We've driven about 1200 miles mostly at 80 mph. from Sun City to Houston, Texas. We weren't even speeding; 80 mph is the speed limit on western Interstate 10 AKA 'the southern route'. We are on our way to Austin for a Texas Christmas, and this is a familiar trip. (No, we didn't 'overshoot'; we came to Houston to visit a couple of friends.)
On this journey you see the pretty desert and the ugly desert. Part of the drive between Phoenix and Globe is an Arizona Scenic Highway Drive; that's the pretty desert part. It lasts for about 30 minutes. The other zillion desert driving hours have a landscape of sparse cactus, mainly prickly pear and jumping cholla growing out of dead brown dirt, littered with small rocks. It's heaven for rattlesnakes, scorpions and termites. This landscape is punctuated by dried up, paint peeling, boarded up, dilapidated small towns. The most interesting topographical event is driving up onto the Edwards Plateau.
We learned even if you are driving 80 mph, 522 miles is just too many car hours for us. That's the distance from Las Cruces, New Mexico (home of Andele!, my second favorite Mexican restaurant) to Fredericksburg, Texas (arguably the cutest tourist town in Texas). The next day the additional four hours into Houston flashed by, but the population density just kept building making actual driving more problematic. It's been roughly 30 years since we lived in Houston. This town was mega exciting, constantly changing, and roaring forward when we were Houstonians. We lived here in the era of, "Will the last person leaving Michigan for Houston please turn out the lights?" Really. It was a popular bumper sticker. Now, Houston, is in the big time. Coming here is like coming to New York, L.A., or Chicago - the three cities in front of it in the population count. And, of course, due to backward Texas politics, there is no mass transit to speak of. There are free/toll/ways.
There are no freeways like the Houston freeways. Everyone driving insanely whipping around one another in narrowed lanes at least 10 mph over the speed limit. Houston freeways are ALWAYS in a constant state of rebuilding. Being a roadway worker in Houston is to have permanent job security. The prevailing rebuilding strategy is not to take a lane away, but rather to make all the lanes more narrow so as to give the highway workers their space. The only times lanes are closed for construction are in the dead of night which effectively means you can have a traffic jam at 3am, no problem. I've always maintained if you can drive in Houston, you can drive anywhere. Believe me, California is no harder, nor is I-95 on the East Coast. One good thing about the Houston freeways, at least they are intelligibly marked, unlike California freeway markings which epitomize whimsy.
We've been shedding bottles of wine on this trip....now we are down to 13. Oh, dear, I guess we should drink one to bring back our luck. Of course, I believe that any road day is a lucky day even if one is driving across a zillion miles of ugly desert.
Sunday, December 21, 2014
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Is it Hard to Write?
Drake sent me an interview with a travel writer today. I think he meant for me to read the answer to the question, "Is writing hard." The paraphrased answer was, "No, it's a blank piece of paper to put words on. Fighting a war, trying to beat a possibly fatal disease, etc, etc. is hard." Of course, he's right. I've been fighting the problem of not feeling like writing. There are lots of reasons. Some I've realized are I've been in more pain lately, we've been physically and mentally occupied with helping Drake's mom, the holiday craze (which, if I'm truthful, is just mild neuroses in my case), and being intimidated by more than 30,000 hits and 280 plus posts. That last one is real reason. I keep asking myself if I have more to say, or if anyone would care if I stopped writing. Ideally, I have to get back to the place inside my head where I don't care who reads. Also, it's a good sign that I should be packing to leave tomorrow for Texas, and I'm sitting here typing.
This is my favorite time of the year, and I wanted to share that feeling even if you're a bah, humbug type person during the holidays. (I feel those people are necessary to keep the utter craziness this time of the year can engender in check.) As a Christian I love the idea of the new beginning that Christmas symbolizes for me. The music also does it for me in a way none other does. I can not only hum all the music, but I can actually sing most of it. It's thrilling to have an SIL (Jay) who can play carols as I sing them badly. Jay and I had a few minutes of that in Connecticut. I was so strongly reminded of the evening another pianist played hymns as I sang along. He's passed to the next life, so singing along with a piano player is a sweet memory for me.
I've been teasing Sarah about her Christmas tree. I posted a couple of pix on FB of the afternoon we decorated the gigantic tree in the tiny apartment. This tree is eight feet of firry magnificence, and it is big enough to hold all her very special ornaments. Each are little diamonds of wonderful Christmas memories. My mother started the tradition of giving Sarah Christmas ornaments each year, and recruited friends and family to do the same. So, thanks to Grandma Jo's thoughtfulness, Sarah has a wonderful collection. Her favorite ornament is the one my mother gave her when she was three, and it is ALWAYS placed first on the tree. This year's ornament from Drake and me is "Yale", of course. Sarah and Jay are now building their joint memories with ornaments they have acquired in their travels. Decorating the tree is the start of Christmas for Sarah, Drake and I plus Jay, now. What a joy it was for us to share that time with her this year.
Jackson, the family cat, was not quite as thrilled with the proceedings, but Drake was.
This is my favorite time of the year, and I wanted to share that feeling even if you're a bah, humbug type person during the holidays. (I feel those people are necessary to keep the utter craziness this time of the year can engender in check.) As a Christian I love the idea of the new beginning that Christmas symbolizes for me. The music also does it for me in a way none other does. I can not only hum all the music, but I can actually sing most of it. It's thrilling to have an SIL (Jay) who can play carols as I sing them badly. Jay and I had a few minutes of that in Connecticut. I was so strongly reminded of the evening another pianist played hymns as I sang along. He's passed to the next life, so singing along with a piano player is a sweet memory for me.
I've been teasing Sarah about her Christmas tree. I posted a couple of pix on FB of the afternoon we decorated the gigantic tree in the tiny apartment. This tree is eight feet of firry magnificence, and it is big enough to hold all her very special ornaments. Each are little diamonds of wonderful Christmas memories. My mother started the tradition of giving Sarah Christmas ornaments each year, and recruited friends and family to do the same. So, thanks to Grandma Jo's thoughtfulness, Sarah has a wonderful collection. Her favorite ornament is the one my mother gave her when she was three, and it is ALWAYS placed first on the tree. This year's ornament from Drake and me is "Yale", of course. Sarah and Jay are now building their joint memories with ornaments they have acquired in their travels. Decorating the tree is the start of Christmas for Sarah, Drake and I plus Jay, now. What a joy it was for us to share that time with her this year.Jackson, the family cat, was not quite as thrilled with the proceedings, but Drake was.
To close this impossibly sentimental posting, I'm sitting here with my coffee enjoying the electronic fireplace from Netflix as I listen to the Christmas carols accompanying it. Even better....Drake is starting the laundry while I'm still being a slug. Looking forward to being on the road tomorrow. Merry Christmas to all my faithful readers, known and unknown. I'm feeling thrilled I was able to write this, so maybe my frustration is passing and my writing will roar back in 2015.
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Writer's Block!
If you haven't guessed by now, I have writer's block. Since I've never experienced this, I'm assuming it's like the flu, only there's no vaccine for it. The symptoms are baffling. How this 'write a post' thing normally works is simple. Something pops up that piques my interest, or we go someplace cool, and I immediately think, "Oh, this would be a fun blog." The words then tumble out, and I have to edit and prune.
Well......
I just got back from New York City where we saw James Earl Jones in one of my favorite plays, "You Can't Take It With You" - a screwball play from the 1930's, and after saying that, I'm done.
We went to the Yale Gallery in New Haven where we saw this excellent exhibit of sculpture in the Victorian Age, and other than understanding why there was so much Victorian bric a brac, I can't work up any interest, so I'm assuming no one else would be too interested either.
We spent an entire day at the Metropolitan Art Museum, and I took a bunch of pictures including some breathtaking jewels from India - whoopee.
We helped Sarah and Jay decorate an enormous Christmas tree in their tiny New Haven apartment as well as fooled around with the cat in his holiday finery. It was quite funny at the time, but trying to write humor just seems beyond me right now. (That tree fills a full ONE-THIRD of their living room, incidentally.) And, yes, the cat was as pissed off about the holiday bandanna as he looks. Fortunately, after the picture taking, he got to take it off, so we don't have to indict Sarah for cat abuse.
That's it. I've finished my minuscule Christmas shopping,
but who cares? I can't even work up a good vent about the commercialization of Christmas. This is just pathetic. So, I'm signing off until January. Maybe, if I just stop for the next month, the block will have evaporated. That's my story, and I'm sticking with it. Goodbye until 2015.
Well......
I just got back from New York City where we saw James Earl Jones in one of my favorite plays, "You Can't Take It With You" - a screwball play from the 1930's, and after saying that, I'm done. We went to the Yale Gallery in New Haven where we saw this excellent exhibit of sculpture in the Victorian Age, and other than understanding why there was so much Victorian bric a brac, I can't work up any interest, so I'm assuming no one else would be too interested either.
We spent an entire day at the Metropolitan Art Museum, and I took a bunch of pictures including some breathtaking jewels from India - whoopee.
We helped Sarah and Jay decorate an enormous Christmas tree in their tiny New Haven apartment as well as fooled around with the cat in his holiday finery. It was quite funny at the time, but trying to write humor just seems beyond me right now. (That tree fills a full ONE-THIRD of their living room, incidentally.) And, yes, the cat was as pissed off about the holiday bandanna as he looks. Fortunately, after the picture taking, he got to take it off, so we don't have to indict Sarah for cat abuse.
That's it. I've finished my minuscule Christmas shopping,but who cares? I can't even work up a good vent about the commercialization of Christmas. This is just pathetic. So, I'm signing off until January. Maybe, if I just stop for the next month, the block will have evaporated. That's my story, and I'm sticking with it. Goodbye until 2015.
Saturday, November 22, 2014
Don't Shop on Thanksgiving!
I like Thanksgiving, and the more it's trampled upon the more I want to keep it. Major retailers have been trying to convince use for years that Christmas carols should start November 1st. That's when the Christmas decorations have been appearing - just as the orange and black is put away for the year.
In some very definable ways, it feels like the last unspoiled holiday. 46.3 million Americans are going to be traveling this year during the Thanksgiving holiday. (89% of us are driving! Hooray for cheap gas!) Most of us are going to be going over the river and through the woods to grandmother's house - well, at least to SOME relative's house even if the over and through part is symbolic. We will be toting food and drink as well as buzzing about what has changed for either the better or the worse in the family over the past 12 months. Some of us who can't make it 'home' will be toting food and joining friends.
