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May 31, 2006
A Great Tribute
The elderly parking lot attendant wasn't in a good mood!
Neither was Sam Bierstock. It was around 1 a.m., and Bierstock, a Delray
Beach, Fla. , eye doctor, business consultant, corporate speaker and
musician, was bone tired after appearing at an event.
He pulled up in his car, and the parking attendant began to speak. "I took
two bullets for this country and look what I'm doing," he said bitterly.
At first, Bierstock didn't know what to say to the World War II veteran.
But he rolled down his window and told the man, "Really, from the bottom
of my heart, I want to thank you."
Then the old soldier began to cry.
"That really got to me," Bierstock says.
Cut to today.
Bierstock, 58, and John Melnick, 54, of Pompano Beach - a member of
Bierstock's band, Dr. Sam and the Managed Care Band - have written a song
inspired by that old soldier in the airport parking lot. The mournful
"Before You Go" does more than salute those who fought in WWII. It
encourages people to go out of their way to thank the aging warriors
before they die.
"If we had lost that particular war, our whole way of life would have been
shot," says Bierstock, who plays harmonica. "The WW II soldiers are now
dying at the rate of about 2,000 every day. I thought we needed to thank
them."
The song is striking a chord. Within four days of Bierstock placing it on
the Web, the song and accompanying photo essay have bounced around nine
countries, producing tears and heartfelt thanks from veterans, their sons
and daughters and grandchildren.
"It made me cry," wrote one veteran's son. Another sent an e-mail saying
that only after his father consumed several glasses of wine would he
discuss "the unspeakable horrors" he and other soldiers had witnessed in
places such as Anzio, Iwo Jima, Bataan and Omaha Beach. "I can never thank
them enough," the son wrote. "Thank you for thinking about them."
Bierstock and Melnick thought about shipping it off to a professional
singer, maybe a Lee Greenwood type, but because time was running out for
so many veterans, they decided it was best to release it quickly, for
free, on the Web.! They've sent the song to Sen. John McCain and others in
Washington. Already they have been invited to perform it in Houston for a
Veterans Day tribute - this after just a few days on the Web. They hope
every veteran in America gets a chance to hear it.
GOD BLESS EACH AND EVERY VETERAN...
and THANK YOU to those of you veterans who may read this!
CLICKING THE LINK BELOW WILL BRING YOU TO THE VIDEO.
Before You Go
It might take a bit of time to download, but it is worth watching and thinking about. Maybe after seeing it you might give some old WWII vet a call, and let him know how much you appreciate his sacrifice.
May 30, 2006
Memorial Day, Redeuce 2006
So, yesterday we 'celebrated' Memorial Day, if celebration could be the right term.
Going through old photos brought me to a melancholy mood, and I decided to honor two members of our family who are gone on to the next world.
Vickie’s father was named Bernie, and he was a taxi driver in Ohio, may he have found his paradise.
Here is a photo of him and Vickie when she was a child.
John’s grandmother was named Eva, and she was widowed in WWII.
She was blessed to have been able to spend the last nine years of her life in California with John’s parents.
It is a wonder the life she led, to go from a primitive Hungarian farm life, to a life at the 'Western Spaceport' in Lompoc California.
Here is a photo of Eva and John's mother Rosalie a couple of years after they came to Germany as refugees when the Soviets occupied their home farm in Hungary and forced them out of their own country.
You can read John's account of Rosalie's first encounter with an American at 'A Gift of chocolate, a glimpse of Freedom.
~Sarah McLachlin~
Angel
You spend all your time waiting for that second chance
For the break that will make it OK
There's always some reason to feel not good enough
And it's hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction, oh beautiful release
When memories seep from my veins
They may be empty and weightless, and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight
In the arms of the Angels, far away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie
In the arms of the Angels; may you find some comfort here
You're so tired of the straight line, and everywhere you turn
There's vultures and thieves at your back
The storm keeps on twistin', you keep on building the lies
That you make up for all that you lack
It don't make no difference, escaping one last time
It's easier to believe
In this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness
That brings me to my knees
In the arms of the Angels, far away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie
In the arms of the Angels; may you find some comfort here
Uncle Bob
John's uncle in Los Angeles
He is a World War Two veteran and in his late eighties now
We call him 'Ankle Bob' like Arnold in TII
He's a big man, and strong and really totally smart.
It is a treasure to have older learned people around to get good advice from.
May 29, 2006
Memorial Day, 2006
I spent an evening in Washington a few years ago, I spent some time running around taking time-lapse photos. Vickie asked me upon seeing the photos if the Korean Memorial was scary at night. Well, Washington DC is a bit scary at midnight. But it was a thrill to run around and see all these things.
The Korean War Veterans Memorial
The bronze figures, with their military ponchos and M1 rifles, trudging across swampy lands, helping to stop communist expansionism.
The Vietnam War Veterans Memorial (The Wall)
Dark granite, polished to a high luster
filled with the tens of thousands who answered their country's call to duty
You are Not Forgotten!
The Marine (Iwo Jima) Memorial
So many years ago, but not so many that there are not some who remember that terrible day
brave men raised our banner high to be enshrined forever
Sadly, most of the men who's photos were taken in this tableau did not last the rest of the week.
We remember and honor you
Semper Fi
The Washington Monument
Good ol' Georgie
You had riches and land and title
but you put it all on the line to secure freedom from an oppressive nation and to forge brotherhood in a new Republic.
You died poorer monetarily, but you are remembered, and not forgotten.
Thank you for your insight.
The Lincoln Memorial
You, the sad-faced man, who gave up so much in your life for us all
You gave so many freedom, and held us together even though so many wished to leave
we're all the better for your time on Earth,
God Bless you Abe
The Capital Building
The 'Rotunda', enshrined in our memories.
May it continue to be the seat of power for a free and prosperous America.
