Everything Else

Bullies and the Myth of the Fair Fight-

2012-01-30T07:26:00.000-08:00

Take only your fair share. Treat others as you would like to be treated. Say 'Please' and 'Thank you.' These are a few of the ideals of a socialized culture. Much like the ideals of chivalry, they are more ideal than real. They can be adopted, and for the most part they are. Except by bullies. And maybe some business people. And politicians.

For the sake of social order, which is held by many as somewhat better than chaos, most people adopt at least some of these rules over time. They may just be play acting, or simply parroting the words and mimicking the actions, but for the sake of order that is often enough. We even have a myth about fighting. Fight fair. Don't gang up, and don't bring unwarranted force into the battle.

Bullies, by the way, love a fair fight. They will, of course, bring back-up and a force significantly greater than their opponent. The fair part just assures that the person to be dominated doesn't bring their own back-up or overwhelming force. Unfortunately, more or less decent young people are taught the fair fight rule, and strive to comply even when confronted by unfair forces.

Do people really want to end bullying? Then eliminate the fair fight rule. Teach young people how to form alliances, work as a team, and how to bring overwhelming force to a battle. Bullies won't want to engage where the risk of loss is much more than no risk at all. It is hard to intimidate an individual if that individual is part of a group committed to severe and decisive retaliation.

I enforced the law in a jail setting for twenty years. I never fought fair. Oh, I followed policy and procedure in executing force. That is not the same as a fair fight. Those guidelines allowed us to work as teams to bring about the primary goal; end violence. We did that with pro-active and overwhelming force. The term 'fighting crime' is not just a descriptive metaphor.

It is possible to fight well, and decisively, without being 'fair.' A bully sacrifices any expectation of fairness when they use intimidation or excessive force without cause. Working out personal issues using the weak as a punching bag is not a viable cause. Violence is justified if it is used to end violence. To do so, it must be quick, decisive and overwhelming. Then the violence must end.

Bullying cannot be ended through meetings and slogans and songs. Bullying will only end when young people are armed with the tools to avoid intimidation, manipulation and violent subjugation. They must learn the art of combat, the art of teamwork, and vigilance. With discipline and training, anyone can learn to avoid being a victim.

Will there be blood and broken bones? Probably. Definitely more so than with songs, slogans and meetings. There will also be pride, strength and order. Hopefully, there will be reformed bullies, as well.

Here's to you, kid. Break a leg. Literally.

The King of Carpets and the End of Time-

2012-01-23T10:04:00.000-08:00

I am fascinated by people I symbolize by the title "King of Carpets." The King of Carpets is an imaginary construction on my part representing those motivated and focused people who take their opportunities and with focused energy build an empire. Perhaps it is just an empire of floor coverings, but it is an empire.

I think I am fascinated by such people because I am not at all like that. Why am I not like that? Why can't I see that becoming the greatest floor covering distributor in the tri-state area is a worthy purpose? I actually know why I am not like that. It has to do with the End of Time. Not the actual end of time, of course. I haven't yet been there. It is the End of Time as I perceived it in my youth.

Imagination is a good thing, for the most part. Imagination has allowed us to build the modern world. It is a better world than the world of the past, unless you imagine that the past is better. Or course imagined pasts are generally imagined lacking some of the problems of the past, like war and pestilence and plagues and starvation. Other than that, the past was pretty good. I imagine that modern life is better.

When I was growing up I read a lot, and imagined more. I eventually learned that the Universe was winding down, cooling toward a long, cold death. Yep, that's the destiny of Everything. Energy exchanged until it all runs down. Black holes and dark dwarf stars. Nothing living. Really, really cold. Of course, later the model changed and there is some possibility that the Universe will collapse into a singularity. Really, really hot, and amazingly small. In either case, not much of a future.

An imaginative child exposed to this can assume that there is no purpose to anything, if these are the two likely ending scenarios. Why put a lot of effort into becoming the King of Carpets if everything either grows unbelievably cold or collapses into a tiny hot point? Obviously this child needed counseling, but nobody could understand what he was talking about.

The King of Carpets cannot be bothered by the End of Time. Really, who has time for that? Sure, those carpets are destined to pass away, as is the money made from selling them. Still, the big house, fast car and wide screen television are worth some effort. Being the greatest floor-covering distributor in the tri-state area can get you this stuff. Anyway, the burning and freezing comes well after the cancer and Alzheimer and the long, cold sleep. Perspective is everything.

So the imaginative kid rendered unmotivated by the looming End of Time billions of years in the future never became the King of Carpets. I.. er, he probably bought a carpet or two from the King of Carpets, but he never built a textile empire. He did manage to build a pretty decent life, in spite of the prospects of absolute zero or the unimaginable heat of a collapsed singularity.

He even managed to engage that imagination beyond apocalyptic scenarios. He read a lot of books, most of which were works of imagination. He wrote a few, as well. He spent a little time toying with the Kings of Mundane Aspirations by drawing their focus outward toward bigger things. Did you know that doing that can make them mad? Not a good career move, by the way. Amusing, but not really a good idea.

Imagination obsessively embracing either Universal or personal mortality is not wholesome. Ignoring it is even less wholesome, but it really isn't a good focus. Balance. Yes. Imagination should embrace balance. So, I imagine that the imaginative child who too much embraced the End of Time might say something like, "Use your imagination, but use it as a tool. Create. Build. Sell carpets, or write books. It may all burn or freeze in the end, but in the now is where life happens. Imagine, but not too much."

So, if you are or aspire to be the King of Anything, I say, "Bravo." If not, imagine something. Read, think, create, and imagine. Do stuff. Do little things. Do big things. Do everyday things, and some things that nobody else would do. You don't have to be the best. Just your best. Imagine a Universe where the best goes on forever. No freezing. No burning. The best. Forever.

Be the King of Now.

The Case of the Missing Rule Book-

2012-01-18T10:56:00.000-08:00

It was around my junior high (now called Middle School) time of life that I began to realize that not everyone was playing the Game of Life by the same Rule Book. I could not recall receiving my copy, and so absorbed my idea of the rules from my parents and others close to me. That, by the way, is how we all learn the rules, such as they are.

Now at that time I began to feel a bit cheated. I had an innate fondness for clear rules, and the fact that not everyone was playing by the rules I had defined for myself was a bit grating. I began seeking the missing Rule Book. I looked to Science, but found rules there only applicable to the study of Things. People seemed to me to be greater than Things, so I quested on. I needed rules to live by. That quest led me to the nebulous realms of Religion and Philosophy.

Our family did not follow a particular religion in my growing up years. There were vague remnants of Christianity in our mix, but they were more of a tint than a full coloring. Coming of age in the late 1960's and early 1970's, I of course gravitated toward the popular popularization of Eastern Religions. My quest, however, was ill-defined. I drifted, like a leaf in a stream.

In the Army I met a fellow who followed Jesus in a fashion I had never seen. His level of commitment drew me to him, to learn what was the source of this passion. I was shortly after that swept up in the Jesus Movement. I relish the memory of that experience. I got, in a sense, the Rule Book I had been missing.

With the passage of time I learned that the Rule Book was not universally understood and applied, even in something so seemingly monolithic as Christianity. For some that can drive them from a particular faith. I know of many who were so driven. In my own case it drove me to think about the whole thing, and try to come up with something to hold it all together.

I would love to be able to share the set of rules I have come to understand, to present you all with a Rule Book that covers everything. I have not found such rules. I have, over time, come to understand the guiding principles that form my own life, but they are not really rules and not necessarily transferable. At least, not transferable in the form of a Rule Book.

When I dabbled in Philosophy I gained a lot of insights from philosophers, and was especially drawn to the philosophers who tried to build systems of rules that explained everything. I longed to be that philosopher who came up with a universal system adopted and held in high esteem by everyone, but I failed. I know you are surprised, but I failed. Yet in failing I honed a way of thinking that runs rather joyously along the borders of Reason and Mysticism.

I am the result of a long flow of genetic materials coming together at a particular time, influenced by a culture which is itself the consequence of a long and convoluted flow of history. So are you. So are we all. So many influences, some determinant and others malleable. It is a river flowing, an unending dance. We swim with or against the current, but are all swept away.

Obviously, metaphor has come to be the core of my philosophy, such as it is. We only come to know the portion of the river that is flowing around us. We only learn the steps of the dance as we go along, learning from and teaching the other dancers as they flow like a river around us. We are swept along, for a time. Swept along.

Can anyone in the midst of the flowing waters know the River as a whole? Many will say they do, but I doubt the truth of that. Yet we can all find the flow of the River where we are, and swim with it, using the currents and eddies. Can anyone in the midst of the Dance know the Dance as a whole? I think not. Yet we can take our place in the Dance, interacting with the other dancers and adding to the whole.

It is obvious that this is the place where God would come into the picture. Indeed, in my own experience He did. Were I writing this with an evangelistic intent, I would introduce God as I have come to know Him and encourage others to know Him, too. That, however, I choose to save for another time and another writing. Here I am painting with metaphor, drawing analogies.

Hardly definitive, these analogies. Yet perhaps they may prove constructive. Who can know what one word or deed might bring about in such a mighty River, such an intricate Dance? Cooking meals. Raising children. Working at the task at hand. Even writing and telling stories. They are all part of the flow of the River, and steps in the Dance.

Rules are good. They are like the banks of the River, the fundamental steps in the Dance. They are part of the whole, but not everything. No, not everything. Go with the flow, and dance like nobody is looking. Take what you need, and add what you can. Try, and fail. Try again. Succeed. Imagine. Create.

There are plenty of rules out there, and plenty of rule makers. You can even make your own rules. As to a Universal Set of Rules for Everything, I am not so sure. I just don't think it is designed like that, this thing called 'living.' That is not such a bad thing. The River flows on, and the Dance changes over time. Perhaps so should the rules.

The Case of the Missing Rule Book is closed.

Defining Your Dream-

2012-01-12T08:37:00.000-08:00

Some people have a passion that captures them in their childhood, and shapes their endeavors and actions throughout their growing years and into adulthood. Mary Engelbreit comes to mind. She started her career in childhood, with a passion that continues to this day. She experienced unusual success, but can serve as an example of where following a passion can lead.

Other passions lead to other careers. I served for twenty years as a jail correctional officer, and dealt regularly with people who followed their passion for the immediate gratification provided through drugs. Unfortunately, that placed them on the wrong side of the law, and committed them to some very unpleasant lifestyles. So, passion alone is not a sufficient driving force.

Passion defined into a dream, which guides bold but careful planning, seems to me to be the ideal. Sadly, for me it was not that simple. I don't recall a lot of passions in my youth. Curiosity. Interests. A love of barbecue flavored potato chips and long hours of reading. Solitude. No cohesive dreams, formed by passions.

I have to assume that I was not alone in this lack of defining passion. So, it is necessary for at least some of us to 'define our dream.' We have to find our passion.

But, how? It is not taught in school. I am not sure that it should be. Compelling a child to define their dream before they have developed sufficiently to actually have one might be counterproductive. "What do you want to be when you grow up?" seems like an innocent question to ask a child, but for some it is a bit scary. Some children are not ready to consider such a defining question.

For some, such as myself, that lack of consuming passion and a definite dream can go on for quite some time. A lifetime, in fact. I found myself at one point in time doing some research on the matter. What do I want to be, now that I am grown up? The literature is sadly small. Small, but there are some things, such as this book. Give it a look.

One piece of advice from Barbara's book is to try stuff. Take on jobs with the plan to move on. Don't get locked in. Plan on changes coming throughout your life. Make career steps (and other steps in life) just that; steps.

Of course, many life choices not only create opportunities, but create limits. Starting a family is a big one. Family obligations are deep and abiding. That is not bad, however. Limits can often focus and define our efforts. Choices that shape our lives can be seen as guiding forces, rather than binding limitations.

One exercise that I find interesting is to think about what you would do if you had a million dollars? The larger model for this exercise is unlimited resources. In either case what you think you would choose can be a revelation. It won't necessarily define your career, or the other aspects of your life, but it can make clear you greatest desires. Finding ways to fulfill those desires will define your dream.

What if you are just getting started with this whole 'define your dream' thing late in life? Granted, later in life the number of years left in which to work out your dream is smaller, but the wealth of experiences can be of great value. You already have tried a lot of things. Even with a rather miserable set of experiences, knowing what you don't like or want can be very helpful.

It is easy to regret your past. Most of us do, at least in part. Some wallow in that regret, and even define their remaining years by those bad experiences. That is sad, and wasteful. Better to mine those past years for what wealth you can extract, and then leave the tailing behind. Use that wealth to build the future.

Barbara's book has more exercises, and other advice. It is not a mechanical system for defining your dream, however. It is just a set of tools. Each of us must work on our dream. It is a lifelong task. A wonderful task. What better way to spend your life than crafting and building it?

Finding Your Dream-

2012-01-07T08:57:00.000-08:00

A number of years ago I suffered a bout of depression. A chronic depressive state I actually didn't recognize until other symptoms showed up. I sought counsel and also began my own research into managing depression. It was a valuable experience, and one I often tap for ongoing personal maintenance. One of the tools for managing the depression was to "start a project and see it through to completion."

That one resulted in a novel, a sequel, and a third volume, making it a series. The fourth volume is still in the works. These projects do, indeed, help to avoid the downward spiral of depression. In addition, it is fun! It would be more fun if the books were selling better, but that was not the goal of that exercise. The fact that I have at least a small readership is pretty cool. Very cool.

In another aspect of my recovery I had to examine some serious questions. Most of all, what motivated me? What did I want? What was my dream?

My greatest dream, I came to realize, was caring for my family. Unfortunately, I tended to do that with such a degree of devotion I failed to attend to my own needs. I had to learn that I was not Superman, I could not do it all, all of the time. I failed to take time to feed myself beyond just the intake of fuel for my body. I have gotten better at this, but it is surprisingly hard.

As I sit and write, I recognize that I have accomplished most of my goals. My dreams. Unfortunately, some dreams are poorly formed. Dreams can sometimes conflict, as well. Even well defined dreams can change over time, which is not necessarily a bad thing. Dreams should mature and adapt to an ever changing world.

My own dreams evolved out of childish fancies and a propensity to simply let life happen and observe what takes place. It took me a long time and a number of accumulated responsibilities to help me find more cohesive dreams. On the whole it has turned out well. Not perfect, but then I don't know that I would recognize perfection or even find it appealing.

Have you found your dream? If so, is it what you expected it to be?

It is not the teller, but the tale-

2011-12-14T18:48:00.000-08:00

There existed an era before the Internet, television, and even the telephone. It was a time when stories and ideas were conveyed through writing. Letters, books and scrolls. You have probably seen printed books, written on paper. They are still common, though I wonder if that will remain the case. That, however, will be another story.

Printing is even a relatively new invention. Machines that did the work of the scribe. The scribe. A person devoted to the hand copying of letters, books and scrolls. Tediously placing ink on paper or thin animal skins, the stories and ideas of the past were maintained and transmitted. New stories and ideas were added, over time.

There existed an era before that. A time out of time, in which storytellers collected and passed on by word of mouth the ideas and stories of the past. The divisions we are familiar with did not exist. Science, religion, history, and fiction were all melded into the stories handed down from the past. Into the mix were added new tales to teach and to remember.

I am among those who tell tales. I am a story teller. It is a delightful task, and a mystical experience. Mystical, because I intentionally open myself to the sense of all of that history, and even prehistory. I suspect not all tellers of tales open themselves in this way, but I have a mystical bent. I feel that it enhances my experiences, and hope that it adds dimension to my tales.

Some years ago I would sit late at night and write by candlelight. I would use a pen which had to be dipped into ink to charge the nib for writing. I did this intentionally, writing by the same light that untold generations before me used to write. I did this intentionally, using a technology that was archaic. Pens of metal, pens of glass. Even pens of quills plucked from birds, though those are surprisingly difficult to use.

I was intentionally reaching back across history while writing into the future. Standing hand in hand with a long line of the tellers of tales, stretching from campfires eons dead through the moment of my life and onward into an unknown and little guessed future. I felt it, mostly because I wanted to feel it. Mysticism is rooted in the imagination.

In a discussion with atheists who happened to be scientist, or perhaps scientists who happened to be atheists, I recalled to them a documentary I had watched that described the telling of tales in remaining societies that exist outside of the world of the written word. People who teach their children with spoken words as they sit around camp fires. The tales told contain the whole world.

I proposed that the story is the primary mode by which humans have come to know the world for a very long time. My scientist friends agreed, but seemed to be of the opinion that a more 'scientific' mode of communication would be better. I am not sure what they meant, but they missed my point. I was suggesting that if they wanted their precious science to be known, really known, by the whole of humanity, it would have to be given to them in stories.

They seek to cleanse their science of that which is mystical, hoping to purify it and remove the stain of such artifacts of the past. That is unfortunate, and sad. I believe that science has much to contribute to the tale, but a story devoid of mystery becomes nothing more than a list of words. Yet the ongoing tale has been made strong by the order and structure given by science. We all err if we discount too readily any aspect of the tale.

Indeed, the tale grows rich and diverse in our modern time. It is informed by many disciplines, each a wealth of knowledge. It is made broad by so many modes of telling the tale. Technology has made the world small enough for us to experience a great deal of it in the short span of our lives. By making it small it has made the world even more vast in our experience than the world of mysterious unknown in which our precursors dwelt.

Technology has given us tools to tell the tale in ever changing ways. The transition from scribes tools to printing presses was revolutionary in human history. The transitions of our own day will bring forth revolutionary changes that will challenge the imagination. Yet the imagination is powerful, and will embrace these mysteries and distill them into marvelous tales. Whatever the tools, the storytellers will be there to gather the past and hand it on to the future.

iPhone fail-

2011-12-13T08:54:00.000-08:00

Yesterday my iPhone began running rough. Transitions and scrolling were not smooth. I figured it was some issue with the Internet. Late in the evening it got worse. Then, to bed. I plugged the phone into the charger. Minutes later it rebooted itself. I checked it, shrugged, and went back to my pillow. It did it again. It makes an unpleasant sound in the night when it reboots, so I shut it off.

This morning, upon starting up, it rebooted itself again. I did a search. MacRumors had a thread on the subject. The solution? A restore. Hold down the power and home buttons for about 25 seconds. The phone goes into restore mode. Connect to iTunes on your computer. iTunes detects the phone in restore mode, and provides instructions. My restore took about 40 minutes. It was relatively painless.

Unfortunately, the thread I used to learn the fix did not have any indication of the cause of the problem. I found several other threads with similar advice, but no indication of the cause. We shall see if the problem comes back. Most users complained of this type of issue after doing some unorthodox or unauthorized software or hardware modifications. I haven't done any of that, so I am hopeful I have found a solution.

If you have a smart phone that syncs with some kind of program on your PC, as the iPhone does with iTunes, it is a good idea to let them talk to each other once in a while. Backups need to be run, and software updates made. Though this modern technology is pretty smart, the operator must still be involved once in a while.

I have found that just a little regular maintenance on my tools keeps them sharp and ready to use, whether a knife or an iPhone. Just a suggestion. Keep up on your updates, and backup frequently.

News from the Edge of the World-

2011-12-12T12:28:00.000-08:00

One of my readers reminded me that I haven't done an update on my current novel in progress. It is the fourth novel in my Edge of the World series. Up until recently I had been making good progress on this novel, and regular updates were occurring as I wrote. Then changes came upon me.

Good changes. The Endless Move to Medford, Oregon, had another phase begin. Our plan had been to sell our home in Felton, California (near Santa Cruz) and move to Medford to ease our retirement life. Living in Medford is a lot less expensive. Additionally, we anticipated buying two homes, one for my wife, my mother-in-law, and myself. Another for my daughter and her family. Hopefully, with a situation to provide temporary housing for my sons, should they need a fall-back position.

The first phase had some bumps, and consumed the better part of a year. Selling a house in a bad economy is challenging. That challenge was met, and we got moved. We bought a house, and for a time lived all together in too little space. That was phase two. Phase three began about two months ago, and we eventually completed the purchase of a second home here in Medford and got my daughter's family moved in.

Phase three, unfortunately, consumed a surprisingly large amount of time. That challenged the writing process, which fell by the way-side. Additionally, cold weather moved in. My place of writing has most recently been my van, the Mobile Man Cave. It was quiet, and away from the crowded house in which we all lived. Phase three cleared the house and allowed me to 'move in,' but the change left me without the privacy of my little cave. I am still getting settled, and reforming my writing habits.

On the positive side, I have been collecting notes and developing my plot lines. I have made minuscule progress, but progress nonetheless. Now the Holiday season challenges my work. That, and I still don't have a place of my own. The departure of my daughter's family has caused a flurry of re-decorating and moving stuff. I am still trying to find a place of my own to use in winter months.

The work will continue. Book four will get a name, and be brought to a point of conclusion. The tale will be left with several directions which can become additional books, depending on how things progress in growing my readership.

That has proven to be a great challenge. I have faced some discouragement in learning that my paltry beginning marketing efforts have netted few results. For a naturally reclusive person this social networking is a difficult task. Lacking funds, I must market at a grass-roots level. That is not a bad thing, just not particularly fast.

During this process I have discovered an online community of self-published writers. Some have gained a degree of success, after considerable time and effort. Most are where I happen to be. We are essentially hobby writers seeking to make something of our work. When I elected to accept that perspective I overcame my discouragement. I could continue in that vein, and strive to gain a readership over time.

It is unfortunate that I cannot easily transition into a retired person able to rely on an additional writing income. I now have two homes to pay for, rather than one house paid off that was rather overloaded with family. This new situation is much better, but I need income. I am looking for work. Writing would be preferable, and I would gladly put in the hours pounding the keys if I could make the money needed. Unfortunately, it does not look like that will work.

So, book four will progress, and be finished. I will continue. However, the Endless Move to Medford is demanding my finding employment. That will impact my writing. Until my readership increases and funds allow me to pour some more resources into marketing, my writing will remain a hobby. A pleasant hobby, one which has put me in contact with some very nice people, but still a hobby.

Spread the word! I don't mind stocking shelves, or any one of a number of jobs I have recently applied for. I would rather, however, be writing. Writing stories you all would enjoy reading. Michael Lockridge, at Barnes and Noble online. Adventure is waiting!

What Not to Wear-

2011-12-08T11:53:00.000-08:00

I am not particularly fond of network television. I am not particularly aware of fashion. My taste regarding (and application of) clothing is rather rudimentary. Clothes keep me warm and help me to not be unduly offensive to other people. So, I have not gravitated to such shows as What Not to Wear. My wife, however, has been watching the show for some time.

Since moving to Medford, Oregon, and getting settled in our new home I have spent a bit more time watching some of the shows she likes. My own pursuits tend to be a bit reclusive, and the lack of shared experience can be problematic. Watching the shows she likes is a way to correct this. Hence, I have come to watch What Not to Wear. I have found it surprisingly interesting, but not for the fashion aspect.

The premise of the show is that people nominate a friend or family member for a make-over. The two hosts of the show gather up the nominee and proceed to teach that person to shop for fashionable clothing. Then comes a reworking of hair and make-up. The show is seemingly exclusively focused on females, presumably because a large percentage of males are fashion neanderthals, such as myself.

The hosts are witty and constructively critical. More importantly, they are compassionate and seem sincere in declaring their charges as 'beautiful,' and seeking to help that person to find their beauty. I have been fascinated to see how relatively small are the changes these people make in the dress and rituals of preparation to achieve a significant result.

What is the cost of all of this? The hosts provide a $5,000 card for shopping. The hair and make-up stylists are contracted, and quite skilled. On the whole, it is not something most people could afford to do for themselves. Still, the message is better than I expected.

I perceive fashion as a dictatorial market driving force, compelling people to constantly replace the material things in their lives with new material things, ultimately to the point of excessive debt and impoverishment. It is a social force that allow people to establish a pecking order without resorting to violence and bloodshed.

The show in question presents fashion as a mode of self-expression within the confines of a nebulous set of rules, establishing self-esteem and esteem among other people. I suspect that the quest for the definition of the set of rules is part of the fun, if this kind of thing can be fun. I see that it might be, but money seems to be the key to success. How unusual.

In a similar vein I recall finding a bin of socks in a sporting goods store, at a very nice discount. I asked why the socks were discounted so much. "Oh, those are last year's stock." was the answer. Fashion, in sporting goods. How is it I never saw that before? "I can't use those crampons this year. They are last year's model! What will all of the other ice climbers think?"

I may never be sold on the idea of fashion. I certainly don't expect to ever be fashionable, and am untroubled by that prospect. I am, however, a bit more positive on the idea of encouraging people to embrace changes in their lives to find better ways to live. If fashion can serve in that capacity, perhaps I can embrace it to that degree.

I still have little fondness for network television. However, my wife seems to enjoy sharing her viewing experiences, and I can't deny that I have found some things interesting. People doing puzzles on an island. People traveling around the world at an insane pace. Women going shopping and getting their hair and make-up done.

It could be worse. She could like Jersey Shore.

The Endless Move to Medford-

2011-12-01T09:54:00.000-08:00

The Endless Move to Medford (Oregon) entered into a new phase several weeks ago, and that phase is just coming to a close as we near Christmas. As a consequence, I have had less time for blogging, writing my novel, and promoting my completed writings. I thought at this point I should get back into the swing of blogging with an entry about the move.

