Farm Implements

We lived on Mill Hollow Drive in Moreland Hills, about 20 miles East of Cleveland Ohio. The house was a Cape Cod style, dormer windows for the upstair's tiny bedrooms. The house sat back from the road, gravel driveway, and a large willow tree just to the North of the driveway entrance. The back of the house had a screened in porch and we looked West to a line of tall trees on the ridge behind us. On the other side of the those trees was a field, and, as I remember from a time when I was 5 years old, it was planted in wheat.

On a hot and sunny summer's day, I remember  there was a red Farmall tractor with a cutting bar cutting the wheat. Behind that was another tractor pulling a wagon and men with pitchforks were heaving the wheat onto the wagon. When the wagon was full of wheat cuttings, it turned to the West and disappeared. I walked to the field to follow the wagon. In the distance I saw a dust cloud and a column of black smoke, and I heard what sounded like a steam locomotive. The field was surrounded by a block pattern steel fence so I had to first walk South along one side of the field and then, at the corner, head West. As I approached the dust and black smoke cloud I saw a wagon with a man on top of the wheat heap, he was pitching the wheat stalks into the upraised shoot of a wooden gray colored stand alone threshing machine. Connected by a half twisted belt was a steam tractor on gigantic iron wheels, single piston, tended by a man shoveling coal into its boiler; steam and black smoke coming from the chimney. The threshing machine whirled and crunched. At one side, a man with a burlap bag stood by a lever handled door and emptied wheat grains into the bag. Out the rear, a long pipe reached high into the air creating and ever increasing stack of straw along with a billowing cloud of dust.  I stood there watching the process: wheat stalks in, grain poured from the side door, and straw out the back. I stood there listening to the chug chug chugging of the steam tractor, the tap tap tapping of the eight inch wide leather connecting belt as it slapped together, and the whirling cacaphony of the thresher.

That's the way they use to do it, way back when.

My father told me about using a wooden snow plow, pulled behind horses on winter days; plowing Kinsman road, a brick reminant remained into my youth living in Daisy Hill, which had triggered my father's rememberence of his early days working as a farm hand. During the Spring, as the horses had not exercised much, being kept mostly in their stalls during the winter, my dad would walk behind the dirt plow, digging deep into the soil as the horses pulled mightily and with so much pent up energy.

Another farm rememberance was when I would visit my Grandparents who had a two story concrete block house, which Grandpa had built on the South side and just behind the sand dunes of Lake Erie. My family would sometimes stay for a week at the "lake". It was at one of those visits that I remember visiting Shimpsa's farm.

The farm was off a dirt road, which was off an intersecting dirt road onwhich my grandparents lived, which was off an intersecting dirt road "Countyline Road" near Geneva Ohio. Across the street from my grandparents solitary shore house, was a forest inwhich my grandfather hunted rabbits in the fall, and grandma would make Hossenfeffer, cream marrianated rabbit stew.  Shimpsa's farm was locate kitty-corner Southeast of the forest and on the East side of the dirt road. The driveway into the farm yard was flanked by a dust covered white house on the right, straight ahead was the chicken coop with ramps leading up to the chicken roost doorways, and on the left side was the red barn with black roof. Standing to the back corner of the barn was a round wooden silo. On the right side of the chicken coop was a wooden corn crib filled with yellow kernaled, red based corn cobs. Just in front of the corn crib as a round stone grinder; you put the corn cob into the top, and the grinder would grind off the corn kernals. One would then open a bottom door and retrive the corn. In a small kerchief, I collected the corn. Chickens would come up to me pecking at my little bag and me. Frightened, I dropped the little bag and the chickens pecked away at the freshly husked corn.

Rows upon rows of Concord grapes hung from wire fences, Eastward, right behind the chicken coop. We walked the rows of grapes with galvanized buckets and collected the grape clusters, sampling as we went.

At wheat harvest, there was a new "combine": reaper and thresher, spewing wheat shafts out the back. Behind the combine was a contraption which raked the wheat shafts into rows. Behind that was an automatic bailer, scooping up the rows of wheat shafts, and making 55 pound bails wraped in bailing twine. The tractor pulling the bailer also pulled the trailer where two men took the bails and stacked them high, eventually to be housed in the barn, above where the cattle were milked. Straw to sop up the urine and manure, which would be spun off the back of a manure wagon onto the fields later in the fall and winter.

Mr. Schimpsa had a grey Ford tractor with bright red steering arms. The black back tires had manure between the ribs. The seat, steel and multiple ventilation holes. The gas lever was silver and its pointer indicated which speed on a long ribbed indicator bar just on the otherside of the steering wheel.

Mr. Schimpsa was a wizzened man, gray haired and wearing bib overalls, knee high rubber boots and a red and white scarf around his neck. He showed us how to do things and left us alone as he had other things to do. We would climb up the hay and straw in his barn, high to the huen log rafters. Wide openings between the barn siding allowed us to see the Western sun, road, and forest. The galvanized tin roof above, was secured at 3 foot intervals to the rafters. There was a musty smell to the hay. Pigeons flew amongst the wooden beams.

These are some of my rememberances of the farm implements I had seen when I was a boy, as Kathy had recalled seeing yet older farm implements when we were at the Peacock tree farm this winter. I was harkening back to my experiences even as Kathy was relating her own.

Winds of Change

This is an artificial tree year for us. Like 1/2 of the USA population that puts up a Christmas tree at this time of year, we have sucumbed to artificial, made in China, pre-lit, bought at Sears. This is a turn of events from last year when we cut and put up the largest fir tree ever. We tell ourselves that last year was different than this year. The grand kids won't be coming here this year. Next year, or whenever, the grand kids come, we'll have a fresh cut tree from Peacock's Tree Farm then. We'll put this year's artificial tree downstairs and have the fresh cut tree topsides. Well anyways, that's what we tell ourselves. 

This year's choice of an artificial tree came from last year's over-doing-it, and a vow not to repeat that scenario: what with the struggle we had in getting the tree off "Big Red", dragging it into the house, standing it up, needing an 8 foot step ladder to decorate it, watering it several times a day, and, in the end, having to drag it out the front door again, put it on top of "Big Red" and taking it to the East Lansing Patriarch Park where EL City employees would chip it into walking trails covering. 

This year we went to Peacock's Tree Farm twice. Once to order a pine bow wreath, and the second to pick it up the next day. We wanted the smell of pine in the house, we wanted the joy of Christmas that comes from being at Peacocks as we walked in the crunchy snow, slide open the lower barn door, smelled the pine smell, go into the cozy Christmas "stuff" store with its Department 56 lighted houses, stores, and workshops. The Lionel Train, coach cars pulled by a replica steam engine, runs around and around. The ceiling is low, it's warm inside, with display after display of purchasable items for Christmas. Christmas carols are faintly heard, coming from a radio behind the service counter.

Done with our ordering on Friday, we went upstairs to the main floor of the barn now laid out with tables and benches awaiting the school kids for hot chocolate and to learn about farming of an era long since past. As one comes up the drive of Peacock's, wooden wagons and hauling sleds, single cylinder engine tractors, are scattered about, they in various stages of decay. Inside the barn, are pictures of bygone farmers, their implements, costumes, and general rugged appearance. As we walk into the former hay loft, Kathy recalls her father using similar period implements, and, before there were mechanised bailers, wooden haywagons, heaped high with hay from the field,  would be hauled up the incline to the sliding barn door, where the hay was once again pitchforked into piles reaching to the barn roof.

It seems like Christmas time is an opportunity to recollect the past, either our own, or, at least, our culture's past. Traditions help us rewind the scenario to times we can recall. Changing those traditions, like purchasing an artifical tree instead of a fresh cut tree, comes with a little melencholy, as there is a loss and you are not so sure of what is instore for the future. Yet, we change, all the time we change. This holiday, we travel to our grand kids. We will bring a little of the old traditions, like decorating Christmas cookies, with us. 

Winter workshop

On March 3rd, 1865, Congress passed and President Lincoln signed into law, a bill calling for "In God We Trust" to be inscribed on U.S. coins. Upon reading this piece by John Murray in the Wall Street Journal this morning, I immediately recalled a brief historical vignette, my Grandpa, my mom's dad, told to me.

