Is It Possible?

Are the global-climate assumptions of the 16,500 delegates in Copenhagen correct? Is it possible their assumptions are based on faulty data?

In 1975, the media, the politicians and some scientists were convinced the global climate was headed for an "Ice Age." When the climate began to turn, they all agreed that further study was needed. Wouldn't that be an appropriate decision to make today, especially when the impact of an errant, albeit well-meaning, climate decision could inflict more human suffering and conflict than Co2 emissions will for the next 25 years?

Few people doubt that we need to be better stewards of our planet. Personally, I think that deforestation, particularly of the Brazilian Rainforest, is a bigger problem than Co2 emissions and has more impact on global climate, algae bloom and desert formation than Co2.

Who made the decision that Co2 was a bigger problem than deforestation? A committee from the United Nations? Al Gore?

Fact: The Polar Bear Population is the same today as it was in 1975.

Fact: Greenland was so named by the Vikings in the 11th Century because it was lush enough then to grow crops and not covered by ice as it is today.

Fact: The "Hockey Stick" proof to Climate Change was disproved in 2006.

Fact: The release of the Emails from East Anglia University show that the Climate Scientists there and in the United States manipulated their data to fit their conclusions.

Is it possible that those gathered in Copenhagen Denmark are working from flawed assumptions? Is it possible that in the hysteria of "saving the world," these 16,500 are all behaving like lemmings running off a cliff?

Is it possible that the dimension and scale of this Co2 scare is incorrect?

Is it possible that a tragic new chapter of Hans Christian Andersen's tale, "The Emperor's New Clothes" is being re-enacted in his beloved Copenhagen?

"Everyone said, loud enough for the others to hear: "Look at the Emperor's new clothes. They're beautiful!" "What a marvellous train!" "And the colours! The colours of that beautiful fabric! I have never seen anything like it in my life!"

They all tried to conceal their disappointment at not being able to see the clothes, and since nobody was willing to admit his own stupidity and incompetence, they all behaved as the two scoundrels had predicted.

A child, however, who had no important job and could only see things as his eyes showed them to him, went up to the carriage.

"The Emperor is naked," he said.

"Fool!" his father reprimanded, running after him. "Don't talk nonsense!" He grabbed his child and took him away. But the boy's remark, which had been heard by the bystanders, was repeated over and over again until everyone cried:

"The boy is right! The Emperor is naked! It's true!"

The Emperor realized that the people were right but could not admit to that. He thought it better to continue the procession under the illusion that anyone who couldn't see his clothes was either stupid or incompetent. And he stood stiffly on his carriage, while behind him a page held his imaginary mantle. "

~ From "The Emperor's New Clothes" by Hans Christian Andersen, 1837,
"Fairy Tales For Children"

The Copenhagen Climate Change Conference

The Hot Air over Copenhagen this week may be more of a threat to the climate than the supposed danger they are there to solve. Let's see ...

• 140 Private Planes are scheduled to land


• 1,200 Limos have been ordered for the delegates (only 5 are "green" because Denmark taxes new technology so highly that nobody is encouraged to build or import "green" vehicles.)


• 15,000 Delegates


• 5,000 journalists


• 98 World Leaders

What happened to video-conferencing to save the planet?

There is such an influx of people into Copenhagen that the "Sex Workers Union" -- yes, such activity is unionized over there (imagine a government bailout hearing on that one where "too big to fail" takes on a whole new meaning) -- has promised free sex to anyone with a Conference Pass; the Sex Workers Union is banking on repeat business, I guess. Video-conferencing does have its limitations.

While this is really all about the US and China coming to an agreement, the developing countries of Africa are demanding 8 billion a year to help them offset their costs till they are "developed." I'm certain that any money earmarked for that purpose will all be spent for that purpose, aren't you?

Al Gore has cancelled his visit -- too busy, I guess, to save the world at Copenhagen, or maybe he is concerned about the pollution his private jet would emit. Those concerns are not shared by a list of celebrities headed to Copenhagen on their planes -- Leonardo DiCaprio, Daryl Hannah, Helena Christensen, Archbishop Desmond Tutu and Prince Charles -- all there to be photographed...

...uhh help...

the delegates save the world...

...uhhh issue a statement of intent to save the world by ...

...uhhh 2050, yeaaahh 2050, that's it...

(when none of them will be alive to answer for their actions.)

Mr. Gore will sit back and wait for his Carbon Trading Company to benefit from all of the "Cap and Trade" activity, soon to begin in the US and then the world; no need to attend a conference now.

There should be conferences like this, but they should be organized by Scientists, whose motives are supposedly purer than politicians. The Climate Change Industry is the next financial bubble to be thrust upon the world by the political class.

In the meantime, there will be no progress despite the nightmares being predicted (and the polar bears being killed by you and me by driving our Civics and Priuses.) Next, an international plea will be raised by the politicians, requiring "one currency," followed by the need for a "one world government" promising "peace in our times."

Lock your billfolds up, now. These politicians know best how to protect the climate and harness the power of "scientific consensus," such as they did in 1975-76:

"... seemingly disparate incidents represent the advance signs of fundamental changes in the world's weather. The central fact is that after three quarters of a century of extraordinarily mild conditions, the earth's climate seems to be cooling down. Meteorologists disagree about the cause and extent of the cooling trend, as well as over its specific impact on local weather conditions. But they are almost unanimous in the view that the trend will reduce agricultural productivity for the rest of the century. If the climatic change is as profound as some of the pessimists fear, the resulting famines could be catastrophic."

~ Newsweek Magazine, April 28, 1975 -- "The Cooling World," article by Peter Gwynne

The Scientific Method and Climate Change

"No amount of experimentation can ever prove me right; a single experiment can prove me wrong" ~ Albert Einstein

I do not profess to be a scientist or to employ the scientific method on any project I undertake. I believe, though, that the method is an organized quest for Truth which is why when science states it, we accept the statement as truth, because they have been rigorous in their examinations and experimentations

Einstein stated what many have come to accept as the basis for the scientific method -- "falsifying." No one has ever found evidence nullifying Einstein's Theory of Relativity, therefore, it is accepted as true, but is still listed as a theory.

In the several examples of falsifying, there is the story of "The White Swans." The scientist believes that there are only white swans in the world. What the scientist believes is true as long as he only sees white swans. He may have desperately wanted there to be only white swans in the world and invested a lot of his time, effort, reputation, and money in that belief. Then he sees his first black swan. Truth vs. Belief.

With the release of Climate Change emails from scientists in England and scientists at the University of Pennsylvania -- leading authorities on the subject -- revealing that they were refusing to acknowledge data that falsified their conclusions, the whole subject of Climate Change has been called into question.

The reader should not conclude that I am a nay-sayer on the matter of environmental concern. It only makes sense that we should take care of the planet. Each should do what they are able.

