June 29 Bus Tour St. Paul's GZ

June 29 Bus Tour St. Paul’s Cathedral GZ

Life doesn’t change much, my breakfast the last three mornings have been pretty much the same; a muffin and cup of coffee. It seems like the shops are pretty much form a repetious pattern. I go to the corner, buy from a street vendor and sit down and eat on the steps. I watch the people go by and think how much different their life is from mine. I am in my own world and so are they.

Culture, by definition, are the behaviors, habits, and that make up a group of people. I had always thought of culture as in different countries, but now I must re-define that conception. I see there are indeed cultural differences in a microcultural level, area to area of a city, as well as on a broader scale. Cities, especially, have their own culture, but we do not see that as a culture, but rather our own perception of how we feel there. I would think that even a person growing up in one city may feel a sense of disconnect when going to another city. Their learning curve may be much quicker, but I would think that they too do not feel intirely comfortable.

That culture and feeling really come across when walking around the neighborhoods. There is a sense of belonging and identity to the people that live there. They do the same things that we do in a small community; go to work, shop, and find ways to entertain themselves. They may do it differently than I do, but they go through the same motions. They feel comfortable in there surrounding as I do in mine. I especially like the feeling of community in these small neighborhoods. It’s not that I don’t feel it in mine it’s just that I see it easier here. I see small stores every 30’ with individual owners that must provide a service to the people in their neighborhood. If they do not fulfill that service they go out of business. These owners have much to lose, much more, than say, a person that works at a large store and therefore has little to no responsibility to the success or failure of the store. These large stores have been the death knell for the sense of community and neighborhood. That is not to say that we do not have those, only that their definition is evolving. The only thing constant is change.

Unfortunately, as I write this the only thing that really sticks out in my mind towards the end of the bus tour. We did drive through the city seeing the sights. We stopped at a house that George Washington lived in when he was a general of the Union forces. The house sat on a hill that was at the highest point on the land as well as having a commanding view of the channels that come up on either side of it. We didn’t go in the house, just walked around it.

We stopped at a beautiful bridge that had a commanding view of the New York skyline as well as a dramatic view of the Statue of Liberty. While walking across there were comments by others of, “wow, what a beautiful skyline.” I didn’t quite feel that way. It was very photographic to me, but not necessairly beautiful. Beautiful to me is a mountain range of a sunset over the ocean,. To each his won. Lynn Wood had purchased some spaghetti bowls at a place called Little Italy. She had carried them quite awhile and it looked as if her arms were getting tired so I offered to carry them for her. Pretty soon everyone started asking me to carry their items too. I declined. But, I know that anything carried for a time can become tired, so we ended up switching off and on for the remainder of the trip.

We then walked about 2 blocks to St. Paul’s Cathedral, a beautiful church built in about 1762. Of course it was built with the large granite blocks as well as the spires reaching for the sky. Someone asked me why I thought they had tall spires on old churches. Personally, I think that they built these churches this way because in a sense the prayers of the people were being directed to God. While on this trip I try to remember to show respect to those that have gone on before as well as to what the church or building has witnessed through the ages. There aren’t too many churches that I walk in and I feel of presence of something. Most churches to me are just buildings where I show respect because of the use of that building. When I walked into St. Paul’s I had the feeling that something very important had happened there. It was a sense of power, of solemness, of reverence. Of course it was a church, but to me it exuded power. During 911 it had been used as a rest and replenishment area for the rescue firemen working to find people. There were candles burning, to which I found out later were to take the prayers of people to heaven. There were mementoes, heart-wrenching letters and pictures to and from those who had lost their lives.

There was a bench that George Washington had sat in while attending the church. Just writing about this makes these emotions wail up in me again. I walked up near the pulpit to get a view of what the minister might have had of George Washington as he was sitting there. It’s hard to explain, but I do feel as if I were in the presence of power and greatness. No, not really just that, but maybe it can best be explained by the lingering fragrance of a beautiful perfume, but with a sense of power and not smell.

Next, we walked to the back of the church and listened while Ken, the tour guide told us about 911 and the buildings that had been across the street. The church was an oasis in the middle of a concrete jungle. High-rises rose on three sides and had been on the 4th side prior to 911. The church and graves, and old shady trees were a stark contrast to the past and the present.

The Twin Towers site looked somewhat like any new construction site. There were workers in bright vest and yellow hard hats scurrying around the site. They had the area, which was about 100 yards square, cut deep into the earth preparing it for a memorial that will go up there. While I know that many people died here, I did not feel the power here. Maybe it was because it was all concentrated at the church.

Anyway, at that point about 4 of us left the group and made our way to the subway and our hotel as we had to go there and get the tickets for the Yankees vs. As game. Sue Pass, Janet Parker, Charity, and I basically followed the crowd to the entrance. It’s neat to feel the excitement of the game especially since we were in one of baseball’s special places. What made it more important was the fact that this was the last season here as they are already building a new stadium across the parking lot. As soon as we walked on the grounds I bought a hotdog as I was really hungry since I hadn’t eaten anything for about 6 hours. I really didn’t know where my seat was but rather than try to find it I walked to the field levels seats to ask an attendant. Of course I took my time and relished the moment and the view prior to asking and being informed that my seat was “up there, way up there.” He was right, we were behind home plate, and well, well, out of the range and hopes of any foul balls. I only wish that my family had been there to enjoy the experience. That would have made it a 12 instead if a 7. The As lost, but I walked away on cloud 9. I was amazed how fast the stadium cleared out and everyone made their way to the subway. I was very impressed how efficently that masses of humanity went their own separate ways. I was so tired that I don’t remember if I called or emailed, but I do know that as soon as my head hit the pillow I was out.

The next morning we took about a 1-1/2 bus ride to the home of Theodore Roosevelt at place called Saga no (sp) and toured his home where he spent 4 months of the year. I really didn’t know too much about him and can only now appreciate all he did for wildlife and conservation. He loved the outdoors and cared about the future of the wild areas of our country. Also, he was very family oriented another thing that I admire about a person. I think that he would’ve been a person I would have voted for President. We then went to see a huge model of the City of New York. I was probably the size of a professional basketball court. No, about 1-1/2 times as large. There was also a huge sculpture of Earth set in the middle of a huge concrete shallow pool that is used as an ice skating rink in the winter and skateboarding place in the summer. Upon leaving we saw the unique skywriters. There were 6 planes flying side by side and at just the correct moment they would emit smoke which between all six of them formed letters in the sky. Very cool. They were advertising something about US Tennis Open and tickets. There weren’t too many people on the bus because some had opted out of the trip rather than sit on the bus again all day so I was able to scoot around getting the best view.

When we got back Janet and Mary felt like they wanted to stretch their legs so we walled around the neighborhood until we good place to eat Thai food.

http://picasaweb.google.com/jnshoop/June29TourGZSP?authkey=Bv4cOUdTTz4

New York Gilmen / Lerman Natural History 6-28-07

New York Gilmen / Lerman Natural History Museum 6-28-07

Today we walked to the New York History Museum which is right across the street from Central Park which is right across the street from the Natural History Museum. So, as you can there was a lot of oooing and awwwing. The talk was just basically what we will be doing tomorrow since we are taking a bus tour of the city. Yeh, the museums were neat for the first 3 hours. After that I must have been getting tired. I walked around with Janet Parker and Mary Horn. It was nice and cool in the museums but when we walked out the blast of warm humid air feels like a blast furnace. There are quite a few people that have gone to see a Broadway show, but I really don’t have any interest.

This evening I walked down the street and marveled at what macrocosm cities have become. I try to imagine if this were my home instead of a place to visit and it’s so very hard to imagine. What really struck me was the fact that so many people eat out. I suppose there are some here, but I haven’t seen a major grocery store since we passed one about 100 miles up the road. I know that there must be some around here, but all I’ve seen so far are the small convenience stores.
Tomorrow have a bus tour of the city that should be fun. I am planning to see the NY Yankees play the Oakland As tomorrow as Janet Parker has an extra ticket. It should be an enjoyable day.

Pics

http://picasaweb.google.com/jnshoop/GLNNYNaturalHistoryMuseum62807?authkey=WN9YWStEs5E

The Plimoth Plantation June 27, 2007

The day started with a shuttle ride to the Plantation site. It is set up to recognize the Mayflower, but also to show what impact it had on the Native Americas. It was, of course, the beginning of the end for the Native Americans and their way of life. The re-creation part was the village. The people were acting as if they were caught in time. They had period clothes on as well as using the language of the period. If you were to ask them a question of anything that would beyond their time period they would answer you with something like, “Sir, I know not of what you speak.” One guy was railing against the leaders of their group and how the “investors’ back in England would be very disappointed with the choices that these leaders were making.

