Mary's Ramblin's

2012-02-13T05:12:00.001-08:00

French Canadian families of my parents generation were large. Genealogical historians indicate that King Louis gave instructions to those bold families striking out to settle the new world that each family should strive to have 12 children to populate “New France”. Those were times when it was typical for families to be large and to lose children at childbirth, and from horrible diseases with no cure. My maternal French grandmother lost six babies, and two young children. She raised ten who all married and had children. Oh, my! My cousin Vicky Buelteman, left, is the daughter of my mother’s brother. She lives in Scottsdale, AZ.

We spent an afternoon remembering the past. Vicky’s father taught me to dance when I was a pre-teen, so I could dance at his wedding. Vicky and Rod’s daughter, Michele is studying microbiology in college. She was always fascinated by microscopes and didn’t get turned off by seeing things crawling around in her drinking water. Her goal is to work in a medical capacity.
We spent a couple of hours chatting and at one point tried to figure out how many cousins we have? It was a half-hearted effort because we have so many. We don’t really know all of their names or where they are. A fun endeavor anyway.
We contemplated how many of us didn’t go to college or graduate from high school and how much better educated the next generation of cousins is.

We move to a new location today, and Jim spent the morning before our visit plotting the State Parks of New Mexico on a map, since we plant to spend a great deal of time there in 2012.

TWO LESSONS LEARNED

2012-02-12T05:03:00.000-08:00

I went to lunch at the Village Inn, in Mesa, with my friend Joan Higgins on Wednesday. The pies here are renowned and I intended to try a piece. But, the entree was so filling I never got a chance. Their sign is really good advice.

I hadn’t seen Joan in two years and that happens with my ramblin’ lifestyle. Joan lives in Miwuk, near me in Murphys. She’s a snowbird and spends winters in Mesa.

But, on the other hand, ramblin’ means I get to see people I wouldn’t have seen in many more years than that. My cousin Karen lives in Apache Junction. Still in her hospital uniform, we had breakfast when she got off shift on Thursday morning.

Yesterday, I did some yoga, went swimming while the washing was running, and late in the day, watched an episode of PBS’s Downton Abbey on my computer, a program I’ve become addicted too. It has one more episode to the conclusion.
Joan gave me a great line. She said, “I’m not going on a cruise, I’m not getting a face lift, so I might as well spend it on my kids.”
Two lessons learned: Eat dessert first, I can do that. And, I’m not going on a cruise or having a face lift. Might as well spend the money. (It works like manure and makes things grow.)

THE DEVILS ROPE

2012-02-11T06:14:00.000-08:00

I knew a collector of devils rope from Murphys, Bill Mollett, (they're called Barbarians). Through him and Fred McMillan, an old time rancher who showed my kids and I a patchwork of different types of barbed wire he used on his ranch, I learned to respect this common wire for the amazing invention that it is.

Before barbed wire, farmers used osage orange, a tough, thorny plant to fence their gardens or animals in. It took a long time to grow a fence and animals routinely escaped it to trample the lettuce or breed with the neighbors cow. If you click on the picture above to enlarge it, strands number one and three are akin to saw blades, also called razor wire. A fence like that could inflict serious damage to an animal.

Wire fencing itself was an improvement over hedges, rock and wooden fences. Initially they weren't designed as a painful deterrent. Ranchers claimed huge territories for their cattle and as the west became settled, farmers and ranchers competed for land. it was necessary for farmers to have fences that worked. The railroads began to etch their way to the pacific, and they wanted free ranging cattle fenced away from the trains.

It is hard to believe that men killed each other over strands of wire. The range wars lasted only a short time, with cattlemen unwilling to give up their free range and farmers insistent that they had a place on the prairies. Eventually, ranchers realized the permanence of fencing and their need to fence huge holdings against encroaching farmers and competing ranchers. Wire was cheap.

Wire with a barb worked best. Commonly known as barbed wire, barb wire or bob wire, it was cost-effective to make cattle operations profitable then, and is still in use today. My place in Murphys is fenced that way.

This collection had 238 different types of wire fencing collectively called Devils Rope at the Superstition Mountains Museum. Now, when you go to the hardware store, you'll find one type.
It has modern uses other than keeping animals in place. Barbed wire controls human predators as well, rolled on top of the walls of prisons, or private estates, or used to snarl tanks during warfare are three that come to mind.
I routinely lift the wire at my place, slip through it, and trim the bushes on the other side of my fence. About the worst I get is a tear in my old work clothes. I like growing plants into my wire to soften the look of it and still discourage trespassers both human and otherwise. (My fence was put in place for our own horse, goats and hogs.

THE SUPERSTITION MOUNTAINS MUSEUM CONTINUED.

2012-02-10T05:27:00.001-08:00

From our visit to Superstition Mountain Museum continued from yesterday, what is an old western movie set without a gallows? There is a real gallows still intact at the Tuolumne County Museum, in Sonora, California. Much wider than this one; had to have room for the dignitaries. Hangings were as much about politics as a press conference is today.

Wherever there were fortune seekers, there were those who sidestepped the hard work. I love museums that have “character stories” and this one has a number of them. The “hacksaw” bandit robbed stage coaches on the Apache Trail. He always robbed them at the a steep place where the horses found it hard going. Never caught, his cache of hold-up equipment, with his white hood with eye holes in it, was found over 50 years after his deeds.

Fortune seekers of all types arrived in Apache Junction. An Opera Singer by the name of Maria, insisted that Weaver’s Needle, (a spire we passed on our hike) was hollow and filled with gold. She filed a claim on Weaver’s Needle and had a rope ladder built to the top of it. No one knows what happened to her and she apparently abandoned her claim, but two families, Piper and Jones, believed it was hollow and a feud of several years, that resulted in the death of one person, quarreled over the Dutchman’s claim and the gold in the “hollow” needle. Years later, in 1956, a very fit wrestling coach climbed Maria’s rope ladder but could not get to the top. “No fat opera singer ever climbed that ladder,” he claimed. There are many stories of the fate of gold seekers in the Superstition Mountains at the site below:
.http://www.prairieghosts.com/dutchman.html
I chuckled at the modern million dollar advertising campaign put up by Canadian Club. They hid a case of Canadian Club in the area and expected to have many seekers looking for it, while being publicized, of course. The problem was, a local found it in six hours the second day of the campaign and ruined their long term publicity stunt. He claimed he was mighty thirsty.

The place is worth a visit. I loved the painting of a stage rumbling over the Apache Trail. The rest of my pictures are outside.

Part of a once working stamp mill.

The well.

The assay office.

A saloon.

A barber shop.

The barn.

And, our good Christian pioneers always had a church. (In this case, with the gallows nearby.)

MY HAIRCUT PAL AND THE DUTCHMAN.

2012-02-09T08:38:00.000-08:00

CeeCee and Aaron Canvasser, long time friends of Jim’s, came to visit for a couple of hours. We went to breakfast and returned to the motor home where I gave Aaron a haircut while Jim coached CeeCee how to buy a car at the price you want, from a car dealer. The haircut is looking to become a tradition because the very first time I met Aaron, he offered to cut my hair. I repaid the favor and here we are at:
http://wp.me/pDCku-13v
Aaron and CeeCee hail from Oregon State. They follow a challenge ballroom dance circuit here in Apache Junction.

