Laughing all the way

My friend Tim B. pointed out to me that since the myth of CO2 as the villain of greenhouse gas emissions has been debunked, the environmental alarmists have switched to another gas, N2O, better known as nitrous oxide or “laughing gas” as their new causeway to Armageddon. They are saying nitrous oxide is 310 times as potent as carbon dioxide and will be the major threat over the next 100 years. I can just picture it now, millions of people afflicted with skin cancer because of ozone depletion laughing at the prospect of their own imminent annihilation. Just imagine the jubilation as we happily sing (to the tune of Jingle Bells):

Dashing through the smog,
In a gas powered Chevrolet,
O’er the roads we slog,
Laughing all the way.

The fear mongers who perpetuate these myths and rumors do us great harm. The money spent, especially in California, to prevent CO2 emissions has been an enormous burden on our state and the people who do business here. We don’t notice the costs so much because it is all buried in the minutiae of the state budget.

Under the guise of being environmentally sensitive, hundreds of pieces of legislation have been passed over the past couple of decades, each one a hidden tax taking money from our pockets. The creation of the Environmental Protection Agency is a perfect example. It is government out of control and in it’s quest to save rats, mosquitoes, plants, flies, lizards and hundreds of other endangered life forms, it has trampled on the property rights of individuals and, therefore, our constitution. The EPA’s budget request for 2010 is $10,500,000,000. That’s $30 dollars for every man, woman, and child in this country!

Now, you might think this is a small price to pay for the protection of our environment, but this is only the tip of the iceberg. This is the money the EPA uses to enforce its rules and regulations on every aspect of our lives. Businesses that have to make investments in expensive technology or face heavy fines, landowners who suddenly find themselves in the path of some migratory vermin and lose the right to use their land as they see fit, all costs that are passed on to us.

If you’ve purchased a new home in the last twenty years, you have probably paid a hidden tax of $20,000 or more that has been tacked on to the price of your home to cover the costs of complying with EPA regulations! Still not too bad you say. Well, The EPA is only one agency. There are many more federal agencies and multiple California agencies with overlapping responsibilities, all with massive budgets and all enforcing regulatory expenses on us.

It’s easy to get caught up in the new “Green” stampede because nobody wants to see the extinction of any forms of life, but extinction is a vital part of the process! It’s called evolution! And don’t be turned off by the term evolution, it is only a manifestation of god’s universal law “for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.” The environment changes (action) and life forms adapt (reaction).

The next time you are asked to protect the “Delhi Sands Fly” or the “Vernal Pool Fairy Shrimp,” ask yourself; do I really want to spend more of my money in an attempt to thwart god’s plan?

The "A" Bomb

Growing up in the 50’s was the best, but it was not without it’s threats. I remember being terrified of catching Polio before Dr. Salk came out with his vaccine, and who could forget the “drop and cover” exercises in the classroom, or the backyard bomb shelters being sold as protection from Russian nuclear attack? I actually know people who had them. The development of nuclear weapons is an interesting sequence of events and I only understand it superficially, but I would like to try to explain it here.

Physics is simply the study of the relationship between the basic laws of the universe that govern gravity, momentum, inertia, etc. The first one we learn in school, and the one most of us probably remember is “for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.”

I know most of us have heard or seen the formula that represents Einstein’s theory of relativity, E=MC2 (the 2 means "squared" but this editing program does not support superscript) but have you ever wondered about it’s application or what it means? On its face it is a very simple algebraic expression, like A=B times C. In Einstein’s formula, E is “Energy,” “M,” is mass, and “C” is the universal constant, the speed of light, which is 186,000 miles/second (300,000 kilometers/sec). Notice that Einstein’s famous formula uses C2, which is C multiplied by C or 186,000 X 186,000 or 34,596,000,000, quite a large number.

In the early days of experimentation with splitting atoms (nuclear fission), they used a thing called a cloud chamber to watch the effects. A cloud chamber was nothing more than an enclosure filled with gas or liquid. When an atom is split inside a cloud chamber the separate particles produce vapor trails, much like jet aircraft do at high altitudes. Applying an external magnetic field to the particles in the cloud chamber caused the paths of the vapor trails (particles) to arc, and by measuring the arc and applying the laws of physics, the mass of the particles resulting from fission could be accurately determined. In this way, scientists discovered that the mass of all the resulting particles did not equal the mass of the original atom. Where did the missing mass go? It was converted to pure radiated energy, in the form of heat and light. How much energy was released? This is where it gets interesting.

When the simple formula E=MC2 is applied and you multiply the very small amount of mass lost during fission by the very large number C2, you end up with a very sizeable amount of energy released. Now all you have to do to create a bomb is to split many, many atoms at about the same time. Enter, the chain reaction! It took a lot of energy to split even a single atom, and the pieces produced did not have the energy needed to strike and split adjacent atoms. What was needed was a material that was already unstable and ready to fall apart on its own, and they found it in Uranium 235. They found a way to refine and manipulate the structure of Uranium 235 so that it was very, very unstable. In this form, the splitting of one of the atoms would send the ensuing pieces flying into other, nearby, atoms and cause them to split and you have a chain reaction that is limited only by the amount of material available! Each one, of billions of atoms, splitting and releasing energy in the form of heat and light, voila’, a bomb!

The actual story of the development of atomic bombs, the “Manhattan Project” is much more interesting and delves into the effort it took to refine the Uranium 235 to “weapons grade” (a story in itself) and the further effort it took to devise a method to, on demand, set off the initial atom split. By the way, the word is pronounced like new-clear, not new-Q-lar, as ex-president bush would have us believe.

We need justice

If you read history, particularly the history of war, you will notice that, initially, one of the belligerents is usually caught off guard by the other’s tactics. Advances in technology seem to always alter the strategies of battle. Even as far back as the days of Rome, advances in weaponry such as curved blades, long swords and spears, metal armor, etc. gave impetus to modified formations of men and strategies to take full advantage of the new weapons.

In the opening days of the Revolution, the British used their old tactics of marching abreast at the enemy and they were decimated by the Patriots, who actually took cover behind trees and other objects. Witness the British attack on the Minutemen at Concord and Lexington, where 8 patriots were killed. During their retreat back to Boston, the British lost 73 dead and 174 wounded! The British method was effective when hand to hand combat at close quarters was the norm, and that is also why it was important for them to be able to distinguish friend from foe by wearing the bright red uniforms that made them easy targets in the Revolution.

In WWI, both sides were perplexed by the new technology of motorized warfare and until the United States got involved, the war was in a stalemate with both sides firmly entrenched. After the war, the French said “never again” and they built the Maginot Line. It was a perfect defense against WWI tactics, but a total failure against Hitler in WWII. Again, old tactics, new warfare.

It seems like mankind always learns the lesson too late. Today, we are in that same situation, and we are making the same mistakes. Our war against Islamic extremists is a new type of war with new tactics and strategies but, nevertheless, a war. It has even been called that by our President! Why then, do we treat the captured combatants like ordinary criminals? In any other war, a captured enemy caught behind enemy lines out of uniform was considered a spy and could be summarily executed by military firing squad!

We call it a war, and have been calling it that for years now. When do we apply the rules of war and start treating these people as what they are, enemy soldiers. Trying these people in our civilian courts is a travesty, it is expensive, and it has taken the power away from our military to do its job effectively. What the hell has happened to us that we have come to this? Common sense alone should tell us that something is wrong with this picture. Why are we so accepting when we should be screaming at the top of our lungs for justice? By “justice,” I don’t mean civil trials for military prisoners, I mean “eye for an eye” justice.

2nd generation of orphans

After their mother, Clara Gustafson, passed away, the children were separated and grew up apart from each other, except for Raymond and John who ended up in the same orphanage.

The oldest child, Raymond Oliver Fredrick Henderson (1881-1965) (Robert Henderson’s Grandfather) was eleven when his mother died. Raymond and his brother John Victor were sent to the Swedish Evangelical Lutheran orphanage in Stanton Town, Montgomery, Iowa, at the ages of 11 and 6, respectively. The boys attended the Mamrelund Lutheran Church there , and Raymond was confirmed in 1897. Raymond moved to Omaha, Nebraska in 1899 when he was released from the orphanage, and went to work at the Adams & Kelly sash & door factory as a Boiler Fireman earning $15 a week. He had a second job at night, at the same factory, as "Night Watchman.” On May 15th, 1915 he married Leila Irene Mason and over the next twelve years managed to have six children, Paul David, King Elisha, Mark Andrew, Eleanor Adams, Ralph, and William Raymond.