It always amazes me and helps me realize how similar and how very much different these people were. They were not unlike ourselves as they were looking for a better opportunity for themselves and their families. They had to put up with so much difficulty with this transition, but they had many of the same problems we have today.
What struck me was the fact that the Native Americans while recognizing other tribes, did not lay claim to land the way the new white settlers did.

There is a certain freedom that I recognize in being here alone. Some parts of it I like, and some I don’t. If we stop somewhere, I can take off and go wherever I want. All I have to do is find out when we are to be back. I really don’t even need to tell my roommate which by the way is a guy of about 32 years old by the name of Van Granger. He is also a 5th grade teacher from Grants Pass. He’s pretty relaxed and doesn’t get too uptight about things. If I want to go to dinner I can just wander around by myself and go wherever I want. On the flip side it is kind of lonely traveling by myself. I didn’t realize this until we stopped at a grocery store and everyone was running off in pairs or groups to shop for lunch. It reminded me of the Green Tortoise Trips where everyone is acting in very much the same way. It is only the fourth day and I’m already thinking these types of thoughts. Sometime I feel like a ghost watching the happenings around me. Not that I never talk to anyone, it’s just that I don’t make much effort to ‘hang out” with people. It’s kind of nice. Yes, it’s not perfect, but it’s not all bad either. It’s good that I like being myself. I would like to share these experiences with someone. I wish you all could be here to share this experience with me. It does bring back great memories of our trip across the US. That was fun.

To its credit, the area between Plimoth, MA and New York has its beauty, but I marvel how many people are here. Even the less developed areas have been impacted by man. The trash on a trail, the wrapper hidden in the grass, the can floating in a waterway, it’s a sign of man’s impact and I wonder what the future will bring. We see our present environment as our reality, but what would a person living here 300 years ago think of today’s world. I have to think that if there is a God he is very saddened to see the state of Earth. The transition is so slow in our lives that all too often we cannot recognize the degradation of the natural world. One of the presentations that I saw today is probably made me start thinking of this. The point was made how large some of the trees were when the people first arrived in 1620. They said that some of the trees were 10’ across at the stump and now today, a large tree is one that is 3’ at the stump. Also, the presenters said that 20 years after the immigrants arrived they had cut down for farming 75% of the forests which meant that the animals that depended on those forestlands were not able to live. The term “carrying capacity” comes to mind. I wonder at what point the Earth will reach that capacity.

Pics:http://picasaweb.google.com/jnshoop/PlimothPlantation62707?authkey=0EDZ6j6miKY

The Mayflower II June 26, 2007

The Mayflower II June 26,2007
I love traveling, I got carded again. Maybe I look younger on the East Coast. After having a real lobster dinner in Plimoth, MA. we went to see the Mayflower II tied up to the dock. This ship was built in 1955 as near as possible to the actual ship. Since there weren’t any real good written records about the Mayflower they had to use what they knew based on ships of the era.

We were met by this lady dressed up as the wife of the Master of the voyage. Very soon we learned that she was ‘of a higher station’ than us. She would not proceed with her presentation unless the women curtsied and the men took off their hats and bowed to her. (Yes, I did)

She was totally in character for almost an hour. The tour wasn’t really very long, but it was long enough as we were led below the deck and listened to her talk for about 40 minutes. The space was about as big as our living room, but much more crowded. They even had about a 25’ boat stored there that would have taken up lot of passenger space. There were 102 passengers cramped in a very small space. I don’t remember how long the actual voyage took, but 45 minutes was long enough for me, and we didn’t even smell a chamber pot!

Pics:http://picasaweb.google.com/jnshoop/SturbridgeVillagePlimothMayflowerIIJune262007?authkey=KzhfzaNimX8

Monday, June 25, 2007 Salem / Lowell, Mass.

Monday, June 25, 2007 Salem / Lowell, Mass.
I forgot what the air feels like here. It’s damp, heavy, and has a swampy smell to it. Crescent City probably has the same humidity index, but it’s cooler, so we don’t notice it.

The first thing that caught my eye was the streets here do not have concrete curbs, they’re granite. Cut granite. I asked the tour guide why that’s so and he didn’t really know, that’s just the way it is. It’s always been that way, and that’s the way it always will be.

Our tour started in the harbor area of Salem. He told us that since the ground was so poor here the only thing that the colonists could do was depend on the sea, so many of them became either fishermen or privateers, paid and sanctioned pirates. Salem became a big and important seaport. In fact, it was more important than Boston. Both ports developed a sea trade business. He shared an interesting fact; when the ships left from Boston they went around the tip of Africa to trade in the Orient. When the ships left Salem they went around the tip of South America and along the coast of North America. That explains why when Lewis and Clark reached the mouth of the Columbia they were surprised to see the natives were wearing British uniforms and had metal pots, something unheard for the Indians to have, unless they traded for them.

We walked to the center of Salem where they have a memorial to the Salem Witch Trials. Of course, the stores in the town really attempt to capitalize on the theme as every other store is a witch themed store. Either that or a candle store. I didn’t realize that there were so many people in need of candles!

After about an hour bus ride and short nap we were in a town called Lowell, Mass. It is a National Historic Landmark recognizing the significance of the textile industry to the area. It is very much like a western logging town where the entire area is dependent on that one industry. Since the governors could no longer sanction privateers they had to do something else. The land was not fit for farming as there is so much granite here. They did have to import the cotton, but they built an entire town and industry based on the production of textiles. The working conditions were terrible. They had the machines in operation when we were there and it was so loud that they gave us ear plugs to use. I did my small part to support the community by buying a cotton bole (sp) for $1.25. It’s an actual cotton ball with seeds still in it and the little cap stem still attached. It’s actually pretty cool unless you’ve already seen one before…which I hadn’t. Most of the people that I raved to it about had already seen one, so they weren’t too impressed.

I can’t imagine working in that kind of environment doing the same thing for 10-12 hours per day. Anyway, the textile industry went away to other countries which in and of itself presents a number of problems. Are we to buy American made clothes at a higher price that support our own economy, or buy foreign made clothes where we may be contributing to the exploitation of people? In effect, we may be supporting a new market much like the town of Lowell, MA at its inception.

Now we are at a place called Sturbridge, MA where on Tuesday we are to see a re-creation of a colonial village.

Sat. June 23, 2007

Medford June 23

Electronic ticketing is pretty cool. I’m always amazed how things work when they work well. After I had cleared Security and they determined that I was not carrying any illegal weapons or 12 ounce bottles of water, I was fishing around in my pockets while waiting in the boarding area and discovered I had one of those snap-off knives. I promptly threw if away.

The flight from Medford to Salt Lake City was pretty uneventful. I sat next to Mary Horn, a kindergarten teacher at Bess Maxwell. After we got through the formalities of who and where and marveling at the aridness of Eastern Oregon and Idaho I had to regale her with the potential of electric cars. She was very patient.

The mountains were for the most part pretty barren and had little to no snow on them. As we came closer to Salt Lake City there were more and more cultivated fields that were round that very visible against the light tan color of the ground. Then just before we dropped down into Salt Lake City there was this huge open pit mine. I’m not sure if it was a gold mine or a copper mine, but it was BIG, and wide, and deep. Salt Lake City sits in a huge bowl. I really wonder what Joseph Smith was really thinking when he said that his troupe was going to stop. It’s in the middle of a desert! Maybe he just didn’t want to walk any farther. And it really is a huge lake. Salt Lake is supposed to be 6 times saltier than the ocean, which means even really skinny people can float. Besides the snow melt from the surrounding mountains (it really is in a bowl) there is only large creek / smaller river that flows into it. It’s called the Jordan River (duh) because it flows out of a lake and into a dead sea.

Anyway, as soon as we touched down with our hopes up them were dashed when we walked through the terminal. Our connecting flight was cancelled. So, after walking to Customer Service we found out that we couldn’t get to Boston that evening as planned, we could only get as far as Cincinnati, Ohio. Now, I don’t really know what Cincinnati is famous for except the old TV show WKRP in Cincinnati. Besides that, the flight would not even leave until about 4 in the afternoon. That meant that after we devoured the lunch purchased with the $7 meal ticket they gave us, there would be a looonng afternoon to waste.

