YARD WORK

My back yard looks great right now. I just spent several hours cleaning up and mowing the verdurous space. By the first of next week it’ll look like crap again. One of the main reasons that the splendid appearance is so fleeting is that my basic crop is weed related. If I had a nice base of Rye grasses or Kentucky Blue Fescues then I might get more mileage out of my mowing and raking and such. But my yard leans to the Crabgrass, Chickweed and Dandelion varieties of flora. They say that one man’s weed is another man’s dinner, but I’m pretty sure that was Ewell Gibbons who said that and he’s dead so I’m not eating any old Dandelion soup.

I’ve been using my brand new Craftsman push mower with the big wheels on the back. It’s a side discharge bagger type or a mulcher, whichever you choose. I choose mulcher. It’s much easier that way and those little sticks you miss when you’re raking get chopped up into sawdust pretty nicely. Plus it’s good for the lawn, or so I’ve heard. Up until last fall I had two working mowers; a self propelled job that worked pretty well most of the time and a cheap little push mower that I used for the tight spots. The self propelled was really nice until the drive mechanism broke. Then it was like pushing my pickup truck around with the emergency brake set. I had that mower fixed a couple of times. The drive mechanism would only break when I hit some unseen immovable object or tried to drag it backwards when it was in a forward gear position. They really should make those things with automatic transmissions. It was a good mower, a gift from our youngest daughter, and I miss it.

But as I was saying, the grass looks pretty good. It doesn’t have any of those fancy diamond pattern mowing marks that some guys put into their thick green lawns. Some of those yards look like the outfields at major league ball parks. The only pattern in my yard is the decreasing circle as I get closer to the cooler holding my Yeungling Amber Lager. But I don’t think of the few beverages that I might consume during the completion of my chores as real “drinking”. It’s more of a hydration thing actually. We all need to stay hydrated, right? When I go on my daily walk I see people, usually those in expensive sneakers and spandex clothes, carrying their little water bottles. They have them at hand even if they’re just taking the kids to the playground. The kids on the playground even have water bottles, so there must be some sort of government advisory out about keeping hydrated. I do my part for hydration and for the brewing industry at the same time.

If we’re still here in this house next year I’m thinking of paving a good part of the lawn. They call that “hardscaping” as opposed to landscaping. Some rocks and a bunch of paving stones, maybe a few bricks can make all the difference in the world. And what takes hours of work with garden tools can be reduced to a few minutes with a garden hose and a broom. The grandkids would like it. They already love to toss rocks out onto the lawn in the higher grass patches where I can easily find them with the lawn mower blade. This way they can toss the rocks and I can say they are helping me to “re-hardscape” the yard. Good news all around.

Well, I’m going over to my brother’s place to look at a toilet resetting job. I’m not going to do the job I’m just going to look at it and maybe talk about it a little. It’s free help that I’m happy to give. I just wish I could get some free help on this yard work stuff because I really do hate it, even if it does have the advantage of being a perfect opportunity for hydration, even in the morning.

Have a fine day.

WEATHER, FLU AND 100 DAYS

This morning I had to take my pick-up truck into the shop for some work and diagnostics. Diagnostics was once a word reserved for hospitals and now it applies to computer and other electronics repair and cars and trucks. Hook up the little plug deals on whatever is being diagnosed and a computer checks things out and next thing you know you have a new fuel pump, some new government mandated pollution filters and a bill for a thousand bucks. Modern life sure is grand. But I digress, as usual.

While I was in the waiting room at the car place I took a peek at the morning news show that was playing very loudly and distracting me from my “Field and Stream” magazine article about the top one hundred fishing lures of all time. It seems that this morning the talking heads were extremely excited about the weather, swine flu and Mr. Obama’s first hundred days. All three of those subjects seemed to be of equal importance if we were to rate them on how animated and thrilled the reporters were that delivered the news. A report on some new treatment for acne got a slightly higher excitement level but that may have been a commercial designed to look like a news report so I have to take away a few points for that.

The weather was exciting because it’s pretty hot out. At least two people in New York City died as a direct result of being confined to their non air conditioned apartments. One person was ninety two and the other was eighty nine. The landlords are being charged as co-conspirators with God (the weather maker) as the evil killers of those two unfortunate folks. Well I made that part up, but nowadays one can’t be too sure about anything. The reporter talking about the weather did say that things were going to cool down some soon. And he seemed a little disappointed. But he also got happier when he talked about some possible serious storms attached to a big cold front that might possibly be moving through the Midwest some time later in the week. It seems that greater the potential for disaster the happier the reporter.

The swine flu thing is a pretty big deal. A bunch of people in Mexico have died from the illness and it’s spreading all around the world. The UN is involved now which is probably making the virus very happy. Any time a UN agency, in this case the World Health Organization, gets involved in a problem you can bet that by the time the meetings set up to discuss the issue and some solutions, are finished with no definite outcome, the crisis will have passed. From what I could discern from the gleeful reporter this could be the next big pandemic. Millions could die. Whole cities could disappear in a massive wave of fever, vomiting and diarrhea. The US might, just might, have enough vaccine for about one sixth of the population. But only the neediest will get the shot. Neediness will be determined by how a person voted in the last presidential election and level of campaign contributions. Well maybe not. Actually the vaccine would be distributed first to the weakest and sickest in the population. That way there won’t be any thinning of the welfare and public assistance rolls. Am I sounding too cynical here? Yes, and I hate myself for that.

Moving on, the next big news story was about how Mr. Obama’s first one hundred days as president has been rated. The reporter and reporterette covering this story took on a smiling and reverent tone as they assured the whole country that every thing is going just fine and dandy. They showed pictures of the Great One and his wife just smiling like empty headed movie stars in many, many settings. There were a few photos of Our Leader with a serious frown when he was addressing groups of CEOs and banking executives. I think I caught a glimpse of bags of cash being pushed under the tables in those shots but I might have been wrong. Overall, according to those news people, the new president has outstanding ratings, is accomplishing great and wondrous things and has set the nation on the road to recovery. And if wasn’t for a paltry few million ignorant redneck folks who don’t really matter, who have publicly disagreed with him on most every issue, he would have the support of the whole population. These reporting people were obviously intelligent and enlightened beings who are totally behind the new president and his gang. I meant to say his administration. By the way have you noticed some of the total morons that Obama has appointed to all the new “czar” positions? Take a few minutes to check out those people and their records and public statements. It’s some amazing stuff.

Anyway, I was rescued from any further news by the mechanic guy who brought me my bad news and my bill. But his news was better than the crap I was getting from that TV on the wall.

Have a fine day.