Americans may eat a wide variety of food, heavy on the ethnic, but most agree there's only one 'right' meal at Thanksgiving and it starts with a 't' and goes gobble, gobble. We are brainwashed from an early age to accept the Pilgrims started Thanksgiving (wrong) and they ate turkey - well, maybe. Those 53 pilgrims in 1621 would have eaten anything put in front of them since starvation was still a very real way to die in the 'new world', and it's a good thing the Indians who showed up brought their own food because successful harvest or not, there was still a New England winter to be gotten through. The Pilgrim thanksgiving was actually just the same old harvest festival they'd always celebrated in England with a few Indians showing up unannounced.
The Thanksgiving WE celebrate was actually announced by Abraham Lincoln in a speech written by William Seward (the guy who bought Alaska) as a day of Thanksgiving to be celebrated the fourth Thursday in November in thanks for the victory at the Battle of Gettysburg. Lincoln was actually formalizing the idea of a day of thanks which goes back to George Washington. Many American historians consider Gettysburg the turning point in the Civil War which assured the continuation of the Union of the American states. So, based on the joint Pilgrim and Indian meal, George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, it's easy to see why we claim Thanksgiving as a uniquely American holiday.
Everybody knows what one is supposed to do on Thanksgiving Day: Watch a parade, drink coffee, start cooking, greet guests, and sit down to dinner. Then, eat, then eat some more, watch a football game, clean up the kitchen, gossip with the relatives, take a nap, then eat some more - especially pie - and watch some more football.
What you're not supposed to to is SHOP. That's for Friday, now known as 'Black Friday' because merchants see their yearly sales go into the 'black' (out of the red) on that day. Have you noticed starting oh, maybe a couple of years ago, some stores started opening at midnight - as if 5a.m. wasn't soon enough! Now, you can shop on Thanksgiving. K-Mart isn't even paying lip service to the holiday - they are opening up at 6am on Thursday, and the word is if you work at K-Mart and refuse to work Thanksgiving Day, it's collect your pink slip and don't let the door hit you on your way out. The list is HUGE of national retailers who are opening up at 6pm Thursday. Basically, it's virtually every major seller in America. I say no. I say HELL, no.
Think about the people who have to work retail. It's their livelihood. Most will be penalized if not outright fired if they refuse to work Thanksgiving Day. Think about having to get ready and go to work the evening of Thanksgiving - and work until midnight, or maybe just all the way through the night into the next day. Sound like fun to you? I know shopping on 'Black Friday' is a big sport to some people, but surely, you can restrain yourself for a few hours. If we refuse to shop on Thanksgiving Day, the stores will close. Maybe not this year; maybe not next year, but if we don't come out, the stores will close.
Pass it on: REFUSE TO SHOP ON THANKSGIVING DAY! Eat pie instead.
In some very definable ways, it feels like the last unspoiled holiday. 46.3 million Americans are going to be traveling this year during the Thanksgiving holiday. (89% of us are driving! Hooray for cheap gas!) Most of us are going to be going over the river and through the woods to grandmother's house - well, at least to SOME relative's house even if the over and through part is symbolic. We will be toting food and drink as well as buzzing about what has changed for either the better or the worse in the family over the past 12 months. Some of us who can't make it 'home' will be toting food and joining friends.
Americans may eat a wide variety of food, heavy on the ethnic, but most agree there's only one 'right' meal at Thanksgiving and it starts with a 't' and goes gobble, gobble. We are brainwashed from an early age to accept the Pilgrims started Thanksgiving (wrong) and they ate turkey - well, maybe. Those 53 pilgrims in 1621 would have eaten anything put in front of them since starvation was still a very real way to die in the 'new world', and it's a good thing the Indians who showed up brought their own food because successful harvest or not, there was still a New England winter to be gotten through. The Pilgrim thanksgiving was actually just the same old harvest festival they'd always celebrated in England with a few Indians showing up unannounced.
The Thanksgiving WE celebrate was actually announced by Abraham Lincoln in a speech written by William Seward (the guy who bought Alaska) as a day of Thanksgiving to be celebrated the fourth Thursday in November in thanks for the victory at the Battle of Gettysburg. Lincoln was actually formalizing the idea of a day of thanks which goes back to George Washington. Many American historians consider Gettysburg the turning point in the Civil War which assured the continuation of the Union of the American states. So, based on the joint Pilgrim and Indian meal, George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, it's easy to see why we claim Thanksgiving as a uniquely American holiday.
Everybody knows what one is supposed to do on Thanksgiving Day: Watch a parade, drink coffee, start cooking, greet guests, and sit down to dinner. Then, eat, then eat some more, watch a football game, clean up the kitchen, gossip with the relatives, take a nap, then eat some more - especially pie - and watch some more football.
What you're not supposed to to is SHOP. That's for Friday, now known as 'Black Friday' because merchants see their yearly sales go into the 'black' (out of the red) on that day. Have you noticed starting oh, maybe a couple of years ago, some stores started opening at midnight - as if 5a.m. wasn't soon enough! Now, you can shop on Thanksgiving. K-Mart isn't even paying lip service to the holiday - they are opening up at 6am on Thursday, and the word is if you work at K-Mart and refuse to work Thanksgiving Day, it's collect your pink slip and don't let the door hit you on your way out. The list is HUGE of national retailers who are opening up at 6pm Thursday. Basically, it's virtually every major seller in America. I say no. I say HELL, no.
YOU CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE - REFUSE TO SHOP ON THANKSGIVING DAY.
Think about the people who have to work retail. It's their livelihood. Most will be penalized if not outright fired if they refuse to work Thanksgiving Day. Think about having to get ready and go to work the evening of Thanksgiving - and work until midnight, or maybe just all the way through the night into the next day. Sound like fun to you? I know shopping on 'Black Friday' is a big sport to some people, but surely, you can restrain yourself for a few hours. If we refuse to shop on Thanksgiving Day, the stores will close. Maybe not this year; maybe not next year, but if we don't come out, the stores will close.
Pass it on: REFUSE TO SHOP ON THANKSGIVING DAY! Eat pie instead.
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Halloween isn't for Kiddies Anymore
I suspect the craze for Halloween among American adults has its roots in the Millennial Generation who seem to embrace any excuse for a party. Pretty soon they are going to be celebrating Hump Day each week with a little get together featuring that amusing wine. Yes, I know, I sound like a curmudgeon raining on the parade. Seriously, do we actually need to spend $300 million dollars on pet costumes? I found that little nugget in a timeline of Halloween I read in a magazine the other day.
It turns out our American Halloween has some pretty shallow roots. Costumes started up in 1912, and handing out candy really got going in the 1920's to minimize property damage caused by 'tricks'. The zenith of 'kid Halloween' was, of course, the 1950's when the Baby Boomers were children. On a personal note, collecting candy on Halloween was one of the twice a year days I actually GOT candy. With careful husbandry, judicious trading after the actual trick or treat trip, AND a clever hiding place my little brother couldn't find, I could stretch my Halloween candy to Easter - if Easter came early enough. Any Easter Sunday in April meant a candy famine for me.
My mother didn't believe children should eat candy. It rotted teeth, and it was too expensive to buy frivolously throughout the year. Most 1950's middle class mothers had similar beliefs. Growing up during the 1930's many of them had no dental care as children, and they vividly remembered the pain of tooth decay. My mother was missing several jaw teeth - pulled as a result of advanced tooth decay when she was very young. That said, they could not deny their children candy on Halloween night and in Easter baskets, but they could hold the line to those two days.
That made Halloween the third best day of the year. (The first two best days were your birthday and Christmas, duh.) Halloween was unsupervised night time activity; a once a year thrilling occurrence. Because of the era, outside daytime play was pretty much always unsupervised, but when dark fell, every kid I knew was expected to be in his or her house. During the school year, there was supper, some possible lightweight homework, usually less than 10 minutes in duration, and family watched TV on one of the three channels until bath and your rigidly set 'bed time'. Trick or treating on Halloween got you a pass from the routine schedule.
My brother and I, together with our selected neighborhood friends, roamed blocks on Halloween night collecting the loot. Our only restriction was we weren't supposed to cross a street with a traffic light even if the woman on the other side of the forbidden street was giving out homemade popcorn balls and caramel apples. With dozens of houses on long blocks of suburban subdivisions, this was not really a hardship. Ninety percent of the porch lights were on and open for the important business of passing out candy. No information passed faster among trick or treating children than the skinny about a household giving out chocolate bars or homemade treats. Getting anything chocolate was a 'score'. There was lots of Double Bubble being passed out on a Baby Boomer Halloween night.
The real hardest thing was waiting for dark, and in my house that meant full dark. We couldn't go out until it was truly night time. Only the five year olds went out when it was twilight. Nobody under the age of five trick or treated. Parents didn't have either the time or inclination to follow their kids around on Halloween. Who would answer the doorbell? During Baby Boomer times, you could easily hand out candy to more than 100 kids. It was also an unwritten rule the year you left elementary school, trick or treating days were strictly OVER. Still, by 1965 (the end of the Boomer era) Americans were spending $300 million on Halloween. Go back to the first paragraph: TODAY we spend $300 million on pet costumes. Oh, for the simple times when dogs stayed in the back yard, and cats minded their own business wherever they chose dropping by occasionally to eat.
In reality the adult fascination for Halloween is the outcome of traditional trick or treating being severely curtailed by mostly rumors of poisoned candy and sharp objects inserted into apples, and the uneasy feeling our children were not safe on the streets. Awful things only have to happen once - like the one guy who put explosives in his shoes - and now we all have to take off our shoes to get on an airplane. Even though poisoned candy is mostly an urban myth according to Joel Best, a sociologist at Delaware University who specializes in candy tampering legends, the documented 1974 poisoned pixie sticks in Deer Park, Texas, killed Halloween for every child in America, and changed who really gets to celebrate. Those poor dressed up pets are just the big losers, well, after children that is.
Dressing up in some rented costume, drinking too much, and competing in a meaningless costume competition with your friends is just too much trouble for me. I celebrate Halloween with my own bag of candy corn (first sold in 1951) - Brach's, of course, made with real honey, and I enjoy it, but not nearly as much as the stuff I tramped blocks and blocks to acquire. So, Happy Halloween, and for Pete's sake, give your pets a break and leave off dressing them up. Of course, that's so hard to resist with websites like this one giving you evil ideas:
https://www.google.com/search?hl=en&site=imghp&tbm=isch&source=hp&biw=1221&bih=652&q=halloween+pet+costumes&oq=halloween+pet+costumes&gs_l=img.3..0l5j0i5l3j0i24l2.1363.5002.0.5202.22.18.0.3.3.0.336.2146.1j6j4j1.12.0....0...1ac.1.56.img..7.15.2160.BXbEqHdPjs8#facrc=_&imgdii=_&imgrc=8cjN5x0ZMyMTFM%253A%3BnybINvh58ipcQM%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.i-mockery.com%252Fhalloween%252Fbag%252Fpics%252Fpet-costumes14.jpg%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.i-mockery.com%252Fhalloween%252Fbag%252Fpet-costumes.php%3B391%3B308
It turns out our American Halloween has some pretty shallow roots. Costumes started up in 1912, and handing out candy really got going in the 1920's to minimize property damage caused by 'tricks'. The zenith of 'kid Halloween' was, of course, the 1950's when the Baby Boomers were children. On a personal note, collecting candy on Halloween was one of the twice a year days I actually GOT candy. With careful husbandry, judicious trading after the actual trick or treat trip, AND a clever hiding place my little brother couldn't find, I could stretch my Halloween candy to Easter - if Easter came early enough. Any Easter Sunday in April meant a candy famine for me.