Arlington Memorial Cemetary
Robert E. Lee's Plantation has been put to good use
It now houses the brave men who gave all so that the rest of us can have so much
The crosses going on forever bring a lump to the throat
Each one of these men was a brother, a son, a father, or all three.
I heartly recommend a visit to Washington DC for any American.
It is a pleasure and a thrill and a solemn occasion to stand on the same hallowed ground where so many of our national heros have stood.
God blessed this country with material wealth and riches.
But there are other countries with the same natural wealth, but it has not been translated into the freedom and material security for their people as it has here.
This is the essence of the minds behind our constitution and Bill of Rights, they were centuries before their time.
And we are the richer for it.
These photos are also in a screensaver we made up, you can see it and others free for the downloading at Rivenrock Screensavers.
May 28, 2006
NASA announces plan to 'launch Lunar Snowballs into space'
Another report mentions Nasa's plan to launch 700 million dollars into space. This is part of their ambitious plan to put 1 billion dollars on Mars.
May 27, 2006
Anti Mullah protyests in Iran, but why is the press not reporting this? Of course part of the problem in a tightly controlled government is access of the press, but right now Iran Press News has info.
Spirit of Man has further news.
Could it be part of the reason the world press does not wish to comment on the rumors is that they do not wish to do anything that might support the Bush contention that the government of Iran is a terrible dictatorship that ruthlessly imposes hardships on it's people. Anything that comports with the Bush doctrine cannot be supported by the anti-Bush world media.
May 26, 2006
A very attractive lady goes up to the bar in a quiet rural pub. She gestures alluringly to the bartender who comes over immediately. When he arrives, she seductively signals that he should bring his face closer to hers. When he does she begins to gently caress his full beard. "Are you the manager?" she asks, softly stroking his face with both hands. "Actually, no," the man replied. "Can you get him for me? I need to speak to him" she says, running her hands beyond his beard and into his hair. "I'm afraid I can't," breathes the bartender. "Is there anything I can do?" "Yes, there is. I need you to give him a message," she continues, running her forefinger across the bartender's lips and slyly popping a couple of her fingers into his mouth and allowing him to suck them gently. "What should I tell him?" the bartender manages to say "Tell him," she whispers, "there is no toilet paper, hand soap, or paper towels in the ladies room."
May 25, 2006
The East Coast has been growing wine grapes in a
big way for the last ten years now. But sometimes the vaguaries of weather cause problems for growers.
Sunday we got an unseasonably huge amunt of rain that has caused havoc among the strawberry growers here. There are tons of berries rotting on the ground due to this inch and a half of rain from Sunday.
May 24, 2006
Cactus Is On The Way!!!
~ETA, ten days~
It has been a tough winter. We've had it relatively easy, but for many there has been landslide and flooding. But our cactus does not like the abundance of water and the cold we had this winter. It held off their normal leafing out time by several weeks.
But now they are leafing out well, and we expect to be selling the finest most succulent leaves you are ever likely to have seen.
May 22, 2006
The Star Spangled Banner
~or, 'The Defense of Fort McHenry'~
~Sent by a friend in an e-mail~
Unless you know all four stanzas of the Star Spangled Banner you may find
this most interesting. Bet most of you didn't realize what Francis Scott
Key's profession was or what he was doing on a ship. This is a good
brush-up on your history.
NO REFUGE COULD SAVE BY DR. ISAAC ASIMOV
~Editor's Note~ Near the end of his life the great science fiction author
Isaac Asimov wrote a short story about the four stanzas of our national
anthem. However brief, this well-circulated piece is an eye opener from the
dearly departed doctor......
"I have a weakness -- I am crazy… absolutely nuts, about our national anthem.
The words are difficult and the tune is almost impossible, but frequently
when I'm taking a shower I sing it with as much power and emotion as I can.
It shakes me up every time."
"I was once asked to speak at a luncheon. Taking my life in my hands, I
announced I was going to sing our national anthem -- all four stanzas. This
was greeted with loud groans. One man closed the door to the kitchen, where
the noise of dishes and cutlery was loud and distracting. "Thanks, Herb," I
said."
"That's all right," he said. "It was at the request of the kitchen staff."
"I explained the background of the anthem and then sang all four stanzas. Let
me tell you, those people had never heard it before -- or had never really
listened. I got a standing ovation. But it was not me; it was the anthem."
"More recently, while conducting a seminar, I told my students the story of
the anthem and sang all four stanzas. Again there was a wild ovation and
prolonged applause. And again, it was the anthem and not me."
"So now let me tell you how it came to be written."
"In 1812, the United States went to war with Great Britain, primarily over
freedom of the seas. We were in the right. For two years, we held off the
British, even though we were still a rather weak country. Great Britain was
in a life and death struggle with Napoleon. In fact, just as the United
States declared war, Napoleon marched off to invade Russia. If he won, as
everyone expected, he would control Europe, and Great Britain would be
isolated. It was no time for her to be involved in an American war."
"At first, our seamen proved better than the British. After we won a battle
on Lake Erie in 1813, the American commander, Oliver Hazard Perry, sent the
message, "We have met the enemy and they are ours." However, the weight of
the British navy beat down our ships eventually. New England, hard-hit by a
tightening blockade, threatened secession."
"Meanwhile, Napoleon was beaten in Russia and in 1814 was forced to abdicate.
Great Britain now turned its attention to the United States, launching a
three-pronged attack."
"The northern prong was to come down Lake Champlain toward New York and seize
parts of New England."
"The southern prong was to go up the Mississippi, take New Orleans and
paralyze the west."
"The central prong was to head for the mid-Atlantic states and then attack
Baltimore, the greatest port south of New York. If Baltimore was taken, the
nation, which still hugged the Atlantic coast, could be split in two. The
fate of the United States, then, rested to a large extent on the success or
failure of the central prong."
"The British reached the American coast, and on August 24, 1814, took
Washington, D.C. Then they moved up the Chesapeake Bay toward Baltimore. On
September 12, they arrived and found 1,000 men in Fort McHenry, whose guns
controlled the harbor. If the British wished to take Baltimore, they would
have to take the fort."
