#167 - Still Life

I think most people - at one level or another - have a need to be creative in some way. For some, it may be working with wood or tying flies or painting. Me, I have an almost constant need to be creative. My creativity (such as it is) takes many forms. Often, I express myself creatively through this or my other blog, My Wordsmithing. Other times, I express myself through writing song lyrics.

Sometimes, I try to express myself creatively through photography. Now, I don't claim to be a great photographer. I'll never be confused with Ansel Adams, Richard Avedon, or Anne Geddes. Heck, my wife Teresa has a much better eye than I do when it comes to photography. Still, from time to time, things do catch my eye and inspire me to get out my camera. Tonight while making dinner was one of those times.

I was cutting up vegetables for dinner, a little stir fry to go with some rice. I finished chopping up some garlic, then set the knife I was using down on the cutting board. As I did, I looked down at the arrangement of cut vegetables on the board and thought, this looks like a picture. So I decided it should be.

I pulled out my trusty Pentax K-r, slapped my 50-millimeter, f2 prime lens on it, and here is the result. I took two versions, one with and one without flash. let me know what you think.

Taken with in-camera flash

Taken without flash

The angle is slightly different, but the arrangement is the same in each image, both of them taken with a lens I bought on eBay for $25. I ran both images through a program to auto-correct the exposure, and I cropped the flash version a little. Then I re-sized each image to one-fifth its original size for this blog entry. Otherwise, I did nothing to either image.

If I had been thinking, I might have moved the chopped garlic closer to the other vegetables or moved the knife a little further away for the sake of symmetry. Be that as it may, I kind of like how these pictures came out.

I guess if there is a message here it is that one never knows when or where the creative muse will show herself. The question is: will you be ready when she does?

#166 - Born To Be Punched?

Men, if over time you have come to the point that you feel like punching bags, it apparently means you have evolved. Men, apparently, are designed to be punched.

At least that is one way of looking at a new theory on the evolution of men. As reported on BBC News, this theory, published in the June issue of Biological Reviews, our early male ancestors (the australopiths) evolved “beefy facial features” as a defense against fist fights. The article argues that this “beefing up” of men’s faces occurred as a result of fighting over women and resources. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

The areas that were protected the most by evolutionary changes, according to this theory, the jaw, cheek, eye, and nose structures, are those most prone to damage in a fist fight. Does that mean someone with a “glass jaw” is less evolved than, say, Hulk Hogan? You make that argument and, at least in certain circles, you could well have a fight on your hands.

According to this same article, men are apparently devolving when it comes to having a beefed up face. One of the authors, Professor David Carrier of the University of Utah, says this is because we have less need of such protection. The professor obviously does not watch professional wrestling, mixed martial arts, or daytime soap operas.

Perhaps this theory at long last explains our apparent need to go to war. We were born to fight or at least evolved that way. It is certainly a convenient explanation. It might even be correct. Many of the disputes of the past several years have, at some level, had a resource component involved, whether it be the battles in Iraq and Kuwait (oil) or the standoff in Nevada between ranchers and the federal government (grazing rights) or the legal battles between Alabama and Georgia (water).

What? You say you don’t get into fights? Never have? Are you single? Are you alone? Your failure to fight could be the reason. Men, the next time you want to show a woman you’re interested, go out and get punched, preferably in the face. It’s the least you can do. Besides, it’s what your face was made for. Years of evolution don't lie.

#165 - What's Happened to Us?

I should learn my lesson; I really should. At my age, with my level of education, I should know better that to try and discuss serious issues on social networking sites, such as Facebook. (I imagine Twitter, with its 140-character tweet limit, would be even worse, but I don’t have a Twitter account.) Yet I persist.

I must be a glutton for punishment. Almost never do I encounter consistent and thoughtful discussion, particularly when it comes to political issues. Instead, I see name-calling along the lines of “(insert the name of your least favorite President) is the worst (insert favorite derogatory phrase) EVER!” Opposing views are seen as disrespectful, and each side becomes polarized against the other with no space for discussion, no room for compromise (which is itself seen as a dirty word), and no middle or common ground to be found.

Social networking venues, such as Facebook and Twitter were heralded as great democratizing forces. Personally, I think Facebook is great for keeping up with the goings-on of family and friends. As far as democracy goes, however, I think social networking sites, so-called “citizen journalism,” and the 24-hour news cycle have each done more to polarize this nation than perhaps anything since the battle over Civil Rights in the 1960s. 

Each of these, in its own way, is more about “instant gratification” than it is about meaningful discussion. There are repeated instances of erroneous information being distributed, widely read, widely believed, and widely available for several hours before it was shown to be wrong. The correction gets lost or missed in the avalanche of response to the original report.

The 24-hour news cycle, with its pressure to be first, is largely to blame for this. Social networking, with its ability to quickly and widely share such information, is not blameless. Such instantaneous dissemination of information encourages and even demands instantaneous response. 

I would argue that at no time in history has an instant response to anything ever been well thought out. Thoughtful response and instant reaction are mutually exclusive to one another by nature. (Let's not even talk about the fact that something posted by Joe Schmo potentially carries the same authority and weight as something posted by NBC's Brian Williams since the internet has no way to discern which voice is more trustworthy or authoritative aside from measuring web traffic.)

As I mentioned, compromise has become a dirty word in today’s political arena. Yet for years, give and take by both sides was how anything in this country got done. Today, action is replaced by gridlock caused in large measure by both political parties mapping out positions increasingly at the extreme edge of their respective ideologies in order to even further differentiate themselves from the other side. The President then gets blamed for inaction, unless he actually tries to do something through Executive Order, in which case he gets accused of bypassing Congress and acting like a dictator.

Some of this I have touched upon before, but if anything, things have gotten even worse. I’ve concluded the wisest thing (or at least the safest) is to disengage from politics and political discussion. Such an act is seen as capitulating to the opposite side and as being part of the problem rather than the solution. However, I have now lived long enough to see that people will believe even the most outrageous lies if they are repeated often enough just as many people, for whatever reason, seem inclined to vote against their own base interests based on some faceless group’s assertions that “X (whether it be reduced coal emission, a higher minimum wage, clean air, etc.) is bad for America.”

 

I am increasingly convinced that America as we know it is nearing the end of its life cycle. We should not be surprised; no empire or democracy lasts forever, and America has had a pretty good run. Not as good as the Roman empire, but not bad. I don’t think the end of America will come because of its failure to address the national debt or because of its failure to protect its environment or a failure to transition to alternative fuels or because of a decline in the nation’s morals or an abandonment of “the American ideal," whatever that ideal is.

No, when American as we know it is no longer, it will be due to the fact that we have lost the ability to talk with one another on the national stage in a meaningful and respectful manner. We have lost the willingness to compromise and the desire to search for common ground with one another. That, more than anything else I can think of, will be our undoing.

#164 - Are We Having Fun Yet?