My mother didn't believe children should eat candy. It rotted teeth, and it was too expensive to buy frivolously throughout the year. Most 1950's middle class mothers had similar beliefs. Growing up during the 1930's many of them had no dental care as children, and they vividly remembered the pain of tooth decay. My mother was missing several jaw teeth - pulled as a result of advanced tooth decay when she was very young. That said, they could not deny their children candy on Halloween night and in Easter baskets, but they could hold the line to those two days.
That made Halloween the third best day of the year. (The first two best days were your birthday and Christmas, duh.) Halloween was unsupervised night time activity; a once a year thrilling occurrence. Because of the era, outside daytime play was pretty much always unsupervised, but when dark fell, every kid I knew was expected to be in his or her house. During the school year, there was supper, some possible lightweight homework, usually less than 10 minutes in duration, and family watched TV on one of the three channels until bath and your rigidly set 'bed time'. Trick or treating on Halloween got you a pass from the routine schedule.
My brother and I, together with our selected neighborhood friends, roamed blocks on Halloween night collecting the loot. Our only restriction was we weren't supposed to cross a street with a traffic light even if the woman on the other side of the forbidden street was giving out homemade popcorn balls and caramel apples. With dozens of houses on long blocks of suburban subdivisions, this was not really a hardship. Ninety percent of the porch lights were on and open for the important business of passing out candy. No information passed faster among trick or treating children than the skinny about a household giving out chocolate bars or homemade treats. Getting anything chocolate was a 'score'. There was lots of Double Bubble being passed out on a Baby Boomer Halloween night.
The real hardest thing was waiting for dark, and in my house that meant full dark. We couldn't go out until it was truly night time. Only the five year olds went out when it was twilight. Nobody under the age of five trick or treated. Parents didn't have either the time or inclination to follow their kids around on Halloween. Who would answer the doorbell? During Baby Boomer times, you could easily hand out candy to more than 100 kids. It was also an unwritten rule the year you left elementary school, trick or treating days were strictly OVER. Still, by 1965 (the end of the Boomer era) Americans were spending $300 million on Halloween. Go back to the first paragraph: TODAY we spend $300 million on pet costumes. Oh, for the simple times when dogs stayed in the back yard, and cats minded their own business wherever they chose dropping by occasionally to eat.
In reality the adult fascination for Halloween is the outcome of traditional trick or treating being severely curtailed by mostly rumors of poisoned candy and sharp objects inserted into apples, and the uneasy feeling our children were not safe on the streets. Awful things only have to happen once - like the one guy who put explosives in his shoes - and now we all have to take off our shoes to get on an airplane. Even though poisoned candy is mostly an urban myth according to Joel Best, a sociologist at Delaware University who specializes in candy tampering legends, the documented 1974 poisoned pixie sticks in Deer Park, Texas, killed Halloween for every child in America, and changed who really gets to celebrate. Those poor dressed up pets are just the big losers, well, after children that is.
Dressing up in some rented costume, drinking too much, and competing in a meaningless costume competition with your friends is just too much trouble for me. I celebrate Halloween with my own bag of candy corn (first sold in 1951) - Brach's, of course, made with real honey, and I enjoy it, but not nearly as much as the stuff I tramped blocks and blocks to acquire. So, Happy Halloween, and for Pete's sake, give your pets a break and leave off dressing them up. Of course, that's so hard to resist with websites like this one giving you evil ideas:
https://www.google.com/search?hl=en&site=imghp&tbm=isch&source=hp&biw=1221&bih=652&q=halloween+pet+costumes&oq=halloween+pet+costumes&gs_l=img.3..0l5j0i5l3j0i24l2.1363.5002.0.5202.22.18.0.3.3.0.336.2146.1j6j4j1.12.0....0...1ac.1.56.img..7.15.2160.BXbEqHdPjs8#facrc=_&imgdii=_&imgrc=8cjN5x0ZMyMTFM%253A%3BnybINvh58ipcQM%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.i-mockery.com%252Fhalloween%252Fbag%252Fpics%252Fpet-costumes14.jpg%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.i-mockery.com%252Fhalloween%252Fbag%252Fpet-costumes.php%3B391%3B308
Thursday, October 2, 2014
Eating People
Now, everyone who thought they were going to get sexual tips, you can leave this site right now! When I titled this Eating People, that's exactly what I meant. We just came back from the site where the Donner Party was marooned for the winter from October 1846 until April, 1847. This was unplanned, and when the wagon train occupants ran out of food, they turned to cannibalism. "Donner" is still a code word in American western history for eating people. If you are horrified, think about how much morehorrified the uptight 19th century Americans were. Some members of the Donner party became infamous, and a few were persecuted their entire lives especially the man suspected of murdering for his next meal. Others were able to put the event behind them and became leading citizens of California. Still other survivors were haunted their whole lives with what was probably PTSD. In that record breaking winter, there was at least twelve feet of fallen snow on the ground and drifts even higher. Even if they could have reached the ground to try and bury the dead, it was frozen solid. Thus, the bodies weren't buried, and it was pretty apparent to the rescuers in April of 1847 how the 48 left alive of the 87 who got stranded managed to still be breathing when rescue arrived.
The Donner Party expedition was a comedy of errors, misjudgment, and ignorance from the beginning, The wagon train dawdled across the plains even though they got a 'late start' on the journey to California. Then, they took a 'short cut' off the newly blazed Emigrant Trail even though they were repeatedly warned not to do so by experienced mountain men and guides. They rested as the fall progressed for days at a time, and finally, Mother Nature threw a 100 year winter at them.
When they reached the base of the mountains, there were multiple attempts by the entire party to cross the Sierra Nevada Mountains at what today is known as "Donner Pass". Each time, the group was unsuccessful, and the snow continued to pile up. When it became clear they would be wintering at 7000 feet in elevation, they didn't immediately collect as much food as possible before being snowed in. Then the game animals stopped moving around and hibernated. These people didn't even manage to master fishing in the lake. One factor which is difficult to calculate as to how much it attributed to this tragedy is these people were terrified. Early on even before they were in dire trouble, they began to bicker and quarrel. They resorted to murdering one another over trifling issues, and as a group showed a total inability to pull together for the common good.
In the depth of winter, the strongest members of the Donner party tried to 'walk out' over the pass to get help. Many of these people became stranded in the snow, and they definitely resorted to cannibalism to survive. Meanwhile, hampered by the bid for California independence, and the Mexican American War, it was hard to find rescuers on the Western side of the Sierra Nevadas who would even attempt the trip
 |
| You can see the glacial boulder that formed the 4th side of this cabin |
Eventually, the last living person at the Donner camp was rescued in April of 1847. Supposedly, he had a pot of human flesh simmering over the fire when the rescuers arrived.
The Donner party cannibalism was originally downplayed in the Eastern newspapers because of the building fever of westward migration. The year after the Donner disaster, migration was dampened, but the slacking off of emigrants had more to do with the Mexican American War rather than the Donner horror story. Nothing however could have contained the westward migration once the news of the California gold discovery reached the East.
Americans love lurid stories, and George McGlashan, a 19th century Truckee newspaperman, recognized a good story when he heard one. He interviewed every single surviving member of the Donner Party repeatedly, and over years of interviews, each person old enough to recall the terrible events of that winter confirmed many instances of cannibalism. In 1879 McGlashan documented it all in a book which further spread the notoriety of the Donner wagon train. Since that first book, several more have been written over the past 150 years. In the 1880's, McGlashan was the person responsible for spearheading the establishment the memorial we visited which eventually became a California State Park.
In terms of who survived, no one under the age of 6 was left alive at the end of that winter. No one survived who was over the age of 49. More women than men survived. Historians have reasoned more women survived because they stored more body fat. Best survival rate was among the children between the ages of 6 and 14. Children were fed human remains first, and cannibalism may have enabled their survival. The facts are still murky about who ate whom. No gnawed human bones were found in the remains of the fireplaces. There were no carefully preserved recipes handed down to the next generation. As McGlashan became more intimate with the survivors, however, it became apparent each group resorted to eating human flesh to survive.
Today, the notion of eating human flesh just makes us shudder. There have certainly been human civilizations who had cannibalism embedded in their culture often as a practice during war or as a religious ceremony. There are suspected cannibalistic tribes still in New Guinea or the depths of the Amazon rain forest. Cannibalism is such a taboo in the 21st century there are no recipes or helpful cooking hints to be found. No one considers human flesh the ultimate delicacy. There is no butchering chart. You won't find wine pairings or side dish suggestions. However, the reality finally accepted by the starving Donner party members was meat is meat. They chose survival rather than the moral high ground, and I strongly suspect each of us would too if found in their dire straits.
The ultimate irony is the spot where the Donner wagon train was stranded is gorgeous. The pass they couldn't cross ultimately became the pass the Pacific Railway was built across as the race to build a transcontinental railway finished up right after the Civil War. Interstate 80 was built over this pass. If you want to see what it looks like today, here are the pictures.
https://plus.google.com/u/0/photos/115478608971584948192/albums/6065713509372425361?authkey=CPDg29nn2cLuRg
Friday, September 26, 2014
101 Objects
I'm a public library connoisseur. One of my first acts when we move into a new town is to get a library card. At last count, I have eight active library cards. I would have eleven, but three libraries cut me off. (Oh, by the way, anybody got a NRH library card number I could borrow? I will only use it for on-line audiobooks.) I've found every library has its strong points no matter how small it may be. For instance, my current library, El Dorado County Public Library, South Lake Tahoe, California, has this nifty magazine box in which patrons donate magazines and the library resells them for a quarter apiece. I bought a Smithsonian Magazine from the box the other day in which the main article was "101 Objects that Made America". That bad boy had my name all over it.
It was fascinating to read about what other people think of as iconic. Icons in America can be so loaded when there are so many cultures and ethnic groups clamoring for inclusion. I was a little intimidated by #1 which is 'the buffalo' as portrayed on the Buffalo Nickel. It wasn't the buffalo that was the problem - it was the essay written by David Mamet to kick off the article. Gosh, to be able to write like that. There were some 'objects' which had essays accompanying them like the Mamet essay on the buffalo. Some of the essayists were famous - Martha Stewart wrote about the Singer Sewing Machine. (I think I write just as well as she does, at least.) Frank DeFord wrote about Negro League Baseball. Others weren't famous, but still experts in whatever field the object represented.
