Wilding

	"wilding" -  a slang term that refers to the practice of marauding in bands to terrorize strangers - to swagger and bully. -  Urban Dictionary. That we even have a word to describe this behavior makes me wonder what the Devil has gone wrong with the people in this nation.  I was asked to be an eyewitness to one of these events by the TV that hangs on my wall.  A group of teens - twenty or thirty of them - stormed a convenience store and went on a rampage.  Security cameras caught the whole thing on tape, and it was broadcast into law abiding homes across the nation during the "News at Nine".   Naturally, not a one of the youngsters involved exited the store with empty hands. Actually seeing the behavior caused me to inquire about a concealed carry permit in this state, and this time next month I'm gonna be LEGALLY armed whenever I leave the comparative safety of my home.  Before you chalk it up to me being a nut case, gun toting, mouth breathing jerk, consider a few facts.  Chicago - tourists and residents have been beset by roving gangs - they were beaten and robbed.  Public beaches in the better parts of town have been closed because of these crimes Boston - gangs are using face book to plan violence on Carson Beach. Rochester - more than 100 gang members involved in fighting and intimidation tactics at Ontario Beach Park Atlanta - several passengers were beaten and robbed by a gang of twenty teens while on a MARTA train Ya know, there are just too many of these incidents to list.  Google "wilding incidence" yourself.  There are accounts of THOUSANDS of these happenings.  I'll give you a head start - here's a blog written by a cop in Chicago - he's been at it for six years.  tp://www.secondcitycop.blogspot.com/  I am at a loss when it comes to placing blame.  Ya know, if I were in the situation of being unable to feed my family after trying every means available to me, I'd probably be third or fourth through the smashed window.  I've come really close to that situation and it was only luck that saved me from lawless action.  It's easy to claim the teens engaging in these acts of lawlessness are merely hoodlums.  Just lazy hoods who want nothing more than easy money.  And, the person claiming that is probably right.  BUT,  it's not gonna be much longer before the 16 or 20 percent of the newly unemployed will start to join ranks with them.  Are these folks, who have worked all their lives, to be considered criminals because they want to eat?  The middle class has been gutted, the lower class is now starving, and we all see the bankers giving themselves multimillion dollar bonuses.  You do the math.  All that is left to the economically lower fifth of the population is just what they can take from someone else with their own hands.  The younger members of this economic group are smarter than their parents who used to steal from each other.  The kids, more often than not, are stealing from higher income areas.  And, they're smart enough to realize people in middle class homes are not in much better shape than they are.  They're starting to hit the wealthy areas. I've used this quote in an earlier post, but it's become one of my favorites and fits here really well.  John Steinbeck was talking about the disparity between the wealthy and the poor in his masterpiece, "The Grapes of Wrath."  He had already pointed out how the poor had lost all they had, stolen from them by persons of wealth and power.  It was a warning, back in the 30's, to that economic class to be careful.  It applies today as well. “And the great owners, who must lose their land in an upheaval, the great owners with access to history, with eyes to read history and to know the great fact: when property accumulates in too few hands it is taken away. And that companion fact: when a majority of the people are hungry and cold they will take by force what they need. And the little screaming fact that sounds through all history: repression works only to strengthen and knit the repressed.”  John Steinbeck We are now a country at war.  It's not a race war, it's a class war.  The starving are banding together to take what they need to survive.  Most of it is not being reported in the news, and what is getting air time is being treated as an aberration, not another battle in a nationwide urban war.  Again, the mainstream news media is letting us down.  The reporters must know what is going on, I guess they have been told not to tell us.   We're at war, alright, and it's gonna be out of the urban cities and on our doorsteps soon enough.  There are not enough cops in any town in this nation to subdue masses of hungry people, and all the charitable networks in the world will not placate people without hope.  We're gonna have to take care of ourselves.  I guess that means shooting the takers.  I hope I'm man enough to share with the hungry.

Sod

One excuse after another.  Lately there have been a lot of them which is kinda strange considering I've been telling them to myself.  First, it was too cold.  A little later I told myself I'd need a new star bit for the drill so I could remove some really weird screws the last owner used to keep several pieces of wood attached to each other.

They just kept coming.  The chainsaw needs a new chain.  That gate on the cross fence that needs to be torn down is too heavy for one guy to handle.  It's raining.  It's snowing.  It's too hot.  My foot hurts.  Does any of this sound familiar? 

