to find, but I would have forgotten where I hid them, so it’s safer this way. Interestingly, I used a Tilton Forest Green, which colored the water green, but the eggs are pink…hmmm…can’t wait to see what color yolks I’ll find. I actually do like green eggs and bacon, if they’re Tilton Forest Green.
Am reading a great book, OUT OF LINE, A Life of Playing with Fire by Barbara Lynch, that reminds me of all you brothers, and cousins and friends from back east (who made up that term, “back east?” “out west,” “up narth”)  It’s a memoir by Barbara Lynch, world famous, award winning chef, from South Boston. She tells of growing up in Southie, with her tough Irish mother and too many kids, “Uncle Charlie” Whitey Bulgur, who’s Ma lived in the house on the corner next to Barbara’s friend, Jane (I bet she says her name, Bahbra). It’s hilarious to read this stuff, because I’m thinking a lot of what the Southies say is similar to what the Townies say, some of which I remember hearing Dad, and Uncles Bill, Dickie, and Aunts Amy, Martha, Pat, Natalie, and Ma Herman saying… Love New England accents…and it’s always funny when I’ve been out to visit, that people think I have an accent – Mom practically beat accents out of me…when we lived in New Mexico, and I’d say walkin’, or comin’, she’d say “There is a G on the end of that word, try it again.” When, after visiting back east, I’d say Idear (“there is no R on that word”) or Aunt Mahtha (which I thought was her name), Mom would say “there’s an R in her name, try it again”- Mar-tha HAAAA…
Oil Well, c’est la vie…
Time to peel the pink eggs for my Easter repast…oh, and look! the sun is coming out full force.


Tedious, tedious,
This penchant for alarm.
This breathless, constant shock and awe
with how things really are.
“Roll with it, Baby.” Steve Winwood sang.
“Get over it!” rocked the Eagles!
Life’s surprises are great and small.
Very few are worth the undue, overblown,
Distressing attention you give them.
” …give Peace a chance” (John and Oko),
Starting with thoughtful consideration,
Peace and quiet, and respect for your listener.
rJoHerman 1/27/2018



April 2, 2017  upon watching Martha Radditz on a Sunday morning show

Oh, dear Martha Radditz, you always look so pained. The world weighs ever so heavily on you; your angst is surely not feigned.
But darling, darling lady, you have brought this on yourself. Somewhere along your path of choice, from Zanzibar to Quelph,
you’ve studied, worried, fretted, wailed from every single rooftop, until your voice, and loud concerns have led us to shout, “Stop!”
Stop your constant warnings! Your unfounded great concern that the rest of the world is unable to listen, unable to discern
just what we need to worry ’bout, just what we need to think. You’re making yourself quite ill, my dear, predicting all will sink.
Find some good antacid, sip a little soda. Get some rest, put up your feet. Read a little Yoda.
Ask your massage therapist to smooth your furrowed brow, un-hunch your thin, stooped shoulders. Find a comfy hammock upon a tropical bough.
Put all away, Dearheart. Take a long vacation. Please leave it to someone else to report upon our nation.
We shall be fine. We shall survive. The USA is strong. All will be well, my anxious gal, not every pol is wrong.
Not every story needs your twist, nor does your stomach need it. Chill out, Miss Martha, chill out, retire. Let someone other anxious, talking head tell us how to heed it.











Today they started the confirmation hearings for the next president’s cabinet… how the talking heads will smirk and opine, how the haters will smugly hold to their views, the fearful will shiver, the disgusted will huff…and some of us will continue to pray to all the powers of good in this universe, God Almighty Himself, to guide the hands and hearts, minds and mouths of these people duly elected to manage our country… It is time for cooler heads to prevail, for the noise to cease, and the listening to begin, lest we miss what we really need to hear…



All this talk of hope…hopelessness…how without hope, you have nothing…

I think it’s off base. Faith is what you must have. You can develop hope, if you have faith. Faith in God, the creation, the unseen. Faith in your fellowman, faith in yourself. Faith that the sun will rise at some point, and that it will shine and warm you.


We must have faith that despite all appearances, our country will continue, our freedoms will sustain us, our work will feed us, our efforts will reap rewards…

We must have faith in the principles that guide us, faith in our fathers and mothers before us, faith in our children after…faith that our doctors know what they’re doing, faith that our deaths somehow lead to life.

