I have a confession to all of you who read my blogs. My stories are all inspired by drugs. Thirteen different kinds, a total of twenty two pills a day to be exact. some of them are extremely potent. and I understand demand what some would consider a lot of money on the black market. I originally said the open market, which it might as well be. We've become a country of a pill for this and a pill for that and two pills for something else. We have a pill for when we eat something that tastes so very good. We have a pill for when we drink too much. We have a pill from listening to our mother-in-law too long. We even have a pill that requires that you seek emergency council with your doctor if it works too good and lasts over four hours, We want immediate gratification from everything and we have the mindset that if one is good two is better, I found this to be true especially when it comes to cookies. 

I don't understand what it is these young people achieve or experience from using these pills or medicines, when they have no actual physical need for them. I have yet to feel "high" from any of the medicines that I presently take. Some of which are most sought after by foolish junkies. It seems as though one pill leads to another. If I take a pain pill I then have to take three additional pills, a stool softener and a laxative. Up until the time I became ill I don't think I ever needed a laxative in my life. All I had to do was eat Mexican food., Believe me it was more than sufficient, But it is no longer sufficient. And when I do eat Mexican food I have to take two pills for my heartburn. Thank God for Zantac and Maalox. All I can say is that getting old sucks. And Thank God I can swallow a pill and don't have to take my medications suppository form.

I would like to welcome someone who is a new name and a new face as far as commenter's on my blog., This would be Sylvia. I know that just from her name she is well connected in her life. She has a definite beginning and an end that makes full circle after traveling the gentle loop of her life. Is peaceful, comfortable, and surrounded by wonderful people. Perhaps you would like to know how I come to these conclusions. They come from my childhood. Oh I forgot to mention there is only one like her. The number 22 holds great significance for her. You see I've known the peace, the love and all the rest of the attributes that Sylvia has to offer. Throughout my childhood and until the passing of my mother, I was raised at number 22 Sylvia Drive in Ogden. A wonderful almost complete circled road. This small portion that was not Sylvia Drive was connected together by a beautiful little piece of road called Chimes View Drive. I don't know why.. There were no bells. And the most prominent feature that could be seen both from our big bay window, which faced to the west and Chimes View Drive was the grain mills in Ogden. The large silos. In the younger part of my growing up we were surrounded by orchards. So thank you Sylvia for writing me and for resting for me and for opening the floodgate and allowing a deluge of memory fill my heart and soul today. Thank you for these memories.

As far as the resting goes, I have the resting part down quite pat. I am on fifteen liters of oxygen and I sleep anywhere from eighteen to twenty hours a day. Only now instead of just sleeping because my damaged lungs and heart demand it I will be looking at the world a whole new way and rest with purpose rather than just sleep out of necessity. I think that it is a beautiful idea. And I will be glad to tell people about Dan's website. www.IntentionalResting.com - I will furthermore offer to make a link on my website. I would hope that Dan could do the same for me. After all we are both trying to get our message and enlighten as many souls as we possibly can. Until then the little notebook seems to have saved us for another night. I certainly hope so. 

God Bless you all,
Ken, the afterlife messenger 

Salutations, Greetings, aloha,

It seems like in this world, everything is meant to work out. I believe that writing the blogs and responding to your comments and reading the comments you all send to me has greatly extended my life. It has given me something to look forward to and has definitely helped avoid depression. There are those of you that comment to me almost daily. I cannot thank you all enough for this wellspring of encouragement , sensitivity, and the honor that I feel for all of the caring and genuine love that you give a stranger. And no one is strangest that I.

I have had requests from some of you to pass feelings and messages of caring to both living and departed members of your families of both blood and those of chosen family members (friends). Let me assure you that I will do all I can to pass your feelings on to the proper recipients.  

