Category: writing


Kumakawa – Book Review

Filed under: Book Review, Books, Communications, Current events, writing — Leave a comment
November 22, 2024

By Dan Roark

The story of Kumakawa is written by his former and current owners, Ross Hartshorn and Helen McCarthy. It’s written from the point of view of the horse, which makes it interesting. Throughout the book there are things told in the book that a horse could not possibly know – even if he is told it by a border collie. But it makes the book a captivating read.

It begins with Kumakawa’s lineage. His grandfather was Nijinsky, who was named after the acclaimed Russian ballet dancer, Vaslav Nijinsky. As a three year old in 1970, he became the first triple crown winner since 1935, then continued winning to be confirmed one of the greatest flat horses of the century. Kumakawa was named after Tetsuya Kumakawa, an illustrious Japanese ballet dancer who was 26 years old at the time. To complete the theme of the lineage names, Nijinsky was sired by the incredible stallion, Northern Dancer. Kumakawa’s father was Dancing Spree.

While the authors do drag things out more than necessary – and you’ll see “to make a long story short” a number of times – it is still a very readable book. For one thing, it’s about horses. Kumakawa and his owners are located in Wales, so the British terms sometimes require a little research. Speaking for myself, that’s not a bad thing, it’s a learning experience. I find horses fascinating – I’m writing about them after all.

Terms such as horsebox, rather than horse trailer. “Come a cropper,” which means falling from a horse heavily. “Hacking” is riding a horse for fun or exercise. “On the naughty step,” which is basically in time out. Acclimatised rather than acclimated.

While it appears Kumakawa, in the book, knows more about the human things going on around him, the authors didn’t have much choice, other than interjecting themselves into the story – which would be unsettling and eventually annoying. It does, however, put the life of Kumakawa in historical perspective.

Over all, it’s a fun read. It’s not an “in one sitting” type of read. Some of the longer years when more things go awry can take a couple of sittings themselves. But, again, it’s about horses – with insights about horses galore. Then there’s the animal interactions. Kumakawa’s relationship to his border collie pals – Leah first, and then Daisy.

The interactions with Daisy are written and illustrated in three additional children’s books with more to come. The overall title of the books is The Adventures of Kumakawa, The Horse That Will Try Anything. The current three are Today It’s Karate, Today It’s Ballet, and Today He’s Australian.

Each book involves Kumakawa, Daisy, and a couple of friends. The overarching purpose of the books is to give children the confidence that they can do anything they put their mind to.

Which is perfect for those younger therapeutic riders and any child with societal issues.

 

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

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Traffic, A Show and Being Stopped

Filed under: Communications, Current events, live, Music, travel, writing — 1 Comment

By Dan Roark

So I left at 5 p.m. for my show at 7 at Pilot Point Coffee House. On a usual day, it would take me 45 minutes to an hour to get there. Even on a Friday, it shouldn’t take a lot longer than that. But there was nothing usual about this Friday night.

Heading north on I35 from Farmers Branch, things went as expected, even exiting and turning on Swisher and heading for the Lewisville Lake Toll Bridge. About two thirds of the bridge when fine. Then we slowed way down. We never stopped completely, but we were moving irritatingly slow. Turns out the right lane ended just past the bridge.

Once we got through the lane closure and it turned into Eldorado Pkwy., things ran smoother. I turned onto Oak Grove Pkwy. and seemed to be making up some time. Then there was a half-mile back-up at 380 and again at the light for 424 leading to 377, which went smoothly.

I parked at the coffee house about 10 ’till 7. After two trips from the van, and sound check, I started the show at 7:05. Not bad for having incurred hellacious traffic.

Despite the inauspicious start, it turned out to be a great show. I even gained new fans. It was a community event and I was the entertainment. Apparently, I didn’t disappoint them.

So I’m heading home. I’m going through small towns on a Friday night so I’m paying attention to speed limit signs. In my mind, I’m back home having a beer. I’m cruising right along, going through the show in my head when, suddenly, it looks like I’m being followed by a flashing Christmas tree – minus the green lights.

I pulled over immediately, which has been my reaction for years – I am an old hippie after all. I asked him if I missed one. He said “what?” I said, “speed limit sign.” It seemed to confuse him for a minute. Then he explained that he stopped me because my license plate light was out. He took my driver’s license and way too much time checking me out, then came back with a written warning. Are you kidding me? I haven’t gotten a written warning in years! Not that I haven’t received warnings, just not written.