In the afternoon we visited Superstition Mountain Museum. Apache Junction has thrived on the legend of the Lost Dutchman’s mine and other strange tales because of it, which are fully covered in this museum. The story and setting attracted Hollywood and the museum includes Apache Land, a movie set from the 1960′s. It burned down twice and only a few buildings remain.

There is no known photo of Jacob Waltz, the Dutchman, but there is a collection of drawings and purported photos of him. The drawings are as varied as the many maps attributed to him.

It even looks fake. Why anyone would pay money for it is beyond my comprehension.

This one in Spanish must have been sold to a Spanish speaking miner. Jacob Waltz did not speak and write Spanish.

A letter from a friend is considered authentic proof that Waltz found gold and assayed it. Other miners found gold of a specific type as well. The map of his buried treasure was left with the woman who owned the boarding house where he lived and died. In the museum are 28 paper maps. The maps are crude, unreadable and amusing unless you consider that men fought and died for gold that was never found.

Six stone maps of an equally obscure Peralta Mine qualify as works of art,another mystery.
A really good site about the mystery and deaths that occurred in this area is this one:
http://www.prairieghosts.com/dutchman.html
We were without a signal for two hours this morning, so I’ll continue this blog tomorrow.

HIKING SUPERSTITION MOUNTAIN.

2012-02-08T05:57:00.002-08:00

The Superstition Mountains are a range of Mountains covering three counties in Arizona. The Lost Dutchman’s Mine is supposedly located near this major peak in the range accessible from Apache Junction. You can barely see some Hohokam cave dwellings in the far left node of the mountain in the picture above. The whole range is now a designated wilderness area and the Lost Dutchman Mine is supposedly located below this peak near Weavers Needle. The name of mystery, and the legend of the Lost Dutchman can be read on the Arizona State Parks site at the bottom of their page at this address: http://azstateparks.com/Parks/LODU/index.html
And Wikipedia also has information about the Superstitions at this address:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Superstition_Mountains
Many hikers choose this area for recreation. Avid hikers easily name off ten or more trails they’ve hiked in to Superstition. Today’s goal is a spire near the base of the main promontory at 2000 foot elevation.

There were sixteen of us and we started at this spot which very gently leads up.

Here the trail splits into two. Our leader, Bob, knows the way because he has lead hikers into this wilderness for many years and has hiked 72 different trails. Here the ground is smooth and easy.

When you turn around and take in the view, the landscape is rugged. Overcast and cool, the Superstition Range off in the distance is looking toward Phoenix.

After a steep section, everyone stops for a few minutes to catch their breath and rest for a minute or two and enjoy the views.

Our goal gets closer. The signature cave dwellings are much easier to see in this close up.

At this shady spot our leader suggests that anyone who doesn’t feel capable of making it all the way up, to stay and rest here and join the group on the way back down. None want to stay and no one appears to me to be having any difficulty. It is a wise and cautionary practice in group hikes to encourage people not to push themselves beyond their abilities.

We pass the Miner’s Needle and then when we turn back for a look we can see the valley far below us in miniature.

As we approach the crest, we feel like we are walking into a cloud. The trail is extremely steep and people stop to rest on the final push.

At the top, we all set and enjoy a snack and a long awaited rest. It took two hours to hike up and one hour to hike back. Total distance, four miles.

On the way back, the views are magnificent but the trail is rough and it is important to watch your steps. Stopping frequently to gaze is part of the joy. Some hikers camp primitively off these trails for a night or two and enjoy the quiet and the stars.

THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH

2012-02-07T05:50:00.000-08:00

There is no reason not to find the fountain of youth if exercise has anything to do with it-and, in my opinion, it does. The so called “snowbird” resorts of warm winter climates like Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Florida and Southern, California attract thousands of Northerners from the U.S and Canada of retirement age. Drive the streets of Apache Junction, Yuma, Mesa, Maricopa or any number of other places and row upon row of gated communities are filled to the gills with retirees. Activities vary but most have swimming pools, a club house, spa, scheduled and special events. What’s not to like? The sounds of friendly gatherings, music, barbeques, people chatting with their neighbors, catching up with “the news” or having visiting grandchildren or friends in for a day is testimony to the homey, feeling of snowbird resorts like Country Side, (where we stayed last year), and Golden Sun where we are now.

Yesterday morning, I passed by the pool exercise group and attended a stretch exercise group for an hour.

I snapped this picture just as everyone was getting ready to leave. Provided is a wooden bar and weights of differing size. The stretches cover every muscle group from your toes to eyes. Invigorating.

I returned to the motor home for 45 minutes and then attended a yoga class. The instructor was humorous and had all of us laughing and sending bad vibes away. The one hour session ran over by 15 minutes and was so much fun, I would like it if I had access to a class like this every day. She teaches a morning and afternoon class.
The schedule here is Tai Chi, Lap swimming, Floor exercises, Stretch exercises, Water exercises, Sweating to the oldies and Yoga, everyday or set days of the week.
The rest of the activity schedule varies. For instance, Monday: Women’s Pool (billiards), Shuffle Board, Round Dancing, Men’s B Leage Pool, Line Dancing, Craft Class, Potluck Social & Dinner, Texas Hold’Em, Ceramics.
Tuesday: Smell The Roses Hiking, Charity Quilters, Bridge, WWarII Vets Meet.
Wednesday: Shuffleboard, Quilting, Golf, Mens Senior Pool League, Ceramics, Games.
Thursday: Women’s Pool, Women’s Pool League Bridge, Line Dancing, Cribbage, Texas Hold’em.
Friday: Hiking With Rex, Shuffle Board, Men’s A Legue Pool, WWII, Dance.
Saturday: Nickel Bingo, Games
Sunday: Couples Pool.
Those are regular activites with special events added in. The Dance on Friday nights is always live music.
A constant round of activities from which you can partake or ignore. The resort at Country Side, as I remember, had more golf aficionados with there own, home-made golf course on vacant land across from the resort. Snake Hole Golf Course was blogged here January 13, 2011, if you wish to see it.
In 2008, we rented a less fancy place for $250 a month in Yuma to have my dental work done. For us, we move in for a week or two, partake and leave. But, for those who like a permanent address for six months of the year for good weather and fun? The choices are endless, and golden agers have found the fountain of youth. Exercise, friends, social contacts, sunshine, economy and bring your pet if you have one.

THE LOST MAN.

2012-02-06T05:56:00.000-08:00

I received an email from a friend about a physician who treats veterans in San Antonio, Texas. The physician claims more veterans settled in that area of Texas than anywhere in the U.S. He was discussing his view on how under appreciated veterans can be, even by himself. He learned late in his career to ask each patient about their experiences and let them know how much he appreciates them as he listens to their stories, some of which are horrific. It put me in mind of the post in Ajo which shares a post with the American Legion and AmVets.

Most posts fly a POW-MIA flag. Ajo’s post has a table reserved for the lost man. We’ve stayed in many VFW and American Legion Posts over the years and I had never seen this done. I Heard someone ask what the salt on the table represented? I was curious as well. After reading the framed mission statement, I thought I’d share it.

The bible is behind the frame and not visible in my photo, nor is the lemon slice present.

Yesterday, the resort had a polka party which sold out very quickly. We went to Mesa to get the Bronco washed, but couldn’t find a place that washes without brushes. We bought a coffee pot since ours had a faulty handle. We returned in time to peek in at the dance.

Dancing the polka and schottisch is most likely something only our generation finds familiar.

One thing I know for sure, the dancers were having a great time.