Back in the really old days, when cities like Cleveland Ohio were platted; ie, surveyed and laid out into city blocks with long extending roads leading from Public Square, East, West and South, public transportation took the form of "Street Cars". This light rail system moved on parallel tracks in the center of the street. Initially these streetcars were pulled by horses and after the turn of the 20th century, by electic motors, obtaining electric power from overhead wires. These streetcars ran from center city to rural communities. (There was a light rail system with regular service from Public Square to the community Chagrin Falls 20 miles out of town). Automobiles were rare, especially in the defined ethnic clusterings, like the Czech ghetto, and almost everyone used these streetcars to get to and from work, clothing and grocery stores, and services like doctors and dentists, insurance agents, etc. Work and life services were organized along these public transportation corridors. As a fluid immigrant community, the Czech ghetto, as was the Hungarian community on the North of it, and Romanian to the South, had immigrants who came almost on a daily basis from impoverished countries ("Give us your tired and poor, its huddled masses yearing to be free") whose people, many of whom were refugees from subsitance farms, were unfamiliar with living in cities, let alone in a "modern" city with streetcars. Therefore, when there was a need to get from one's particular ghetto, one had to ride the streetcar. One of the problems the immigrants encounted with the streetcar system, was paying for the ride with the correct coinage.  Some people did not know what the fare was, ie did not read or speak English. They would put multiple coins in their hands and have the streetcar conductor pick out the right fare from the outstretched hand. Or, not having any coins at all, offer some personnel object as price for the ride. As opposed to kicking them off the streetcar, the conductor would solicit someone else who got on at the same stop, to speak to the person who didn't have the correct fare, in their native language, about how the system worked. 

Grandpa related one incident where a lady ahead of him was bewildered by the streetcar system, seeing others ahead of herself offer coins for the fare, she having none, and, with some reluctance, took off her rosery and offered it as fare. The conductor, refused the rosery, speaking through a nearby interpreter, that the fare needed to be in money and not her religious object. The lady did not have the correct fare, but rode to her destination anyway. The next day, Grandpa got on the same streetcar with the same conductor and saw a hand printed sign in English and Czech: "In God we Trust, all others pay CASH." 

WINTER'S APPROACH

I am looking out the Westward viewing window of the Sun Room. Large snow flakes are coming straight down from a gray sky. The snow fall began late this morning and has been steady ever since. From green grass to snow covering lawns, tree branches and the Lake. The snow has been so heavy, it is lying on top of the water similar to snow lying on the ground. There have been some ducks that have been swimming in the water, snow accumulating on their chests as the plow paths in the snow, much like children making paths in the snow on the ground. The ducks, seem to have tired of their efforts and have subsequently paddled to shore. The evergreen trees to the side of the Sun Room, have bows bending downward from the weight of the heavy snow. A red squirell is making tracks across the snow in the yard in front of me. The roofs across the way have an even coat of white. The pine trees harbor red cardinal song birds as well as smaller blue and gray colored ones as well.

I am snug and warm, what with the floor heating. Three shallow holiday candles burn in ceramic leaf shaped holders. The smell of turkey soup comes from the kitchen.

We are entering our winter time; not quite the Winter Solstice yet, but visibly winter has arrived. Quietly.

Thanksgiving

There were times when we spent Thanksgiving at the Cottage. I would leave OSU and Columbus Ohio, hitch-hike my way to Cleveland Wednesday early afternoon. Grandma Honicky would finish her school day about 3 PM, we would pack the car and drive to a rest stop (Lackawanna) just before Buffalo New York. The problem with the drive at that time, Interstate 90 was not completed. One had to drive through various towns along the way, which had struggled with their State Legislature to block the building of the Interstate as the City officials correctly surmised that the downtown businesses would collapse without the traffic. So we would first drive Route 20 out of Cleveland, then pick up parts of completed Interstate 90 outside of Geneva Ohio, then have to drive Route 5 through Ashtabula Ohio and Erie PA. Just East of Erie's City limits was a deep ravine, made by a river with water flowing North off the Appalachian mountains. This particular Wednesday evening it had been snowing, a truck had jack-knifed its trailer across the road about 1/3 rd of the way down the hill. Only one car at a time could run the opposite shoulder around the trailer's rear brakebar, that steel piece you see hanging down from the rear of the trailer. As the tractor was down in a steep ditch, the attached tailer was canted down at the tractor, but its rear end rose high in the air. The brakebar hung high in the air and any mistake and getting too close, that steel piece would rip open the roof of the car like a can opener. Since the road was slippery already from snow, one had to have enough speed to get momentum to get up the ravine on the other side. With heart in my mouth and pulse racing, I sped down the hill, two wheels in the gravel shoulder and two wheels on the pavement and I passed the menacing wreck reached bottom of the ravine, and sped up on top of the ridge. Mom and I drove silently to the rest stop. We were going to meet the Tyler's, have dinner, exchange passengers and form a two car carivan through Buffalo, cross the Peace Bridge and head along the shores of Lake Ontario via the Queen Elizabeth Way. Near Burlington Ontario, we left the QEW for Route 6 heading North. Between Burlington and Guelph was a town called Puslinch, a solitary gas station, and just beyond the gas station was a narrow bridge, just barely wide enough for two cars. Bill Tyler, Rae, Ralphie and I in the Tyler's Oldsmobile stationwagon had a very scary encounter when a car coming in the opposite direction was crossing the bridge at the same time as we were beginning to cross. The oncoming car's tires hit slush on the road. The spray covered the whole car like a wave in the surf. We came out the other end, the windshield wipers were not able to clear the windows for 3 or 4 seconds, an eternity. After Guelph came Arthur, Mt. Forest, and others. We re-arranged the crew in Owen Sound, downtown Owen Sound since there was no drive around as there is today. Continuing on Route 6, up a steep hill made by the Niagra Escarpment, we took the Shallow Lake cutoff towards Wiarton. The Wiarton Highway Garage you will note is located on top of the hill above Wiarton. Salt trucks strategically are placed to plow and salt the road on the way down since no truck could climb that hill when it was icey. Up the hill we went towards the Mile Inn. At that time there was a sharp high banked left turn. Route 6 heads West for two miles and then there was a high-banked curve to the right. The road became gravel from there on to Tobermory. Just past Wiarton, the Lake effect of snow is apparent and there was lots of snow. Route 6 had been recently plowed and there were 3 foot ridges on either side of the road made of snow. As we passed the Howdenvale Road, we came over the ridge and down into the flat portion of the Peninsula, just before Pike Bay Road. In the middle of the road a rabbit sat staring at us as we came bearing down. We slowed and the rabbit started to run in front of us, weaving from one side to the other. We stopped. the Rabbit stopped. We started again and the rabbit started again. Each time the rabbit ran in front of us. After several stop and goes,I slowly increased my speed waiting for a time when the rabbit weaved clear to the right side of the road. By now the rabbit was a blur as I accelerated past it. We all had an emotional outburst of laughter. As we got to Little Pike Bay Road, it had stopped snowing and the wind had blown the snow off the gravel roads, leaving exposed little rocks. It was 1 AM, the sky was crystal clear, the stars were brilliant. We drove Tyler's Turnpike with white powder snow billowing from either side of the car since in the bush, the wind had not blown the road clear. Before there was a Tori, there was a gate we unlocked (same key now as then) and turned right, headlights catching the snow clouds from our tires. First came the boat house, then the cottage, all shuttered. The porch in its early years was a screened in porch. Bitter cold, frozen breath, flashlight in hand, I stepped from Black Beauty and walked in 6 inch deep snow to steps leading to the porch. I unlocked the padlocked porch door, walked in and unlocked the cottage. "Hello house" I called, walked to the bedroom and turned on the electricity. The smell from the cedar branches we had left on the beds to keep the moths away, permenated the cottage. I gather up the paper and branches and put them into the fireplace and opened the damper. But, before I could start the fire, I had to climb onto the roof, and remove a stone cap covering the fireplace flue. The cap was to keep critters from making a winter's home in the chimney. That done, mom was already moving the groceries into the cottage, I climbed down and proceded to first light the paper in the fireplace, establishing updraft, added the now tinder dry cedar bows, and soon there was a roar and flames shooting up the chimey. I added the dry split birch logs left for just such a purpose. The stone of the fireplace was cold, the fire was hot. I went outside to bring in more stuff, there were sparks shooting out of the chimney, a reminder of the fire hazard of fireplaces. I made a mental note to buy a fireplace metal screen cover such as we have on there now. From our purchases at the Duty Free Store before crossing the Peace Bridge in Buffalo NY, we dipped into out stash of booze, mom had a shot of Canadian Club whiskey, and I had an ice cold beer. We said our "good night's" and we promptly got under the covers and fell fast asleep. The next morning we headed over to the Tyler's, to help with the Thanksgiving meal; Bill was cooking the Turkey.

Detroit, Washington DC and the 2nd Amendment

Detroit was recently awarded the "Most Dangerous City" Award by Congressional Quarterly from data obtained through FBI records. Last year and the year before, the award went to St. Louis MO. This year St Louis dropped to 2nd. Recently, in Detroit, 4 people were shot and killed in a "known drug house", 2 of whom were small children. Also in Detroit, an owner of one gas station was shot to death by the owner of an across the street gas station over a $0.03 per gallon price decrease.