"On one of the British ships was an aged physician, William Beanes, who had
been arrested in Maryland and brought along as a prisoner. Francis Scott
Key, a lawyer and friend of the physician, had come to the ship to negotiate
his release."
"The British captain was willing, but the two Americans would have to wait.
It was now the night of September 13, and the bombardment of Fort McHenry
was about to start."
"As twilight deepened, Key and Beanes saw the American flag flying over Fort
McHenry. Through the night, they heard bombs bursting and saw the red glare
of rockets. They knew the fort was resisting and the American flag was still
flying. But toward morning the bombardment ceased, and a dread silence fell.
Either Fort McHenry had surrendered and the British flag flew above it, or
the bombardment had failed and the American flag still flew."
"As dawn began to brighten the eastern sky, Key and Beanes stared out at the
fort, trying to see which flag flew over it. He and the physician must have
asked each other over and over, "Can you see the flag?"
"After it was all finished, Key wrote a four stanza poem telling the events
of the night. Called "The Defense of Fort McHenry," it was published in
newspapers and swept the nation. Someone noted that the words fit an old
English tune called, "To Anacreon in Heaven" -- a difficult melody with an
uncomfortably large vocal range. For obvious reasons, Key's work became
known as "The Star Spangled Banner," and in 1931 Congress declared it the
official anthem of the United States."
"Now that you know the story, here are the words. Presumably, the old doctor
is speaking. This is what he asks Key:"
Oh! say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed
at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof thro' the night that our flag was still there.
Oh! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave,
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?
"Ramparts," in case you don't know, are the protective walls or other
elevations that surround a fort. The first stanza asks a question. The
second gives an answer:
On the shore, dimly seen thro' the mist of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep.
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream
'Tis the star-spangled banner. Oh! long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!
"The towering steep" is again, the ramparts. The bombardment has failed, and
the British can do nothing more but sail away, their mission a failure. In
the third stanza, I feel Key allows himself to gloat over the American
triumph. In the aftermath of the bombardment, Key probably was in no mood to
act otherwise.
During World War II, when the British were our staunchest allies, this third
stanza was not sung. However, I know it, so here it is:
And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion
A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has washed out their foul footstep's pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave,
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
The fourth stanza, a pious hope for the future, should be sung more slowly
than the other three and with even deeper feeling:
Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved homes and the war's desolation,
Blest with victory and peace, may the Heaven - rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, for our cause is just,
And this be our motto --"In God is our trust."
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
I hope you will look at the national anthem with new eyes. Listen to it, the
next time you have a chance, with new ears. Pay attention to the words. And
don't let them ever take it away .... not even one word of it.
AND IT'S SUNG IN ENGLISH!!!
May 19, 2006
Legend of Wooley Swamp
~Charlie Daniels~
Well, if you ever go back into Wooley Swamp,
Well, you better not go at night.
There's things out there in the middle of them woods
That make a strong man die from fright.
Things that crawl and things that fly
And things that creep around on the ground.
And they say the ghost of Lucius Clay gets up and he walks around.
But I couldn't believe it.
I just had to find out for myself.
And I couldn't conceive it
'Cause I never would have listened to nobody else.
And I couldn't believe it.
I just had to find out for myself
There's somethings in this world you just
can't explain.
The old man lived in the Wooley Swamp way back in Booger Woods.
He never did do a lot of harm in the world,
But he never did do no good
People didn't think too much of him
They all thought he acted funny
The old man didn't care about people anyway
All he cared about was his money.
He'd stuff it all down in mason jars
And he'd bury it all around
And on certain nights
If the moon was right
He'd dig it up out of the ground.
He'd pour it all out on the floor of his shack
And run his fingers through it.
Yeah, Lucius Clay was a greedy old man
And that's all that there was to it.
The Cable boys was white trash
They lived over on Carver's Creek.
They were mean as a snake
And sneaky as a cat
And belligerent when they'd speak.
One night the oldest brother said,
"Y'all meet me at the Wooley Swamp later
We'll take old Lucius's money
and we'll feed him to the alligators."
They found the old man out in the back
With a shovel in his hand,
And thirteen rusted mason jars
that he'd just dug up out of the sand.
And they all went kinda' crazy
And they beat the old man,
And they picked him up off of the ground.
Threw him in the swamp
And stood there and laughed
As the black water sucked him down.
Then they turned around
And went back to the shack
And picked up the money and ran.
They hadn't gone nowhere
When they realized
They were running in quicksand.
And they struggled and they screamed
But they couldn't get away
And just before they went under
They could hear that old man laughing
In a voice as loud as thunder.
And that's been fifty years ago
And you can go by there yet.
There's a spot in the yard
In the back of that shack
Where the ground is always wet.
And on certain summer nights
If the moon is right
Down by the that dark footpath,
You can hear three young men screaming.
You can hear one old man laugh.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
And here is an article about the number of people killed by alligators in Florida this last week.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Alligators are dangerous no matter how drunk you are!
May 18, 2006
High Fat foods
~the ‘Sugar Police’~
I recall over twenty years ago having a discussion with a friend about the drug war and the new anti-smoking campaigns that were really heating up at that time. I told him that one day, when few people were smoking the government would go after fats and sugars in foods, perhaps passing a ‘sin tax’ legislation to encourage people away from the bad stuff.
This is how the government has to go about regulating a popular product, you first make it more expensive, and when ‘penny pinchers’ have moved away from it, and become committed ‘anti-whatevers’ you will have a small percentage of the population committed to the use of the product. When they are finally a dispised minority you can then tighten the clamps and squeeze them from their ‘drug of choice’.
It is working with cigarettes. In California we’ve been unable to smoke in restaurants and public buildings for some twenty years (a relief to me, a non-smoker). When I see an old movie and the people are smoking at a dinner table it seems so archaic. And I know a fellow who has such a good time smoking in restaurants, that when driving East, he’ll stop in Arizona and sit and smoke in a restaurant just over the border from Cali, I think he does it just for spite.