Now to get back to matters of convenience of things happening when they are suppose to I must point out that we have three computers. My wife's computer has every bell and whistle that you can imagine, my computer which has half as many bells and half as many whistles and works half as well, then my wifes notebook which is not much larger than a paperback book. Even with her dainty hands, the keys are almost impossible to do more than hunt and peck. We have my computer now set up in our bedroom, along with a 42 inch flat screen television. And wifi keyboard and mouse. Inconveniently some of the bells and whistles on my wife's computer broke. We then found some of the bells and whistles that we put on my computer so I could write from my bed did not work as planed. The wifi system does not seem to be able to talk across the room, let alone the two rooms it is suppose to be able to do. Not knowing that my computer was not ongoing to be able to fill the function the computer repairman took my wife's computer to fix the problems it had. After generously putting system 7 on both of our computers and removing the XP operating system which seemed to work just fine on everything we have assuring us how much better Windows 7 would be - my opinion is, it sucks! I was much happier with XP because it worked. So now we find ourselves with one operable computer which happens to be the paperback book that I described earlier. The only thing that it seems to do just happened in the middle of writing all of this it manages to erase everything and replace it with a window that asks, "do you want to take advantage of the automatic updates and restart your computer?" I must say this feature of System 7 just tickled the shit right out of me. As I was trying to say, this small computer is the only one we have that will properly connect to the wifi that the XP System had no problem with for a couple of years.

Now comes the convenience of it all. Three computers, my health being to the point that I don't really feel like writing a blog each day and to use the word write would be a bald faced lie. Because all I do is dictate. And my wife and her infinite patience and occasional interjection causing me to lose my whole train of thought. All of this will be on a very limited basis for at least a week. And knowing our computer repairman who seems to dwell in a parallel universe, will one day in our universe excuse me one day in his universe seems to equate from anywhere near ten days to three weeks. I am not sure but I think his universe uses a variable time rate, something similar to the variable rate interest on our credit cards. One day, a day means a day - at least he tells us that. Usually one week equaling two weeks we find more dependable. So until such time that we have at least one of our real computers back from this repairman. Sharon's crackerjack prize will be used in a minimum capacity. Of course you know I am speaking of computer number three, You know the one with no bells, no whistles, and you have to set it to choke and pull three times on the starter cord to get it up and running. I don't know how long this blog is, things have to be rated by battery longevity. And we are on our forth battery now! We will try to write as much as possible.

Corky my love, Thank you very much for the sprig of what you asked the species of. It is a piece of the most populous tree in the Rocky Mountains and that is the lodgepole pine. I enjoyed its aroma today. thank you.

God Bless you all, I hope there is enough battery power left to run the spell checker,
Ken, the afterlife messenger

I wish to thank you all for helping my days be worth living. There are some days that I really get down and in some ways hope this is the day the doctors said would come. I call these my POOR ME DAYS. I do my best to keep these days to a minimum and under control. But I do have to pick myself up by my bootstraps and go on. I don't know where that saying came from, but I can picture a person picking themselves up by their bootstraps and falling on their face. It is the little things like that which help me slip out of it. They make me wonder whoever came up with that saying, and did they realize how stupid it really was. It would have made more sense to say, "I'll get someone to pick me up by my bootstraps", because I can see where that would actually be possible.

I want to thank all of you that have been with me for around 200 of my stories and ravings. And for over 300 responses that give me a good feeling that there are that many people that give a damn about what I say. When I am not feeling well you end up with short blogs that either ramble or are retrospective like this. So as you all have probably guessed by now I really don't feel well. And I am going to thank you all again for your comments. And knowing how good they make me feel I am going to beg for a whole bunch of them from all of you. Because I really need to feel a lot better than I am right now. Thank you again.

All my best wishes and love to all of you and the world because I have to realize that each time I write to you could very possibly be my very last. And this makes me very sad. So before I depress you or me any more I will say good night,.

God bless you all,
Ken, the afterlife messenger

These things I know to be true.

1. The tree branch Corky sent to me is from a  Lodgepole Pine. (thank you Corky)

2. If Sandra thinks I would get rid of my typist she is crazy

3. It only snows once in Wyoming each year and just blows around for the rest of the winter.

4. 80% of the people that live in Utah and surrounding states wear "funny underwear". Of the other 20%, 10% split between Fruit of the Loom and Haynes, 5% wear none, and 5% wear someone else's.

