They've left me. The truck was parked right here, and now it's gone.
It's almost summer in 1963, and Stumptown Days have had the town hoppin' and explain my presence in the first place. Admittedly, this a local celebration in a very small town, and I live almost 30 miles outside even this action, but I hunger for excitement and this is my big chance.
We brought the flat bed Chevy with the stake sides. Room for three in the cab, and the rest of us piled in back. How many? I don't know. Ten, twelve, maybe a few more. Enough so that a less than careful count wouldn't reveal a short load. Didn't reveal a short load.
The night had been filled with typical rural teenage pursuits, gawking at girls, playing eight-ball and walking around trying to look a lot tougher than we were, but the small towns roll up the carpet pretty early. I had gone to the can one last time, and when I came out, there was a big space where the truck had been. Crap! I had spent all my money, and cell phones wont be available for about twenty five years.
I said 30 miles. That's plus or minus. The terrain doesn't lend itself to measurement. It's about 11 miles to the Pacific Ocean following the River Road. A kid in a orange Chevy Pick-up truck sans bed stopped for my thumb. He was only going to the next little town, but decided to take me all the way to the coast anyway. Thanks, fella, whoever and where ever you are today.
The Russian River does its bit to fill the Pacific Ocean in Jenner, California. River Road dead ends at the infamous Highway 1. Highway 1 roughly follows the Pacific Coast from top to bottom of these United States, and the section north of the Russian River is as convoluted as it ever gets. If you have the chance to drive this road, you will be amazed that the road could have been built at all. Some sections in Southern California were actually built from barges on the ocean because there was no other way to get there. There are permanent gates to make closing the road easier when, not if, there is a landslide.
I am standing smack-dab in the middle of greater downtown Jenner, in the middle of the night, and all three buildings are completely dark. Nothing moves. Up River Road, my benefactors taillights dwindle then disappear. Oh, well. It's only seventeen miles, right? I can wait here and hope to catch a ride with the next car that goes by, but waiting isn't really my style in 1963, so I walk.
The first mile is flat to gently sloping, then a climb on a long switchback to begin tracking the coastal cliffs in earnest. The Coast Highway here begins close to sea level and between here and home hugs the side of the cliffs, climbing as high as 600 feet above the ocean, up and down, around and around, never straight. The land isn't really suitable for farming, so ranching or selling stuff to tourists and fishermen are about the only ways to make a living.
Along the cliffs, which are too steep for cattle, it's sheep, Their trails carve fishnet patterns on the steep hillsides. I soon learn something. At night the paved road holds heat longer than the surrounding ground. That's why the sheep are sleeping on the road, and they seem to be used to the idea...sleeping on the road that is. I've gone about five miles, seen nothing but sleeping sheep and heard nothing except the faint crashing of the surf on the rocks below. I get tired and take a break, laying on the road like a sheep. It is warmer.
Where ever the road jumps up to the top of the cliffs for a bit, flatter places where cattle can graze, a fence line will cross the road with a cattle guard. Ever seen one of those? Looks like railroad tracks placed about six inches apart for a distance of three feet or so straight across the road. The hoofed critters don't like 'em too much because their hoofs tend to slip off into the spaces between the rails. Then somebody figured out that cows aren't really all that smart and you could pretty much fool 'em by just painting lines across the road that looked like a cattle guard. I can almost hear it...."Hey! Hold up a minute Bessie. We can't go this way. They've gone and painted those damned lines across the road. We'll slip into the dark spaces! Moooove it!"
It's dark and a cool breeze chills a kid dressed for a night on the town, not a hike on the coast. Eight miles past the top of the switchback the worst of the cliff hugging road is behind me, and the road drops into Fort Ross, a State Historical Monument at the location of the first Russian settlement in California. It is now a State Park, complete with entrance fees and docents, but this is 1963 and the Coast Highway run straight through the middle of it. I walk through in darkness, past the house where my Spanish teacher lives. Her husband is the keeper of the Fort. The house is dark and I do not stop. I don't know exactly what time it is, and I don't want to let her know I walked back by myself.