Raymond and Leila had met in their 30's while doing volunteer work with the Salvation Army in Omaha. After marriage, Ray was not reliably employed and often went off on Seventh-Day Sabbath convert missions. He would reappear at home at least long enough to keep Leila pregnant. They eventually had 6 children.

 L to R: Raymond, Eleanor, Paul, Leila, Mark, and King, about 1926

Sadly, Raymond followed in the footsteps of his father. According to family history, he was basically a religious fanatic of sorts, and insisted that his wife, Leila, convert to seventh-day Sabbath but, being Methodist, she resisted. Raymond threatened to take the children from her if she did not comply, so she packed them all up while Raymond was away and, with the kids in tow, walked across the river to Council Bluffs, obtained housing and tried to hide out. Raymond reported them missing and testified that she had a mental breakdown and obtained papers to have her committed to the State Hospital when found. Ultimately they were found and the children (my father and all his siblings) were taken to the orphanage and Leila to the State Hospital where she remained the rest of her life. The children were in the orphanage for over a year before Raymond was able to place them in homes of people practicing his own faith, Seventh-Day Sabbath. It was 1928, just before the Great Depression, and Raymond had just created a second generation of orphans. Raymond passed away on the 31st of January, 1965 due to a heart attack caused by bone cancer.

Oscar Carl Henderson (1882-1965) was 10 when his mother died, and he was taken under the guardianship of Dr. Orrin Porter McDonald of Keokuk, Iowa. As soon as he turned 18, he left Dr. McDonald’s home and can be found in the 1900 US census living in Fremont, Iowa, on the farm of Frank Anderson. The Anderson’s farm was near the orphanage in Stanton where Oscar’s brother, John Victor, was still residing. When John Victor, was released, the two of them teamed up and moved to Omaha where they went to work for the same company, “The Implement House.” Oscar married Jennie Sophia Benson in 1917, and they had one child. Oscar passed away on September 8th, 1965, due to heart failure.

John Victor Henderson (1885-1968) who produced the narrative of their early years in Keokuk, lived a long and fruitful life as a farm equipment Dealer.

When he was released from the orphanage, he moved to Omaha, Nebraska with his brother Oscar. He and Oscar can be found in the 1910 US census in Omaha, working at the “Implement House,” Oscar as a teamster and John Victor as a bookkeeper. In 1912 John Victor married Rosanne Emilia Shalberg and had four children. John Victor died of pancreatic cancer on September 16th, 1968.

Edward Henderson (1886-1966) remained in Keokuk for some time and is found in the 1920 US census living as a “Boarder” with the Cooper family at 320 A Street. He eventually moved to Omaha, Nebraska to be near his brothers and was the victim of a beating in Omaha, which left him brain damaged. He can be found in the 1930 US census residing at the State Hospital for the Insane, at Lincoln Nebraska. Edward lived in the state hospital until his death on the 8th of March, 1966.

Clara's story

To follow up on yesterdays post and tell about my discoveries, I will continue the story started by my grandmother’s brother, Nelson Addison Mason. I had always searched the census records for Charles F. and Clara (Gustafson) Henderson (my father’s grandparents) under the Henderson family name, but never had any luck finding them. Then, on a whim, I decided to try and find Clara Gustafson on her own. Jackpot! In the 1880 census, I found Clara, who had just arrived from Sweden, living on a farm in Bluegrass, Iowa. She was living with her sister Lotte, and Lotte’s husband, Charles Storm. As I scrolled down the page I was astounded to find, living with them, Charles F. Henderson, listed as a farm laborer.

Knowing Charles and Clara eventually ended up in Keokuk, Iowa, I next made contact with Tonya B. at the Keokuk Public Library. Tonya was very helpful and, on her own time, scoured the old city directories from 1887, 1890 and 1895. Tonya found Charles F., and his wife Clara, in the 1887 city directory, but they had already separated and were not living together. Charles is listed as a “laborer” and was living with his “drinking buddy,” Thomas Corcoran, at 1513 Morgan Street, just a few doors away from the Swedish Evangelical Mission, the same folks that ran the orphanage his kids would end up in a few years later. His wife, Clara, is listed as a “domestic” and is living at 215 High Street with the Jewell family.

Three years later, in the 1890 city directory, Clara is seen living at 103 12th Street, just as told, many years later, by her son John Victor in his narrative, wherein he stated that they and the “colored man” lived at the corner of 12th and Johnson Streets! Further corroboration of the narrative is found in the 1894-95 Keokuk city directory with this listing: Simpson, John col'd r 115 s 12th (col'd = black or negro and r = resided at). This is the John Louis Simpson mentioned in John Victor’s narrative of yesterday’s post. Charles F. is nowhere to be found at this time, and I have not been able to find any other records of him anywhere, after 1887. So, by 1890 Clara is alone with her 4 surviving children, Raymond Oliver (9), Oscar Carl (8), John Victor (5), and Edward (4). The two youngest children, Harry and Eleanor both died in 1889, Harry at just over a year old, and Eleanor who only survived a few months. It was only a couple of years after this, on January 9, 1893 that things were to take a terrible turn for the abandoned family. Clara succumbed to “consumption” and died. Tonya, at the Keokuk Public Library found this obituary in the old newspaper archives:

The death of Mrs. Clara Henderson, aged about thirty years, at St. Joseph’s hospital yesterday afternoon, finishes a chapter in a story so sad as to touch the heart of the most hardened. Four years ago this woman, was deserted by her husband, who departed with another woman, leaving her with five small boys to care for. She struggled along as best she could, working hard and actually starving herself that her children might be provided for. One of her boys sickened and died, after which the privations the woman had borne told on her weakened frame and she took sick with consumption. She was cared for by the Ladies Benevolent Union and the King’s Daughters who did all they could for her. She was taken to St. Joseph’s hospital, where her death occurred as noted above. Of her four children left, two are in the Swedish Lutheran orphan’s home at Stanton, Iowa, and the two others, aged seven and ten years are in the city yet to be cared for by charitable people. The remains were taken to the home of Wm. Elom, No 711 Grand avenue, where the funeral was held this afternoon. The services were conducted by the Swedish Lutheran pastor and Rev. Dr. D. Murphy, the remains being place in the vault.

Next: Where the orphans ended up.

Where to start?

I will pick up the Henderson saga where Nelson Mason, my dad’s uncle, left off. He, of course, knew his sister’s husband, Raymond Oliver Frederick Henderson, and all of his sister’s children (my father and his siblings). He had also learned the name of his sister’s father-in-law, Charles F. Henderson, but he knew little more. He knew that Charles’ had a wife whose name was Clara, but he was not sure of her maiden name because she is listed on the birth certificate of one of her sons as “Johnson,” and on another birth certificate as “Gustafson.” He did, however, have two more interesting clues about the Hendersons. He was in possession of a short narrative written by John Victor Henderson, Raymond Oliver’s brother, and an old photograph of Charles F. Henderson sitting on a wagon in front of the Keokuk Ale, Porter, Beer & Cider Bottling Works, in Keokuk, Iowa. (sitting highest on the wagon)

Here is the narrative written by John Victor Henderson, the son of the man on the wagon:

