The Enemy is Us

It bothers me we humans waste so much time, money and focus on the petty, the "never should have been a problem" problems, all the while ignoring or worse, denying the more than likely Humanity Ending calamities heading our way.

Maybe there is nothing we can do about the climatic tragedies, the over grazing, and out of control polluting. But then maybe we can. To not try harder to mitigate the upcoming damage is giving up. Status quo token efforts just won't do. We either go all in with our attempts to save what we have or we are done. It is no longer if, but when. The window to affect any change is closing at a faster rate than ever before. 

What do humans focus on while they exploit the planet to the point when the planet can no longer support our stupidity?  Their focus is on what can they buy that will help them stay erect, what can erase those lines etched in their faces and surely losing one's hair is more of a crisis than watching a desert grow where trees once stood. 

Based on our self-infatuated lifestyles, we know there are more important issues than saving the Race. Besides, we have plenty of time. And BTW, short term goals always upstage long term planning. Living for now is so much more important and easier than living with our children's futures in mind. Leave them lots of money if we can, the only plan. Besides the price we might pay for our efforts now will probably be painful. And we all know pain sucks. And besides, we have plenty of time.

The politics of saving ourselves should not be complicated. The problem is not complicated; the solutions are. Yet, the opposing sides of this issue would rather waste their energies pissing on each other's feet than pulling together to meet the biggest challenge we will ever face. 

One side wants to continue our reliance on old polluting technologies and keep their heads shoved up deep into their respective asses using denials and yo momma, fuck you, we don't care policies. Their opposites wring their hands and while supporting efforts to change, their worries about the inconveniences and disruptions to their pampered lives make them hesitant. And besides, there's plenty of time left.

Pointing fingers at everyone else without calling out my own planet saving efforts or lack thereof would be disingenuous. And while I often get on my high horse and look down my nose at the careless and ignorant people who have no clue or feel no need, no obligation to help us save ourselves, .... I have some cred, but I could and should do more, give more, and put a bigger dent in my personal carbon footprint. There is always room for improvement.

Is there plenty of time left? .......................... We'll see.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ........................................

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The song for the post I found well before I finished writing the post. I was listening to a YouTube Blues compilation. I think the song is a cover of Lightening Hopkins, "One Eyed Woman". It is performed by Gary BB Coleman who used to back up Hopkins near the end of his career. Pour yourself a shot or two of sour mash before you punch it up.

 

Hanging Coffees

I ran across a do gooder thing that was started in Naples, Italy. It is called "Hanging Coffees", better known maybe as "Suspended Coffees". It is a simple twist on the idea of "Pay it Forward", where those of us who can, help in some small way others less able to help themselves. A small gesture that ensures someone in need the smallest luxury of a warm drink at a diner, restaurant, food truck, etc.

The way it works is someone will order a coffee or tea, or really any drink or food item and then add to their order a specific number of Hanging Coffees which can later be redeemed by folks who cannot afford the pleasure of a cup of Hot Joe themselves.

So simple, so small a gesture. Yet it speaks volumes about how we feel regarding the folks who are struggling because of economic hard times, mental hard times, etc. We may never walk in their shoes, but we can at least do something to make their walk less of a struggle.

One small token kindness in a world that appears to not care what happens to any of us. If the World doesn't care, maybe we should take over and do some of the caring ourselves.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ............................................

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The only song I could think of was Phil Collins' tune, "Another Day in Paradise". Another song that has a great video that comes along for the ride. Enjoy!

Beauty is All Around Me

Above are some local photos by local folks that make me appreciate the beautiful town I live in.

These images are but a few of the many local moments of serenity that capture the awesome beauty surrounding me here in Acton, Maine. Our landscapes for the most part are understated rather than grand, in your face explosions of skies melting into mountains or waves crashing on rocky shores. Acton's beauty is often so subtle it is easy to miss.  But it is indeed there.

Beauty exists everywhere if we take time to look for it.

Keep it 'tween the ditches .....................................

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Music for this post is a song by. Kacey Musgraves, "Oh What a World". She sings about the wonders of this planet and how we often miss them. I can relate.

Flying Under My Radar

Just when I think I am pretty aware of the political chaos swirling around us here in the States, I am once again humbled by news I should have paid attention to long before I was made aware of it now. I am referring this time to Alex Stokes, who was arrested on Jan.6, 2021 at a demonstration not in DC, but in front of the state capitol in Albany, New York. His arrest led to a trial where he was sentenced to 20 years in prison. His story was overwhelmed and lost in all the outrage over what transpired in DC on the same day he was arrested in Albany. 

I could re-cap the events of that day. Instead here is a video that mostly covers the events that went down in front of the NY state Capitol at the same time the traitors in DC were staging an assault on the US Capitol. 