Two miles and another switchback later, I come to Timber Cove. This was a shipping point for lumber cut from the Redwood forests that so richly smothered the coastal hills, and in 1963 there are still some remnants of the logging camp that gave the place a name. Another mile and to the left I see the Timber Cove Inn, where Bufano's obelisk 'Peace' stands 90' tall and proud. My dad was a huge Bufano fan. The obelisk today stands between the Inn and the ocean. My 1963 mind remembers it near the road? I dined there in 2005. Ordered the Steak and Lobster (market price). My waiter raised his eyebrows, "My, my! We're really treating ourselves, tonight, aren't we? Hmmmm?" Wait a minute. Just how well am I treating myself??? Turns out that 'market price' tonight is USD60. WTF? The ocean is right there! Are they bringing this crustacean up from The City in a limo? No we are not treating ourselves or the lobster. I hope they still have it there. They probably want USD120 for it now.
Anyway, I'm only 2 miles from home, and a mile past the Inn, I pass the old Russian Graveyard. It is unmarked, and hidden behind a row of coast Juniper. It local knowledge only, untended and overgrown. Close by, someone has been building a house in the most unusual place. A tall rocky outcrop, fifty feet above the ocean is in the process of being pinched off from the mainland by the action of the ocean making small coves on either side. The only access is across a very narrow (18" wide at the top) land bridge. They've built a wider foot bridge and hand carried the building materials to the top of the knob. This place will have the most fantastic view of the big Tsunami.
I can almost see home now. It is less than a mile away. There has been no traffic. Not a single car has passed me going in either direction since I left Jenner. I see the beams of the headlights in the sky above me as a car comes up from the south. Soon I can hear the engine, then see the lights. I'm almost home, and tired. And cold. I stick out my thumb and the young couple stop, let me in and give me a two minute ride to the front gate.
It's a short walk to the Bunkhouse. I undress in the darkness and gratefully climb into bed. No one ever knows, except me...and now you.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
It's A Matter of Balance
We do it every day. And we can do it all day long, no problem. In fact we can do it for weeks or months with no issues what-so-ever.
This simple, easy thing is the act of standing up without falling over.
Most of us have dialed this one in long before we hit our first birthday, but, change just one little thing, and all of a sudden the task can seem almost impossible.
There is a current TV commercial in which a young woman climbs to the top of a spire and stands up on a patch of rock barely larger that her own shoes, surrounded by a lot of air and not much else. What is it about that situation that changes everything? Gravity still pulls in exactly the same direction, so assuming our semi-circular canals are functioning, we should be able to stand there all day. Yet the term 'dizzying heights' came from somewhere, and most of us would be so rattled by the change of perspective that we would probably fall off sooner rather that later(An ex-SO said she would be compelled to jump!?!). The lack of nearby familiar references, the comforting closeness of the floor for example, or a nearby wall make all the difference in the world. The hall stairway that looks so benign becomes sinister with the simple removal of the bannister. Take away our anchors, physical or emotional and we may be in trouble.
The same effect can happen to our emotional sense of balance. We live in comfortable emotional 'rooms' with solid 'floors' and 'ceilings' and 'walls' that define our perceptions. When we try on new ideas or find ourselves tugged in mutually exclusive directions the effects can be dizzying indeed. It really doesn't matter whether the challenges are tangible or ephemeral.
My personal paradigm has been shifted, and I feel a taste dizzy at the moment and reaching for an anchor. I think I'll go play my guitar. Happy New Year.
This simple, easy thing is the act of standing up without falling over.
Most of us have dialed this one in long before we hit our first birthday, but, change just one little thing, and all of a sudden the task can seem almost impossible.
There is a current TV commercial in which a young woman climbs to the top of a spire and stands up on a patch of rock barely larger that her own shoes, surrounded by a lot of air and not much else. What is it about that situation that changes everything? Gravity still pulls in exactly the same direction, so assuming our semi-circular canals are functioning, we should be able to stand there all day. Yet the term 'dizzying heights' came from somewhere, and most of us would be so rattled by the change of perspective that we would probably fall off sooner rather that later(An ex-SO said she would be compelled to jump!?!). The lack of nearby familiar references, the comforting closeness of the floor for example, or a nearby wall make all the difference in the world. The hall stairway that looks so benign becomes sinister with the simple removal of the bannister. Take away our anchors, physical or emotional and we may be in trouble.