JOHN VICTOR
Born 1885 - Died 1968
Louis Simpson, a colored man, was in business for himself at 12th and Johnson Streets in Keokuk, Iowa. He made his own hot tamales and roasted his own peanuts. His work was made more difficult by his handicap (he walked with a limp) and since he couldn't find employment otherwise, he prayed to the good Lord for help. God never fails those who trust him and this business was his answer.
Brother Simpson rented a large room in an old two story frame tenement building which housed six other families. There, he read his Bible and prayed for God's blessing to others. How the Lord did prosper him in his business. It seemed that everyone wanted Louis Simpson's hot dogs, Hot tamales, peanuts, and popcorn, so he had to hire boys to sell for him. Even boys as young as seven years old could earn some money that way. Whenever anyone in the neighborhood was hurt or sick or in need, he did all he could to help, even paying for food and fuel and doctor bills. Most of these people were white folks.
In the rear apartment, containing one large room and one small bedroom, there lived a family of eight. The father, [Charles F. Henderson] was strong, kind, and worked very hard [at the Keokuk Ale, Porter, Beer & Cider Works] for his wife, [Clara (Gustafson) Henderson] and family until he began to drive a beer wagon. Familiarity breeds contempt, and soon he was spending all his money on the stuff and before long he was in trouble and in jail. From then on, it was the rat race of drunk, sober up, in jail, out and do the same thing all over again.
His family almost never saw him sober. The mother was compelled to take in washings to keep the children [Oscar Carl, Raymond Oliver, John Victor, Harry, Edward, and Eleanor] from starving. Many times there wasn't enough money to buy fuel. The school was only a block away but she found it very hard to keep her little boys in classes. The two younger ones (including the only daughter) died in infancy. The colored man helped her all he could. The white people and the authorities would not. Even the church turned a deaf ear, but even so, she gathered her four boys around her knee and read the Bible to them and prayed that God would help care for them.
The strain of hard work and worry proved too much for her, she caught a cold and developed consumption. Soon she was too weak to care for her children, so two of the boys were adopted into families [in Keokuk] and the other two, aged seven and eleven years, were sent to the Orphan's Home [in Stanton, Iowa]. Again, it was the colored man, Louis Simpson, who came to the rescue. He bought the clothes for the boys, paid their train fare from Keokuk to Stanton, Iowa, and gave them plenty of food to eat on the way. It was dark that winter morning when he took them down to the train but as it pulled out of the station, the boys could see his familiar figure as he waved them good-bye.
Within a short time the young mother (she was only thirty-two) died from the dreadful disease and yes, the colored man paid for all the funeral expenses. No one else seemed to be concerned. Afterwards, he gave the boys all this information. Every Christmas, he would send them a big box of fruit and clothing. One day he stopped at the home en route to California and spent a whole week with the boys. After that they heard from him once, and then never again. No doubt, he has gone to his heavenly reward long before now.
I was one of those boys and their mother was mine.
John Victor Henderson

With this information, I started my search at the library in Keokuk, Iowa. So as not to bore you with long stories, I will save what I discovered for tomorrow’s post.

Genealogy is fun

I have been working for many years on the Henderson family history. The most recent information, regarding my father, was not too difficult. Looking for him in the census records produced, not only his history but, his siblings and parents as well. In the beginning, the family consisted of six children (all my aunts & uncles) but the parents were separated in August of 1928 and all the kids were farmed out to foster families. The three youngest, Eleanor (6), Ralph (3-1/2), and William (9 mos.) went to live with a family in Bassett, Nebraska and the three oldest, Paul (11), King (9), and Mark (8) were all sent to live with separate families in Eureka, South Dakota. Notice the biblical names for all the children, it’s the first clue to the mindset of the people and their times.

The Boys, L to R: Paul, William, Ralph, King and Mark

When I first made contact with any of them asking about family history, the only sister was living in a home in Oregon, the oldest brother, Paul, was already suffering memory loss and living in Dayton, Nevada, and brother Mark was living in Sacramento, CA. The two youngest, William and Ralph were already deceased. William was only 17 and had gotten special permission to enlist in the paratroopers during WWII. He left for Europe in early January of 1945 after spending Christmas at his sister Eleanor’s home in Sacramento. Less than 30 days later, on February 2nd of that same year he was killed in action and is buried in the U.S. military cemetery in Epinal France. Ralph suffered for many years with what, today, would be called “Post Traumatic Stress.” He was estranged from his wife and children, and died alone in 1977 at the relatively young age of 51, in Sweet Home, Oregon.

With Paul effectively out of the picture due to memory loss, that left King (my father), Mark, and Eleanor to fill in the blanks of family history. Eleanor was very helpful at supplying colorful details of their time in Basset, NE and her move out west in 1939 to be with her brothers. King provided many details of his adventures that I was privileged to transcribe before he passed away in 2006, but I hit the jackpot when I made contact with my uncle Mark! Apparently, the kids had an uncle who had taken an interest in genealogy and had compiled a treasure trove of history and documentation. This uncle’s name was Nelson Addison Mason and his sister, Leila Irene Mason was my grandmother. All of this information was given to me by my uncle Mark. It included the original typed transcripts produced by Nelson Mason in 1936, and correspondence to and from family members, seeking information. There was even a letter written to Nelson by my father in 1942 when my father was stationed with the Army Air Force in England. For a genealogist, it doesn’t get any better than this.

When you are lucky enough to find old letters and written personal testimony, it adds depth and character to the cold hard facts of census records, birth certificates, and the like. You get to know the people and understand their circumstances and what they had to deal with in their time. The Henderson branch of our family has been my most challenging task, but I was able to add to Nelson Mason’s research with a couple of discoveries of my own, which I will relate in future posts. During this research, I got to know many of my ancestors. I watched their families grow, lived with them during their hard times and good times, and watched them pass away to their final rewards. I have also met many good people along the way who helped with my research. Cemetery officials, Librarians and volunteers in many small town genealogical societies all over the world.

I recommend genealogy to anyone with time on their hands and an interest in their family history. There is some good software available that makes it easy to organize all the information, and many websites that can simplify the gathering of raw data. Vacations can turn into excursions into history when you visit the “stomping grounds” of your ancestors. It is a very rewarding hobby, and your descendants will love you for it!

Tales of a Bombardier

My dad.

During World War II, my father and his brother Ralph were bombardiers flying B-17’s out of bases in England. My father was a member of Tom Brokaw’s “Greatest Generation” and could also be included in that small fraternity/Sorority of “Notch Babies.”

In 1943, it was estimated that one third of all B17 crews would not survive the war and, in fact, 55% of all the B-17’s flying out of England were lost in combat. The life expectancy of an 8th Air Force bomber and crew in 1943 to 1944 was about 15 missions, and the number of missions required for a ticket home was 35. That is why one B-17 navigator, a former insurance company actuary, told his pilot, “Mathematically there just ain’t any way we’re gonna live through this thing.”

The reason for the high losses was due to the fact that the Allies did not have a long-range fighter that could escort the bombers all the way to their targets. The fighter cover for most of the missions had to leave the bombers while they were still over France! Enter, the Flying Fortress (B-17’s). Chin and Nose guns, two Waist guns, top turret, belly turret, and Tail guns! This was their only protection against the German fighters. The huge losses sustained nearly caused a decision to end Allied daylight bombing.

The following is an excerpt from my father’s memoirs that I was lucky enough to write down before he passed away in 2006.

                                Ralph                                  King

Among the names I remember, of persons in the 401st Bomb Group at Deenethorpe, England is our Group's Medical Officer, Captain Hardesty (first name forgotten). The captain grounded me from flying after I had passed out over Austria on a bombing mission. Unknown to me, my oxygen line had been shot out! Next, is that scruffy Navigator, Paul F. (Puff) Kaiser, who often gave me the maps for "Dead Reckoning" and who also tried to teach me how to read the G-box the British loaned us for navigation.

Just before I left that base, an enlisted man shot and killed 2 officers who had been giving him a bad time. The last I remember seeing him, a young Pollock nicknamed "Whitey," the guard was exercising him around the perimeter track prior to his court martial. I never did learn the results of that incident. The Armament Tech Sergeant named Bradshaw, was killed along with about a dozen others, while unloading the last of the three planes that aborted the mission on D-Day, bringing their bombs back. I was still on the flight line that day and heard sergeant Bradshaw calling for help, but I was too late. Both of his legs had been blown off and he died before I got to him.

On the mission when my oxygen line was shot out, I was flying the tail gunner/Observer position and was watching Captain Lipka’s plane, flying right behind us in formation. As we approached the target I saw one of Lipka’s engines get shot out over Holland and a short time later, he lost another engine. Captain Lipka tried to keep up with the formation, but he was losing speed and altitude and had to decide whether to continue on the mission or abort. He soon disappeared behind us. When we returned from our mission, I found out that Lipka had made it all the way to the target and back to home base. Major William T. Garland was my squadron commander. Another pilot my brother Ralph and I had flown with was Captain Rozelle, whose ship was named "Rosie's Sweat Box." Colonel Bowman was our Group Commander.

The right waist gunner that revived me after being out for 27 and ½ minutes was named Luenberger. I never wanted to forget him, so I wrote him several times after I got out of the Air Corps, after the war, but never got any answers to those letters, or any of those letters returned to me. He may have got shot down later before the war ended. Hope not.