I retired two years ago from a career in corrections. I worked the line in the Santa Cruz County Jail for twenty years. Twenty years of direct inmate contact proved to be all I could handle. There is a degree of stress to the job. I was ready to get out of jail and move on to a new phase in my life. Unfortunately, our house in Santa Cruz needed some serious repairs, and costs in that area are high. Living there on my pension was not a viable decision.

So, a move was in order. The sale of our house, which required borrowing some money and getting the repairs done. The sale of our house in a very bad economic time. It was tedious, and difficult, and quite challenging. It was done, and we finally got moved to Southern Oregon. In fairly short order we found and purchased a house that would work for us.

My daughter and her family moved along with us. Indeed, they preceded us to Oregon by the better part of a year. There was a long transition period where some of us 'camped' in the house being sold, and the others made due with temporary housing of various sorts. Career changes. Changes in location. A lot of stress, and it is much better looking back than going through. However, it is done.

Too many people in our new house, but again we were living in a transition. The final phase was searching for and purchasing a second house. Now that is done, and my daughter and her family are pretty much moved in. They still have the task of settling in, but we are well on our way to completing this long, long move. The adventure included a great many changes.

We rented a total of five storage units over the course of the move, sometimes moving things between units and sometimes from state to state. We rented a number of moving trucks. We boxed and loaded and stored and un-boxed a lot of stuff. There are still a lot of things in boxes. The move seems endless. The garage of our present home is a warehouse in which items are moved about in what is sometimes like a game of real life Tetris. Yet, over time there has been progress.

Our real estate agent in Santa Cruz was Bill Cree. Our real estate agent in the Medford, Oregon, was Tom Kohan. They were great to work with, and went the extra mile in providing great service. We met and worked with a lot of other various people in this whole, long process. Almost every experience was pleasant, though often expensive. Resources came and went, what needed doing got done, and we moved ever toward the goal.

The support of family was also of great value. Financial assistance. Assistance in moving. Lending items during the transition to help smooth out the bumpy ride. The extended family also bore a lot of stress as a consequence of our move, for which I am sorry but thankful for the diligent shouldering of the burden. Now that we are on the other side of the move I hope that we can begin repaying the investment, even if it is only in the form of paying it forward.

Hopefully we will soon complete this project, this Endless Move to Medford, and begin settling in. There are new projects on the horizon. I have more books to write, and need to find some kind of work to provide resources to build toward the future. The future, with new challenges, and more transitions.

It should prove interesting.

Reading on Mobile Devices-

2011-11-07T20:42:00.000-08:00

I switched to electronic books for a number of reasons. The cost became reasonable, the experience proved pleasant, and it became possible to carry a library wherever I went. That portability has gone just a bit further with the purchase of my first smart phone. In this case an Apple iPhone 3GS. Not cutting edge, but a nice tool.

I just finished reading the fifth volume of Randolph Lalonde's Spinward Fringe series. A space opera, a sub-genre of science fiction. The first volume is free. I read the first four volumes on my Nook, and enjoyed the experience both for the quality of the work and the quality of the reading experience on the Nook. For the fifth volume I decided to try the iPhone. I downloaded the iPhone Nook reader application and was ready for truly mobile reading.

Granted, the screen is small. However, the fonts are readable, and I can change the phone to landscape mode (held sideways) to make it seem a bit more book-like. The phone screen is back-lit, which can be nice in low lighting. The Nook screen is more like paper, and not back-lit. You have to read it like a book, with a light source. However, you can read the Nook in full sunlight, like a book. Phone screens tend to wash out in full sunlight.

The small screen was not problematic. The only problem is turning "pages" a bit more often. That simply requires a tap or swipe of the screen with one finger. That is not terribly difficult, and becomes routine very quickly. One night I wanted to read in bed. My wife was already asleep and it was dark. I fired up the iPhone, turned down the brightness, and read in comfort. The phone fit well in one hand. Delightful!

Since I carry my phone just about everywhere, I had a book to read anytime I wanted. That was quite convenient. Though the Nook allows me to carry a huge library with me at barely the weight of a paperback novel, it is still large enough to require someplace to put it when out and about. The phone was less of an issue. I am accustomed to carrying it, and hardly notice it when not in use.

I recommend ebooks highly, and trying out using any of you mobile devices that can serve as a reader. Many of you have such devices. Even if you have a Nook, or a Kindle, or one of the other ereader devices, try your other smart devices out as readers. You will get more out of the tools you have chosen and add versatility to your life.

You can get free reader applications that will download to your computer and your mobile devices. For example, the novels I have written and published with Barnes and Noble can only be read on a Nook reader or any epub friendly reader. Kindle readers cannot read my books. However, if you have a mobile device that can download the free Nook reader from Barnes and Noble, you can download and read my books.

Using similar creative applications of applications, you will find yourself free to download content from a great many sources. (My books included, I would hope.) These are tools that can allow you greater freedom in shaping your own life and how you live your life. Power to enhance your own experiences in your own way.

So, try new stuff. Write about it. Share well.

Connected-ness-

2011-11-03T09:25:00.000-07:00

It was time. I was due, and it was time. Time to upgrade my phone. The Apple iPhone 3GS was available from AT&T for free. I like free. So, I went. I talked to the people. I got a new phone (and a new contract) for free, in a very relative sense of what 'free' actually means. The contract really was no problem, since I find AT&T adequate and affordable. So, free was pretty much free.

I don't know if I have ever been at the forefront of the curve on developing technology, or any other aspect of modern life. I recall a friend who bought the newest of everything. He was young, single, and had a good disposable income. None of those have applied to me for a great many years. I pick up stuff over time, and ride far back from the cutting edge.

Anyway, I have an iPhone. Not the 4GS, which is costly. The 3GS. It is wonderful. I can check my email anywhere. Granted, I have already set the device to avoid needlessly updating everything over the cell network. I have the cheapest data plan, and really don't need to update that frequently. Costly. However, I now have power far beyond what I had with my orphaned LG View.

When linked to a WiFi network I can do lots of stuff for free. Watch videos. Update my blog as if I were on my computer. Send and receive texts and emails. I can now better understand how so much of the world has bypassed the desktop-laptop-mobile evolution and simply jumped in with mobile devices. This thing is a little computer. Granted, typing on it is not altogether pleasant, but then it is not my primary device for communication.

This power is now available to multitudes. The 'third world' does not exist in the virtual realm. Will this expansion of communication lead to broader freedoms and the exportation of 'democracy?' Perhaps. Or, will the Powerful Elite use the tracking capability of these devices to further control the populace? These are interesting times.

Banking is done over these devices. Not just communication, but commerce. I recently read of Africans who figured out how to use their cell phone accounts to create virtual banks and exchange networks. The cobbled grass-roots system was so successful that the phone and banking industries in those countries are attempting to capture what had evolved and turn it to their own purposes.

So, here I am, still behind the cutting edge, far back on the curve. Yet I have more power and greater connectivity than ever before. It is rather nice, very useful and often interesting. Most importantly, I am having fun.

Perhaps it is time I find out what 'Angry Birds' is all about.

Participation vs Competition-

2011-10-28T09:01:00.000-07:00

My driving style has changed over the years. Like many young people, I drove rather competitively in my youth. I tried to ace out that guy weaving in and out of traffic. I refused to give way to that jerk trying to edge a few spaces ahead when traffic was getting bogged down. I fought for position, even if it was just one car length.

These days I watch for that guy weaving in and out of traffic. I try to make room so that he (or she) can just move right on past me. I figure my sleight adjustment of position and speed won't significantly impact my own journey, and this person is just going to do what they are going to do no matter what I do. If nothing else I have made sure that Mr. Bob-and-weave will have his accident somewhere far from me.

I give way. I try to make the journey of others around me go more smoothly. I have found that giving way does not make me late to my destination. In more than one case I have pulled into a parking lot at my destination and found Mr. Bob-and-weave just getting out of his car. He gained mere seconds at the cost of great risk to himself and others. Seconds.

What has happened is that I have switched from viewing my journey as a competition to one of participation. How can I make traffic flow better? What can I do now that will make the shared journey go more smoothly? They are usually tiny things. Mostly just not insisting on having something of little value, such as one car length.

My perception has altered. I actually perceive traffic flowing better as a consequence of my new attitude. Is this just an illusion? I really don't know. I don't particularly care, as long as my experience is made better. As long as my participation seems to me to make things better, things are better.

Today (while driving) I realized what I was doing, and gave it a name. I came up with the title for this blog as a description of what I was doing. Participating in the journey I was sharing with all of the people on the road. We may not all have had the same destination, but for a time we were all together and moving in the same direction. It cost me very little to try to make the journey better for all of us.

I have to wonder if this kind of thinking could be applied to other situations. Granted, in a game or in a true survival situation head-to-head competition may be the better way. However, in most of life participation might well be the better choice. Politics? The economy? My local community affairs?

My purpose in the future is to keep an eye out for opportunities to be a participant rather than a competitor. It will always come down to little things. Small courtesies performed to make my journey and the journey of those around me a bit more pleasant. Kindness need not be costly, and courtesy is an affordable luxury.

Live long. Live well. Choose wisely.

Farewell, Steve-

2011-10-06T23:08:00.000-07:00

Lots of people will be blogging farewell to a creative and powerful figure of our era. I, too, wish to express my appreciation for the man and his work. He has truly impacted our world. I have visited the Apple campus, a nexus of innovation and creativity. I have been directly and indirectly involved in Silicon Valley, and the amazing culture it spawned.

I am particularly amazed at all he did toward the end of his days. Pancreatic cancer is particularly painful, and to do battle for so long is truly impressive. I have a dubious honor in that I had an attack of acute pancreatitis years ago. I sampled the pain. It is a most amazing pain, and for him to work through that kind of pain on a regular basis for years is astounding. That, and continuing to perform at a high level in a challenging industry.

He will be missed. Missed by multitudes, around the world. And rightly so.

I now turn to another page. In the course of my own career I never met Steve Jobs, but I met other people. People not so high up on the scale of human achievement. Dregs, actually. In particular, winos. Drunks. Wasted humanity. Failures as deep as Steve Jobs was successful.

I watched them die, over time. Penguin. Pathfinder. Scotty. Scotty was a particularly nice guy. Vodka Ron. Ron would often continue conversations with me that we had never started. Others whom I could name. One took the name of Harry Blackstone Jr., and was a magician at the end of his magical rope. One went by the name of Sarge, with some unclear military background.

Some were broken warriors. Others just took a wrong turn at a bump in the road of life. A few had college degrees somewhere in the past. Others had failed businesses, failed relationships, or just failed life management decisions. All found themselves at the bottom of a bottle. I never saw any of them that got in this deep make it out, except Pathfinder. He just quit. Got a job and a place to stay. Then died.

I choose to sometimes remember these forgotten humans. Steve Jobs earned the honor of being remembered by multitudes. That is good and right. I remember him, too. The others, those who did not fare as well, will go unremembered. I choose to sometimes remember them, not for their successes or failures, but for their humanity.

Human, just like Steve. Farewell, Steve. You ran a good race. Rest in peace.

I/O Magic Technology Review-

2011-09-30T18:53:00.000-07:00

I/O Magic 3.5 IDE/SDA Enclosure, to be exact. First a little back story. Trust me, this may someday be useful information. My scintillating report will embed the information in the back of your mind where it will come forth when technical disaster strikes. It will, someday. Someday.

My wife's desktop computer finally gave up the ghost-in-the-machine, so to speak. Within the cold case lay a hard drive, filled with data. Photos and stuff. Important, in a personal kind of way. Now inaccessible. What to do? The Geek Squad geeks said it would take around four hundred dollars to even determine if the machine could be rebuilt. Recommendation? Yep. The computer retail section.

My wife now has a rather cheap Toshiba laptop, which even in it's cheapness is far better than the machine she just lost. However, the pictures and a few other things remained inaccessible. What to do? See the Geeks, again. Prospect; $100 to pull the data off to the media of our choice. We already have a portable hard drive, so that would be the total cost.

We later stopped by Office Depot to pick up a USB hub, one of those things that gives you a few more USB ports. Part of the Toshiba's cheapness was having only two USB ports. (Office Depot was next door to the hardware store where we were shopping for, uh, hardware.) I inquired as to the cost of getting the data off of the hard drive. It was $50, but I would have to buy a housing to make the hard drive an external hard drive.

"You can use this I/O housing." said the tech. "In fact, if you used this you could probably retrieve the data yourself." We left the store with a four port USB hub and the I/O Magic hard drive enclosure. Once I got home I followed the clear instructions and had the hard drive out of the old computer and into the new housing in about fifteen minutes. The kit includes everything you need, including cables, a power supply and very clear instructions.

As to using the drive, there were no instructions for that. Fear not. It was much like plugging in a thumb-drive or any other USB file saving device. I searched the old drive, found the files we wanted, and moved them to the new machine. Total time, less than an hour.

Now we have a spare external hard drive. I haven't done anything with it, yet, but I figure I could reformat the device and use it for extra storage or as a back-up device. The old computer still has some usable memory, a DVD drive, and a wireless interface that can be cannibalized. Parts is parts, you know.

Seeds of our lives-

2011-09-29T12:11:00.000-07:00

http://www.growseed.org/seed.html

I once worked for a time for a gentleman who sold bee keeping supplies. I built some of his personal hive boxes for him. Being a retailer, he would quality control parts to be sold. The parts that were not of sufficient quality to sell to the retail public were set aside. These he would have assembled (by myself and my friend Sam) to use for his own bees. "My bees don't really care that much." he said.

As a consequence I got to know some beekeepers. One beekeeper kept a tray full of clover seeds in his truck. As he traveled around he would cast those seeds out to provide flowers for bees to use. His bees. Somebody else's bees. He didn't really care. He was seeding the future.

I also knew another fellow who would cast seeds freely from his vehicle. Let's say he was a horticulturalist dealing in herbs of a questionable legal status. In those days the status was really not in question. His motivation? Hey, you never know when you will need herbal fortification to improve the quality of music or movies. Seeding the future.

In my back yard I have some bird feeders. The seeds I have used are not the sterilized kind. Birds are sloppy eaters, and the have 'planted' some interesting things growing abundantly around their feeder. Some have grown up to provide even more seeds. The sloppy eating habits of those birds have provided even more seeds for them to eat. They were seeding the future.

Stories have seeds. I gather them wherever I go. I write them down in a little note book. I sometimes record them in my phone. I have emailed them to myself, and lost far more than I have saved. Where are they? Somewhere out there, seeding the future.

So, next time you are out there in the real world and do something a bit embarrassing or slightly off, you needn't worry about what may come of it. Just change your perspective. If beekeepers can cast out clover seeds, and fringe herbalists cast out future experience enhancements, it must be a very good thing to cast out story ideas into the world.

Relax. Be yourself. Seed the future. I will try and write it down.

Spam Sushi-

2011-09-22T10:38:00.000-07:00

The comment management software I am using is called Comment Kahuna. It is free, and though rather rudimentary it does the job. You can create profiles which include a user name, email and website information that is auto-filled into the various blog comment forms you will be filling out.

The process begins by entering key words for which the software will search. The user interface is clear, simple and easy to use. Lists of blogs are generated and you simply tab through them to read and add comments. It all works rather well, and I have found a lot of blogs I otherwise would not have ever found.

There are some weaknesses in the software. It logs where you have been, but does not use that information to eliminate blogs you have commented on from the list. So, as you tab through you will see the same blogs come up again and again. If you run several separate searches using the same or similar key words you can find yourself thumbing through a great many blogs you have already seen.

This free software is a marketing ploy. You will subsequently receive offers to buy a more robust and automated software. The marketing is not too aggressive, and I find it easy enough to simply read the offers and delete them. I do read them, since the software marketer offers bits of advice with his pitch and some have been useful.

I have enjoyed using this product. I have been to blogs I otherwise would not have visited, and learned some things I would otherwise not have learned. Some are just a lot of fun to visit, and even my least positive experience taught me a few things about how to do this.

Karen, who was clearly critical of my marketing approach, offered the advice to make a sincere and genuine comment, and not add my link to my book right in the comment section. She suggested that I instead have a clearly placed link in my blog. I immediately modified my blog to have such a link, which I simply had overlooked before.

Using her helpful criticism I modified my way of doing these things. On blogs that are obviously personal projects and not intended as marketing vehicles I would not include a direct link to my books. However, on such sites as are obviously not just information sharing venues but vehicles for marketing I would place a link following a suitable comment.

As a consequence of using Comment Kahuna I have also discovered a community of independent self-publishing authors. Some, like Randolph Lalonde, have achieved sufficient success in independent publishing to quit the day job and write full-time. Most others are still building a following. Many purchase, read and revue other independent publisher's works.

However you use Comment Kahuna you gain what are called back-links. I don't fully understand how all of this works, but ultimately it makes your own website or blog more visible. You gain higher and higher placement in search lists. In other words, you shine brighter and people can find you.

If you are marketing yourself or a product on a very tight budget Comment Kahuna will prove to be a useful tool to add to your tool box. Since it is free it will cost you nothing to try.

Spam Maggots

2011-09-15T09:50:00.000-07:00

So, did I mention I have been learning to promote my book? Yes? Well, I won't mention my book again this week. What I am learning about right now is Social Networking. This does not relate to Social Security, which is often in the news these days. Neither is it about Socialism, which might or might not be the same thing. No, this is about reaching out and meeting people both online and in real life.

I have spent part of the last week probing various blogs and web sites seeking people who might want to know about my book, which I said I wouldn't mention until at least next week. I tried to find blogs related to fantasy adventure and reading and things like that. Well, mostly those two words in particular. I found some. I read them. I posted a response here and there and a link to my book. The one I am not mentioning.

It was slow going.

I have been the recipient of SPAM over the years. Indeed, I have been constantly surprised by the number of people on the Internet interested in the size of part of my anatomy, how many people think I need reproduction Rolex watches, and how much I want to work from home, (which I pretty much do now.) So, I didn't want to become a Spammer. That would be bad.

Still, I sought a tool to assist me. One quite affordable was my thought. I found one. It was free. I find free quite affordable, so I downloaded it (after checking reviews and finding out if anyone had been killed or maimed by this particular software.) I tried working with it today. It really is a good tool for what I am doing.

Now what I don't want to do is leave a general comment in broken English with a very obviously unrelated link attached. That, I do believe, is SPAM. Not good. However, if I actually read the article, and deem the writer as one who might genuinely want to read my book, that is not Spam. Not really.

I tried to be respectful. For example, I read the article by a lady who was a writer and reader of fantasy literature. She should have been a good choice. I discovered that she was coping with a mental illness, and that the writing was as much a therapy and compulsion as anything else. I did not post there. Sure, she might like my book. You know, the one I am not mentioning. However, it just did not feel right.

It felt like SPAM.

Even so, I used the software to find a lot of sites. Interesting sites. Sites where I could leave a nice message relating to the material being covered and also refer to my book. Yeah, that book.

So, as I move on in my Spam-free adventure and get to know this software I might just eventually write a review. Some of you may have works you want to promote. Without Spam, of course.

Meanwhile, if you feel the need to drop a link to your site or product in the comments below, feel free. Just comment first in fairly sound English, with a related and nicely presented link. Oh, and don't post anonymously. I won't authorize anonymous posts with unrelated links.

That would be SPAM.

Electronic Book Readers-

2011-09-08T09:34:00.000-07:00

One of my Facebook friends asked me when my books will be out in print. She wanted to read my works but did not have an electronic book reader. Unfortunately, the traditional way of getting into print is a long and arduous process, with winning an agent who must win a publisher and then the whole publishing circus.

Alternatively, I could go with a print-on-demand service. If someone orders my books a copy will be printed and sent to them. Not a bad system. At this point in my publishing adventure I am not prepared to shell out the hundreds of bucks to get the document formatted for print on demand. My budget for all of this is small. Ebooks are an affordable option, and the one I chose.

Ebooks have a lot of advantages. They all fit on smart phones, devices like the iTouch media player, pad format computers, and computers of all sorts. Most of these devices simply require you to download an ereader as an application or standard piece of software. These devices have various advantages and disadvantages.

For example, the smart phone you have with you always. Therefore, you will have any books you have loaded on the device with you wherever you go. The disadvantage is the size of the screen. Some people will find reading on a phone (or iTouch like device) difficult. Others will find it pleasant. I know of one woman who has read many books on her iTouch, and finds it just fine as a reader.

My reader of choice is the Nook, sold by Barnes and Noble. When they reduced the price to my chosen trigger point ($150) I bought one. The first model. I like the paper-like screen, as I can read it in full light and not get the computer screen wash-out common with phone and computer screens. By the way, the current prices have units below $150.

To get started it is easy to download a reader to your computer. There are quite a few free books available from various sources. They are easy to download and open with you reading software. Give computer reading a try and see how you like it. If you have a smart phone, try a reading application. The cost of getting started is quite low.

From there a reader can move on to evaluating other electronic reading devices. Sony has a nice one. Amazon has their Kindle, which was first on the market and still an excellent device. Kobo, which had been associated with the Borders distribution network, seems like an adequate device. Of course, there is also the Nook. Prices vary depending on the device and the features you might prefer.

If the cost of the device is of concern, don't forget the free books I mentioned. There are a lot of books out there that will cost you nothing. Paper books will never disappear, but the convenience of ebooks will grow on you. With the right kind of account you can often download a book in minutes, and be reading right away.

I recommend you give it a try. And, while you are trying, have a look my own works. I have enjoyed writing them. I would love for you to read them.

(Note: at present I am unaware of any way to read epub format writings on the Kindle. My works are not currently available in Kindle format.)

Non-articulated Dreams-

2011-09-01T11:30:00.000-07:00

I think that dreams, and the pursuits of dreams, are important in the life of a human. Most of the happiest people I have known (a sadly small number of people) were people who identified their dreams early in life and focused on fulfilling those dreams. Many others I have known have just drifted through life, much like I feel I have done.

Am I a happy person? Not so much so as I would like. Why is that? I don't think that I truly identified my dreams early in life, and those I had I did not nurture. Dreams need to be identified, then fed and pruned and given liberty to grow. I knew little about that in my youth, and apparently it was not a priority with those who were tasked with educating me.

Do I find fault with those people? No, I don't. I was not neglected with malicious intent. I was not neglected through laziness. I don't think I was neglected at all. I suspect that the idea of finding your own passion and letting it become a dream, then growing that dream, is just not a common concept.

Dreams are, in many social contexts, considered frivolous wastes of time. One must be practical, and responsible. You can't go off following dreams and still manage to live a good life. You have to earn a good living, and buy a house and all of those other things that make up the American Dream. Oh, wait. There's that word again. Dream.

I had a really good childhood. Our economic status was sufficient that I was not compelled to dig my way out of poverty just to get an even start with most other Americans. There were plenty of resources, had I a dream and a will to see it fulfilled. I simply had not gathered the skills of dreaming. Day dreaming, yes, but not the kind of dreaming that gives direction and motivation and fulfillment.

Yet I have attained to much I value. A good family. A nice home. My children are reasonably balanced human beings who are generally liked and respected. None of our troubles are the consequences of miscreant misbehavior. In retrospect, these are dreams I never articulated yet achieved nonetheless.

They are my non-articulated dreams. I have even achieved some whims that never really attained to the status of dreams. Like writing a novel, and seeing it published. Indeed, I have written and published three novels, and a collection of short stories. I had a whim of being a writer, but no real dream.

I cannot change my past, yet I sometimes wonder. What if I had really dreamed of being a writer? What if I had learned what it might take to become not just a writer, but a professional writer? I can only speculate, but it might have been an interesting life. More satisfying that the one I now live? I really can't say.

What I like to do now is encourage people to follow their dreams. Granted, a dream may not be practical, but that is part of the nurturing and pruning. The dream has to be given shape and fed the necessary resources to live in the real world. Shaping your dream will shape your life, and I suspect that it will be all the richer and more fulfilling for the effort.

There are, of course, dream killers out there. They will challenge your dream. It won't be practical, at least in their minds. It won't be responsible, this dream-chasing. As to those, I recommend you examine their lives. Do they seem happy? Do they appear to be fulfilled? Does their idea of practicality and responsibility contribute to a truly good life? If not, I suggest you distance yourself from them. They may poison your dream.

The road to dream fulfillment will, of course, have challenges. Roads always do. Those challenges can be incorporated into the dream, if you are creative and committed. Overcoming them will add richness to your dream, and give it context.

Dare to dream. Dare to follow your dreams. YOUR dreams.

Self-Promotion is not my thing-

2011-08-26T17:22:00.000-07:00

So, it has been a busy time for me. For a retired guy I am working a lot. Not seeing much money, but working a lot. I have uploaded all of my completed novels in the Edge of the World series to Barnes and Noble. I also finished compiling, editing and uploading my short stories. These are the compiled short stories from my blog, Short Stories by MLockridge. They are now available as an ebook.

Though I have had enough sales so far to say I have had some sales, I am not seeing any current revenue to augment my rather sparse pension. I am very thankful for that pension, having invested twenty years of my life in a dangerous and unpleasant environment to win it. Still, there is little money from the books thus far.

So, the books will need a little promotion.

This amounts to promoting myself. I have never been so inclined. It is a learning curve the whole of which I must climb. Social networking, both online and in the real world. Meeting people, and talking myself and my books up. I suppose some people gravitate to this kind of thing. I much prefer the thought of taking my Mobile Man Cave down by the river and just watching the water flow down to the sea.