LOGGERS LAMENT: possible folk song lyrics

I’ve worked in these woods for thirty five years
First as a helper trying to stay safe and clear,
Then working a saw and sometimes an axe
And now running a crew of rugged old Jacks.

We’re stewards of forests but some disagree
They say that we’re reckless and wasting the trees.
They’d like to see the logging all end
Save all trees and send us round the bend.

When we do our job we do it all right
We pick and we choose and we never lose sight
Of the fact that tomorrow we still need to work
So we take just what we need and plant more in the dirt.

In the old days they stripped the trees from the hills
They fed all the wood into the kilns
The charcoal then went up to the mines
Pig iron was made and sent down the line.

After those years the hillsides were bare
Rivers were ruined and fires burned everywhere
Then the mines were closed up their towns faded away
The forests came back slowly to what we have today.

So all you do-gooders in your ivory towers
In all of your clubs who hold all the power
We’ve learned from the past we’ve seen the mistakes
Leave us alone we just want a fair shake.

Let us go out and cut down some trees
For every one cut we’ll plant another three
We’ll make a living and stay here and grow
Along with the forest that we’ve come to know.

A FUNNY THING

It’s hard to write funny stuff. Lately my muse has been sending me to the poetry corner and that isn’t usually funny material. It may be pitiful and ridiculous but it’s rarely funny. Although I have written some songs that I thought were somewhat funny. And some folks consider song lyrics as poetry. But today I thought I’d sit here and write something funny. I’ve been sitting here for about two hours now and I’ve typed a mess of stuff and erased all of it.

Nothing funny has happened lately. I got a mild case of conjunctivitis which wasn’t too funny, although some red-headed people think it is. Conjunctivitis is the proper name for “pink-eye”. I guess “pink-eye” is kind of a funny name. And if you ever saw how much trouble I have putting eye drops into my eyes you’d laugh out loud. For some reason I have an aversion to anything going into my eyes. So I get the dropper all lined up and my eye opened all wide and then splat, I hit the bridge of my nose or my eyebrow. It’s embarrassing. When my dear wife is home she does the job for me. But she tends to over medicate so that one drop turns into an eyebath. Oh well, the disease is receding and will be gone in a couple of days. Did you know that the germs that cause “pink-eye” are the same ones that cause some diseases of the sexually transmittable variety? It’s true. It wasn’t anything fun that got me infected.

Since I’ve been contagious I’ve kept to the house most of the time so I don’t have any observations of a humorous nature about human nature. And since I’m kind of irritated about this disease I’ve avoided reading the news and getting even more irritated. I did notice that our president has been busy overseas working on peace through appeasement. I guess he’s back in the States now giving speeches about the economy and ecology. It’s good having such a smart and experienced guy at the helm of the ship of state. But I notice that every time he gives an economic speech the stock market takes a dive. Those capitalists on Wall Street must not have much faith in Mr. Obama. They’ve realized that every proposal he makes threatens productive jobs and attacks personal income with more taxation so they’re understandably nervous.

There were a bunch of those Anti-Taxation Tea Party events around the country on the 15th of April. I didn’t go to one but I was with them in spirit. Some of them were protesting higher taxes and other government policy. Some of the events were geared more towards support of the Constitution and Bill of Rights. Still others turned into anti-Obama rallies. They all earned the wrath of a lot of liberal folks like Janine Garofolo so they must have been doing something right. I doubt if they had much impact on policy but they might have a small impact on the awareness of our legislators to the fact that there are people around not totally sold on the liberal agenda that is being imposed on us all.

The company I used to work for is now out of business and in closing up they had to make all their employee savings and pension accounts square up so that they wouldn’t be liable for lawsuits or federal prosecution. Consequently I got notice that I’m getting a little bit of money from the 2007 contributions. It’s not much but any source of funds when you’re a poor old retired guy is welcome. All we need to do is fill out a bunch of paperwork, get our signatures notarized and then wait a couple of months for the actual check. Oh well, like I said, it’s all welcome.

Tonight my wife and I are going to go look at for a new lawn mower for the house here in Dover. Both of my old ones gave up at the end of last year and are beyond worthwhile repair. The grass is pretty deep in some spots, almost knee high, so I’ve stalled long enough. I’d like to invest in one of those Jetson like devices that automatically does the whole job while I sit on a lawn chair and drink a cold beverage. Barring that it would be nice to get a good riding mower that I could steer with one hand and hold the cold beverage in the other. But I don’t think I can find a rider for under two hundred bucks. So I guess I’ll settle for a decent push mower that my wife can handle. You never know when a shoulder injury might re-occur and I’d hate to see her work too hard.

Sorry this wasn’t so funny. I’m going to go write some depressing poems now and try to recharge my humor producing brain cells. Until then…

Have a fine day.

THE REAL DEAL: a poem

for charles bukowski

I imagined Chinaski reading
This one. This one about
Living straight and
Having a family
And working and
Retiring. All the time
While living that life
Writing stories and poems
That go into a big book
That only a few people read and
Even fewer appreciate.
And maybe I had some sort
Of existential crisis somewhere
Along the way. And maybe
I still search for that truth
(capital T) and way to
Enlightenment whatever that
Is. But mostly I just look at things
And see how they fit in the world
Or don’t fit. And I write down
What I see and try to get
The essence right.
I imagine Chinaski reading
This one and saying it’s
The real deal. And he knew
What that was, didn’t he?

WHEN THE MAPLE TURNED, 2004: a poem

When the maple turned
The air wasn’t cold.
Colors say Fall and
The Season is walking
Through the calendar
With steady steps.
Time to go home is
Closer now.
Time to make ready
For the cold and dark.
We’re all waiting for a
New light, even while
This one dims.
The seasons walk through
The calendar with steady steps.
Some call it a circle
A wheel, turning and
Returning, no end.
But it’s a path
Twisting and branching
With unexpected suddenness
And an ending just ahead
Invisible.

HOMELESS: a poem

I got up and
Did the bathroom bit
And had breakfast
And looked out the window
At the spring.

Then I went to the
Library and looked at
The homeless guys sleeping there
Some pretending to read
Through closed eyes
Bodies slouched in disjointed
Repose.

They’re not all homeless
Some live in shelters
And group homes
Sad and insane
Lives torn by
Alcohol and unhappiness
Drugs and despair.

Some of the homeless guys
Even have learned to use
The library computers and spend
Time looking at jobs they
Will never apply for
And look at
The encyclopedic knowledge
That they never will use.

I try to talk with some
Of them but the conversations
Wander into places I
Don’t want to go or else
They become me listening to
Anger over real and
Imagined injustice.

I take my books home
And read for awhile and
Then eat a light lunch
And take a
Nap and plan for later
Today.

