free grain

KIRKUS Review

2012-02-09T14:22:00.000-08:00

Yes I know I said I'd quit talking about my book but something just happened that I want to share with you ... actually I want to share it with THE WORLD!!!

KIRKUS is the foremost literary review website in the world. A KIRKUS review can make or break a book. Authors who get a bad review of course never publish the review but a good review is golden. The way it works is the author or agent pays KIRKUS to review the book. Their editors read the entire book then write a review. The author can then scrap the review if it's not very complimentary or can use a positive review to promote the book. The author also has the option of posting the review on the KIRKUS website: http://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/john-schwartz2/shadow-babylon. I encourage you to follow this link and click on the LOVED IT icon. The more clicks the better chance I have to being featured on the home page.

One more quick note ... I will be speaking to the Rancho Mirage Book Club at the Ranch Mirage Country Club on March 21 ... whahoo!

Here's the KIRKUS Review. "In The Shadow of Babylon"

An epoch-spanning thriller that’s part academic mystery andpart historical fantasy.

This time-traversing story opens in 11,000 B.C. with afirst-person tale rendered in high archaic fashion but with clear psychologicalself-awareness. Ayuba, a clansman shepherd from a time just outside of recordedhistory, relates the terrible destruction of his family and his herd. Ayuba’sstory continues throughout, but it is the discovery of this man’s poem (theoldest writing in the world) that incites the events in 2004. Flashing forward 13,000years to an Iraqi academic’s bedroom, the novel’s modern thriller-style plotbegins. Dr. Elman Darshi is trying to convince his wife that Saddam Hussein’sBa’athist agents are not in fact coming for them in the night. The sudden jumpin time and tone is remarkably compelling rather than jarring and gives thisnovel its unique literary fascination. Ancient tablets containing the Song ofAyuba lead to information that is not only threatening to Hussein’s smallempire of megalomania, but to established history and cultural orthodoxy. AfterDarshi is eliminated for his years of research and toil, his daughter, Alex,picks up the torch and reads the translation to the world on satellitetelevision. The song itself is yet another layer in the literary quality of thenovel and works as the novel’s philosophical centerpiece. The poem is lyrical,mystical and shockingly secular—this in particular causes a great deal ofcontroversy once the poem is rendered for the Arabic-speaking world. Ayuba’s narrativeis essentially a fantastic hero story. After the dissolution of his people, hetravels into the Beyond relating his experiences and the strange encounters ofa world lost to history. Schwartz deftly weaves the romantic experiences of apre-historical shepherd into an extended homily that punctuates the trials of the Middle East as the contemporarynarrative plunges along in the best page-turner fashion. Not only linked well rhetorically,the prose here is something to behold and is evocative without sacrificingconcision, an absolute demand of the thriller genre. Many readers will beconvinced that a literary discovery of this magnitude really might change thecourse of contemporary politics, so confident and convincing is the vision ofthe novel. A wonderfully written, provocative novel that utilizes two distinctgenres to promote progressive cultural messages.

Kirkus Indie,Kirkus Media LLC, 6411 Burleson Rd., Austin, TX 78744

indie@kirkusreviews.

The joy of non-fiction

2012-01-21T21:14:00.000-08:00

I recently had a discussion with a friend about fiction versus non-fiction books. It was his view that fiction was far more interesting than non-fiction. I don't agree. I wonder if this somewhat common viewpoint comes from the boredom many of us experienced in school when we were required to memorize useless data... length of the Amazon river?????

Personally, I like both types of books but lean toward the real stuff. I did the math on my Shelfari library and roughly 70% of the 600 books on my virtual shelves are non-fiction. This is probably why my kids often refer to me as Cliffy after the character of Cliff Claven on the TV series Cheers who constantly spouted (what many thought were ) useless facts. Personally, I enjoyed his random comments about little-known historical and scientific details.

One of the cool things about e-readers is that it's easy to highlight and store things and to save them for later review or use. Here are some of the items I found interesting in a couple of recent books I've read. I think you will find that truth is indeed, at times, stranger than fiction.

Decision Points (George W. Bush)
Lincoln's Civil War letters to the survivors of slain soldiers:

“I feel how weak and fruitless must be any word of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming, but I cannot refrain from tendering you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic they died to save. I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom.”

At Home: A Short History of Private Life (Bill Bryson)
Mice and other rodents consume about a tenth of America’s annual grain crop—an astonishing proportion. Each mouse voids about fifty pellets a day, and that results in a lot of contamination, too. Because of the impossibility of achieving perfection in storage, hygiene regulations in most places allow up to two fecal pellets per pint of grain—a thought to bear in mind the next time you look at a loaf of whole grain bread.

***

No one has ever suffered more in the quest to get rich than Ferdinand Magellan and his crew as they sailed in growing disbelief across the Pacific in 1521. Their provisions all but exhausted, they devised perhaps the least appetizing dish ever served: rat droppings mixed with wood shavings. “We ate biscuit which was no longer biscuit but powder of biscuits swarming with worms,” recorded one crew member. “It stank strongly of the urine of rats. We drank yellow water that had been putrid for many days. We also ate some ox hides that covered the top of the mainyard… and often we ate sawdust from boards.” They went three months and twenty days without fresh food or water before finding relief and a shoreline in Guam—and all in a quest to fill the ships’ holds with dried flowerbuds, bits of tree bark, and other aromatic scrapings to sprinkle on food and make into pomanders.

***

Everybody trips on stairs at some time or other. It has been calculated that you are likely to miss a step once in every 2,222 occasions you use stairs, suffer a minor accident once in every 63,000 uses, suffer a painful accident once in every 734,000, and need hospital attention once every 3,616,667 uses. Eighty-four percent of people who die in stair falls at home are sixty-five or older. This is not so much because the elderly are more careless on stairs, but just because they don’t get up so well afterward. Children, happily, only very rarely die in falls on stairs, though households with young children in them have by far the highest rates of injuries, partly because of high levels of stair usage and partly because of the startling things children leave on steps. Unmarried people are more likely to fall than married people, and previously married people fall more than both of those. People in good shape fall more often than people in bad shape, largely because they do a lot more bounding and don’t descend as carefully and with as many rest stops as the tubby or infirm.

***

The (Chicago) fire destroyed 18,000 buildings and made 150,000 people homeless. Damages topped $200 million and put fifty-one insurance companies out of business.

***

Shellac is a hard resinous secretion from the Indian lac beetle. Lac beetles emerge in swarms in parts of India at certain times of the year, and their secretions make varnish that is odorless, nontoxic, brilliantly shiny, and highly resistant to scratches and fading. It doesn’t attract dust while wet, and it dries in minutes.

Decision Points (George W. Bush)
Thursday, March 13, we learned that Bear Stearns, one of America’s largest investment banks, was facing a liquidity crisis. Like other Wall Street institutions, Bear was heavily leveraged. For every dollar it held in capital, the firm had borrowed thirty-three dollars to invest, much of it in mortgage-backed securities.

***

For years, I listened to politicians from both sides of the aisle allege that I had squandered the massive surplus I inherited. That never made sense. Much of the surplus was an illusion, based on the mistaken assumption that the 1990s boom would continue. Once the recession and 9/11 hit, there was little surplus left.

***

By the summer of 2008, I had publicly called for GSE reform seventeen times. It turned out the eighteenth was the charm. All it took was the prospect of a global financial meltdown. In July, Congress passed a reform bill granting a key element of what we had first proposed five years earlier: a strong regulator for the GSEs. The bill also gave the treasury secretary temporary authority to inject equity into Fannie and Freddie if their solvency came into question.

At Home: A Short History of Private Life (Bill Bryson)

When they are not eating, rats are likely to be having sex. Rats have a lot of sex—up to twenty times a day. If a male rat can’t find a female, he will happily—or at least willingly—find relief in a male. Female rats are robustly fecund. The average adult female Norway rat produces 35.7 offspring a year, in litters of 6 to 9 at a time. In the right conditions, however, a female rat can produce a new litter of up to 20 babies every three weeks.

***

It has been estimated that 60 percent of all the crops grown in the world today originated in the Americas. These foods weren’t just incorporated into foreign cuisines. They effectively became the foreign cuisines. Imagine Italian food without tomatoes, Greek food without eggplant, Thai and Indonesian foods without peanut sauce, curries without chilies, hamburgers without French fries or ketchup, African food without cassava. There was scarcely a dinner table in the world in any land east or west that wasn’t drastically improved by the foods of the Americas.

***

... the British never had much success in the East Indies, and in 1667, in the Treaty of Breda, they ceded all claims to the region to the Dutch in return for a small piece of land of no great significance in North America. The piece of land was called Manhattan.

***

With no immunity to many European diseases, the (North American) natives sickened easily and “died in heaps.” One epidemic, probably viral hepatitis, killed an estimated 90 percent of the natives in coastal Massachusetts. A once-mighty tribal group in the region of modern Texas and Arkansas, the Caddo, saw its population fall from an estimated 200,000 to just 1,400—a drop of nearly 96 percent. An equivalent outbreak in modern New York would reduce the population to 56,000—“not enough to fill Yankee Stadium,” in the chilling phrase of Charles C. Mann. Altogether, disease and slaughter reduced the native population of Mesoamerica by an estimated 90 percent in the first century of European contact.

***

Sweet tea became a national indulgence. By 1770, per capita consumption of sugar was running at 20 pounds a head, and most of that, it seems, was spooned into tea. (That sounds like quite a lot until you realize that Britons today eat 80 pounds of sugar per person annually, while Americans pack away a decidedly robust 126 pounds of sugar per head.) As with coffee, tea was held to confer health benefits;

***

Jethro Tull

Farmers also benefited from a new wheeled contraption invented in about 1700 by Jethro Tull, a farmer and agricultural thinker in Berkshire. Called a seed drill, it allowed seeds to be planted directly into the soil. (Note: I thought Jethro Tull was a rock group!!!)

***

Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s grandfather, Warren Delano, made much of the family’s fortune by trading opium, a fact that the Roosevelt family has never exactly crowed about.

***

It has been calculated that if your pillow is six years old (which is the average age for a pillow), one-tenth of its weight will be made up of sloughed skin, living and dead mites, and mite dung—or frass, as it is known to entomologists.

***

It is remarkable to think that we have had electric lights and telephones for about as long as we have known that germs kill people.

***

In consequence of the unrelentingly dire conditions, (England's) mortality figures soared wherever the poor congregated. In Dudley, in the Midlands, the average life expectancy at birth at midcentury had sunk to just 18.5 years, a life span not seen in Britain since the Bronze Age. In even the healthiest cities, the average life expectancy was 26 to 28, and nowhere in urban Britain did it exceed thirty.

Who knew?

Fiction becomes reality

2011-12-14T15:03:00.001-08:00

Okay by now you're probably sick of me talking about my book In The Shadow of Babylon... I get that... but recently The Journal of Archeology published new findings about a 12,000 year old stone spiritual center of a nomadic people. Hmm... 12,000 years ago? Does that ring a bell for those who have read my book? Here's more...

Gobekii Tepe ... could it be Hamood?

    It is likely the megaliths at the Neolithic site of Göbekli Tepe in Turkey once supported roofs. Archaeologists have found floors constructed of burnt lime and clay within the stone circles--the earliest such floors ever discovered. Hunter-gatherers used stone tools to create images of male creatures on T-shaped pillars.
   The press in Turkey is fond of calling the site "the Turkish Stonehenge," but the comparison hardly does justice to this 25-acre arrangement of at least seven stone circles. The first structures at Göbekli Tepe were built as early as 10,000 B.C., predating their famous British counterpart by about 7,000 years.
   The oldest man-made place of worship yet discovered, Göbekli Tepe is "one of the most important monuments in the world."
   Göbekli Tepe's circles range from 30 to 100 feet in diameter and are surrounded by rectangular stone walls about six feet high. Many of the pillars are carved with elaborate animal figure reliefs. In addition to bulls, foxes, and cranes, representations of lions, ducks, scorpions, ants, spiders, and snakes appear on the pillars. Freestanding sculptures depicting the animals have also been found within the circles. During the most recent excavation season, archaeologists uncovered a statue of a human and sculptures of a vulture's head and a boar.
   Excavations have revealed that Göbekli Tepe was constructed in two stages. The oldest structures belong to what archaeologists call the early Pre-Pottery Neolithic, a period, which ended around 9000 B.C. Strangely enough, the later remains, which date to the Pre-Pottery Neolithic B period, or about 8000 B.C., are less elaborate. The earliest levels contain most of the T-shaped pillars and animal sculptures.

Could they write too?

   Archaeologist Klaus Schmidt downplays extravagant spiritual interpretations of Göbekli Tepe, such as the idea, made popular in the press, that the site is the inspiration for the Biblical Garden of Eden. But he does agree that it was a sanctuary of profound significance in the Neolithic world. He sees it as a key site in understanding the transition from hunting and gathering to agriculture, and from tribal to regional religion.
   Schmidt and his colleagues estimate that at least 500 people were required to hew the 10- to 50-ton stone pillars from local quarries, move them from as far as a quarter-mile away, and erect them. How did Stone Age people achieve the level of organization necessary to do this? Hauptmann speculates that an elite class of religious leaders supervised the work and later controlled the rituals that took place at the site. If so, this would be the oldest known evidence for a priestly caste--much earlier than when social distinctions became evident at other Near Eastern sites.
Klaus Schmidt of the German Archaeological Institute believes Göbekli Tepe attracted small nomadic groups from numerous regions throughout southeastern Anatolia. (Haldun Aydingün)
   Before the discovery of Göbekli Tepe, archaeologists believed that societies in the early Neolithic were organized into small bands of hunter-gatherers and that the first complex religious practices were developed by groups that had already mastered agriculture. Scholars thought that the earliest monumental architecture was possible only after agriculture provided Neolithic people with food surpluses, freeing them from a constant focus on day-to-day survival. A site of unbelievable artistry and intricate detail, Göbekli Tepe has turned this theory on its head.
   Schmidt believes the people who created these massive and enigmatic structures came from great distances. It seems certain that once pilgrims reached Göbekli Tepe, they made animal sacrifices. Schmidt and his team have found the bones of wild animals, including gazelles, red deer, boars, goats, sheep, and oxen, plus a dozen different bird species, such as vultures and ducks, scattered around the site. Most of these animals are depicted in the sculptures and reliefs at the site.

Perfectly carved stone. Imagine 12,000 years ago

There is still much that we don't understand about religious practices at Göbekli Tepe, Schmidt cautions. But broadly speaking, the animal images "probably illustrate stories of hunter-gatherer religion and beliefs," he says, "though we don't know at the moment." The sculptors of Göbekli Tepe may have simply wanted to depict the animals they saw, or perhaps create symbolic representations of the animals to use in rituals to ensure hunting success.
Schmidt has another theory about how Göbekli Tepe became a sacred place. Though he has yet to find them, he believes that the first stone circles on the hill of the navel marked graves of important people. Hauptmann's team discovered graves at Nevali Cori, and Schmidt is reasonably confident that burials lie somewhere in the earliest layers of Göbekli Tepe. This leads him to suspect the pillars represent human beings and that the cult practices at this site may initially have focused on some sort of ancestor worship. The T-shaped pillars, he points out, look like human bodies with the upper part of the "T" resembling a head in profile. Once, Schmidt says, they stood on the hillside "like a meeting of stone beings."

Feet to the fire

We have a tendency to believe that as a civilization we have things pretty well figured out but unfortunately we have been wrong more often than right. Gobekii Tepe proves that there was sophisticated human life long before we thought possible. Here' s another thing that was revealed recently that demonstrates how we get things wrong. In the 16th and 17th century more than 25,000 people, in what is now called Germany, were burned as witches... 25,000! Among other things they were accused of causing plagues, droughts and storms but most of all they were charged with diluting or contaminating beer! In those days beer was a staple (as it is with many of my German friends today). The word 'beer' comes from the German word for bread... so beer was a healthy food that Germans depended on for survival... if you screwed with the beer you got burned at the stake. Of course, burning those pesky witches happened in many countries but Germany holds the record. The point is, the people who lit the fires at the feet of the accused thought they were doing the right thing... makes me wonder how many of the things we believe today will be found to be wrong in the future?

Happy Holidays

2011-12-06T10:14:00.001-08:00

The big BURP

At this time of year many of the world's Jews, Christians and Muslims are focused on the heavens. Just in case you missed it, many scientists are also focused on space due to some very interesting events discovered by the new Kepler telescope and other orbiting survey devices.

Black hole 10 billion times the size of our sun

If you often suffer from bloating and gas after a big holiday meal consider the gas bubble in the above photo. This burp was let out by a black hole that had just swallowed a star. The blazing belch is one light year across (1 light year = 9.4605284 × 1015 meters) TUMs anyone?
Speaking of black holes, take a look at the one in the 2nd picture. Astronomers just discovered this monster and a twin about the same size. It has a mass that is approximately 10 billion times as large as our sun. And you thought your Christmas Mass was a big event!

Kepler 22b

The Kepler spacecraft is an American space observatory, the space-based portion of NASA's Kepler Mission to discover Earthlike planets orbiting other stars. The spacecraft, named in honor of the 17th-century German astronomer Johannes Kepler, was launched in March 2009.

The Kepler Mission is "specifically designed to survey a portion of our region of the Milky Way galaxy to discover dozens of Earth-size planets in or near the habitable zone and determine how many of the billions of stars in our galaxy have such planets." Kepler's only instrument is a photometer that continuously monitors the brightness of over 145,000 main sequence stars in a fixed field of view. This data is analyzed to detect periodic fluctuations that indicate the presence of extra-solar planets that are in the process of crossing the face of other stars. Just last week this unique device discovered a planet that is almost identical to ours although several times larger. Not only does the planet appear to be covered in water like ours and has a benign surface temperature, its orbit around its star is similar in distance and speed as ours. (see the photo on the right).

Zones of habitability

Unfortunately Kepler 22b (name of this remarkable discovery) is 600 light years away so we probably won't be visiting it anytime soon.

Here's a more earthbound discovery. Below is a ground seeking radar photo of the land mass of Antarctica. The darker colors are the peaks of mountains. Almost this entire continent has been under a 1,000 or more feet of ice for all recorded history... or so they say. On 6th July 1960 Lt Colonel Harold Ohlmeyer, a United States Air Force Commander, sent a reply to a letter from one Professor Charles Hapgood who had requested his opinion on a feature found on a map of 1513 CE called the Piri Reis Map (Piri Reis ws a Turkish Admiral). Lt Colonel Ohlmeyer's reply was a bombshell. The map, showing the coastline of the east coast of the Americas and the west coast of Africa, the Colonel remarked, also seemed to show the coastline of Queen Maud Land in Antarctica free of ice - a condition it had not been in for some 9,000 years! Notes in the margin of the map state that Admiral Reis had taken data from maps that came from the ancient Egyptian library in Alexandria. This has led to much debate as to whether or not a civilization existed in pre-history that might hve been around when Antarctica was a tropical island!


Ground radar map of Antarctica

Below is a photo of our entire family taken last month in Palm Desert during my 70th, our daughter-in-law Susan's 50th, and our youngest son Johnee's 40th birthday celebrations... hence the 70-50-40 on the T-shirts.

Schwartz clan

Life is indeed full of grandeur, mystery and joy! Happy Holidays

Intentions and actions

2011-11-12T16:30:00.001-08:00

Of course I read your book

Sometimes a book leads to strange events. I'm not talking about regular library-type books. I'm talking about what one learns when one publishes a book. The results are interesting and informative.

Firstly, one learns a lot about good intentions vs. action. Almost everyone, when they learn you have published a book, immediately says they are going to read it. Definitely good intentions... but perhaps one in ten actually do. Months later when the subject happens to come up one hears... it's on my nightstand... it's on my book list... it's on order... my wife's reading it... the dog ate it, whatever. Good intentions indeed.

One also learns that most people don't understand that an author or publisher can go online 24/7 and see who bought the book. I guess what I want to say is it's okay if you don't read my book... just say sorry too busy... I don't read, or... are you kidding, you wrote a book?

I've also learned that people you'd never suspect turn out to be avid readers and instantly connect with what you've written. We are in the process of installing a very unique solar heating system for our swimming pool. Steve, the owner of the company that takes care of our pool, is an American success story. My guess is he's about 35 to 38 years old. He was raised in Palm Desert, went to college and got a degree in chemistry then joined the Army where he was a linguist for Colin Powell. When he left the Army he came back to the desert and with little money started a pool cleaning service called Hire Standards. I've often thought company names should reflect their vision... this one does. The service is excellent. Their knowledge about pool chemistry, design, heating and repair is unexcelled in this area. Needless to say his business grew very quickly. He soon started a Handy Man company, then a water treatment company. In just a few years he's gone from cleaning pools to owning and running three companies ideally suited to the needs of this community where 70% of the residents are part time. As Henry Kaiser said when asked the secret to success... "Find a need a fill it."

Jasper ... future reader!

Four days ago while talking about our pool project Steve and I started discussing his company. I told him how impressed I was with his service and people. He told me a bit about his background and asked me if I was retired. I told him I had just published a book and he seemed very interested so I gave him a copy from my stash. I must admit I figured it was probably a waste of a good book but I really liked the guy so why not. Two days later he called to tell me he had read the book. Surprised, I said "Great, how'd you like it?" "It was a great read," he said. I asked what he took away from it and he responded (this is true) "Well the core message seemed to be the importance of living in the present moment. In addition the message about how to handle grief was excellent and, of course, the power of visualization ran throughout the story." He got it, he really got it! Perhaps the first person to read it that actually got the underlying themes of the book, or in any event, actually expressed them. He went on to say, "The message was so powerful I want to buy 50 copies to give to my friends and staff. Would you sign them?"

Stories are more than a series of events. Regardless of how simple a story may seem, the author either on purpose or unwittingly, is conveying a message. Nothing gives a writer more satisfaction than a reader who actually gets the message(s) woven into the story. It is far more important than sales or profits. After the delightful reaction of the pool man I've started handing out books to all of the contractors who've been working on a couple of projects at our house. The painter took the book home and his teenage son got so involved in it his parents had to limit his reading time because he was ignoring his homework. The painter's assistant, who I suspect can barely read, keeps asking me questions about various parts of the book so I know he's reading it, if slowly.

Speaking of books... I'm about finished with a book of poems I will publish next year called Bullets for Boomers. Obviously most of the poems have to do with the fears and hopes I suspect most baby boomers, like me, are dealing with. Here's Bullet One.

Bullets for Boomers

(1) Bullet Proof

It can be as simple

As a reflection in a shop window.

Brief, a blink,

Or the unexpected vision in a shave fogged mirror

Quick like a bullet that

Robert Guy cousin and artist in
front of his home in Logan Utah

Strikes before the sound of

The explosion reaches the target.

It too opens a wound

The narrow fine pointed image

Pierces the eye and fragments

Before you can shield yourself

With the lies of your youth

It shatters your denial

Without a sound.

The image is the least of it.

The saggy blotchy vision.

What happened to that smooth

Pure shield you so

Flagrantly abused with

The certainty of foreverness

So adored by mothers and lovers

Kissed and caressed?