I have set my foot on this trail, however, and I intend to see it through. So, I have begun gathering materials and preparing to go out there and do something. What, I am not entirely sure of, as yet. Still, a few ideas. Barnes and Noble book store in Medford seems a good place. I can go and have informal meet-the-author events there. Perhaps some coffee houses would be good venues. I hope to participate in a gamers convention at a local game shop, being present as a local author of fantasy adventure novels.

I am just beginning to collect a list of upcoming events in Oregon and Northern California which might serve as suitable venues. The how-to of all of this is a thing I will have to grow into. Book events, storytelling conventions and the like seem to be related and interesting to me. How to promote through attendance is something I will have to develop.

Meanwhile, due to the limited funding of my retirement I am exploring some employment options. I have a qualification test this weekend for a job that could serve well enough. I will provide details as those become prudent and available. If the hours are right I can gain a bit of income, some of which can support the whole promotion process.

It really is rather fun, and it is healthy to have a challenge to face. I look forward to seeing how it all turns out, and will certainly keep friends and readers posted.

Keep Moving Forward-

2011-08-19T12:35:00.000-07:00

The past month or two have been busy. I have been committed to editing, formatting and uploading my novels to Barnes and Noble through their Pubit program. Along with continuing to move into a new home, with all of the chaos and the yard work and this and that and the other.

Marcus of Abderus and the Inn at the Edge of the World, the first novel in my Edge of the World series of Fantasy Adventure novels, is on sale. So are the following two titles. Plus a little set of rules for a super simple war game I wrote up.

So, I have been away from blogging. It is time to turn that around, now. I am pretty much on my own for promoting my novels, and every source I come across focuses on Social Networking. Blogging is a part of that. Most of you blog readers already know that. Indeed, most of you are far better at this social networking thing than I am. This is going to be work.

Not that I mind the work. Indeed, this is the best thing I have done in the way of work. Granted, my revenue from these efforts has not been sufficient to buy a cup of coffee, but I have made a few cents already. Income that can be measured in actual dollars lies at the other end of some serious promotion. That, and continued writing.

I recently visited our local Barnes and Noble book store and talked with the people there. Though supportive and encouraging, they had nothing to offer with regard to promotion other than the social networking thing. There are no in-store promotions for ebooks, and that is quite understandable. The brick-and-mortar book store makes money selling physical books, along with a lot of reading related items.

Some ideas are percolating in my cogitator, however. Ideas that will allow me to use their venue to a mutual advantage. I have signed up for Twitter and am expanding my presence on Facebook to prepare for this very low budget promotional tour. It may net only a few readers, but every reader has friends. With social networking that makes for potentially viral expansion.

I visited a local game shop, as well. Astral Games of Medford, Oregon. I talked with Aaron, the owner. We have a shared audience, in that many of the games he sells and promotes in his store are Fantasy Adventure games. My Edge of the World series is a Fantasy Adventure. Somehow, I feel that at least a few of his customers will take some interest in the novels. At least, that is my hope.

It is quite likely I will frequent his store for "meet the author" events. Indeed, I am also considering little "meet the author" events at coffee shops and other locations. Probably just an hour here, an hour there, as time permits and opportunity provides. Chat with people and invite them to read my works.

With my desire to travel I can see incorporating informal "meet the author" events in any travel adventures I might take in the years to come. I don't imagine the return on these little events will be particularly great, but over time I hope that at least a bit of traffic will come back to my Barnes and Noble offerings.

Whatever the case, I must keep moving forward. Come along with me, won't you?

A funny thing happened on the way to publication-

2011-07-25T22:15:00.000-07:00

Today was pretty productive. I have completed the final edit on all three finished novels in my The Edge of the World series. I need to get them into epub format, so I researched that. I found a plug-in for Open Office (after a lot of "buy our product" web searching) and got it downloaded and installed. Being free was a good thing.

Next I selected a file to turn from a odt file to an epub file. The file happens to be a short piece I wrote as a give-away once I am published. I then viewed that file in the Adobe Digital Editions reader. It looked pretty good. I moved the file onto my Nook ebook reader. It looked pretty good there, as well. Not bad, so far.

That done I then established a Facebook presence for my work. That went pretty well. Next, a web site. I just went with a free Google site, and it is just a framework at this point. Still, I got a lot done.

Then, it happened. Now, a while back I had to change my title. The original title of volume one was The Inn at the Edge of the World. That's because the story begins at an inn, which happens to be in a place called "The Edge of the World." I liked it. It scanned well. It felt right.

Subsequently I learned that someone else had written a book called The Inn at the Edge of the World. I considered going ahead, then I learned that the book was becoming a movie. So, I changed my title. I shortened it to The Edge of the World. I even decided that the name could be the overarching title for the series. Yeah, that should work.

So, I am doing some follow-up research on my chosen title. What did I find? Yep. Mr. Anderson beat me to it, both for a starting title and a series title. Great.

Looks like another title change. Maybe Choo Choo Charlie and the Train Robbers. That wouldn't relate at all to the story, but at least it isn't taken. Just a second. Hmm. Well, that particular title is clear, but Choo Choo Charlie is a property of Hershey's. Crap.

On another note, I figured I would use this blog as my primary blog associated with my efforts and publishing my works. I am probably doing this all wrong, but being ignorant and somewhat obtuse gives me great freedom.

I can't wait to see what happen next.

Thoughts on the creative process-

2011-07-13T10:51:00.000-07:00

Humans are creative creatures. Some more so than others, but as a species we are very creative. I have most recently been exercising my own creativity writing my "Edge of the World" series of fantasy adventure novels. Many people I know are creative in other ways, but the compulsion to create is rather common among humans.

What is created is not necessarily common. It is fresh and new. It is creation.

My daughter, Beth, is a quilter. She has a knack for selecting and combining patterns and colors that is quite magical. My wife, Linda, is a decorator. Sadly, I have been unable to provide for her the rather expensive canvasses necessary to fully exercise her art, but she does phenomenally well within the limitations of our current circumstances. She would have much greater freedom if I had been gifted with the ability to create wealth, but that has proved to be a gift that is lacking.

I can, however, write. I have done so from childhood. Had I the courage and foresight to follow that natural ability I might have had a writer's life, but I took different paths and am only now striving to turn a hobby into a profession. The paths I have traveled have been formative and informative, and I do not regret them.

The "Edge of the World" series began as a short story, a piece of what is called "Flash Fiction." A very short story of just a few pages. I had an image in my mind, and if I had developed my skills in drawing I would have sketched it. I did not have sufficient skill in drawing, so I wrote that story. It was later published in my blog, Short Stories by MLockridge.

Subsequent experiences in my life revealed I had an issue with depression. I sought counseling for this issue, and the counselor provided tools for me to use. One tool was to start a project and see it to completion. Apparently the focused effort would aid in managing depression. In this case it proved to be true.

I decided to take my short story about The Edge of the World and turn it into a novel. I sat down and wrote. I wrote a lot. Over 100,000 words. I edited and polished and finished the work. Along the way I got the depression under control and as far as the exercise was concerned, I was done.

However, the story continued past the end I had selected. So, I began the sequel. Like the first novel it flowed from me rather smoothly. I think it did so because I had spent so much time over the years just thinking about the story and a lot of the writing had been done rather informally in the back chambers of my cluttered mind. I just had to drag the first volume out and dust it off. The second was almost as easy.

Now that I had two novels I started seriously contemplating publication. I knew that the traditional route to publication was arduous and long. I just didn't need something like that in my life. This whole thing was intended to aid in managing depression, not cause it. So, I searched for other ways to do this.

With the advent of the Internet a lot of options had opened up. Self-publishing electronically and being listed in a major catalog looked like the right thing. Barnes and Noble offered such a program, and at little cost. This might just work, I thought.

In researching I found a lot of friends on the Internet who were at various places in this same process. I studied their models for doing this business and read some of their works. One thing that I observed that would make this whole project somewhat lucrative was having more books in the series.

More writing. The third novel did not flow so easily. It was more work, with more thinking and more editing. Indeed, I need to give it at least one more run-through to comb out the tangles and give it a nice shine. The third novel led to the beginnings of a fourth, which in terms of small volume electronic publication meant a few more bucks. Also, I really am enjoying the process of building a series of novels.

I began the fourth novel yesterday. However, I decided I needed a tool for creating something from scratch. This book has not been bubbling on a back burner of my brain for a considerable time. So, I checked on tools I could use. Fortunately, the Internet gives me access to a lot of back burners in a lot of bubbling brains, and I learned that I already had the tool I needed.

I write in Open Office, a suite of free tools downloadable on the Internet. I found that some people use their presentation software to do storyboarding. This is a bit like outlining a work, but more graphic and a bit easier, at least for me. I began writing slides which can be displayed a number of ways, and I can move them around on the screen. Pretty cool.

The tool I needed was right there in the suite of software I already used, and it was free! (Thanks to the several people who recommended this suite to me. Consider this "paying it forward.") I have spent several hours working on my storyboard, and it is going great!

I figure I will have enough to work with in another day or so, which will (I hope) be a sufficient break from the editing of the third novel to allow me to return to it fresh and ready to work. If all goes well I will be able to upload the first three novels to Pubit and get them out in the Barnes and Noble catalog.

Of course I will also have to get a Facebook fan page set up with the hope of having a few fans to read it. Also, a web site of some kind. And there is all of the promotion work I will have to do myself because I don't have a traditional publishing house backing me. Oh, and accounting, assuming I actually see some revenue from this adventure.

Whatever happens, I am not depressed and I am having fun. It seems like I have already won. If others enjoy the work and I make a few bucks, that's cool as well.

We didn't even know we were part of the problem...

2011-06-27T23:41:00.000-07:00

As I shared recently, I attended my high school reunion. That event took place in Ashland, Oregon. Though born in Grants Pass, Oregon, I spent my early youth in southern California. The Artesia and Lakewood districts of sprawling Los Angeles. My family moved back to southern Oregon, to Ashland, just before I entered the sixth grade.

Those were good years. It was a nice town with considerable interest. A college town. A tourist destination. At the heart of the town is Lithia Park. The park extends from the town plaza up a narrow little valley, and is centered on Ashland Creek. Indeed, most of your time visiting the park will be spent walking along paths beside this fast running stream.

When I attended my reunion I intentionally parked near the top of the park. I had to walk the length of the park back to town, and back through the park when I left the reunion. It was a nostalgic journey, and a very pleasant one. Much was the same. Many long standing landmarks and features were either the same as I remembered or somewhat improved.

One of my recollections of childhood in Lithia Park was running on the unmarked and unofficial trails. These were steep trails, and one of the pleasures was to slide down the steep paths like dry trail skiers. Our skis were tennis shoes, and the 'snow' was the sliding surface of the hillsides.

Those trails are closed. Some are fenced to deny access. There are signs encouraging visitors to stay on the marked and official paths. The free-form adventuring of the past had caused erosion, damaging the park we so loved. In those long-ago days it did not occur to us that we were part of a problem. We were hurting something we greatly valued, and didn't see it at all.

I am sad to see the loss of such freedom, but recognize and accept the necessity of doing so to protect the park. It is a beautiful park, and worth preserving. Young people will simply have to find other adventures to share in building their young lives. I am sure that they will.

I wonder if the college has unofficial adventures in urban spelunking still available? That was fun, too.

Reunion-

2011-06-27T00:15:00.000-07:00

I related in a previous blog that I am what I call an 'a-social' person. Not anti-social. I don't dislike humanity in mass or in individuals, though I have met a few individuals who may challenge that. I simply do not have a strong need for human interaction. Seclusion is comfortable for me. Even relative isolation. I would make an excellent hermit, assuming that there is some standard to be met to become a hermit.

I haven't really checked.

Knowing this about myself I work against my natural tendency to withdraw into books and games and stories, and have at least some social interaction. As a consequence I actually have a family, and they seem able to tolerate me well enough. I cherish them for themselves, but also for keeping me human.

So, along comes my 40th high school reunion, and I decide to go. Why? Because I was socially involved during those years and longed to renew those old ties? Not really. I dreamed of piloting (or at least crewing) on a star ship during those high school years. Reality did not often intrude on my inner world. I interacted with my fellow inmates of the high school as reasonable politeness required, but did not build a lot of strong bonds.

I went to the reunion because I thought going would be interesting, and I do recall (vaguely) some pleasant interactions with people during those high school years. I went. I am glad I did. I went to school with some very nice people. With the span of our time apart being far greater than the few years we were together, it was somewhat like meeting these people for the first time.

One of my friends from those years, and several years before high school, came and spent a lot of the reunion time with me. Jerry Ross, one of my best friends. He expressed a positive recollection for that friendship, something that I share with him. It was a good friendship. One that we would like to continue, after a small four decade absence from one another.

I also learned that another good friend from those childhood days did not survive to attend this event. Manuel Ortega was a valuable element in my formative years, and I am sorry I could not see him again.

Having moved back to the Rogue Valley after many years away I may have opportunity to renew friendships from ancient days. I may have opportunity to build friendships that ought to have been, were I less engaged in realms of fantasy and my own imagination and involved more with living human beings.

That remains to be seen. I no longer just read about star ships and fantastic realms. I write such stories. With publication beginning in a matter of weeks I may be just as far away as ever.

I hope not. The class of 1971 deserves a better friend than that.

Lawns-

2011-06-17T13:36:00.000-07:00

I have been away from blogging for a time, now. Selling a house. Moving. Buying a house. Busy. Now I am sold, bought and moved. Now I have a house. Now I have a lawn. Two, in fact. One in front, one in the back. Pretty well established. Coming back nicely from the time of neglect during the process of the sale.

Nice features. Concrete perimeters to fend off the attempts of non-lawn to take over the lawn, and the lawn to expand beyond the desired limits. A programmable watering system. Yep. Water and mow, mostly.

I have been watering and mowing. Trimming. Doing stuff. Not such amazing stuff, unless you are familiar with my philosophy towards lawns. I think they are an unnecessary thing, an absorb-er of time, money and energy. Yet now I have two, and I take care of them.

Life is made interesting by contradictions.

I do like lawns in parks and on golf courses. People earn their livings caring for such lawns, and many are quite beautiful to see and enjoy. Home lawns, however, are different. They are taken care of by people who have already put in their time earning a living. Precious non-working time is spent on lawns. Fine, for those who love lawns. Some of us have other things to do with our non-working time.

Now that I am retired, however, I find it is not so bad. After all, I am not spending a lot of my time working and working over-time. So, if I burn a few hours of each day puttering about the yard it is actually rather nice. The 'settling in' is still taking place, but once we are established I can get back to my writing and finish the process of publishing my books. Plus my World of Warcraft time, of course.

Oh, and blogging.

Two Business Ideas-

2011-04-05T08:35:00.000-07:00

Being retired from working in the jail I have a bit of time on my hands. One of the things I have done with that time is think about starting a business. Now, I am not a businessman. I have not earned my money by going into business and doing business and getting paid for the business I did. I have usually had jobs. I have tried a few of those business like Amway, including Amway. They didn't work for me.

Why not? Because I am not a businessman by nature. The doing of business does not grab me and inspire me and get me up raring to go in the morning. Still, I sometimes think about business. I have ideas.

Here are two of them. Feel free to grab these ideas and make them real for you. If you are truly business oriented these could be really good. I would come to these businesses and do business, if I wasn't already busy.

Ready? First idea: A restaurant that specializes in artisan breads and sauces to dip them in. Yep, that's it. Bread. Really good bread, like the stuff we get in Pescadero whenever someone goes to Pescadero. Which is not often. Artichoke bread. Really good stuff.

So, anyway, back at Savory or Sweet n' Sour or whatever the place gets named, bread is sold. Bread and a nice variety of sauces crafted fresh every day right on the premises. The bread could be made elsewhere by artisans who make bread and be brought in. The sauces, however, are made right there.

The customer buys some bread, or a variety of breads, and gets to help themselves to little bowls of the various sauces. Then they dip and eat. And drink lots of the beverages also available on the premises. Good bread and savory sauces demand pairings with teas, wines, and beer. Pairings could even be recommended in a suitably snooty fashion.

Idea number two: A little bar. In Japan there are little businesses like tiny cocktail bars and little sushi bars and the like. Places that hold ten to twelve customers. Intimate. Artful. Tiny.

I was thinking of a little whiskey bar. Ten seats, six at the bar, four at little tables. Maybe call it Hole in the Wall or something cute like that. Lots of polished wood. Behind the bar a very nice collection of whiskey. Reasonable prices, of course, as much so as things like single malt scotch can allow. Three main servings: Whiskey, water, and whiskey and water. Oh, and ice is available.

Two ideas. Why don't I do it? Well, I am not a business man. I lack the money to risk, and more so I lack the drive to take passing fancy and give it flesh. Even simple businesses like this require time and money and effort. Do I really want to have to craft sauces for hours every day? Do I really want to stand behind a tiny bar hour after hour, serving single malts by the ounce?

No, I don't. But, if you do, let me know where you are running these businesses. I will stop by and patronize your establishments.

If I'm not busy, of course.

Knitting together a story-

2011-04-03T11:04:00.000-07:00

I am near the end of my third book in the fantasy adventure series I am writing. Still not published, but getting closer every day. I had just resolved a scene and come up with a next scene, kind of an interlude. I have the final scene of the book finished in my mind. In between was a gap. What to write to fill that gap?

Due to some recent real-life matters largely beyond my control (much like life in general) I had some time to kill. The writing has been good in this time, since it has been productive. However, I rather like having something to do with my hands when I just "sits and thinks." I sometimes whittle to fill that need, but this winter I took up loom knitting.

So, being in need of some sittin' and thinkin', I took up my loom and began to knit a bit. It works wonders. I wrote the interlude in my head, or at least got a good outline with some flesh on it. I wrote the final scene and did a rewrite, also in my head. Dropped the knitting to make some notes. Picked up the loom again and started looping yarn and turning the stitches with the little hook.

While I looped and stitched I thought about my story so far, and some other stories that had influence on the tale. Tale. "Spinning a yarn." Yarn is used in knitting. Hmmm. Hercules is in a recent scene, though not really Hercules. Just a guy loosely based on Hercules. One primary character is a Pinocchio. What stories to look at in my memory and imagination for that next scene?

Snow White? Perhaps. Sleeping Beauty? Yes, that will work. A previous scene in the series would serve as foreshadowing for that idea. You know, where a hint of 'what is to come' is dropped into the story and later comes about and you as the reader go "Ahhh, yes!"

So I sits and thinks and sits and knits and this outline forms in my head and I drop the knitting and make notes and then I take up the loom again and knit on as I thinks.

The knitting is working really well. I can't cut myself, don't have to sharpen anything, and I don't get wood chips all over the place. When I need to drop the work to make a note or something it is a bit less involved, since I wear a protective glove on one hand when I whittle but don't when I knit. I don't have to find a safe place for the knife, take off the glove, yada yada.

The masculinity thing is no issue, since I have a creative mind and have read lots of stuff and I am as good at justification as anyone else. For a lot of centuries in a lot of cultures men were weavers and tailors and textile manufacturers more so than women, so who is to say that my knitting isn't a manly thing? Also, I can use manly colors to make manly scarves and blankets. Manly.

Now I have my bridge scene in mind and notes made, but I am making some progress on the blanket piece I am working on so I keep knitting. It is pretty relaxing, just looping and stitching and stuff... Oh. Here's an idea. Yes. I will make a note. Hmmm. That won't fit into the framework of book three.

I just knitted myself into book four. Cool! I think that book four should be about four scarves, three hats and at least one full-sized blanket long.

I need to pick up some more yarn!

A Man Walks into a Bar in Heaven-

2011-03-25T23:43:00.000-07:00

How sufficient is the grace of God? For those who don't know, the grace of God is that bit of forgiveness he has for where your Do's are not greater than your Don't's. In other words, it is His forgiving your sins not because you do enough good stuff to erase the bad stuff. It is simply because the blood of Jesus Christ is sufficient as a sacrifice to pay for those sins. All of them. Forever.

How sufficient is the grace of God? I had an image in my mind of walking into a bar in Heaven. (The bar is symbolic; it's something that shouldn't be in Heaven according to traditional perspectives. Just run with this.) I see sitting at a table Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Billy Graham, and any Pope of your choice. (It is sad that I know the first names of two human monsters and not one name associated with a Pope.)

They are laughing and having some really good beer. It has to be good. This is Heaven. They invite me over to join them. What should I think? What should I do? Hitler and Stalin were rather nasty guys. They were responsible for a lot of people dying in rather unpleasant ways. Some of the Popes (sorry to all of you Pope fans) were not a lot better.

That's the question. (Billy Graham is there just to give some people a righteous dude they would expect to be there. By the way, he admitted to being a sinner.) Is the grace of God sufficient to pay for the sins of someone like Hitler? Most people, even people who don't give much credence to the idea of sin, would consider Hitler a really sinful sinner. His is a high-water mark of sin. Hard to beat, unless you are Genghis Khan or someone like that.

I say, yes. Sin is sin. A little or a lot, it demanded the death of Jesus Christ. Now for those who don't know, Jesus was without sin. The Son of God and all of that. He offered Himself as a substitute for each and every sinner. When it comes down to the whole sacrifice-for-sin thing, He did it for me. Me. My sin, as paltry as my sin may be on the Hitler scale, demanded the sacrifice of the sinless Son of God. And, He did it willingly.

How does this grace thing work? It is so simple that huge volumes of volumes have been written on the matter. You just believe. You believe enough to know that you rightly will stand before God as your judge. What will you plead? Guilty, of course. Then you simply state that you rely on the blood of Christ, and nothing else.

That's what I intend. I have nothing more to offer. Nothing else is sufficient. Nothing more is necessary. The blood of Christ, His voluntary sacrifice, is sufficient. The grace of God is sufficient. I depend upon it.

Who will be there in Heaven? Other than me, I don't really know. If they are redeemed by the blood of Jesus, however, I will certainly be glad to sit down and have a beer with them.

Will there be beer there? Of course. Beer, and really good sandwiches.

It's Heaven, don't you know?

Satire and the Sacred-

2011-03-07T09:28:00.000-08:00

I am a Christian. My Christian background, however, encompasses Atheism and Agnosticism. I had a conversion experience and as a consequence I consciously sought to submit the wholeness of my being to the Christian way of thinking and doing.

Unfortunately, like so many things in this world, there is and is not one singular Christianity. Being the spiritual adventurer I was in my youth I sought a broad range of experiences within the Christian community. I have fellowshipped with a lot of believers from a lot of backgrounds. I attended a mission in my early Christian experience and received training. I attended a Christian college for a time. I have seen a lot of Christianity.

Because I do not espouse any one particular narrow view of Christianity I am possibly more open to sacrilegious humor than a lot of my brothers and sisters. I believe both God and the Church are strong enough to stand up to a bit of ridicule and a few bad jokes. I also believe that within satire can be found valuable information.

The satirist is a very perceptive creature. Humorists are, in general. They lock onto inconsistencies and weaknesses in positions and arguments and shine a bright light on them. They point and laugh. Granted, this may be painful if they are pointing and laughing at something you hold sacred. On the other hand, anything you hold to be precious and valuable should be important enough to examine carefully.

If something is so precious as to be deemed holy it should be examined carefully and often. The light of satire can aid in this examination. Institutions and orders provide structure for living out ideals, and can be very good. Idealization beyond the point of critical examination, however, puts these institutions at risk of falling out of order. Without the light of satire, along with other sources of illumination, the flaws can go unattended and the structure will eventually collapse.

Human heroes have flaws, and recognizing those flaws does not show disrespect if they are genuine and factual flaws. If your hero has to be swathed in band-aids to keep up the hero image, perhaps your hero ought to be downgraded to a highly respected regular person. There is nothing wrong with that. A human hero shouldn't really be anything more.

This sanctification beyond examination can happen in politics. It often does. Sometimes it is a leader who deifies himself beyond the realm of examination or accountability. There are a few of those in the world today. I must note that they are not fond of satirists. They don't like lights shining where flaws might be exposed.

Certain political orders are equally uninterested in comic examination. Some political parties are also not fond of the light of satire. A lot of individual leaders and aspirants to leadership don't particularly like being the butt of jokes. Yet the light of satire and the barb of the lampoon can provide insight and guide a real leader toward better leadership.

I recall that in the jail where I worked there was a fellow worker who could imitate me. I regret that I never had the opportunity to see that. I think it would be interesting. I doubt that I would have been offended, and suspect I would have found it funny. More importantly, it would have been enlightening. Sadly, it is an experience I have not had.

If you cannot see the humor in someone seeking to roast your sacred cow, perhaps you need to adjust your perspective. If someone or something is worthy of sanctification, it is worthy of careful and consistent examination. The light of satire can aid in this examination. Don't waste a resource.

Besides, it might really be a good joke. Laugh often. Laugh well.

Where are you, Robin Hood?

2011-03-01T09:22:00.000-08:00

When I think about the pirates who raped our nation and ruined our economy, I get angry. When I think of the politicians who then gave the pirates money and got into bed with them, I get angry. When I see a protracted war in which our government is wringing the life out of our soldiers and then not taking any kind of real care of them, I get angry.

This is not a good kind of angry. I can't do much with it. Since I can't do much with it, there is a festering in my soul. I could get sick as a consequence. So, sometimes I write stories to cleanse my inner self. Unfortunately, a lot of my characters have been killing and dying, lately. Who wants to read that all of the time? It just isn't wholesome.