As I worked my way through the article, I kept thinking, "We've seen that." Then I began thinking, "Well, how many of these things have we seen?" And Drake's quantitative nature has rubbed off [after 40 plus years of intensive training], so I started counting.... It turns out we've actually seen fifty-nine of the one hundred and one objects. The rarest? Hmmm.... the actual American flag from 1814 - the one that flew over Fort McKinley. You know, the flag Francis Scott Key wrote that song about? The most beautiful? The Audubon book, Birds of America. I was surprised it was so big. Turns out the reason is because all the birds are life sized. The object which completely gobsmacked me once I understood its significance: Clovis Points. The one I haven't seen I want most to see: The Aids Quilt.
So as not to keep you in suspense; here's the list with asterisks beside the ones we've seen.
Buffalo*, pre-historic Duck Decoy, Bald Eagle*, Coastal Redwood*, Stegogaurus skeleton*, Audubon Book of Birds*, Passenger pigeon*, John Wesley Powell's life preserver, Bierstadt Painting*, Neil Armstrong's Spacesuit*, Lewis/Clark Compass, Gold Nugget, Polio Vaccine, Dark Matter Spectograph, Scopes Trial photograph, Ben Franklin's Experiments, Burgess Shale, George Catlin Paintings*, Smithson's will,Walt Whitman photograph, Bell's Telephone*, Remington Typewriter*, Marian Anderson's fur coat, FDR's microphone*, Nat Turner's bible, Langston Hughs' poem: "The Colored Soldier", Middle Mississippi Mask, Andy Warhols' "Michael Jackson", Cesar Chavez's Jacket*, Louis Armstrong's trumpet*, Nam June Paik's Electronic Superhighway*, Justice O'Connor's robe, Telstar*, Lincoln's Top Hat*, Appomattox Table & Chairs*, Gordon photograph*, George Washington's Gilbert Stuart portrait*, Susan B Anthony's gavel, Red Horse's Drawings of Little Bighorn*, Greensboro Lunch Counter*, Predator Drone*, Bell Iroquois Helicopter*, Enola Gay*, Wright Flyer*, Wonder Woman comic, White House charred timber, Colt Revolver*, Clovis Points*, Singer Sewing Machine*, Levi's Jeans*, Cotton Gin*, Eames chair*, Eniac Computer*, Edison light bulb*, Kodak camera*, Morse telegraph*, John Bull Locomotive*, Model T*, Discovery space shuttle*, Ration ticket, Pueblo jars, "This Land is Your Land" recording, suitcase from Japanese Internment*, AIDS Quilt, Emergency Money, John Deere plow*, Negro League baseball*, Psychedelic sign board, Chuck Berry's guitar, Irving Berlin's piano, Barbie*, R2D2*, Teddy Bear*, Ruby Slippers*, Michael Jordan's jersey*, Ali's gloves & robe*, Richard Petty's stockcar, Spirit of St. Louis*, Novus Orbis map, World Trade Center sign, WWI gas mask, Fallout shelter, Mash sign*, Pocohontas portrait*, Giant panda, vintage California wines, USS Maine bugle, USS Oklahoma stamp, Stained glass shards [Birmingham bombing], LBJ's pen [Civil Rights Act], Harriet Tubman's hymn book, Stamp Act proof, The Pill*, US Olympic Hockey Jersey*, Geronimo portrait*, John Brown Daguerreotype*, Thomas Jefferson's desk*, piece of Plymouth Rock*, Clipper Flying Cloud*, original Star Spangled Banner*.
It was fascinating to read about what other people think of as iconic. Icons in America can be so loaded when there are so many cultures and ethnic groups clamoring for inclusion. I was a little intimidated by #1 which is 'the buffalo' as portrayed on the Buffalo Nickel. It wasn't the buffalo that was the problem - it was the essay written by David Mamet to kick off the article. Gosh, to be able to write like that. There were some 'objects' which had essays accompanying them like the Mamet essay on the buffalo. Some of the essayists were famous - Martha Stewart wrote about the Singer Sewing Machine. (I think I write just as well as she does, at least.) Frank DeFord wrote about Negro League Baseball. Others weren't famous, but still experts in whatever field the object represented.
As I worked my way through the article, I kept thinking, "We've seen that." Then I began thinking, "Well, how many of these things have we seen?" And Drake's quantitative nature has rubbed off [after 40 plus years of intensive training], so I started counting.... It turns out we've actually seen fifty-nine of the one hundred and one objects. The rarest? Hmmm.... the actual American flag from 1814 - the one that flew over Fort McKinley. You know, the flag Francis Scott Key wrote that song about? The most beautiful? The Audubon book, Birds of America. I was surprised it was so big. Turns out the reason is because all the birds are life sized. The object which completely gobsmacked me once I understood its significance: Clovis Points. The one I haven't seen I want most to see: The Aids Quilt.
So as not to keep you in suspense; here's the list with asterisks beside the ones we've seen.
Buffalo*, pre-historic Duck Decoy, Bald Eagle*, Coastal Redwood*, Stegogaurus skeleton*, Audubon Book of Birds*, Passenger pigeon*, John Wesley Powell's life preserver, Bierstadt Painting*, Neil Armstrong's Spacesuit*, Lewis/Clark Compass, Gold Nugget, Polio Vaccine, Dark Matter Spectograph, Scopes Trial photograph, Ben Franklin's Experiments, Burgess Shale, George Catlin Paintings*, Smithson's will,Walt Whitman photograph, Bell's Telephone*, Remington Typewriter*, Marian Anderson's fur coat, FDR's microphone*, Nat Turner's bible, Langston Hughs' poem: "The Colored Soldier", Middle Mississippi Mask, Andy Warhols' "Michael Jackson", Cesar Chavez's Jacket*, Louis Armstrong's trumpet*, Nam June Paik's Electronic Superhighway*, Justice O'Connor's robe, Telstar*, Lincoln's Top Hat*, Appomattox Table & Chairs*, Gordon photograph*, George Washington's Gilbert Stuart portrait*, Susan B Anthony's gavel, Red Horse's Drawings of Little Bighorn*, Greensboro Lunch Counter*, Predator Drone*, Bell Iroquois Helicopter*, Enola Gay*, Wright Flyer*, Wonder Woman comic, White House charred timber, Colt Revolver*, Clovis Points*, Singer Sewing Machine*, Levi's Jeans*, Cotton Gin*, Eames chair*, Eniac Computer*, Edison light bulb*, Kodak camera*, Morse telegraph*, John Bull Locomotive*, Model T*, Discovery space shuttle*, Ration ticket, Pueblo jars, "This Land is Your Land" recording, suitcase from Japanese Internment*, AIDS Quilt, Emergency Money, John Deere plow*, Negro League baseball*, Psychedelic sign board, Chuck Berry's guitar, Irving Berlin's piano, Barbie*, R2D2*, Teddy Bear*, Ruby Slippers*, Michael Jordan's jersey*, Ali's gloves & robe*, Richard Petty's stockcar, Spirit of St. Louis*, Novus Orbis map, World Trade Center sign, WWI gas mask, Fallout shelter, Mash sign*, Pocohontas portrait*, Giant panda, vintage California wines, USS Maine bugle, USS Oklahoma stamp, Stained glass shards [Birmingham bombing], LBJ's pen [Civil Rights Act], Harriet Tubman's hymn book, Stamp Act proof, The Pill*, US Olympic Hockey Jersey*, Geronimo portrait*, John Brown Daguerreotype*, Thomas Jefferson's desk*, piece of Plymouth Rock*, Clipper Flying Cloud*, original Star Spangled Banner*.
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
An Unexpected Terrorist Attack
As everyone knows, we are at Lake Tahoe, one of those absolutely most beautiful places in America. I'm sad to report this area has been attacked by a terrorist. No, there was no bomb, or crashing
airplanes, or silent chemical weapons released into the water system. No, this area is being bombarded by smoke as a result of a raging wildfire set by an arsonist. Oh, I should say 'alleged' arsonist because after all the man who has been arrested for setting the fire is only charged, not convicted. The fire was set on September 13th, and now on September 24th, 90,000 acres are burning with 12,000 homes currently at risk. The wildfire is large enough to be seen from space.
To give credit where it's due, Drake is the one who has equated the setting of this fire with a terrorist attack. He's absolutely right. The fire is projected to intensify today due to the gusting winds. I'm hoping no firefighters are going to die trying to bring this fire under control. Last week the same weather conditions forecasted for the next few days tripled the size of the fire overnight. Oh, and to make matters worse, what's burning is the El Dorado National Forest, and FYI that belongs to ME and YOU and EVERY AMERICAN.
Something we've really enjoyed at Lake Tahoe is the air quality. Clear and clean in the green with lots of oxygen as only forests can produce. Now, each day's air ranges from orange (unhealthy for the sensitive) to red (unhealthy for everyone). And we're lucky because the actual location of the flames is fifty miles to the west over a 7000 foot mountain. However, when the wind blows from the south/west, smoke pours over the peak into the Tahoe Basin. We're south of the Lake and west of the fire, so we've been living with haze and light smoke. The people on the north side of Lake Tahoe and in Reno, Nevada, are living intermittently in what must seem like volcanic ash conditions. Today, the smoke is moving as far north at Boise, Idaho.
The only other exposure to a wildfire we've had was several years ago when we were on a family vacation to southwestern Colorado. We were at Mesa Verde National Park when lightening started a fire inside the park, and the Rangers evacuated the park. As we joined the caravan of evacuees, we actually drove past huge pine trees that were flaming like giant torches. I was most happy to be gone. We might have to make the same choice here cutting our visit short. Unfortunately, the people who live here permanently are just stuck. I just hope the powers that be prove their case and throw the book at the arsonist.
To give credit where it's due, Drake is the one who has equated the setting of this fire with a terrorist attack. He's absolutely right. The fire is projected to intensify today due to the gusting winds. I'm hoping no firefighters are going to die trying to bring this fire under control. Last week the same weather conditions forecasted for the next few days tripled the size of the fire overnight. Oh, and to make matters worse, what's burning is the El Dorado National Forest, and FYI that belongs to ME and YOU and EVERY AMERICAN.
Something we've really enjoyed at Lake Tahoe is the air quality. Clear and clean in the green with lots of oxygen as only forests can produce. Now, each day's air ranges from orange (unhealthy for the sensitive) to red (unhealthy for everyone). And we're lucky because the actual location of the flames is fifty miles to the west over a 7000 foot mountain. However, when the wind blows from the south/west, smoke pours over the peak into the Tahoe Basin. We're south of the Lake and west of the fire, so we've been living with haze and light smoke. The people on the north side of Lake Tahoe and in Reno, Nevada, are living intermittently in what must seem like volcanic ash conditions. Today, the smoke is moving as far north at Boise, Idaho.