It was not the passionate breath of others that

Charred and desiccated the mask

You wore so confidently. The mask

That slipped in an instant that took years

Of uncertainty, stress and worry to create.

It is the flabby casing

Of the bullet in the mirror.

In an instant it’s all revealed

Like an onion peeled leaf upon leaf.

The spring in your step

Now a hollow stiff stride that shivers

On the edge of collapse.

The quick rejoinder plucked from a memory

That glowed with stand-by readiness
Now fingered and pried from ossified synapses

That refuse to fire when needed.

The mop of hair combed and coiffed

The signboard of your difference

Gone or near gone

A shadow of strings

Vainly trying to shield your pate

From the screaming mirror.

It’s all there in the tearing laceration

Suppurating passion oozing now

Through your once wet hardness.

Nipples like spear points

Signing books!

Shivering with desire, now flaccid

Memories. The metal jacket of time

Searing the sweetness of youthful

Ignorance with the unrelenting cynicism of experience,

Of fear and disappointment, of wasted talent and time.

The final moment within the glimpse

The ultimate sadness of a truth hidden from

The beginning of your awareness.

An odds-defying arrogance without which

You would have long ago laid down and died

In anticipation of the strike. You turn even now,

Trying to hide from the fact

That you are not,

Never were

Or never will be

Bulletproof.

***

Cows and Kids

2011-10-18T19:08:00.000-07:00

It seems to me it's time for a change ... no not the failed hope and change we were promised but serious change away from the creeping corruption and political correctness that has poisoned our country. Everyone knows deep down inside that things are on an awful trajectory that could end in a huge amount of suffering, if not extinction, but we are afraid to identify the problems frankly. We all know illegal aliens are illegal ... we know Hamas and Hezbollah are funded by Iran as are most other terrorist organizations ... we know that we have the resources to become energy independent within a decade ... we know our schools suck ... we know that our tax code is several thousand pages too long and overly complicated ... we know that green energy is a very long way off. I could go on and on as I'm sure could each of you.

My question is, why are we not solving these problems? Why are we not marching in the streets insisting on practical solutions and demanding leadership from our politicians? Instead we watch a bunch of crazy loons, labor thugs, pseudo-communists and layabouts demanding their student loans be cancelled while defecating and soiling our public spaces.

It seems to me that part of the reason we are not being more outspoken and active is because we are afraid of pissing people off ... sadly political correctness, the gag created by left leaning idiots who are willing to call others all sorts of names but scream in horror when we speak to the truth, tends to dampen the fire of our passion. If I say that part of the problem in the black community is that 70% of their children are born into single parent homes I would be called a racist instead of a truth speaker. That's the logic of PC.

But I think there are two other contributing factors. Our indifference may come partly from our herd mentality. We tend to simply follow along assuming all will turn out well. This poem by a fellow named Sam Walter Foss (1858-1911) pretty well sums up the problem...

The Calf Path

One day through a primeval wood,

a calf walked as a good calf should,

But made a trail all bent askew,

a crookedtrail, as all calves do.

The trail was taken up next day

by a lone dog that passed that way.

And then a wise bellwether sheep

pursued thetrail over vale and steep

And led his flock behind him too

as all goodbellwethers do

And from that day over hill and glade

through thoseold woods a path was made.

Many a man wound in and out,

and dodged and turned and bent about

And uttered words of righteous wrath

because it was such a crooked path.

The forest path became a lane

that bent and turned and turned again.

This crooked lane became a road

where many apoor horse with his load

Toiled beneath the burning sun,

and traveled agood three miles in one.

The years passed on in swiftness, fleet;

the road becamea village street,

And thus before men were aware,

a city’s crowded thoroughfare,

And soon the central street was this

of a renownedmetropolis.

And men two centuries and a half,

tread the footsteps of that calf.

Each day a one hundred thousand route

followed thatzig zag calf about

And over his crooked journey went

the traffic ofa continent.

A hundred thousand men were led

by a calf nearthree centuries dead.

They following his crooked way,

lost one hundred years every day.

For thus such deference is lent,

to a wellestablished precedent.

A moral lesson this might teach,

were I ordained and called to preach:

For men are prone to go it blind

along the calfpaths of the mind.

And work away from sun to sun,

to do what other men have done.

They follow the well beaten track,

out and in and forth and back.

And still their devious course pursue
to keep thepaths that other do.

Perhaps it's time
for all of us to stop
following the herd
and blaze a new
common sense path.

Finally ... I think the following from a blog by Bruce Walker identifies the third thing that is preventing common sense from claiming its rightful place in America.

The Lawyers' Party
By Bruce Walker
The Democratic Party has become the Lawyers Party.
Barack Obama is a lawyer.
Michelle Obama is a lawyer.
Hillary Clinton is a lawyer. Bill Clinton is a lawyer.
John Edwards is a lawyer.
Elizabeth Edwards was a lawyer.
Every Democrat nominee since 1984 went to law school (although Gore did not graduate).
Every Democrat vice presidential nominee since 1976, except for Lloyd Bentsen, went to law school.

Look at leaders of the Democrat Party in Congress:
Harry Reid is a lawyer.
Nancy Pelosi is a lawyer.

The Republican Party is different.
President Bush is a businessman.
Vice President Cheney is a businessman.
The leaders of the Republican Revolution:
Newt Gingrich was a history professor.
Tom Delay was an exterminator. Dick Armey was an economist.
House Minority Leader Boehner was a plastics manufacturer.
The former Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist is a heart surgeon.

Who was the last Republican president who was a lawyer? Gerald Ford, who left office 31 years ago and who barely won the Republican nomination as a sitting president, running against Ronald Reagan in 1976. The Republican Party is made up of real people doing real work, who are often the targets of lawyers. The Democrat Party is made up of lawyers. Democrats mock and scorn men who create wealth, like Bush and Cheney, or who heal the sick, like Frist, or who immerse themselves in history, like Gingrich. The Lawyers Party sees these sorts of people, who provide goods and services that people want, as the enemies of America. And, so we have seen the procession of official enemies, in the eyes of the Lawyers Party, grow.
Against whom do Hillary and Obama rail? Pharmaceutical companies, oil companies, hospitals, manufacturers, fast food restaurant chains, large retail businesses, bankers, and anyone producing anything of value in our nation.

This is the natural consequence of viewing everything through the eyes of lawyers.
Lawyers solve problems by successfully representing their clients, in this case the American people. Lawyers seek to have new laws passed, they seek to win lawsuits, they press appellate courts to overturn precedent, and lawyers always parse language to favor their side. Confined to the narrow practice of law, that is fine. But it is an awful way to govern a great nation.
When politicians as lawyers begin to view some Americans as clients and other Americans as opposing parties, then the role of the legal system in our life becomes all-consuming.
Some Americans become adverse parties of our very government. We are not all litigants in some vast social class-action suit. We are citizens of a republic that promises us a great deal of freedom from laws, from courts, and from lawyers.

Today, we are drowning in laws; we are contorted by judicial decisions; we are driven to distraction by omnipresent lawyers in all parts of our once private lives. America has a place for laws and lawyers, but that place is modest and reasonable, not vast and unchecked. When the most important decision for our next president is whom he will appoint to the Supreme Court, the role of lawyers and the law in America is too big.

When House Democrats sue America in order to hamstring our efforts to learn what our enemies are planning to do to us, then the role of litigation in America has become crushing.

We cannot expect the Lawyers Party to provide real change, real reform or real hope in America. Most Americans know that a republic in which every major government action must be blessed by nine unelected judges is not what Washington intended in 1789. Most Americans grasp that we cannot fight a war when ACLU lawsuits snap at the heels of our defenders. Most Americans intuit that more lawyers and judges will not restore declining moral values or spark the spirit of enterprise in our economy.

Perhaps Americans will understand that change cannot be brought to our nation by those lawyers who already largely dictate American society and business.
Perhaps Americans will see that hope does not come from the mouths of lawyers but from personal dreams nourished by hard work. Perhaps Americans will embrace the truth that more lawyers with more power will only make our problems worse.

The United States has 5% of the world's population and 66% of the world's lawyers!
Tort (legal) reform legislation has been introduced in congress several times in the last several years to limit punitive damages in ridiculous lawsuits such as spilling hot coffee on yourself and suing the establishment that sold it to you and also to limit punitive damages in huge medical malpractice lawsuits. This legislation has continually been blocked from even being voted on by the Democrat Party.
When you see that 97% of the political contributions from the American Trial Lawyers Association goes to the Democrat Party, then you realize who is responsible for our medical and product costs being so high!

*************************************

Allen - Leslie - Johnee

Recently our three adult kids attended a convention in Las Vegas. Needless to say they were the best looking, most charming and intelligent people there ... hey it's my blog.

*************************************

Sales of In The Shadow of Babylon are progressing, if a bit slower than anticipated. One of the things I've done to create a broader reader base is to offer the book on a site called Smashwords.com to students and military personnel for $.99 between now and 11/11/11 (cool date huh?). So if you know anyone in the service or school they can download an electronic version by going to: http://www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=In+The+Shadow+of+Babylon and at checkout enter the code: EB99P. The book is available in the following formats:

Online Reading (HTML, good for sampling in web browser)
Online Reading (JavaScript, experimental, buggy)
Kindle (.mobi for Kindle devices and Kindle apps)
Epub (Apple iPad/iBooks, Nook, Sony Reader, Kobo, and most e-reading apps including Stanza, Aldiko, Adobe Digital Editions, others)
PDF (good for reading on PC, or for home printing)
RTF (readable on most word processors)
LRF (Use only for older model Sony Readers that don't support .epub)
Palm Doc (PDB) (for Palm reading devices)
Plain Text (download) (flexible, but lacks much formatting)
Plain Text (view) (viewable as web page)

Of course it's still available on Amazon in the print version and for Kindle.

If you have read Babylon I would love to hear your honest comments either at the bottom of this blog or on the Amazon page. Also on the Amazon page you can click LIKE and a picture of the book and a short comment will automatically appear on your Facebook page.

Do buildings educate?

2011-09-13T09:22:00.000-07:00

I have always tried to keep this blog apolitical but after reading the following in Charles Payne's WStreet Market Commentary this morning I felt a strong need to pass this on. FYI... Charles Payne is a commentator on the FOX Business Channel. He is one of the few black financial commentators on Wall Street. The only reason I bring up his race is to re-enforce his comments in this article. He was raised in a lower middle class environment in NY and through hard work (flipping burgers at McDonalds at night) education and a drive to succeed managed to work his way into the top tier of American Financial guru's.

WStreet Market Commentary

9/13/2011

"We can't expect our kidsto do their best in places that are literally falling apart. This is America.Every kid deserves a great school ˜ and we can give it to them."

-President Obama in Rose Gardenyesterday pushing the American Jobs Act

So, we can't expect kids to dotheir best unless their schools have science labs, computers, and whiteboards.That stuff is nice to have, but to say we can't expect the best from our kidsunless they're going to pristine-looking schools underscores the biggestproblem with the nation today. There are too many excuses for failure. Thenotion here is kids in poorer schools should be forgiven for subpar grades evenif it's more a function of subpar efforts on homework, subpar input fromparents, subpar expectations in the community, and subpar use of tools forlesser results.

Don't get me wrong, I recentlyleft the board of a charter school because of foot-dragging on a new building,but that's because the school shares a building with three other publicschools. I wasn't worried about the physical structure as much as the mentalityof children not in our school. This is classic victim pandering/creation thatsays everyone unemployed more than two years hasn't turned down a jobconsidered beneath them or paying less than their benefits. Instead, everyoneis a victim and should be coddled and pitied until they can get back on theirfeet.

I wonder if any of these greatAmerican writers went to schools with whiteboards and computers: ErnestHemingway, John Steinbeck, Mark Twain, Tennessee Williams, Richard Wright, MayaAngelou, Edgar Allen Poe, William Faulkner, Herman Melville, Kurt Vonnegut, F.Scott Fitzgerald, or Walt Whitman. I know class size and snazzy electronicstuff helps, but to say we shouldn't expect great things from children unlessthey have that stuff is nuts. But, it's part and parcel of the narrative offairness and it's supposed impact on our society, where subpar effort isexpected, even considered noble. Instead of being a motivator, not havingthings is considered a good enough reason for not doing things.

This is absolutely backwardthinking. I heard a commercial on the radio today for people on food stamps andWIC to get their free cell phone and 250 minutes of free air time. This is whatsome people consider social justice, but it's nothing more than another part ofthe victim trap that tells the recipient they deserve certain things simplybecause they have less than others while telling those that have even a modicumof success it's their role to pay up so others can get free cell phones. It'smore a nail in the coffin of poor people in the sense their circumstances aremade more comfortable and they believe others owe them something.

This victim syndrome seeks tosnare more and more people into its net, hence the unyielding use of the wordfair, and at the same time attempts to shame those that have the gall oraudacity to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps. Of course we can expectour kids to do their best as their parents did without computers and theirparents before them with fewer books and their parents before them who oftenlearned by candlelight. What they all had in common was expectations to dotheir best. What they all had in common was a no excuses policy.   How do youlook a ten year old kid in the face and say it's okay you are falling behindbecause you're school is old the desks are old and there are no computers?  Isthis leadership? Is this how we fight back? Chinese kids are blowing Americankids out of the water and it's not because they have better looking schools, asI'm sure they do not. They have a type of determination that is not onlyfailing to be taught, but is being ridiculed, in America. I think everyAmerican kid should have a great school, but not having it should not be a copout for not demanding they learn and excel. What the hell happened to theaudacity of hope? There are parallel crises going on right now but the shortand long-term are intertwined around things like spending and debt. The shortand long-term challenges also revolve around education. Folks, we aren'tprepared, and I can tell you right now telling kids it's okay not to beprepared will have disastrous results.   15 year old kids in Slovenia rankhigher than American kids in math and science. We must demand our kids do theirbest and forget the pity party and victimization stuff.

Cascade alpine lakes

2011-08-30T15:54:00.000-07:00

It's difficult to say Thank You when you're not sure who to thank. In my last post I introduced you to my book on Amazon called IN THE SHADOW OF BABYLON (http://www.amazon.com/Shadow-Babylon-John-M-Schwartz/dp/146110713X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1313419040&sr=1-1) This was a little over a week ago. This morning the book ranked 65,300 on Amazon's list of 750,000 titles. I know this may not seem like much but here's another way to look at it. This morning there were 685,000 authors who would have traded places with me! Because I can't identify those of you who have purchased the book, I'll thank all of you hoping, of course, that those who have not yet had time to get a copy will do so soon. It's available in print and on Kindle.

*************************************************************************

I have lived and worked in many places both here and abroad. For much of my business life I have been fortunate to have the freedom to live and work from pretty much anywhere. To me (and Jill) there is no better place to spend the summer and fall than in Central Oregon... specifically the Bend-Sisters-Sunriver corridor.

This morning the sky was filled with smoke from four forest fires burning 50 miles north of Bend on the Warm Springs Indian Reservation. To escape the smoke we decided to head up into the Sisters Wilderness area (about 30 miles west of where we are parked in our RV) and take a hike to a series of alpine lakes in the Cascade mountains. We've done many hikes in the area but somehow we've missed this one. Imagine our delight when it turned out to be the best hike either of us had ever taken! I won't bore you writing about it... I'll let the photos make the case.

Island of wildflowers

Close to the tree line

Ancient Lava flow dams the stream

Late blooming lupines

The trail follows Fall Creek
which runs down from the
Three Sisters Mountains
cluster including a mountain
called Broken Top. The
stream is filled with waterfalls (hence FALL creek) and the banks lined
with forest

Lots of falls

Giant trees line the trail

The destination Green Lake at the base of Brokentop Mountain

In The Shadow of Babylon

2011-08-22T12:28:00.000-07:00

Friends ... Many of you have been following my blog for several years. This time however I have added many more readers. If you would prefer not to receive 'Free Grain" please let me know and I will remove you from the list.

Writing a novel is a very interesting process. The most gratifying part of it is having complete control over a universe created entirely by oneself. The power and tone of a subject's voice, hair color, age ... indeed, the success or failure, and life or death of the characters becomes almost surreal as one begins to embrace the god-like power of writing.
   The internet has dramatically changed the publishing business. In the traditional system an author searched and searched for an agent or publisher. This is an almost impossible process if one does not have connections. For example, the author of the Harry Potter series (best selling series ever) was rejected by 120 agents and publishers before being discovered by accident!
   After 60+ rejection slips, I decided to publish my first novel myself. Come to find out this is now de rigueur in the publishing world. Agents and publishers track sales of on-demand books and if they see one getting traction they might step in and sign the author to a contract and invest in promoting the book.
   When I decided to self-publish I hired a professional book editor who has written 15 books (three of which made the New York Times best seller list). Here's what she had to say about In The Shadow of Babylon:
   The writing in In The Shadow of Babylon is truly lyrical. Yourcommand of the language and your ear for its nuances are both so finely tunedthat Ayuba’s story should instantly draw readers into his world. All of the descriptions,especially in terms of the settings, were remarkably vivid. (the Shale Sea wasone of my favorites; I could almost feel the heat shimmering off the ground.) The story of In the Shadow of Babylon followed Ayuba’s dramatic life and the discovery of his scrolls/“song”via a high-tension timeline that was both exciting and inspiring and at timeshumorous and heart-breaking.

Here's the book's promo copy:

   Could an ancient scroll discovered in a vault beneath Baghdad’s Azzohour Palace provide the answer to Iraq’s current crisis? The scroll—pre-dating Hammurabi’s Code by more than 7000 years—details the life of a shepherd who became the founder of a country that existed and thrived in pre-history. It may be the most profound archeological find ever.
   Shortly after the first Gulf War, an ancient gold-paneled tomb is discovered in Baghdad. Dr. Elman Darshi, the world’s leading Sumerian language authority, is ordered by Saddam to translate the find. Warned of Saddam’s paranoia over ancient prophecies, the professor smuggles his translation to his daughter, Alexandria, a doctoral student at University of California, Berkeley. Shortly after completing the translation, Dr. Darshi, his wife, and youngest daughter disappear.
When Iraq is liberated and Saddam deposed, the secret tomb is rediscovered. Only Alexandria can read the esoteric writing inscribed on its walls. Together with Dr. Ibrahim Feroz, a young and handsome associate professor at University of Chicago, they present the ancient poem, called The Song of Ayuba, to the world on a global National Geographic TV special.
   When the inscribed panels are removed from the underground crypt, a scroll encased in an urn is discovered. It is an autobiography of a warrior poet named Ayuba and proves to be the oldest writing in the world. Publication of the scroll reveals profound life lessons that foment fear and anger in radical Muslims and hope for the majority throughout the Middle East.
   Ayuba’s message makes In the Shadow of Babylon hard to put down—each page reveals a new adventure brimming with danger. Ayuba’s message echoes through several millennium. A stanza of his epic poem inscribed on the gold panels now on display in the Museum of Ancient History located on the ruins of the storied city of Babylon sums up the vision of his life—

Sleep, and in the veil of night
Dream of valor in the light
When comes the awakening dawn
It is your dreams you act upon

   In The Shadow of Babylon is now available on Amazon in print or Kindle. To review, or order please go to Amazon by clicking on the Amazon box at the top of this page or through your browser. Search for Babylon, John Schwartz. (It's important to include my name as there are several "Babylon" books and one that actually has the same title).

   The preferred way to buy is through my publisher as I get more exposure with mainstream publishers from orders placed at:
https://www.createspace.com/3597286

   If you would like a signed 1st edition please send a check for $24 (includes shipping and handling) to the publisher. Make sure to include your return address.

Publisher

JOSS International Inc
2533 N Carson Street
Suite 2592
Carson City, Nevada 89706

   Should you decide to read In The Shadow of Babylon I will be eternally grateful. Should you recommend it to everyone on your e-mail list or post it on your Facebook page, my appreciation will border on the intensity of sexual delight. Should you Twitter Ayuba or form a book club and include Oprah, my delight will be beyond orgasmic, assuming there is such a place!

The most important part of publishing, like selling any other product, is positive word of mouth! If you like the book please tell your friends ... organic growth is what makes or breaks a book.

Ride Across The Sky

2011-08-15T09:41:00.000-07:00

There are many challenges in life. Some, like disease or a car wreck or unexpected business failure, come out of nowhere and we all handle them to the best of our ability.

Other challenges are ones we set for ourselves. I'm not talking about "goals", although that's certainly part of a challenge, I'm talking about challenges that border on the edge of impossibility when one sets them but are, nevertheless, accepted and attempted. Goals on steroids!

The look of success

About a year ago our son Allen (48) decided to set a challenge for himself to compete in the "Leadville 100 Mountain Bike Race Across the Sky".

Leadville is the highest incorporated city in North America at 10,152 ft (3,094M). It is located in the heart of the Rocky Mountains about 100 miles from Denver.

The race attracts some of the world's leading road and mountain bike riders. Levi Leippheimer holds the record set last year taking it from Lance Armstrong who set the record the previous year (finishing the final 7 miles with a flat tire).

Allen trained incredibly hard over the last 10 months with the aid of a professional trainer. Daily, his trainer located in Colorado and a Leadville racer and Iron Woman Champion herself, took his training stats online from a GPS unit attached to his chest as he trained in Oregon. Over this time period he rode more than 3500 miles.

On August 13th Jill and I along with Allen's wife and youngest daughter, his sister and niece were at the starting line in Leadville at 6:30AM. Allen's neighbor, training partner and Oregon coach, Greg Domenichinni was there to meet Allen at various checkpoints to encourage him and resupply his water and energy needs.

Last minute advice from Greg 6:15 AM

To get into the race one must enter a lottery. Believe it or not over 7,000 riders from around the world entered. Only 1,900 were selected and 1,600 actually started the race. To receive the coveted silver and gold "Race Across The Sky" belt buckle one must finish in under 9 hours. To be rewarded the silver buckle one must finish under 12 hours. If a rider has not finished in 13 hours they are asked to leave the course. 1,276 riders finished under 12 hours. Allen's goal was to finish under 11 hours... he finished in 10 hours and 31 minutes with an average speed of 9.5 mph and placed 651st out of 1,600.

This incredible result was achieved despite discovering a few miles into the race that he had no rear brake... none, nada, zippo. This greatly reduced his downhill speed as he had to constantly "feather" his front brake to control his speed and keep from running up on other competitors or dropping over the edge of a cliff.

Check point with only 40 miles to go!

Here's some things that will help put this remarkable achievement into perspective. The race peaked at 12,600 ft. (3,840M) at the Columbine Mine. Over the one hundred mile (161km) distance, the riders climbed a total 13,000 vertical ft. (3,962m). The grade in some sections was so steep the riders had to dismount and carry their bikes on their shoulders. Riders must finish the race with the bike they started with and must do their own repairs along the way, although they can get parts and tools from their support team.

Oh, I almost forgot... Allen only has one totally functioning leg. The other was damaged in a surgery a few years ago when a spinal cord tumor was removed. The injured leg functions at best about 40%. Although you'd never hear it from him you should also know that due to some digestive surgery a few years back he needs to take in roughly 40% more fluids to stay hydrated... a critical component in a race at this altitude.