Are we having fun yet? I hear that question fairly often at work and have asked it myself from time to time. Oddly enough, though, the question seems to invariably be asked when the answer is anticipated to be either a sarcastic “yes” or a definite “no.” Why is it that question never seems to get asked when the answer might really be “yes?”

A related question when it comes to the workplace might be what actually constitutes “fun” where work is concerned. I suspect a great many people are not having fun yet where their jobs are concerned. They are, as the band Loverboy put it in the 1980s, "Working For The Weekend." People lucky enough to work in jobs or fields they truly enjoy are likely a minority, although they may enjoy aspects of their jobs such as the ability to work from home, the short commute to work, the people they work with, the benefits, or perhaps some mixture of these.

Of course, all of this begs the question of job satisfaction and what it really means. For some, I imagine it means truly being engaged in their work and not being able to wait to go in to work each and every day. For others, it may well mean having work that is not too demanding (physically or mentally or both) that allows those people to maintain or enjoy a certain lifestyle, either because of the income from the job or the flexibility of the work schedule. For others, it is likely some combination of factors.

I suspect that for many of us the question of job satisfaction does not arise until we are already working in a position and have several months or years under our belts. For others, job satisfaction may not be something they think about until they feel it is “too late.” They may be years (or decades) into a line of work they no longer enjoy, if they ever did. Or they may be at an age where they feel they are “too old” to “start over.” Regardless, they may not feel able to change career path and may feel trapped in their current line of work, which I think most would agree is the antithesis of job satisfaction.

If, as I suspect, most people do not experience true job satisfaction, it then becomes a matter of whether one can find satisfaction through the lifestyle the job allows one to maintain. If you have a low-paying job that you do not enjoy, my condolences, as it is extremely likely you have a lifestyle you do not enjoy on top of a job you do not like. People in high-paying jobs may well have lifestyles they enjoy even if they do not particularly like the work. However, there are potential trade-offs there as well: pressure to keep a position in order to maintain a certain lifestyle, the possibility of increased stress, as well as other potential health risks.

Perhaps that is why so many “experts” stress the need to strike a balance between work and play. However, that can be very hard to achieve, especially when you consider that there is “work,” the kind that brings in an income, and there is “work,” the kind required to maintain a home – dishes, shopping, laundry, yard work, and so on. On the surface, that does not seem to leave much space or time for play. Unless you are one of those sick, twisted souls who actually thinks yard work is "fun."

I think some of our European brethren may have the right idea. Many in Europe enjoy four to six weeks of vacation a year – without having to be in a job for 20 years or more as in the U. S. People in Europe work, on average, fewer hours per year than do their American counterparts, and more jobs are part-time (but with benefits). At least one Swedish city is experimenting with shorter work days in hopes of creating a “happier, healthier, and cheaper” workforce. 

The idea of a shorter workweek also gets support in a 2013 book called “Time on Our Side” from the New Economics Foundation. One of the co-authors of that book and the Foundation’s Head of Social Policy argues that longer work hours are associated with decreased productivity and that part-time workers are actually more productive on an hour-by-hour basis.

Our American/Puritan work ethic dictates that we work longer and harder, so such ideas are usually dismissed out of hand. However, with the rising cost of living and of health care, coupled with what will likely be decreased Social Security benefits in the years to come, this may be an idea whose time is about to come. If that happens, we may or may not experience greater job satisfaction, but we could well experience increased satisfaction with our time away from work. Instead of everybody working for the weekend, we could end up working for a longer weekend. I’m all for that.

Are we having fun yet?

#163 - Am I Certifiable?

Please note that I am not talking about being insane, although I suppose a strong case for insanity could be made for anyone who puts themselves through the process I am about to describe.

We are in the midst of trying to acquire Certified Family Home (CFH) status for our now 18-year old son in order to be able to get and provide him with the services that we hope will help him to one day live a more independent life. I say “in the midst” rather than “in the middle” because I honestly have no idea how far into the process we are or how close we are to the finish line. I suspect no one else involved (particularly the powers that be) knows either.

For the most part, I have been a spectator on this crawl to certification, mainly providing moral support and encouragement to Teresa as she tries to maneuver the maze of bureaucracy and jumps through the numerous hoops required to reach the finish line. One of the more daunting of those is the paperwork required in order to become a Certified Family Home, followed closely by repeated demands for documentation of our son’s status, documentation the state of Idaho has now received in roughly the same form and number of pages perhaps half a dozen times, most if not all of them sent to the same state agency. To be fair, we began maneuvering through this  paperwork jungle even before trying for CFH status.

As for the requirements I think are specific to CFH certification, one of the strangest to me (at least on the surface) was the requirement that we have a dryer. Prior to this, we had not seen the need to own a dryer during our ten-plus years in Idaho, primarily because Idaho is a desert with low humidity, meaning clothing air dries fairly quickly, even in winter. Apparently that is not fast enough for the state, or else they have some sort of agreement with the various appliance retailers in Idaho. I’m sure there must be a rational reason for requiring a dryer, but it has never been made clear to me.

Other requirements:

·         Smoke alarms (and according to at least one HVAC technician, Carbon Monoxide detectors) in every room where sleeping does or can take place (i.e., there’s a bed or something that can be made into a bed)
·         A 5 LB. fire extinguisher, wall-mounted, located somewhere near the kitchen
·         An electrical inspection
·         Fingerprinting and Criminal background checks
·         CPR and First Aid training
·         Passage of a class in assisting with medications
·         Doctor’s written approval of all of the resident’s (our son in this case) medications, including over-the-counter meds
·         Storage of said medications (including over-the-counter) under lock and key in their original containers (not sure how that applies if the resident does not need assistance with medications)

There are also requirements for the minimum amount of sleeping space a resident can have, along with a requirement for a minimum amount of spending cash (if the resident receives Supplemental Security Income, in which case they also cannot keep too much cash on hand). I’m sure I’ve left plenty of other requirements out.

These requirements apply whether the resident on whose behalf certification is sought is a family member or someone you contract to bring into the home. I think that may be part of the problem or reason behind the seemingly massive amount of paperwork and the numerous regulations. From the outside looking in, as it were, I’m not sure such a one regulatory size fits all approach is the most efficient way to go about this, thought I certainly could be wrong.

Deep down, I'm sure there are good reasons for the numerous rules and regulations surrounding acquisition of CFH status. I know that, above all, the rights and the needs of the person receiving care must be protected. At this point, however, all I know is that we are somewhere along the journey with no apparent end in sight. I also feel like I'm taking part in and witnessing a circus, only it lacks the fun and excitement (and maybe the clowns) of the real thing. Are we crazy or what?

#162 - Family, Holiday Camping, Allergies, and Road Trips

(NOTE: I know that for many, spending time in a RV does not constitute camping. However, at my age I appreciate no longer having to get up from a tent floor after trying to sleep on an air mattress while it loses air through the night.)