And those who sat out were having a good time too.
For active seniors, “snowbird” resorts, are a fun way to spend your golden years. Many RVers use their own motor homes to stay at places like this and others buy a spot they keep all year. Either way, it’s a great, carefree, fun and economical way to live.

LOST IN APACHE JUNCTION?

2012-02-05T06:28:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I took a bike ride to town, just to look around. I found an Antique Mall that was so full my eyes kind of glazed over. In a motor home you can’t really shop, but I still like to look.

A beauty of an old pot belly. I can relate.

Graceful sideboard in appearance, but a cast iron wood stove, instead. This one took me by surprise. It actually has burner plates to cook on.

Amazing how many different types of irons were made. I like collections and when I look at these I can say, “praise be, I live in an era of a steam iron and permanent press.”

Someone saw fit to cast a flower on this iron, maybe to cheer up his wife during a tedious task.

Fill that brass iron with water and it took muscle to lift. I have a wood stove at home and occasionally put a pot of beans or steel-cut oats on to cook. And, during winter, I always have hot water for tea. It was then I remembered I bought tepary beans at Organ Pipe. They are a desert food source from the palo verde tree and have the highest protein content of any bean, and I had a pot of them soaking on the stove for dinner. I rushed to get back and found my self on a dead end portion of Broadway. Hmmm. Could I actually get lost in Apache Junction? I crossed the highway and found a second extension of Broadway, also dead ended. I had to retrace two intersections to find my way, and was grateful that I carry a cell phone, even though I didn’t bring my glasses and couldn’t see to call Jim.
The tepary beans were great tasting. I cooked them for a couple hours (2 cups) without salt, then added seasonings, and vegetables. A 15 oz can tomato sauce, a half medium sweet potato, a half cup of (cooked) brown rice, a serano pepper, 1/2 an onion, a stalk of celery, two tablespoons chopped cilantro, 2 toes of garlic, salt, pepper, oregano and cumin. The usual stuff you add to beans. Before serving, I cut up chunks of mozzarella cheese on top, and a dollop of thick yogurt in each bowl. Rib-sticking good.

SETTLING IN

2012-02-04T05:05:00.000-08:00

We woke up to a cute little bird sitting on our mirror, looking very fat and happy. After packing things in for travel mode, we moved a short distance to Golden Sun RV Resort. We looked in at the rec center, 8 pool tables, swimming pool and spa, a large exercise room, a huge library, a card room, ceramics room and many planned activities including live music dances on Saturday nights. They have planned hikes, excursions, golf nearby and volunteers pick seasonal fruit for local food banks. They serve dinners and breakfasts every weekend.
Trade books, stored in the Bronco, came out of hiding. Found two Anita Shreves and picked three new authors to try since the price is a simple trade.

Apache Junction’s post office is the biggest I’ve ever seen. I waited in line for twenty minutes to pick up one piece of mail. I got the scoop later in the evening from Nancy and Tom who shared a table with us at the Moose for their Friday night fish & Chips.
“I used to be a snowbird, said Tom. Now I live here. Any business we have, we take care of in the summer otherwise you wait in lines all over town. The snowbird invasion.” He chuckled. Locals love it and hate it. Great for business but, inconvenience comes with it.
Tom recommended several places to eat. He seems to know them all.
Today, I’ll contact friends and relatives I hope to see.

TO APACHE JUNCTION

2012-02-03T06:26:00.001-08:00

During our hike to the Tenaja, the wells, I picked up a black water bottle of a kind you see in Mexico. Left in the bushes by an escaping Mexican entering the United States illegally, I speculated. Scenarios kind of run through your mind about what you would do if you encountered a situation like that. I tend to have a lot of empathy for immigrants who, like our forefathers, are looking for a better life than the grinding poverty of their native country. I was reminded of the bottle as we got back on the road as there were Border Patrol cars all over, parked on the roadside, one had stopped a traveler, Jim counted nine zooming south before he quit counting. There are two of these Border Patrol inspection stations in the short distance from Organ Pipe National Monument to Gila Bend. Normally they have drug sniffing dogs at each station. This time, not. We expect there was some significant incident to cause such a commotion and the dogs were being used elsewhere. Since we don’t get a newspaper we will probably never know.

I was excited about Why, Arizona because of my past as an avid stamp collector. One of the things I liked to do write to the postmaster and request a return postmark from unusual places like Dime Stop, Texas, or Hell, California. Why, AZ was on my list. They closed the Post Office a long time ago. And, truth be told, stamp collecting doesn’t excite me anymore.

We passed the tailings from the Cornelia Copper Mine at Ajo and got a better idea of how big that mine is. When we viewed it from the top looking down, it just doesn’t register.
We stopped to shop, then put in at Jim’s home Moose Lodge for one night before we get into our park. We had a drink and took a menu home. They serve meals everyday and breakfast on Sunday. We expect we’ll be back.

MEANDERING IN THE DARK

2012-02-02T05:39:00.000-08:00

Jim suggested we get up and hike to the top of a hill for a high, clear sunrise view. Luckily, we brought a flashlight along. We hiked a rough, rutted road, purported to be a sunrise trail and found ourselves at the top of the hill dead-ended at the camp water tank. The view of an impending sunrise obscured by tall brush.

Off to the south, Lukeville, Mexico was visible.

We walked half-way down hill to a side trail and took it. We were standing in the dark looking at silhouettes. We kept moving down, down, closer to the campground and walked the perimeter trail.

This-

soon turned to a bluish color.

But, when you looked behind you, things were quite clear. A bit dull but without the harshness of bright daylight. It was cold and we were bundled up with jackets, hats and scarves.

The sky began to turn peach color.

When we looked behind us, the hill tops were turning bright orange.

The orange was spreading as we watched, fascinated at seeing a cactus half orange and half green.

Soon, there it was, another beautiful sunrise.

The sun exposed this pack rat midden, which is desert floor debris stacked high with a couple of entrances. The debris is so prickly one wonders how the rat manages not to stab itself.

This Cholla seemed to be on fire. My youngest daughter once visited Mt. Sinai and saw a bush on fire just as the sun was setting and it made her think that Moses' burning bush could have been "burned" from the sun.

It was fun to see the desert in a different light. The walk was invigorating and we returned to the motor home for a big breakfast. Of course, I picked up another unwelcome hitchhiker.
I took 37 pictures in an album if you'd like to see them:
https://picasaweb.google.com/106530979158681190260/2012131OrganPipeDay4

HIKE TO TANAJA

2012-02-01T05:28:00.000-08:00

Desert skies greet you with meltingly beautiful sunrises and sunsets. As you watch, dramatic colors silently change with the minutes, until the sun finally tips it’s hand and crawls out of a bush.

We traveled what was once a 53 mile drive, now closed except for 5 miles. Drug traffickers and desperados escaping Mexico’s poverty made it too dangerous for the public. In this section I found the biggest saguaro I’ve ever seen. In open places it is tough to estimate it’s size, but I’m guessing 60 feet tall.

In general, the saguaro in this section of the park were fatter and bigger. Many washes, indicating more water might be the reason. Our hike goal today was to visit tinaja, a spanish word for well.

We came across a covered mine shaft on our way to tinaja.

And a horse watering trough, grown over roads, and other signs of ranching here are evident. The grasses more verdant.

Some ocotillo in the area are in full bloom. And a bigger variety of flowers noticeable. Some so tiny you can’t get a picture of them.