I love Dave Clark’s Grill. It seems that celebrities do things like this when there popularity starts to wane. They open restaurants, or some type of business with their name on it. I love Dave Clark’s Grill. I went in and ordered a Philly Cheese Sandwich (no, they’re not better than yours, Bun) and a beer. Both were good, but not great. But, the best part is, that, they carded me. That hasn’t happened for 25 years. I love Dave Clark’s Grill! I’ve never been prouder to pull out my wallet and show my drivers license. It’s much better than pulling it out for a CHP.

Anyway, lunch took about 40 minutes, and that includes reading the USA Today from front to back, twice. I was left with a large portion of the afternoon. Now, I figured that this may be the last time that I visit so I better make the best of it. After all, the last time I consulted my top 1,000 places to visit before I die, this didn’t even make the top 10,000. As I was wandering around I asked a Security Guard how difficult it would be to get back in if I left and he said all I would need was a Boarding Pass. Heck, I had plenty of those; Medford, Salt Lake City, Cincinnati, maybe even a Boston one. I then asked him if he could recommend any interesting places to visit while I was here. He was waiting for that question. He told me of a Shuttle Van that was free and takes you into the city. To be honest it was the word 'free' that really got my attention. Of course it drops you off in front of the Mormon Tabernacle. What they heck, it was free. They have pickups and drop offs every ½ hour. Perfect. Anyway, the people in the van were able to elaborate more on it. It seems that young people in the church can do this as their mission. They serve as tour guides and as evangelists; they even slip in some information on the buildings, which are, I might add, amazing. Someone sure had a good vision.

No, I did not convert to Mormonism even though they offered to help me see the errot of my ways many, many times during the course of the afternoon. I think I was probably offered more literature here than any other place on the two-week trip.

Father's Day

Today was a '12 on the 10 scale kind of day.' On Friday Randy asked me what I wanted to do for Father's Day. I'm sure he was somewhat reticent to actually pose the question to me, as he's never sure what I'll want to do. I told him I wanted to go to Hooper Peak, or at least where my cache site 'Hooper Peak optional' was at. Now, this probably won't mean anything to you unless you already geocache. If you don't, you can go to 'geocaching.com' and find out about it.

Yes, that is Hooper Peak in the background, so named by me. Chances are no one out of our immediate family calls it by this name. But, the way I look at it, a person has to start somewhere. I have plans of actually painting some time of plaque and placing it up there, then if someone finds it in the next hundred years, they'll probably just say, 'huh,' and throw it down the hill. But, I'll know the real truth.

Andrew and I camped at this spot a couple of years ago based on the whim I had after looking at the background over Sanger Lake. I think my comment was something like, " I wonder if anyone has every climbed to the top of that mountain?" So, we did it, and, yes, it was worth every scratch of it. No, there's not a trail. So, it's a by-guess, and by-golly kind of adventure, but the view is awesommmmee! You can actually see the ocean to the west and Mt. Shasta to the east. (Another great memory)

Thanks, Randy, I had a great day. Your time is your greatest gift to me, and I appreciated every moment of it.
Love, Dad
P.S. Randy really isn't cold. We had to make the best of the only patch of snow we came across.

Mo' pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/jnshoop/FatherSDayHooperPeakOptionalRandy61707

PU fuel cost vrs. PK electric cost.

May 12-May 19
The first week of a number figure to compare.In the last week I drove the ZAP Xebra PK 176 miles. If I had driven my PU that distance at 13 miles to the gallon I would have used 13.5 gallons of gas at a cost of $3.53 per gallon (in Crescent City). Gas: $3.53 X 13.5 = $47.79 Electric cost: 176 (miles) X $.03 per mile = $5.28. Savings $42.51.

Hmmmmmmm.........

Tesla her I come.

The deed.............DONE.

For better or worse, here's proof that the ZAP is in Crescent City. It was delivered last night about 11:00. Sandi and I took it to Safeway this morning. The looks and stares have only begun.

Since I'm not sure what the status of the batteries were, it's hard to gauge its performance. What I can say is that it got up to about 38 mph and there is a definite decrease in acceleration and speed as the the batteries lose their charge. But, it's fun to drive, and yes, it only has three wheels.

At this time, it has the highest rated speed (40 mph) capability of EVs (Electrical Vehicles). There are other makes out there, but they are limited to 25 mph since they do not have the safety features (25 mph crash tests, 5 mph bumper, air bags) that are required in the US, and thus are considered NEVs (Neighborhood Electric Vehicles). Of course this is a 'gas challenged' vehicle but does have the mpg equivalent of 135 mpg. And, as the price of gas goes up and electrical rates remain stable (since it is much more difficult to raise rates) the mpg equivalent goes up.

No, it cannot be used on trips other than around town. No, it cannot go on the freeway. Yes, it does answer many people's needs for commuting since 80% of the miles we drive as a nation are within 25 miles. For optimal battery performance it should be charged up each evening in a standard 110v outlet at a cost of about 2 cents per mile.

I don't like bumperstickers, but I thought of a good one in case I ever do relinquish and put one on. When I grow up I want to be a Tesla. The Tesla is the electric sports car coming out designed by Lotus that is capable of doing 160 mph, 0-60 mph in 4.8 seconds, and with a range of 200+ miles. Of course it has a cost of $92,000. I know, this ZAP will have to do a lot of growing, but, it's a start.

I’m this (-) close

That’s right, I’m that close to doing the deed of buying an electric vehicle. I can think of more reasons too do it than not to do it. Personally, I was going to use price as a ’trigger point’ to buy. When gas reached a certain price, for example $3.50 per gallon, I was going to pull the trigger and buy. That strategy is almost self-defeating in a way. What I’ve found so far is that the price of gas now $3.45. When I checked the latest ZAP PK price the cost had gone up $700.

Buying is almost as painful as finding out that you’re pregnant. There’s no going back. So, it’s a big step. Perhaps I’m making it out to be, to big of a step, after all, it’s only money. So, there’s no time like the present, as things aren’t getting any cheaper. Ultimately (my favorite word), it is the right thing to do on a number of levels. One, while the technology is not what I would optimally like, by buying now I am supporting and encouraging what will be to come. By fostering this technology it will open the doors to even better cars. Two, I can always sell it and buy the next best thing. Three, the sooner we get this paid for, the sooner Sandi can get the car she wants. And, with that in mind, it, in a way, takes care of the proverbial mid-life crisis sports car. Fourth, by supporting new products like this I am starting to live as if my grandchildren’s futures depend on it…which I believe it does. Fifth, wouldn’t my dad think it funny that the first brand new vehicle that I buy for myself is an all-electric one?

Vrrooom, vrooom. Not. Dad's reasons for an electric car.

I think that for at least the immediate future, electricity is the fuel of the future. Everything is already in place: production, grids, governmental regulation as to costs, and availability. There are a number of possible alternate energy sources, but I believe that electricity is the alternate fuel of the present. That is not to say that there will be not be another energy source that will be better in the near future. In the short term, with electricity to power our transportation, our world can tap into renewable resources like hydroelectric, solar, wind, or geothermal power; resources that reduce our environmental footprint. Furthermore, studies show that millions of electric vehicles can recharge at night using existing surplus electrical generation; a vast, virtually untapped resource.

Gasoline is a precious natural resource and vital to the world economy. Electrical vehicles use no gasoline and require no oil changes. Also, since there have less moving parts, I have to think that there will be less maintenance issues to deal with. Using less fossil fuel can help relieve our current energy shortages while ensuring that future generations can rely on the same inexpensive, useful, petroleum products that we all take for granted.

Gas keeps getting more expensive. The typical electric car costs a penny per mile versus ten cents per mile with gas. Electric motors have fewer moving parts, meaning fewer trips to the mechanic. But, that cost does not factor in the cost of replacing of the batteries now in use in electrical vehicles. Battery technology is expensive. There are battery powered cars to be marketed this fall with a range of 350 miles and the capability to go from 0-60 mph in 4 seconds and they look like a sports car. They are in fact designed by Lotus. Of course, they will cost a mere $92,000 when released.

Today, the majority of USA's foreign trade deficit is attributed to imported oil. Using an electric vehicle will reduce our reliance on foreign oil. Furthermore, by investing in advanced transportation technologies, the USA can take the technological lead in offering energy efficient products that emerging economies around the world can use to build their own transportation infrastructures.

Evidence is mounting that carbon emissions are contributing to ozone depletion, climate change, and global warming. ZAP vehicles can reduce CO2 emissions by more than 90 percent compared to internal combustion vehicles, even counting the emissions from fossil fueled power plants. The USA constitutes less than 10 percent of the world's population, but is responsible for almost 30 percent of the world's CO2 emissions. So, electric vehicles still must bear the responsibility for some of these emissions as electrical production still produces those emissions. But, it is a step in the right direction.