Let me start by saying I understand that the true purpose of Memorial Day is not so people can have a three-day weekend. However, the fact that it was a three-day weekend, coupled with the fact that two of my wife’s brothers were visiting from out-of-town, made it an opportune time to take the RV out of storage. So that’s what we did, taking the truck and fifth-wheel about 90-minutes outside of Boise to Bruneau Dunes State Park.

The good thing about a holiday weekend of any kind is that it provides an extra day away from work and the demands of daily life. The bad thing about holiday weekends is that even the nicest campground can begin to resemble a Wal-Mart parking lot, packed with dozens of other rigs, all of whom are now your neighbors (if not your closest friends). If you’re lucky, most of your fellow park residents will be courteous and not see your site as the perfect shortcut to the bathrooms, the visitor center, the picnic shelter, the hiking trail their friends told them about. You get the picture. This past weekend, we were lucky in that regard, although I suspect our site location – not close to anywhere campers might be interested in walking to – had much to do with that success.

Early evening view - 1st night

The weather was almost perfect for the last weekend in May – mid to upper 80s and sunny, though it was a bit breezy at times. However, the wetter than average spring we had (at least by Idaho standards) caused my allergies to interfere a bit with my enjoyment of being out with the RV. On the other hand, dealing with allergies in a scenic location, albeit it still miserable, is more enjoyable than dealing with allergies and still having to go into work.

While the park was too crowded for my tastes (to be expected as the holiday weekend usually marks the start of camping season here in Idaho), the weekend was enjoyable and relaxing but too short, as always. My wife may disagree, but I also think the packing up and hitching up to leave process went as smoothly as it ever has. (More so than our arrival as I again managed to forget something we planned to bring. I guess one of our trips isn’t complete unless that happens.)

Teresa and I also took the Tuesday after Memorial Day off from work so we could spend an extra day with her brothers before they began their trip home. Both brothers are into photography, so we decided a day trip was in order to see if we could find some location worthy of their cameras. (Plus, after driving the day before, who wouldn’t want to get back behind the wheel and drive some more?)

After a little thought, we decided to drive to Leslie Gulch, an area still fresh in our minds (at least in mine) as it had been mentioned a week or so prior in a local newspaper article as a worthwhile scenic drive. Leslie Gulch is located in Eastern Oregon just inside the Idaho border near the south end of the Owyhee Reservoir, about a two-hour drive (or thereabouts) from Boise. We ended up in a campground at the end of the dirt road, where we took pictures, had a snack, and met a couple from Georgia who seemed to know more about out of the way scenic Idaho locations than we did, and we have lived in Idaho since 2003!

Leslie Gulch offers up some
interesting rock formations

If you like out of the way locations with interesting rock formations, then Leslie Gulch is worth a visit. The dirt road in from U.S. Highway 95 is fairly well maintained (except, perhaps, in winter) and can be traveled in a regular passenger car, although a Jeep or Honda CR-V (or something similar) might make for a more enjoyable drive. The way in is basically also the way out, so there is also a second opportunity to capture any pictures missed the first time around or to retake shots with a little different lighting.

As I write this, Teresa’s brothers are somewhere between Boise and Western Wyoming. We enjoyed their visit and hope to see them again before too much time passes. I also hope they found some sights worthy of their cameras with which to remember their visit.

#161 - An Open Letter to My Son

On Tuesday, our son Christopher turns 18, that magical age at which all of us become adults. This past weekend, we marked the occasion with a party at the local bowling alley. It was a small affair; the neighbor brought her son and daughter, and two girls Christopher invited from school were also gracious enough to attend.

Christopher said he had a great time, for which I am thankful. It did, however, get me to thinking about what is next for him. I know what I hope for him, but I'm never quite sure what Christopher wants out of life or if he thinks about it much. It's always been a tough subject to discuss with him. Perhaps, like me, he expresses his thoughts better in writing. So, I thought I would try writing down what I hope for Christopher and ask him what he hopes for himself.

Dear Christopher,

In a couple of days, you will turn 18. It is a challenging time and also an exciting one. Most 18 year-olds are preparing to graduate from high school and head off to college or perhaps to working life. As you well know, though, your autism makes you unique in many ways from others your age.

And yet, observing you at your birthday party on Saturday, I see that you are in many ways much like other young men your age. You have a strong interest in girls, and you know a pretty girl when you see one, judging from the two you invited to your party. You also have an adult sense of humor, one that can even be a bit naughty at times. (Your mention of being in a "girl sandwich" did take me a bit by surprise, I have to admit.) So, in many ways you are a lot like your fellow classmates.

You do also have your challenges - sense of time and money, being able to process information and respond in a timely manner. The latter sometimes makes you seem deliberate and thoughtful. At other times, it can be maddening. I suspect that patience will always be a struggle for those you come into your life.

Speaking of your life, what does it hold in store? What do you want to do with your life? What will be possible? I think all of us (teachers, aides, even us parents) have sold you short a time or two in your first 18 years. We have all struggled to determine what you are capable of and what you might be capable of in time. At times, you seem very mature and capable of great things. At others, I struggle to  hold on to the idea of you being able to live a meaningful life. I used to tell people you were 17 going on six going on 30, such are the emotional and intellectual shifts I've seen you make.

You have expressed an interest in varying things, some of them right in line with what many other young adults are interested in - a wife, a family, a career. I don't know how many of these will be possible. I hope all of them. Regardless, I hope you will be better than I was at celebrating the successes and dealing with the disappointments you will likely encounter.

At 18, your whole life is ahead of you. I hope you are able to articulate your dreams and make them come true. Where you are concerned, I've always believed anything is possible. I've no doubt it will be harder for you to make your dreams come true. But I've also no doubt that you are capable of much, probably more so than any of us give you credit for.

Your autism will convince some, perhaps many, that the things you want in life are not practical or achievable for you. Do not listen to them unless you become convinced they are correct, but decide that for yourself. Do not let them convince you. Fight for your dreams but also recognize that you will likely have to work harder to make your dreams a reality.

I know I have been hard on you at times, but it is only because I can see the potential for your life. Deep down, I've no doubt you are capable of making your dreams, whatever they are, come true. If you are willing to work hard at it and not hold on to the frustrations will will most certainly encounter, all things are possible. Dream big! Work hard! Love fully! Live!

Love, Dad

#160 - A Different Take on Easter

Happy Easter, everyone! In the Christian world, Easter is the day when the resurrection of Jesus Christ is celebrated. At least that's the case amongst Christian adults. I suspect their children are more interested in finding out what the Easter Bunny brought them.

Easter has a different or an added meaning in our household. Two years ago on Easter, our family made the decision to stop consciously eating any and all animal products - no meat, no dairy, no poultry, no seafood. People who knew of my love of steak and five-meat pizza were sure this would be a short-lived experiment. They were wrong.

We are now two years into this change, and I don't think any of us has looked back. Does that mean we never slip? No, but we have done our best to stay on what we see as a healthier, more humane, more sustainable and less resource-intensive eating path. By and large, we have succeeded.