The US Supreme Court has agreed to hear arguements in the case of a Washington DC ordinance banning hand guns. The issue of course is the legislative attempt to deal with violence by banning hand guns in the City, and the specific rights guarenteed by the Constitution.

A little context is needed I believe, to understand those 27 words in the Constitution. Our Founding Fathers feared a standing army which could be used to control the populace. They were well versed in Classical literature and the power of a small group of well armed and trained soldiers, like Spartans. Their solution to threats by other countries, would to raise a citizen militia, farmers, merchants, artisans and such, who would have their own weapons. Not everybody would be in the militia, only, landed men and their male children; hence, the provision of hanging 13 year olds for treason. It was envisioned that someone who was landless who would fight in a militia would be paid in land the Government controled; hence, they would become land holders. Things certainly didn't go as our Founding Father's envisioned, did they. We have two standing armies (Army and Marines), an Air Force and Navy. What keeps our military from taking over the country has been the indoctrination at the Service Academies of the officers, that military takeover of the government is just not the way to do things.

Fast forward to the mid-twentieth Century and the emergence of the "Saturday night Special" in the urban slaughter scene; a snub nosed 38 calibre handgun that would fit into a pant's pocket or a women's purse. Prohibitions on its manufacture, licensing, distribution, sale, carrying were codified into laws, without, I might say, without a Supreme Court hearing. In its place, has come a cornicopia of handgun weapons, most of which are semi automatic, have 9+ round magazines, and are carried by many people who are specifically prohibited from carrying any weapons, namely criminals, crazy or otherwise. The currrently popular "Glock" carried by police forces throughout the country is manufactured in Switzerland a nation with the highest per person gun ownership.

What has been the track record of handgun bans? Well, the hand gun ban in Washington DC has been in place for 31 years. Last year there were 137 gun related homicides. Has this number of gun related homicides substantively changed from before the hand gun ban? No. Are comparisons of before and after handgun bans were instituted valid? No. So much has changed regarding our nation's cities, the disappearance of ethnic districts (formally called ghettos) which had been the predominant social organization has morphed into a massive flight of people, money, and social controls, with, in many instances, people of color filling in the void. Drugs, violence, joblessness, ignorance have become the new urban reality.

From my perspective, address the issues of violence, poor health, joblessness, ignorance by spending the limited resources of cities on increasing an educated police presence on the street (more boots on the ground), getting the best people into leadership position in the city's bueacracy (changing hiring and firing policies and proceedures), shun gimics and politically correct solutions, build the infrastructure for job development (ie, shed work rule restrictions, put the grant monies already going into cities in the hands of accountable bueacrats, etc), provide basic health care including have a health education nurse go into every home to assess the vaccination status, nutritional status, mental health status and basic health information awareness of each person in the household; an educational system that rates its teachers by personal inclass assessments, performance ratings, expects continuous teacher learning and its validation; assesses the children in an ongoing basis; enact a two way communication system with parents that weekly informs them how their child is or is not progressing. Provide a set of expectations that the school has for the parent's involvement in their child's learning.

Hand guns perse do not appear to be the problem, they are a symbole of a society believing that violence is an acceptable solution to the discontent one feels. Unfortunately, violence seems to be hooked to "justice", respect, entitlement. Disconnecting justice and respect and entitlement from violence requires a willing media for this educational campaign.

Have I said enough for now?

Silver Bells in the City

Kathy is decked out in her white quilted parka. Around her neck is a neckles of flashing minature christmas tree lights. I am in my dark green MSU sweatshirt with an overlaying red vest. Festively attired, we head to Clara's for dinner prior to the Silver Bells in the City Electric Light Parade in downtown Lansing. Clara's roof lines are strung with white lights. There is a warm glow inside the old Lansing Train Station.

After dinner, Kathy and I walk to the corner of Washington Street and Michigan Avenue, joining the 30 people deep thong lining Washington Street. First come the Lansing Police Department Motorcycle mounted police, sirens bleeping, and red and blue lights flashing. The first float for this years electic lights parade, aply enough is the International Brotherhood of Electirical Workers local 665 wearing outer teeshirts claiming "We Build Lansing". Their float is covered with lights, and animals and people, and... Next comes the Eastern High School Marching Bank drum beat, whistle, raising of instruments into a round of Frosty the Snowman, followed by more electric light bedecked floats: the Humane Society, Salvation Army, Potter Park Zoo, People's Church, Lion's International Air Force fighting the War on Blindness: Diabetes, Glaucoma. The United State Army has a light covered HumVee with a sign: "Peace on Earth". The United States Marine League Capital Detachment, a lighted "deuce and a quarter" truck with a sign " If you can read this, thank a teacher." The MSU Rodeo Club galloped down the roadway followed by Sparty in the MSU Recycle truck's forward bin "Keep MSU Green". The final float was from Peacock's U Cut It Tree Farm, a train engine, covered train cars with people waving from the windows, a flat car with Santa in Red Suit and white beard, and a caboose with Miss Lansing and Miss Michigan spotlighted and waving. There were 60 floats in all; a dozen marching bands; 100,000 people lining Washington Street, and Capital Avenue.

The temperature was 37 degrees F; the sky overcast. As the last float came by, the crowd moved from Washington Street, West towards the Capitol Building, Capital Avenue, and the Douglas Fir tree, brought down from the Upper Peninsula, near Gladwin MI. When we got to Capital Avenue, we caught the tail end of the parade: The Holt High School Marching Band, Peacock's Train and the follow up Motorcycle Mounted Police. A few speaches from visiting dignataries, the lighting of the Christmas Tree on the lawn of the State Capitol followed by a burst of fireworks highlighting the State Capitol building.

Lansing, platted in 1847 and in April of that year, designated by the State legislature as the Capital of Michigan. 160 years later, Lansing hosting "Silver Bells in the City."

Greening of the World

I am sitting in the sun room with my Canadian purchased red vest on reading about global warming. According to some intergovenmental agency "experts" in the UK and USA, measurements of surface temperature around the world have gone from a period of stability, ie, not changed since 1998, to global surface temperature decreasing recently. The earth's Southern Hemisphere has been cooling for the past 8 years with snow fall in Buenos Aires for the first time since 1918. Australia has suffered its coolist June ever. Sorry Leah. Yes, the atmospheric level of carbon dioxide has risen, the surface temperature just has not followed. Now there's a howdoyoudo. My local newspaper tells me that I should expect a colder than normal winter this year. Gas supplies for my furnace are still plentiful, I have my new vest, and several more, I regularly wear my Christmas present slipper stockings (thanks Bec), I have set the thermostat to 68 degrees, and bundled up a bit more.

If this global warming story turns out to be a hoax, I am going to be really pissed. It would mean that I have misallocated my stock portfolio, and will be a pauper at a time when energy prices go through the statosphere. Imagine Kathy and I sitting with a blanket around our shoulders, typing on our computers with half-finger gloves on, like Bob Cratchet, trying to coaks a few more BTUs out of the stand alone electric heater at our feet. Will Ebeneezer Coal Company Scrooge have night time visitors? provide us retirees with electic rate relief? the golden turkey of the 21st century. It is just interesting what actual measurements can do to highfalutin talk.

Inconvienent Trueths

Last week, October 31st 2007, an article circulated in the lay press about over-weight and obesity and the risk of various cancers. Most of the cancers were in organs believed to be influenced by hormones: breast, pancrease, endometrial, prostate, color-rectal, ovary, gallbadder. Further evidence of hormonal influence was the observation of a protective effect that obesity has on premenapausal women from cancer and the deletarious cancer effects of obesity has on post-menapausal women. Speculation is that estrogens play a role in modulating these cancers. Interesting is the observation that premenapausal women have a lower risk of heart disease and stroke, only to catch up to men's rate of heart disease and stoke 15 years after onset of menapause, irregardless of weight, "normal weight" or obese.

I wondered about the weight issue on heart disease and cancer since I myself have been mindful and repeatedly reminded of my own weight issue.

Over the last several years we have heard much about an obesity epidemic in the USA population, which is spreading to the rest of the world, with the pronouncement by various authorities that this global epidemic is likely secondary to the world populaton assuming our Western diet: high calories and high fat: red meat is bad. The solution: fish, whole grains, fruits, nuts, a prudent Mederteranian diet is good or so the experts/media/politicians would have us believe.