Reducing fossil fuel consumption relieves pressure on our natural resources. It eliminates the need to explore for oil in environmentally sensitive habitats. Less automotive emissions means less toxic pollutants in our air, water, and soil. Less oil consumption reduces the risk of oil spills which can safeguard sensitive coastal regions and wildlife for future generations to enjoy.

By using an alternative energy vehicle, I make a statement about my values and show my own social responsibility. All too often I feel helpless, feeling the world's problems are too big for just one person to solve on my own. However, as a consumer, I have the ultimate power in the products I purchase and in the vehicles I drive.

What will happen if the world continues in this same direction? No one really knows. Of course, none of us may be around when or if the world runs out of oil, the polar icecaps melt, or the world is covered in another ice age. Perhaps it will be a technological paradise like many of us hope, but how can we control what sort of world our children and our grandchildren will inherit? It is up to me in a small measure.

Now to answer the question that popped into your mind when you first saw this vehicle. The “dorky” factor. Yes, it does look dorky, but I believe that the VW Bug was at first met with these same judgements. I believe that I must be open to a new paradigm in my perceptions of the future. Americans are tied to oversize cars that are sold to us my the car manufacturers as these are the cars that we need. Of course to power these cars with all the embellishments there is a trade-off in reduced efficiency.

Trade-offs, that is what life and choices are all about. The question is for me, “What am I willing to give up in exchange for my social conscious be salved.” Or, am I content with the idea that, “I have mine, but you can’t have the opportunity to have yours.” I think that I am more interested in the function of my transportation rather than any identity that I would try to convey with the image of whatever vehicle that I wrap around myself. After all, aren’t vehicles an alter ego of what I want to have others perceive of me? In effect, form over function.

Rain in CC as of 3-26-07

26-3/8" March 9, 2007

To some this may be be as interesting as watching paint dry, but in some macabre way I find measuring and comparing the rainfall somewhat interesting.

On March 9, 2006 we had 34-1/2"

24" as of March 2, 2007

Feb. 28, 2007

22-5/8"

Hmmm. Trick pencils or not really water, or ?

Feb. 26. 2007
21"
Thunder, hail, clear sky. We've had it all today.

Saturday, Feb. 24, 2007. 19-1/8" rained pretty good today for a short time. Notice water puddling up in background.

2-22-07
Not a good pic tonight. Almost a solarization effect. Hmmm... I was taking closeups of text earlier. Anyway 17-1/8"

Rain as of Wed., Feb. 21, 2007

16-3/8"

Today's (2-18-07) rain total from Jan. 1, 2007

Resting??????

Would you believe I'm simply resting? I didn't think so. This is right after I was turning around to comment to Randy, "it's kinda of icy isn't it?"

Randy and I made a quick trip to Mt. Shasta yesterday (Feb. 17, 2007). It was blast. I've been wanting to go skiing here for quite awhile. It's only about 1 hour past the turnoff to Mt. Ashland and we were able to luck out an get a great evening. Our plan was to drive over and arrive just in time for the night skiing. Less crowds, less hurry to get there, and less expense. We arrived in Mt. Shasta about 2:30 and checked into a motel, then left to get to the mountain about 3. The rental check-in was really smooth, much easier than Mt. Ashland. Everything is really close together. Since the day skiing, that was over at 4, slightly overlapped the night ski, which started at 3 there was probably about a 3-4 minute wait the first few runs. I was fortunate enough to ride up with a ski patrol person who I could grill for what to expect at the top. Of course, I wasn't quite ready to get off the chair when it was time so I ended up exiting the chair and ending up on my butt (not the above picture, that was later). The easy slopes are easy, gradual, and wide. But, that didn't keep me from falling a couple more times.

We even got to ride ski down the slopes on the track of the grooming machine as it was smoothing the slope. Nirvana!!! The entire experience was awesome. Randy and I are going to get spoiled. The last time we went to Ashland we had a great day. No wind, warm even, and great snow. This was the same. I would rate it as a 10 out of 10 experience. We both agreed it was worth the extra drive to get here. Instead of staying the night as we had planned, we went ahead and drove back home so we could be here when HB was taking off this morning.

More pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/randyhoop/SkiingAtMtShasta?authkey=0bfEQ5pK5r0

Yes, great news. Andrew and Rachael are getting married. Now that the cat is out of the bag Rachael said it's OK to tell 30 of my relatives and closest friends. How fortunate we are to have Rachael in the family. I know that Sandi is really, really happy as it tips the male energy scale a little closer to the middle. What a great way to start out the year. Our summer plans will revolve around their plans, so, everything is on hold until their date is set in ink.
 

Wow, a new victim to terrorize with a scavenger hunt. Randy and Andrew are past the age of "enjoying" the search. Now, Rachael is in the picture, and, yes it was enjoyable to see her search for her present. Ahhh, simple pleasures.

Yes, that right, it was a great day. We went to Ashland yesterday to go skiing today. The weather was perfect, the snow was perfect, and it was one of those kind of days where you remember how enjoyable skiing really is...even if I'm not thaaat good.

This rain guage is from Jan. 1, 2006. About the end of November, I had to dump it and restart it again. So, add 70" to what it says. Yes, that's correct, we've received 107.9" of rain here in our back yard from 1/1/06 until 12/27/06. Sheeeesh, now that's a lot of rain!

Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction, and days that start out scary, turn out to be, well, OK. Andrew gave us a scare yesterday morning when he called to tell us that the side of his face was paralyzed. I suddenly became "schooled' on Bells Palsey. While he is not out of the woods yet, the prognosis is basically much better than it had started out to be. It is a temporary condition that people do get over with fairly soon. Really though, I guess 'get over' is a relative term. Like anything, it's always much easier if it's happening to someone else. So, he has a few extra days off to enjoy.

I stayed home to be with him and he said that he wanted to go fishing. Now me, I'm not one to not want to go fishing. In fact, one doesn't even have to twist my arm to go. Really, I'm kinda like the dogs, I'm generally in the truck waiting to go before they are. Long story short, on the first cast (after 10, 927 previous casts) I caught the largest steelhead I've ever caught. 12 pds. and 30 in. long.

Just random thoughts.
The accumulation of my life is that record that is kept of it........here and elsewhere.

Does what we do really change lives?

Remember, in times of low periods, the things that bring enjoyment.

Relationships with those we come in contact with, effect the world as a whole.

Look forward to a time in which I have time to reflect. I am a sum total of reflection from who I came while filtered through my own life's experiences.

Have I fulfilled my life's purpose?



A great generic bumpersticker (compliments of a conversation with HB, Andrew, and Rachel: "Don't worry, if you can't see it my way, you'll come around."

Thoughts while on vacation

Return to, take part in that which gives one enjoyment...with soul in mind.
Carpe diem of the season, not only look forward to tomorrow.
Practice that which has been given to you.
Keep in mind: this day will not happen again in this present lifetime.
Take into account the wisdom of the ages, recent and historical.
Most things aren't worth arguing about.
State your position. Listen to differing points. Be open to change. The truth will emerge.
Practice of which you speak.

Gracias, but.......
No, I do not wish to visit a time-share seminar.
No, I do not want to go to any tourist activities.
No, I do not want to take $150 from you, for any promocion.
I did all this last time.

If I want to do anything, I will surely ask you.

Gracias

(I plan to have this printed on a T-shirt before I go to Mexico next time)

I believe.

We as a species take so much for granted: Art is not so much a choice, but a choosing, or rather a choice of a Higher Power. We as humans are only trying to emulate or follow those that have been chosen to lead the way into a different way of thinking or seeing. Those that have been chosen, or those that have devoted their life to not follow another's example, but to lead the way into an alternate way of seeing, and thus, into a different way of perceiving the world.

Only by following that inner voice, which is simply the universal voice, or God voice, can one truly experience the future. There is an all knowing and all seeing figure that Christians refer to as God. Other cultures and beliefs see this same figure as ultimately a Supreme figure that not only sees the future, but lets us construct it.

We are simply souls having a human experience and that the purpose of that experience is to lead us back to what we all emanate from-God.

