Toad

California, or Western Toad

Not many people here today have even seen this toad, but before 1964 there was a great abundance of these little guys. Often, after the first rain of the fall, the baby toads would migrate from the river to the inland areas to winter up. They would live in people’s yard or garden. If a board was left laying flat, a gopher or a mole would dig a tunnel under it, then the toad would take over the gopher tunnel. They could always be found in gardens and under woody debris. Every lumber pile had numerous toads under it.

In the fall there was sometimes such mass migrations that the toads getting run over on the rain wetted pavement would make the pavement slick and dangerous. In would smell like fish, and after the sun came back out it would smell like dead fish. The flies and the yellow-jacket wasps would invade the dead toad bodies.

The adult toads would mate in the river. The male grabs the female around her chest under her arms. When she lays her eggs in long strings the male fertilizes them as they come out. She lays up to 17,000 eggs. She sticks them to vegetation along the bank of a stream or a pond. They hatch into tadpoles, and feed in the pond or river until the fall when they form arms and legs. At the first heavy rains they would move inland.

Why is it that nobody wonders what happened to the once abundant toads? Can it be that they disappeared before the local environmental movement started? I wonder how many other species have disappeared without notice, because it was before our time. If I had not seen the once abundance of the toads I would have nothing to go on to know that they were even here.

Just a thought. Does anyone else remember the toads?

Reading test to see if you qualify to read on this blog

Read the following with out thinking about it.
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7H15 M3554G3 53RV35 7O PR0V3 H0W 0UR M1ND5 C4N D0 4M4Z1NG
7H1NG5! 1MPR3551V3 7H1NG5! 1N 7H3 B3G1NN1NG 17 WA5 H4RD BU7 N0W, 0N
7H15 LIN3 Y0UR M1ND 1S R34D1NG 17 4U70M471C4LLY W17H 0U7 3V3N
7H1NK1NG 4B0U7 17, B3 PROUD! 0NLY C3R741N P30PL3 C4N R3AD 7H15.
PL3453 5AY 1F U C4N R34D 7H15.

If you were able to read the above message you aren't alone. Some people can read it out loud as fast as regular print. I have to admit that I have an unfair advantage, I have practiced by reading Suzy Blah Blah.

Indigenous female person from a once great mystical land now called the Americas.

Explaining my writings re: the "squaw" issue

By way of explanation to readers, I wish to clarify my stance on the controversies regarding the use of the word "squaw." I have NEVER supported continued use of the word as a pejorative insult directed at Native women, and I am NOT opposed to the concept of changing place names.

What I have tried to do, is to provide background documentation and explanation of the actual linguistic origins of the word in Algonkian languages, and the relatively modern historical and social processes by which it morphed into an insult. I have asked that people try to understand, and respect, the difference between insulting uses and indigenous contexts, and between different indigenous languages, both past and present. I have also asked that people not promote fictional word origins that insult our ancestors, elders, and the many people who still speak Algonkian languages that contain some form of the word, or morpheme root of a word, commonly spelled as "squaw."
And yet, I have been repeatedly misquoted, misunderstood, insulted, defamed, and physically threatened by people who see my name associated with the word "squaw" and assume I am their enemy. I have received astonishingly vivid insults and physical threats, from people who refused to believe that "squaw" could have originated in an Algonkian language, or that it could ever have had any meaning but a pejorative one. Many people seem to believe that Europeans invented the word, and placed it on maps all over the country, with the sole intent of insulting Native women. It is even more absurd, in retrospect, to realize that some writers have been willing to hurl far worse threats than "squaw" at me, simply because I chose to investigate the history behind the problem, and the process by which the insulting meaning has come to predominate. One writer declared that from now on she would call me "Vagina" instead of "Marge," and suggested I have "squaw" branded on my forehead. And this was only the mildest of insults, compared to the profanity and physical threats I received. If we are trying to end the use of "squaw" as an insult, why must we insult each other with it?

For most of the historic era, "squaw" was a simple, non-pejorative descriptive word, a classic example of the same Pidgin speech that gave us "powwow," "tipi" and "mocassin" as generic terms, universally applied to all Native American peoples. It was widely used by both Native and non-Native speakers, and its non-pejorative meaning is amply documented in literally thousands of American and English documents and dictionaries, and both oral and written records of Algonkian languages, spanning the time from the 1620s to the pre-1970s. (When time permits, I will post some transcriptions for reference.)

Yet, in the modern era, given the tragic history of non-Native treatment of Native American Indian women, the word "squaw" is often interpreted as an insult. For some, it represents the rape and abuse of Native women by white soldiers and fur traders; for others, it represents the prejudice experienced by reservation Indians. That being said, there is no need to rewrite or reframe the history of America to imply that every instance of its use was pejorative.

If our goal is to enforce respect for Native Nations, we need to honestly discuss how and why these issues come to the fore. During my research into this issue, I have come to understand how deep the divisions can be between eastern and western, reservation and urban, traditional and modern, and recognized and non-recognized Native Nations, not to mention the racial tensions between Native and non-Native, and the differences between historical and modern applications of Native words.

Rather than twist history by insisting that the word has always been an insult, we need to understand how indigenous cultures, histories, and languages have been misrepresented. And we need to support, not modern misuse, but appropriate indigenous use, of Native names, symbols, languages, history and culture. Personally, I feel we would do best to argue for revision of "squaw" place names in the name of historical accuracy, tribal sovereignty, and basic respect, since "squaw" is neither historically nor linguistically appropriate as a universal term for Native women.

So how we can use the current controversy to further public understanding of how the colonial process, and the appropriation of things Native, has affected Native peoples? When we choose to change "squaw" place names, we can claim the opportunity to recover original indigenous place names, reinforce respect for local indigenous histories, and support Native language reclamation efforts. Out of respect, we can cease using "squaw" as a generic term for Native women, just as we can cease using "brave" as a generic term for Native men. We can educate the general public to understand the marvellous diversity of our histories, languages, homelands and cultures, instead of stereotyping all Indians as western Plains warriors in feather headdresses.

It is my fervent hope that our dialogues about the details of history will result in better understanding, and respect for, the diversity of Native Nations, the diversity of responses to the colonial invasion, and the diversity of processes for recovering indigenous histories, rather than further insult.

The above written By: Wlioni, Marge. 29 March 2001

Please click on the following link for a complete explanation from a very educated Indian Woman:

http://www.nativeweb.org/pages/legal/squaw.html

Thank-you
Ernie

Something has made Suzy Blah Blah mad

I found this post in my spam box, but nothing else:

suzy blah blah said...
okay i'll try itt one more time. maybe hes not moderating right now. (before you delete this one ernie know atht the message i get when you do theat is that you think i'm insignificant)/... Anne, if you don't get to see this ot read my email I'll phone you when i get within cell pphone reange ... but i'm posting this here for others to-
see too; This is my las t post ot this blog. Not because, as ernie used to say, Suzy's the smartest one here, not cuz there arnt some other cool intelligent peeps here too, not cuz i still couldnt learn somehting here, or maybe even teach something... but becuz ernie's been deleting my last few posts. I gave my opinion of hte indians and now it's gone. I tryed it again and he deleted it again. Why? cuz i told the truth?! He'll likey delete theis one too. Idont like being censored and I don't liek ruels but hteres one rule i keeep, if anyone Zaps one of Suzy's posts --I never come back to that blog again. Simple as that. I'm not gonna waste my time posting to the internet only to have some thick headed lout erase it. Better that he say he's irritated by them, or to say he's too busy to think them thruogh, or anything. But my time is too precious. bye bye spy, oregon, olmanriver, robin, and my other fans. You can read me on other blogs who are more accepting and tolerant.
October 16, 2011 8:17 PM

I'm not sure what is happening folks, but I can assure you that I have only deleted two comments in the last two years, neither was Suzy Blah Blah. The first I can't remember, but just recently I deleted a very personal and vulgar comment about a friend of mine that doesn't even read my blog and would have no chance to reply. HOWEVER, I have never deleted a Suzy Blah Blah comment. If they are disappearing from this blog... It's not me!

Indian Summer

A little Indian lore from a complete White-Eye, albeit, I have a lot of Indian friends. Most of us live in peace together, so who says that a Whiteman can’t keep a treaty? The world is slowly becoming homogeneous. Sadly, what I miss the most, is the Indian history that has been lost and discarded. Most my relatives, that I knew, always spoke well of the Indian people, and our folks worked and played together and were friends. There are many Indian people in the Garberville area that have deep history right here in the local area. Most of them are not even thought of as Indians, but as friends, firefighters, business people, and so forth. Most of the people that don’t carry their own weight in Garberville are white.

On work parties for the fire department, we often get into respectful banter about standing in the rain or some other thing that our local Indians seem to like to point out that the white-eyes are sissies. I don’t know if they can take the cold better than me, or they are just more stubborn, but I do know that I will dive for cover before them. I know, that’s racist, but oh well. While I’m being racist, I sunburn easier than they do. Some differences are obvious and some less so, but they will be the first to point out differences. Does that mean that they shouldn’t be given the same opportunities as me? Not hardly.