Recently, I finished reading an English translation of The Upanishads, one of the most sacred texts in Hindu spirituality. Throughout the text, I was struck by the many similarities between what the Hindu and Christian faiths believe and profess. I was convinced anew of the truth and the wisdom of the old adage "there are many paths to the mountaintop."

Toward the end of my reading, I was especially struck by a passage in the Taittiriya Upanishad dealing with food. These five lines spoke directly to the reason for our dietary change and served to further underline the validity of our reasons for that change:

From food are made all bodies, which become
Food  again for others after their death.
Food is the most important of all things
For the body; therefore it is the best
Medicine for all the body's ailments.

(Taittiriya II.2.1)

We have tried and struggled at times to reduce if not eliminate our intake of processed food, and it is to this effort specifically that this passage speaks. Thanks to economies of scale and highly efficient production methods, processed food is usually less expensive than the natural ingredients sometimes used to help make that processed meal. To me, something is wrong with that picture.

I believe healthy food is a basic human right. I also believe that people have a right to know where their food comes from, what is in the food they eat (GMO grains, hormones, chemicals, etc.), and how their food is produced (are livestock raised using humane or inhumane methods, for instance).

I also believe those who risk much to expose unsanitary and/or inhumane food production methods should be applauded. They should not be accused of a crime, as is fast becoming the common response across America. (Note the spate of so-called "Ag-Gag" legislation popular in agricultural states in recent years, including Idaho, where we live.)

Some of those considerations played a part in our decision to change how and what we eat. Some of the medical research also played a part (e.g., Dr. T. Colin Campbell's The China Study). Ultimately though, I suppose we made the decision because it felt like it was the right thing to do for ourselves, for our son, and for our planet. How could we go wrong? Happy Easter and healthy eating!

(The Upanishads - translation by Eknath Easwaran. © 1987, 2007 The Blue Mountain Center of Meditation. Published by Nilgiri Press.)

#159 - Technology - It's a Beautiful Thing . . . Sometimes

Technology is a beautiful thing – when it works. When it doesn’t, people are inconvenienced, businesses lose money, lives are disrupted.

A recent and minor change in the office where I work brought that notion home to me. The change – a simple battery – caused us to be without access to our internal computer network as well as the external computing world for about 30 minutes. No opening files from remote locations, no sending or receiving e-mails, no surfing on the internet and, because we have internet phones (voIP or voice over Internet Protocol), no incoming or outgoing phone calls.

Once the battery was replaced, regaining access was simply a matter of restarting our computers, reopening our e-mail programs and web browsers, and picking up where we left off. Except for phone calls, that is. This seems to be a problem every time there is some sort of change to our computer network, only no one seems to know where the reset button is for the phones (if there even is one).

Technology is a double-edged sword. It frees us and ensnares us. Thanks to technology, medical and scientific procedures and advances once unthinkable become commonplace. We can map the human genetic sequence and turn once major surgical procedures into outpatient surgeries with small or no scars. At the same time, a computer failure can cause large parts of a major city to lose power or potentially cause a nuclear missile to begin a pre-launch sequence. Because so many of us use e-mail, Facebook, and Twitter to communicate with friends, family, and associates, a technological failure can also cause us to lose touch with the world around us, albeit temporarily.

As I sit and wait for the telephones at work to resume functionality, I am struck by the thought that most if not all of us would be lost and completely unable to function in a world without the technology we take for granted. While our 18th and 19th-century ancestors were largely independent and self-sufficient, we are largely dependent (the objections of some notwithstanding) on one another and upon our economies of scale. Such changes are more efficient and perhaps make life easier, but disruptions are more noticeable and create more inconvenience on a larger scale.

Although they are never mentioned as part of the argument, I suspect such potential pitfalls lend credence to the suggestion (even argument) that each of us needs to occasionally unplug and disconnect from our electronic lives and plug into and connect with the physical world around us. Our e-lives allow us to reconnect with people and places we might otherwise lose touch with, but they are no substitute for the world that exists all around us. As The Police sang in their 1981 song, “we are spirits in the material world.”

#158 - The Perfect Rig

RVSue, a blogger who lives full-time with her two dogs in a 17-foot long Casita travel trailer, recently posted an entry detailing how she came to choose the type of RV she did. Her post resulted in an interesting discussion of rigs, and it got me to thinking about what constitutes the perfect rig.

Of course, there is no wrong answer just as there is no one right answer. One person’s “perfect” rig could be another person’s nightmare. That’s why there are so many different types, brands, and models. Different people also have different budgets and financial comfort levels, which is why you also see such a wide spread of model years still in use.

Other things will also dictate one person’s “perfect” rig  and cause it to differ from someone else’s. Those things include: the aforementioned budget, the desire for new versus used, floor plan and amenities, storage needs, and the type of usage.

That latter factor includes considerations such as: weekend use, extended trips, or full-time living. One must also consider whether the RV will spend most of its time in a full-service campground with electricity and water or camping off the grid. Staying in primitive campgrounds or even outside of campgrounds will require plenty of  battery power and likely some means of recharging those batteries, be it solar panels or a generator or some combination of the two.

We started our RV adventure with a 10-foot pop-up tent trailer. Once we added a dog to the mix, we decided we needed something bigger. The normal progression, so we've been told, would have been to a travel trailer. Not being normal people, we went instead to an older fifth-wheel. That rig taught us a lot about what we liked and did not like in terms of layout. So we moved to a different fifth-wheel (our current RV), which added some living space at the expense of kitchen prep space. Still not our perfect rig.

Now we have begun thinking about what comes next. This time, in anticipation of living in the RV full-time and hopefully doing some traveling, we are focusing on Class A motorhomes. (For those not versed in motorhome types, the Recreation Vehicle Industry Association has a page detailing the various types.) To narrow the focus further, we are concentrating on diesel motorhomes (for now) in the 33 to 36 foot range. We figure this will give us more flexibility than the larger rigs in terms of where we can go while still providing some of the creature comforts. This is roughly the length of our current fifth-wheel, so there is no need to adjust to having a smaller space (other than the major adjustment of living in a smaller space all the time).

At first, we were focusing solely on the Tiffin brand as it is made in Alabama (my wife’s home state), and it has a good reputation for customer service. Since then, we have added the Newmar brand to the mix. It, too, seems to have a good reputation, plus some of the floor plans seem to fit our desires and needs a little better than the Tiffin models we’ve seen. With either brand, we would be looking to buy used as we don’t have Donald Trump money or large government pensions to allow us to buy new, and we don’t really want to finance anything. We’ve worked hard to get out of debt, and we want to stay that way.