Wow! It's been quite awhile hasn't it? Just a thought: Are doctors allowed to call in sick? It almost seems like an oxymoron: doctors - sickness. Something seems not quite right about that to me. This was my situation when I went to the doctor's office today after work. It seems that they called this morning and left a message, but since I hadn't gone home after work I didn't know about it until I arrived at the office at 4:30. Should they be held to the same standards that they expect of patients, 24 hours notice or they charge for an office call? If that's the case, does the doctor owe me the value of my time since they did not give me 24 hours notice? hmmmm.... (Or is this thinking too far out of the box?)

Thought for the Day (only for those that believe in a Higher Power)

Lord, thy will be done in me. Lord, thy will be in me. In words, thoughts, and actions. Practice charity to all, love, to all, finding fault with none, being patient with all, showing brotherly love and brotherly kindness.

Prayer is talking to God. Meditation is listening to the divine within.
If one is to receive grace from God one must show grace to others. Only then can the grace of God be given to man, for the grace of God is manifested through man by showing grace to others. By following the example of Jesus we are doing his will, but more importantly, charting our future.
-a short summary of a book I just finished reading Family Karma by Kevin J. Todeschi

Only when we show godliness will we be shown Godliness.

Seems fair.

Karma

Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. Galatians 6:7

Karma is a Sanskrit word that means action. It is associated with cause and effect and the fact that each individual is constantly meeting the consequences of his or her previous choices. Karma is an interactive, energetic force neither good nor bad in character that is set in action by our intent, desire, thought, deed, and word and as a result molds and shapes the resulting consequences of all our actions.

Bow at the knee of history, for therein lies your future

What is the future but our appreciation of the past? Who we were, why we are, and what we are to become. The past, the effervescent reminder of who we really are. Yes, we can only learn from the present if we really understand from whence we came.

I have heard it said that America is a land of opportunity.
In a small microcosm I tend to see the deck in my backyard as a deck of opportunity. Let me explain. Factors: There is a finite amount of time that the sun hits the deck, hours of sunlight, absence of clouds, proximity of the sun as it relates to the seasons, and height of the trees to our south. Given all these constraints there really is a very small window of opportunity to enjoy the portents of summer. I see it almost as my duty to make use of the deck as much as possible, especially given the fact that it’s been such a long winter. Opportunity doesn’t always strike and I’m a firm believer in Carpe Weekend (seize the weekend). The way I see it a person must take advantages of and enjoy the moment, even if it is only lying out in the backyard listening to the sound of the wind blowing through the trees and feeling the warmth of the sun. Simple pleasures are the best. I read somewhere that the farther one gets away from the simple things in life, the farther you are from reality. That’s easy to say as I sit here typing this out on a word-processing keyboard device to be uploaded to my computer and put out for the world to see on the Internet. So, enjoy the moment.

The Speed of Summer
It’s amazing how quickly the seasons change here. Last week it rained an inch in 24 hours, today the dogs are sitting panting in the hot weather. Actually, I’m sitting, they’re laying on the back deck panting. It’s too hot for them! After the last day it rained the following day dawned to be a beautiful spring day. The next day the wind blew from the north (a sure sign of summer). Today the wind continues to blow from the north and it is 72* out, a real nice day for Crescent City. About a month ago we had a very warm day and I got my lawn chair out of the garage and lay out on the back deck for awhile. The lawn chair has been beckoning me every day since…. but it hasn’t been nice enough to be outside…until today. Ahhh… lawn chair, 72* lawn mowed, good books, beverage, no shirt, visions of summer, yes, I have much to be thankful for. But, I was abruptly reminded of the fact that summer was not quite all here when upon mowing the yard I got the lawnmower stuck in the drainage ditch and had to get Randy to help me push it out.

Rain. Surprise! Surprise!

I stopped at the place where Andrew and I shot the deer, and there in the alder tree is our name and date still visible, carved into the bark of the tree. Again, next to Walker Gulch our name is carved, a silent sentential watching the place of our memories.

Rather than rush through life from experience to experience and only enjoying the time with one sense, I want to try to give each place the time it needs. I want to not only see something, I want to hear, taste, touch, and smell the experience.

Last night when I arrived it started to rain. Ladd Road had washed out and so I had to walk about a ½ mile if I were to visit the bend in the river. Just after I started walking a rainbow appeared over the top of my destination and I felt that I had made the correct choice in visiting this special place. By the time I had got back the rain had stopped and I had made the decision to spend the night here rather than driving and finding a motel. I took stock of what I had and found that I had a lawn chair (bed), a poncho (tent), and a fleece blanket (sleeping bag). Everything except fire, of which I hurriedly started. I was cozy, warm, and dry until it started raining at about 2:00 am. I had to get up about every 45 minutes to put more wood on the fire. I got into the car and then I really got cold. I didn’t start the car as I wanted to see how long it would take me to warm up in the absence of a fire. When I woke up at 6:30 I was still somewhat cold so I sat in the car with the heater going until I warmed up enough to restart the fire. When I took a walk this morning and discovered that two deer had ventured in sight of the car and then turned back the direction that they had come.

Making Memories.

This is one of the first places that I shared with Sandi after we were married. So, as you can see, bringing my boys here holds very special meaning for me. The sights and sounds of the river is virtually the same as it was 44 years ago when my mother first started bringing me. The rushing waters still play the same chorus as it charges toward the sea. There are new homes along the river as well as the same old homes. Each year buildings fade farther and farther into their final resting places. There are the abandoned signs of failed businesses. But the river is still the same making the same swooshing sound as it races to the ocean. The cycle continues.

I stopped at the place where Andrew and I shot the deer and there in the alder tree is HOOPER and the date still visible, carved into the bark of the tree. Again, next to Walker Gulch our name is carved, a silent sentential watching the place of our memories.

Rather than rush through life from experience to experience and only enjoying the time with one sense, I want to try to give each place the time it needs. I want to not only see something, I want to hear, taste, touch, and smell the experience.

Anyway, back to the Klamath River.

As I drove down the river tonight I recalled all the times I been here with my mother, both when I was young and again when I was older. As a child I didn’t realize that the six hour journey that it took with my mom driving could be but a 3-1/2 hour trip with my dad driving by a different, slightly more curvy route. When I was older I visited the spot again. My mother had not let the absence of the sons that thought it not cool to keep her from this special place. She was there again soaking up the beauty and solitude of the place that we came to call “the cabin” The cabin had ceased to exist after the ’64 flood, being washed away by the high water. At one time someone had tried to make a home of Walker Gulch. They had built a rough 20’ X 20’ single walled cabin complete with galvanized roofing as well as a carport open on all four sides and hewn out of small trees and poles. Mom would make her yearly trips here by herself after Chuck and I stopped going with her.
After working the summer I got a wild idea that I needed to have some type of trip to call Summer Vacation. I took off and hitchhiked over to Mt. Lassen. I had always seen it from afar and I wanted to actually climb it. I don’t recall how I got there, but I do remember walking up to the top and planning to camp the night. In fact, I even had my camp all laid out and I was watching the beautiful sunset to the west. All of a sudden instead of just the sunset I saw lightening flashing in the distance, then the sound of thunder, the lightening closer. Suddenly spending the night atop a volcano didn’t seem like such a great idea. A day or so later I found myself walking down Hwy. 96 after getting dropped off at the rest area at the junction of the Klamath River and I-5. It took me about 2 rides to get the 50 miles downriver to the turnoff to Ladd Road. Walking the last 3 miles and arriving just before dark Mom was much surprised to see me come walking up.

Seiad Valley holds a special place in my heart.

As a child my mother would bring my brother and I here. It’s here that I came to love the woods and the out-of-doors. I suppose two months of camping every summer can either do one of two things to a child; make you love wildness or abhor it. I came to love it. This is what I wanted to share with my sons growing up, that love for the out-of-doors. As a parent anything that you do, you’re walking a very fine line. Too much or too little of anything and your goal is not met. And I think that myself as a parent I had an underlying purpose in what I did. I hoped to mold my sons into an unconscious vision that I had for them. I wonder though, was the vision what I thought best for them or a mark of parenthood for me? Whatever the reason, I think that I really decided to take growing up seriously as soon as Randy was born. At that point, I decided to do whatever I had to so I could make a good life for him. When Andrew came along we were fully committed to giving them the best possible options that we could provide. Sandi and I only wanted the best for our boys. I think that she came to this conclusion even before I did, maybe when Randy was still in her womb.

Memories, emotions, feeling.