We are in the midst of “Indian Summer”. Around here that is the little bit of real good weather after the first big rain of the fall. Most places it’s defined as the warm dry weather after the first killing frost. Back east, where the term started, it was the period of warm weather that melted the first snow fall. The eastern Indians would use that period to raid the white settlements, because they couldn’t be tracked on the wet ground, and they wouldn’t leave tracks in the snow. Whether or not the raids were justified is a point for another time and place. I’m just here to say that it was named “Indian Summer” because that was the time of the year that the whites had to keep a close eye out for Indians.

Here is another story that was also from the eastern U.S. Indians. It has to do with “Indian giver” meaning something given then taken back. Supposedly, an Indian person would give a miscreant a present to change their mean or evil ways. If the person didn’t change their ways, It was considered to be a dishonor to the Indian that gave the person the gift, so it was taken back. Indian summer is a gift that is taken back when winter sets back in, so the warm weather is a gift that is taken back. Thus: “Indian Summer”.

Another story about “Indian Giving” is that there was a large language barrier between the Whiteman and the Indian. Trade between the Whiteman and the Indian often became confusing. The Whiteman would try to trade beads or some other object of value to an Indian. They would sign back and forth until they reached an agreed price. Often the Indian person would give something to a White. Indians often gave gifts, so they just took what was offered without thinking much about it, but the Indian person was really placing something of value in the Whiteman’s hands, like a bag of Salmon jerky, as a question of “what can I get for this?” When nothing was offered in return the Indian person would take it back. I can’t say that I blame them, there is an old premise that “there is no such thing as a free lunch”. But, that became known as “Indian giving”.
 
With due respect to my Indian friends.... But, if you have any salmon jerky to trade, I'm well know as a fair and honest trader. I will trade beer or money. Charley Two Crows and I are looking for some canned pickled surf fish. Anybody else have any orders?

Homelessness Meeting

I went to the meeting last night, mostly to watch Garberville sink to the lowest common denominator and see what could come of it. We made some great progress, we scheduled another meeting. What is this a government program?

As we listened, mostly to all the problems, it occurred to me that people really haven't taken the time to understand the people that live on our streets. Most are extremely dysfunctional, their bathroom habits are mostly the same as displayed in a mental ward, and they continually leave a trail of destruction and filth behind them.

I loathe to lump them all together, because some are pretty decent people, helpful and polite. Some have even done me favors and helped me out, those people are not the problem, but the mental cases and the thieves filter in amongst the simply disadvantaged. I won’t go into detail about the problems that some of them cause, because if you don’t take the time to know them, you won’t try to sort the good from the bad.

I have video’s of some of them shoplifting, very brazenly, like they have the right. One man from ***** park, came in every day, we charged his cell phone for him, no charge, it's the least that we can do for someone down on their luck. When someone pointed out that he was a thief, we went back through our store security videos and sure enough, he was a thief. In watching the video, he walked past a row of bright red radios. As he came to them, there were three on the shelf, after he passed, there were two, otherwise there was no indication that he took anything. He went to another corner and altered it for concealment. (Hey, I can’t reveal all of the security tricks that we have to use to catch thieves, but isn’t it sad that we have people in our town that think that somehow honest working people should provide for them.) We called the sheriff and they found him in ***** park proudly displaying his loot.

Now, the thing that runs through my mind is, do the people in the park know that he is a thief? Are they, compelled to rat him out, or are they complicit in the crime?

One lady got up and proudly stated the she bought the homeless a porta-potty for her birthday, and somewhat chided the townspeople for not providing toilet facilities for them. I mused about that, and remembered a time that we allowed the street people, and tourists, to use our store restrooms. Then the guy from up north came through town. He sued everybody that allowed people to use their restrooms for the general public that didn’t have a handicap accessible restroom. If you saw where our restrooms are, you wouldn’t question why we can’t make them accessible. By notice of our landlord, and by our own recognition of the problem, our restrooms are closed. Nobody is allowed to use them, that makes them equal access to all. No access! Seems like a shame, but I guess that it is fair.

The other thought that I had about the lady that proudly bought a porta-potty for the homeless. Does she know that she is in violation of a federal law, making it a Civil Rights Discrimination charge? For providing a restroom that discriminates against the handicapped? Quite a few of Garberville’s street people have been in wheelchairs, what do they do?

Anyway, I didn’t hear anything that I haven’t heard before. It was suggested that we all adopt a homeless person. I know that that might sound a little alien to you, but there was a young homeless person that came to town a few years ago that I could write book about. Myself and another fellow did adopt him. We eventually became his legal guardian. He was a paranoid-schizophrenic with a hopeless dependency to any mind-altering substance that would fit in his mouth. He proudly proclaimed that he was not a drug addict, because he would not stick a needle in his arm. He also proclaimed that he was not a bum, because he earned every penny that he ever had, which was true. He was too paranoid to seek help. He washed windows. As he would leave a job a person could see the other homeless gather around him and "borrow" his money from him. I got so I would let him out the back door with the hopes that he would have the time to get some use out of his money before it was extorted away.

Like I said earlier, I could write a book about this guy, our attempt to house him, his medical care, etc, but the long and short of it, I got an unsigned note in the mail, no return address, other than cancel stamp from some city in Oregon , that he had died.

They guy came and went, as a paraniod will do, I didn’t realize how close that I had gotten to him. It kind of took my heart away from getting too involved in helping the homeless, so I put it on the shelf for a while. Going to the Homeless meeting last night, reminded me of it all. I think that I probably won’t be attending any more meetings.

Class Warfare? Gimme a break!

A fearful friend of mine is afraid that I drank Stephan Lerner’s cool-aid. Nothing could be further from the truth. For the less politically inspired, Lerner advoctes chaos and a “crisis for the rich”. He openly advocates people moving into empty houses, hi-jacking trucks, moving into Morgan Stanley’s lobby, and so forth. No sane man would follow his plan.

What I see going on in the demonstrations of America, is that people are feeling disenfranchised. They need good jobs, and they need a fair balance of trade against predatory trading countries Like China. China is not the only country that has predatory trading practice, but China is by far the major predator.

What I advocate is public gatherings where people can agree with their COMMON goals and bring about fairness in the work place. Those people that scream about the unfairness of “Class Warfare”, because they think that we are going after the super rich, are wrong. Most of us don’t give a damn about how wealthy that they are, we just want good jobs and maybe a little mad-money in our pockets. The rich can keep theirs for all we care. But, while we are on the subject of Class Warfare, why do the super rich think that it is alright to declare war against the American Worker? How many times have you heard that they had to take jobs off-shore because American workers “ARE GREEDY”? How many times have you heard the unions be criticized because they were too powerful and demanded too much?

Not too many years ago, there was a balance between the American worker and the Business people. Everybody had a good job and the wealthy were still wealthy. Somewhere along the line the wealthy figured out that all they had to do is buy the media and the politicians. They could eliminate workers rights by moving jobs to a communist country or a dictatorship. The thing that bothers me, is when it became apparent that our jobs were leaving our shores and we whimpered a little bit. The wealthy couldn’t help but gloat and rub it in. How many times have the American workers had it rubbed in their faces that “WE live in a World Economy now, get used to it!” and “The American worker is far too greedy, we needed to take our jobs off-shore” Or, how about this one, after people with limited ability, but had a great factory job for years, were told “get a good education and make something of your self” and maybe we will give you’re a job shuffling and counting our money. How utterly insulting to good honest hard working people!

My whole family had GOOD jobs in the timber and lumber industry. They watched thier jobs crumble around them. Now, most of them are out of work. Some are still working sending logs to China. But, that won’t last forever. I wonder how much longer it will be before China sends their own workers over here. Most of my family have very conservative values, are very hard working, smarter than the averages bears, and not very likely to identify with the bewhiskered dude with the blood stains in the corner of his mouth, and the google-eyed green glasses. Yes, it’s ridiculously humorous, but hardly representative of the people that want good jobs.

But, remember who owns the media! You are not likely to see much real objectivity, nor much desire to find the REAL roots of the populace movement. The movement that I’m talking about includes the Tea Party, the Democrat party, the Conservatives, the Liberals, and yes, the “Occupy Party” if you will. Right now, America looks a little Chaotic, but I doubt that we will gather around anyone that doesn’t understand our common goal. That would be, a Good job, and just a small amount of prosperity for the common man. The rich will stay rich. Unlike a few of my other friends, I don’t expect that the Dow-Jones average to dip below 8,000. But, the one thing I know is, the fat-cats will cash in on whatever happens. They are the last people on Earth that you should be concerned about.

Some people saw it coming

The following is a little bit raw. (Language) But it is amazing that George Carlin had it all figured out long ago. It is also a little bit dated, because he is talking about a time when people still had jobs and houses. Little old ladys should shy away, because they will be distracted worrying about the bad language and not hear the real message.

Town Hall Meeting on the Homeless

To be more accommodating, we will all be meeting around the communal fire under the Bear Gulch Bridge. No wait, somebody changed the plan, the following is official:

Another public meeting to discuss transient issues

Redwood Times, Posted: 09/28/2011 04:32:50 PM PDT
John Casali and Paul Encimer are organizing another meeting to talk about transient issues in our community and they'd like representatives from the business community and local residents to attend. A recent meeting was held at second district supervisor Clif Clendenen's office behind Garberville Library and was attended by an angry group of people.

