Richard W. Bluhm, 96, W2KXD, a Chester resident for more than a half-century, died Sunday, July 19, 2020, after a short illness. He was born Nov. 15, 1923, in Summit, the fifth child of Herman W. and Frances M. (Ryszczynski) Bluhm of Millburn.
From an early age Richard was fascinated by the amazing new technology of radio, building his own crystal set and earning his amateur radio license in his teens. When he was 14, he used his radio to help the emergency effort during the 1938 hurricane that devastated the East Coast. He graduated from Millburn High School with the Class of 1940. One of his best radio friends, Henry Elwell, introduced Richard to his little sister, Hilda, and the resulting romance led to wedding bells on Dec. 3, 1944, a marriage that would last almost 62 years.Continue reading “Thanks, Dad”
Sometimes, when you’re feeling down, the most obvious thing to do escapes you: Look up.
There is so much sky there. And the Master Painter has produced so many masterpieces in every direction — sometimes I will take four pictures in six seconds and every one looks different, even though they were taken in the same moment.
We’re used to paintings on canvas, so we’re accustomed to viewing clouds in frames a foot or two wide — it’s easy to forget that real clouds are miles long and the sky goes on forever, as far as any human can determine. When they say “the sky’s the limit,” what they mean to say is: There is no limit.
In a world where there are infinite ways to box yourself into a corner and feel trapped by circumstances or lost or alone, the limitless sky reminds us there is no box, there are limitless possibilities, and there is no limit. And in a world of 7 billion people, and billions and billions of other creatures (hear that bird singing over there?), you are never quite alone.
The sky can be a little intimidating — like when it brings storms instead of sun and gentle clouds — and when you consider how tiny you are in the midst of all that infinity — but it also shows us how vast this world and this universe are in comparison to whatever you think you’re facing alone.
So: Keep looking down at what ails you in your little corner of the universe — or look up and see the infinite ways to break out and live. Take a deep breath and choose. My advice: Look up. The possibilities are out there.Continue reading “Look up into infinite possibilities”
Live intentionally. How do you fulfill your mission? On purpose. So stay on purpose.
Is it time for a change? Too late; while you were asking the question, everything changed.
Ride the wind, they say. But what is the wind? An ever-shifting maelstrom of interactions, some intentional, mostly random, some proactive, mostly reactive. The intentional and proactive can influence the direction of the maelstrom somewhat – ride the wind, and keep a hand on the tiller.
Take time to learn. But not too much time; what you’ve learned has already changed.
The wind howls. Ride the wind. But what is the wind?
Where does the story begin? How do you know to end it, and when?
Only you can determine those answers. Consider them carefully, but find an answer. In the time you’ve taken to think about it, everything has changed.
Run for the joy of running because your spirit cannot be contained in a walk.
Write for the joy of writing because your spirit can’t hold back the words.
Sing for the joy of singing because life has a melody and harmonies so pure and clear that it has to have music.
Speed across the page never-you-minding whether the phrase is perfect or awkward or pretty or odd, because the words have to spill out and never you mind whether they spilled out in a perfectly ordered order.
Because it’s fun to write, or it better be, because you’ve spent your life writing and the spirit who has never had fun is a sullen spirit indeed.
Attend to crasftsmanship? Craft away, child, but not until after you’ve said it all raw and full and with all the joy you can’t hold in your heart a minute more.