The statements from our leaders urging the existing Egyptian government to exercise restraint as it deals with protesters in the street are a source of amusement to me.
Not knowing anything else to say, Obama and Hillary are busy making "Please don't hurt the people" noises. How quaint. Just a couple of weeks ago these same two were proclaiming Julian Assange a traitor for telling the truth. A traitor? Doesn't one first need to be a member of the club to betray it? I believe Mr. Assange is not a citizen of this nation and by definition is not a traitor. How quick they were to spread the trumped up sex charges leveled at him by a couple of prostitutes. Jeeze - how much longer should we hold our noses over that mess?
Too bad Doug MacArthur isn't around to teach Mubarak the gentle tactics he used against the WWI Vets. Or, maybe Lon Horiuchi can train the Egyptians in the restrained use of firearms. We could always have a member of the ATF explain the proper way to use a tank to dissuade citizens from teaching their children. Gimme a break. Our leaders should look to their own actions and not get in the way of another people trying to win the same freedom we won, and are now losing, back in 1776.
I know what you're gonna say - "That's all ancient history. It happened on someone else's watch." OK - How about this? http://www.phoenixnewtimes.com/2010-12-16/news/the-feds-bury-border-patrol-abuses-of-immigrants-but-what-s-been-unearthed-reveals-a-culture-of-cruelty/#
If, Mr. Obama and Mrs. Clinton, you believe in the right of people to be free then say it. If you believe in democracy then say it. If you would rather have a dictator in Egypt then say that. But, don't lecture other people without cleaning your own house first.
If you don't believe in the peoples right to govern themselves maybe you should look for different work. I'm sure, Mrs. Clinton, you could go into a career for which you have been trained - trading cattle futures. I've heard you do quite well at that. And Mr. Obama, I understand there's an opening coming up on the PTA board in Harper Valley. Bet you can handle it!
Monday, January 31, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Cline Falls
The waters of the Deschutes River run north on their way to the Columbia River and then on to the Pacific Ocean. The water passes our little town just about three miles west of our house and there is a state park beside the river at a place called Cline Falls.
Carolyn and I, having spent several hours in Doggie Heaven over the course of the last few sunny days, wanted a change of scenery and went to this little park yesterday. It is a gorgeous place that reminds me of a secluded spot in Yosemite along the Merced River. Beautiful, serene, and paradise are words that come to mind but all of these have become trite and are essentially meaningless these days. We need some new superlatives along with rules that allow a person to use each of the words only twelve times in their entire lifetime.
We spent a couple of hours walking along the river and in the larger park. It was almost deserted. There was a guy tossing a stick into the water so his black Labrador could retrieve it. Another couple and their child were feeding a pair of swans at the river bank. After Carolyn got tired we came back home. I was charmed by the little place and wanted to know a little more about it. Google is my friend and it's much closer than the library.
I learned a birdman lived there for quite some time starting in the mid nineteen forty's until his health declined in 1995. He was a hermit who lived alone without a job, running water or electricity. People around town knew him but were unsure of his name - he had several of them, none of which sounded even close to the others. One thing the townsfolk did know about him though, he could call birds. He would extend his arms, raise both his hands palms up, and call for the birds. They would come to him and land in his arms no matter if he were beside the river he loved or in the middle of town. Towards the end of the time he lived alone entire classes of school children would be taken to meet him and to witness his ability. He touched the lives of many in the town and when he could no longer live alone he was placed in a nursing home. His stay was paid in full by donations from people he had inspired for so long.
I also learned of an axeman that had visited the scene. Two college girls were biking on a trip across the country and stopped to spend the night in this little place. A truck driven by a crazed man in a cowboy hat ran over their tent in the middle of the night. The cowboy then got out of his truck and started hacking them with an axe. They were lucky to have survived and so was he. He has gone undetected and unpunished to this day. Here's a scary thought - he may still be walking around the town in which we live. A book about the incident, "Strange Piece of Paradise," was written by one of the victims.
Amazing what can occur in one small place on this planet, and no matter what has happened in that park beside the river, it's beauty remains.
Carolyn and I, having spent several hours in Doggie Heaven over the course of the last few sunny days, wanted a change of scenery and went to this little park yesterday. It is a gorgeous place that reminds me of a secluded spot in Yosemite along the Merced River. Beautiful, serene, and paradise are words that come to mind but all of these have become trite and are essentially meaningless these days. We need some new superlatives along with rules that allow a person to use each of the words only twelve times in their entire lifetime.
We spent a couple of hours walking along the river and in the larger park. It was almost deserted. There was a guy tossing a stick into the water so his black Labrador could retrieve it. Another couple and their child were feeding a pair of swans at the river bank. After Carolyn got tired we came back home. I was charmed by the little place and wanted to know a little more about it. Google is my friend and it's much closer than the library.
I learned a birdman lived there for quite some time starting in the mid nineteen forty's until his health declined in 1995. He was a hermit who lived alone without a job, running water or electricity. People around town knew him but were unsure of his name - he had several of them, none of which sounded even close to the others. One thing the townsfolk did know about him though, he could call birds. He would extend his arms, raise both his hands palms up, and call for the birds. They would come to him and land in his arms no matter if he were beside the river he loved or in the middle of town. Towards the end of the time he lived alone entire classes of school children would be taken to meet him and to witness his ability. He touched the lives of many in the town and when he could no longer live alone he was placed in a nursing home. His stay was paid in full by donations from people he had inspired for so long.
I also learned of an axeman that had visited the scene. Two college girls were biking on a trip across the country and stopped to spend the night in this little place. A truck driven by a crazed man in a cowboy hat ran over their tent in the middle of the night. The cowboy then got out of his truck and started hacking them with an axe. They were lucky to have survived and so was he. He has gone undetected and unpunished to this day. Here's a scary thought - he may still be walking around the town in which we live. A book about the incident, "Strange Piece of Paradise," was written by one of the victims.
Amazing what can occur in one small place on this planet, and no matter what has happened in that park beside the river, it's beauty remains.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Saturday
The mutt woke me up this morning. Usually I am moving around before he's ready to take care of his morning business but I was up until the wee hours trying to get a handle on what we will owe the government on April 15th and did not get out of the sack til his paws, scratching the side rail of the bed, started my day. It's kind of a pleasant way to wake up. He was groomed a couple of days ago so he still looks sorta cute and being only two years old, he's always full of energy. It's contagious. Something a couple of old timers like Carolyn and I need to have around us.
I grabbed my coffee and as I walked back past the office I looked at the mess left from last night. There were stacks of papers relating to real estate, files that had contained the papers and to which they will need to be returned, medical records and miscellaneous receipts.. I had printed various forms and worksheets that were scattered among the stacks which added to the mess. The new Eurolounger was loaded from one end to the other with papers and the boxes that had contained them. Ya know, there has to be a better way.
I said to heck with it - this is Saturday, for cryin' out loud, and I'm gonna relax. I shoved all the little piles into a big pile and things started looking better. I know, that means more work later trying to sort through it but I now have all the information I need listed in the proper places on a gazillion forms so maybe I'll just put it all in a box and label it "2010 Tax Mess." If I get audited someday I'll just hand them the box and let the government deal with it. After all, the mess exists because they require me to keep all this stuff. It should be up to them to sort it out. There. Finished. The box will join the other mislabeled and unopened boxes on the floor of the garage and it'll fit right in. Someday I'm gonna build some shelves and sort it all out, but not today. It's just too pretty a day and the Sun is shinning.
I think Carolyn and I will go play in the Sun while we still can. Why don't you join us?
I grabbed my coffee and as I walked back past the office I looked at the mess left from last night. There were stacks of papers relating to real estate, files that had contained the papers and to which they will need to be returned, medical records and miscellaneous receipts.. I had printed various forms and worksheets that were scattered among the stacks which added to the mess. The new Eurolounger was loaded from one end to the other with papers and the boxes that had contained them. Ya know, there has to be a better way.
I said to heck with it - this is Saturday, for cryin' out loud, and I'm gonna relax. I shoved all the little piles into a big pile and things started looking better. I know, that means more work later trying to sort through it but I now have all the information I need listed in the proper places on a gazillion forms so maybe I'll just put it all in a box and label it "2010 Tax Mess." If I get audited someday I'll just hand them the box and let the government deal with it. After all, the mess exists because they require me to keep all this stuff. It should be up to them to sort it out. There. Finished. The box will join the other mislabeled and unopened boxes on the floor of the garage and it'll fit right in. Someday I'm gonna build some shelves and sort it all out, but not today. It's just too pretty a day and the Sun is shinning.
I think Carolyn and I will go play in the Sun while we still can. Why don't you join us?
Friday, January 28, 2011
Dodging the bullets
Some folks watch TV, others play solitaire on their computers. I love to read and yesterday I went on a quest. It's the kind of thing I enjoy, learning a little more each day and living to tell about it. The little knowledge I have is not all inclusive on any subject. It is not an "every little detail" textbook kind of thing but more like an encyclopedia entry. Tidbits. Sometimes there is a need for a little more depth than I possess and yesterday was one of those times.
I was looking for the sources of political change in our country during and shortly after the depression years. I wanted to know what groups were on the leading edge and clamoring for something different from that which was. Turns out there were many different sources of discontent, almost everyone wanted change. Students, Socialists, unions, the unemployed, academics, the marginalized and the hungry. As a country we needed change and were ready for a savior. This was not unique to America. The whole world was looking for change. People everywhere were tired of going to bed hungry. They were tired of not having a job. They were tired of being oppressed, of having their hopes and dreams smashed and could not understand why they were allowed to suffer so much while their leaders lived in luxury. Rioting, militarization, and the overthrow of existing governments or the parties in power was the norm during that time.
Although our citizens suffered almost beyond belief, our government was among the most fortunate of countries in that era. Our savior, Franklin D. Roosevelt, was duly elected to that position. Our government worked. There were many governments in South America, Europe and Asia that didn't make it. Even though we managed to keep an orderly transfer of power during these difficult times, it was a close thing.
There was a demagogue, a man loved by the common man in his home state, who had much higher ambitions. He had the charisma and the charm to hypnotize crowds. He was our Hitler and all that saved us from him was an assassin's bullet. Who knows what would have happened had he come to power here. His changes brought vast improvements to the lives of ordinary citizens in Louisiana. But, those changes were made possible by corruption, coercion and cronyism. The three "C's" that define a dictator. The bullet that brought him down was the bullet this country dodged. Our government survived.
I also wanted to try to relate the events of the 30's to what is going on today, and what I found scares the daylights out of me.
Almost two weeks ago I posted "Tucson and Tunisia." I pointed out a phenomenal event, a revolution, that was occurring in North Africa. The media press was wringing it's hands over a congresswoman who had been shot and completely ignored what will prove to be one of the most significant events of the year. Uprisings just do not occur in this area of the world and it should have made the front pages of every daily in the country. Of course, we don't get news in this country, we get entertainment. We don't hear about it until there are picures of fires and people throwing things at the cops.
Now, the revolution in Tunisia is spreading to the rest of the Arab states. Right now it's confined to those with close ties to America and I think this is a result of the relatively more liberal policies of these countries. After citizens of the more repressive Islamic countries see that change is possible I believe the riots will spread to all the Arab states in short order, and from there to more southerly regions of Africa (watch Senegal in this area) and then, as the price of oil skyrockets, to the rest of the world. Chaos.
People everywhere are suffering the same conditions now as they did in the 30's. Once again the world is suffering from an economic downturn that is going to cause governments around the world to fall. Our citizens and country are not immune from this pending disaster. Our condition is the same as that of the Arabs now rioting in the streets of Africa but, being a more prosperous nation, we have not yet felt the full effect of this malady. We will. The sad part of this is, using history as a guide, the people that most need change are least likely to get it. They will instead get an even worse government.
Likey as not all these changes will lead to another world war. That's what happened the last time. As Admiral Josh Painter remarked, "This business will get out of control. It will get out of control and we'll be lucky to live through it."
We have another bullet to dodge. I hope we're up to it.
I was looking for the sources of political change in our country during and shortly after the depression years. I wanted to know what groups were on the leading edge and clamoring for something different from that which was. Turns out there were many different sources of discontent, almost everyone wanted change. Students, Socialists, unions, the unemployed, academics, the marginalized and the hungry. As a country we needed change and were ready for a savior. This was not unique to America. The whole world was looking for change. People everywhere were tired of going to bed hungry. They were tired of not having a job. They were tired of being oppressed, of having their hopes and dreams smashed and could not understand why they were allowed to suffer so much while their leaders lived in luxury. Rioting, militarization, and the overthrow of existing governments or the parties in power was the norm during that time.
Although our citizens suffered almost beyond belief, our government was among the most fortunate of countries in that era. Our savior, Franklin D. Roosevelt, was duly elected to that position. Our government worked. There were many governments in South America, Europe and Asia that didn't make it. Even though we managed to keep an orderly transfer of power during these difficult times, it was a close thing.
There was a demagogue, a man loved by the common man in his home state, who had much higher ambitions. He had the charisma and the charm to hypnotize crowds. He was our Hitler and all that saved us from him was an assassin's bullet. Who knows what would have happened had he come to power here. His changes brought vast improvements to the lives of ordinary citizens in Louisiana. But, those changes were made possible by corruption, coercion and cronyism. The three "C's" that define a dictator. The bullet that brought him down was the bullet this country dodged. Our government survived.