To be honest, I didn’t even know the van had license plate lights (I changed them the next day – turns out there are two). They obviously hadn’t been changed in years as dirty as they were and as hard as it was getting them out. I watched a YouTube video to keep from snapping them off by twisting them the wrong way.

But the kicker is that I’ve been driving thousands of miles a year for a number of years now in more than half a dozen states and that was the first time I’ve ever been stopped because the license plate lights were out. I’ve been stopped for a lot of stupid reasons – and a few good ones – but not for lack of license plate lights.

And now I have – within an hour from home. Go figure.

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

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Bowling Alley, Pinball Machines and Pong

Filed under: Communications, friends, writing — Leave a comment
October 18, 2024

By Dan Roark

I often think about when I was younger in the area. I remember hanging out at Preston Forest Bowling Center at – you guessed it – Preston Rd. at Forest Ln. There was a Titches store in the same shopping center. There are several different things there now, with Staples where the Titches was.

Preston Forest Bowling Center was open by 1961. It was a community center for decades until 1999. I hung out there with friends in late ’60s and early ’70s. At that time they had an arcade of pinball machines just to the left inside of the front door. It looked pretty much like the picture, but I don’t know if there were that many machines.

The pinball machines were backed up to the front wall of the building. There was a wall between the pinball machines and the bowling alley proper. It could have been a solid wall or half glass, I don’t remember. There was also a wall between the pinball machines and whatever was at the north end of the building. The end toward the front door was open.

We would play pinball, watch each other play pinball, smoke cigarettes, and hang out for hours. When our friend’s parents or someone from church came in, we’d shove our cigarette packs in our jeans pocket so they wouldn’t see them and report back to whoever we imagined them reporting back to.

There was a period of time when one or two of the pinball machines were impossible to tilt. We could swing them violently side to side, keeping a game going until we thought someone at the front counter would notice. So we could play for hours with just a handful of change. And wrack up an insane number of points on the two machines.

Then the owners got one of the first video games. The only one in the surrounding area. A Pong machine. Then we only played pinball until our turn came up to play Pong.

Gradually, we got older and moved on to other things. We became seniors and had life ahead of us that no longer revolved around pinball, pong, or bowling alleys.

But we still have the fond memories.

_______________________

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

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Things That Happen When You’re Stuck in Traffic

Filed under: Communications, Current events, travel, writing — Leave a comment
October 8, 2024

By Dan Roark

I was driving J.D. to work yesterday when we came upon a quarter of a mile or more of pylons which eventually brought us down to one lane on the other side of the median on Plano Parkway. We were heading east before coming up the rise toward the light at Alma.

When we came down to one lane, we also came to a complete stop. A man in a hard hat popped between the two tower type “arms” of the crane and strung a cable from between the two to the large part on “our” end.

He climbed down and began the process that led to the next picture.

It was quite interesting watching the arm that the guy had walked across raise up and the two original arms split in separate directions. We were wondering what it was they were going to lift.

About that time, traffic began to move again. On the other side of the crane was a bridge on a flat bed truck. Traffic had begun to move so we didn’t get a picture of the bridge on the truck.

But this morning, I took the following pictures of the bridge installed.

 

The moral of the story is, if you’re going to stop traffic, at least have something for the drivers and passengers to watch to get their minds off of running late.

 

 

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

Paypal.me/danroark

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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When Silence is Golden

Filed under: Communications, Current events, Music, travel, writing — Leave a comment
August 9, 2024

By Dan Roark

During the school year last year (she works with ESL students as a teachers’ aide), Cyndy quit listening to the radio in the car. With all the noise of the school day, she began to crave silence when she got in the car to go home or to New Hope Equine Assisted Therapy. And that continued into the weekend when we went places.
At first it bothered me. I’ve almost always listened to music when I’m driving or riding. But I generally just listen to two stations.

I tried to argue against the silence. I didn’t try very hard though, simply figured I’d just listen to music when I was driving the van. Sometimes, when Cyndy was driving, I wanted to listen to music. But I got to thinking about something else and the urge went away. Being a writer, my mind is good about wandering.