This meeting will be held at the Vet's Hall in Garberville on Friday, Oct. 7 beginning at 6 p.m. Eric Kirk will be mediating the meeting.


The Garberville-Redway Area Chamber of Commerce is not hosting, nor affiliated with, the meeting but they encourage those with concerns and/or ideas they'd like to share to attend.

“Both sides will be there”

Oh really… we will shout and pound fists, point out everything that is wrong, when it all ends everyone will realize that nothing is going to happen. The homeless will still be squatting in their 1’’ of dust, by then, 2 inches of mud. Everybody will feel better or worse about themselves. It will be pointed out that there is really nothing for the homeless in Garberville, so why are they here? It will be pointed out that they are treated better here than most places. The growers will quite often drop a free baggy on them. Quite a few people that don’t have to live in, or run a business in Garberville, will give them money. It will be pointed out that most will use their money for drugs or alcohol. But, in the end nothing will change.

The law enforcement officers will still have their hands tied. They have less funding now than have ever had before. They never solved the problem when they had more money, so what makes you think that they can change things now? Nothing will change, but it should be a fun meeting. We can tell each other that we are acting like responsible citizens. But nothing will change. If the problem were changeable, wouldn’t we have done something by now? It can’t be from lack of interest. You can’t walk from one end of town to the other while thinking about anything but the downtrodden and hopeless that hang on our streets, hoping that their next treat might be a baggy, or maybe a twenty. For them,  It’s a like fishing in a great stream.

Hey, if I were a homeless person, I would hang out in Garberville also. No rules, no restrictions, no showers. Life is good in Garberville, and you can be a complete bum, and you have an excuse, nobody will do anything for you, you have to be they way you are. But, nothing will change.
There are homeless advocates, and emergency shelters in the more metropolitan areas. But, they make you take showers, you can’t use drugs or alcohol. They make you pray, and they continually thump on their Bibles. Crap, that’s no life. Pretty soon they start helping you find a job and give your life structure. Screw that! Garberville is better, no rules, and great benefits. But nothing will change.

The good thing about the homeless is, they provide our emergency services with great practice drills! Now that it is cold and rainy, they move under the local bridges. Some idiot “Good Citizen” will see the smoke from their communal campfire boiling out from under the bridge and dial 911. He will declare an emergency that a frikkin’ concrete bridge is on fire. Of course the dispatcher is a transplant from Los Angeles, and they don’t know that concrete bridges don’t burn, so they send two fire departments to check it out. Of course we firefighters have been to all these bridges umpteen-million times, so we are smart enough to know that spontaneous combustion doesn’t just happen under bridges. Knowing what we are heading into, we have to call for the Sheriff to clear the scene. There is the standard argument that the people under the bridge are entitled to a cooking or warming fire. Then we politely explain that you have to have the permission of the property owner, and the road departments don’t allow fires under their bridges. One reason that fires are not allowed under bridges is because some idiot will call 911... I would go through the whole thing again, but you get the idea. We do this at least once a week in the winter. But, NOTHING CHANGES.

I didn’t hear whether our not our Supervisor Clendenen will be there. He was at the last homeless meeting. You do remember what came out of that meeting don’t you? Nothing changed. If he is wise, he will stay away. Nothing good can come out of getting sucked into a SoHum fight. Remember the Mateel wars over Reggae? Anyone standing near the fight got sucked in and spit back out like a plucked chicken. You just don’t want to be to close to a SoHum fight, they can change your life!

If Clendenen is there, he will have to be in campaign mode. Estelle Fennell has announced her candidacy, and she is a well know Sohum local with a long record of hard work and accomplishment. It will be interesting to get her take on the Homeless.

One big thing about the meeting that is coming up. It will be moderated by a person that will enforcing order, I don’t want “ORDER”! I want to yell and scream, pound my fist and get things off my chest. “Order” is not going to do that for me. Nothing will change anyway!

If I go to this meeting it will only be because Suzy Blah Blah says that she will be there… Hmmm. She has fooled us before, is she fooling us again????

*****************************************************
Okay, I’m going to put all of my snide cheeky stuff aside for a bit. I always said that a person shouldn't complain unless they are willing to offer a solution.

The Homeless issue is something that I feel strongly about. The people who have punched their own cards, and taken themselves out of productive society, seriously anger me. They are along for the free ride because they know that people like me feel sorry for the downtrodden and unfortunate, who, through no fault of their own, found themselves dealt with a short hand from the deck of life. The fakers are the lowest form of humanity, because the soak up all the resources and help that would be available for the truly needy and deserving. I have, on a one-on-one basis, helped many homeless make their lives better. I could tell you many stories of pure frustration. Quite unlike Reagan, I fully believe that homelessnes, and the mentally ill, is a problem that can only be addressed on a federal level. If a person can’t care for themselves, they should be institutionalized, until such a time as they can take care of themselves. If not able to be rehabilitated, at least they will have a nice warm place to live and good food to eat. Forcing a human being to live in the mud is purely heartless. Now that I’ve said that… Do I expect anything to change? NO, I do not.

Methinks something Stinks in America

Even though it’s easy to see the results of the failure of our leaders, the problems with America run so deep, and so numerous, that no one man can comprehend them all. Are our leaders so consumed by their own greed that they can’t see the suffering of the people that once had jobs and homes?

People are often accused of not paying attention, or not educating themselves on the problems facing America. Most of us are steeped in the guilt of knowing that something is wrong, but we don’t know how to fix it. It doesn’t take much to embarrass us into being quiet. Some are afraid that their life-long philosophies of being a member of a group or a party may look foolish in the clear vision that something is wrong today. Were we duped? Was it wrong of us to be against the unions? I was, I now question that. Some people feel just the opposite. They are mad that the teachers want too damned much money, and the unions are insisting that they get it, to the detriment of the taxpayers. That was just an example, there are still vast difference in our philosophies.

What is wrong with America is not that the rich don’t pay enough taxes. They couldn’t pay enough to help America, the rich are a moot point tax wise. The BIG point is that our jobs have left our shores. If we all had good jobs, we could pay enough taxes to bring back America’s prosperity, and we could rebuild our schools and roads, and the rest of the infrastructure. Where the rich are our enemy is that they own our information services, and we will believe anything that they tell us. They tell us to vote for politicians that will take care of the wealthy first. The wealthy have made their fortune skimming a small percentage of the money leaving our shores. That is what has to be stopped. When the jobs come back, the rich can go on making money right here at home.

But, things need to change. Don’t be afraid to holler, even if you don’t know what you are hollering about. If you are being stabbed in the back, you aren’t going to see the knife. Scream bloody murder anyway. Our leaders need to know that they had better start moving in directions that will make the rabble happy again.

But, do me a favor, try to at least look normal... people in clown suits scare me!

At my age, of course, I have a lot of friends that have tried to figure it all out. They tell me about the Bilderberg Group, the Bohemian Grove group, The trilateral commission. The Kennedys, the Rockefellers, the federal reserve bank, and so forth. All of their theories seem to make a little sense. But, some of their theories seem to look like they’ve been led a little to close to the edge. They all tried too hard to figure it all out, but no one man can do that, be satisfied that you know that something is wrong, and make our government take that knife out of our back.

Most of the kids at “Occupy Wall Street” don’t have a clue what’s wrong… but they know it’s wrong. Sometimes that’s enough.

I have a friend who is a veteran of the Cambodian War, you know the war that they claimed didn't happen. They went into Cambodia to cut the supply lines to the Viet Cong. (I’m no expert, my friend is). It was at the top of the Flower Child anti-war demonstrations. The young demonstrators went nuts when they found out that troupes went into Cambodia. There was a major demonstration at Kent State in Ohio. Four young kids were killed for demonstrating against the war. The tide turned, and America pulled out of the Viet Nam War.

The point that I’m Making here is NOT that the flower children were right. In some cases they were demonstrating for the Viet Cong. They spit on our soldiers, and called them baby killers. There was no focus of the demonstration and no great leaders. One example of their ignorance is something that young Jane Fonda paid for until this day. She had her picture taken sitting on a Viet Cong tank! I was shocked, America was shocked, just about anybody would tell you that it was the wrong thing to do, but she was a hero to a small group of the Flower Children.

You may think that I’m way off of the subject here, but it is vitally important to my point. No matter how wrong, how stupid, how disrespectful, that the war protestors were… THEY STOPPED THE WAR!

The people in "Occupy Wall Street" are displaying the same look as the War protesters of the ‘60’s. So, when I say that they have a chance. It’s because I been there, seen that… several times before, I don’t think that this will go away, no matter what the Main Stream Media says.

Skippy analyzes Occupy Wall Street

I asked the question, this is Skippy's answer. Thank-you skippy.

Skippy has left a new comment on your post: "UNITED States of America":

Ernie, how do we make sense out of this Wall Street protest and the UNITED States of America? I'll give it a stab.