My concern here is that these Climatologists in their effort to preserve something about themselves -- reputation, grants, position, income -- have called into question the whole Scientific Method in which we have come to ... believe.

If the method and Science are to be trusted, then the Scientific Community needs somehow to rescue itself from those who have compromised the method.

As to the idea of Climate Change, I leave you, dear reader to decide for yourself whether this is another Ice Age we are entering since the global climate has been cooling since 1998, or whether it is Global Warming that is melting the icebergs off "Greenland."

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is a uniquely American holiday centered on giving thanks to God for the abundance of our lives. It is sometimes difficult to explain this holiday to our brothers and sisters in other countries -- Pilgrims, Indians, eating together from the bounty of the harvest, no matter how small, thankful in every way.

Over the years, I have missed three Thanksgiving celebrations with our family -- 1986, when I was in West Chester, PA as the shopping network QVC premiered; my family was in Pittsburgh while I supervised the first hours of the network's television operation. The loneliness of the holiday-away was somewhat offset as two of my staffers and one spouse gathered and gave thanks around a meal that she prepared.

The second missed Thanksgiving was in 1996 while I was in Dusseldorf, Germany, this time working as a consultant with QVC as we prepared for the launch of QVC Deutschland. There were a number of Americans working with me and I organized a Thanksgiving celebration at the Steigerwald Hotel where I was living. The Chef was most obliging and understood everything except the concept of "seconds."

The third missed Thanksgiving was the next year when I was working as a consultant in Sydney, Australia, once again preparing for the launch of a TV Shopping network for Australia.

As I had done in Germany, I organized a Thanksgiving celebration for the Americans there which was highlighted by a verbal argument over a business matter between the CEO and the Director of Marketing; very verbal and entertaining, at the time.

This year, we will have members of our family missing from the table -- some are in Thailand, teaching music at a university there; others with family in Connecticut. They will be remembered in a toast.

However large or small our celebration, we are reminded every day in ways large and small of the abundance of our living -- the roof over my head, the running water from my faucet, the food in my refrigerator.

How grateful; how thankful!

Truth

It is hard these days to find the truth. Statements are always garbed in shades of gray, leaning this way or that way. We live in a non-committal world, fearful of taking a stand or not wanting to have our head handed to us for taking a position.

Our legalistic tradition requires the witness on the stand to "tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth" as a way of eliminating all the possibilities of falsehood.

Political Correctness forbids us from speaking our minds for fear that we may either offend someone or that we will end up losing something ourselves in the shoutdown resulting from our true feelings.

Politicians and their staffs have become so skilled at shading the truth that we now have a new term -- "Spin" -- to describe what we all know; the truth is in there but it is either not the whole truth or maybe not nothing but the truth or perhaps both.

Somehow, "spin" has become acceptable -- not just for the political class, but also for the rest of us. And, we are doing that with our children: no child ever loses; everyone gets a medal or a trophy, every graduate excelled at something.

We even tried that with housing -- everyone should have a house, riiight? This is a great country and everyone deserves to own a house. Somehow, we failed to realize that not everyone in our society can afford all that goes with a house -- like a mortgage and taxes; we failed or did not want to accept ... the truth.

I did not set out to have this blog be full of political commentary, so please do not, dear Reader, take this as such, but aren't the politicians once again, failing to accept the truth about "the stimulus?" When all the stimulus money is spent, won't people get laid off again? We were paying for them to be employed, but now there are no more funds to supplement the payroll. The "shovel-ready" projects are all half-done, but the stimulus money runs out. It's over.

The truth.

If you stimulate my heart to keep it beating and then the battery causing the stimulus runs out of power, what happens? The heart stops. Truth.

We need to get back to a basic honesty with ourselves and our society. Legalism, Rationality, Enlightened Thinking, One Worldism, Spin -- all ignore the fact about human beings:

WE ARE FLAWED.

I want to be better, I want to do better, I strive to make the world today a better place than it was yesterday. But, calling our foibles something other than the truth of what they are, may make us feel better, but we are deluding ourselves and being deluded willfully and knowingly by others. Feeling better? Is that what all this illusion is about?

Spinning the truth to make it fit an agenda or to avoid full disclosure is deception, sleight of hand. Doing so may make the spinner feel better or feel clever, but in small ways or large ways, it harms those being deceived.

We should get back to the truth -- sooner, rather than later.

How many legs does a dog have if you call his tail a leg? Four; calling a tail a leg doesn't make it a leg.

~ Abraham Lincoln

Innocent until Proven Guilty

Ei incumbit probatio qui dicit, non qui negat -- "The proof lies upon the one who affirms, not the one who denies."

The presumption of innocence is a backbone of our legal system. Some scholars have traced its origins earlier than England, past Rome, beyond Greece to the Book of Deuteronomy.

The seriousness of the concept is expressed in the number of countries and international organizations that have adopted this concept. Over the years, many learned scholars have expressed the same sentiment as the highly regarded jurist, William Blackstone, in the 18th Century:

"... it is better that ten guilty persons escape than that one innocent suffer."
~ William Blackstone, Commentaries on The Laws of England, 1764

Over the years, even though I have never come close to needing the protection of innocent until proven guilty, I have always been comforted that, should I need that protection, it would be there.

Now, I am not sure.

The Attorney General and his boss, the President of the United States, are promising that Khalid Shaikh Mohamed, the admitted mastermind of the 9/11 attack, will be convicted in a US criminal court. Really?

What happened to his Miranda Rights? He was not "Mirandized." If you are going to try him in a US Criminal Court, isn't that cause for dismissal?

"Failure (to convict) is not an option," said Attorney General Holder. Really! So that presumes that the Defense Attorney in THIS trial is just going to roll-over and play along with the Prosecutor? Since when? Can anyone say OJ Simpson? The Defense Attorneys rolled over there, right?

Doesn't the Attorney General's remark prevent any impartial Jury from being seated? Why would a Jury deliberate in a meaningful way, when the outcome is already determined?

What happened to my promise from our Government of presumption of innocence by the practice of law in this country, if the Attorney General can predict the outcome? Isn't that a sham, a "rigged" trial? Is a Jury needed any more if the Attorney General can guarantee the outcome?

By sending this case to a criminal court in the US where Miranda Rights are guaranteed, where another country interrogated the suspect, and arrested the suspect but where our standards and protections will be extended to what was then a military operation -- all violations of our civil guarantees -- won't those violations of our Civil Courts and our rights, guarantee an acquittal for KSM?

But -- if a fair trial isn't guaranteed by the Attorney General's actions and a verdict of guilty is rendered as promised by Mr. Holder, haven't all of our rights in the Civil Courts been trampled upon -- by our own Government?