Now the Inconvienent Trueths:

1) Since 1992, for all causes of death (heart, stroke, cancer) have been going down (this is the main reason why our longevity has been going up), as our weight has been going up. Body Mass Index (wt in Kg/M2) is broken into categories: <18 is malnourished, 18 to 25 is ideal body weight, 25 to 30 is over weight, 30 to 35 is class I obesity, 35 to 40 is class II obesity and >40 is class III obesity. The known health effects of weight, whether heart disease, stroke, cancer, are in a "U"shaped distribution; that is, the "excess deaths" occur at both ends of the spectrum. Those with BMI<18.5 and those with BMI >40 account for almost 90 % of the excess deaths. Those with BMI <18.5 compose 6.3% of the population and represent 1/3 of all the excess deaths. Those with BMI in the overweight category (25 to 30), live longer than those in the ideal weight category (BMI 18.5 to 25). Those in the Obesity I category, BMI 30-35 live as long as those in the ideal BMI. One speculation for this "paradoxical" situation has been that as the incidence of cigarette smoking has declined, there has been a decrease in tobacco related deaths, and a weight gain in those previously in the ideal weight category who are now in the overweight category.

2) The diet and heart disease connection was articulated from the observation that Japanese men who immigrated to Hawaii developed heart disease while the incidence of heart disease was low in Japan. The authors speculated that moving to Hawaii meant assuming a Western diet; hence, onset of heart disease. Inconvienent truth; the Japanese who came to Hawaii continued eating the very same diet they had eaten in Japan (not terribly suprising considering our own ancestry, the Czech's continued eating what was familiar to them when they came over at the turn of the previous century to Cleveland Ohio). If all 22 nationalities with data at that time on heart disease in their native lands and immigration to Hawaii had been used in the data set, there was no statistical difference in incidence of heart disease amongst immigrants to Hawaii. There is likely another explaination, but the data has not been analysed for another explaination.

3) In an article by Flegal et al, Journal of the American Medical Association February 8th, 2005, volume 293 pages 1861 to 1866, in the opening sentence for the results of the Women's Health Initiative, involving >50,000 women, "Despite the findings that a low fat diet did not reduce the risk of breast cancer, heart disease, stroke, colon cancer..." Meaning, the intervention of low fat diet over the 6+ years of the study did not change any of the outcome parameters. Yet, the recommendations were to implement a low fat diet!

4) A summary article of the epidemiological evidence linking weight, heart disease, stroke, cancer is: Compos et al, International Journal of Epidemiology 2006, volume 35 page 55. The authors speculate upon why the data that has been known for more than 35 years, including data through 2006, which refutes a link between weight, cancer and heart disease has been ignored. These authors invoke: "moral panic". Moral panic and it assumption by general society at a particular time, is described as "the fabrication of risks during times of rapid society change."

Does any of this sound familiar? Blame Saddam Hussain with WMD. Blame an Obesity Epidemic. Blame Western Culture and diet. Blame Global Warming. Blame mercury in the form of Thermistol in vaccines for the autism in herown child was the most recent Hollywood science starlet on the Oprah Winfred and Larry King shows promoting her book: Inconvienent Trueth: Her child was conceived two years after Thermistol was removed from all childhood vaccinations. What happens during a moral panic, along comes a demagogue: " I have a solution... it'll be painful... you will have to give up some of your rights... but, just do as I say and...."

In my opinion, and what is likely, and from my predictive insight into the future you will see, is that the "clear and present danger" which is blatantly evident to all right now, will fade from view as the light of science is cast upon it. You say there is a lot of science out there linking one thing to another? The problem I see is selective use of science information.To come to the present conclusion; ie, for the majority of us, that there is a health risk with incremental increases in weight, one has to ignore: Inconvienent Trueths. A theory which encompasses all the trueths, eludes us at this time.

Spartan football

Aside from the fact that we lost to Michigan, it was a great night for football. It is late in the regualar football season, yet global warming has had its positive effect in East Lansing. Starting time, 3:30 PM, temperature at kickoff was 55 degrees; Wind from NorthWest at 14 MPH, and a cloudless sky. A beautiful day for football.

After the Star Spangle Banner U o M looked like a juggernut and was up 14 to 3 by half time. After 3 michigan 3 and outs, MSU was ahead 17 to 14. The stunning play by Jevon Ringer starting at the MSU 18; a sweep to the left, immediately diagnosed by Michigan, 4 maze and blue about to tackle him for a loss; he reverses field, the MSU quarterback throws a knock down block on a defensive lineman, and Ringer cuts across field and down the sideline pushed out of bounds on the 5 yard line. End of the 3rd quarter, change in field direction, MSU lines up in a power I formation (3 running backs behind one another and the quarterback under center, the quarterback fakes to one, the another running back and lobs a touchdown strike to the tight end who has flared out to the right and into the endzone.

The eventual score however was 24 MSU and 28 UoM. MSU could not stop the air attack and lost with 2 minutes to play; ending a 4th and 18 with an incompleted pass.

So it was. The night was cool but the wind had died. The only difficulty was the score at the end of the game.

Another day at the office

Today was my second subspecialty clinic at CareFree, a clinic for indigent patients and families; all comers accepted irregardless of ability to pay. It is not quite clear yet, whether contributions to CareFree constitute donations to a charitable organization; not all the paperwork has been filed I believe. Much of the professional staff however, is voluntary. Therefore, there is a certain degree of disorganization inherent in such a system, who is coming, who is going, who is on first.

As an illustration of the above, my first pediatric patient two weeks ago was a 57 year old women seeking Social Security Disability coverage for a cornicopia of complaints. As coincidence would have it, she had my MOTHER as a teacher. "Oh Dr. Honicky, I once had a teacher by that name." "Where were you living at the time?" "Cleveland, Ohio." "What part of Cleveland?" "The East side." "Where abouts on the East side?" "Moreland Hills." She taught me and my twin sister, I think in the 8th grade." Wholely moley, she was right on: 8th grade History at Orange Middle School. This women's life had been a bumpy one, homeless, vagabond, abused, and now living in the Lansing area near her daughters on food stamps and welfare. The CareFree clinic wanted me to evaluate her for asthma as she had difficulty breathing several weeks before when she was lying down reading to her grand children, and, oh by the way, she now is morbidly obese. I evaluated her and sent her a copy of my dictation outlining my diagnosis, acid reflux, coming up the esophogus, spilling into the airway and causing laryngeal spasm; hence, abrupt onset of difficulty in breathing. She appeared at the clinic today and told me that I was the only doctor to have sent her a clinic dictation for which she was grateful, only, she wanted to correct a few errors: she has 3 daughters and not 2.

Today's new patient was a 12 year old who must have followed Leah as she drove back from Columbus Ohio last week; entwined as he was in Child Protective Custody. In the room was the child, his mother, and a social worker. My first step was to interview the child about his asthma, what did asthma mean to him, how does it feel, what makes it better, worse, when was the last time he felt bad, queried whether he took his medicines, whether he could feel his asthma getting worse, etc,etc,etc. As we talked together, his mother kept interjecting, trying to answer for him, but he persisted; he listen, read my handouts, asked questions, made eye-to-eye contact, came up with unique answers to questions that I posed. I asked him what made his asthma the very worst: cigarette smoke; do you smoke cigarettes? No? does anybody in your family smoke cigarettes? His mother immediately interjects that she only smokes outside and a pack of cigarettes (20) lasts 3 weeks. The look on the child's face of incredulity was a picture to behold. He learned from me that Jerome Bettis, who played running back for the Pittsburg Steelers has asthma. I showed the child a picture of untreated asthma and a healthy lung. I asked the child what did Jerome Bettis's lungs look like, the child pointed to the asthmatic lungs. I told him that Jerome Bettis could not run as he did unless his lungs looked normal. I asked the child, what made the difference between his own lungs and those of the football player. "He took his asthma medicines". That's right. During the interview, during the review of systems I asked about injuries and he showed me his finger. "I got 5 stitches in it." "How did you get injured?" "I got cut by a broken beer bottle that I was shooting at. Where is the gun now? I asked. "My step father bought it for me, but he keeps it." His mother adds that he was staying at a cousin's house, the cousin is now in jail for molesting children. Mom continues, he tells me that he wasn't molested, but you can ask him again as you examine him when we leave the room as he is shy and doesn't like me to see him without his shirt on.

There are two more patients for next week's clinic. I will begin at 9 AM and work to my usual 1 PM.

energy and electricity

If the USA produced the same percentage of its electricity with nuclear energy as does France, the environmental savings in green house gases would be greater than 2.5 billion tons of carbon dioxide annually. This amount of carbon dioxide savings represents a further 15% reduction in green house gases than the Kyoto agreement savings. The time it takes Japan to go from regulatory approval to a functioning nuclear power plant is 5 years. Conservation, solar, wind power would provide 15% reduction in the present green house gases emisions, roughly equivalant to 250 million tons of carbon dioxide. The aforementioned are sound bitess from Newt Gingrich in a new book.