I also wanted to try to relate the events of the 30's to what is going on today, and what I found scares the daylights out of me.
Almost two weeks ago I posted "Tucson and Tunisia." I pointed out a phenomenal event, a revolution, that was occurring in North Africa. The media press was wringing it's hands over a congresswoman who had been shot and completely ignored what will prove to be one of the most significant events of the year. Uprisings just do not occur in this area of the world and it should have made the front pages of every daily in the country. Of course, we don't get news in this country, we get entertainment. We don't hear about it until there are picures of fires and people throwing things at the cops.
Now, the revolution in Tunisia is spreading to the rest of the Arab states. Right now it's confined to those with close ties to America and I think this is a result of the relatively more liberal policies of these countries. After citizens of the more repressive Islamic countries see that change is possible I believe the riots will spread to all the Arab states in short order, and from there to more southerly regions of Africa (watch Senegal in this area) and then, as the price of oil skyrockets, to the rest of the world. Chaos.
People everywhere are suffering the same conditions now as they did in the 30's. Once again the world is suffering from an economic downturn that is going to cause governments around the world to fall. Our citizens and country are not immune from this pending disaster. Our condition is the same as that of the Arabs now rioting in the streets of Africa but, being a more prosperous nation, we have not yet felt the full effect of this malady. We will. The sad part of this is, using history as a guide, the people that most need change are least likely to get it. They will instead get an even worse government.
Likey as not all these changes will lead to another world war. That's what happened the last time. As Admiral Josh Painter remarked, "This business will get out of control. It will get out of control and we'll be lucky to live through it."
We have another bullet to dodge. I hope we're up to it.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Study Time
Today a reader asked an important question that sent me on a mission to learn more. I checked in a little later and discovered more homework had been assigned.
If you check my profile you'll discover I'm in the Student Industry with a job title of "Avid Learner." I am spending some time doing my job today and will continue tomorrow. I'm hoping to clarify some of my thoughts about todays woes and how they relate to historical events.
See ya late tomorrow!
If you check my profile you'll discover I'm in the Student Industry with a job title of "Avid Learner." I am spending some time doing my job today and will continue tomorrow. I'm hoping to clarify some of my thoughts about todays woes and how they relate to historical events.
See ya late tomorrow!
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Sorry, But It's Time to Rant
I woke up this morning, grabbed a cup of coffee and turned the TV on to the news. Naturally what I got was a commercial but I'm used to that happening and waited, with the sound muted, until a head with moving lips replaced the guy offering to help me settle my tax bill with the IRS.
The "news" was presented by a couple of cutie pie youngsters giggling back and forth about how distracting it was that Michele Bachmann was looking into the wrong camera during her reply to the president's State of the Union Address. What the devil? This is news??????? The little darlings spent a good two minutes on the piece and not once was mention made of her views nor were any of her statements discussed.
Ya think there was anything else more improtant than where her eyes were aimed that could have been reported in that two minutes? Does it even matter what it was that did not get reported while these vapid, well groomed script readers preened in front of each other and the cameras? We'll never know because all we get on the news these days is entertainment. There is no news, only pretty people reading fluff so all the good worker bees can keep pretending there is no problem.
How can we ever wake up and deal with the way things are? Everything that touches us is a narcotic. All our efforts are spent just to keep our bodies warm and fed. We're too tired and drugged to deal with problems. And boy do we have a problem.
We should be able to manage it because there is only one problem. The common guy has lost the war. That's it. That's the problem. Since 1980 the amount of power, control and wealth allotted to the top 1% of the population has grown to the point that the guy in the street has no means to control his destiny. The wealthy now control the politicians, the media, our children's education and our lives. Their money decides election results. Their money determines what we see and what we are told on TV. Their money keeps their taxes low and ours disproportionately higher. Their money washes our stench off them as they jet to Davos to determine our fate. Their money keeps us in line. The rules are made to protect them and their money from us. We are expected to abide by those rules and they are allowed to flaunt them. Now don't jump in and tell me how wrong I am because you have a million bucks - or ten million bucks and you are a really nice guy. That's chump change to be spent on a whim to the folks I'm referring to. If that's all you have you're one of us.
Leona Helmsley's "Taxes are for the little people" is indicative of the mindset of the rich. Tax evasion by the wealthy and by our high ranking and elected officials is rampant and dismissed by a rap on the wrists. "Hold still there, Timmy, you need a really hard rap on the wrist. There ya go, now go ahead and continue running the Treasury Department." I can't wait for Rudolf Elmer's juicy tidbits to hit the airwaves. Of course nothing will happen to punish the guilty.
If you or I were to engage in such utter disregard for the law, what do you imagine the outcome would be? Frankly, I'm disgusted with the platitudes our fearless leader spewed in his State of The Union speech. "We're the best, keep working your butts off, don't worry that your neighbor lost his home, we're gonna fix it if you work harder for less, blah blah blah blah blah" I call BS.
We need a Franklin, Jefferson or Adams to step up to the plate. It can't happen fast enough. But, ya know, I think it's already too late.
The "news" was presented by a couple of cutie pie youngsters giggling back and forth about how distracting it was that Michele Bachmann was looking into the wrong camera during her reply to the president's State of the Union Address. What the devil? This is news??????? The little darlings spent a good two minutes on the piece and not once was mention made of her views nor were any of her statements discussed.
Ya think there was anything else more improtant than where her eyes were aimed that could have been reported in that two minutes? Does it even matter what it was that did not get reported while these vapid, well groomed script readers preened in front of each other and the cameras? We'll never know because all we get on the news these days is entertainment. There is no news, only pretty people reading fluff so all the good worker bees can keep pretending there is no problem.
How can we ever wake up and deal with the way things are? Everything that touches us is a narcotic. All our efforts are spent just to keep our bodies warm and fed. We're too tired and drugged to deal with problems. And boy do we have a problem.
We should be able to manage it because there is only one problem. The common guy has lost the war. That's it. That's the problem. Since 1980 the amount of power, control and wealth allotted to the top 1% of the population has grown to the point that the guy in the street has no means to control his destiny. The wealthy now control the politicians, the media, our children's education and our lives. Their money decides election results. Their money determines what we see and what we are told on TV. Their money keeps their taxes low and ours disproportionately higher. Their money washes our stench off them as they jet to Davos to determine our fate. Their money keeps us in line. The rules are made to protect them and their money from us. We are expected to abide by those rules and they are allowed to flaunt them. Now don't jump in and tell me how wrong I am because you have a million bucks - or ten million bucks and you are a really nice guy. That's chump change to be spent on a whim to the folks I'm referring to. If that's all you have you're one of us.
Leona Helmsley's "Taxes are for the little people" is indicative of the mindset of the rich. Tax evasion by the wealthy and by our high ranking and elected officials is rampant and dismissed by a rap on the wrists. "Hold still there, Timmy, you need a really hard rap on the wrist. There ya go, now go ahead and continue running the Treasury Department." I can't wait for Rudolf Elmer's juicy tidbits to hit the airwaves. Of course nothing will happen to punish the guilty.
If you or I were to engage in such utter disregard for the law, what do you imagine the outcome would be? Frankly, I'm disgusted with the platitudes our fearless leader spewed in his State of The Union speech. "We're the best, keep working your butts off, don't worry that your neighbor lost his home, we're gonna fix it if you work harder for less, blah blah blah blah blah" I call BS.
We need a Franklin, Jefferson or Adams to step up to the plate. It can't happen fast enough. But, ya know, I think it's already too late.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Rudolph - Where are you?
If you decide to leave Redmond and travel West on Highway 126 towards the coast keep your eyes open when you get to Helmholtz Road. Look north as you drive by and maybe you'll see Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. I'm not kidding you. Redmond is home to the biggest Reindeer Ranch in America and I'm betting there are more reindeer in this little town than anywhere but the north pole. Well, maybe the Scandinavian countries have two or three dozen more but it's a close call.
We went by today and looked at the reindeer. For FREE! Just another way to spend some time in the sun in this neat little place. I'm starting to think my in-laws were right when they said there was a lot of sunshine in Redmond. We've had several days of it in a row and I'm missing New Mexico less and less. The jury's still debating but maybe there's hope for this place, weatherwise!
I learned something I didn't know about reindeer. The females have just as many antlers as the male and that's what sets them apart from deer. Must be tough to be a reindeer hunter, no way to tell if you're looking at a buck or a doe without yelling to ask the critter. But, since reindeer are considered to be an endangered species, you can't hunt them anyway so I guess it doesn't matter. Looking at the number of them we have in Redmond, I don't see how they are any more endangered than a car load of high school students after drinking 8 or 10 too many. I guess that's just one of the reasons nobody lets me write the laws.
The folks at the ranch make their living by traveling the herd to malls, parades and special events during the holiday season, by selling a spare antler or two, and (Quick! Make the kids close their eyes!) by making Reindeer sausage. There may even be some Donner burger out there but I'm not sure. If you've taken your kids to see the Reindeer at Christmas, chances are pretty good the animals live a couple of blocks from us. We get to see them all the time and love it.
Todays outting was a little disappointing because we didn't get to see Rudolph. But, maybe you can find him if you look for him there someday. And, if you have some ankle biters along with you, you'll probably enjoy the day even more than we did.
We went by today and looked at the reindeer. For FREE! Just another way to spend some time in the sun in this neat little place. I'm starting to think my in-laws were right when they said there was a lot of sunshine in Redmond. We've had several days of it in a row and I'm missing New Mexico less and less. The jury's still debating but maybe there's hope for this place, weatherwise!
I learned something I didn't know about reindeer. The females have just as many antlers as the male and that's what sets them apart from deer. Must be tough to be a reindeer hunter, no way to tell if you're looking at a buck or a doe without yelling to ask the critter. But, since reindeer are considered to be an endangered species, you can't hunt them anyway so I guess it doesn't matter. Looking at the number of them we have in Redmond, I don't see how they are any more endangered than a car load of high school students after drinking 8 or 10 too many. I guess that's just one of the reasons nobody lets me write the laws.
The folks at the ranch make their living by traveling the herd to malls, parades and special events during the holiday season, by selling a spare antler or two, and (Quick! Make the kids close their eyes!) by making Reindeer sausage. There may even be some Donner burger out there but I'm not sure. If you've taken your kids to see the Reindeer at Christmas, chances are pretty good the animals live a couple of blocks from us. We get to see them all the time and love it.
Todays outting was a little disappointing because we didn't get to see Rudolph. But, maybe you can find him if you look for him there someday. And, if you have some ankle biters along with you, you'll probably enjoy the day even more than we did.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Crosses
I went to see the good Doctor this morning to have my wrist brace and stiches removed. On the way to Bend I noticed what must have been about 100 white crosses jumbled in a field beside the Highway. I had not seen them before and was curious about them. I made a mental note to inspect them further on the way back home.
OK, I'll admit the truth. You guys know me well enough I can't fool you. I wrote "Stop/crosses" on a sticky pad I have learned to take everywhere I travel and attached it to the center of my steering wheel. Mental notes just don't cut it anymore. I can still find my way home without help but stops along the way get confusing.
Later, on the way home, my note reminded me of the stop I wanted to make and I pulled over next to the crosses. There were more than a hundred, possibly three hundred, but they were jumbled so as to make an accurate count impossible. Some were tall, some short. There would be a cluster and then some would have larger spaces between them. The field was uneven, undulating and filled with natural grasses that grew as high as some of the shorter crosses. There were large boulders scattered among them. It made me wonder who planted the crosses and why. It was in the middle of my wondering that I looked closer at what I first thought to be a pile of junk more or less in the center of the field.
There were a couple of peices of plywood nailed together to make a platform about eight feet square. Eight inch wide boards had been gilded and nailed all around the edges. The paint had faded. This platform rested on cylinders at each corner. A cube, with sides about three feet long was on top of the platform and there was a coffin shaped pine box that leaned against it. An American flag had been painted on it and the word "Iraq" was stenciled beneath the flag. Recognition dawned.
I have seen the Vietnam Veterans Memorial and experienced the power that simple, elegant structure has to evoke emotion. This even simpler alter, constructed of left overs and placed in the middle of an untended field was almost as powerful. This creation, unfunded and unsigned, said so much with so little.
Just what were the cylinders upon which it rested? The alter was placed on oil drums.
OK, I'll admit the truth. You guys know me well enough I can't fool you. I wrote "Stop/crosses" on a sticky pad I have learned to take everywhere I travel and attached it to the center of my steering wheel. Mental notes just don't cut it anymore. I can still find my way home without help but stops along the way get confusing.
Later, on the way home, my note reminded me of the stop I wanted to make and I pulled over next to the crosses. There were more than a hundred, possibly three hundred, but they were jumbled so as to make an accurate count impossible. Some were tall, some short. There would be a cluster and then some would have larger spaces between them. The field was uneven, undulating and filled with natural grasses that grew as high as some of the shorter crosses. There were large boulders scattered among them. It made me wonder who planted the crosses and why. It was in the middle of my wondering that I looked closer at what I first thought to be a pile of junk more or less in the center of the field.