I can, I know I can! Staying focused

10 hrs and 31 minutes later ... Success!

Wife Susan and daughter Kate at the finish

Coach, friend and neighbor Greg

Support team L to R: John, Jill, Susan, Greg, Kate, Allen, Leslie, Laurel

CONGRATULATIONS ALLEN
Silver Buckle Winner
Leadville 100 MTB 2011
"Race Across the Sky"

On And Off The Road!

2011-05-29T09:48:00.000-07:00

When I first met Jill she was the shyest person I'd ever met. Not only was she shy, she would break out into terminal sweats if embarrassed. When we started traveling togerther in Asia she would often sit through a complete interminable meal with clients without saying a word. I used to tease her that she needs to take a bath in antiperspirant just to get through the day... my, my times have changed.

A couple of weeks ago we drove to Vegas to see my brother and sister-in-law. You may recall that my brother had a massive heart attack last October. He is doing amazingly well. He looks great and has a very positive attitude.

While in Vegas we went to see Jill's favorite performer, the illusionist David Copperfield. Toward the end of the show he threw 13 beach balls out into the crowd to randomly select the people who would participate in the final illusion. The balls were batted around and, like musical chairs, when the music stopped those holding a ball were selected. There was only one caveat ... the person with a ball had to speak English. A Chinese man at the table behind us caught one of the balls. When Jill realized that the man didn't speak English she leapt over the table and grabbed the wicked sphere and bounded to the stage. So much for terminal shyness.

We happened to be in Vegas during spring break so most of the audience consisted of young people in tee shirts and shorts. Naturally Jill was looking hot in a bright green top with sequins and slacks. It didn't take Copperfield a nanosecond to move Jill front and center in the elevated platform where all 13 participants were seated. My shy bride was beaming in the stage lights ... remember this is a woman who gets hot flashes when asked to introduce herself at a quilters club.

After a bunch of dramatization during which Jill and a couple of others were handed flashlights to shine out over the audience, suddenly canvas curtains encompassed the platform but the flashlights were still visible ... then (drum roll please) ... the curtains were raised and all 13 people were gone ... poof I lost my wife and best friend! Within a second or two of the empty platform's reappearance, sans people, the entire group of 13 appeared at the back of the auditorium with flashlights shining.

Of course you are all breathless in anticipation of learning how one of these incredible illusions actually happens ... I mean after all we know someone who was made to dis- and re-appear in front of several hundred people. Perhaps I forgot to tell you that in addition to being shy (or formerly shy) Jill is the most honest person I have ever met - opposites do indeed attract!

When asked, in a sweet melodic voice, by a cute 10-year old girl as we exited the auditorium "Miss can you tell me what happened when you disappeared?" Jill put her arm around her and whispered 'it's magic". The wide-eyed girl giggled as she ran off to join her parents. And that folks is all you or I, her trusted (or so I thought) friend, will ever know because Jill gave her word to Copperfield and that folks is not magic ... it's character.

Although I'm not a fan of General Lud, the founder of the Luddite movement in the early 1800s who organized workers to destroy the machines that were replacing workers during what we now call the industrial revolution, I have to admit there are times I sympathize with those who lived through those tumultuous times. For example I'm fed up with Facebook. Actually I'm fed up with people who think you should know things about their life simply because they posted it on Facebook. Give me a break. I have 4 e-mail addresses and work for 4 separate companies. I have 3 kids with spouses and 8 grandchildren and hundreds of friends and colleagues spread across the globe. I do not have time to read everyone's Facebook, let alone mine. I'm very disappointed that one on my kids (who shall remain nameless) had a major activity this weekend (one that I have always taken a great deal of interest in) and assumed everyone would know it was happening because ..."Gee Dad it's on Facebook." Maybe it's age or simply becoming overwhelmed with all of the STUFF that supposedly makes life easier. But what's the point if it replaces human to human contact. No I am not a Luddite but possibly a Lud-lite!

On the road again

I know it's been awhile since I posted but to say we've been busy would be an understatement of biblical proportions. We are fully moved into our new place in Palm Desert. All settled and now we're leaving ... does that make sense to anyone? We leave next Wednesday with the big rig for our son's place in McMinnville. If all goes well we will get there in time for our granddaughter Kate's graduation from high school. Did any of us realize what a big event graduation was when going through it? Sure we were excited and possibly a little drunk but did we actually grasp what a seminal moment it was? To many it's one of those transitory events that lays down a marker in your life's story ... sort of an adult launch. I know Kate will understand the significance because she is a person who is aware ... tuned in ... and has a maturity well beyond her years. I'm looking forward to watching her life progress, it will be not only be interesting but magnificent.

A conversation with another grandchild, Laurel who is attending the University of Minnesota studying Clinical Psychology, that got me to thinking about all of the jobs I've had. Laurel is working two jobs and taking a full load of credits ... she understands the meaning of sacrifice and success. Laurel has worked as a babysitter, housekeeper, caregiver, waitress, etc. Anyhow I decided to list every job that I was paid to do. Whew ... I'm sure I've left something out but it doesn't seem possible. It's a fun project, give it a try.

These are in no particular order.

Baby Sitter

Cacti...who knew?

Lawn Mower
Snow Chain Installer
Paper Boy
Boxcar Unloader
Taco Maker
Stucco Bag Filler
Water Truck Driver
Country Western DJ
Rock and Roll DJ
Radio Ads Salesman
Radio Wedding Sales Programmer
Radio Station Music Director
Cotton Candy Maker
Warehouse Assistant
Store Detective Savon Drug
Pulp Lumber Jack

Sunrise in Palm Desert

Roofer
Heavy Truck Operator
Crane Operator
Missile Guidance Control Specialist
Electronic Tech B-52 Bomber
Nuclear Med Trainer
Assembly Line Paper Wrapper
Retail Milkman (door to door)
Commercial Milk Delivery Driver
Produce Clerk
Chicken Ranch Owner
Aluminum Fabricator Shop Owner
Charter Fishing Boat Owner
Talent Agency Owner
Trimaran Charter Owner

Hummingbird Nest
(Size of a Quarter)
Palm Desert House

Retail Dental Sales Rep
Mortgage Broker
Sales Training Director
National Marketing Mgr
National Retail Sales Mgr
National School Sales Mgr
National Wholesale Marketing Mgr
Latin American Sales Mgr
Company Director
Pharmaceutical Sales
Bead Importer and Reseller
Director International Marketing X 2
Asia Regional Sales Representative
Publisher
Tee shirt/bikini/pitching machine/smoked salmon Salesman
Asia Rep for Swiss Co
President Dallas Company
Paint Company Founder
Paint Company VP
Business Development VP
Hydrogen Fuel Conversion Start-up Founder
Editorial Assistant
Author
Poet
Bowling Pin Setter
Emissions Tester
Fry Cook
McDonald's Worker
Racehorse Vet Researcher
Vineyard Developer/ Owner
Independent Sales Rep

No wonder my hair is grey!

Genes and things

2011-03-24T19:22:00.000-07:00

Sneak peak of new digs

Sneak peak new digs

Sarah

Good news ... we are all but closed on our new home here in Palm Desert. OK I can hear old friends saying here he goes again ... poor Jill she is so patient to put up with his inability to stay in one place let alone keep a car for more than a year. I disagree (of course) about the poor Jill bit the rest may have some merit depending on how one looks at it. Personally I think life is a series of adventures both large and small. Changing houses is a small adventure, having children a grand one in the overall scheme of things.

As those of you who have adult children know there are often some very surprising and delightful things that happen when your kids have kids. One of our eight grandchildren is a twenty year old student at Biola University in So. California. In addition to being a kind and loving person she's a fantastic student and pretty darn nice looking too.

OK I promise I will not break out the Super 8 videos from the attic and bore you with the early days in Sarah's life ... instead I would like you to read a poem she wrote recently after having dinner in LA with her uncle, our youngest son, Johnee. Keep in mind that Sarah was raised in McMinnville Oregon on a farm that has been in her mothers family for over 100 years.

************************************************

well toto, we aren’t in McMinnville anymore

I think to myself as I slide into this diner booth, sitting facing you

you with the laugh that sounds so much like mine

the lights of Sunset Boulevard flash outside this hole in the wall

as we tell each other things only the other could understand

laughing until we can’t breathe, reliving all the moments that tie our lives together

we are the strange ones in this diner filled with the hip, the alternative

with hair the same color as the neon signs that decorate this street

and clothes that look like they were stolen from the closets of circus players

you are simple in your suit, tired but still smiling after a hard days work

I am lucky to steal a few moments with you here in this vibrant strange city

you pay the bill and suddenly we are one with the boulevard, zipping down the street

headed towards your home so carefully tucked beneath the Hollywood sign

I look up and try to find the stars, but this city is too bright

even the heavens stopped trying to compete

New York may never sleep, but Los Angeles never stops humming

and I’m not sure I belong here in this neon city

filled with people all looking for something

all wanting to be that something

but then you look at me and smile, and I think

maybe for now, belonging with you is enough

*************************************

Uncle Nortz

I did not ask permission to share this which may get me in trouble ... but hey, it's what proud grandparents do. By the way Uncle Johnee is known in the family as 'uncle Nortz ...don't ask. He and Sarah have a unique relationship that the rest of us can only cherish and encourage.

(Note: As you can see I can't figure out how to control the type fonts in this program...help!)

Daughter Leslie on the farm in North Dakota (she's the one in pink)

Present moment interruptus

2011-03-10T21:56:00.000-08:00

I used to be angry at my dad for not having much money. I could not, for the life of me, figure out how he could have lived through the electrification of America, the rise of the automobile, radio, TV and air travel and not have capitalized on these world-changing events. I mean, think about it... he was born in a cabin with no electricity and rode a horse to school. There were no planes, little electricity, and few cars... he was very smart and well read but ended up driving a truck. How could anyone miss out on such an abundance of opportunities?

Notice I said I USED to be angry. I got over it when I realized all that I've lived through and how many opportunities I have failed to capitalize on in my lifetime. I'm sitting in an RV surrounded by technology that has been invented and commercialized in my lifetime, none of which I was smart enough to have made a nickel on. I have a MiFi, i-Phone, Smart Phone, laser printer, fax, scanner, 2 computers, cable TV, satellite TV, 2 flat panels and one regular TV, hi-speed cable, 2 i-Pods, 3 GPS units, surround sound, infra-red headphones, 2 Kindles, a Bone Anchored Hearing Apparatus, radar detector and satellite radio. I have access to the world via cell phone and internet while sitting in my recliner.

I used to believe the reason my dad failed to take advantage of the technologies that were popularized in his lifetime was due to the fact that he might have been distracted by two world wars, the great depression, and the Korean and Vietnam wars. But I've come to the conclusion that the reason most people miss out on the financial opportunities that inevitably accompany new technologies is because they become enamored with the results... the personal benefits the technology makes in their lives, that they don't even think about the possibility of how they can profit financially at the same time.

The above was going to be the intro to an entire blog about present-moment living. Unfortunately the present moments have interfered and I'm going to have to cut this short and load up some photos instead. The intrusive present moments include the launch of a lifesaving dental X-ray device by an important client, the possible sale of my paint company client, and a VERY successful test of our hydrogen client's revolutionary 'hydrogen from water' technology. All of this has created a lot of demands on our time. Add to this the fact that today we finalized an offer on a new home here in the desert and perhaps I can be forgiven for taking the easy way out on this post.

Mission at Santa Barbara


Spring duckies

Chapel

Snow view from our RV

Tram to the top of Sam Jacinto

Dramatic views on the ride up the mountain

Don and Mary-jo Jill's Brother and Sister-in-law

This is what a REAL oasis looks like

Movie star

Desert painting

698 days left of this economic terrorist

You're in the Army now!

2011-02-13T18:46:00.000-08:00

Alex and Baba

You know how you occasionally get a tune in your head that, no matter how hard you try, you just can't get rid of it? It just keeps playing over and over. For the last week I keep hearing the old WWII song;

"You're in the army now.
You're not behind a plow.
You'll never get rich,
you son of a bitch.
You're in the army now."

This was, no doubt, stimulated by the fact that our oldest grandchild joined the army last week. Alex is 21 and, after attending college for three years, decided he needed to refocus and do something different. Much to his credit he chose to serve his country and at the same time get a bit of discipline in his life. Alex's decision was a bit of a wake up call for the family and caused some reflection on how fast life passes and how, most of that time, we are unaware of its velocity and how we often fail to appreciate its momentous events.

Alex was born in 1989 in Hong Kong. At that time our entire family was involved in building a publishing company. Alex's parents worked in the company as did our son Allen. Johnee was still in school but acted as our 'gopher' when he was in HK during summer break. Although Jill and I lived in HK we happened to be back in the States taking care of some family business when Alex was born. I first held Alex in the Victoria Hotel located on the harbor in HK after flying in shortly after he was born. I was jet lagged and he and I fell asleep with him on my chest while visiting with his parents... a fond memory indeed.

Both Alex and his sister (our second grandchild) were born in HK. Evidence of that is a small tattoo they each got on their foot when they were in their late teens that says "Made in China". Cute huh?

Alex grew up on farms in the Dakotas and spent many hours "behind a plow' so perhaps that's why the old song resonates with me. Of course, plowing today is a bit different than it was in the 30's and 40's (WWII). Most of the tractors Alex drove had air conditioning, some with GPS and often satellite radio. I was, of course, delighted when I learned that he often listened to talk radio to offset the monotony of plowing. I'm sure he, like others his age, listened to lots of RAP; but the fact that he also chose to educate himself about politics pleased me greatly.

So he is "in the army now and not behind a plow." To those who say "how can you be happy that your grandson is joining the army when the country is at war?" I say, should I be happy that someone else's grandson is serving instead? I'm proud of Alex like I'm proud of all who serve. Hoo Ha!!!

Lisa making a yum yum breakfast

Jill and I spent three days in Santa Barbara last week where we were involved in filming a short product video for a client. It was the first time we'd spent any significant time there. What a beautiful place! It has it all... mountains, beaches, charm and sophistication. Unlike many of California's post modern communities, Santa Barbara has a history that dates back to the 1600s as evidenced by its old mission. Did I mention the weather ... February, mid-60's with bright sun! May not be as warm as the desert where we are staying, but certainly warm enough when compared to the ice covered rest of the country. Try it, you will like it.

Jill and Jasper

On the way home we stopped by Johnee and Lisa's for a visit and to hug the wee ones.

Our semi-retirement has gotten a bit 'unretired' lately as three of our clients have suddenly become much more active. Sadly, this means far less time on the golf course. We did, however, manage to sneak in a round last week. We got teamed up with two middle-aged women. When I saw them trundling up to the first tee in their cart I thought "Oh no, this is going to be a very slow round."

Sue, the larger of the two .. that's a bit of an understatement... a widow who lives here full time was accompanied by Fran, a trim looking Canadian widow who spends winters here in her home across from Sue. At first I thought Fran had had a laryngectomy, because her voice sounded like a bunch of boulders rattling around the bed of a truck. Later, as we watched her smoke her way through the round, we decided it was just an extreme smoker's voice.

Those of you have played golf with me know that I struggle getting any distance (or accuracy for that matter) off the tee. "Well," thought I smugly, "at least I won't be sissy-short-hitter with this group. Jill may out drive me but surely not these two babes." God, I hate golf. Fragile Fran stepped up to the tee and powdered the ball straight down the middle about 200 yards. Passed my wimpy shot while still on the fly. Saggy Sue was next. Although not as long as Fran, she made solid contact and her drive scooted 10 yards past mine. Jill, now a bit intimidated, stepped up and hit a solid shot past Sue but well behind Fran. At this point I seriously thought about pretending to get a text message requiring me to pick someone up at the airport. The only redeeming thing about the round was that I think I actually ended up with the best score (can't be sure as I only know the scores for Jill and me) overall.

Snow capped mountains in the distance

This is what a REAL desert oasis looks like!

Yesterday we took a great hike to Pushwalla Palms Oasis. It was a grueling two and a half hour hike over pretty rough terrain but the view made it all worthwhile.

Getting screwed!

2011-01-28T20:55:00.000-08:00

OK enough is enough. I know I am mostly responsible for all of the jokes about my ear... or, more accurately, my implant. Comments such as "John got screwed" or "has a screw loose" etc. So here's the final thing I'm going to say about "the ear".

About 10 days ago I went to LA to the House Ear Clinic, which is rated as the leading ear research institute in the USA. After interminable bureaucratic delays that turned my 45 minute procedure into a 9 hour ordeal, I was finally wheeled into the operating room. I chose not to have general anesthesia as I was very interested in the process so I had a local instead. It's pretty interesting to hear someone crank up the ole Craftsman power drill and begin drilling a hole in your head. This happened with three different drill bits, each a bit larger than the last. Once the hole was finished, the next sound was that of a ratchet screwing the titanium implant into the bone.

I couldn't see a thing but could hear everything. Dr. House told Jill after it was over..."He really asked a lot of questions." Indeed, who wouldn't when someone is drilling a hole in your head.

Now all I have to do is wait a couple of months for my skull to embrace the titanium threads on the implant so it will transmit sound on my deaf side through the skull to my good ear.

So that's it. Here's a gross looking picture. Within a week or so my hair should grow out and eventually when the transmitter is in place it will look like this.

I was fortunate to have been invited to a discussion group last week at a good friend's house in La Quinta. This is the same concept as the group I belong to in Oregon. It's rare to be able to spend an evening with thoughtful people who can discuss what are often contentious issues with clarity and thoughtfulness. The subject for the evening's discussion was American Exceptionalism—Fact or Fantasy.

Coincidentally, the day after this lively conversation I received the following about Thomas Jefferson. His life makes the case that America was founded by an exceptional group of fearless patriots. When you compare Jefferson with our current leaders (both sides) it makes one wonder if we still have the ability to be exceptional. Personally, I believe we do but it will be a near run thing.

Thomas Jefferson was a remarkable man who started learning very early in life and never stopped.

At 5, began studying under his cousin's tutor.
At 9, studied Latin, Greek, and French.
At 14, studied classical literature and additional languages.
At 16, entered the College of William and Mary.
At 19, studied law for 5 years starting under George Wythe.
At 23, started his own law practice.
At 25, was elected to the Virginia House of Burgesses.
At 31, wrote the widely circulated "Summary View of the
Rights of British America" and retired from his law practice.
At 32, was a Delegate to the Second Continental Congress.
At 33, wrote the Declaration of Independence.
At 33, took three years to revise Virginia's legal code and
wrote a Public Education Bill and a statute for Religious Freedom
At 36, was elected the second Governor of Virginia succeeding
Patrick Henry.
At 40, served in Congress for two years.
At 41, was the American minister to France and negotiated
commercial treaties with European nations along with Ben Franklin and John
Adams.
At 46, served as the first Secretary of State under George Washington.
At 53, served as Vice President and was elected president of
the American Philosophical Society.
At 55, drafted the Kentucky Resolutions and became the active
head of the Republican Party.
At 57, was elected the third president of the United States.
At 60, obtained the Louisiana Purchase doubling the nation's size.
At 61, was elected to a second term as President.
At 65, retired to Monticello.
At 80, helped President Monroe shape the Monroe Doctrine.
At 81, almost single-handedly created the University of
Virginia and served as its first president.
At 83, died on the 50th anniversary of the signing of the
Declaration of Independence along with John Adams.

Thomas Jefferson studied the previous failed
attempts at government. He understood actual history and the nature of man.
That happens to be way more than what most understand today.

Jefferson really knew his stuff. A voice from the past to lead us in the future:

"When we get piled upon one another in large cities, as in Europe, we
shall become as corrupt as Europe."
   Thomas Jefferson

"The democracy will cease to exist when you take away from those who are
willing to work and give to those who would not."
   Thomas Jefferson

"It is incumbent on every generation to pay its own debts as it goes. A
principle which if acted on would save one-half the wars of the world."
   Thomas Jefferson

"I predict future happiness for Americans if they can prevent the
government from wasting the labors of the people under the pretense of
taking care of them."
   Thomas Jefferson

"My reading of history convinces me that most bad government results from
too much government."
   Thomas Jefferson

"No free man shall ever be debarred the use of arms."
   Thomas Jefferson

"The strongest reason for the people to retain the right to keep and bear
arms is, as a last resort, to protect themselves against tyranny in government."
   Thomas Jefferson

"The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood
of patriots and tyrants."
   Thomas Jefferson

"To compel a man to subsidize with his taxes the propagation of ideas
which he disbelieves and abhors is sinful and tyrannical."
   Thomas Jefferson

"I believe that banking institutions are more dangerous to our liberties
than standing armies. If the American people ever allow private banks to
control the issue of their currency, first by inflation, then by deflation,
the banks and corporations that will grow up around the banks will deprive
the people of all property - until their children wake up homeless on the
continent their fathers conquered."
   Thomas Jefferson

John F. Kennedy held a dinner in the White House for a group of the
brightest minds in the nation at that time. He made this statement, "This
is perhaps the assembly of the most intelligence ever to gather at one time
in the White House with the exception of when Thomas Jefferson dined alone."

A made golfer

2011-01-09T21:44:00.000-08:00

When Jill and I play golf we prefer to play as a twosome unless we're playing with friends. Many people enjoy having the Pro Shop match them up with another couple so they meet new people. Unfortunately, we're both so insecure about our games that we prefer playing alone. Well I guess that's not the only reason... when you play with strangers you can't take various deities' names in vain, throw clubs, or beat your fists on the roof of the cart... gee golf is fun.

Yesterday we were scheduled to tee off alone at a local course. The Pro Shop assured us we could play alone. We were in our cart next to the tee box chatting with the starter while we waited for the foursome in front of us to advance to the green. The starter was a fellow about 75 who could barely fit into the cart he was so large... okay, fat. He was wheezing on about the features of the course when a cart pulled up behind us. The starter jumped out of the cart like a gazelle and ran back to the cart behind us yelling "Johnny, Johnny welcome back." We were both stunned by the sudden feat of athleticism.

Johnny turned out to be an 80-year old guy with a greasy comb over. I turned to Jill with a knowing look. Sure enough the starter dragged Johnny up to our cart saying... "You folks wouldn't mind playing with Johnny would you? He's a great guy!" What are you going to say... ah, no thanks, we prefer to play alone... or... sorry we don't have any emergency oxygen in the cart... or... sorry we're not CPR certified. Nope, you just smile and say "Of course we'd be glad to play with Johnny" as you shake hands and introduce yourself. "Pleesed ta meet ya" Johnny growls with an Italian Boston accent.

Being a polite sort of person, I insist that Johnny tee off first. He's pretty fit looking in his black pants, matching black nylon golf shirt, and white Nike sneakers. When he swings I hear Jill let out a gasp behind me as I watch his ball sail 175 yards down the right side of the fairway. I'm doing all I can not to laugh. Johnny has the most unusual golf swing we have ever seen. Instead of bringing the club back behind his head before his down swing he brings it back then loops it in front of his face then snaps it down with his wrist... wham... solid ball contact and a decent drive.

