Las Vegas and Back

Whew!  We made it, another fun stay in “Sin City.”  The drive to Vegas was uneventful except for the amazing discovery that dragons can’t sniff.  In one of those delirious conversations brought on by the constant hum of the tires on the pavement, we came to the realization that, if dragons sniffed, they would burn their lungs out!  I tell ya, just when you think you know it all, something like this crops up and you realize how little you really know.

Gail, Shea, Robert, Noah, Carey, James

We only spent one day in Las Vegas, just time enough to attend the wedding of my son and his new wife, but it was plenty of time to dump a week’s pay at the gambling tables, and another week’s pay at the dining tables!  I’m not a Vegas regular, but I am amazed at the cost meals at the big hotels.  I remember the days when hotel restaurants were almost free and were used as an attraction to draw the gamblers.  Now, it seems like the gambling is used as a lure to draw the diners.  Times have sure changed.

We stayed at the Luxor, which I have aptly renamed the Suxor.  Unique from the outside, it is an architectural abomination from the inside.  False walls, canvas shields, and other tricks were used everywhere, ostensibly to hide something that was even uglier than the shield used to hide it.  Hookers, with their cut-off jeans, short blouses showing four inches of midriff, and 6” platform stiletto heels were a constant fixture, standing out like lumps of coal in a snow bank.  I never noticed them so much before, maybe they all wore disguises or something.

Overall, we had a good time and the only real discomfort was the drive home.  From Vegas to Whiskey Pete’s, the traffic was stop and go.  Three lanes of traffic that looked like the 91 on a Friday afternoon!  We did have several areas where we achieved the speed limit but, basically, the roads were jammed all the way home and we actually came to a full stop many times.  I never thought I’d see the day!

Trouble on the way?

Three years ago I did a comparison of the 1929 stock market crash with what was going on at the time.  The similarities were amazing.  A 50% plunge that recovered to about 85% then, after about a year, a total collapse to about 10% of its high point.  Three years ago, we suffered a very similar drop and had a very similar recovery in about the same amount of time.  Where the two situations diverge is in the following year.  We never had the total collapse a year later like they had in 1929.  I began to wonder why and I think I have a good answer.

In 1929, the country was experiencing the “roaring twenties” and almost everybody was dabbling in the stock market.  When trouble emerged, everyone pulled their money out and that sent the market into a tailspin.  Today, it is not so easy for investors to pull their money out, most of it is in mutual funds which are part of many retirement programs and there are penalties for early withdrawal.  Therein we have the saving grace.  If there were no penalties, I’m sure many folks would have withdrawn their money long ago rather than having to sit back and watch account values dwindle to nothing.

 In the crash of October, 1929, the two day drop for the Dow Jones Industrial Average (DJIA) was 23.6%.  In comparison, the 2008 crash on Oct. 10, 2008 was 22.1%, eerily similar.  The total drop for the 1929 to 1932 bear market was 89.2%.  Stock accounts lost almost 90% of their value!  It remains to be seen how long the retirement accounts in mutual funds will buoy the market but sooner or later, the “Piper” will get his money and the outcome will be a similar decline; 90%.  I hope I’m wrong!

Even without this cloud hanging over the Market, most analyst today conservatively estimate that the value of the dollar is being eroded by 13% to 16% every year and eventually, that will translate into a similar level of inflation.  It seems that there is no safe haven for investors and they are all scrambling to salvage what they have left.  Insurance companies, the proverbial “cash cows,” are saving their assets by developing commercial real estate which is being built everywhere, even though many office and warehouse buildings are empty and tenants are dwindling.  Warren Buffet bought a railroad.  The “big boys” are investing in things that will always be there and things that will always be necessary, even in hard times.  Energy and commodities

I remember reading stories of pre-war Germany where prices doubled every two days and people rushed to the grocery stores to spend their paychecks before they lost value!  Can it happen again and can it happen here?  To use a popular catchphrase, “it’s not a matter of if, but when.”  I hope this doesn’t sound too “doomsday-ish,” it is only meant to provoke thought.  It doesn’t do any good to bury one’s head in the sand because the facts will not go away.  

Borderlands, a bit of history

I read a lot of history and the one theme that seems to permeate all of history is that of barbarism.  It seems that one group was always preying on another and that the main cause that shaped the evolution of civilization was self preservation.  People banded together, ran to the hinterlands and resorted to all manner of contrivances to protect themselves from each other including weapons, fortified walls, armor, etc.

