To really screw things up requires a government agency.
On Saturday I received an official-looking letter in the mail. It was one of those envelopes with the carbon paper inside so the letter can be typed right thru the envelope, the things that businesses stopped using thirty or so years ago. At first I thought I'd been called for jury duty. It turned out to be a Failure-To-Appear notice on a parking ticket for a Fairly Small Town (FST for short) in New Jersey I don't think I've ever been to.
At this point I must offer a little aside. I work for a consulting company that processes parking tickets for a Very Big Municipality (VBM). I've worked there for nine years. VBM processes more parking tickets in one day than most NJ towns will see in a year. I can quote to you, from memory, the various ways a ticket can move thru our system, from issuance to payment, or judgment, or collection proceedings, or towing your car and auctioning it off, or hearings, or automatic dismissal, etc etc. I've forgotten more about parking tickets than most people will ever know.
So anyway, FST promises me dire consequences should I fail to pay the amount shown, those consequences including suspension of driving privileges, inability to register my vehicle, additional penalties added to the ticket, arrest, and being tied to a chair and forced to listen to Barry Manilow. They provide me with a web site where I can look at details of the ticket, and a phone number I can call on Mondays thru Fridays between the hours of 9 am and 4 pm. Being the technically savvy person I am, I fired up my home computer and checked out the web site. Hmmm, confusion, the ticket in question was left on the windshield of a Chevy. A quick look in the driveway confirms that the vehicle out there is a Jeep Liberty. It was such when purchased in 2006, it is now, one assumes it's always been a Jeep Liberty. Therefore, whoever wrote the ticket got the license plate wrong and, co-incidentally, wrote down my plate by mistake.
I need to make another little aside here, explaining via my vast store-house of information on how parking tickets are processed. The police officer, traffic-control officer, or whoever, who leaves a ticket on your windshield doesn't know who you are. He or she sees your car parked illegally and writes the ticket, keeping a copy for the official record. If you don't pay the ticket the town will contact the state Department of Motor Vehicles to find out (via your license plate) who owns the offending car, they then mail you a nasty letter telling you to pay your fine or Suffer The Consequences.
So, this is obviously not my car, I am not responsible for this ticket, and I can in good conscience plead not-guilty. First thing this morning (Monday) I call the supplied number, push a couple of buttons, and, surprise surprise, get a real live person on the phone. I tell her my plight and she tells me she needs to contact DMV for information on my car and to call back Wednesday (tomorrow being January 1, thus a holiday).
*blink blink*
I can go two possible ways at this point. I can call upon my extensive knowledge of the processing of parking tickets, point out that DMV has already been contacted (that's how they knew who to send the letter to), that if their system was at all sensible they'd have gotten my vehicle information at the same time as my personal information (more efficient since DMV charges for these contacts, so why contact them twice instead of once?), and that the ticket could and should be dismissed right now.
I'll call back on Wednesday.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Monday, December 24, 2007
Christmas Meme
MorningGlory at http://morningglory2.wordpress.com/blogroll-bios/ tagged me with the Christmas meme, so here goes:
1. Wrapping or gift bags? Usually wrapping paper, unless what I'm wrapping is really oddly shaped.
2. Real or artificial tree? Growing up we had artificial trees, since I've been married my wife and I get real trees.
3. When do you put up the tree? Growing up the tree went up the day after Thanksgiving. My wife and I go with friends the day (or weekend) after Thanksgiving to cut down our trees and we usually get them up (if not completely decorated) that weekend.
4. When do you take the tree down? Again, family tradition was that the tree stayed up until after my parents anniversary on January 7, my wife and I continue this tradition too. We get it down on whatever weekend we can, generally after 1/7.
5. Do you like eggnog? I LOVE the stuff! Strangly (given my mis-spent youth), I've never had egg nog with alcohol in it.
6. Favorite gift received as a child? Toy trains (the beginning of a hobby that I still love).
7. Do you have a Nativity scene? Yes, I started out by buying the Fontanini Jesus/Mary/Joseph set, my wife added the manger, angels, animals, wise men, etc when we were dating.
8. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? I can't recall ever getting a BAD Christmas gift, there were years I didn't get ANY at all though (after my parents died, when I was single and unattached).
9. Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail (thanks to my wife, if it were up to me they'd probably never get sent)
10. Favorite Christmas movie? I've seen surprisingly few of the classic Christmas movies (It's a Wonderful Life, Christmas Story, Miracle on 34th Street, etc, I don't think I've seen any of those all the way thru). Have to remedy that someday. I always loved the Peanuts Christmas Special, and I also like A Christmas Carol (I especially like George C. Scott as Scrooge).
11. When do you start shopping for Christmas? Usually sometime after Thanksgiving, but seldom on Black Friday. I only buy for my wife so....
12. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Chocolate Chip Cookies. On a related note, there's one cookie my Mom made that I really miss, she called them "Ice Box Cookies", they were slightly almond flavored. They were WONDERFUL when they were warm from the oven and excellent when fresh. After a few days they turned hard enough to use for hockey pucks (I'd say skeet targets, but I doubt they'd have broken) but still tasted good dunked in milk (me) or coffee (my parents). I also like Yule Kake (Norwegian for Christmas Cake), I pretty much managed to duplicate my Mom's recipe for this (she made it much less sweet than the traditional recipe). It's basically a sweet soda-bread with raisins.
13. Clear lights or colored on the tree? Either one, but colored lights should be kept inside the tree to make a colored glow and neither type should blink, flash, chase or otherwise give the impression of a carnival barker shouting "Hurry hurry hurry! Step right up and see the Baby Jesus! Thrill to the Virgin Birth!"
14. Favorite Christmas song? There are so many! Just a few of my favorites: "Carol of the Bells" (preferably played on handbells), "Do You Hear What I Hear?", "I Saw Three Ships", "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing". If I can be permitted another aside (and since this is my blog I can!), that last one appealed to me as a child. My father's name was Harold, and I thought that my Dad had the same name as an angel. Anyone who knew my Dad would be rolling on the floor laughing at THAT.
Now I'm supposed to tag someone else. One of these days I have get a meme BEFORE MorningGlory so I can tag her! Maybe I can get my wife to answer in comments.
1. Wrapping or gift bags? Usually wrapping paper, unless what I'm wrapping is really oddly shaped.
2. Real or artificial tree? Growing up we had artificial trees, since I've been married my wife and I get real trees.
3. When do you put up the tree? Growing up the tree went up the day after Thanksgiving. My wife and I go with friends the day (or weekend) after Thanksgiving to cut down our trees and we usually get them up (if not completely decorated) that weekend.
4. When do you take the tree down? Again, family tradition was that the tree stayed up until after my parents anniversary on January 7, my wife and I continue this tradition too. We get it down on whatever weekend we can, generally after 1/7.
5. Do you like eggnog? I LOVE the stuff! Strangly (given my mis-spent youth), I've never had egg nog with alcohol in it.
6. Favorite gift received as a child? Toy trains (the beginning of a hobby that I still love).
7. Do you have a Nativity scene? Yes, I started out by buying the Fontanini Jesus/Mary/Joseph set, my wife added the manger, angels, animals, wise men, etc when we were dating.
8. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? I can't recall ever getting a BAD Christmas gift, there were years I didn't get ANY at all though (after my parents died, when I was single and unattached).
9. Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail (thanks to my wife, if it were up to me they'd probably never get sent)
10. Favorite Christmas movie? I've seen surprisingly few of the classic Christmas movies (It's a Wonderful Life, Christmas Story, Miracle on 34th Street, etc, I don't think I've seen any of those all the way thru). Have to remedy that someday. I always loved the Peanuts Christmas Special, and I also like A Christmas Carol (I especially like George C. Scott as Scrooge).
11. When do you start shopping for Christmas? Usually sometime after Thanksgiving, but seldom on Black Friday. I only buy for my wife so....
12. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Chocolate Chip Cookies. On a related note, there's one cookie my Mom made that I really miss, she called them "Ice Box Cookies", they were slightly almond flavored. They were WONDERFUL when they were warm from the oven and excellent when fresh. After a few days they turned hard enough to use for hockey pucks (I'd say skeet targets, but I doubt they'd have broken) but still tasted good dunked in milk (me) or coffee (my parents). I also like Yule Kake (Norwegian for Christmas Cake), I pretty much managed to duplicate my Mom's recipe for this (she made it much less sweet than the traditional recipe). It's basically a sweet soda-bread with raisins.
13. Clear lights or colored on the tree? Either one, but colored lights should be kept inside the tree to make a colored glow and neither type should blink, flash, chase or otherwise give the impression of a carnival barker shouting "Hurry hurry hurry! Step right up and see the Baby Jesus! Thrill to the Virgin Birth!"
14. Favorite Christmas song? There are so many! Just a few of my favorites: "Carol of the Bells" (preferably played on handbells), "Do You Hear What I Hear?", "I Saw Three Ships", "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing". If I can be permitted another aside (and since this is my blog I can!), that last one appealed to me as a child. My father's name was Harold, and I thought that my Dad had the same name as an angel. Anyone who knew my Dad would be rolling on the floor laughing at THAT.
