The Choir of Meadowlark Hill

2 21 2013 The Tree


It began with a glimmer, a sliver of light.

In a matter of minutes the glow was right.

And the Meadowlark sang its song.


Another Lark………… another, again.

A feathery chorus was now on hand

As The Boy mimicked their song .

More Meadowlarks sang along.

And The Boy became a man.


The Year was not New. It was warm,

There was dew as the day took form

Like a voice from Heaven

The boy of eleven,

Joined the choir of Meadowlark Hill.


This morning was more than  a  day in the life,

This newborn man

Met the day now rife

With the pleasance of Trill

On The Hill of The Larks.

On The Hill of The Man.

A  humble young Man

Said Thank You.


Thank You  he said again.

Again and again and again.


By Lee Broom

The Tortoise


Paraphrased is a statement that I made on 10 12 2011 from the lectern at a weekly meeting of a  men’s group whose goals are spiritual in nature.

I believe that The Will of Everything in the Natural World including Man is in fact the Will of God expressed through the Arms and Legs and Wings of the World as we know it.

I was booed and voices shouted out demanding that I be seated.

I returned to my seat.

I went home and rhymed myself a poem.

I posted my poem on the Internet the following Sunday.

I present it once again here today on a newer blog site with improved punctuation.



This wasn’t a first for me, Oh no; I’ve been booed before.

But boo they did and if again I deign to take the floor

I’ll bare my soul and quote no page

But those on which I write.

And right or wrong, I’ll live my life

Directed toward The Light.


I choose to be the Tortoise. The World can be my Hare.

Whatever it takes to be myself is all I have to share.

So round them up my brothers, practice till you soar.

Consensus is the plan it seems,

For those whose plans are merely schemes

And Might is Right (it’s done in teams)

I’ve heard the Lion’s Roar.


From Leadership. A Love Story
By Lee Broom.

To Betty With Love. (Nobody has all the answers.)


How many millions are in a trillion?

How many leaves in a forest?

How many souls exist in forever?

How many came before us?

Where is it written?  Where are the answers?

Where is the Heavenly Chorus?

When did the Big Bang Beget the Beginning?

Is the answer there before us?

What if I told you I knew all along?

What if you held a Thesaurus?

A new interrogative might have an answer

Or perhaps it would simpuhly bore us.

By Lee Broom

One, Two, Three, Whoopee.



My life is just perfect

Except for two things,

The power of love

And the Knowledge it brings

If only I knew how to go back in time

I’d be fine.


I’d push and I’d pull

I’d never be late

I’d look around for the perfect mate

If only I knew how to fly like a bird

I’d be fine.

Oh for a glass of wine.

Mind if I sit here? My name is Abner.

Curious Abner.

I’m a recovering orphan of the Big Hazy.

What’s your name.

Tribute to Danny Williams, an Old Friend. Published in This and That Newsletter by Butch Bridges.

2 21 2013 danny Williams

A Weekly Publication

Vol 17  Issue 839      Circulation 5,000       February 21, 2013

PO Box 11

Ardmore, Oklahoma 73402

email address:


Oklahoma’s greatest radio and TV broadcaster, and a legend in his own time, passed away this week in Oklahoma City. One of my first memories of Danny Williams was watching him on our black and white TV when he did his 3-D Danny kid’s show.

And I will never forget his antics when Danny was the announcer for his Live Wrestling Show from the stockyards coliseum in OKC in the 60s. I searched the internet trying to find one of those old episodes, but couldn’t find any online.

Below is a great information site on Danny Williams and his career starting in the 40s.

Below is a link to Danny’s guest on his last day on the air, John Bennett.  Most of you will remember Oklahoma Chef John Bennett submitting his fruit and nut cake recipe last November.

Danny’s last broadcast after 61 years in the business was on August 28, 2008.

The following is a link to an interview Danny Williams did just a couple years before his death. This interview is about an hour long, but it is the most interesting interview you’ll ever listen to, as he answers questions his about his start in broadcasting and continuing to present day, some very serious, and some comical with a laugh or two. I got several chuckles out of Danny’s interview, and felt like I was right there with him. I really loved this interview.

Family members said friends and fans are welcome to attend a special memorial service at 2 p.m. Sunday at the Oklahoma Historical Society to celebrate his life and career.

Those Pointy Toed Shoes

2 21 2013 exterior of Boneveture

I own and frequently wear a pair of shoes that often draw curious glances from friends who know me to be choosy in my selection of apparel. Recently, a pal of mine, who like my long-since departed parents spent most of his career working in the garment industry, asked me. “Lee, what’s with the retro look?”


“The shoes you’re wearing; where on earth did you find those pointy toed shoes?”

During the Seventies, Nordstrom Department Stores assembled a promotional package to test the Phoenix market.  It included round-trip airfare with the newly formed Southwest Airlines, Friday and Saturday nights at the Bonaventure Hotel, Los Angeles, two lavish breakfasts rivaling the Vegas buffets of the day and generous discounts. I took part in the maiden voyage which left me with wonderful memories.