There is an area referred to as the Borderlands between England and Scotland that suffered an unusually brutal history over an unusually long period of time.  Added to the almost continual wars between Scotland and England, were the roving bands of thugs that used the wars or almost any excuse to take what they wanted, sometimes exterminating entire families in the process.  Mistrust was rampant, assassination and brutal murder were commonplace and families tended to band together and form clans for self protection.  Only two types of dwellings could be found in the Borderlands.  Those that were made of stone had three floors with animals kept on the bottom, living quarters on the second floor, and defensive battlements on the top; almost like a mini-castle.  Dwellings made of wood were crude and designed to be abandoned in case of trouble and could be rebuilt in a day or so.

The atrocities, slaughter, and violence persisted in the Borderlands for hundreds of years until, as one writer put it “This endemic violence caused heavy loss of life on both side of the border and often did as much killing in relation to the local population as the plague did nearly everywhere else.”  The net effect was that the Borderlands were in a state of anarchy for many generations.

These are the people who formed the fourth great migration to the New World in the late 1600’s and early 1700’s and populated the American Backcountry.  These are the Moonshiners of the Ozarks, the folks who populated the Blue Ridge Mountains and the Appalachians.  Uneducated, crude, and backward, these people were shunned by the immigrants who preceded them and directed toward settlement in, what was then, the frontier.  Like their home turf, the Backcountry was also a dangerous and harsh place, being populated by many Indian tribes, but these folks were used to danger and violence and they proliferated.  They named places like Bloody Rock, Cutthroat Gap, Killquick, and Lynch Creek.  They brought, from their homeland, words like Whar for Where, and Thar for There.  They also brought fixin (getting ready to do something), cute, bumfuzzled, scoot and used the word honey as a term of endearment.

The Backcountry immigrants from the Borderlands were a rough and hearty people, they had to be to survive in the areas that were open to them.  The relative few families that lived in the Backcountry tended to inter-marry and became very clannish, just like their ancestors in the Borderlands.  Also, like their ancestors in the Borderlands, they carried on feuds that persisted for generations and is epitomized in the saga of the Hatfields and McCoys.  They also produced such notables as Andrew Jackson, James Knox Polk, and Zachary Taylor.

Looking for Aunt Ethel

On a recent trip to Reno we met up with cousin LuAnn who lives in a wonderful place on the banks of the Truckee River in downtown Reno.  On a day trip, LuAnn drove us to Dayton, Nevada to see our aunt Ethel.  Imagine our surprise when we drove up and found the remains of a burned out mobile home!

The place had been so badly burned that there was red caution tape everywhere and “do not enter” signs posted about.  We went in anyway and rummaged through what remained, being very careful about where we stepped.  We didn’t find much so we decided to rummage through the outbuildings, of which there were six or seven.  It seems that Uncle Paul never threw anything away, a habit of many people raised during the Great Depression era.  Aunt Ethel’s home site was about two acres in a very sparsely populated section of Dayton, itself a very small town and Uncle Paul had managed to fill all the buildings and most of the land with his collection of stuff.

After an hour or so of rummaging, we began to knock on the doors of neighboring homes to see if we could find out what happened to Aunt Ethel.  This, in itself, was a little unnerving since most of the neighboring homes were in a similar state of “junkdome” and I expected any moment to be confronted with an unshaven, toothless resident brandishing a shotgun.  We knocked on the doors of four adjacent homes and only one resident responded even though they all appeared to be home at the time.  The man who did answer his door would have fit right in with the cast of “Deliverance” and was so drunk he could hardly stand up, but he was friendly enough.  He told us that the fire had taken place “about a month ago” and that Aunt Ethel had been taken out by the firemen, through the bedroom window.  He did not know whether she was dead or alive.  I thanked him for the information and left him with my phone number in case the neighbors he knew could add something.

We then visited the local sheriff’s office but couldn’t find anyone there so we headed back to Reno.  The next day, I began calling the local hospitals to see if I could find Ethel.  On the third or fourth call, I found out that she had been admitted to the hospital right there in Reno, about five miles from where we were staying, but “rules” prevented them from telling me any more.  The following day I went to the hospital and spoke with people in the public relations department but all they could add was that Ethel had been admitted three months prior (The fact that Ethel’s neighbor missed the date of the fire by 200% will give you some clue as to his mental state!) and that she had been discharged to a long term care facility whose name they could not divulge.  As I was leaving, one of the employees who had overheard my conversation handed me a sheet of paper with a list of 6 long term care facilities that their hospital did business with.  How nice was that?

We left Reno the next morning so I did not have time to call the list until we got home.  I found Ethel on the very first call and informed cousin LuAnn who then went to visit with her.  She was alive, but not in very good shape.  She was on a respirator and did not respond to LuAnn's voice or touch.  Until just a few minutes ago, while I was writing this piece, that is all we knew about Ethel.  Then, I did a search of the Social Security files and discovered that Aunt Ethel passed away sometime after LuAnne’s visit.