Saguaros still dominate the landscape.

When I found this cactus formation of a W, it reminded me that I’m always hunting for the perfect saguaro, the one you see in all of the artists drawings of a tubular center and two perfectly shaped arms one on each side. The arms grow straight out from the body before turning straight up. I did in fact see a saguaro shaped like that as we were driving down the highway in 2009. We were going too fast to stop for the picture, but I won’t let that happen again if I ever find another.

We reached tinaja. Red base rock that holds water.

Tiny pools of brackish water. Survival here is devilish for humans and animals.

It was very obvious how much bigger and plentiful the desert grasses are in this section.

A pretty poppy.

A dead saguaro arm resembled the snout of an alligator.
It was a short 1.5 mile hike in. I rode my bike after dinner and then, as usual, we enjoyed another beautiful sunset.

CACTUS BOTH MAJESTIC AND COMICAL.

2012-01-31T06:31:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, we drove a 21 mile established park route with 18 designated stops. The preservation is based on the organ pipe cactus above, which is said to play an eerie sound like an organ when the wind whistles over the spines. This area es estimated to be 10,000 years old, a young desert, and specimens are young here as well.

Saguaros dominate the landscape. It is estimated by scientists that a saguaro only begins to make arms when it reaches 65 years. They live 150 to 200 years and can weigh 50 tons.

A “green” desert, it is just beginning to bloom with desert marigolds and poppies, but the ground is full of young lupine that will put on a gorgeous show of purple in about a month.

O’odham Indians made a home here, learning how to synchronize their activities with the harsh weather. They used flash flood water channeled to irrigate quick growing crops in a few areas and harvested palo verde seeds and cactus fruits. Explorers wouldn’t have survived this desert without help from the Indians. The O’odham built shelters like the one above from a tough woody plant, the ocotillo, that resembles a cactus.

Ocotillo shows bright red leaves at times looking like it is in full bloom.

Look but don’t touch, is instinctive when looking at the cholla, pronounced choya, another common cactus in the park. Two species of cholla grow here. Edible fruits can catch on clothing, animal skin or fur and travel all over the park.

Twice, I picked up a dead rider from the cholla.

Prickly pear, is another edible. I’ve tasted the fruits and the leaves which when cooked taste like green beans. They are called nopalitas and you can find them at Mexican groceries.

A crest grows in an organ pipe, a mutation with an unknown cause, admired for its beauty.

The drive covered diverse terrain, and took us a leisurely four hours. We picnicked for lunch, the weather was beautiful. While the saguaros are majestic, they sometimes take on comical shapes.

My favorite-the elephant.

I’ll take you to my teddy bear leader.

Don’t shoot, I give up!

What should we name the baby, dear?

He can’t seem to keep his story straight. Arrest him.

I’ve called this meeting to discuss important issues for young saguaros.

I prayed you would get home in time.

You must stop for an inspection.

Goodbye folks. Come back again.

SETTLED IN TO ORGAN PIPE.

2012-01-30T06:34:00.000-08:00

After an uneventful drive to 4.2 miles north of the Mexican border, at Organ Pipe National Monument, we set up our camp. Organ Pipe is part of the Sonoran desert and has some unique features. For instance, it rains here in summer and winter and, as a result, is the greenest of the four major North American deserts.

We stopped at the visitors center and right then two Harris Hawks stopped in for a drink in a small pond the back of the building. It is filled with pupfish and the hawks come for a drink of water and occasionally grab a fish snack out of the shallow pond.

One flew into the tree, the other is sitting in the shadows near the pond.

Both hawks waded in the pond before flying off, but, one has to be fast to get pictures. Their orange colored breast, white tail feathers, and brown shoulders give them distinct coloration. We spent about an hour in the visitor’s center and watched a film. Unless you live nearby, you miss the many seasons and vistas in the park; spectacular blooms and creatures that make the desert a living, vibrant place. The ranger gave a 15 minute talk about the various states of development to finally bring this unique place to fully protected status. It not only protects organ pipe and sonito cactus, but pronghorn sheep and a rare whole habitat. Organ Pipe is now a UNESCO bio-preserve, and richly deserves that world distinction.
The park is primitive without electricity or showers. It does have modern bathrooms. We walked out at 7:30 to attend a star-gazing gathering led by a ranger. It was so dark, even with our flashlights, we never did find the amphitheater. We laid back in our chairs and enjoyed the stars on our own. Dark like this is hard to find in our modern world.

MEETING FLAT STANLEY IN AJO.

2012-01-29T06:33:00.000-08:00

Yesterday morning, I volunteered in the kitchen at the VFW . They were hosting their Chili Cook-off, Salsa Competition, breakfast, lunch, auction and chili tasting. Michelle, far right, was the head honcho and she brought Flat Stanley, actually many Flat Stanleys, with different modes of dress. What a hoot! Michelle made breakfast burro-itos made with burro meat, eggs and potatoes. Stanley and I are old friends, (I took him to Thailand with me) but burro meat? That was a new and delicious experience. Yowzer!

Around 11:oo we went sight-seeing; our first stop was the Historical Plaza built in 1917 by Isabella Greenway. One end served as the train depot for Ajo, Tuscon, Cornelia and Gila Bend. The Spanish style square is now home to offices and retail shops.

The post office is in the plaza and I had a letter to mail, so I taught Flat Stanley how to mail a letter.

Flat Stanly accompanied us to the Cornelia Copper Mine that was once the major industry in the area. Now it is a big pit in the ground, one and a half miles across, with a lake at the bottom that is 120 feet deep. It’s interesting that at the nearby museum, we learned how workers got to the bottom of the pit. To drive the pit on the ridges you see, would be over one hundred miles. They had to get to the bottom quicker than that. Too steep to drive straight up, they found a way to cross the roads at a 3% grade and make the trip in seven miles.

Local museums fascinate me because they have special knowledge relating to their unique area you wouldn’t find anywhere else.

There was the usual implements, stoves, tools, equipment, old wagons, horse carts, branding irons and so on. In fact, we gave Flat Stanley a ride on the wagon above. But, most fascinating to me was a collection of burrs. You laugh,I’m sure. But wait until you read the description.

At home I grouse about fox tails and the invasive thistles we have. And, numerous tiny burrs, but these. They are like killers.

I’d hate to have one of those caught in my socks. The ball at the back is impossible to separate. It was probably the burr that led to the invention of velcro.

And I loved the O’oddham Papago friendship bowl.

Ajo was home to some famous people, too. This is Harry Pollard Sr. a gunfighter friend of Doc Holiday; Spanish American WarVeteran. He surveyed the Bright Angel Trail in the Grand Canyon and later became an Ajo Deputy Sheriff. They called him “Hole In The Head” from his injuries during a gunfight and was hired by writer, Zane Grey, as a guide. He was the REAL old west.
Then there was Isabella Selmes Ferguson Greenway King the first woman to be elected to the Arizona Congress in 1933. In fact, she served two terms. She built the Plaza in Ajo, and built a house there, buried a husband and erected a cross visible for miles. But, the docent told us about her interesting marriages and her friendship with Eleanor Roosevelt, a college friend. Briefly, one of her husbands, Ferguson, was dying to TB. They separated their bedrooms because TB is was then a deadly and contagious disease. Greenway asked permission of Ferguson to marry his wife. He granted that permission and upon his death, and after a year’s wait for mourning, Greenway married her. Greenway was an interesting guy as was Isabella.