Yes but.... storage of plutonium, safety of nuclear power plants, use public transportation, ride a bicycle, etc, etc, etc. Yuca Mountain storage, 2 miles below the surface, in mobile, constantly exchanging casks is currently feasable. Demographics and an aging population are against bicycle riding. Look around you; how many 65 to 75 year olds are riding bicycles now. How many "aged" bike riding people would it take to reduce green house gases by 10 million tons; roughly 50 million of the 65 million new aged expected in 10 years. Public transportions in every part of the world is not self-supporting and is subsidized by tax dollars. How many "kneeling buses" would a municipality have to add to accomodate people with canes, walkers, wheelchair, and others who have difficulty climbing the stairs up into the bus. Who would help the people coming home from the grocery store with their load of groceries for one week. Or, would we, ie, society in general, expect that people would go to the grocery store every day as happens in the major part of the would: more municiple kneeling buses. In the present world, what happens when the sun does not shine: East Lansing would go without electricity for 7 months a year? Rochester New York, Seattle Washington, Peoria Illinois, Portland Oregon, etc are notorious for sustained cloudy days. What about wind energy? What happens when the wind does not blow. What is the track record of the wind farms along the California portion of Interstate 80: ideal sites for wind blowing, right? Wrong. Unintended consequences. How many migratory birds are chopped down by the whirling blades? How long are the winds sustained? Do the winds blow at night? Is there a transition in wind speeds between sunrise and again at sunset? You bet'cha there is. The wind stops! Maybe we should collect all the carbon dioxide from coal fired power plants and bury it in the ground. The technology is just around the corner, eh? Of course we are talking about influencing the 2% of green house gases attributable to human activity and not the 98% attributable to "natural" sources. Why have the oceans decreased by 5% their absorption of Carbon Dioxide? Does anyone know? Of course not. Why is the planet Mars Southern polar ice sheet melting at the SAME rate as our polar ice sheets melting on Earth? Has this anything to do with our Sun? Possibly, no one knows.

At what point, what will it take, which environmentalist will have to eat crow? Maybe it requires that the people who brought an end to nuclear power proliferation in the USA 30 years ago will have to retire (90% of whom will have osteoarthritis), endure their arthritic knees and hips, slow way down with their coronary artery disease, walk a lot less with their diabetes peripheral vascular disease and leg amputations. Who will shut off the hospital intensive care respirators, monitors, renal dialysis machines, when the sun does not shine or the wind does not blow?

There are more than 5 billion people in the world now, soon there will be 6 billion. Does anyone who has even the slightest knowledge of agriculture beleive that these billions of people can be fed with the present level of technology, crop and soil science, genetically enginered crops, energy dependent fertilizers? You are whoefully uninformed if you believe that, at least for the next 100 years, adequate for human survival, electrical energy can be harvested from the sun, wind, and getting back to nature with a 'healthy' life style.

I believe the present environmental generation, self focused and consumed by their youth, who are not using canes and walkers yet, will live to see a scarcity of electricity impacting negatively on the lives of billions of people. The repercussions of low electricity availablity will result in a class war some place on earth over energy, just as it is in the Middle East now for oil, there will be fighting for electricity between the haves and have nots. Those people who can generate electricity with a small carbon footprint, as coal, gas, oil will be increasingly costly and unavailable for most of the world's population, those producing people, and I am not saying countries, will come under relentless attack by the have nots. The present class war is believed to be related to religion; yet, looking at who is doing the fighting, commiting suicide, etc, it is the have nots; against France, Germany, England, island Sweden, groups within India, Pakistan, Southeast Asia, China, Indonesia, Australia, and of course, the greatest Satin USA. Religion is the seragot reason for the fight against the wealthy, and wealth in this century will revolve around the ability to produce energy.

The licensing, construction, and pricing of nuclear energy is likely to play the largest role in providing electricity to our world; at least until hydrogen based fuels become technologically feasable, most likely not until the 22nd century. The proliferation of nuclear energy is the most available option for this early part of our 21st century.

The muddle over who's on first

Baseball season is winding down with game three of the World Series this evening at Mile High Denver Colorado. The "Boys of Summer" are bringing to a close a season begun in April during a snow storm in Cleveland Ohio, and likely to end on Holloween in a 32 degree temperature finale. So much for "summer", so much for "boys." High salaries of the individual players, dictate the extended season ticket sales. Bidding for great players results in team payroll levels of $200 million for the New York Yankees, and $145 million for the Boston Red Socks (NY is first, Boston 2nd). Denver is 26th in payroll and the Cleveland Indians were 23rd. Cleveland and Boston had identical records, and Cleveland took Boston to 7 games; I doubt Denver can match. We will see what we will see.

Sports are no different than other areas of human endeavors. Money will be thrown at research, industrial capital, high tech, innovation, almost anything to produce a "winner." As evidence by the Hollywood shenanegans of the likes of Britney Spears, Paris Hilton, and a host of other names, throwing money at visible media folks is done to make a "winner" as well. The effort seems to me, is an attempt to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. Where is the " Little engine than could"? Where is the ethic that patients, determination, persistance, perserverence are the mantra we should expouse. History tells us that "flash in the pan" does not lead to sustained riches for human kind as a whole. Even Noble Prizes, except the politically motivated "Peace" prize, are awarded way after the individual has long since contributed important work, sometimes, awarded postumously. The Noble Committee has to wait and see if the idea/invention/discovery has panned out, made a worthwhile contribution. I was struck by the appearance and videos of one of the winners of the Noble Prize in Economics. The man was in a nursing home. In the back ground were other aged people in wheelchairs and walkers. I am saddened by the down fall of James Watson, co-discoverer of DNA, also a Noble Prize winner, after his remarks about race, DNA, and intelligence led to his dismissal from a research institute, and the rebuke heaped upon him by his "collegues." At what point do we wish to listen and consider issues, rather than find the next winning horse to ride. These are the issues of "politically correct." Here at Michigan State University, a man from the UK by the name of Griffin was invited to speak by a University sanctioned club; his message was his accusation of the evilness of Islam. Needless to say, people showed up to bang on plastic chairs, hurl insults and chanting to overcome the speaker's voice. Only the protesters, none of the club memebers nor the speaker were interviewed: protesters saying "I believe in free speach BUT ...' Basically, it appears that the protesters were saying, "I believe in my free speach, and I am unwilling to listen to somebody that does not agree with me." Now, one of the Board of Trustees, was publically wishing the club that invited the speaker to be kicked off campus and calling for a special Board meeting to discuss such an action.

I am becoming a radical, a Libertarian of all things. The speaker would likely have spoken to a small audience of like minded individuals. It is the actions of those like-minded individuals that should be addressed. Does someone defile or intiimidate a person of the Muslim faith? And likewise, does a person of the Musliim faith act upon calls to destroy the "Crusaders"; usurp Western Civilization and impose Shari Law? Vigilance of democracy requires both listening to others and speaking up for yourself. Recently, I have seen little listening, a whole lot of talking, and what D'Toqueville, who was touring the USA in 1848, describe as the" tyranny of the majority." I think "politcally correct" fits that notion perfectly. Our Constitution was designed with the individual, the minortiy, in mind. How is it possible that I am constitutionally moving towards Clarence Thomas!

What one learns along the way

After much fretting on my part, Bounty got delivered into the right hands. The right place was found, not on the internet mind you, just simple "let your fingers do the walking", a bygone era advertisement for the Yellow Pages, I found John Kilpatrick Boat Repair. He is not on the internet. He says he has been struggling hard to avoid going to the internet: "too much, too fast, information before I need it".

My fretting began several years ago when I realized that Bounty needed restoration. Myown research via the internet told me that Bounty was a rare boat: built by the Thompson Brothers who believed that a well made wood boat would be a better boat than one made of fiberglass. (see the Thompson description on Wikepedia). Bounty is a solid boat, built right, powered appropriately and of the size that we can use regularly and store indoors for the winter. I would like to keep her. I had been asking around, calling the last person who repaired her port front deck and refinished the hull and bottom, he lives in Oliphant. He declined: "too many things to do." Most local people did not know if anybody would work on wood boats. The Wiarton Marina was not interested. By chance, Bounty's battery prematurely expired and RJ and I went to Peninsula Marine, now on Stokes Bay Road. The previous owner had his shop right on the water at Myle's Bay, next to Old Woman's River Road in the Stokes Bay area. He apparently sold the business and closed up shop. Fortunately for us, the man who bought the business, is an energetic person, growing the business and with space to expand. RJ & I found him back in his shop, one of many, amongst a line of tin boat storage buildings. After the battery purchase he also declined to restore Bounty as he did not have the environmental license to use the underwater paints nor did he have the safety equipment to paint the paints. Apparently, at least according to himself, what we have been doing, sanding and painting Bounty all these years, has been environmentally hazardous and gravely hazardous to ourselves, although such alarming instructions are not on the can of paint, and, all those boats, with their underwater paints, are being launched into our lakes, streams and drinking water reservoirs. He did gave me the name of John Kilpatrick.