The video clearly shows the MAGA aggressors, some armed with sticks and flag poles, initiated the stupidity. The Assault with a dangerous weapon charges came about because Alex defended himself with a knife when he was set on by a very aggressive Proud Boy.

Nobody died at this demonstration. While both the Right Wing demonstrators and a smaller crowd of Left Wing counter protesters clashed, it was members of the Left the police unjustly targeted the most once the melee had played itself out.

Meanwhile, in Washington DC, 360 miles away, Trump's army of over 2000 thugs and traitors attempted a violent coup on the steps of the US Capitol. People died and property damages were in the millions of dollars. Most of those who faced charges in court later would most likely receive probation or minimal time in jail.

I know Life is not fair. But when it is blatantly this unfair, people need to know about it. If you have interest in helping Alex, check out this site, The Anti-Fascist Defence Fund. Donations clearly marked for Alex will be passed on to the appeal efforts to free him.

Considering the limp wristed sentences passed out for the Capitol Traitors, Alex's sentence is a tragic travesty of Justice. 

More about Alex Stokes HERE and HERE 

Later ...............................................

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Music tonight is brought to you by The Cranberries and their song, "Zombie". Pushed to wow is the recommended volume. But you decide.

Just a Second Divides the Hunter From the Prey

This image to the left came across my Facebook page with Pro Atheist points attached. The words were silly, but this image stuck with me. There is indeed a thousand,..... no make that thousands of possible words in this so simple a picture.

An obvious and probably a correct interpretation of this Kodak moment is that a cute and clueless bunny rabbit is nonchalantly hopping down its snow covered bunny trail. 

Life is wonderful for this bunny. It hasn't a care in the World. It knows that because of its white winter coat, it can dance around in the open with wild abandon. .......... oops.

Our cute and clueless little bunny rabbit did not take into account the notion of moving shadows on a brilliant white coat of fresh snow. A raptor of some type was passing by. It looked down with very perceptive eyes and said to itself;

"Oh look.  A cute and clueless little bunny rabbit hopping down its snow covered bunny trail....... Look's like its lunch time."

In an instant of brief violence and wings flapping, the cute and clueless bunny disappears into the great beyond, gripped hard in gruesome talons. Lunch has been served.

Yeah, that image is the only physical evidence left of this so very brief encounter between hunter and prey. The natural world accepts this as part of the day to day hum drum of physical existence. In the world of Humans though, we like to take a simple fact of physical existence and assign deeper meanings and emotions to these integral parts of Life's flow.

Now that I have created the opening to spew untold words regarding the deeper meanings hidden inside this average, everyday event, I should take advantage and jump right in. But, the infusion of metaphysical abstracts into the realities we live with are for another day ...... 

No. No I won't. Not today. 

This picture is a thought provoking accounting of a natural part of our mutual existences. Take from it whatever comes to mind. I just liked it and felt it deserved a few words to go along with it.

Enjoy your Sunday .......................................

_________________________________

 Now some music. I chose "Hunter or Prey", a tune by Noisemaker. I know nothing of this group. The tune is catchy. It was a chorus line in the lyrics that sold me :

"Just a second divides the hunter from the prey"

Enthusiastically Useless

Ok. ....... I had a busy morning yesterday and now this morning I don't. Good thing too. Yesterday I wore myself out. Certainly happens faster now days than it used to. Of course, whenever I become Enthusiastically Useless, on the next day there are always prices to pay. ..... Always. 

Sometimes the cost comes in pounds of flesh, sometimes losses of memory I will never be able to recover. No matter the cost, the next day is a guaranteed wash as Enthusiastic Uselessness is almost always a two day event. 

It's all my darling wife's fault. She ran out of brownies which have become a mainstay in her life now that she is post cancer.

I did not appreciate how totally life changing even a drive by hit of cancer can be until I witnessed my before cancer wife become my post cancer wife. I considered the brownies I baked up for her during her treatment as a temporary aid to help her sleep and ease pain and potential nausea. The cancer however changed her biorhythms so drastically and permanently,  the brownies are here to stay. 

Well. ..... I knew I was probably in for it once the pot brownies hit the oven and I had licked up all that excess batter that had conveniently seemed too hard to get out of the mixing bowl. Most times, there's more than enough batter to make whatever hours left in my day waste away in wonderful uselessness. It matters little whether I am in an animated state with my eyes open or my peeps are slits and I have collapsed into a THC infused couch lock while streaming 50 year old "McHale's Navy" re-runs.  Useless is useless whether dead or alive.

Once the brownies have gone into the oven and the bowls and spoons have been licked,  there is a small window of time, say an hour, in which to remain somewhat unstoned. How high I get is directly related to how much batter was left to consume. I got a little heavy handed yesterday and well, I became over the top Enthusiastically Useless; but not so useless that I was comatose. 

I got shit done yesterday. There was no rhyme or reason for the scattered bits of honey do stuff I did, but  when I collapsed last night, I knew I had been productive contrary to the current tendencies I now champion. 