We went back for the chili and salsa competition. This guy, with West Roselle Chili, won. This picture was taken early in the day when the teams just started cooking.

This woman won two trophies for two different categories of salsa. Hey, what more can you ask for than excellent chile and salsa. Yum. (No one was giving out their recipes.)
For more pictures click the link: https://picasaweb.google.com/106530979158681190260/AjoStanleyAndSights

AJO, ARIZONA

2012-01-28T06:31:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, before we left Painted Rock, this little fox came out of a hole and decided to catch the last rays of sunshine.

As the sun went down, a partner popped out of the hole and we watched them cavort, and peek and scamper in and out of their den which is right next to the road in the park. Then, when it got dark, they took off and went hunting. Taking pictures was tough with the low light and their quick movements, but, doncha know? We love this kind of entertainment.

As we were leaving the park, and on arriving, too, we saw gigantic power lines being installed. Jim speculated it was a new solar installation. As we rounded the bend, there was the sign. ABENGOA, Solana Generating Station. We love to see that happen. It is interesting that at Painted Rock, and at every campground or boondocking site we stay, we are the only RV with lights on in the early morning. Thanks to our solar. We get up and enjoy the quiet mornings with plenty of power.

We drove to Ajo, Arizona, did our laundry, drove around town, went to the visitors center for sight seeing information and visited the VFW. They allowed us to park overnight . Jim took a notion to photograph our view from the dining room window every morning, just for the heck of it. Sometimes they are diamonds and sometimes coal. I kind of chuckled over what is sure to be a coal picture today. Light is just breaking and he went off to help the post volunteers set up tables and canopies for a big chili cook off. Looks like we are in for a fun day!
Last night we had a beer at the VFW bar. For a small town, they lost 16 guys to WWII and they have three graves right on site. I’ve never seen that before. We’ll probably learn more about it today.

DESERT HIKES

2012-01-27T07:00:00.000-08:00

Author Jerry Ahnert told us about two distinct features marking the “real” Butterfield/Immigrant Trail. A place where children played with stones and an obvious encampment farther on. Wednesday afternoon, a couple of hours before sunset, I decided to try to find the place where children played while Jim finished a book he was reading.

The terrain is rough and desolate, but beautiful in its own way.

Signs of human activity were fairly abundant. A placement of rock pointing in four directions? Did it indicate something of importance?

An old metal can. Did it hold water?

A piece of metal? From what era? Jerry told me when the travelers camped, children play with whatever is available to them. In this case, they placed stones around a bush. He dates his site by finding other artifacts such as bits of metal, buttons, and so on to authenticate the site.

I zig-zagged back and fourth and decided to follow the deepest runnel figuring the stage would follow water. I found many campfire spots and stacked rocks before locating the bush with rocks stacked around it “where children played.” But, even then I questioned. How can one be sure when those rocks were placed? Wouldn’t that bush be dead by now? Jerry stated that this area is very stable, and changes very little. He has been hiking these places for sixty years. The right place or not, the walk was invigorating, made purposeful by trying to find a historic site, and I returned to catch a nice sunset.

In the morning, Jim decided we should try to find the encampment, so we spread out and searched for signs in two different areas. We could see in a distance the saddle, or pass, the stages had to cross over to get to the Gila River behind the Petroglyphs.

Again, there were many campfire spots. This one, I kicked a rock out of place and noticed how deeply it was buried. Deep enough to convince me it was an older spot. But, how much older? No ash, small plants had grown into it.

An unusual shaped object once was buried in this spot. Could it have been a part of a stage coach? Or an old frisbee?

More evidence of what we thought might be water cans. Lots of them, mostly crushed.

We found a deep wash, and several narrower washes running into it that drained the nearby mountain as the elevation increased. We speculated, could these ruts have been made by a stage coach. Both of us are remembering some of those old western movies we’ve seen. But, would a stage have driven inside the deep channel of a wash? So, I walked the bank and Jim stayed in the wash.

Our find! The obvious encampment. Cans strewn down the embankment to the wash.

Shards of broken dishes, and a piece of rusted metal.

A piece of a thick milk glass bottle.

I love rusty stuff, but Jerry entrusted us with information and we would not loot this site for anything and left it as it was for the next (hopefully respectful) visitor.

We enjoyed a more leisurely pace on our return and took more pictures of scenic stuff. I uploaded the pictures from our desert hikes if you’d like to see them at the following link:

https://picasaweb.google.com/106530979158681190260/DesertHike

I also uploaded my petroglyphs pictures if you would like to cruise through them.
https://picasaweb.google.com/106530979158681190260/PaintedRockPetroglhyphs

PETROGLYPHS AND BUTTERFIELD

2012-01-26T06:33:00.000-08:00

In 2009 we hiked to Fort Bowie, near Chiriacahua National Monument and caught a glimpse of the Butterfield Trail. I knew it was a stagecoach line to deliver the mail out west. We hadn't even read the BLM information on the Painted Rock Petroglyphs when we say hello to a stranger who just happens to be an expert on the Butterfield Trail and this whole area in general. He just published a book, The Butterfield Trail And Overland Mail Company In Arizona. Jerry Ahnert's book was identified by the government as the definitive historical work on the subject.

The Butterfield Trail ran from Missouri to the Pacific, 3,000 miles, a transcontinental highway, that passes near the petroglyphs. In fact, Butterfield was a New Yorker with stage lines in the East. He hired two guys, named Wells and Fargo. They all drove stages at one time, according to Jerry.

Petroglyphs have ancient origins and these are typical of two Indian Tribes, the Hohokam and Patayan who peopled this area as long ago as 4,000 years. Various indicators date them as late as the 1600s. If I were to interpret this drawing, it appears to me to be a pregnant woman with a round fat middle. The experts call the fat drawings like this one lizard men?

An upside down figure of a man or animal is said to be dead.

A glyph from 1912 giving directions, it appears. The Old Immigrant Trail, The Morman Trail and other major expeditions traveled the same or similar routes through the West and passed near this obvious outcropping in a terrain that is distinctively flat.

A donkey or horse with a rider dates the drawing after the Spanish brought horses to North America.

A fish above a river.

Lizards, snakes, scorpions, are common themes.

To me, this resembles a child sitting down, the way children do. The experts I'm sure disagree.

The spirals are typical of Hohokam drawings.

Impossible to tell if the drawing is a dog or a coyote. It had significance to the artist.

To me the main figure here resembles an elephant? Could it be an older glyph of a mammoth?

The figure near the bottom is possibly a bearded goat?
It was fun. I took way to many pictures. More tomorrow. But, the following picture is of a sign placed by the Mormon boy scouts approximately 50 years ago. They ventured forth to mark the Morman Trail. On that spot you can stand and envision Kit Carson, Big Foot Wallace and Pomp, Sacajawea's son who grew up to be a scout.

I'll publish an album of the "ancient graffiti" within a few days. I have some culling to do.

I'VE BEEN EVERYWHERE, MAN...

2012-01-25T05:31:00.000-08:00

I received a message from Jerry at http://overthetopcargotrailer.blogspot.com
about the song I’ve Been Everywhere.