WIND FARMS

Recently I took a drive south and east of our place up here in the North Country. I took some back roads that brought me over towards Brainardsville, Ellenburg and Chateaugay. Out that way there’s quite an amazing sight that started and continues to fuel a kind of love-hate affair with environmentalists and conservationists. On ridge after windy ridge in that area you will see spinning wind turbines and wind turbines under construction. There are a couple of large companies erecting these modern marvels and while some folks think they’re pretty neat others feel that they’re ugly and an abomination on the land.

Wind turbines are giant three bladed windmills that catch even light winds and turn them into electric power. I don’t pretend to know the engineering of these things but I’m told that when the blades spin a turbine turns that creates electricity which is sent to some sort of storage system, then it goes on to a big transfer grid where the energy is sent into the national power grid. Once there it is purchased by various utility companies. From the utility company the power is sent to homes and businesses where it does everything from turning the machinery of factories to making popcorn in your microwave. And, of course, the end user pays a marked up price for that electric power.

Windmills are nothing new. We all remember the pictures of the windmills in Holland spinning lazily as they created power to run drainage pumps and other things like flour mills. But the towers up here in the North Country are not quaint little structures dotting the landscape. These machines are huge, eighty to a hundred and twenty foot high needle like pylons with aerodynamically designed blades, all white and shiny in the sunlight. And there are hundreds of them clustered along ridges for miles on end. It is an impressive and somewhat eerie sight. As a person who grew up marking the change of seasons by what was happening on the former farms and woodlands where the new windmills have taken over, it is somewhat unsettling and distracting. They command the landscape and, to my mind, detract from its natural beauty.

Are the wind turbines worth the toll they take on the land? Those environmentalists who are strongly in favor of alternative forms of energy say yes. Those conservationists who live near the things are a bit less positive about them. The landowners who have leased and sold land to the operating companies feel that the deal is pretty sweet. The locals who get no cheaper energy from the wind farms in their townships aren’t so sure about that. The townships that get tax money and impact fees from the big companies say that the impact on their budgets is great and property taxes could, someday, be lower for homeowners. (Although they seem to find ways to spend the dough before those tax cuts are enacted) There’s a lot of controversy and for every pro there seems to be a con.

When the wind farms were first proposed a big political and environmental debate took place. Signs sprouted up everywhere; “NO WIND TURBINES!” “WIND TURBINES YES!”. A lot of those signs are still around but in the townships of Belmont, Clinton, Altona and several others the battle is over. Some other areas are still seeing fighting about the issue but economics will prevail and there will be more towers soon. I saw one article predicting three thousand turbines along the northern edge of New York State.

Geography and meteorology are the reasons that there will be so many wind farms in this area. The land rises fairly abruptly from the St. Lawrence River Valley in a continuous ridge from Watertown to Gouverneur to Potsdam to Malone to the point where the ridge is intersected by the Champlain Valley. Almost constant winds driven by clashing weather systems sweep up along and over the ridges. If you’ve ever spent some time up in this area you know that most days, even those rare warm and balmy ones, are almost never still. The wind blows, and that’s a fact.

The wind farms are becoming a fact of life now. As you drive across the upper part of the state don’t be alarmed by the alien looking shapes that suddenly loom over the next hill. If they disturb your aesthetic sense of what nature should look like then know that you’re not alone. At that point turn South and head into the Adirondack Park area where the controlling agency down there still has the resolve to resist the turbines. Feast your eyes on the mountains and forests that are still relatively unspoiled. But if you want to see rolling, rugged farmlands you’ll have to find someplace where the wind doesn’t blow quite so much.

Have a fine day.

A FISH STORY: PART 1

The bass fishing club I belonged to will not have its real name revealed here. And most of the other names in this story are made up although some of these folks, if they were to read this story, might recognize themselves or other people they know. The events described are almost all real in one way or another, although they happened many years ago. And of course I’m not real proud of some of the things I’m about to relate to you. But I’ve never been particularly proud anyway.

Back in the mid 1980’s I belonged to a bass fishing club down in lower Delaware. The club (we’ll call it the LSMFT or Lower State Master Fishermen Troop) was an old and venerable institution with high standards for membership. First a man (it was a men only club) needed to be invited to attend a meeting by a current member. Then he had to attend three monthly meetings and three weekly fishing events in a row. At the third monthly meeting he would be asked to leave the room whereupon the membership would either vote him in or send him packing. There were about twenty five members of the club at the time I went through the screening process. The guys were from a wide variety of backgrounds and professions. At the time I was being considered I was selling cars and the member that sponsored me, which he may have regretted pretty quickly, was my sales manager.

I was a novice bass fisherman. I didn’t own a boat and I only had two fishing poles. I had never cast with an open faced bait casting reel and I didn’t know much about all the various types of artificial lures. Most of my experience had been with a closed face Zebco reel and a can of worms. But I wanted to learn and I had money to spend so I was invited to a meeting. Meetings were held at one or another of the club officers’ homes. The meeting agenda usually consisted of making plans for fishing events, reviewing new equipment and baits, boat tips and refreshments. Some of the club members were strictly religious people and they would serve meat, cheese, crackers and soda pop, usually Mountain Dew and Dr. Pepper. Other members were not known for their religiosity and they served meat, cheese, crackers and beer, usually Busch or Milwaukee’s Best. But the first meeting I attended was at the home of one of the richest guys in the club and he was not only non-religious he was a bit of a gourmet. He served little meatballs, little wieners, some fancy cheeses, crackers and beer. His beers were Budweiser and Rolling Rock which were considered very upscale by the membership.

So I sat through my first meeting listening intently, sipping my Bud and trying to absorb some of the arcane information that was being thrown around. I was truly lost during the discussion comparing the attributes of a “Pig and Jig” with real pork versus the same lure with an artificial pork substitute. In all honesty I had never considered going after fish with my favorite meat product, bacon. Since I wasn’t yet a boat owner I didn’t have to listen too closely to that part of the discussion. But when they talked about the next fishing event I was very interested because they were going to one of my favorite spots and I felt that I could offer some advice. I told them some of the best places along the shore of the pond to find nice perch, bluegills and a few bass. They informed me rather haughtily that we would be in boats and we would be away from the shore fishing the deeper channels that weren’t reachable while standing on the ground. I kept my mouth shut for while after that.