Well, here’s the article on regulating high fat foods
May 14, 2006
Come Calling
~Cowboy Junkies~
The stillness here,
like what he sometimes finds inside her,
hits so hard it can steal your breath forever
He sometimes wonders
is the sum of their lives together
him on the floor and her lost to a mind in tatters
These days he's drinking for the pleasure of falling
and he's falling for the pleasure of pretending
that she's sitting by the window waiting
for him to come calling
If I could fix me up a week of twilight hours
we'd sit on the point
and watch the sun continually flounder
Bathed in gold we'd plug into some kind of power
and connect with those days
back before all of this went sour
'Cause I'm drinking for the pleasure of falling
and I'm falling for the pleasure of pretending
that you're sitting by the window waiting
for me to come calling
Odd how the darkness always makes us whisper
and with the last of the sun
you can feel the approach of the winter
Now is the time of each day
that I Desperately miss her
I suppose I will learn how to live my life without her
So you're drinking for the pleasure of falling
and you're falling for the pleasure of pretending
that I'm sitting by the window waiting
for you to come calling
Today was a bit of an odd day; I did a bit of weeding, a bit of weeedwhacking, and a bit of roto tilling, and a bit of drinking.
My regular weedwacker is a Shindaiwa C35. It is a monster weed whacker, 35cc two stroke engine, and a large harness so that the heavy machine is easily handled. I use twin .110 inch line for it. It also has two handles that come off it like bulls horns. It can cut through or grass pretty quickly, and also handles the small annuals well. But it is waiting for a breather valve for the fuel tank, so I can’t finish my weed whacking right now.
The grasses are six feet tall, and I need to cut them down before I can walk the grounds. It is spring now, and the rattlesnakes will be out at this time. I like to have some of the ground around me cut to the ground so that I can make sure I’m relatively safe while I put my attention to the plants.
I also roto-tilled a new terrace. It will be planted with the Robusta cactus we sell. Robusta is an interesting plant, it is also called ‘Dinner-Plate. It is a 150 foot terrace, and has a planting area only three feet wide for most of it. But it will get a single row of the Robustas in. I gave it six passes, cutting deeper into the hill, busting up much of the rocks, and turning in the grasses which have grown in the year since it was first cut.
It is interesting busting up new ground. For the first couple of years this ground is rocky with the busted up shale rocks common to this area. We let the native grasses and forbs grow for a half year or so after the first cut into the hill, making a narrow terrace. The next cut might be in a bit deep, and the rocks and soils are tilled in together with the plant material that has grown to nearly knee high.
This second tilling will break up some more of the rocks, it will also turn the plants that grew into the soil. These plants will decay over weeks, and making a kind of acid material that will help react with the alkaline rocks, and will help break the rocks apart by working at them with the acids.
Another year of this treatment, and the ground will be in better condition, and the native plants will start growing even better than ever. This is when the ground will really get good. More material growing and getting tilled in will make for more rock deteriorating acids in the soil. So it is like a bank, it might not seem to make a big difference the first year, but you add up that amortization, and in a few years you got much more than you’d hoped for.
So I tilled one terrace after digging the corn patch, and weed whacking part of the cactus garden by the house. The new terrace is around the hill, and uphill from the house. It was drier than I’d expected. It is nearly three weeks since our last rain. But I’d expected the ground there to be moist still. It is moist downhill where I have been working the ground for about five years. So I think that the longer-worked soil is holding moisture longer. So another five years with this new terrace and it’ll be good soil also.
The weed whacker I did use today is Vickie’s Mother’s Day gift from me. It is a battery operated weedwacker that is supposed to cut ‘Up to ¼ acre on one charge’. But I got maybe 250 square feet before the battery started going low. And this after charging for some 18 hours. Well, I suppose that that little thing is not at all competitive with that monster I usually use. I’ll be glad to have my ‘Man-Size’ weed whacker back in service next week.
There is an advantage to this little thing though, I can cut right up to the mature cacti without cutting into their thick hides. My normal cutter will just cut through the plants, and tear the bottoms up if not cut them right off.
It was a good productive day.
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Now, that was my productive time. But after all of that work in the heat and the sun, I came into the house at about 8:30 PM, tired and hot and really thirsty. I had not eaten since lunch, but a beer sounded really good, and it went down really fast. But then I had another for desert rather than eating. Then a thirds while I was checking e-mail. Then a little Jack Daniel’s whiskey with coke (the liquid, not the powder), served with nice cold ice (is there any other kind).
I started writing the above, and then all of a sudden realized that my fingers were not working like usual. In fact, I needed to get off the chair and lay on the couch. For the first time in perhaps twenty years, I think I was drunk. I am not a big drinker, and it is a bit embarrassing to admit this. But I enclose this as a warning to all the young people as to how quickly the deadening effects of alcohol can take over one’s movement skills and mental processes.
Now kids, don’t try this at home.
Also, NEVER EVER operate machines while drinking.
May 13, 2006
Billie, Ronnie, Johnnie, Vickie and Whitie
Or, 'Aye 2 Eye; A Night in Ventura'
Hotels that pamper pets
Well, that is a link to hotels that pamper pets.
Now, our main pet, Whitie the Chihuahua does not really need pampering, all he needs is to be close to one of the two of us twenty four hours a day.
He’s really a sweet and well behaved dog until some wild thing comes up onto the porch, and then he is a vicious protector of the property. Standing up on the windowsill, he will bark in a frenzy at any intruder. He gets in such a tizzy that he looses his balance in his excitement, he’ll fall off the sill in a frenzy of excessive enthusiasm. It is such a comical thing to see an eight pound dog, a ridge running up his backbone, barking like crazy at a fox outside. If we open the door he’ll take off in a flash to chase the interloper away. If it is a fox they play with him by running around a bush and coming up behind him again. I’m afraid one will snatch him up one day. The cows run off, and he likes that, he’ll go chasing a whole herd on down the road, looking back to me as if to say “am I doing alright Dad”? The deer don’t pay him any mind, they’ll look up, and decide they have had bigger problems, so they go back to their grazing. When he runs up on an animal that will not run off, he’ll just stop, and sniff the ground as if nothing is wrong. I’ve seen him walk under the bellies of deer as they graze.