5. People that are happily married both suffer from amnesia. Except the ones that are happily married.

6. The most fun two people can have in a VW is actually making it to their destination.

7. So far my doctor's prognosis has been wrong (I'm still here, aren't I?) 

8. When it comes to women "Candy's dandy, liquor's quicker and a BMW's a sure thing"

9. Bill Clinton did not have sexual relations with that woman, Miss Monica Lewinsky. he did however have sex with a whole bunch of them that you don't know about.

10. Number 9 is a bald faced lie. He rode that gal like 50 miles of bad road. And there ain't nobody can convince me different.

There - somebody had to say it. We've all been faking it. Of course then again what the hell does my opinion matter?

God Bless you all,
Ken, the afterlife messenger and that's the truth

Now that's a lighthearted blog - is this the kind you want to hear?

Welcome to my new technology. It's actually not that new. It's a computer we've had for many years, but we had a fellow do everything you can do. It's got the dual core processor and 500megs of memory. It's got that new Windows 7 but most important is it is sitting on the shelf right next to my 42 inch television hooked up to the hdmi and gives me wireless connection to our other computer and the printer. I have a wireless mouse and a wireless keyboard, and this time a wireless brain. Absolutely amazing where technology has gone. When I started in computers it was back in the 1950's.

The first real computers I worked on were top secret part of the Minute Man Guidance System. That's what the air force first trained me to do was to repair minute man missile guidance systems. When they realized the mistake they had made that they were going to phase out the silos, and the minute man missile had no place in Viet Nam. Since I had a top secret clearance with crypto and Q access (about as high as you could get) they decided not to waste the cost of all those background checks and psychological evaluations they put me thorough to see if I was a threat to our country. They decided to train me in repairing tele-type and cryptographic equipment. We even fixed the neatest little do-dad called the teleautograph. It was a pad that used a stylus like a pen and whatever you wrote on the pad would appear in the command centers or wherever they had it going to. That way they could instant message in authenticated handwriting.

The main reason I ended up in Viet Nam was because they decided to phase out the Minute Man Missie and they didn't have any missile silos in Viet Nam anyway. Ergo no holes in the ground filled with rockets, no technicians to fix said rockets.  But they did need people to fix super secret code machines. Super mechanic to the rescue! If you have read some of my previous blogs you'll know what a wonderful position this was. I lived in officers quarters, ate in the officers mess, drank in the officers club, flew in the F4 Phantom jets, or flew in the bellies of the fastest jet that was going in the direction that had a broken code machine. I was one of the happiest guys in the world every time something broke down. That meant I got to put on a flight suit and nine times out of ten climb into the back seat of an F4 Phantom they call a jet. I called it a "rocket". That was the funest thing I have ever ridden in. And I have ridden in them a couple hundred times.

Well, not to bore you. Oh yeah, the great thing about this new computer is when I am not feeling well I can still write to you because it has a wireless keyboard and mouse and this great big tv screen. It talks to our wireless hub router and I could write on this computer with my head on my pillow. Talk about the epitome of laziness. Of course I have a feeling that even though my wife has her own computer in the office here in the house she is going to be enjoying the advantages of snuggling to my sleeping body and doing a lot of her computer work from a more comfortable position. Snuggled up to that wonderful me. Pretty neat huh?

Thank you all - God Bless - tell your friends to tell their friends to visit. We get new folks every day. To me it takes a brave soul to carry on a conversation and actually put it on paper for others to see. After all I am sure if they got their chance the shrinks would have a hey day with me. My only excuse is life should be fun. And happy. And fair. And shared with someone who shares their love with you.

God Bless you all,
Ken, the afterlife messenger

I would like to welcome Corky  to our growing group of frequent commenters. Not being the gentleman that i am i will not divulge her age that is sumpin that this Cajun can let the world know if she wants but you know since its coming from a woman there may and probably will be some discrepancy. .

sumpthing i need to remind those of you out there is that any comments or emails or guest book comments are published  UNLESS YOU REQUEST THAT SPECIFIC COMMENT NOT BE SHARED WITH THE THE REST OF THE WORLD AND THEY WILL REMAIN IN MY PERSONAL FILE AND NO ONE ELSE EXCEPT MY WIFE SHARON WHO USUALLY TYPES AND HANDLES THE KEYBOARD PORTION OF OUR WEB SITE.  AND WE WANT TO REMIND YOU ALL THAT THIS IS EVERYONES WEBSITE/BLOG AND IF YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO SHARE WITH EVERY ONE  IT IS OK.