The following Saturday morning I arrived at the launch area at the break of day. The other guys were all arriving and getting their boats into the water. Non-boat owners were assigned to ride with one of the other members and some of the guys who had boats left theirs behind and doubled up with someone, so that there were two guys per boat. I learned that people would switch off putting their boats in the water. But non-owners always seemed to have a boat to ride in, even though they always got the worst fishing position and did a lot of the dirty work without ever getting a chance to drive. I promised myself that it wouldn’t be too long before I got a nice bass boat. On that first Saturday I was paired with one of the most aggressive fishermen in the club, Calvin the warrior fisherman. Now you might think of fishing as a nice leisurely pastime made up of pleasant hours sitting back with a beer and watching for some movement on the little bobber down near the end of your line. Bass clubs aren’t like that. Every fishing event with a bass club is a tournament. Records are kept and prizes are awarded. There are some bass club members who have a little more relaxed attitude but in the LSMFT there weren’t many like that. These guys wanted fish, big fish, and fast.

My partner fired up his engines and when the go signal was given he put the power to his motors so abruptly that I almost went out of the boat backwards. His boat was a big shiny fiberglass deal with twin seventy five horsepower Yamaha motors on the back. The pond was about five miles long and we were at the far end in about seven seconds. He cut the motors, jumped up and began casting furiously. He kept looking at a little TV looking device down near the foot controls of the trolling motor. When I asked him what he was watching he rather testily asked me if I had never seen a fish finder before. I said no I hadn’t so he took a couple of minutes to show me the device. It was very cool but it really only showed the fish that were up towards the front of the boat. He went back to his hot and heavy casting. He had six poles each rigged up with a different type of artificial bait and he switched poles frequently. Artificial baits were the only kind used by the club and all fishing was done with a “catch and release” policy. So even if you caught a nice five pound bass it would never make it to your dinner table. I stood in the back of the boat with my cheap equipment and tried to emulate my host. The night before I had stopped in at Kmart and picked up a few fancy artificial lures and a nice little tackle box. The guy driving my boat had three boxes that looked like big old mechanics tool chests. All his stuff was organized in a precise and easy to find cross referenced way. I believe he had more stuff with him than Kmart had in the whole fishing department. On about my fifth cast with a lure that looked like a little fish with a clown face painted on it I had a strike. After much struggling I was able to get the big old bass up onto the boat. My partner took a look and with a little portable scale weighed this lunker. It was a shade under five pounds and easily the biggest bass I had ever caught. He put the thing in the storage area, which I learned later was called a live well, and went back to his frenzied fishing style.

The morning went along like that. I would catch a fish after a half dozen tries and he wouldn’t after a half a hundred casts. He was getting mightily irritated and he began jockeying the boat around like a New York City cab driver. Quitting time was at two in the afternoon and just before then he managed to catch a little one pounder. We sorted through my twelve fish and kept the allowable five biggest. Then we went in to the weigh in which is where all the fish are counted to make sure that the five fish limit isn’t exceeded and where the winners for the day are determined. I didn’t win overall but I did have the biggest fish of the day. Since I wasn’t a member of the club yet my catch did not enter the record books for the prizes. But all the guys, except for the guy I fished with, congratulated me and said they looked forward to the next weekend’s event.

The next weekend’s tournament was on one of Delaware’s many tidal rivers. I had been back to Kmart and I had a new pole with an expensive bait casting reel and several more lures, including plastic worms and little lizard looking things. So now I had three fishing rods and a pretty good assortment of stuff to present (that’s a high class angler’s term) to the fish. If you’ve ever learned how to use a bait casting reel then you know that it takes some time and learning how to use it should not be attempted during a fishing tournament. The spool that holds the line on one of those contraptions spins freely and its speed must be controlled by the fisherman’s thumb. If you put too much pressure on the reel the line won’t roll off easily and you can end up with a tangle, also known as a “bird’s nest”. If you don’t put enough thumb pressure on the reel the line flies off too quickly and gets all tangled up in a big mess also known as a “bird’s nest”. Trying to unravel one of these masses of monofilament line is like trying to find out if a politician is telling the truth; it can’t be done. So if you get a tangle like that you cut it off with your knife and re-tie the lure. It’s always important to have a lot of line on the spool to be prepared for an occasional tangle. A good fisherman can cast one of these things without tangles and with accuracy all the time. I was not a good fisherman. It only took three tries with that reel to have all the fishing line piled up in a bird’s nest of epic proportions. A family of eagles would have felt right at home on the back of that boat. My fishing partner for the day, Big Bob, glanced back at my troubled face and just shook his head and went back to casting. I squashed up all the line, stuffed it in my lunch bag and picked up the old Zebco rod and reel. On the second cast I caught a nice bass and saw that I had redeemed myself in the eyes of Big Bob. At the weigh in that afternoon I had my limit and if I was an official member of the club I would have had second place for the day. For the next week I practiced casting my newly loaded reel in the backyard and had nearly mastered the thing by my third tournament.

The Saturday of my third tournament started off poorly. We were fishing another river and I had been paired up with Calvin the warrior fisherman of my first outing. The air was hot and humid and the clouds were threatening a downpour. I knew what to expect when the “go” signal was given so I didn’t suffer any acceleration whiplash. Old Calvin drove that boat up the river so fast I couldn’t see the landmarks we were passing. He apparently had a favorite spot a few miles away and he didn’t want to lose any time getting there. Once again he killed the motors, jumped up and started casting aggressively. I was prepared too and I quickly got to work. My technique on the new reel was working pretty well and I went along for a good half hour before getting a tangle. But then I got it cut out quickly and was all set to go again in a matter of minutes. Calvin wasn’t having any luck so he said “let’s go we’re moving.” So off we went again, racing up the river at speeds just shy of Mach 1. At our new spot I wanted to cast for distance because Calvin had me aiming away from any good looking areas. So I hauled back and let the lure fly. The cast was looking pretty good until it found a tree limb hanging out over the water. In the space of a few seconds most of my fishing line and a four dollar lure were lost to nature. I picked up the Zebco and started catching some fish about the same time as the rain started soaking us to the skin. Bass fishing tournaments don’t have rain delays. Nothing short of a hurricane will send the guys back to the dock early. In my time as a club member I fished in light snow, rain, sleet, hail, heat and fog so thick we had to feel ahead with our fish poles to make sure we weren’t going to crash. When all our boats came in on that day we looked like a vision impaired flotilla, with our white canes tapping the water out in front of us. But on this day we just looked like drowned rats as we suffered through the weigh in. I had caught a nice group of fish. Calvin the warrior had caught two or three small ones. Once again, if I had been a full member of the club, I would have been in the top three for the tournament.