So, I got to thinking. How about a character who robs banks but never uses a gun and writes the threatening notes in such fine and non-threatening prose that the teller doesn't feel frightened and just gives up the money? And then this character gives the money to a homeless shelter, or a housing project for the poor, or any one of a multitude of fine charitable venues?

Of course, he only targets banks associated with the big corporations that raped the people, and so is simply "redistributing" the bail-out money the government stole from the people to give to the rich. Kind of a Robin Hood guy. Such a fine Robin Hood that really high profile lawyers take his case and get him off time after time. Yeah. And the judges go along, because this is RIGHT and GOOD.

Then more Robin Hoods crop up, and eventually the billions of dollars of the PEOPLE'S money gets moved to better places than the coffers of pirates.

What a ridiculous fantasy. I can't write that! Nobody would believe it.

Then I though I might write an opinion piece. This piece. And then it would go viral, and at least one guy or gal with enough intestinal fortitude would take it and run with it, and the billions of stolen dollars would find their ways to places where they are needed, and not just coveted. And others would copy this criminal and eventually the billions of stolen dollars would return to the people and...

Another ridiculous fantasy. Imagine my work going viral! Who do I think I am? Lady Gaga? Justin Bieber? At least they give something of substance to the world. I am just venting my overtaxed spleen onto the Internet so I don't get some kind of sick.

Still, I have to ask; Robin Hood, where are you? Wouldn't it be interesting? Imagine!

My government doesn't trust me-

2011-02-23T13:02:00.000-08:00

The best evidence that my government does not trust me is tax withholding. After I earn money, but before I receive it, they take some of it. They don't trust me to pay my taxes. Granted, I might be hesitant to do so if I could actually hesitate. They don't seem to manage the money very well. Still, they choose to not trust me and steal my money before I even get it.

Then there are the manipulations and lies. Weapons of mass destruction, anyone? Secret wars and secret government and secret this and secret that. Secrets don't imply trust. I have to work hard to see past the smoke screens, spin-doctoring, and outright lies. What a pain.

They won't trust me to carry weapons, which I could easily do quite responsibly. The laws prevent me, a citizen of proven character, from carrying weapons. Criminals by nature don't care about laws, and so carry weapons as they choose. I don't have a choice. If I carry weapons, I become a criminal. I wouldn't mind so much if the cops were readily available to protect me. However, there are only so many of them, and I just don't think I could get a personal escort pretty much all of the time. Has the government made all places safe for me so that I need never be concerned for my safety, and take precautions?

I can't be trusted to protect myself. I have to submit to being a potential victim because I cannot be trusted to protect myself. At what point did I demonstrate that I warrant such a lack of trust? I don't recall any event where I made it clear that I am incompetent. It seems that I am assumed to be incompetent and unable to make sound choices based on nothing at all.

They are probably right. I am just naive enough to think that by living responsibly and honestly I should be able to live in liberty according to my own choices using my own judgement. How foolish of me to think that I am the best director of my own affairs.

I love my country, and I will continue to live here and enjoy such liberties as remain. I am going to keep an eye on that government that does not trust me, however. Trust has to go both ways, and I haven't seen much of worth, lately.

I do not trust my government-

2011-02-21T17:48:00.000-08:00

It's true. I do not trust the government of the United States of America. Oh, I love my country. I served my country with pride. I have a special love for my brothers and sisters in arms, serving now and in the past. I love the ideals of America and I love the American people. I do not, however, trust the government.

I do not trust the governments of other countries, either. Indeed, I trust most of them far less than I trust my own government. However, I still don't trust my own government.

When I was growing up my government was drafting young men and sending them off to a foreign land to do military adventuring for reasons I still do not understand. Oh, there are a lot of reasons offered, but none of them mean anything to me. I grew up believing that my government wanted to send me away to die. I just did not find that to be a good relationship builder.

In spite of that I joined the Army even during the Vietnam Conflict. I did that largely to protect myself, but I was also proud to serve. You see, in those days they offered "guarantees" regarding training and assignments. I joined the part of the Army that dealt with nuclear weapons. Unfortunately, due to some personal flaws and tactical errors I never finished the nuke training. I ended up in supply. Supply people could go anywhere.

I was not disappointed when my tour took me to Germany. Not that such a situation was safe. It was not uncommon for a soldier to go to a non-combat assignment for a year or so and be then sent to combat to serve their last year. Vietnam could still have been my future. However, we finally decided that we had done enough of whatever we were doing there and got out of Vietnam. Before I had to go there.

As I said, I don't mind.

In those days you served a single tour in combat during an enlistment. That is all that was required. That is all they needed, because they were constantly drafting young men to throw into the mill. Lots of post traumatic stress to go around.

Today they keep sending soldiers back into the mill. No draft to refresh the pool. They grind them fine, these modern warriors. Men and women. Rather than screwing up a lot of people they just focus on screwing up a smaller number but being sure they are thoroughly ruined. Then they neglect them and throw money into protracting another set of wars that don't seem to be accomplishing anything.

Did I mention I don't trust my government? Can you imagine why I don't?

I recall a movie in which a character said, "Justice is the ideal. The law is what we live with." America, the Constitutional America, the Bill of Rights America, is the ideal. The government in whatever perverted form it happens to take is what we live with.

I love America. I even love our government. I just cannot trust that government. I am not convinced that they (those who govern) have my interests and the interests of my family at heart. I am confident I can survive their incompetence and corruption, but that is not trust. That is faith in myself and my capacity to survive. I would rather they be my partners and we could work together toward a brighter future.

Too much of what politicians do is just to seem like they are my friends. If they look right, they must be right, right? Con-men like to get you thinking the same way.

Secret wars, misrepresented wars, hidden agendas, and bridges built to nowhere are not the keys to my cynical heart. Keep in mind, previous generations of these current political creatures wanted to send me off to kill and die in a foreign land. Perhaps such are the ways things must be done in this world. If so, I will leave it to them to do it. I don't want that world.

It is probably too late for me. I may not be winnable, as a true believer in any political entity. I am probably not worth the winning, anyway. Uncompromising people of high ideals don't involve themselves in politics. Perhaps they can't. Fish don't fly (at least very far) for a reason. I have been lied to too long and too often to join the camp of some new pretender.

Still, I love America. Even an America that gives vast wealth to rich bastards who ruin the economy with their piracy, spends a fortune on blowing up a part of the world that already looks like it has been blown up, and rejoices in the pitiful projects that become necessary to take care of the broken veterans who were sacrificed to the machine, because the wealth is still being given to bastards and bombs.

God bless America. She needs it.

Valentine Failure-

2011-02-14T10:04:00.000-08:00

It is most unfortunate for my wife that I am devoid of any inherent romanticism. I am simply not romantic. Oh, I have tried, and sadly failed. I feel like a chimp wearing a suit when I try to be romantic. It just doesn't fit, and it looks comical no matter how fine the quality of the suit.

I have a friend who claims he has no natural understanding of poetry. He just doesn't get it. Poetry has no meaning to him. It does not resonate with anything within him. I have to imagine that any poem he might try to write would be as successful as a poem as my failed attempts at romanticism are at romance. To the best of my knowledge he never even made the attempt.

It is not for lack of love for my wife. Indeed, that love has grown deeper over the years. Unfortunately, the way I have expressed that love was to stick to a series of generally crappy jobs to provide for her and the kids. I have done some very unpleasant things to make a buck, and generally have given every one of those dollars to her. Real love, but not romantic love.

Perhaps I tend to give up at things like 'romance' too quickly. I once waded up to my waist in a vile chemical ooze as part of my job by which I earned money for my family. I worked diligently until I dislodged the blockage and got the ooze running to the place ooze was supposed to go. My wife and kids didn't see me do that. I did it for them. Yet I have not managed to stick to the 'romance' thing long enough to even master a comical mimicry.

As a correctional officer I wrestled a guy covered in urine not once but twice in the same week. Well, two separate guys, but they both had pissed themselves and I had to wrestle them in the performance of my duty. Twice in one week. I did it because I love my wife and the family we share. It was very far from being romantic.

I have been shocked by high voltage electricity, exposed to way too many chemicals, acquired a disease that will remain with me the rest of my life, exposed to radiation, insulted and disrespected, all to provide for my family. I did it willingly, because I love my wife and the children that resulted from that love. It was my poem to them. My unromantic failed Valentine poem lived for them.

I have not given her much in the way of diamonds. Indeed, I don't see why they are valuable, or why it is important to own them. I gave her children, and the children have given us children, and they are much more valuable to me. I can write that here, but when I try to express such thoughts to her they fall flat. I don't know why. Perhaps if I were inherently romantic I would know how to do it right.

I ordered her flowers. Once. She loved them. Unfortunately, she is the one who pays the bills, and paying for the flowers I gave her didn't spark the same feelings as receiving them. Since I give her all of the money I earn, I don't really know how to do it in a better way. Take on an extra job so I have money for flowers? Great! I have to spend even more time away from her to buy her dying foliage! I have some trouble seeing the romance in that.

Quite simply, I am a Valentine Failure. A chimp in a suit. This blog is probably just the very most wrong thing I can do. I love you, Linda. I may suck at expressing it, but I do love you. Twenty years of wrestling drunks may not be a Valentine, but I did that, and more, for you.

Happy Valentines Day!

The Future of (my) Writing-

2011-01-21T15:02:00.000-08:00

When I got my Nook ebook reader there were a lot of free books offered. One was from the Spinward Fringe series by Randoph Lalonde. I read this book and hope to get on to read the rest of his series. His style of writing is interesting, and I enjoyed the story. Good pacing, lots of action, shallow characters which (at least some of them) display a potential for development over the series. In the case of action packed space opera, shallow characters are not an impediment.

Indeed, depth of character development can severely impact pacing, and some readers just want the story to move along. Indiana Jones is not a particularly deep character, and any depth is developed over the whole film series. The story is action, plus a lot of pretty good comic bits.

Back to Lalonde, and the future of books. Lalonde offers his books in electronic format, and keep in touch with readers through his blog, Facebook, and other developing media options. His works are evolving, and he recognizes that. He has reached a point where the series provides a living, and enough money to hire professionals to help polish what might previously been considered a finished work.

Yes, his whole series is getting a polish. Since it is electronic media, it is possible to update the original works after the fact, and for free. Essentially, you get version 1.0, plus updates. We have grown accustomed to evolving media. Computer programs get updated all of the time. They evolve. Books learning how to evolve is a natural development in a universe where plasticity is the norm.

I am not sure what model my own work will follow as I move from writing to publishing. I don't know that I have the chops for the 'big league,' where you pitch to an agent and if you land an agent they pitch to the publishers and maybe you get a nominal contract and maybe you get a good promotion package. I really don't have the patience to work so hard for potentially so little. Probably for nothing.

These days, however, we are seeing a writers minor league which is more than community college classes and writers clubs of various forms. Publishing is easy through a growing number of venues. Sure, you won't see any million dollar advances, but the likelihood of that remains small even for established big league writers.

If I can put my work out in an epublished minor league format and get some return for my efforts, I think that is great. If my work is really worthwhile I suspect it will eventually fetch me something more than a cup of coffee and a sandwich. I at least intend to try.

Book two of my series is approaching completion of the first draft. Then I go back, polish book one, and then polish book two, as I write the third installment. Additionally, I am compiling a lot of my short stories to publish along side these other works.

I am making progress. I am writing as if it were my career. I find it fulfilling unlike any other previous professional endeavor. My past jobs were jobs. This is more, and I am motivated.

Lalonde is doing pretty well. Minor league? Arguably so. Still, a minor league salary to play the game of your choice is not a bad thing.

I think I will go for it.

Theft of Choice-

2011-01-16T13:55:00.000-08:00

I recently finished reading Perdido Street Station, by China Mieville. It is a big book. A very big book. Six hundred pages plus. I say that in the case you are daunted by really big books. It is big.

In the course of the telling of the tale Meiville's protagonist, who lives on the fringes of his culture, aids a person of a different racial and social group who has been cast out of his own culture. The crime for which the outcast was cast out was "theft of choice."

I don't know if Mieville intended for this to be the central element of his tale, or not. In the wiki bio cited above he states that he is just telling a story. I can buy that. I write stories, and they are often just that; stories. Anyway, to me the idea of "theft of choice" is a critical issue throughout the book.

It is an interesting idea, defining crimes by the degree to which they affect the victim's ability to choose and make choices. Murder robs the murdered of all of the choices they might have ever made. Robbery robs the robbed of the choices they might have made regarding the use and enjoyment of the things stolen. Theft of choice.

There are other thefts of choice in the tale. A repressive government robbing the populace of their choices. An opposing set of criminal factions robbing people of their choices. Unrelenting poverty and squalor robbing people of choices. The bad choices of individuals robbing themselves of better choices.

The essence of liberty is the power to choose. To decide for yourself what is right, and good, and worth your personal investment. That investment of time, energy, emotions, and material wealth. When someone robs you of your choice, that is a significant theft. It is a crime.

Of course, inversely it is paramount that one make choices that do not rob others of their choices. If you think about this, this is not an easy thing to do. Choice has consequences. A pebble in a placid pond makes ripples, and forever alters the state of the pond by increasing it by the presence of the pebble. A lot of pebbles make a lot of ripples, and can have a huge impact on the pond.

I value liberty, and the more I contemplate liberty the more aware I am of my choices. I strive to choose wisely, not just for my own sake but for the sake of all who might be impacted by the consequences of my choices. Even in expanding my awareness of choices I must make choices. To choose not to choose is a choice, and also has impact. Even in inaction one acts.

If I choose my values with care, and act on those values consistently, I still cast my pebble into the pond. It still has impact, and will have impact unseen and unforeseen. Yet to choose not to act is also a choosing, and has impact unseen and unforeseen. It compels those who act wisely and with care to assume all of the responsibility. It is criminal, because it robs them of choice.

What of those who wantonly cast their pebbles into the pond without concern for the consequences? Those are the true criminals, who steal choices by their own choosing. For them to lose their liberty is not theft, as their loss of liberty allows those who act wisely and responsibly to make their choices with liberty.

Life is complicated and full of choices. I choose to believe that acting out my values with care is the better choice.

Choose wisely. Choose well. Live free.

Fear and Insecurity-

2011-01-11T13:36:00.000-08:00

The state of fear and the sense of insecurity are not unreasonable emotional conditions for a human. The world is dangerous, and the future is not assured. Oh, some of us have confidence of a place in Heaven once we have run this race, but while engaged in the business of life the future remains obscured.

The perpetual state of fear and insecurity is unreasonable, however. Absent any immediate threat or eminent disaster, such a state is dissipating. It wastes energy that can be otherwise spent. It places valuable resources in the wrong place. It is wasteful.

One tool of psychological warfare is to heighten that state in the corporate minds of the enemy. It is the tool we used to drive the Soviet Union to dissolution. They could not afford the investment in managing their fear and insecurity. We drove a perceived enemy and unquestionable rival in the world economy into an unstable state, and their state dissolved as a consequence.

We can argue that we won the cold war. I suppose that is a good thing. Now we can concentrate our resources on rebuilding our infrastructure and making our people corporately and individually strong. Oh, wait. A perceived enemy has made us feel insecure and fearful.

More than a perceived enemy. They attacked us, and on our own lands. Now we are pouring resources into huge pits that have no know bottoms. Costly secretive government agencies have proliferated like the weeds they are, and now I have not only some vague enemy to trouble me, but concern about those who don't see a problem in curtailing my freedom to "protect" me.

How can we feel individually secure in times that are not?

I am reminded of a story told me by a friend. He is an Englishman, who served in the British Navy during World War II. He participated in liberating the European continent from the Nazi occupation. In his small ship they sailed to France. They followed the earlier invasion. The role of his vessel was a supporting role.

When they arrived at the coast of France they took on supplies. Some of those supplies were fish caught by French fishermen. One of the British sailors said to one of the fishermen, "I bet you are glad to see us." The French fisherman replied, "When the Germans were here, I sold them fish. Now you are here. I sell you fish."

The future is not assured. The world is a dangerous place. Even those whose purpose it is to protect you and me are not always what they seem. We could choose to be fearful, and feel insecure.

Or, we can be strong in our skills, in our selves, and know who we are. We can trust in ourselves, and for those of us who so believe we can trust in our God.

Live to the best of your ability, and sell your fish.

"It's a sweater!"

2011-01-10T15:01:00.000-08:00

I took up loom knitting this year. I needed a little something to do with my hands. Stop thinking that! Hmph. Anyway, I took up loom knitting because it was creative, clean and I could actually make some things I would use. I enjoy the act of loom knitting, and I like the products.

Anyway, keeping my hands busy does not necessarily keep my mind busy. So, I sits, and knits, and thinks a bit. Sometimes I work on the story line for the novel I am writing. Sometimes I think about blogs I could write. Sometimes I think about travels, or things happening in my life.

Sometimes I even think about knitting. Really. Knitting. It is really just a technique for constructively tangling yarn into useful forms. Where did this whole thing come from? Well, if you read the link, you have about as much idea about that as I do. Of course, this whole thing as I write it piques my curiosity and I want to learn more about all sorts of clothing. But not right now.

I got to thinking about sweaters. I wondered about all that might be involved in making a sweater. For example, a wool sweater begins with sheep. Somebody has to raise sheep. Now, for a sweater we are interested in the wool. It has to be sheared from the sheep. The wool must be cleaned. Then it is carded (a form of combing) to break the fibers apart and make it fluffy. Now for the spinning. This is a long link, a series of videos, but well produced and informative. Spinning is quite a process.

Prior to spinning the wool can be dyed, as in "dyed in the wool." Spinning can also be done on a wheel. Single threads can be spun together into thicker yarn. This is plying. Eventually you have a yarn that can be knitted. In the case for this blog, knitted into a sweater. There are a lot of videos out there to help teach knitting and how to make knitted things. This information is but a taste.

The point I am making right now is the amount of work that went into creating a sweater, as well as the hours invested to gain expertise in the various production methods. In an era like ours it is possible to go out and get a sweater at a discount house or used clothing store for a few dollars. In just a couple of generations past (and many generations before) making a sweater was a big deal. It was a production that required planning and execution over the course of months. I find that interesting to think about.

So, there you have it. A bit of an answer as to where sweaters come from.

Profound Trivialities-

2011-01-07T13:49:00.000-08:00

All of history culminates at this moment, right now, with you reading my words. I call this a profound triviality, because I just don't have the necessary ego to assume that anything of much significance shall come to pass as a consequence of your reading my words. They are just pebbles in the stream of your consciousness, causing ripples that shall quickly dissipate into the general flow of your experience.

It is profound because it is true. Wars were fought, kingdoms gained and lost, empires built and collapsed, a singularity exploded, and much more came to pass to bring about this moment. You, and me, and my words. Profound. Trivial.

I recently read Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell. In it Gladwell confirmed something I had previously thought about, an idea that is the consequence of my narcissistic reflective nature. Each of us is very much the culmination of our time and our immediate culture. Profound. Trivial. We don't stand alone, and forces seen and unseen shape us.

Additionally, he points out that we are the culmination of our extended background. He provides anecdotal evidence and various supports for this protracted formation of you and me, and refers to research that supports his ideas as written. The cultures of our progenitors influence who and what we are, going back for generations. Cultures far different from the one that immediately shapes us.

His examples include several relating to the Scotch-Irish who migrated to the United States generations ago. My progenitors, though not exclusively so. Consequently, I was able to relate quite personally to the examples offered. Some holes in my self-concept were filled in, and I understand myself a bit better as a consequence of reading the book.

As I said, I am narcissistic and reflective by nature.

This kind of information could, of course, form the basis of an excuse. "I can't help who I am. I was just made this way." To some degree that is true. However, it can also serve as knowledge and a tool for change. Knowing who and what I am can put the reigns in my hand and I can determine who and what I will be. I can use the forces that shaped me to shape myself further.

That is profound, and not necessarily trivial.

Each of us is only responsible to a small degree for where we are and how we got here. However, we are not powerless in determining where we shall go from here, and we have considerable power in determining who we shall become. We can make choices, and not all choices are as trivial as they may at first seem to be.

Imagine yourself standing at the North Pole. Right smack on top of it. The geographical North Pole, not the magnetic one. I don't want to add too many variables into this illustration. Oh, wait. I just did that, didn't I? Anyway, you stand on the Geographical North Pole.

What direction are you facing? If you turn ninety degrees to your left, what direction are you facing? If you turn around, all the way around, and then turn 22.6 degrees to the right, what direction are you facing? Keep in mind, you are standing as far North as anyone can go.

At the North Pole there is only one direction you can face. South. Yet turning just a tiny bit in any direction would radically alter what places you would visit as you traveled South. Just about any of them would probably seem appealing. The North Pole is cold and not particularly interesting.

It is profoundly trivial, just like this moment in time.

Insurance Insanity-

2011-01-06T21:16:00.000-08:00

Our net on our pension check was a bit smaller this month. The new adjustments for our health insurance kicked in. Really kicked. The cost of insurance is way out of hand. It is insane, and not in a fun way.

Alternatives? I am exploring them. However, the options aren't all that hot. It is mostly choosing who will bend me over a barrel and tell me how much they are doing for me.

One thought is to take that premium and put some of it in a dedicated health savings account rather than giving it to insurance companies. That could pay for doctors visits and such. Dental? Pay cash and just have problems extracted if the cost is too high otherwise. Vision plan? What's the point, if you can't even see over the edge of the hole you are in? Some of the chain stores seem to offer deals. That might work.

Next, join the other poor and use the emergency room as your primary care facility. If something serious comes along, have the work done and stiff the hospital on the bill. What if the hospitals go bankrupt due to all of those poor uninsured people? I suppose if it gets to that point and nobody has actually found the nature of the problem and come up with a solution, then the system should fail. And, fail in a big way.

I wonder what would happen if terminal patients who can't afford insurance or any kind of treatment would march (albeit in a rather shambolic fashion) on D.C. and immolate themselves in front of the White House? The politicos would have to solve the problem, or at least hire homeless people to stand around the area with fire extinguishers.

If that outlandish hospital bill drives you to homelessness, you could move into your car (the beater you would have to buy after they repossessed your good car) and live in the hospital parking lot. They might even let you stay there. Just think of the bad press if they pressed you into homelessness and then kicked you out of their parking lot. They would look quite unkind, and probably drive you back into the emergency room due exposure to the elements.

It should not be necessary to sacrifice your firstborn child just to give birth to your first born child. Will back-alley health care providers push drug dealers and hookers out of all of those nice back alleys? Extending my life through sacrificing the quality of my life to excessive medical costs does not look much like a winning exchange. The medical industry is the ultimate drug dealer, and if the insurance companies are the ones screwing you financially I suspect you can find the other analogy.

The problem is huge, and our government still seems too busy throwing American warriors into a bottomless Middle Eastern cesspool to really address the problem. For all of those law degrees they are either not all that bright or else they belong in those back alleys with the hookers and drug dealer.

No. That's not right. I have known a number of hookers and drug dealers. It wouldn't be fair to them.

On being Asocial-

2011-01-04T12:20:00.000-08:00

Asocial creatures are essentially the non-herd or non-pack animals. Bears, for example. Bears don't live in large social groups. They socialize, but they don't live in a pride or pack or herd or flock.

I am an asocial human. I don't hate humanity. That is anti-social. I like interacting with other humans, but in very limited doses. Now, as an asocial I have had to make some adaptations. To succeed in any viable form of human life there has to be some association with other humans. However, I am not a pack-member.

Interestingly enough, other humans can sense the asocial human. Some who are in authority can recognize and respect that the asocial is making a compromise by joining a team. They are not a full member, not being emotionally attached to the pack/herd/pride/flock. Still, if they have acquired the necessary skills they can function in a team reasonably well.

Some pack leaders, however, sense the asocial and find them threatening. The asocial is the lone wolf with the wrong scent. They are dangerous and need to be driven out or destroyed. Strange as it may sound, I have way too often had to deal with these creatures. It is not fun, and requires a considerable amount of energy.

As humans we generally function in some modified form of the tribe. Whether Iroquois or Mombasa, Democrat or Republican, American League or National League, we function in tribes. The asocial human is a misfit and a threat.

In a world with sufficient frontiers and open perimeters it is easy to push these asocials (and anti-socials) out to the edges. However, the world is running out of frontiers and the perimeters are pushing up against one another. Living as an asocial human will probably just get more and more challenging.

We are hard to understand. For example, when I say "I don't like people" I am not saying "I dislike people." Yet the more socialized socials find this "don't like" and "dislike" to be equivalent, and somehow threatening. As an asocial I in turn cannot understand such responses.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, asocial humans cannot/should not act like bears. As apex predators bears can be as asocial or anti-social as they want, as long as there is enough room. Let them try to go all asocial in most cities, however, and they get a dart in the ass and a free ride out of town.

Asocials are not particularly good at social games. As an asocial I despised the games as I grew up, and only adopted as many as necessary to maintain a more-or-less adequate life. Due to not playing the games asocials are not granted ready access to a lot of the "good stuff" that more amiable tribe members get to share.

I, as an asocial, could complain about how unfair this all is. I suspect I have occasionally done so. However, I recognize that fair is a nebulous term. Really, if you don't play the game you shouldn't have any claim on the prizes. I have learned to compromise. For example, it is fair that I must buy a lottery ticket to have any shot at the prize. However, I also recognize that buying more than one ticket does not much mitigate the astronomical odds against my winning.