Capt. Lipka's crew shared the same barracks with my brother Ralph and me. On one mission to Bordeaux, France, his plane's tail was shot off with his tail gunner in it, but he managed to turn it around and fly over Spain's Pyrenees Mountains so all the rest of the crew could bail out. Later, he and his crew came back and finished their required missions so they could qualify to return to the states. Ralph was flying that day in another plane alongside Lipka's plane and had witnessed the tail being blown off. He then requested and was granted an assignment to ground crew. I flew a total of 37 missions.

A call to arms!

Boy, did Rush Limbaugh tear em’ up yesterday or what! His subject was all about the public employees unions, including the school teacher’s unions and all the other unions that depend on public money to pay their members. All the people in these unions are supported by public funds, your tax money! How does it feel to have your tax money going to support organizations that only have their own interests in mind? This battle of Liberals against Conservatives, Democrats against Republicans, is nothing short of a Civil War with the public sector pitted against the private sector. In some cases, our own friends and neighbors have become the enemy. In our own state of California, I remember when Arnie (The Governator) tried to trim back the public employees because the state was facing huge deficits. Their union and the teacher’s union almost crucified him and actually threatened to have him impeached! Look at us now. The state is effectively bankrupt!

Remember, just before the election, how the government was threatening massive lay-offs for teachers and public employees? What happened? None of them got laid off. They are all still working while the private sector suffers the worst unemployment since the Great Depression! You can thank your tax money for this. TARP money was distributed to keep all these folks employed. That was Obama’s “thank you” for their support in the election. Having the public sector in his pocket was not good enough for Obama. After he got in office, he bought a large portion of the private sector with your money, in the form of the United Auto Workers, and he is trying desperately to garner the Health industry as well. The frightening thing is, he came within one vote of doing so! Hopefully, the events of the Massachusetts election have changed that, but we must remain vigil. If we let our guard down, we will find ourselves being governed by an Oligarchy that will literally require another Revolution to unseat!

This is not an idle threat. If you take the time to look you will see that it is happening right before our eyes! In my wildest dreams I didn’t think I would ever live to see the day when this country would be in this kind of danger. You folks in the public sector have a vested interest here also. Just look at the events that took place in Russia when they took this same path. The prediction was that collective (public) labor would produce an abundance of goods and there would be a cornucopia for all. What happened was just the opposite. Under collective labor, all the workers had no motivation to excel. Productivity (the engine of growth) dropped precipitously and there were shortages of everything. Just look at Cuba today if you need evidence. Hell, just look at the auto industry if you want to see what collective labor will bring!

With the events in Massachusetts, we are at a turning point in this country’s history. Pay attention to what is going on because, one day, your grandchildren will ask you about these times. If ever, you plan to get involved in your future and the future of your children, now is the time. Like Massachusetts, we have to vote out those entrenched political blocs that have us under their thumbs. This is nothing less than a “call to arms.” LET YOUR VOICE BE HEARD NOW!

Growing up in the 50's

I remember growing up in the 1950’s, the days of PEZ dispensers, Hula Hoops, YoYo’s, and marbles, especially marbles. At the school yard each weekend there was a carnival of marble games and you could either play or be played. “Hit one get em’ all” was the barkers cry as concessionaires lined up 5, 6, or 7 marbles and challenged shooters to take a shot from a distance of about 10 feet. Shooters would pick their challenge based on the number of marbles in the prize, and the distance between the marbles. Obviously the closer the spacing, the better the odds of hitting one of them. More often than not, it was more advantageous to be the concessionaire and that is usually what I did. I bagged thousands of marbles this way.

These were also the early days of A&W Root Beer in 1 gallon glass bottles, and a time when McDonald’s was still bragging about “1 million sold.” Today, they just say “Billions and Billions.” I could get a hamburger, fries, and a coke for 37¢. 15¢ for a burger, 12¢ for fries, and 10¢ for a coke! I remember that gasoline was selling for 23¢ a gallon, and if there was a gas war going on the price could drop into the teens.

Sometimes I think those were the “Lazy, Hazy, Crazy days of summer” that were made famous in song. War games in the wooded shorelines of the Sacramento River or, for the delight of passing boaters, building pornographic shapes with the blue/gray clay that was prevalent along the river’s banks. I remember days floating with the current on inner tubes, with fishing lines tied to our toes and the long walks back on the hot dusty levee roads.

As time went by, it became the era of Bobby Sox and Blue Jeans, and dancing the bop to the music of Gene & Eddie (Gene Vincent & Eddie Cochran). Gene’s big hits were “Be Bop A Lula” and “Woman Love,” the latter giving him the bad boy image of the time. Eddie’s big hit was “Oh Julie.” Gene & Eddie toured England in 1961 and during their visit they were involved in an automobile accident. Gene survived, but Eddie was killed at the age of 21. For many of us, “that” was the other “day the music died.”

At about this same time, I became aware of Elvis Presley, Buddy Holly, and the infamous Jerry Lee Lewis, who I saw at the Sacramento Municipal Auditorium when he was in his prime. I received my first “Hi-Fi” record player as a Christmas gift and from that time on, I was a music junkie. I remember going to the Tower Record Shop on Broadway and spending hours thumbing through all the 45 rpm’s and taking one or two at a time into the listening booths. I would gently remove the records from their envelopes, being careful not to leave my fingerprints on the grooves and place them on the turntable, then gently lower the arm onto the record surface. The records cost about a dollar each, which was a handy sum in those days.

Carnation Co. had a creamery on or near “L” street in downtown Sacramento. It was about two blocks from the State Capitol building. There was a soda fountain attached to the creamery and if you had the enormous sum of 35¢ you could have one of their delicious milk shakes. Sacramento had a small “China Town” and a train depot where all the hobos gathered. Sacramento was always shipping the hobos to San Francisco, and San Francisco just kept shipping them back. I don’t think they ever resolved the issue, which was good for us kids, because in our later teens we enlisted the help of those hobos to buy our liquor for us. To give you and idea of the Laissez-Faire attitude of the time, I will relate the events of one of our New Year’s parties. We had been drinking and were driving to a new location when we were pulled over by the police. The police didn’t cite us but they confiscated our bottles of liquor and sent us on our way. A few miles later they pulled us over again and gave us our liquor back and wished us a happy new year!

I guess my youth was about as close as you could get to a Huckleberry Finn experience and looking back, it seems like it was not only the age of innocence, but also the age of naiveté. The world has become a much more dangerous place than it was then. Back then, we had just come out of a war that left us strong and the rest of the world devastated and other countries didn’t mess with us. Punishment for crime was swift and sure, and everybody was working thanks to the construction of the “Inner-state Highway” system started by president Eisenhower.

I blame liberal thinking for taking all this away. We started coddling criminals until we have more of them on the streets than in prison, and the ones in prison are living the life of Riley! There is no deterrent to keep them from going back once they are released! We have taken the same tack in our dealings with the rest of the world and are too concerned with what they think of us. This has gravely weakened our international status.

Today, unemployment is reaching catastrophic levels because, instead of investing our money in the country’s infrastructure like president Eisenhower did, and like what was promised during the recent campaign, the idiot we have in the White House gave our money away! Somebody needs to tell him that you get a tree to grow, not by watering the leaves at the top, but by watering the roots! We are the roots.

Do you hear us now?

Dear Mr. President

§ When we produced an uproar against your proposed meddling with healthcare, did you hear us?
§ When we said we wanted illegal immigration stopped, did the message reach your ears?
§ When we tell you that prisoners of war should not be treated as civilian criminals, does that mean anything to you.
§ When it becomes obvious that our state in particular, and the country in general is being burdened with and oxbow of liberal and environmental issues, do you notice it yet?
§ Do you hear the cry for Jobs?

If you think spending our 1 trillion dollars to keep your union cronies (your voting constituency) employed while the rest of us scramble to stay afloat has evaded our notice, you are mistaken. Apparently you thought that saving your voting bloc was more important than spending that money on the “shovel ready” jobs you dangled in front of our noses to get your spending package approved. You have turned your back on us in favor of your chosen few, and your promise of “transparency” has been nothing but empty words.