I think we’re witnessing America's first true Internet-era movement. The mainstream media seem determined in casting these folks as a random, silly blather of an ungrateful and lazy generation of weirdos. As journalists have pointed out, kids are criticizing corporate America while tweeting through their iPhones.

Are they Communists, Ernie? Anarchists? The unemployed? Union workers? College graduates left hanging without jobs, saddled in debt? The ‘99%’? Those showing up just for the fun and camaraderie? All of the above— and more.

While the Tea Party movement originated from the ‘right,’ this movement centers more from the left, I think. Their common denominator is of being disenfranchised while demanding accountability. Unlike civil rights protests, labor marches, or political campaigns, this one doesn’t take its cue from a charismatic leader, express itself in bumper-sticker-length goals, nor understand itself as having a particular endpoint. It’s not a traditional protest-- or narrative arc-- as we’ve seen in the past.

As one protester explained, "As far as seeing it end, I wouldn't like to see it end. I would like to see the conversation continue."

Yes, there's a wide array of complaints, demands, and goals from the occupiers: the collapsing environment, labor standards, housing policy, government corruption, World Bank lending practices, unemployment, increasing wealth disparity, corporate excess and bailouts, and so on. Are they ready to articulate exactly what that problem is and how to address it? No, not yet, Ernie. But neither are the Congress, the President, corporate America and Wall Street.

Anyone who says they have no idea what these folks are protesting is not being fully truthful. Whether we agree with them or not, we all know what they’re upset about. Occupy Wall Street is a social movement spreading through contagion, creating as many questions as it answers, and aiming to force a reconsideration of the way the nation does business. Yes, it’s as unwieldy, paradoxical, and inconsistent as those of us living in the real world. Precisely. This movement is merely pointing the way.

And we're watching it, Ernie, because it offers hope to those of us who previously felt alone in our belief that the current economic system is broken.

That's my two cents-- for the 99%, Ernie.

This is Ernie.
I was watching a news broadcast this morning and they were interviewing various people. It looked to me like they were purposefully looking for people to give dumb answers, which must have been true, because they put them on the air. But, they did ask one young man wearing a suit and a tie. He was involved in some way with the Occupy Wall Street demonstration. The question that they were asking is "Is this a Liberal Tea Party movement". He gave the answer (paraphrase) "It would be a mistake to label it as anything. The surface of this demonstration speaks for itself. People are unhappy with the way the country is being governed. Its not a "party" idea. it's a populace movement."

UNITED States of America

There was a time that I was against the unions. They seemed to be too powerful and filled with thuggery. They participated in seniority instead of accomplishment. There was much graft and corruption in the management. I.E. the pension funds continually disappearing. If things weren’t going their way they would simply go on strike.

Then, Nixon went knocking on the bamboo curtain with the supposed premise that we could open doors to new markets, and help America prosper. It was a great idea, and heartily welcomed by the American manufacturing industries. They assumed that they would have new markets for their products. Little did they know that the great red beast would start sucking on our bones. Our bones are now almost licked clean and people are starting to wonder what happened to America. The “world market” is totally controlled by China. There is no way that we can ever compete against them without trade laws and restrictions. But China knows how to play the game. They just keep the Judas Goat (Our stock market) well fed and they will keep leading us lambs to the slaughter.

Reagan dealt the death knell to the unions when he fired all of the air traffic controllers and replaced them with non-union workers. It was a widely received signal that it was over for the American worker. Americans are so hungry for jobs that they will now cut each others throats for a job, any job, not just good jobs. The American worker has been defeated for twenty years now. The unions are now a moot point, the have no power. The can’t strike because the workers will be easily replaced by equally skilled, or readily trained workers.

It’s amazing what a human being will do to survive, pride, loyalty and honor will go right out the window when your family is suffering.

Now we are forced with forming a new country, where our politicians represent US. How do we defeat the wealth and influence of Wall Street? Wouldn’t it be nice if we had a Union representing us? We need to remember what brought the United States of America together. UNITED WE STAND, DIVIDED WE FALL. We must stand together against the gathering tyranny of the greedy.

They say that if we impose tariffs, or import restrictions, that other countries will impose restrictions on us, and stop buying our airplanes and heavy equipment. I disagree, I think that we need to impose restrictions now, and subsidize our industries if we have to. We now have little electronics industry in the United States. The T.V. manufacturing industry was the first to go off-shore. Reagan opened the doors to trade with Japan. Japan subsidized their T.V. industry and “dumped” T.V.s on the American market. There was no way the American electronics industry could compete. People were amazed at how much better a Japanese T.V. was for the money than an American T.V. for the same price. ( Remember Sony?) Yeah, that’s because the Japanese government was paying for the difference in quality. Now that our industry in gone, they can charge anything they want. But, the Devil in the details is, that the Communist counties are doing the same thing to the whole free world. They subsidize ALL of their products by keeping the value of their currency below that of the free world. They can do that, they are a Communist country! I won’t even go into all that is wrong with trade with China. But, it is significant and onerous.

You will hear a lot about the evils of “Class Warfare”. It reminds me so much of Marie Antoinette, when she was asked what should be done about the poor starving people. She replied “let them eat cake”. To some of us that might sound like a good party, but back then “cake” was grain paste, made into a patty and roasted over a fire. That’s all they had to eat. In Antoinette’s mind. That’s all they needed, and couldn’t understand what they were complaining about. She was later executed by guillotine.

I don’t think a guillotine is needed yet, but we do need to do something more that complain. It is time... we’ve almost hit bottom. I seem to remember that some Russian fellowstarved millions of his own people to death. It seems that they wanted something. Jobs maybe?

Wall Street Protest

We're mad as hell and we aren't going to take it anymore... Now all we need is a leader. The more that the cops try to slap down the protest, the more protesters seem to want to get involved. I wish I was a kid again. I would catch a bus to wall Street. They are finally protesting the right thing, Wall Street corruption. Why should we be ashamed of a "Class War"? Wall Street, long ago, launched an undeclared war on the working man. Sorry, I know that technically I am a business man, but if working people don't have jobs, I won't long have a business.

The populace of America is well aware that the wealth has been stolen by Wall Street. We are no longer going to be satisfied to live on Cake. If I were a Wall Street fat cat right now, I would be feeling a lot like Marie Antoinette. Their days are numbered. With the right leader, change will be as swift as a guillotine.

The Tea Party movement had promise in the beginning, because it was a true grass roots movement, but the Tea Party and the Republicans fell in love and ran off together. This latest movement will succeed, because it is founded in youth. Civil Rights succeeded because the youth of America was involved. The Viet Nam War was stopped by the young people.

I was watching Fox News this morning ( Yeah, I love the irony) They had a man that said that the kids are protesting Capitalism, and what the kids were advocating was Communism. The irony is that the "Capitalists" on Wall Street are partnered with China, a Communist country that can provide labor much cheaper than America, because they can control the value of their currency. China can always guarantee to deliver a cheaper product. America can NEVER truly compete with them. We need leaders that can regulate trade, and keep it in balance. We can't continue to borrow money from our children and give it to a Communist country.

This Wall Street movement will succeed in a heartbeat, as long as they don’t allow themselves to be hijacked by any Party. Not Democrat, not Republican, but some sort of a new party, and a new leader, not already owned by Wall Street. Can an unfunded party, that lacks the support of main street media succeed? Can a party without Wall Street backing Succeed? Time will tell.

I’ve never been so optimistic. It seems like the 60’s to me. I wish I was young again.

Who would you choose as a leader?

Meanwhile, sign up at Ernie's Place for an Occupy Redwood Drive protest. Our petition will be proof that we protested. That way we won't have to protest in the rain. The great thing is, if you don't like it, you don't have to sign. But think of all the people that wished that they had signed the Declaration of  Independence.
Just leave a comment about what you would like to make Better about America. You can even pretend that you are Thomas Jefferson and be Anonymous.

Link to CNN report on Wall Street Protest

Bless My Sole!

It's been a long time since I did a "Good Food Report". So here's a "Great Food Report!
First, my wife and I hardly ever eat out at restaurants. When we do, we mostly go out on VERY special occasions. So, I’m not to familiar with the dinner fair around Garberville. We eat lunch out fairly often. The Calico’s restaurant has one of the best “salmon Burgers” that I’ve ever eaten. The Eel River café has a “big bird” that is to die for. The Eel river also has better cheeseburgers than the top rated place in Eureka. (I won’t say where in Eureka, because there cheeseburgers are also good!) I like the “Turkey Dip” sandwich at the Water Wheel. The Paradise Grill has great cheese burgers, as does the House Of Burgess. Home Cookin’ has great take and bake pizza. And Sicilito’s has great hot pizza. At Cecil's I can't seem to get past the catfish, my wife usually has a fillet. I know that I’m leaving some great places out, but I’m getting full. Maybe some of you have some good recommendations of other places.

But, to get around to what this is all about. My wife and I found ourselves in Eureka last Wednesday evening, and it was too late to come home to eat. It was Janis’ turn to choose a restaurant, and she chose the Bless My Soul Café, on 5th street. I was surprised that she chose that café because she doesn’t like spicy food. Myself? I love spicy, so I didn’t argue. I should have known that there would be “sissy food” on the menu.