The only other exposure to a wildfire we've had was several years ago when we were on a family vacation to southwestern Colorado. We were at Mesa Verde National Park when lightening started a fire inside the park, and the Rangers evacuated the park. As we joined the caravan of evacuees, we actually drove past huge pine trees that were flaming like giant torches. I was most happy to be gone. We might have to make the same choice here cutting our visit short. Unfortunately, the people who live here permanently are just stuck. I just hope the powers that be prove their case and throw the book at the arsonist.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
Design Creativity
To be creative is to be human. Creativity has helped our species survive through the eons. Having a big brain is great, but it's using it is what has pushed us up the food chain and helped us win the evolutionary crap shoot. Perhaps that accounts for our great admiration of creative people. We still need creativity to feed our souls. I think that's why we especially admire creative artistic talent. Everyone has a favorite book or song or in my case, painting or sculpture. I'm so fortunate to actually know someone who is a working artist. Like any other artistic endeavor, being creative takes not just inspiration, but actual work.
Kit has gotten interested in electronic design over the past few years. She's representative of a new generation of artists who can finally reach an audience through the internet. The best thing about an electronic design is it can be transferred to almost anything. For instance, last Christmas she wrapped all our presents in paper printed with one of her designs. She works with a company that offers printing of her designs on a variety of products including fabric. If you haven't figured it out yet, Kit is Sarah Lynn's mother-in-law, and my friend.
She's entered an on-line contest being sponsored by a design website called Bags of Love. One of her designs appears on a sheath dress, and the company is offering a prize of over 600 pounds (that's about a $1000) to the designer whose dress garners the most votes. I'd like for you to check it out and, of course, vote for Katherine Wilson's dress. Here's how you find Kit's dress - and hopefully cast your electronic vote for it. It's going to be easy; she has the best design. I couldn't click directly into the contest, but I found the voting page by clicking on the Bags of Love home page. Scroll down and look for "Gift Services" on the left side of this page and click on "Contest. Here's the home page:
http://www.bagsoflove.co.uk/
Scroll down and find the Katherine Wilson's dress and vote for it. It's easy, and we'd love to see her win.
Kit has gotten interested in electronic design over the past few years. She's representative of a new generation of artists who can finally reach an audience through the internet. The best thing about an electronic design is it can be transferred to almost anything. For instance, last Christmas she wrapped all our presents in paper printed with one of her designs. She works with a company that offers printing of her designs on a variety of products including fabric. If you haven't figured it out yet, Kit is Sarah Lynn's mother-in-law, and my friend.
She's entered an on-line contest being sponsored by a design website called Bags of Love. One of her designs appears on a sheath dress, and the company is offering a prize of over 600 pounds (that's about a $1000) to the designer whose dress garners the most votes. I'd like for you to check it out and, of course, vote for Katherine Wilson's dress. Here's how you find Kit's dress - and hopefully cast your electronic vote for it. It's going to be easy; she has the best design. I couldn't click directly into the contest, but I found the voting page by clicking on the Bags of Love home page. Scroll down and look for "Gift Services" on the left side of this page and click on "Contest. Here's the home page:
http://www.bagsoflove.co.uk/
Scroll down and find the Katherine Wilson's dress and vote for it. It's easy, and we'd love to see her win.
Monday, September 15, 2014
Gratitude Challenge - Day Five
I'm sitting on our elevated redwood deck looking out over a pine/spruce forest with a view of the mountains surrounding the Lake Tahoe Basin. The sky is azure and the clouds are the color of white the manufacturers of Tide lust after. There's a slight breeze, and the temp is in the 70's. I'm so grateful we stepped out, left the security of Hurst, and have had the pleasure and privilege of being able to enjoy a smidgen of the width and breath of this country.
I'm very grateful there were enough people in the previous generations to understand these things are irreplaceable, and I'm equally grateful for the people in the upcoming generation who are committing themselves to not only keeping our national treasures maintained, unpolluted and unspoiled, but trying to spread the idea of wherever someone lives the resources and beauty are finite.
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| Fall, New England, Profile Lake |
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| Grand Canyon of Yellowstone |
Finally, I'm grateful for the filmmakers of in depth documentaries who use pictures and words to bring the sense of who we were and we are to everyone. I'm going to finish the 'gratitude' challenge with just a few pictures which illustrate my gratitude for our lives over the past five years.
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| Lake Tahoe, California |
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| Redwood Trees, Muir Wood, California |
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| Pffeifer Falls, Big Sur, California |
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| Big Sur, California |
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| Virginia, James River |
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| Shenendoah Valley, Blue Ridge Mountains, Virginia |
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| Maymont Japanese Garden, Richmond, Virginia |
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| Yale from the Grove Cemetery |
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| Logan Pass, Glacier National Park |
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| Mystic Seaport, Connecticut River |
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| Mammoth Springs, Yellowstone |
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| Black Sand Beach, Hawaii |
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| The "Needles" at Seal Rock, Oregon |
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| Craters of the Moon National Monument |
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| Shoshone Falls, Idaho |
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| New York City from the top of the Empire State Building |
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| Picture Lake in the Cascade Mountains, Washington State |
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| Fog rolling in over San Francisco Bay |
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| Luray Caverns, Virginia |
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| The Franconia Notch, New Hampshire |
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| Arizona Desert (enhanced with a Chilhuly glass sculpture) |
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Gratitude Challenge: Day 4
It's 9/11. For my generation and our daughter's generation, it's like saying December 7th. I just got an email from a friend I was teaching with that day telling me in retrospect she is so grateful to have been with friends that day. We all remember where we were, and what we were doing. The first time I saw the video of the plane flying into the tower, my initial, irrational, interior mental response was, "That can't be real. That's got to be a special effect." A fleet second later, my stunned mind comprehended it WAS real, and my second thought was, "The world just changed - forever."
Like Christine, I'm grateful I was with friends that horrible day. I'm also grateful our principal banned the use of all TV's and radios at my school that day. The idiot principal at LD Bell High School, Sarah's school, let the TV's in every room blare non-stop 'news' and pictures all day long.
The instant school was over for me that day, I burned up the freeway driving at breakneck speed getting to Sarah's high school to pick her up. I never picked her up - not cool, you know for a teen's MOM to pick her up like she's some little kid. Not that day. Sarah Lynn was just a few weeks short of being sixteen years old, and she was never so glad to see her mother in her entire short life. For you see, today I am so damn grateful my daughter is alive. Sarah had been standing on the top of the World Trade Center in July, just two months prior to the attacks. Today, I say a prayer for all the mothers who aren't as lucky as I was.
It's 9/11. Thirteen years later it's still as senseless and enraging as it was on the day the towers fell.
Like Christine, I'm grateful I was with friends that horrible day. I'm also grateful our principal banned the use of all TV's and radios at my school that day. The idiot principal at LD Bell High School, Sarah's school, let the TV's in every room blare non-stop 'news' and pictures all day long.
The instant school was over for me that day, I burned up the freeway driving at breakneck speed getting to Sarah's high school to pick her up. I never picked her up - not cool, you know for a teen's MOM to pick her up like she's some little kid. Not that day. Sarah Lynn was just a few weeks short of being sixteen years old, and she was never so glad to see her mother in her entire short life. For you see, today I am so damn grateful my daughter is alive. Sarah had been standing on the top of the World Trade Center in July, just two months prior to the attacks. Today, I say a prayer for all the mothers who aren't as lucky as I was.
It's 9/11. Thirteen years later it's still as senseless and enraging as it was on the day the towers fell.
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Gratitude Challenge: Day Three
I'm telling you...nothing sets up your day like a little cartoon viewing. I'm grateful to be able to laugh at stupid stuff. It definitely improves your coffee. I have favorite cartoons - it used to be Scooby Doo, and don't get me wrong, I'm still a big Scooby fan. In my 20's I would drink coffee, smoke cigarettes, and watch Scooby on Saturday mornings. I moved onto the Power Puff Girls, Dexter's Laboratory, and Jimmy Neutron, and now I like The Penguins and Planet Sheen. The Sheen show is a spin-off of Jimmy Neutron - even cartoons have spin-offs, and the Sheen character just cracks me up. Even better are the commercials! Today I saw one for Glowjamas! You can write on them, and they glow in the dark. Plus, they are washable, dryable and you can start over with new messages. ($19.95 + $7.95 shipping and handling) I mean you just don't see these types of products on grown-up TV.
Another thing that I like to do is read in the bathroom. OK, not glamorous, but when I was a kid, it was the only place I could read uninterrupted until I perfected selective hearing. I am so grateful for junk mail catalogs. They are perfect bathroom reading. Not too involved, and can be put down on a moment's notice without losing the gist. I love moving into a place where the prior occupant was a big shopper who always checked the catalog box when she ordered something. Berkeley was great; the girl who lived there loved to catalog shop, and we always had an eclectic assortment. Every mail day was a possible surprise.
My final gratitude of the day is having my own personal news source. Drake always gets up much, much, much earlier than I do, and he likes to peruse news sites. He filters and edits out the stuff I don't need to know, and gives me not only the weather report for the day, but also a capsule of important breaking news. It's so efficient, and I don't have to wallow in all the bad news every media outlet is so delighted to shower me with as well as the endless repetition. He also does follow up sleuthing. (Example: Why DID Ron Washington resign?) FYI for non-Texans, he's the former skipper of the Texas Rangers who resigned for mysterious reasons this past week. Believe me when I tell you having your own personal news source is heaven in this media overloaded world.
Another thing that I like to do is read in the bathroom. OK, not glamorous, but when I was a kid, it was the only place I could read uninterrupted until I perfected selective hearing. I am so grateful for junk mail catalogs. They are perfect bathroom reading. Not too involved, and can be put down on a moment's notice without losing the gist. I love moving into a place where the prior occupant was a big shopper who always checked the catalog box when she ordered something. Berkeley was great; the girl who lived there loved to catalog shop, and we always had an eclectic assortment. Every mail day was a possible surprise.
My final gratitude of the day is having my own personal news source. Drake always gets up much, much, much earlier than I do, and he likes to peruse news sites. He filters and edits out the stuff I don't need to know, and gives me not only the weather report for the day, but also a capsule of important breaking news. It's so efficient, and I don't have to wallow in all the bad news every media outlet is so delighted to shower me with as well as the endless repetition. He also does follow up sleuthing. (Example: Why DID Ron Washington resign?) FYI for non-Texans, he's the former skipper of the Texas Rangers who resigned for mysterious reasons this past week. Believe me when I tell you having your own personal news source is heaven in this media overloaded world.
