There's something special about funky stuff. I'm not even sure how to explain the term "funky", but I know it when I hear it or see it or experience it and it always brings me an easy smile. It's sorta like explaining what's "sexy". It just isn't possible. It's different for everyone, but everyone knows it when they find it. The place I call home is funky. The car I drive is old and funky. Hell. Even the tool chest that holds the tools I work with is old and funky. I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm not big on new and shiny and fancy and pretty. And so it is with my music to. I like listening to stuff that reaches down inside me and makes me move. This old Eddy Harris tune's one of those that does. So . . . here's wishing each of you a peaceful, easy and down-home funky kind of Sunday.

It's difficult to believe in ghosts and it's easy to believe in gods. Religion usually centers on God in a singular sense. Ghosts? Usually rationalized away as a figment of an overactive imagination. I've spent a lifetime wondering why. Why only one God? And why can't ghosts exist? What if there are several gods. Or many gods. And what if gods are ghosts? Or ghosts, gods?
I've come to realize that my life is not so much a journey but rather the journey is many, many lifetimes. Birth and death; ports of call in an endless circle of infinite destinations.

    It's hard to get my head around the fact that 2008 is less than 24 hours away. The last New Year's Celebration Mrs Morgan and I did was in the year 2000. It was a new millenium and we had a wang dang doodle of a wild time. I remember thinking, prior to that night I'd probably not be alive to celebrate that momentous point in time. Fact is, I was alive and there at the roadhouse down on Highway 99 celebrating with the woman I love and all my friends. It was a gift from the gods to be sure. I decided that having the good fortune to live to see the new millenium arrive that I'd consider each year of living after to be an even greater gift.
    Seven years have passed since then. Seven gifts from the heavens. Now an eighth will soon arrive. Chey and I didn't celebrate another New Year after 2000. Up until 2005 we were always working on that special night, struggling just to keep enough money coming in to pay the mortgage and keep the lights burning.
    In 2005 it all came crashing down. Our business ran off the rails, we were wiped out financially and emotionally. I don't deal well with failure. Failure isn't something I easily accept and I damn near beat myself to death as I relived over and over again the series of decisions that led to the death of our business.
    Chey stood with me, trying to reassure me it was more circumstance than my stupidity. We tried. It didn't work. It was time for moving on. In 2006 I was hired by the company I work for today. Life began to turn around. I've returned to my roots and rediscovered that magic that Mrs Morgan and I have shared for many years. Through it all the honeymoon's never ended.
    Now for the first time since the year 2000, she and I will celebrate the New Year together. It will be the first holiday I've taken off from work since I began two years ago. It is a very special time for us. And I feel sure it's a very special time for all our friends on the Stream.
    May laughter, love and good fortune form the threads that are woven into magnificent memories for each of you. Should the moon and stars be just right, you might find yourself riding that mysterious mode of transportation one night, known as the Hitchcock Railway. If you do, look for us. We'll be sitting quietly at that special table in the dining car. The one with a view of the future just beyond the window.

A guy was sitting quietly reading his paper when his wife walked up behind him and whacked him on the head with a frying pan.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"That was for the piece of paper in your pants pocket with the name Mary Lou written on it," she replied.

"Two weeks ago when I went to the races, Mary Lou was the name of one of the horses I bet on," he explained.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry," she said. "I should have known there was a good explanation."

Three days later he was watching a ball game on TV when she walked up and hit him on the head again, this time with an iron skillet, which knocked him out cold.

When he came to, he asked, "What the hell was that for?"

She replied "Your horse called!"

As the year comes to an end I realize just how big my "working family" has become. Over the years I've had the good fortune to work with and become friends with many men and women who make a living same as me. We spend years acquiring the skills and tools necessary to the trade we choose. It takes a minimum of four years to achieve journeyman status and most of us spend a lifetime learning about new technological advances from robotics to automated industrial systems. We invest thousands and thousands of dollars in tools and equipment necessary to get the job done. We work long hours frequently and don't stop when it's too hot or too cold. Join me in wishing all the working men and women of the world a wonderful New Year. May each of them live long and prosper!