If you don't want your comments published please type "NOT FOR PUBLICATION" at the top of your comment.

Note: Ken started to write this earlier today, but wasn't able to finish it himself. He asked me to send it out tonight with his love to everyone.

God Bless you all,
Ken, the afterlife messenger

Ken says hello to everyone. He has not been out of bed at all today and wanted everyone to know he hopes to write tomorrow. He is just tired, tired, tired and can't stay awake. So send a prayer or two his way and comment on the older blogs so he will have something to read when he gets up.

Thank you all for being a friend to my sweet husband.
I love you all for your dedication to keeping the dialogs going.

Love and Blessings,
Sharon (the real life wife)

I figured I should let you know that it's not a terrorist whose writings you read. My occasional reference to dynamite or other explosives go back into my younger years. I used to do some mining evaluation, which on occasion required blowing up some rocks. And I was recently asked what does it take to be able to buy dynamite. The last time I had any experience in this area was in the mid 70's and all that was required was a Utah drivers license and a place that sold dynamite. The place I chose was called Burt Explosives. Now it sounds like some type of a backyard operation. You would expect some fancy name like Petro Pyro Explosives Incorporated. But the most prominent one in the yellow pages was Burt Explosives. They would sell you any kind you needed. Dynamite in sticks, bags of slurry (usually called surfsize), and contrary to the name that it has it was not to see how big a surf you could create - it was used in the oil exploration and other geological exploration.

It's really fascinating how far we have come from black powder which originally was a mixture of what we call salt peter, that was usually in a crystal form that accumulated on the boards that created the stalls for cows and horses and pigs. You would combine this with a little charcoal (carbon) and sulfur. Grind it up gently and you ended up with black powder. The Chinese perfected black powder and created a whole science of explosives. I am not sure who it was that found when you mixed nature gases, sulphuric acid, and glycerin (as is used in soap), to make one of the strongest explosives in the world, nitroglycerin. One of the most unstable powerful explosives that man had ever devised. It was so sensitive that it killed an awful lot of people that were handling it.

Then along came a man, he was a noble man, and his name was actually Noble. He found that if you mixed nitroglycerin with sawdust and sand you gave it a degree of stability where it could be handled roughly and still be safe. It changed the applications of explosives drastically and the face of war even more. Today we have THE NOBEL PRIZES these include the Nobel Peace Prize. These prizes were created out of conscience. Mr. Nobel realized the ramifications of what he had done by making dynamite so easy to handle and such an intricate part of war. He made millions upon millions of dollars with his patents. And found he could not sleep at night. Plagued by the conscience of a decent man. Some say his conscience killed him. Others say he lived a longer life as a punishment by being made to observe the ramifications of what he designed to save lives gone wrong. As a reason he placed a large amount of money in the banking system to be passed out to the scientific community in different aspects each year with the proceeds of the interest his initial principal generated.

Now I have never earned the Nobel Prize. Though I am sure this was just a slight oversight on someones part. My use of explosives was for mining, but the largest application that I used Mr. Nobel's dynamite for was to reduce dead wildlife to smaller pieces. You see in the Uinta Mountains there are not large predators nor scavengers so when I came across or was notified of a dead moose, elk, or large deer I would usually use the two stick method; one stick down the gullet and the other stick in the opposite end tied together by a small piece of primer cord so they would explode simultaneously thus reducing this larger carcass into many small pieces small enough that the scavengers that inhabit the Unita Mountains to clean up otherwise a large carcass would simply rot and possibly pass on disease, pestilence, and foul odor. On occasion my job required me to blow up beaver dams. This is something I never completely agreed with but I understood the necessity of the process.

I figured I would write this blog just to set anyone's mind at ease that my experience with explosives and my motto, "there is no problem that cannot be rectified by the proper application of high explosives". I always liked firecrackers and fireworks. One must realize that while reducing the carcasses of large animals and rerouting beaver dams I had my own trustee steeds with me. They had to be climatized to the sounds of the dynamite that I had to use. I used a lot of fireworks which I found very interesting to watch my horses as they acted like little children once the first skyrocket went off they would all gather around and watch the sky for the next and the next. When I was through with their training and my fun I could almost sense their disappointment that there was not more. It really surprised me how much they actually enjoyed fireworks.