They all came over me like a winter storm wave coming over the jetty, totally enveloping me and almost making me cry like a baby. As I turned down Hwy. 96 off of I-5 the memory of a special time seven years ago came welling over me. Randy, Andrew, and I were off on a little camping trip. At the time both the boys were attending school at Milo Academy. It was in the fall and that weekend happened to be, I believe, the Family Weekend. I’m not sure it was them or me, but for whatever reason we were spending the weekend together, just not on or near the campus. I remember picking them up at Milo in the late afternoon and driving the back road to Medford where we stocked up on food. Enough food to last about 4 weekends! Food that didn’t need to be cooked. In fact, I think one of the criteria was that it had to be ready to be eaten in 30 seconds or less. Then we stopped again to eat out. As we drove down the Klamath River we talked of important things. Things that a father likes to talk about with their sons. Things that make a father realize that his boys are turning into men and they can not only have an opinion they can back their opinions up with good solid logic. It’s enough to make a dad smile in the dark of the night as we wound our way closer to our destination.

Part 2
Well, it's one thing to have a colonoscopy, but it's quite another to find out the results. The doctor called last week and told me the finding. I'll save you the doctor-ese and explain the report the best that I can. There were six polyps ranging in size from 2 cm to 10 cm none of which were cancerous. But it does warrant the need to have this procedure done in two years. Now, I'll call my primary care doctor and take the finding in and have him tell me how I can maintain the best health possible, not necessarily in a general sense, but specifically about my digestive tract. I did find it interesting that I was in a really bad mood after the procedure. I tend to think that it was the anathesia. A couple of days made passed and I was feeling better, just moody-not bad mood.
Anyway, Spring Break is here and I 'm feeling almost ecstatic. It's time to do something different. This has been the longest stretch between Christmas Break and Spring Break. The calendar says that it's spring, but it rained again last night so I'm finding it hard to believe that it will really ever come. I'm thinking of taking a short road trip and visiting some friends and family.

The Adventures of don Colonoscopy
Well, I did it. I gave myself a belated 50th birthday present by getting a colonoscopy screening. Personally, I think that everyone should, if not for themselves, but for their families. Colon cancer is a type of cancer that can be treated very effectively and has a very high cure rate. I didn’t get it for the reasons that you’ll read below, but rather for proactive health reasons. Granted, it’s 8 months after my birthday, but this isn’t something a person wants to rush in to. But, on the other hand this isn’t something a person wants to avoid either, especially when colon cancer runs in the family. Fortunately, having gone through the entire process, the only thing worse than the taste of the laxative that they have you to drink is the anxiety of the whole ordeal.

Sunday I started the process by having to drink 12 oz of water every hour upon wakening until I had to take the laxative concoction. I’ve heard tales about the dreaded laxative, and none of them were good. It didn’t help when I went to get the laxative from the drug store and I asked the pharmacist a rather delicate question. I asked her if it really tasted as bad as people made it out to be. She just smiled real big and replied, “worse.” Great, that really instills a lot confidence.

I tanked up on water to the point I thought I was going to float away. Three o’clock came and I mixed up the dreaded potion, held my nose and jug-a-lug, down the hatch. Baaaaaaaaad, very baaaaaaad.

The good news was that I could drink just about every clear liquid I wanted after I had taken the laxative. Water, juice, clear soup, beer. Hmmm.

The bad news is that I tried just about every drinkable liquid in the house and I still couldn’t get rid of the taste. What made it worse was the attempt that the company makes to suppress the taste of whatever they put in the laxative. Lemon and ginger. To me, not a good combination. Why not something like chocolate mint or raspberry cream? No, it has to be lemon and ginger. With options like that getting this test done is going to be a pretty hard sell. But with choices like that I’m probably going to be buying a lot more bran cereal so as not to have to have this test again.

After two hours with no sense of, well, not a way to measure the effectiveness of this truly vile drink I was getting worried. Well, not really worried, maybe just wondering how long that it would take to take effect. When it did start working I was wondering something different, how long it would take to stop being so effective? I guess you really do have to be careful what you hope for.

Just when you think that things can’t get worse, they get worse. The directions call for a second helping of this wretched potion three hours prior to the anticipated voluntary physical abuse. So, 5:00 a.m. comes and I get up and chug down another dose, except this time I’m not supposed drink anything after taking this second dose. No, nothing to wash this despicable taste out of my mouth until after the procedure is over. So, I couldn’t wait to get down to the hospital and get this dreaded procedure over with.

A lot of good that did. When I got there I found out that there were already 12 people (seriously) ahead of me doing the very same thing. My first thought was that, I wonder how many nurses call in sick on Mondays when these procedures are scheduled. What a way to start the week! Of course, it could be one of those ‘pecking order’ entry-level jobs at the hospital. You know, you have to work on the colonoscopy procedure team before you get that job in housekeeping. Now I understand why they have to run so many commercials on TV for nurses.

Soon, too soon, it was my turn to be violated. What I really found odd about the entire process was that from the time I walked into the hospital until I asked for my clothes I must have been asked for my birth date about 10 times, sometimes when the people were holding my forms in front of them. Being the curious person that I am, I asked about that. Some kind of security thing. Yeh, right. Like someone is really going to try to pass themself off as someone else just so they can get a colonoscopy? Why does everyone need to know my birth date? One side of me is saying, maybe they really don’t believe that I’m 50 years old. They probably think I’m only 40. Anyway, enough dreaming.

The last thing I remember was that the nurse asking me if I had any more questions… right after she asked me my birth date (I wonder what would have happened if I would have told her my birth date and been a day off). It somewhat sounded like she was asking me if I had any sins I wanted to confess. I told them to feel free to be generous with the anesthesia and then proceeded to tell them a short story about when the dentist used laughing gas to put me out for a root canal. He had told me to count from 100 to 1 and so I explained to them about how far I had got. "100, 99, 98,…."

“Sir, here are your pants, as soon as you’re dressed, your ride is here. The doctor will call you in a few days with the results.”

I have to believe something happened, but actually, I really don’t want to know.

The good news is I didn’t hear the doctor say, “Sir, would you please open your mouth, I think I may have gone too far.” The only thing worse would be to hear a second hand story of an all-too familiar story of my experience at the checkout counter at the store.

First Walk-about
I know, I know, the Romans incised entire walls of stone quicker than it takes me to update my Blog. I could give you some lame excuse that I’m busy or something, but I won’t, because we’re all busy.

Yesterday I finally got out geocaching. At this time of year I feel somewhat like a bear coming out of hibernation except for the fact the bear comes out with a lean frame looking for food. Myself I come out of a winter with not a lean frame but a frame with excess reserves. Hmmm..maybe if I slept all winter and played all summer...

It rained in the morning and I decided not to go on a little walk-about. But by the afternoon it quit so I decided to try my luck. That’s been the pattern lately, rain, rain, rain. I headed up to Craig’s Creek to find a cache called Craig’s Crack. Anyway, it’s a 3.7 mile hike each way and I was walking pretty fast as I had such a late start. The hike was beautiful as the springs were full and the water was cascading off the mountain in a spectacular fashion. Around every corner there was another beautiful waterfall. The dogs liked it too. They’ve been cooped up too long and they wanted a hike. Found the cache and sensed good things to come this spring. Today my calves are a little sore (a good sore) and I haven't heard the dogs whining this morning (a good thing).

Fire

We went to Fast Freddies (Fred Meyer) yesterday for an excuse to get out of town. Upon entering the store we saw something that caught our eye. There were two different models of the small fire rings that are to be used on a deck or in the backyard. They were about 4' X 4' and have a small fire area in a stainless steel ring surrounded by a tile border. Immediately my pyromaniac side came alive and I pictured how it would look on the deck and imagined grilling with it instead of the ugly block edifice in the backyard. Or maybe, it was my primordial side awakening and seeing the past in a modern setting. What ever it was, I was attracted to the idea of bringing fire, warmth, comfort, protection, and the ability to cook onto our deck. I wondered, why is it, that given all of the modern convieniences that we have I/we/some people still search out and even crave that link to our past. Thpusands of years of progress and we are drawn to do something that we worked so hard to escape.