There were a couple of peices of plywood nailed together to make a platform about eight feet square. Eight inch wide boards had been gilded and nailed all around the edges. The paint had faded. This platform rested on cylinders at each corner. A cube, with sides about three feet long was on top of the platform and there was a coffin shaped pine box that leaned against it. An American flag had been painted on it and the word "Iraq" was stenciled beneath the flag. Recognition dawned.
I have seen the Vietnam Veterans Memorial and experienced the power that simple, elegant structure has to evoke emotion. This even simpler alter, constructed of left overs and placed in the middle of an untended field was almost as powerful. This creation, unfunded and unsigned, said so much with so little.
Just what were the cylinders upon which it rested? The alter was placed on oil drums.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
And the winner is.....Me!
We went to Carolyn's sisters' home for the Jets/Steelers game and dinner this evening. We always enjoy their company no matter if we are there or they are here. Carolyns' 101 year old mother now lives with her sister and the three of them are closer to each other than commuters on a completely full regional jet.
Mom is an amazing lady. She lived on her own until the summer of 2010, well past her hundredth birthday. Carolyn and her sister spent that birthday with her and attended her party. They watched as the mayor handed her a key to the city and a transit pass which entitled her to free fares for life. She was able to use the pass but never found a lock that the key would open.
We spent Christmas and rang in 2010 with her. She was still able to walk four blocks to buy her groceries, catch the bus to visit her banker and her Doctors and could easily manage her finances. Not bad for someone that has been breathing the air on this planet for more than a century. The last six months have taken a toll on her mentally and even though she's still in great health, sadly, she remembers only her daughters.
When the three of them are together her condition melts away as does Carolyn's. The house is filled with girlish giggles and Richard and I are left to fend for ourselves. We play pool, design intricate machines capable of drying wet boots with high efficiency, solve the worlds problems, heal the sick, raise the dead and bet on football games. It's a good life and since someone has to do these things, we thank the Good Lord for giving these tasks to us.
Usually our bets are for a dollar but today was the divisional playoffs. I have to tell you, this really means something to the cosmos and I doubted the universe would survive if the Jets won. I voiced my concerns to Richard, who having somehow survived his birth and formative years in New York city, assured me not only would the sun come up on Monday if the Jets won, the world would be a much better place because of it. Global warming would cease. We would discover copious amounts of oil next to an existing pipeline and only 53 feet below the surface. Also, if these small improvements were not enough, there was one more thing; he would be five dollars richer and I would be poorer by that amount.
Well, the game is over. There is much wailing and gnashing of teeth coming from the general direction of New York and I'm five dollars richer. Wish me luck 'cause we'll repeat the manly ritual in two weeks.
Mom is an amazing lady. She lived on her own until the summer of 2010, well past her hundredth birthday. Carolyn and her sister spent that birthday with her and attended her party. They watched as the mayor handed her a key to the city and a transit pass which entitled her to free fares for life. She was able to use the pass but never found a lock that the key would open.
We spent Christmas and rang in 2010 with her. She was still able to walk four blocks to buy her groceries, catch the bus to visit her banker and her Doctors and could easily manage her finances. Not bad for someone that has been breathing the air on this planet for more than a century. The last six months have taken a toll on her mentally and even though she's still in great health, sadly, she remembers only her daughters.
When the three of them are together her condition melts away as does Carolyn's. The house is filled with girlish giggles and Richard and I are left to fend for ourselves. We play pool, design intricate machines capable of drying wet boots with high efficiency, solve the worlds problems, heal the sick, raise the dead and bet on football games. It's a good life and since someone has to do these things, we thank the Good Lord for giving these tasks to us.
Usually our bets are for a dollar but today was the divisional playoffs. I have to tell you, this really means something to the cosmos and I doubted the universe would survive if the Jets won. I voiced my concerns to Richard, who having somehow survived his birth and formative years in New York city, assured me not only would the sun come up on Monday if the Jets won, the world would be a much better place because of it. Global warming would cease. We would discover copious amounts of oil next to an existing pipeline and only 53 feet below the surface. Also, if these small improvements were not enough, there was one more thing; he would be five dollars richer and I would be poorer by that amount.
Well, the game is over. There is much wailing and gnashing of teeth coming from the general direction of New York and I'm five dollars richer. Wish me luck 'cause we'll repeat the manly ritual in two weeks.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Treasure Hunt
Shopping has never been one of my favorite things. In fact it easily makes my top ten list of "Things I Hate But Must Do." It's right up there with picking up dog poop.
I have learned to limit trips to the grocery store to about three every two weeks. I buy clothes maybe twice a year and will not need shoes for the rest of my life. In this regard, Ralph Nader is a personal hero. It is a little known fact that he once bought ten or twelve pairs of combat boots and has worn them everyday for years. That's right - to press conferences, the opera and to testify before congress. I am proud of the fact I have five pair of sturdy workboots, four pair of them still new in the box, stacked in the corner of my closet. My feet will probably wear out long before my boots and I intend to bequeth the ones that are left after my passing to the next Consumer Crusader. Hope he wears a size 9 1/2 D. Most of the other stuff we need is purchased online and delivered to our front door. It's our personal contribution to help make the planet green. The UPS truck was going to come within a block of our door anyway so it may as well drop something here too. Save the whales! Or maybe that's the wrong slogan??? At my age I get them mixed up.
When I do need to visit a store I go with a list in hand. I also try to anticipate my needs for the next two or three months and attempt to cram all my shopping for that period into the one horrible shopping day no matter how many different stores I have to enter to buy the stuff on my list. I enjoy being in a good mood and nothing will take that mood from me faster than a trip down any aisle in any store so I keep these days to a minimum.. Have I mentioned I hate to shop? There is, however, one brighty shinning exception to everything I just said. That execption is COSTCO!
What it is that makes Costco different is hard to define. Maybe it's the wide aisles, or it might be the thrill of dodging the forklifts that travel those aisles. It could be the fantastic snacks offered at every other corner or the mile high stacks of paper goods. Certainly not having to choose from twenty-eight different brand names of the same product enters the equation. All you really need is the best of whatever it is you're buying and I never have understood why there are so many different brands of, say, soy sauce in a regular grocery store. Is it a plot to make you pay more for less of something? I always try to figure out if 18 ounces of something that sells for $3.14 is a better buy than 1.4 litres of the same thing at $4.32. Ya know, it just makes a right brained guy wanna scream.
The conclusion I have reached as to why I personally enjoy Costco so much is that it is a treasure hunt! If you get out of the grocery aisles and look at the other stuff it's amazing what you can find. And if you come back tomorrow it might be gone, never to be replaced. Someone else took it home. Today was Costco day and we found a sofa/lounger/bed kinda thingy that will fit our new office. We took our treasure home with us and boy are we happy pirates!
I have learned to limit trips to the grocery store to about three every two weeks. I buy clothes maybe twice a year and will not need shoes for the rest of my life. In this regard, Ralph Nader is a personal hero. It is a little known fact that he once bought ten or twelve pairs of combat boots and has worn them everyday for years. That's right - to press conferences, the opera and to testify before congress. I am proud of the fact I have five pair of sturdy workboots, four pair of them still new in the box, stacked in the corner of my closet. My feet will probably wear out long before my boots and I intend to bequeth the ones that are left after my passing to the next Consumer Crusader. Hope he wears a size 9 1/2 D. Most of the other stuff we need is purchased online and delivered to our front door. It's our personal contribution to help make the planet green. The UPS truck was going to come within a block of our door anyway so it may as well drop something here too. Save the whales! Or maybe that's the wrong slogan??? At my age I get them mixed up.
When I do need to visit a store I go with a list in hand. I also try to anticipate my needs for the next two or three months and attempt to cram all my shopping for that period into the one horrible shopping day no matter how many different stores I have to enter to buy the stuff on my list. I enjoy being in a good mood and nothing will take that mood from me faster than a trip down any aisle in any store so I keep these days to a minimum.. Have I mentioned I hate to shop? There is, however, one brighty shinning exception to everything I just said. That execption is COSTCO!
What it is that makes Costco different is hard to define. Maybe it's the wide aisles, or it might be the thrill of dodging the forklifts that travel those aisles. It could be the fantastic snacks offered at every other corner or the mile high stacks of paper goods. Certainly not having to choose from twenty-eight different brand names of the same product enters the equation. All you really need is the best of whatever it is you're buying and I never have understood why there are so many different brands of, say, soy sauce in a regular grocery store. Is it a plot to make you pay more for less of something? I always try to figure out if 18 ounces of something that sells for $3.14 is a better buy than 1.4 litres of the same thing at $4.32. Ya know, it just makes a right brained guy wanna scream.
The conclusion I have reached as to why I personally enjoy Costco so much is that it is a treasure hunt! If you get out of the grocery aisles and look at the other stuff it's amazing what you can find. And if you come back tomorrow it might be gone, never to be replaced. Someone else took it home. Today was Costco day and we found a sofa/lounger/bed kinda thingy that will fit our new office. We took our treasure home with us and boy are we happy pirates!
Friday, January 21, 2011
Going to the Dogs (for dinner)
Carolyn and I are settling in quite nicely. We have met and informally entertained several of the neighbors and are feeling comfortable waving at the folks who drive by as we stroll on pleasant days. The hardest part of the move, leaving behind old friends, is in the rear view mirror and the first baby steps in our new life have been taken. We're good to go but until today poor Muffy was the sole occupant of doggie world. He had no doggie friends and there is only so much a couple of humans, no matter how hard they try, can do to bring joy to doggie world.
We humans just don't understand the joy of chewing a bone for hours. We haven't a clue how much fun it is to sneak up behind someone and make him jump just by barking. We'll never be able to delight in running down and returning a ball for the fifty-eighth time. He has had no friends to sniff.
We went to Doggie Heaven (see "Dog Run" post) hoping to find a pack he could run with for an hour or so but the sky was filled with clouds; the only blue to be seen was a pair of boots worn by a not so fashion conscious female high school student who was otherwise dressed in varying shades of green. Certainly there was no blue in the sky, it was a little chilly and every now and again a few drops of rain fell. Most folks, those with actual brains between their ears, had chosen to stay inside and dogs were as scarce as blue sky. It seemed today would end for Muffy the way the others have in this place. Alone again. But.........when we came back home today all that came to an end.
We had not gotten enough of the gray skies so after pulling into the driveway we decided to walk Muffy a bit more . Our neighbors two doors down the street hailed us and invited us in. To our surprise they had two dogs on the living room floor! Muffy now is fast friends with Chardonay and Maggie, and they have invited him back for dinner. I believe the menu includes chicken and beef flavored bits, followed by water with a cat chaser.
He can't wait to go.
We humans just don't understand the joy of chewing a bone for hours. We haven't a clue how much fun it is to sneak up behind someone and make him jump just by barking. We'll never be able to delight in running down and returning a ball for the fifty-eighth time. He has had no friends to sniff.
We went to Doggie Heaven (see "Dog Run" post) hoping to find a pack he could run with for an hour or so but the sky was filled with clouds; the only blue to be seen was a pair of boots worn by a not so fashion conscious female high school student who was otherwise dressed in varying shades of green. Certainly there was no blue in the sky, it was a little chilly and every now and again a few drops of rain fell. Most folks, those with actual brains between their ears, had chosen to stay inside and dogs were as scarce as blue sky. It seemed today would end for Muffy the way the others have in this place. Alone again. But.........when we came back home today all that came to an end.
We had not gotten enough of the gray skies so after pulling into the driveway we decided to walk Muffy a bit more . Our neighbors two doors down the street hailed us and invited us in. To our surprise they had two dogs on the living room floor! Muffy now is fast friends with Chardonay and Maggie, and they have invited him back for dinner. I believe the menu includes chicken and beef flavored bits, followed by water with a cat chaser.
He can't wait to go.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Deferred Maintenance
Although there is only one of me in our family that drives a Guzzler, we must be living the American Dream. Carolyn no longer drives but still we are owned by three of them. If you can believe it, this situation is the result of carefully made plans. We actually knew this was what we wanted and spent good money to become slaves to these three multi-ton monsters.
When I first started to realize retirement was just around the corner we signed up for two of them, one after the other, having convinced ourselves we wanted new wheels at our fingertips. The hope was we would avoid the trouble and expense associated with clunkers. Then Carolyn lost the ability to drive. Oh well, we'll always have a spare if one of them needs work.
The third one wound up in our driveway because I inherited it from my father upon his passing. It is a 37 year old Chevy pick up that needs a TON of new parts, seats and paint before I would consider it reliable transportation. During the last years of his life Dad didn't have the energy to keep it in top condition as he had done for several decades and old pickups are like old cookies, they just sort of crumble away. My Dad and I spent a lot of time together in that old truck, he owned it for years. We took it gold panning, hunting, fishing and just to the store together for all those years and I hated to see it wind up being used to transport illegal aliens across the border.
That is not a political statement of any kind, it's just the truth. In case you don't know it, there is a big market in this part of the country for fifteen hundred to two thousand dollar 4WD pickups that are used as throw away haulers of these folks. I was too emotionally connected to my Dads' pickup to allow that to happen so it now sits in my driveway in need of extensive repair. I'll get around to it one of these days.