The same effect can happen to our emotional sense of balance. We live in comfortable emotional 'rooms' with solid 'floors' and 'ceilings' and 'walls' that define our perceptions. When we try on new ideas or find ourselves tugged in mutually exclusive directions the effects can be dizzying indeed. It really doesn't matter whether the challenges are tangible or ephemeral.
My personal paradigm has been shifted, and I feel a taste dizzy at the moment and reaching for an anchor. I think I'll go play my guitar. Happy New Year.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Oh Me of Little Patience
I know. It is another character flaw. Will they never cease?
I would like to be a patient person, or at least I'm willing to say I'd like that, and I guess that sometimes I am, but all too often I'm just not.
If only everyone would just do what I want them to do when I want them to do it, there would be no problem at all, and I'm sure the world would be a much better place.
Today I was driving to work and approached a four way stop. Those of you who know me have heard similar rants before and may advance your token directly to go. Anyway, from 100 yards away, I could see that two other drivers were already fully stopped at the intersection. There was enough time for each of them to execute a complete Chinese Fire Drill(this is where everyone exits the vehicle, runs completely around it and re-enters from whence they exited), and have still taken their allotted turns and gone on their respective merry ways before I got there.
But nooooooo......
They both just sat there and waited until I completed my approach and came to a full and distinctly complete, utter and final un-disputable, un-contestable stop.
Did I mention total?
Once I had arrived at the limit line, The opposing driver, having obviously arrived at some prior agreement with the other driver camped at the intersection, slowly made his way through. I'm thinking, "Aha.....now we are getting somewhere!" foolishly expecting driver 2 to smartly cross my bow and be on his way....but, alas, what is this? He is not moving! It is clearly his big moment, he is to my right, and he has been waiting since the flood, but he i.s. n.o.t. m.o.v.i.n.g!
I glance up, and through the light fog I see headlights slowly approaching.
Now I get it! This....person.....is waiting for the new arrival, who still appears to be in the next county, mind you, this..... person(substitute your favorite pejorative).... is now waiting for the new car to come to a COMPLETE STOP BEFORE HE CROSSES THE INTERSECTION!
He may still be there.
I honestly don't know.
I am not there any more, and yes I went out of turn, and no I did not wait for the oncoming car to stop.
I would like to be a patient person, or at least I'm willing to say I'd like that, and I guess that sometimes I am, but all too often I'm just not.
If only everyone would just do what I want them to do when I want them to do it, there would be no problem at all, and I'm sure the world would be a much better place.
Today I was driving to work and approached a four way stop. Those of you who know me have heard similar rants before and may advance your token directly to go. Anyway, from 100 yards away, I could see that two other drivers were already fully stopped at the intersection. There was enough time for each of them to execute a complete Chinese Fire Drill(this is where everyone exits the vehicle, runs completely around it and re-enters from whence they exited), and have still taken their allotted turns and gone on their respective merry ways before I got there.
But nooooooo......
They both just sat there and waited until I completed my approach and came to a full and distinctly complete, utter and final un-disputable, un-contestable stop.
Did I mention total?
Once I had arrived at the limit line, The opposing driver, having obviously arrived at some prior agreement with the other driver camped at the intersection, slowly made his way through. I'm thinking, "Aha.....now we are getting somewhere!" foolishly expecting driver 2 to smartly cross my bow and be on his way....but, alas, what is this? He is not moving! It is clearly his big moment, he is to my right, and he has been waiting since the flood, but he i.s. n.o.t. m.o.v.i.n.g!
I glance up, and through the light fog I see headlights slowly approaching.
Now I get it! This....person.....is waiting for the new arrival, who still appears to be in the next county, mind you, this..... person(substitute your favorite pejorative).... is now waiting for the new car to come to a COMPLETE STOP BEFORE HE CROSSES THE INTERSECTION!
He may still be there.
I honestly don't know.
I am not there any more, and yes I went out of turn, and no I did not wait for the oncoming car to stop.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Old People Can't Text
Have you noticed? There seems to be a sharp dividing line, and maybe it really is the "Generation Gap" everyone talks about. Texting. Either you are a texter or you aren't. And if you are over sixty, odds are you aren't.
Many oldsters have embraced the computer age to one degree or another. The kids send them pictures or set them up with underused Facebook accounts. Point and click isn't the problem. Screen hints and big buttons make the basic tasks easy.