After that, there were times I would be driving when I would realize that I hadn’t turned the radio on. That’s still true much of the time. Sometimes I’ll give each of the two stations a couple of songs to catch my ear, so to speak. If the station plays two decent songs in a row, it usually goes south after that. Either way, at the beginning of the first “clunker,” I just turn the radio off.

What sort of surprised me about this little experiment is all the garbage I actually listened to without thinking about it. Not the commercials – I always turned the volume down. But the crap the DJs say. As if anyone cares what they have to say. And the crappy songs. Definitely, the crappy songs.

If the song is good, but I just don’t like it, I’ll admit it’s a good song. But I’m not talking about those songs. I mean the songs that really suck. The songs you wonder about why they’re actually playing them on the radio. The songs which are really painful to the ears. And the songs that don’t seem to make sense. The music is catchy, and designed to keep the focus away from the lyrics, which, taken by themselves, are just a bunch of words thrown together.

So I turn the radio off.

_________________________

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

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The El Camino Forest Lane Saga

Filed under: Communications, Current events, writing — Leave a comment
August 3, 2024

For those who don’t know, Forest Lane, in what was then north Dallas, was the longest public dragstrip in the country according to Hot Rod Magazine in the late 60s and early 70s. At the time, north Dallas was between Northwest Highway and the new 635 highway.  The stop lights were (and are) in quarter mile increments, perfect for short races. There is no one particular site online, but when you search you can find out quite a bit about it.

On Friday and Saturday nights in high school, we would hang out in the parking lot of the Park Forest Theater. Smiley, the local truant officer, would give us rides around the parking lot. I was one of the people hanging out in the Park Forest parking lot and then going home. Other folks with fast cars raced up and down Forest Lane (gas was 35 cents a gallon and we hadn’t heard of global warming yet). I drove one of the family cars. Granted, it was a ’65 Mustang, but it was stock and not all that fast off the line. I wasn’t the racing type anyway.

So I told you that to tell you this:

It was a number of years later, in the later 70s or early 80s, that I had an apartment with a friend from high school in a complex at Nix and Beltline that is now a Goodwill Store with grass between it and Whataburger.

I needed a vehicle and somehow this used black El Camino (somewhat like the picture above) popped up. My roommate at the time, Dave, who was into cars and had a job at an auto parts store, encouraged me to buy it. I probably bought it from a friend or customer of Dave’s. But he insisted it was a good deal.

The muffler ended just behind the front seat, so it was loud enough that everyone knew the truck was on the road. The radio was deemed irrelevant. If the truck died, I had to grab the largest, longest screw driver I’ve ever owned, hop out, raise the hood and connect the terminals with the screw driver to start the truck. I had a key, but it didn’t always work. There were times when it happened at a light, causing honks, stares, and unsolicited comments. But Dave said it was a good deal. Which it probably was if you were into cars and trucks, but I’m a guitar playing singer-songwriter (I still play a song we wrote together in my shows). I was only interested in getting from one place to another.

It felt good for a while having a hotrod truck. Being noticed by literally everyone was kind of fun, but got old fairly quickly. There were not a lot of situations where I wanted someone to know I was coming before I got there. But they knew every time, whoever it was. Having to hop out and start the truck with the screwdriver in rain, cold, and wind could easily be a pain in the ass. It was also a four on the floor which made driving work. You have to constantly be moving your hands and feet.

There was one night Dave and I were out in the El Camino. At some point we ended up on Forest Lane. I was just cruising until a jerk in a stock Camaro was acting stupid and pissed me off (Dave told me it was a stock Camaro). I just knew the driver was pissing me off.

I was in the far right of the three lanes. The car in front of me seemed to be going less than, or right at, the speed limit. The idiot in the Camaro was in the middle lane. He would lag a bit, then speed up when he saw I was about to change lanes until the front of the Camaro was parallel to the back of the car in front of me. That’s how he was pissing me off – keeping me locked in place.

Then the car in front of me sped up quickly enough that it threw the idiot in the Camaro off-guard. Feeling the power of the El Camino naturally for the first time, I made my move. I took a deep breath, stomped on the accelerator while shifting into third gear – the truck liked to cruise in second gear. Coming perilously close to the rear of the car in front of me, I whipped on over into the second lane in front of the asshole, much to his dismay, and sped ahead of him. He didn’t bother me after that.