Your efforts to hide your true identity and intentions have been very successful, but the veil is lifting. We are beginning to see you for what you really are and the only question remaining is, are you doing this as part of your own agenda or are you somebody’s puppet? Now that the events in Massachusetts have added an exclamation point to our words there has been a noticeable mood change in Washington. Democrats are jockeying for position and beginning to change their tone now that they realize how powerful our movement is. Don’t think that this will make a difference. We will not forget what you tried to do. You tried to change our republic to a “government of and by the representative” and you have failed. We know our battle is just beginning, but we are a “government of and by the people” and we will stop you.

Do you hear us now?

My Friend

Well, just like he promised, my friend John H. made it for a short visit this afternoon. He drove from Colorado to Long Beach and stopped by my home for a couple of hours on his way back to Colorado. In spite of the 20 + years since I had seen him, he hasn’t changed very much. A little uglier perhaps, but the same John. Just kidding about the ugly thing. I think John has some French in his ancestry because he is quite a handsome guy and very suave. His sense of humor is extraordinary and he has a talent for putting you at ease when you are around him.

I met John in the mid 70’s at the tail end of the hippie period and we hung around together for 5 or 6 years before John pulled up stakes and moved to Colorado. I never did know why he left California, but we stayed in touch with occasional phone calls and Christmas cards and then e-mails over the years.

John and I went to lunch at a local restaurant and tried to cram 20 years of catching up into 60 minutes. It was a hopeless task, so we just chatted like we always had and enjoyed each other’s company. John’s time was up far too soon, and he had to hit the road again. I already miss him.

I can’t tell you how thankful I am John, that you took the time out of your busy schedule to brighten my day. Your visit made me realize how much I miss your friendship.

Enigmas

At the risk of being relegated to the lunatic fringe, and to follow up on yesterday’s posting about the Great Pyramid, I would like to add that there is a vast amount of evidence remaining that this planet held other very advanced civilizations long before we appeared, and that their technology was even farther advanced than ours is today.

An ancient map, dated 1513, was found during the renovations of a palace in Istanbul, Turkey. It is known as the Piri Re’is map, and it is very unusual. What makes it so unusual is the fact that it shows the coastline of the Antarctic when it was free of ice! Recent studies have shown that this would have been between 4,000 and 11,000 years ago! Hmmm’ that predates Columbus by a wide margin. The accuracy of the map has also been confirmed by recent satellite studies that can “see” under the existing ice cap which is about a mile in thickness!

I had the privilege of visiting Stonehenge a few years ago and I must say that it is strange to stand next to these monoliths and wonder, why? What purpose would drive people to undertake such a task? Oh, I know the accepted interpretation of religious and astrological significance, and there probably is some validity there, but there are other features around Stonehenge that have not been explained. How and why did they haul that particular rock from a quarry so distant? The shape of the surrounding ground is what got my attention. Even after all this time, you can still see the remnants of a pronounced berm surrounding the monoliths.

What is not commonly known is that there are other “henges” in the same vicinity as Stonehenge. I have seen another one made of stone with a diameter 10 times larger than Stonehenge, and there is a Woodhenge! All of them have that same ground contour of a berm, surrounding them.

Let’s look at the Great Pyramid. It’s impossible to get into all the enigmas of the pyramid here, but here are a couple to cogitate on. The small access tunnel is only 4.5 or 5 feet high, and not made for a man to walk through, and to make matters worse, it slopes upward at 26 degrees! 15 degrees is a tough walk. After about 155 feet of this, the pathway opens up into the Grand Gallery, a hallway 6’-8” wide and 30’ tall with a slot in the floor 3’-6” wide and 2’ deep! Does this sound like a pathway? I think not.

What about those Nazca Lines. Does it make sense that some aboriginal tribe who probably needed every waking moment just to procure food, would waste time doodling away on the high desert just to satisfy their artistic drives? If you visit this one with Google Earth, take notice of all the faint lines that have almost been erased by time. Many of them running through fissures and foothills.

Then there are the Mayans. A people who had possession of (notice I didn’t say “who invented”) the most accurate and detailed calendar ever devised. Their calendar is so comprehensive it even includes the time period it takes for our solar system (the sun and all our planets) to transmigrate around our galaxy, about 26,000 years!

It makes you wonder about ancient creatures of Greek legend like Centaurs (half man half horse) and the “Fauns” (half goat half man). Is it possible that they might have been real and that some ancient civilization was more advanced with genetic research and cloning than we are now? How about the legend of Atlantis? How about any legend? Are they really legends at all?

I’ve only touched the tip of the iceberg here but if your curiosity has been piqued you can find out more in these books.

“Chariots of the Gods” by Erich Von Daniken
“Fingerprints of the Gods” by Graham Hancock

If you have Google Earth and want to see these things here are the coordinates:

Stonehenge: 51° 10’ 43” N, 1° 49’ 33” W
Great Pyramids: 29° 58’ 45” N, 31° 08’ 09” E
Nazca Lines: 14° 43’ 16” S, 75° 09’ 57” W
Mayan Ruins: 19° 35’ 48” N, 90° 13’ 45” W

The Great Pyramid and other crystal structures

My friend Jerry P. said “I read your post on frequencies and was wondering how you came to the subject.” Well, here’s my answer.

Energy, Frequency and Crystals are, by nature, very closely connected. I have always believed that frequencies, and thereby crystals, are key to a lot of life’s questions. During my "electronics" training, I learned that crystals are the best filters of electromagnetic radiation. There are many types of crystals that exist in nature, Gems (everyone has seen a ruby laser), silicon, salt, and many hundreds of others. You can blast crystals with energy of many frequencies, but they will only react or vibrate at the one, and only one frequency that is compatible with the spacing of the crystal’s matrix. This is why the first radios were "crystal sets." This is also why lasers produce just one color of light energy and no others. For different colors of laser light you need a different crystal.

Now this is where I digress, and please don’t laugh until you’ve had a chance to think it through. I think the facets and angles of the great pyramids have something to say in this regard, and I am appalled that archeologists are too quick to attribute religious significance to all their discoveries. No society would take on such an enormous task as building the Great Pyramid for the purpose of building a tomb. A task of that magnitude would necessarily have to have a pay-off at the end or it would bankrupt a people.

Oil production and dams such as Hoover Dam and Grand Coulee Dam stretched the limits of this country’s resources, but they all had and still have, a pay-off, energy! I think this is where we need to look do discover the purpose of the Pyramids, but if we continue to let archeologist mislead us with their religious interpretations, we will never see past our noses.

What the archeologists are seeing is what later societies did with what they found. Using Hoover Dam as an example, imagine if some calamity struck our planet and our society was dispersed. After several hundred years (no time at all in the scheme of things) all but the concrete would erode away and some new people would find Hoover Dam and use it’s rooms as resting places for their fallen leaders. A couple thousand more years pass and we re-discover these edifices, and then we discover a few remnants of them being used as tombs. Presto, Hoover Dam was built as a tomb for some long lost tribal leader.

Maybe if we studied the internal structure (very puzzling indeed) of the Pyramid and it’s matrix (meaning the angles of its facets) we could discover why they were really built. I personally think they could not be justified for anything less than energy production.

The unseen pollution

It’s interesting how our different senses are tuned to respond to different frequencies. Touch, of course, can sense random pressures up to about 60 cycles per second. Anyone who has ever grabbed hold of a live electrical wire can attest to this. Beyond this point, the individual touches tend to blend together and the pressure sensation seems constant.
At about this same frequency range, our ears take over. 20 cycles per second to 20,000 cycles per second is the generally accepted range of hearing. Above this, some animals can hear but humans cannot. Radio and television broadcast in the range of 50 million to 1 billion cycles per second and that is far above the range of our ears. Otherwise, this would be a noisy place indeed. Radar and microwaves take up the next segment of the spectrum. They begin at about 1 Billion cycles per second and top off around 50 Billion.

There is a large spectrum of frequencies between what our ears can perceive and where our eyes take over. Our eyes perceive a relatively small band of frequencies centered around 1,000 trillion cycles per second. We begin to see light in the Red range and our sight gives out in the Violet range. Frequencies below and above this small bandwidth are “Infra Red” and “Ultra Violet” respectively. Above this are the ever useful X-rays at about 500,000 trillion cycles per second and Gamma rays that top out in the range of 50 billion, billion cycles per second.