A couple of weeks ago the "Change Oil" light illuminated on the dash of the Guzzler. Since I am a very busy man I just pulled it into the garage, shut the door and started driving the Guzzler Deluxe instead. I cannot for the life of me figure out how I ever found the time to work everyday. I'm busier now than ever before. Maybe it has something to do with moving slower - I don't know.
Well, yesterday the "Change Oil" light started glowing in the Guzzler Deluxe. Now I had three vehicles in need of service. Jeeze, this stuff piles up on a guy. So I spent today locating a place to service the machines. I drove to the local franchise of the company I used in New Mexico on the MacDonald's theory, "Ya know what you're gonna get". There were two bays that were full but there was no line. I pulled in and was told there would be a 25 minute wait. Twenty-five minutes before they could even get started? These guys were supposed to get you in and out in a jiffy. I needed to do this twice today so I looked for greener pastures.
Just down the road was a place named "Oil Can Henry's" and they also had two bays where they could perform the service I required. Their bays were also full but I thought I'd try my luck. A guy wearing a Touring Cap and bow tie ran out to greet me with a newspaper in his hand. He gave me the newspaper and asked if I'd like some coffee while I waited. I asked how long it would be and he said "Oh, about five minutes or so." I ordered the coffee, started reading the paper and before long was inside and over the pit where more Touring Capped and bow tied guys could work on my Guzzler. An hour later I repeated the process and was on my way home.
"Cool" was the word that came to mind. My deferred maintenance was taken care of in a day!
When I first started to realize retirement was just around the corner we signed up for two of them, one after the other, having convinced ourselves we wanted new wheels at our fingertips. The hope was we would avoid the trouble and expense associated with clunkers. Then Carolyn lost the ability to drive. Oh well, we'll always have a spare if one of them needs work.
The third one wound up in our driveway because I inherited it from my father upon his passing. It is a 37 year old Chevy pick up that needs a TON of new parts, seats and paint before I would consider it reliable transportation. During the last years of his life Dad didn't have the energy to keep it in top condition as he had done for several decades and old pickups are like old cookies, they just sort of crumble away. My Dad and I spent a lot of time together in that old truck, he owned it for years. We took it gold panning, hunting, fishing and just to the store together for all those years and I hated to see it wind up being used to transport illegal aliens across the border.
That is not a political statement of any kind, it's just the truth. In case you don't know it, there is a big market in this part of the country for fifteen hundred to two thousand dollar 4WD pickups that are used as throw away haulers of these folks. I was too emotionally connected to my Dads' pickup to allow that to happen so it now sits in my driveway in need of extensive repair. I'll get around to it one of these days.
A couple of weeks ago the "Change Oil" light illuminated on the dash of the Guzzler. Since I am a very busy man I just pulled it into the garage, shut the door and started driving the Guzzler Deluxe instead. I cannot for the life of me figure out how I ever found the time to work everyday. I'm busier now than ever before. Maybe it has something to do with moving slower - I don't know.
Well, yesterday the "Change Oil" light started glowing in the Guzzler Deluxe. Now I had three vehicles in need of service. Jeeze, this stuff piles up on a guy. So I spent today locating a place to service the machines. I drove to the local franchise of the company I used in New Mexico on the MacDonald's theory, "Ya know what you're gonna get". There were two bays that were full but there was no line. I pulled in and was told there would be a 25 minute wait. Twenty-five minutes before they could even get started? These guys were supposed to get you in and out in a jiffy. I needed to do this twice today so I looked for greener pastures.
Just down the road was a place named "Oil Can Henry's" and they also had two bays where they could perform the service I required. Their bays were also full but I thought I'd try my luck. A guy wearing a Touring Cap and bow tie ran out to greet me with a newspaper in his hand. He gave me the newspaper and asked if I'd like some coffee while I waited. I asked how long it would be and he said "Oh, about five minutes or so." I ordered the coffee, started reading the paper and before long was inside and over the pit where more Touring Capped and bow tied guys could work on my Guzzler. An hour later I repeated the process and was on my way home.
"Cool" was the word that came to mind. My deferred maintenance was taken care of in a day!
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
King of the Air Guitar
We got out of the house again today. More sunshine! Now that's probably a boring little detail to most of you but believe me, if you're living in these parts, it's a slice of heaven. So, what to do? Lets go watch Marty!
I've looked and the most famous person from Redmond, Oregon that I have been able to find is one Frank T. Redmond. Mostly he's famous these days for getting tired of traveling and stopping to rest beside the river. He and his wife Josephine rested long enough that a small town grew up around them. Before much longer the town had been named after him and voila, he's famous.
It seems to be a little harder to achieve fame these days. Kent Couch managed it when he tied a bunch of balloons to a lawn chair and traveled from Oregon to Idaho without killing himself. Courtney Love, who grew up in various parts of Oregon, was able to have her name splashed around the world by shooting up and fighting with Kurt. Ya know, maybe I'm wrong about what it takes to become famous these days. I guess it still doesn't take a whole lot of effort.
Anyway, Marty is becoming famous, at least around Redmond, and he's having to work real hard at it. You can watch him work here. http://www.ktvz.com/news/25572403/detail.html# We drove by, found a parking place and managed to locate a place in the sun to sit and watch for a while. It gets a little monotonous after a time cause he's the only one who can hear the music that goes with the moves. But it's a great way to spend 10 minutes or so in the sun. And you can be sure you'll catch him at work because the competition is fierce in this area.
Mary, down the road in Bend, is in the same business of advertizing a pizza place. Her talent at least equals Martys, and in the opinion of some, surpasses it. Decide for yourself, you can watch her work here http://www.bendbulletin.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20100724/NEWS0107/100729989/1080/RESTAURANTGUIDE&nav_category=#
Carolyn and I have become quite the connoisseurs, having enjoyed the performances of both. The home town advantage goes to Marty. But, Marty is only 19 years old. The age handicap that Mary, at age 55, gets tips the scales in her favor and she is the hands down winner of the title "Queen of the Air Guitar and Supreme Performer in This Catagory"
Marty is still the King.
I've looked and the most famous person from Redmond, Oregon that I have been able to find is one Frank T. Redmond. Mostly he's famous these days for getting tired of traveling and stopping to rest beside the river. He and his wife Josephine rested long enough that a small town grew up around them. Before much longer the town had been named after him and voila, he's famous.
It seems to be a little harder to achieve fame these days. Kent Couch managed it when he tied a bunch of balloons to a lawn chair and traveled from Oregon to Idaho without killing himself. Courtney Love, who grew up in various parts of Oregon, was able to have her name splashed around the world by shooting up and fighting with Kurt. Ya know, maybe I'm wrong about what it takes to become famous these days. I guess it still doesn't take a whole lot of effort.
Anyway, Marty is becoming famous, at least around Redmond, and he's having to work real hard at it. You can watch him work here. http://www.ktvz.com/news/25572403/detail.html# We drove by, found a parking place and managed to locate a place in the sun to sit and watch for a while. It gets a little monotonous after a time cause he's the only one who can hear the music that goes with the moves. But it's a great way to spend 10 minutes or so in the sun. And you can be sure you'll catch him at work because the competition is fierce in this area.
Mary, down the road in Bend, is in the same business of advertizing a pizza place. Her talent at least equals Martys, and in the opinion of some, surpasses it. Decide for yourself, you can watch her work here http://www.bendbulletin.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20100724/NEWS0107/100729989/1080/RESTAURANTGUIDE&nav_category=#
Carolyn and I have become quite the connoisseurs, having enjoyed the performances of both. The home town advantage goes to Marty. But, Marty is only 19 years old. The age handicap that Mary, at age 55, gets tips the scales in her favor and she is the hands down winner of the title "Queen of the Air Guitar and Supreme Performer in This Catagory"
Marty is still the King.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Big Yellow Taxi
A friend of mine is fighting to save his property from the ever longer reach and ever less caring arm of the law.
There is a small town in a state west of the Mississippi (I love spelling that word) River whos citizens are the brightest in the world. I would guess the average IQ for this town is around 10-12 points higher than most other towns in America. The brilliance of its residents does not help the town govern itself, as their intelligence seems to change not one thing about the town politics. There are a few that really care about what happens in the little burg, about 80% are facinated with their work and get concerned only when the power goes out or the water lines freeze and the rest don't know how to read their watches - same as everywhere else in America. It's the few that really care that cause the problems.
You see, they are highly intelligent in their daytime endeavors and this gives them the confidence to believe they also are competent in matters for which they have not been trained. These are the prime beef in the town and they run the show. Since most of them have day jobs, and since they are too smart to hire a competent city manager or create a charter that allows a mayor to run the town - after all they are the best and brightest so they can run the place all by themselves - they are dependent on city staff for the ideas and day to day functioning of the town.
In otherwords, the bureaucrats are in charge. And the bureaucrats need constantly increasing budgets and employees who report to them. So, if one of them gets a hairbrained idea that will increase either of these two measures of success, all he has to do is sell it to the council. One of the desk jockys is in the process of doing that as I write this and that is why my friend is having to fight.
The current airport manager is trying to establish commercial air carrier service at the local airport. Never mind that it has been tried and failed several times in the last forty years, according to him it'll work this time. Never mind the largest potential user is opposed to the idea and does not endorse the plan, it will work this time. Never mind the economy is slowly grinding to a halt, it will work this time. I can think of twenty more "never minds" but I think you can understand this is a truly awful idea, and stands right up there with other awful ideas that in the last seven years have put the residents of this small place in debt up to their chins. I would seldom waste a day thinking how to put this mess into words, but my friend and his friends stand to lose a lot if this plan is put into action.
My friend will have his hanger torn down to make way for the new air carrier. The one that will never serve this town because the economics make no sense. His hanger is the focal point of a thriving pilot community. He is knowledgable in all things related to aviation and freely shares this knowledge. His hanger is always open to any with a question. He is a natural leader and every pilot at that aiport will lose if he loses. The taxpayers will lose because they will be further in debt. The only one to gain is an airport manager who will see his budget grow. This guy is busy running over airplanes with a lawnmower and allowing the runways and taxiways to become loaded with potentially hazardous objects while he works on a grandiose plan to waste even more of the good citizens money.
Why is this important to someone who lives in the UK or anywhere else in the world? It's important because the same government waste is going on in your town. A bureaucrat in your town is at this moment trying to find a way to increase his budget and raise your debt load. Look around your town and talk to people you know about what they see going on and tell them what you see. We have to find a way to stop the silliness. We can no longer afford the wasteful ways of government.
In the early 70's Joni Mitchell wrote a song, "Big Yellow Taxi". A part of the refrain says "don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got til its gone" She was talking about the whole planet but it also applies to a little part of it here and there. We're just standing with our hands stuffed deeply into the pockets of our jeans watching as it all gets wasted and soon it's gonna be gone.
There is a small town in a state west of the Mississippi (I love spelling that word) River whos citizens are the brightest in the world. I would guess the average IQ for this town is around 10-12 points higher than most other towns in America. The brilliance of its residents does not help the town govern itself, as their intelligence seems to change not one thing about the town politics. There are a few that really care about what happens in the little burg, about 80% are facinated with their work and get concerned only when the power goes out or the water lines freeze and the rest don't know how to read their watches - same as everywhere else in America. It's the few that really care that cause the problems.
You see, they are highly intelligent in their daytime endeavors and this gives them the confidence to believe they also are competent in matters for which they have not been trained. These are the prime beef in the town and they run the show. Since most of them have day jobs, and since they are too smart to hire a competent city manager or create a charter that allows a mayor to run the town - after all they are the best and brightest so they can run the place all by themselves - they are dependent on city staff for the ideas and day to day functioning of the town.
In otherwords, the bureaucrats are in charge. And the bureaucrats need constantly increasing budgets and employees who report to them. So, if one of them gets a hairbrained idea that will increase either of these two measures of success, all he has to do is sell it to the council. One of the desk jockys is in the process of doing that as I write this and that is why my friend is having to fight.
The current airport manager is trying to establish commercial air carrier service at the local airport. Never mind that it has been tried and failed several times in the last forty years, according to him it'll work this time. Never mind the largest potential user is opposed to the idea and does not endorse the plan, it will work this time. Never mind the economy is slowly grinding to a halt, it will work this time. I can think of twenty more "never minds" but I think you can understand this is a truly awful idea, and stands right up there with other awful ideas that in the last seven years have put the residents of this small place in debt up to their chins. I would seldom waste a day thinking how to put this mess into words, but my friend and his friends stand to lose a lot if this plan is put into action.
My friend will have his hanger torn down to make way for the new air carrier. The one that will never serve this town because the economics make no sense. His hanger is the focal point of a thriving pilot community. He is knowledgable in all things related to aviation and freely shares this knowledge. His hanger is always open to any with a question. He is a natural leader and every pilot at that aiport will lose if he loses. The taxpayers will lose because they will be further in debt. The only one to gain is an airport manager who will see his budget grow. This guy is busy running over airplanes with a lawnmower and allowing the runways and taxiways to become loaded with potentially hazardous objects while he works on a grandiose plan to waste even more of the good citizens money.
Why is this important to someone who lives in the UK or anywhere else in the world? It's important because the same government waste is going on in your town. A bureaucrat in your town is at this moment trying to find a way to increase his budget and raise your debt load. Look around your town and talk to people you know about what they see going on and tell them what you see. We have to find a way to stop the silliness. We can no longer afford the wasteful ways of government.