Yeah, yesterday was a good day. Muscles hurt and my brain feels like an empty old barn looks. Cobwebs floating gently in the dust  lighting up as it passes the grimy windows in the early morning Sun.

Keep it "tween the ditches ....................................

__________________

Now we come to the music. I googled "useless music" and it appears the idea of useless is on many musicians's minds. There are countless tunes about useless. I considered going with my first choice, Lovin Spoonful's, "Day Dream". Then I spotted "Gorillaz", a virtual band that has been making music for twenty years at the least. 

Discovering new music has been one of the perks of retirement I did not consider. All this extra time on my hands has been filled with what I used to consider most days a waste of time. Now no day is wasted, just experienced without any considerable tolls, like earning a living. Now I can flow wherever the butterfly floats and not feel too guilty.

To that end, finding new music has become a top shelf interest.So I am including the old favorite, Lovin Spoonful's "Daydream" along with a two-fer from Gorillaz;  "Clint Eastwood" and "Feel Good Inc."

Enjoy.

The Perfect Hard Boiled Egg

After reading Jim's post on Facebook this morning about his recent experience cooking hard boiled eggs, I decided to let Google lead me to the best way to cook them. I typed in, 

"The perfect way to hard boil eggs"

My answer appeared in 0.59 seconds and there were 214,000,000 results. Hmm........

I decided the response time was impressive and the result count, while not astronomical, indicated this issue is one with many opinions that when discussed will result in possibly heated debate. Hard core kitchen folk can be unwavering about cooking anything.

Of course when compared to googling "Trump", there is no comparison. That took Google  0.85 seconds to respond with 843,000,000 results. If Donald gets wind of the fact that his name only drummed up a paltry 843,000,000 results, I am sure he will try to strong arm and shame Google into bumping the count to over a billion just like he has done with his financial wealth claims and election tallies. Nothing makes a man feel better about himself than lying about the size of anything he has on his person or the number of votes he knows he really deserved in an election. 

This is to be expected. The planet is more interested in the stupid, the inane, and useless information like the madness that swirls around Trump than they are about such serious, life changing stuff like cooking the perfect hard boiled egg. Having finally purged Trump from front and center in my mind, creating the perfect hard boiled egg has more value to me than reading about a wannabe despot who cheats at golf.

So, of the 214,000,000 million hits, the first page is supposed to have the best answers. The number one response claims to be the best, but I don't know. Seems to me that with hard boiled eggs, it might be possible to create the perfect hard boiled egg a number of ways. But the one thing the good recipes all call for is cooling the eggs thoroughly before trying to peel them. 

But then a new questions arises. What is the best way to peel an egg? 

Okay okay, I have definitely dropped down a rabbit hole here. A hole made up of silly questions with millions of answers. When I googled how to peel an egg ................... in 0.46 seconds I had 43,400,000 results that brought me back to .......... Yeah, that's right, how to hard boil an egg.

Help, I am trapped in an ovum and egged into a many egg layered horror house that is an endless loop with no set solution, just a multitude of opinions that may be right, with some more right-er than others. 

All this playing on Google reminds me of when I first found Google before they were the 800 pound gorilla they became. I was fascinated by how fast and how many results I could find regarding the wackiest minutia. I was reminded of my time trying to read the whole World Book Encyclopedia as kid after my parents purchased it when I was seven or eight. I got to "M" before my interest finally petered out. But over the ensuing years I often would pull a volume down open it up to anywhere and begin reading. I learned a lot doing that. I have done the same with Google.

And finally, because my head aches from reading so many different takes on boiling an egg, I offer up my wife's surefire method to cook that elusive perfect hard boiled egg. Not sure what the baking powder does. I assume it is just more of her VooDoo Magic.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ..........................................

_________________________

The first three tunes I checked out tunes with "eggs" playing some part in the song, well, they all were excellent in a range of differing ways.

The first one was "Egg Man", by The Beastie Boys. I am not much of a fan of Rap / Hip Hop. But some I like. Of all the earlier Rap I listened to,  I liked the Beastie Boys and Ice-T the most.

Next up was a fine Benny Goodman tune, "Egg Head". His clarinet playing still gives me the chills.

And finally, of all of them, by far the best one is "Eggs and Sausage", by Tom Waits. His lyrics, his voice, and his piano playing; Hell, the whole package. There is a reason Tom is Legend. This song took me back to those late nights spent in the pursuit of hedonistic pleasures in college. When the night had played itself out and I was headed back to the barn, I always felt an obligation, a pull on the steering wheel that would invariably deposit me into the parking lots of all night eateries that existed in Flashing Neon Greasy Glitterness on my scattered routes home. ......... Yeah, Tom catches the feeling of so many inebriated people sharing some time filling their pie holes before they went their separate ways to lay their heads down for the night.