Now I'm supposed to tag someone else. One of these days I have get a meme BEFORE MorningGlory so I can tag her! Maybe I can get my wife to answer in comments.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Thankfulness
At the end of the last chapter of To Ride, Shoot Straight, and Speak the Truth Jeff Cooper offers the reader a list of the blessings he’s received (good health, loving wife, fine children, etc). He ends with “…such blessings cannot be deserved, but they are deeply and humbly appreciated.”
At this time of year we celebrate a uniquely American holiday, Thanksgiving. We celebrate not the founding of our nation, our founders, or our great men and women. We take this time to give thanks for the blessings we have received. Despite the efforts of some to make this into a time of mourning for what was done to the American Indians (and I suspect their descendents are grateful that they’re no longer living like their ancestors), it is a time for counting blessings.
I’m grateful first of all that I serve a God who loves me, who loves all of His creatures. I’m grateful that God doesn’t require that I defend Him but that He comes to my aid to protect me, even from myself.
I’m grateful that I live in the most free, most prosperous nation in the world. A nation that offers me the chance, and only the chance, to succeed. A nation where my abilities are the only possible deterrent to my own success.
I’m grateful for a wife who, inexplicably, loves me. A woman I’d die for and who I live for. A woman who understands me better than I understand myself and who strives to make me happy (and succeeds resoundingly).
I’m thankful that I had parents who taught me right from wrong, who didn’t explain away my misdeeds but neither did they dwell on them after the lesson was learned.
I’m grateful that I married into a wonderful family that treats me as one of their own. After my wife and I married it was just so natural to call my new mother-in-law “Mom”, a name I didn’t think I’d ever utter again after my mother died in 1990.
I’m grateful for good health, a comfortable home, and a good job. I’m glad that I can take my job seriously enough to be good at it but not be so obsessed with it that I live to work rather than work to live.
No, I do not deserve these blessings, but I appreciate them.
At this time of year we celebrate a uniquely American holiday, Thanksgiving. We celebrate not the founding of our nation, our founders, or our great men and women. We take this time to give thanks for the blessings we have received. Despite the efforts of some to make this into a time of mourning for what was done to the American Indians (and I suspect their descendents are grateful that they’re no longer living like their ancestors), it is a time for counting blessings.
I’m grateful first of all that I serve a God who loves me, who loves all of His creatures. I’m grateful that God doesn’t require that I defend Him but that He comes to my aid to protect me, even from myself.
I’m grateful that I live in the most free, most prosperous nation in the world. A nation that offers me the chance, and only the chance, to succeed. A nation where my abilities are the only possible deterrent to my own success.
I’m grateful for a wife who, inexplicably, loves me. A woman I’d die for and who I live for. A woman who understands me better than I understand myself and who strives to make me happy (and succeeds resoundingly).
I’m thankful that I had parents who taught me right from wrong, who didn’t explain away my misdeeds but neither did they dwell on them after the lesson was learned.
I’m grateful that I married into a wonderful family that treats me as one of their own. After my wife and I married it was just so natural to call my new mother-in-law “Mom”, a name I didn’t think I’d ever utter again after my mother died in 1990.
I’m grateful for good health, a comfortable home, and a good job. I’m glad that I can take my job seriously enough to be good at it but not be so obsessed with it that I live to work rather than work to live.
No, I do not deserve these blessings, but I appreciate them.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Happy (Belated) Birthday, USMC
I’ve been remiss in mentioning that November 10, 2007 was the 232nd birthday of the United States Marine Corps. The Marines were formed by act of the second Continental Congress which specified that two battalions of Marines be raised to function as landing forces for the fleet. It’s been my honor and privilege to have known a number of Marines (including my father). They’ve all had a few things in common, they were all plain-spoken (if a bit vulgar at times), fiercely proud, loyal to a fault, and a little bit crazy.
For over two centuries, whenever America has felt the need to kick butt the Marines have been the steel toe on the boot. The late Jeff Cooper (himself a Marine) said that if you wanted to see the world you joined the Navy, if you wanted to fly you joined the Air Force, if you wanted to learn a trade you joined the Army, but if you wanted to fight you joined the Marines. Ronald Reagan said that some people go thru life wondering if they made a difference, the Marines never had that problem. Admiral Nimitz, commander of the invasion of Iwo Jima, said of the Marines in that action that uncommon valor was a common virtue. Rumor has it that Chesty Puller (most decorated Marine in history), on seeing a new model flamethrower wondered where the bayonet was attached. Perhaps the Marine Corps motto says all that needs to be said: “No better friend, no worse enemy”.
While I have the greatest respect and admiration for all of our fighting forces, there will always be a soft spot in my heart for the USMC. Now if you’ll excuse me, because of my lateness in mentioning the Marine’s birthday I have to give Gunny 232 push-ups.
For over two centuries, whenever America has felt the need to kick butt the Marines have been the steel toe on the boot. The late Jeff Cooper (himself a Marine) said that if you wanted to see the world you joined the Navy, if you wanted to fly you joined the Air Force, if you wanted to learn a trade you joined the Army, but if you wanted to fight you joined the Marines. Ronald Reagan said that some people go thru life wondering if they made a difference, the Marines never had that problem. Admiral Nimitz, commander of the invasion of Iwo Jima, said of the Marines in that action that uncommon valor was a common virtue. Rumor has it that Chesty Puller (most decorated Marine in history), on seeing a new model flamethrower wondered where the bayonet was attached. Perhaps the Marine Corps motto says all that needs to be said: “No better friend, no worse enemy”.
While I have the greatest respect and admiration for all of our fighting forces, there will always be a soft spot in my heart for the USMC. Now if you’ll excuse me, because of my lateness in mentioning the Marine’s birthday I have to give Gunny 232 push-ups.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
St Crispin's Day
On this date, St Crispin’s Day, in 1415 the badly outnumbered English and Welsh army, commanded by King Henry V, served up a good old-fashioned butt-kicking to Charles VI’s much larger French army at Agincourt. The French defeat was particularly notable due to the number of noblemen killed (according to Wikipedia three dukes, five counts and ninety barons).
This battle would be notable only to scholars and English school children were it not immortalized by one William Shakespeare. The following is from his play King Henry V and is, in my humble opinion, among the great examples of heroic oration. It takes place the night before the battle.
WESTMORELAND
O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!
KING HENRY V
What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin:
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss;
and if to live,The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet honour,I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me
For the best hope I have.
O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
ill stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
If olde English isn’t your cup of tea, here follows my translation:
WESTMORELAND (Henry’s cousin)
If only ten thousand men in England who have the day off (because St Crispin’s day is a holiday) were here with us!
King Henry V:
Who said that? My cousin Westmoreland? I disagree.
If we are going to die, there’s enough of us to be missed.
If we’re going to live, the fewer of us there are the more honor each of us will receive.
By God! Don’t wish there were one more of us.
I don’t fight for money, and I don’t care if anyone in my army does.
I don’t care if men wear my uniform.
I don’t care about things like that.
But if it’s a sin to want honor and glory I’m the worst sinner alive.
No, my cousin, don’t wish there were one man more from England.
My God! I wouldn’t share the honor I’ll receive with one more man if it were my last hope.
Instead, tell everyone in my army that if he doesn’t have the courage to fight he can leave. We’ll give him money to use to get home. We don’t want to die in the company of a man who’s afraid to die with us.
Whoever survives today and goes home will stand tall when St Crispin’s Day is named. When he grows old he’ll have a party for his friends the day before and remind them that tomorrow is St Crispin’s day. Then he’ll roll up his sleeves and show his scars and say “I got these scars on Crispin’s Day". He’ll forget some things in his old age, but he’ll never forget what he did today. He’ll remember all our names as if it were yesterday, and he’ll drink a toast to us. Good men will teach our story to their sons and St Crispin’s day will never pass from now on without our deeds being remembered.
We are a small group of brothers, for whoever fights with me today will be a brother to me. Even if he’s low-class, he’ll be a gentleman.
And gentlemen who are in bed in England right now will think they’re cursed that they weren’t here. They’ll feel like lesser men in the presence of anyone who fought with us upon St Crispin’s Day.
This battle would be notable only to scholars and English school children were it not immortalized by one William Shakespeare. The following is from his play King Henry V and is, in my humble opinion, among the great examples of heroic oration. It takes place the night before the battle.
WESTMORELAND
O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!
KING HENRY V
What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin:
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss;
and if to live,The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet honour,I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me
For the best hope I have.
O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
ill stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
If olde English isn’t your cup of tea, here follows my translation:
WESTMORELAND (Henry’s cousin)
If only ten thousand men in England who have the day off (because St Crispin’s day is a holiday) were here with us!
King Henry V:
Who said that? My cousin Westmoreland? I disagree.
If we are going to die, there’s enough of us to be missed.
If we’re going to live, the fewer of us there are the more honor each of us will receive.
By God! Don’t wish there were one more of us.
I don’t fight for money, and I don’t care if anyone in my army does.
I don’t care if men wear my uniform.
I don’t care about things like that.
But if it’s a sin to want honor and glory I’m the worst sinner alive.
No, my cousin, don’t wish there were one man more from England.
My God! I wouldn’t share the honor I’ll receive with one more man if it were my last hope.
Instead, tell everyone in my army that if he doesn’t have the courage to fight he can leave. We’ll give him money to use to get home. We don’t want to die in the company of a man who’s afraid to die with us.