Even in playing the lottery I live on the perimeter.

What is my hope in writing this? I certainly don't expect the socials to understand. I am sure that the socials that feel threatened by asocials won't feel I am less of a threat. Indeed, I am more dangerous because I am calling attention to the games that are supposed to be played in secret.

My hope is that this will at some point reach another asocial who will recognize themselves for what they are. Not to use an asocial nature for an excuse, but to gain understanding of self and why the world doesn't seem like a good fit. It isn't. Use the awareness to recognize the games, learn to duck at the right times, and find a niche on the frontier.

A bears gotta do what a bears gotta do.

Horizons-

2011-01-03T06:53:00.000-08:00

I have a fondness for horizons. Metaphorical or real, horizons appeal to me. I am endlessly curious about what lies between me and any horizon I can see. I am endlessly curious about what may exist beyond the horizon. Beyond the horizon may dwell dragons and lost cities and everything that populates the imagination. Horizons are not limiting, they are the promise of adventure, experience and learning.

I recall reading in one of Henry David Thoreau's works a similar fascination on his part with regard to horizons. I can't recall which one, though Walden or A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers are high on the list of contenders for the honor. Anyway, the theme of wandering and exploration in Thoreau strikes a common feeling between that author and myself.

The horizon played an interesting part in Larry Niven's Ringworld, as well. Due to it's unique structure the fictional Ringworld appeared to those who dwelt upon it to have a great arch reaching up into the sky. The arch appeared to touch the horizon at two points on the visible world. The mystical draw of this horizon plays a part in the story line, and certainly fascinated me.

I am striving to put my life in order to allow me to finally succumb to the call of the horizon. The Mobile Man Cave (my camping conversion van) will give me mobility with reasonable comfort. The (eventual) sale of my house should provide adequately for my family in creature comforts and security, once the whole plan comes to fruition. I then hope to have the freedom to do some exploring.

With a little more freedom in the way of time and money I hope to look beyond other horizons, as well. There are still many things to explore through reading and study. With money for books and time to read, I hope to explore up to and beyond some intellectual horizons. I have used up at least half of a lifetime so far, so I am somewhat limited by time regarding such adventures, but then I have always found life too short to allow the level of exploration for which I hunger.

Then again, the end of life is just another horizon. I may be half way there, more or less. And then comes the adventure of traveling beyond the horizon. That's pretty exciting, as well.

Outliers- a book report (of sorts)-

2011-01-01T08:16:00.000-08:00

For Christmas I received a gift card for Borders ebooks. Now, my choice of ereader was the Nook, which is a Barnes and Noble product. I was unsure as to how well the Borders ebooks would download and work on the Nook. I didn't anticipate problems, but I recognized the potential.

So, I selected a book I had planned on reading, Outliers by Malcom Gladwell. This guy writes well, and Outliers does something that I really enjoy. Gladwell examines the idea of success, and examines some of the interconnections that bring about this nebulous condition. I say "nebulous" because success is a word loaded with emotional content well beyond any simple definition.

I downloaded Outliers from Borders to my Nook through what is called "side loading." The process is to order the book from Borders.com, fire up the Borders reader application on the computer (which must have been previously downloaded,) and plug in the Nook to a USB port. Then just hit the "synchronize" button on the Borders reader on your computer.

This process places the book in the "Documents" section of the Nook. It does not show up in the "Library," which only houses the Barnes and Noble books. This simply means that I now have two stacks of books in my Nook. At present this presents no problems, and managing my growing elibrary is not difficult.

Outliers proved thought provoking. Gladwell is an interesting thinker and excellent writer. I do not know if his conclusions would hold up against heavy critical scrutiny, but I did find his ideas interesting with regard to the nature of opportunity and timing relative to particular people and their relative successes. Of course, he is working from a popular notion of success in which wealth, power and fame are significant. I recognize other modes of success as equally viable, if not always so readily recognized.

If you like your thoughts to be provoked, this is a pretty nice book to spend some time reading. I found that some conclusions I have reached regarding Life, The Universe, and Everything are paralleled and vindicated and otherwise supported in this book. It is not a guide to success, however. If you are seeking Success in big bright lights this is not your guidebook.

The idea of people and events being heavily interconnected for both good and ill is strongly supported in this book. Concepts like "opportunity" and "hard work" are also examined. Not surprisingly, classic success is the consequence of timing, opportunity and hard work. I rather like examining the interconnectedness of things, and Gladwell does this quite well.

At $9.99 for the ebook, this was not a bad investment of either money or time. If you are interested in the subject of success and how it comes about in particular people, this is your book. If you are suffering from some sense of senseless failure in your life, this book could put that in perspective, as well.

If you are still hesitant in adopting ebooks and ereaders, let me assure you that in the case of the Nook, sourcing your books from Borders as well as Barnes and Noble is not a problem. I cannot address any of the other readers, but I can say that my Nook is proving quite satisfactory. The portability and easy reading are delightful. I carry a library with me, and the e-ink screen can be read in full sunlight. Like a paper book, however, it requires a source of light to read in low/no light situations.

Oh, and free books. There are lots of free books available, both through Barnes and Noble and Borders. Probably through other sources, as well. Lots and lots of books. Once you get past the initial cost of the ereader there is a world of very cheap reading out there. Cheap in cost, not necessarily in quality. I have only found one free book to be of dubious quality, and even that was worth reading.

The cost is dropping. The features are improving. Ereaders and ebooks are a good thing. That is success in my book.

The 1960's-

2010-12-23T09:24:00.000-08:00

The 1960's. A decade often referred to, especially by those of us who lived through them. Most particularly persons such as myself, whose formative years were the 1960's. It was a decade in which the "generation gap" was recognized, touted, over-worked and made-fun-of. It was a decade of change. It was a lot more than a decade ought to be required to be.

Mythical, that's what it was. Yet something real. I, being now an old person (at 57 venerable years of age,) can look back at that decade and see it as a demarcation line for a lot of stuff. My parents still live, and are doing pretty well. I still see them as different from "us."

"Us," of course, being "we" who were formed during the 1960's or those who came later. I just don't sense the difference between myself and my children that I sense between myself and my parents. Oh, we are not the same, my children's generation and mine. Perhaps the big difference is that I recognize that, and I think it is fine. We should be different.

I don't expect them to automatically adopt my values. Neither the corporate values (whatever they might be) of my generation or my personal values. With the people who were formed before the 1960's there seems to be that expectation, and shock (even after all of this time) when those values are not adopted and held in high esteem.

Perhaps that is the difference. I accept fluidity and flux in all aspects of life as the normal way things are. I don't really have an idea of "how things should be," so I am not shocked when they aren't that way. It is strange that the generation that survived the huge fluctuations surrounding the Great Depression and World War II aren't flux-oriented, but they aren't.

One commentator I read (and of course the name of whom I don't recall) noted that a significant part of that generation served in the military or some similarly regimented system adopted to meet the demands of a world-spanning war. It might be that. They had a war to fight, a war for survival that was really about survival.

We had Viet Nam. A dumb-ass war that had no real purpose, except for the anti-communist ideologists who tried to put communism in the same world-threatening basket as Hitler and Hirohito. Yeah, right. Not to denigrate the very real sacrifices of my brothers-in-arms who actually fought in Viet Nam. Those were real sacrifices, but sacrifices for what? I am still not clear on that matter.

True, I have had Vietnamese friends who benefited from the events there by eventually coming to America and participating in the American Dream. Still, the sacrifice was considerable and the gain negligible. But, this post isn't about Viet Nam, per se. Nor is it about the current lot of dumb-ass wars we are involved in.

It is about a very real difference in generations demarcated by the decade called the 1960's. The world began changing at an increasingly rapid pace in that generation. We grew up with change as the normal way of things. Many of us embraced change. Most learned to live with it and not be shocked by the fluidity and flux.

This shall be posted into the blogosphere via Blogger, and into the even more fluid place called Facebook. It will be read by (perhaps) a DOZEN people. Few of them will have been formed before the 1960's. There is some vague possibility that someone will make a comment. Even less likely, but still possibly, someone will be impacted by my prose and their lives will change.

What is my hope? I am not entirely sure, but I would love for some of my word-stones being cast into the flux and fluidity to cause the kind of ripple that makes someone think. It would be lovely if I changed a life for the better. It might be fun if it went viral, as well, but that isn't likely and isn't really important to me.

Mostly, I hope that should a reader have to deal with a dinosaur from the era before 1960 they will deal gently with them. The flux and fluidity is threatening to them, and they might be a bit afraid. Be gentle, and listen to the stories they will tell. Listen, as an act of kindness.

Change is...

Wisdom, and other fables-

2010-12-22T10:59:00.000-08:00

In my youth I hungered for Wisdom, or whatever I thought might constitute wisdom. I have to admit, after all of this time I am not sure what I envisioned when I thought about wisdom. I figured it related to Truth (the capital T is very important) in some profound yet mystical way. I held Truth in high esteem, as well, though I had no better idea of Truth than I did of Wisdom.

Many years later my tag line on my work related email (an internal system predating our access to the Internet in the jail in which I worked) related to wisdom. "For over forty years I sought wisdom only to learn it is one of the least valued commodities on Earth." It earned no comment, good or bad. Perhaps that underlines what I thought I had to say.

During the course of that forty years I often longed for a venue through which to share my wisdom, and even experimented with some. Now, some years later still, I have that venue. The Internet. Wow! What power!

What deep profundity wishes to burst forth from the depths of my being? After all, seeking wisdom for so many years should have provided a well of great thought. I should have so much to share!

I do. However, the greatest gift my quest for wisdom has given me is the ability to recognize that few seek wisdom from a venue such as this. The pathway to that little guy sitting on top of the mountain is not a broad and beaten path. Nope.

Pretty much whatever wisdom you are going to acquire will be beaten into you along the way to just living your life. There really aren't that many wise men or women out there, just some who have learned to contain their inner fool. I hope that I have at least learned a little of that.

I tend to believe that living simply is better. I consider the greatest gift we can give to others is to leave people alone and let them live their own lives. I hold that the best interactions are catalytic rather than analytic or well-intended. In other words, just bumping up against one another is sufficient to sharpen and polish. Too much attention or intention just screws up the process.

Indeed, the tyranny of the well-intended is no better than the tyranny of the profoundly self-interested. It is still tyranny. Political despots or meddlesome old ladies (of any gender or age) differ only by degree.

In reviewing my journals I realize that the things that confused me in my youth largely still do. However, I have grown to better accept my limitations in understanding. I valued sunrises and sunsets then, and still do. I valued new horizons and new vistas then, and still do.

When I was younger I saw humanity as flawed, and I wanted to fix it. Now I see people as flawed, as I am flawed, and beyond my ability to fix. That is what grace and redemption is all about. If you want to know about those, there are many books on the subject. Better yet, ask God to show you. Even if you don't believe that there is a God, you can ask. Interesting things may happen.

I have come to believe, and perhaps always have, that reason and mysticism are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Life is not one color, or one texture, or one note. It is not just one flavor, or just one scent. It is not just one size, either. It is infinitely large, and infinitely small, yet just the right size to embrace. Touch it with all of your senses, and your mind, and your heart.

Even fear and anger are a part of life. However, neither should define or limit life or how it is to be lived. They are simply parts of the palate from which life is painted, components from which your being is constructed. The art of composition can be applied to more than art, and should be. Paint with your whole being.

I have learned that laughter is valuable, even in difficult times and in dark places. Especially in difficult times and dark places. It is most valuable when I have learned to laugh at myself. Others will, so why should I miss out on the joke?

Is any of this wisdom? I don't really know. It doesn't hurt to call it that.

Got Wisdom?

Serendipity, revisited-

2010-12-15T10:33:00.000-08:00

Some time back I thought about and wrote about a thing I called Serendipity Scholarship. I used it to describe and somewhat justify my free flowing and undisciplined approach to learning. There are merits to serendipity, some of which are noted in the linked article. However, more and more I have reexamined my disdain for formal learning.

The difficulty I have had with formal learning has not been the structure itself, nor the formality. It is my own sense of my mortality and a selfish longing for ever more knowledge. Time devoted to deep and formal study of one subject or one set of subjects takes time away from all of the other things that might be learned.

Over time I have also come to recognize some characteristics of my intellectual self that preclude success in formal learning environments. I don't retain information well, at least in detail. I retain what I am currently calling "notions." In this case a notion is a set of feelings and vague intuitive associations related to an idea or subject. I can see or sense relationships between notions, but regarding specifics of what that notion relates to I must constantly refresh my mind by looking things up.

In essence, I better understand the relationships between ideas than the ideas themselves. I don't know if any other brains work like this, but I do know that institutional learning is not presented for this kind of thinking. School is a constant struggle for me. After all, testing tends to be regarding specific content and not the relationships between ideas, and the rule by which learning is measured is the results of such testing.

Granted, with discipline most human brains can be taught something with the standard teaching methods. Additionally, tailored teaching is just not practical for teaching the masses. The existing system gave me valuable tools and I have actually learned a few things along the way.

The mortality issue applies to serendipity scholarship as well as any other way of learning. I shall live only a limited time. As diligent as I might be at study, I can only learn so much. Serendipity can provide for a broad experience of learning, but at the cost of depth.

What I realize I miss most with my solo wandering through the world of wonders is shared learning. Having a guide and peers is helpful, because real discussions and debates can take place. Such interchange sharpens ideas and grinds away falsehoods. It also provides more than one perspective on any matter being studied and discussed.

I have to suspect that most readers, if you have even read this far, won't really understand what I am talking about. The current modes of learning are sufficient for them. That is good. However, some of you will understand because the existing modes of teaching and learning don't fit your own experiences.

My mind is constantly filled with questions. These questions often beget more questions rather than an equal number of answers. Without the mortality issue, this would not be a bad thing. However, there is a time limit. I had a professor who once noted that I was good at framing the right kind of questions. That is probably due to the fact that the larger content of my mind is questions on all sorts of things.

The concept of life after death, of eternal life, is comforting. It offers something beyond the time limit, a place where answers may be sought and time enough is available to seek them. The belief system I adopted long ago allows for that. The bit of comfort is a good thing.

Of course, eternal life and life after death is a concept related to a whole lot of questions. A great many questions.

It would probably take forever to answer them. : )

On the Road Again-

2010-12-08T09:46:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving brought my daughter, Beth and her family down to Santa Cruz, California for a visit. She, her husband Dave, and my four grandchildren (who are coincidentally their children) came down in Dave's small truck and with an assist from my son, Matthew. He carried the larger portion of the clan in his Jeep SUV. They had moved to Medford, Oregon, ahead of us, anticipating the sale of our house and the rest of us following shortly.

They are residing in temporary shared housing of my extended family. Unfortunately, the home sale fell through at this end, protracting the temporary situation. The kids are in the process of moving into a rental that will carry them through until we finally sell the house, get moved and find a new place for everyone to live happily ever after.

So they came, we visited, had Thanksgiving. Did family stuff. It was good. Then came the return. Winter travel in most of California does not face some of the challenges of other parts of the country. However, between Santa Cruz and Medford lay some truly challenging mountain passes. How would we get everyone back to Oregon?

The small truck was going back, anyway. The other vehicle would be my van, named The Mobile Man Cave. The camping components were reduced to what I would need on the return. The rear seat was returned to the full upright position, and we loaded up. Lots of room in the middle for cargo and general stuff.

A weather check defined the coast route to be the better choice, though the total mileage came to 548 miles. A lot of miles for one day, but we had only that much time for the return. The up side was that the kids had not traveled that route. Well, Beth had, but she was so little that her memory of that trip would largely be composed of the view of the back of the front seat in a Mercury small car of some forgettable name. I think we called it "the blue car" back in those days.

So, off we go. Surprisingly good weather. The passage through Oakland and across the toll bridge to Marin County was relatively uneventful. We did In-and-Out Burger in Oakland for lunch. Some nice guy in the parking lot offered to sell me a new laptop computer. That was nice of him, but I didn't need one right then.

So, North we go. North. Highway 101. Wine country. It was beautiful, but we had hundreds of miles to cover. No stopping for pretty. Small towns the highway still actually passes through in places. North. Into the northern redwoods. Getting foggy. Getting dark. Passing sights to see in the darkness. We could have been anywhere. North. Ever north.

So, we get to Medford in the very early morning. 548 miles. Long drive. Pleasant enough. The kids travel well, and did not fuss and generally were well behaved. Except at the point when one of them hit the button that lays the seat down flat under the power of an electric motor. I had visions of the kids cut in half by seat belts as the motor ground away into the down position, but it simply turned into a short yet funny interlude.

Now I am in Medford, and it is a good time to spend with family. I got to see everyone, and it was pretty nice. I also met the real estate agent my Dad had engaged to help us when we got sold and were ready to buy. We looked at property, and he put me in touch with a finance officer who might help with the money thing once we were sold and ready to buy.

Time to go home. Watching the weather, looking for a good departure window that would get me safely over the mountain passes. Monday, January 6th, looked like the day. I left late, around ten in the morning, to allow the ice on the passes to become just water and thus no particular problem. We took that time to do some final checks on the van.

Two days before departure I had started it, backed it out, and started down the road to run some errands with my daughter and the grandkids. Smoke had poured out of the heater vent. It was exciting, but not in a good way. I shut it down and checked it out. Turned out to be leaves that had gotten into the heating system and been ignited by friction. Fortunately, no damage and the offending leaves apparently burned up and blew away.

So, I roll out and head south. I was going the more direct I-5 route. Ashland is along the way, and I always stop and drink a bit of Lithia Water at the plaza fountain. I grew up, in part, in Ashland, and always had some of that bubbling mineral water whenever I passed that way. The taste is at best a unique experience, but it has become a tradition with me.

Now, souther. I went over the pass with no problem. I passed by the first rest stop without stopping. I usually stop, but I needed to get some drinking water in Yreka. I took the route through the town, looking around and generally seeking a Dollar Tree or something. I found a Walmart at the end of town, got my water, and hit the road again.

My target at this point was the rest stop at Shasta Lake. Hence, I did not stop at the Weed rest stop. The weather was closing in, Mount Shasta was robed in clouds and I was into some steady rain from Dunsmuir to the rest stop at Shasta Lake. It was still raining when I got there, but not very heavy. I had lunch at that stop, and then I was on the road again.

I dropped out of the mountains and into the Central Valley. The clouds cleared to partially cloudy, and it was very nice weather as I continued south. My next stop was a planned visit to the Rolling Hills Casino. I wanted to look at their RV park (which was mostly an extension of the parking lot) and get some free coffee. I walked around the casino, watched the games a bit, but placed no bets this trip. I took my coffee out to my van and got back on the road.

My final goal for the day was the Pilot Travel Center near the I-5/505 interchange. I didn't make it. At sunset I spotted a rest stop and decided to rest. I pulled in, recognizing the spot as the beginnings of a short story I wrote in my head on a previous journey. That story sits now in a file, awaiting publication. It fell out of my head at some point, and I caught it in my digital net.

Putting the van in camp mode, I settled in for the evening. Being tired, I elected to sleep a bit. I awoke a couple of hours later, and did not really want to get on the road again. In the dark. Traveling in the dark is generally not that great. It is hard to see the vistas I am so fond of. Dark is just about the same everywhere, but vistas are special. Each and every one.

So, I read a bit. Then I laid down and did some thinking. That put me to sleep, because I am an apparently boring thinker. I awoke at about two, and did enough thinking to put myself to sleep until a bit after six. I got up, used the restroom, generally prepared to get moving, and got moving.

It was a really nice sunrise. By the time I got to the Pilot Travel Center the sun was well up. I stopped for gas and to look the place over. It would have been a decent over-night, but the rest stop was better. I got a discount on a cup of coffee with my gas purchase. That was fortuitous, as I was quite ready for coffee. I got my coffee, and was again back on the road.

My usual route would have been to take the 505 cut-off and go through Vacaville and the Bay Area on my way home. It would have been very busy at that time of day on a week day. I elected to continue south on I-5. My hope was for less traffic, and some vistas I had not often seen.

As I drew closer to Sacramento, my hope for avoiding traffic diminished. Yep, city traffic. Busy. Lots of trucks and cars and plenty of stupid drivers. However, the duration was nothing like I would have had to endure (for hours) on the other route. Then, fog. And traffic. Hmmm. I began to wonder if my decision was a good one.

The fog and traffic broke just south of the Sacramento area, and the highway stretched before me. We moved a bit west, toward rolling grassy hills. Yes, there were vistas. Hills, farm lands, pastures, and a huge valley stretching into the haze that covered the distant mountains. It was nice. Very nice.

It continued to be nice for quite some time. All of the way home, for that matter. At Highway 152 I turned again west, and passed through passes that were beautiful. Rocky outcroppings, oak trees in abundance. Grassy meadows. Lakes. Farm lands. Then, in the distance, the Pacific Ocean.

Along the way on Highway 152 is Casa de Fruta. I had passed it many times, but never stopped. It was always too early in a journey, or too late. I most often passed it late at night. This time I came upon Casa de Fruta at a time I could stop. I had planned this, and unlike my plans for word domination, this plan bore fruit. Ahem.

Casa de Fruta has a pretty nice RV park, a motel, and some fruit related retail outlets along with an amusement park in miniature. It is pretty, well presented, and quite over-priced. However, they have some very nice culinary contributions to make to the traveler's shopping experience, and the price might be worthwhile. I definitely recommend the stop if it is not too early, or too late.

I took the Highway 156 route through these coastal mountains in order to enjoy the valley around Hollister and to cross Highway 25. I hope to eventually travel that little highway and add it to my list of complete highways traveled. But, not today. I passed through San Juan Bautista and Castroville on my way home.

Then the familiar lands around Watsonville and Santa Cruz.

Home. Yet, while traveling in The Mobile Man Cave, I was very much at home every mile of this particular journey. I still wonder if I could travel endlessly in this fashion. Who knows? That future might be mine, or it might not. However, I can look forward to many more such adventures, long and short.

It was good. It was fun. The highways still beckon.

A Tribute to an Old Friend-

2010-11-17T09:56:00.000-08:00

This past Monday, November 15, it became necessary to put our old dog, Bernard, to sleep. He was fourteen years old, and gray around the muzzle. He was arthritic, partially blind, mostly deaf, and plagued by a large tumor in his side. For all of that he still had some pretty good days. Dog days, but all of his days were dog days.

During the week before we took him in to end his life, he was unable to keep much down in the way of food and water. The tumor had invaded his insides to the point of restricting his stomach. Any future he might have would be an extended period of vomiting and protracted starvation. Though with humans we do not permit a more graceful exit, with dogs a decision can be made and acted upon.

And so it was.

He came to us, fourteen years ago, when my daughter brought a puppy home. I was not thrilled. From the beginning it was necessary for someone to take him out to do his duty, and I was often that person. Over the years the kids moved away, but Bernard stayed. And stayed. And stayed.

He was, for the most part, a good dog. He was a Beagle mix, but mostly looked like a generic hound in black and white. I considered him the first of a new breed, The North American Stupid Hound. He really was not stupid, he was just very doggy. He was also the perennial omega dog. That's the opposite of the Alpha dog. Bernard submitted to everyone else in the pack.

For most of his life I was busy. My job required a lot of my time, and what was left did not often fall to the dog. In spite of the lack of any significant attention, Bernard became increasingly devoted to me. I always thought he got a bad bargain in the relationship, but dogs are dogs and can't help that deep and unthinking devotion.

During this last year I have been retired. I have been increasingly available to Bernard, and that suited him just fine. Over the last six months of his life he was seldom far from me. Indeed, in the last month or two I could walk no more than ten feet from the end of his tether. Beyond that and he responded as if being abandoned forever.

I did not abandon him. I allowed him the dubious benefits of my presence most of the time. I was present as he suffered the last indignity, which was handled gently and compassionately by the vet and her assistant. I watched and kept my hand on his head as he breathed his last.

I loved that old dog. In spite of myself and my devotion to my own cantankerousness and seeming insensitivity, I loved that dog.

No, I don't want another one. They are messy, inconvenient, and restrict mobility. What's more, they worm their way into your heart. Then they precede you into death, leaving you with a void that need never have existed. No, I don't want another one.

Then again, life has taught me to "never say never."

Goodbye, Bernard. You were my friend.

Guns and Freedom-

2010-11-13T10:03:00.000-08:00

I cannot recall just how old I was when my Grandpa Laatz taught me to shoot. Not yet ten, I know that for sure. We used his .22 auto-load rifle. It was a relatively light rifle and pretty good for a boy learning to shoot. There were a number of other times we went shooting together, mostly with his .22 pistol.

Later I bought a .22 bolt action rifle from my Uncle Dave. I had it a number of years, plinking a bit now and then. I often looked at hunting rifles in the hardware stores and sporting goods stores. I went hunting a few times, though not often. I never did bag anything. Lever action Winchester .30 and M-1 Carbine were my weapons in those days.

After high school I entered the Army. Now the M-16 was my weapon, along with a lot of other toys they taught me to use. I really liked the grenade launcher. You pretty much just had to get the round in the neighborhood of your target, the explosions were exciting, and you could keep your distance. Staying away from an armed enemy always struck me as a good idea.