I've never engaged in this behavior before; I've always been ready to tackle the most difficult of tasks with the enthusiasm of a man half my age.  I know this because at one time I was half my age.  Well, I almost know it because I ALMOST remember being half-aged.  But, I got old on April 21, 2001.  That's the day I picked up a three hundred pound valve and wrecked my back.  I've been fighting it for a decade, but now, since I've retired and no longer force myself to keep going, I find myself hoping the hard-work jobs will just go away if I put them off.  That is some serious foolishness.  It doesn't work that way. 

My son-in-law came to visit a couple of weeks ago and his offer of help encouraged me to start the project I've been putting off since it warmed up around this place.  I wanted to get rid of 700 square feet of dog run in my back yard and turn that area into beautiful, lush, green grass.  Shane got me started, and together we managed to get just about half way through the project before it was time for him to leave.

We managed to rid the yard of all unneeded structures and plants, then planted new trees and leveled the area.  Since his departure I've been defining flowerbeds by laying pavers and have hauled off all the trash.  Today, though, was the Day Of Dread.  The newly ordered sod arrived, all 700 square feet of it.  This was the day of reckoning, the one I had been putting off. 

As I write this, all the sod has been placed and irrigated.  The ugly beyond belief dog run has been transformed - it now is a manicured lawn, and my back's screaming in agony.  The hard part is over, and the addition of flowering plants will be pleasurable. 

Not a bad day's work for an old fart.

Clowns

The circus would come to town every year when I was a young boy.  One day every Spring or Summer I'd get out of bed, bound out the door and start running three directions at once.  Then I'd suddenly stop in front of a telephone pole.  The poster fairy had come sometime during the night and tacked up the Ringling Bros. sign.  The circus was coming in two weeks!   We did not have a TV in those days, and our Internet connection was really slow - it took another half century for the first page to load - so the circus was a big deal.

Three rings of excitement - that's what the circus brought to town - and each ring was filled with different acts.  Elephants on the right, Clowns in the center ring, and Donkeys on the left.   The best entertainment money could buy back then, and boy could they put on a show.  My brother and I would marvel at all the tricks they could do.  They'd pull money out of thin air or out from behind someones ear.  Some were ventriloquists, capable of speaking out of both sides of their mouths. 

There were acrobats who could bounce from one side to another, still others could balance on a wire.  You could tell the old timers from the newbies.  The old guys were more confident of their abilities and surer of themselves. These older, bolder guys were the ones who occasionally would trip up and fall; waiting for the disaster kept you riveted to the action. 

I'm all grown up now, and things have changed.  A lot.  Today I woke up and instead of bounding from my bed, I gingerly placed one foot on the floor and tested to make sure it would still bear my current excessive weight.  Instead of running in all directions, I hobbled to the TV remote and tuned to the news channel. 

The poster fairy had come during the night!  Congressman Weiner's circus was coming to my TV in only an hour.

Some things have not changed.  Elephants and Donkeys entertain us these days like they did in my youth.  But, these days they have become the clowns who used to be in a ring of their own.  They still bounce from one side of an issue to another, pull money out of thin air, and take both sides of an argument, depending on the audience they face.

Humans used to control the circus beasts, but now they run amok, trampling and kicking our lives and the Constitution of our country.  The best of the clowns who now provide our entertainment are brainless innocents, filled with lofty airheaded purpose; the worst are amoral, cunning thieves, interested only in fattening their wallets and being re-elected at our expense.  Ol' Weiner is just the latest in a long line of overconfident wire-walkers who has lost his balance. 

Even now he supposes the laws of gravity do not apply to him.  He refuses to resign, still sure the voters want a lying sack of crap to be the "Honorable Representative from New York".  It's the height of arrogance - someone should tell him he's falling. 

He's too stupid to notice.

Maiden Voyage!

That's Jeff.  No, not the guy in the plane, the whole picture is Jeff.  These are the wings he built himself and he has now spread his new wings and flown.

Ya want to know how it feels to fly?  Check out the smile after the first landing.

Well done, old friend.  Well done indeed.

New Airplane

There's a brand new airplane flying in the skies over New Mexico, and soon it will be cleared to fly anywhere Jeff darn well pleases.   Readers who have been here for awhile, and who have stopped to read the comments, will recognize the name "Jeff" as a regular commenter.  He's quite a guy. 