We’re still a couple of years or so from any change, so there is still time for us to decide to go a different direction. As we look, we see that no rig is perfect. One may have a well laid out living space but almost no kitchen prep space. Another may have a great kitchen but a tiny bathroom. A third may have a great living space and kitchen, but the TV is in a location where the best viewing angle is standing up at the opposite end of the RV. As is usually the case in a marriage, any rig we choose will be the result of compromising some of what we want versus what we truly need and will also involve some discussion of which shortcomings we can work around. (For instance, in some RVs, the lack of kitchen prep space might be alleviated with the addition of a rolling cart that can be used as a small kitchen island.)

The next couple of years promise to be interesting and exciting as we go through the exploration, examination, and evaluation stages as we head toward the execution of the purchase or the decision to something completely off the current radar. To use the old worn out cliché, only time will tell.

#157 - The Wave

We are all familiar with various types of waves - the wave hello and its cousin, the wave goodbye. There is also the wave off, as in "I'm okay; I don't need any help." It's sort of a way of saying no with the hand. Of course, there is also "the wave," that obnoxious thing fans do (or used to do) at football games. Then there is the Jeep wave.

This latter wave is one I was unfamiliar with - until we bought our Jeep in September of last year. The Jeep wave is a select wave, restricted to and shared between Jeep owners. But the Jeep wave is not for just any Jeep owner.

The Jeep wave is almost a subculture within the Jeep owners subculture itself. Grand Cherokee and Patriot drivers need not apply. The old Jeep Wagoneer is also excluded from the club. The Jeep wave is restricted to owners and drivers of Jeep Wranglers and Rubicons. Four-door versions are also admitted to the club since they simply look like an elongated version of the traditional two-door Jeep.

Much like the secret handshake said to be shared by Freemasons, the Jeep wave is a greeting, an acknowledgment between owners of the traditional Jeep style. I suppose it could be seen as a sort of knowing wink or telling glance. Perhaps it is a recognition that we were discerning enough not willing to settle for some other pretender brand or for one of the upstart Jeep models.

The dealer who sold us our Jeep was apparently not up on secret handshakes and rituals and was remiss in not telling us about the custom of the wave. As a result, i was a bit surprised the first time I encountered it. I simply thought it was some overly friendly driver or perhaps someone who thought they recognized me as I passed. I waved back but thought nothing more about it - until it happened again. And again.

Drivers of other types of vehicles do not wave as they pass. And apparently there are other Jeep drivers not versed in the wave. I notice this lack of protocol primarily in younger Jeep drivers, and I chalk their lack of observation of the proprieties to a shortcoming in their education.

However, I have encountered the wave often enough in the six months we have owned our Jeep to know it is not coincidental or a fluke. Actually, it is something similar to what I sometimes see amongst RV owners as they pass or in campgrounds whenever we are able to take our trailer out. I suppose a passerby might liken it to membership in some sort of cult. I simply like to think of it as civility.

#156 - I Came, I Saw, I Camped

Today was St. Patrick’s Day, ostensibly commemorating the saint who drove the snakes out of Ireland. In actuality, though, I think it is simply an excuse to add green food coloring to beer and get drunk. This weekend, however, we experienced a green of a different kind, the green that one begins to find outdoors as spring nears.

Over the weekend, we made the season’s  first outing with our fifth-wheel trailer. The promise of nice weather this past weekend (mostly delivered upon) made us decide relatively spur of the moment to hitch up the rig and motor about 90-minutes west to Farewell Bend State Park in Eastern Oregon.

Farewell Bend sits along the Oregon side of the Snake River and was the last river stop along the Oregon Trail. It’s a pleasant park that can get hot in summer and is often windy, making it less than ideal for tenters. During the winter off-season (through March), most of the sites are closed off leaving a handful of available spots all lined up like a mini RV park.

For our purposes, though, Farewell Bend was a perfect destination on two days’ notice. We had a chance to get the trailer out for the first time in more than five months and make sure some of the important components (refrigerator, oven, microwave, furnace) were in operational form. Because of the nice weather, we got to spend much of Saturday outdoors relaxing instead of glued to this screen or that or dealing with household chores or home project #47.

We also experienced yet again a phenomenon I marvel at every time I encounter it. Many of the RVers we’ve met have tended to be outgoing, friendly people ready to make strangers welcome at the drop of a hat. They certainly have done so on several occasions.

I do not include the so-called “weekend warriors” with broods of young children still at home in this category of RVer. These people often strike me as trying to cram seven days of togetherness and family activities into a weekend and often appear anything but relaxed. So I guess I can’t really blame them if they aren’t that friendly or outgoing when a stranger passes.

However, I have encountered such friendliness often enough to know it is a much more common occurrence in the RV community than it seems to be in the general population at large. We first experienced it not long after we bought our first RV, a 10-foot Jayco tent trailer. A private message sent to someone on an RV discussion forum led to us being invited into their full-time home on wheels and a discussion of several hours about full-time living in a motorhome.

This past weekend, my wife mentioned to the owner of one of the motorhomes near our trailer that the brand they owned was one we were considering a few years down the road. Next thing we knew, we were being invited to tour their wheeled home away from home and subsequently invited to join them around the campfire, That led to several hours of enjoyable conversation about favorite campgrounds, health, food, retirement, even skydiving.

They are the kinds of conversations that no longer take place in many neighborhoods. It’s as if we have taken the idea that our home is our castle to heart and created an imaginary moat around it to keep the outside world at bay. Neighborhood and residential developments have become so spread out that it becomes somewhat daunting and intimidating to meet neighbors, especially if you tend to be somewhat introverted, as I am.

Because an RV of any kind is much smaller than a traditional home, there is a greater tendency to spend at least part of each day outside. Therefore, the likelihood of interaction with other people is also much greater. The couple we spent several enjoyable hours with this weekend are people we likely would never have encountered if it weren’t for our common ground of RVing. If we lived in the same neighborhood, our paths might never cross.

This social aspect is one of the great things about the RV life. Equally great, though, is the possibility of obtaining complete solitude if desired. Especially in the western half of the United States, there are numerous places where one can get away from just about everything and everyone. That ability to be around people when desired and get away from people when needed is, to me, one of the greatest attributes of the RV lifestyle. It allows one to maintain a balance between the social and private self and to establish or restore a harmony between the human self and the natural world. I’m just not sure it gets any better than that.

#155 - Generalissimo Francisco Franco is Still Dead

A story on the BBC News web site reports that a group of devotees in India have frozen the body of their guru after his death from a heart attack. According to them, he did not die but moved into a state of Samadhi, the highest form of meditation. So they froze his body and will “wait and watch” confident that “he will come back,” apparently because the guru said he would.

I guess my question in this case would be – if the guru wasn’t actually dead, as his followers believe, when his body was put on ice, won’t the freezer finish the job? Not being much good at meditation myself, I also have to wonder whether such cold temperatures might disrupt the guru’s state of Samadhi and bring him back to some other state of consciousness. Namely, death. Hopefully they packed a good cold weather parka in with the guru.