Bread

Each year, the family gathers at our house for Thanksgiving. For the past 15 years, part of the weekend activities has been a wine tasting on Friday and with the arrival of Grandchildren -- now seven -- we integrated a Juice tasting into that event as well, with the children giving their reviews and tasting notes on the various juices. This year they will taste and comment on Mango, Pineapple, Banana Nectar, Passion Fruit and V-8 Fusion Tropical Orange while the adults compare the qualities of five Pinot Gris from five countries.

With the Wine and Juice Tasting, we also feature three cheeses and three breads. This year, the cheeses will be Fromage d'Affinois, Morbier and a Chevre with raspberries while the breads will be a Russian Black Bread, an Italian Tomato and Basil, and a San Francisco Sourdough.

I do a little write-up of each of the wines, juices, cheeses and bread each year and this year, in my research, was stopped by a note about Sourdough Bread. Sourdough has been around since around 1500BC -- 3,500 years. It was the first agent for leavening bread and remained the only leavening agent for 3,000 years, until the Europeans began using the fermenting foam from beer -- called Barm -- as an additional leavening.

Today, many of us in the US take bread for granted; there are so many choices in the supermarkets -- soft, organic whole grain, rustic, rolls, buns, bagels, high fibre, seeded, unseeded. And yet, for centuries Bread has been a basic substance of living.

Bread is so woven into our existence that it is the subject of many quotes:

• He who has no bread has no authority -- Turkish Proverb


• Give us this day, our daily bread - The Bible


• Man shall not live by bread alone - The Bible


• Cast thy bread upon the waters - The Bible


• Acorns were good until bread was found -- Francis Bacon


• The greatest thing since sliced bread -- anonymous


• Anytime a person goes into a delicatessen and orders a pastrami on white bread, somewhere a Jew dies -- Milton Berle, comedian


• A wise and frugal government, which shall leave men free to regulate their own pursuits of industry and improvement, and shall not take from the mouth of labor the bread it has earned - this is the sum of good government. -- Thomas Jefferson

While bread has been a basic necessity of life, it has also become the source of slang -- bread to many means "money". "Dough" likewise means money. Or other euphemisms: "Breadwinner," "Putting bread on the table," "Breadbasket," "Bigger than a breadbox."

Bread has probably been a part of human living since Neolithic times. And for most of those 12,000 years, it was a central concern of every day. In our world of iPods and gigabytes, bread is no less important, but amongst all the technology, it has faded far into the background of our lives -- until you have a really good, fresh piece of it. And then your DNA does a little dance of joy.

You know that Pepperidge Farm Bread? It is fancy. That stuff is wrapped twice. You open it and it still ain't open. That's why I don't buy it; I don't need another step between me and toast.

~ Mitch Hedberg, comedian

The Jonestown Massacre, November 18, 1978

Thirty one years ago today, a grim scene was revealed in a remote area of the South American country of Guyana -- 912 bodies were found scattered among a settlement known as Jonestown. Each of them had apparently voluntarily drank cyanide-laced grape Kool-Aid. The leader of this group, "Reverend" Jim Jones, had shot himself in the head.



At first, this looked like a mass suicide, but then as this organization, officially titled "The People's Temple" was examined and determined to be a cult, the act was changed from suicide to "massacre."

The People's Temple had been founded in 1955 in Indianapolis by a self-styled minister who had no theological training, James Warren Jones. Jones' message and philosophy was a blend of socialism and religion whose theme of communalism appealed to a number of people. Jones moved his organization several times, ending up in San Francisco in 1971. There, his People's Temple grew to some 20,000 members.

Jones and his radical "Temple" became the subject of several investigations in San Francisco: voter fraud for having busloads of followers driven from polling place to polling place to vote multiple times; fraudulently using donations for his own personal use; and a manslaughter investigation for sending a box of candy with a bomb in it to a political candidate that was critical of Jones.

In 1977, Jones moved again, this time to an isolated area in Guyana, so that he and the 1,000 followers who went with him, could live in peace -- and so that he could avoid prosecution.

In 1978, a California Congressman, Leo Ryan, made a fact-finding visit to Jonestown. As he was leaving with several "rescued" followers, Ryan and four of his party were shot and killed by the Temple's security guards.

The next day, Jones orchestrated the largest mass suicide in recent history.

Of the victims, over 400 unclaimed bodies were buried at Evergreen Cemetery in Oakland, California where each year at 11:00am on November 18, people gather for a memorial service.

Hope is both the earliest and the most indispensable virtue inherent in the state of being alive. If life is to be sustained hope must remain, even where confidence is wounded, trust impaired.

~ Erik H. Erikson, psychologist

The Tangled Woods

Earlier this Fall, the leaves, while still on the trees, produced a spectacular display of colors. This was particularly true along the Brandywine River nearby.

Gradually, with wind and temperature and driving rain, the leaves have fallen from the trees, revealing the structure of each tree and each limb.

In the woods behind our house stand several trees -- mainly oak and walnut -- with very large trunks; they stretch perhaps 100 feet into the air. The majority of the trees, however, are tall but with smallish trunks, affected by competing with the larger trees for sunlight. All of them are rooted in a thin layer of soil over the rocky substrata of the area. When a Nor'easter blows up the coast from the South, one or two of the trees will lose their footing in the thin dirt and begin leaning. Seldom do the trees topple over, though, because they end up leaning on their neighbor, producing a tangled look.



Families are like that.

It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon men's hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of air that emanates from old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit.

~ Robert Louis Stevenson

Challenge Coins

Yesterday, the President and First Lady attended a very solemn memorial service for the thirteen men and women killed at Ft. Hood. Among the many traditions on display there -- the helmet, the gun, the dog tags and ... the boots -- President Obama placed a "Challenge Coin" on each of the markers of the fallen.

I did not know of this tradition.

There are many stories about the derivation of Challenge Coins, but the one told most often originated in World War I. Airplanes were a daring and somewhat romantic new technology then, with the first flight having been recorded only 14 years earlier. Many young men enrolled in the Army Air Corps to be a pilot. Among them, a wealthy student from an Eastern college who, in a generous burst of collegiality had bronze coins made for each of his fellow pilots in the squadron. Each coin contained "USA" on one side and the squadron's number on the other. The Pilots began carrying this coin with them as good luck pieces.

One of the US Pilots was shot down over France and captured by the French Army who could not determine if he was an ally or a German Pilot that could speak English. When they decided to treat him as a German, the Pilot remembered the Squadron coin and showed it to the French soldiers. It proved to the French that he was an American and he was dispatched back to the US Forces.

The tradition of the coins continued on into Viet Nam where it was used in drinking games -- if you couldn't produce your coin, you had to buy the soldier or group of men challenging a round of drinks. After Viet Nam ended, the tradition mostly disappeared until Desert Storm and has gained in popularity since. As a a side note, when the soldier would carry their coin in their billfolds, it often looked like they were carrying a condom, which produced some interesting "challenge" stories when the ring indentation was noted by the military spouse.