During the day, he works at the Los Alamos National Laboratory.  Yeah, that makes him one of the "best and brightest" in America, even if all he did after his day job was go home to his wonderful wife, Becky.  But, Jeff's not happy doing just one thing. 

You'll find him at the airport on weekends, building and repairing airplanes or teaching others how it's done.  Jeff's hanger is always open to friends and newcomers - he was the first pilot I met when I showed up in Los Alamos one day -  and the coffee's always on.   There's also time in his life to be the President of Experimental Aircraft Association Chapter 691. 

I was the chapter Vice-President several years ago when the President at that time was killed in an automobile accident.   The job of President should have fallen on my shoulders, but the chapter was in decline, and I felt I was not capable enough to revive it.  Because of my lack of credentials, I declined the office and Jeff stepped up to the plate. I like to tell anyone who will listen that the best thing to ever happen to the Green Chili Chapter was me declining office.  Under Jeff's knowledgeable leadership, the chapter has grown and blossomed into one of the strongest in the state. 

This is a picture of the airplane loaded on a truck headed for Los Alamos, along with the son of the deceased pilot who started building it, when Jeff bought it.   Jeff drove it to it's new home in New Mexico and started by disassembling what he bought.  It took him a little more than a year, working evenings and week ends, to tear it apart, rebuild all that did not meet his high standards, and complete the project. 

The toughest part of the job, according to him, was having to chase off all the well wishers and kibitzers so he could work!   All the local EAAers have been on a steep learning curve during the build.  Monthly meetings have included hands on updates as the plane went through successive stages on it's way into the air. 

The airport just hasn't been the same since he started this project - Jeff's hanger has been a flurry of work instead of the social focal point of the airport.  But, all that is about to change.  Tomorrow, Jeff's "Grizzly Cub" takes to the air for it's maiden flight. 

This is what will find it's way to heaven tomorrow, with Jeff at the controls.  It's a far cry from what was in the back of the truck he drove home in the middle of January, 2010.  The plane is finished. It has been inspected by an FAA official and found to be airworthy. The paperwork has been completed and the last item to complete before it takes to the skies is the start up checklist.  For those of you who would like to see a little more of just what it is he has accomplished, here's his web page.  Look under "The Cub Project".  You'll find out just what it takes to build an airplane.  It's all there.  http://jscott.comlu.com/

I am proud to have spent many, many hours in the hanger at Jeff's side, and wing to wing in the air as we traveled the Southwestern skies in search of adventure.  Good luck to you Saturday morning, Jeff.  There is no better builder in America and I know all will go well.  Happy Landings, my old and dear friend.

Golf

Yesterday a neighbor asked if I played golf.  That's an innocent enough question and I gave him an honest answer.  "Yes, I used to play golf, a long time ago.  I quit after playing for a year or so - it took that long for me to figure out it's called "golf" because all the other four letter words were taken."

That brought to mind a bunch of things that were going on in my life during the early seventies - that's when I owned a complete set of left handed clubs, purchased at a place called White Front for about fifty bucks, and a really fancy putter.  Can't remember much about it these days, but back then EVERYONE wanted to try it out.  There were four of us that tried to teach each other the game, and three in the group actually managed to break 90 before I gave up.

I lived a little less than two years in a place between Tacoma and Seattle during the time it took me to quit playing golf.  That's the only reason, living in the Seattle area, I tried to learn that stinking game at all.  The Sun, you see, in that part of the universe, is a tease.  It peeks out from behind the clouds about every tenth day, if you're lucky, at odd and totally unexpected times.  When it decides to bathe you in it's radiance, you better have an good excuse so you can tell the boss you're gonna go out and play for awhile.  Golf works.

We'd all be sitting around depressed and contemplating suicide, blinds drawn to reveal nothing but a dark gray,  overcast and drizzling world outside, when all at once, there would be a break in the clouds.  The Sun would shine! 

Papers would find homes in cabinets, phones would be unplugged  (back then there were no answering machines nor call forwarding),  and off we'd go.  Last one to the clubhouse rented the cart.  And, we needed a cart, cause six or eight sixpacks get pretty heavy after four holes no matter how much gets consumed.  Ya just can't drink it fast enough to carry around in your bag.  My car always had clubs and the ice chest.  Tommy always had a bunch of Slim Jim's - and clubs.  Don and Pete carried clubs in their cars, and the knowledge gained from hanging out in front of the TV during televised weekend matches in their heads.  They were the instructors for the bunch of us.