Whoever survives today and goes home will stand tall when St Crispin’s Day is named. When he grows old he’ll have a party for his friends the day before and remind them that tomorrow is St Crispin’s day. Then he’ll roll up his sleeves and show his scars and say “I got these scars on Crispin’s Day". He’ll forget some things in his old age, but he’ll never forget what he did today. He’ll remember all our names as if it were yesterday, and he’ll drink a toast to us. Good men will teach our story to their sons and St Crispin’s day will never pass from now on without our deeds being remembered.
We are a small group of brothers, for whoever fights with me today will be a brother to me. Even if he’s low-class, he’ll be a gentleman.
And gentlemen who are in bed in England right now will think they’re cursed that they weren’t here. They’ll feel like lesser men in the presence of anyone who fought with us upon St Crispin’s Day.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Today's Oddity
This morning I made my usual walk from the World Trade Center station to the subway station where I embark on the last leg of my morning commute. As I walked down Fulton Street I noticed something odd. It was definitely morning. I was definitely walking East. I mentally confirmed both of these multiple times, I know my limitations before I've had my first cup of coffee. Why, then, was my shadow in front of me. (Think about it, if you're facing East, and the sun is rising, as it normally does, in the East, the sun should be in front of you and your shadow behind you.) The light also had a strange, almost artificial, quality similar to a halogen lamp rather than true sunlight. I looked back over my shoulder and found that there was a tall glass building behind me, the sun's rays were reflecting off of that building and shining right down Fulton Street.
Odd, but oddly cool.
Odd, but oddly cool.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Rhythms
No, this is not a discussion of natural methods of birth control, bear with me.
Last week my wife and I were in Bethany Beach, Delaware for family vacation (us, her parents, and her three brothers with their wives and children, sixteen people all together). We go on such a vacation almost every year, and I’ve learned that if I want to do something by myself the best time is in the morning, since very little happens until after lunch. Last week was a treat for me; I had an opportunity to do some surf fishing. For the uninitiated, surf fishing involves fishing from the beach, casting your bait into the water beyond the surf. I hadn’t gone surf fishing in over twenty years (since I was in college), but when I was in Junior High and High School my father and I would go surf fishing every other Saturday (when the tides were favorable) all summer.
I’d forgotten how much I love the seashore, in particular spending time on the seashore actually doing something that involved the ocean (as opposed to sitting in a chair reading a book). The seashore is a place of rhythms. There’s the obvious (to a fisherman) twice-daily ebb and flow of the tides, high to low and back to high with the transitions between. Within that is the rhythm of the waves, watching the rod tip as the waves hit the line and bend the rod down, to the unaccustomed it looks like a fish bit (the difference is subtle and nearly indescribable, but obvious once you’ve gotten into the rhythm). Superimposed over the rhythm of the waves, every few waves two will combine to send the water higher up the beach than the others (a good reason to fish barefoot in warm weather or in boots in cool weather). Then every hour or so a wave will wash up even higher, probably hitting your belongings and, if you’re smart or lucky enough to have put them on the downhill side away from the water, washing them further up the beach. Of course if you were neither smart nor lucky, your stuff might well wash out to sea.
There’s something primal about standing there on the seashore, dealing with the ocean on her own terms. If you try to drag your fish to the beach against the under-tow you may snap your line, you have to hold it in place until the flow reduces. Likewise, you have to reel like crazy when the incoming wave hits your fish or the line may slacken enough for the fish to get off the hook (and my personal rule is that if I didn’t hold the fish in my hands I didn’t catch it). You can’t control the ocean; sharks have fed well on those who tried. You can’t even reach an agreement with her, the best you can do is react to her changing moods.
On our last day (when I didn’t get a chance to fish) we were near the beach and I noticed that the surf was rough and the water quite choppy compared to previous days. I noticed that the weather was very much like it had been earlier in the week. There must’ve been a storm somewhere over the horizon that caused the rough water. Had I gone fishing that day I’d have needed a heavier sinker to keep my bait from being washed in. As always, the ocean set the rules, and I could’ve done nothing but react to them.
Last week my wife and I were in Bethany Beach, Delaware for family vacation (us, her parents, and her three brothers with their wives and children, sixteen people all together). We go on such a vacation almost every year, and I’ve learned that if I want to do something by myself the best time is in the morning, since very little happens until after lunch. Last week was a treat for me; I had an opportunity to do some surf fishing. For the uninitiated, surf fishing involves fishing from the beach, casting your bait into the water beyond the surf. I hadn’t gone surf fishing in over twenty years (since I was in college), but when I was in Junior High and High School my father and I would go surf fishing every other Saturday (when the tides were favorable) all summer.
I’d forgotten how much I love the seashore, in particular spending time on the seashore actually doing something that involved the ocean (as opposed to sitting in a chair reading a book). The seashore is a place of rhythms. There’s the obvious (to a fisherman) twice-daily ebb and flow of the tides, high to low and back to high with the transitions between. Within that is the rhythm of the waves, watching the rod tip as the waves hit the line and bend the rod down, to the unaccustomed it looks like a fish bit (the difference is subtle and nearly indescribable, but obvious once you’ve gotten into the rhythm). Superimposed over the rhythm of the waves, every few waves two will combine to send the water higher up the beach than the others (a good reason to fish barefoot in warm weather or in boots in cool weather). Then every hour or so a wave will wash up even higher, probably hitting your belongings and, if you’re smart or lucky enough to have put them on the downhill side away from the water, washing them further up the beach. Of course if you were neither smart nor lucky, your stuff might well wash out to sea.
There’s something primal about standing there on the seashore, dealing with the ocean on her own terms. If you try to drag your fish to the beach against the under-tow you may snap your line, you have to hold it in place until the flow reduces. Likewise, you have to reel like crazy when the incoming wave hits your fish or the line may slacken enough for the fish to get off the hook (and my personal rule is that if I didn’t hold the fish in my hands I didn’t catch it). You can’t control the ocean; sharks have fed well on those who tried. You can’t even reach an agreement with her, the best you can do is react to her changing moods.
On our last day (when I didn’t get a chance to fish) we were near the beach and I noticed that the surf was rough and the water quite choppy compared to previous days. I noticed that the weather was very much like it had been earlier in the week. There must’ve been a storm somewhere over the horizon that caused the rough water. Had I gone fishing that day I’d have needed a heavier sinker to keep my bait from being washed in. As always, the ocean set the rules, and I could’ve done nothing but react to them.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Something I Thought I'd Share
Like most Americans, I'm comfortable with measuring temperatures in Fahrenheit and must less so in Celsius (or Centigrade if you prefer). If someone tells me it's 22 F I can translate that into "cold", 85 F as "warm" and 110 F as "crap it's hot". If I encounter a Celsuis temperature I'm much less certain, what's 28 C? Now my cell phone is equipped with a unit converter, but I'm not going to whip that out every time I need to do a conversion (I'm nerdy, but not THAT nerdy). I know the formula, multiply the Celsius temperature by nine-fifths and add 32, but multiplying by nine-fifths in your head is hard.
Well, here I offer to my readers (both of them) an easy method to convert Celsius to Farenheit in your head. I don't pretend it's original, the math works so I can hardly be the discoverer of it, but I've never seen it anyplace else before. You can use it with precise numbers to get a precise conversion, or you can use close-enough numbers to get an idea of what kind of temperature we're talking about.
Here goes: Take your Celsius temperture, double it, subtract ten percent, and add 32. Each of these steps is easy to do in your head especially if you're doing a close-enough conversion.
Let's do an example, 28 C. Doubling 28 gives us 56. Ten percent of 56 is 5.6, subtract that from 56 and you get 50.4, add 32 and you get 82.4. That's a precise conversion, exactly what you'd get using the usual formula (in fact you ARE using the usual formula, just doing so in a way that's easy to do in your head). Suppose you don't need an exact number, your British friend just told you it's 28 C today. Call it 30 C (close enough), double it to 60, subtract 6 (ten percent of 60) to get 54, add 32 and you get 86 and bear in mind that you're a little high (because you rounded your original number up). So you know it was pretty warm, but not extremely hot.
I told you I'm a nerd.
Well, here I offer to my readers (both of them) an easy method to convert Celsius to Farenheit in your head. I don't pretend it's original, the math works so I can hardly be the discoverer of it, but I've never seen it anyplace else before. You can use it with precise numbers to get a precise conversion, or you can use close-enough numbers to get an idea of what kind of temperature we're talking about.
Here goes: Take your Celsius temperture, double it, subtract ten percent, and add 32. Each of these steps is easy to do in your head especially if you're doing a close-enough conversion.
Let's do an example, 28 C. Doubling 28 gives us 56. Ten percent of 56 is 5.6, subtract that from 56 and you get 50.4, add 32 and you get 82.4. That's a precise conversion, exactly what you'd get using the usual formula (in fact you ARE using the usual formula, just doing so in a way that's easy to do in your head). Suppose you don't need an exact number, your British friend just told you it's 28 C today. Call it 30 C (close enough), double it to 60, subtract 6 (ten percent of 60) to get 54, add 32 and you get 86 and bear in mind that you're a little high (because you rounded your original number up). So you know it was pretty warm, but not extremely hot.