My viewpoint!

I recently “unfriended” a person on Facebook who I never should have “friended” in the first place.  I thought, after so many years, this person might have changed but I was wrong.  In the aftermath of this “unfriending” I was set upon by several people (all liberals) in his defense, and accused of not wanting to listen to anyone who has a different viewpoint.  I was told that I needed to “agree to disagree.”  First of all, I will never “agree to disagree.”  That is a solution dreamed up by liberals who have run out of viable arguments.  When you can’t defend your position any longer, agree to disagree.  What a joke!

There are at least, two problems with the argument that I don’t like to hear differing viewpoints.  Firstly, the person who was “unfriended” never had a viewpoint, he was just a criticizer.  He never, to my knowledge, ever posted a viewpoint of his own, just negatively commented on the postings of others.  Secondly, and more importantly, these liberal “thinkers,” and I use the term loosely, have overlooked what their mindset has constantly overlooked for more years than I like to think about, and that is the law of reciprocal treatment.  If they have the right of “Free Speech” then I have the right of “Free Listening.”

This might seem comical at first, but it is the same liberal attitude that jumps to the defense of criminals but does not consider the rights of the victim.  It is this one-sided viewpoint that has confiscated the rights of citizens in the defense of endangered animals, the rights of property owners against abusive tenants, and the rights of ordinary citizens against the injustice of “minority quotas”;  The list goes on and on.

While we are at it, lets call a spade a spade.  Lets call liberalism what it really is, Communism at its finest.  In case you liberals out there haven’t heard, Communism died several years ago in the Soviet Union and if you don’t open your eyes soon, it will be reincarnated right here in the United States of America.  Do you really want to try it again?  There’s a “viewpoint” for ya.

"Two Years Before The Mast"

On a recent trip to San Diego we had the pleasure of visiting with Shirley who, in my opinion, is the best cook in the whole world and the person who motivated me to learn more about the craft.  Shirley’s son, cousin Charles, introduced me to a book that I had heard about for many years, but never had the opportunity to read.  The book is titled “Two Years Before The Mast” and was written in the late 1830’s by Richard Henry Dana Jr.  “Before The Mast” refers to the position on the ship where all new inexperienced sailors were required to berth.  It is in the forecastle, in front of the Foremast, in the bow.  “Two Years Before The Mast” is about Dana’s adventures sailing from Boston, around the "Horn" to the California Coast in 1836 and his experiences along the West Coast while he and his shipmates collected 40,000 cowhides from the local missions.  Cowhides were the medium of exchange between the Spanish Missions and the sailing ships that brought manufactured goods from the East.

Full Rigged Ship

While the tale is well written, with detailed descriptions of the ports Dana visited, San Diego, Capistrano, San Pedro, Monterey, San Francisco, etc. much of it is written in the jargon of the seafarer and can be difficult to follow.  Description of the daily chores aboard ship were especially difficult but I had the advantage of a large scale drawing of a “Full-rigged ship” at my disposal and made good use of it.  I learned the difference between a “Fore, Main, and Mizzen” Mast and the names of the 29 or more sails that can be “Clewed,” “Reefed,” or “Furled” upon them.  Other terms such as “Close hauled,” “Reeving,” and “Larboard” required some outside research, but sometimes I just used my imagination.  To try to understand all the terminology would have taken more time than I wanted to invest in a single book, and it really wasn’t necessary to benefit from the saga.

One of the best parts of the book is in the final chapters when Dana revisits the West Coast twenty four years later in 1860 and compares what he sees then with his previous visit.  He notes that San Pedro, a place that he and most of his shipmates detested, has doubled in size and now has two houses, that San Francisco has grown from a small Mission and a small Presidio to a city of over 100,000 inhabitants, and the islands in the bay that were once covered from top to shoreline with trees were all now devoid of vegetation!  What Dana describes as the most beautiful place on the coast, Monterey, has ceased to be a port of call and has not changed much, but in his melancholy description of San Diego he finds that much changed.  The storage warehouses are gone as cowhides are not a big business anymore and Steamers, not Sail Ships dot the harbor.

As a footnote to Dana’s adventures, his ship was captured by the Southern steamer “Alabama” on his return to the East Coast and he was a prisoner-of war for a short while.  Overall, “Two Years Before The Mast” is a fascinating window into a time of dramatic change in America and I thank Chuck for introducing me to the book.

My Family

I don’t think there is a man on earth who is more proud of his family than I am.  When I realize all the dangers and pitfalls that lie in the way of “growing up” I feel blessed that both of my children emerged on the “adult” side in such fine shape and even more blessed that my wife has kept me around long enough to appreciate it all.