We played on most of the public courses within a sixty mile radius, but my favorite was in Olympia, just across the Highway from the Olympia Brewery.  The iced sixpacks never lasted eighteen holes, and the Brewery offered free tours.  The tours ended up in the tasting rooms where you were welcome to "sample" all you wanted.  Connoisseurs, like the four of us, knew to ask for the "short tour".  That tour went directly from the starting gate to the samples, nothing in between. 

Now before everyone gets all knotted up about spending a day on the links with buddies and beer and then driving home, it didn't used to be the way it is now.  Here are some statistics for Pierce County, WA.  Population in 1970 = 154.000.  Population 2010 = 797,000.  I-5 is the same road now that it was then.  If we got into a wreck, it was going to be a single car accident and besides, we were young, dumb, and invincible.  We had powers.   

Folks in the NW still feel the need to recreate is just as important as the need to work.  The sun shines on a more regular basis here in central Oregon so, unlike the Seattle area, people actually work most days during the year.  No Sun days off during the week.  But, my brother in law assures me that everything grinds to a halt during hunting season around here.  This is not New York nor is it DC.  A sizable percentage of folks here still believe they work to live, not the other way around. 

Me?  I haven't done an honest days work in six months!

Tribalism

I am a member of a face book group which was started by a classmate of my  younger brother.  The group's aim, as stated by Don, is to keep people in our age group, who grew up together in the small town, in touch with each other.  It was meant to be a space for friends to connect and share their lives with each other, and negativity was not allowed. 

There was little meaningful work in the small town, and high school seniors rapidly scattered in search of higher education and broader employment opportunities.  Don has done a wonderful job creating his vision and even though we live in all parts of the country, a couple of hundred of us are now able to communicate with each other.   The group has become large enough to display a problem we also face as a species. 

Our nation celebrated Memorial Day last week, and there was a general outpouring of support for Fathers, Sons, and Comrades in Arms on the site during this time.  Even though I personally believe there has not been a reason for this country to engage in ANY of the wars that have been fought since and including Vietnam, I happen to be in favor of these feelings of thanks and remembrances.  I am the proud son of a life long Military Man.

I do believe we were correct to fight the folks who bombed the Twin Towers, but we reacted to that punch with exactly the skill of a skunk that stinks up every animal and plant within half a mile of the villain who upsets it.  There has to have been a better way.  But, back to Don's page. 

A couple of people in the group objected to all the patriotism and asked to be removed.  Don publicly granted their wishes, and another score of folks applauded him for ridding us of the "not us" dissenters.  There was only one, a female classmate of mine, and one whom I much admire, who stood up to defend their right to say what they felt, and she correctly pointed out the place to say it was on their own page, not Don's: he had already stated the purpose of HIS page, and one of the rules was political arguments were to be left at the door.

The fracture we experienced on this page, a page of friends and acquaintances, is the same one we are experiencing in this country and more broadly, as a species.  Tribalism.  Us against Them.

While the species was in it's infancy, Tribalism was a good thing.  Thousands of years ago, while we were staying warm next to the fire in a cave, tribal loyalty was the glue that held the group together. Later, it fostered the trust that made sociable behavior and division of labor possible. Because of Tribalism, some hunted, others gathered, and still others reared the young.  The group and the species prospered.

On the other hand, as we have come to dominate our planet, distrust of those outside "Our" tribe by Tribalism has led to one after another war so that "Our" Tribe could grow larger and stronger.  Soon we had nations and  "spheres of influence".  As we have prospered, we've managed to smooth some of the behavior, and now Tribalism mostly causes us problems with things like nationalism (yes, sadly that means patriotism), race and religion.  We still find ourselves forming two groups, Us and Them.  After that, we come to hate and fear them, and from there, they must be eliminated.

The only answer is tolerance. Without tolerance mankind is doomed.  All of us need to learn to listen to what we consider "wrongheaded" views, and agree that it's OK for people to have these views.  That means we need not force others to share our beliefs, and we allow them the keep theirs.  Likewise, others must allow our viewpoint.  I have no clue how we attain this enlightened stage, and therein lies my fear for the human race.  If we allow differences and others do not, they will gain strength and we will be vanquished.

If a group of friends, who shared the same town and schools while growing up can not tolerate each others view, just what are the odds we can overcome the curse as a species?