We were greeted at the door by “Sweet Daughter Desiree”. She told us to sit anywhere, so we chose a table by the front window. Desiree came to take our order. Janis knew exactly the red wine she wanted, but I wanted a beer. I don’t like the heavily hopped flavored bitter beers. I prefer something more mildly flavored. I didn’t see any thing that I liked on the menu, so I asked Desiree what she had that was like a certain “well known beer”. She told me that they didn’t have that beer because it was bought out by a major brewery, and she preferred to stock private label beers. I liked that, I like to see the small guy have a chance. She recommended a German wheat beer that was drop-dead delicious. My evening was off to a great start.

The menu came and Desiree told us about their specials and said that they shopped for, and prepared their food daily. I noticed that the restaurant was neat and clean. The table that we sat at had a full view of the neat clean, well ordered kitchen. I also Liked that.

The menu had so many great choices that I turned into a girl, and couldn’t make up my mind. Desiree was very helpful in recommending things that she thought that I would like. She was right all the way. I ordered the batter fried jerk-chicken breast. She warned me that it was spicy, I did notice that it had a two pepper rating after the menu listing. Quite a few listings had one pepper, and the hot sausage dishes had a three pepper rating. I wanted to order the sausage, but that third pepper scared me off.

We had a few choices like soup or salad and two side dishes. I had potato zucchini soup, with the appropriate other ingredients. It was delicious. The meal also came with a corn muffin. The two sides that I ordered was Creole Corn, and Sautéed Cabbage.

My wife stared reading down the menu until she got to the garlic beef. She decided instantly what she wanted she made me look more like an indecisive little girl when she ordered instantly. She ordered a side order of batter fried dill pickles. She had then when she was in Louisiana and wanted me to try them. The first one is great. The second one is interesting, the third one you eat because there are so darn many and you don’t want to be wasteful. So we took the rest home.

I was encouraged by Janis’ side order, so I ordered Crab Cakes. Any one of the dishes would have filled me up, so I also took one of the crab cakes home. I tried to guess the ingredients, but Desiree just grinned at me. It seems that the recipes around there are top secret. But, you can buy most of Sweet Mama Janisse’s secret sauces.

The jerked chicken was delicious, it was topped with caramelized bananas, a very interesting combination of sweet and spicy.

As we were waiting for our meal, Sweet Mama Janisse herself came out to our table and talked to us. It seems that we have many friends in common. I always have too many questions for interesting people, and I was able to ferret most of her life story out of her, which she shared with us graciously.

She knows Taj Mahal, and of course he recommends her café, and sings her praises. He is quoted as saying “The best food in the world”. He would know, he’s been everywhere.

If you watch the bottom video she talks about Oysters Rockefeller. She says that she doesn’t know what the bed of rock salt is for, but to follow the recipe anyway. I could have told her!!! The salt keeps the shells from rocking and turning over. She should have asked me. Oh well… Maybe she reads my Blog!

My jerked chicken was outstanding, but I told Desiree that it didn’t seem like it was a full two peppers hot, and she said that she was considering lowering the rating to one and a half.

Try it you will like it.






Oh, on a side note. You know that squeally baby that follows me around where ever I eat. Yep, you guessed it. There was an early shift baby and a late shift baby. They were seated far enough away that they were not a bother. My wife and I got a big kick out of the crying baby, it fit right in. They had some really great Guitar Blues playing over the speaker system. It came out: “My baby done left me” Waaaaaaa “My baby done left me”. Waaaaaaaa…. Somehow it just fit in, and it seemed like part of the fun.
If you go there, tell Desiree that I sent you. She might not remember my first name but she will remember “Branscomb”. She has a friend that owns property there. She connected my name to the town and asked the de-rigur Question, “Are you related to the town”? I told yes, and I even know where all the bodies are buried. I thought that would fit right in with the “Voodoo Pudding”. That’s a highly chocolate dessert that Janis had.

Vented frustrations and needed information.

Spam and spammers:
 Lately, I have been getting a lot of junk-type email, and comments on my blog. I know, I set myself up for it. Having a blog-site opens doors for many spammers. I do what I can to eliminate Spam. I have all comments forwarded to my email account, so I can see what has been placed in the back pages. When I find them, and I have the time, I delete them. But, some get through anyway, so hopefully you can just ignore them.

The spammers have a bunch of “pat” comments that will readily fit any blog. They will say something like, “Very thoughtful post, thank-you!” then they sign it something like, “Ralph’s Tea Cup Shop”, which is a link to an online tea cup sales site. Most people don’t bother to click the link, but there are other people that just have to click that darn link, like the people that can’t stand to ignore a phone call. If the phone rings, they have to answer. When somebody clicks that link a computer records that a successful forward came from “Ernie’s Place”. That read-out encourages the spammers to put more ads in my blog. So, don’t click on obvious spam, unless you just can’t resist.

Joining face-book was a big, big mistake for me. Yes, I enjoy getting back in touch with some of my long lost friends, but I get emails from people like “Lady Madonna” who wants to be my “friend.” Lady encloses a very provocative photo of herself. She doesn’t look like anybody that I know, and she probably wouldn’t like to know me either unless I paid her well to know me…. Oh!, That’s it… She’s in some kind of business….

Then I get notes from face-book that all my friends have some game going with farm animals and I should join them in the fun. I don’t know, but it doesn’t sound like more fun than I’m all ready having. My friends must have pretty boring lives. Sometimes I wish that I could just go back to not being a face-bookie.

Post office closing:
All this brings me up to the post office. The post office claims that they are losing big-time money, because everybody started using email. That’s probably true. I never send letters to my friends, but I do email them because it works so well. So, maybe it’s just a sign of the times, and we need to get over it.

I know that it is not true of everybody, but my life would be better-off if the post office would disappear from the face of the earth. They send me more junk-mail than you can ever believe. All of the junk is cleverly disguised as “IMPORTANT MAIL” or “check enclosed”, or something else that you know full well is nothing but advertising B.S. But, some of us have to open it anyway, and be mad that we were so stupid, and that we were duped again.

At least when I open a letter, I know that it isn’t that dang tricky Nigerian that emailed me and almost talked me into sending him money to ship me his poor dead fathers gold, the gold that the government won’t let him keep unless he shares it with me. I had the shipping money in an envelope, ready to send, then I found another person in the post office had gotten the same email from Mr. Tricky. I was so mad that he was trying to share his money with everybody that I figured out that he didn’t have enough money to share with me. So, I didn’t send him the shipping money. What a dummy he was, to tell EVERYBODY… Duhhh.

The dratted homeless:
But of course, I have to start out a post like this with a few disclaimers. I probably have more experience with the homeless than most of you, after all they live on my business doorstep. Now, I’m not without compassion, I’ve also probably helped more of the homeless than most of you, so I don’t owe anybody an apology. I call them “homeless” because that is a term that everybody understands. Recently, I’ve heard some very nice names that seem to sooth peoples sensibilities. “Houseless”, “Pre-employed”, and other confusing labels. The one I like best was “alter-sheltered” Whatever anyone calls them, it will eventually become derogatory, so we might as well stick with “homeless” because it sounds better than “bum”.
Lately, I saw a very indignant post about how it would be if I were put on the street, The poster called herself “Den Mom”, which bothers me right off. It seems to me that if you have something to say, you should sign it, especially if you are suggesting that you can solve the homeless problem. You remove half of your credentials with most people when you don’t sign something.

Anyway, Den Moms advice is as follows:
“I think we should do a study. Why don’t we pick 5 people from all walks of “SHELTER”, and place them on the streets of So.hum. with no money, We will give you a very nice sleeping bag, and a back pack if you really want one (which is a sign you are homeless).No contact with any of your love ones, u are on your own and at the mercy of your community. We will keep a journal on how each day went and how easy it was to do the basic human rights, sleep, eat, and we already know we have no public bathroom, so write about how it went for you when your body wants to function. Write about how you feel alone and how you are looked at and judged by the way you look. how many times you were told to move on by our local sheriff. How hungry you got? How you survived….how it feels to live every emotion in front of your community. I think we would learn so much about this topic and what So.hum is lacking. Just skip the thought of a shower, not going to happen. I know this experience will be life changing, and some of us on here need our thoughts about this topic adjusted…
Any takers?”

I did take the liberty of correcting a few typos above, but I assure you, I never changed anything besides changing a few forgotten spaces and the like.

Den Mom's suggestion looses some of it's brilliance when you stop to figure that most of us live our lives in panic, and work very hard NOT to become that person on the street… But, thank you for the clean sleeping bag, and the back pack, I will need them. The thought of no shower wouldn’t be possible for me. I wouldn’t get dirty in the first place, but if I do get dirty, I will swim in the river and scrub myself with sand before I stay dirty. The same goes for my clothes.
I don’t know of one single homeless person that doesn’t know about welfare or homeless shelters, I would access both of those sources right off. I would not starve, I would follow all of their rules about no drugs or alcohol. Any money that I got would go to making myself clean and presentable. I would shave, and be clean, and stay sober, and seek work. Most homeless understand that people don’t like filth. Filth spreads disease and illness, so it is human instinct to drive away pestilence. Folks don’t want to bring any disease home to their families.
By far, the most of the people out there work hard to be part of society and help each other. The people on the streets choose that life, or they let the drugs they use choose for them. Most people were warned to stay away from drugs, so it isn’t like they didn’t make the choice themselves. But as Dave Kirby says:

“Having worked some 30 years in G,ville I have come to the conclusion that there is no set “type” of street person . I don’t think anything is gained by supporting or condemning them as a group. You have a diverse group here. Many are impaired. And some of these folks are heart breaking. They are not getting away with anything, they are barely holding on. Separating the truly needy from the Jr. dead heads and various scammers is difficult at best. I don’t have any easy answers other than to try and treat each other as individuals.