But, back to hotels, Vickie and I don’t leave home much, so we’re rarely at hotels, but one time we were going to spend the night in Ventura. We had reservations already, and I’d just had eye surgery, so Vickie drove me to the Hotel after the operation. I was on prescription medication and was floating around with an eye patch on while ‘high as a kite’. Getting into the lobby, I noticed a score of secret service agents, acting as if they were reading the newspaper, while really they were evaluating this eye-patched long-haired pirate-looking guy and his Hippie wife. Whitie was safely hidden in Vickie’s purse, and he stayed quiet as a mouse while we checked in. Going up the hotel elevator, I forgot what floor we were supposed to get off on (I was on drugs, remember?), so when the door opened I just started walking off, when a couple of secret service guys blocked my way and told me that this and the next floor were blocked off. Vickie helped me with finding the room, and got me into bed where I slept for the next twelve hours as the doctor promised I would.
I woke at three AM, wide-awake after my chemically induced slumber. Vickie and I decided to take a three-thirty AM stroll along the beach with Whitie, so we went out the door, Whitie in her purse again. And then at the beach (just off the lobby of the Hotel), we leashed Whitie and went up and down the beach for a bit. It was one of those beautiful California mornings that do not happen all the time. There was none of the frequent fog, and the air while crisp, was not cold. The surf was subdued, and it was like a picture postcard (effects of drugs still?)
Returning to the patio of the Hotel we saw more Secret Service (Servici?), and spoke to one young fellow who was very friendly. He said he could not explain what was going on, but that the earpiece he was wearing was giving him directions, and that everything we spoke was being listened to and recorded. We chatted with him for a few minutes, and went back to the Hotel for a little more rest before heading back up the coast to home. On the drive home, we heard on the radio that ex-President Clinton was staying in Ventura for a couple of days. So it must have been he who was in the hotel.
I’ve always thought Bill would make a good neighbor, I like him on a personal level, and I bet he’d put on some really good parties and have lots of ‘hot babes’ over all the time. But I’d be a bit upset if I came home unexpectedly and saw his car parked in our driveway. In fact, now that I think of it, I was out-like a-light for twelve hours in that hotel room, hmmmmmm.
My father knew several Secret Service fellows. They all worked on President Reagan’s ranch near where I grew up. I would often take the ‘mountain road’ over the hills to the beaches on the coast, and this road would take me by the Reagan Ranch (Rancho del Cielo, ‘Ranch in the Sky’) gate. I always tried to look past the brush and trees to the ranch where I knew a little of some of the inner workings of the operation, but it was too screened and occluded to see into, and I knew better than to ask to be permitted entry.
But one morning, going up the narrow dirt road on the inland side of the hills, I saw a Secret Service Jeep with four agents sitting in it looking dejected. They had a flat tire, they explained. Well, these fellows are ALWAYS in suits (black) and neat as a pin. I figured they did not want to get their suits messed up changing the tire, so I told them I’d do that for them (I get dirty all the time, not a big deal to me). Well, they explained, they did not have a spare tire in the Jeep they use to protect the President. Woah!!!??? Am I in a third world country or something? Well, they told me it was no big deal, a truck was coming to put a new tire on for them.
I have a lot of respect for the Secret Service, it seems to me that they do their job in a very efficient manner. Good work guys!
May 12, 2006
Just call him Ira Hayes, the Hero
Lyrics by Johnny Cash, or Bob Dylan
Ira Hayes
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian
Nor the Marine that went to war
Gather round me people there's a story I would tell
About a brave young Indian you should remember well
From the land of the Pima Indian
A proud and noble band
Who farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona land
Down the ditches for a thousand years
The water grew Ira's peoples' crops
'Till the white man stole the water rights
And the sparklin' water stopped
Now Ira's folks were hungry
And their land grew crops of weeds
When war came, Ira volunteered
And forgot the white man's greed
There they battled up Iwo Jima's hill,
Two hundred and fifty men
But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again
And when the fight was over
And when Old Glory raised
Among the men who held it high
Was the Indian, Ira Hayes
Ira returned a hero
Celebrated through the land
He was wined and speeched and honored;
Everybody shook his hand
But he was just a Pima Indian
No water, no crops, no chance
At home nobody cared what Ira'd done
And when did the Indians dance
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian
Nor the Marine that went to war
Then Ira started drinkin' hard;
Jail was often his home
They'd let him raise the flag and lower it
like you'd throw a dog a bone!
He died drunk one mornin'
Alone in the land he fought to save
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch
Was a grave for Ira Hayes
Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes
But his land is just as dry
And his ghost is lyin' thirsty
In the ditch where Ira died
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Victor Davis Hanson gives the most cogent and well-thought-out articles on Illegal Immigration I have yet read.
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The Pima Tribe of Arizona was a large and very warlike people fivehundred years ago. Now they are reduced to a small remnant of their original land with a small population of people left. The most famous Pima was the historic
American Hero Ira Hayes who helped raise the flag on Iwo Jima that is immortalised in the famous memorial in Washington DC.
We have come across a modern-day Pima named who is a very gifted artist. He has a website at Urshel Taylorwhere one can see some of his beautiful paintings.
May 11, 2006
REDNECK SCRAPBOOK
fun photos
The Redneck Scrapbook. Brought to you by Neil Boortz. Full
of really funny and interesting and sometimes tragic photos.
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Pictures in Baghdad
Faiza is an Iraqi woman who has been one of the 'Baghdad Bloggers' who I have been reading for years now.