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Image at top - "Humpty Dumpty did not fall", by Richard Gerhard

Liberal Paradise

I took this picture in 1977 when I hauled Rock n' Roll shows all over the US and Canada. I picked it solely because it was an image of a crowd, which seemed at the time to have a connection to the idea of crowds who coagulate because of shared interests. It might make some sense once we get further into the post. But then again, it might not. It is dark thirty in the AM and I am not all here. Part of me is still on the couch sleeping where I passed out way too early last night.

So I have recently found the social media world I am part of offers me less fun and recreation than they use to. I spend, uh, waste most of my time on Facebook. There are issues for sure, but they are consistent issues and frankly I feel FB is a much more intuitive operation for Booming fumblers like me.

I am still a registered user on Twitter. But I am probably done with the twits on that social media platform. Less than 12 hours after I joined, I was sent to their "Your account is inaccessible until midnight" jail. A few days later I found out who really runs the place. Twitterville is overrun by righteously indignant gangs who will descend on you in a heartbeat; throw darts at you, and then block you so you cannot reply to their over sensitive take on how the World is run, was run in the Past and certainly should be run in the Future. Those folks seem proud of the stick they have up their asses. Besides, navigating Twitter sucks. Yeah, I am probably over Twitter.

I tried another social media site. It took me about a New York second to realize I had entered the heart of White Wingin Nirvana. I lurked for awhile just to see what their lizard people do when they get together with no humans around to muss their hair. A couple of weeks into my visit they indicated they would be asking me for my credit card because what they offered was somehow worth money. I skedaddled as fast as my icon punching fingers could punch.

I had resigned myself to a tolerable existence on Facebook as a stop gap. I understood it. I rarely found myself in Jail and I had friends. I began to enjoy Life again and pressed on, happy as if I had a brain. 

Then "Occupy Democrats" put an ad on my feed pushing a new social media operation called "Tribel". Their enticement was finally there was a social media outfit who knew what I wanted out of the social media world. Plus if I joined now, I would or could be a founding member. Sort like an ad form my youth that used the statement "Be the first kid on your block to...".

Whatever they did worked. I was weak and looking for something else. 

Tribel seems to be a progressive, libtard paradise set up to, well, give us woke folks a place to hang out with our own lizard people. Just like the Wingers, we know we are special too. I have only been a member now about a week maybe. So far, I have not been impressed nor have I been unimpressed. My jury is still out.

Keep it 'tween the ditches .................................

_______________________________

I never liked this tune and still don't. But it seems obviously appropriate for this post about Internet tribalism. It's always easier and less stressful to preach to the choir and insulate ourselves from any potential for ugliness or challenges to our take on the world.

And though I really, really hate this tune, for your consideration, " The In Crowd ", by Dobie Gray, 1965. Proof that not all Boomer music was not the cat's meow. 

Shy Orchids

 This morning around 5:15 AM my smart phone told me it was a comfortable 48' F outside. I checked my real thermometers attached to the house and the phone's claim was in the ball park. It was also overcast with no wind out there. The 48' F chill would most likely keep the biting bugs in bed longer than usual. It was perfect dog walking weather. Maggie and I hit the trail over to Mary's Park about 5:20 AM. 

Early morning walks are my favorite when I can muster my sorry ass out there to enjoy them. No matter what excuse I might use to find something else to do, I know that if I walk, my day is already starting with a best foot forward action. And Maggie, she's beside herself with joy when she sees me put on my hat and grab the leash with outdoor collar attached. She will do her best to place that collar on by herself, but her other animated movements, the jumping, snorting and whining often make the routine a real clown show.

The usual procedure is I walk Maggie on the leash to the edge of Sam Page Road.  Pulling at the leash, it usually takes me two r three "Sit" commands before she obeys. I go through exaggerated motions of looking Right and then Left, while verbally reinforcing the rules of safely crossing the road. And as usual, Maggie sits and looks at me thinking, "Get on with it Asshole, I have scents to chase." Making sure she is on board with the safety tip, I release the leash, tell her "wait" and when the road is clear, which at five in the morning, it usually is, well, I motion with my hand and she bolts across the road and runs in circles while I saunter across the road.

So we began our walk, or rather I strolled in a classic rendition of an old man shuffle while Maggie bolted, sprinted, turned on dimes and 2 minutes in, her tongue was already hanging close to the pine needles. A happier dog did not exist in that moment. By walk's end I am sure the difference in MPH and distance traveled between us was at least 6 to 1; advantage - Maggie. 

The cooler morning gave her more energy. And to that point, it also did the same for me. I am sure if I had kept track, I would have ended with a faster time and a longer distance than any walk this Spring. I was smokin, drivin hard. Must have been averaging 1/2 MPH at least. ... No Boast. Really...... Stop shakin your heads. 