I told you I'm a nerd.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Junk Science
Each morning I pick up a free newspaper on the way to work, it gives me something to do on the subway. Yesterday’s newspaper contained an article stating that the number of tropical storms and hurricanes has been increasing, and that this increase is due to “human induced climate warming”, also known as “global warming”. It should come as no surprise that I consider the “science” of global warming to be sloppy at best and intentionally dishonest at worst, but let’s take a closer look.
The study in question gave a chart showing average yearly number of tropical storms and hurricanes for three time periods. First, from 1905 thru 1930 there were an average of 6 tropical cyclones and 4 hurricanes per year. From 1931 thru 1994 there were an average of 10 and 5, and from 1995 thru 2005 there were an average of 15 and 8 respectively. On the face of it one might be tempted to say something really is happening, that the number of storms has been increasing for the last hundred years.
Do you see anything wrong with those numbers? Before 1930 (the earliest timeframe reported) the most common method of identifying a storm was for a ship in the ocean to see it or get caught in it. Ship owners don’t like their vessels to get caught in hurricanes because they don’t make any money from cargo that’s at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. Shipping lanes, therefore, tend to avoid those areas where large-scale storms are more likely to form. For the first twenty-five years of the study (and the entire first data-point) the primary method for identifying storms intentionally avoiding being in a position to report the storm. Up until the 1960’s (half-way thru the second time period reported) storm identification still relied on ships and airplanes were also added to the mix. Airplanes also try to avoid large storms for the same reasons ships do, so while more storms could be identified and reported the means of identification still avoided the areas where they were most likely to have something to report. Only in the 1960’s did we begin to put weather satellites into orbit, and newer satellites have gotten more sophisticated and provide greater coverage. From 1995 thru 2005 (comprising only ten percent of the total time period reported on) we can now see a hurricane form anywhere in the world, for the first time we can be sure of a full and accurate count of the number of storms that form.
The scientific principle known as “Occam’s Razor” states that given two possible explanations the simpler one is likely to be the correct one. Apply that principle and ask yourself which is more likely given the information I provide above: are there really more hurricanes and tropical cyclones each year, or have there always been about the same number of storms but we’re now in a position to identify them all?
The study in question gave a chart showing average yearly number of tropical storms and hurricanes for three time periods. First, from 1905 thru 1930 there were an average of 6 tropical cyclones and 4 hurricanes per year. From 1931 thru 1994 there were an average of 10 and 5, and from 1995 thru 2005 there were an average of 15 and 8 respectively. On the face of it one might be tempted to say something really is happening, that the number of storms has been increasing for the last hundred years.
Do you see anything wrong with those numbers? Before 1930 (the earliest timeframe reported) the most common method of identifying a storm was for a ship in the ocean to see it or get caught in it. Ship owners don’t like their vessels to get caught in hurricanes because they don’t make any money from cargo that’s at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. Shipping lanes, therefore, tend to avoid those areas where large-scale storms are more likely to form. For the first twenty-five years of the study (and the entire first data-point) the primary method for identifying storms intentionally avoiding being in a position to report the storm. Up until the 1960’s (half-way thru the second time period reported) storm identification still relied on ships and airplanes were also added to the mix. Airplanes also try to avoid large storms for the same reasons ships do, so while more storms could be identified and reported the means of identification still avoided the areas where they were most likely to have something to report. Only in the 1960’s did we begin to put weather satellites into orbit, and newer satellites have gotten more sophisticated and provide greater coverage. From 1995 thru 2005 (comprising only ten percent of the total time period reported on) we can now see a hurricane form anywhere in the world, for the first time we can be sure of a full and accurate count of the number of storms that form.
The scientific principle known as “Occam’s Razor” states that given two possible explanations the simpler one is likely to be the correct one. Apply that principle and ask yourself which is more likely given the information I provide above: are there really more hurricanes and tropical cyclones each year, or have there always been about the same number of storms but we’re now in a position to identify them all?
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Mom
I wanted to post this on Tuesday, but my web access was problematic, and yesterday I was too busy, so here it is, better late than never.
July 24, 2007, would have been my mother’s eighty-eighth birthday had she not died in 1990. Mom lived in a very different world than we do, she was a throwback to an earlier era. She actually wasn’t even modern for her own era. Let me give you some examples.
She never learned to drive.
She was born in Staten Island, NY (part of NYC) and lived there her entire life. She died within a few miles of where she was born. The furthest she ever traveled from Staten Island was into New Jersey near the Pennsylvania border. Think about that for a moment, she never once, in her entire life, had to reset her watch because she’d entered a new time zone.
She dropped out of high school. Actually, her parents TOOK her out because she was the second oldest of ten children (and the oldest girl) so she needed to be home to help care for her younger siblings. This was considered no big deal because the experience she’d get with child rearing and household management was more useful than the stuff she’d learn in school.
Despite her lack of education, she was an incredibly intelligent woman. She could handle household finances better than anyone I ever knew.
She talked about roller skating with her friends over the Bayonne Bridge (connecting Staten Island to Bayonne NJ) the day it opened in 1931. She was 13.
She talked about riding in the “rumble seat” of a car.
The only time I knew her to sleep in a bed outside of her home was when she was hospitalized with the illness that eventually killed her (brain cancer). She did so when she was younger and her parents had a house in Flanders, NJ (imagine people going to Flanders NJ on vacation?). I don’t think she EVER stayed in a hotel.
In 1949, at age 30, her first husband died suddenly, leaving her with two sets of twins and a baby on the way. She went on Welfare. Welfare then wasn’t like it is now, she wasn’t permitted to buy “real” milk for her children, she had to buy powdered milk. No cookies, candy or other treats. The Welfare office would send people to her home to check.
Some time later she took a job as a housekeeper in Edgar Lutheran Home, part of which was an “old people’s” home. Basically it provided a room for an elderly person, with meals in a dining room, but no nursing care. The other part was a nursing home. One of the people in the “old people’s” home was a woman by the name of Gertrude, she was a widow of a Lutheran minister. Her son Harold would travel from Hoboken, NJ to Staten Island to visit his mother. He joked that the first time he saw my mother she was on her knees cleaning under his mother’s bed, that’s when he decided he had to marry her.
They married on January 7, 1960. I came along three and a half years later.
July 24, 2007, would have been my mother’s eighty-eighth birthday had she not died in 1990. Mom lived in a very different world than we do, she was a throwback to an earlier era. She actually wasn’t even modern for her own era. Let me give you some examples.
She never learned to drive.
She was born in Staten Island, NY (part of NYC) and lived there her entire life. She died within a few miles of where she was born. The furthest she ever traveled from Staten Island was into New Jersey near the Pennsylvania border. Think about that for a moment, she never once, in her entire life, had to reset her watch because she’d entered a new time zone.
She dropped out of high school. Actually, her parents TOOK her out because she was the second oldest of ten children (and the oldest girl) so she needed to be home to help care for her younger siblings. This was considered no big deal because the experience she’d get with child rearing and household management was more useful than the stuff she’d learn in school.
Despite her lack of education, she was an incredibly intelligent woman. She could handle household finances better than anyone I ever knew.
She talked about roller skating with her friends over the Bayonne Bridge (connecting Staten Island to Bayonne NJ) the day it opened in 1931. She was 13.
She talked about riding in the “rumble seat” of a car.
The only time I knew her to sleep in a bed outside of her home was when she was hospitalized with the illness that eventually killed her (brain cancer). She did so when she was younger and her parents had a house in Flanders, NJ (imagine people going to Flanders NJ on vacation?). I don’t think she EVER stayed in a hotel.
In 1949, at age 30, her first husband died suddenly, leaving her with two sets of twins and a baby on the way. She went on Welfare. Welfare then wasn’t like it is now, she wasn’t permitted to buy “real” milk for her children, she had to buy powdered milk. No cookies, candy or other treats. The Welfare office would send people to her home to check.
Some time later she took a job as a housekeeper in Edgar Lutheran Home, part of which was an “old people’s” home. Basically it provided a room for an elderly person, with meals in a dining room, but no nursing care. The other part was a nursing home. One of the people in the “old people’s” home was a woman by the name of Gertrude, she was a widow of a Lutheran minister. Her son Harold would travel from Hoboken, NJ to Staten Island to visit his mother. He joked that the first time he saw my mother she was on her knees cleaning under his mother’s bed, that’s when he decided he had to marry her.
They married on January 7, 1960. I came along three and a half years later.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Latest Meme
Sorry for the lack of posting, things have been a little nuts lately.
I found this on MorningGlory's site, so I decided to play.
WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? No, but my middle name is my father’s first name. He didn’t want both of us answering when my mother called one of us.
WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Probably last January when my cat Bompy died.
DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? I don’t dislike it enough to try to change it.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? Roast beef.
DO YOU HAVE KIDS? No, unless the cats count.
IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Honestly, probably yes, since I try to exhibit those qualities I admire in others.
DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Me? Sarcasm? NEVER! What could POSSIBLY make you think that?
DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Yes
WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Not for all the tea in China.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Right now, Honey Bunches of Oats.
DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? Yes
DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? Yes
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? It’s a toss-up, Ralph’s Butter Almond (Ralph’s is an ice cream place on Staten Island, NYC) or Hagen Daz Chocolate Swiss Almond (much easier to find).
WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? Facial expression.
RED OR PINK? Red
WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? My lazy eye, I tend to be self-conscious about it, but getting is corrected would cause vision problems.
WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? My parents
WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? Blue chinos and black shoes.
WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? Honey Bunches of Oats with soy milk.
WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? The air conditioner.
IF YOU WHERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Sky-blue-pink.
FAVORITE SMELLS? Bread baking, and my wife’s hair.
WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? My wife.
FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? Football
HAIR COLOR[S]? Brown with some grey
EYE COLOR? Green
DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Nope, never will either, I hate the thought of touching my eyes.
FAVORITE FOOD? My wife’s meatloaf.
SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Happy endings because I don’t care for what passes for scary movies these days.
LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? In the Theater, Ocean's Thirteen. On DVD, Letters From Iwo Jima. On TV, probably Men in Black last weekend.
WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? Blue.
SUMMER OR WINTER? Summer, I hate snow.
HUGS OR KISSES? Hugs for everyone but my wife, hugs and kisses for her.
FAVORITE DESSERT? Anything chocolate
MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? No one
LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Everyone
WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? The Bourne Identity. I read it years ago (I think I was in High School), so I decided it was time for a re-read.
WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? Nothing, it’s a plain grey pad with a wrist pad.
WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON T.V. LAST NIGHT? I saw part of the Mets game, I really don’t recall what else.
FAVORITE SOUND[S]? Cats purring.
ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Stones, mostly because I dislike them less than the Beatles.
WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? Either Aruba or Phoenix, AZ.
DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? I have very good instincts for when something isn’t right, like when someone is trying to BS me.
WHERE WERE YOU BORN? Staten Island, NY
WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK? I’m not going to ask anyone, so….
I found this on MorningGlory's site, so I decided to play.
WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? No, but my middle name is my father’s first name. He didn’t want both of us answering when my mother called one of us.
WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Probably last January when my cat Bompy died.
DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? I don’t dislike it enough to try to change it.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? Roast beef.
DO YOU HAVE KIDS? No, unless the cats count.
IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Honestly, probably yes, since I try to exhibit those qualities I admire in others.
DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Me? Sarcasm? NEVER! What could POSSIBLY make you think that?
DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Yes
WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Not for all the tea in China.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Right now, Honey Bunches of Oats.
DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? Yes
DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? Yes
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? It’s a toss-up, Ralph’s Butter Almond (Ralph’s is an ice cream place on Staten Island, NYC) or Hagen Daz Chocolate Swiss Almond (much easier to find).
WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? Facial expression.
RED OR PINK? Red
WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? My lazy eye, I tend to be self-conscious about it, but getting is corrected would cause vision problems.
WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? My parents
WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? Blue chinos and black shoes.
WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? Honey Bunches of Oats with soy milk.
WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? The air conditioner.
IF YOU WHERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Sky-blue-pink.
FAVORITE SMELLS? Bread baking, and my wife’s hair.
WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? My wife.
FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? Football
HAIR COLOR[S]? Brown with some grey
EYE COLOR? Green
DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Nope, never will either, I hate the thought of touching my eyes.
FAVORITE FOOD? My wife’s meatloaf.
SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Happy endings because I don’t care for what passes for scary movies these days.
LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? In the Theater, Ocean's Thirteen. On DVD, Letters From Iwo Jima. On TV, probably Men in Black last weekend.
WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? Blue.
SUMMER OR WINTER? Summer, I hate snow.
HUGS OR KISSES? Hugs for everyone but my wife, hugs and kisses for her.
FAVORITE DESSERT? Anything chocolate
MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? No one
LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Everyone
WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? The Bourne Identity. I read it years ago (I think I was in High School), so I decided it was time for a re-read.
WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? Nothing, it’s a plain grey pad with a wrist pad.
WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON T.V. LAST NIGHT? I saw part of the Mets game, I really don’t recall what else.
FAVORITE SOUND[S]? Cats purring.
ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Stones, mostly because I dislike them less than the Beatles.
WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? Either Aruba or Phoenix, AZ.
DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? I have very good instincts for when something isn’t right, like when someone is trying to BS me.
WHERE WERE YOU BORN? Staten Island, NY
WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK? I’m not going to ask anyone, so….
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Feelings of Safety
It’s now over a week since a madman killed 31 people and himself at Virginia Tech. Much has been written about the failures that allowed this to happen, especially the fact that the gun which might have ended the rampage was prohibited on the campus by policy. The stated reason for this policy was so that the students could feel safe.
If there’s one thing every adult in the post-9/11 world ought to have figured out, it’s that there is no such thing as safety. When I leave my house to go to work, there’s no guarantee that I’ll survive the day. I could die of an undiagnosed medical problem, I could be murdered, I could be hit by a car, I could have a ten-pound chunk of cement fall from the ceiling and hit me in the head (this last one actually happened at an old job, thankfully it happened over the weekend when no one was around, someone came in on Monday and found a chunk of cement on his desk and a hole in the suspended ceiling). Since there’s no such thing as safety, any “feeling” of safety you may have is an illusion.
Since the feeling of safety is an illusion, what does that say about anyone who says he’s trying to make you feel safe? They’re doing at least one, and most likely two, things to you that you shouldn’t let anyone do.
First, they’re lying to you. They’re pretending that they can make you safe, when all they’re doing is feeding an illusion (an attractive illusion to be sure, but still an illusion). No one has the power to make you safe. The Supreme Court has ruled that even the police don’t have the responsibility to keep you safe, not even someone who’s under police protection at the time of their murder.
Second, they’re probably asking you to turn over some control over yourself in the interests of safety. It’s usually phrased as “I can keep you safe if …” followed by a requirement that you refrain from doing something. So we have gun-free zones in the interests of safety, where people give up their right to self-defense under the assumption that a would-be murderer will be deterred by the fact that guns are prohibited. We’re told we’ll be healthy if only we’re forced to eat properly. We’re told we’ll survive a car crash if only the government forces us to wear seatbelts and pay for safety equipment like airbags in our cars.
To make this deal, to give up a measure of control over yourself for the illusion of safety, is to make a deal with the Devil. You’re giving up something and getting absolutely nothing in return. In the case of gun-free zones, I believe you’re actually making yourself less safe because the criminal knows that he’s the only one there with the ability to apply deadly force. There’s a reason why these things happen in schools and not at, say, gun shows, police functions and Texas rodeos.
When we were children we needed to feel safe and secure, and most of us were safe with our families. Now that we’re adults we need to put aside childish things, childish fantasies, and see the world as it is. It’s a dangerous place, and wishing it was otherwise won’t make it so.
So what do we do? Suppose you knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that there would be a fire in your kitchen today, and that nothing you could do would prevent it. What would you do? Would you declare your kitchen to be a flame-free zone? Probably not. You’d check your fire extinguisher or buy one if you don’t have one. You’d make sure there were fresh batteries in your smoke alarm. You’d stay home, and at the first sound of the smoke alarm you’d spring into action to put out the fire while it’s still small. There’s no guarantee that your house still wouldn’t burn down, but you’d do everything in your power to keep that from happening. You wouldn’t just make sure 911 was on speed dial and hit the button when you noticed flames, knowing that a great deal of damage would be done before the fire department could arrive.
We need to do the same thing regarding self defense. We need to put aside the notion that we are ever totally safe. We need to believe, deep inside, that it COULD happen to us. We need to equip ourselves to deal with such a situation. We need to develop a mindset for self defense (as Jeff Cooper said, you’re no more armed because you own a gun than you are a musician because you own a guitar). We need to develop the mindset that WE, and no one else, are our own first line of defense.
Lastly, we need to eliminate those silly laws that provide nothing but a feeling of safety while enabling people with no respect for the law to commit atrocities like we saw last week. We need to stop pretending that someone who will commit the worst crime it’s possible to commit will be stopped by a law against a lesser crime. We need to act like adults and demand that we be treated as such.
If there’s one thing every adult in the post-9/11 world ought to have figured out, it’s that there is no such thing as safety. When I leave my house to go to work, there’s no guarantee that I’ll survive the day. I could die of an undiagnosed medical problem, I could be murdered, I could be hit by a car, I could have a ten-pound chunk of cement fall from the ceiling and hit me in the head (this last one actually happened at an old job, thankfully it happened over the weekend when no one was around, someone came in on Monday and found a chunk of cement on his desk and a hole in the suspended ceiling). Since there’s no such thing as safety, any “feeling” of safety you may have is an illusion.
Since the feeling of safety is an illusion, what does that say about anyone who says he’s trying to make you feel safe? They’re doing at least one, and most likely two, things to you that you shouldn’t let anyone do.
First, they’re lying to you. They’re pretending that they can make you safe, when all they’re doing is feeding an illusion (an attractive illusion to be sure, but still an illusion). No one has the power to make you safe. The Supreme Court has ruled that even the police don’t have the responsibility to keep you safe, not even someone who’s under police protection at the time of their murder.
Second, they’re probably asking you to turn over some control over yourself in the interests of safety. It’s usually phrased as “I can keep you safe if …” followed by a requirement that you refrain from doing something. So we have gun-free zones in the interests of safety, where people give up their right to self-defense under the assumption that a would-be murderer will be deterred by the fact that guns are prohibited. We’re told we’ll be healthy if only we’re forced to eat properly. We’re told we’ll survive a car crash if only the government forces us to wear seatbelts and pay for safety equipment like airbags in our cars.
