tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57283103557971032872024-03-19T04:34:13.593-07:00Once, When I Was...It's difficult to sum up a life in proper chronology, so this blog will be about memories from the increasingly many ages I have been.Trecathlushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04269272548022531034noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5728310355797103287.post-34403626260393821852014-07-18T04:18:00.002-07:002014-08-29T05:11:33.202-07:00<div style="text-align: justify;">
...apart from the world, of spending the rest of my existence in a space-faring sphere in which I would never again want or need anything worldly to subsist. It would have been simple -- and it would have been enough.<br />
</div>
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That summer played host to a state of mind that could only have existed in the person I was then. I frequently both engaged and tried to esape from it with soaring music in my ears on long evening walks that many times stretched into the wee hours. My parents, especially my father, never seemed to understand that need. He would often point out to me the dichotomy of my going out just as the rest of the world was going to sleep. I suppose he thought those post-sunset strolls was just me being willfully unusual and contrary. They were born of a simple unspoken hunger for peace, of mind and soul both. I can only assume most people never experience that -- or somehow find other means of satisfying their balancing needs.<br />
<br />
But I was always a nocturnal person -- night-time is delight time -- and the music gave wings to my imagination and painted across my mind's eye the vista of finding myself alone on a pier (sometimes I recall the image as an empty beach) with nothing ahead of me but ocean. There I would stand, the only person in the world, sheltered by the calmness of my solitude and the atmosphere of twilight slowly burning black. I would see myself overcome by an aura, defeating the darkness around me and inside of me, shifting the sea into respectful tranquility. A living alien bubble would slowly descend upon me, selecting me to inhabit and navigate it without communication, only feeling, and making me a subject it could teach, one with a heart easy to reach.<br />
</div>
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Such a heart was mine, never worn on my sleeve so much as hovering above me like a balloon, always sharing with the world, willing or not, my every mood, emotion, and desire. And perhaps more vulnerable than most to pin-pricks. More than once, it had loved profoundly -- and borne the abyssal pain of the deep affection only experienced by the young and the foolish. The higher it had climbed, the deeper it had tumbled.<br />
</div>
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And the heart of seventeen that once inhabited this pearl-less shell had risen and fallen seemingly without end, too fragile to carry the pain, but always too strong not to brave the unsafe once more.<br />
</div>
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The many I wanted to embrace had kept me outside, never allowing me to be part of the quilt because the patch I offered them was not cut from their cloth. My thinking roamed to places they did not recognize, my feelings lived in valleys beyond their reach, and my perceptions never encompassed the untold boundaries they would never cross.<br />
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I was alien to them because I did not inevitably conform to unspoken rules of which I had little instinctive need or conception. It was never stubborn defiance. It was only that I did not know. Yet it gave them license to deny me their compassion and affection and to pour mockery over the pure self I tried to safeguard, just as I began to gain awareness of the world. It has never been easy to bask in it since.</div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So, with the certitude only a seventeen-year-old seems to have, I wanted no part of them anymore.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
Whether anyone would miss me scraped the edge of my consciousness, but only for a moment. Even as the thought hit me, I could see that self-pity was not my answer, strangely appealing as it could be. There was never a question of going where there was no return. I only wanted so much to disappear, to have no more sorrow discolouring my life, even if it meant I would never again share my space with another human being.</div>
Trecathlushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04269272548022531034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5728310355797103287.post-59376787403013948732012-03-03T20:09:00.000-08:002014-07-18T04:24:27.261-07:00Journey Well, Davy Jones<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">I have
rarely been given to overmuch sorrow when someone in the worlds of music or
film -- worlds I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dearly</i> love --
passes away. I remember hearing about the killing of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">John Lennon</b> when I was seven years old, but I was too young to
comprehend the emotional depth of the event. At the news of the passing of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">George Harrison</b> and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Who's John Entwistle</b> -- when I was
nearing <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">30</b> and was, one hopes, in
possession of far more perspective and emotional awareness -- I was saddened
and to this day wish they could have lived and brought more music to the world,
but I couldn't say that there was personal grief.</span></span><br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">It affected
me more when <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Freddie Mercury</b> died a
little over <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">20</b> years ago, because I
had over the year leading up to his departure immersed myself in the music of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Queen</b> and the amazing talent and drive
I felt he especially possessed. At that time, though still relatively young at <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">18</b>, I felt something a bit closer to private
anguish, but not to the extent that it lived in my heart much beyond the
initial days following.</span></span><br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">But then
there was <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Davy Jones</b>. When a <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Facebook</b> friend posted a link on <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Wednesday</b> and said, "Bye, bye,
Davy... and thank you," it took me a while to understand what it meant. I
clicked on the link and was taken to a <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Fox
News</b> report, still not properly comprehending -- or, perhaps more
subconsciously truthfully, not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wanting</i>
comprehension to get a hold on me -- but with that terrible, slowly
debilitating feeling of dread gathering.</span></span><br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Suddenly, I
found meaning in a phrase like "It's unreal" that, for me, had never
been there before. I simply could not be seeing what I saw. For an instant, my
mind illogically grasped at the chance that it might be the work of someone
with a life so insufficient in meaning as to find satisfaction in creating and
perpetuating apocryphal reports of decease. But my eyes, struggling to stay in
one place as I watched, listened to, and read every piece of confirmation that
passed before me, could not sustain my need for it to be a deception.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Finally, I
settled uneasily into the reality. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He's
gone.</i> Inexplicably, needlessly, wrongly.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Now, I'm an
emotional man. I've always been one to weep at a particularly beautiful piece
of music or an especially affecting scene in a film or TV production of the
co-existence of human frailty and strength, when I lose a loved one, and when a
love affair comes to an end. But this is the first time I can remember tears
welling up for someone I didn't know, had never met, nor even seen from afar in
concert.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">And though
I'd never considered what I might feel at a time like this and was not in the
least prepared, the response that came felt somehow perfectly natural to me.