As fast as I was turning over those RPM's, it is a wonder I was able to catch glimpse of my first "Pink Lady's Slipper"of the year. So many years prior I did not see one until well into June and sometimes I only noticed them by their absence. Come and gone long before I thought about them.

They are more often spotted as solo acts.  This year I screeched to a halt in a prime location in which to find these illusive beauties. My conscious stop based on previous experience was this was possibly ground zero. I found a half dozen within a 20 square feet or so area. Tomorrow I will look for more. If memory serves, the most Pink Lady Slippers I have found over to Mary's Woods is 14. And this morning I hit almost half that with 29 more days to go to find more.

Lady Slippers are a wild orchid family found throughout at least the northern states. I used to think they only came in three colors,; Pink (the most common), White and Yellow. Apparently I am wrong. According to the U.S. Forest service, there are 11 varieties of Slippers. And the one I have always known as the Pink Lady's Slipper is also called the Moccasin Flower. 

They don't just grow anywhere, what with being fussy about soil nutrients, soil consistency, amount of sunlight needed and I think they just choose to locate few and far between. Spotting one always makes me smile.

Now I can't wait for the other orchid I look for to flower. The Rattle Snake Hawkweed in its own way is as beautiful as the Lady Slipper and even more infrequent and shy. They will start budding up in August.

Both plants are not protected here in Maine. There is no penalty for uprooting them and attempting to plant them in a yard. But from what I have heard, successfully transplanting them is more often than not a big fail. So, please don't yank them. Don't be a Bush Leaguer. Leave them alone and let them pose for your cameras. 

Watching Nature always ends up being a more positive experience for me than most anything else I can do outside the privacy of my own home. ...... Stop Snickering dammit!

Keep it 'tween the ditches .....................................

__________________________

Musical choice this morning is of course Tom Petty's "Wildflowers"

The Redundancy of Bad News

I often write by using one train of thought as my introduction and then following up with the next thought, and then the next thought. By the second or third paragraph and many trains of thought have left my station, I finally grab one and hold on. It is as if I have to sift through the confusion swirling inside my brain before I manage to find a point I can focus on.

This post is a perfect example. 

When I woke up this morning after a fitful night of intermittent interruptions to my sleep, I knew I wanted to write about this latest mass shooting in Uvalde, Texas. And now I am hoping to write about the growing redundancy of really bad news on an almost daily basis. And with the ugly occurrences of evil crossing our news screens 24/7 now, many of us have become numb and the death of 22 people is nothing but SSDD ( Same Shit, Different Day).

There is nothing I can say or write that I haven't already written regarding the horror of mass shootings. My first memory of writing about mass shootings was the Virginia Tech mass shooting in 2007 that left 32 people dead. I am as horrified as I was then, but now my horror has become so common place to deal with, all I can do is maybe feel some deep sadness and a twinge of guilt over what I have no clue. All I know is, in a week I will be horrified again by some new catastrophe and Uvalde will begin to fade into my sunset as Buffalo has done since Uvalde.

I so want to write the same boiler plate anguished anger I always have. But I won't. It does nothing to fix the problem. Venting does not make me feel better anymore. And frankly, I think all of us are so weary of this constant barrage of not just bad news, but explosively evil news of humans doing their evil best to ruin all of our days. 

And maybe what I am so very, very heartbroken over is the rising pace of bad news redundancy. We can't catch our breath anymore. Wars, pandemics, mass shootings fill our days now. Is this the future of Life here in the States? Tell you what, if it is a sign of things to come, then I am just happy I am on the down stroke of my time on this tortured rock.

I just took a lunch break. While stuffing a sandwich in my pie hole, I watched and listened to a news interview of Texas State Senator, Roland Gutierrez(D) whose home area is Uvalde ( District 19). His obvious pain and anguish broke through any numbness I was busy erecting to defend myself from the after effects of this tragedy. He lost it and began blubbering and then so was I.

This is all so sad. This is all so hopeless it seems. There are literally no words I can come up with.

Later ................................................

PS

Some facts as reported by Reuters

• Since 2007 there has been 78 mass shootings where three or more people died. 
• In those shootings, 688 people were killed.
• In those shootings, 1117 people were wounded. 
• Our average number of Mass killings  per year is 5.2.

___________________________________

My song pick is a repeat from another time. It is a cover of "Over the Rainbow", by IZ

I dunno, it just seemed somehow appropriate.

My Excuse Index

It's another dreary rainy day in April. 39' F. Just enough rain coming down to make me wish I had found that umbrella or rain coat before I went out with Maggie for her morning pee. Any outside plans I may have had for today should have been attempted yesterday before I put them off to accomplish today. I was sure I would be in more of a nose to the grindstone state of mind on a Tuesday than on a Monday, the least productive day of any week.