Her son is the famous 'Raed in the Middle' who was blogging against Saddam for a couple of years before we entered Iraq (on our famous 'rush to war').
Although I don't appreciate his politics, I always enjoyed reading his writings, especially before we invaded Iraq and he did not
have too much bad to say about America.
He was just ranting (at great personal risk) against Saddam. I suppose he'd rather we stayed out of Iraq so he could still be living in
Baghdad under Saddam's thumb.
But now Raed has married Nikki (another blogger) and they have made their home in the Bay area USA where Raed continues to rail
against the country
that gave him his freedom from Saddam.
But Faiza, Raed's mother is also a big political figure, she rails against the war also and has made a couple of trips to the USA
where she seems to have found the American people to be
open, friendly and a simple and kind people (the comments I hear from International travelers about Americans all the time).
Her prior posts about Americans always seemed to show us as the 'Ugly american', but she was seeing soldiers in a wartime environment where any car
that came speeding up might be an IED.
Although I don't at all agree with her politically (except in the argument that war is terrible) I cannot help but to like both of
these people. And Faiza has taken a lot of photos of the different places she has traveled to in the USA.
Go to Photos from Baghdad to see some interesting photos from a half dozen countries.
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Not the Kurds after all
It is the way of nature that all beings must pass through life, it's troubles and it's toils.
One day will be the time appointed for them to leave this world, and step across to the next.
Understanding this gives peace
Not understanding and accepting this will bring vexation and turmoil.
It is appointed for all living beings that they must leave also.
So while one leaves, another steps in.
The words of philosophers are easy to understand...until it is your own son or daughter who has passed on before you. We in this country are somewhat unused to this condition. But it is one that has always plagued mankind, and still does in third world countries. To us it is a shock, but in many countries people will count their children who lived and those who died as two separate lists. And in many cultures children are not even named until they are several years old, so unlikely are they to make it that far.
But here we have the third anniversary of the death of a young woman. Her mother Dymphna writes for the blog 'Gates of Vienna'. I recall reading last year when she wrote of the second anniversary. This year, as it did last year, I am moved, and pass on my wishes for peace in this hole in her heart that will never truly heal over.
A Requim from Dymphna of Gates of Vienna.
May 10, 2006
I USED TO HAVE A DRUG PROBLEM
But now I make enough money
Mexico is getting ready to decriminalize drugs. They expect this will keep them from having to invest in treatment and prison for small time addicts and recreational users. Although I agree with the concept of marijuana legalization I am not at all sure that making cocaine, crank, heroin and LSD legal things to be using is a good idea. I suppose it will make for some good college parties 'South of the Border'. But since I trust the Mexican police as much as I do a grizzly bear, I'm not going there drugs or not.
But while they are getting ready to sign the papers, perhaps they should add to the list the newly developed ‘wonder drug’ Deviflux-V which is reputed to get users “high as a friggen kite”.
And not to be outdone by our Southern neighbor, the ‘Good Old USA’ is getting in on the action by legalizing drug use among the employed. The rational being that doctors, lawyers and other ‘gainfully employed’ persons can use drugs as long as they make it in to work on Monday.
It is the unemployed chronically-high users the law will be going after. An employed person can use health benefits to go to rehab without costing the economy anything, and they can pay for their drug habit with their earnings. It is the unemployed lay-about who has to steal to support his habit, thereby costing society billions.
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Osama Bin Laden and Charles Taylor teamed up in Sierra Leon, killing a taxi driver and going bananas.
May 07, 2006
I WISH YOU ENOUGH
~Author Unknown~
Sent to us in an e-mail
Recently I overheard a mother and daughter in their last moments
together at the airport. They had announced the departure.
Standing near the security gate, they hugged and the mother said,
"I love you and I wish you enough".
The daughter replied,
"Mom, our life together has been more than enough.
Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Mom".
They kissed and the daughter left. The mother walked over to the
window where I was seated. Standing there I could see she wanted
and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on her privacy but she welcomed
me in by asking,
"Did you ever say good-bye to someone knowing it
would be forever?"
"Yes, I have," I replied. "Forgive me for asking, but why is this a
forever good-bye?"
"I am old and she lives so far away.
I have challenges ahead and the reality is - the next trip back
will be for my funeral," she said.
"When you were saying good-bye, I heard you say,
'I wish you enough'. May I ask what that means?".
She began to smile. "That's a wish that has been handed down
from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone".
She paused a moment and looked up as if trying to
remember it in detail and she smiled even more.
"When we said, 'I wish you enough', we were wanting the
other person to have a life filled with just enough good
things to sustain them".
Then turning toward me, she shared the following
as if she were reciting it from memory.
I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.
I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye.
She then began to cry and walked away.
They say it takes a minute to
find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them,
but then an entire life to forget them.
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Illegal Immigrants now returning to Mexico for American jobs.
Many illegal immigrants are now going to Mexico to get the wages they hoped for in the USA. They are facing resentmen from the local Mexican people who wish they "would just go back to where they went to". This wave of 'Repatriados' has resulted in the Rio Grande having a confusing mix of people wading and swimming both ways. Sometimes people get turned around in the confusion and end back where they started from. Also some people returning to Mexico have to leave their family back in the States. They send money to them, and they in turn repatriate some of it back to Mexico.
There are reports of 'Border Capitalists' forcing the fleeing Mexicans back into the USA to return to their agricultural, domestic and restaurant jobs from New York to California.
Read Repatriados to get a clear idea of the implications of this cross polination.
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On This day in History
the Hindenburg Explosion
May 06, 2006
THE WEATHERED OLD BARN
~Author Unknown~
Sent to us in an e-mail
A stranger came by the other day with an offer that set me to thinking. He
wanted to buy the old barn that sits out by the highway. I told him right
off he was crazy. He was a city type, you could tell by his clothes, his
car, his hands, and the way he talked. He said he was driving by and saw
that beautiful barn sitting out in the tall grass and wanted to know if it
was for sale. I told him he had a funny idea of beauty.