Where is all this going? I don’t know. I was just thinking about the amount of electromagnetic radiation we are subjected to every day and got off on a tangent. I know that I live in range of hundreds of radio stations and many, many airports that all have radar units, and there are microwave relay stations everywhere. As if this were not bad enough, there are policemen who are dedicated to our safety that are pointing radar guns directly at us and we all have cell phones that are blasting their radiation into our brains at close range!! Are we all being slowly cooked by all this radiation, like the food in our microwaves? And what about those microwave ovens? Are they really safe? How about the 60 cycle per second radiation that delivers the electricity to our homes and is in our walls. Is it safe? Heaven forbid if we should live under some of the high power lines that traverse our country.

It is a well known fact that electromagnetic radiation penetrates most things quite easily and cannot be effectively shielded. Otherwise, we would not be able to hear radios in our homes. Only very dense materials, such as lead, can shield against this radiation, and it has to be very thick to be effective. Do you have a lead door on your microwave? Not!

One way to get around this problem is to re-direct this radiation. If you look closely at your microwave oven door, you will see a fine grid. This grid is on all six sides of the oven, and is designed to reflect the microwave radiation back into the interior until it is absorbed by the food you are heating, but how well does it really work?

I think I’m losing feeling in my extremeties nda lsogni ym baility ot tpeyt

Not puttin' up with it

What a terrible day I had yesterday. I volunteered to help a friend move some things from two separate locations, one in San Diego, and the other in Carlsbad. We were to deliver these good for storage at a third location in Escondido. I was supposed to have been picked up at 6:00 a.m. in the morning by an employee of this friend who should have arrived with a U-Haul truck. We were to proceed to the first location, pick up the goods, and go to the second location, pick up the remaining good, and deliver them to the third location. Pretty simple eh? The employee and I hit it off and I thought we would work pretty well together, and we did.

I should have gotten a clue that this was not going to be a good day when the employee arrived, on time, without the U-Haul. He informed me that my friend had changed the plans and we were to rent the U-Haul in San Diego and leave it in Escondido, thereby saving some mileage expense. Ok, I can live with that even though the change would require more of my time arranging for the truck rental.

Things at the first location went rather smoothly. We loaded up in good time and head for Carlsbad. When we got to the second location, we were both dumbstruck by the volume of goods that had to be loaded. As if that wasn’t enough of a letdown, we soon discovered that our truck wasn’t large enough to take it all in one trip! What, at first, seemed like a task taking only half a day was getting ugly. I was pretty frustrated, as was the employee, but we resigned ourselves to do what was necessary to get the job done.

When we should have been finished by noon, we didn’t complete the final unloading until almost 4:00 p.m. I was tired, and all I wanted to do was get the U-haul gassed up, drop it off at the rental yard and get out of there. The employee called the rental yard to get directions then we both headed to the nearest gas station to fill the tank on the truck. While we were gassing up, I asked the employee for the directions to the yard, and we both took off together from the gas station, he in his car and me driving the truck. It only took me about ten minutes to find the rental yard, and this is where things really started to go sour. The employee never arrived.

I waited at the yard for about 20 minutes before I started calling people to get the employees phone number. After 4 phone calls, and many more minutes I finally got a call back and was given his cell number, which I called. “Where the hell are you”? I asked. “Oh, I got a phone call and had to find a place to pull over.” He said, “but I’m on the way now.” “Ok” I said, and hung up. 15 more minutes goes by and still he hasn’t arrived! By this time I am fuming at his total disregard for me. I called him again, just as he was pulling into the yard. When he approached me I called him everything except the “born again Christian” he professed to be, and used some colorful language specifically designed to scorch his ears.

We rode the 70 miles back to Riverside in total silence and we didn’t get back until almost 7:00 p.m., a 13 hour day!. I think I made a lifetime enemy today, but I don’t give a shit!!

Yankee Doodle

Did you ever wonder what the hell this song means?
Yankee Doodle came to town
A-riding on a pony
Stuck a feather in his cap
And called it macaroni

As pointed out to me by James, there are several versions wherein Mr. Doodle "rode to town," "came to town," and "went to town," but we won't get caught up in that here.

Some people think it was written especially for Benjamin Franklin when he was in England prior to the Revolution. Ben was there trying to mediate between the British and the Americans over the issues that had arisen since the “Boston Tea Party” and the infamous “Stamp Act.”

In the1770’s a Yankee was generally an American from “New England” and New England was the northeast area of the country in what is now the states of Connecticut, Maine, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Rhode Island and Vermont. Benjamin was from Boston MA, before he transplanted to Pennsylvania.

Doodle is thought to derive from the Low German word dudel, meaning “fool” or “simpleton.” Therefore, a Yankee Doodle is a New England simpleton and it only follows that those London aristocrats were referring to Benjamin as a Yankee simpleton!

Coming to town was meant to imply that Ben was emerging from the backwoods of the American Colonies and trying to adopt the “airs” of the London elite. The pony was an upgrade from the plow horses that were prevalent in the colonies. Kind of like trading up from a tractor to a towncar.

The feather was an adornment of the “macaroni” fashion style of late 18th century London, and “macaroni” was an Italian word meaning extravagantly overdone or overdressed. The cap was a reference to Ben's gaudy beaver skin cap.  Everybody who has read about Ben Franklin knows that he always wore his beaver skin cap wherever he went, even to the court of King Louis XV of France!

So, basically, the British were making fun of Ben Franklin for pretending to be an equal to the London aristocrats simply by improving his mode of transportation and adopting a modicum of London contemporary style. All this didn't matter much since, by this time, Ben had suffered a “dressing down” by the house of commons and his humiliation in the hands of the British had been complete. His diplomatic efforts having been a complete failure, and the Revolution having begun with fighting at Lexington and Concord, Ben returned home.

The Greatest Generation

Our "PaPa" is living with us now.  He is 91 years old and just full of history.  He is in good health and is sharp as a tack.  He plays the stock market every day on the computer here next to me.

This last week while I was working on my family tree (I do genealogical work for our family) I got reacquainted with with a distant relative, Marie, who is 92 years old.  She is also in good health, sharp as a tack, and full of vim and vinegar, as they say.

These two people are members of what Tom Brokaw called "The Greatest Generation" and they could also be included in that very small fraternity of "Notch Babies."  Notch Babies were those born between 1917 and 1922 and were designated as such for the purpose of disenfranchising them within the newly formed United States Social Security program.  Their benefits would be very much less than all the other recipients born either before or after that small window of time.  Sadly, this is the same group of people who gave so much during World War II to preserve those very programs for the rest of us.  It is even more sad when you realize that these same benefits would be given away to anyone with the ability to crawl across our borders in the ensuing years!

Both of these people lived through and came of age during the last "Great Depression" and one of them actually experienced the infamous "Dustbowl."  They saw the proliferation of automobiles, the coming of the airplane, plastics, sliced bread!, and a myriad of other innovations.  I feel privileged to have had the opportunity to get to know these people and, through my genealogical work, to be able to get a glimpse of their lives through their own words.  There are very few of them left.  Most of their generation has come and gone and, for the most part, we don't even notice them.

I, for one, want to thank them for preserving our country and handing it to us in relatively good shape.  I want them to know that I will do everything I can, to do the same for the next generation.  I have my work cut out for me!

Show your clout and vote them out!!

We need a history lesson

It's interesting to note that the Pilgrims who landed at Plymouth (actually they first landed at what is now Provincetown, MA, on the very tip of Cape Cod) experimented with Socialism/Commune-ism when they first arrived here in 1620.  It was a dismal failure and did not last very long.  It seems that many arguments arose over those who were sharing equally in the benefits of the community but not giving their fair share in supporting it.  Wow!  Now that I've said it, I am surprised at how accurate that comment fits the way things are today.  Maybe we are already communists and don't even know it!

Another good example of commune-ism as a failed form of government is Russia, or, as it was formerly known, the "Union of Soviet Socialist Republics."  This union was the result of the Russian revolution of 1917 and the ensuing civil war of 1918 that overthrew Czar Nicholas II and saw the murder of the entire Romanov family including Nicholas' daughter, the infamous Anastasia and Nicholas' son Alexis who was reputedly cured of his hemophilia by the "Mad Monk," Rasputin.  The new Soviet Union was established and ruled with a firm hand by Vladimir Ilyich Lenin under the principles laid out by Karl Marx in the Communist Manifesto.  It might have been a different story if the Benevolent Lenin had lived, but he only lasted 6 years before he died and Joseph Stalin came to power and all hell broke loose.  Anyway, this experiment with Socialism/Communism only lasted from 1917 to 1991; 74 years!  That is a blip in time for the lifespan of a government!  Complete and utter failure!