Of course I failed to and still fail to acknowledge that every day in my life now is not a Monday, nor any other day of the week. Now days, every day is nothing but another day of retirement. And that is fine. But with every day holding the same significance , trying to use excuses for my slothly ways based on traditional working man excuses falls flat. Again, that's okay. I just invoke one of the new rules I have developed because of retirement. There are no rules now, I'm retired. ............ Yeah, I am good with that.

Does this mean I no longer have any obligations and duties? Of course not. I have just adjusted my excuse index to reflect my new station in Life. If there is work to be done, in case of an emergency or even just because I do not feel like doing it, there needs to be a work around work that will be there the waiting for whenever, so why push so hard? After all Life is now but a really long weekend.

Nothing like enjoying the guilt of not doing what you promised yourself you would do.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ...................................

______________________

My music choice for this post has to be "Lazy", by Deep Purple. Saw them at Constitution Hall in DC, 1971 - I think. 

  

Ten Seconds of Peace on Earth - 11 Years Later

Most moments of our time on this planet move from one moment to the next barely noticed. Moments that stand out in our memories often are ones we focus on because we have to, want to, or expect to. Some moments though, come by accidentally and without warning. They grab our attention as unrelated circumstances come together in just the right way to make that moment stand out over the other moments on either side of it. Right place, right time sort of thing. Or wrong place, wrong time. It can certainly go either way.

While finishing up a bike shop ride 11 plus years ago,I had such a moment. This moment lasted maybe 10 seconds. So I think it would be appropriate to use my 250 word format to describe it. (Originally posted 7/14/2010)

Ten Seconds of Peace on Earth

It was a hot ride. The humid air had turned my lungs into wet sponges. Finally we came out of the woods onto Marginal Way. This shade covered back lane of neat homes meant the bike shop was only a few minutes away and I could stop wheezing.

The ritual was always the same at the trail head. The riders who lived nearby would split off shouting “Good Ride”, or “Give me a call about Sunday”. The rest of us would begin the casual half mile spin back to the bike shop.

I saw her as we pedaled onto the last section of Marginal Way. Not an unusual thing to see a woman in the afternoon busily tending to the flowers and plants in her dooryard. But there she was, water can in hand, kneeling in the late day sun that had found its way through the high trees.

As we rode closer, she stood up and removed her big floppy hat. A curl of blonde hair dropped to her shoulder. She turned and smiled at us as we rode by. Sweat glistened on her forehead. She wiped her brow with her wrist and tucked the curl back behind her ear. Her gloved hand waved.

I smiled and waved back. I knew I had just experienced a moment of peace that rarely finds its way through all the flotsam and jetsam that clutters my life on a day to day basis. For one moment, maybe ten seconds, my world was perfect. 

Post Script

It’s February something, 2022 and I only last week finally found this post tucked into a dark corner of my blog. I thought of that moment often when I was shuffling through random memories trying to find good things to think about. I had looked for it off and on many times.

In my memory, that moment always calmed me and made me smile. And now after reading it again for the first time in over 11 years, It made me smile again. I need to hold onto to these snippets of unadulterated happiness in order to keep all the other shit going on in my life in perspective.

____________________________

Image is a painting by Robert Lewis Reid entitled "Tending the Garden"

Paradise Revisited

Over the past several months I have not listened to "Paradise" by John Prine. Every time I tried to listen to John after he died, I would tear up. So I put his music on the bench for the foreseeable future.

This morning I was ripping a Nitty Gritty live album that featured acoustic Country and Blue Grass music from my past. Jerry Jeff Walker, Allison Krauss, Jackson Browne, John Prine and others joined the Nitty Gritty Band and rocked the house somewhere in front of some very lucky fans. And thankfully NPR taped it.

If I had remembered John Prine was on the CD, I might not have listened; just ripped it and walked away. But it caught me listening and I could not not listen. And yea dammit, I teared up one more time. 

Midway through the song though I realized around the second refrain or so it was not John's untimely death that made me turn on the tears now. It was images of strip mines, dead cities of the Rust Belt and Smog hovering over Los Angeles that created the deep sadness in my mind. The song just sparked my sadness. What are we doing to ourselves?

"And daddy won't you take me back to Muhlenberg County
Down by the Green River where Paradise lay
Well, I'm sorry my son, but you're too late in asking
Mister Peabody's coal train has hauled it away"

I am a card carrying member of the Boomer generation. My peers were instrumental in establishing the "Save the Planet" campaign sixty plus years ago that still chugs along today. While our efforts have been less than the success we had envisioned so many years ago, I cannot imagine where the collective we would be now without those early efforts. For my own sanity, I have to believe we helped even if it may not have been enough in the long run. 

Are we doing enough now? Or is it too little too late. 

Time and the planet will be sure to let us know. Bet on it.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ................................... 

The Newichawannock Canal

The Newichawannock Canal connects Great East Lake and Horn Pond. The canal defines the state border of New Hampshire and Maine hereabouts.