My favorite weapon, however, was the M-60 machine gun. Portable, more or less. Quick to break down and assemble. The .308 round traveled fast and hit hard. With tracer rounds it was easy to walk in on a target. You could put out a lot of rounds and it made me feel like Superman. Give me enough ammunition, an elevated position and a clear field of fire and I was Superman.

Yep, that day of training was one of the best. I came away from the firing range feeling powerful. The next item on the training schedule deflated that feeling, however. Napalm. Not our napalm, either. It was the napalm the enemy would call down on that nice elevated position with the clear field of fire. Next thing you know, Superman becomes Cinder-man.

Since then the U. S. military has added a lot of new toys to the things we had "back in the day." I don't keep track of all of that stuff. It isn't a particular passion of mine. Still, I have some awareness of the new toys and what they can do. Destruction has never been so easy and so complete.

Many of my friends own guns. Some, probably most, simply own guns because they like guns and shooting. The weapons have an inherent charm for many of us, and the act of shooting is a skill that can be useful and has that wonderful sense of power associated with it. I still like guns and shooting, even though I haven't owned one for a long time.

Why not? The return is not worth the expense for me. Guns are costly, and require considerable care if they are not to become a danger in the household. The laws in most places around the country don't permit the carrying of such weapons for "self-defense." Additionally, the outcome in court is no longer favorable for the shooter even in self-defense. There are other self-defense alternatives that won't land you in prison.

Some people associate the ownership of a gun (or a great many guns) with freedom. Indeed, the gun has been a significant part of American history and freedom has sometimes been the consequence of their accessibility. The ownership of guns is a freedom still protected by law.

There are people, good people, who hold their guns as insurance against tyranny. They genuinely believe that, should "the government" overstep it's bounds and begin repressing the people, they could take up their arms and fight the oppressor. I suspect many of them get a good feeling from holding all of that firepower in reserve for preserving freedom.

I cannot maintain that delusion. I remember napalm.

The rest of the Bucket List-

2010-10-30T13:47:00.000-07:00

Let's see. I covered the Disney thing, and the U.S. Routes. Western State exploration and touched on the National Parks. Ah, some specific locations.

Mackinac Island. Conveniently, Mackinac Island is at the end of the U.S. Route 2 journey. I don't think my wife, Linda, would enjoy a protracted road trip like Route 2. However, I am pretty sure she would like to see Mackinac Island. I think the only thing to do here would be to have her fly out and meet me near the island and we could visit it together. I think that would be cool.

Not as cool as having her along for these adventures, but not everyone is cut out for extended road journeys. For that matter, I can't even say for sure I am cut out for extended road journeys. It may yet prove to be a dream that is better as a dream than a reality.

Nah. I live for the road!

Savannah. Yep, I really want to share that one with her. She really wants to see Savannah, and it is definitely an adventure I would want to share with her. A destination travel adventure, but a pretty interesting one. I think that this one should be a high priority shared destination travel adventure.

I'd love to share the Boston and New York City adventures with her, as well. Oh, and Disney World, of course. As seemingly logical as incorporating these adventures into the Route 1 journey might seem, they really do stand up better as separate destination adventures. Route 1 will be huge in itself. Yes. Separate adventures, for sure.

Then there is the Smithsonian. Like Disney World, this is no small project. I have already visited the Smithsonian, but only a small sample on two separate visits to Washington, D.C. Even a week seems too little time for such a visit, excluding any other D.C. sightseeing. I suppose that this one would fit better into the Route 1 adventure. Stop in the D.C. area and visit the Smithsonian until weariness drives me onward.

There are a lot of things not listed in my Bucket List which draw me. Some may yet become sufficiently interesting to demand a place on my Bucket List. Others will probably remain vague interests.

For example, I have a desire to learn to play the mandolin. It is not a strong enough desire to demand a place on my list, but there is a vague urge there to learn to play at least one tune well. In line with this would be learning to read music well enough to play what I read. This desire, however, is not accompanied by a driving hunger, a motivating passion. It is just an interest slightly greater than a whim.

I can, after all, quite easily find recorded music to listen to and enjoy. The need to make music is not sufficient to drive this interest. This need may grow, or with the passage of time and the fulfillment of some of my list items I might just need something to add to the list.

Some things I did not place on my list because they ultimately are not my dreams but the dreams of others. I wish very much to participate in the achievements of my children and grand-children, but I don't want to limit their dreams with my desires. So, I do not make attending graduations, weddings and the like on my list.

There are other smallish activities and achievements I have not seen suited to a bucket list. For example, I recently learned loom knitting as a pastime to do while waiting for the house to sell. I have produced some nice items which are also useful to me. I have learned the basic skills, and continue to learn skills related to loom knitting. I may expand my fiber art horizons over time, and there are even some prospects for a family business related to fiber arts, but these things just don't seem to be bucket list material.

Other craft areas remain general interests, but are not likely to rise to passions. I view videos on the Internet regarding various crafts that relate to this or that transient interest, but again they are not passions and they do not rate a place on a bucket list. As opportunity presents itself and as I proceed through exploration of various life pathways I am sure I will acquire some of these skills and play a bit with arts and crafts.

In writing this series of blogs regarding my Bucket List I have come to one important conclusion. The Bucket List ought to be written in pencil, a document easily edited and adjusted over time. Digital documents, of course, are the best "pencil" documents, as they are very easy to edit. The Bucket List should be a sound guide for a life adventure, but should it become a burden it stops being a source of joy.

After all, the Bucket List should serve as a tool to wring every drop of joy from life that can be wrung. Joy in life is a worthy pursuit, and a Bucket List can help provide focus and direction in the pursuing. The future is a direction, not a destination, and in life it is the journey that matters most.

Exploring States and National Parks: a Bucket List entry-

2010-10-05T19:24:00.000-07:00

In my Bucket List I noted a number of the Western States of the United States of America. Technically, I have already visited thirty of the fifty states. However, most of those visits were limited in scope. I was compelled for one reason or another to remain largely in just a few places within those states. I have seen a lot of the country, but not as much of it up close as I would like.

Our protracted move to Medford, Oregon, will define a lot of my early exploration. Southern Oregon and Northern California will be within reach for shorter adventures. Shorter adventures are less costly, and therefore can be conducted more frequently. However, local exploration is not the whole of my desire as expressed in my Bucket List.

Other states will be touched on by my U.S. Route adventures. Washington state shall benefit from the Route 395 adventure as well as the Route 2 adventure. Indeed, only a few more explorations will be necessary to pretty much complete that exploration, at least for the purpose of my Bucket List.

Route 395 will also fulfill a big part of California and Oregon exploration. It will just touch on Nevada. That state will require some additional planned explorations. Again, much can be reached on forays from Oregon. A dozen two week adventures could cover quite a bit of that state, with careful planning.

Arizona will require more advanced planning. It is an interesting state, and worth some protracted adventuring. Probably explorations of New Mexico would be made at the same time, since visiting Arizona will bring me closer to New Mexico than I would be under any normal circumstances.

These two states also stand along the return path from Route 61. A carefully plotted return journey could allow for some pretty nice exploration along the way. However, the Route 2/Route 61 adventure will take a lot of time and resources, so the Arizona/New Mexico exploration would be defined to a large degree by available time and money.

Forays to visit some National Parks would serve as platforms for exploring a number of states on my list. These forays are far in the future, most of them. I should be able to apply a lot of travel experience to reducing the cost of these journeys, and I should also learn just how much time I can afford to spend on any one adventure.

In the Western States I shall incorporate the National Parks into exploration. The National Parks, however, exist in places other than the Western States. Those outside of the Western States shall await completion (to my satisfaction) of Western State exploration before becoming the targets of future adventures. Some might fit into my distant route 1 journey. Others will have to be targets in themselves.

I am anxious to begin these adventures. Even my little journeys in the beginning are exciting prospects. If I am quite fortunate I shall be able to find seasonal employment or develop some flexible business venture to help fund my adventures. I don't expect to be traveling a lot in the colder months, and dedicating them to building travel funds seems a good use of the time.

For now, I wait on the buyer of our house finding us. We are doing all we can to find them. It is just a matter of time.

Traveling US routes: a Bucket List entry-

2010-10-03T09:58:00.000-07:00

My bucket list includes the following US Routes:

Route 1- This is the East Coast north/south route that takes you through lots of states to see lots of stuff.

Route 2- Starting west to east in Everett, Washington and running to the Great Lakes. There is a bit on the east side of the lakes which is not as important to me, but I would probably incorporate that part in the Route 1 run.

Route 61- This is the route along the Mississippi River. I would probably take this route going north to south following a west to east run on the western part of Route 2.

Route 395- From the middle of the desert in California (about parallel with Anaheim, indicating a probable side trip) north to Canada, this route includes much of the eastern side of California, a bit of Nevada, and Eastern Oregon and Eastern Washington.

In all probability, I will do the 395 first among these routes. Since Disneyland is so near to the starting point in the south, I would begin by going there for a few days. Then, off to the desert and a journey north. It just looks like a fun journey with a lot of interesting places to visit along the way. Plenty of vistas and small towns. I really like vistas and small towns.

Relative to my bucket list, the 395 run would comprise a goodly bit of exploring California, Oregon and Washington. It also covers a bit of Nevada. That is a nice dent in my bucket (list.)

Since Route 2 (western portion) will bring me near to the starting point (in the north) of Route 61, I would probably plan to combine the two into one epic journey. Crossing several major mountain ranges and bringing me to the Great Lakes, and then down the length of the Mighty Mississippi. Epic, indeed.

Again, this provides a bit of exploration of Washington state. Another dent in the bucket (list.)

This journey also passes close to several National Parks along the way. Since National Parks are listed generally in my bucket list, I would naturally have to stop in for a visit. Dent. Hey, once I have reached the Gulf of Mexico on this journey, I would have to get home. I think the return route could cover some exploration in several states, and possibly another stop at the Disneyland Resort.

Giggidy!

A less defined journey will be a run from Canada to Mexico along the West Coast of the United States. This journey will be comprised largely of Interstate 101 and California Highway 1, plus such incidental roads as are necessary to complete the journey.

Oh, and a stop by Disneyland Resort on the way back. It is right on the way, so it simply must be done!

Route 1 would be very interesting, but logistically the most difficult. Camping on the East Coast is a bit more challenging, and so I would have to anticipate a larger expense in completing the journey. Additionally, I would have to cross the width of the United States just to begin.

The up-side is the number of items on my bucket list which would be accessible via Route 1. Disney World in Florida. The Smithsonian in D.C. and Boston and New York City are along the way. Savannah, as well, but I suspect that at least that one would be a separate adventure to share with my wife, Linda.

Anyway, the Route 1 thing is farthest in the future. Much could change between now and then.

At this point, it is all a dream. Once the house is sold, and we are moved and settled, I can begin planning the Route 395 journey. Even the planning phase will be fun.

Perhaps I shall have opportunity to to travel all of these routes, and more. There are far more roads than I have days to travel them. However, my travel philosophy embraces the journey more than the destination. Every individual journey enriches my life, and the end of my days shall see a life that has been rich and full.

Until then, I shall dream, look at maps and web sites, and generally enjoy the anticipation.

The Wheel of Time: a Bucket List entry-

2010-10-02T19:03:00.000-07:00

I have included the reading of The Wheel of Time as part of my bucket list because it is important to me to complete the reading of that epic fantasy series. The death of the author, Robert Jordan, complicated the reading, but a successor author was appointed and is drawing the series to a conclusion.

Earlier portions of the work I have read several times. It is a huge tale, and a daunting task for anyone not a voracious reader and a lover of the fantasy genre. I find it quite worthwhile.

There remain two more volumes to complete the series. I await the next with great anticipation. That said, it shall be the first of the works I shall purchase in electronic format. Eventually I shall purchase the earlier volumes and have the whole thing available for future readings on my Nook. My last recap took about three months. I am current enough that I don't have to recap to continue with the next volume.

I have read other epic fantasy series in their entirety, some several times. Lackey, King, Goodkind and others. Some I shall eventually collect into my electronic library. Reading them again is pleasant, like visiting a place you know and love but haven't been to in quite some time. Lord of the Rings is like that for me and for many people. Some of the others are equally worthwhile.

I shall, perhaps, soon return my hand to my own work. I have written the first book, and have begun the sequel. I have not yet finished the final polish on the first, but it won't require much. Shall I publish? Perhaps, one day. The first book was actually just an exercise for therapy, a tool in fighting to overcome depression. It was a valuable tool, though I am still not sure it is worthy of publication.

We shall see.

Disneyland Annual visit: A Bucket List entry-

2010-10-01T13:08:00.000-07:00

At the top of my bucket list I have placed Annual Disneyland visit. The family loves Disneyland. I love Disneyland. At various times we have held annual passes and visited the Disneyland Resort multiple times for multiple days. We have not yet reached the point where we just could not stand another trip to Disneyland.

I love going with the family. I love going just with my wife, Linda. I have not yet gone to Disneyland by myself, but I suspect I shall love that just as much. With the MMC in campable shape, I can cut the cost of a visit a bit, at least a solo run. The nearest RV park to Disneyland is just a few minutes away by regular shuttle. The cost of a space there is around fifty bucks, which is much cheaper than most other accommodations.

Linda does not care much for camping, nor would she necessarily like my slow journey to and from the resort. So, a solo visit will probably only occur sometime during one of my other journeys passing near enough to Anaheim to make the visit practical. Who knows?

An annual visit can be planned for, including accommodations and flight. My parents don't understand the spending of so much money on visits to Disneyland, and I think a lot of other family and friends consider this obsession to be obsessive. I consider it a worthwhile investment in happiness and mental well-being. Those are good things, I do believe.

So, Annual Disneyland Resort visits are top of the list. If I must abandon all else, I plan to keep this one.

Why Disneyland? Why so often? I think that I enjoy the engineered environment that is truly geared to create a sense of adventure in safety, an environment intended to aid people in achieving a state of happiness. It feels good to be there. It is fun, reaching down and capturing the childlike sense of fun and giving it physical form.

This, of course, works best if you are a willing participant. I go there with that will to participate in the magic, and cooperate with the engineering. I want to have the Disney experience.

With the grandkids the right age, and having recently reread Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, I am anxious for a day on Tom Sawyer's Island. It has changed over the years, but I think for the better. It is a great place to play and imagine. A few hours of running around having island adventures could be fun.

There are also some new features which have been completed and which will be new experiences. We have been in the parks frequently enough in recent years to have watched the progress on several new features, and I enjoy watching that development.

Watching development goes a long way back, for me. I remember as a child going to Disneyland with my parents. While up in the Swiss Family Robinson Tree House (Now Tarzan's Tree House) I recall seeing some construction. That construction later became The Pirates of the Caribbean.

I saw other progress in features presented on "Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color." Recently I have watched the development of a feature in California Adventure by that same name. I look forward to the experience.

Disneyland is a place to have fun. It is as simple as that. It is fun to be there, and I value that experience of fun in an environment engineered just for fun. That is why I want to keep going back to Disneyland Resort, year after year.

Bucket List-

2010-09-30T12:46:00.000-07:00

My bucket list is rather small. This is largely due to the size it could get if I don't tone it down. After all, I have about twenty more active years of living to do. Maybe more, maybe less, but twenty is a reasonable number to consider. Additionally, I have not acquired wealth in the course of my lifetime, and so there are limits to what I can do. Indeed, this list stretches any anticipated resources considerably.

Now, my Bucket List-

Annual Disneyland Trip
Finish reading The Wheel of Time

Travel US Routes:
West Coast Canada to Mexico to include California Highway 1/Interstate Highway 101
1
2
61
395

Explore:
Oregon
California
Washington
Nevada
Arizona

then

Idaho
Wyoming
Utah
New Mexico

Visit:

New York City
New Orleans
Savannah
Boston

Mackinac Island
The Smithsonian
Disney World

All U.S. National Parks
Northeastern U.S. Leaf Tour
Tour Rogue River

I have already had a lot of jobs, including what could be called a career from which I have retired. I have saved lives, flown airplanes, ridden motorcycles, designed and built things. I have written poems, written stories and written a book. I have done blogs and such. I have raised a family and am participating in the lives of my children and grand children. I have been on a life-long spiritual and intellectual journey.

Life has been full. I have seen great evil, and much more that is good. Out of full experience I have formed this tiny bucket list. Were I wealthy I could do these rather quickly and expand the list considerably. I am not, at least in money. So, my more humble list must do.

I do not long to stay at home and cultivate a garden. Most of my dreams involve travel, at this point. Quite a number of them meet in various ways, and so in fulfilling one I can easily fulfill another. I shall in future posts break the list down a bit, explaining what I want from each entry, how they relate to one another, and why they seem important to me.

I expect to learn a lot about my own desires in the process. Perhaps I shall learn more from myself about identifying dreams and bringing them to life. It would be a very nice thing if the process, shared here, aids someone else in defining and following their dreams.

A Report from the Mobile Man Cave-

2010-09-29T12:27:00.000-07:00

This is where the MMC sits. I sit in the MMC, or just outside. I am waiting for someone to buy the house so that the MMC can hit the road to Oregon. There the MMC will sit a bit, as we buy housing for the clan and then get everyone settled.

I live in the MMC, just where it sits. I had gotten it pretty much ready for the move, back before our buyers backed out on the deal. I had all of my stuff on-board, at least everything that didn't ship with the household items. We were so sure the deal would go through that we were 90% moved to Medford. Then, epic fail.

I did not want to move my stuff back into the house. Having converted the MMC into a camper, I decided to camp. I have been there ever since. I have made modifications and adjustments, making it more comfortable. Just recently I removed the center passenger seats. They cluttered the living area and did not provide the kind of seating I wanted.

Now there is room to move around a bit. The camp chair provides a better seat, and can be taken outside for seating as well. It can be folded and stowed for travel. I plan to add some hooks inside to hang some more of the necessaries, and have found some area rugs for the floor to protect my feet from the mounting plates that held the old passenger seats.

The sleeping area uses the original fold-down rear bench seat for a base. I am using a twin sized mattress, which leaves an area to the side of the mattress which holds boxes and bins for storage. One bin is modified to hold the fuel canister of my catalytic heater to properly position the heater for use. It can be seen next to the fire extinguisher. It is positioned with safe clearances, I have adequate ventilation, and can start the heater from the comfort of my bed without getting out from under the covers.

At present things are warm enough that the heater is not needed. Generally, unless the temperatures inside the MMC drop below 55 degrees, the heater is not necessary. I have adequate comfortable clothing and gear to keep me warm. No area for cooking inside has been established. In a space this small, cooking is best done outside.

For me this is adequate living space for solo travel. Some of the items currently on-board will be removed once a new home is established. I shall rearrange things a bit to allow for stowing necessaries, and hopefully actually get out on the road.

I have dreamed of traveling for a great many years. Since the MMC is the embodiment of those long dreams, I spend as much time in and around the MMC as I can. I have been fortunate enough to have traveled a bit, but not yet as the MMC shall allow.

It is the going I enjoy, not just the getting there. I am fond of coming around the bend and seeing a new vista. I very much enjoy passing through small towns. I long to travel slowly, stopping often and experiencing life along the road. I want to take pictures, and write about the things I see. This remains largely just a dream, but the MMC brings me a bit closer.

Moving to Medford will alter the location of the base from which I shall travel, but will not alter the dream. I expect to spend a lot of time just exploring the Rogue and Applegate valleys. Then outward. If things go well I shall see where a great many roads in the area might take me. Once I am able to gather the necessary funds I hope to make a dent in my travel bucket list. The content of that evolving list shall have to wait for a future post.

Bifurcated Lap Robe-

2010-09-14T09:58:00.000-07:00

The process of selling the house has proved a bit arduous. Initial preparations, the subsequent move of a lot of the family to our target location in Medford, Oregon. Moving everything (just about) to storage, and from storage to storage, then to storage in Oregon, has been challenging.

The initial buyers made an offer the second day we were on the market. Thirty day escrow. We figured we were almost done. Then inspections. We needed a new roof. We put on a new roof. The buyer's couldn't get financing. We gave them time to work on another loan. Almost, almost it all went through. However, it didn't go through.

So, now we sit with an empty house and little to do but putter around and keep it ready to show. We putter around, and keep it ready to show. We go on Facebook. Do email. Look at YouTube. Read. Still, there is much time and a lot of waiting.

I needed something to do with my hands. So, I started juggling again. I still suck, but I suck less as a consequence of the practice. I started whittling a bit. That was good. I like whittling. I broke out my old tin whistle. I practiced on that a bit. I whittled a bit on the wooden case I made for my tin whistle.

Essentially, I have been keeping busy. However, juggling and whittling cannot be conveniently done in the confines of a van. Since the van is where most of my stuff is, it is pretty much my home. So, I sits and thinks. I remember the kids knitting hats on knitting looms. Hmmm. That's not too messy, and it is something new to learn.

I got a set of looms. I made a hat. Turned out OK. I looked at some videos on YouTube on loom knitting. I reflected a bit, and came up with a next project.

When I sit in the van and use my computer I place the computer on a folding table that fits between my legs. To keep warm I can cover my legs with a blanket, but the bulk interferes with placing the table between my legs. I remembered my great grandfather used a small blanket he called a "lap robe" when he was sitting. An idea was born.

Using my looms I made two little lap robes, one for each leg. I called this set of lap robes my "bifurcated lap robe." The family thinks I am a bit wacky, with this knitting and sitting. They are right. The knitting thing is a bit weird, but it has proved satisfying and provided me with some practical stuff. A warm hat, and a bifurcated lap robe.

I have a few more little projects in mind, just exercises for the most part. Plus another idea for staying warm in the van as I sit through the process of selling the house. A serape! Yep, a blanket I can poke my head through, to keep more of me warm.

That's not all. I have been watching a video on making knit socks using the loom. I remember my grandmother making me knit slippers every year for a great many years. I got them for Christmas. Yes! I can make my own wool socks!

I really hope this house sells, soon. Really.

Minimalist RV-

2010-09-03T19:57:00.000-07:00

This just popped up recently on an ad for Amazon.com. It is a trailer to be hauled by a bicycle, providing a pop-up tent with a cot built in. Pretty cool. I thought it would be interesting to camp like this. I have friends who bicycle and camp, traveling considerable distances. Of course, my bicycle might have to be a little different.

There really are a lot of options for traveling. I wouldn't do this for real, of course. I don't motorcycle anymore, due to the plague of stupid on the highways. I don't think I would do this bicycle camping thing, either. Same reason. I just don't want to be taken out by a distracted SUV-driving soccer Mom who is managing the kids, the dog, texting while driving, and operating her Internet business from the car. You gotta admire a Mom like that, but I don't want to do so posthumously.

Considering that the trailer dry-weight is nearly 70 lbs., I have to wonder if I could pump the total weight once the bike and trailer were loaded and my fat ass was in the seat. The world is not level enough for me to get far managing such an RV system. Still, it is an interesting direction in which to think.

Wheelbarrows, maybe? Ara certainly sets the bar for minimalism without resorting to a wheelbarrow. I just don't see myself sleeping on the ground that much, however. My dog is also a bit too old for this form of adventuring. Still, it is a worthy dream, beautifully fulfilled. There's a motorcycle and sidecar somewhere in all of that gear. And, a dog. The art of traveling is supplemented by the art of packing in this case.

At present the Mobile Man Cave will probably be sufficient for me. This one and the ones that will probably follow. I hope to keep this one on the road for quite a while, but things happen. I suspect there might be a MMC II and perhaps a MMC III. The passage of time and the plague of stupid will probably see to that. Not to mention, building the MMC II might just be fun.

Leroy-

2010-08-26T05:41:00.000-07:00

I knew a man named Leroy back in the days when I was working for Salz Tannery. We worked there together. I operated huge mixers used to remove the hair from cow hides. Leroy was a mechanic. I really liked Leroy.

Actually, everyone liked Leroy. He was one of those unique persons whom everyone liked. These people are rare. He seemed to exist in a bubble of good will, held in high esteem by both sides of various social factions without jealousy or general bad feelings. He didn't "suck up," and was not sucked up to by people seeking his favor. He was just inherently pleasant to be around.

I have known a few such people, whom I refer to in my thoughts as Leroys. Now, being of an analytical nature it would not be surprising to find out I have observed myself. I know I am not a Leroy. People are not automatically attracted to me. Neither are they universally repulsed. I have determined that this is partially due to my social defensive tactics. I tend to be charming and abrasive in equal measures, adjusting those qualities to keep people at a manageable emotional distance.

Some people have a longing to be liked and accepted, in the extreme. They want to be Leroys. Most of them are unpleasant to be around simply due to the aura of needy and complex emotions. A true Leroy does not need to be accepted, and by virtue of that are more often accepted and in more places. That centered-ness might be one of the features that makes a Leroy so attractive.

The social interactions of a Leroy aren't driven by fear, or avarice, or some complex complex of emotions that make people who they are. The Leroy has a balance of social needs, is not predatory in relationships, and has a genuine affection for people as people. The Leroy gives in reasonable measure, yet in giving does not invite the predation of emotional predators. The Leroy is comfortable enough in his (or her) own skin to interact honestly with people without presenting that honesty as a wall.

That observation regarding honesty used as a wall was revelatory to me regarding my own non-Leroy-ness. I am honest in the extreme. Until I made this observation I did not realize that I used my honesty as one of my tools to keep people at a safe distance. I already realized that my honesty was not just the consequence of values like integrity. I simply don't have the kind of memory necessary for successful dishonesty, don't care for the complications of dishonesty, and don't have the need for approval from other humans to drive me to be dishonest for social gain.