He sent me to a web page where there are parodies and take-offs on that song by different artists. I listened to a slew of them. They were pretty cool. Click on the links to hear some I got a kick out of.
The first is I’ve Been Everywhere , Texas.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DaTJxS_mu8c&feature=related

This link is: I’ve Been Everywhere, Austrailia
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-UAh7ogwAYQ&feature=related

Now we have a Johnny Cash parody:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-UAh7ogwAYQ&feature=related
The next one is: I’ve Been Everywhere, Minnesota. I think. It has some clever, corny stuff like I ate corn dogs at the fair, man, …in my underwear, man.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BynH5WYdX2A&feature=related
After I identified five to put into this blog , swish, the sneaky electronic Genie has tossed one of them into cyberspace, so I’m hoping that the four I have left are identified correctly.
When I mentioned the song two days ago, I was talking about my partner, Jim. And, just to give you an idea of why it fits, he has crossed the United States 6 times in his Motor Home. He has been in every state of the union. Plus, he took his rig 17,000 miles across Mexico, through every country in Central America and to the Panama Canal and beyond, (until the road stopped.) Then, of course, he returned those same, many miles back to the States. He’s traveled all over Canada as well. (South America is still on the agenda.)

Yesterday was a pick up and move, empty tanks, fill up with water, get gas and propane, find the recycle place, shop for groceries…that kind of day. We bought two sets of sheets and replaced the butter-soft thin ones we had. I spotted a Burlington Coat Outlet and got a white jacket to replace my warn one. We’ve been everywhere, man- in Yuma!

The frig is full and we are parked in a weedy little town at a VFW with a huge membership. The bartender told us they serve around 400 hamburgers on Mondays. Tuesday was women’s dart competition and men’s pool tournament. They are open and busy seven days a week. We had a drink and left early because they allow members to smoke in the bar. Nobody was smoking at the time, but we both came out with our hair and clothing stinking like old cigarette smoke.
The move put us closer to our destination, the Petroglyphs.

AN UNPLEASANT WRINKLE

2012-01-24T05:26:00.000-08:00

As usual, up before the sun. From the casino parking lot, we catch the gold. A day well planned we head for Algodones, Mexico to finish my dental work. Denny Salinas has a new office from our previous visit for major work, in December/Jan. 2008/09.

Dentists here (not all) have shabby offices, as I understand it. And as many have studied and gotten their credentials in the U.S. Salinas guarantees his work, and did just that. An hour and one half the first visit, 3 ex-rays, a diagnosis and solution- no charge. Then over two hours today, and I was on my way with a cost of 200 dollars for two special made mouth guards, some cosmetic work and a prescription. RVers we have talked to claim the dentists here are very honest and Jim and I found that to be true.

We stopped for lunch at Birrieria, basically the same menu as a couple days ago, in a different place. Live musicians wander in with their tip cups, the kitchen out front. Same economical price as well.

You see everything being made in front of the shop. Notice the ceiling to floor string of garlic on the right.

This bashful lady kind of ducked when I took the picture. But, she made flour tortillas so fast it made my head swim. I saw her forming perfect size dough balls by hand and using a press to flatten them. The end product counts. Ah, fresh and delicious.

On the way home, the march of the insects appeared on the sidewalk, made of wrought iron and stones.

Clever soldier ants with a couple of "dead soldiers", an American euphemism for an empty drink bottle or can.

Attractive chickens...

...and all the desert creatures like scorpions, turtles, lizards, snakes and road runners. It's a pleasure to check out the street wares even though we have no room in the motor home to bring stuff home.

Back in Yuma, on the way to get the vehicles washed and waxed, I got a ticket for running a stop sign. It isn't in my nature to plow through a stop sign in mid-day in full view of a policewoman. I've had four tickets in my life and I know it sounds ingenuous to blame my mishap on the intersection. The intersection was also an approach to a bridge and had two sets of double stop lines. It confused me. I started to stop, perceived the double lines an extra ten feet in front of me as the proper stop, and pulled forward. Realized my mistake instantly and stepped on the brakes-too late. Oh, well. Payback for those U turns I made when I shouldn't have. I'm asking for a trial in absentia. I'll keep you posted.

GRITTY THINGS LIKE VALVES

2012-01-23T05:16:00.000-08:00

We were hoping for another gorgeous sunrise, but the clouds wouldn’t cooperate. We packed up to leave the park by 11:00 and repaired to a nearby concrete slab that was once a gas station. The buildings have been torn down. The purpose was to change the black water and grey water valves. Jim had noticed a small leak and wanted to fix it where it was convenient to do so. But, the valves wouldn’t budge. We decided this was a job for a professional

Everyday I sketch something and worked on this statue in the park. It was too far away to be a credible drawing, so I’ll sketch from this picture during repair time.
A return to Mexico at 9:00 for my dentist appointment. Then rush to another location for a wash and wax of the motor home and Bronco. We should be ready to hit the road for Organ Pipe National Monument and Painted Rock Petroglyphs. Stay tuned.
Speaking of tunes, yesterday, we heard the song “I’ve Been Everywhere.” That is Jim’s song. When we meet someone new, they ask, “Where ya from?” Jim always smiles at that question. He has a Murphys mailing address, his cell phone is from Connecticut, his license and registration from Washington State. He can sing, “I’ve been everywhere, man, I’ve been everywhere…”

BUSY SATURDAY

2012-01-22T06:13:00.000-08:00

If the sky is slightly clouded, a desert sunrise can be truly spectacular. None of these photos were doctored, except to crop some of the bottom out. From a straight shot, I moved my lens to the left of the Shell station sign visible in the lower left corner.

I was rewarded by this beautiful pink and lavender sky.

When I closed in on the sign, the colors shouted.

Continually mesmerizing, flooding the campground in a purple glow. We sit back down to our computers and are drawn back to the scene spreading before us.

Within a matter of minutes, the colors move and change.

How can we not be grateful for nature’s show?

Then with a last burst of color, it begins to fade away.
We spent a busy “housekeeping” day. Jim cleaned out old files, fixed an appointment to have the motor home and Bronco washed and waxed. I worked on learning how to get old music CD’s into my Ipod, and failed to figure it out. The music was fun, even so. We danced around the motor home like teenagers.
Later in the day, I finished a bike ride just in time. No sooner was the bike locked back on the Bronco when a desert windstorm came up, billowing sand about for a about four hours.

Luckily we are parked nose to the wind instead of broadside.

The boon-dockers on the other side of the fence seemed to be getting the worst of it. We have more plants and gravel in the park. Their terrain is sandy. The desert is an unpredictable place. Not the worst storm we’ve ever been in nor the worst sand. We drove through a horrific sandstorm caused by ATV’s on our way to Lake Havasu in 2010. And also a windstorm that blew 18 wheelers over like toys in Mojave.

LUNCH IN ALGODONES, MEXICO

2012-01-21T05:48:00.000-08:00

This is a sign you can understand in any language and not one we see much. Algodones, Mexico, about five miles West of Yuma is reputed to have the highest density of dentists, pharmacies, doctors and opticians in a four block area, than any similar four block area in the world.

Hawkers reach out and offer to guide you to a dentist, doctor, etc. every step of the way. Not that you need guidance, every other sign is for one or the other. For most of them you don't need an appointment. We arrived at 9:00 a.m. to be first in the door to Denny Salinas' office, except, he was no longer at the same address as our last visit in 2009. A young woman named Bettina walked us several blocks away to his fancy new digs. We learned you now need an appointment. But, as a former customer, he took a look at a problem I was having with an implant he did and fitted me in for ex-rays and a diagnosis.