Atop one of the hotel towers was a park with trees and grass and hotel staff pampering and pandering about and pigeons to distract us from the tacky looking view of older, seedier tenements less than a block away. I compared this event with similar trips I occasionally took to Las Vegas in those years which included young, attractive people of both sexes apparently hired as shills to engage us in friendly banter as we pored over the hundred-dollar shirts and the Ballys and Cole Hahns in the leather footwear departments.

I smiled at the question and replied.  “At Nordstrom, John; I bought them at Nordstrom.”

Soylent Green and the Tattooed Man


With the onset of vulgarity we said goodbye to subtlety and with it curiosity, the most fundamental intellectual component of human existence. Ozzie and Harriet were replaced by the Simpsons and the tattooed man on the midway gave way to Grandma with her permanently shaded eyelids and four-year old great granddaughters with pierced ears and navels. When I was very young my mother sometimes covered my eyes when we went to the movies. The next day I’d ask my friends what I missed. It was usually either a nearly naked Betty Grable or a Nazi death camp.

The search for role models by American Youth now produces heroes with prison records and rappers whose vocabularies seem to favor four letter words and an alphabet that frequently gets stuck on the seventh letter. American slang is reflective of prison and street society. That segment of the population which receives free food, free rent and now free cell phones is not shrinking; it is growing at a rate much greater than that of the overall population and as the snowball effect becomes more visible the resulting influence of the values of the indolent victimizes middle class American youth and by the doing, all of American Society.

In a few years the current rate of moral and ethical regression may have our country on its knees.

(Dang, my monthly supply of Soylent Green* is nearly out. These crackers are made from people, you know. Oh well.)

Perhaps we’ll come back in future centuries as something better. Our DNA will be much improved. We will have a respectable quota of aborted fetuses, providing us with the genetic assistance for morphing into something so much better. Our bodies will be muscular and long limbed, those limbs and organs replacing and healing themselves, often without medical assistance. And Soylent Green will have come and gone. Sunday will become once again a day of rest for that is when we will eat and sleep. On Saturday night we will play. We will treat our no longer aging bodies to sexual romps with friends and family. On Sunday morning we will plug-in to a machine at our bedside which will keep us asleep and well fed until Monday morning. We will acquire all the rest and nutrients necessary for the rest of the week. And with raging hormones we will then continue on our competitive path, no longer content with Football or Hockey. Large carnivorous beasts will have long since been released back into society at large. They will hunt us and we will hunt them. Ahhh. Progress.

*Soylent Green is a 1973 American science fiction film directed by Richard Fleischer and starring Charlton Heston, and in his final film, Edward G. Robinson.

From Leadership. A Love Story
By Lee Broom.

Jean Paul Sarte – Prisoner of War.


During my first year on planet earth Jean Paul Sartre was a WWII prisoner of war. I remember reading of his period of enslavement during my freshman year at Phoenix College. He spoke of living in the trenches he helped to dig. It was not so much the agony of the loss of freedom or the pain or the hunger that riveted my attention. It was his complaint of a psychological effect of this kind of degradation. He lost, he said, a significant portion of his spoken vocabulary. I knew that he spoke the truth.

When I was in college a friend offered me some diet pills; his pitch was that cramming for exams that night would be easier if we took a couple of smart pills (dextro-amphetamine). I complied. That evening I whizzed through the text books, talked endlessly to myself and devoured all this knowledge, reducing everything to a couple of dozen key words which I manage to reconstruct as a sentence that only I would ever understand. the downside was that I was up all night. My first class was in behavioral psychology. When the test began I realized that i had forgotten everything I had ingested before dawn. I still had some pills and thinking that my problem was sleepiness I popped a couple into my yawning maw and waited for lucidity to return. Return indeed, the forgotten increments of learning flashed though my consciousness like Jerry Lee Lewis’ fingers on a stolen Steinway. Not only did I ace the exam but during the following week I researched my suspicions about state dependent learning and wrote a paper for extra credit. A generation later a step daughter said “Look Dad” as she handed me her textbook opened to a page that had a quote from that paper I had written so many years before.

State-dependent learning

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

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State-dependent learning (state-dependent memory) is a notion that learning and recalling are based on the physiological and mental state of the organism.

It has been very clearly demonstrated that things learned in one environment are best recalled when that environment is reinstated; and, moreover, this applies equally well to “internal” environments (or states) as it does to “external” environments.[1]




The journey to superiority reveals no truth.

The search for proof serves only the seeker.

Those who teach, learn little.

Those who encourage others to learn have taken steps toward peace, knowledge and self-respect.

Those who seek power over others enslave themselves.

In order to experience love one must love one’s self.

In order to love one’s self one must know self-respect.

In order to respect one’s self one must be willing to serve others with no expectation of reward.