Sure, it was a handsome building in its day. But then, there's been a lot
of winters pass with their snow and ice and howling wind. The summer sun's
beat down on that old barn till all the paint's gone, and the wood has
turned silver gray. Now the old building leans a good deal, looking kind of
tired. Yet, that fellow called it beautiful.
That set me to thinking. I walked out to the field and just stood there,
gazing at that old barn. The stranger said he planned to use the lumber to
line the walls of his den in a new country home he's building down the road.
He said you couldn't get paint that beautiful. Only years of standing in
the weather, bearing the storms and scorching sun, only that can produce
beautiful barn wood.
It came to me then. We're a lot like that, you and I. Only it's on the
inside that the beauty grows with us. Sure we turn silver gray too... and
lean a bit more than we did when we were young and full of sap. But the Good
Lord knows what He's doing. And as the years pass He's busy using the hard
wealth of our lives, the dry spells and the stormy seasons, to do a job of
beautifying our souls that nothing else can produce. And to think how often
folks holler because they want life easy !
They took the old barn down today and hauled it away to beautify a rich man
s house. And I reckon someday you and I'll be hauled off to Heaven to take
on whatever chores the Good Lord has for us on the Great Sky Ranch.
And I suspect we'll be more beautiful then for the seasons we've been
through here... and just maybe even add a bit of beauty to our Father's
house.
May today there be peace within you.
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
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"I believe that friends are quiet angels who lift us to our feet when our
wings have trouble remembering how to fly".
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We also got an e-mail from a group of Indigenous Indian people from Mexico who have a residence in Sacramento. They are interested in keeping alive the traditional artwork of their ancestors by continuing to pass on the ancient techniques of artwork of their people. They have a beautiful website full of the wonderfully made arts of their culture made here in Calif. Their appeal is for anyone who has natural materials such as feathers and shells to send those items to them so that they may continue to manufacture this unique and gorgeous artwork.
The wonder and beauty of the human mind and ingenuity is unsurpassed by any creature in all of nature. The spark of divinity surely exists in this bipedal creature we call Homo Sapiens. Go to One Plume at a Time to see their beautiful creations. If you have extra feathers and shells please do help these people out.
May 05, 2006
You can never go home
~Oregon Hill~
~Cowboy Junkies~
The hoods are up on Pine Street,
rear ends lifted too
The great-grandsons of General Robert E. Lee
are making love with a little help from STP
Their women on the porches comparing alibis
Greasy eggs and bacon,
bumper stickers aimed to start a fight,
full gun racks, Confederate caps,
if you want some 'shine
well, you can always find some more,
but what I remember most is the colour of Suzy's door
And Suzy says she's up there
cutting carrots still
And Suzy says she's missing me
so I'm missing Oregon Hill
A river to the south
to wash away all sins
A college to the east of us
to learn where sin begins
A graveyard to the west of it all
which I may soon be lying in
'Cause to the north there is a prison
which I've come to call my home,
but some Monday morning no country song
will sing me home again
And Suzy says she's up there
cutting carrots still
And Suzy says she's missing me
so I'm missing Oregon Hill
Sunday morning, eight A.M.,
sirens fill the air
Sounds like someone made the river
Sounds like someone being born again
Me, I'm just lying here in Suzy's bed
Baptists celebratin' with praises to the Lord,
Rednecks doin' it with gin
Me and Suzy, we're celebratin'
the joy of sleeping in
because tomorrow I'll be home again
But Suzy says she'll wait there
cutting carrots by the window sill
And Suzy says, 'Always think of me
when you think of Oregon Hill'
My town, Lompoc, the place where I (mostly) grew up has so many of the
things mentioned in the song above, a prison, a college, a river, Pine street, Baptists and Rednecks.
I thought of this as I walked around the old section of town yesterday while
getting new tires put on the truck. The old town is full of little tiny
houses tightly packed together, each with a small separate garage, all
made of wood. Intricate and lush gardens are in the yards of most of
these houses, and as I walked, the scent of sweet peas came to me. As I strolled past an
old woman digging grasses out of the sidewalk cracks with an asparagus
knife; a cigarette dangling from her mouth I thought of the old adage
"you can never go back". And yes, although I like the walk, and the
looks of the town, I much prefer our canyon with it's wilderness enfolding us.
I walked into the shop of some old friends I have not seen for a
couple of decades, they were the glue that held our little 'Sheriff's
Search and Rescue' team together. I was a member for a short time, and
went with them on some rescues and recoveries. We talked of old times,
walks in the woods, and her work with the 'Hug-a-Tree Foundation', that
teaches children lost in the woods to hug a tree and sit and wait to be
rescued.
The town is full of the rich tapestry of life; I walked fast Florio's
Carneceria, the Mexican meat market, decorated with a huge Mexican flag.
I had an uncle Florian who died some years ago, he was a special uncle
to me, big and strong, a woodsman who lived for a time in a log cabin he
built himself in the woods. He'd worked for years in the Canadian woods,
and had a build like Jack La Lane back in the old days.
I continued my walk past the VIVA House, the Volunteers for
Inter-Valley Animals has a 'Sylvester House', built to accommodate the cats
that are abandoned. Many are the women who donate time and money to the
cause of local animals. I think you can tell a lot about the values of a
people by the way they treat the lowest of themselves, including their
animals. In this and so many other respects I have to give Lompoc very high marks indeed.
As I was leaving VIVA a Sheriff drove by slowly, he spent a long time at the
stop sign, watching me through his mirrors. To him I am a stranger in
this town, regardless of how many times I have walked and driven these
streets. He slowly drove away, while I walked on, content in the sights,
smells and memories a little trip down 'Memory Lane' gave me.
God bless the small towns, and the people who live in them.
For an interesting perspective on the Minimal level Prison Camp in Lompoc visit Michael Santos's website, he is an inmate serving time at the camp (not to be confused with the Maximum Security Level Penitentiary located next door.