Texting really got off on the wrong foot with that crowd with the whole "Press the same button multiple times" trick. Seriously. The oldsters are from a time where every function had It's own button. The whole concept of menu access or menu driven choices, particularly when one button does multiple tasks dependent on context is just un-natural and possibly immoral as well. Never mind that onscreen keypads have obviated that dilemma. The die is cast and the verdict is in. Don't even think about texting 'em. They're not interested.
The other thing they're not interested in is the very abruptness of texting. Remember, this is a generation that lifted ' Passing the time of Day" to an art form. To them, texting is just plain rude, pure and simple. Not even a 'By your leave' or a 'Howdy do?' They have a point. If you spoke to another person the way you text, chin first, you would be rude indeed.
The interesting thing is that they are absolutely right. There is a reason for all the extra stuff, and it is totally lost in the texting world. So much of our true communication is non-verbal....body language which can only be approximated by smiley faces. Eye contact which speaks volumes. Not to mention that emoticons allow us to fake our non-verbal signals with the press of a key. Sure there are ways to add emphasis to the written(or texted) word. But you really can't beat good 'old' face to face time, not to be confused with.... ahem, 'facetime.' I mean cumon! aren't relationships difficult enough when we are together? Add some space and delete some body language and is there any wonder why people can't work stuff out?
Many oldsters have embraced the computer age to one degree or another. The kids send them pictures or set them up with underused Facebook accounts. Point and click isn't the problem. Screen hints and big buttons make the basic tasks easy.
Texting really got off on the wrong foot with that crowd with the whole "Press the same button multiple times" trick. Seriously. The oldsters are from a time where every function had It's own button. The whole concept of menu access or menu driven choices, particularly when one button does multiple tasks dependent on context is just un-natural and possibly immoral as well. Never mind that onscreen keypads have obviated that dilemma. The die is cast and the verdict is in. Don't even think about texting 'em. They're not interested.
The other thing they're not interested in is the very abruptness of texting. Remember, this is a generation that lifted ' Passing the time of Day" to an art form. To them, texting is just plain rude, pure and simple. Not even a 'By your leave' or a 'Howdy do?' They have a point. If you spoke to another person the way you text, chin first, you would be rude indeed.
The interesting thing is that they are absolutely right. There is a reason for all the extra stuff, and it is totally lost in the texting world. So much of our true communication is non-verbal....body language which can only be approximated by smiley faces. Eye contact which speaks volumes. Not to mention that emoticons allow us to fake our non-verbal signals with the press of a key. Sure there are ways to add emphasis to the written(or texted) word. But you really can't beat good 'old' face to face time, not to be confused with.... ahem, 'facetime.' I mean cumon! aren't relationships difficult enough when we are together? Add some space and delete some body language and is there any wonder why people can't work stuff out?
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Sometimes You're the Windshield........
Two days ago I was one car shy of being the fifth car in what would have been at least a five car accident.
If you live long enough, you'll be in a couple of good ones and you'll just miss some by thaaaat much.
I was on the freeway, in the fast lane. A local cop was in the middle lane and making darn good time though not in 'hot pursuit' anything other than dinner, as far as I could tell. As he swooped by the other cars, they would slow down as folks are wont to do. The traffic in my lane checked up, and I slowed as well, surprised that even as I did so, the car two ahead of me seemed to come briefly to a complete stop.
When I determined that I wasn't going to hit them. I accelerated as they did and checked six to see what was happening behind. The lady directly behind me had slowed, and the person behind her began to evade to the center divide and the car next in line went for the middle lane. That's when the guy who was texting came through like Earl Anthony picking up a baby split.
Had I been stopped, I'd have been a member of that club, but my momentum took me away like a tub full of Calgon bubbles. The best I could do was call it in. Wasn't about to back up and create a whole new adventure.
In a past life I was a pilot of aeroplanes, and I still have an intense interest in all thing aeronautical. Almost every time there is really bad weather in the US, a pilot, and maybe a couple of passengers will die. The very air that one hour can be as calm as Ghandi on quaaludes, can be as mean and violent as a pit bull on PCP the next. I always found it interesting it fly through an area in peaceful sunlight and understand that yesterday or four hours ago this same airspace was a mangler.