After a couple of holes we strike up a conversation. Johnny tells us he was in the construction trade in Boston for 40 years... or fotty years. He also tells us he's a good friend of John Daley and rides the tour bus with him. Indeed, he claims Daley is like a son to him. Johnny sounds like Joe Pesci in Goodfellas. I mention this and he smiles saying he is a good friend with Pesci and often cooks for him and his New Jersey cronies. This guy is getting interesting.

Eventually, after listening to how he started as a bricklayer and became a contractor, building over 100 commercial buildings in the Boston area, I open my big mouth and say... "Must have been pretty tough being in the trades in Boston... you know,", I continue, "What with the mob and unions and all?" He gives me a squinty sort of look. In my normal unconscious manner I go on to say with a nervous laugh... "You're not Mafia are you?" Suddenly my good ear became aware of the stunning silence. I can hear birds breathing in their nests, worms digging in the ground, and the sound of my dying breath. Johnny gives me another squint and, holding up his hand with his index finger and thumb about two inches apart, says "Just a little bit," then mumbles "Ya know they're pretty good guys." How the hell do you respond to that? Gee, I bet they are great, in fact I once met one selling drugs at the local grammer school? Or... I love the way they employ all those runaway girls in bars as pole dancers... hmm maybe that's the kind of buildings ole Johnny built.

Jill and I are no longer focusing on our games. Instead we're quietly speculating on ole Johnny... is he a made man? Where did he get such a strange swing... was it to avoid dislodging the Glock under his shirt? Finally we calm down and decide ole Johnny is probably just a bullshitter. Then on the 17th tee, while waiting on the group ahead, I hear the theme song from the movie The Godfather coming from somewhere nearby. When you can only hear from one ear, you can't tell where sounds are coming from so I spin around looking for the source in time to see Johnny flipping open his phone... the phone with The Godfather ring tone... BADA BING!

Here are some Christmas pics and a couple of photos from a recent hike.

Lisa with a Contego jacket

Johnny, Jasper, and Johnee's mom Patty

Jasper driving Baba's truck

Immi looking cute

Cove to Lake trail

Oasis on Cove to Lake trail

A solution wrapped in lettuce leaves

2010-12-27T14:29:00.000-08:00

I'm humbled by the number of requests I've had to re-post the following commentary on how to solve the illegal alien problem. It seems that many would like to forward this to their congressmen without the travel portion of the original post. I've added a couple of items but otherwise the following is in it's original form. You can forward it by simply clicking on the envelope symbol at the bottom of the post and filling in the appropriate e-addresses.

In a recent report, the children of Shanghai, the largest city in China, ranked first in the world in math, science, and reading. The United States ranked 33rd in reading, 25th in math, and 17th in science.

Makes me want to barf.

Here's an idea that might solve our educational deficit as well as the 9.6% unemployment problem.

There are estimated 14 million illegal immigrants in this country. The cost of educating, feeding, and incarcerating this group of law breakers is anywhere between 100 and 300 BILLION dollars, depending on whose figures you use. In California alone the average tax-paying family pays $1500 per year to support the illegals in that state. That's FIFTEEN HUNDRED DOLLARS!

Ahhh you say, but look at all the cheap labor. Look at the perfectly trimmed lawns, the well serviced hotel rooms, the low cost of produce. This leads me to my point... no one knows the true cost of a head of lettuce or a well manicured lawn because anytime the government gets involved in a segment of the free market economy it distorts the market to such a degree that no one can figure out what the real cost or profit is

Like you, I have heard, and indeed have bought into, the idea that the illegals in this country do the jobs Americans won't do. I agree... sort of.

The average cost of a head of lettuce (Dept. of Agriculture) is approximately 20 cents in the box in the field and roughly $1.00 at the store. The average lettuce picker makes about $8.25 per hour or roughly 6 cents per head of lettuce on the retail level. At that rate, of course, no one wants to pick lettuce. But the problem is, that's not the true cost. The true cost would incorporate the billions spent by the American taxpayer to support the cheap labor... remember, the government distorts the free market by allowing people to flood into the country illegally.

So, here's the plan... deport all of the illegals (wah, wah, wah, I hear you) and raise the wages paid to whatever level they need to be to attract labor. Let's say it takes an increase of 400%! Wow, pick lettuce for $33 an hour? If I was out of work, I'd jump at that. Let's be really careless and raise the rate by 600%... $50 per hour! Bet a lot of folks would love to earn that.

But what about the cost of lettuce? Will I ever be able to have a salad again if we pay the pickers $50 per hour? Let's see... if, at today's rate, the retail price of labor for a head of lettuce is 6 cents, the new price for labor would go up to 36 per head. So now your salad would cost $1.36.

In addition to creating millions - probably more than the 8 million - of new jobs that would bring our unemployment rate below 3%, our schools would be less crowded, the student-teacher ratio would decline, and instead of teaching English as a second language we could focus on science, reading, and math... and possibly teach a bit of Chinese.

Not only would the schools benefit, we'd have to shut down a few empty prisons and the emergency rooms in hospitals would be less crowded as would the hospitals. 80% of gang members in California are illegals, so presumably there would be considerably less violence and crime and the drug distribution channels would be decimated. And oh yes, the cost of healthcare would plummet because the lettuce pickers making $50 per hour could afford insurance.

Not to be over zealous, but we might even bring down the deficit by applying the 100/300 billion dollars we now pay to support criminals to our debt. In addition, we'd have a huge increase in tax revenue from 8 million well-paid lettuce pickers, drywall hangers, hotel maids, janitors, etc etc.

I realize that some bleeding hearts might be worried about the safety of the criminal deportees when they are returned to their own country. I firmly believe that most of those being deported are among the most courageous, determined, and decent citizens of their homelands who would do anything to support their families... indeed, I honor their fortitude and bravery. Nevertheless, they need to go.

I suggest that each deportee who has broken no US law (other than entering the country illegally) be given a stipend of $5,000 to help them relocate. This support allowance would be paid through banks in there home country and only to those who return home willingly without deportation. Those that need to be tracked down and deported would receive no benefit. Yes, this could cost as much as 25 billion dollars but it's a one-time cost and only a fraction of what it costs to maintain the "undocumented" in the USA.

Finally, I suspect that the influx of hard-working, courageous people into their own corrupt countries, who have seen how a successful country works, may have a salubrious affect on the villages and towns they once fled.

It goes without saying that this would only work if we secure our borders. Can you imagine the influx of experienced lettuce pickers once word got out about the higher wages being paid to pickers in the US!

Tamales and lettuce.

2010-12-10T20:38:00.000-08:00

Our park is on the border of the small towns of LaQuinta and Indio. LaQuinta is a land of gated communities, manicured lawns, fine homes filled with WASPS and Jews.

Indio, on the other hand, is predominately a working-class community filled with small homes, fast food restaurants, and Hispanics.

It's a nice diversity and satisfies whatever urge one wakes up with.

Yum Yum Tamale

This weekend the urge was for tamales. The annual Indio Tamale Festival, held just a few blocks from our place, attracts over 100,000 people. One booth alone sold over 6,000 tamales in two days. Having been raised in Southern California, I thought I knew all about tamales. My Mexican friends always had tamales for Christmas and I was often included. Boy was I mistaken... in addition to the standard chicken, pork, and beef tamales there were chocolate, strawberry, pineapple, vegetable, and many other flavors. Jill and I stuffed ourselves sampling as we wandered from booth to booth while listening to a Mariachi competition.

Lady Bliss

Funnel Cake

We topped this culinary orgasm with what Mexicans call a Funnel Cake. This is a pile of deep fried dough, about the size of a frisbee, hot from the grease, dusted with half of a box of powdered sugar!!!! It was a heart clogging afternoon but a delightful dip into diversity. The festival area was bracketed by a Mariachi stage on one end and a dance Pavilion on the other. It was interesting and blissful (until the heartburn set in).

Now for an awkward segue...

In a recent report, the children of Shanghai, the largest city in China, ranked first in the world in math, science, and reading. The United States ranked 33rd in reading, 25th in math, and 17th in science.

Makes me want to barf.

Here's an idea that might solve our educational deficit as well as the 9.6% unemployment problem.

There are estimated 14 million illegal immigrants in this country. The cost of educating, feeding, and incarcerating this group of law breakers is anywhere between 100 and 300 BILLION dollars, depending on whose figures you use. In California alone the average tax-paying family pays $1500 per year to support the illegals in that state. That's FIFTEEN HUNDRED DOLLARS!

Ahhh you say, but look at all the cheap labor. Look at the perfectly trimmed lawns, the well serviced hotel rooms, the low cost of produce. This leads me to my point... no one knows the true cost of a head of lettuce or a well manicured lawn because anytime the government gets involved in a segment of the free market economy it distorts the market to such a degree that no one can figure out what the real cost or profit is

Like you, I have heard, and indeed have bought into, the idea that the illegals in this country do the jobs Americans won't do. I agree... sort of.

The average cost of a head of lettuce (Dept. of Agriculture) is approximately 20 cents in the box in the field and roughly $1.00 at the store. The average lettuce picker makes about $8.25 per hour or roughly 6 cents per head of lettuce on the retail level. At that rate, of course, no one wants to pick lettuce. But the problem is, that's not the true cost. The true cost would incorporate the billions spent by the American taxpayer to support the cheap labor... remember, the government distorts the free market by allowing people to flood into the country illegally.

So, here's the plan... deport all of the illegals (wah, wah, wah, I hear you) and raise the wages paid to whatever level they need to be to attract labor. Let's say it takes an increase of 400%! Wow, pick lettuce for $33 an hour? If I was out of work, I'd jump at that. Let's be really careless and raise the rate by 600%... $50 per hour! Bet a lot of folks would love to earn that.

But what about the cost of lettuce? Will I ever be able to have a salad again if we pay the pickers $50 per hour? Let's see... if, at today's rate, the retail price of labor for a head of lettuce is 6 cents, the new price for labor would go up to 36 per head. So now your salad would cost $1.36.

In addition to creating millions - probably more than the 8 million - of new jobs that would bring our unemployment rate below 3%, our schools would be less crowded, the student-teacher ratio would decline, and instead of teaching English as a second language we could focus on science, reading, and math... and possibly teach a bit of Chinese.

Not only would the schools benefit, we'd have to shut down a few empty prisons and the emergency rooms in hospitals would be less crowded as would the hospitals. 80% of gang members in California are illegals, so presumably there would be considerably less violence and crime. And oh yes, the cost of healthcare would plummet because the lettuce pickers making $50 per hour could afford insurance.

Not to be over zealous, but we might even bring down the deficit by applying the 100/300 billion dollars we now pay to support criminals to our debt. In addition, we'd have a huge increase in tax revenue from 8 million well-paid lettuce pickers, drywall hangers, hotel maids, janitors, etc etc.

I realize that some bleeding hearts might be worried about the safety of the criminal deportees when they are returned to their own country. I firmly believe that most of those being deported are among the most courageous, determined, and decent citizens of their homelands who would do anything to support their families... indeed, I honor their fortitude and bravery. Nevertheless, they need to go. So I suggest that each deportee who has broken no US law (other than entering the country illegally) be given a stipend of $5,000 to help them relocate. Yes, that could be as much as 25 billion dollars but it's a one-time cost and only a fraction of what it costs to maintain them in the USA.

Finally, I suspect that the influx of hard-working, courageous people into their own corrupt countries, who have seen how a successful country works, may have a salubrious affect on the villages and towns they once fled.

And you thought this was a simple travel blog!

The excitement of turning 69!

2010-11-29T21:01:00.000-08:00

Shady patio

We finally arrived in the desert (Indio) where we intend to spend the next five months. We reserved our space sight unseen so were a bit apprehensive to see if we'd made a mistake. Fortunately, the place has turned out to be better than we'd hoped.

View from patio

This is a condo park meaning the sites are owned by individuals, not the park. Many sites are occupied by what are called Park Homes which are basically 400 square foot mobile homes that look like small houses. Most owners start out in an RV like us, then eventually migrate to these semi-permanent dwellings. I know this sounds pretty confining but remember this is the desert, so much time is spent outside.

The park has great facilities including a very large swimming pool, gym, small nine hole golf course, as well as the usual retiree shuffleboard, horseshoes, bocce ball... all free.

The place is filled with Oregonians, Washingtonians, and Canadians. It seems to be a happy group of people celebrating the fact that they have survived life in pretty good shape. Residents are required to be over 55 and no pets are allowed. I never expected to stay in a place inhabited by "old" people but I have to say most of the guys we've seen seem to be in good shape and active... no walkers, canes, or oxygen bottles.

Johnee and Immi

Dr. Jill and Jasper

Once settled in our new space (where we intend to be through March) we drove to LA to see Johnee, Lisa, Immi and Jasper for a couple of days to celebrate Johnee's 39th birthday. The kids are a hoot and Johnee and Lisa are over-taxed and stressed with all that is involved in the modern urban lifestyle. I'd like to scoop 'em up and take them to a deserted island for a couple of months so they could get some rest... but that's probably not going to happen.

Cooper-Millers at Marriott Valley Course

Thanksgiving week was a delight... lots of golf with the Cooper-Millers, then Thanksgiving dinner with them at Jim and Mary Montgomery's. Always great food and conversation at their home in LaQuinta, this year enhanced by the addition of Jack and Sandy, new friends from Oregon.

Celebrating my 69th birthday

My sneaky friends posed while I slept

I turned 69 the day after Thanksgiving. Our friends the Stortons threw a birthday party at their place in the Oasis Country Club. As you can see from these photos, I was very excited about the event. Yes these are actual photos. I guess the best comment I can make in defense of my apparent lack of involvement is that turning 69 is not very exciting, no matter how good the food, copious the wine, and delightful the conversation.

We are looking forward to connecting with our Southern California friends and relatives in the coming weeks.

Living Large and Driving Safe

2010-11-16T21:23:00.000-08:00

You are probably unaware that Blogspot, the Google service I use to publish this blog, has what is called a "back end" stat feature. This allows me to see how many people read the blog, where they are from, what browser they use, and other stats. From this data I learn that roughly 200 people read each post... some a bit more and others a bit less. The most widely read post was the one I wrote about my friend Romey who committed suicide in Manila.

The reason I'm telling you about this data is because I have determined that 50% of the drivers on the road today are terrible drivers... indeed, they should have their licenses pulled until they go to a driver's education class. This means that roughly 100 of those who read this blog need help! The problem is I don't think you bad drivers know who you are, so everyone who reads this post... good drivers and not so good drivers... will have to man up and pay attention.

My dad was a professional truck driver. Over the years he drove everything from big 18-wheelers to concrete mixers. He must have driven millions of miles over his career. He only had one accident. On a cold Michigan night during a blizzard, as he was trying to get home after delivering bus frames to a manufacturer in Lima Ohio, he hit a patch of ice and slid off the road, slamming head on into a giant oak tree. The impact drove his head through the windshield. Fortunately, he was a Schwartz with a hard head and he was wearing a cap with ear covers. So, other than a few cuts and a bad headache, he came through the ordeal relatively unscathed.

When my dad taught me to drive he said the two most important things that make a safe driver were to look as far down the road as possible to give yourself as much time as possible to react to whatever was coming at you. The second thing was to be predictable.

Unfortunately, half of you don't seem to have a clue about the importance of looking far down the road... if you did, you wouldn't TAILGATE! You can't possibly see what's coming at you if you are running at 70 mph six feet (or less) behind the car in front of you. As for being predictable, this means when you merge onto a freeway you need to show the drivers in the lane you are merging into that you will build adequate speed to merge without disturbing the speed of the cars in the lane into which you are merging. Note... IT IS NOT INCUMBENT ON THE DRIVER IN THE RIGHT-HAND LANE TO MOVE INTO THE CENTER LANE TO ACCOMMODATE YOUR MERGE. This is especially important when the car in the right lane is pulling a huge 18,000 pound 5th wheel that takes longer to stop and is less maneuverable than an automobile. I actually had a jerk flip me the bird the other day when I didn't change lanes to accommodate his absolutely unpredictable merge.

So here's a warning... if you tailgate me I will slam on my brakes when you least expect it. If you try to force me out of my lane so you can merge without building adequate speed, I will not move over. Beware!

Okay, now that I've got that off my chest... we had a great time in San Francisco. We stayed within walking distance of the Larkspur Ferry so we could zip in and out of the city without fighting the traffic.

We had lunch with our niece, Olivia, who attends the Academy of Arts University right in the heart of the city. She's studying to be an animator and hopes to work for Pixar after she completes her 4-year program. Olivia is a real hoot and always a treat to be around.

We did all of the touristy things... Golden Gate, shopping, eating... and eating, etc. We also took a tour of Alcatraz. On the ferry to SF one passes right by San Quentin which is an active prison, whereas Alcatraz closed many years ago. It was very interesting and somewhat sad when you consider how many lives have been wasted serving hard time in prisons.

Alcatraz

Entrance to golf course

After a few days in the bay area we moved south to Carmel. This has always been one of our most favorite places in the world. We didn't do anything special... walked on the beach, played golf, shopped, ate and ate. The entire Monterrey peninsula is magical... 17 Mile Drive with its fabulous views, magnificent homes, and famous golf courses... Pebble Beach and Spyglass to name just two. The Monterrey Pier with its great seafood and a bit farther down the coast, Big Sur with its redwood forests and stunning scenery. We both agreed we could happily live in Carmel... too bad it's in California!

Treanna's house and vineyard with the 5th wheel on the left

Treanna's garden

A little over 100 miles south of Carmel is Paso Robles, another of our favorite places. We stayed at the home of one of our most favorite people, Treanna Smoot. Jim and Treanna (Jim passed away a couple of years ago) were instrumental in planting and managing many of the vineyards in the region. The Paso area has well over one hundred wineries. Treanna still manages her own 80-acre vineyard. We were delighted to meet Treanna's significant other, Gary Bolen, who like Treanna, has an interesting background. The two of them are charming hosts.

More garden

John and Gary at Sculpterra Winery

I had to go to a business meeting in Connecticut so I flew from San Luis Obisbo to White Plains NY on Thursday, met on Friday, and came back on Saturday. While I was away Jill was hobnobbing with Gary and Treanna and friends. If you've never been to Paso Robles you've missed out on one of California's most enjoyable areas. In addition to wineries and exceptional restaurants, San Simeon and the Hearst Castle are just a short drive away as is the delightful town of Cambria and the spectacular Pacific Ocean. One day we hiked the hills across from San Simeon beach... beautiful.
It was a great week including golf at Hunter Ranch (very difficult) and we very much appreciated the hospitality and friendship of Treanna and Gary.

Jill and Treanna at Sculpterra Winery

Wet and wetter

2010-10-31T20:16:00.000-07:00

If you've ever been to southern France (Provence?) or Tuscany you have a pretty good idea of what Yamhill County in the Willamette Valley looks like. Rolling hills, gentle valleys studded with magnificent oaks and firs. 30 years ago Jill and I planted one of the first vineyards in this fertile place (the kids will say they did all the work). At that time there were only a few wineries producing excellent wines that were beginning to get national acclaim. Now, there are thousands of acres of vineyards and dozens of wineries. Six of the top ten French vintners have wineries in Yamhill County.

When we lived there, many of the small farms and homesteads were pretty shabby and often despoiled the natural landscape. The global success of the wine industry has changed all of that. Now, beautiful wineries, B&Bs, and homes abound. Cheeseburgers, once the food of choice among the locals, have been replaced by brie and croissants.

At the southern end of this wine madness is McMinnville where our son Allen, daughter-in-law Susan, and our granddaughters Sarah and Kate reside on a lovely 80-acre plot of land on the edge of town. Their property has been in Susan's family for more than 100 years. Susan's folks live with the kids in the old family homestead that was completely redone a few years ago.

We parked The Villa on their side yard with a view of Mt. Hood across the family garden and adjacent field of clover. Idyllic indeed. Nightly, the family gathered in their lovely outdoor pavilion for a pot luck dinner... fresh vegetables from Susan's father's exceptional garden, barbecued meats or grilled salmon, and local wines.

Kate, Susan, Jill, Laurel, Leslie

The day before we left our daughter, Leslie, flew in from North Dakota to see our granddaughter, Laurel, who attends Oregon State just 75 miles south of McMinnville. At dinner that night as I sat across from our granddaughters, Laurel and Kate (a senior in high school) I was overwhelmed by their beauty, sweetness, and intelligence... we are so fortunate.

The next day we departed to meet our friends in Waldport, Oregon to go crabbing. It started to rain during our 2-hour drive to the coast. It continued to rain all night. The weather report said it would rain for a week. Our friends canceled when the forecast grew worse with 2 feet of snow called for in the Cascades, which they would need to cross to reach us.

Then the wind started to blow! At first a breeze kicking up white caps on the bay. Then a fairly strong, steady wind. Then gusts 50 to 70 mph. The awnings over our slide-outs (that we just paid $1500 to have installed) flapped and moaned. The rain (5 inches in 2 days) came down sideways. Now, we're alone on the edge of the cliff... everyone else has fled inland to their homes. We, however, ARE home... The Villa is our home and it is rocking and rolling buffeted by winds that have howled across the Pacific for 5,000 uninterrupted miles, all the way from Japan.

I won't bother you with moments of sincere concern about the safety of The Villa, the fun of being with someone you love on a storm-tossed cliff with the winds howling as you snuggle together, the boredom, and finally the decision to leave after 4 days of almost unrelenting rain and wind.
On a partially sunny day we drove down the Oregon coast, awed by the cliff-lined beaches and stunning vistas. Our spirits are revived as we pulled into a beautiful RV park just north of Crescent City, CA. We're excited by the possibility of taking a long hike the next day through the Jedediah Smith Redwood Forest. Then... it began to rain. Biblical rain with devilish winds.

Okay, now we're getting mad. Over dinner we decide that no matter the weather, tomorrow we're going for a hike.

Soggy Jill in the BIG trees

We do...

It's beautiful...

It's wet...

We're wet, cold, and fed up.

We decide to move on to San Francisco to see our niece who is in school there and possibly find some sun in the process. We drive through the marijuana-infested forests of Humboldt County, its coastal beauty marred by its shabby, rain-soaked towns filled with shabbier looking Grateful Dead wannabes.

Tonight, parked a few blocks from the Golden Gate Bridge we dined at Il Fornaio and watched the setting sun peek beneath the clouds with a promise of more to come tomorrow.

No idea what this means!

The beautiful Butte

2010-10-19T16:44:00.000-07:00

Why is it we can't seem to get away from Central Oregon? I mean we have the ultimate tow vehicle (in case you missed it Best in Class 800 FtLbs of Torque and 400 HP), a 5th Wheel RV that has all the options one could want, and enough money to buy all the fuel we'll ever need. Two days ago we finally hooked up both halves of the equation and pulled out of the dealership heading for our son Allen's home in McMinnville. The Ford 250 was a dream to drive. It was almost as though our 18,000 pound travel home did not exist. Needless to say, Jill was puckered from head to toe with images of disaster dancing in her head... however, to her credit, after a very few miles she relaxed a bit, her eyes quit twitching, and she was able to stop the bleeding from where her nails had dug into her palms.