Its construction marked the beginning of a consistent water source meant for the mills downstream in Somersworth. More mills would pop up over the years in Rochester, Milton, Milton Mills and Acton. The first stones of this canal were laid without mortar in 1850.  Because of the Civil War, it was not finished until the mid to late 1860s. The canal and the bridge have existed mostly intact since.  And now finally, 170 or so years later, the bridge has been replaced.  Not bad for a stone bridge made by hand with no concrete except what was laid on top of it.

I first came to know this canal and bridge when I was a child visiting my Aunt Hellie and Uncle Herb Sibley at “Half Way Up Farm” in Acton several hundred yards away on the Maine side of the border.  My uncle would sit on some dead fall or a rock edge of the canal, smoking his pipe and keeping an eye on my eight year old self as I fished for brookies and chased craw daddies.  I saw my first otter there.

It was my time with Uncle Herb and Aunt Hellie that opened my eyes to a life without asphalt, millions of cars and the cookie cutter suburban existence I suffered most of the year further south. I never wanted to leave this peaceful exciting place.

And I guess I made a vow to come back and never leave.  I don’t know for sure if I did, but after some years spent working the wiggle worm out of myself, I finally settled in Acton in 1981. I have been here as a permanent resident for the last 40 years.  I married and raised a family here. I chose to make my last stand here.

I wouldn’t change a thing. 

Keep it ‘tween the ditches ………………………………..

_____________________________________

2 Images of old Canal Bridge

By Magicpiano - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=44278565

Anger & Sadness

So I lasted a tad over two minutes into Trump's final Presidential Bloviation at Joint Base Andrews before I had to leave the kitchen and come in here to my office and begin an effort to find some personal perspective that might help me understand what I , my family, this nation has gone through over the last four years.

This will take some time.  Closure and Perspective can be elusive when Anger and Sadness mix in such volatile quantities. 

Keep it 'tween the ditches .................................

The Farmington Drive In

Dave Gutter looked out into the audience last night, squinted and said,  " Not used to seeing cars in the audience."

And that about covers the oddest and one of the best concert experiences I have ever had.

Rustic Overtones played in front of a capacity crowd of cars last night at the Farmington Drive In, located just off the main drag in Farmington, Maine.  Farmington is a smallish rural college town, where the men are manly and the sheep are nervous.

The band was on, Dave was on, it was one of the best Rustic concerts ever.  And once I got used to sitting in a nice lawn chair sipping hard cider as the Sun dropped off the edge, it dawned on me how this may be our future.

Life is now officially in the BoZone.

I was impressed with how folks honored the rules last night.  Social distancing was awesome and there was no obnoxious bullshit based on the political stupidity we are currently trapped in.  Folks wanted to be out.  Folks wanted an attempt at normalcy.  Folks wanted to have a good time.  And I think they did have a good time. I know I did.

My daughter Lis arranged this expedition up country.  Her and Mr.Man could have gone alone or asked friends closer to their age.  Instead, they asked BA and I to come.  After all these years, my daughter is and will always be my best friend.  Thank you.  BA and I needed last night.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ........................................

Panic in the Pucker

I was confident I had not gotten sucked into the over the top panic that has our country and the World by the short hairs. I was sure I was being cool and aloof, totally resistant to the out of control anxiety sweeping the land.  Then I saw a Facebook post from a local creamery that offered five pounds of butter for $20. That's all it took for me to become " that guy ", the guy who throws common sense out the window and drive miles to score something he may not now need, but will surely need in his not too distant future.

The offer was simple enough.  Drive 30 miles to the creamery on Sunday noonish and between the hours of 1:00 and 2:00 PM , the nice folks there will give me a five pound bucket of lightly salted butter for $20, cash only, thank you very much.

A no brainer, right?  What could go wrong?  Polite civilized folks coagulating under the bright afternoon Sun would be surely be a pleasant encounter.  And who knows, new friends might be found.  The problem, as it turned out, was the creamery and myself did not consider that panicked folks are not prone to being sensible or pleasant at any given moment.

So happy as if I had a brain, I gathered up Maggie and we headed to Arundel, Maine.  All the way there I congratulated myself on getting over on the system.  Yeah, I was full of myself until I rounded the last sweeping curve on Rte. 111 before the creamery and was stopped dead in my tracks.  300 yards up at the creamery entrance, east and westbound traffic was at a standstill. Bumper to Bumper as far as the eye could see.   Rte 111, a crucial east-west artery in our parts, was clogged hard.  All in the name of butter.

I immediately came out of my panic driven haze and said, "To Hell with this.  I want no part of it."  And I performed the perfect 3 point turn around and headed the 30 miles back from whence I came.