In the early 70's Joni Mitchell wrote a song, "Big Yellow Taxi". A part of the refrain says "don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got til its gone" She was talking about the whole planet but it also applies to a little part of it here and there. We're just standing with our hands stuffed deeply into the pockets of our jeans watching as it all gets wasted and soon it's gonna be gone.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Dog Run
Our little dog, Muffy, is a rescue dog. He rescued us from a home left empty by the passing of Sparki and we rescued him from the shelter. I like to think we got the better side of that deal. The dog is about 90 pounds of Doberman stuffed into an 8 pound white fluffy body. We delude ourselves by claiming he's a Maltese/Poodle mix, but I secretly suspect he's all mutt, pug nose to tail. (Don't tell Carolyn.)
Our search for the perfect dog to share our home after Sparki died took almost a year. We became friends with every shelter employee and volunteer within a 50 mile radius of our town and those folks were downright delighted to call us whenever a dog that looked like he should be named "Muffy" came available. Donnie, in our local shelter, finally came through with the perfect dog while we were vacationing out of town. He was nice enough to tell everybody who wanted the beast he was already adopted and managed to keep him til we got back. Donnie knew he was perfect for us and Donnie, we can't thank you enough.
The Sun came out today for the first time in a week. It was kind of cool and very windy but sunshine is not a commodity to be wasted in this neck of the grasslands so we bundled up to explore a bit more of the town.
I have seen the bottom of the canyon that separates east from west in this place from the bridges that span it, and I wanted to look at the park that has been developed down there from a little closer. It turns out the whole width of the canyon bottom for about three miles has been planted with grasses. There is a paved pathway that runs the length of the park and back. Along the way we encountered a concert area, several tennis courts, baseball diamonds, a skateboard area and three acres of off leash doggie heaven. Folks that have been regular readers of this blog are aware Carolyn is incapable of a complete exploration of an area this large but the designers had handicapped folks in mind when they built it.
Every couple of blocks an access road leads to a parking lot with designated handicap spaces. We were able to drive from one area to the next and explore a little at a time. We did well until we came to Doggie Heaven.
Muffy told us that was the end of the road as far as he was concerned. He was going no further without taking on all the dogs in the place, and if we wanted to see more of the park we could just do it some other day. I had no vote in the matter and Carolyn released him. We let him run. And run. And run some more.
It was a wonderful day. The sun was shining, my wife was laughing. And my mutt was in heaven. Life, at times, can be very, very sweet.
Our search for the perfect dog to share our home after Sparki died took almost a year. We became friends with every shelter employee and volunteer within a 50 mile radius of our town and those folks were downright delighted to call us whenever a dog that looked like he should be named "Muffy" came available. Donnie, in our local shelter, finally came through with the perfect dog while we were vacationing out of town. He was nice enough to tell everybody who wanted the beast he was already adopted and managed to keep him til we got back. Donnie knew he was perfect for us and Donnie, we can't thank you enough.
The Sun came out today for the first time in a week. It was kind of cool and very windy but sunshine is not a commodity to be wasted in this neck of the grasslands so we bundled up to explore a bit more of the town.
I have seen the bottom of the canyon that separates east from west in this place from the bridges that span it, and I wanted to look at the park that has been developed down there from a little closer. It turns out the whole width of the canyon bottom for about three miles has been planted with grasses. There is a paved pathway that runs the length of the park and back. Along the way we encountered a concert area, several tennis courts, baseball diamonds, a skateboard area and three acres of off leash doggie heaven. Folks that have been regular readers of this blog are aware Carolyn is incapable of a complete exploration of an area this large but the designers had handicapped folks in mind when they built it.
Every couple of blocks an access road leads to a parking lot with designated handicap spaces. We were able to drive from one area to the next and explore a little at a time. We did well until we came to Doggie Heaven.
Muffy told us that was the end of the road as far as he was concerned. He was going no further without taking on all the dogs in the place, and if we wanted to see more of the park we could just do it some other day. I had no vote in the matter and Carolyn released him. We let him run. And run. And run some more.
It was a wonderful day. The sun was shining, my wife was laughing. And my mutt was in heaven. Life, at times, can be very, very sweet.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Tucson and Tunisia
The weekend morning talkers are all abuzz with calls for civility and bipartisianship. My feeling is that all these Rodney King wannnabes are running for their lives. One of my favorite expressions is "Lets do the math." So, lets do it.
At last count there were 308,745,538 good folks living in this country. Thank goodness we counted last year - I'd hate to leave anyone out. If we count all the members of the house, senate and the really high eschelons of the executive and judicial branches the total comes in right at 617.75. (The .75 is because one of them is not quite as important as he thinks he is.)
I don't know if Timmy Giethner counts as high ranking or not but you can see where I'm going with this. We can darn well make the correct number of biggies in Washington 617.75 if we feel like it just by choosing who is big and who is not, and 617.75 is the perfect number to use.
Dividing the population of this country by 617.75 shows that only one lone nut with a gun and a grudge out of every half million folks is needed to wipe out the leaderhip of this nation. Think about that. If only 2 people in a million blow a fuse and blow out the brains of the nearest bigwig we would be rudderless. STOP! Think about that again - our government is a very delicate thing. I dare say the "important" members of our society spent all of last week doing the math and they are scared to the point that trips to the bathroom for a "number 2" are pointless.
So the Patricians have proclaimed this to be "National Calm Down The Plebeians" week. I can still remember the Summer and Fall of 2010. Every other minute some politician was promising to Fight For Me if only I would vote for him. Not since Superman fought for truth, justice and the American way every Saturday morning had I heard so much violence promoted as a desirable action. Well, these pols may just get that for which they were yearning not so many months ago. They just may be in for a good fight, maybe even a revolution, in the not too distant future. I say that because I'm afraid NCDTP week will not catch on.
The foundation for my apprehension was laid by events in Tunisia just this week while we were all looking in the direction of Tucson. Man, it's hard to keep up these days.
It seems an enterprising unemployed guy was trying to sell some fruit so he could get by. The local authorities informed him he needed to purchase a permit to sell the foodstuffs. He was a gentle soul but had no money for the permit. Not wanting to cause a problem, he chose suicide instead of revolution. The echo of that suicide sparked a revolution in the small Arab nation and the president/dictator was forced to flee. Please don't feel sorry for this now homeless dictator. Word has it he managed to take 3,000 pounds of the citizens gold with him so he'll probably be OK.
Most Arab countries are not known for positive stances in matters concerning human rights, and revolutions are almost unheard of in that part of the world. In fact, they're dang near impossible. The local dictator just rounds up the instigators and lines them up against the wall. The sheer mass of people who needed to be lined up in this case exceeded the wall space of the country so the revolution succeded. The combination of unemployment, hunger and corruption resulted in a change of government there, and the change came almost overnight.
In America, on the other side of the planet, unemployment is rampant. Hunger is pervasive. Corruption exists at the highest levels of our government. That statement is no exeraggeration, Republicans can google Tom Delay and Democrats can do the same with William Jefferson. However, there is a major difference in the two nations - in America every other citizen is armed.
Hoping for any advantage that may accrue, the pols have taken every opportunity to scream and yell at each other for the last couple of decades or so. During election campaigns we are told "Vote for me because the other guy is _____________(insert any pejorative you wish)" They offer no positive reason to give them your vote, they only tell how bad the other guy is. This behaviour has created turmoil and distrust amongst the population and it's no wonder they-that-matter-the-most are now running scared. These politicians and their media campaigns have stoked the American people to the point we trust none of them. They have told us so many times that the other guy is a liar, a crook and probably wears womens underwear, we now believe ALL of them are suspect. If there is a revolution, and I'm thinking the chances are still pretty slim but mounting, the pols and gentry of this country have no one to blame but themselves.
It has taken years of hard work for the pols, bankers and media to get us to this point and it will take more than a week of holding hands and singing to calm the nation down. It's gonna take jobs, affordable housing, more equal distribution of income and a regained sense of fair play and security for us to settle down again. This list is not all inclusive, but even these few things will require more work than I believe the pols are capable of. It's so much easier to point fingers.
If it comes, it comes. But if we follow Tunisia I hope it is because of something other than the cost of a buisness license.
At last count there were 308,745,538 good folks living in this country. Thank goodness we counted last year - I'd hate to leave anyone out. If we count all the members of the house, senate and the really high eschelons of the executive and judicial branches the total comes in right at 617.75. (The .75 is because one of them is not quite as important as he thinks he is.)
I don't know if Timmy Giethner counts as high ranking or not but you can see where I'm going with this. We can darn well make the correct number of biggies in Washington 617.75 if we feel like it just by choosing who is big and who is not, and 617.75 is the perfect number to use.
Dividing the population of this country by 617.75 shows that only one lone nut with a gun and a grudge out of every half million folks is needed to wipe out the leaderhip of this nation. Think about that. If only 2 people in a million blow a fuse and blow out the brains of the nearest bigwig we would be rudderless. STOP! Think about that again - our government is a very delicate thing. I dare say the "important" members of our society spent all of last week doing the math and they are scared to the point that trips to the bathroom for a "number 2" are pointless.
So the Patricians have proclaimed this to be "National Calm Down The Plebeians" week. I can still remember the Summer and Fall of 2010. Every other minute some politician was promising to Fight For Me if only I would vote for him. Not since Superman fought for truth, justice and the American way every Saturday morning had I heard so much violence promoted as a desirable action. Well, these pols may just get that for which they were yearning not so many months ago. They just may be in for a good fight, maybe even a revolution, in the not too distant future. I say that because I'm afraid NCDTP week will not catch on.
The foundation for my apprehension was laid by events in Tunisia just this week while we were all looking in the direction of Tucson. Man, it's hard to keep up these days.
It seems an enterprising unemployed guy was trying to sell some fruit so he could get by. The local authorities informed him he needed to purchase a permit to sell the foodstuffs. He was a gentle soul but had no money for the permit. Not wanting to cause a problem, he chose suicide instead of revolution. The echo of that suicide sparked a revolution in the small Arab nation and the president/dictator was forced to flee. Please don't feel sorry for this now homeless dictator. Word has it he managed to take 3,000 pounds of the citizens gold with him so he'll probably be OK.
Most Arab countries are not known for positive stances in matters concerning human rights, and revolutions are almost unheard of in that part of the world. In fact, they're dang near impossible. The local dictator just rounds up the instigators and lines them up against the wall. The sheer mass of people who needed to be lined up in this case exceeded the wall space of the country so the revolution succeded. The combination of unemployment, hunger and corruption resulted in a change of government there, and the change came almost overnight.
In America, on the other side of the planet, unemployment is rampant. Hunger is pervasive. Corruption exists at the highest levels of our government. That statement is no exeraggeration, Republicans can google Tom Delay and Democrats can do the same with William Jefferson. However, there is a major difference in the two nations - in America every other citizen is armed.
Hoping for any advantage that may accrue, the pols have taken every opportunity to scream and yell at each other for the last couple of decades or so. During election campaigns we are told "Vote for me because the other guy is _____________(insert any pejorative you wish)" They offer no positive reason to give them your vote, they only tell how bad the other guy is. This behaviour has created turmoil and distrust amongst the population and it's no wonder they-that-matter-the-most are now running scared. These politicians and their media campaigns have stoked the American people to the point we trust none of them. They have told us so many times that the other guy is a liar, a crook and probably wears womens underwear, we now believe ALL of them are suspect. If there is a revolution, and I'm thinking the chances are still pretty slim but mounting, the pols and gentry of this country have no one to blame but themselves.
It has taken years of hard work for the pols, bankers and media to get us to this point and it will take more than a week of holding hands and singing to calm the nation down. It's gonna take jobs, affordable housing, more equal distribution of income and a regained sense of fair play and security for us to settle down again. This list is not all inclusive, but even these few things will require more work than I believe the pols are capable of. It's so much easier to point fingers.
If it comes, it comes. But if we follow Tunisia I hope it is because of something other than the cost of a buisness license.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Peppermints
I've been sending and receiving a lot of email from old friends lately. Friends who over the years became closer to me than my own brothers and sister. It's not that I don't enjoy my brothers and sister, I do. But, I didn't pick them from the crowd of my aquaintances to be special, they were just always there and remain there today. I know I can call and they will come running and I am willing to be there for them. Friends are different. I picked them and they picked me to be a part of each others lives.
I am fortunate to have several sets of friends. Some are from grade school and high school, others from college. These are the people who have known me most of my life and we helped transform each other from the childeren we were to the adults we became. I discovered first the streets outside, then the town, and later the state with Rod and Danny. During our childhood and teen years where ever one of us was, the other two were nearby. Rod met his wife of the last forty five years while visiting Danny and I at the college apartment we shared. The three of us had some fun times and some very rough times during the sixty years we've been hangin' out together. I heard from both of them this week.
Then, there's Ed - Don Edwardo de Frijole. That's an old joke we share. Our lives also got tangled up in college. We were both guitar pickers and when two eighteen year old pickers get together it's the start of a band! During the war, my generations war, I stayed in school just long enough to escape the draft. Ed went into the Marines and finished his career in the left seat of an American Airlines 777. He and I still get together when we can to pick a tune. It's usually one that we played many years ago while people were dancing on the floor in front of our bandstand. Our daily chess moves keep us in touch.