Each member of the Executive Branch has Challenge Coins, but the Presidential Coin is the most coveted. Here is the coin that President Obama placed on each of the thirteen memorials yesterday as a sign of respect from the Commander in Chief.

Allow the People to use the Internet to VOTE

The Frenetic antics of Congress has caused me to finally suggest out loud what I have quietly whispered for some time -- let the people vote on important legislative decisions using the Internet.

Give us your reform measure one decision at a time and let us vote on it, item-by-item. If the Health Care Bill is so important that it has to be voted on by the end-of-the-day, end-of-the-week, end-of-the-month, end-of-the-year -- hurry, Hurry, HURRY -- but won't be implemented until 2013, then with all this wackiness, the people need to get involved. Let us vote via the Internet!

If I can bank via the Internet, if I can purchase goods with my credit card via the Internet, if I can buy stock via the Internet, surely, I can vote securely via the Internet.

Representative Democracy was chosen as our form of government when the demands of growing your own food and clothing your family required the majority of one's time in a day. It was also the age of the horse as transportation, so traveling the 260 miles from, say, Boston to Philadelphia, at 20 miles per day on Nellie would have taken 23 days. That is obviously not the case today.

In my view, most of the Congressional Class has forgotten that they are "hired" by us to represent us. Instead, they have a view that they are there to take care of us in all ways, because they know better than we do.

Congress needs to listen to the will of the people of this country, not some poll where the fix is in due to the phrasing of the question and the make-up of the respondents.

The Internet is this tool, but it must be legislatively mandated to become an instrument of the governance; there is the rub. Legislators will not allow it to be used, so a Constitutional Amendment is required originated by the people. We can do that!!

There is reform needed of the Congressional Branch of our government.
... We need term limits on these Nabobs.
... We need to eliminate their earmarks.
... We need Congress to have the same Health Care System that they shackle us with.
... We need to be allowed to vote on important issues using the Internet.

What do you think? Will you join me in mounting a call for Internet use by the People, as a part of the governance of this Country?

"Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad with power. " ~ Charles A. Beard, Progressive Historian

Frost

The first hard frost of the season fell overnight. The only vegetable in the garden still producing yesterday were the peppers -- Hungarian and Bell; the frost will have stopped that. Many of the trees have already dropped their leaves -- the ash, the walnut and the poplar -- while the maples out my window still retain many of their red leaves. The cherry trees lining our driveway have left a pleasant number of leaves on the asphalt, making walking to the mailbox a pleasant chore.

The roses on the Southern side of our house seemed to have missed the frost which means that my out-of-control Morning Glories will be spared also. All will need to be pulled and trimmed and cut and raked and swept -- as do we.

Back to Chapter Two, instead.

Besides the autumn poets sing,

A few prosaic days

A little this side of the snow

And that side of the haze.

~Emily Dickinson

The First Chapter Is Finished

Well, maybe not totally finished. The 13,000 words will have to be gone over by my chief editor -- lovely wife Joan -- and I will have to accomodate her corrections and suggestions by re-reading it and touching practically every space. It is an arduous task for me since I am anxious to plow on. But if I do not correct it now, the process will get away from me.

Among the challenges, is that the first chapter is in the voice of an eight year old boy. Plus, it is set 1,000 years ago. So, the adult terms, expressions and contemporary meanings must be excised and more appropriate words chosen. I leave the reader with these final paragraphs of Chapter One. The scene is between the young boy and his father, who has just been made Chief.

“Having said that to you, I now must confess something to you, my son.” Father knelt down on his one knee as he had in the town square to accept his headdress. We were eye-to-eye.

“I never want to lie to you, or participate in what appears to be a falsehood, so I admit this in truth to you. Tomorrow night, I will lead a war party out of this village in search of the young girls taken from us. This is what is expected of me—that I should find them. But if we do not find them, I will be forced to take girls from another village—a village that we suspect of having abducted our girls—to replace what has been taken from us. This will send a signal to other marauders that we are not to be taken lightly. Hit us and we will hit you back!”

Father knew and I knew that only days earlier, he had said to me that our village did not take young girls from other tribes. But now that he was Chief, he might actually lead such a raid. He was turning his own statement into a falsehood.

Neither of us spoke; I did not know what to say. “I ask you not to judge me, my son, but rather to know that I have such deep respect for you that I would tell you this,” he said, quietly.

There was more silence between us. “May the Great Spirit be with you and be your guide,” I said, not knowing where the words came from.

Father looked me in the eyes and opened his wide arms. I went to him and embraced him and he embraced me in return. His chest heaved and he sighed loudly and his face was warm. He whispered, “I love you, and always will, no matter what may come."

The Pennsylvania Turnpike

Yesterday, Joan and I returned from our daughter's house near Venetia PA to our home in Eastern PA. Counting lunch, it took five hours to travel the 282 miles. The fall colors were spectacular and the day was gorgeous -- in the lower sixties. I havetravelled the Turnpike many times since moving to Eastern PA for my work at QVC in 1986, and although I knew something of its history, I decided to look further into the matter -- after all, I was a History major at Ohio University in Athens, Ohio.

George Washington was a proponent of building roads into the interior of the new country, to encourage commerce and to facilitate the travel of settlers; In Pennsylvania, there were early "log roads" or Pikes, the longest being 62 miles from Philadelphia to Lancaster. It wasn't until after the Civil war, however, that massive projects were undertaken.

In the 1880's William Vanderbilt and Andrew Carnegie began the construction of a private railroad bed from Harrisburg to Pittsburgh through the Allegheny Mountains, which posed an enormous barrier to railroad expansion. Before his project was abandoned, his company had built over half of the two-track roadbed and had started over seven tunnels. Twenty-six people lost their lives in the effort, known as "Vanderbilt's Folly."


In the early 20th century, automobiles and trucks were becoming the favored method of transportation. Yet it wasn't until the Great Depression that the Turnpike idea became a reality. With planning starting in 1935, ground was actually broken in 1938 and in 20 months, a 160 mile stretch of "Super Highway" was constructed, stretching from Harrisburg to Irwin, just North of Pittsburgh. Much of it followed the Vanderbilt route and completed the seven tunnels they had started or that were being used by contemporary railroad companies. The Turnpike was also known as "the tunnel road" because of these holes through the mountains rather than roads over them. The original seven tunnels were -- Laurel Hill, Allegheny, Ray's Hill, Sideling Hill, Tuscarora, Kittatinny and Blue Mountain -- and they were two lane tunnels; the twin tunnels would come later.