The Strangers
The sounds of commotion filled the darkness. Aone awoke in his sleeping area with sleeping area was filled with the throat-tightening smell of dust particles. The taste buds at the top of his throat could not only feel the smoke, but it could also taste the smoke. He could feel pieces of the sod ceiling cascading down on his face, arms, and the covering he used to keep warm at night. The muffled voices, the vibration of the ground around him and especially the huge leg that was protruding through the far end of his sleeping area space made him instantly alert. He could hear the voices of others of his kind. He could hear the sound of his sister Maco, her voice calling out in terror for his father and mother. He could hear the muffled yelling of voice that belonged to the one who must be with the owner of the leg. As he flattened himself against the side of his sleeping area room he could see the leg disappear abruptly through the opening that it had made. The single candle in his room barely casting enough light and waving shadows as its flame swayed back and forth amidst the falling dirt and swirling dust. Now, more screams and yells from his other family members. A yell that was punctuated by large, gruff sounding voices. He tried vainly to make his way to the main room area that led to an opening to the outside, but could not make it past the small opening to his sleeping area. His way was blocked by a wall of dirt. He was trapped in his own sleeping area. He felt helpless at the thought of it, but his mind could not dwell on. How could this be? He had gone to sleep in the peaceful assurance of what he thought would always be the same, as it had been, as they always had been.
His kind had always kept to themselves. Living in the forests without worries was who they were. Forest people. Some would even call them “Little people.”

The Last Passage
In the fading light of yet another day Aone of Nisse peered intently at the thick fog trying to make out some semblance of order in the tall rolling waves. He was not so intent on the waves themselves, but on the disappearing mirages of the outline of something more than the tall, steep waves. It was something that made the ocean waves crash against something solid, something unforgiving, and not another ocean wave.

For a moment the fog cleared. And there, there was the faint outline of a sharp, jagged shape with short, spindly trees silhouetted against the darkening gray sky. Maybe they would not have to spend another dark, cold damp night on the cramped boat. “Land, land ahead,” rang out a voice. The voice carried the most excitement it had shown in 3 weeks. The rough looking bearded men rose slowly, almost painfully from their slumped positions, turned and stared into the darkening fog as the man at the tiller yelled for them to see what he had seen, or at least what he thought he had seen.

Three weeks of being cold, seasick and scared, with nothing to do but try not to mourn the loss of his sister. After the fifth day, or rather night on the boat, the sky had turned dark and the seas had turned into a frothing mountain of white cold water coming over the sides of the boat even after the captain had ordered the sail taken down. His sister had been scared and frightened to the point of hysteria. She had flung herself off the boat hoping to swim to a point of land that she had thought she had seen amongst the towering waves. There had been no land, and Aone now no longer had a sister.

The captain of the ship made an attempt to rescue her by telling his men to man the oars and row in the direction she was being swept by the wind, but it had put the boat in such danger that he quickly abandoned the effort, instead having the men row and keeping the bow of the boat pointed into the cresting waves. The last thing of his sister that he remembered was his sister’s green hat bobbing on the ocean waves. Now she would never marry. Now there were only five of his kind on the boat.
At least this is the story that had been passed down to him in the yellowing pages of the journal……….

Gnome's knob
Before I proceed on with my story, the reader must understand some background information. The story you are about to discover took place starting around 1916 in the Redwood forest area of northern California and ending in the late 70’s. At the time there was only a small, growing community nearby which has now blossomed into a slightly larger small town. It has gone through several boom and bust periods that have left it with only a small reminder of its past. This story was put together based upon a journal that was passed on to me by a friend of a friend. Which led me to search for a second journal, which had been mentioned in the first journal. At the time of its discovery, the first journal was the center of attention in the local press, but as with all news its time passed and other news took its place. Every area has it own myths and legends, and many have their basis in fact, although sometimes they are told and retold to the point of disbelief and thereby are believed by only a loyal few. That is what this story is, a retelling of a historical event that has been an interest of mine since I ran across an old newspaper clipping documenting this story. Coupled with my discovery of the location of this story and the second journal, it led me to experience a little bit of what once was. I will try to take you back to a story many believe never happened. The final decision is up to you.

Alon

Alon reached out slowly with his hand and pulled aside the sword fern to peer intently at the small wood house nestled in the clearing below him. The single window dimly lit just enough to cast a light glow on the ground below. The smoke was snaking unhurriedly from the stone chimney with the sun just disappearing into the trees on the far side casting long shadows reaching for the side of the small house. Soon it would be dark. A good dark night, with no moon.
Good, the clothes were still on the clothesline waving silently in the evening breeze. Alon looked carefully at the house to make sure that the dog was in the house then toward the clothes again. Not today. All that were on the clothesline were light colored clothes. He wanted dark clothes, worn clothes. Those would never do. Alon slowly let go of the fern and slowly turned back to return to his home. Forty minutes later, taking a route he had never before taken, he smelled the faint hint of smoke and recognized the unique pattern of the roots on the fallen redwood that was his home. He was tired, never before had had he felt so unsure of his return. Was he really getting old, or was it just a difficult route that he had taken. For some reason, the woods had seemed darker, was it the branches getting thicker, or were his eyes getting dimmer? He grabbed a small root at chest level and let himself down carefully into the dark void until his feet touched a familiar place and he swiveled his body around another root and crept toward the dim light. His eyes slowly accustomed to the light as he reached for a dry limb from his small pile of wood. He always kept the fire in one of two ways, burning cleanly with no smoke, or no fire at all. The larger pile of wood he kept under another an overhanging broken tree a short distance away. It was always something he could do, collect dry wood. His small, stubby fingers reached up to his thin shirt slowly pulling the collar closer to his neck. Looking around, his eyes came to rest on the small pile of paper that made up his life, his history, his legacy. Leafing through it in the dim light his eyes caught words that brought back flashes of memories of the time that once was. Of happiness, peace, contentment, of a time he wished that would never end. And now, it was almost over, almost the end. A tear slowly pooled in the corner of his eye and slipped down his cheek to disappear into his beard. He was the last of his kind.

To be continued..........

Happiness
I wonder at times why I am so happy and content. Is it because I’m a fool living in my own paradise, or am I just deluded and don’t really have enough sense to know what happiness is and I’m just a poor, pathetic person lost in his own world?

Personally, I feel that my world is better than what I could have ever planned it to be. I enjoy every little thing in life, from the plaintive bleating of the goat in the neighbor’s yard to the sweet smell of the alder wood that is burning in preparation of our evening meal. Simple pleasures that bring so much pleasure. The enjoyment of seeing Ohmah searching for the apples in the trees above the point at which he can jump, but yet jumping as hard and as high as he can, only to be disappointed at not being able to reach as high as his eyes can see.

I gain a sense of enjoyment at being able to cook the dog’s treats; end of pieces of the meat that I will be grilling, and seeing them slobber and drool at the smell of it cooking, because for some reason, they know it is for them.

Take the quiet sound of the neighbor’s goats when they’re being fed. They know, I know, the neighbor knows, that they are now content because of their needs being met.

I don’t think that it is necessarily simple pleasures that bring enjoyment and happiness, but the simple appreciation of those trouble-free pleasures. Life isn’t about tomorrow, but about enjoying life today. Thoreau had it right, simplify. Simplify. Carpe diem; seize the day, enjoy the day.

I believe that life boiled down to its essence, is appreciating what you have, whatever it is, and not wanting things for tomorrow.

Leaves in the fall

To hear the sound of nature, I must be out in nature. I can never imagine it nearly as good as it really is. I am always surprised and happy at what I will see when I place myself in the woods. For me, every time I go it is different, even though it may be the very same place. One time it may be the way the sunlight is striking a leaf casting a glow so bright that the leaf appears to be on fire. Next, it is a barren tree with nought a leaf to cover its nakedness. I can almost sense the tree saying something like, “excuse me for my appearance, and just come back in the spring.” My favorite though, is when I come across a cavern like part of the road or trail with the trees arching over the roadway, straining to reach the far side. The rich damp smell of the earth fills my nostrils and I strain my ears to hear the sound of the …………. Silence.

Ahh, it is a golden sound, a sound to be treasured, a fleeting sound in today’s world. But, the sound of silence is really only there if I don’t listen closely enough. When I do, I hear the wind rustling through the tree tops, making a swishing sound out of the branches and leaves. For the leaves it is a losing battle, as this is the time of year when the trees strain to conserve their energy and cut off the life-giving sap to the leaves. Each individual leaf must pay the price as the wind slips through the branches and the leaves give their last gasp releasing their hold on the life-sustaining branch. Some leafs spiral down in a graceful manner much like a parachutist making their way to earth. Others go into a tight spiraling descent as they crash into the ground. Others, hold on to their life as long as they can and then make a graceful descent to land peacefully on the fallen brethren that have gone on before, almost as if not wanting to wake them up from their peaceful slumber. All though, catch a fleeting reflection of the sun as they fall and so their colors of yellow, red, and orange are made manifest one last time as they give the one last gift that they are able, the beautiful sight of leaves in the fall.

