Feeling the music, or not..........

Today was the last day of the science conference here in Long Beach. I really enjoyed it and learned a lot about teaching science. I also learned that they're a lot of lot smarter people than me in this world. Of course, I knew that already, this trip just really affirms it. Now there was no particular reason that I came to this realization other than some of the titles of the workshops. Workshops like, Using Fossil Models to Teach Paleontology and the Nature of Science, Sound and the Biophysics of Hearing, Themis and Fast Nasa Missions present Aurora and Earth's Magnetism. I didn't go to any of those workshops. I went to ones like Hands-on Electricity and Magnets for the 4th and 5th grade classrooms, Super! Neat! Wow! E! Science! with Dave Crowther, Let's Get Visual. I guess I'm more of a visual learner living in a textbook world.

Anyway, I'm excited about teaching science and I'm glad that I can teach two periods of it 3 days a week. The trouble is, it isn't until 3rd period that I feel really good about it. Oh well, wait til next year!

Actually, I thought I've done pretty good. I never did embarrass myself. Of course, in my own company, I can put up with a lot of personal embarrassment without showing it. If someone had been with me they would probably have pointed out numerous occasions that I should have been embarrassed.

I made another observation tonight. As a culminating activity they let us tour the Long Beach Aquarium this evening with a dance to follow. Whheeeeeeeee. As soon as they asked for requests I walked over and asked for any ZZ Top song. I thought to myself, "I'm going to listen to one song and leave." I stayed for about 15 minutes waiting for that one song. They didn't play it. But, after a three days of honing my observational skills (as any good science teacher should do) at this conference,I did notice one thing, the ratio of women to men on the dance floor was about 6:1. I wonder how that would fly it I put that on my report to the school district: Observational skills honed. Actually, it was pretty easy to figure out the ration as there were only 14 people on the floor at the max in that 15 minute period.

There was this a couple that walked onto and past the dance floor and I could barely hear the conversation. The woman couldn't hold herself back and was swaying to the music, the man was totally engrossed in the aquarium display.

(her) "Come on, honey, let's dance.'
(him) "Wow, can you believe the color of these fish?"
(her) "Isn't the music great? Just let it move you."
(him) "Those bubbles are really cool. I wonder if they do it to aerate the water?
(her) "Would you dance if I got you another beer?"
(him) "No thanks, I've already had five. Can you believe the size of the Grouper? He
must weigh about 200 pounds. Besides, I think my gizzard is starting to act up again. You remember what happened last time, don't you?"

Meanwhile, during this entire conversation and for a period of about 10 minutes that I couldn't hear, she couldn't hold herself still, just moving and grooving to the sound of the music. He was, what you might say, 'stoic and reserved.' She probably thought he was an ass and close to death. Whatever she thought, it appeared that he didn't score any points tonight.

I'm convinced that at one time in the long and distant past more men liked to dance, but it was a LONG time ago. Possibly, after a successful mammoth hunt, or when a male child was born, or maybe, before a hunt. I think for the most part, men unbeknownest to even themselves are waiting for the return of the woolly mammoth so they can again 'cut a rug." Don't get me wrong, I love live music, just as long as I don't have to dance to it. I'm one of those that are waiting for that mammoth to step out of the past.
Jim

Things learned while Sandi's been gone...

While Sandi has been gone for a few days I learned a few things:
Chocolate chip cookie sandwiches for lunch are really good. Thanks Rach!
There's no such thing as an old leftover, some are just more experienced than others. And, they're all fair game.

Big Lagoon kayaking

A day kayaking with HB.

Chillin' with the Big Guy

Klamath River trip

The Fishing Rocks

I recalled this story over the weekend when Randy, Andrew and I went up to the Klamath River on a guys camping trip. I wrote this short story about six years ago for a new book that was coming out when they were taking submissions. The book, Chicken Soup for the Fishermen's Soul, was published sans this story. I found that there are nine levels before being chosen for the book. This story reached the eighth level before being cut.



It’s not often that a fishing trip turns into a journey down memory lane, but, sometimes life has a way of surprising you at the proper times. Being a parent of two boys has allowed me an opportunity to relive my youth. Having been adopted when my mom was 46 and my dad 53 I had the advantage of parents and grandparents all wrapped up in one neat package. They didn’t let me get away with much since they had already raised a set of kids, and they were on to pretty much all the tricks that a child tries on their parents, but they also knew the things that were important to a child.

As a child I felt I led a pretty carefree existence. What may have been normal to some children, were odd to me. I missed swimming lessons at the pool, missed Little League baseball, I even missed 4th of July until I was about 12 years old. Instead, I learned to swim underwater in a small creek that at best was about 12 inches deep. I learned to play baseball by throwing stones up in the air and batting them into the river with a broken off tree branch. And, 4th of July, I was too busy being a little boy doing the important thing that make up much of many little boys lives, fishing. I spent my growing up summers car camping on a ‘mining claim’ next to the broken down remains of a cabin along a small creek with my mom and brother. My dad would stay at home to work during the week and come to be with us on the weekends.