It is so odd when we are almost in an accident. If we notice what almost happened we'll often bunch up the seat covers with our butt cheeks, holler at the other fool, maybe make a satisfying gesture or two and go on our way, and perhaps never realize just how close to a life changing event we were. One day a while back, I watched a person (carefully non-gender specific) cruise through a stop sign a full speed blithely chatting away on a cell phone. The reason I noticed was because that car crossed my bow ten yards away. The other driver does not know to this day how close we came to meeting by accident. I could list several more but I won't.
The cop? Never stopped. I saw him several miles later at the top of an off ramp. Either completely oblivious or somethin'. Sometimes you're the bug.
If you live long enough, you'll be in a couple of good ones and you'll just miss some by thaaaat much.
I was on the freeway, in the fast lane. A local cop was in the middle lane and making darn good time though not in 'hot pursuit' anything other than dinner, as far as I could tell. As he swooped by the other cars, they would slow down as folks are wont to do. The traffic in my lane checked up, and I slowed as well, surprised that even as I did so, the car two ahead of me seemed to come briefly to a complete stop.
When I determined that I wasn't going to hit them. I accelerated as they did and checked six to see what was happening behind. The lady directly behind me had slowed, and the person behind her began to evade to the center divide and the car next in line went for the middle lane. That's when the guy who was texting came through like Earl Anthony picking up a baby split.
Had I been stopped, I'd have been a member of that club, but my momentum took me away like a tub full of Calgon bubbles. The best I could do was call it in. Wasn't about to back up and create a whole new adventure.
In a past life I was a pilot of aeroplanes, and I still have an intense interest in all thing aeronautical. Almost every time there is really bad weather in the US, a pilot, and maybe a couple of passengers will die. The very air that one hour can be as calm as Ghandi on quaaludes, can be as mean and violent as a pit bull on PCP the next. I always found it interesting it fly through an area in peaceful sunlight and understand that yesterday or four hours ago this same airspace was a mangler.
It is so odd when we are almost in an accident. If we notice what almost happened we'll often bunch up the seat covers with our butt cheeks, holler at the other fool, maybe make a satisfying gesture or two and go on our way, and perhaps never realize just how close to a life changing event we were. One day a while back, I watched a person (carefully non-gender specific) cruise through a stop sign a full speed blithely chatting away on a cell phone. The reason I noticed was because that car crossed my bow ten yards away. The other driver does not know to this day how close we came to meeting by accident. I could list several more but I won't.
The cop? Never stopped. I saw him several miles later at the top of an off ramp. Either completely oblivious or somethin'. Sometimes you're the bug.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
The More Things Change, the More They Stay the Same
OK... the year is almost over, both as far as the calendar goes and as far as the Bible Study goes. Only a few Books remain, and we skipped ahead and read Revelations last month. I was looking for answers, but found only more questions. I am leaving my studies with my faith intact, not because of of the Bible, but in spite of it. I have my faith because it works for me. I have chosen to trust God, and God continues to be there for me.
Please don't misunderstand. My time spent with the good book was not wasted. I learned many things historical, procedural and theological, interesting facts and disturbing revelations. There were also some very cool one-liners. Try this one: 'God doesn't love you because of who you are, but because of who God is.' Or, as I paraphrase, 'You can do anything you want to do, but some of those things are not good for you.' How wise must we be to make that one work?
The days are short, and Mother Nature gathers her chicks under her ample breast to await yet another Spring. Find a warm place to renew and refresh. Settle in with a cup of hot chocolate and press your nose against the cold window. Watch the quiet.
Please don't misunderstand. My time spent with the good book was not wasted. I learned many things historical, procedural and theological, interesting facts and disturbing revelations. There were also some very cool one-liners. Try this one: 'God doesn't love you because of who you are, but because of who God is.' Or, as I paraphrase, 'You can do anything you want to do, but some of those things are not good for you.' How wise must we be to make that one work?
The days are short, and Mother Nature gathers her chicks under her ample breast to await yet another Spring. Find a warm place to renew and refresh. Settle in with a cup of hot chocolate and press your nose against the cold window. Watch the quiet.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
WTF, over?
Just prior to the beginning of the year, the Pastor for my church invited all to read through the Bible in a year. There are weekly meetings to discuss our readings, and a detailed schedule to follow so everyone is on the same page, so to speak. The S.O. and I thought this would be a good thing to do. We would be able to have meaningful discussions about our readings as we ventured through the Word together.