Ashutosh Maharaj, leader of the Divya Jyoti Jagrati Sansthan (Divine Light Awakening Mission), has been in cold storage now for some six weeks. Reading the BBC story, I was reminded of the old running joke on Saturday Night Live’s Weekend Update when Chevy Chase would announce as his top story, “Generalissimo Francisco Franco is still dead” or the occasional variation "Generalissimo Francisco Franco is still valiantly holding on in his fight to remain dead."

The Divine Light guru reportedly led 30 million followers around the world. No word as to how many of them were consulted or agreed with the decision to serve up their spiritual leader “on the rocks.” I also have to wonder whether the divine light remains on when the freezer lid is closed.

At some level, I suppose this story also points up the need most of us have to believe in or hold onto something larger than life, bigger than ourselves. Me, I believe in a divine or higher power, but I don’t believe any faith or religion has a monopoly or even a clear understanding of that divine power or the higher truth it represents.

I certainly don’t think guru Ashutosh Maharaj is or was that divine power. To an outsider, his followers seem to have elevated him close to that level. Thinking more about this story, I am led to wonder whether the same sort of elevation might have happened in the case of Jesus. Perhaps he too began as a simple holy man and was elevated to divine status after his crucifixion by his followers, desperate to have something larger than life to hang their beliefs on.

I know Christians would say no and point to the Bible as evidence. I, on the other hand, have to wonder why so many accept the Bible and not some other holy text, such as the Upanishads or the Koran (or even The Book of Mormon). All were written or at least transcribed by men. Is it really inconceivable that, because of the politics or prejudices of the time, those authors/transcribers might have allowed their own hopes, biases, and opinions to color and influence what was actually set down upon the page? And which Bible? The Catholic version, with its Apocrypha? The King James? The New King James? The New International Version? (Was there an old International Version?) It’s all so confusing.

But back to guru Ashutosh Maharaj, he of the Divine Light. His spokesman (apparently, public relations is important, even after death – excuse me Samadhi) said the guru’s body did not decompose before being put into the freezer, even after remaining out for a week. That qualified as a “spiritual experience,” according to Swami Vishalanand. Actually, though, for those of faith, death itself would be considered a “spiritual experience.”

I don’t really begrudge the guru’s followers their belief that their leader will return. Perhaps that will illustrate the “awakening” aspect of the name of their sect. Until that happens, “Generalissimo Francisco Franco is still dead.”

#154 - Thinking About Making My Escape

Here where I live, the weather experts (does that mean they used to be perts and gave it up?) are forecasting temperatures in the 60s this weekend. That has me thinking about escaping.

By escaping, I don’t necessarily mean running away from it all, although that has a certain appeal. Actually, I’m thinking about getting out of town for a weekend or even longer. We are lucky in that we have the home on wheels to be able to get away from civilization – or at least reduce our exposure to it – whenever our schedules permit.

The promise of warmer weather has me hoping we can make more use of our fifth-wheel trailer than we did last year. Right now, I think bookmakers in Vegas are laying odds of four to one against based on the fact that I have yet to complete my first year in my current job. That puts available vacation time at a bit of a premium.

Even though my wife occasionally have disputes over how to do this or take care of that when we are out with the trailer, those outings help me stay sane. I think I feel more natural, more myself when we are in a campground somewhere, even if all we do is sit outside and read or watch the sun go down. Whatever burdens I imagine I have seem to lighten, and there is an increased sense of peace and calm I feel.

I’ve written about this feeling before. I find it reassuring to know I still feel the same, especially as my ultimate escape plan (i.e., retirement) involves taking the trailer (or motorhome, if we have one by then) out for a weekend and never coming home. Actually, the plan is to trade a stationary home (referred to by RVers as “sticks & bricks”) for one on wheels.

Such a move will require some hard decisions about what to keep (very little) and what to dispose of (nearly everything) as well as explaining the decision to others who might question our sanity. Somehow, though, that seems part of the fun at this point, even though I know when the time comes it will be anything but fun.

The final decisions in that regard are still several years away. In the meantime, I look at prospective homes on wheels and dream (and perhaps drool a little if the truth be told). I read of the adventures of others (sometimes with a slight tang of envy). And I look forward to the day when it is my turn to make the leap and live out my grand adventure. Until then, I settle for mini escapes, weekend excursions that help revitalize me and help to (barely, some might say) keep me sane. How about you? Here’s to making our escape!

#153 - Balancing Between Today and Tomorrow

“Sha-la-la-la-la-la live for today / And don’t worry ‘bout tomorrow, hey”

– The Grass Roots

Finding the balancing point between what is and what might be is always challenging. How does one know whether he or she is making the right choice? Hindsight may be 20/20, but foresight and forward vision can be a bit blurry at best and myopic at worst.

One of the blogs I regularly read is currently in the middle of a series of posts that have a bit of a survivalist bent to them, looking ahead to dwindling oil supplies, hyperinflation, and a collapsing economy. Definitely not light bedtime reading. But is the author right? Are we headed for financial Armageddon?

I don’t know the answer to that question, and he admits he doesn’t, either. That’s the point. Not even the wisest of us has a direct line to the future, so none of us really knows what lies ahead. While the song by The Grass Roots may, on one level, seem a bit irresponsible, there is a lot to be said for living for today.

Today is all we can see and all we have any semblance of control over. That does not mean doing nothing to plan for the future. Nor does it mean not having any hopes or dreams to look forward to or live for. What it does mean is doing the best you can today to plan for the future without sacrificing the present and worrying about tomorrow if and when it comes. 

Looking at the world around me, I see that throwing money at the problems we face, as America is sometimes accused of doing, has so far not solved the problem. Nor has cutting spending to the bone, as has occurred in some European countries, done the job. As in all things, balance and moderation seem to be the key.

I’ve been accused often in my life of being a pessimist, but I am something of an optimist at heart. While I believe we face a variety of challenges in the years ahead, I also believe we can and will address them, whether it be through evolution, technology, divine intervention, or some combination of all three. Forty years ago, during the last worldwide oil shortage, many were forecasting gloom and doom. Since then, we have made great strides in alternative energy sources such as solar and wind, and I suspect further advances lie on the horizon.

I sometimes think about what the future holds for my autistic son. I realize that I will not be around for most of his adult life and will not be there to guide him through whatever lies ahead. Plans are in place to try to prepare for his future, but as what anything forward-looking, those plans are at best an educated guess as to what he’ll face and what he’ll need. At the same time, his parents hope and plan as parents for our own future.

I suppose the moral in all of this is to do your best to plan and prepare for the future you hope to see while also doing your best to live in the now (and not, as Jethro Tull once sang, “keep living in the past”). Metaphysically speaking, I guess I need to work on my sense of balance. Sha-la-la-la.

#152 - Where Did My Hour Go?

“It’s just another manic Monday.” – The Bangles

At this moment, I truly do wish it were Sunday (as the song continues). Not because Monday marks the start of another work week, although there is also that. No, it’s much worse than that. It is nothing less than what I am sure must be an insidious plot to make all of us automatons for several days while who knows what takes place. The plot of which I speak is Daylight Savings Time.