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Gratitude Challenge: Day Two
Today I went to the United States Post Office, South Lake Tahoe Branch (one of two). As I was standing in the three minute lines, I realized I'm grateful for the USPS. People love to make fun of the post office, but I discovered after a little research that the good old US post office is ranked #1 in the world. It's economical and accounts for 40% of the mail sent in the entire world. (#2 Postal service? Japan)
I bought bird stamps. These are terrific; they are colorful and educational.
Another bird I've also seen is a Mountain Chickadee, and a Red Tailed Hawk
I bought bird stamps. These are terrific; they are colorful and educational.
I realized I'm grateful Lake Tahoe area has different song birds than what I'm used to. No cardinals, blue jays or mocking jays here, no siree. The most common bird here is
the Stellar Jay. Really pretty, but NOISY.
the Stellar Jay. Really pretty, but NOISY. Another bird I've also seen is a Mountain Chickadee, and a Red Tailed Hawk
Finally, today I'm grateful this house has a hot tub. I'm having lots of pain due to using an elliptical for cardio followed by weight lifting. Maybe I can possibly hike without dying. That hot water helps me not to limp. I would show you a picture, but I hot tub in the nude, and nobody wants to see a lumpy 64 year old body. SWAK! (Who isn't grateful for a kiss?)
Monday, September 8, 2014
Gratitude Challenge: Day One
I have this friend... Ok, Ok, I have lots of friends, but this one challenged me to post three things I'm grateful about for five consecutive days on FACEBOOK. This friend, let's call her JG doesn't realize I only use Facebook as a stalker or perhaps more accurately as a swooper. I've never posted anything on FB for five consecutive days. I like to swoop into FB about once every two weeks. I can see all the pix, ignore what everybody had for lunch 8 days ago, skate past the inspirational messages, and slide past the kitten/puppy/kid/ Youtube postings. Occasionally, I post my status when I'm bored - like when I'm driving across the Mojave. (Yes, you can actually get internet electrons in the middle of the desert - but only on the main highway.)
My gratefuls are going to be easy because I'm always working to put myself in a positive frame of mind. The real challenge is to make them fun and interesting. In that vein, I will not post being grateful for my husband, my daughter, my health.....blah, blah, blah. Let's just accept those as givens.
That caveat issued, here's Day One:
(1) Very grateful I only have to post for five days. FB is truly the EVIL EMPIRE.
(2) Seriously grateful I can still walk......there was a time...
(3) Frivolously grateful OU Football has started - BOOMER, SOONER! (Jacki's magic sox are working, people!)
My gratefuls are going to be easy because I'm always working to put myself in a positive frame of mind. The real challenge is to make them fun and interesting. In that vein, I will not post being grateful for my husband, my daughter, my health.....blah, blah, blah. Let's just accept those as givens.
That caveat issued, here's Day One:
(1) Very grateful I only have to post for five days. FB is truly the EVIL EMPIRE.
(2) Seriously grateful I can still walk......there was a time...
(3) Frivolously grateful OU Football has started - BOOMER, SOONER! (Jacki's magic sox are working, people!)
Saturday, September 6, 2014
Fame Can be Fleeting
We just returned from Carson City. This is the quintessential 'western' town. First, they call it a city, but it's only about 6 block wide by 10 miles long. This town is named for a man most Americans couldn't even name. While there, I toured the Nevada State Museum which has an interesting exhibition about another American whose accomplishments are also lost to history beyond his name being attached to various towns, counties, schools, streets and natural objects such as rivers, creeks, valleys and mountains. I'm talking about Kit Carson and John Charles Fremont. Both were household names during their lifetimes, and their lives were intertwined at the height of their fame.
Kit Carson, who was only 5'4", was born in 1809 and raised on the very edge of the West in Missouri. As many in his day, he never learned to read or write. Known for his personal courage, integrity, and fastidious ways, he became a trapper, guide, an Indian fighter, a California revolutionary, a soldier, a federal Indian agent, the most hated white man to the Navajo Tribe, and a rancher. As a 'mountain man' he trapped and scouted throughout the West from the mid 1820's until the 1840's. During this time he was well known to the Plains Indians and his first two wives were Cheyenne and Arapaho respectively.
In 1842 while visiting his family in Missouri, he met John C. Fremont, a United States Army Topographical Engineer, who was preparing an expedition into the West. Fremont promptly hired Carson as his guide, and due to Fremont's mention of Carson in his written dispatches, Carson's numerous exploits became known in the East. Carson guided three of Fremont's western expeditions, and the two men were fast friends until Carson's death in 1868. He never visited the city Fremont named for him.
Just prior to the Mexican American war in 1846, heading a company of soldiers, Fremont and Carson rode from New Mexico to California in aid of Americans who were in rebellion against the Mexican rule of California. Fremont, a United States soldier at the time, was tried in court-martial and found guilty of mutiny. President Polk pardoned Fremont who resigned his commission and headed back to California. Carson, not a soldier at the time, was not prosecuted.
Carson did become a soldier in the Union Army and fought in one Civil War battle at Valverdes, New Mexico. He spent most of his time during that war fighting with the Navajo who refused to be confined to the United States reservation, Carson hounded the Navajo practicing a scorched earth policy until, starving, they surrendered. Carson then forced marched the Navajo on a 300 mile "Long Walk" from Arizona to Fort Sumner, New Mexico. 8,000 Navajo died during the migration. After the Civil War, Carson returned to ranching in Taos dying in 1868.
John Charles Fremont's contributions were highlighted in a current exhibit at the Nevada State
Museum. Fremont opened the far American West in a series of expeditions one of which laid the path for the Oregon Trail. Eastern emigrants followed the path blazed by Fremont and Carson via wagon train beginning in the 1840's. John Fremont and Kit Carson were the Lewis and Clark of their generation. Carson's contributions were immediate as guide on the ground, but Fremont popularized the Western frontier with his words. He wrote extensively, collected specimens of plants, animals, minerals and just about everything else he came across during his expeditions.
During Fremont's lifetime he was married to Jesse Benton, daughter of the most influential 'western' man, Thomas Hart Benton. John Fremont was born in 1813, and college educated in Charleston, South Carolina. He was a mathematical instructor in the United States Navy, and a topographical engineer for the United States Army. He was an officer in the Bear Republic of the California Republic - simultaneous with his United States military office - leading to the above difficulties.
After California was admitted as a state, he was a Senator from California. An early opponent of slavery, amazing considering his place of birth and upbringing, Fremont was the first presidential candidate of the newly formed Republican Party in 1856. The Nevada State Museum is currently exhibiting both the sword presented to him by Charleston, South Carolina in the 1840's and his campaign flag as a Republican presidential candidate. In the late 1870's he was the Territorial Governor of Arizona. By the end of the 1880's he was virtually destitute. In recognition of his service to the United States, and to alleviate his poverty, the Congress voted him a military pension. Fremont died in obscurity, his great exploits of so little interest in 1890, the books he wrote at the time barely sold. In a little over 100 years both his and Carson's names beyond their association with places in the West have been forgotten.
At least their names still abound on maps and in history books. An entire race of people and their names and the names of the places they lived have been completely forgotten. The Washoe, the Paiute, and the Northern Paiute are the native American tribes of Nevada and Northern California. Not only was their stone age culture eradicated, but these people were almost exterminated. (For example, 80% of the Washoe Tribe died within 50 years of contact with the Caucasian industrialized culture.) The Nevada State Museum had an amazing exhibition of these people. First, there was a video presentation of several tribal members telling their stories accompanied by film of the places named in the stories and musically enhanced with traditional tribal songs. I learned, thanks to Wolf and Coyote, why there are no pine nuts in California and no juniper trees in Nevada. The Paiute also tell a Loch Ness monster type story about Lake Tahoe. You rarely see historically accurate presentation of the Native American oral tradition.
What really startled me was the 11,000 year old burial site with accouterments found in a cave in the 1940's in Nevada. This site has been carbon dated, and the bodies have been named as the tribal ancestors of the Washoe/Paiute Tribes. These people were living in Nevada and hunting mammoths and other large predators of this geological era. What was puzzling in the land of every mineral and ore you can name, these people never worked with metal. Perhaps, the plentiful food supply of protein stunted development of agriculture and thus the abandonment of the nomadic life. Their story is tragic and brutal, but inevitable. The same world wide migration and extermination pattern is as old as civilization.
I spent a fascinating two hours in the museum while Drake perfected his blackjack skills. The highlights beyond what I've discussed above: Mammoth skeleton and an even more ancient horse ancestor skeleton. There are marvelous mineral samples. An entire mining ghost town has been disassembled and re-assembled inside the museum. Then, there's the walk through replica of an underground mine. Finally, this museum is gun nut heaven. This museum has an awesome personal firearms collection. Even the building is interesting. The 'old part' is the original Carson City Mint where coinage was stamped out close to the silver and gold mined in Nevada, and the 'new part' is a thoughtfully designed new facility joined to the old mint building. Finally, the short lived Pony Express (the nascent Carson City locale was a stopover for horse exchange prior to crossing over the 7000 - 9000 foot mountain range into Sacramento) is commemorated in front of the museum.
As always, there are pictures:
https://plus.google.com/u/0/photos/115478608971584948192/albums/6056066771158866465?authkey=CLGzg_rwt8H6dw
Kit Carson, who was only 5'4", was born in 1809 and raised on the very edge of the West in Missouri. As many in his day, he never learned to read or write. Known for his personal courage, integrity, and fastidious ways, he became a trapper, guide, an Indian fighter, a California revolutionary, a soldier, a federal Indian agent, the most hated white man to the Navajo Tribe, and a rancher. As a 'mountain man' he trapped and scouted throughout the West from the mid 1820's until the 1840's. During this time he was well known to the Plains Indians and his first two wives were Cheyenne and Arapaho respectively. In 1842 while visiting his family in Missouri, he met John C. Fremont, a United States Army Topographical Engineer, who was preparing an expedition into the West. Fremont promptly hired Carson as his guide, and due to Fremont's mention of Carson in his written dispatches, Carson's numerous exploits became known in the East. Carson guided three of Fremont's western expeditions, and the two men were fast friends until Carson's death in 1868. He never visited the city Fremont named for him.
Just prior to the Mexican American war in 1846, heading a company of soldiers, Fremont and Carson rode from New Mexico to California in aid of Americans who were in rebellion against the Mexican rule of California. Fremont, a United States soldier at the time, was tried in court-martial and found guilty of mutiny. President Polk pardoned Fremont who resigned his commission and headed back to California. Carson, not a soldier at the time, was not prosecuted.