Oddly I did not berate myself.  Usual stupidity on my part is followed by several moments of self flagellation and colorful recriminations.  Instead, as I was on the road, I parked self abuse for future fun and games.  I decided to stop off at Hannaford's, a regional supermarket chain, on my way home.  Just a short detour. I wanted to verify that the empty shelves I saw on Saturday were still empty on Sunday.

Imagine my delight when I walked into a store that had seriously re-stocked.  There was still no toilet paper, Kleenex, or disinfectant wipes, but I picked up bread, canned beans, lots of fresh chicken, and last but not least, 4 pounds of butter in a cold case that on Saturday was barren.  As it turned out, I found 90% of what was on the shopping list.  It dawned on me as I put butter in my cart, my panic driven 60 mile quest for butter was a fool's errand that emphasized the need to remain calm when all others have lost their shit.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ...........................................

Wi-Fi Mania

Okay, I stepped completely out of my comfort zone awhile ago. I entered this "no dimwits allowed" zone knowing I own an overall success rate that is mixed at best, with the big money usually betting  I will be leaving, tail tucked between my legs, sucking up what little machismo I have left and asking, yeah that's right, asking a girl to help me out. 

Girls have always been the bane of my existence.  From the first one who successfully made me eat dirt in grade school to the one I live with now.  All of them over time, have proven they are every bit as much of a man as I am and may actually be carting around a bigger set of maracas.  I learned early to respect their gender.  

Well, this time I was bound and determined to not let setting up a new Wi-Fi gizmo force me into a fetal position while crying for my mama.  It was close.  It was maddening.  It was not something I would want to do again tomorrow.  But I did it.  And I survived.  Best of all, I did not have to plead for help and suffer the look my wife has ever ready to throw in my direction when I act like a helpless male and whine like a little girl boy.

I never guessed Wi-Fi gizmos wore out, but apparently they do.  I did notice the one in my office was not as strong as the one in BA's office.  Seemed its range was only around 20-25 ft.  It really became an issue when we decided to cut the TV cable cord.  The TV in the kitchen was just not streaming steady.  We were getting the circle the drain icon way too often and then the streaming would cease.

I looked up solutions online and found some that needed the disk that came with the Wi-Fi to run a diagnostic.  Like I know where the disk is for this WiFi gadget.  We bought it 10 years ago.  That's two or three computers ago.

Anyway, I lost an hour I will never get back bulling my way to success.  And in my world, an hour lost to a computer snafu is chump change.

Later .................................................................

Stupid History

I am constantly reminded of the circular nature of History, especially Stupid History, and our species' ingrained blind spot to it.  Reality is Reality and nothing we humans can do will alter it.  But we do have fun messing with its interpretation.

We often ignore reality,, choosing instead to live in a fool's paradise.  We change our perception of it to fit a conceptual notion of what it should be.  Then we teach it to our children and they grow up and either find the truth or perpetuate the myths.

It would appear that this is just human nature.  Bullshit.  The smart people know what they are doing.  Controlling the actions of the peons is always the end goal.  Altering facts and issuing empty promises has worked for millenniums.  As a group, we are nummer than a bag of pounded thumbs.  We are just lucky every other critter on the planet is not equipped to do it better.

So, down in our bones, we know that history repeats itself.  Time is an 8 track loop and though the clothes and idioms may change, we seem determined to repeat the same stupid shit time and time again.  The crap we keep dredging up seems to rise to the surface of the cesspool of stupid causes every 100 years or so.

Take Evolution.  It was roughly 80 to 100 years or so ago it kicked Genesis to the bench and became the star player in American schools.  Without the rise of science in our schools, we would not be the economic and scientific juggernaut of today.  Without science our upcoming fall from grace would have happened years ago.

Now, Genesis and the other silly notions in the Bible are making a comeback as "alternative" theories of Evolution.   Stupidity is on the rise as evidenced by the current political leadership.  Rather than making progress on all of the dangers facing us, they would rather regress and place their faith in a book that has let the Human race down for centuries.

No matter what, we will deserve what we get.  God will have nothing to do with it.

Later ................................................

Welcome to Summer Camp Kids

Chain link walls inside tin buildings are not cages the Presidential advocate says.  What they are is not really spelled out clearly.  But rest assured, the chain link rooms are not cages.

Another pipes in that what has been erected are more akin to Summer Camps, inferring a population of happy children and even happier parents who have successfully found someone to take their little ones off their hands for a brief while. The crying you might hear are cries of joy.

In the meantime, higher up the Right Wing food chain, presidential representatives claim the separation of the illegal kids from their illegal families is the Democrats' fault.  Besides, the separations are Biblically sanctioned actions, so calm down, God says its okay.

All in all, the half baked explanations and mealy mouthed excuses seem reasonable given the group they are coming from.  We should expect no less from such an upstanding group of leaders sporting such high moral principles.  Keep up the good work. I am sure the children will one day understand that the Wall was more important than their humanity.  They will then remember you fondly.

Later .....................................................