The original estimates of Turnpike usage were wildly underestimated. On a beautiful Sunday afternoon in October 1940, so many black sedans were on the Turnpike that they ran out of the dime tickets and resorted to handwritten paper tickets. The toll plazas were backed up for miles and the congestion did not ease up until 10:30 at night. The problem wasn't getting people on -- it was getting them off the Turnpike. 25,000 vehicles drove on the turnpike that day when they had projected 5,000. In the first year, the planners had calculated 1.3 million vehicles would use the Turnpike; actual usage was 2.4 million or 85% more vehicles than they had predicted.






Today, the original 160 miles has grown to 512 miles of Turnpike and yearly usage is now at 156 million vehicles. Yesterday, Joan and I were one of those traveler/statistics, glad to be home and happy not to have had to use the old Lincoln Highway -- Rt. 30 -- or the National Road -- Rt. 40-- but instead availed ourselves of the Pennsylvania Turnpike.

Immutable

Today is Reformation Sunday, marking one of the important events in Western History. Although Jan Hus in Bohemia (now the Czech Republic) had stood fast against the Catholic Church and was burned at the stake, it was Martin Luther a century later who nailed his 95 Theses on the door of the church in Wittenburg who finally initiated the separation from the Catholic Church.

The years since Luther's solitary act in 1517, were filled with change and the change continues today. Throughout the years of exploration and Renaissance and Revolution and Industrialization and World Wars, the pace of change has quickened. The technology of 20 years ago seems as dated as saying my computer is a Commodore 64.

Today the cycles of change interacts with each other as the ripples in the water from various pebbles, creating confusing merging half-circles. Social Engineering, Human Engineering, Governmental Philosophy, and Technology are all proceeding in a rapid collision course with each other.

Throughout all of this, the concept of "immutability" has sustained many people. These people believe that the passage of time is the real agent of change and that those of us who live in a temporal world will always be subject to change. These people also believe that God is eternal and outside time, not subject to change, and that God is immutable. Therefore in times of rapid change, these people can take solace in the immutable God; I am one of these people.

"Time is God's way of preventing everything from happening at once."
~ Anonymous, quoted in "Cottonwood Pass" by Ronald D. Giles

Special Places -- Special Joys

As a kid, occasionally, I would place a blanket over the back of the couch and stretch it over to the window sill. Then I would crawl on the floor in the space between the back of the couch and the wall. Laying inside, I would feel, well ... nice. It was my special place, provoking a warm emotion.

As an adult, we have many special places. Some special places are geographical or travel related like Artist's Point in Yellowstone or Uluru in Australia or Westminster Abbey in London.

Of course, there are personal special places that make us quiver, convulse and shake with pleasure or special events such as funerals or weddings or births that can evoke tears of sadness or tears of joy. Even the special place in minds devoted to memories can trigger the same emotions, causing us to laugh or smile or tear up.

And then there is the special place created by being held in someones arms. The gentle hug of a three year old can melt the heart of a 280 pound NFL linebacker or the comforting embrace of your lover can ameliorate the most distressing news.

In this world of increasing empiricism, I have to ask "how is it that we are possessing of these emotions?" They are precious gifts, not accountable by any science. Every human, from Aleut to Congolese share these same feelings. Education, experience or philosophy cannot purchase them; they are innate -- a gift from our creator.

My own special places and the joys they provoke are therefore -- to me -- Divine.

On Birthdays

Yesterday was my birthday, and it was the best one yet -- cards from family and friends, singing phone calls from friends, greetings from my children, friends on Facebook, Internet greetings, taken to lunch, gifts and a birthday dinner at home with my son and his family. And it isn't over. In Pittsburgh tonight, I will be with my daughter and her family and we will go to dinner. It is almost overwhelming.

As I was dressing to go to lunch, I thought about my parents. I was an only child. Mother said that they had hoped for more children; I was every one of their hopes rolled up into one. They lavished positive energy upon me and gave me a lot of love, common sense and values.

We lived together for 21 years, a long time, really -- and yet, in the scheme of things, not very long, really.

In my heart, I carry my parents with me each day, wherever I go. Yesterday, on my birthday, I wore Dad's watch.

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."

~ Lao Tzu, Chinese Philosopher (600BC-531BC)

The First Chapter Continues

The first chapter of my third book continues to get larger, having passed 11,000 words or about 40 book pages. I am finally past the toughest slogging and have the end of the chapter in sight -- a dramatic moment when the Council of Women throw out the old leader and install a new one, the main character's father.

The final straw for the council came when the former chief took his guards on a ceremonial junket and while they were away, the village was raided and five young women were taken captive, not to be found again.

"An author should ...
12. Say what he is proposing to say, not merely come near it.
13. Use the right word, not its second cousin.
14. Eschew surplusage.
15. Not omit necessary details.
16. Avoid slovenliness of form.
17. Use good grammar.
18. Employ a simple, straightforward style."
~ from "The Literary Offenses of James Fenimore Cooper"
by Mark Twain

A Day of Music

Yesterday, Joan and I were up early for a rehearsal at 8:45 am. She was accompanying three men's four-part pieces and I was one of the seven singers. Two of the three selections were difficult but beautiful; the third piece was a Canon or round, in four divisions. The church was in 1723 stone barn, converted to a sanctuary. The service lasted until 11:15.

Then we were off to a three hour rehearsal with a Lutheran Church Choir, filled with 80 energetic singers. The rehearsal is for a Christmas concert on the afternoon of December 6.

Throughout the day, I was reminded of the debate in the early days of the Reformation about the best way to present church music -- either as Unison singing or singing in parts.

John Calvin was against singing in parts, which he thought distracted from the words. The best vehicle for a text, he thought, were many voices - male and female -- singing as one.

Others who had thoughts on the matter -- such as Martin Luther -- encouraged singing in parts, believing that the beauty of voices in harmony, emphasized the meaning of the words.

The debate went on for over 200 years. John Wesley, who with his brother Charles Wesley, founded the Methodist Church, was a proponent of Unison singing -- that is until he heard Handel's "Messiah" performed in London in 1742, with the composer conducting. After that, he thought that "fugueing" was acceptable.

Joan and I were exhausted when we finally returned home at 5:00, collapsing on our accepting couch and love seat for the remaining football games. Running through our heads from nine hours earlier, though, were the strong strains of "Contate Hodie," meaning "sing today." And Joan was still complaining about having to play the piano accompaniment in four sharps (the complaining started two weeks earlier and will continue on into the new week) although she handled it beautifully. Sleep was close at hand.

An English singer (named, Gordon) complained of Handel's method of accompanying during the Messiah. If Handel persisted in accompanying him in this manner, the noted singer threatened to jump on Handel's harpsichord and smash it to pieces. Handel is said to have replied:
"Oh! Let me know when you will do that, and I will advertise it.
For I am sure more people will come to see you jump, than to hear you sing."