Carson did become a soldier in the Union Army and fought in one Civil War battle at Valverdes, New Mexico. He spent most of his time during that war fighting with the Navajo who refused to be confined to the United States reservation, Carson hounded the Navajo practicing a scorched earth policy until, starving, they surrendered. Carson then forced marched the Navajo on a 300 mile "Long Walk" from Arizona to Fort Sumner, New Mexico. 8,000 Navajo died during the migration. After the Civil War, Carson returned to ranching in Taos dying in 1868.
John Charles Fremont's contributions were highlighted in a current exhibit at the Nevada State
During Fremont's lifetime he was married to Jesse Benton, daughter of the most influential 'western' man, Thomas Hart Benton. John Fremont was born in 1813, and college educated in Charleston, South Carolina. He was a mathematical instructor in the United States Navy, and a topographical engineer for the United States Army. He was an officer in the Bear Republic of the California Republic - simultaneous with his United States military office - leading to the above difficulties.
After California was admitted as a state, he was a Senator from California. An early opponent of slavery, amazing considering his place of birth and upbringing, Fremont was the first presidential candidate of the newly formed Republican Party in 1856. The Nevada State Museum is currently exhibiting both the sword presented to him by Charleston, South Carolina in the 1840's and his campaign flag as a Republican presidential candidate. In the late 1870's he was the Territorial Governor of Arizona. By the end of the 1880's he was virtually destitute. In recognition of his service to the United States, and to alleviate his poverty, the Congress voted him a military pension. Fremont died in obscurity, his great exploits of so little interest in 1890, the books he wrote at the time barely sold. In a little over 100 years both his and Carson's names beyond their association with places in the West have been forgotten.
At least their names still abound on maps and in history books. An entire race of people and their names and the names of the places they lived have been completely forgotten. The Washoe, the Paiute, and the Northern Paiute are the native American tribes of Nevada and Northern California. Not only was their stone age culture eradicated, but these people were almost exterminated. (For example, 80% of the Washoe Tribe died within 50 years of contact with the Caucasian industrialized culture.) The Nevada State Museum had an amazing exhibition of these people. First, there was a video presentation of several tribal members telling their stories accompanied by film of the places named in the stories and musically enhanced with traditional tribal songs. I learned, thanks to Wolf and Coyote, why there are no pine nuts in California and no juniper trees in Nevada. The Paiute also tell a Loch Ness monster type story about Lake Tahoe. You rarely see historically accurate presentation of the Native American oral tradition.
What really startled me was the 11,000 year old burial site with accouterments found in a cave in the 1940's in Nevada. This site has been carbon dated, and the bodies have been named as the tribal ancestors of the Washoe/Paiute Tribes. These people were living in Nevada and hunting mammoths and other large predators of this geological era. What was puzzling in the land of every mineral and ore you can name, these people never worked with metal. Perhaps, the plentiful food supply of protein stunted development of agriculture and thus the abandonment of the nomadic life. Their story is tragic and brutal, but inevitable. The same world wide migration and extermination pattern is as old as civilization.
I spent a fascinating two hours in the museum while Drake perfected his blackjack skills. The highlights beyond what I've discussed above: Mammoth skeleton and an even more ancient horse ancestor skeleton. There are marvelous mineral samples. An entire mining ghost town has been disassembled and re-assembled inside the museum. Then, there's the walk through replica of an underground mine. Finally, this museum is gun nut heaven. This museum has an awesome personal firearms collection. Even the building is interesting. The 'old part' is the original Carson City Mint where coinage was stamped out close to the silver and gold mined in Nevada, and the 'new part' is a thoughtfully designed new facility joined to the old mint building. Finally, the short lived Pony Express (the nascent Carson City locale was a stopover for horse exchange prior to crossing over the 7000 - 9000 foot mountain range into Sacramento) is commemorated in front of the museum.
As always, there are pictures:
https://plus.google.com/u/0/photos/115478608971584948192/albums/6056066771158866465?authkey=CLGzg_rwt8H6dw
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
First Lake Tahoe Hike
If you asked Drake, today was our first 'real' day in Lake Tahoe. We came here for the peace and quiet and to HIKE. Lake Tahoe has been buzzing with vacationers making most of the hikes overcrowded and difficult to access. We've been waiting for after the Labor Day weekend to start hiking since when the kiddos go back to school, the numbers of people accessing the attractions drops like the proverbial stone.
When Sarah was about 13, the FWISD had this super calendar in which we had a "fall break". It was a week in October, and we went to Lake Tahoe on an adult vacation. The HEB school wasn't out, so we needed someone to care for Sarah in our home, so she could go to school each day. We left Sarah with Stephanie, a family friend, who was a college student at the time since Sarah informed us she was 'too old to be babysat by a grandma'. Stephanie was great, and she allowed just enough 'fun' stuff - including hanging out with college girls for Sarah to be really happy.
Lake Tahoe is when I learned I really like hiking, day hiking anyway. This is where I bought my first pair of hiking boots. Today we went re-hiking one of my favorite trails: The Rubicon Trail. It runs along a bluff at the edge of Lake Tahoe. With some hikes, you trudge along a pretty ho-hum trail to get to the prize at the end - waterfall hikes are like that. However, the Rubicon has beautiful views of what most people
consider to be the most scenic part of Lake Tahoe along three-quarters of the hike. It's also fairly level with a slight downhill going and a slight uphill returning. Just enough to let you know you've had a workout.
Now hiking for me is a real challenge. First, I have to get into cardio shape which is difficult since in a fitness center it's mostly done on a treadmill or a cross trainer or a stair master. All of those pieces of equipment make my feet hurt worse than usual. However, I've been using the cross-trainer at the fitness center we joined and lumping it. Next, it helps if you lift weights with your legs to develop those thigh and calf muscles. That's no problem - I actually like weight machines. Finally, I have to 'prepare' my feet. Today, it took me 15 minutes to get my feet ready for this 3 mile hike. I won't bore you with the details.
It was worth all the effort, and my feet aren't too bad after the hike - just normal pain. A big plus of this house we're living in is there's a hot tub on the back deck. I took a million pictures, of course. This is the first trail of many over the next six weeks. Here are the pictures of the Rubicon Trail
https://plus.google.com/u/0/photos/115478608971584948192/albums/6054647278151115361?authkey=CNG55I_wk4WUKw
When Sarah was about 13, the FWISD had this super calendar in which we had a "fall break". It was a week in October, and we went to Lake Tahoe on an adult vacation. The HEB school wasn't out, so we needed someone to care for Sarah in our home, so she could go to school each day. We left Sarah with Stephanie, a family friend, who was a college student at the time since Sarah informed us she was 'too old to be babysat by a grandma'. Stephanie was great, and she allowed just enough 'fun' stuff - including hanging out with college girls for Sarah to be really happy.
Lake Tahoe is when I learned I really like hiking, day hiking anyway. This is where I bought my first pair of hiking boots. Today we went re-hiking one of my favorite trails: The Rubicon Trail. It runs along a bluff at the edge of Lake Tahoe. With some hikes, you trudge along a pretty ho-hum trail to get to the prize at the end - waterfall hikes are like that. However, the Rubicon has beautiful views of what most people
Now hiking for me is a real challenge. First, I have to get into cardio shape which is difficult since in a fitness center it's mostly done on a treadmill or a cross trainer or a stair master. All of those pieces of equipment make my feet hurt worse than usual. However, I've been using the cross-trainer at the fitness center we joined and lumping it. Next, it helps if you lift weights with your legs to develop those thigh and calf muscles. That's no problem - I actually like weight machines. Finally, I have to 'prepare' my feet. Today, it took me 15 minutes to get my feet ready for this 3 mile hike. I won't bore you with the details.
It was worth all the effort, and my feet aren't too bad after the hike - just normal pain. A big plus of this house we're living in is there's a hot tub on the back deck. I took a million pictures, of course. This is the first trail of many over the next six weeks. Here are the pictures of the Rubicon Trail
https://plus.google.com/u/0/photos/115478608971584948192/albums/6054647278151115361?authkey=CNG55I_wk4WUKw
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
Much Ado about Grocery Stores
When we move to a new location, there's a learning curve. The internet and a smart phone are indispensable. These electronic tools make 'finding' exciting instead of frustrating. So, what do we find? Well, first and foremost, a grocery store. Berkeley was the easiest since the grocery store was on the ground floor of our apartment building. This arrangement has spoiled me completely.
We just took the elevator down five floors with shopping bags over our arms. I actually felt like I was in France or one of those other countries where people carry string bags and shop daily for food. I didn't bother in New York City because I never cooked anything. I've lived in at least three towns where there were no 'real' grocery stores. In Franconia, New Hampshire or Seal Rock, Oregon, it was ten miles to the grocery store. Burlington, Washington had a 'sister town' (Mount Vernon). The two Washington towns were like the Texas towns of Hurst and Bedford so blended together they are really one town with two names. In Austin it was either HEB, Whole Foods, or Sprouts. Burlington, Washington really got me shopping organic, coop, and local since it's a farm valley. Richmond shopping was convenient - they had a local store that sold only produce, meat, cheeses, and baked goods. It was located next to a Walmart Super Center. (Yes, I shop with the evil empire for certain things.) Logan, Utah was also a Walmart grocery town. In Sun City I shop at three separate stores on 'grocery day'.
South Lake Tahoe is a tourist town. There's 'tourism' here 10 months of the year, with October and May being the 'dead' months. Most of the store fronts are pitching something to the tourist trade. For instance: boat rental, paddle board rental, bike rental, ski rental, ski/beach apparel, bars, tourist restaurants, souvenir shops, art galleries, and surprisingly two competing 'real' grocery stores plus something called the Grocery Outlet. A real grocery store has actual aisles, produce, meat, and a bakery. This town is also loaded with drug stores, but the only discount 'box' store is an atrocious K-Mart. It's probably the only K-Mart store in that company making money because they have a complete monopoly in South Lake Tahoe. It's a terrible store filled with shoddy merchandise, complicated check-out procedures, and management who've apparently never seen a Walmart or Target. What isn't here is a 'dollar' store - no Dollar Tree, no Family Dollar, no Dollar General. You have to drive to Carson City - basically an hour over a 9000 foot mountain to find those or a Walmart or a Target.