Immediately after school was out in June, my mother would load up the car full of blankets, food, camping gear, and canning supplies and head over to the mining claim with my brother and I. What would be an all day trip to get there, I was later to find out, could be made in 3 hours by a slightly different route. Mom did not like windy mountain roads. I guess the length of the trip added to the mystique of our yearly pilgrimage.

"So, just what exactly is normal about your childhood," you may ask?

The summers of my youth slipped by camping out of a car, picking blackberries before the sun got too hot, and fishing. Since we had a small creek on our mining claim site my brother and I felt it our duty to ‘stock’ it with fish. After we finished picking blackberries each morning our reward was being able to go fishing. The Klamath River, a river that drains the northern section of California, is a river well-known for its historic salmon runs. Hence, the draw for my brother and I to go fishing every morning. My brother is a lucky fisherman, I am a good fisherman, at least it makes me feel better thinking so. I was continually to be reminded of in fishing at least, luck beats skill about 99% of the time. My mom would walk us down to the river and watch us from the bank as my brother and I skipped, hopped, and jumped from rock to rock in search of the best stretch of river in which to catch those elusive fish. Our feelings were that if we could get just a little further out into the river we stood just a little better chance of catching more fish.

Oddly, most of the time when I would look up to see my mom I would see her with her head bowed down instead of watching us. Yet, in spite of not keeping on eye on us, she would insist on accompanying us each time we went fishing. Meanwhile, as soon as we would catch a fish we would put it into a coffee can and sprint the ½ mile back to our creek so we could ‘stock’ it.

The annual trip was one to be looked forward to each summer until we got too ‘cool’ to go with Mom, yet she continued to go every summer. The blackberries bloomed, the river ran past, the seasons came and went, yet the fishing rocks remained waiting.

As my boys got older I yearned to share a little of my youth with them and maybe live my childhood again vicariously through them. We went to the ‘cabin’ on a ‘guys trip’ and I tried to tell them of what it was like camping out all summer, listening to the bears pawing around at night, picking blackberries so we could enjoy them on our pancakes in the winter, throwing rocks at yellow jacket nests as we were leaving for the final time of the summer, and fishing. Fishing from the rocks along the bend of the river.

I took them to the rocks along the bend of the river and while my sons skipped, hopped, and jumped carefree from rock to rock searching out the best vantage point from which to fish, I relived for a short time my youth while I crawled from rock to rock. I had lost something, yet I had gained more. While it was somewhat surprising that my body not able to do what it did in my youth, I had something better,my boys. Watching them I realized then why my mother had her head down and not watching us, she was praying for our safety and future.

The rocks along the bend in the river remain a favorite place for me to go fishing with my sons. It is a place where I can view a younger image of myself as I watch my sons scampering from rock to rock and fishing from the very same rocks that I did as a child, still trying to catch those elusive fish. It is also a place where I can look into the past, and if I look really hard, I can still see my mother up on the bank with her head bowed. Now I understand why.

Just a lowly mushroom..........

vying for its place in the sky.

That would be 48.5" since Jan. 1, 2007

The good news is, that, at this point in the year last year, we had 57" of rain. Yaaaaaaaa..................

Yellow jackets LOVE fresh apple juice

Go ahead, enlarge it and see a yellow jacket up close.

THe weather is always good in Crescent City, it's just that it rains at times.

Word was, last weekend, that it was to starting raining soon. So, I mowed the yard, picked apples from place I've picked apples at before (yes, I asked beforehand), juiced apples, and smoked fish. Yes, a busy weekend. And, yes, it rained, but the weather was still good. One of those weekends where it was good to go back to work so I could get some rest.

Bounty of the season

Sunday was spent smoking and canning tuna. Like everything, you must take advantage of the season's bounties at the proper time. This will taste good this winter. I think I feel the need to do this hearkens back to a time before time when this one done for survival, not necessarily enjoyment.

A great day for a paddle

HB and I went for a paddle to a small lagoon just south of CC. It was really small, probably no more than about 2 acres in size. Still pretty cool to go to a place so close to CC.

I've still got it!!!!!!!

I went kayaking last night to the Sand Hole and there was a herd of bovines out in the field. I had to try. I had to see if I could still call them in. It worked. They came running...right up to the fence. Maybe I was a farmer in a previous life, or maybe a bull!

The Super Duper Long Handled Hoppity Hooper Apple Plucker

To the uninitiated eye this may look simply like a coffee can duct taped to a piece of PVC pipe, but to the discerning eye it is a step of the evolutionary process of picking apples. With this device one no longer needs to bother with a ladder, and thus the process of plucking apples is safer, more efficient, and quicker. See, there are uses of coffee cans other than to hold dog food.
One small step for mankind, one large step for womandkind. I think Johnny Appleseed would be very happy.