I see people who genuinely want to get homelessness behind them, they generally do so. Oh… the other thing that I would do is, get the heck away from Garberville. The only opportunity here is to become more deeply ingrained in becoming a loser. Garberville is the worst enabling town that I’ve ever seem. Just watch any homeless group on the sidewalk and you will see people give them all sorts of marijuana, cash and other goodies that make their live better in Garberville. What people are doing is helping them stay in their drug addled hand-out dependant life style.

The Dirtiest Man In The World
Oh, I'm Dirty Dan, the world's dirtiest man,
I never have taken a shower.
I can't see my shirt--it's so covered with dirt,
And my ears have enough to grow flowers.

But the water is either a little too hot,
Or else it's a little too cold.
I'm musty and dusty and patchy and scratchy
And mangy and covered with mold.
But the water is always a little too hot,
Or else it's a little too cold.

I live in a pen with five hogs and a hen
And three squizzly lizards who creep in
My bed, and they itch as I squirm, and I twitch
In the cruddy old sheets that I sleep in.

In you looked down my throat with a flashlight, you'd note
That my insides are coated with rust.
I creak when I walk and I squeak when I talk,
And each time I sneeze I blow dust.

The thought of a towel and soap makes me howl,
And when people have something to tell me
They don't come and tell it--they stand back and yell it.
I think they're afraid they might smell me.

The bedbugs that leap on me sing me to sleep,
And the garbage flies buzz me awake.
They're the best friends I've found and I fear they might drown
So I never go too near a lake.

Each evening at nine I sit down to dine
With the termites who live in my chair,
And I joke with the bats and have intimate chats
With the cooties who crawl in my hair.

I'd brighten my life if I just found a wife,
But I fear that will never be
Until I can find a girl, gentle and kind,
With a beautiful face and a sensitive mind,
Who sparkles and twinkles and glistens and shines--

And who's almost as dirty as me.
-Shel Silverstein

Newsy Notes about Humboldt

News in Southern Humboldt is a little sketchy lately. But thanks to Skippy, I have a new link to news about Humboldt County, The Humboldt Sentinel. I'm not familiar with it, so hopefully Skippy will fill in the Blanks. He sent me this link: Humboldt Sentinel. Thank-you Skippy! You can even make comments back to the news articles. I put a link over there on your left, ( my right, stage left, if you know what that is).

As many of us, that have been around here for awhile know, news sources have gradually dwindled through the years. Not so many years ago, we had drop dead great news. Channel 3and Channel 6 both had superior news. They had such good news stories that it was hard to decide what to watch. Usually I would watch the evening news on one channel then watch the nightly news on the other. Cable news sources took the local markets away. We used to get great U.S. and world news on Cable, but to anybody paying attention, the cable channels lately are nothing but partisan politics anymore. Changing the channel from Fox News to CNBC is like stripping major gears, I keep expecting the television to explode every time I change Channels.

Now, the latest, The Times-Standard doesn't even want to deliver the news to us in SoHum. The only thing that they will deliver in SoHum is the Sunday paper,with a little bit of yesterdays news, and a horse choking supplement of advertisements. I'd give you a link to the T-S but you can only read a few articles, then you have to pay, so if they offer to pay me,I'll put a link up for you. So far this blogsite is purely amature, and I would hate to give up that status.

Most of us down here in SoHum land depend on Kym Kemp and The Redhead Blackbelt to supply us with "What's Happenin' Now". She has great news, but between news stories she talks a lot about Marijuana. Some of us prefer beer, maybe she could do a few great beer stories?

To be honest, my amature status is in jeopardy, I inadvertently accepted a bribe from Skippy. I came back to my office one of those 102 deg days,that we had a while back,and there was a quart of cold Pepsi sitting on my desk. I drank most of it before I discovered that it was from Skippy. Now I owe him. So don't forget to stop at The Corn Crib in Pepperwood, the home of the worlds most famous corn and fine produce.

Dang! I almost forgot the news about The Rotary District Conference! Click on the YouTube below.
All of the cast is in the bleachers at the end. If you look in some of the background, you will see people running like crazy to be in the next scene. The funny thing is, all of the animals hammed it up. The goat was dancing with the tune. If you watch the ladies horse about halfway through it is singing along with everybody else. I'm the guy at the end of the river-side scene holding up one end of the blue Rotary banner. Then I point to cue Suzy. Fun was had by all! The most fun part was, my wife and I tricked Erin Dunn and Ross Rowley into buying us breakfast! I hate to think what that bribe is going to cost Me!


Second video: Fortuna River Lodge ad

Random thoughts about marriage.

A couple of friends of mine asked the rhetorical question: "Should we get married?" Question like that really concern me because the answers have the potential implications of phrases like "until death do us part". Anything with a death vow should be taken seriously! Before I was married, I had a lot of trouble deciding how to make a proposition not sound like a proposal. Apparently they sound very much alike.

I was 25 when my second wife and I started dating. Now, 25 is relatively young, in the scale of marriage and stuff like that. Big things are being considered, like children, education, business careers, where to build a house, and other major considerations. Being partners in ALL things is a big step. Older people don't have to consider building a life together, because for the most part, they will both have their own separate lives, already be educated, and already having satisfying careers. There is not much that will change with marriage. Maybe I'm being to pragmatic about "love" issues. I understand that is one of my "faults".

When Janis "and I" decided it was time to meet her folks, who lived in San Jose, we drove down for the weekend. Janis warned me on the way down that her family was a very traditional Mormon family. I started wondering, what is a "traditional Mormon?" We got to her folks place in the afternoon, so the evening meal was already being prepared. When it came time to sit at the table to eat, I was wise enough to know that there would probably be a "Blessing". I was right, we all bowed our heads and heard her fathers very fervent blessing. I have no problem with that. Even though I'm not religious, I honor other peoples beliefs, and indeed, I enjoy the tradition, and it gives me time to consider all the things in my "real" life that I'm grateful for.

After the blessing I noticed that all of the food on the table was placed in front of her father. He served each person in his own order. I was honored to be the first person served. It was because I was the guest in his house. The next was Janis's mother. Then Janis, who was older than her sister, then her sister, then her brother. And, of course, her dad served himself last. I wisely watched Janis to see what she did, then I watched the men to see what they did. After everybody started eating, and it looked like the blessing had chased away any pestilence from the food, I started to eat. It seemed to go pretty well, but it was obvious to me, that the man of the house was providing the food for the family table. I left the table a little hungry, because I was a young, working, country boy at the time, with a big appetite. I was proud of myself for just getting through dinner without calling down the wrath of God upon myself for some unnamed and unforgivable food sin.

Separate bedrooms that night, of course, I was also thankful for that.

The next morning, I was silently congratulating myself for staying quite and not doing anything wrong. We were called to the breakfast table where her dad had already put cornflakes in our bowls. They looked delicious, I was still hungry from the night before. Blessing? Yep! We had the breakfast prayers and started to eat. Her dad noticed that there was no milk, he said "Oh milk!" He jumped up and went to the kitchen and poured a big glass of milk. He sat the milk in front of me and sat back down. I thought that Janis must have told her father about my love for a large glass of cold milk with my meals. Being very honored, I lifted the milk to my lips and took a nice deep drink. The milk was very tasty, and very welcome, especially if all that I was getting for breakfast was a small bowl of cereal. I sat the milk back down appreciatively. As I looked around the table, every eye was on me. Her father said "the milk was for our cereal..."

It gets worse... That was the last of the milk. Everybody agonized as to "what to do.. oh, woe is us". I said, rather quietly, that when I ran out of milk at home, I would open a can of canned milk, then mix it half and half with water, it makes a reasonable substitute for milk. They had a can of milk, and I was semi-redeemed. Janis raved about how much she liked canned milk... that's when I knew that I loved her.

The only advice that I have for my friends is, don't marry anybody with parents!

Plane crash at the Reno air show

(sorry, for a short time I had a video here of the crash, but youtube removed it) Many of us have attended this air show, it's always a risk that someone may crash. Those of us that have been in the crowd knows the gut wrenching fear when something goes wrong. The last time that I attended the Air show, a stunt pilot by the name of Jimmy Franklin was flying a bi-wing Waco with a Pratt and Whitney 450 engine. He was in an inverted spin when his engine failed. He got it started and pulled out of the spin at a very low altitude. Everybody thought that it was just part of the show, but nobody with any common sense whatsoever shuts their engine off while being upside down and near the ground. I remember the feeling of nausea that I experienced, seeing someone come that close to dying. To just go on performing for the crowd must take nerves of steel.