Then came a time when I went through buddies, not friends, and a couple of wives at an alarming rate. No friends from that era - I can't even go back to that town. Someone will notice and shoot me.
Finally there are my friends from New Mexico. These are the people who chose each other as adults. It was more like a whole horde of friends - impossible to mention names with this bunch because there are just too darned many of them. We shared common interests, common values, lived through the same times and were molded by the same events. All of us had been successful, in one way or another, and we were enjoying the fruits of that success. Don't get me wrong, we did not share the same views molded from the same cookie cutter. There were lefties and righties, libertarians and even a socialist or two dozen. What we shared was the ability to listen to another viewpoint, no matter how wrongheaded it sounded, without picking a fight. I have heard from several of these people this week as well.
When I pop a peppermint into my mouth at first I let it melt and savor it's sweet flavor. Then, at some point I crush it between my teeth and experience the freshness of mint. The friends in my life remind me of peppermint, only the freshness and sweetness last for years. Peppermint is to sugar what friends are to people - the most flavorable expression. We need more pepperment in our lives. We need more peppermint in our soceity. A lot more.
I am fortunate to have several sets of friends. Some are from grade school and high school, others from college. These are the people who have known me most of my life and we helped transform each other from the childeren we were to the adults we became. I discovered first the streets outside, then the town, and later the state with Rod and Danny. During our childhood and teen years where ever one of us was, the other two were nearby. Rod met his wife of the last forty five years while visiting Danny and I at the college apartment we shared. The three of us had some fun times and some very rough times during the sixty years we've been hangin' out together. I heard from both of them this week.
Then, there's Ed - Don Edwardo de Frijole. That's an old joke we share. Our lives also got tangled up in college. We were both guitar pickers and when two eighteen year old pickers get together it's the start of a band! During the war, my generations war, I stayed in school just long enough to escape the draft. Ed went into the Marines and finished his career in the left seat of an American Airlines 777. He and I still get together when we can to pick a tune. It's usually one that we played many years ago while people were dancing on the floor in front of our bandstand. Our daily chess moves keep us in touch.
Then came a time when I went through buddies, not friends, and a couple of wives at an alarming rate. No friends from that era - I can't even go back to that town. Someone will notice and shoot me.
Finally there are my friends from New Mexico. These are the people who chose each other as adults. It was more like a whole horde of friends - impossible to mention names with this bunch because there are just too darned many of them. We shared common interests, common values, lived through the same times and were molded by the same events. All of us had been successful, in one way or another, and we were enjoying the fruits of that success. Don't get me wrong, we did not share the same views molded from the same cookie cutter. There were lefties and righties, libertarians and even a socialist or two dozen. What we shared was the ability to listen to another viewpoint, no matter how wrongheaded it sounded, without picking a fight. I have heard from several of these people this week as well.
When I pop a peppermint into my mouth at first I let it melt and savor it's sweet flavor. Then, at some point I crush it between my teeth and experience the freshness of mint. The friends in my life remind me of peppermint, only the freshness and sweetness last for years. Peppermint is to sugar what friends are to people - the most flavorable expression. We need more pepperment in our lives. We need more peppermint in our soceity. A lot more.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
A Challenge
I'm back from the surgery center and I brought my new club home with me. If we go to war with the Chinese sometime in the next 10 days I'll beat them all by myself. No army, regardless its' size, would be able to stand up to the club the good Doctor attached to my left arm. It begins midway down my forearm, extends to the end of my palm and has a diameter large enough to conceal a softball.
The saber rattling and fear campaigns have started
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/asia/china/8248996/US-will-respond-to-Chinese-military-build-up.html http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-503543_162-20027610-503543.html http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/09/world/asia/09military.html
and by golly I stand at the ready. Bring it on, I say.
No matter we can't afford the two wars we are already losing - lets start one with somebody our own size. With unemployment at record levels it makes good sense to send our youngsters out of the country where they stand a decent chance of not coming back and adding to that problem. Not only that, beating the Chinese will keep us from having to pay back all the money we owe them. Whoosh - the Federal deficit has disappeared. Another good reason to take them out is to remove competition for the worlds' limited rescources. Peak oil? Never happen if the Chinamen are all gone.
Here's the deal. I'll fight this one all by myself and swing my new club with such might they will cower in fear and agree to continue providing us cheap goods forever. They will promise to scrap every car in their land and use that scrap to make bicycles that they will ride for the next 100 years. They'll continue to work and save then give us those savings - no more loans that must be paid back. You folks in Washington will not have to quit bickering. You will not have to face the hard choices that must be made and can continue to cater to your wealthiest campaign donors instead of work to save this nation from them.
But, the club comes off on the 24th of this month so you smooth talking, handsome, glad-handers in Washington better get your act together. This is a one time offer.
The saber rattling and fear campaigns have started
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/asia/china/8248996/US-will-respond-to-Chinese-military-build-up.html http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-503543_162-20027610-503543.html http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/09/world/asia/09military.html
and by golly I stand at the ready. Bring it on, I say.
No matter we can't afford the two wars we are already losing - lets start one with somebody our own size. With unemployment at record levels it makes good sense to send our youngsters out of the country where they stand a decent chance of not coming back and adding to that problem. Not only that, beating the Chinese will keep us from having to pay back all the money we owe them. Whoosh - the Federal deficit has disappeared. Another good reason to take them out is to remove competition for the worlds' limited rescources. Peak oil? Never happen if the Chinamen are all gone.
Here's the deal. I'll fight this one all by myself and swing my new club with such might they will cower in fear and agree to continue providing us cheap goods forever. They will promise to scrap every car in their land and use that scrap to make bicycles that they will ride for the next 100 years. They'll continue to work and save then give us those savings - no more loans that must be paid back. You folks in Washington will not have to quit bickering. You will not have to face the hard choices that must be made and can continue to cater to your wealthiest campaign donors instead of work to save this nation from them.
But, the club comes off on the 24th of this month so you smooth talking, handsome, glad-handers in Washington better get your act together. This is a one time offer.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Under the Knife
When at last I retired, my employer gave me two presents. One was an engraved Nambe plaque listing my dates of employment, detailing the value of my contribution during those years and signed by a newly appointed head hunter Administrator who would not recognize me even if we were to find ourselves stuck in an elevator for an hour or more. For those of you familiar with Southwest Indian pottery, you will recognize the value of that plaque. The plate is the easily most expensive piece of earthenware in our home and is truly beautiful. It's really a shame it was messed up with all that engraving.
Had my old boss signed it I would have put it on display. He retired several months before I did and left for parts unknown without signing my plaque - I'll not forgive him for that oversight. He was a real old school gentleman from the mid-west and I enjoyed working with him. I guess the plaque will remain in one or another unpacked box left over from the move that has been messing up my garage since the moving van was unloaded. It will keep company with the other unpacked boxes we have carried around for the last thirty some odd years. My labeling skills were not the best when I packed most of those boxes and we've forgotten what we have. It must be important stuff because we've carried it around for so long. And I'm sure we need whatever stuff is in the boxes, all 23 of them, because it's only been 30 or so years since we last used/enjoyed looking at/played with it. Someday I'll get around to building shelves and organizing the mess but that's a subject for a different post.
The other present was carpal tunnel syndrome in both wrists. I was in the middle of scheduling surgery when it became apparent I would need my wrists to make the move. It's kinda hard to load a truck with your wrists in bandages. The move was more important than the muscle mass in my palms so the surgery was put off. We are now settled in so surgery is the next item to check off on my never shortening list. That surgery will be underway this morning.
I wonder how often a retirement package includes slit wrists? Maybe we should ask the Madoffs.
Had my old boss signed it I would have put it on display. He retired several months before I did and left for parts unknown without signing my plaque - I'll not forgive him for that oversight. He was a real old school gentleman from the mid-west and I enjoyed working with him. I guess the plaque will remain in one or another unpacked box left over from the move that has been messing up my garage since the moving van was unloaded. It will keep company with the other unpacked boxes we have carried around for the last thirty some odd years. My labeling skills were not the best when I packed most of those boxes and we've forgotten what we have. It must be important stuff because we've carried it around for so long. And I'm sure we need whatever stuff is in the boxes, all 23 of them, because it's only been 30 or so years since we last used/enjoyed looking at/played with it. Someday I'll get around to building shelves and organizing the mess but that's a subject for a different post.
The other present was carpal tunnel syndrome in both wrists. I was in the middle of scheduling surgery when it became apparent I would need my wrists to make the move. It's kinda hard to load a truck with your wrists in bandages. The move was more important than the muscle mass in my palms so the surgery was put off. We are now settled in so surgery is the next item to check off on my never shortening list. That surgery will be underway this morning.
I wonder how often a retirement package includes slit wrists? Maybe we should ask the Madoffs.
Visitors
Forty years ago I moved from California to the Tacoma area of Washington state. The day we moved in I saw people, whom I later learned were my neighbors, sweeping our driveway and the sidewalks in front of our house. I guess the realtor told them to expect us but I'll never know for sure how they found out we were coming. That was my first introduction to the nice people who live in the Pacific Northwest part of this country and I'll never forget it.
I have written a little about some of the things that caught my attention since moving to this area and I think it's time I mentioned some of the people we've met . I'm gonna mix up some names here so if one of you just happens to be my neighbor, I did it to protect the innocent.
The visitors started to arrive even before we moved in. The house is 12 years old and needed some fixing up. I took my time painting, tearing out linoleum and replacing it with tile, having new carpets laid and just making it ours. During this time Gena came by with a loaf of freshly baked bread to introduce herself and warn us she and Carl have three young daughters. Bobbie and Bob from across the street stopped in to say hi. Bart was working in his garage and quit his project to walk over and offer any assistance he could give.
After Carolyn joined me Judy made an impression with the still warm Christmas candy she brought and Katy and Gary delivered some fudge. Later that week Gary stopped by to borrow my snow shovel and before I knew it he and Katy had shoveled his walkway and ours! This morning, Betty came to visit Carolyn and we exchanged phone numbers.
These neighbors seem to be pleasant, well mannered and educated folks. I was a bit concerned about moving Carolyn away from friends who knew her to be a kind, playful and intellegent woman before the disease disabled her and feared dropping her in among people who would never know the wonderful woman who was considerate enough to become my bride, but this fear has proven to be unwarranted. Everyone seems to understand her mind is relatively unaffected and that it is just really hard for her to speak and move.
I think we will enjoy this town and our new neighbors. Wish us luck!
I have written a little about some of the things that caught my attention since moving to this area and I think it's time I mentioned some of the people we've met . I'm gonna mix up some names here so if one of you just happens to be my neighbor, I did it to protect the innocent.
The visitors started to arrive even before we moved in. The house is 12 years old and needed some fixing up. I took my time painting, tearing out linoleum and replacing it with tile, having new carpets laid and just making it ours. During this time Gena came by with a loaf of freshly baked bread to introduce herself and warn us she and Carl have three young daughters. Bobbie and Bob from across the street stopped in to say hi. Bart was working in his garage and quit his project to walk over and offer any assistance he could give.
After Carolyn joined me Judy made an impression with the still warm Christmas candy she brought and Katy and Gary delivered some fudge. Later that week Gary stopped by to borrow my snow shovel and before I knew it he and Katy had shoveled his walkway and ours! This morning, Betty came to visit Carolyn and we exchanged phone numbers.
These neighbors seem to be pleasant, well mannered and educated folks. I was a bit concerned about moving Carolyn away from friends who knew her to be a kind, playful and intellegent woman before the disease disabled her and feared dropping her in among people who would never know the wonderful woman who was considerate enough to become my bride, but this fear has proven to be unwarranted. Everyone seems to understand her mind is relatively unaffected and that it is just really hard for her to speak and move.
I think we will enjoy this town and our new neighbors. Wish us luck!
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Bluebird
Several years ago when I was still "gainfully employed" I used to marvel that my parents would not get up and get going until around nine o'clock in the morning. First my father would get up, have some coffee and then start breakfast. Mom would join him sometime later and they would sit down to eat, discuss what they needed to accomplish that day and then around noon their day would actually begin.
Being a working stiff I was used to getting up and dressed, grabbing a cup and a couple of slices of toast, then car keys in hand I was out the door by 7:00. My routine stayed with me on weekends and vacations. Up and attum everyday. We are taught to do this from the first day of school. Have to get there. Have to get er done. Can't stop, better not slow down, someone will beat you to it. I am reminded of the scene in the movie THX1138 when the hero has stopped taking his drugs and can see everyone running full speed on their assigned missions. I believe Charles L. Dodgson was the first to notice this trend in our society and put in it writing. His reference to the Red Queen running as fast at possible just to stay in the same place was an amazingly accurate description of our times.
In the last few months I have learned just how delicious it is to leisurely fry a pan of bacon, scramble some eggs, put a slice of Cinnamon-Raisin toast in the toaster and have a long quiet breakfast. Carolyn and I have been fortunate and are able to do this. Many have worked just as hard as we did for as long as we did and cannot afford a warm place where they can sit and eat the food they cannot afford to buy. I have come to believe there is something fundamentally wrong with our way of life. The wealthy get richer and those less well off - well, they just die. No matter what we have been taught, I am starting to believe retirement is more a matter of luck than it is of work or planning. You are born rich; you make one lucky investment or make one lucky decision that changes your life. After that one event, it is a matter of luck that nothing occurs to take that moment from you. As luck would have it, there is a force that even now is working to take our luck from us and it eventually will. And it will do so sooner rather than later.
