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ODDS ARE (we gonna be alright)

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  "Struck by lightning, sounds pretty frightening But you know the chances are so small..." Those are the first two lines from the Barenaked Ladies song titled "Odds Are."  Our 1971 Century Resorter is named "Odds Are." I  often wonder if people think the boat was purchased with winnings from a long weekend at the World Series of Poker, a couple bucks placed on John Daly to win the 1991 PGA Championship, or a penchant for success at the Blackjack tables in Vegas.  It is  a  strange name for almost anything. Very few people have asked me for clarification or reasoning. The r eality is the boat was named "Odds Are" because I like the song and the message it espouses. I have a natural disposition to embrace a positive and healthy outlook on most things.  The "Odds Are" chorus: "The odds are that we will probably be alright Odds are we gonna be alright, odds are we gonna be alright tonight" The Resorter’s name is largely a sub-par
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Vicissitudes and Hardihood

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Age softens man...in many ways. I find no good reason to accept, participate, or aid in that process of degradation. I ride on. 
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...and he found himself alone on a gravel road.

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Open your arms to the pain and suffering of life, it will illuminate the beauty of being human.
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Rapprochement: The Reestablishment of Harmony.

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Inherent in Man is a desire to test boundaries, accumulate achievement, and manifest significance in the world. These exercises, when done equitably, reframe perspective…and Man rejoices in the adjustment.
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A Love Note. From God.

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On particularly rough days, when doubt is easily harbored and I'm certain I can't possibly go on, I like to remind myself that my record for getting through bad days so far is 100%...and that's pretty good. I took a rough little tumble...then I got up! I remain undefeated! Challenges must be viewed as opportunities, portals for thoughtful reflection and personal growth. This gift came with a love note: "Joel, slow down. You're welcome, God." Such humor and irony!
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The Gravel Road

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One stone about With a beautiful view Just a rock in the road At piece with you. We accumulate  Disseminate And annotate In aggregate. We touch, we talk Leave a place to walk For tomorrow's traveler We turn to chalk. 
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I came upon a Gate.

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Riding through life one day…I came upon a gate. Fashioned from scrap metal and finished in Mother Nature's signature patina of rust, it was a long forgotten discouragement, left behind after the coal was gone. Helplessly named Private Property, a custodian assigned to limit and control access to something…or somewhere; all while freely sharing through a holey, windowed construct, the remote beauty and intrigue within. There, through her cold countenance, in a shroud of snowfall, a pearly path of ascension rolled and ranged ever up and out of view. Riding through life one day…I came upon a gate.
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