Mt. Jefferson

It was an absolutely beautiful fall day. The Cascades stood out boldly against a perfect sky, their snow caps sparkling like jeweled crowns... it was so fantastic that after less than 20 miles we looked at each other and said "Let's stay and climb Black Butte tomorrow!" So we pulled into a KOA outside of Sisters, parked "The Villa" for the first time flawlessly, and called friends for dinner.

We have lived for the past two decades in the shadow, or at least within view of, a 6,000 ft. cinder cone called Black Butte. We had never climbed it during all those years although we talked about it frequently. So the next morning, after taking care of business in Singapore, Doha, Moscow, and Manila, we loaded our hiking packs and headed for the trailhead.

Black Butte Ranch far below

The launch point is about halfway up the mountain. The path is well defined but the 2,500 ft. elevation gain over a 2-hour period means the path is steep... by steep I mean there is no place where it levels out during the entire climb. The views along the climb are incredible and once on top they are stunning.

We spent about a half hour examining the fire service lookout tower and the 360 degree view. Black Butte Ranch, where just two days before we played our last round of golf with our friend Peter Storton, spread out to the south. Camp Sherman, where we lived for several years, lay to the west with the incredible Cascades visible from the Washington/Oregon border to Mt. Shasta in California. Awesome doesn't begin to describe it. Then came the hard part...

Old knees scraping bone on bone and lack of youthful balance make steep downhills painful and at times excruciating. Nevertheless we made it and felt proud that we had at last achieved a long desired goal.

After a couple of quarts of Gatorade, a few ibuprofen, and a foot massage, we went fishing in a nearby pond for some catch and release trout... life is good!

One of about six we caught in 30 minutes

A blast from the past

2010-09-30T19:46:00.000-07:00

See the pumice cut through the trees?

10,000 years ago a mountain in Southern Oregon called Mazama blew its top. It was one of the largest volcanic events that ever took place in North America. It spewed so much material into the air that, 200 miles north of the now extinct volcano, ridges of pumice 50 to 200 feet deep were formed. You may never have heard of Mazama but you probably have heard of the great hole in the ground formed by its massive explosion... Crater Lake.

Imagine if pumice was snow that fell in such huge quantities in a storm 200 miles distant, it laid down drifts hundreds of feet deep, hundreds of miles away.

On the edge of Bend there is a canyon that cuts through that ancient volcanic layer as well as lava flows from other eruptions. Tumalo Creek, a relatively small stream, flows down from the snow fields of the Cascades forming this exquisite valley.

There are bridges... this one is covered

A foot bridge

A natural bridge

In 1844 John Fremont and Kit Carson, while surveying the West, camped in a stunning meadow that still crowns the northern end of
what is now called Shevlin Park.

Fremont Meadow

Local Indians loved the place. The Cause picked berries and fished its banks. The Shoshones rested here on their way to trade and raid along the Columbia.

The park has always been one of our favorite places. Various trails run through the canyon from 2 to 10 miles long. Although access to the park is only a couple of miles from much of Bend's population, it is lightly used.

When hiking in this pristine canyon, Jill and I often wonder why we bother chasing all over the country in search of beauty, adventure, and peace when it exists on the edge of Bend. A couple of days ago, just 48 hours after the equinox, we were both amazed how, despite the 80 degree temperature, we could feel autumn in the air. We came to the conclusion that after thousands of years of evolution, humans like migrating birds and other animals, are keenly aware of the angle of the shadows cast by the sun as it transits south.

As we prepare to head south we become more aware of what we leave behind but happy in the knowledge that Shevlin Park will still be here when we return.

REMINDER: if you haven't already done so please read my Adult Fairy Tale, The Count of Byle. http://countofbyle.blogspot.com

Dread and Joy

2010-09-11T10:45:00.000-07:00

There is a ganglia of nerves located in the brain that act as a data filter to the conscious mind. Without this brain triage system you would probably go crazy within a few minutes. The system blocks out data that is not currently necessary... for example, wherever you are at this moment there are hundreds, if not thousands, of bits of info being blocked so you can focus on this blog, eg. are you aware of the reflected light on your screen? Bet you are now. How about the sound of the fan in your computer? See what I mean? If you feel your eyes tiring, your brain will realize that you need data on the reflective screen light and allow that germane information into your conscious brain.

When the phone rings in the middle of the night this internal triage system goes into overdrive. Within a millisecond of the first ring your mind is blown open to all of life's potential tragedies. Before the first ring ends you're inventorying the location of your loved ones... one granddaughter is climbing a nearby 11,000 ft mountain called South Sister. Everyone else is accounted for I conclude in the time it takes to fumble with the phone. By the second ring the fight/flight adrenalin cocktail is coursing through your brain. In an instant, your mind rejects all of the positive possibilities... Dad, I won the lottery... Pops, we had a baby... etc. No one calls in the middle of the night with good news... it can wait. Bad news has an immediacy about it even if there's nothing one can do. For some reason, it has to be shared, NOW!

The voice on the other end of the line says the scariest five words you will ever hear in the middle of the night ... "Don't worry, everything is alright". If everything is alright why are you calling me in the middle of the night? Everything is alright with whom? The call from my nephew was to tell me that my brother had just had a massive heart attack. Everything is never all right when the phone rings in the middle of the night.

The next day I'm on a plane to Vegas. There's nothing I can do. He's in intensive care... tubings everywhere... constant noise... buzzers and bells... slow motion frenzy. There's only two of us, my brother and me. Out of six billion people on the planet, we are the only two genetic peas from the same pod. Are we close someone asks? Never considered that question... we are brothers. What more is there to say.

Jim and Marilyn

He jokes when he sees me, like nothing has happened. It's a family trait this macabre sense of humor we use to mask our terror and pain. I joke back. We both understand the fear behind the funnies.

My sister-in-law and nephew are there. Everyone is trying to be strong. We talk about Jim as though he's not there... "his color looks good"... "he seems to be breathing easier"... etc. We all avoid the 800 pound gorilla in the room... the dreaded D words... dieing and death. Even when we are out of his room, we avoid these words as though by saying them we might condemn the patient. We don't say the words, but we see their reflection in each other's tears.

His progress is bumpy. One day he seems better, the next less so, but the trend overall is positive. The miracle doctors mix a brew of pharmaceuticals that flow through a titanium stent they've inserted in one of his arteries. Billions of dollars in research by those wicked, profit-oriented drug companies come to bear on my brother's heart. Thousands of hours of training for doctors and nurses culminates in his care. This remarkable science, bolstered by the love of his family and friends, works its magic on his damaged heart and within a few days he's on his way home in anticipation of a full recovery.

I was home when he was released from the hospital. I got the call around 10 am from my nephew... good news can wait until after breakfast.

Truck Porn

2010-08-27T08:08:00.000-07:00

Pitiful

This week it's all about thee (as in the Shakespearean thee) truck. It's been pretty embarrassing to pretend that we're able to pull our 15,000 lb 5th wheel with our Honda. Daily, since we've been in the Crown Villa Park, it's been humiliating to watch these old farts drive by in their big diesel pick-ups. I could feel their sneers when they looked at our pitiful little Civic. Made me feel like the guy with the smallest penis in the public shower.

No more humiliation! Now when the Dodge Rams and Chevy Silverados, with their clanking, out dated wheezing diesels chug by our gleaming white and gold Ford F250 SUPER DUTY 400 HP Turbo Charged 6.8 Liter Diesel, Crew Cab, Short Box Lariat equipped monster they shudder and
look away in fear. The big dawg... the leader of
the pack has resumed his rightful place. Hooha!

Big Dawg

This paragon of modern technology is truly amazing. Leather bucket seats with hides that would make a Bentley envious. A computer system that answers your phone even when it's in your pocket... it's like your pants are talking. Not only that, with the touch of a button the truck plays the music stored on my phone... yup while in my pocket. Should I want to call someone I don't need to loosen my seat belt, raise up on one hip while trying to extract my cellular device from my jeans while swerving down the freeway... nope... I simply say CALL so and so and, viola, I'm connected. No groping, swerving, no seat belt violations.

Oh yes did I mention it also pulls up to 18,000 pounds without breaking a sweat? This new diesel, a joint development between Ford and Mercedes is whisper quiet.

By the way when we went shopping at the Ford store I told the salesman that the reason we were looking at a Ford was because it is the only American-made truck that's not built by Obama and his minions. His response was that almost half the buyers who walk through their doors say the same thing. Ford stock may be a good investment!

Living in an upscale RV park is interesting on many levels. Not only do you occasionally have a million and a half dollar Prevost coach for a neighbor, you may have a pop-up camper. For the most part, however, due to the price of spaces here, the neighbors are usually well off, retired Republican types. Boring but safe.

Last week a couple from California in their late 70's or early 80's pulled their nice 5th wheel unit into the space next to us. He was a bit hunched over and needed a walker to cover much distance. A couple of nights later we came home late. We had failed to leave the porch light on and as I was fumbling in the dark trying to unlock the door I heard Jill giggling behind me. "What's so funny," I asked... "Look," she said pointing at the neighbor's TV clearly visible through their large picture window... they were watching a XXX rated porn movie. I thought Jill was going to lose it. We crept into the house and peaked through the blinds to confirm what we'd seen. We concluded that he probably needs a walker because of Viagra. There is hope friends!

Friend of a fractured man

2010-08-08T21:37:00.000-07:00

22 years ago this month they found my friend Romy Bernardo hanging from a light fixture in a filthy public toilet in Manila. They said it was suicide.

I met this remarkable man on my first trip to Manila in search of a dealer for the line of dental equipment I represented. I had interviewed three dealers the first day and Romy was the 4th. I was jet-lagged and disappointed with the results of my initial interviews. I was a bit surprised when this gaunt, hatchet-faced man started interviewing me instead of trying to sell me on why he should have the agency.

One of the first things he asked was what I thought of the Philippines. This was my first trip so all I could base my opinion on was what I'd seen between the airport and the hotel. It appeared to be clean with frequent yellow tee shirt clad street cleaners clearly visible. Of course, I had read a lot about the country and knew it was ruled by the dictator Marcos and his peripatetic wife, Imelda (of shoe fame). Never one to shy away from expressing an opinion, I told Romy that it appeared to me that Marcos had been good for the country.

His eyes grew sad as he looked around my elegant suite in the recently restored 5-star Manila hotel. During WWII this storied structure was the headquarters of the occupying Japanese and later for MacArthur upon his much acclaimed return.

Looking out the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Olympic sized pool he said "Do you have the courage to see the real Manila?" Accepting his dare, we climbed into his ancient VW Beetle (with mismatched fenders) and went to Asia's worst slum, the Tondo, ironically located just beyond the bougainvillea festooned wall that protected the pool at the hotel. The streets in the Tondo were so bad there were times I thought the car would be swallowed up in a pot hole. At one point, stalled in traffic while breathing humidity-laden, exhaust-filled, 90 degree stew we watched two men stripped to their shorts have a fist fight on one corner while a hooker performed sexual favors across the street. The crowds of raggedly dressed occupants ignored the action bent on avoiding tripping on the fractured sidewalks. Seeing me scrunched in my seat trying desperately to hide my whiteness Romy asked, "Are you afraid?" Not waiting for an answer he said, "Me too." Thus began a decade-long friendship.

It was an unequal friendship. I had little to offer this financially poor man who at various times had as many as 15 street urchins living with his family in their concrete two story, one bath bunker that served as shop, home and orphanage. He was an optimist, a communist, a first-class engineer, a humanitarian. He wore the same dark blue, or iron gray ill-fitting safari suit every day. It was always freshly laundered.

He and his wife, Zena, worked for the US Navy for several years in Vietnam during the war. They managed to save $50,000. When they came back to Manila they started a dental dealership. Romy managed to land the prestigious Siemens dental equipment distributorship. His first customer was Malacanyan Palace (think Philippine White House). He ordered two complete operatories of equipment at a cost of almost $50k. The day before Romy was to clear the shipment which entailed paying several thousand dollars in duties, Marcos, for political reasons, closed the bank in which Romy had his account. Romy went to the colonel in charge of Malacanyan and explained that he could not clear the shipment unless he could get his money out of the shuttered bank. He was told in no uncertain terms that it was not the government's problem and that if he did not comply with his contract to equip the President's clinic he would be arrested and sent to jail.

Eventually Romy borrowed the money from his uncle to clear the shipment and he installed it on time. He invoiced the Palace the agreed upon price of $85k.

He was never paid a penny.

Not only was he never allowed access to his hard-earned money in the bank, he and Zena also ended up owing his uncle almost $60k with no means of repaying it.

Here's the kicker... every time Marcos would have a dental treatment, a military jeep would show up at Romy's home, often unannounced, at 4:30 in the morning with lights flashing and haul him to the clinic to inspect the equipment and certify that it was working perfectly. He would then sit in a small anteroom until the President's appointment ended just in case something went wrong during the treatment. He was never paid for his time.

Is it any wonder Romy believed the only solution to his country's ills was communism? In his way he tried to change his small portion of the world by setting an example for his children and those he came in contact with. Money meant nothing to him. Over the next few years we tried to develop dental equipment that would be affordable to the thousands of dentists in the Philippines who could not practice because they could not afford equipment. We were only marginally successful.

Several years after our first meeting I arrived in Manila only to find that Romy had disappeared. Zena claimed not to know where he was. I had always known that Romy was a manic depressive so, along with Zena and his children, we were afraid he might have harmed himself.

It was a time of political turmoil in the Philippines. Over the next two years there was a growing populist movement against the Marcos rule. The People's Power movement was formed after Marcos's main rival, Begnigno Aquino, was assassinated by a lone gunman who was instantly killed by security guards. Aquino's funeral attracted over 100,000 people, many of whom blamed Marcos for their hero's death. It was the start of the dictator's downfall.

I'm telling you this history because it was the People's Power movement into which Romy disappeared. Somehow, after attending a couple of the movement's rallies, Romy ended up on Marcos's hit list. Someone inside the administration warned Romy so he went into hiding. When after two years we reconnected, Romy told me he had not slept in the same bed twice in two years. During this period he was an underground organizer for the People's Power movement that eventually forced Marcos to flee to Hawaii. Begnigno Aquino's wife, Corazon, replaced Marcos as president.

When I last saw Romy he was excited about the future possibilities for his country. Was it his disappointment when Aquino turned out to be the typical corrupt politician that caused him to end his life or was he murdered by the remnants of the Marcos SS (secret service)? No one will ever know.

The world needs people like Romy. People who believe that there is a brighter future. People who believe in the basic goodness of their fellow man. People who dream unachievable dreams. Here's to Romy...

Sleep, and in the veil of night
Dream of valor in the light
When comes the awakening dawn
It is your dreams you act upon

What do golf and illeagle aliens have in common? They both suck!

2010-07-24T21:42:00.000-07:00

1937 Ford Land Yacht (Only 7 ever made)

To say we are enjoying being homeless would be an understatement of massive proportions. Crown Villa RV Park is really a small piece of heaven ... quiet, spacious and lots of amenities. We are exploring parts of Bend we've never visited before. Funny how different things are when you look at them through the eyes of a tourist.

Pretty comfy huh?

Speaking of funny ... my golf game is really funny (perhaps strange or weird would be more appropriate. I'm 6'2 and top 225lbs. I can do 50 push-ups (the real kind) followed by 100 crunches and not break a sweat. I can walk 10 miles in an afternoon through rugged terrain with ease but I hit a golf ball, when I actually hit it, like a 12 year old girl! Jill, who is half my size, who couldn't do 2 pushups without fainting and thinks crunches are a brand of peanuts drives the ball farther than me with incredible consistancy.

Photos curtesy of my friend Rusty

We played golf with friends yesterday and my partner, Don Miller shot a 75 (for you bowlers that's 3 strokes above par which is the dream of many and the reality of less than 1% of all golfers) Jill had her best round of the year and I had a 105! Back to the funny part ... after every round I think to myself I'm going to quit this stupid game ... I can't play and it's a big money drain. The next morning the first thing I do is check the weather to see if we can play golf .... hope really does spring eternal!

Speaking of hope (as in Hope and Change) I am amazed at the hooha over the Arizona bill to crack down on illeagles. Having spent some time earlier this year in the Tuscon area it was apparent even to a visitor that the people of Arizona have a huge problem with the leaky border. The following statistics from the FBI and Homeland Security really make the point...

* 83% of warrants for murder in Phoenix are for illegal aliens.  
* 86% of warrants for murder in Albuquerque are for illegal aliens.
* 75% of those on the most wanted list in Los Angeles, Phoenix and Albuquerque are illegal aliens.   
* 24.9% of all inmates in California detention centers are Mexican nationals  
* 40.1% of all inmates in Arizona detention centers are Mexican nationals  
* 48.2% of all inmates in New Mexico detention centers are Mexican nationals  
* 29% (630,000) convicted illegal alien felons fill our state and Federal prisons at a cost of $1.6 billion annually
* 53% plus of all investigated burglaries reported in California, New Mexico, Nevada, Arizona and Texas are perpetrated by illegal aliens.
* 50% plus of all gang members in Los Angeles are illegal aliens   
* 71% plus of all apprehended cars stolen in 2005 in Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada and California were stolen by Illegal aliens or "transport coyotes".  
* 47% of cited/stopped drivers in California have no license, no insurance and no registration for the vehicle. Of that 47%, 92% are illegal aliens.
* 63% of cited/stopped drivers in Arizona have no license, no insurance and no registration for the vehicle. Of that 63%, 97% are illegal aliens  
* 66% of cited/stopped drivers in New Mexico have no license, no insurance and no registration for the vehicle. Of that 66% 98% are illegal aliens.  
* 380,000 plus "anchor babies" were born in the US to illegal alien parents in just one year, making 380,000 babies automatically US citizens (which is UN-Constitutional; illegal).
* 97.2% of all costs incurred from those illegal births were paid by the American taxpayer.

Pretty amazing huh? The next time you see all of the people marching in protest of the Arizona Bill recall these figures and ask why?

There's a new blog feature that I hope you will use (in addition to accessing Amazon through this site...hint). Note at the bottom of this post are forwarding links. So, if for some reason, you want to impress a friend with my golfing ability you can forward this post directly from free-grain by clicking on the appropriate button.

Finally lots of comments (mostly good but a couple like ... "what were you smoking", which, of course, I deny) about The Count of Byle. If you have not read it I encourage you to do so and join the commentary! http://countofbyle.blogspot.com

In democracy your vote counts. In feudalism your count votes

Homeless in Bend

2010-07-10T08:37:00.000-07:00

Have you ever noticed how life tends to motor along on a somewhat even keel then, without warning, almost as though a switch is thrown, the keel turns upside down and you're swimming for your life? Well that pretty much is what has happened to us since my last post.

Here's a greatly abbreviated summary... otherwise this could become a novel called "John and Jill Yo Yo On".

The "Villa"

As you may remember, we put our house up for sale. Mr. Doom and Gloom (that would be me) believes we are headed for a real s**t storm economically and those who have cash when it hits will rule the world... well perhaps not the entire world but certainly our small corner of it. Hence we wanted to get the equity out of our house. We got an acceptable offer which surprised us, so we did the victory dance and traded in El Gato for a new 5th Wheel so we could continue our grand adventure this fall in style.

Oops forgot a small detail... the appraisal. It came in $50k lower than the offer, ouch. No more dancing. Now we're with less cash, a house, mortgage and a 5th wheel. Needless to say Mr. Doomy is feeling like Mr. Stupee!

But wait... evidently the buyers really like our place so they come up with the extra cash to close the deal ... Oh yeah, Mr. Stupee is Mr. Smartee now!!!

So the happy couple go out and lease a space in what is arguably one of America's nicest (read expensive) RV parks, Crown Villa in Bend. After all, we have a chunk of change coming in soon right?

Oops... the bank (the buyer's bank) needs more info and does not fund on time... now Mr. Smartee is beginning to feel like Mr. Overdraftee.

But wait... there is a purpose to sleepless, worry-filled nights and sciatica from packing boxes and lifting stuff. It feels so good when you get the call that the money is in the bank... Mr. Absolutely I Told You So is feeling grand and living large (well as large as one can feel in a trailer park). We intend to spend the summer in Bend playing bad golf, fishing and loving life.

I must admit there was a wonderful interlude while all of this drama was unfolding. We spent a week in Hawaii on the island of Lanai celebrating Jill and our friend Janet Storton's birthdays. If you are like most people when you think of Hawaii you think of Waikiki, Diamondhead, beach hotels, bikinis and bars. Lanai is just the opposite.
The island used to be known as the Pineapple Isle when it was owned by Dole and grew over half of all pineapples in the world. The pineapples and Dole have moved to the Philippines, but now there are two Four Seasons Resorts and two golf courses, along with a small 12 room hotel (formerly Dole's headquarters) where we stayed in the quaint little town of Lanai City. Talk about laid back... it was wonderful. Fried Spam and eggs for breakfast at my favorite restaurant in the whole world, The Blue Ginger Cafe, with dinner on the lanai of Pele's Other Garden Bistro. No tourists to speak of, just a bunch of locals hiding out from civilization.

Shortly after returning from Hawaii we went to Jill's brother's home in Tacoma for a family reunion and to celebrate Olivia's (our niece) graduation from high school. Jill's lovely family does not get together often so it's always a treat to see everyone. Allan and Krystine were great hosts. Here's a photo of Jill (the midget) with Jim, Don and Allen.

I did manage to finish an epic poem I've been working on for over 3 decades... yup... thirty years. It's called The Count of Byle. It's an adult fairytale which means it's loaded with sex and mayhem... not what one thinks of when one thinks of poetry. It's too long to post here so I've created another site where you can read it if you are so inclined ... http://countofbyle.blogspot.com/.

One final note ... don't forget you can access Amazon through this blog by clicking on the Amazon icon on the right side of this post. Costs you nothing but will make me the richest guy in the trailer park if you all comply!

Does the name Pavlov ring a bell?  

On seeking perfection.

2010-05-04T21:12:00.000-07:00

After our business meeting in Denver on Saturday and a relaxing Sunday afternoon with Jim and Myong Hui (w here I stuffed myself with fresh Kim Chee and Kalbi) we departed Denver for home around 10:00AM on Monday. I promise not to bore you with any more hitch stories... well maybe just one. We hooked up on THE FIRST ATTEMPT this time. You will recall that it took us 3 hours in Santa Fe. This time... 10 minutes. Hate to say it but reading the book has it's advantages. We struggled all day with powerful winds blowing across I-80 between Colorado and Rawlins WY. Lots of warnings for high profile vehicles to get off the road. The big 18 wheelers and everyone else had their hands full as did we. We finally called it quits around 4PM and had a stiff drink along with some great leftovers that Myong Hui packed for us. Tense but safe day.

I was going to post about our time in Santa Fe and Taos, however, some of you have asked to hear more about what it's like to live in a trailer and what works and what doesn't.