We have been taught that the early bird gets the worm. But around 11:00 this morning while we were eating our wonderfully slow breakfast I saw a Bluebird that was in our backyard. It was late in the morning, he was eating his breakfast and he looked pretty fat to me.
Being a working stiff I was used to getting up and dressed, grabbing a cup and a couple of slices of toast, then car keys in hand I was out the door by 7:00. My routine stayed with me on weekends and vacations. Up and attum everyday. We are taught to do this from the first day of school. Have to get there. Have to get er done. Can't stop, better not slow down, someone will beat you to it. I am reminded of the scene in the movie THX1138 when the hero has stopped taking his drugs and can see everyone running full speed on their assigned missions. I believe Charles L. Dodgson was the first to notice this trend in our society and put in it writing. His reference to the Red Queen running as fast at possible just to stay in the same place was an amazingly accurate description of our times.
In the last few months I have learned just how delicious it is to leisurely fry a pan of bacon, scramble some eggs, put a slice of Cinnamon-Raisin toast in the toaster and have a long quiet breakfast. Carolyn and I have been fortunate and are able to do this. Many have worked just as hard as we did for as long as we did and cannot afford a warm place where they can sit and eat the food they cannot afford to buy. I have come to believe there is something fundamentally wrong with our way of life. The wealthy get richer and those less well off - well, they just die. No matter what we have been taught, I am starting to believe retirement is more a matter of luck than it is of work or planning. You are born rich; you make one lucky investment or make one lucky decision that changes your life. After that one event, it is a matter of luck that nothing occurs to take that moment from you. As luck would have it, there is a force that even now is working to take our luck from us and it eventually will. And it will do so sooner rather than later.
We have been taught that the early bird gets the worm. But around 11:00 this morning while we were eating our wonderfully slow breakfast I saw a Bluebird that was in our backyard. It was late in the morning, he was eating his breakfast and he looked pretty fat to me.
Monday, January 10, 2011
TV Stand
I am a pilot. I have flown my own airplane through the skies of every state west of the Mississippi River. At a moments notice I have slipped behind the yoke in my cockpit, climbed above the clouds, flown hundreds of miles without even being able to see the Earth below me and landed at my intended destination within five minutes of the time I was expected. I have done this for almost half a century and never once have I lost my way. You would think that a person, such as myself, who has mastered the navigational skills required to make such journeys, who can take into account the curvature and rotation of the planet, who can correct for the wind that is constantly trying to blow him off his course, would be able to make a trip of 20 miles along a well marked highway and return without getting lost. You would be wrong.
We have been thinking of buying a HD flat screen TV for the last several years. It took a lot of thought and self delusion to convince us to spend that much money on a television that is mainly not much more than a source of noise and is mostly tuned to news we don't want to hear or weather that we can discern ourselves if we were to look out the window. Because we moved into a new home we figured that if we were ever going to do it, the time to do it was now. Actually, to save money, the time to do it was the day after Christmas. So, the day after Christmas I went the to store and bought a TV.
It is a second generation TV. Something they call LCD. It's between Plasma and LED technology, I will spend more money to operate it than I would have spent had I chosen the newer version, but I figure I saved enough on the set itself because of the older technology to more than make up the difference. And, for those of you who's head just exploded because my choice entails the use of many more electrons than the LED version, I'll change a couple of light bulbs to flourscent. OK? Are we good?
I brought it home and then realized I needed a wall mount if it was going to be mounted above the fireplace. So, back to the store in my Guzzler Deluxe to purchase more stuff. It turns out there are three kinds of mounts. Those that are just there, those that tilt and those that move in several directions. I chose the one that tilts and was told "We're out of them now but we'll get them in next week." I did not want to wait until next week, and knowing just how handy I am around the house, I grabbed one that is just there.
I made some measurments, did some calculations to determine optimal angles, and cut shims that when installed between the mount and the TV pointed it directly at the eyes of a seated viewer. Who needs a mount that tilts? Now, I was left with a perfectly good four year old 32 inch TV in the middle of the floor. We needed a new TV stand so we could put it in another room and that, at long last, brings us to the subject of this post.
Our local furniture store was the starting point in the search, but they wanted over $400.00 for a stand that did not match the rest of our early junkyard decor. We declined. Next we looked on Craigslist and found just what was needed. It was made of solid Oak, the perfect size to fit our old TV, was within driving distance and priced to fit our budget! We made the call and were on our way.
Prineville is 20 miles east of Redmond. It is a beautiful drive in the country along a lightly traveled two lane highway. For a while the Sun came out from behind the clouds and we really enjoyed getting out of the house. We had been cooped up for a week and it was time to be in the elements. Barbara had given us excellent directions and we drove to her house without a problem. The stand was as advertised, we paid her price without haggling, loaded up and were back on the road home.
As we approached Prineville on our way back I saw a sign that said "Truck Route". I thought I'd save a minute or two if I took that turn and we could also see a little more of the pretty little town. We did see more of the town and it was worth it. We drove through town and continued on the highway home.
The navigational skills I learned almost 50 years ago are now outdated. All that is required to safely pilot an airplane from one place to another these days is to tell the little black box where you want to go. It promptly displays a route on the instrument panel display and if you keep the icon that represents your airplane on the line you will end up where you want to be. Even though I no longer need to do so, whenever I am in the air I find myself looking at the compass every few seconds to be sure of the direction I am traveling. When we bought the Guzzler Deluxe I made sure we ponied up for all the options and that those options included an electronic compass on the dashboard that is always enabled. Unfortunately I never look at it.
After we had traveled a little over 20 miles toward home I saw a sign that said "Madras 7 miles" Do you remember our TV is mostly on the news and the weather channel? I have seen Madras depicted on the weather map and it is not on our way home. It is not even close to being on our way home. We were lost.
Luckily, we are both retired and had the rest of our lives to find our house. And even more luckily, it took only 45 minutes of those lives to figure out where we were and pull into our driveway.
The old TV now rests on the new stand, the new TV now mostly produces noise and displays the news and weather. And we are warm and comfortable in our home. Oh yeah -now we also know where Prineville and Madras are.
We have been thinking of buying a HD flat screen TV for the last several years. It took a lot of thought and self delusion to convince us to spend that much money on a television that is mainly not much more than a source of noise and is mostly tuned to news we don't want to hear or weather that we can discern ourselves if we were to look out the window. Because we moved into a new home we figured that if we were ever going to do it, the time to do it was now. Actually, to save money, the time to do it was the day after Christmas. So, the day after Christmas I went the to store and bought a TV.
It is a second generation TV. Something they call LCD. It's between Plasma and LED technology, I will spend more money to operate it than I would have spent had I chosen the newer version, but I figure I saved enough on the set itself because of the older technology to more than make up the difference. And, for those of you who's head just exploded because my choice entails the use of many more electrons than the LED version, I'll change a couple of light bulbs to flourscent. OK? Are we good?
I brought it home and then realized I needed a wall mount if it was going to be mounted above the fireplace. So, back to the store in my Guzzler Deluxe to purchase more stuff. It turns out there are three kinds of mounts. Those that are just there, those that tilt and those that move in several directions. I chose the one that tilts and was told "We're out of them now but we'll get them in next week." I did not want to wait until next week, and knowing just how handy I am around the house, I grabbed one that is just there.
I made some measurments, did some calculations to determine optimal angles, and cut shims that when installed between the mount and the TV pointed it directly at the eyes of a seated viewer. Who needs a mount that tilts? Now, I was left with a perfectly good four year old 32 inch TV in the middle of the floor. We needed a new TV stand so we could put it in another room and that, at long last, brings us to the subject of this post.
Our local furniture store was the starting point in the search, but they wanted over $400.00 for a stand that did not match the rest of our early junkyard decor. We declined. Next we looked on Craigslist and found just what was needed. It was made of solid Oak, the perfect size to fit our old TV, was within driving distance and priced to fit our budget! We made the call and were on our way.
Prineville is 20 miles east of Redmond. It is a beautiful drive in the country along a lightly traveled two lane highway. For a while the Sun came out from behind the clouds and we really enjoyed getting out of the house. We had been cooped up for a week and it was time to be in the elements. Barbara had given us excellent directions and we drove to her house without a problem. The stand was as advertised, we paid her price without haggling, loaded up and were back on the road home.
As we approached Prineville on our way back I saw a sign that said "Truck Route". I thought I'd save a minute or two if I took that turn and we could also see a little more of the pretty little town. We did see more of the town and it was worth it. We drove through town and continued on the highway home.
The navigational skills I learned almost 50 years ago are now outdated. All that is required to safely pilot an airplane from one place to another these days is to tell the little black box where you want to go. It promptly displays a route on the instrument panel display and if you keep the icon that represents your airplane on the line you will end up where you want to be. Even though I no longer need to do so, whenever I am in the air I find myself looking at the compass every few seconds to be sure of the direction I am traveling. When we bought the Guzzler Deluxe I made sure we ponied up for all the options and that those options included an electronic compass on the dashboard that is always enabled. Unfortunately I never look at it.
After we had traveled a little over 20 miles toward home I saw a sign that said "Madras 7 miles" Do you remember our TV is mostly on the news and the weather channel? I have seen Madras depicted on the weather map and it is not on our way home. It is not even close to being on our way home. We were lost.
Luckily, we are both retired and had the rest of our lives to find our house. And even more luckily, it took only 45 minutes of those lives to figure out where we were and pull into our driveway.
The old TV now rests on the new stand, the new TV now mostly produces noise and displays the news and weather. And we are warm and comfortable in our home. Oh yeah -now we also know where Prineville and Madras are.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Plum Fierce
I am a huge believer in buying the cheapest gas in town. If the oil companies want my money they will have to take it from me in the smallest increments possible. I will bypass a station that sells for $3.15 a gallon and risk running out of gas to buy it at $3.139. I'm a member in good standing of AAA and if I run out some poor guy will deliver a couple of gallons for FREE so I can continue on my way to save a penny.
Oregon has some funny rules and one of them is that you can't pump your own gas. It is required that you wait in your car while the attendant swipes your card and dispenses the very expensive liquid that your Guzzler devours to produce noise and motion. I have no problem with that - it reminds me of a simpler time when this was the norm.
When I first started to drive attendants would actually swarm my car when I pulled in to fillerupwithethyl. Nobody who was anybody would think to use regular gas. The hood would be opened, various fluid levels would be checked, the air pressure in my tires verified, the windows (all of them) would be cleaned AND the tank would be filled. A quarter a gallon used to buy a lot.
I'm not sure what would happen to me if I actually got out and tried to pump my own gas in this state. I've done a cursory search but can find no mention of penalties and I did not have to anwser that question on the test to get my Oregon drivers license. In any case, I'm not inclined to leave the comfort of my Guzzler Deluxe to find out just what the consequences are. I've worked hard all my life and deserve to be pampered.
We have two stations that compete with each other to have the lowest price in town. One is The Towne Pump and the other is Plum Fierce. When everyone else sells for the above mentioned $3.15 per gallon both of our low price leaders sell for $3.139. Being the discerning man of the world that I am, I naturally chose to buy from The Towne Pump. The "E" on the end of "Towne" is just so distinguished! Besides, who ever heard of a gas station called Plum Fierce? Has to be a bad joke, right?
So, I would brave the crowds usually encountered at the lowest price in town, wait for long periods to get to the pump, then wait for even longer periods for the attendant to show up to put the nozzle in the tank and the final injustice of it all, I would wait until long after I had heard the click of the nozzle shutting off the delivery for the attendant to remove the nozzle and allow me to continue on my way.
Then one day I forgot I needed gas and mistakenly drove past The Towne Pump. Remembering that Plum Fierce was several blocks further down the street, I figured "What the heck? Let's give them a try".
I drove right up to the pump. No wait at all! I guess most everyone else in town are also discerning men of the world and think the "E" is special. The attendant was at the side of the Guzzler Deluxe in a flash, washed the windshield while the gas was being delivered, and then promptly presented me with a receipt. Was this an aberration? I hope not. But, I will find out. The next time I need gas I'm going to Plum Fierce.
Oregon has some funny rules and one of them is that you can't pump your own gas. It is required that you wait in your car while the attendant swipes your card and dispenses the very expensive liquid that your Guzzler devours to produce noise and motion. I have no problem with that - it reminds me of a simpler time when this was the norm.
When I first started to drive attendants would actually swarm my car when I pulled in to fillerupwithethyl. Nobody who was anybody would think to use regular gas. The hood would be opened, various fluid levels would be checked, the air pressure in my tires verified, the windows (all of them) would be cleaned AND the tank would be filled. A quarter a gallon used to buy a lot.
I'm not sure what would happen to me if I actually got out and tried to pump my own gas in this state. I've done a cursory search but can find no mention of penalties and I did not have to anwser that question on the test to get my Oregon drivers license. In any case, I'm not inclined to leave the comfort of my Guzzler Deluxe to find out just what the consequences are. I've worked hard all my life and deserve to be pampered.