We walked around town to look around. People, many recognizable "snowbirds", were sitting in a busy square sunning themselves and listening to a very good musician play several types of flute. Hauntingly beautiful sounds I recognized from Peruvian culture.

His partner was selling his very popular CD's. I could have stayed an listened for an hour.

The spray can artists were also working the square. They can do amazing things with spray paint and a piece of paper, rubbing the paint on then quickly drying it with a hair dryer. Jim cautioned this guy waving a cigarette near the painters but he laughed and defied the notion that a cigarette around all of those chemicals was in danger of exploding or starting a fire. Popular pieces are the television dishes snowbirds have on their RV's. In fact, Algodones depends so much on Canadian and American tourists they have a closed-street block party in December welcoming snowbirds back to Algodones.

In our motor home we don't have room to buy "stuff" but I like to look, anyway. People buy cheap drugs and liquor here as well. I got a bottle of vodka.

We like an open restaurant, hole-in-the wall type, that starts you off with three kinds of salsa a red, a green, both hot and home-made. Then avocado salsa, sour cream, limes, and chips. A plate with tomatoes, onion, cilantro and shredded cabbage. They cook their meats on a charcoal grill in front of their place. I tell you that because I haven't a clue what the name of the place is if you go.

The food is always good and cheap, $5 for a whole chicken with rice and beans. Jim took a small portion. I ordered four tacos forgetting that they fill them really full of meat. Our two meals with Tecates cost us $13.00. The Tecate is good with a squeeze of lime in it. I never have this much fun when I go to my dentist in Murphys, doncha know!

Jim likes to go early so we get back across the border before the crowds line up. We didn't make it. I didn't mind at all talking to other folks in line. It was about a twenty-minute wait before we went through the friendly immigration inspection.

Something new since our last visit, for $5 you can be driven over in the yellow cart and skip the line. The drug sniffing dog sniffs the cart and all the cars, too.

CHANGING GEARS AGAIN.

2012-01-20T05:40:00.000-08:00

Arriving in Yuma yesterday was exciting because it’s the start of a new adventure. We spent a lazy kind of morning, reading and staying warm. The desert gets cold at night and nips in the early morning. The time change was only an hour but I’m disoriented in my second kitchen and it takes a day to change gears.
In the afternoon, it was shorts and T-shirt weather. Jim moved the bikes down, put air in the tires, oiled the chains and painted out the name of my “new” bike. It belonged to my son-in-law and I couldn’t wait to ride it. I did six laps of the park and remembered I shouldn’t over-do things, as is my habit. Decided to cut it short and ride a bit farther each day.
It was like an old friend. I also reminded myself it was in Yuma where my bike was stolen in 2011. We affixed a brand new kryptonite lock and cable on it as well.
After dinner we set out for a walk just in time to see the sun setting behind a bush.

As we walked the park, the colors deepen and become more luscious.

We turned a corner. The power poles could not diminish the beauty though I wished they were not there.

I’m back to using a Cannon which I think has truer colors than the Sonys we purchased. So part of this picture scene is a curiosity to see the difference between Jim’s colors and mine. But, HE is the better photographer and takes more time with his shots.

Even with the sun setting, turning East, Pilot Knob was distinctive in the Eastern sky.

We chuckled at the campers boondocking on BLM land just across the fence from the park. They are parking free while inside the fence it costs $40 a night. Normally we would be boondocking but we got a special deal- free! The fence seems confining in the wide open spaces of the desert.

Near the pool was a lone palm tree saying goodnight to the sun and…

…reflected in the pool.

A candy striped sky just as the sun dipped below the horizon.

THREE-TEN TO YUMA

2012-01-19T04:45:00.000-08:00

Three-Ten To Yuma was a great movie about a train bringing prisoners to the Yuma Territorial Prison. My 3:10 flight to Yuma had some similarities. You are strapped to and trapped in a seat just like the prisoners. Yuma flights are special transports because big planes don't go there. These small puddle jumpers do. Actually better, less hassle, less people, and comfortable enough. We won't be visiting the Territorial Prison this trip, though. I blogged it in 2009.

Sitting by the window presents a rare opportunity to take aerial photos. Interesting if you can recognize some of what you are seeing as in the once controversial California Aqueduct near the bottom right of the photo.

Which gave way to desert...

...and the Salton Sea.

After being met at the airport by my Sweetie, we went out for an early dinner and celebrated back in the motor home with a bottle of Cooks.

The weather in California is expected to turn stormy and cold. Winter at last. I got out just in time. Back on the road, with temperatures in the 70's. We're living the good life.

HELPED BY HOG POOP.

2012-01-17T06:54:00.000-08:00

Being a committed greenie, I rarely eat pork. Not because I don’t like it, but because of the disgusting way it is raised on huge hog farms. Shoot, cities build sewage treatment plants for human waste, but the hog farmer’s animal wastes pollute rivers and spoil (collectively) thousands of acres of land. Disastrous messes are cleaned up by you and me, babe, our taxes. How fair is that? Without a strong pork lobby, and our weak willed congress, government could and should require they build treatment plants.
Tatah!! The answer is at hand and it is wonderful.
Thankfully, farmer Loyd Bryant, fromYadkinville, North Carolina has come up with a solution. Mr. Bryant used to be the guy who pumped the poop, now Mr. Bryant is the guy who runs a power plant.
Mr. Bryant built a power plant with off the shelf parts on a 154 acre farm. The power plant, that is actually more like a waste processing plant, uses bacteria to digest the poop and then the plant burns the methane to make electricity. Additionally, Mr. Bryant’s plant converts the ammonia into forms of nitrogen that can be used as a fertilizer.
The project cost $1.2 million to build with financing secured from both Google and Duke University. Duke University claims that Mr. Bryant’s system is one of the cleanest in existence, and it solves all of the environmental problems associated with animal waste (namely, methane, ammonia, and disposal of said waste.)
In the three way partnership everyone wins. Mr. Bryant saves money on electricity and gets a cleaner farming environment. The 65-kilowatt turbine generates enough electricity to power the plant system and five of Bryant’s nine hog barns. Meanwhile, Google and Duke earn carbon offset credits.
According to the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), the number of waste to energy systems in the U.S. grows every year – last year 162 systems on U.S. farms were in action using poop as a renewable source of energy. Such systems are also being touted as a way to dispose of human sewage in developing areas like Africa, providing power for an ever-growing population that lacks proper infrastructure.
The EPA estimates that if 8,200 eligible dairy and hog farms nationwide used systems like Mr. Bryant’s these farms could generate enough electricity to power 980,000 homes for one year. The EPA predicts that this would create the equivalent of removing 6.7 million cars from America’s roads by reducing methane emissions and avoiding power plant carbon dioxide emissions.
(Source: sfgate.com)

The picture accompanying the article shows this darling free ranging mother and baby. But, I still won’t be eating pork regularly, even though the news is good. Those hog farms do not have free range hogs. They are tightly cooped, grown and slaughtered in an ugly, despicable way. Raising meat in general is a reprehensible if efficient practice. I’m still struggling with the ethics of eating meat at all and I attempt to eat less and less of it, including avoiding beef. In a world of burgeoning population and a country of poor land use practices, someday, we will be forced to change. But, those times when I do cave in and eat pork, I can feel a smidge less guilty.

MONTE WOLFE WILL LIVE ON.