We went home and I got out our 2004 AMTEL phone book, checked the Yellow Pages under Boat Repair, and there he was: fiberglass AND WOOD repair. I called: 519-371-0018 and a woman with a thick Scottish baroque answered and said that her husband was not there right now, that the men working on the boats would not be able to help me, leave name and number and he would call back; and," Oh by the way, what kind of boat do you have?" I told her. "And what do you want done?" I told her. " That might be a bit expensive." Anyway, her husband will call back. After a week, and no call back, I called again, this time I left a message on their answering machine. No call back. Two days later I called again, spoke to his wife again, and this time she got her husband and we talked. By my conversation with John, I was left in some doubt about any success in getting him to restore Bounty; "he would take a look at it". I decided to pursuit this opportunity; did I have an alternative?. After two sets of instructions on how to get to the boat yard, and two more calls back on my part because I could not find his boat yard on the internet, Google Earth, Yahoo and Mapquest could not get me to his boat yard, eventually I had to go to the internet county sites for Bruce County and Grey County. You see, I know, after 50 years of being up there, that if you don't find what you are looking for in Bruce County, you need to look in Grey County. Their web sites are a hodge-podge of taxes, land use permits, and county welfare links, but NO maps of the county, at least not recognizable to me until I scrolled through the Grey County web site "Transportation". In the Bruce County web site, I eventually came to a map, of course, not in the heading of Transportation. Bruce and Grey Counties are split by Route 6 up to Wiarton. That's right folks, the Town of Wiarton on the East side of Route 6 (Berford Road) is Grey County and on the West side of Route 6 is Bruce County. I guess the Counties have an agreement as to who changes the light bulb in the stop light smack dab in the middle of the road. Of course, Grey County ends at the bottom of the big hill (apparently at the Brewer's Retail store) just before Route 6 goes on top of the Niagra Escarpment and continuing North to Tobermory.

Once I found a map of the region, and located at least the area I suspected the facility to be in, Kathy and I set off early, on a dark and foggy Saturday morning, I with heightened trepedation. Contributing to the overall downer for me were several facts: the tires on Bounty's trailer were 46 years old, and although they have held up well (right one requiring pumping up every year) just going back and forth from boat house to launching pad they worked fine. However, there was no guarentee that they would hold up at moderate highway speeds (45 mph); the trailer wheel bearings require greasing every year and have been replaced by me on two separate occasions, would they hold up also? ;the license plate on the trailer had been borrowed from one of Bill's boat trailers and that had been obtained maybe a decade or two ago; Bounty is registered as an Ohio boat, last registration update maybe 1965; the engine never has been registered in any state or province; the trailer has what appears to be right and left tail lights but I do not know if they, and I suspect they do not, work; besides, the wire electrical harness connection to the towing vehicle long since went with "Black Beauty", a 1962 black Buick given to me by my mother, with 28,000 miles on it, and eventually sold for $25 in 1971 with 150,000 miles on it. If stopped by the Ontario Provincial Police, the cop would develop writer's cramp siting all the violations. Howsome ever, I had a clear picture in my mind of the route: South on Route 6 through Wiarton to about a mile out of town, turn left (East) onto County Road 17, formally Grey route 1. CR 17 turns South a Wolmsy and proceeds towards Owen Sound. You pass the Kemple Quarry on the left, go to the next road, Concession 10 which becomes Indian Acres Road which ends in a reincarnated Grey Road 1, "Turn left, heading North on Grey Road 1, and we are the fourth driveway on the left hand side of the road, set back a ways so that you can't really see us." Now, there have been some new driveways added since those instructions were devised, maybe some years ago, however, a keen memory that I have, I remembered the address: 308794 Grey Road 1. I started counting driveways, the fourth driveway is 308787, we watched until we got to 308794, and sure enough, a driveway winds into a pine forest and a lovely brick house appears, surrounded by a cornicopia of flowers, gayly livening up this overcast and intermittantly rainy day.

Indeed there are two sheds, flanking either side of the house. We parked in the gravel turnaround, Kathy remaining in Big Red and I walked into the large shed with a regularly sized door open and called "anyone here?" No one was inside and I eventually had to go to the house to find John. However, what immediately struck me as I first peered into the shed, was a very old wood power boat, with areas of bare wood, parts of the cabin gone, almost derilect appearing. Beside it, sat a gleaming 40 foot mahogany planked sailboat, varnished above the waterline, and green bottom paint below, stunning in appearance. Gaff rigging spars, carefully laid aside, await the time for the boat to be put all together and into the water. Subsequently, I was told by John Kilpatrick, that the boat was orginally built in 1900, that he races it on the Georgean Bay but not this year as he had some interior cabin work to do. That the hull has 5 coats of Petitt "Captain's" Varnish on it, last put on in 1996. Since boats of that era had rudders attached to the keel and no engines, he removed the old rudder and installed a "spade rudder" closer to the transom for better steering, and a small diesel engine. The motor launch sitting in the shed would be restored by Spring 2008.

"I see that you found us, eh? Wasn't that a good way to get here?" I said nothing about my trepidations, only to say that I was glad to be here. "Now lets look at what you've got." John is a youngish looking red haired man, blue eyed and medium height and build, square faced and a firm handshake. His voice Kathy describes as "gentle" with a Scottish baroque. We began to talk about Bounty's restoration, how lovely she is, and how John loves the fine craftmanship he finds in wood boats. Bounty's hull and bottom will be sanded but not taken down to the wood, no need to. Topsides, the sun has yellowed the brightwork and he will reduce the yellowing, remove and reglue the windshield, remove the floorboards, sand and fabric them over, clean and revarnish the interior and bilge; restore the bowseat. "How much were you thinking of spending?" not pausing to let me speak he continued; "Last year I restored a boat, originally built by a man in Wiarton, now long since dead, and that was varnished inside and out, that cost $3000, and it was a little bit smaller than your boat." We talked about Bounty's heritage, how I got her as a Christmas present in 1961 at Cleveland Yacht and Supply, and that my children were interested in keeping her as well as I. "She will last another 40 years if they keep it as you have done:" inside storage (Bounty can be ruined in one winter being outside, even covered by plastic), not leaving wet items (lines, anchors, lifejackets, and materials that can block water evaporation: tool box, emergency equipment, flags, horns) in the boat over the winter, allowing her to dry out completely. "I think it will cost between $3000 to $5000." "Let's do it" I said. He asked "Do you have a business card?" I gave him my MSU card, wrote my home address and phone, the cottage address and phone numbers. " He gave me his card. "Leave her anywhere over there," gesturing towards the front of the big shed, " we will be moving her soon and taking her off her trailer. I will give you a call in a couple of weeks." We shook hands. No money as down payment, none asked for. As we drove away, down the winding driveway, away from the worksheds and flower festooned house not seen from the highway, Kathy said he was a gentle man, and I had found the right person to restore Bounty.

Staying a little bit longer

The sky has been overcast off and on the whole day. Winds have been from the North or Northeast for 5 days now and the cooler temperatures that go with those North winds, diminishes the water activities and promotes the indoor reading and talking activities. Such activities we have now. Kathy and I are awaiting Bob and Kathy V's arrival for a 4 day stay. We had expected them in the early afternoon, but, you know how things are in the travel industry for the retired folks, a little less schedule concious.

I called the Scottish Kilpatric boat repair guy with his worksheds South and East of Wiarton just off Grey County road 17, on the way to Owen Sound. He told me he had been building wooden boats for years both in Scotland and in Canada, but has been mostly in the fiberglass repair business recently. I told him about Bounty, its legacy, that I have been the original owner, that it was a 16 foot Lapstrate Thompson and he immediately identified with it. He apparently knows about Thompson wooden boats. He then inquired about how Bounty was wintered (indoors), who had taken care of it (myself) and how "picky" was I? I told him that I was pretty picky, and that seemed to be ok with him. He would go over the boat with me when I brought it down and he could then give me a price for its restoration. He said that he had a 40 foot boat in his heated shed that would not be finished until the Spring. He had a second non-heated shed that he could work on Bounty until it became cold.

Besides the exterior hull and copper bottom, I want the bright work topsides done, the windshield removed and restored and put back. I want the outside aluminum bumper bar to be removed and any dry rot "git rot" applied and then resturn the bumper. I want the inside to be done as well. I have had a tough time with the bow seat, moving it around while I worked on the interior hull and bilge. I want the interior hull to be wire brushed and then all the crud vacumned out and revarnished; floor boards returned to their original setting and the bow seat re-seated.