I send this in peace and love and assurance that I am not the mad bomber. I am just mad.

God Bless you all,
Ken, the afterlife messenger

Hi Corky - in response to your comment -I am so glad that you had the opportunity to walk through Gods garden with them (him/her/other). I spent many years in those mountains each summer. Sometimes as a interloper other times as an invited guest. And other times as the only contract forest ranger in the US. While filling this capacity my job entailed picking up garbage along the trails and campsights (nothing stays buried). Believe it or not two of the main trash items were beer cans and feminine hygiene products. The latter was usually shredded and more than likely dug up by animals within hours of being buried.

The mountains are full of scavengers. Most people look upon these creatures with disdain and have no idea of the enormous role they play in the beauty that surrounds a person when in these mountains. People that bury their trash don't take into consideration the sharp keen sensitive sense of smell that the creatures of the wild have. A bear for instance can smell for miles the carcass of another animal whether killed by another predator, an accident, or illness - just like us all of God's creatures are prone to and victims of the flu, colds, measles, mumps, and the occasional emery. Well, maybe not the mumps. 

Although they have no neon signs I have found in observing the animals in the mountains, that they do have regular areas where they would congregate and socialize. I often wondered how many were meeting to pass on the Lord's word and pay their tithe, how many were there with their guarded partially fermented pine or scrub oak nuts, or a little stash of fermented berries. Sharing with their friends the stories of their close escapes from the "big bad wolf". And how but by the grace of God they're bear-ly there. Or the narrow escape from a hawk or eagle and how at the last moment they found a low branch to dive under and laughed about the hawk and his headache from colliding with that perfectly placed low branch.

I wonder if mama ground squirrel goes to their little bars and drags papa home by the ear. Or if she humiliates him by sending the eldest of her youngsters to retrieve him and let him know "boy are you going to get it when you get home". It was much better I am sure to be retrieved by a youngster than mama squirrel because it gave papa a little time to ruffle his fur, run around in a few circles, enter the tree rapidly, a little ahead of the youngster, throwing his back to the door, wiping the sweat from his brow and saying, "thank the Lord, I just barely made it by the skin of my teeth. That fox almost had me" Quickly taking the glance around and sharing his concern, "Where's little Bucky, I sure hope the fox didn't get him. We didn't stop to speak for fear of being caught by that big bad fox." In other words they are no different from us.

In watching those animals I saw they had rituals they followed and did not deviate from. One of my favorite camps was a small lake about three miles north and east from Red Castle Lake. It's what is called a "dead lake". The only water that flows into it is the rain off the hills around it. There aren't any streams out of it and it supports no fish. But usually surrounded by willow and tall sweet grass and succulent underwater vegetation which the moose just love. I had one of my main camps set up there and probably spent half of each week camped at this one. Each night the largest bull moose would enter from the north and browse his way across the lake. The lake was probably ten or twelve feet in depth which to them was like walking through a bath tub. The first time I ever heard the sounds I threw open the sash to see what was the matter. What was causing all the clash and the clatter. and I watched as the bull threw his head in the air with the water rolling off his antlers and his nostril's dispelling large volumes of water and air. Munching a few moments on the succulent he had just browsed. He would take a step forward and his head would disappear again. They can hold their breath for several minutes - ten or more - picking around for their favorite weeds, filling their mouths and trying to fill it some more. And their head would come up, the water would rush off, the snort and the bellow, the breath of fresh air. He would do this a dozen times from when he entered the lake until he was on the other side where the willows grew thick. Their favorite food was the willow.

