Franklin Taggart's Unconventional Life Blog

I went through many years of my life seeking romantic love. From the earliest times when I figured out that people could couple up, that’s what I wanted. Whenever I’d meet a new person the first thought would be “I wonder if she’s interested?” There wasn’t a slight possibility for friendship, just a hope that I’d finally have found “The One” who would satisfy that longing and make me whole. No wonder they’d run. Barf! The pattern was usually one of two. First, there was the pattern of me falling hard for them and they’d run. Second, vise versa. Either way I spent a lot of time on a roller coaster of seeking, finding and losing that always had an acute layer of pain that would grow over time, just keeping the cycle going. Most of my waking hours were spent obsessing and feeling out of control, wandering all over the countryside looking for Dulcinea. There would also be periods where I’d put on a brave face and show the world that I didn’t need love, that I was just fine by myself,

I've always been a very deep feeling and emotional person, which has its pros and cons. As deeply as I can feel love and regard for people and situations, I can just as easily slip into wild bouts of anxiety, depression or rage. That's been a tendency for as long as I can remember. I've navigated the world by feel and have always thought that my feelings were a barometer of my circumstances, that they gave me an accurate read on what was happening in the outside world at large. Strong emotion has also been the root of my sense of being at the mercy of the whims of the world, and not completely responsible for my experience here. Recently I've learned that this was a misunderstanding, and not just a small one. About six months ago I was listening to the I Love Marketing podcast with Joe Polish and Dean Jackson. It's one of my favorites, and I recommend it to clients and friends frequently if they are in any kind of career where they have to learn how to market the

I don't know if this qualifies as a recipe, but here's how I make my gumbo: First, you have to make roux. Cover the bottom of a 12 inch frying pan with olive oil. Heat on medium until a drop of water spatters on contact. Add oat flour(if you're gluten sensitive, wheat floor if you're not) to the hot oil while constantly stirring. Add only enough flour to make the mixture a medium thickness. Not soupy, not sandy. Stir over heat until it becomes reddish, golden brown. If you smell it burning, remove from the heat and keep stirring. Burnt roux spoils the whole gumbo. Set aside in a bowl after it's done. In a big stock pot heat a couple of tablespoons of olive oil. Add two heads(yes, heads) of crushed chopped garlic, two medium sized chopped white onions, one bell pepper, one or two small hot peppers, one and a half pounds of sliced Andouille sausage, and 2-4 pounds of chicken(I usually buy a few packs of thighs and legs). Add cayenne pepper, salt and pepper as d

Charles Paul Taggart died the other day. To the grown ups in my life he was known as Paul. To all my cousins, my sisters and I he was known as Uncle Charlie. He was a larger than life cowboy who'd also been a sailor. Strong as a bull elephant, twinkling eyed, kind, generous and open hearted, he was my boyhood hero. I can still viscerally feel the anticipation of waiting for him and his family to arrive at gatherings. Back then they lived in Texas and we lived in Evanston, Wyoming where most gatherings took place at the Sims Hotel, owned and operated by our Aunt Lue. Uncle Charlie's son, Shawn is the same age as me and between knowing I was going to see my buddy, and Uncle Charlie and Aunt Joyce I couldn't sit still. He drove a burnt sienna(thanks Crayola) Cadillac that seemed to be about 40 feet long. When we saw that car come down Front Street from the underpass, I'd leap out of my own self with joy. When he spotted us he'd give a couple of pops on the car horn

Recently had the pleasure of a trip to San Diego. It was my first time there, and I was very pleasantly surprised how much I liked it. I'm more of a mountain man than an ocean lover, but San Diego had friendly people, warmth and beauty that was very restorative.  The hotel we stayed at was in Old Town San Diego which is a part of town I'd encourage all to see. Wonderful old stucco village with food, shopping and history lessons. One of the history lessons had some personal meaning for me. The Mormon Battalion Museum was right across the street from our hotel. For those who don't know, the Mormon Battalion was a group of men conscripted to march from Iowa to California for service in the Mexican-American War. They left families in the midst of their own trek to Utah and marched the long trail through mountains and desert and every extreme to Southern California. One company went to Los Angeles and another to San Diego. They arrived in California just as a truce had been r

Dear Me At 20, Here are a few suggestions for your next 30 years: Show up. Learn how to be completely present here and now. Give your presence to people. That will allow you to have amazing friendships and relationships. Pay attention. You'll be amazed to know how powerful your attention is. Learn how to use it. Meditate, concentrate, let it expand and contract. Learn how to sense beyond what you can see, hear, taste, touch and smell. Your attention is a core power in this world. At some point see if you can discover where your attention arises from. It might blow your mind. Participate. Your temperament tends to put you in a more observational role, but that also sometimes leaves you feeling left out of things that you really want to be a part of. Go ahead and join whatever party is going on. Have at least one good conversation before you go home. Eat real food. You don't notice it now because you're still young but the fast food, the soft drinks and the junk food

Bodhi riding the rails in the dome car. Pulling out of Cheyenne. Passing the Terry Bison Ranch on the Wyoming/Colorado border Today, Bodhi and I got to have a wonderful adventure. Our friend, Mary Guthrie invited us to be her guests on a train ride from Cheyenne down to Denver on a historic Union Pacific train that was pulled by the last steam engine made for the Union Pacific, Engine 844. I took a few pics and wanted to just say that besides the joy of watching Bodhi experience his first train ride, that the ride for me was as much down memory lane as it was a present time experience. Our friend and host, Mary Guthrie(left). In the distance you can see Engine number 844, the last steam locomotive built for the Union Pacific. My first passenger train ride was when I was a little bit younger than Bodhi, probably about 5 years old. My Granny and Gramps took me from Evanston, Wyoming to Ogden, Utah and back on a day trip. I don't remember that there was any occasi