To make this deal, to give up a measure of control over yourself for the illusion of safety, is to make a deal with the Devil. You’re giving up something and getting absolutely nothing in return. In the case of gun-free zones, I believe you’re actually making yourself less safe because the criminal knows that he’s the only one there with the ability to apply deadly force. There’s a reason why these things happen in schools and not at, say, gun shows, police functions and Texas rodeos.
When we were children we needed to feel safe and secure, and most of us were safe with our families. Now that we’re adults we need to put aside childish things, childish fantasies, and see the world as it is. It’s a dangerous place, and wishing it was otherwise won’t make it so.
So what do we do? Suppose you knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that there would be a fire in your kitchen today, and that nothing you could do would prevent it. What would you do? Would you declare your kitchen to be a flame-free zone? Probably not. You’d check your fire extinguisher or buy one if you don’t have one. You’d make sure there were fresh batteries in your smoke alarm. You’d stay home, and at the first sound of the smoke alarm you’d spring into action to put out the fire while it’s still small. There’s no guarantee that your house still wouldn’t burn down, but you’d do everything in your power to keep that from happening. You wouldn’t just make sure 911 was on speed dial and hit the button when you noticed flames, knowing that a great deal of damage would be done before the fire department could arrive.
We need to do the same thing regarding self defense. We need to put aside the notion that we are ever totally safe. We need to believe, deep inside, that it COULD happen to us. We need to equip ourselves to deal with such a situation. We need to develop a mindset for self defense (as Jeff Cooper said, you’re no more armed because you own a gun than you are a musician because you own a guitar). We need to develop the mindset that WE, and no one else, are our own first line of defense.
Lastly, we need to eliminate those silly laws that provide nothing but a feeling of safety while enabling people with no respect for the law to commit atrocities like we saw last week. We need to stop pretending that someone who will commit the worst crime it’s possible to commit will be stopped by a law against a lesser crime. We need to act like adults and demand that we be treated as such.
Friday, April 06, 2007
Literacy Meme
From MorningGlory comes a meme about the books I've read. Feel free to add your own in comments or on your own blog. Rules: Bold any books you've read, if you've read other books by the same author, but don't delete anything.
The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown)
Angels and Demons (Dan Brown)
Emma (Jane Austen)
Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)
Sense and Sensibility
To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell)
The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (J. R. R. Tolkien)
LOTR: The Two Towers (J. R. R. Tolkien)
LOTR: The Return of the King (J. R. R. Tolkien)
The Hobbit (J. R. R. Tolkien)
The Silmarillion
The Book Of Lost Tales Vols. 1 & 2
Unfinished Tales
Anne of Green Gables (L. M. Montgomery)
Outlander (Diana Gabaldon)
Dragonfly in Amber
Voyager
Drums of Autumn
The Fiery Cross
A Breath of Snow and Ashes
Lord John and the Private Matter
A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry)
Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (J. K. Rowling)
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (J. K. Rowling)
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (J. K. Rowling)
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (J. K. Rowling)
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (J. K. Rowling)
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince - currently reading
A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving)
The World According To Garp (John Irving)
The Hotel New Hampshire
Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden)
Fall on Your Knees (Ann-Marie MacDonald)
The Stand (Stephen King)
’Salem’s Lot
Night Shift
The Dead Zone
Firestarter
Cujo
Different Seasons
Christine
Skeleton Crew
The Green Mile
Hearts in Atlantis
Dreamcatcher
From a Buick 8
Misery
Desperation
Insomnia
Pet Sematary
The Tommyknockers
Gerald’s Game
The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon
The Langoliers
Needful Things
Thinner
Jane Eyre (Charlotte Brontë)
The Catcher in the Rye (J. D. Salinger)
Little Women (Louisa May Alcott)
Little Men
The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)
The Life of Pi (Yann Martel)
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)
The Restaurant at the End of the Universe
Life, the Universe and Everything
So Long, and Thanks For All the Fish
Mostly Harmless
Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency
The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul
Wuthering Heights (Emily Brontë)
The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis)
Prince Caspian
The Voyage of the Dawn Treader
The Silver Chair
The Horse and His Boy
The Magician’s Nephew
The Last Battle
Out of the Silent Planet
Perelandra
That Hideous Strength
The Screwtape Letters
Mere Christianity
God In The Dock
Surprised by Joy
East of Eden (John Steinbeck)
Of Mice And Men (John Steinbeck)
The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
The Red Pony
Tortilla Flat
The Pearl
Cannery Row
Tuesdays with Morrie (Mitch Albom)
The Five People You Meet In Heaven (Mitch Albom)
Dune (Frank Herbert)
Dune Messiah
Children of Dune
God Emperor of Dune
Heretics of Dune
Chapterhouse: Dune
The Dragon in the Sea
The Santaroga Barrier
The Dosadi Experiment
The Jesus Incident
The White Plague
The Lazarus Effect
The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks)
Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand)
The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand)
We the Living
Anthem
1984 (George Orwell)
Animal Farm
The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley)
Lady of Avalon
Priestess of Avalon
The Forest House
The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett)
Eye of the Needle
The Key to Rebecca
On Wings of Eagles
Lie Down with Lions
Night Over Water
The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay)
I Know This Much is True (Wally Lamb)
She’s Come Undone (Wally Lamb)
The Red Tent (Anita Diamant)
The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho)
The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel)
The Valley of Horses
The Mammoth Hunters
The Plains of Passage
The Shelters of Stone
The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)
Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella)
The Bible (Most of it at least)
Anna Karenina (Leo Tolstoy)
War and Peace (Leo Tolstoy)
The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)
The Three Musketeers
Twenty Years AfterThe Vicomte of Bragelonne aka The Man In The Iron Mask
Angela’s Ashes (Frank McCourt)
The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver)
A Tale of Two Cities (Charles Dickens)
Great Expectations (Charles Dickens)
Oliver Twist
Nicholas Nickleby
A Christmas Carol
David Copperfield
Ender’s Game (Orson Scott Card)
Empire
Red Prophet
Alvin Journeyman
The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald)
The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence)
The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough)
Tim
The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood)
The Time Traveler’s Wife (Audrey Niffenegger)
Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)
Interview With The Vampire (Anne Rice)
The Vampire Lestat
The Queen of the Damned
The Tale of the Body Thief
Memnoch the Devil
The Vampire Armand
The Witching HourLasher
The Mummy, or Ramses the Damned
Servant of the Bones
Fifth Business (Robertson Davis)
Love in the Time of Cholera (Gabriel Garcia Márquez)
One Hundred Years Of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (Ann Brashares)
Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
Les Miserables (Victor Hugo)
The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupery)
Bridget Jones’s Diary (Helen Fielding)
Shogun (James Clavell)
King Rat
Tai-Pan
Noble House
Whirlwind
Gai-Jin
The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje)
In The Skin Of A Lion (Michael Ondaatje)
The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett)
The Summer Tree (Guy Gavriel Kay)
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith)
The Diviners (Margaret Laurence)
Charlotte’s Web (E. B. White)
Stuart Little
The Elements of Style
Not Wanted On The Voyage (Timothy Findley)
Rebecca (Daphne DuMaurier)
Wizard’s First Rule (Terry Goodkind)
Watership Down (Richard Adams)
Brave New World (Aldous Huxley)
The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields)
Blindness (Jose Saramago)
Kane and Abel (Jeffrey Archer)
Lord of the Flies (William Golding)
The Good Earth (Pearl S. Buck)
The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd)
The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum)
The Matarese Countdown
The Road to Omaha
The Bourne Ultimatum
The Bourne Supremacy
The Aquitaine Progression
The Parsifal Mosaic
The Matarese Circle
The Holcroft Covenant
The Chancellor Manuscript
The Gemini Contenders
The Road to Gandolfo
The Rhinemann Exchange
The Matlock Paper
The Osterman Weekend
The Scarlatti Inheritance
The Outsiders (S. E. Hinton)
That Was Then, This Is Now
Rumble Fish
Tex
White Oleander (Janet Fitch)
A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford)
The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield)
Ulysses (James Joyce)
The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown)
Angels and Demons (Dan Brown)
Emma (Jane Austen)
Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)
Sense and Sensibility
To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell)
The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (J. R. R. Tolkien)
LOTR: The Two Towers (J. R. R. Tolkien)
LOTR: The Return of the King (J. R. R. Tolkien)
The Hobbit (J. R. R. Tolkien)
The Silmarillion
The Book Of Lost Tales Vols. 1 & 2
Unfinished Tales
Anne of Green Gables (L. M. Montgomery)
Outlander (Diana Gabaldon)
Dragonfly in Amber
Voyager
Drums of Autumn
The Fiery Cross
A Breath of Snow and Ashes
Lord John and the Private Matter
A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry)
Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (J. K. Rowling)
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (J. K. Rowling)
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (J. K. Rowling)
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (J. K. Rowling)
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (J. K. Rowling)
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince - currently reading
A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving)
The World According To Garp (John Irving)
The Hotel New Hampshire
Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden)