Is this the direction we want our country to go?  I think the lessons of history are a clear signpost that we should not only avoid this path, but we should make every effort to rid ourselves of some of the social programs that have already been levied upon us.  Some folks take our Constitution lightly but anyone who has read history knows how hard the founding fathers worked to avoid the trappings of all the previous world governments.  John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin and many of the others were all students of history with their own extensive libraries at their disposal.  Ben Franklin established the first public library, Thomas Jefferson's library was so extensive that it was a key cause to his eventual financial downfall and he had to sell it to the U.S. government (it became the seed of the Library of Congress) to pay off his debts!  John Adams was probably the most well read of them all, and his experience during the Revolution as a diplomat to most of the governments of Europe gave him first hand knowledge that few of his peers possessed except, maybe, his son John Quincy Adams.

Suffice it to say that our constitution was not produced haphazardly.  Much thought was put into it by many intelligent and well read persons who had studied, in depth, all the previous forms of government the world had known up to that time and we should not veer far from it's basic principles.  These same men warned us of this when they drafted the Declaration of Independence wherein they said, "Prudence indeed will dictate that governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes."

Maybe change isn't always a good thing?

High Wires

I have to admit, the trip to La Quinta was not too bad.  On the way back there is a beautiful view of both Idyllwild and San Gorgonio.  I was wondering why the landscapes look so much better in the desert when it suddenly dawned on me the there was a distinct lack of horizontal lines, in the form of electric wires and telephone wires, to break up the scenery.  I guess we have become so used to them that we don't even notice the disfiguring effect they have on our scenic views.  To illustrate what I'm talking about I have taken a photo I have of downtown Atoka, Oklahoma and removed all the offending wires and their support poles.  The folowing are the original, and the modified photos.

Before:

After:

I hope this shows up well in these small photos because the difference is dramatic.  The next time you are outside, try to find a view that doesn't have horizontal wiring running through it.  It will be difficult to find unless you drive to a remote place.

Just for your amusement, I am posting a photo taken in 1898 of the same view albeit from a slightly different location.  The next time I'm there I will try to find the same spot, but it's entirely possible that there is a railroad track running through it today.  That railroad track is about 100 yard behind me in the first two photos.  In the newer photos, I am standing about where that house is behind the lady on the horse.

1898

That taller building in the left middle of the street with the pilasters spaced around its top is the same building that is in red brick in the newer photo.  The facade at the corner of that building has been modified and the first three pilasters are incorporated into the modification.

I'm off to see the Wizard

Well, it's off to La Quinta today!  That's a drive on highway 60 I could do without.  I'll head east for 10.5 miles until I leave Moreno Valley behind, then a quick sprint through the Badlands jockeying for position on a narrow, winding, up and down 2 lane death trap until, after 4 miles, I emerge on the other side.  Then there is a quiet stretch of another 4 miles until I come to the connection with US 10 at Beaumont.  From there, if I can overlook the roadside garbage, I can enjoy the view of the majestic Mt. San Gorgornio on the left and the equally majestic Idyllwild on the right.  This section of the drive is called "The Pass."  During the Santa Ana wind conditions it can be very windy here.  I have seen the Goodyear blimp being blown backwards in the pass and I know that, on several occasions, it had to retreat until the winds died.  In the pass you get your first glimpse of the wind farms and that monstrosity erected by the privileged Morongo Indian tribe, the Morongo Casino!

By the way, it's been a while since I've seen that Indian produced, revolting television commercial showing white men on horses stampeding through an Indian village.  The horsemen are depicted slashing and burning in what the Mission Band of indians calls an attempt to exterminate the indigenous people of the San Bernardino Mountains.  I was affronted when I first saw that commercial and immediately went to the California State Archives to see what was going on in that area in those years.  What I found out was that the State had to organize a "Mounted Light Cavalry" to protect the settlers that were arriving here.  It seems that, after a long and arduous trip through Apache territory, the local Indian tribes would set upon the hapless and exhausted travelers to steal their remaining goods, and many travelers lost their lives in these skirmishes.  Of course, that part of the story wasn't being told.  Just one more case of history being slanted to show the white man as the villain.  I wonder how much this will cost me in "Affirmative Action."

Anyway, back to our trip.  The pass section is 21 miles, after which you emerge into the Southern California desert near Whitewater and the junction of highway 111 that will take you to Palm Springs, if that is your destination.  If you look to the right you will see a vast rocky expanse.  This is where the Witewater River sinks into the ground, to be seen no more.  It's kind of like a huge sump.  On both sides of the highway are more wind farms.  From here, unless you like sand, the next 25 miles are sheer, wake me up when we get there, boredom.  After what seems like an eternity, I will come to my off-ramp at Washington Street.  Now it's only a short hop of 3.5 miles through residential streets until I arrive at my destination.  La Quinta is a beautiful community but it is so remote that Huell  Howser hasn't even found it.  There you have it, 68 miles down the yellow brick road.

In Lak' ech Ala K'in

I have been dismayed over the past few months by the political apathy of my children's generation. I could not fathom that they had no concern for the socialistic trends enveloping this Republic. Today I am not only dismayed, but appalled by the number of folks of my own generation who are "Out of that stuff" or "Don't want to get involved because it's too complicated and doesn't do any good anyway." Many of them are my relations!

When you give up and "go with the flow," you end up in the delta with the rest of the silt. It is only by swimming against the current that we manifest our individuality and it is our individuality that separates us from the commune. It was this very trait of our forefathers that made this country so great. The ingenuity and creativity of free thinkers who were unencumbered by government regulation made this the greatest nation the world has ever known.

Then came the liberals. As they have done throughout history, their thinking has led to the fall of almost every great society the world has ever produced, including most the the Chinese dynasties, the Greeks, and most recently, the Roman Empire. If we don't actively fight back and "swim against the tide," then we are in danger of being next.

In Lak' ech Ala K'in, We are our brother's keeper. "No man is an island" and we must work together and get involved if we want to keep what we have. Otherwise, there will always be somebody there to take it away from us. Currently, this is happening everywhere. We are being attacked from the inside and the out. It can seem overwhelming at times, but the solution is in our hands! We vote, we purchase, we speak out. These are the only tools we have and we MUST use them or we will find ourselves, one day, without.

A quote from my friend Jerry P. "In Lak' ech Ala K'in"

Lunch with the boys and a girl

Wow! what a great day yesterday. Thanks to my former boss and friend Ray R., I attended a lunch where I got to see some of my old "work" pals. Another former boss, Jim G. was there, as was Carmen, Dave D., and, as it turned out, our host Robert B. It seemed like I was the only one who had gotten older and fatter because the rest of them looked the same as I had left them 3 or 4 years ago. Anyway, I had a good time. Thank you Ray, and thank you Robert B.

As most conversations do nowadays, we eventually drifted into political talk and the state of the economy, and everybody pretty much agreed that things were dismal. On the way to this lunch, I heard on the news that the state of California was hanging on by its chinny chin chin and facing a $20,000,000 shortfall. That's almost $500 for every man, woman, and child in the state! That is kinda scary until you look at the Federal numbers. With the national debt hovering around 10 trillion dollars, if we divide by a population of 308,499,166 that comes to about $32,950 for each of us!

Do not fear. The U.S. census bureau also estimates that we gain, through natural birth/death ratios, 1 new person every 24 seconds. At that rate, if we can just hang on for 7,375 years and 7 months, the population will expand so that we only owe $1,000 each? As if that was not enough "light at the end of the tunnel," the census bureau also estimates that we gain 1 "International Migrant" every 37 seconds and that has the potential to decrease our "In Debt" time to just a mere 4,375 years, give or take a day or two. Of course, this is all assuming that those "International Migrants" pay their fair share and that there is no interest accruing on the debt. Now the tunnel light is almost blinding isn't it?

It gets even better. At the rate our government is printing money, we will soon see double or triple digit inflation that will make pre-war Germany's inflation look like a blip on the economic map. We will have to bring back the farthing and half cent because that's what your dollars are going to be worth. See! Things are not as bad as they seemed. You should be able to pay off your debts with worthless greenbacks! Oh, wait a minute. Their not even greenbacks anymore are they.