May 04, 2006
Sometimes the answer is right above you
If you put a buzzard in a pen six or eight feet square and entirely open at
the top, the bird, in spite of his ability to fly, will be an absolute
prisoner. The reason is that a buzzard always begins a flight from the ground with a run of ten or twelve
feet. Without space to run, as is his habit, he will
not even attempt to fly, but will remain a prisoner for life in a small jail with no top.
The ordinary bat that flies around at night, a remarkably nimble creature in
the air, cannot take off from a level place. If it is placed on the floor or
flat ground, all it can do is shuffle about helplessly and, no doubt,
painfully, until it reaches some slight elevation from which it can throw itself into the air. Then, at once, it takes off alike a flash.
A bumblebee, if dropped into an open tumbler will be there until it dies
unless it is taken out. It never sees the means of escape at the top, but
persists in trying to find some way out through the sides near the bottom. It will seek a way where none
exists, until it completely destroys itself.
In many ways, there are lots of people like the buzzard, the bat and the
bee. They are struggling about with all their problems and frustrations, not
realizing that if they look up, they'll find the answer.
Upset about the Moussaoui verdict?
Read what 'Captain's Quarters' has to say about this. I agree to a large extent, although the Barbarian in me has a few more techniques that would really cause concern for his friends, but they aren't allowed here.
May 02, 2006
Donald Rumsfeld briefed the President this morning.
He told Bush that 3 Brazilian soldiers were killed in Iraq.
To everyone's amazement, all of the color ran from Bush's face, then he collapsed onto his desk, head in hands, visibly shaken, almost whimpering. Finally, he composed himself and asked Rumsfeld, "Just exactly how many is a brazillion?"
May 01, 2006
They don’t support Immigrants
An article about an immigrant woman who was raped, beaten and imprisoned when she protested the rape and reported it. Instead the xenophobic government in charge imprisoned her for six months keeping her in chains the entire time along with many other immigrant women from several countries. This is certainly something that should not be tolerated and international governments, Amnesty international and the UN Human Rights people should be looking into this lack of humane treatment of immigrants. Read her account entirely at
ME Times.
 I expect today to be a trying time for me, I'll have to make my own bed, cook my own food and mow my own lawn. The immigrants are on the march for my mother's rights! Yes folks, all these nice people who slipped into the country
since the last amnesty that President Reagan (the Evil Republican) initiated have decided that now is the time for us to enact another amnesty again because there are now so many tens of millions of 'undocumented' workers here, and they are going to all band together for immigrants like my mother, to support her right to be in this country. But funny they are so concerned about legal immigrants like my mother, nearly fifty years here, and she's had no assimilation problem.
They remind us that the immigrants clean our houses, and cook our food. They neglected to mention that many also slip into the country without documentation and health and criminal background check bringing drugs into the country, and re-introducing the spread of infectious diseases such as diphtheria, and tuberculosis. The sanitation habits of third world countries are woefully inadequate (which is why they are third world countries). They are not given any inducement to conform to our standards, and anyone who says they should is immediately labeled a racist (which shuts most people up right away).
It is aggravating to me to see people interviewed on television who have to have an interpreter after living in this country for ten years or more. But the proliferation of Spanish language radio, television, and newspapers, as well as businesses and government offices that strain resources to hire ‘bilingual’ speaking people to help them, reduced the need or chances of assimilation.
Many are the times when I read a ‘help wanted’ ad that says ‘bilingual required’. I would call them and ask to apply for the job. They will ask if I am bilingual, I respond yes, and they ask me a question in Spanish, I let them know that I speak German, not Spanish, and then they say “but you have to be bilingual’. But what does bi-lingual mean? It comes from the Latin meaning ‘two languages’. Yes, German and English are both separate languages, so I AM BILINGUAL!! I let them know that when they want a Spanish speaking person they should just state so, otherwise they might be required to hire ANYONE who speaks two languages.
This country is a salad bowl now, not a melting pot. Now, while I like the concept of being able to get good authentic Mexican food in town, I don’t like it when I can’t speak English to the people because some of the workers in the very store I go to don’t speak English. I’m not saying that English should be required to enter this country, but people should want to speak the language of the country they claim to wish to join. And when they go marching demanding the rights of a native people, when they climbed over a border illegally, it does not leave a good impression that they are waving Mexican flags.
I’m all for immigration, but it should be controlled, we should know the background and health history of each person who comes into this country, and if we don’t want them in here for violation of some health or legal type requirement, we should have the right to bar their entry, whether they be from China, Germany, Poland, Africa, or Mexico.
Another thing, do the majority of the protestors today know that the International Communist worker's party and International Answer a front for the
Commies is behind this march? Do they know that May 1 is the International Day of the Worker, a Commie Holiday? Have you seen the numbers of Communist type banners in some of these parades? Che Geuvera is endemic at these gatherings, and also you will often see the Commie Red Star. The media will not show you these photos, because it would boil the blood of many Americans. And this also shows the complicity of the media in this debacle.
One of the rallying cries of this group is the following..."Full rights for Immigrants! Amnesty for Undocumented Workers! No human being is illegal - full equality is not only a reasonable and achievable demand, it is also a fundamental right".
Well Sunshine, I don't expect the rights of a citizen while in another country, I am a visitor there, not one of their citizens. Why do people sneak into this country and expect the same rights as American citizens?
To see what we are up against in this debate, you might go to Greetings from Aztlan to look at a High School here in California where protestors took down 'Old Glory' and replaced her with the Mexican flag, putting our American colors below the Mexican flag upside down.The principal of that school should be fired for letting this treasonous act happen.
Another page that is interesting to view is at San Diego Reconquista Gathering
I've gotten fed up enough with this, that I decided to mount my own little protest by protesting the businesses that will be closed on Monday. I made up a flier that you can download to give them when they open shop again waiting for your American dollars on Tuesday. You can look it up on WORD at FREE SPEECH.
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