There was no tournament on the following weekend because it was some sort of holiday so my next club event was a meeting, my second of the required three. Before the meeting my sponsor told me that since I was doing so well they were possibly going to waive the three meeting requirement and vote on my membership that night. I was thrilled and had a check ready to pay the first year dues. We were at Royce’s house and he was one of the more religious members of the club so no beer was served and consequently the meeting moved along quite quickly. The usual items on the agenda were handled and then I was asked to leave the room. Royce’s house wasn’t all that well insulated so it was pretty easy to hear the deliberation about the three meeting waiver and my suitability for full membership. There was some discussion about the amateurish state of my fishing gear and my inability to cast a professional type reel but the overall consensus was that I should be invited in. The only dissenting vote was from good old Calvin. So I was called back in and my dues were collected and the club oath was administered. Yes there was an oath and it took elements of the Pledge of Allegiance, the Lord’s Prayer and the code of the U.S. Department of the Interior to make up its intricate and inspirational language.

As I drove home that night I resolved to get a few more pieces of good bass fishing equipment and a bass fishing boat. And I also resolved to stop at a tavern and have a burger and a beer.

End of Part 1

Have a fine day.

I READ THE NEWS TODAY; OH BOY

“If it weren’t for bad news we’d have no news at all.” I can’t remember where that quote comes from, a song maybe. Maybe the word “news” isn’t in the original quote. I know that my title for this little rant comes from the Beatles. It’s Monday and I made the mistake, again, of reading about some of the happenings of recent days in a newspaper and online. Holy cow it’s depressing!

Mass murders, a North Korean missile launch, an earthquake in Italy all added up to a particularly gloomy day. The pundits and reporters are ecstatic because they have so much bad stuff to write and talk about. All those bad things plus an American president going around the world saying all kinds of stupid crap is enough to make me retreat to my mental hermitage again.

I’m not going to rant about the mass murders. They are incredibly sad and the acts of twisted people. Liberal commentators will be on their soap boxes about gun control and the overall mental instability of a large part of the American population. They’ll probably find ways to blame Mr. Bush for the tragedies. All I can say is that if there had been one licensed gun carrying citizen in that building in Binghamton last week there might not have been so many casualties. But that’s hindsight.

The Korean missile crisis is a disaster of another sort. The disaster is not so much the firing of a missile as the response of the U.S. and its allies to the event. Mr. Obama expressed his unhappiness and vowed to rally the resources of the UN to exert powerful sanctions on North Korea. I’ll bet those guys in North Korea are just shaking in their boots. Mr. Obama, for all his intelligence and all his vast experience, doesn’t seem to get a basic truth that even I, a retired working stiff, understand: Kim Il Jung and his North Korean gang don’t care about the UN. They would care if the U.S. stepped up and said, the next time we see you preparing a launch we will take it out, and then backed that up. A coalition could be assembled. There is some precedent for that. Not only would North Korea take notice but Iran would take notice. But Mr. Obama is taking the road of appeasement, which is a rocky road full of huge potholes.

Mr. Obama has also been touring around Europe and is now in Turkey. He’s been on a mission to strengthen U.S. relationships with a bunch of countries over there. His methodology seems to rely heavily on apologizing for American meddling and arrogance. He apparently sees no reason to remind all these countries about America’s role in defeating fascism and Nazism and rebuilding the continent. He sees no reason to deal from a position of strength and positive action. No, he’d rather apologize like the simpering liberal that he is, believing that some way, some how we can all just get along. Now he’s in Turkey telling the Islamic people that we are not at war with Islam. In the speeches I read it doesn’t seem like he even added the qualifier about being at war with radical Islamists who have attacked out country and our citizens and possessions around the world. I’m sorry if I sound like a deranged warmonger but didn’t those events actually take place in our very recent memory? Isn’t there a very large faction of Islamic radicalism pledged to destroy our country and our people? They don’t just ask us to leave them alone and go away. They are convinced that we should join their ranks or die. It would seem that our president, as a good God fearing Baptist, would be somewhat troubled by that attitude. But again, he’s probably going to try and work things out with all those folks by having meetings and summit talks. He’ll get some really good treaties signed and everything will calm down and peace will reign. And we all know the history of those past Middle East treaties.

Finally, I had a discussion this past weekend with someone about the removal of the GM CEO. That person said the news I had read about the influence of the White House in those corporate actions was incorrect and that Mr. Obama and his crowd had nothing to do with all that stuff. Since I didn’t have all my facts at hand I backed off and conceded that it was possible that I had pulled a Liberal’s stunt and jumped to conclusions. But today I did a little research and, by gosh, the consensus of reporting by both mainstream media and its adversaries in the right-wing outlets seems to indicate that White House policy makers definitely did have a great deal to do with the boardroom machinations at GM. Not only that but specific instructions regarding corporate policy and direction have emanated from the government to that company. So I was, after all, correct in my original reading of that news. But I don’t really care about being right. As a matter of fact I would have been pleased if there was no sign of Mr. Obama’s meddling in the business affairs of a stockholder owned corporation. Unfortunately there is a whole lot of meddling going on. As I may have written recently, that is another rocky road full of potholes that we are being driven down by Mr. Obama and his administration.

Well I’ve ranted enough. Mr. Obama and his crew have proven in three short months that they are truly doing all they can, as quickly as they can, to spend more, interfere more and appease more than any other administration in history. The road map to a socialist America is being drawn even more quickly than we could have anticipated.

Be vigilant and be vocal because it will be ever more important.

Have a fine day.

WHAT ARE YOU THINKING: a short story

It was while I was doing my morning walk at the mall that I first noticed the messages. It was a rainy and windy day, dark and with a chill that made my old arthritic joints ache. So mall walking was the only exercise option. But as I checked my watch to time my walk my mind seemed to slip away without any good reason. It was early and the stores weren’t open, but some of the workers were arriving and there was the usual contingent of walkers making their way around. In my head I seemed to be hearing some kind of monologue totally unrelated to anything that was on my mind.

I looked around and saw a young woman getting ready to open the hair cutting place. In my head I heard, no - I sensed, this message: hope the crowd doesn’t get here too early my damn feet are killing me wonder if this coffee is decaf stupid night girls did a crap job cleaning up as usual can’t understand why Joey is always late from work and never horny anymore did I turn off that stupid curling iron yeah I remember yanking the plug hope I can make an extra twenty or so today that old fart with the long gray hair should walk in here…

At first I thought my imagination was just taking a strange turn, and what I was sensing wasn’t really a message. As I walked down the mall I still heard snippets of conversation as I came across people. But there was more than talk coming into my brain. An older woman ahead of me wasn’t talking but I seemed to hear: just one more lap around this darn place then I’ll get some coffee or maybe a nice cup of tea yes tea would be good before I go to the bank and I can’t let George use that extra three hundred at the slots I wonder if Madeline will want to play bingo tonight down in Milford sure could use another win like that one last month five hundred would be real…

As I passed by the woman the words faded away but then as I approached one of the maintenance people cleaning the windows on Sears a different voice entered my mind saying: clean this clean this hate this cleaning nasty little kids fingerprints clean clean smoke in a while maybe eat the chips rain should stop when I get home that show I recorded will be on clean wipe that spot rotten little kids with sticky crap on their fingers makin’ my job…

It was really weird and I found a place away from the light flow of people and thought about what was happening. It seemed like I was picking up whatever was on the minds of who ever I got close to. But that couldn’t be possible. It must have been my imagination, some sort of weird fantasy. Maybe those people were talking to themselves and by some trick of the building acoustics I was hearing what they were muttering. So I tried to clear my head and continue my walk, keeping my thoughts fixed on my own day and the chores I was going to do later.