If you never do anything else in your entire life, vote them all out in the next election.

Things that went wrong

Door Number 2?

I remember my first trip to Germany. I was in a restaurant in Kaiserslautern when I had to use the bathroom facilities. I had two doors to choose from, one marked "Damen," which I took to mean "The Men," and another marked "Herren," which I interpreted as "Her." Language barrier? What language barrier? Even a foreign language as unusual as German can be understood if you use common sense eh? Imagine my surprise when I walked in and found myself surrounded by ladies! I made a hasty retreat and entered the other door, only to find a matronly woman seated on a stool whose job it was to collect pfennigs for the use of the facilities. There were no stalls, and business had to be transacted in full view of this matron!

Call Waiting?

These new telephone features are handy but…! My office was a shared cubicle with me and my partner sitting back to back, him facing one blank wall and me staring at another. It’s a little cramped but it does have its advantages in that I am able to answer my phone or, with a simple thrust of my feet, propel my wheeled, swiveling, cushion backed desk chair to within arms reach of the phone on my partner’s desk.

One warm afternoon while I was fighting off a post lunch coma, like the times as a kid in school when you were nodding off at your desk and drooling all over your homework, I needed to make a phone call. I unwittingly dialed my partner’s desk and was surprised when, before my party could answer, the phone on his desk started to ring.

What to do, what to do. Finish my call? Answer his? Flustered, I hung up my phone and answered his. Hello? Hello? Shucks, I wasn’t quick enough and his caller had already hung up. I turned back to my desk, picked up my phone again, and hit the “redial” button. Imagine my frustration when his phone began ringing again and I had to interrupt my call for the second time, to answer his. To add to my frustration, his caller hung up again just as I was picking up his phone.

Once more, I picked up my phone and hit the redial button. Again, my partner’s phone started ringing and interrupted me, but this time I let it ring so I could complete my call. My party never answered and I finally gave up. His caller gave up at about the same time.


How High Can You Go?

There was the time in my early twenties when I was walking through a gymnasium and spotted a basketball someone had left behind. Glancing around to assure myself that I was alone, I decided to test my talent at dribbling and before long I was gliding around the floor like an NBA pro. After a few minutes I found myself leaping into the air with a half twist and, with both hands, slamming the ball behind my head and through the hoop. Lay-ups, slam-dunks, and three pointers were also part of my repertoire that day and I completed many of them with equal ease. Having satisfied myself that I was a natural and that the NBA had committed a monumental blunder by not recognizing that fact, I picked up my jacket to leave. I headed for the door but before I was half-way across the floor I became curious about a question that had intrigued me since High School; how high could I bounce a basketball? I was alone in the Gym and it was a perfect opportunity to answer that question once and for all.

The roof of the gymnasium was at least thirty feet above the floor and I was sure I could, with an all-out attempt, cause a basketball to reach the ceiling. Grabbing the ball in both hands, standing on tip-toes as tall as I could and stretching my arms to their full length, I was poised to slam the ball as hard as I could into the wooden gymnasium floor. In one fell swoop I released my pent up energy like a coiled spring. I folded my arms, legs, and body in one fluid motion, driving the basketball downward toward the waiting floor.

Mere milliseconds before the ball hit the floor I realized that my face was now squarely over the return path of the ball, but it was too late. Everything from that point on seemed to take place in slow motion. I watched the ball compress to about one-half its normal diameter as it encountered the floor, and then recoil with lightning speed. I could almost count the dimples on the ball during its upward travel toward my waiting face. When the ball finally reached me, it contorted my facial features in a manner much like what happens to astronauts during centrifuge training. The force of the impact lifted me a foot and a half off the floor and left me dazed and staring blankly at the aforementioned target thirty feet above. Luckily the ball missed a full frontal assault on my nose or I would have spent the next few weeks explaining to the world, the cause for the bandages and black eyes. Satisfied that no one had witnessed the debacle I humbly retreated, leaving the question unanswered.

Had a good day

Had a great time with Rick and Steve (Lenny couldn't make it) on the golf course yesterday. Steve played his usual masterful round and Rick and I took so many huge divots we though they were going to ask us for a grading permit! We moved more dirt than a typical construction site!

Now for my political side.

It was easy to see, during the entire Bush administration, that the mainstream media was extremely biased. Because of this, I stopped the local newspaper, and ceased watching NBC, CBS, ABC, CNN, etc. and slowly drifted toward FOX news. Although FOX's bias was apparent also, it did seem a little more balanced in its presentation of events.

An e-mail I received yesterday from my friend Jerry P. left me wondering. Jerry has always been on the cusp of radicalism and a proponent of conspiracy theories, but he is also an intellect not to be taken lightly. He sent me a link to a web page that everybody should know about so I am including that link for anyone wishing to know more about what's really going on in the world around them. Here it is: www.youtube.com/user/AbbyMediaRoots#p/u/20/kFLMKSPLaPU

By the way, I did not attack the P90X today but I did take a long walk with my wife this morning. I hate to admit it, but I had to leave her at one point since she is in better shape than me and takes a much more aggressive route than I thought I could handle. My son, James, and his friend Aaron are out in the garage now and have been doing the P90X routine for about a month. The changes to them have been very apparent, and I can't wait to get started.

Procrastination

Well, I was all ready to hit it this morning, but my good friend Rick (the original shankoppotomus) called and told me that he had a 10:00 am tee time at General Old golf course. I quickly assessed the pros and cons and determined that 4 hours on the golf course was equivalent to 1 hour of the P90X exercise program. In fact, I will get so much exercise on the golf course that I might even fullfill my P90X requirements for tomorrow! It will be good to see Steve "the draw" and Lenny "the fade" too.

Success

I made it!! Today is the first day of my physical workout procrastination program. It wasn't easy, but I managed to find a reason to avoid my planned regimen. I recieved an e-mail from my friend and distant relative in England this morning. His name is Ken M. and I think he is a little older than I am. As a youth, he rowed with a club in Burton-Upon-Trent, England along with my cousin Ken B. and all their chums. Recently, Ken took up rowing again and managed to take first place in the "Burton Head of the River Race," (3500 meters) in a single scull. He is amazing! This is going to make my avoidance technique even more difficult tomorrow.

I've given enough

I remember when, in school, we were encouraged to save our pennies. I had my own little bank book that I turned in each week with whatever deposit I could gather up. Usually, it was only a few cents, and always less than a dollar but it was a start and it was considered patriotic to do so.

I remember, again in school, when we would stand with our hands over our hearts and say the pledge of allegiance every day before class started. It was considered patriotic to do so.

I was proud to be an American Citizen and remember how hard my mother worked and studied to pass her Naturalization test that would "grant" her citizenship. It was an exclusive club that a good part of the civilized world would have been honored to have been accepted into.

I worked hard in High School, and gained some pride when I was granted a diploma for my efforts. After High School, I joined the U.S. Air Force to do my patriotic duty.

The benefits of belonging to this club were Social Security in the form of retirement income (if you paid into it), continued medical care after retirement in the form of Medicare (if you paid into it), and the full protection of the Federal Government if you ever got into trouble in the world at large.

As I entered the workforce, I was further encouraged to save my money when the government provided an incentive in the form of IRA's. I started saving again, it was the patriotic thing to do.

In the 60's, a thing called "Affirmative Action" was instituted. It took some of my rights and priveleges away to give to others because of the color of their skin (any color but white).

In the 70's, more of my rights and benefits were jeapordized when the Social Security account was opened up to many folks who had never paid into it and who were not even citizens!

In the 80's, the educational standards that I had conformed to in order to attain a High School diploma were lowered to accomodate the "No child left behind" program and those same non-citizens, thereby undermining the value of my efforts.

In the 90's, in an effort to apply the same thinking to home ownership (no homeowner left behind), the lending standards were lowered to accommodate all those same non-citizens and many of those who had not worked as I had to lift myself out of poverty and maintain good credit, thereby cheapening my efforts and good citizenship.

In the first decade of this new century, there is an all out attack on the medical benefits that were guaranteed to me so the same benefits can be "given" to all those same non-citizens and unmotivated folks who have never paid a dime into the system.

all these give-away programs have unraveled the economics of this country and devalued my retirement account, my home value, and just about everything that good citizenship and hard work had promised me from the start.

Am I disillusioned? Am I mad? Do I feel cheated? You damn right!