From a towing and hooking up POV, travel trailers are worse than 5th wheels or coaches. Here's my routine when we pull into a new park. First I disconnect the hitch from the trailer including safety chains, emergency brake cable and power cord and put chocks behind the wheels. Then I put down all 5 support jacks. The trailer comes with a rod and handle to do this manually which is a real PITA (pain in the ...). I bought an electric drill and put a socket on it that fits the jacks so now I power them down. Likewise I had a powered tongue drive installed so I don't have to do that manually either. Once the trailer is level and braced I hook up the sewer, water, electric and cable TV. Then I have Jill activate the slides while I watch from the outside to make sure they don't hit anything. Invariably while I'm doing all of these tasks the wind is blowing or it's raining or it's cold or all of the above. Also while I'm freezing and cursing, some guy in a big coach pulls in next to me, pushes a few buttons without leaving his warm comfy environment and viola! the jacks come down and automatically level the unit. His satellite TV dish hums searching for a signal while he's making a gin and tonic... showoff!

I have to admit there is a strange, visceral satisfaction being involved with the tasks that provide life's utilities. At home one rarely thinks about whether or not the water is hooked up, or if you will run out of propane in the middle of roasting a chicken. Even watching one's poop as it slides through a clear plexiglass tube that allows one to see when the holding tank is empty gives one a bizarre sense of involvement in the basics of life that we rarely experience in a fixed environment.

As for the inside of the trailer the two most important things as far as I'm concerned are the shower and the bed. Most units we looked at had showers so small that if I dropped the soap I couldn't bend over and pick it up without opening the door. Our shower, however, is roomy enough that I can shower in comfort. When we're in parks you see people toting their dop kits up to the public showers... that's not for me... had enough of that in the service. Shower selection is vital.

We have a full queen size bed the same as we have at home. We added a Tempurpedic topper to it so it's super comfy. We have a three burner stove with oven and microwave and we installed a drip coffee maker. Our fridge and freezer are adequate, but small. One must adapt to shopping more frequently as space is always an issue.

Finally the thing that allows us to continue to work wherever we are is a Verizon MiFi wireless device. It cost about $60 for 5 gigs of download a month. It's a credit card sized device that picks up a signal from a sattelite and then rebroadcasts it throughout the trailer so both of us can be online at the same time... magical! Although many RV parks advertise free WiFi it's been our experience that the signal is often weak and the service slow. MiFi rocks!

Finally... no matter how fancy or big your RV may be, it's a lot smaller than your home. It's like living on a boat. Jill came up with a great line we try to live by... if it's not put away it's in the way!

National Native Ruins

Here's some photos from in and around Santa Fe and Taos:

On the way to Taos

Huge village each square a home

Indian Party Hut

Peaking inside cliff house

Ancient Cliff dwelling

Near Santa Fe

Early Mission church

More church ruins

View from church

Where we bought Chimayo Chiles

My Hero Kit Carson (Taos)

Outdoor Chimayo Church

Kits Home

Bridge over troubled waters

Famous floating stairs Loretto

Indians selling to Gringos

Pasqual's in Santa Fe

The hitch chronicles

2010-04-29T19:14:00.000-07:00

This was one of THOSE days! With a positive attitude, we got El Gato packed up and ready to head for Colorado. It was the first time we had actually hooked the car to our new miracle hitch (it was previously done by the technician in Arizona who installed it). Of course we'd read some of the posts online that hooking up was a difficult process... wimps!

Three hours later as we pulled out of our site into 40 to 60 mph winds I was thinking... this #%*^# hitch better turn this hurricane into a breeze or I'm packing it up and sending it back. I also thought about ways to murder Jim Stoll who recommended the damn thing. Why the vitriol you ask?

Actually it is my own ignorance and not Jim or Hensley's fault. At one point during this painful ordeal I pulled the pin that released the connection to the hitch ball and the entire hitch fell to the ground. As I jumped back to avoid the 200 pound chunk of metal, I recalled Bart (the installer) saying something like ... whatever you do stupid, don't disconnect this pin! Actually I added the "stupid" part because I'm sure Bart could not possibly envision someone being so... well, you get it.

As the hitch hit the ground I looked at my sweet wife standing nearby holding a wrench like a good nurse ready to assist. There were tears in her eyes. We have diametrically opposed ways of handling stress. Me...swearing and laughing. She... tears and quiet fear of certain failure. So there we are with the hitch at our feet not knowing if I can even lift it up to reattach it. We're 25 miles away from service, sans tools, knowledge or skill. So what do you think Jill does? She gets out the manual and starts to read... women!

To make short work of this, the manual helped as did my recall of a little lever that needed to be engaged to line everything up properly. Like most things, I expect hooking up will improve with time and practice.

We drove from Santa Fe to Raton Pass where we spent last night. The weather forecast was dead on... 40 to 60 mph winds all the way. El Gato purred. In 200 miles we probably saw 2 other RVs crazy enough to be on the road and both of those were 5th wheels which handle wind better that trailers or coaches. (We were not, however, without mishaps... at one point Jill discovered that the wind had torn off the cap on the storage bumper where trailers store the flexible sewer hose, and we were dragging ours down the freeway. Later a cross wind caused our folding step to unfold).

Eight thousand foot Raton Pass is on the border of New Mexico and Colorado on the main north south artery I-25. As a low point in the surrounding mountains it's also the place where the wind blows the hardest. Last night was a real rock and roll event. We were perched on a ridge line at the very top of the pass about 200 yards from the border. Frankly if we hadn't stayed hooked up to the Denali with the Hensley holding strong I think there's a good chance we'd have become a kite. Although it's hard to tell when inside, my guess is there were some 80 mph gusts last night.

So I prostrate myself and plead forgiveness before Hensley and Stoll for all the spoken and unspoken curses.

Our planned visit to Chaco, Chelly and Grand Canyons has been postponed once again due to a business opportunity in Denver. We left this morning planning to wind our way through the southern Rockies and enjoy the beautiful scenery. Unfortunately the wind increased from last night so we had to stick to the Interstate rather than climbing over a 10,000 foot pass as planned... although the Hensley would probably have kept us safe we didn't think it was worth the risk especially with snow in the forecast. We drove from Raton to Denver where we will stay until Monday. We have business meetings tomorrow and Saturday then on Sunday we'll visit with Jill's brother and family.

There's much to report in a later post on Santa Fe and Taos... stay tuned.

(By the way if you are concerned about the direction our country is heading you may want to visit this site. Remember when you open this that the basis of our laws, the 10 commandments, are no longer allowed on government property. http://islamoncapitolhill.com/)

Yes! We know the way to Santa Fe!

2010-04-23T17:47:00.000-07:00

If you've been following this blog for any length of time you have heard me bemoan the fact that El Gato tends to sway all over the road when there's any sort of side wind. Same when the big trucks zoom by... it feels like they're sucking our 16,000 pounds right into them. Makes driving a white knuckle experience not just for me but for Jill who is my shadow driver. The woman never sleeps and is constantly pressing on her faux brake pedal when she perceives trouble and yelps frequently. Fortunately I can't hear squat in my right ear so I miss most of her verbal agony, but it's hard to ignore the tension.

This is a long way around to say that we finally decided to bite the $3,000 bullet and buy a Hensley Arrow Hitch. We had the unit shipped by express from Michigan to Tucson and Wednesday morning had a local technician install it. I watched the entire 3 hour installation and pestered the guy constantly to explain how it works. The upshot is, I have no clue how it actually works... I didn't understand the physics or the technology... but am pleased to say it does.

We pulled out of Tucson around 11am following the installation, and headed for New Mexico on I-10. There was a major wind blowing with side gusts up to 40 mph. Dust was flying, tumbleweeds tumbling, Jill was ready to start pumping her imaginary brake pedal and I was smiling. Of course with that powerful wind I could feel it hammering against the side of the trailer but the Denali stayed steady as a rock. At one point I took both hands off the wheel and the 55 foot rig stayed right in line. Same with the big rigs (we call them blow-jobs because they tend to suck us into their lane as they whiz past... "get ready for a BJ" I would shout so Jill could tense up in anticipation of sudden and violent death). As with the side wind you could feel them as they passed but everything stayed in place.

So, hats off to my high school friend and fellow trailer-trasher, Jim Stoll, who recommended the Hensley hitch... best advice we ever received!!!!

While we spent several extra days in Tucson waiting for the hitch to arrive it was very pleasant. Mid 80's most days with cool nights. Played several new golf courses. Here's Jill rating of each course. (5 stars the best). Arizona National ***, Forty-Niner *, Tucson National ****, the Lodge at Ventana Canyon-Mountain Course ****, the Lodge at Ventana Canyon-Canyon Course ***

We also climbed around Colossal Cave, a 3 mile long cavern that's been inhabited for about 5,000 years. It's located about 20 miles outside of Tucson. We explored Green Valley, a small community west of Tucson, where several friends from Bend winter over. We visited and toured the San Xavier de Bac Mission on the Tohono O'odaham Indian Reservation. The church was built in 1783-97. Very impressive. Perhaps the most interesting and surprizing outing was the 30 minute, almost straight up drive in elevation to the top of Mt Lemmon. It was 90 degrees F on the valley floor and 47F at the ski resort at the summit... yes Virginia, a ski resort! Snow was still on the ground although skiing was over for the season. Talk about climate shock!

Speaking of climate shock... we drove from Tucson to Truth or Consequences, New Mexico the first day with the new hitch. Windy and warm. We spent the night in a park overlooking the Lake at Elephant Butte. The next day we drove on to Santa Fe. Wind still blowing and the temperature dropping like a stone. Woke up this morning to several inches of snow and frozen water line. Rectified the problem with a hairdryer and a bit of work. Welcome to Sante Fe... altitude 7,000 ft.

BIO what?

2010-04-18T20:26:00.000-07:00

Main Chamber

If you are old enough to recall the 80's you might remember reading about a group in Arizona that built a self-contained replica of the earth's environment called Biosphere 2 (Biosphere 1 being the earth). Once built, eight scientists (called Biospherians) climbed in and shut the door behind them with the intention of staying in complete isolation within their artificial environment for 2 years. They came close to achieving their goal. They had a medical emergency when one member had a serious laceration on her hand. The second was a systemic failure of their environment to produce enough protein requiring them to import supplements. The project still holds the record for a group living in isolation.

It was widely believed that the Biosphere project was an exercize designed to determine what it would take to create a human-friendly environment in outer space. The facts are actually a bit different.

Biosphere 2 was built with private capital with a profit objective... can you imagine that? This massive project, and I mean it's MASSIVE... was built by one of the famous Texas oil patch tycoon Bass brothers. He called himself an enviro-entrepreneur. His hope was this experiment would result in technology that could be commercialized. Although Biosphere 2 taught us many things about how the earth works, it was a commercial failure. After the 2-year live-in, the place fell into disrepair until Columbia University bought and ran it in the late 90's. They then sold it to the University of Arizona that has turned it into one of the largest environmental labs in the world.

Okay so you might be bored hearing about our tour of Biosphere 2 but it was so impressive I'm going to carry on a bit longer. For those of you whose concentration has been impaired by age, drugs, politics or booze and require constant titillation, I will throw in this conversation:

John to Tour Director: "How many scientists lived in Biosphere?"
Tour Director: "There were 8 scientists ... 4 men and 4 women."
John: "Was there any hanky-panky?" (Tour group giggles and looks embarrassed)
Tour Director: "Huh, what do you mean by hanky-panky?"
John: "Come on, even a grad student like you knows what hanky-panky is... you know, sex?"
Tour Director: (blushing. A titter runs through the mostly middle-aged tree-hugger group): Huh, well it was after all TWO years... uh... but I think what happened in Biosphere stayed in Biosphere."

The Biosphere was located outside of Tucson for the copious sunshine. Because they wanted to totally isolate the project from any outside biological influence, they laid down a steel membrane under the entire project... several acres in size. There are so many engineering marvels in this project it's hard to figure out where to start so I'll simply describe one and if you're interested in learning more you can go online.

One of two "lungs"

Because the structure is glass and steel it takes in a lot of solar energy. As the structure warms the air inside expands, increasing the air pressure. In a normal structure the heated air would simply be vented to atmosphere but because Biosphere 2 is a totally closed environment it cannot be vented and without venting the structure would explode. To solve this problem there are two huge domes they call "lungs". Inside each is a massive bladder. Each dome is connected to the main structure by a large hallway. As the pressure in the structure heats up and expands, air flows into the lung compressing the bladder and vice versa when the temperature goes down. I mean who in the hell thinks up this stuff!

Inland Sea

When they created the various sub-climates within the Sphere (rain-forest, savanna, temperate, wetland, etc) they not only imported the vegetation required for each area, they tried to import the various insects common to that type of environment. They imported, for example, 11 species of ants but two years later during a bio- inventory they found only 9 species, none of which were from those imported. Even steel won't keep those little buggers out!

Lots more fun with John and Jill to report but not today as we're off for a bit of spelunking!

Tripping in Tucson

2010-04-13T10:34:00.000-07:00

You know how you get a picture in your mind about a place you've never been but have heard a lot about? I had a clear picture of what Tucson would be... a modern city grown up around a preserved core of old Spanish-style adobe barrios with a quaint plaza surrounded by shops and restaurants... can you hear the Mariachis? Boy was I wrong. There is an old town near city center but it's just that... an old town. Crappy old buildings that were probably crappy when they were built in the 40's. Lots of shops selling Gothic posters and dope paraphernalia. The University of Arizona dominates the city center so there's that student-shabby air about the place. The building at the right is what I incorrectly pictured Tucson old town would be like, only problem is it's in Patagonia!

Tucson has almost a million people. Within the city limits, where most live, the streets are crummy and congested. When you go north of the city limits, you enter the gated paradises of the rich and retired. The streets are better (how does that work I wonder) the landscaping is primo, the cars are nicer and the women svelter (is that a word?).

Our park is very nice, indeed it is the best we've ever stayed in. It's quiet, convenient, shady (important in the blazing 85 degree sun) and has great amenities. Although in the city limits it's only a short drive to great golf courses. So far we've played the Ventana Canyon and Mountain courses. Jill waxed me on the Canyon course. She would have had a personal best if she hadn't had a blow up hole on the 18th. I love watching her play... so consistent and so sexy.

We drove down through an area called Patagonia about 50 miles south of Tucson. It was highly rated by friends but was a bit of a disappointment. It was sort of billed as a Sisters-like town (Sisters is a small western style town in Oregon) only in a Southwest style. OK maybe, sort of... not! Patagonia, indeed all of southern Arizona is flooded with illegals who cross the border just a few miles south. You see lots of INS agents including road blocks. At right is just one of many INS depots.

From there we drove to Tombstone, home of the gun fight at the OK corral. This is a four block long tourist trap. If the Earp brothers and Doc Holliday hadn't killed three cowpokes here in xxxx this place would have dried up and blown away long ago. However, if one looks beyond the "gunfight" and asks why were the Earps and other legends of the ole west in Tombstone in the first place, the story gets more interesting.... Silver. Over 20 million dollars worth acted like a magnet sucking in 18,000 miners (in those days they didn't count women, Chinese or blacks so the population was actually much larger). There were 3400 prostitutes working a couple of hundred bars. The town sits on miles of tunnels dug by the miners.

We learned all of this when we paid 5 bucks to see the world's largest rose bush!!! (This from a guy who's concerned that using the word "potpourri" will reflect on his masculinity). I could say that I only went because Jill wanted to see it, but the fact is I wanted to see it. In this overblown dusty town with tons of gift shops, saloons and restaurants, down a side street barely noticeable among all of the glitz, sits a small storefront museum that claims to house the world's largest rose bush. At this point my feet hurt and my attitude was in free fall so I decided that anything would be better than more pseudo cowpokes selling trinkets made in China.

As you might expect with something so incredibly cultural there was no one in the place. The proprietor turned out to be the local historian and with nothing else to do gave us a private tour of the museum. It barely mentioned the fabled gunfight but had heaps of stuff about the mines and miners. Made the whole trip worthwhile!!! Oh yes... the rose bush. You can see the photos. Over a hundred years old covering over a half acre and still growing. About as big as the banyan tree in Lahina.

On another day we went to the Arizona Sonora Desert Museum about 30 miles west of Tucson. Great facility and well worth the visit. Gives one a real appreciation for the unique flora and fauna of the region. Nearby is the Old Tucson Studios. This is an active film studio where lots of cowboy movies were filmed, including several with John Wayne and the Three Amigos with Chevy Chase. Looking at clips from Wayne's movies reminded me of when I ran into him a the Kahala Hilton in the early 80's. He came out of the dressing room in the apparel shop wearing an ugly aloha shirt. He stood in front of the mirror and announced with a big smile "now I are a kaamaina!" (means local in Hawaiian)

Some have it others work at it

2010-04-08T17:58:00.000-07:00

There's the type of writing I do... laborious, inexact, rewritten, trashed, recovered and rewritten. Then there is organic writing... from the heart with a clear eye for detail. Our daughter is such a writer. We are blessed that all of our kids (including grandkids) have the ability to communicate clearly. Here's an example of Leslie's "organic" writing talent and a glimpse into her multi-faceted life.

March 25, 2010

There is a deer hanging in my barn. It’s been dead for several months.

It’s not a traditional barn. It’s not red and it doesn’t have a hayloft. I often long for the red, hipped roofed barn with a musty, dusty hay loft filled with golden square bales. This is a metal building, it is long and divided into two sections. There is a runway that you can chase the cows into that leads to a chute and a head gate. Sometimes we run a cow through and pull her calf. Sometimes we put an obstinate mother in the head gate and teach her baby to suck. Either way, it’s all about life, giving life, sustaining life. Right now the East side of the barn has 5 pens made from bright red panels that contrast sharply with the thick layer of yellow-gold straw. It is bright and glows warmly against the still cold March wind outside. After time it will dull and even turn brown but for now, it’s warm and welcoming. My orphan pen is in the corner and the motherless stay warm and dry in there.

There is a metal roof on the barn. Some roof panels are see-through to let the natural sky light shine in. Over time, some panels have come loose and sometimes a few rain drops or even snow flakes gently fall into the barn. The cows don’t seem to mind. It keeps them out of the wind and protects the babies. There are two heavy, long sliding doors. They rhythmically bang against the door frames in the wind. A lullaby song of protection from the elements outside.

Just inside the walk-in door hangs the deer…or rather what is left of him. At one time he had the potential to be an impressive Buck. His antlers still stand proudly atop his head. His body is missing, his legs cut off. A dirty faded red strap hangs around his neck like a noose and connects to the rafters above my head. Another rope with a hook attaches what is left of his spine to the sidewall of the barn. My step-son killed him legally last Fall. The hunting tag displayed on his left antler. The meat of his carcass is in my deep freeze. The hide has been cut away from his once proud shoulders and the meat of his neck is exposed. It is a dark red, almost magenta color, veined deeply with white congealed fat. He was well muscled and marbled. If you look closely you can see where the blood trickled out from under the hide and slowly slid towards the floor.

His shiny eyes are defiantly open and he is staring straight ahead. The cold temperatures have kept the flies and other flesh eaters from consuming them. His nose is long and proud. It is his mouth however, that rivets the attention. It is wide open. His black tongue, now dull and dried, sticks out, curled at the tip. His last terrified, shocking moments of life forever recorded in expression.

You can hear his silent scream when you look at him.

Farewell Phoenix ... Hello Tucson!

2010-04-04T18:22:00.000-07:00

I was going to name this post "potpourri" but that's such a feminine word I didn't want to use it less it raise some unwanted speculation about my manhood. Too bad because it accurately describes the following.

It's Sunday morning. Today we move from Phoenix to Tuscon. We were torn about leaving and actually considered staying another week but the drag strip outside this park at 2:00AM pretty well made the decision for us. For me it's not so bad because I can bury my good ear in the pillow and sleep, but for Jill there was no escape. Too bad because other than the noise it's a great park.

We discovered that we are close to Lake Pleasant. We spent most of yesterday getting El Gato ready to travel... Jill did laundry and I rearranged our golf bags (tough duty) then we drove over to see the lake. Actually it's a reservoir. It's quite large and pretty amazing to see such a large body of water surrounded by blooming desert studded with Saguaro cacti poking up through the manzanita and tumbleweed.

Here's a little known fact... (any time someone says "little known" what they really mean is they didn't know it and assume you didn't either... so perhaps everyone already knows this but I doubt it. Otherwise what's the point of repeating it?) Sorry I got off track... Saguaro cacti are very slow growing—it takes 15 years to grow a foot... 50 years to grow 7 feet... and the majestic ones with arms are at least 75 years old! Many live to be 150 years old. Okay so that's probably more than you ever wanted to know about Saguaro.

The lake is about 10 miles beyond the developed part of the Phoenix area. On the way back we went north from the lake and came across a Pulte Homes development out in the middle of nowhere (normally I'd say East Jesus but it's Easter Sunday so I'll refrain). The models were spectacular. One's money goes twice as far here as in Bend. For what we have our house on the market for at home, we could buy a 4000 square foot home here plus the HOA and taxes are much lower. Hmmm tempting.

Speaking of square footage, El Gato has about 350 sqft of living space. Several of you have asked if it's difficult to live in such confined quarters. Actually Jill and I, in our previous lives, have lived in far less space for months at a time. A hotel room is usually less than 200 sqft. Our first place in Hong Kong on Wyndham Street was only about 250 sqft. El Gato is like a movable hotel suite. The gym, laundry, and other amenities are common to all parks, much like a hotel. Of course, one of the benefits of traveling where the weather is warm is that we also have a large outdoor space where we dine and relax.

Comparing an RV park to a hotel may be a bit misleading... or perhaps I'm just a snob. The clientele in most parks appear to be in their 70/80's. They are mostly felony fashion violators... if, for example, you believe polyester disappeared from the fashion scene in the 70's you'd be wrong. Colorful poly sports suits are popular although you never see anyone in the gym. Usually they are accompanied by small yappy dogs on leash with the owner toting a Ziplock poop bag to the nearest dumpster. The men lean (no they are far from lean) toward T-shirts with beer logos or the ubiquitous "My Grampa went to the Grand Canyon and..." get the picture? They are, for the most part, a happy group living on social security and enjoying life, shuffle board, and the weather.

Did you know that by clicking on the photos in this blog you can enlarge the size? I didn't until yesterday so I thought I'd pass the tip along. Also please remember to access Amazon through this site. It costs you nothing but helps pay for our gas. Finally... if you want to review any of the books on my bookshelf, just double click on the book. If you want to see more books you can click on next at the bottom of the shelf, or to see the entire library click on Shelfari at the top of the bookcase.

A quick follow-up note on the post about Frank Lloyd Wright. We toured the Wrigley Mansion last week. That's Wrigley as in Spearmint and JuicyFruit. The mansion overlooks the Biltmore Hotel. Wrigley built it to oversee the construction of the hotel because he was an investor in the project. In '29 when the market tanked, all the other investors went belly-up and Wrigley stepped in and bought them out at .10 cents on the dollar. He didn't believe in investing in the market so the depression was a huge opportunity for him as he was siting on a ton of cash. There may be some wisdom there if deflation increases in our current situation.