Leroys, then, don't have the need to keep people at a distance. They don't have a cloying need to draw people close. The have a phenomenal sense of social balance. They are genuinely like this, inherently like this. It is a natural nature, not contrived or assumed.

I now recall a friend who was pretty good at mimicking the Leroy. He had it down pretty well, unlike the cliche used-car-salesman personality that is patently not genuine. I think he longed to be a Leroy, but wasn't quite. I must admit that I tested his Leroy armor from time to time, and on occasion found a chink and saw the conflicted and angry person hiding inside.

Much as I admire the Leroy, I have to wonder if the Leroy is simply a mythical beast, an artifact of the flaws in my observations? I never had the opportunity to observe the Leroy at home, in contact solely with his (or her) intimate associations. Is the Leroy a Leroy at home? Lacking a suitable blind from which to make the necessary observations, I really can't say.

Whether mythical or real, I find the Leroy useful as a foil against which to test my own concept of self. If the Leroy is the perfect balance at the center of the scale of human interactive personalities, where do I fall? What Leroy qualities, real or imagined, might I adopt to improve myself as a human?

Where are you, Leroy? I have some questions.

Gorre and Daphetid Railroad

2010-08-24T20:46:00.000-07:00

I don't spend a lot of time reminiscing about my childhood. It was a good childhood, but the rest of my life has been pretty good as well. Since I am not compelled to escape into the past, my childhood is generally a fond but distant memory.

Occasionally, however, I have a spark of memory that compels me to think on those days past. It is often a pleasant journey. Such was my recent recollection of John Allen and the Gorre and Daphetid Railroad. John built the G&D (Gorre and Daphetid) as an epic model railroad. Being a professional photographer, he built this massive model to be photographed.

A play on words is common in model railroading. Gorre (Gory) and Daphetid (Defeated) is such. There were others here and there in the huge model project. Unfortunately, I only explored the G&D through model railroading magazines. Being young, I was rather oblivious to word play in the adult world. Now, years later, those images of the G&D are not readily available. Those that are prove to be quite expensive, and properly so.

The G&D was huge. It was complex. It was highly detailed, and probably one of the best examples of the art form that was model railroading. John was an adult, and had a disposable income. Most of my model railroading was done in my youth, a time of small funds for me. My efforts to emulate this master railroader were child's play. Worthy efforts, but limited.

My first model railroad was given to me by my Grandpa and Grandma Laatz. It was a Marx HO scale toy train. My father helped me to attach the tracks to a sheet of plywood that would slip under the bed. We painted roads and other features on the plywood. My father is a good painter, an artist, so the work had more than a childish quality.

With limited funds I was able to occasionally get a cardboard model house or some street lights or such. HO cars and trucks. I added surface textures and eventually a tunnel made of cardboard and plaster. For a first effort it wasn't bad.

Unfortunately, I am not the kind of guy who took meticulous care of these old toys and now has them to display. I can't recall where they went, other than a lot of items from my childhood were not there when I returned from my time in the Army. That is probably as it should be.

My next model railroad was an N gauge set I saved up to purchase. The plywood was a thing of the past, and the HO train was in a box. This smaller gauge allowed me to do more railroad in a smaller space. My next effort had elevations and mountains and tunnels and such. I had lichen foliage and more detailed plastic buildings. There were track switches and crossings and all sorts of things. I added more sophisticated wiring that allowed me to run two trains at the same time.

I continued to putter about with my valiant but limited efforts, and continued to monitor the G&D through model railroad magazines. Eventually John Allen died, and the G&D was lost in a house fire. Now both only exist in archived photos, old books and magazines, and the minds and hearts of several model railroading generations.

I am forever grateful to John Allen and still inspired by the memory of the Gorre and Daphetid Railroad. I am also thankful for a great childhood, my grandparents and my parents, and all of their support.

Life was good then. It still is.

Pens and other anachronisms-

2010-08-08T06:52:00.000-07:00

I have a fondness for pens. Most particularly, fountain pens and dip pens. Dip pens are those very rudimentary writing instruments that you dip into an ink pot to charge the nib, and have to dip periodically as you write or draw. I have on occasion sat by candle light and written with such a pen. It was satisfying to share that experience with so many writers over many hundreds of years.

Over the years I have owned quite a number of pens, though none were particularly high-end forms of the art. That pens became over time art forms in themselves is not particularly unusual or strange. Perhaps that is part of the attraction, that these ever-so-practical daily tools can be things of great beauty. Anyway, I have owned quite a few.

Sadly, over the years I have used pens less and less. I find that the keyboard serves me much better for the actual act of writing. My wife cannot believe the speed of my typing when I am in the throes of writing. In all actuality I am not that fast on the keyboard. When my thoughts are flowing, however, the clicking can be furious.

My pen related motor skills have deteriorated over time as I have taken pen in hand less and less often. Like any other skill, use of the pen requires time and patience. My penmanship has deteriorated from a not particularly high level to a difficult to read scrawl. I must concentrate to physically write, and sometimes even forget how to form cursive letters.

From a practical perspective, this is not much of a loss. The keyboard is currently the mode of written communication. When I was in junior high school nearly half-a-century ago I elected to take typing classes. Keyboard writing was not common then, and few males elected to learn the skill. Children in the current era grow up keyboarding, cultivating a more ad hoc skill with sheer volume of use.

How many young people know nothing more of pens than the common stick pen that is sold by the dozen, and thrown away when it no longer has ink? Many adults my own age, or near to that age, are not aware of the pen as art. Such pens are expensive, and belong to a declining culture. A fine writing instrument can only be appreciated by those who practice fine writing, who value paper and ink and the very lines themselves.

They shall be kept alive, as are many anachronism and symbolic items from past eras. That is encouraging. The more beautiful representatives of the art form shall be elements of sophisticated and rare collections, viewed and appreciated by ever declining numbers of people. Like the charred stick from which they came, pens will simply become curiosities from another time.

From what I have seen, the physical keyboard is on the same path. Only a limited number of communication devices (cell phones in particular) now have physical keyboards. The keyboard as art has not had the centuries necessary to mature, and may never attain the status of the fine art pen. Oh, there have been attempts, and good ones at that. However, the time of the keyboard may well be ending.

From the most practical perspective, these transitions are not bad. The purpose of writing, no matter what the mode, is communication. Changes in the interface between ourselves and our communication technology will necessarily evolve, and only those evolutions that allow us to get the job done will survive. It is difficult to speculate what those evolutions may involve. They are happening fast, and in such volume that I cannot follow all of it.

We will each of us hold to the mode of communication that works for us. Some of us will be so bound to a mode that is falling behind the evolutionary curve that we shall fall out of the current center of human culture. Like little old ladies with excellent penmanship but nobody left to whom to write, we will drift to some cultural eddy and practice our anachronistic skills until we fade from history altogether.

The river of time flows rapidly, and none of us knows where we shall eventually wash up. So, if you happen to find me in some cultural backwater, banging away on an ancient keyboard or dipping a rusty pen in a bottle of aged ink, treat me kindly.

A Report from the Mobile Man Cave-

2010-07-24T22:40:00.000-07:00

The Mobile Man Cave had a previous incarnation as a family vehicle for my sister and her family. When I met the MMC (Mobile Man Cave) it was sitting in their driveway. I asked about it, and not much later she had sold it to me. I do still owe her a bit, and will be delighted to complete payment when the house sells in a couple of weeks.

The home sale is another story. The MMC has been more of an office and personal retreat for me, since preparing for the move has left little time for road adventures. One is soon coming, however, when we hand over the keys to the house and hit the road. The MMC, my dog Bernard and I shall head once again North to Medford, Oregon, from whence the MMC had come.

The MMC had previously been a seven passenger vehicle. It has since become a RV suitable for one person, and currently can easily accommodate only the driver and two passengers. The rear bench seat is folded down into a bed. I have a twin sized mattress on that bed, which leaves a bit of room being used for storage. Mostly plastic crates holding clothes, books, food, and miscellaneous items.

The left passenger seat in the center of the van holds a plastic dresser sort of thing. This holds underwear, socks, and various items I often need to access. In front of that seat sits a toilet. This is one of those bed-side hospital toilets. On top of that is my water jug and a waste basket. Below them is a container serving as a urinal.

Below the back seat/bed are plastic containers holding a lot of other necessary items. In the far back is a basket of tools, a basket of clothing and miscellaneous items, extra propane cylinders in an air-tight container, and a folding camp chair. Accessible from the middle of the van is a bin of higene intems, a bin of useful hardware (including extra batteries), and a bin of cleaning supplies. Two buckets are also under that seat.

The other center seat is my office chair. I am sitting there now, writing on my netbook which rests on a folding table.

The drivers seat and front passenger seat remain pretty much as intended. Between them is a power storage system, and a bucket that contains my catalytic heater and currently holds up my fan. I am running on electrical power from the house right now, and the power line comes in through the passenger window and is split on a power strip.

My laundry bag sits on the front passenger seat, and my binoculars hang there should I need them. I also have a barbecue of sorts on the floor in front of the front passenger seat. On the drivers seat sit a bus tray filled with a number of items I have not yet put away.

My rear curtain and curtain between the driver's section and the living quarters are made from Army blankets. My privacy is protected by the built-in curtains in most windows.

Since I am using electrical power right now I have also added an electric lamp. This will certainly save on batteries. When not on "shore power" I use the LED lamps I have acquired. Both use very little power and the batteries last a long time. One is a Northwest Territories standing flashlight, the other a head light held onto my forehead by straps. They have proved to be quite adequate.

I have some plans for the future. Since this is intended as a camping vehicle and the base for many future road adventures I am considering removing the front passenger seat. In its place I would like to build more storage, and a platform on which a camera tripod can be mounted. A video camera could then be used to record travels in real-time.

This modification would also provide more leg-room when I am sitting in my office chair. Perhaps a little table could fold out to hold a computer near the driver's seat, to provide a navigation resource. Alternatively, navigation instruments and a back-up camera monitor could be mounted there.

This vehicle is still water-tight and mechanically sound. I look forward to seeing how long I can keep it on the road, and what adventures we might have together. I also have some other camping configurations in mind for other vehicles, should I have the opportunity to explore and experiment a bit along that line.

I am certainly having fun with this, and hope to get out and do some exploring in the near future. Until next time, then.

Deep Space Nine-

2010-07-09T19:58:00.000-07:00

I love the Star Trek franchise. The original series, The Next Generation, Deep Space Nine. Even Voyager, though it had some issues. I finished viewing the whole NG (Next Generation) a while back. Recently I finished DS9 (Deep Space Nine.) It is always a bit emotional, reaching the end of a series, much like the ending of The Lord of the Rings. In both the book and the film it ends with Sam Gamgee saying, "Well, I'm back." The bittersweet feeling I get at that point is similar to what I felt at the end of TNG and DS9.

There is a richness and depth to these long tales. Perhaps a sufficient separation from reality as I know it allows me to connect. I don't particularly like cop stories, or social commentary, or complex people stories, which are too much like real life. Problems in real life compel a compassion I haven't the resources to meet. It is overwhelming. In realms of science fiction and fantasy I can address my feelings associated with these all-to-real problems without the immediate connection to real life compelling me to do something.

Why not do something? I am possessed by a spirit of vengeance. Not a demonic type possession. It is just a part of my nature. In another era I might have been a knight errant taking up the cause of the downtrodden, or something of the sort. Someone behaving like that today would simply be placed in prison, and rightly so. to go out as an agent of vengeance would accomplish little, and I have spent too much time in jail (wearing a badge.)

In events when someone is victimize here in the real world I do feel compassion for the victim. However, I am not the one drawn to their side, offering aid. Others are better equipped to do that. I feel compelled to seek out and find the villain, the victimizer. Seek them out, and visit justice upon them by my own hand. Oh, I don't do this, of course. There are systems in place to see to the exercise of justice. Sterile, impersonal systems, but they are probably better for that absence of passion.

So, I enjoy the richness of these tales, the spectacle of the images that support the illusion of life in space, and the openness of the unexplored frontier. I also have a fondness for old time cowboy movies that have the same sense of frontier adventure, but those are tales from a time now past. The placement of tales in the future contributes an essential flavor of possibility. The dead past, even the fantasy cowboy past, is devoid of such possibility. It can only lead to now.

So, it is off to space, the final frontier. DS9 managed to use that great stage to present some very interesting tales, and develop some quite interesting characters. Some explored political associations and the complexity of those relationships. Others were character tales, or tales of growing relationships. A few were even exploration of the very idea of writing and producing tales of life on a space station far from Earth.

I have begun the Voyager series, to complete my viewing of the Star Trek franchise. Some hold DS9 to be the pinnacle of the Star Trek adventures. I must grant that there is a temptation to take such a position. However, I don't see the need to compare the original series to Next Generation to DS9 to Voyager. They are all available to enjoy for their own contributions.

It is truly a delight to live in an era where many things Star Trek have not only come into being, but are sometimes superior to the dreams of those writers who created tomorrow over the course of decades. Vacuous Valley Girls routinely use technologies superior to those impossible dreams presented in the original series, and even subsequent and more modern Star Trek iterations. The future comes fast, these days, and seems to belong to everyone.

How long until Star Trek in it's entirety is old and dated as a cowboy matinée feature? Who can tell? The future is coming so fast that I can barely see for the temporal wind in my eyes. We shall hopefully be surprised and delighted by how it all turns out.

Live long, and prosper. \\//

Regarding ebooks-

2010-07-05T19:11:00.000-07:00

I just posted a blog on ebooks over on my short story blog. I didn't want to post twice, when I could do this little reference thing. I have different followers on the two blogs, and thought everyone might want to read my pro-ebook ramblings.

We hope to have the house sold in the coming weeks, and make the move to Medford, Oregon. Once settled I hope to get back to writing again. I have missed it, and amazingly some of you have, as well.

An End to Prohibition-

2010-06-01T16:54:00.000-07:00

Around 1917 the U.S. government established some comprehensive regulations regarding the possession, use and access to drugs. Bodies such as The Women's Christian Temperance Union reacted to abuses of drugs and alcohol, gained influence, and the net result was a ban on the recreational use of drugs. In effect, the government was acting to protect citizens from themselves and their own choices.

Subsequent to this regulation was a ban on the manufacture, use and possession of alcohol. Again, influenced by such bodies as the temperance movement, this was government acting to protect people from their own choices by eliminating those choices and criminalizing certain behaviors.

A consequence of this regulation and restriction of individual choices was the rapid expansion of criminal forces to take advantage of a demand without a supply. Criminal suppliers of drugs and alcohol became wealthy, and the battle for that wealth was increasingly violent.

The regulation of drugs was separate from the ban on alcohol. When the overall cost of the ban on alcohol became too great, the public accepted a return to a moderately regulated system through which alcohol might be made, sold, and possessed for consumption. The regulation and restriction on drugs continued, and the general ban on recreational use of drugs has continued to this day.

For a time the illegal use of drugs continued to fuel a criminal economy which was content to remain in the background. Good people simply did not go to the side of town where drugs were sold and used, and the violence of that drug culture was largely ignored.

In the decade of the 1960's the use of drugs expanded from these dark realms. College campuses became another place where drug use was common, and a "rebellious" youth bent on exploring all aspects of life brought those drugs and their purveyors into environments previously unsullied by such "filth."

This was certainly not a problem for the criminal communities. Expanding their markets was quite appealing. Eventually even some of the rich and powerful were at least sometimes users. The taint of drug use colored entertainment, politics, and even the best of families. The fingers of the criminal organizations reached high and deep.

We are fast approaching the centennial of this failed effort to control the choices of citizens with regard to recreational drug use. The cost of enforcing these laws has become a huge burden on the society at large. Much of the enormous cost of incarcerating so many offenders is directly related to the illegal drug industry. Meanwhile, drug cartels have become so wealthy and powerful that they have camped literally on the borders of the United States, even taking control of entire towns in Northern Mexico.

Unless the U.S. government is willing to fight a real war on drugs, with real guns and bullets and death for multitudes, the only reasonable choice is legalization and a moderated system of regulation.

Consider the consequences. Drug cartels will immediately lose their vast wealth, and the motivation to continue in the drug market. Drugs will be regulated regarding mode of distribution and with regard to quality. The price of drugs will come down from the astronomical rates required by criminal distributors, and very few drug users will be compelled to steal or sell their bodies to secure this much more affordable substance.

The savings in enforcement cost and incarceration expenses can be applied to other services, to include expanded drug and alcohol awareness education. The choice as to whether or not use drugs would be returned to the individual, and the individual would not become a criminal for choosing to use drugs or alcohol.

Granted, there exists the possibility of some people who refrained from drug use due to the criminal aspect going ahead and now choosing to use drugs. There exists the possibility of an increase in antisocial behavior in some places at some times due to the reduced regulation and increased access. The degree is unknown, and predictions will remain speculations until the case is tested through a well planned and executed legalization of drugs.

I propose that the money saved in enforcing a failed drug management policy could be better spent in education and providing services to overcome such slight bumps in the road as I mentioned above. The legalization and reduced regulation is not a perfect answer to the problem. Indeed, the problem may be so deep seated in humans as humans that it cannot be fully overcome, by regulation or anything else created by human beings.

Even so, the present system enriches criminals, costs a great deal in a multitude of resources including human lives, and has accomplished little in the hundred years of regulation. Perhaps it is time to try something else. Something radical. Something that returns the dignity of choice to the individual regarding their own lives.

A Comedy of Errors, with lots of smoke...

2010-06-01T09:47:00.000-07:00

I was sleeping in my van, out in the yard. Why I was sleeping in my van out in the yard is another story. As I said, I was sleeping. A knocking awoke me. I waited. Lot's of things might knock in the night. The knocking came again.

"Who is there?" I asked.

"Jon."

"What's up?" I asked. It had to be late, and my son Jon had no night knocking proclivities of which I was aware.

"Mom asked me to tell you the house is on fire."

I lay there a moment.

"Is the house on fire?" I asked.

"It was. Everyone is outside while the smoke clears."

I decided I needed to get up. I did so, and wandered to the front porch where the whole family was gathered.

To tell the rest of the story, we need to go back to early evening. I sat at my computer, and my wife Linda sat at hers. There was a bang outside, and the lights went out. Our computers were both on battery back up systems, so we started to shut them down as family members found each other in the dark. Flashlights came on, a few candles were lit. Soon the computers were shut down, along with the modem and the wifi router.

That part about the modem and router will prove important, later.

Beth, my daughter, had started boiling water for spaghetti. I went and got the camp stove from the shed, and set it up on the stove top. It is one of those electric glass top stoves. The rest of the kitchen was in disorder, as we were in the middle of renovations and the counter tops were covered with construction materials and dirty dishes. The stove top seemed a good place to set up the camp stove.

It was not.

We got the water boiling, cooked the noodles, got everybody fed. With the power out, there was little to do, and so everyone made their way to bed. As I noted before, I was using the van as a bedroom, and that is where I went.

Now, back to the front porch. It's about two in the morning, the power is back on, and everyone is on the porch. Here is how the events were related to me.

Linda awoke when the lights came back on. She started her computer, but could not get on the Internet. As I related, the modem and router were on another power line, and the back up supply was still turned off. Linda was not familiar with how this was set up, and not being able to connect she headed for the bathroom.

As she made her way down the hall, she observed billowing clouds of smoke up in the vaulted ceiling of the living room. She rushed to the kitchen, to find the camp stove burning on the stove top. None of us had made sure that the power switch for the electric burner was turned off. With all of the finding people in the dark and setting up camp, it had simply been overlooked.

Finding that she could not blow the fire out like a birthday candle, she ran back and awoke my son-in-law Dave. Beth awoke as well. Dave went to the kitchen to try and smother the fire. Beth remembered the fire extinguisher, which she located and applied. By this time the house was full of smoke.

I am sure I am missing some of the details. I was sleeping in my van at the time. Anyway, everyone was awakened and moved out of the house as windows were thrown open and fans started and the elimination of smoke begun. Then Jon was dispatched to awaken his father, who was sleeping in the van.

That's me, by the way.

What had burned on the camp stove were two plastic feet. The ones sitting on the burner that had not been turned off, but we did not know that because the power was out. Fortunately, nothing else had become involved. Had my wife been able to connect to the Internet, she would not have made the discovery when she did. The house may have become involved in the fire, and things would have become very unpleasant.

Linda declares Divine Providence. I do, as well, but I also think we were lucky. I am convinced that God has incorporated an element of luck in the whole Providence thing, just to make things interesting.

So, what have we learned, Dorothy? I don't think I will use the stove top as a counter space from now on. That was dumb. Also, in the event of a power outage I think I will be checking the status of stoves and other things that may cause a fire. Finding and accounting for everyone in the confusion caused this critical oversight. That cannot be allowed to happen again.

It was quite possible that I would have awakened to find most of my family gone, literally up in smoke. I am very thankful that such was not the case. I am rather fond of them, and they still seem willing to put up with me after all of these years. Even if I insist in sleeping in a van.

Why was I sleeping in the van? That will have to be another story.

A Soldier Serves His Country-

2010-05-31T17:23:00.000-07:00

Some time back I was watching a program on the History Channel. The footage being displayed was of the taking of the Pacific Islands held by the Japanese, late in the war. U.S. forces were using flamethrowers, pouring flaming death down the throats of the caves which the Japanese soldiers were using as fortresses. These were some of the most hard fought battles of World War II in the Pacific.

I wept for those Japanese soldiers. They had answered the call of their country, and whatever my perspective on how justified or unjustified that call may have been, they served the nation of their origin. I wept for the horrible death that rained down upon them. It was a horrible spectacle.

I also wept for the soldiers manning those flamethrowers. A dangerous task, and a horrible thing to do to another human being. Yes, they were raining death down upon the enemy of the United States. They as soldiers had also answered the call of their nation, and found themselves far from home doing what was necessary, but still horrible. The memory of such acts cannot be easy to bear.

The soldier is the edge of the sword of his or her nation. A sword does not select its target. A sword does the will of the one who wields it. The task of the sword is to be a sword, as the task of the soldier is to be a soldier. The honor of the sword and the honor of the soldier is the same. Like the honor of a sword, the honor of the soldier is not defined by the one who wields the weapon. The honor is in faithful service.

War is glorified beyond reason. Though sometimes necessary, it is always regrettable. Fancy parades and uniforms and marching bands are grand and wonderful things, but it always comes down to raining flaming death down upon other human beings. Even those who survive are often scarred beyond any real healing.

On this Memorial Day we honor the sacrifice of those who have served this Great Nation. That is good, and right, and honorable. I suggest that those of us who can reach beyond that, and remember that those who stood against us were soldiers as well. Perhaps a degree of honor and respect is due them, as well. They answered the call, and served.

A friend of mine served in the taking of those islands in World War II. He was wounded in two separate assaults. In one assault the Americans fought all the way to the highest point on that particular island. The Japanese defended to the end. Few Japanese survived.

Many, many years later this friend visited that same island, and stood in a memorial park at that last defense. There, quite by accident, he met one of those few Japanese defenders. They shook hands and had pictures taken of their meeting. They honored one another.

A soldier serves his country. I honor those who serve.

A Report from the Mobile Man Cave-

2010-05-13T06:55:00.000-07:00

I have been playing with the Mobile Man Cave a bit as we prepare for our move from Felton, California to Medford, Oregon. My air mattress finally failed after sleeping on it for a week or so. These Northwest Territories air mattresses are cheap, but really don't last long. I used them in my truck tent over the course of a year, and got about six weeks total use out of each one. The only saving grace for these cheap items was the Kmart 90 day warranty. I just kept trading them in over the course of that year, and by virtue of that got good value.

In preparing to move we found ourselves with a surplus twin sized mattress. I managed to fit it into the sleeping area of the Man Cave, and it is working well. The right rear captains seat in the mid-section of the MMC (Mobile Man Cave, or van) is pushed all the way forward, and when sleeping I tilt it forward as well to clear foot space at the end of the bed.

The MMC has been serving truck duty during the day. We pack our stuff in boxes, I put the boxes Tetris-like into the MMC, and drive over to the storage area. We have a five foot by fifteen foot storage area to assist in getting things cleared out for selling the house. Once there I again play Tetris, trying to fit as much stuff into the space as I can.

At night I have been sleeping in the MMC, getting a feel for how to make it a suitable road home for travel. For a number of nights I have had neck pains and disrupted sleep. I finally determined that the vehicle being out of level was the problem. I looked for a solution on the Internet, and found several ideas. The one I adopted was making two ramps out of scrap wood.

By placing the ramps in front of the appropriate wheels and driving carefully forward, the van can be adjusted in angle. The present angle is still not really level, but has greatly improved sleep and general comfort. These first ramps are a bit bulky to carry on trips, but I think I can refine them and come up with a workable solution.

Our house is located in a wooded area, and my parking space was carved out of a portion of our property and not particularly level. This has provided a good camping simulation for testing and refining the MMC. Yes, it is a strange thing to do, camping in the yard like a kid. It has also been a lot of fun.

I considered a built in desk or table for my mid-section living space. Target had the best price on a table, so when opportunity arose to go there I went table hunting. Instead I found a TV tray sold as a single item, built firm enough for the task. I am using this folding "table" right now. It is just adequate for a netbook and mouse, though the surface is not laser-mouse friendly. I need to get a mouse pad.