But in front of the Old Navy store I glanced inside and a worker was putting clothes on a rack and my mind started receiving this: such junk you’d think that a big and famous store like this could have better stuff did jenny finish that rack don’t think so maybe I can dress that mannequin over there so that some of these tops will sell faster shouldn’t have had that cake last night so much fat need to start on the stair walker again so my thighs don’t slap together when I walk Kelly’s so jealous of me and Ryan but she’s got to realize that a boyfriend isn’t everything and it’s a lot of pain in the ass stuff too this one shouldn’t be in this group what the heck is…

Again the voice faded as I moved away. I was getting kind of spooked by now but I was also intrigued. How much control could I have over this new found ability? If I could know what people were thinking when I was negotiating something with them then maybe it could be a useful thing. I decided to try an experiment. The stores were opening now so I walked into the place that sells the beds that you adjust by pushing buttons. They’re pretty expensive and I wanted to see what would enter my mind while I was talking to a salesperson. The sales guy, a sharply dressed young man with hair gelled up into pointy peaks, approached me. As we exchanged greetings I found myself listening to his spoken words and at the same time receiving mentally his silent thoughts. His words were describing the beds but his mind was saying: time waster I think too old and too shabby to pay what I need for this bed commissions are way down could have stayed out a lot later last night need to pee soon to get rid of this coffee is this guy even paying attention to what I’m saying here he really needs a haircut old guys shouldn’t try to look like hippies somebody must have been fooling around on this bed after hours look at the stain on that maybe if I lowball him by about six hundred I can convince him to buy…

As I got that last bit of information I told the guy I might pay about six hundred less than the asking price. He looked at me suspiciously and said that he might be able to work something out. He went on about delivery and set up but meanwhile his thoughts were coming to me in a stream saying: how did he come up with that number I think I’ve got him now but if I can bump the price up for the delivery and stuff and maybe a mattress cover then I can get a decent commission but he still hasn’t committed Sharon could use some new tires on her Saturn she’d probably warm up to me a little bit more if I started buying her some stuff again maybe I should switch to that gel in the green bottle instead of this one this one smells kind of girlie is this guy paying attention to me time to close this sale…

I quickly told the guy I would have to bring my wife into the store before I could commit to a purchase and on a personal note I told him he should use a gel that was either unscented or one that had a more masculine smell. His jaw dropped but he recovered and gave me his card. As I left the store I picked up his thoughts and they were loaded with a lot of insulting profanity. I couldn’t blame the sales guy for that since I had wasted his time with my little experiment. I went to the high priced coffee shop at the center of the mall and got a large cup of a strong brew. A good stiff drink would have been better but it was too early for that. I found that I could tune out the thinking of the counter person in the coffee shop if I focused on my own thoughts. At a table near the coffee shop I tried switching my thought receptor on and off. A security guy came by on his Segue. I picked up this flow: it’s really cool being up a little higher than everyone I wonder if that girl in the piercing place has any new tattoos on her body that one on the back is great I wonder how far down it goes there’s that old guy that walks in here sometime he really ought to get a job not much activity wonder what the security alert status is today yellow orange too bad we need to wear these queer helmets one of these days I’m going to pull a late shift and see how fast this thing can go…

It was interesting switching those hidden thoughts on and off but in truth most of what people were thinking was pretty boring. When an attractive, well dressed business woman sat at the table next to me I tuned in and got: this coffee is way too dark I’d better add some cream and maybe some sugar that old guy is trying to look up my skirt is Splenda on the counter yeah here it is hope that flu is over with it’s a pain needing a toilet all the time I’m sure that old creep is watching me maybe I should move or tell him to get lost can’t do that he might think I want to talk to him Renee will be a little late tonight but at least we have tomorrow off and we can stay in bed and…

That was the last thought I received. No matter what I tried or who I focused on I couldn’t get inside anyone’s head. Whatever the chain of cosmic events was that had lined up to enable my ability to read minds had broken up and I was coming up blank now. It was disappointing but probably for the best. Those mental insults were becoming a little bit irritating and I probably would have had to say something sooner or later. Then my power wouldn’t have been invisible anymore. And the best super powers are the ones that are concealed.

Have a fine day.

REPRODUCTION

Are there more babies around lately or is it just me noticing them in light of an arrival due in July in our family? No, I think there is a whole bunch of reproducing going on. Today on a trip to the grocery store I counted four relatively new babies, two toddlers and one extremely bratty kid that looked like he could be in kindergarten. In addition to that there were three ladies in a noticeable stage of pregnancy.

You would think that tough economic times would slow down the rate of baby producing, but the changes are not that drastic. Even during the Great Depression the percentage of population growth was only off by a small factor when compared to years of prosperity. So now, during these so called “hard times”, babies are still coming along at a steady rate. The exercise of birth control methods can be a selective thing and it would seem that quite a lot of couples are selecting to put them aside.

The young mothers I’m seeing aren’t that young either. Many of the ladies hauling kids around in those strap contraptions and baby carriers seem to be in their mid to late thirties. And there are a good many that have moved into their forties. My ancient generation had pretty much gotten all that baby making out of the way by the time we reached our early thirties. And after the kids came along we more or less gave up the activities that lead to more kids. Well, maybe that’s not true in all cases. Now we see gray haired couples watching their kids move into middle school. When high school graduation comes along they’re using walkers with oxygen bottles hanging off the front. And if they make it to their kids’ college graduation they are probably pushed into the audience in a wheelchair. There’ll be a whole generation of couples who won’t be around to see their grandchildren get their high school diplomas.

My wife and I might make that goal. Our grandkids will hit high school starting in about five years. Of course there are several years between kids so we need to live quite a bit longer, probably twenty years or so. There’s a challenge.