The year is almost halfway over now, and the S.O. bailed on the Bible program two months ago leaving me to draw my own conclusions. (She still finds time for Criminal Minds tho) The point, however, is that I embarked on this venture as a path to deepen my convictions and my faith, to really learn about Christianity and the roots of my religion. Now, mind you, I have read the entire New Testament, and bits and pieces of the Old, but never actually went through chapter and verse, all the way. What I am learning so far is more scary than enriching. The things I hear my fellow Bible Students say are just as disturbing.
The God of the O.T. is inexplicable at best; kind and loving in one instance, vicious and unforgiving in the next. I am confused by what appears to me to be competitions amongst the Gods, examples of rogue Gods who seem to be trying to set up shop to vie for the adoration and sacrifices of us mere mortals and commands to 'devote to destruction' indigenous peoples that go beyond genocide. Violent stuff that is in total opposition to what I had had come to believe is the Christian way. WTF, over?
People meet God one day and are given instructions, then meet God again soon after and God seems to have forgotten what He originally asked of them. Time and time again there are episodes where God appears to take vacations, ceasing to respond or outright forgetting about humanity, only to show up again in a hundred years, recharged and ready to go some more. Again I say, WTF, over?
If my neighbor was sacrificing animals on an altar in the backyard, or even in some secluded temple, splashing blood on the altar, harvesting organs and burning flesh, well, I'd be concerned. Yet this was de rigeur back in the day. Required. Don't leave home without it. Wouldn't we be mumbling words like 'pagan' and 'satanic' and 'cult'? Many of our Churches still have Altars, remnants, I guess.
One of my classmates asked if the reason we had illness in the world wasn't because of the sinful character of man. Didn't we bring these miseries on ourselves because we are so wicked? Which, of course, opened up the discussion about why God allows pain and suffering; why God lets babies die and lets children get Leukemia and lets there be wars and lets the Muslim Extremists destroy good Christians. Whose side is He on anyway? If He won't save our children and our American Way of Life, what good is he? Again, WTF, over?
Maybe the answers are in the next chapter, ya think?
The year is almost halfway over now, and the S.O. bailed on the Bible program two months ago leaving me to draw my own conclusions. (She still finds time for Criminal Minds tho) The point, however, is that I embarked on this venture as a path to deepen my convictions and my faith, to really learn about Christianity and the roots of my religion. Now, mind you, I have read the entire New Testament, and bits and pieces of the Old, but never actually went through chapter and verse, all the way. What I am learning so far is more scary than enriching. The things I hear my fellow Bible Students say are just as disturbing.
The God of the O.T. is inexplicable at best; kind and loving in one instance, vicious and unforgiving in the next. I am confused by what appears to me to be competitions amongst the Gods, examples of rogue Gods who seem to be trying to set up shop to vie for the adoration and sacrifices of us mere mortals and commands to 'devote to destruction' indigenous peoples that go beyond genocide. Violent stuff that is in total opposition to what I had had come to believe is the Christian way. WTF, over?
People meet God one day and are given instructions, then meet God again soon after and God seems to have forgotten what He originally asked of them. Time and time again there are episodes where God appears to take vacations, ceasing to respond or outright forgetting about humanity, only to show up again in a hundred years, recharged and ready to go some more. Again I say, WTF, over?
If my neighbor was sacrificing animals on an altar in the backyard, or even in some secluded temple, splashing blood on the altar, harvesting organs and burning flesh, well, I'd be concerned. Yet this was de rigeur back in the day. Required. Don't leave home without it. Wouldn't we be mumbling words like 'pagan' and 'satanic' and 'cult'? Many of our Churches still have Altars, remnants, I guess.
One of my classmates asked if the reason we had illness in the world wasn't because of the sinful character of man. Didn't we bring these miseries on ourselves because we are so wicked? Which, of course, opened up the discussion about why God allows pain and suffering; why God lets babies die and lets children get Leukemia and lets there be wars and lets the Muslim Extremists destroy good Christians. Whose side is He on anyway? If He won't save our children and our American Way of Life, what good is he? Again, WTF, over?
Maybe the answers are in the next chapter, ya think?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)