On a rainy, chilly Autumn day

The sky today on the East Coast is overcast, producing a darkness in the house that a lamp brightens. Rain is falling lightly outside, knocking down some leaves whose time has come to fall. The clock ticks loudly on the wall as my wife rehearses on the piano.

Dear reader, I give you today some thoughts about rain and Autumn:

A wind has blown the rain
away and blown the sky
away and all the leaves
away, and the trees stand.
I think,
I
too, have known autumn too
long.

~E. E. Cummins

The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry's cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I'll put a trinket on.

~ Emily Dickinson
Nature XXVII, Autumn.

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold,
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

~Robert Frost
Nothing Gold Can Stay.

Autumn wins you best by this, its mute
Appeal to sympathy for its decay.

~Robert Browning

The falling leaves drift by the window
The autumn leaves of red and gold
I see your lips, the summer kisses
The sun-burned hands I used to hold
Since you went away the days grow long
And soon I'll hear old winter's song
But I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall.

~Johnny Mercer.
Originally a French song "Les Feuilles Mortes"
with lyrics by poet Jacques Prevért.

The Chinese Restaurant

I have a favorite Chinese Restaurant that I visit for lunch about once a week. Yesterday, while sitting in their nicely decorated space, I was struck by the contradictions of the lunch.

Although it was a Chinese Restaurant, I was there to have Japanese Sashimi; my waitress, a pleasant college-aged young woman, was neither Chinese or Japanese -- she was from the Philippines. And, the music playing in the background, was a "smooth jazz" saxophone slurring "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." By the time I had finished my last morsel of pickled ginger, Frank Sinatra was kickin "New York, New York."

Aaaah, my Fortune Cookie -- half vanilla and half chocolate. It read, "The world will always welcome talent with open arms." Perfect...but vague.

You can only go halfway into the darkest forest; then you are coming out the other side
~ Chinese Proverb

Fearing the "Plot Dump"

Even though my days seem full and the yard work that needs to be done is embarrassingly large, I still have found time to write a page of my third novel, pretty much every day. Much of what I am doing is "exposition" -- setting up characters or situations in the plot for later resolution and/or action.

Because this first chapter seems so long, I fear that I am guilty of a "plot dump," although I am hoping that it is really an "info dump," which is a less sneering appraisal. Here is an example of character dialogue one should avoid:

Joe: Who's at the door?

Mary: Oh, it's my uncle, who was released from prison yesterday after serving ten years for stealing the family jewels from this very house, although the jewels themselves have never been found and are rumored to be buried in a secret chamber guarded by the ghost of my late grandmother.*
* quoted from "the Free Dictionary by Farlex"

I have not re-read my writing so far, but ... could be. Let's hope for info dumping, instead of the above.

Over 10,000 words and counting.

Sippenhaft

Last evening, I watched "Valkyrie," starring Tom Cruise. Although I was aware of this unsuccessful 1944 attempt to assassinate Hitler -- headed by a Nazi military officer, Count Claus von Stauffenburg -- I wanted to see the dramatization of it to understand more about it, and also because I generally like Tom Cruise movies.

Count von Stauffenburg's plot was foiled and he was executed along with others involved in the event. I then wanted to know about the Count's wife, Nina Schenk Grafin von Stauffenburg, and what happened to her, after her husband's anti-Nazi treachery. They had four children when he was executed and his wife, Nina was pregnant with their fifth child, born after his death.
As the result of Count von Stauffenburg's failed attempt, his wife and family were subjected to "Sippenhaft." I didn't know this word, but it didn't sound good.

Sippenhaft means "bad blood" and/or "kin liability." It is an ancient concept that many other countries developed and used before the Nazis incorporated the practice into their laws. It is among the ways that the Nazis kept discipline in their country during the war, because if you were convicted of some heinous act -- treason, cowardice, espionage -- you could cause your family to be severely punished also, as a way of eliminating the "bad blood" in the perpetrator's lineage -- and the "bad blood" in future generations.

The rule of Sippenhaft exposed your family and extended family to horrible punishment -- perhaps even death -- as the result of your act. Count von Stauffenburg's wife, Nina, was arrested and imprisoned; her children were taken from her as the result of the Count's attempt on Hitler's life. Later, after the war, Nina was reunited with her children.

Nina von Stauffenburg never remarried and lived to the age of 92, passing away in 2006.



Nina Schenk and Claus von Stauffenburg in 1933. They were married two months after this picture was taken.

Today's Page of the Third Book

As the sun is shining but it is raining, I managed to write a page+ today. I am still on the first chapter -- 9,000 words, probably 30 book pages. I have used 6 Fleurons so far to indicate a passage of time. I'll reconsider this as a chapter when I re-read it, but for now, I am going on.

For your amusement, here is a part of what I wrote today -- totally out of context. It is a partial recounting of a Native American Flood Story:

One morning as Eagle and Crow awakened with the rising sun, they were surprised to find a Turtle swimming around their stump. With interest, Eagle and Crow watched as the Turtle disappeared under the water, out of sight, and then popped back up on the surface with a fish in his beak. Chewing and waving his head back and forth, the Turtle enjoyed his catch. The Turtle went down again. This time, when he returned, the Turtle had a fish AND mud in his mouth. Crow and Eagle looked at each other excitedly.

“Can we get Turtle to bring us dirt so that we can build land? How can we get Turtle to understand what we need him to do?”

Eagle had an idea which he explained to Crow. “Let us catch fish and give it to Turtle and when he understands maybe he will bring us mud for our land in exchange."

Over and over the two birds caught fish and laid it on the stump for Turtle. After time, Turtle began taking the fish, but still fished for himself. Sometimes when Turtle came to the surface, he had mud on him. Eagle with his long wings would scrape the mud off Turtle and place it on the stump. Through many attempts, Turtle finally understood that he could bring them mud and they would give him fish in return.

It was a long process, but they had nothing else to do, no place to go. Gradually, Crow had a pile of mud on his side of the stump and Eagle had a similar sized pile of mud on his side of the stump.

Turtle was a hard worker, keeping Crow and Eagle busy bringing fish to their side of the stump for Turtle, who seemed to be always hungry for more fish. Crow and Eagle shared the burden of feeding Turtle equally and each took their fair share of mud from Turtle, building more and more land beside their stump.

To stretch their wings and to satisfy their curiosity, Eagle and Crow would sometimes fly out over the water to search for any signs of land. Nothing had changed, but they knew their mud piles were growing and that over time they would each have built a new world. “We will share our world, equally,” they agreed.

At their stump, their mud piles were growing everyday. Turtle was tireless in his muddy work and also tireless in his hunger for fish. One morning Eagle and Crow noticed a slight change in the waterline on their stump; the water was going down.

“The flood must be ending,” Eagle said excitedly and off he flew to survey the effects of the lowering waters.

Since we no longer have flooded earth, Eagle and Crow must have succeeded -- but not without conflict. I hope you have enjoyed this unedited snippet.