This weekend marked the beginning of Daylight Savings Time, that artificial extension of daylight hours originally intended to help conserve energy. Benjamin Franklin is said to have first proposed such a system so as to make more economical use of candles. The energy saving aspect is what caused Daylight Savings to be used during World War I and to be more permanently implemented during World War II. In the 1970s, the time frame for Daylight Savings Time was extended for additional energy savings during the oil embargo.

The period was later extended and codified at eight months in length, again presumably for energy savings. I’m sure it is mere coincidence that the eight month period of Daylight Savings just happens to coincide with prime growing and tourism seasons as opposed to those times of the year when we might truly benefit from an extra hour of daylight, the winter. I fully expect in the next few years that Daylight Savings Time will be extended once more, allowing it to run through Black Friday so that the mob of shoppers seeking out Christmas bargains can trample each other with an extra hour of daylight to run amok in. That’s only a few weeks past the current end date for Daylight Savings Time, so it would not require much of a change and could be made again under the guise of “saving energy.”

Now, don’t get me wrong. I like Daylight Savings Time as much as the next person. During the summer and early autumn, both prime camping periods, I can enjoy extra hours of daylight out in the RV. I like having plenty of daylight whenever I can take the RV out of town for the weekend.

What I don’t like as much is that first day of Daylight Savings Time, when we lose an hour due to the adjustment of the clocks. Yes, it’s in the middle of the night, when we are presumably sleeping. And yes, we get that hour back sometime in the fall. However, that first day after “springing forward,” I don’t like doing anything close to “springing.” Instead, I feel like a walking billboard for Night of the Living Dead, as my body knows there is something amiss, even if it can’t quite put its finger on it.

At the start of Daylight Savings Time, I feel sluggish and continue to feel that way for several days, until my body finally adjusts to the change. For those first few days, Daylight Savings Time (DST) becomes more like Sleep Deprivation Time (SDT). While later I will enjoy and appreciate the additional hour of daylight, right now, I just want my hour back so I can catch up on that lost sleep.

#151 - The Importance of Being a Dreamer

"I know that everybody has a dream / Everybody has a dream
Everybody has a dream / And this is my dream, my own"

- Billy Joel "Everybody Has a Dream"

I guess I've had a number of dreams over the years. Growing up, I dreamed of becoming a doctor. Then, when I learned how long that would take, I switched to dreaming of architecture (still an interest), then law. Along with the dream of becoming a lawyer was the thought I might someday go into politics - until I realized I wouldn't even win an election in my own family.

These are the dreams of what I would call real life - what I wanted to be when I grew up. There were also the dreams I knew to be complete fantasy - dreams of being a successful baseball player, even though I had no talent; dreams of being a singer/songwriter (I do like to sing and do still write lyrics, so maybe I haven't completely let go of that one); dreams of owning a number of television and radio stations, a pale imitation of which played out in my ten years working in radio and television; even dreams of being an acclaimed novelist (haven't quite let go of that dream yet). Most of these were part of my survival mechanism, I suppose, a way to cope with and get through all of the crap I felt to be going on around me.

Delusional? Perhaps. But I have come to realize that dreams are important to us in all stages of life. They are, really, the thing that keeps up going and makes it possible for us to get out of bed day after day. Even if they might never come true, there is always a chance they might, and that makes it possible for people to go on. They certainly made it possible for me to go on.

An oft-paraphrased quote from Karl Marx states that religion is the opiate of the masses. In some ways, I suspect our dreams are the opiate. They are what keeps us going when times are hard. They give us something to look forward to, to get out of bed for. It has been said that when we stop dreaming, we die.

So even at my later stage of life, I continue to dream. For the most part, my dreams have changed with age. I no longer dream of being this or of having that career. Instead, I dream of going places, seeing things. My dream now is of retiring and living full-time in a motorhome, traveling to see places I've never seen and people I haven't seen in a long time.

Right now, it looks as if that dream could well come true, and that helps keep me going. Plus, I still have dreams of writing that novel. If I can just find the discipline to sit down and do it. What dreams do you hold on to?

#150 - Degrees of Loss

We just got word today that the priest who performed our wedding ceremony died recently after a long illness. I don't know his age, but I'm sure Fr. David was several years younger than us. Today, I also learned that a couple we knew that had married a few months before us had divorced after 20 years of marriage.

Teresa and I were the first couple married by Father David, a wedding Mass he performed for us in September, 1993, not long after his ordination as a Catholic priest. Thinking back now, there are lots of little things that stand out from that day.

I remember what a nice (and warm) September day it was with temperatures probably in the 80s and plenty of blue sky. I remember being glad I was able to scrape together the money to fly my mother and grandmother in for the wedding. I also remember trying to squeeze us all into my little Hyundai Excel.

I remember that Teresa and I decided that, while we wanted the traditional church wedding, we did not want the thousands of dollars in costs or debts that so many seemed to be incurring in order to live that dream. In order to make our dream happen, Teresa bought the fabric for her wedding dress, found the pattern, and paid someone $150 (as I recall) to make it. You'd have been hard-pressed to realize the dress did not cost five or ten times that much.

The rehearsal dinner was another area where we were able to have fun and save money. We booked a local barbecue place just outside of town. Everyone ate off of foam green plastic plates with paper napkins and, I think, plastic utensils, and no one said a word in complaint. It was fun, it was tasty (and traditional, in a Southern sort of way), and it was affordable.

Since we had friends with military shopping privileges, we were able to save a bit on the beer and champagne as well. However, to this day it still pains us to recall the fact that much of the beer ended up being dumped out. I think if we had known that was going to happen we would have stayed at the wedding reception longer and had more to drink. We did, however, end up with five or six cases of cheap champagne that took us years to drink.

I remember us buying most of the members of our wedding party Three Stooges-related gifts. We played Asleep at the Wheel's "Curly Shuffle" during the little get together we held to distribute the gifts. I also remember the fact that my best man, a non-Catholic, had to "suffer" through a full Mass, with all of the kneeling and standing that entailed. It was sort of my revenge for driving six and a half hours to be a groomsman in his ten-minute wedding ceremony earlier in the year.
 

The happy couple with Fr. David

Teresa and I wrote our own music for the ceremony so as to make it even more ours. I still remember Fr. David being a bit nervous since it was his first wedding (as well as ours) and launching into The Lord's Prayer, not remembering Teresa and I had written a musical version for the ceremony.

Ours was definitely a DIY wedding. (We did, however, hire someone to make a cake and provide finger food for the wedding reception.) We even put together the wedding reception music tape. Both of us having slightly twisted senses of humor, so it seemed only fitting that the first song at the reception be Billy Idol's "White Wedding." He was right. It was a "nice day for a white wedding."