Picture this... two atoms side by side spinning in the same direction. Take one of the atoms to the other side of the planet then cause one of them to spin in the opposite direction and guess what happens? The atom on the other side of the earth will automatically sync with the new direction!!! How's that for spooky stuff! No one is sure how this happens but physicists think there may be a dimension... indeed several dimensions... that we do not know about. This comes from a very interesting book called Physics of the Impossible by Michio Kaku.You will recognize the author as the physicist that often contributes to science stories on Fox and other networks.

Camping in the desert

2010-04-02T09:03:00.000-07:00

He was arrogant, a womanizer, married three times, financially incompetent, egotistical and a genius (up until the genius bit you thought I was describing myself... ha!). I'm talking about Frank Lloyd Wright the most famous American architect ever. Once, when appearing as an expert witness in a court trial, he was asked his occupation..."I'm the world greatest architect" he replied. Later, when chastised by his wife for being so arrogant, he said "I was under oath, what did you expect me to do, lie?"

In the 30's he came to Phoenix to oversee the construction of what became one of his signature buildings, the Biltmore Hotel, and fell in love with the area. He bought 600 acres far from Phoenix and built Taliesin West his winter "camp' in the desert. This remarkable home grew into what is today considered the leading school of Organic Architecture in the world. Wright died at age 93 and for the last two decades of his life he completed 600 projects and there were 1300 unfinished projects on his list. Who says old people can't be productive? When visiting Taliesin, as Jill and I did yesterday, one is amazed that this unique structure was, for the most part, built 80 years ago. It looks like something Gehery or IM Pei might have designed recently.

The Taliesin Fellowship (School) has twenty three students at a time. A student must have two years of college basics before applying. The first year each student lives in a shelter in the desert they design and build themselves... it's their introduction to organic design. Students must have multiple interests in the arts... dance, poetry, music, etc. Two of the existing teachers were the original students under Wright... in their 90's now, they are active and brilliant. One is also a world class sculptress whose works are on display throughout Taliesin. As students under Wright, they along with their classmates, actually built most of the buildings using simple tools... picks and shovels... no power nailers, just hammers, sweat and muscle.

The genius of Wright lives on in his work... Taliesin East and West, The Guggenheim in NY, Falling Waters, The Arizona Biltmore and the Imperial Hotel in Tokyo to name just a few. He marched to notes most of us are unable to hear. He always told his students that Beethoven was the greatest architect that ever lived. If you ever get a chance to take a tour of Taliesin West you will understand the oft quoted dictum that form follows function. And, for a brief time, walk in the steps of a great iconoclastic American giant.

Rising like a Phoenix

2010-04-01T10:36:00.000-07:00

During the Depression (that would be the great depression, not the current one) my dad delivered new cars from Detroit to the west coast. In those days they actually drove each car in a convoy. They filled the back seat with cases of oil and every 500 miles they'd pull off the side of the road and change the oil... yes they just drained the old oil into whatever ditch lined the road. After delivering the car, he would send back home most of the $50 he earned and ride the rails back to Flint. One night, riding on a box car in Southern California, an experienced hobo told him they should get off before pulling into the freight yard because government officials would meet the train and force all the bums into chemical showers to delouse them. So they jumped off as soon as the lights of LA came into view. Much to their surprise they found themselves miles from LA. The lights they'd seen were lining miles of empty streets the WPA, or some such stimulus work group, had installed in anticipation of future growth.

The reason I'm telling this story is because, to a lesser degree, the same thing is true in Phoenix during this depression. The drive from Palm Desert, California to Phoenix takes about 5 hours if you're driving a rig that is a bit longer than an 18 wheeler... 55 feet! The desert this time of year is beautiful... yellow, orange, and purple flowers everywhere. The closer one gets to Arizona, different types of cactus appear... cholla, agave, saguaruo, ocotillo, to name a few (yes I looked them up). Other than a wide spot in the road called Quartzite, that looks like some sort of bandit hideaway or meth-hole, there's not much in the way civilization... just desert. Then suddenly, rising like a... OK...like a Phoenix or like a mirage, one sees a WalMart Super Center... then a K-Mart surrounded by all of the familiar Big Box boys. So what's strange about that you ask? First of all Phoenix is still 20 to 30 miles away and there are no houses! "Build it and they will come" seems to have been the plan before Phoenix real estate took a 50% plunge. The streets are staked out and indeed there are a few developments with desultory wind shredded realtor banners hanging limply from light poles in the dry desert heat.

It's pretty sad to see the once hopeful signs of progress waiting for the world to catch up. I think it will be a very long time before these hopes become homes. If you're looking for a place in the desert, now's the time to come to Phoenix as long as you don't mind being surrounded by hundreds of empty dreams... creepy huh?

So much for first impressions. We are ensconced in a small RV park outside Peoria (suburb of Phoenix). It's decent but a bit noisy as it's close to the Deer Valley regional airport. Good wireless here so we worked in the morning then played 18 holes at Rancho Manaña in a community called Cave Creek north of Scottsdale. Absolutely beautiful course. We tried to get on at TCP but it was swamped. Glad to report we both played well. We're back in El Gato after too much sun and too many gin and tonics wishing the damn sun would go down so we can go to bed!

2010-03-28T15:59:00.000-07:00

Farewell to winter!

We gladly put winter behind us a couple of weeks ago and came south to get El Gato ready for the next phase of our little travel adventure. Arizona, New Mexico and central Utah are targeted during the next 2 months.

One thing one cannot criticize about California is the weather. It has been truly spectacular! On the other hand, the place is a mess. Its over-taxed, full of illegals, gangs, unemployed and the earth shakes. It has a negative population growth rate which means people are fleeing what was once a prosperous and desirable place. The only population growth is in illegals and anchor babies. It is the home of Waxman, Pelosi and Boxer!

When we lived in Hong Kong we were impressed by how clean the roads were. In California it is just the opposite. The shoulders of the Interstate are peppered with trash—everything from shredded tires to burger wrappers. I-5 is crumbling... makes one wonder where all the gas tax money is going. The roads in Europe aren't trashy... nor are those in Japan, Hong Kong or Singapore. Indeed the roads in Manila and Jakarta are cleaner than I-5. Why can't we take care of this incredible asset? Oh wait... how foolish of me... the Interstate Highway System is a Federal government responsibility. No wonder it, along with Fanny, Freddie, the Post Office, Energy Department etc etc, are failing. What could I have been thinking to expect the leopard to change its spots... of course Health Care will be an exception.

OK, picture this. A large table that appears to have come from Andalusia on some ancient sailing ship, laden with exotic flowers, antique silver candle holders, cut glass and crystal decanters. High above dark corbels support huge beams against a 20 foot plastered ceiling. The white plaster walls are festooned with elegantly mounted big game trophies... eland, springbok, impala to name a few. A zebra hide graces one wall. A handsome man, his skinned tanned and veined by years in the outdoors, sits at one end of the table with his back to the fireplace. His silver hair and penetrating eyes are those of a big game hunter. At the other end sits a regal hostess who effortlessly supervises the soirée. After considerable wine, a Sambuca or two, followed by a couple of rare Italian Grappas, I decide I'm in Out of Africa waiting for Meryl Streep to start reading an Isak Dinesen novel to the guests.

By now you're thinking I'm practicing creative writing when actually the above is an accurate, although inadequate, description of a dinner party Friday night at Rusty and Lynn Mullin's beautiful home in Rancho Mirage California. I have been friends with Rusty since the 4th grade. My second oldest friend, Pete Rhein, and his wife Linda were at dinner as well. Sitting in such a refined, elegant environment watching the two people I have known almost longer than any other had a dreamlike quality to it. Three guys from the same screwed up part of California with the same socio-economic background 50 years later drinking stuff we couldn't even spell (much less afford) back then, discussing girls we'd had... or was it girls we "wish" we'd had... it's all a bit foggy.

This beautiful evening was preceded by two days of golf with Pete and Linda and another spectacular meal at The Tuscany where Pete fell in love with Maribelle our Italian waitress. It's a bit embarrassing watching a Jewish banker on his knees singing Volare in the middle of a crowded restaurant. It was a spectacular two days with long-absent friends. Hopefully it won't be another 50 years before we do it again.

We are very lucky to have many great friends. Janet and Peter Storton graciously allow us to use their beautiful place when we are in the Palm Desert area. Earlier in the week we enjoyed another outstanding dinner at Jim and Mary Montgomery's at La Quinta Country Club. To those who are shivering in the final gasps of winter, try to picture a salad Mary served of grapefruit and avocado using fruit from the trees in their yard! Gotta love some things about this state.

Here's a catastrophe I would welcome!

2010-03-17T17:20:00.000-07:00

Are you as fed up with this health care stupidity as I am? I'm more that fed up I'm so disgusted that I've decided to write my own plan. I have no expectation that our highly intelligent, morally superior senators and congress people ( a little PC there) will adopt my plan because it will fit on a couple of pages and has very little room for graft (read Acorn) ... bummer huh?

The way I see it the reason people are so concerned about the cost of health care is because they don't want to lose everything they've worked all of their lives for... wiped out by some no-name thoughtless virus. That would truly be catastrophic! So what's needed is not insurance that pays for a doctor visit for a hang nail or cold but a policy that will protect us from the things that go bump in the night... things that could wreak catastrophe on us financially. Hey here's an idea we could call it catastrophic insurance ... clever huh?

Here's how it would work.

Everyone would have a deductable of 5% of their net worth! Yup no matter what you net worth you'd pay 5% before you could make a claim for anyone in your family. Those with a net of $5 million would be on the hook for $250k before insurance would kick in. A net of $20k would cost $1,000 before insurance would help. Once you have paid your deductible for three years you would not be required to pay any more for your care no matter how expensive or for however long you live. No one would ever get wiped out by illness, accident or disease.

Seems to me if we were all required to pick up the tab for some of our care we'd all be a bit circumspect regarding why and when we go to the doctor.

What about all of the illeagles who are draining our healthcare dollars? I don't believe in turning away anyone who needs help. Anyone who shows up at a hospital or care facility who cannot prove they are a citizen or have a current green card would receive adequate care to stabilize their problem. They would be given 6 months of whatever medication they need and then promptly deported. No anchor babies, no long term care. Bingo bango bongo within a few years our system would be solvent. Our schools, hospitals and prisons would be available to tax payers and life would be good.

Gee that didn't even take a page!

Kissing and computers

2010-03-01T20:25:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had your computer crash? I don't mean simply stall where a restart corrects the problem. I mean THUD...BANG...BLUE SCREEN... KAPUT? The kind of crash where everything on your computer disappears into the ether, or worse yet, into some Russian or Nigerian hacker's database? If this has never happened to you it's probably because you have a Mac or don't connect to the Internet. It is estimated that 20% of all computers have some sort of secret viral software. These bits of malicious code use the host computer as a platform to extract data from your machine or from others you link up with through e-mail or online shopping. Generally, these bits of mal-ware (French Mal for BAD) don't cause you to crash because, like a biological virus, they need a host to live on while they infect your systems and those of the people you interact with online. Bummer huh?

One of the ways these little buggers manage to spread themselves is through forwarded e-mails. These are usually messages sent from friends ... innocuous bits of drivel about politics, strange happenings, links to videos, recipes, jokes etc. What happens is someone sends you something that you think is cute, or meaningful or sexy and without giving it a thought you forward it on to a few hundred of your closest friends. It's sort of like what they say about kissing. When you kiss someone you are kissing all of the people the person you are kissing has ever kissed before! Makes bowing sort of attractive. So now this cute e-mail you have sent your friends not only has all of the addresses of all of the people who received the e-mail before it got to you, it has all of the addresses you sent it to.

Most readers know that I love politics and frequently forward stuff I get from others ... OK perhaps frequently is a bit of an understatement ... I forward a lot of this stuff...BUT... I always delete all of the addresses connected to anything I forward and I always put all addresses I'm forwarding to as BCC so they can't be seen. Unfortunately, many friends who send me stuff don't take these precautions. Last week I decided to count the number of addresses on e-mails I received from friends ... over a 5-day period there were 672 visible addresses forwarded to me ... 672! If the 20% infection figure is accurate then potentially I was exposed (in one week) to 134 infected machines.

When I had a PC I had a crash almost annually. Since I've switched to a Mac I've had one small mal-ware that slowed things a bit until I got rid of it. Nevertheless, I'm convinced we all need to start using better digital hygiene. Effectively immediately I'm instituting a new policy ... any items I receive that have been forwarded without being cleaned up will automatically be trashed without being opened. I will miss many cool things forwarded by many cool friends. It's a small effort on my part, but hopefully it will stimulate others to take a few minutes to clean e-mails before they hit the FORWARD button.

When silence is NOT golden

2010-02-19T20:39:00.000-08:00

When I read the following post by Paul E. Marek, a Canadian blogger, I recalled that when I was working in SE Asia I had several Muslim friends and customers in Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia. Occasionally, but not often, I was able to engage them in a discussion about what was happening with the fanatical Muslim jihadists. They always claimed that it was a small group of out of control Muslims that did not represent the mainstream. When I pressed by asking what they were doing about it, they became reticent to talk and I often got the impression they were afraid of what the extremists might do to them should they speak out.

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.” – Edmund Burke

Paul E. Marek is a second-generation Canadian whose grandparents fled Czechoslovakia just prior to the Nazi takeover. He wrote the following blog in February of 2006. It clearly shows how silence has, and can, kill.

***

A German's View on Islam

A man, whose family was German aristocracy prior to World War II, owned a number of large industries and estates. When asked how many German people were true Nazis, the answer he gave can guide our attitude toward fanaticism. 'Very few people were true Nazis,' he said, 'but many enjoyed the return of German pride, and many more were too busy to care. I was one of those who just thought the Nazis were a bunch of fools.

So, the majority just sat back and let it all happen. Then, before we knew it, they owned us, and we had lost control, and the end of the world had come. My family lost everything. I ended up in a concentration camp and the Allies destroyed my factories.'

We are told again and again by 'experts' and 'talking heads' that Islam is the religion of peace and that the vast majority of Muslims just want to live in peace. Although this unqualified assertion may be true, it is entirely irrelevant. It is meaningless fluff, meant to make us feel better, and meant to somehow diminish the specter of fanatics rampaging across the globe in the name of Islam.

The fact is that the fanatics rule Islam at this moment in history. It is the fanatics who march. It is the fanatics who wage any one of 50 shooting wars worldwide. It is the fanatics who systematically slaughter Christians or tribal groups throughout Africa and are gradually taking over the entire continent in an Islamic wave. It is the fanatics who bomb, behead, murder, or honor-kill. It is the fanatics who take over mosque after mosque. It is the fanatics who zealously spread the stoning and hanging of rape victims and homosexuals. It is the fanatics who teach their young to kill and to become suicide bombers.

The hard, quantifiable fact is that the peaceful majority, the 'silent majority,' is cowed and extraneous. Communist Russia was comprised of Russians who just wanted to live in peace, yet the Russian Communists were responsible for the murder of about 20 million people. The peaceful majority were irrelevant. China's huge population was peaceful as well, but Chinese Communists managed to kill a staggering 70 million people. The average Japanese individual prior to World War II was not a warmongering sadist. Yet, Japan murdered and slaughtered its way across South East Asia in an orgy of killing that included the systematic murder of 12 million Chinese civilians; most killed by sword, shovel, and bayonet.

And who can forget Rwanda, which collapsed into butchery. Could it not be said that the majority of Rwandans were 'peace loving'?

History lessons are often incredibly simple and blunt, yet for all our powers of reason, we often miss the most basic and uncomplicated of points:

Peace-loving Muslims have been made irrelevant by their silence.

Peace-loving Muslims will become our enemy if they don't speak up, because like my friend from Germany, they will awaken one day and find that the fanatics own them, and the end of their world will have begun.

Peace-loving Germans, Japanese, Chinese, Russians, Rwandans, Serbs, Afghans, Iraqis, Palestinians, Somalis, Nigerians, Algerians, and many others have died because the peaceful majority did not speak up until it was too late. As for us who watch it all unfold, we must pay attention to the only group that counts--the fanatics who threaten our way of life.

Where have all the poets gone?

2010-02-14T12:48:00.000-08:00

I often wonder where all the poets have gone? Over the past few decades, the interest in poetry, whether writing it or reading it, has declined. This is not an incremental decline but a substantial decline. Just a few decades ago it was considered manly to write and recite poetry. The man who did not know a few Shakespeare sonnets and had the ability to discuss their meaning and value was considered uncouth and uneducated. Indeed, being a member of a salon where ideas and poetry were discussed, deconstructed, and valued was considered a worthy pastime. Can you imagine the response one would get if one called his male friends and invited them over for an evening to discuss Robert Frost's works or those of Edna St.Vincent Millay? I suspect most would suddenly discover long-delayed commitments to take there wives shopping.

We claim to be a highly-efficient society. If so, why would we abandon a form of communication that has the ability to express complicated thoughts and ideas with minimal energy or space. Take Frost's famous poem:

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Is there a more succinct way to express the dichotomy between the pull of modern life with the pressure of family, friends, and career (miles to go...) and the desire for a simpler life represented by nature (woods). One could fill volumes of prose to say the same thing Frost achieves with a few simple lines. Of course, there are many interpretations of the esoteric meaning of this poem... some say it's a metaphor for death, others claim it is a simple story. Therein lies the beauty of poetry. It demands that the reader participate by interjecting their own history and views into the meaning of the poet's work.

Here's my favorite... a few lines from Edna St,Vincent Millay's

Renascence

The world stands out on either side
No wider than the soul is high
Above the world is stretched the sky,
No higher than the soul is high.
The heart can push the sea and land
Farther away on either hand;
The soul can split the sky in two,
and let the face of god shine through.

How many pages of effort would it take to explain the power of vision and the capacity of man to determine the depth and scope of life?

So, back to my original question... Where have all the poets gone? Are they writing rap tunes or the repetitive refrains of most rock songs? Are they confined to Slam sessions in dreary bars? Have we abandoned the ability to express thoughts with efficiency and emotion because someone might call us a sissy? Has the mind-numbing plethora of 24-hour news and sports so dulled our sensibilities that we no longer value careful and thoughtful expression? Is the rapier sharp reasoning of poetry just too much for minds hammered for so long with the obvious? I wish I knew.

Ain't technology grand!

2010-02-12T14:14:00.000-08:00

My eyes are blurry, my back aches, my good ear is howling and my deaf one has little bells twinkling. I've spent the last two nights putting many of my books on a site owned by Amazon called Shelfari. If you're a book nut you will love this site as it allows you to catalog all of your books. Whoa... before you start to snooze, hear me out... I'm not talking about the Dewey Decimal System... I mean catalog with pictures of the actual volume you own on a virtual shelf. In addition, you can rate each book with a star rating of 1 to 5 and you can indicate your favorites with a little heart that appears on the corner of the book jacket! My guess is that when Jefferson was preparing to sell six thousand volumes from his personal library to the government to kick start the Library of Congress, he would have been delighted to have a system like this.

Of course, like most sites today there are a whole host of review and discussion groups you can join if that's your bag. Personally I don't like this social networking stuff very much partly because I type very slowly with two fingers and my spelling is atrocious (thank God for spell check otherwise that atrocious bit would have been unrecognizable, hmmm... as would unrecognizable come to think of it).

It's really amazing. All you do is type in the title of the book and up pops all the various jackets that have adorned the book over its lifetime. You simply select the one that matches what's in your real library and... voila... it appears on your virtual shelf. (If you're interested in starting your own Library just click on the word SHELFARI at the top of my list for more info).

In addition, there's a widget that allows you to post books on your blog! Take a look at the right side of this post and just below the blurb with my picture you should see John's Library. I have yet to figure out how to put the books in any particular order, so for now they are just random. The cool thing is if you see something that interests you, you can click on it and it will take you to a page that has a synopsis in addition to pictures of all the jackets.

If you don't see the Library on your screen, you probably need to refresh your page. Go up to your menu and under VIEW you'll find REFRESH or RELOAD (at least this is how it works on Firefox) click on that and your computer will dump its memory of the page and download a new one, which should have the Library. If you have a problem with this please put a note in the comments box below.

In some cases, Amazon does not have a jacket picture so the book is shown with a blank cover. Finally at the very bottom of the list is a NEXT link that will bring up a completely new list... if you're really bored, you can review all 400 or so volumes I've posted so far!

It's not such a long trail after all

2010-02-03T13:29:00.000-08:00

My dad was born a century ago. He rode a horse to school, used kerosene lamps and milked the family cow on their small plot of land in Indiana. His father, my grandfather, was born shortly after the Civil War and was a minister who covered several small communities none of which could afford a full time pastor... they were called Circuit Riders. We tend to think of history as something that happened a very long time ago but when you look closely people my age are less than three life times removed from the great war between the states. A few Civil War veterans were still alive when I was born. In generational terms my grand kids are just 5 generations removed from having Lincoln as a president (no comment).
Things have happened so fast in the last century that it's easy to lose touch with our past. I used to wonder how my dad could have lived through so much progress and remained so poor. Think about it ... the electrification of America, the rise of fossil fuels other than coal, the automobile, airplanes and telephones ... I mean you could have thrown a dart against the DOW and made a fortune! Then I get to thinking about all the progress during my lifetime ... computers, internet, faxes, e-mail, cell phones, space exploration, globalization, medical and pharma advancements etc. and how I failed to capitalize on these and I understand how it's possible to live within a forest of progress and fail to see the trees of opportunity. In addition my dad had to survive the depression smack dab in the middle of his prime years. Is it any wonder he went from being a man with with entrepreneurial desires to one who sought security over everything else?

I wrote this the day after he died:

He was a quiet man.

You never really knew what he was thinking...

all you knew for sure

was... he was thinking.

He was honest... I think...

at least I never caught him in a lie.

But then again he didn't have much to lie about...

perhaps that's the ultimate definition of honesty.

He was at once devoted to

and dominated by my mother.

He didn't care that we teased him

about being "henpecked".

He was, in a strange sort of way,

proud to belong to her.

He never said it, but I suspect

he had a strong picture of what a man should be...

at least I always wanted to believe that,

but then who knows what the silent ones really think.

Perhaps he was taciturn because

he had nothing to say? I wish I knew.

He was a good man.

He didn't know how not to be...

but then again perhaps that's the definition of goodness.

To those of us who are sometimes good

and sometimes not so good,

it's hard to believe that there are people

who can be only good or bad.

He was a so-so Dad.

I don't mean that unkindly...

most "Depression" dads were so-so...

they had other visions to deal with.

He did his best and it was good enough...

none of us are in jail and pay our taxes... reluctantly.

His passions were subtle,

as though beyond his reach.

He rarely talked about them,

but there were signs...

the old boating magazines

he kept carefully filed away...

his version of my hidden Penthouse...

sock drawer fantasies.

He told me that masturbation could cause insanity...

to look far down the road when driving...

to tithe my money and change my own oil.

Beyond that, he led by example...

work hard, play fair, give to others,

vote, donate blood, and love my mother.