The plane was a modified P-51 Mustang. A World War Two fighter plane. The name of the plane was the Galloping Ghost. The pilot was 80 years old.

Who came first...God or Man?

This is a tale for the smartest of my friends, people who have led simple lives, but are the smartest people that I know. It often amazes me the things that simple people can figure out, or just seem to know, that some very educated people never seem to get.

Did you hear the one about the dyslexic, agnostic, insomniac? He laid awake all night wondering if there really was a Dog… I know, most of you have heard the joke before, some of you don’t get it, some of you think that it’s funny. Some of you worry that it’s sacrilegious and worry that God might be offended.

Myself? I’m the one that the joke was written about. My life has been completely filled with worry and wonder. I know that my brain doesn’t work like most people’s brain. I worry that something might be wrong with me, and I wonder if it might be okay to not be like everybody else. I’ve always had a deep desire to fit in. But, strangely, I’ve always wanted people to accept who I am rather that try to be what they want me to be, so sometimes I fit, and sometimes I don’t. I had a friend that once said “ The tail follows the hide”, so I am what I am. Shakespeare said: “First, to thine ownself be true”. Shakespeare is as close to being a God in my life as anybody, so I try to adhere to his wise philosophy on life.

As a very young person, I started questioning everything. I had an uncle that called me “Yabbut the rabbit” because whenever somebody tried to tell me something, I would almost always come back with questions. I would start with “Yeah, but…” so I was called “Yabbut the Rabbit. I never really believed in Santa Claus, because I had a lot of cousins around that were both younger and older than me. They were anxious to trick me, so I was always suspicious of everything that they said. It was easy to ferret out of them that, yes indeed, Santa was really mom and dad, and not a “real person” at all.

Smug that I couldn’t be tricked, it never really occurred to me to wonder if Mickey Mouse was real. Imagine my surprise when I found out that Mickey wasn’t real. Everybody laughed at me that I was dumb enough to think that Mickey Mouse was real. Can you imagine the feelings of a small child that believed fervently in Mickey Mouse to find out that he was not real? I was filled with grief, like I had a best friend that had just died. My grief alone was bad enough, but on top of that, I had to put up with being ridiculed by my cousins and school friends. I vowed that I would never be fooled again. I started to be suspicious of everything.

You know where this is heading, we’ve been there before. At a certain point in my life, I started to question God, and double-especially religion. People that walked on water, turned water to wine, lived a thousand years, hung out in the sky with their winged angels and stuff like that. And, other wildly far-fetched things, that looked like another trick to me. Just like always, I only accept things that are tangible. My euphemistic phrase is, “things that can be hit with a hammer”. If it doesn’t pass my “Hammer Test”, it isn’t real.

Now, this is my same old-saw that you have heard way too many times, but I have a new twist… They are doing a scientific study about belief in God. I turns out that it is a “what came first, the chicken or the egg” story. The new theory is that God did not invent man, but conversely, man invented God. That has always been my conclusion. I often wondered why man would make up such far fetched stories as a person hears about religion and Faith. I was at a funeral one time where the young mother of a young child had died. The minister was telling the child that her mother was in the arms of God, and that someday, years from now, the child would be reunited with her mother. I was watching what I would call a deliberate lie, it occurred to me that maybe the myth about God was invented to give us assurance where there really was none to be given.

I have often admired Godly spiritual people, people with a strong faith, and a deep belief that God’s will was the best option. What ever happens, it is Gods will, and God works in mysterious ways. Too many times though, I find myself wishing that there was a God up there in that cloud that really does listen, because a have a few real bones to pick with him. I don’t care how mysterious his ways are, he is simply not fair to the children that he supposedly loves.

The scientists think that man is basically benevolent to their fellow humans. Man’s instinct is to aid mankind. I have a firefighter friend that describes being a first responder as “The dues you pay for the life you get”. I think that mankind makes up “God” as the mythological father that is always there to take care of the things that we can’t.

Here is some pretty interesting reading on the subject of “Who came first, God or Man”
 
 

Arthur H. "Bud" Harwood, 9-8-1926 9-1-2011

When I was a young boy in the town of Laytonville back in the 1950's, there were two main proffesions. Most people either made logs or they made lumber. My dad always prefered to be a logger for some reason. My uncle Ben Branscomb always liked being in a sawmill. My dad always smelled like pitch, fir needles and dust. My uncle Ben always smelled like pitch, bearing grease, sawdust, with a slight metalic smell, like fresh filed sawblades. So, of course, my heroes were people that made lumber from the forests. There were no greater people to me than men like Ben Mast, Shine Sherburn, Frank Ford, Jack Crawford, my dad Everett, my uncle Ben Branscomb, or anybody connected to the timber industry, top among them was always Bud Harwood. Although he knew who I was, he always knew me as Everett and Elsie's boy. My mother and dad, and my aunts and uncles, went to school with Bud Harwood. Bud's mother, Belva Harwood, was one of their teachers at the Laytonville school.

I remember many stories from the Harwood mill, about good times and bad. My uncle Ben told me that Bud always tried to keep his mill going, even when the mill was loosing money. Bud always felt responsible for the workers and their families, many times Bud keep the mill going when he would have been far better off to have closed it. My unlce told me about at least one time that Bud couldn't even make payroll, he called the crew together and asked them if they wanted to stick through the rough time together and hope to come out when lumber prices went back up. The crew stuck with him, and true to his word, everybody got paid and they had saved the mill and their jobs together like a family might do. Bud has always been one of my most admired of men. He was a captain of his industry, and he did better at it than most.

I have copied his Obituary from the Press Democrat below:

Arthur H. 'Bud' Harwood
By GLENDA ANDERSON












Arthur H. “Bud” Harwood
PressDemocrat.comSeptember 6, 2011 6:17 PM
Arthur H. “Bud” Harwood, a key figure in the Mendocino County timber industry, died at his Branscomb home Sept. 1.
“He and the Harwood family have been important players in the timber industry for many years,” said Chris Rowney, unit chief for CalFire in Mendocino County.
His death came just five days after another iconic timber industry figure, Jere Melo, was gunned down in the forest near Fort Bragg.
“It's been a tough month,” said Rowney, who recalled being in awe of both men when he was starting out in the timber industry in the 1970s.
Bud Harwood's father, “Big Bud,” established a planer and grader operation in Branscomb in 1940. Bud Harwood assumed management of Branscomb Enterprises in 1949. He was later joined by brother Jack and sister Suzanne, and then his children: Liz, Art, Jack and Calvin.
The company was renamed Harwood Products in 1972. In its heyday, the company employed nearly 500 people.
It survived the industry peaks and troughs that grew the number of mills in the county to about 600, then cut it to fewer than six.
But in 2008, the Harwood mill fell victim to the housing collapse. It was dismantled and sold in pieces.
Even as the business declined, Harwood stuck with his ethical and moral beliefs, which meant trying to keep his community employed, even to his financial detriment, Rowney said.
“He fought to keep that mill running and to provide employment in the Branscomb area. From a straight economic point of view, it didn't necessarily make sense,” he said.
“You don't find many people like that today,” said Mendocino County Supervisor Carre Brown. “The loss to the town of Laytonville is very big.”
Harwood also showed he cared for his community by serving on numerous boards and donating generously to causes, including $60,000 to help launch the Long Valley Health Center and to the renovation of Harwood Park, family members said.
Bud Harwood was born Sept. 8, 1926 to Arthur Harwood and Belva York Harwood at their Ukiah homestead and in the same room as his grandmother, Mary Gibson York.
The Gibson's were pioneers who settled in the Ukiah Valley in the late 1850s. They migrated from Canada to Oakland, where Bud Harwood's grandfather served as assessor, according to an obituary written by family members.
Harwood's father moved to Laytonville in the 1920s, met and married Belva York, and raised a family.
Bud Harwood graduated from Laytonville High School in 1944, then joined the U.S. Navy. He trained to fly airplanes from aircraft carriers but. World War II ended before he saw combat.
When he returned from military service, he attended Santa Rosa Junior College, then U.C. Berkeley where he majored in business, played baseball and met his future wife, Virginia Zinn. They married in 1951 and together raised four children. They have nine grandchildren and six great-grandchildren.
The couple enjoyed traveling, dancing and entertainment. They continually looked for ways to improve sawmill and forestry operations, according to the family's account.
“He never quit thinking about tomorrow,” the family's statement said, adding that he cherished his community, baseball and a good political argument.
For years, he held an annual fish fry in Branscomb that drew political leaders. He formed the Branscomb Blues baseball club and would bring in “ringers” from his old college team to play with local players. He also played for the Laytonville Loggers, which competed with teams from Oakland to Eureka.
A believer in public service, Harwood served on the boards of the Redwood Regional Logging Conference, Mendocino County Democratic Central Committee, Willits Unified School District, Laytonville Lions club, Howard Memorial Hospital foundation, Bank of Willits and the Laytonville Little League.
Harwood is survived by his wife, children, brother and sister. A memorial service will be held at 2 p.m. Thursday at the Harwood Memorial Park in Laytonville.
The family suggests that, in lieu of flowers, contributions be made to the Harwood Park Association in Laytonville or Phoenix Hospice in Willits.