During this period of reducing-storing-resurfacing in our house, preparing for a sale, I have grumbled about the number of items everyone was keeping for the sake of sentiment. I had been diligent to slash my library, my most prized treasures, even trying to sell my Centennial Dicken's collection. I got rid of a lot of stuff, and could not understand the reticence of other family members to do the same.

Then I sold my Warhammer miniatures. I met a fellow gamer and sold my toys. I experienced a terrible emotional wrenching. I thought at first it was from selling them cheaply to make a quick sale. No, that was not it. I realized then that I had a huge emotional investment in these toys. I had collected them, painted them, customized them, designed armies and played games with them.

I am now a bit more understanding regarding the emotional connection with "stuff." That being said, I did sell my toys and replaced them with a practical pocket hard drive for my netbook. A Toshiba 320 gig drive. Very practical. Light. Easy to move. Unlike my wife's crockery.

Oops! There I go again.

I still need a heat source for the MMC, other than running the engine. Several camp heaters seem well designed, with plenty of safety features to make them good choices. At present my blankets and warm clothing are sufficient. I don't plan any hard winter camping, but I still want to get this thing as complete and self-contained as possible.

My plans for travel adventures around our Central California area never came to pass, largely due to not having the MMC until recently and not having a lot of surplus money. The purpose of this move to Oregon is to liberate some of the equity in the house and reduce expenses so that our income goes further. Hopefully, this will provide some money for travel adventures.

So, my adventure target will change. I have been looking at maps of the Southern Oregon/Northern California areas. Plenty of adventure there, I must say. However, a new day is beginning in our Adventure In Moving, and I need to get to doing something constructive for making that move happen.

This has been another report from the Mobile Man Cave. Stay tuned for further adventures.

Cold War Soldier-

2010-04-26T12:02:00.000-07:00

In the Spring of 1972 the war in Viet Nam was still going on. The draft was still in place, and my life was up for grabs. I had no real plans for the future, but I really wanted to survive. I was troubled by a sense of duty and a love for my country, and the dismal prospect of being sent for no apparent purpose to be used up in a war I did not understand.

I enlisted. I joined the Army, because they had the shortest enlistment term with a promise. I got a guarantee for training in Nuclear Weapons Electronics. I figured that nuclear weapons were not deployed to active war zones, and so I could complete any obligation to my country without being placed at particular risk. It was a good plan, at least in the beginning.

Unfortunately, I was then what I am now, a frustrated idealist. I found the people associated with supporting our nuclear arsenal a bit unsavory. They were uncomfortably gleeful about the prospects of the button being pushed. I was just not ready to join their strange fellowship of worshipers of the atomic fires, and eventually washed out of that school.

Wash-outs in the Army are not wasted. I eventually was sent to supply school, to learn to manage the vast numbers of parts needed to maintain the modern Army machine. I did well, and after some thought I was not particularly fearful of deployment to even Viet Nam. How much danger would a guy counting parts in a warehouse face?

I completed my schooling and was eventually ready for deployment.

They sent me to Germany. Not only did they send me to Germany, but the sent me to Ramstein Air Base. This was an Air Force installation, but not just any installation. This was Air Force Nato Headquarters. I was in an ordinance detachment serving an Army air defense unit defending a very significant target. Great housing, very good food, wonderful accommodations and very near to the city of Kaiserslautern.

Considering that I was serving my country during war time in a pretty comfortable location, it was not too bad. At least, it seemed pretty nice until I learned our real mission.

During field exercises where we ran around doing Army stuff in the mud, the Battalion Commander brought us all together for a meeting. He wished to relate our mission. He showed us our place in the defense of Europe from a conventional assault by the Soviet Union. He had drawings and graphs, and showed how the layers of defense were to be set up.

Now, I worked in supply, a rear echelon sort of job. Unfortunately ours was a very mobile supply operation, and I learned that we weren't going to be that far from the front. The task of the Seventh Army deployed in Europe was to maintain vehicles and equipment for the soldiers coming from the United States, in the event of an all-out Soviet assault.

The Seventh Army was designed to survive only twenty four hours, the time it would take to bring masses of troops to the European continent. The anticipated losses were 80%. The arriving troops would travel light. We had their supplies and equipment in place. Our job was to defend for only one day. Longer, if possible, but we were a planned-for sacrifice to buy twenty four hours of time.

At least, that is how it was all related to me, as best I can remember it. I am proud to have served my country, but there are times I wish the whole thing made a lot more sense.

If the fall of the Soviet Union is considered a victory, then we won the Cold War. Now Russians can by Levi's (probably now made in Viet Nam) in their very own malls.

Victory is sweet.

Artisans-

2010-04-20T16:29:00.000-07:00

I was in Medford, Oregon, recently. The circumstances were a bit trying, as we were dealing with a family emergency. We got past the emergency, and as a consequence had a bit of unscheduled free family time. This happened to coincide with the sixth annual Oregon Cheese Festival, a small but quite interesting event.

I am fond of cheese. My niece Briana is fond of cheese. She had a car, and we had free entry passes courtesy of her sister, Shayla. Such a cosmic confluence ought not to be ignored, and was not. We went to the sixth annual Oregon Cheese Festival, held at the Rogue Creamery in Central Point, Oregon.

The event was organized by the Oregon Cheese Guild, a body of independent artisan cheese makers and others associated with the production and use of quality hand-crafted cheeses. I found it to be quite delightful, to experience so many cheeses in one place.

Some creameries purchased their milk from small farms managing carefully selected cows, goats, or both. Others managed their own herds. Quality was always the purpose behind such selectiveness. The cheeses were manufactured largely by hand at small creameries, such as Rogue Creamery. Production levels were low, the volume of cheese being rather limited in many cases.

Restaurants and chefs were in attendance, as well as members of the public who had a discriminating fondness for cheeses and related wines and beers. Many of the stalls were run by the owners of the creameries, wineries and breweries represented.

While some creameries were mature organizations producing cheese for generations, many were relatively new operations created by people leaving other modes of life to become artisans. I had the impression that many of them had been successful enough in their previous lives to indulge and invest in these artisan dreams. The quality of the cheeses I enjoyed certainly attested to their commitment, dedication and the successful outworking of their visions.

The romantic side of my imagination loves the vision of a successful engineer, lawyer or physician finding that life in their chosen field is not "all that," and taking their earned wealth out into meadows to fund the production of fabulous cheeses. Most would have to find an artisan from whom to learn in an apprenticeship of some kind, or else purchase that expertise and learn from the master they have hired.

I sometimes wonder what it would be like to have such dedication and commitment to a vision, to go forth and become an artisan. To earn the title "Master" in making cheese, or wine, or beer. In my younger days I did not experience such a vision, and I am not a successful professional with sufficient resources to purchase the experience here on the back-side of my life.

What I can do is appreciate the artisans, and enjoy the fruits of their long labors. I can enjoy beer, wine, cheese and many other delights produced by artisans. I can, even with my limited wealth, patronize artists in their work. I eat, I drink, and I live in this world.

Raise a glass. Fill your plate. Fill your life. Here's to the artisans!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d0UfS1bqscM

A Necessary Evil-

2010-04-10T20:58:00.000-07:00

In a recent post pboyfloyd challenged both my primary premise and the implication of my argument. He rightly pointed out a flaw in how I stated my argument, a logical inconsistency. I corrected that in my response to his reply, though whether or not to his satisfaction I am currently not aware. As to the other aspect, pboy essentially concluded that I believed government to be "bad."

Groups of unregulated humans are an ugly thing. Hobbes correctly observed that individual life outside of some kind of society is "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short." In groups that remain unregulated things don't get much better. Orders of tradition, religion, myth, history or some other foundation can mitigate corporate selfishness and greed. They have done so often enough in the past to bring forth the relatively viable and livable orders that exist today.

How trustworthy is any given government? There are abundant examples in the world today indicating that government is not a particularly good thing, from the individual perspective. However, there are a great many governments that display great promise. For all of their flaws, many governments strive with diligence to insure a reasonable quality of life for individuals under their authorities. Between anarchy and tyranny there are some very livable social orders.

Our current American social order is undergoing some uncomfortable changes. Most specifically, the issue of health care and how it relates society to the individual has the nation in a state of flux. Some believe the government trustworthy and responsible for the regulation and provision of health care. Others trust the government less, and so do not find it the proper venue for the management of the nation's health care.

Those profiting from the status quo utilize all of their strengths to oppose such changes. Those who see the individual as suffering for lack of health care under the current system seek a champion in the power of the government to bring forth change. Some fear that entrusting and empowering the government in yet one more aspect of life will lead to a deterioration of individual liberty. Others see a liberation from fear of the cost and loss due to illness to be worth the sacrifice of some liberties.

My own relationship with the government of the United States, and by virtue of that relationship my relationship with government in general, goes back to the end of my youth. I grew up in an atmosphere of patriotism and good citizenship. I respected the confidence and faith I perceived in my parents and grand parents toward our government, and adopted without question that same confidence.

Around 1968, however, I became much more personally aware of the state of the world and the relationship of the United States to other nations. We were engaged in a war in a distant land called Viet Nam. I watched the news reports on television in the company of my parents. I grew aware of the fact that there were real deaths occurring over there, and many of those deaths were Americans.

I became familiar with the draft, a lottery established to select which young Americans would be taken and sent to that distant war. I understood the terrible sacrifice that was made to end World War II. A clearly defined set of enemies intended to overthrow our nation and take our freedom. The purpose of Viet Nam was a lot less clear.

And so, in my later youth I faced a government which intended to sacrifice me in a distant land for no clear purpose. Talk of dominoes and a vague Red Threat counted for little in justifying the enormous risk to my young life. I was conflicted between wanting to love my country and its government and the threat that same government presented with regard to my option to go on living.

I did serve my country in the uniform of the Army of the United States. I served proudly, and have the honor of being classed as a Viet Nam Era Veteran. I never went to Viet Nam. I volunteered for the Army in order to exercise at least some small control over my military destiny. That control was largely an illusion, but I was none-the-less preserved from actual war and committed instead to fighting the Cold War in Europe.

Since those days I have looked upon the government as a relatively docile Leviathan, a great and dangerous beast not to be trusted too far. I speak often of a small government which regulates gently, made small to preserve individual liberties but large enough to prevent the unprincipled from acquiring too much power. The true Leviathan is nothing like my dream, and will never be much like that.

There are a great many people poking and prodding the great beast, in the hope of causing it to do their will. Perhaps it even will, for a time. However, it is an entity in itself, and I cannot truly trust the beast. After all, it threatened my life in the past. I cannot make myself believe that it truly has my best interests in mind.

So, deep in my heart, do I think government is bad? Yes. Yes, I do. It is a necessary evil, and I will abide it as such. Even now the great beast grinds young men and women in the mills of war, and I still cannot see the true reason behind it. That it grinds only volunteers does not mitigate the evil by much.

A necessary evil may be necessary, but it is still evil.

A Report from the Mobile Man Cave-

2010-04-08T17:50:00.000-07:00

The trip back from Oregon went well. Fuel consumption was not so bad as I had anticipated. By the time I reached my half-way point I had only consumed a quarter tank. The half-way point is Rolling Hills Casino, which is a convenient stop. I did two dollars in several different penny slots, and drank one cup of coffee while playing and took another for the road. Essentially two dollars for two "free" cups of coffee, plus some entertainment.

Obviously gambling is not a big draw for me, though I really appreciate the facility. Clean restrooms, free coffee and soda, and a bit of fun. Perhaps someday I will stay for more fun, but this trip was an effort to get home. I did get home, quite comfortable and safe. The Mobile Man Cave provided good transportation, and a place to nap along the way.

Since getting home I have been gathering things for my Mobile Man Cave. I got some bins from Dollar Tree that fit nicely under the bed. I also gathered some items in a larger bin in the far back, loaded in my camp chair, stowed my dutch oven, propane stove and other gear, and set up the bed. I currently have one of my air mattresses laid out and covered by bedding. It is quite comfortable and a great place to nap.

I got a camp lantern that is rechargeable electric, a gift from Linda for my birthday. I also found an inverter. After shopping around I found the best price on a Duracell unit from Walgreens, at which I just happened to stop by on other errands.

Some of the family is distressed by my camp potty, a bucket with a special toilet seat top. I also have a pot for, well, I have a pot to piss in. I am not really sure why these things are distressing. I find it more distressing not to have such things when they are needed.

At present I am sitting in my Mobile Man Cave, typing on my netbook computer using a lap desk. I wouldn't want to write my next novel this way, but it does work well for a blog entry. I am on my home network, the signal for which is coming in quite well. I have yet to explore tapping available wifi signals while traveling. That will be a future project.

I have also placed an extension cord on board, to allow for connecting to outside power sources when available. I hope to add a power storage unit sometime in the near future, to allow even more flexibility in electronic camping comfort. I have a few other items I will add over time, and I am sure I will find more.

This has been an update from the Mobile Man Cave.

The carpet is hot lava!

2010-04-05T15:49:00.000-07:00

Recently being with my whole family to deal with a family emergency allowed me to spend some time with my sisters, Donni and Conni. I also had some time to spend with my nieces, Shayla and Briana. Both of these young women are adults, thus giving some perspective on the span of time I am reaching back across for these memories.

This visit led to reflection on growing up, on family, on ageing and the next generation. In our extended family our ages range from just a few months to a venerable eighty three years. Four living generations. Much to love, appreciate and contemplate. The presence of both of my sisters, however, turned my thoughts to our childhood.

I have to make a projection, here. I must assume that others reading this had similar play experiences in their childhood. I was always fond of imagination games, adventures exploding from shared imaginative activities. The one element that inclines me toward concluding that such a form of play is universal is "hot lava."

My grand children sometimes define an area as "hot lava." I recall games in childhood in which such definitions were also made. Most particularly, the family room in one particular house. The danger was the vast area of wall-to-wall carpeting that was designated "hot lava." Whatever the particulars of the adventure in play, it was necessary to traverse the vast expanses of our family room without stepping in the "hot lava."

Due to the dangers this kind of play presents to household furniture it was necessary to designate some areas as impassible. Coffee tables and end tables were out of bounds. With the necessity of leaping from safe point to safe point in a sea of lava, the tables were necessarily excluded. One broken table could damage relations with the adult community for quite some time.

So, depending on the degree of immediate supervision, cushions were often removed from chairs and sofas to provide safe islands in the otherwise deadly "hot lava." Pillows from the bedrooms, blankets and other objects also served to create the needed environment for leaping adventures.

An alternative game played in the same arena was called "fall." In this game the room was imagined as being set at some precarious angle, and the furniture provided hand-holds and safe landing places. Generally, this game was played with everyone laying on their sides, feet planted against whatever surface of furniture was available after the direction of "down" was determined.

Rolling and slithering across the carpet after a leap from one point toward another was considered "falling." Sometimes the whole environment was caught in some convoluted rotation, causing "down" to shift over time. I wonder if any of my Facebook or Blogger friends recall such adventures?

Imagination, applied to every-day objects for the purpose of play. I don't really play now in the same fashion, but I really haven't given it all up. I read fantasy fiction. I go to Disneyland often, where I face imaginary adventures time and again. I periodically re-visit Middle Earth in book and video formats. I go often into the imaginary World of Warcraft, there having both scripted and unscripted adventures.My favorite films and stories seem to embody those same adventures I had as a child.

I have met people who longed as children to grow up and be adults. I have met adults who reveled in their adulthood. I have known adults mired in the complications of adulthood who longed for a long lost childhood. None of that for me. My childhood is a place I have never left, at least in the most important elements.

So, my dear readers, be very careful. The carpet is hot lava!

Mobile Man Cave-

2010-03-30T12:16:00.000-07:00

My Mother's recent serious illness and brush with death prompted myself and a significant portion of my family to travel to Medford, Oregon. Once the crisis was passed and we were beginning to move more toward a normal state we had opportunity to go to my sister Conni's house.

I noted a van out front. To be specific, a 1993 Chevy Gladiator conversion van. I made some comment about the van. I don't recall just what. Conni said she was thinking of getting rid of it. She was considering getting something that got better mileage. They no longer had the boat they used to tow with the van, and it was no longer what she needed.

My Son-in-law Dave was watching me closely. Apparently my eyes had lit up a bit. I had been talking about getting a van for quite some time. Dave has been wanting my truck, which used to be his truck before he let me have it. We took over payments, they moved away, and now they have moved back. Dave and I smiled.

Family dynamic and family economics are complicated.

I asked how much Conni wanted for the van. She gave me a price. A very good price. Dave had some money available to buy the truck, if I ever got a van. Hmmm. This was looking like it might work.

Over the following week arrangements were made, and now I have a van. A rather nice van, in spite of the years and miles on it. Dave will get a truck, and I now have a mobile man cave. A space of my own. A portable hole to hide in.

Mom is doing well. The California part of the family has returned to California. Now having transportation of my own, I remained for a bit more family time and to help where I could. Soon I will begin my first real journey with my mobile man cave.

I do need to get home, but having a portable living space makes a slow journey seem appealing. I really do need to get home, and I do wish to see everybody back home. Still, a little time on the road has a certain appeal.

Too bad most of my camping gear is at home.

Death is just a breath away-

2010-03-22T08:07:00.000-07:00

My Mother came very close to death last week. I received the news that I have long anticipated and dreaded. I live about 400 miles away from my parents, who are both in their late 70's. As parents age, even though they are in generally good health, "the phone call" is just an anticipated part of life.

My sister Donni called. Mom was in the hospital, in Intensive Care. The insideous cold of this season, the Winter of 2009, had brought her close to death, and she was struggling for life at that very moment. Cold, as in a usually minor viral infection. Sneazing, sniffling, and coughing. Runny noses and lots of tissues.

The cold challenged a system already compromised by emphazema, and a body in a generally weakened state due to factors of which we would only learn later. Emphazema, pneumonia, and a handful of seamingly minor things brought my Mother near to death.

My daughter Beth was instrumental in mobilizing an emergency family visit. She and her husband Dave soon had their four children and the vehicle ready. Time off from work was quickly arranged, lots of little details pulled together quickly.

Though this phone call was long anticipated, I was still in shock. My Mother. Mom's can't die. That is just not possible. Logic plays no part. Mom can't die. I prayed, and finally began to pack a few things.

We drove through the night, arriving in Medford, Oregon in the early morning. Waking my Dad, we huddled and learned the details. Mom had been sick. She hadn't arisen as usual and remained in bed for many hours. My sister Donni came over with some soup to feed her, but she wouldn't respond.

They called 911, and help began ariving in minutes. First responders crowded the bedroom, where Dad stood anxiously watching. She was quickly prepared for transport and moved to the ambulance. Dad and Donni followed.

Mom was hooked up to a breathing system to pump in oxygen and draw out expended gasses. Intrvenous fluids and medications were many. Tubes and a multitude of devices were attached. Mom was the most compromised individual in the ICU. She existed on the cusp of death.

In small groups we visited her in the ICU. She was conscious when I visited, and frustrated by the breathing apparatus strapped to her face. She couldn't talk through the heavy plastic device. It was very hard to see her there, but encouraging in that moment by moment she was getting better.

Hour by hour, and then day by day she was getting better. My third visit found Mom without that blessed and dreaded mask. She could talk! Mom was coming back to us!

To keep busy and provide a clean environment at home for continued recovery the family launched into a massive cleaning campaign. My Dad and my two sisters were cleaning fanatics, and I joined in to provide some support and another pair of hands.

Family was together for meals and hospital visits. Great grand parents and great grand children, and everyone in between and even remotely family. Drawn together to rally and support and just be with each other. There was a warmth and richness and depth of sharing that offset the dread of the shadow of death.

I missed my wife, Linda. She had remained behind to be available to her own ageing Mother. Alta, her Mother, remains in reasonably good health, but later life is it's own danger. Travel would have been hard on her, and so they remained behind.

My brother in law, Paul, used some of his travel points to provide a very nice hotel suite for Beth, Dave and the kids. Though my children and grand children are troopers and would have camped on floors with delight, this provision was ever so much better. Dad could enjoy the grand children and great grand children, and still have a little peace in the late evening after a busy day.

Today my Mother is scheduled for release from the hospital. Nine days of ordeal behind her, and more time of recovery at home. That, and some lifestyle changes. She will be supported in the process of change, but still faces considerable challenge.

We learned a few things. Rest is good when someone is ill, but excessive tiredness and too much sleeping may indicate a serious condition. A compromised breathing system can cause a decline in the desire for food, and a downward spiral initiated as malnutrition sets in and compromises even more systems.

Most important of all, we learned again the value of family. Being there, being together even with all of our combined inadequacies, is important. Why it is important may or may not be quantifiable, but it is important. Building bonds of tolerance and mutual support in the family may well be our most important work in life.

So, enough blogging. It is time to make the final preparations. My Mother is coming home.

Real Player update and Computer Literacy-

2010-03-13T11:43:00.000-08:00

I began my computer adventures in high school, which was not common in the late 1960's. My personal computer adventures began in the mid-1980's. A friend, Michael Wilson, fed me some surplus parts he had, and I cobbled together my first computer. He also supplied some stuff for my second computer, and I learned a lot putting them together and learning to operate them.

Not too far into that adventure I became what was known then as a "power user." That sounds pretty cool, but any child working with a computer today would probably earn the title with what they know. It was a comfortable competence in managing files and tweaking programs to get them to run together. It was a tedious process in those days. Once in a while I have experiences reminding me of those times, but for the most part computers are a bit easier to live with now.

Today I got a notice that the newest version of Real Player was available for download. I downloaded it immediately. I have learned that keeping your software up to date is critical for easy operation. So, I hit the download button. Immediately the first screen came up. It was an ad for Carbonite, the on-line back-up program being advertised frequently on television.

In the ad was a check box, which was already checked. It said that I wanted a trial version of Carbonite. I unchecked the box and went on with my download. This is not the first time this advertising ploy has come up, but it is a fairly recent development. I thought on the matter a bit, and realized that some of my Internet friends might not be aware of this new ploy.

Carbonite might well be a great program, but I already have a back-up plan in place. I do not want Carbonite, and many who might want to update their Real Player might not want Carbonite either. So, our lesson for today is to watch the ads coming along with automatic downloads. Look at those check boxes, and be sure to un-check any which are already checked if you don't want the product or service.

Younger people who have grown up with personal computers may consider this a "duh" moment, but older users often overlook a lot of what goes on with their computers. Many postpone critical updates not realizing how important they are. Advertisers do realize how important those regular updates are, and attach the ads for that reason.

So, look at those update offers. Make sure they are updates for programs you use. Watch the update process as it occurs, and especially note any check boxes that already have checks in the box. Adding new programs which you do not want to your system will just clutter the computer, and makes it run poorly.

It takes only a little time and effort to become a "power user." Just a little learning and a bit of vigilance can reward you with a smooth running computer and trouble free operation. Too much neglect will net you a computer repair bill to clean up a clogged and bloated system.

It's so simple, even a Cave Man can do it. So can you.

Finished reading The Wheel of Time, again....

2010-03-12T14:39:00.000-08:00

This is the twelfth book in a series which is truly a single tale. Not a linked series of fantasy novels, but one long tale. I started rereading months ago. Each volume runs six to eight hundred pages long. A serious bit of reading, but enjoyable none-the-less.

Robert Jordan himself wrote the first eleven novels. The balance of the story was in the works when a rare disease took his life. Brandon Sanderson has been selected to write the rest of the story, and he picked up the tale and presented it admirably.

I expect the next volume to come out on schedule next Fall. I hope that the tale will remain fresh enough in my mind for that much time. Reading this epic yet again would be a challenge. Perhaps one day I will read the whole thing again in its entirety, when the final volume is completed. Until then I hope to simply pick up the story when the next volume comes out.

There is something to be said for reading series novels like this. Part of the fun is the anticipation of the next release. Generally books do not come out in a series like this more frequently than one volume each year. In some cases a bit more time is required to craft the next installment, as Harry Potter fans learned over the course of that series.

Yes, I read Harry Potter as well. That series only once, so far. I have read The Lord of the Rings more than ten times, though I cannot recall the exact count. Every couple of years I feel compelled to visit Middle Earth again. I am delighted that both Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings made the transition to movies quite well. I view the movies again from time to time, being a bit more approachable than a reading.

Perhaps not that much more approachable, come to think of it. My extended edition of The Lord of the Rings runs around thirteen hours, and the completed Harry Potter series will probably go quite a bit longer when finished. That's a bit more than an evening of movies at home.

Such series literature will be both the blessing and the curse of the eReader, no matter what model each of us ends up with. Those of you planning to hold out continue in your delusions. The prospect of carrying your entire library everywhere will necessarily draw even the most devout of "real book" readers. Most of us will still have favorites in paper book form, but we will have fewer and fewer as time goes by.

It is the transition that will be troublesome. It will be necessary to purchase once again each of those favorites, unless someone in the reading industry comes up with a way to make the transition easier. I may never give up my Red Book edition of The Lord of the Rings or my signed copy of one of the volumes of The Wheel of Time, but I will gladly exchange the hard copy of most of my hard copy books for a free or deeply discounted electronic counterpart.

But, that is then, this is now. Next, the Chainfire trilogy in Terry Goodkind's Sword of Truth series. I acquired the second and third novels this last Christmas, and now that I am in waiting mode for the next volume in The Wheel of Time, I have time to read them.