It was the one time I finally felt in control of the power of the the truck. The way Dave reacted you would think I had won the Indy 500. He thought he had molded me into the driver he wanted me to be. He was wrong. Come to think about it, it’s the last memory I actually have of seeing Dave or driving the truck. But I have to admit – for a few seconds it was heart racing fun.

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

 

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Red Wine Vinegar or White Wine Vinegar – Pardon Me?

Filed under: Communications, Current events, Family, Food, writing — Leave a comment
July 30, 2024

By Dan Roark

Since I have looked for recipes online before, I am now getting emails with recipes. Some of them are variations of other recipes someone has borrowed and made their own and given stupid names. Under the misguided impression that calling it Barbara Walters bake will entice people to try it and other recipes of theirs so they can put out a cookbook that’ll look good in their kitchen, but won’t sell. They can show all their friends the book and sign a few copies, but they’ll fall far short of their cooking show goal.

One of the recipes I received earlier this week was for something called Cowboy Caviar. I couldn’t help but look to see what the hell it was. I think the name is still crap, but the recipe was close enough to the corn salad I have been trying to recreate from where ever the hell I had it once, or at least what’s in my head, to use as a base recipe.

Which is what Cyndy and I would ordinarily do when the same old same old becomes tiresome. We find a recipe to give us ideas and then do whatever we want – none of this, less of that, no way do I need to do that much work, type of thing.

This particular recipe called for white wine vinegar. Which sounded right for the result I was looking for so I bought some. We only had red wine vinegar.

I made the corn salad and it turned out rather well. It was not like the recipe I received in my inbox. Which made me all the more happy, because there’s no way I was going to vocalize the words, “Cowboy Caviar.”

But here’s the deal. I don’t think it would have made a big difference if I had gone ahead and used red wine vinegar. Now we have a bottle of white wine vinegar to add to our bottles of red wine vinegar, cooking sherry, and so forth that we only use once in a blue moon or even less often.

For one thing folks, it’s all freaking vinegar. Any sort of wine trace gets cooked out or fades out if used cold. The only way you could tell the difference is to drink it from the bottle. The dominant flavor would still be vinegar. The red wine vinegar might have more of a brisk flavor out of the bottle, but who wants to drink it out of the bottle?

Either way, I’ve got a corn salad recipe that’s pretty damn good. If I make it again, I’ve got both white wine and red wine vinegar, and I can use either one I want. I challenge anyone to tell the difference in the end result.

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

Paypal.me/danroark

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Texas Rangers and Kubota

Filed under: Communications, Current events, Family, Texas, writing — Leave a comment
July 25, 2024

So I spent a good chunk of my birthday with Cyndy standing in line at Globe Life Field waiting to get in and get the Adolis Garcia replica ring. It was the last time this year we have to get the promotional item or theme night item for our youngest son, J.D. It was definitely not the first.

There were actually only three games requiring our assistance. The first was a theme night game (caps), which meant you had until the end of the third inning to pick up the item(s). Since I had two tickets on my phone, I could pick up both of them. Unlike the promotional item nights when both ticket holders were required to be present. So Cyndy dropped me off and drove around while I went to get the caps and then met her back at the drop-off spot.

The second game was both a promotional night and a theme night. J.D. didn’t care about the bobblehead, just the Stars/Rangers sweater. But we went early to get a bobblehead for J.D.’s brother Cameron, who has a Rangers display at his house. The gates opened at 5:05. I entered the gate about 5:15, got the bobblehead and headed for the theme night area. There was already 200 – 300 people in line. Cyndy needed to be at New Hope Equine Assisted Therapy to volunteer, so I went back to the drop-off spot with the one bobblehead.

Which didn’t please either of us for slightly different reasons. But it meant I had to drive back to the stadium, pay for parking, and pick up the sweaters by the end of the third inning. And it was one of the 100 degree days. But I was successful, poured my quarts of sweat into the van, and drove straight to a brewery.

Tuesday’s game, as you’ll recall – my birthday, was the Adolis Garcia replica ring – which I also mentioned. The hitch was, we had to pay to park, and both of us had to get in line to get them, because both aforementioned sons wanted one. Their older brother, Conner – who’s in Iowa, got a replica World Series trophy when he was in town, so he’s good.