We lost touch over the years with Fr. David, as we have with many of the people who blessed us with their presence that September day. Some, like my mother and grandmother and Teresa's father, have died. Others have moved to various parts of the country and out of our lives.

Although I don't have an actual count, I'm sure Fr. David performed many more wedding ceremonies and Masses after ours, no doubt becoming more confident and self-assured with each one. Teresa and I, though, will always be honored to have been the first.

We've lost Fr. David, but we retain the memories of that special day. Godspeed, Fr. David. May you find eternal rest.

#149 - Where's the Fire?

“I feel the need. The need for speed.” – Top Gun

There must be quite a few fans of the movie “Top Gun” here where I live, judging from the way some of them drive.

I was heading into work this morning when a company van from a local pastry shop came barreling out of their parking lot and had almost reached the speed limit by the time they got onto the actual road. The van proceeded to pick up speed from there. I didn’t hear the air raid sirens or anything, but there must have been a four-alarm donut shortage somewhere. Either that, or the driver had already consumed a couple of days’ worth of caffeine and sugar.

On the same drive this morning, while driving a couple of miles per hour over the speed limit myself, I was passed by a truck going close to ten miles an hour too fast – in order to pass me before being forced to turn right. This even though there was plenty of room to merge behind me. I am happy to report (in a told you so sort of way) that, because of other slower traffic ahead, said driver never got more than three or four car lengths ahead of me. Not that I am vengeful or vindictive or anything.

What I don’t really understand is the day-to-day rush to get somewhere, usually to work, as if that extra minute (or even less) will actually make a difference. I get that there are emergencies that sometimes necessitate the need for speed, but does clocking in for work at 7:29 a.m. as opposed to 7:30 or even 7:31 really matter. Are there sales taking place with tiny five-minute windows of opportunity that justify or excuse the lack of courtesy or possible endangerment of others?

I’ve also seen people several cars behind me in my lane on a city street pull out into another lane that is about to become a dedicated left-turn lane, pass several cars, then cut back into my lane (sometimes blocking the left-turn lane while waiting for an opportunity to force their way back over). It’s as if their time or their destination is more important or more worthy than mine or the other drivers they’ve passed. News flash: in most cases, it isn’t.

Consideration of others seems to have disappeared, right along with rational political discourse and compromise. It all seems to correspond with the advent of the 24-hour news cycle and the always-connected world in which we live. Some people here where I live blame it on the California drivers who have moved here. I suspect the answer is not quite that simple. 

In our consumer-driven culture, we are under constant pressure to produce and consume. I suspect some of that has also leached into our daily activities. Many people seem to always feel the need to be going or doing (or going and doing), and they have scheduled their entire family’s lives accordingly.

Not being an urban planner, a psychologist, or even a law enforcement officer, I don’t have the answer. Nor do I know the solution. I do have a few suggestions, though, for those of you always hurrying to and fro. First, stop and smell the coffee before you drink it. Those extra few moments don’t matter much in the long run, but they might help you begin your day on a more relaxed footing.

Second, look at all of those planned activities on your calendar. How important are they in the greater scheme of things? Is your schedule so full it allows no space for the unexpected or for doing something spontaneous? If so, you have way too much on your plate and way too little time on your hands.

Finally, might I suggest you try approaching each day’s drive to work or to run errands as if it will be your last? Because the way you drive, it may well be.

#148 - Write Your Own Song

"You can write your own words / You can sing your own song
And it doesn't really matter if you're out of tune / Or if no one sings along"
- John Wesley Harding "Sing Your Own Song"

Next to Elvis Costello, John Wesley Harding is, perhaps, my favorite songwriter of the last twenty-plus years. Plus, he's written three novels. In other words, he's done the things I always told myself I wanted to do.

A part of me has always been into writing. I won't call it a passion, as there has always been some question about whether I'm truly passionate about anything. However, I have enjoyed writing for quite some time, even making a living at it during my years as a reporter and later as a news producer.

In high school, I worked on the school newspaper, writing editorials about book burning, gas rationing (it was the 70s, the time of the oil embargo), and the like. I latched onto writing as a way to be noticed, I suppose, something that didn't happen from being in marching band, and I wasn't coordinated enough or strong enough or fast enough for sports.

Writing also became my way of coping with the world around me outside my home, as well as the feelings and emotions inside me and my home. Because I have the discipline and dedication of a gnat (and at times the attention span to go with it), I never worked much on longer forms of writing, although I always told people I wanted to write a novel . . . one day.

Instead, I latched onto song lyrics as my outlet. It was almost like writing poetry, except I didn't have to be opaque or obscure or quite so metaphorical. Song lyrics were also good and inexpensive therapy. My lyrics, bad as they were at times, helped me to express and work through things I wasn't really comfortable sharing with others. As a result, most of the lyrics I've written have perhaps thankfully never been shared with others.

I began writing lyrics my senior year in high school, and I've never really stopped, although I have gone months at a time without writing a word. Forty years of thoughts, feelings, rhymes, and stories. Most of what I've written is utter drivel and not likely to be improved with age or revision, something I almost never do.

Yet, I keep writing. It keeps my mind and my imagination active. I've written enough words to probably fill two or three novels, although I don't think much of a narrative could be pieced together from them if all those words were combined. (An interesting experiment for perhaps another day.)

I'd like to think my lyric writing has improved with time, age, and possibly wisdom, but a writer of any genre is generally not the best judge of his or her own work. So, at the end of this post, I'll let you decide.

The song I quoted at the start of this post, "Sing Your Own Song," conveys the idea that we each of us should live our own lives, write our own songs, as it were, and not worry about what other people want, think, or say about it. It's the idea that each of us marches to the beat of a different drummer.

I've been marching to that different beat for most of my life. I'd like to think my drummer has gained a better sense of timing and rhythm over the years. I'd also like to think that drummer will one day help me beat out that novel I still hope to write. In the meantime, I'll keep writing my lyrics, even if "no one sings along." Here's the latest, based on no personal experience or person I know, yet it probably fits several people who have gone in and out of my life over the years.

Just One of Those Things

I see the crystal vision / Of places we once went
I know my indecision / Caused us to lose the scent
Of what we had
I know I should be sad
But I'm not even mad, it was just one of those things

I hear the distant echoes / Of songs we used to share
They seem to end in mid-note / Left hanging in the air
Reminders of
This thing we once called love
Not quite like hand in glove, it was just one of those things

We thought we knew where we were going
We hadn't a clue
Each day, the doubt kept growing
Inside both me and you

Around me, imitations / Of things we used to do
Are there reminding me of / The life I had with you
So long ago
Where did that feeling go?
I don't really know, it was just one of those things

We finally reached the point
We couldn't take any more
One of us had to leave
We both walked out the door

I know someday the memories / Will simply fade away
Well meaning friends no longer / Asking if I'm okay
Like something's wrong
We just did not belong
And when one day you were gone, it was just one of those things

No need for sad goodbyes, it was just one of those things

One day we'll look back on this as just one of those things

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