The jury's still out on the masturbation bit

but other than that, it was sound advice.

(NOTE: I have been asked twice recently if I mind having my blog forwarded... I am honored to be asked and delighted to say no I don't mind at all).

The great American heist!

2010-01-27T09:03:00.000-08:00

If you have children or grand children and you don't live in a cave or on the public dole you need to read the following. Yes I know it is boring, dull and something none of us want to think about but if we don't start paying attention soon the federal budget will soon swamp all other considerations. This is not a political post against any one party or president. Our apathy and failure to supervise Washington is at the core of this looming disaster. Read and heed the following from the Heritage Foundation:

The public debt -- $7.5 trillion at the end of 2009 -- is projected to triple to $22.1 trillion by 2020.

Over what would be President Obama's eight years in office if re-elected, baseline budget deficits are projected to total $9.7 trillion -- nearly triple the $3.3 trillion in deficits accumulated by President George W. Bush.

By 2020, the budget forecasts a $1.9 trillion annual budget deficit, a public debt of 98 percent of GDP and annual net interest spending surpassing $1 trillion.

Our country simply cannot afford to be spending $1 trillion in net interest in 2020. So what is the driving force behind these unsustainable deficits? Unprecedented rises in government spending:

Since World War II, federal spending has generally remained between 18 and 22 percent of GDP. During the Bush Administration, spending increased from 18.4 to 20.9 percent of GDP.

Discretionary spending has increased 25 percent in three years -- not even counting the $311 billion in discretionary stimulus spending and approximately $150 billion in annual spending on the global war against terrorists.

In 2009, federal spending reached 24.7 percent of GDP -- the highest level in American history outside of World War II. Non-defense spending reached an all-time record of 20.1 percent of GDP.

"Between 2010 and 2020, recession-depleted revenues are projected to gradually rebound to 17.6 percent of GDP (slightly below the 18.3 historical average). Spending is projected expand to 25.9 percent of GDP -- well above 20.7 historical average. Compared to those averages, 88 percent of all additional deficits by 2020 come from additional spending (5.2 percent of GDP above average), and only 12 percent comes from low revenues (0.7 percent of GDP below average)."

So 88% of all of our crippling debt problems come from our government's inability to control its spending habits. President Obama's spending "freeze" is just a drop in the bucket. A credible commitment to reduce government spending would go much farther. For starters, the remaining TARP and stimulus funds should both be rescinded. Next, instead of the President's fungible "aggregate" spending freeze, tough hard spending caps should be enacted. Finally, Congress should disclose the massive unfunded obligations of Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid; put those programs on long-term budgets; and enact the necessary entitlement and programmatic reforms that can keep government within those limits.

On Darwin and insecurity

2010-01-22T21:40:00.000-08:00

It's no secret that I never went past the 12th grade. Indeed I only really finished the 11th grade. Early in the 12th grade I had cut school so often that the administration got fed up and made it clear to my folks that I was about to be booted out.

So we cut a deal.

I would attend carpentry class three hours a day for the rest of the year and if I didn't "ditch" any days I would graduate. That's it. Three hours a day pounding nails while trying to avoid all the other misfits in the class. Well I did it... probably my greatest academic achievement. I think I graduated with my class. I was pretty drunk but do remember swaying while standing on the risers waiting for my name to be called. I woke up the next morning with my hair encrusted with blood where I'd cut it on Mike Schepper's dad's Cadillac headliner when we hit a flood control ditch at high speed going from one party to another.

The point of this? Ever since high school I have had a passion for learning. Once I realized how important a good education could be in terms of income, social interaction and the general quality of life, it was too late. I was married with kids and needed to focus on making a living. I carried a feeling of inferiority with me most of my life because I hadn't gone to college. I was aware of it daily. It provided the drive that stoked a competitiveness in me to do better than those with college degrees I competed with. Even when I got to the point where I was the boss ... the guy who hired and fired staff with PhDs and Masters Degrees there was always that feeling that something was missing at the core of my existence.

No matter how many books I read it was never enough to fill the void.

Now that I'm older and more at peace with myself I take a more relaxed view of learning. Now I learn for the pure joy of discovering something new. I must admit, however, that I occasionally wonder if I could have succeeded in college. Sure it's the same old insecurity, if in another form, but it is something I've always wondered about ... until now! Recently I discovered the most incredible website www.academicearth.com. This site allows one to audit courses free of charge at Berkeley, Columbia, Harvard, Michigan, MIT, NYU, Princeton, Stanford, UCLA and Yale.

The mix of courses is truly incredible... history, physics, math, religion etc. I'm currently taking a 10 week course at Stanford about evolution and the effect Darwin has had on scientific thought. It is a celebration of Darwin's 200th birthday and the 150th anniversary of the publication of The Origin Of Species.

The other night I audited a course at MIT on The Language of Computers. The cool thing about this is that I UNDERSTOOD what was taught. I knew the answers to most of the questions the students asked ... I could hold my own. What joy! It took 68 years but I can finally say... Away with you snivelling haunting insecuriity ghost. Darken my door no more!

Haiti... Book Report

2010-01-16T09:45:00.000-08:00

I don't know about you but when a huge disaster hits like Haiti I always want to learn more about the country and culture of the affected region. The defining event in the long and sad history of Haiti is the slave rebellion against the French. It is a tragic and horrifying story.

Madison Smart Bell, one of the worlds great historical fiction writers has written a fantastic Trilogy about the revolution in Haiti. Although the three volumns are connected by characters you can read them independently as each stands alone. If you want to read all three volumes, as I have, you should start with All Souls Rising then Master of the Crossroads and finish with The Stone That The Builder Refused. This is a ripping good read that will occupy more than a vacation on the beach but is well worth the time invested. (Note: All three volumes are on Kindle)

A non-fiction work that gives a very detailed look at Haiti today is Mountains Beyond Mountains. (The Quest of Dr. Paul Farmer a man who would cure the world). This is a super interesting story about Haiti and one Dr.s mission to improve the health of Haitians. It too is available on Kindle.

Red Guards and leopard spots

2010-01-13T20:51:00.000-08:00

I was 37 the first time I went to China in 1978. I was one of the early China hands. The place had hardly any private commerce. The pain of the Cultural Revolution leaked with a terrible sadness from the eyes of most people. Everyone had a horrific story to tell if you could get them to talk. I used to invite clients to my hotel for a meal and often they declined for fear of being labeled a bourgeois toady by their superiors.

Everyone had to attend weekly political meetings. If a member of the group saw another getting too close to a foreigner they would call them out during these meetings to embarrass them and force them back in line. During the height of the Cultural Revolution they would often do more than harass those who failed to display an adequate enthusiasm for Mao and the party; they would publicly beat and often kill them.

In '78 no one knew the rules. They had been told for 30 years that Westerners and especially Americans were the root cause of all of their suffering. Americans we're frequently called pigs and running dogs even when I first went there. Mao died in '76 and the Gang of Four (Mao's wife and three other politicos) tried to take over but were exposed and imprisoned. Deng Xiaoping, who had been imprisoned by Mao, took over and came up with a new plan that opened the country to the west commercially while maintaining tight control of the country politically through the Communist party and the PLA (Peoples Liberation Army).

The average guy had heard it all before and had learned through painful experience to read the tea leaves carefully. For example, Mao had a plan called Let a Thousand Flowers Bloom. It opened China to the intellectuals he had vilified for so long. He let them out of prison and encouraged those who had fled overseas to return and they did... in droves. Mao encouraged them to speak out about the problems in the country. Of course, the problem was Mao and his gang and as soon as they came under attack he organized the peasant youth into Red Guards, encouraging them to "purify" the thoughts of the intellectuals. They vigorously attacked anyone who had an education or intellectual standing, especially if they had been overseas.

Dr. Tu Yi Fu, who became a dear friend, was the head of surgery at a leading dental school during the fall of Mao's Thousand Flowers movement. He was not political at all. The Red Guards tied his arms behind his back with ropes, put a red dunce cap on his head, and beat him with sticks trying to make him confess that he had been in contact with his family who had fled to Taiwan in '49. For four years he was confined to the basement as a janitor of the department he once ran. Frequently he would be brought to campus-wide purification meetings. Blindfolded, he would stand on a stage while hundreds of students screamed at him calling him a Kuomintang spy and yellow dog. Imagine what it was like for a cultured, educated man to be so humiliated. How terrified he must have been in the darkness behind the blindfold.

Every dental school I visited in China always had a few "dentists" who hung around the tea room and never seemed to actually do any dentistry. I asked Dr. Tu who these people were. He told me they were peasants who had been appointed as dentists during the Cultural Revolution. The Red Guards harbored such hatred for those with education that when they removed the real dentists as running dog capitalists, they simple 'appointed' replacement dentists. He told me stories of how the impostors would drag him up from the basement to save the life of some patient who was bleeding to death because of their malpractice. Because they had once held the title of dentist and were paid as such within the bureaucracy, they could never be demoted. Theywould continue to be paid on that level until they retired even though they had no training or ability and now simply sat and drank tea and smoked cigarettes. These were the same people who had abused him for four years. I asked him how he felt when he saw these people who had treated him so badly. I told him I would want to strangle them. He smiled and said he harbored no ill will toward them because... "they thought they were doing the right thing".

Since '78 the communists have embarked on a huge global PR campaign to change the world view of their country and government. Leopards, as the cliche goes, cannot change their spots. Don't be fooled by the fantastic images coming from China like those from the Olympics. Sure, they are amazing but remember... last week the Chicoms imprisoned a dissident for 15 years for publicly questioning the legal system in the country.

All of this leads me to the point of this post. Fewer than 10% of those serving in the current administration in Washington have ever worked in the private sector. Is it any wonder that the other 90% believe government is the solution to every problem. To expect them to do otherwise is asking the leopard to change its spots. Hopefully we can be as generous in our thinking as Dr. Tu ... sadly, they believe they are doing the right thing.

Justice versus injustice

2010-01-05T20:40:00.000-08:00

In the 50's when I was in high school we referred to Koreans as "Slopes". I didn't know at the time but that epithet referred to the fact that the backs of many Koreans' heads were flat as a board. Many years later when stationed in Korea, I learned why they had such a strange feature. Up until recently Koreans, like most Asians, slept on thick quilts laid on wooden floors. To heat their homes they burned coal cylinders inserted into large clay pipes under the floor. (I once woke up with a start in a Korean home when my foot got off the quilt and was burned on the wood floor). The reason many Koreans had (and some still have) flat heads is because as babies they slept on their backs on heated floors which slowly flattened their developing skulls.

During the 50's we also called African Americans negroes or the "N" word; it was very common and we didn't think much about it. We also had a lot of Mexicans which we referred to as Spics. Niggers, Spics, Slopes, Chinks, Wops, if you weren't a WASP you had an ugly epithet attached to your name ... Harold the Chink ... Bobby the Kike, etc. It was the way it was.

One of the best things to happen in the decades since was the gradual enlightenment away from such slurs and insults. Unless you've been living in a cave for the past 50 years, you see people much differently now than we did then. We now define people more by their character and actions than their looks or where they came from or their religion. The purpose of all of this is to demonstrate that there is a positive role for Political Correctness. Who among us would like to go back to using the harmful cruel slurs of yesteryear? PC has a place and a valuable role to play when used to correct injustice. However ... we have gone too far.

At the core of PC is respect. However, when a group of people disrespect you with their attitudes, their religion, and their 16th century laws there is no place for PC. Probably the most insidious form of PC is the weird fear of profiling. I mean, who thought up this absolutely bizarre notion? Of course I can answer that, as can you if you think about it. Blacks, sadly, have been profiled by the police for years. Because of this pitiful action on the part of some cops it has morphed into some sort of inviolable moral code. "Blacks are profiled unfairly, therefore all profiling is bad." This absolutely idiotic notion has led to nursing babies being wanded at airports by TSA along with grandmas and many of the rest of us.

Other than Timothy McVey and a couple of other wackos, all terrorist acts against the USA in the past 20 years have been carried out by Muslim men aged 16 to 30 from the Middle East or Africa. What's so difficult to understand about this? Passing through the Denver airport recently the person who checked my boarding pass at security screening was a Somali Muslim woman!!! How do I know this... she was wearing a f**king hijab ... that's how. Since then, several Somali men have been arrested on terrorism charges in the USA. Look I'm no security expert but I've read enough mystery novels to know that if I wanted to blow up a plane and my girlfriend or sister or wife is in charge of checking boarding passes at a major airport, I'd find a way to exploit that connection. When I grumbled about this blatant nonsense to one of the screeners I was threatened with arrest!!!

PC to combat injustice is one thing ... PC to protect a population of people who will not stand up against the militants within their own religion who are out to destroy us is naive, stupid, and dangerous.

On hope and a new decade

2009-12-30T15:03:00.000-08:00

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL!

The photo in this post is of the solid gold plaque that is attached to the Pioneer Space Probe. It shows a depiction of male and female humans as well as the location of the planet earth in the Milky Way Galaxy. Behind the plaque is a CD with various sounds from earth including the songs of whales. Pioneer is the first man made physical item to ever leave our solar system. It is more than an inter-galactic fishing expedition... it is the ultimate expression of hope. Jill and I hope all of you reach your dreams in 2010 no matter how distant they may seem.

***

Following a resolution that was written by Harry Brown a leading Libertarian. I'm not sure I can live up to it's lofty sentiments but it's worth a try.

A Libertarian's New Year's Resolutions

1. I resolve to sell liberty by appealing to the self-interest of each prospect, rather than preaching to people and expecting them to suddenly adopt my ideas of right and wrong.

2. I resolve to keep from being drawn into arguments or debates. My purpose is to inspire people to want liberty -- not to prove that they're wrong.

3. I resolve to listen when people tell me of their wants and needs, so I can help them see how a free society will satisfy those needs.

4. I resolve to identify myself, when appropriate, with the social goals someone may seek -- a cleaner environment, more help for the poor, a less divisive society -- and try to show him that those goals can never be achieved by government, but will be well served in a free society.

5. I resolve to be compassionate and respectful of the beliefs and needs that lead people to seek government help. I don't have to approve of their subsidies or policies -- but if I don't acknowledge their needs, I have no hope of helping them find a better way to solve their problems.

6. No matter what the issue, I resolve to keep returning to the central point: how much better off the individual will be in a free society.

7. I resolve to acknowledge my good fortune in having been born an American. Any plan for improvement must begin with a recognition of the good things we have. To speak only of America's defects will make me a tiresome crank.

8. I resolve to focus on the ways America could be so much better with a very small government -- not to dwell on all the wrongs that exist today.

9. I resolve to cleanse myself of hate, resentment, and bitterness. Such things steal time and attention from the work that must be done.

10. I resolve to speak, dress, and act in a respectable manner. I may be the first libertarian someone has encountered, and it's important that he get a good first impression. No one will hear the message if the messenger is unattractive.

11. I resolve to remind myself that someone's "stupid" opinion may be an opinion I once held. If Ican grow, why can't I help himgrow?

12. I resolve not to raise my voice in any discussion. In a shouting match, no one wins, no one changes his mind, and no one will be inspired to join our quest for a free society.

13. I resolve not to adopt the tactics of Republicans and Democrats. They use character assassination, evasions, and intimidation because they have no real benefits to offer Americans. We, on the other hand, are offering to set people free -- and so we can win simply by focusing on the better life our proposals will bring.

14. I resolve to be civil to my opponents and treat them with respect. However anyone chooses to treat me, it's important that I be a better person than my enemies.

On wisdom and i-Phones

2009-12-28T10:27:00.000-08:00

I just got an iPhone and really understand one's fascination with its capabilities. Indeed I have found myself fiddling with it at inappropriate times. So I understand the pull of technology... nevertheless enough is enough.

Technology has made multi-tasking easier and more efficient. We are all now accustomed to doing more than one thing at a time... driving, listening to the radio, talking on bluetooth, eating a fast food snack and drinking all at once comes to mind. I plead guilty to this and other multi-tasking errors of convenience.

I also understand that sometimes seniors jokes are not very funny to anyone but seniors and occasionally, if not frequently, their stories may be repetitive and not very exciting to young people. Nevertheless it seems to me that these foibles of age pale in comparison to the lack of manners in today's hi-tech world. It may be, indeed it must be, acceptable among the youth of today to be carrying on a conversation with friends and texting or twittering another simultaneously. If this is an acceptable norm between teens today then far be it from me to interfere. Teens should know, however, that to seniors when a teenager with whom one is trying to connect texts someone else in the middle of the conversation it is simply rude... period. It says that the one they are talking with in person is not as important as the person on the other end of the text. Most seniors understand that they may not be as important as the textee and that's fine... but instead of insulting them with your indifference, please excuse yourself and leave the room while you carry on your textual dialogue.

As for boring jokes and stories, teens might want to remember that the definition of wisdom is... learning from others' mistakes. If today's' youth would quit multi-tasking for a minute and stay focused on some of what seniors prattle on about, they might find a few self-deprecating nuggets that will help them avoid making the same mistakes as their parents or grandparents... and that chill'n, is how you gain wisdom. It takes very little effort or time to show a bit of respect for those that brung ya to the party.

Always head toward the light!

2009-12-20T20:47:00.000-08:00

It's hard to summarize the last 2-1/2 months. We had some of the most interesting and enjoyable times of our lives interrupted by moments of unexpected darkness. Fortunately, for us anyhow, we are capable of treating sadness with humor and a certain amount of disdain. Being partners who can set aside their individual needs to support the other is the definition of soul-mate. If ever put to the test, I hope I can be as strong and supportive as Jill has been during the last six weeks.

We are delighted to be home with friends and family over the holidays. We are looking forward to a joyous Christmas in McMinnville with Allen's lovely family and a raucous New Year's Eve at our house with friends who still maintain the ability to shed the weighty robes of middle age and act and play like children.

I don't want to over philosophize about the last few weeks and the loss on my hearing, but there are a couple of things worth stating. If I wanted to make a joke out of it I would ask the question... what do John Schwartz and Tiger Woods have in common? The answer is that we both learned how fragile the important things in our lives are and how quickly they can change. I also learned how wonderful it is to have family and friends when you've been hit by a bus. The offers from my sons and son in-law to put their lives on hold to come and drive El Gato home, to the simple sound of concern in a friend's voice are what keeps one centered during stressful times.

Jill and I wish you happiness and joy, not just during the holidays, but all year long. We hope you have a healthy and prosperous 2010. In March we will resume our adventure, saddling up El Gato for a thorough exploration of Arizona and New Mexico. Oh yeah baby...

Have you ever been to Jordan?

2009-12-10T21:11:00.000-08:00

We're still in Palm Desert. Our various infections seem to be responding to the plethora of pharmaceuticals we are bombarding them with. We're going to LA tomorrow to see the kids and celebrate Immi's third birthday on Saturday. After that we're putting El Gato in storage here in the desert and driving home. We've decided to regroup and try to get back to some semblance of normal health before we launch the next phase of our Grand Adventure that has not been so grand for the past few weeks. Our plan is to start phase II sometime in March with an exploration of Arizona and New Mexico.

The photo attached to this post is a small clip of a large Christmas Golf Cart parade held at the Oasis Country Club where our friends Janet and Peter have a place. This is an annual event accompanied by Christmas carols and much conviviality. Watching this happy event while sitting on J and P's beautiful patio trying to drown the bacteria in my lungs with a Sapphire gin martini I got to thinking how strange it is that people celebrate what is supposed to be a religious holiday with images of a fat guy who lives with elves and red nosed deer somewhere on a CO2 endangered ice flow in the far north.

I don't pretend to be an expert on religious holidays (Easter Bunny ... what's up with that?) however I have been to the Dead Sea and driven along the Jordan River ... indeed I've actually stood where John the Baptist supposedly baptized Jesus. So these are my limited creds regarding these comments. The point is there are many similarities between the geography of Jordan (Holy Land) and Palm Desert. They are both hot ... like, really hot. They have a large salt lake (Salton Sea/Dead Sea) and the flora and fauna are very similar ... camelweed and palm trees. The Jordan river valley is bordered by Israel with the ancient city of Jericho looking down on it from a high bluff and the desert communities of Southern California are overlooked by an equally high bluff on their southern edge.

What confuses me is if one celebrates Christmas as a religious holiday and one lives in a place that is the mirror image of where Christ was born, why does one feel compelled to import the fat guy and flying deer from the arctic? Moreover, why decorate pine trees when more than likely the trees that greeted Jesus at birth were palm trees just like the ones in PALM Desert?

I'm confused?

Repudiation

2009-12-06T16:29:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted all week because I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired... and ... I'm sure you are sick and tired of reading about it. As we have done nothing but lay low, cough, snort, sneeze and wheeze there has been little of interest to write about. So instead here's something totally unconnected with anything.

When I started this blog I decided to keep politics out of it and stay focused on The Trip and family matters. So far (although it's been hard as there's soooo much fodder) I've pretty much stayed with the plan. However the Presidents recent trip to China and it's apparent lack success has caused me to wonder about the level of knowledge this administration has concerning Chinese history. From what we can see on TV and in the papers the president went to China with his hat in hand ... and the hat was full of IOU's he wants them to buy. At minimum he wanted to make certain they don't start cashing in the trillion or so they currently hold.

The White House staff seemed perplexed that the Chinese would be concerned about the safety of their investment in our debt. Makes one wonder how much they know or understand about Chinese history. The Chinese government is communist. They are the son's of Mao and the Long March their defining historical event. In 1949 they chased Chiang Kai-shek and the Nationalist off to Taiwan and took over the rest of China. The first thing (or one of the first things) they did after killing and imprisoning the bourgeoisie was to REPUDIATE all of the country's DEBT! Yup they reneged on all of the bonds, bank debt and IOU's.

Those repudiated debt instruments are now traded as works of art. I have two bonds issued to finance railroads in China along with their coupons hanging on my wall at home. I will make more money when I sell them than the original holders of the debt.

The sons of Mao are the victims of their own history. They, unlike Americans, believe it is entirely possible that a country would, or may, repudiate it's debt and why wouldn't they... it's in their cultural/political DNA .. in their view it was a successful strategy.

Their historically based paranoia may be the solution to our debt relationship with them. We have a diametrically opposed views of the importance of a country keeping it's word. As Americans we have a deep seated belief in the importance of honoring our currency and debt. The commies do not have that view. They believe in expediency... whatever works. In the center of their soulless existence they believe in power no matter what the source. Just as we find this attitude difficult to understand they find it impossible to believe how we feel.

The point of this bit of pedantry is that Obama as a socialist is more threatening to the Chinese than Bush or any other president. If he would look them in the eye ... Mano a Mano... (hmmm dare I say, commie to commie) and say if you stop investing in our debt or start unloading it we may have to take a page from your 1949 playbook it might scare the caca out of them. They would never expect any other president to back this threat but Obama has already demonstrated his willingness to ignore the the founding documents upon which this country was founded so they have no reason to suspect that he would shy away from something as simple refusing to pay the country's bills.

Of course it's a fantasy but it is fun to think about the president actually defending the country instead of apologizing for it.