All these babies must be coming from somewhere. I suppose the basic biology involved in the process hasn’t changed since I was involved. But with all the new technological innovations of the past thirty years it may have. I know that there are new medical things that can help children be born to couples that wouldn’t have had a chance in the past. Sometimes, actually most times when I see these test tube babies with their parents, I think it was better when nature had a larger hand in things than medicine. “In-vitro” and “Sperm Donor” and “Surrogate Mother” are all terms that I barely understand and I surely am glad we didn’t have them back in those old days. We got our allotted two kids and that was good. If we had access to all those technologies we might have had fourteen kids like that nut job out in California. But then again that probably wouldn’t have happened. In those days disposable diapers were pretty new and kind of like wrapping a baby’s butt in tree bark. So the idea of keeping cloth diapers clean for fourteen kids in a row is pretty scary and enough to stop all bedroom action.

Getting all the gear for a new baby is a daunting task. Cribs, strollers, car seats, high chairs, swings, carriers and the like add up to a small fortune. Then there’s all the little bitty clothing and accessories that go with all the other gear. After that you have to think about the feeding apparatus and a safe play environment. Even if a woman uses her natural feeding appliances she still will need other things if she goes back to work. That can get tricky with special pumps and bottles being required. I started adding up the costs of all this stuff and I figured that it would take a pretty big cut from Mr. Obama’s stimulus money to equip an average couple starting a family.

Maybe that’s why baby showers are such a big deal. Some women, my youngest daughter for instance, have more than one of those events. They have a shower involving family and close hometown friends and then have another involving people from work. And some of the showers are attended by both men and women. My wife and I have been invited to the work and social friend shower over where my daughter lives. It’s known as a “Jack and Jill” baby shower. Those things weren’t invented when my wife was expecting. Back then a group of female relatives and friends would get together and play some silly games, eat cake and hand over a few presents. This “Jack and Jill” affair is going to be a brunch with fancy foods and lots of booze. The only thing that will resemble an old fashioned baby shower is the business of giving gifts. It will be interesting to see how much sports equipment will be wrapped up for the new baby by the guys coming to this party. I’ll bet she’ll get at least one tennis racket and a catcher’s mitt.

All this baby producing is a big source of commercial activity. It’s probably doing more good for the economy than the GM bailout. If a lot of babies are arriving then it’s not hard imagining all those factories and mills gearing up to produce more stuff. And all kinds of retail businesses benefit from selling the goods that are manufactured. Then there’s the boost from the medical side of baby production. And there has got to be millions of dollars in all the advice books and videos that are sold to new parents. So having babies is good for the economy and good for America. The population control people are always telling us to use condoms and birth control pills to prevent pregnancy. (Not me personally of course.) They obviously don’t own stock in “Babies Are Us” or “Dr. Denton’s” or “Graco”. Maybe they own stock in “Trojan” or something.

Anyway, I’m going to keep an eye on this proliferation of production of human replacement units. My mother used to say if a lot of boy babies are born it’s a sign that a war will be coming along in about eighteen to twenty years. She didn’t have any special information about what was coming if a lot of girl babies are born. I would predict that if a lot of girls are born then there’ll be a lot more babies being born in twenty years or so. And if there are a lot of women added to the population then the men won’t have time to start wars. They’ll be too busy making babies.

Have a fine day.

NEWS MUSING

It has been a long time since I spouted off anything political. My faithful readers indicated that my political diatribes were tiresome and entirely too slanted to the right. And they may be right. After all, President Obama’s approval ratings are through the roof, so a large majority of Americans must think that saddling future generations with an impossible to pay debt is the right way to go. And of course, if the majority also agrees with a national socialized health care system, government involvement in business to a degree that allows the president to force executives out of jobs, numerous increases in handout and entitlement programs and a stand-down in anti-terror efforts (including abolishing the terms “terrorism” and “war on terror”) then I must be in a sadly incorrect minority.

Over the past ten days or so I have increased my attention to news and issues as they have been reported in the papers, on the internet and on the radio. I even watched some television news programs during the weekend. What I’ve been reading and hearing has not renewed my faith in the political process or the intelligence level of politicians or even the intelligence level of the average American. Buyouts, bailouts and incredible budgets are everywhere. Even here in little Delaware there is a proposed state budget that promises to fix the deficit while increasing spending programs. States, communities and federal agencies are lining up for stimulus handouts. More rhetoric and political blather is spewing forth from every level of government than I’ve ever noticed in the past. Amazing pronouncements and predictions are the norm. On one day the pronouncements are all about the horribleness of it all. The next day, in the same tones as the day before, rosy predictions seem to emanate from one huge Washington mouth. Talking points seem to be copied and faxed to all the Democrats and dozens of co-operative Republicans who then spread the words over every available media source. A few voices of dissent are heard on talk radio and they are dismissed as if they were an annoying pimple on the ass of the Democrat administration and Congress.

So, the question arises, what do we do about all this? What do we do about this massive rush towards a socialist government? What do we do when the President abrogates the rights of a company’s stockholders and forces the CEO out of his job? How can we respond to the rapidly developing higher taxes that will affect everyone even if they are levied on corporations and folks with somewhat higher incomes? These questions are serious even if the whole package of crap coming out of Washington seems totally ridiculous. Some people are organizing protests and meetings, calling them “Tea Parties”, to voice opposition to government policy and action. Others write letters to editors and letters to congressmen and senators. It’s all good. And another election cycle is set to start which will give candidates opposed to current policy an opportunity to speak out and gain some media attention. Back in the nineties when the “Contract with America” drive happened there were some real positive things that slowed down the efforts of Clinton and his gang. It can happen again, but it won’t be so easy.

Personally I’m going to pay attention to what’s happening. I’m going to shoot off the occasional letter or email. And I’m going to stand up for what is the right and proper Constitutional point of view when engaged in conversation with family and friends. And when the next elections come around I’ll vote for candidates that understand, uphold and promote Constitutional values. I guess this is a warning to all my liberal, Obama supporting friends. If you don’t want to hear sound, Constitutionally based opinions and arguments about the state of the government then you’d better not bring up the subject with me. So far when these topics have come up in conversation with people of mixed political views the Obama supporters have been disinclined to engage in reasoned argument. They tend to just say, “Give the guy a chance, and we’ll talk about it all down the road someday.” Unfortunately that road is proving to be full of potholes and wide cracks and if we don’t provide something to offset the destruction that is taking place as the President steamrolls along then we may end up with an irreparable road to nowhere.

Have a fine day.