This particular lake was where the largest bulls congregated and for many years there were only four. My last year up there they had added a newcomer. It was interesting to watch the ritual that year they were very picky accepting a new member into their little clique. That appeared they were careful in which newcomer they picked. The largest bull was first in each night. He would come across the lake to his willows. A little while later the second would arrive and the great whoosh from his head rising and the clearing of his nostrils reminded me of the breathing of a whale. After crossing the lake the second bull would amble over by the first. They would each give a couple of grunts, a snorkel, and a fart. The second one would munch on the bush the large one had picked out for the night. This process was repeated until all four were together. They spent a bit shooting the shit and munching on the same willow tree. They would then wander around where their favorite tree they found and spent the night peaceful and all by themselves. Should an interloper arrive and not know the rules like nibbling from the same willow as the "king", the rest of them would turn and chase him away letting him know he didn't belong.

These bulls had accepted me and my horses also. We spent many summer nights with them. They got familiar. I have a picture of the face of a moose that fills an entire frame of a 35mm camera and his face fills the whole complete frame. I could get within four or five feet. I never pressed it beyond. They tolerated my horses that were on what we called a "long line". I took a one hundred foot piece of hemp rope and every twenty feet or so I tied a piece of one inch cotton rope and attached to each one of my horses halter. This let them roam through the meadow so they didn't trample any ground into mud. I am sure you have seen pictures where people tie their horses to a tree. When this happens the horses walk round and round eating and killing off any vegetation that may be there, all withing the drip ring and damaging the roots close to the surface. By using a longline my horses were fine, they didn't tear up the earth. If they were to wander it wouldn't be far. Picture six horses tied to a rope a hundred feet long and spaced out every twenty feet. I never had trouble finding them all. When you have that many animals they all want to go a different direction. They are bound to find a tree or shrub they would wrap themselves around, making it easy for me in the morning to know that they would all be found.

Please tell me more about your trips to the Uintas. Which places did  you go? I spent most of my time on the north slope. From Gilbert Peak in the east to the east fork of the Blacks Fork on the west. From China Meadows and Henry's Fork on the northern boundary line, and to the south was Kings Peak. Everything within this semi-square was mine to take care. A steward of the land God smiled on me. As I sit here my wife glances over to see what my next word will be and I am sure that a smile with my eyes closed a little and a calm demeanor about me is all that there is. Because she knows I can see every rock and every tree. I love my mountains, my mountain loved me. My heart and my soul dwell there. Just as you I cannot travel there anymore. I am on fifteen liters of oxygen per minute. But I have my memories. Thank you for bringing them back to the forefront today. 

God Bless You Corky - thank you for giving me such a beautiful day. I was going to answer you with just an email, but others know me and my mountain, so I felt I should share because there are others that care and know that God is there. It's where he takes his vacation.

and God Bless you all,
Ken the afterlife messenger

I'm not sure if I forgot my taking complete advantage of my secret ability which I am sure that I have. So we'll change that now. And throw it in. At the end of this mind altering saying, "If you don't have something nice to say about someone, it is not appropriate to say anything" Now I don't know who it is in this world but important to the point that they would be blasted from the window I have in my side or to use old style English, my shingles. For those of you who ask, "what the hell is a shingle?" Should maybe ought to enroll in a night course in flamboyant writing.

Though a few of you should apologize once they reach the bottom of their travel or their rope. I am sorry I wasn't able to save them from the nasty note that I have sent them. About this time my father walked in, noticed me thrown on a cement floor before my mother came and I've told you that her condition of environment is much larger. So to those of you that have made one scintilla of the artful language contained in this apology your welcome for a drink. And for those that were too apprehensive of joining it just goes to show you that not all of us of a group that is enlightened far beyond the rest. Basically to those of you that did not understand I pray that you achieve enlightenment very soon. Because it is so necessary. So just bring it back and I'll throw it on the grill for a few minutes more time until it's hot enough to meet your needs.

For the rest of you that are already aware of the degree of concentration and cryptic prowess with which I write just hang in there and do not discard it, but save it for the day that you can understand it and simply walk up to your child with a folded box that you maintain my blogs in and thank your child or partner for not taking a promise contained within. Both sides of your trusty sword. Providing who have not just watch someone that could not afford but appreciated the great value of this small writing.

No I am not drunk, I do not drink. No, I do not drink. And third there have been times though rare in existence that my mental facilities have failed me miserably. Why don't you chew it over and see which category you feel that I belong in at this time.

God Bless you, each and every one
Ken, the afterlife messenger

PS If you don't understand this be patient. I don't either, I just type (?) Sharon