Unexpected, but natural.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">I realize
this seems intensely personal given what I've just said, but it's nonetheless
how I feel.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">My mind,
which I often say has a mind of its own, began rushing backward, brushing over
all the memories I have as a <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Monkees</b>
fan. I recalled how, before <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">August</b> of
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">1987</b>, I was barely cognizant of the
phenomenon that had come into being some years before I was born. Then,
sometime that month, the reruns of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">THE
MONKEES</b> finally reached that infinitesimal spot of the cosmos that I
inhabit. My initial perception -- based on the TV spots heralding their arrival
-- was actually not all that favourable, as I found them on that first glance to
be uninterestingly goofy. Whatever prompted that reaction is a mystery to me
now, for it took but an episode to reel me in and leave me flopping on the deck
of that <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Monkees</b> hydrofoil.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Years
followed of very happy collecting of vinyl albums, singles, extended plays,
compact discs, and videos, branching out into any solo efforts that I came
across, including <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Davy's</b> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">1971</b> album, which I clearly remember my
father bringing home to me on <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">November
6, 1988</b>, having picked it and many other <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Monkees</b> items up at a used record fair in <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sweden</b>. It wasn't a hit, but I think the album contained one of his
most attractive performances -- that of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">David
Gates's</b> "Look at Me," which <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Bread</b>
had also recorded for their eponymous debut album. I highly recommend it.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">In a sense,
I grew up with the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Monkees</b>, even if
my being born <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">20</b>-odd years too late
meant it had to be during the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">1980s</b>
revival -- and even then, they never felt to me like has-been oldsters. I was
just happy that they were around. Because they were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my</i> band, you see. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Dad</b>,
who was never a <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Monkees</b> enthusiast,
had his <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Beatles</b>, his <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Shadows</b>, and his <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Cliff Richard</b>. I liked all of those three acts, too, but the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Monkees</b> were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my own</i> discovery, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mine</i> to
enjoy, and for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i> to share with
others.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">But, as it
turned out, they were really much more than that.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Through the
TV series, with their many great moments of madness, and the music to which they
added such charisma and fervor, they became my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">friends</i>. I admit I was always especially drawn to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Michael</b>, but I remember, even at <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">14</b>, noticing what a good actor <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Davy</b> was. It was, however, learning
what a good heart he had -- as shown, for one, by the many tales of his
presence and caring for his fans -- that made him so admirable to me. You could
see his warmth on his website and even his posts on <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Twitter</b>, however short, were no less sweet. I simply did not need
to know him to see that his heart made him as tall as any man could need to be.
It makes me wish I had somehow touched base with him, even just to let him know
I thought he was great. All I can say now is that the sorrow I feel at his
passing will reside in my heart and mind for a long time.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">I want to
close on a part of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Davy</b> that will
always be here -- his music.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">I believe
there were some who considered him to be just a cute heartthrob singer with a limited
aptitude for musicianship -- but give a listen to "Dream World" from
'The Birds, the Bees & the Monkees' and "You and I" from 'Instant
Replay' and you will find a great deal more musical breadth than would seem to
meet the eye (or ear, I should probably say).</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">For me, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Davy's</b> real musical treasures are the
wealth of songs he wrote -- frequently with <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Steve Pitts</b> and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Bill
Chadwick</b> -- and recorded that were never originally released. I'm grateful
that we finally did get to hear them. When I got the 'Missing Links' album in
early <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">1989</b>, I instantly liked all of
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Davy's</b> tunes and I still feel they
place high among his best work. I don't share the passion he had for music
hall, but I think "If You Have the Time" managed to meld it with pop
very well and I still love to sing it from time to time. I loved
"Party" and played it incessantly for months. I admired "War
Games" for its social commentary, which I can tell you was an unusual occurrence
for this then-<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">15</b>-year-old.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">The final
song on the album is the reflective "Time and Time Again," which to
me is the loveliest work he did in his lifetime:</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Time and time again</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">naughty girls get me in trouble</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">When I fly too high</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">something's bound to burst the bubble</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">You say this is love</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Wonder if you're feeling lonely</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Tell me, if you please</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Is this for this evening only?</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Or will it be for a long, long time</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">or just a passing fancy?</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Will it be for a long, long time?</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">I feel as though it can't be</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">I'll just wait and see</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">what tomorrow has to bring me</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">A love that is oh, so true</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">or another girl that's free and easy</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></i><span style="font-family: Cambria;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Time and time again... and again... and
again... and again</span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><strong>Spotify</strong>: <a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/4sSUl0d94dW7QKYtWDWMT5">The Monkees – Time And Time Again</a> ('Missing Links')</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><strong>YouTube</strong>: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Lk8537e-X0">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Lk8537e-X0</a> ('Changes' mix)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></i></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">If there is
one consolation, I think he was happy when he left us. He seemed to be doing what
he loved and loving what he did -- right until the end.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Thank you, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Davy</b>, for being who you were and always
will be. May wherever you are now be but the next "Dream World."</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
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<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheZzdibr7El5tuwCWREqcC4YVTa5gDe9CyKwWLwts49ondYBrAZ4JcJB3LGLoI28a1jnbjaHHziXbwyVuNTFtMSISO9iMs4K6qO417vpOb_zTzZpzyP7MoZQpEWT97P1Q_-_ndZ8hsmNc8/s320/Davy+Jones.jpg" height="217" width="320" /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Rik Bakke</span></span></b></div>
Trecathlushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04269272548022531034noreply@blogger.com0