Gold! Crystals?

Gold Crystal

Hmmm... What's wrong with this picture?

I've never really thought of Gold as being crystalline, but if it is vaporized and allowed to re-coalesce, it forms as a crystal. In a process, that I won’t even pretend to understand, heat, vacuum, and other chemicals leaches gold from other substances, then allows it form back into 99.99% pure gold. The picture is what the gold looks like when it joins back together. The process is called “The Van Arkle de Boer process”.



The following photo is Platinum formed with a similar process. Iron crystals called "hematite" form at the mouths of volcanoes from a natural occuring chemical/heat process.

Platinum Crystal



Iron Hematite



Touchstone for determining gold purity.

 I actually found all this information while I was looking for the word "Touchstone". I knew that a "touchstone" was used as a test for quality, but I didn't know why until I looked it up.

By using a two pieces of gold, of a known quality, to make marks on a touchstone. Then one gold mark of an unknown quality, the grade of the unknown gold can be determined by using mixtures of nitric acid and watching to see which mark disoves first. The term "Acid Test" also comes from determining the quality of Gold. Not being from gold county, I probably seem a little niave to the Mother Lode people.

This blog used to have a commenter by the name of "Gemboy" that knew all of this stuff. I havent heard from him since the post that I did on the Island Mountain Copper mine.

Washington D.C. Earthquake.

Back in 1981, I was waiting for a building permit for our house to be approved by Humboldt County that dragged on for months, but that’s a whole different story. While I was waiting for the permit, my wife and I decided to visit Washington D.C. We stayed with my wife’s brother, who was a lawyer with the Federal Trade Commission, back when there was “Trade”, but that’s a whole different story.

Anyway, we visited as many museums and monuments as we could. We were at the doors in the morning when they opened, and they had to kick us out at night. Most all the houses back there were very old brick houses, that go back to the 1800’s. I always felt uncomfortable around them. I asked many times, “What holds these houses together? They don’t have bolts or any kind of steel reinforcement.” I remember almost universally being laughed at. People seemed to know instantly that I was from California. They patiently explained that they had no need for reinforcement, because they “don’t have Earthquakes“. Many went on to state that they would never live in California because they were afraid of all the Earthquakes, and they felt that someday the whole west coast of California was going to shake-rattle-and-roll and slip into the Pacific Ocean. Then, it was my turn to laugh at them. I explained that most of our buildings stood-up real well in an earthquake, and most of the quakes that we have are nothing more than a fun ride.

I drew the line at the Washington Monument. My wife wanted to take the elevator to the top. I explained that it was too big of a risk to take an elevator ride to the top of a stack of rocks that was not designed to handle an earthquake. She chided me, and reminded me that one of my mottos is that “You only die once” and dirty-double-dog-dared me to take the elevator ride. So, foolishly, I agreed. A man just can’t allow his wife to think that he is a sissy, no matter what the risk!

When we arrived at the monument, there was some kind of a problem with the elevator and the rides were closed for the day. I was secretly overjoyed, the stack of rocks looks even more unstable standing on the ground looking up at it. As the clouds blow by, it looks just like it’s falling over. I was ready to grab my wife and run just looking at it.

Well, you know where I’m headed with this. Washington D.C. just had a 5.8 Earthquake, a crack opened up in the Washington Monument, and it is closed for safety reasons. Now, one of my other mottos is, “Ha, ha, ha, I told you so!!!”
 
Link to Wikipedia Washington Monument



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This establishment is an excellent place to teach your child manners.

Robin started this, because she mentioned that the newspaper that she used to work for wrote a piece about “No room at the Inn”. A pun on the fact that the Benbow Inn didn’t allow children under twelve in the dinning room back in the 70's. This is not criticism of the Benbow Inn, but a reminder about manners, and why they are important.
I intend to start on a high note, then descend into the abyss. It isn’t me, because I actually love children. So, what is it about so many children today that can be so darned annoying? Again, I know that it is not me. My child was a perfect child, always was, still is. She is… wow, I was going to tell you her age, I guess not even a father can get away with that. I’ll just say that she is past 30... I’m hoping that her perfection is not just the vision through a father’s eyes. Also, I would like to think that I had a little to do with the fact that she was delightful to be around when she was growing up, but I know full well that she was a good kid because it was her intent to be that way. She always seemed to want to be “good”. So, I know that I was not the great stern father that some like to be, but the father that allowed a naturally good kid to grow up to be the polite well liked person that she is. I only helped her to find the way.
We never tried to eat out when my daughter was an infant. It was just to uncomfortable for us, to know that a child that young can’t be well behaved. When she was about 2 ½ we started taking her out to dinner with us. When my wife and I went out to dinner and took her with us, she tried to be a brat. After just one annoying incident, my wife or I would head to the car with her and we would take turns baby sitting while the other gulped their dinner. She got one firm warning way up front, then, no second chances. After one obnoxious behavior, it was out to the car. After several times of this, she discovered that it was much more fun to be good. If you are wondering what obnoxious behavior is, stop reading now, a parent just knows. It doesn’t even have to extend beyond the table that you are seated. Even if your child’s bad behavior stays within the confines of your table, it ruins the thought of a nice evening out. We always included our daughter in our conversations and made her feel that she was a part of the festive occasion of an evening out. Of course you know that it wasn’t perfect, but it soon became a nice occasion for all of us.

One time we had a family reunion dinner at the Benbow Inn, when the Benbow Inn was owned by Chuck and Patsy Watts, they had a firm rule of “no children under the age of 12 allowed in the dining room”. We had the choice of not going, or taking our daughter with us. She was 8 years old at the time. I went down and talked Chuck about his concerns and told him that we were probably even more concerned about bad dining room manners than he was. He tentatively consented to allow her in the dining room. That evening she was part of the conversation and she was a delightful part of the evening, she kept her voice down she was polite, did not interrupt and she was as good as she always wanted to be, she achieved her own goals. After dinner Chuck wheeled out the desert cart and treated my daughter to anything that she wanted. He said that she was perfectly delightful, and was welcome at the Benbow Inn anytime that she liked. She probably doesn't even remember it, but it was a very proud moment for me to be the father of an eight year old that was allowed in the Benbow Inn.
Just so you don’t think that she was always “perfect”, her teen-age years erased many brownie points.

The Benbow Inn, under the current owners, had a “Lady” that decided to nurse her baby in the dining room. I was not a witness, nor do I even have much knowledge of what happened, but I think that it was politely suggested to her that she should use a blanket or a towel to cover her breast. The lady took great offense, and decided to make a great scene and took issue of the fact that she had a right, by law, to nurse her child anywhere, anytime, and in any manner. She told her friends how insulted that she was. She and her friends staged a “nurse in” where they all nursed their babies in the dinning room. Like I say, I’m not sure what really happened, I always miss the good stuff.

I don’t know about other men, but the sight of a female breast stops my heart for a few beats, then I put it all together that it is just a woman nursing her baby, and I can live through it. It’s cool with me, but I kinda’ prefer that they cover up. It doesn’t take much to be discrete. Then I don’t have to rearrange my mind and put it back into polite conversation mode
.
Whenever I go out to dinner I am cursed with, almost invariably, being seated next to a child. My wife laughs at me, that it just seems to be my luck. Almost always, right after we order, a family will come in at sit next to us. Sometimes it is nice, when the parents have the children under control. Well behaved children are a delight to be around, and they seem to sense that. But, other parents don’t have a clue. The kid will start off with a loud scream, and the parents just ignore it. Then it only gets worse from there. I usually just ask the waiter to doggie box my meal and leave. My sister in law has a theory that some people Inflict their children on you in hopes that you will feel sorry for them, because they have to put up with the bad behavior all the time.

I was on an airplane coming back from Dallas Texas a few years ago, and was I seated right across the isle from a three year old child. A child that got to ride free, because she was seated on her mothers lap. The child started with the loud screams, then she would look around and laugh at all the people staring at her. Then she would scream again. The female flight attendant told the mother, in no uncertain terms, to comfort the child and stop her screaming. She told the mother several more times. The woman explained to the attendant that she could do nothing about it. That that is just the way the child was, and she always did that on airplanes. To my delight the attendant told her that it was very unfortunate that she could do nothing about the child, because she was going to have the pilot land the plane in Denver, and remove them from the plane, and she would never be allowed to fly on Delta again. The woman seemed to understand, the child stopped screaming immediately and only whimpered for a few moments after that. Most of the passengers near me thanked the attendant. It was apparent that the attendant knew more about dealing with bad behavior than the passenger.

I saw a near riot in a Garberville café when a child started screaming and a few diners told the mother to control her kid. It turned into a turf battle, of who had the most rights to be there. The mother lost, but wrote mean letters to the editor for awhile.

I think my favorite place to dine out was the Benbow Barbeque House. They had a very neatly printed sign, in the finest calligraphy. It said: “This establishment is an excellent place to teach your child manners”, then they insisted upon it. Most of the kids that ate there were well behaved.