It is Faith that pulls us through when all hope is gone… and that’s how I see it…



The move to protect more national monuments, reminds me I once dreamt of becoming a world renowned archaeologist…Mary Leakey was my idol with her discovery of australopithicenes… after I married, and my husband told me I didn’t need to go to college because I was married now (1972), I raided the library and studied the Hohokam and Anasazi, and Richard Wetherill, who worked at Mesa Verde and in Chaco Canyon to uncover ancient relics. He removed many from their original sites, and they became part of personal and public collections around the world…it was the way things were done in the early 1900s. I had friends in the 1980’s who went on private digs in New Mexico, Arizona, southern Colorado, bringing home pots, pot shards, arrowheads, hand axes, metates, thousands of beads from Hopi, Navajo, Pueblo sites. It was fascinating, and I loved seeing and holding these treasures, but over time, we realized removing those artifacts without properly documenting them was not the best thing to do, and attempts are ongoing to return items to sites/museums at the sites. I am glad to know that over the past century, it has been realized that preservation of ancient sites is important for all of us, not only those who claim direct descendancy.


So, rather than listen to the shrieking voices of callers and hosts on the radio talk shows I listen to while reviewing loan files (the sky is not falling, my darlings, unless you let it), today I decided to listen to the first of twelve CDs accompanying my ‘Becoming a Great Essayist” class from The Great Courses. Professor Jennifer Cognard-Black grabbed me in the introduction by suggesting that a recipe could be the basis for a food essay…immediately my mind started wandering between the loan I was approving, and the old recipes I have on hand, and I became bored with the effort of the good professor to present an interesting lecture. I am not saying she does a bad job, but I realized she was reading her lecture, as in dramatic reading, with sighs and pregnant pauses designed to grab your interest and transfer the emotion of Virginia Wolff haunting London, or clarify her own emotion in writing an essay about her unfashionable, but wonderful, brilliant and scholarly mother. I realized that, like my grandchildren, when someone reads to me, I want to grab the page and read it for myself, putting my own intonations where/if necessary. I wondered what listening to the good professor in a classroom would be like. Would she speak more naturally? Does she speak this way normally? Does her whole family measure their words so carefully? How many times did she re-record this, making certain her voice was smooth and pleasant? I must say, she is certainly more interesting to listen to than Barbara Kingsolver droning through one of her books on tape.
It shall be a good course. I’m already wrestling with the professor, HA. And now to find those recipes.

on reading the Sunday paper

am reading the Sunday Denver Post editorial section… I have no idea what to think about the things I’m reading…”Universal basic income may be the next big thing” by Paula Dwyer, Bloomberg View, stating base income for all may be a solid solution. “Obama should be bold in Hiroshima” calling for the elimination of all US nuclear armament.

I remember no time when I didn’t believe that “if you don’t work, you don’t eat,” literally and figuratively.  I believe it to the depths of my soul. I believe if someone comes on hard times, hard work will get them out of it. If they become incapacitated, their previous hard work will come into consideration. I can’t imagine receiving money for doing nothing. It’s too foreign to me to even know how to think about it.

I grew up with a father who flew B-52s, carrying nuclear ordnance. Families gathered at the “Alert Shack” on base on Sundays to see our dads who lived there two weeks out of every month, always on alert for possible nuclear attack. I cannot imagine a country, a world not prepared for combating nuclear attacks. It is just too foreign to me…I cannot even fathom a serious discussion about it.

I recently took a college US history class covering 1865-present, with a text book presenting as fact revised versions of events that utterly astounded me. I was angry, then panicked because my fellow students, all younger with little to no experience with the events we were studying, accepted these revisions as fact. They accept that we are a nation of immigrants who remain victims of oppression, rather than seeing the strength, determination and success of our ancestors in overcoming oppression through hard work, community effort and financial success. How do you discuss overcoming oppression with people who, knowing their ancestors were oppressed, believe that they themselves are victims, too; who spend their days protesting, and hating, rather than continuing the climb out their victim holes, like their ancestors did; who expect wealthy and/or working people to pay enough taxes to the government to cover their needs.

Success is the best revenge! Hard work leads to success! Own your life, don’t bargain your freedom for a government handout! And don’t eliminate our defenses against evil and destruction by those who do not believe in personal freedoms.


“Bidden or not bidden, God is present” Carl Jung
“God helps those who help themselves” Benjamin Franklin
“Get up, take a shower, and do something” Mom


it will be a riot to watch them spar
Trump shall emerge winner above and far
he will direct the conversation
and captivate the nation
as he eviscerates the democrat star


A scholarship fundraiser

A nod to International Women’s Day

A collection of poems and excerpts from books

Read by their poets and authors

As delicious as that first bite of a well seasoned filet

Juice running onto the plate

With the promise that every last bite

Will be just as fully satisfying.


rJo Herman

March 10, 2106

(on the first time I entered Arapahoe Community College, instead of simply driving by, and finding my future amongst writers and readers and even musicians.  Life is good.)