I know that I am picky, I view Bounty not only as a nostalgic treasure, but a practical solution to our need for a motor boat in the face of a continuing decline in the Great Lakes water levels. This last week, after Bill had suggested it, I tilted the engine up while it was riding on its mooring because in some of its swings around the standing anchor, the lower engine gear ( which draws about 15 inches of water and needs @18 to 20 inches for clearance as the boat is bobbing up and down), came perilously close to some rocks and shoals. With the engine out of the water, and Bounty now only drawing 6 inches of water, she can ride closer to those rocks and reefs, even if the standing anchor is dragged during a gale wind for 3 feet and resets (as has happened on rare occasions). By the way, we had a gale wind 3 days ago, sunny and 35 knots of wind. Whatever monies are used to restore Bounty and give her another decade or two of useful life, means that another boat does not have to be purchased. The relevance of not having to purchase a new boat resides in the fact that Bounty has proven herself capable of taking on the winds and seas of Lake Huron. Any new boat would likely have to be larger since the size and shape of Bounty's hull and its proportional weight are rather unique to the era during which it was built (1961), to be found now in larger boats like a Whaler 18 foot requiring a larger and heavier engine. A larger fiberglass boat, bigger engine means that Mare Nostrum would no longer accommodate such a creature, as evidence that Bill's Tarquin now hits bottom every time he leaves its dock, and the folks across the Bay, the ones who originally placed the red and green buoys for Bay entrance navigation as they went fishing, no longer have their boats on this side of the Peninsula because they can not get to their docks with the water so low. Therefore, my tenuous arguement for restoring Bounty, is that she was built during a time of smaller boats, and with some juditious seamanship, to navigate the Great Lakes waters. Any new boat to do the same thing, ie, navigate the Great Lakes, would of necessity be larger and heavier, and our present mooring location and system would not be adequate. For the time being at least, I still can move the standing anchor a little bit further out into Little Pike Bay each year as the water level receds, and still retain the protection of the rocky point extending from Bill's dock Northward from the pounding seas generated by the prevailing West and Northwest winds. So, restoration makes sense if there is not something terribly wrong with the wood.

By the way, if you google Thompson wooden boats, there is a description of their origin and the company that made them.

Anywho, it is no long afternoon, we still await Bob and Kathy, the sky is clouding up, and we have a fire in the fireplace. Time for a glass of wine.

Views of the News while on the Bruce Peninsula

I have been reading recent media news reports, from here and abroad, which contains much lamenting about the current credit crunch and propheyising the demise of the USA economy. As we all know, manufacturing jobs have moved off shore, service jobs seemed to have filled the void at lower than manufacturing job pay and no benefits. Illegal immigrants take jobs nobody wants at the wage or working conditions available. While this litany plays to the electorate and may have some validity, I am having some difficulty reconciling what is being portrayed in the news, and what my experiences have been over the past 2 months. On our recent travels, and frequent truck stops to fill the gas tank of Big Red, we saw a lot of long distance truck drivers, many of whom were visibly foreign born (Seikes with head dress, Muslim men in head caps, etc.) and accompaning driver families: mom, dad, and young child(ren). At least on the roads we traveled East/West: San Francisco Calif. to the South Shores of Delaware, US Highway 36 and 50, Interstates 90, 80, 70; North/South US 101 and Interstate 5 to Vancouver on the West Coast and I-75 and US 23 &33 through Michigan, Ohio and West Virginia, Highway 9 on the Delaware Shores, this summer there were signs advertising employment, truck companies hiring long distant drivers, stores, shops hiring. We met Eastern European people working East Coast jobs who have made the European/USA crossing to work here in the USA for several years now. Our cruise ship, The Statendam, had Filipino and Indonesian staff exclusively; highly trained and seemingly enthusiastic about their jobs, with very little turnover from year to year (our dinner waiter had been on the Statendam for 16 years). The cruise ship would do the Alaska tour, then the Mexican Riviera, then the Carribean, then start all over again. Crew members would sign on for 10 months at a time and would be flown to their home country and back to the ship at the start of the new cruise. The ships would have major overhaul time with the ship's crew (vs the hotel and restaurant crew) remaining with the ship during the refit.

The credit crunch in the subprime mortgage financial markets has effected people mostly living in urban areas such as Detroit, Cleveland, Gary Indiana, St. Louis, Atlanta, New Orlean, Oakland, etc) people with poor credit histories, those with high credit card debt, had taken out interest only loans, people who fraudulently claimed income so called "liar loans", speculators, many of whom were home owners and were using their homes for collateral to purchase second and third homes and speculating on the housing market to go up, all these people suffered a collapsed all across the nation when their loan's interest readjusted upward. Of course the prime interest rate has not change, the only thing changed was the interest rate on the subprime loans as spelled out in their contracts. The news media states that people who had subprime loans who lost their homes, had previously lost their jobs, or they were duped into taking out loans by "predator" lenders. What is evident to me is that: the unemployment rate has steady between 4.5 and 4.6% for the past 5 years; that the people effected by interest rate adjustment on their loans were people who made bad decisions and now the consequences of those poor decisions were coming to fruition. After some noise from Congress, many subprime lenders that were still in business have made adjustments in interest rates downward somewhat, although this recent change has not helped the folks who are already in foreclosure or have lost their homes altogether. Also, loans rebundled and purchased by hedge funds, banks of Germany, France, Japan and China are not as easily unbundled to allow good faith repayment efforts by some homeowners.

I wonder, why are there so many people, legal and illegal working in the USA? why are USA jobs still going begging? Granted, high paying jobs such as millwrights, drill press operators, punchpress operators, lathe operators, assembly line workers and setup man requiring less than a high school education are no longer available. Although, there still are manufacturing jobs in the USA, such as there is a severe shortage of tool and die makers who can read blueprints and are familiar with computer programs that run modern tool operations ($100,000 per year to start). The educational level of the worker seems paramount to having any entre into the job market. I observed that Long distance truck drivers require a high school education, a "clean" driving record, no prior drug arrests, and a willingness to work persistently within the rules. I guess there are not many USA qualified workers for this field and trucking companies are going to India and Pakistan for such workers, paying US wages and benefits to these foreign hirees for driving in the US.

Even in the health care field, personal off work bad behavior is leading to disqualification to the lowest on the rung of patient care providers: a health aide. The Michigan State Police have a web site for entry level workers prior criminal dosiers to be used by hiring health, day care and educational institutions. The issue of worker's on the job and off the job behavior also involves the more highly trained individuals. In Los Angelas, the hospital that was established after the Watts riots almost 40 years ago, the 1600 hospital staff has been repeatedly cited by Federal inspectors over the past 3 years as the very worst in the US and incapable of providing Federally mandated minimum patient care and saftey. The avoidable patient infection rates, handwashing, cleaning surgical equipment, unexpected patient deaths, disregard for patient's basic needs including patients lying on the hallway floors, disregard of monitor alarms, using hospital phones and computers for personel calls and doing personel business while "on the clock", providing fraudulant credentials are some of the listed personal behaviors that were observed. Inspite of an infusion of almost 1 billion dollars over the past 3 years, intensive education and training, the reason for closure of the hospital was its having failed repeated scheluled inspections, and failing in every category at some time or other during unannounced inspections by federal hospital inspectors. The major reason for the three year hiatus in closure, was that the hospital was a major employer of the community. Compounding the tragedy is that these 1600 former hospital workers have been reallocated to other county activities/jobs. If their work ethics and behavior were a major reason why the hospital failed, they are now working in other areas of Los Angeles county, bringing the same behaviors and work attitudes, "bumping" other workers who have less seniority.

Maybe, just maybe, what the global financial markets are reflecting in their current gyrations, is their uncertainty that the USA economy can sustain its economic leadership while some of its work force is unable to perform in a world market economy. For those in the USA who are the poor decision makers, those with poor work habits and ethics, unable to utilize or recognize common opportunities to benefit themselves, in a global economy they will fail, repeatedly fail and go on to lament and blame and accuse others for their misfortune, dissapating energy in excuses. A very dark road to travel indeed.

I do not have "the answer" to a poor performing work force. I believe that this portion of the work force will change or become part of a permanent underclass of citizens, whom no government will be able to help, no world location will be willing to recieve, are vulnerable to itinerant demegogues and soil their own nest with riots and self inflicted social wounds.

We may already be seeing the development of this underclass outcome as reflected in the latest survey of life expectancy in the USA compared to other countries (41st ranking). The major contributor to the 6 year disparity between life expectancy in white men and black men is homicides. Midwestern white women living below the poverty level have a life expectancy 10 years greater than black men in urban areas (79+ years compared to 69 years). Income, health insurance, access to medical care, chronic disease had minor impacts on the disparity amongst 8 different groups studied. Homicide was the major contributor to the life expectancy disparity, and profoundly influenced our ranking in the world of nations.