We have two stations that compete with each other to have the lowest price in town. One is The Towne Pump and the other is Plum Fierce. When everyone else sells for the above mentioned $3.15 per gallon both of our low price leaders sell for $3.139. Being the discerning man of the world that I am, I naturally chose to buy from The Towne Pump. The "E" on the end of "Towne" is just so distinguished! Besides, who ever heard of a gas station called Plum Fierce? Has to be a bad joke, right?
So, I would brave the crowds usually encountered at the lowest price in town, wait for long periods to get to the pump, then wait for even longer periods for the attendant to show up to put the nozzle in the tank and the final injustice of it all, I would wait until long after I had heard the click of the nozzle shutting off the delivery for the attendant to remove the nozzle and allow me to continue on my way.
Then one day I forgot I needed gas and mistakenly drove past The Towne Pump. Remembering that Plum Fierce was several blocks further down the street, I figured "What the heck? Let's give them a try".
I drove right up to the pump. No wait at all! I guess most everyone else in town are also discerning men of the world and think the "E" is special. The attendant was at the side of the Guzzler Deluxe in a flash, washed the windshield while the gas was being delivered, and then promptly presented me with a receipt. Was this an aberration? I hope not. But, I will find out. The next time I need gas I'm going to Plum Fierce.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Landfill
There is a new Catholic church building up the street from us. It is a beautiful building and one the congregation should be proud to call thier own.
Everytime I pass by I am in awe of it's size considering the population of this town is no more than 30,000. But, even more than its' size, I am impressed by the amount of fill dirt that was required to build it. You see, it is built on a lot that at most is barely above street level and from there slopes to what appears to be at least 10 feet below street level. A quick glance at the site on Google Earth confirmed this estimate of the grade change and also shows that the site has an area of over 8 acres. It looks like about half of the 8 acres has been leveled and is in some stage of development.
Today I pulled into the parking lot, got out of my Guzzler Deluxe, and walked around a bit. I was able to confirm the stuff that was hauled in to level the place is not your average everyday dirt. Nosireebob. The stuff that was used is a super duper high quality mixture of dirt and gravel that has been compacted to the Nth degree and is probably able to support the Freedom Towers should the owners of ground zero decide to relocate that project. I'm telling you that not only is the building a work of art, this is also the most beautiful landfill I have ever seen! Its' sheer size and quality leaves me breathless.
Being completely right brained, I just had to pull out my calculator. I am unable to resist the urge to know just how much dirt there is, and how many truckloads were required to move it from where it was to where it is.
DISCLAIMER: I am not and never have been a surveyor. These numbers are for the private enjoyment of any potential reader that has not yet gotten bored and left the building.
My calculator shows that 32,859.25 yards of fill were required to level this site. To place this amount of material would require 1643 loads using a 20 yard bottom dump trailer. Don't think of the average dump truck when you try to imagine the amount of dirt we're talking about here - these trailers are commonly 34 feet long without counting the tractor that pulls them.
And just think - a parking lot will occupy most of it.
Everytime I pass by I am in awe of it's size considering the population of this town is no more than 30,000. But, even more than its' size, I am impressed by the amount of fill dirt that was required to build it. You see, it is built on a lot that at most is barely above street level and from there slopes to what appears to be at least 10 feet below street level. A quick glance at the site on Google Earth confirmed this estimate of the grade change and also shows that the site has an area of over 8 acres. It looks like about half of the 8 acres has been leveled and is in some stage of development.
Today I pulled into the parking lot, got out of my Guzzler Deluxe, and walked around a bit. I was able to confirm the stuff that was hauled in to level the place is not your average everyday dirt. Nosireebob. The stuff that was used is a super duper high quality mixture of dirt and gravel that has been compacted to the Nth degree and is probably able to support the Freedom Towers should the owners of ground zero decide to relocate that project. I'm telling you that not only is the building a work of art, this is also the most beautiful landfill I have ever seen! Its' sheer size and quality leaves me breathless.
Being completely right brained, I just had to pull out my calculator. I am unable to resist the urge to know just how much dirt there is, and how many truckloads were required to move it from where it was to where it is.
DISCLAIMER: I am not and never have been a surveyor. These numbers are for the private enjoyment of any potential reader that has not yet gotten bored and left the building.
My calculator shows that 32,859.25 yards of fill were required to level this site. To place this amount of material would require 1643 loads using a 20 yard bottom dump trailer. Don't think of the average dump truck when you try to imagine the amount of dirt we're talking about here - these trailers are commonly 34 feet long without counting the tractor that pulls them.
And just think - a parking lot will occupy most of it.
Friday, January 7, 2011
The Shortcut
Redmond is a town that is divided into four quadrants. Antler road runs east-west and splits the north side from the south side. Highway 97 and the rail tracks that parallel it runs north to south and divides east from west.
All the roads that run north to south are numbered (1st St., 2nd St........) and the ones that are west of the tracks are labeled SW or NW depending on the location relative to Antler - the ones east of the tracks are labeled SE or NE, again depending on the location relative to Antler.
All the roads the that run east to west are named in alphabetic order with Antler being the only "A" street. One block north of Antler is Birch, one block south is Black Butte. Two blocks north is Cedar - you get the picture. Of course anything north of Antler is labled NE or NW depending on which side of the tracks it is on and vise versa.
All this quartering and labeling makes it very easy for a newcomer to know where he must go if he needs to get a dog license, check out a book from the library or buy a new window to replace the one the kitchen table accidently went through during the move. Armed with an address I head in the correct cardinal direction until arriving at the correct street and then am able to turn the correct direction and go to the right address. All without a map. All on autopilot. The men who laid out the town of Redmond had logical minds, and envisioned a time when Redmond would have more newcomers than old timers to tell them which way to turn. However, the Good Lord loves a laugh and He intervened in a way that boggles the mind.
There is a 200 foot wide canyon that runs from well beyond the northern edge of town to well beyond its southern boundary. It meanders mostly between where 12th Street and 19th Street should be. Sure, there are parts of these streets where they ought to be, but the canyon gets in the way and none of them can continue uninterrupted from one end of town to the other. And worse, in some places the canyon has shear sides that are a hundred feet high. You can't get to the east side from the west side without a rope and pitons.
The 20th century proved to be more than a match for our Good Lord and allowed Him to laugh for just so long. We built bridges accross the canyon at Highland, south of Antler, and at Maple, north of Antler. Now, do the math. Highland would be 7 blocks south of Antler and Maple is 12 blocks north of Antler. That's 19 blocks, boys and girls. Since I live on NW Ivy (you can figure out where I am - it's easy) and since gasoline has surpassed $3.00 a gallon, it costs more to drive my Guzzler Deluxe to the store on the other side of the canyon to buy my Depends than they're worth. I'd rather change and wash my shorts.
All the above was just background for the short tale of discovery that follows.
Today my wife ran out of Depends and even though I can deal with that situation, it is a major emergency when it happens to her. I jumped into the Guzzler Deluxe and fumed about having to go so far out of the way to get from here to there. While sitting at a light, wasting even more of the precious liquid, I noticed people turning left and dropping into the canyon. I figured there must be a reason people would drive their shiny new Guzzlers into the canyon other than the obvious one that a bashed and broken Guzzler uses less gas than one in an operating conditon does. I decided to become a leeming. I turned left.
I fell into the canyon behind several others and to my surprise I survived! I flourished! There was a way through the canyon that did not involve going several blocks in the wrong direction and then several blocks back! I had discovered a shortcut.
Every day we become more a part of this town. The shortcut is proof.
All the roads that run north to south are numbered (1st St., 2nd St........) and the ones that are west of the tracks are labeled SW or NW depending on the location relative to Antler - the ones east of the tracks are labeled SE or NE, again depending on the location relative to Antler.
All the roads the that run east to west are named in alphabetic order with Antler being the only "A" street. One block north of Antler is Birch, one block south is Black Butte. Two blocks north is Cedar - you get the picture. Of course anything north of Antler is labled NE or NW depending on which side of the tracks it is on and vise versa.
All this quartering and labeling makes it very easy for a newcomer to know where he must go if he needs to get a dog license, check out a book from the library or buy a new window to replace the one the kitchen table accidently went through during the move. Armed with an address I head in the correct cardinal direction until arriving at the correct street and then am able to turn the correct direction and go to the right address. All without a map. All on autopilot. The men who laid out the town of Redmond had logical minds, and envisioned a time when Redmond would have more newcomers than old timers to tell them which way to turn. However, the Good Lord loves a laugh and He intervened in a way that boggles the mind.
There is a 200 foot wide canyon that runs from well beyond the northern edge of town to well beyond its southern boundary. It meanders mostly between where 12th Street and 19th Street should be. Sure, there are parts of these streets where they ought to be, but the canyon gets in the way and none of them can continue uninterrupted from one end of town to the other. And worse, in some places the canyon has shear sides that are a hundred feet high. You can't get to the east side from the west side without a rope and pitons.
The 20th century proved to be more than a match for our Good Lord and allowed Him to laugh for just so long. We built bridges accross the canyon at Highland, south of Antler, and at Maple, north of Antler. Now, do the math. Highland would be 7 blocks south of Antler and Maple is 12 blocks north of Antler. That's 19 blocks, boys and girls. Since I live on NW Ivy (you can figure out where I am - it's easy) and since gasoline has surpassed $3.00 a gallon, it costs more to drive my Guzzler Deluxe to the store on the other side of the canyon to buy my Depends than they're worth. I'd rather change and wash my shorts.
All the above was just background for the short tale of discovery that follows.
Today my wife ran out of Depends and even though I can deal with that situation, it is a major emergency when it happens to her. I jumped into the Guzzler Deluxe and fumed about having to go so far out of the way to get from here to there. While sitting at a light, wasting even more of the precious liquid, I noticed people turning left and dropping into the canyon. I figured there must be a reason people would drive their shiny new Guzzlers into the canyon other than the obvious one that a bashed and broken Guzzler uses less gas than one in an operating conditon does. I decided to become a leeming. I turned left.
I fell into the canyon behind several others and to my surprise I survived! I flourished! There was a way through the canyon that did not involve going several blocks in the wrong direction and then several blocks back! I had discovered a shortcut.
Every day we become more a part of this town. The shortcut is proof.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Hearing Aid
Today I got new hearing aids. Now I can hear all the noise from the kids down the block, the garbage truck as it rumbles down the street and the train. The tracks are a mile and a half east of us and I seem to remember crossing them a few times without giving it any thought. Now, I can hear the whistle several times a day and can feel more than hear the vibration as the trains go by.
When I was a boy we lived in a house that was only a block from the tracks. I have to tell you we were on the "right" side of them, but not by much. The sound of a train a block away is LOUD. When we first moved there I had trouble sleeping through the night. Every couple of hours a train would pass and wake me. After a while though, I got used to it. The train became a comfort; the reliability of it's arrival told me all was right with the world. The whistles and fury of it's passing became a lullaby that assured me I would be alright through the dark hours until the Sun would rise.
The hearing loss I experienced was a gradual thing and I really didn't notice it. My ability to hear decreased at roughly the same rate the noise level in the world around me increased, giving the perception that neither had changed. TODAY I LEARNED THE WORLD GOT LOUDER. A lot louder. I am not sure I like hearing aids. But, the trains are back. And, during our dark hours, that makes up for the rest of the noise.
When I was a boy we lived in a house that was only a block from the tracks. I have to tell you we were on the "right" side of them, but not by much. The sound of a train a block away is LOUD. When we first moved there I had trouble sleeping through the night. Every couple of hours a train would pass and wake me. After a while though, I got used to it. The train became a comfort; the reliability of it's arrival told me all was right with the world. The whistles and fury of it's passing became a lullaby that assured me I would be alright through the dark hours until the Sun would rise.
The hearing loss I experienced was a gradual thing and I really didn't notice it. My ability to hear decreased at roughly the same rate the noise level in the world around me increased, giving the perception that neither had changed. TODAY I LEARNED THE WORLD GOT LOUDER. A lot louder. I am not sure I like hearing aids. But, the trains are back. And, during our dark hours, that makes up for the rest of the noise.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
The first day
Here we are. In Redmond, Or. and I feel like a fish in an empty bowl. Our life in Northern New Mexico ended when the Doctor told us of Carolyns' disease.
Our home of many years, our friends and our retirement plans were left behind and now we start a new and frightening chapter on our journey to the grave. This journey begins with help from Carolyns sister but that help comes at the price of all our plans and dreams. We will do this. We will make this our home and will deal with whatever the disease demands of us.
I hope to use this blog to detail the discoveries we make as we travel this new road in our new home. I hope to give our impressions of the new things we see and the new friends we meet. Most of all I hope most of this will not get too boring and that some of you will find some of it entertaining.
Our home of many years, our friends and our retirement plans were left behind and now we start a new and frightening chapter on our journey to the grave. This journey begins with help from Carolyns sister but that help comes at the price of all our plans and dreams. We will do this. We will make this our home and will deal with whatever the disease demands of us.
I hope to use this blog to detail the discoveries we make as we travel this new road in our new home. I hope to give our impressions of the new things we see and the new friends we meet. Most of all I hope most of this will not get too boring and that some of you will find some of it entertaining.
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