I think about grocery stores. They are and aren't all the same. In America, we take for granted that every grocery store will have wire push carts, baskets for the light shopper, and well organized head high shelving with multiple choices in the staples. It will be well lit, with refrigerator cases keeping the cold food cold. During the holiday season, you can expect Christmas carols over the store speakers. There will always be beer, both cold and room temp, and sometimes wine, and a little more rarely, hard liquor. If it's a major store, there will be a bakery and delicatessen. There will be a checkout with a scanner of those black lines helpfully found on each and every product, a cashier to move the items across it, and usually a bag person. You can find a combination of a sea food market, a cafe, a coffee shop, a salad/soup bar, a florist, a pharmacy, a bank, a nail technician, a massage therapist, an optometrist, a post office, or a hair dresser depending on the individual store and the location. I've yet to see a funeral home inside a grocery store, but I figure it's just a matter of time since cremation is gaining popularity. Just for fun, here's a list of the grocery stores I've shopped. It's pretty comprehensive: Walmart, Albertson's, Safeway, Fred Meyer, Kroger, Fry's, Whole Foods, HEB, Smith's, Sprouts, Trader Joe's, Shoprite, Shop Easy, Winn Dixie, Bashas, Aldi, A&P, Brookshire, Food Giant, Fiesta, Market Street, Piggly Wiggly, Price Chopper, Reasor's, Sunflower Markets, and a new one in South Lake Tahoe called Raley's.
All grocery stores are not the same. The products are slanted toward regional taste buds, and you can find interesting surpluses and deficits. For that reason, there's no 'best' store. In New England you can buy three kinds of salsa; in Texas thirty kinds. By contrast, New England overflows with clam chowder - fresh, frozen and canned. The South is the land of Dr. Pepper (all the flavors in every size) and pimento cheese. You can't buy ANY kind of pimento cheese on either the East or the West Coast. I made my own in Berkeley! You have to blow the dust off the cans of Dr. Pepper in certain parts of the country. Some regions swell the soft drink aisle with Coke while other regions are top-heavy with Pepsi. Tea bag selection is at its zenith on the Northwest coast. Any grocery store in the Northeast has an entire aisle devoted to food aiding the preparation of Italian food and a whole section of Kosher food. Every Southwest grocery store has an extensive Mexican aisle. The West coast stores have an entire Asian aisle with both canned, processed and fresh food items. The grocery store in Logan, Utah had an aisle devoted to gigantic quantities - such as a 2 gallon jar of pickles or 25 pound bags of cereal. A Southern grocery store is chock full of junk food. (Yes, EVERY American store is loaded with non-nutritious, sugar laden, fried in palm oil, and dregded in salt food, but Southern grocery stores seem to revel in how much revolting, really, really bad for your long-term health food can be packed onto their shelves.
The last fun thing about finding the local grocery store is the scenery getting there. Some places have the lock on the scenery, and South Lake Tahoe is one of the best scenic drives 'to the store'. So, I'll end this Seinfeld blog (all about nothing), with a snapshot taken along the route to the grocery stores.
We just took the elevator down five floors with shopping bags over our arms. I actually felt like I was in France or one of those other countries where people carry string bags and shop daily for food. I didn't bother in New York City because I never cooked anything. I've lived in at least three towns where there were no 'real' grocery stores. In Franconia, New Hampshire or Seal Rock, Oregon, it was ten miles to the grocery store. Burlington, Washington had a 'sister town' (Mount Vernon). The two Washington towns were like the Texas towns of Hurst and Bedford so blended together they are really one town with two names. In Austin it was either HEB, Whole Foods, or Sprouts. Burlington, Washington really got me shopping organic, coop, and local since it's a farm valley. Richmond shopping was convenient - they had a local store that sold only produce, meat, cheeses, and baked goods. It was located next to a Walmart Super Center. (Yes, I shop with the evil empire for certain things.) Logan, Utah was also a Walmart grocery town. In Sun City I shop at three separate stores on 'grocery day'.
South Lake Tahoe is a tourist town. There's 'tourism' here 10 months of the year, with October and May being the 'dead' months. Most of the store fronts are pitching something to the tourist trade. For instance: boat rental, paddle board rental, bike rental, ski rental, ski/beach apparel, bars, tourist restaurants, souvenir shops, art galleries, and surprisingly two competing 'real' grocery stores plus something called the Grocery Outlet. A real grocery store has actual aisles, produce, meat, and a bakery. This town is also loaded with drug stores, but the only discount 'box' store is an atrocious K-Mart. It's probably the only K-Mart store in that company making money because they have a complete monopoly in South Lake Tahoe. It's a terrible store filled with shoddy merchandise, complicated check-out procedures, and management who've apparently never seen a Walmart or Target. What isn't here is a 'dollar' store - no Dollar Tree, no Family Dollar, no Dollar General. You have to drive to Carson City - basically an hour over a 9000 foot mountain to find those or a Walmart or a Target.
I think about grocery stores. They are and aren't all the same. In America, we take for granted that every grocery store will have wire push carts, baskets for the light shopper, and well organized head high shelving with multiple choices in the staples. It will be well lit, with refrigerator cases keeping the cold food cold. During the holiday season, you can expect Christmas carols over the store speakers. There will always be beer, both cold and room temp, and sometimes wine, and a little more rarely, hard liquor. If it's a major store, there will be a bakery and delicatessen. There will be a checkout with a scanner of those black lines helpfully found on each and every product, a cashier to move the items across it, and usually a bag person. You can find a combination of a sea food market, a cafe, a coffee shop, a salad/soup bar, a florist, a pharmacy, a bank, a nail technician, a massage therapist, an optometrist, a post office, or a hair dresser depending on the individual store and the location. I've yet to see a funeral home inside a grocery store, but I figure it's just a matter of time since cremation is gaining popularity. Just for fun, here's a list of the grocery stores I've shopped. It's pretty comprehensive: Walmart, Albertson's, Safeway, Fred Meyer, Kroger, Fry's, Whole Foods, HEB, Smith's, Sprouts, Trader Joe's, Shoprite, Shop Easy, Winn Dixie, Bashas, Aldi, A&P, Brookshire, Food Giant, Fiesta, Market Street, Piggly Wiggly, Price Chopper, Reasor's, Sunflower Markets, and a new one in South Lake Tahoe called Raley's.
All grocery stores are not the same. The products are slanted toward regional taste buds, and you can find interesting surpluses and deficits. For that reason, there's no 'best' store. In New England you can buy three kinds of salsa; in Texas thirty kinds. By contrast, New England overflows with clam chowder - fresh, frozen and canned. The South is the land of Dr. Pepper (all the flavors in every size) and pimento cheese. You can't buy ANY kind of pimento cheese on either the East or the West Coast. I made my own in Berkeley! You have to blow the dust off the cans of Dr. Pepper in certain parts of the country. Some regions swell the soft drink aisle with Coke while other regions are top-heavy with Pepsi. Tea bag selection is at its zenith on the Northwest coast. Any grocery store in the Northeast has an entire aisle devoted to food aiding the preparation of Italian food and a whole section of Kosher food. Every Southwest grocery store has an extensive Mexican aisle. The West coast stores have an entire Asian aisle with both canned, processed and fresh food items. The grocery store in Logan, Utah had an aisle devoted to gigantic quantities - such as a 2 gallon jar of pickles or 25 pound bags of cereal. A Southern grocery store is chock full of junk food. (Yes, EVERY American store is loaded with non-nutritious, sugar laden, fried in palm oil, and dregded in salt food, but Southern grocery stores seem to revel in how much revolting, really, really bad for your long-term health food can be packed onto their shelves.
The last fun thing about finding the local grocery store is the scenery getting there. Some places have the lock on the scenery, and South Lake Tahoe is one of the best scenic drives 'to the store'. So, I'll end this Seinfeld blog (all about nothing), with a snapshot taken along the route to the grocery stores.
 |
| The Sierras on the road to Safeway |
Thursday, August 7, 2014
Victorian Architecture and a Farewell to San Francisco
 |
| Haas-Lilienthal House - San Francisco, Nob Hill |
Today we went to the Haas-Lilienthal House, the only standing Victorian house in San Francisco with it's original furnishings that is open to the public. This house was built in 1886, and it survived the 1906 earthquake easily. However, it was almost consumed by the fires which raged three days and swept across San Francisco. Here's a very revealing aerial photo taken in May of 1906 (Earthquake: April 18, 1906).
What we have here is mainly fire damage. San Francisco was a 'modern' city in 1906, and people had gas lighting and gas cook stoves and gas fireplaces. The quake ruptured not only the gas pipes, but also the water pipes. Once the escaping gas caught fire, there was no water to extinguish it. Almost 40% of the city was destroyed before the fires were brought under control. The fire officials of the time finally realized they had to create artificial firebreaks. Moving ahead of the fire, they dynamited the buildings of entire streets. One of the dynamited streets was Van Ness which contained the mansions of the wealthy. The Van Ness firebreak was one block from the Haas-Lilienthal house, and thus the house we toured today was saved.
This San Francisco house was built in 1886 by a moderately wealthy Jewish family whose roots were Bavarian, and whose business was the wholesale grocery trade. I couldn't help contrast the San Francisco house with the Maymont House in Richmond, and the Vanderbilt Breakers in Newport. Each represents a 'step' up on the wealth scale. The Vanderbilt houses were opulent; the Maymont House was ostentatious, while the Haas-Lilienthal house was comfortable. Here's what I mean:
 |
| Maymont Dining Room |
This dining room at Haas-Lilienthal is nice, but certainly does not reflect the level of wealth finance or railroad construction and ownership brought in the 19th century. All three houses are contemporary to one another being built within 7 years, 1886 - 1893. Much of the craftsmanship of Maymont and Breakers was created specifically for these houses by individual craftsmen, and in the case of the Breakers, craftsmen imported from Europe. By contrast, Mrs. Haas went down to Market Street and 'picked out' her architectural details manufactured by machines, just as new home owners today pick out their cabinetry and counter tops. Granted, Haas-Lilienthal is all first quality, but it is manufactured quality mimicking individually crafted details. No one appeared in the San Francisco house to hand paint gold leaf around the carefully crafted plaster molding.
The one interesting fact the ancient tour guide offered (three times) was the typical Victorian crown molding around the ceiling of the 'first parlor'. The top level is the 'egg and dart'; the second level are the dentals - we were specifically cautioned not to call them 'teeth' -, and the third level closest to the floor are the bay leaves or laurel leaves - all of which represent symbols going back to Greek and Roman times.
This is a perfect example of machine routed molding rather than hand carved molding.
There are more pictures of the various rooms of the house if you wish to flip through the pictures.
This was our last outing into San Francisco. This sightseeing tour impressed upon me how many attractions have been in San Francisco for the past 40 years. Our first trip here was in 1974, and in 2014, you can still ride the cable cars, buy cheap souvenirs in Chinatown, take the boat to Alcatraz, shop at the Piers, walk through Golden Gate Park, and even across the Golden Gate Bridge. The fog still rolls in and out, and some days in the shank of summer feel like a chilly autumn day. You need to pick your walking routes carefully in the city unless you're into mountain climbing which is what some of the steeper hills feel like as you trudge up and down them. We've enjoyed this summer on so many levels. If it weren't for the damn earthquakes, this place would be a paradise to live in. We leave here in 6 days. My prayer is I get out of town before the ground shakes.
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