Fall on Your Knees (Ann-Marie MacDonald)
The Stand (Stephen King)
’Salem’s Lot
Night Shift
The Dead Zone
Firestarter
Cujo
Different Seasons
Christine
Skeleton Crew
The Green Mile
Hearts in Atlantis
Dreamcatcher
From a Buick 8
Misery
Desperation
Insomnia
Pet Sematary
The Tommyknockers
Gerald’s Game
The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon
The Langoliers
Needful Things
Thinner
Jane Eyre (Charlotte Brontë)
The Catcher in the Rye (J. D. Salinger)
Little Women (Louisa May Alcott)
Little Men
The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)
The Life of Pi (Yann Martel)
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)
The Restaurant at the End of the Universe
Life, the Universe and Everything
So Long, and Thanks For All the Fish
Mostly Harmless
Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency
The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul
Wuthering Heights (Emily Brontë)
The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis)
Prince Caspian
The Voyage of the Dawn Treader
The Silver Chair
The Horse and His Boy
The Magician’s Nephew
The Last Battle
Out of the Silent Planet
Perelandra
That Hideous Strength
The Screwtape Letters
Mere Christianity
God In The Dock
Surprised by Joy
East of Eden (John Steinbeck)
Of Mice And Men (John Steinbeck)
The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
The Red Pony
Tortilla Flat
The Pearl
Cannery Row
Tuesdays with Morrie (Mitch Albom)
The Five People You Meet In Heaven (Mitch Albom)
Dune (Frank Herbert)
Dune Messiah
Children of Dune
God Emperor of Dune
Heretics of Dune
Chapterhouse: Dune
The Dragon in the Sea
The Santaroga Barrier
The Dosadi Experiment
The Jesus Incident
The White Plague
The Lazarus Effect
The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks)
Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand)
The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand)
We the Living
Anthem
1984 (George Orwell)
Animal Farm
The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley)
Lady of Avalon
Priestess of Avalon
The Forest House
The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett)
Eye of the Needle
The Key to Rebecca
On Wings of Eagles
Lie Down with Lions
Night Over Water
The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay)
I Know This Much is True (Wally Lamb)
She’s Come Undone (Wally Lamb)
The Red Tent (Anita Diamant)
The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho)
The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel)
The Valley of Horses
The Mammoth Hunters
The Plains of Passage
The Shelters of Stone
The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)
Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella)
The Bible (Most of it at least)
Anna Karenina (Leo Tolstoy)
War and Peace (Leo Tolstoy)
The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)
The Three Musketeers
Twenty Years AfterThe Vicomte of Bragelonne aka The Man In The Iron Mask
Angela’s Ashes (Frank McCourt)
The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver)
A Tale of Two Cities (Charles Dickens)
Great Expectations (Charles Dickens)
Oliver Twist
Nicholas Nickleby
A Christmas Carol
David Copperfield
Ender’s Game (Orson Scott Card)
Empire
Red Prophet
Alvin Journeyman
The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald)
The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence)
The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough)
Tim
The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood)
The Time Traveler’s Wife (Audrey Niffenegger)
Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)
Interview With The Vampire (Anne Rice)
The Vampire Lestat
The Queen of the Damned
The Tale of the Body Thief
Memnoch the Devil
The Vampire Armand
The Witching HourLasher
The Mummy, or Ramses the Damned
Servant of the Bones
Fifth Business (Robertson Davis)
Love in the Time of Cholera (Gabriel Garcia Márquez)
One Hundred Years Of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (Ann Brashares)
Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
Les Miserables (Victor Hugo)
The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupery)
Bridget Jones’s Diary (Helen Fielding)
Shogun (James Clavell)
King Rat
Tai-Pan
Noble House
Whirlwind
Gai-Jin
The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje)
In The Skin Of A Lion (Michael Ondaatje)
The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett)
The Summer Tree (Guy Gavriel Kay)
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith)
The Diviners (Margaret Laurence)
Charlotte’s Web (E. B. White)
Stuart Little
The Elements of Style
Not Wanted On The Voyage (Timothy Findley)
Rebecca (Daphne DuMaurier)
Wizard’s First Rule (Terry Goodkind)
Watership Down (Richard Adams)
Brave New World (Aldous Huxley)
The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields)
Blindness (Jose Saramago)
Kane and Abel (Jeffrey Archer)
Lord of the Flies (William Golding)
The Good Earth (Pearl S. Buck)
The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd)
The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum)
The Matarese Countdown
The Road to Omaha
The Bourne Ultimatum
The Bourne Supremacy
The Aquitaine Progression
The Parsifal Mosaic
The Matarese Circle
The Holcroft Covenant
The Chancellor Manuscript
The Gemini Contenders
The Road to Gandolfo
The Rhinemann Exchange
The Matlock Paper
The Osterman Weekend
The Scarlatti Inheritance
The Outsiders (S. E. Hinton)
That Was Then, This Is Now
Rumble Fish
Tex
White Oleander (Janet Fitch)
A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford)
The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield)
Ulysses (James Joyce)
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Books
If you walk into the “spare” bedroom upstairs you’ll notice a number of book-cases that are tightly packed with books. If you look carefully you’ll notice that there is one author I have a lot of books by, in fact I have a copy of almost everything he’s written and have read them all, most of them several times. You might find it unusual that that author is Stephen King. You may even notice that I look quite a lot like Mr. King (actually, he’s a few years older than I am so I tend to look like he did a few years ago).
There’s a place deep in every human mind that dates back to our earliest ancestors who, while huddled together at night would see eyes gleaming just outside the range of the fire and wonder if those eyes belonged to wolves, or to something worse. It’s the instinct that makes the idea of a ghost in the next room more frightening than the idea of a hungry tiger in that room. Modern people build a high, solid fence around that portion of their psyche. They lock the gate with a strong padlock and throw away the key. Good horror stories break off the lock, throw wide the gate and prod that part of our minds, the part we try to pretend doesn’t exist, with a sharp stick.
One thing I like about Stephen King is the sheer variety of ways he finds to horrify us. We may know that vampires (‘Salem’s Lot), zombies (Pet Sematery) and malevolent clowns who hide in the sewers (It) don’t really exist. While we read these books we can chant to ourselves, over and over, like a mantra timed to the pounding of our hearts “It’s only a book, it’s only a book, it’s only a book” while we pretend that we’re shivering because we’re cold. We’re perhaps less certain about the reality behind a space-ship full of dead aliens who can inhabit human hosts (The Tommyknockers) or a final battle between good and evil after most of the human race is killed by a super-flu (The Stand). Then we find ourselves face to face with the reality that men really DO go insane and embark on a murderous rampage (The Shining), that St Bernards really DO go rabid and attack people in small cars (Cujo), that little girls really DO get lost in the Maine woods (The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon), and that a woman really COULD get trapped naked and handcuffed to a bed in a cabin in the middle of nowhere after her kinky husband dies of a heart attack (Gerald’s Game). Reading such stories sends an icy finger down our spine as we consider that such a thing actually could happen.
A reader with a vivid imagination can read a good horror story and suspend disbelief long enough to wonder if such things really exist and explore how he or she would handle a similar situation. We can peek behind the door marked “Keep Out”, “No Trespassing”, and “Here There Be Dragons”, secure in the knowledge that after the book is done the door will once again be closed, locked, dead bolted and nailed shut with a chair under the door knob for good measure.
Until the next book.
There’s a place deep in every human mind that dates back to our earliest ancestors who, while huddled together at night would see eyes gleaming just outside the range of the fire and wonder if those eyes belonged to wolves, or to something worse. It’s the instinct that makes the idea of a ghost in the next room more frightening than the idea of a hungry tiger in that room. Modern people build a high, solid fence around that portion of their psyche. They lock the gate with a strong padlock and throw away the key. Good horror stories break off the lock, throw wide the gate and prod that part of our minds, the part we try to pretend doesn’t exist, with a sharp stick.
One thing I like about Stephen King is the sheer variety of ways he finds to horrify us. We may know that vampires (‘Salem’s Lot), zombies (Pet Sematery) and malevolent clowns who hide in the sewers (It) don’t really exist. While we read these books we can chant to ourselves, over and over, like a mantra timed to the pounding of our hearts “It’s only a book, it’s only a book, it’s only a book” while we pretend that we’re shivering because we’re cold. We’re perhaps less certain about the reality behind a space-ship full of dead aliens who can inhabit human hosts (The Tommyknockers) or a final battle between good and evil after most of the human race is killed by a super-flu (The Stand). Then we find ourselves face to face with the reality that men really DO go insane and embark on a murderous rampage (The Shining), that St Bernards really DO go rabid and attack people in small cars (Cujo), that little girls really DO get lost in the Maine woods (The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon), and that a woman really COULD get trapped naked and handcuffed to a bed in a cabin in the middle of nowhere after her kinky husband dies of a heart attack (Gerald’s Game). Reading such stories sends an icy finger down our spine as we consider that such a thing actually could happen.
A reader with a vivid imagination can read a good horror story and suspend disbelief long enough to wonder if such things really exist and explore how he or she would handle a similar situation. We can peek behind the door marked “Keep Out”, “No Trespassing”, and “Here There Be Dragons”, secure in the knowledge that after the book is done the door will once again be closed, locked, dead bolted and nailed shut with a chair under the door knob for good measure.