Thankfully, it wasn’t quite as hot and I had found a cheaper parking lot when I went back the last time. We also went earlier than ever, which turned out to be a good thing. We went through the door and got our rings as they were running out. We stood off to the side to suck up some air conditioning before walking back to the car.

My leg was cramping a little and the first thing I saw to lean on was the scoop of an orange tractor. I didn’t think much more about it. Cyndy took a picture of me with the two ring boxes to show our sons that we’d gotten them.

“Now stand up!” she said, smiling. I did so.

“Now look at the side of the tractor!”

If you’ve heard me play my music, you’ve probably heard my song, Goat Yoga and a Stolen Kubota. If not, danroark.com. Cyndy gave me the idea for the song and I tell the story in my shows. I tip my cap every time I/we pass a Kubota dealership on the road.

So I immediately walked over and Cyndy took the picture you see above.

 

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

 

 

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Remote, Remote, Who’s Got the Remote?

Filed under: Communications, Current events, Family, travel, writing — Leave a comment
July 12, 2024

When I check into a hotel, ordinarily there is one remote by the tv. Granted, there are times I have had to take it to the front desk for new batteries or eventually getting a new remote. Which entailed holding the door of the room open while the desk clerk programed the new remote. But ultimately – regardless of the technical delay – it still only took one remote to operate the tv.

Now that doesn’t mean it operated the tv well. It just operated what was there to operate. Sometimes you get lucky and have a choice of shows that you can tolerate. Then there are the times when the only show you can find that you can possibly stand are reruns of shows you only watch in hotel rooms because you’ve seen them far too many times. Castle, Rizzoli & Isles and Bones are a few that come to mind. Or certain episodes of Andy Griffith that no one likes.

But in this particular hotel there were three remotes. (And the refrigerator didn’t work, but that’s another story.) There were no instructions as to which remote to use. Come to find out, it took all three. J.D. and I would have to re-discover the combination each time we came back to the room.

The remote on the right was the tv remote. The middle remote was a Roku remote. The one on the left was our Fire stick remote. If I remember the combination correctly, the Roku turned the tv on, the tv remote changed it to the Fire stick (HDMI 1) and controlled the volume and the Fire stick controlled our shows. It took us quite some time to figure it out in the first place. But, pain in the ass though it was, it was worth it. None of this explains why there were two remotes to operate the tv in the first place. Before we figured it all out, we had a choice of – you guessed it – Rizzoli & Isles or Castle.

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

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Siding Saga – How Furniture Feels

Filed under: Communications, Current events, Family, Pets, writing — Leave a comment
July 5, 2024

We had new siding installed at the house a while back. The picture is from the camera before they took it down and we were looking at the front lawn – that also had crap all over it. The ladder is over the front door. This went on for days. The back door was blocked as well.

Cyndy was working at the school so she came and went. At night we could get out to volunteer at New Hope Equine Assisted Therapy Center. But during the day I was effectively trapped in the house with the dogs.

One of my uncles on my Mom’s side made, repaired, polished and refurbished furniture. All kinds of furniture. The effects of doing all that in a closed room eventually caused symptoms that led to his death.

I thought of his woodworking over the years. The smells – particularly of the wood – and the sounds. How he could use a plane and have the wood come out smooth. I always had one end come out higher than the other. When I tried to fix it, the other end came out higher. Which also applies to trimming (or mangling) bushes and trimming my moustache – I can manage that one a little easier.

Be that as it may, I have never thought about how the furniture felt. Until I was trapped inside while they removed the old siding and installed the new.

It was like being stuck inside a whack-a-mole game. It would go quiet a while, then a rapid banging on different parts of the roof, surprising me and making me jump. Over and over and over. Then they would stop for lunch for about an hour. Which would make it worse. The two dogs concurred, we were continuously on edge. We would drop our guard and start thinking about something – then bam, bam, bam! I would jump and they would bark.

It rained on Thursday so we had a day of silence, except for constant rainfall. Then on Friday they returned to make more noise, “finishing” the job. When they left, the trailer in the driveway (a makeshift dumpster on wheels) stayed behind a few days.

But it was blissfully quiet. We could go in and out of both doors and let the dogs out again.

 

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

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