My daughter has far exceeded my expectations and has grown into a wise and independent professional person, raising a family of her own that I am sure she is as proud of as I am of mine.  My son James is an entrepreneur extraordinaire and has accomplished more in his years than any other two people I know.  Sometimes I think there is nothing he can’t do, and do well.  Finally, my wife is like a fine wine that gets sweeter as the years go by and I realize, now, how perfectly matched for each other we are.  Like a movie producer behind the scenes, she knew just how to direct the action to produce the best results and I give her all the credit for the final results.

As for me;  I’m still wondering how I got here!

The Birthday Extravaganza

Every once in a while you get the opportunity to step out of your world and enter a new dimension, and the birthday party last night at AnQi’s in Costa Mesa was just such an occasion.  This wasn’t your average party where the host reserves a banquet room or a section of a high end restaurant, in this case the host reserved the entire restaurant!  Talent was brought in from Las Vegas, and professional renowned musicians were a part of the continual entertainment that took place before, during, and after dinner.  Everything was first class, from the food to the $60 a shot tequila that flowed like water.

Normally, at birthday parties, the guests bring gifts for the person whose birthday is the cause for celebration but in this case, gifts were handed out to the attendees, all 100+ of them!  Gift bags that were given to everyone included a bottle of Don Julio tequila, a very nice picture frame intended to hold a personalized photo of the event, and well over a hundred dollars worth of gift cards!

The hosts of this party have been family friends for many years, and this is not the first time they have put on such an extravaganza.  It is not unusual to meet Hollywood celebrities or famous sports figures at their parties and I feel honored to be continually included in their guest list.  My life has been enriched by my association with them and their circle of friends and without mentioning any names, I want to say;  Thank You!

Thinking about Bill

I was thinking about my friend Bill today, and all the things we got into during our junior and senior years in High School.  Thinking back, it seems like we managed to cram a lot of adventure into a relatively small window of time.

Bill                                                       Robert

 Bill and I were using my brother’s car one night and we ran out of gas and barely managed to coast the vehicle in the parking lot of an apartment complex.  Like a couple of idiots, we decided to siphon gas from another vehicle that was parked directly next to us and we got discovered.  After a two hour chase on foot by the vehicle’s owner and a police squad car, we managed to escape but the car was impounded.  The next morning I reported the car stolen but the whole episode still cost us $60.

Another time we were spraying weeds, as a summer job, for a UC Davis professor who had an experimental field of 40 acres in Dixon, CA.  It was hot and we were shirtless, carrying heavy spray tanks around that field when we thought it would be fun to take some honey from the nearby beehives.  We boldly walked up to the hives and removed a lid, and the bees seemed to be ok with it.  I pulled up one of the slats that held the honeycomb, while Bill gently scraped the bees off the comb with his knife.  All was going well until I dropped the slat!  The bees were instantly aroused and the noise from their buzzing increased tenfold.  I told Bill not to run and for a few moments he held out, but he eventually took off down the road at a full sprint.  Within a few more moments I was alone at the hives and all the bees had taken off after Bill.  He was stung many, many times that day while I escaped unharmed.

On another adventure at Lake Tahoe we hiked up the ski slopes above the lake when they were devoid of snow.  On the way down, there were long stretches of open, sandy terrain and I began to run slowly but, as anyone who has run downhill knows, you have to be very careful that your legs don’t start cartwheeling.  I learned that the hard way and after a short stretch at an easy canter, I was completely out of control and looking for the easiest and softest way to stop my forward progress.  It came in the form of a large rock and a tree!  Ouch!  I did not escape unharmed that time.

 Another time we were in the storage yard of a “war surplus” store after hours when we shouldn’t have been there.  At one point we rounded a corner and came face to face with the proverbial “junk yard dog.”  For a moment we all froze; Bill, me, and the dog all standing there staring at each other.  I don’t remember what triggered our flight, but all three of us broke at the same time.  Bill and I headed for the nearest fence with the dog hot on our heels.  We managed to make it to the chain link fence and launch ourselves onto it just in the nick of time, with the dog snapping at us all the while.  Another lesson learned.

On yet another adventure we decided to take my dad’s boat on the Sacramento River while they were out of town.  We hitched it up and hauled it to the ramp and, again like a couple of idiots, we pushed it out into the current before we tried to start the engine!  We tried in vain to get it started, but no luck.  There we were drifting helplessly down the river, in danger of being run over by the many barges on their way up.  It was only with the help of another boater that we avoided a complete catastrophe.  We were towed back to the ramp where we promptly loaded the boat a put it back where it belonged.  We sure learned a lot of things together, Bill and I.