MOVING MEMORIES

This past weekend we helped our youngest daughter move into a new apartment over in the Washington, DC area. She and her fiancé are awaiting the arrival of our new granddaughter and they needed a larger place for all the nursery items that modern parents must have. Back when we were having kids all we needed was a cardboard box for the baby to sleep and play in, another box for clothes and diapers and a third box that fit inside the little red wagon we used as a stroller. By the time the kid was big enough to get out of the boxes she would be walking and ready to sleep on an old army cot so no further investment in children’s furniture was needed. Kids were like miniature homeless people only more needy. Of course that’s all a bunch of baloney and a digression from my real topic.

Actually, this past weekend my daughter had a lot of good, young and fit help available for the job of moving. All I had to do was drive the truck and otherwise stay out of the way. As I was watching the job move along I thought back to all the times my wife and I had moved during the past forty years. We’ve lived in ten places, eleven if we count a two month stretch with my parents while we were waiting for an apartment. We’ve lived in a couple of pretty seedy places and some nicer ones. My wife has always managed to make the best of our surroundings and our homes have always been cheerful and comfortable thanks to her. We’ve never been particularly driven to have a big, fancy or expensive house. A huge mortgage payment that requires the bulk of our income and limits our ability to enjoy other parts of life was something we avoided. Consequently our homes have been modest during the best economic times and barely adequate when things were tough.

Our first apartment was a one bedroom basement deal on the main street of the little village where we got married. During the months leading up to our wedding we accumulated the furnishings for our new place and stored them at our parents’ homes. The dresser from our first bedroom set is still in service at my youngest daughter’s apartment, so I guess we bought at least one quality item. After our three day honeymoon we rented a little trailer and picked up our stuff and moved into the apartment. The place had three rooms; a small bedroom, a living/dining/kitchen area and a tiny bathroom. The windows in the main room were up near the ceiling and gave an interesting view of the feet of people who were walking by on the street above. The bedroom window was more conventional and had a view of the side street that sloped down along the side of the building. So the place was a little dark and a little damp, but it was ours. Our oldest daughter was born while we lived there and she occupied a little cradle thing in the living area for a while. But we had outgrown that place so we found a new apartment close to Rochester. We only stayed in that new apartment for about six months. It was comfortable and modern but it was also too far from my job. So we moved again.

Through one of my customers we got a nice little house close to the bank where I worked. It was a more rural suburban place and we settled in quickly. We had a dog and a garden and some room to move around. The business next door to our house was a garden center owned by our landlord. He had some great Christmas trees and while we lived in that house we got ours free. It was a good place, but like most good things, it didn’t last. I had changed jobs and as a consequence we needed a less expensive place.

So we moved back to our little hometown and got an upstairs apartment in an older home. The place was small with a narrow stairway up to our living area. Unfortunately most of the furniture was too big to fit through the stairwell. We had to remove the big living room window and using muscle power and ropes we hauled most of our possessions up through that opening. Couch, chairs, tables and most other large items made it into and filled up the little apartment. It was quite a process and we were lucky that no one got killed. The only problem with our new home, other than its size, was the weirdness of the landlord and her family who lived below us. We would go out shopping or something and come home to find her and one or both of her daughters sitting at our kitchen table. They would offer no explanation for their presence but would just start up what for them was a normal conversation. We changed the lock but somehow she had a key made and popped in again. Then after rather forcefully telling her we didn’t want her in the place without us there she took great offense and refused to talk to us for a long time. But then I got transferred by the company I was working for and we had to move again, this time to Syracuse.

We lived in two apartments in Syracuse. The first was in a modern building with a nice floor plan and good neighbors. Moving in there was easy and as I recall we had a lot of help. Moving out of the previous place was another case of window removal and lowering furniture with ropes and muscle power. Unfortunately my best helpers for that job found reasons to be otherwise occupied and that end of the move was very difficult. But we made it and only dropped one chair about twenty feet where it acquired a whole new configuration. After a couple of years in the nice apartment in Syracuse I took a low paying job at the University so we needed to adjust our cost of housing accordingly. Directly across the street from our apartment house an old Ukrainian lady had a ground floor apartment for rent in her house. She lived upstairs with a couple of old Ukrainian guys who boarded there. It was a kind of run down place but the rent was cheap and she was a nice lady so we hauled all our stuff across the street. We needed to buy a refrigerator for that place and we found a good used one at a yard sale. There were some stairs up to the apartment because it sat on a hill and we didn’t have an appliance dolly. So one of my cousins, a big bear of a guy, wrapped some straps around the refrigerator, backed up to it and grabbed on and hauled the thing single-handedly up the stairs. He was well rewarded with a copious amount of his favorite beverage. After a year of working for peanuts at Syracuse U I got a job in a factory back in Rochester. So once again we headed back to the little hometown.

When we got back there we moved for a short time into my parents’ home. Then we moved into a modern apartment complex that had recently opened in the village. It was nice and spacious and had a place for our daughter to play. And then after a short time we had another child and it was still good in the complex although we moved into a different apartment with a little more room. All was going along pretty well and we were thinking about buying a house. Then my brother in Delaware played a siren song luring me into his recently acquired piano and organ store. My wife was not all for this move and it was a difficult time for us. But she dutifully followed me and we started a whole new phase of our lives. From the possibility of buying a new home in a nice neighborhood if we stayed put, she had to accept the dramatically lower accommodations in a beat up rented trailer in a beat up trailer park. So we loaded up a rental truck with all our stuff and headed south.

The trailer we moved into was pretty rough but we got it cleaned up and somewhat fixed up. We did what we could to decorate it and make it comfortable. As long as the rain held off the roof wouldn’t leak. After many repairs that problem was reduced to an acceptable level. When we finally got several room type air conditioners the boiling heat even became a non-issue. During our first couple of months in the trailer we had air conditioning only in the large bedroom. So on hot evenings we’d prepare our dinner and all four of us would have a picnic on our bed so that we could dine in comfort. It was not exactly elegant but it was functional. We stayed in the trailer for seven years. The first three were really tough. The music store went into a severe slump and I found other employment. Financially things eventually got better. I ended up in the plumbing supply business and my wife was running a snack bar in a small department store. She met a lady who owned a house that was available in a decent neighborhood. So we got ready to move again.

We moved into this house in April of 1987 and have been here ever since. That move was a good one. Our daughters finished growing up here and think of it as their family home. But someday, in a year or so, we’ll be moving again. Some major yard sale activity will precede that move so that twenty plus years of accumulated junk can be thinned out before we load a truck. The next move will be one of downsizing and simplifying. My wife will retire and we don’t want to be encumbered with the ties of too much stuff. We will travel between our place up north and wherever we settle around here which, of course, is all dependent on an unknown future. Whatever happens I’ll be looking for help, so keep that in mind when it comes time to move.

Have a fine day.