Where are the Jobs?

In 1983, I was functioning as Vice President of Broadcasting Operations at Warner-Amex Cable in Pittsburgh. It was the first interactive cable system built in a major city. Our cable engineers laid the most sophisticated two-way and fibre optic cable at the time; I could see instant ratings on channels because our system touched the set-top boxes every ten seconds. It was the cat's meow of cable then.

When we started building the plant in 1980, Warner and American Express in a joint venture borrowed $100 million dollars at the prevailing rate of interest at the time -- 18%. When Joan and I bought a house in Peters Township outside Pittsburgh, our interest rate was 16.5% Of my monthly check as VP, 42% went to the mortgage. Not a good arrangement.

In 1983, Warner-Amex sold the Pittsburgh Cable System to TCI and John Malone. While we were meeting our subscriber goals, we could not make enough money to survive and the 18% interest rate was at the heart of the problem.

As part of the sale agreement, TCI renegotiated the cable contract with the city and got rid of many onerous, but unprofitable provisions of the contract; much of the work and the work of my department was taken to a centralized office in Denver, and all of were terminated. For the first time in my life, I had no job!

I found myself standing in a line in Washington PA, seeking unemployment benefits. The line was long and very slow as each man or woman who sat down with a counselor had their life story to tell, or had to explain how their job search was going or what their options were when the unemployment compensation ran out.

It was depressing and scary to stand in that line. How many weeks would I have to come back here? How much time would I have to commit? (I had already been standing there for over an hour.) My successful self-image was shot down by standing in that line. So, I got out of line; I could not take the cross-currents of guilt and fear and failure that were washing over me.

I did find work, thanks to my friend, John Mullin, who hired me -- but I have never forgotten the feeling and the fear I felt while standing in that line.

Today, millions of our citizens are standing in that same unemployment line, each day, each week. Earlier this year, our Congress and our President, acting in our behalf, passed a "Stimulus Package" to fund shovel-ready projects and get people back to work.

In this era of having to do things so quickly that legislators haven't time to read what it is they are voting on, I ask -- where are the jobs? Why hasn't it been a priority to get the money flowing into the economy to fund small business opportunities and large projects?

Where are the jobs? Not ones that have been saved. New Jobs. Where are they? 9.8% of our citizens are unemployed. That is roughly 16,000,000 adults. What is the hold-up with getting the money to the projects? Where are the Jobs?

One Page a Day

So far, I have been faithful to my goal of one page a day on my new novel. Today may be the first break, however, as my son and Grand Son are coming over for Dinner.

My son loves a good steak so I will be preparing pan seared, oven-finished Filet Mignon. My Grand Son, at age five, is a picky and difficult eater, but I know he likes French Fries and Applesauce -- favorites for Jason. A Garden Salad will also be offered. Oh, and for the toast -- Sparkling Apple Cider.

I believe in ceremony and tradition; they bind people together and create memories which can be carried around for a long time -- even for generations. I am hoping that Grand Son Jason remembers dinners at Grammy Joan and Grampy Ron's house.

I know that he looks forward to coming over here, but I am pretty sure his motive is ... Ice Cream (no sugar added) with sprinkles, which will be dessert. Now, that's his idea of a tradition!

“Science and technology revolutionize our lives,

but memory and tradition frame our response"

~ Arthur Schlesinger, Jr

Hymns and their Stories

For the past 12 years, Joan and I have been presenting programs for churches and like organizations based on hymns and the stories behind them. This has been an interesting avocation -- and a joyful one -- since I am a singer and Joan is a talented pianist; additionally, hymns is an extension of my interest in history, which was my undergraduate degree.

Together, we have presented at over 110 churches and locations, ranging from the beaches of New Jerseys Shore to my birthplace, Scioto County Ohio. We have worked in auditoria, Sanctuaries, basements, and one of our favorite locations, a 1723 Barn turned Church.

Some churches want us to replace the sermon on Sunday, so we will present five hymns and stories; others want us to fill the whole morning service with music of the season, so we will present eight hymns. Organizations ask us to be their Holiday entertainment with a spiritual flavor and ask for a 45 minute program -- leaving time for Saint Nicholas' appearance.

Our busiest times of the year are Lent and Advent/Christmas. For the month of December this year, we have four bookings, calling for three different formats; one program will be repeated. I have begun working on these programs because of the lead time for us to rehearse and for me to organize and write the program into some sort of flow or theme, which is delightfully complicated by being invited back to a place and therefore not repeating what we did the last time we were there.

Among my favorite hymns of the season is "I Heard the Bells On Christmas Day." The text was written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in 1863 during the darkest part of the Civil War. Longfellow was the premier American poet of the 19th Century. The words that he strung together had a rhythm and a beat and a resonance that made them memorable:

"Listen My Children and You Shall Hear
of the Midnight Ride of Paul Revere.”

or

"By the Shores of Gitche Gumee,
by the shining Big-Sea Waters"

or

“ Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree
the Village Smithy Stands”

The year of 1863 had been a terrible year for Longfellow. His son, who had been in he war, was living now at home, recovering (but he never did) from a paralyzing wound. And in the summer of the year, Longfellow lost his beloved wife in a freak accident at home, a fire. Longfellow, himself, was badly burned trying to save her. Afterwards, he grew a beard to cover his burns.

And yet, the poetry flowed from him:

I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to all.

President Obama's Priorities. What are they?

After writing yesterday's blog article on Management by Objectives, I wondered what President Obama's Objectives are? What is the shorthand list in his billfold? What priority is given those objectives? Is it ...

1. Health Care Reform
2. The Afghanistan War
3. The Economy
4. Energy -- Current and Future
5. Homeland Security
6. Immigration Reform

If your order or your objectives are different, Mr. President, go ahead shuffle my list around.

Whatever the President's Priorities are regarding the major issues that he is spending his time on, shouldn't we -- the American People, the populace, the voting public, the tax-paying public, Democrats, Republicans, Independents, the multi-cultural employers of all politicians in Washington DC -- shouldn't we know what the President's Priorities are and in what order? Which one is most important? What is the next priority. The next one?

I don't want a speech. Please show me that President Obama is more than a gifted speech maker; besides, I've seen that.

I don't want generic statements that don't answer anything; I've heard enough of them from the Administration.

I don't want yet another appearance by the President on shows featuring NBC, CBS, and ABC anchors or late night hosts. I've seen that.

I don't want another Prime Time Press Conference/Joint Session of Congress appearance by the President. I've seen that.

I don't want to watch Robert Gibbs mesmerizing the White House Press Corps by massaging the answer from President Obama. I've seen that.

I don't want another Town Hall meeting arranged with school children/Firemen/Veterans/auto workers/immigrants/unemployed. I've seen that.

What do I want?