Until the next book.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
RIP - Bompy
My cat Bompy died this morning. There was no indication that there was anything wrong with him, he was standing in the living room, fell over and was gone within minutes.
I found Bompy about twelve years ago. I was doing yard work in front of my house and sat on the steps to take a break. He was across the street, saw me, ran across the street, up the stairs and into my lap. I posted signs around the neighborhood, no one claimed him so he was mine. "Bompy" was an expression my father used for a hobo, it seemed to fit him. Since he was full grown when I found him I don't really know how old he was when I found him, the vet said about two or three if I remember correctly, so he was probably around 14 or so.
Bompy was all black, and a big, solid, muscular cat. He loved people, loved laps, and loved to be petted and scratched. He'd sit on my lap and I'd scratch his head, and he'd purr so hard he'd drool. He'd actually purr as he inhaled as well as when he exhaled, apparently he couldn't get enough purring done just on the exhale. He wasn't the smartest cat I've ever known, but he was certainly one of the most affectionate.
Bompy made my life richer by his presence in my life. I'm glad he died at home, surrounded by his people. I'm glad he died quickly and didn't suffer.
I suspect the other two cats (Algy and Snoball, both females) will be getting extra attention from my wife and I for a while.
"No heaven will ever heaven be, unless my cats are there to welcome me" - Anonymous.
I found Bompy about twelve years ago. I was doing yard work in front of my house and sat on the steps to take a break. He was across the street, saw me, ran across the street, up the stairs and into my lap. I posted signs around the neighborhood, no one claimed him so he was mine. "Bompy" was an expression my father used for a hobo, it seemed to fit him. Since he was full grown when I found him I don't really know how old he was when I found him, the vet said about two or three if I remember correctly, so he was probably around 14 or so.
Bompy was all black, and a big, solid, muscular cat. He loved people, loved laps, and loved to be petted and scratched. He'd sit on my lap and I'd scratch his head, and he'd purr so hard he'd drool. He'd actually purr as he inhaled as well as when he exhaled, apparently he couldn't get enough purring done just on the exhale. He wasn't the smartest cat I've ever known, but he was certainly one of the most affectionate.
Bompy made my life richer by his presence in my life. I'm glad he died at home, surrounded by his people. I'm glad he died quickly and didn't suffer.
I suspect the other two cats (Algy and Snoball, both females) will be getting extra attention from my wife and I for a while.
"No heaven will ever heaven be, unless my cats are there to welcome me" - Anonymous.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Back From Arizona
My wife and I took a trip to Arizona recently, we left on December 26 and returned on January 2. I didn't mention our trip beforehand because I'm not in the habit of advertizing, in a public forum, that our home will be empty for a week with someone coming in every other day to feed the cats and take in the mail. I'm seldom concerned about being paranoid, but I'm often concerned about not being paranoid enough.
Anyway, back to Arizona. We arrived in Phoenix, where we have friends, in the wee hours of December 27. We slept for a few hours, exchanged Christmas presents with our friends, and headed up to Sedona for a couple days. Sedona is about the prettiest place I've seen, with beautiful red rock formations. When you look out the window and can't see anything man-made in the distance you just decompress. We actually had snow while we were there, we took a pink-jeep tour (where you're in the back of an open jeep). We froze our collective butts off there, but it was a great time. There was a Christmas-light show where people decorated their homes and visitors voted on which was best.
Sedona apparently does have their fair share of nutters though, a bartender told us that on December 31, 1999 (the turn of the millenium for those who can't count) the road into Sedona was backed up by people who stopped their cars in sight of Bell Rock (the first major rock formation you see on your way into Sedona) and were banging on drums expecting Bell Rock to open up and a space ship to come out and take them away. Not that it would've been an entirely bad thing had that happened.
After our time in Sedona we returned to Phoenix. While the female halves of the two couples went shopping and to the movies for two days, the guys (Rick and I) went shooting at Ben Avery Shooting range. We had a great time, shooting everything from a .22 pocket gun to a Mauser rifle. The thrill for me was an SKS with a detachable 20 round magazine, which is illegal in NJ where I live. Shooting is fun, shooting with a good friend is funner. I have to admit that the SKS didn't impress me as much as I thought it would, I found it heavy, bulky, and I had to make a conscious effort to find the rear sight (as opposed to the Mauser where the rear sight was easy to find).
It was great to see a lot of couples and families at the range. One man was sighting in his daughter's 30 '06 which she'd so far used on an elk, a deer, and a javelina (pronouced hav-e-lina). His daughter is twelve years old. The people at the range run a very tight ship, very safety conscious which is as it should be. Every fifteen minutes they shut down the range so you can go out and change targets and such, during that time you can't handle any firearm that's not already in a hard case, meaning if your rifle is in a soft case (as ours were) you have to wait for the range to re-open to carry your gear to your car to leave. The range safety officer gets positively testy if he sees you touching a firearm during a ceasefire, again this is as it should be.
Things are different in Phoenix than they are in suburban New Jersey where I live. I always thought a cactus was pretty much like a thorn-bush, unless you blundered into it you had no trouble, and if you did blunder into it all you had to do was get out and your problems would be solved with band-aids. Not true. My wife brushed against a cactus in Sedona and found that cacti LEAVE their spines IN YOU. These particular spines were hair-thin, we used tape and tweezers to remove them and she kept finding more for a couple days. Second, there is one variety of cactus (I think it was the "Teddybear Hoya") that, due to differing static charges, will jump on to you and latch on. Great, predatory plants. Once you get off the beaten path there are things around that can put a serious hurt on you, like rattlesnakes, scorpions and spiders. Thankfully, none of these things WANT to hurt you, you have to go out of your way to annoy them enough to hurt you.
I also learned that the Saguaro cactus is pronounced Swar-oh.
Other than that we saw some sights and spent time with our friends. New Year's Eve was quiet, we watched the Times Square ball drop at 10:00 and they rebroadcast it at midnite.
All in all a good time was had by all.
Maybe I can talk my wife into adding some of her perceptions to the comments.
Anyway, back to Arizona. We arrived in Phoenix, where we have friends, in the wee hours of December 27. We slept for a few hours, exchanged Christmas presents with our friends, and headed up to Sedona for a couple days. Sedona is about the prettiest place I've seen, with beautiful red rock formations. When you look out the window and can't see anything man-made in the distance you just decompress. We actually had snow while we were there, we took a pink-jeep tour (where you're in the back of an open jeep). We froze our collective butts off there, but it was a great time. There was a Christmas-light show where people decorated their homes and visitors voted on which was best.
Sedona apparently does have their fair share of nutters though, a bartender told us that on December 31, 1999 (the turn of the millenium for those who can't count) the road into Sedona was backed up by people who stopped their cars in sight of Bell Rock (the first major rock formation you see on your way into Sedona) and were banging on drums expecting Bell Rock to open up and a space ship to come out and take them away. Not that it would've been an entirely bad thing had that happened.
After our time in Sedona we returned to Phoenix. While the female halves of the two couples went shopping and to the movies for two days, the guys (Rick and I) went shooting at Ben Avery Shooting range. We had a great time, shooting everything from a .22 pocket gun to a Mauser rifle. The thrill for me was an SKS with a detachable 20 round magazine, which is illegal in NJ where I live. Shooting is fun, shooting with a good friend is funner. I have to admit that the SKS didn't impress me as much as I thought it would, I found it heavy, bulky, and I had to make a conscious effort to find the rear sight (as opposed to the Mauser where the rear sight was easy to find).
It was great to see a lot of couples and families at the range. One man was sighting in his daughter's 30 '06 which she'd so far used on an elk, a deer, and a javelina (pronouced hav-e-lina). His daughter is twelve years old. The people at the range run a very tight ship, very safety conscious which is as it should be. Every fifteen minutes they shut down the range so you can go out and change targets and such, during that time you can't handle any firearm that's not already in a hard case, meaning if your rifle is in a soft case (as ours were) you have to wait for the range to re-open to carry your gear to your car to leave. The range safety officer gets positively testy if he sees you touching a firearm during a ceasefire, again this is as it should be.
Things are different in Phoenix than they are in suburban New Jersey where I live. I always thought a cactus was pretty much like a thorn-bush, unless you blundered into it you had no trouble, and if you did blunder into it all you had to do was get out and your problems would be solved with band-aids. Not true. My wife brushed against a cactus in Sedona and found that cacti LEAVE their spines IN YOU. These particular spines were hair-thin, we used tape and tweezers to remove them and she kept finding more for a couple days. Second, there is one variety of cactus (I think it was the "Teddybear Hoya") that, due to differing static charges, will jump on to you and latch on. Great, predatory plants. Once you get off the beaten path there are things around that can put a serious hurt on you, like rattlesnakes, scorpions and spiders. Thankfully, none of these things WANT to hurt you, you have to go out of your way to annoy them enough to hurt you.
I also learned that the Saguaro cactus is pronounced Swar-oh.
Other than that we saw some sights and spent time with our friends. New Year's Eve was quiet, we watched the Times Square ball drop at 10:00 and they rebroadcast it at midnite.
All in all a good time was had by all.
Maybe I can talk my wife into adding some of her perceptions to the comments.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)