Maybe the development of a permanent underclass has already begun in the USA. Repeated attempts to blame one person or group of people for this situation is fruitless in effecting positive change. The people who are likely citizens of this impending underclass I see as having to implement change themselves regardless of external circumstances. However, people change only when they want to change, and then, usually, only when the situation is desparate enough. Before one begins the 12 step recovery program of Alcoholic Anonamous, one has to reach "rock bottom". "Daddy, are we there yet?"

"I am reviewing the whole situation"

Those words come to mind, actually from a song of the Broadway musical Oliver. Fagan reflecting upon his situation.

What a summer schedule! Canadian cottage two times in May; an almost 2 month journey starting with meeting Andre and Sarah South of Chicago to lend them the Alero, then Kathy and I taking I 55, jumping off episodically to follow reminants of the original Route 66 (Chicago to LA) on our way to St. Louis MO. As we did so, we encountered Abraham Lincoln's past, mostly pre-American Civil War. In Springfield Ill., we toured the Lincoln Memorial Library and museum. The complexities of Slavery, and the general sense, at least for the leadership, both black and white, that once slaves were freed, that the now freed slaves would want to go back to their homelands in Africa. Obviously, that did not happen.

Kathy and I were both moved emotionally by our visit to Springfield and discussed many related topics on our way to and subsequently through Missouri. Staying a hot and tornado warning night in a State Park with few other campers, we remained off the "beaten tract" for part of the next day as we headed West through small towns and burgs until catching up with I 70 again, making Hesston KS in the early afternoon. From JD and Vilma's wedding reception (State's Side) we traveled the high plains onto Vancouver BC our jumping off point for Yukon Territories and beyond. Whitehorse, a town as far South as the riverboat ferries would go (up the Yukon River, since it flows from South to North and then West in Alaska), where the rapids were so treacherous that traversing them was perilous so the riverboats would collect man, beast, and belongings who had sucessfully either "shot the rapids" or portaged around them, and taken them the next 427 miles North to Dawson City were the Gold Rush occurred in 1898 and 1899. By the time 99% of the gold miners arrived in Dawson City, almost all the claims were staked and there was nothing available. More than a century ago, Dawson City was a town of 30,000 people; now it has barely 2,000 permanent inhabitants.

Making friends with a small group of people was the unintended consequence of doing the Land Tour first as we stayed together for the entire 19 days of land followed by sea cruise. We have promised sharing pictures with each other, but the process of reviewing has yet to begin. There are lots of pictures along the trip and have yet to be edited and transfered to a CD.

The next segment of our trip was related to family in the Bay area, followed by a Western tour, more family then home. Bright and early the following morning, we picked up Nana at DTW and began our family times again, both in East Lansing and the Canadian Cottage where we are today.

This morning to mid afternoon, it has been overcast with spits of rain. Rythm at first did not want to get into the rowboat as he was worried the boat and ride were going to be "tippy". However, after reassurance by Grandma Kathy who stood on the deck taking pictures, I placed him onto the stern seat of the rowboat, and we began to row together. Rythm and I rowed across Little Pike Bay, my hands upon his: "forward and back; forward and back" we said as we were propelled across the water. As of now, @ 3 PM, the sun is poking it head out of the breaking up cloud bank, winds from the South Southeast and a bit humid. When Rythm awakens from his nap, Grandma Kathy too, we will head for Sandy Beach since the shallow warm water has been a magnet, drawing an initially reluctant Rythm into its enchantment, transforming a once stay-on-the-shore-no bathing-suit-please-and-I-will-keep-my-shoes-on-thank-you to a run-across-the-sand-into-the-water-catch-me-if-you-can runabout 3 year old. Repeated trips to Sandy Beach; seeing other young children in the water helps as well.

Bec, Johan and Marcus are due tomorrow sometime and Thursday morning RJ heads back to the Bay Area; Yasmina and Rythm, picking up Nana from Grandma Betsy's will be headed for Washington DC and the "Gentleman Johnny Robinson Family ReUnion", 500 strong held over the weekend.

Kathy and myown summer plans extend to staying at the cottage until after Labor Day. A visit by Bob and Kathy V will be sometime near the 3rd week of August.

There is enough blue in the sky to make a pair of sailor's pants, so we just have to wait for the sleepy heads to arise.

The cottage

Canadian sunsets are not just words, but convey an event, revered by myself and shared with others. The cottage looks across the expanse of lake Huron to the West. The only intervening elements between our island deck and the horizon is blue water. This water takes on the colors of sunset; yellows, oranges, pinks and purples. I have seen, upon rare ocassion, flashes of green; none so far this year. Each sunset is unique and entertaining although not everyone in our party is prone to get out to the deck before each sunset. The beauty and spectacular nature of these events are special to me.

We have been at the cottage for some time, I can hardly keep tract. The endless days of summer still are not enough time to get everything I want to do in one day, done. The warmth of each day, the sparkle of the water, the gentleness of the day's breeze multiply one another so that the product of the whole experience is greater than the sum of its parts. Night time equally contributes to the summer's magic: starry starry nights, a late night full moon gives form to the trees's shadows. The night sounds of the forest contribute to the ambiance.

Trips with the young children to Sandy Beach, even so briefly as an hour, brings joy to thier faces and our hearts. Splash and swim, dive and cough as they gulp some water. The water has been incredibly warm. The undulating sandy bottom has shallows followed by progressively deeper areas, followed yet again by shallows, then deep. Gentle waves come ashore yeilding squeals of laughter and shouting from the children bobbing in their breaking crests.

Another trip to Flower Pot, via "fast boat", swimming in the Georgean Bay at the base of the large flower pot' cold spray from the bow wake of the returning glass bottom boat and a 25 mph head wind does not deter the children from falling asleep in our arms. Another meal in the Little Tub, with lunch a Craig's and dinner at the Crow's Nest, Ice cream at the Sweet Shop, then homeward bound.

My Sail and Cruising World magazines speak to these idlic episodes in one's life, to be had by purchasing a yacht, yet, within our experience, daily, we have it all right here.

Yukon Territories

The Journey from Hesston KS to Vancouver took us through the high plains and dessert that exists between the Olympic Mountain Range through to the Rockies. The elevation to Denver CO was 5000 ft, then just past Cheyanne WY we reached 8600 ft before leveling out to 7000 ft, Larimie WY, a trailer park along the highway, staying there cramped amongst one of many derelict appearing trailers, then to Mountain Home Idaho, KOA campground, Big Sky country.

The next morning we remain in this Dessert, sagebrush and antilope grazing in the expansive ranges. We descend to one burg after another along the banks of the Snake River, crossing portions of the river as it winds and empties into the Columbia River. The striking contrast of one side of the road, dessert, sagebrush and dust, the otherside, lush green with enormous sprinkler systems watering cash crops and grazing lands. We plung into the Cascades following the Yakima River as its origins assend towards Seattle Washington. Canyons of forests and winter ski resorts dominate the landscape. We head into Seattle at rush hour and are part of the stop and go traffic, eventually, getting gas in Marysville, North of Seattle, travel a side road, found a campground along a lake and settled in for the night. Dinner at a local eatery and to bed.

With minor detours we arrive in Vancouver Airport, only to be misguided by Google directions, double parking our camper at the International Departing Flights unloading section, and unloading since there is no parking lot for campers. We travel through Vancouver to the North End, through and older portion of the City, filled with little shops and all well maintained. After some detours we find our parking lot, shuttle to one hotel, use our coupons to go to the Airport finally finding our luxurious room. Expensive meal later, to bed.

Finally, our cruise begins with the flight to Whitehorse Yukon Territories. Dominating the conversations, the tours and literature was talk of the gold rush in 1898 and the "Stampeders" who treked from Skagway on the coast, over the Chillcote Trail to Bennett and the beginning of the navigable portion of the Yukon River. Down the Yukon to Whitehorse, so named for the rapids that gave the appearance of white horse manes. Shooting the rapids, was hazardous and deadly, Just below Whitehorse YT, the Yukon River becomes more navigable again; eventually sternwheeler river boats made the 240 miles, down river but North to Dawson City, the area of the Gold Rush. The Yukon travels North and emties into the Berring Sea.

Today was our site seeing day for a wild life preserve trip, a WhiteHorse City trip including the stern wheel paddle boat SS Klondike, and then a Yukon River Cruise. Pictures to follow. Lots of Bus riding, lots of things to see, do, and learn about.

Tomorrow we leave by bus for Dawson City and the Klondike where we pan for gold.