Give me the list of your priorities, Mr. President, printed in the newspapers -- not on the Internet -- officially from the President of the United States. Issue a Press Release that newspapers can print as is, with the same message and the same words on it, paper-to-paper, city-to-city, the same Press Release -- no chance for misstatements, no misunderstandings, no misinterpretation, no context, just a list. A one Page Press release -- ONE PAGE -- "The Priorities of the President of the United States." #1 is the most important; #2 next important, etc. It can be done in one page -- ONE PAGE. Sign it!

I pay my taxes. I always have. I deserve an answer; I want my answer. Show me and all Americans the list of your priorities, Mr. President.

Ronald D. Giles

One-a-Day

I have admired people who are so well-organized that the old saw "when you want something done, give it to a busy person" applies to them. I experienced this somewhat when I was working with Warner Cable and they instituted a Management by Objectives (MBO) program for its divisions. The division's objectives for the year/month dictated my objectives and those who reported to me, tied their objectives to mine. I won't bore you with the difference between Common Objectives and Special Cause Objectives, nor will I debate the merits of MBO versus modern quality management techniques, but I will say that I was organized--by day, by month and by the year.

After considering for a while, how I can manage promoting my current book, "Cottonwood Pass, A Novel of Suspense... ," work on creating four musical Advent Hymns and Carols programs, visit with Children and Grand Children, occasionally go shooting, write articles for this blog, perform routine maintenance on home and cars, pay attention to my wife, and write pages for my next book, finishing it by March of next year -- I have come to a conclusion.

I have decided to commit to the "one page a day" discipline of other writers. Name the time and get to it every day. Obviously, if you fulfilled this commitment, then one would complete a 365 page novel in 365 days. Of course, I might write eight or ten pages every so often, so maybe that works.

Truthfully, I don't set out to write a book of a certain length but rather let the story dictate the length. So writing for 365 days is arbitrary and it sounds long. If I think about it as writing a single page a day--400 words or so -- it sounds do-able. Yes I can, Yes I can, Yes I CAAAAN.

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
~ Ernest Hemingway

Cheerleaders

Recently, Joan and I went to a High School Football Game and were struck by the contrast between today's game experience and those of our high school days. Yes, the players were big and strong; yes, the coach was fired up; yes, the stands were packed. That part was the same.

What was different were the cheerleaders. Joan pointed out to me that the Cheerleaders did not "lead" the crowd in cheers, but were rather putting on a show or a display with not many people, other than the parents of those involved, paying any attention to them. In a time out, the Cheerleaders would create a lift and then toss a young teenage girl around, but at the same time the announcer was loudly promoting the concession stand over the PA, the band was playing in the end zone and the people in the stands were talking and joking -- all while the Cheerleaders were tossing and catching.

What happened to the megaphones and the cheers that everyone in the stands joined in on and the Cheerleaders led?

Push'em back, Push'em back, waaaAAAAAYYYY BAAACK!

or 2-4-6-8. Who do we appreciate? The Tigers.The Tigers. The Tigers! YAAAAAAY

Or, when the game was firmly in your team's hands, the Cheerleaders would lead the crowd in
Warm up the buses, warm up the buses, cause weee win. Weee win. Weeeee WIN!

From Pittsburgh, my son-in-law reports this cheer from 20 years ago when the Cheerleaders would sassily put their hands on their hips and point their fingers at the opposing side and the partisan fans in the stands would follow them, standing up with their hands on their hips and pointing, cheering ...
U-G-L-Y.
You ain't got no alibi, cause you Ugly.
Whaaaat?
You Ugly.
Whaaat?
You Ugly. You Ugly. You UGLYYYYYYY!

Everybody on your side knew the cheers and all joined in; everybody on their side all knew their cheers and all joined in. It was fun and not mean-spirited. At some point, the opposing sides' Cheerleaders would come over to our side and lead a cheer.
Thank you for having us, thank you for having us. Yaaay. Yaaay. YAAAYYY!
And we would applaud and they would strike a pose, shake their pom poms and then run back to their side, while all the people on our side would talk about them ("our girls are better looking," or "their outfits stink"or "I think there was something living in that blonde's hair.")

I appreciate the athleticism of today's Cheerleaders and their skill at lifting and holding and climbing and falling, but they are really not leading the crowd in "Cheers." Rather, they are ... well, performers. Nothing wrong with that, really. I... just prefer Cheerleaders.

"I guess he's simply becoming an old fart with his memories and his Pall Malls."
Kurt Vonnegut, "The Slaughterhouse-Five," 1966

Squirrel Stew

I have been reading other Author's blogs. I suspect that secretly, I am seeking sympathy while remaining anonymous. I have the urge to write, but I find other things that need to be done or things that I want to do and move them up on my list, pushing writing down; I have always been undisciplined.

Today, I am going shooting -- Sporting Clays. It may surprise some of you to find that I own and use guns. I grew up in a family where both my mother and father knew how to hunt; squirrel and rabbit stew were dishes my mother would prepare in the fall and winter of the year. Here is a short excerpt from my first book, "On Harrisonville Avenue."

My Dad loved to hunt and would take me with him. Mother would come too, sometimes, but stay in the car and listen to the radio and crochet.

Into the Bond Woods in September to hunt squirrels we would go,
tiptoeing quietly, avoiding sticks that would break or kicking dry leaves. Dad had a 12 gauge L.C. Smith double barrel shotgun; I was the spotter and retriever, since Dad’s eyes weren’t that good.

On one warm fall afternoon, Dad shot at three squirrels with 4 shells and didn’t hit one of them. As we were walking back, we were remarking nevertheless how good it was to be in the woods and breathing the fresh air. When we got back to the car, the trunk was open.

“Did you get anything?” Mother said cheerfully.
“No, but we scared three of them” said Dad as he looked in the trunk.

There was Mother’s Winchester 22 pump rifle and a dead squirrel.
“Dagnabbit, Gladys. Did you shoot this Squirrel ? “ Dad
sputtered.

“Well, what was I supposed to do, Paul,” said Mother.
“He sat there on the side of the tree and practically invited
himself to dinner.” And she chuckled and Dad laughed.

We had squirrel stew the next night.

Normally, it takes about one squirrel per person for a meal, but mother had ways of "extending" a dish when the situation called for it; mostly, her extensions meant adding more potatoes.
She would also add some canned corn. Of course, there were "scratchy" biscuits with her stews.

Ahhhh ... how easily I get distracted. I almost went for the recipe, but who among you needs a Squirrel Stew recipe?

So today, I will go shooting Sporting Clays with a friend from New Jersey. My guns are shotguns of all gauges; today calls for the Browning 12 gauge over and under. Or ... maybe I'll take the 16 gauge -- like the one Dad gave me.

Writing can wait until tomorrow, while I enjoy this day.