Responsibility begins with self responsibility and being in control of your own situation. This thought process always hits me when the first rain of the season comes and or the first power outage darkens our home. The first thought is, where is the kerosene or fluorescent light? Next, where are the matches? It comes down to the elements of basic survival: water, food, and shelter. In the case of a power outage, the elements of water and food are not initially the primary concern as is a shelter that will provide an immediate protective abode. Of course, the next questions are, do we have enough food and water? I guess I’m thinking this because I just walked out to the backyard and looked at the woodpile and tried to estimate if we had enough wood to last the winter and to what degree of dryness that the wood is. The question to myself was, have I prepared enough in this one aspect of my life? If so, I can move on to the next area. If not, what do I need to do? This scene typifies to me the basic need to provide, albeit a small example, it still is that basic primordial expectation to provide for those that you are responsible to. A need for me that is only felt when I have a close connection to the Earth and recognize that even though my sustenance takes a round-a-bout way of getting here, it still remains the same. The only difference is that, given our modern living styles we have isolated ourselves from the very means that have made us the survivors of our species that we are. I believe that this is evidenced by the dependency of those that depend on “someone” to help them when they are in need.
Granted, on a large scale, there are natural disasters that are simply to large to prepare for. On a small scale, there are many things that individuals and families can do to take care of themselves in times of trouble. A family disaster plan and preparedness with basic supplies is a good first step. We, as a species, are generally reactive, and hear and read of these things after a major disaster has taken place somewhere and people are not receiving the expected needed help.
The fall of the year is a time in which the recognition for preparation is most often felt. I see squirrels, bears, and other animals prepare for the winter by gorging themselves trying to lay in the food they need, either on their body, or secreted away. Another sign are the farmers harvesting their last crops and the gardens becoming barren and fallow from the last vegetable and fruits being picked. The sense of the salmon fulfilling their destiny and completing their life cycle. And finally, the hunter gatherer harvesting this bounty of the Earth to sustain themselves and their families throughout the long winter season. A time of year when the old ways come back and I sense in a small and distant way, that I must prepare for my own to survive, and I question, am I prepared enough?

That primordial sense comes to me when I am out in the woods and see a tree lying there for me to take back and warm my modern cave. It also comes during the fall when men talk of deer hunting. For me, it goes beyond the killing of something; it goes to that idea of providing. When I do take the life of an animal or fish, I express my thanks to it for supplying me with the sustenance I need to carry on my life and I feel that I am just a small bit closer to being prepared for the long winter season.

Inside the heart of every person beats the soul of a being built to survive. Every day the habits of getting up, going to work, providing for ones family is a learned reaction of an underlying desire to survive. While we may see things today as just what we are expected to do, it is indeed, a mark of survival. Those that do not, are of a linage that will one day die out. They are of those that when a problem happens, are the ones that look for someone else to solve it.

A survivor is one who is proactive and anticipates problems and while may not be totally prepared, has a least thought through potential problems and is beyond the initial surprise ready to deal with the situation. The survivor is one who when disaster strikes, first takes care of his own, and then looks to see how he can assist others. The first example that comes to mind is the Search and Rescue departments of governmental organizations and their prior preparedness to assist with situations that they may be called upon to deal with. While they may not spend their time on disaster situations that may not happen to them, they do train and have resources to be ready for the potential problems that they feel are worthy of their time and money to prepare for. A governmental organization like the Federal Emergency Management Authority (FEMA) may well be a contributing cause or rather an excuse for people on an individual level to feel that they are absolved of taking care of themselves and their families.

Life Recharged II
This weekend Andrew and I went on a backcountry road in Del Norte County that I went on one time when I was a kid with my father-38 years ago. The last time I had gone on the road was when I was 12 years old. The road is the northernmost accessible road in Del Norte County and it really is not too far away, certainly not 38 years ago away! The furthermost point is only 40 miles away-as the crow flies. The road is gravel and dirt, graveled in Del Norte County and dirt in Oregon. It darts back and forth over the border, and having a GPS we could tell exactly when we were at the 42nd parallel (the line of demarcation between California and Oregon). If history hadn’t altered we would have been leapfrogging with the Spanish and English border!
Anyway, the last time I had been over this road I remember sleeping for most of the day. It was one of those hot Fall days and Dad and I were hunting for deer. In between looking for “a big fat buck” and more often than not, nodding off, I was brought to my senses by our ’51 Dodge pickup abruptly coming to a halt. Skidding even-pretty good as we creeping along at about 5 miles per hour. From my blurred state of mind I could see Dad throwing the door open and rushing across in front of the pickup with his gun at the ready. He had spied “a big fat buck.” He disappeared through the brush and moments later I heard his gun go off 3 or 4 times. By that time my adrenalin was running, but I had no where to go, not really sure if I should follow him, or stay in the truck. After what seemed like hours Dad came walking back up the road with a sweaty brow and a broad grin on his face. I couldn’t wait for him to tell me if he had been successful, I had to blurt out, “Did you get ‘im?” “Yep, I got ‘im,” he said, “he’s down over the bank.” He got in the pickup and we drove down the road, around and down the switchback and underneath to where he stopped the truck and announced, “He’s up there,” pointing about 100 yards up the hill. I had to believe him, as I couldn’t see anything because of the tall brush. He had an uncanny sense of direction and being able to find things, without a map, or like me now-a-days, a GPS. He left his 30.06 in the pickup and took off through the brush with me tagging along behind him, not wanting to miss any more of the adventure. Moments later he located the deer and found that he had hit him in the neck. Not bad for a 120 yard shot-with open sights.
I soon found out that as soon as the deer goes down the fun is over. Next came the job of gutting out the deer and dragging him down the side of the mountain to the truck. Between the heat of the day and the smell of the entrails, I felt that this was just about as much adventure as I could stomach for one day. From our location we were able to look down onto the North Fork of the Smith River at a place called Major Moore’s. Since we were still about 2 hours from home we had quite a ride home.
I remember quite distinctly that I didn’t fall asleep the rest of the way home, every few minutes peering into the back of the pickup to make sure that the buck hadn’t jumped out of the back ending my dream. He never did jump out and I never did have to wake up, because it really happened. I had gone hunting with my Dad, and we had been successful. While I hadn’t shot it, for some reason, I felt as much a part of the success as if I had shot the deer myself. Actually, he had seen two deer, one had crossed the road, and one had turned back the way they had come.
When we arrived home after dark and announced to my Mom that “we” had got a deer. She wasn’t exactly as thrilled as I was. But she understood that it was important for me to see where our meat animals really come from and that this animal gave up its life for us. Yes, “we” had taken a life, but this really made me understand that the tidy little packages of meat that we buy at the grocery store mean that an animal had to die so that my body could be nourished
We didn’t get a deer today. But this trip with Andrew did bring back memories of me being in the out-of –doors with my Dad. And it was a good feeling—a very good feeling. Getting a deer would have been just more icing on the cake. I believe that everything happens when it should, and today, well, it just wasn’t meant to enjoy that much icing. Maybe in another 38 years when I go on this road again, I will go after the buck that turned back, or maybe my grandson will.

Time
Time is a vacuum where we choose, knowingly or unknowingly, to spend our lives. The manmade timepieces that we use every day simply a way to regulate our minutes, hours, days, and years. The calendar a lined grid in which to regulate the ebb and flow of daily life.

The older I get the more time I need to spend reflecting on how important this gift of time really is. Just this last year I was fortunate to go to my 30th high school reunion and I was amazed how aged most people were looking. Many where changed to the extent that it was somewhat difficult to remember them as the svelte image that was imprinted on my mind. Of course, it went both ways, as I found it difficult to not just remember what they looked like but also to remember their names!

Time. The mind recalls what once was, the mirror reflects what is. So, the question as I see it is, ‘tis it better to live in the past, with its former memories, or is it better to enjoy the present day and the opportunites it presents. I believe that it is natural, on bad days, to think that things will never get better again. But on those days I must think the situation all the way through and recall that things have been worse, and many more times they have been better. But, for the most part things have always been played out in a cyclic manner, from the personal highs and lows in my own life to the cycle of nature-even down to the water cycle. I remember reading somewhere that all the water on the earth has been recycled something like seven times and thus, it may have been drank by dinosaurs as well as mixed into a soft drink and drained down the sink.

Life, when it comes down to its basic level really is simply just a cycle. Life has a beginning and life has an end. But the energy from whence we come is ground into the earth to be used as fodder for the next generation. The living organisms that make up our existence today are the building blocks of the life forms of tomorrow.