2012-01-16T07:05:00.000-08:00

It’s interesting to me that when I first heard of Monte Wolfe and interviewed Harry Schimke, Monte’s unusual life had been covered by the San Francisco newspapers, the Stockton Record, local newspapers and several historical societies. But, no one investigated Monte like Don DeYoung. Don first contacted me about my blog in 2009 and went on from there to meet the Schimke family. Harry’s daughter, Susan had all of her father’s photos and notes, and his brother Art was still alive. Don did a major investigation about Monte that led to a vastly more accurate portrait of Monte than anyone had before. As he put it, thanks to the internet, his skills and his own boyhood fascination with Monte from a boy scout camping trip, (that he describes in one of the links below), Don satisfied a lifetime fascination. Monte disappeared in 1940, a date established by Harry Schimke, who was the last person to see him alive.
Mark Bonar, too, became fascinated by Monte as a young man through his father-in-law, Paul La Teer, and subsequently collected materials, visited the cabins and introduced his own children to the legend of Monte Wolfe. Monte built the “new” or second cabin in about 1933, Mark is guesstimating. As you can see, the hinged door is missing but the old woodsman’s device for “barring the door” was in place.

Mark told me, “Paul knew that country and used to stash food, sleeping bags and wool blankets in rocks behind Camp Irene, which was about eight to fifteen miles below Monte’s cabins. A Forest Service trail led down to the new cabin from the Blue Lake side. It is located about 12 miles from the mouth of Summit City Canyon Creek. The creek funnels into the Mokelumne. The cabin was well hidden, nestled among the trees about 100 yards from a sharp bend in the river. There was a horse trail leading down behind the cabin (as yet not re-discovered). Monte, too, used “spike” caches to hold food and traps on his forays throughout the steep Sierra Nevadas, a common practice for ranchers chasing cows, sheepherders, trappers, fishermen and hunters.
Mark found a paper at the cabin describing how Monte built that cabin by himself. He hoisted all the material up onto the ridge pole using the wetted incline plane principle. The door was small, but extremely heavy. “The door probably weighed 150 pounds and had massive hinges. No one could remove the door without special tools or help.
“The cabin was beautiful; strongly built, with two rooms. The foundation of lightly charred cedar rounds discouraged insects. He had a screened pantry high up off the floor to keep out mice. Monte dug a fresh spring near the cabin from which he piped water into a carved wooden sink and to a solar shower he hooked up on the cabin’s outside wall.”

“He also built a partly under-ground smoke house with hooks enough for 100 trout or a large deer cut into pieces.” Mark showed me pictures of carved log chairs, a table and other items Monte made. There were also comfortable furnishings that Monte hauled into that steep canyon from long distances.

(The above two pictures were taken by Mark on one of his many visits to the cabins.)
“Monte hauled a heavy cast iron cooking stove from Hermit valley to the cabin, piece by piece. He was exceptionally strong.”
Monte was reported to throw a canvas sack of nails over his shoulders weighing 80-100 pounds, stand with it on his shoulders and visit for an hour and never set it down, then move on as though carrying nothing. He was seen setting off from Blue Lakes on skis to his cabin on the Moke, at night, an incredible feat in the day time, without the deceptive shadows cast by the moon. Paul Le Teer described him as “…a swarthy, short man; a dead shot with a rifle, small feet, enormous calves, slender waist, and the broad shoulders of an athlete. He wore his long hair in braids, sometimes tied by a ribbon.”
There are many engaging stories of Monte’s exploits. One I heard from a former bartender at Tamarack concerns the romantic Monte. Supposedly no one, the law, nor wardens could “sneak up” on the expert woodsman. But, the Bartender came across him lying in a naked embrace with a woman on a large flat rock in the bright sunshine. He retreated undetected.
After Monte’s disappearance, people began using the upper cabin until the U.S Forest Service burned it down. The main cabin was harder to find, was locked, and under the “protection” of the Linford family.
Mark has a letter from the Lindford’s to the El Dorado Forest Service Supervisor, Edwin Smith, after Monte’s disappearance was formally acknowledged. The Lindford’s were well off and owned an Oakland Construction Company. They befriended Monte and convinced him to jointly establish a mining claim on Monte’s properties, meaning the area of his cabins and property he occupied, but didn’t own. The Lindord’s enjoyed, with Monte, a private, free, Shangri La Cabin in the mountains. From the letter, Mark speculates the Lindford’s were interested in the amazing private cabin retreat more than Monte. The letter admits that they had never mined nor taken any minerals on their claims, they simply wanted to use the cabin and lands that Monte occupied and asked permission to continue to do so. Permission was granted them as long as they did not extend that privilege to others. So, they shared a special lock with the forest service on the cabin door.
“Between 1955 and 1970, ” explained Mark, “fewer people were going to the cabin. The elder Linfords were essentially gone and their son, family and friends used it on rare visits. A tree fell on the cabin and took out one corner of it and the end result would certainly be steady deterioration. The cabin was repaired much later by a committee of interested people formed to protect the cabin. The non-profit Monte Wolfe Society was formed by James Linford.
The U.S. Forest service decided in recent years that the cabin should be left to deteriorate and removed the door to hurry the process and prevent people from using the cabin. They emptied the place of everything but the stove. The group has taken legal action against that decision, arguing that the Mountain Man’s place is an historical artifact like an Indian Ruins and should be preserved. The group has succeeded thus far in having the door replaced and the chimney pipe hole patched in 2010. That is heart warming progress indeed.
Don DeYoung’s book is still awaiting publication. But, in the meantime, there are several websites about De Young’s extended research, including locating Monte’s grandchildren and learning his real name at the very interesting links below.
http://blogs.esanjoaquin.com/san-joaquin-river-delta/2009/07/28/monte-wolfes-cabin/
http://deyoung.org/MonteWolfe/
http://montewolfe.blogspot.com/
http://www.montewolfe.com/
http://www.recordnet.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20090727/A_NEWS/907270305

THE LEGENDARY MOUNTAIN MAN, MONTE WOLFE.

2012-01-15T07:53:00.000-08:00

It is unusual to find someone who has a link to Monte Wolfe, the legendary mountain man who disappeared over sixty years ago. Mark Bonar, who moved here in the 1950′s is that man.
In college, he met his wife, Barbara La Teer, who was a native of West Point, Calaveras County. They had three children, Mark Richard, Lynne Alison and Lauren Ann. Mark became close to his Father-in-law and through him, the larger than life character of Monte Wolfe with whom Paul La Teer had crossed paths.

“I hadn’t fished since I was a kid in Idaho,” said Mark. “Paul invited me fishing. I went out and bought a primitive fishing pole and reel, and as we began hiking, I heard the first of many stories of Monte Wolfe. Our fishing expeditions became regular, enjoyable occasions. Paul hiked all over the rough and wild back country and was in terrific shape. And, that is how he encountered Monte’s one room, “first” cabin, which became known as the Upper Cabin, in the mid 1930′s. It was situated in plain sight along the Mokelumne River and right along Paul’s fishing site. Monte had left a foot- high stack of canning jars piled next to the cabin.

(These two reproduced pictures of Monte and the first cabin were copied from my newspaper article on Monte in the 1980′s and were taken by Harry Schimke.)
"Paul had heard rumors of a newer cabin and as he prowled the high country, he spent the late 1930′s trying to find it. When he did find it, he was met with a 30-30 deer rifle by an unfriendly Monte Wolfe. During that encounter, Monte had visitors, presumably the Linfords, who had befriended Monte and who claimed to be guarding his privacy. Monte was a social person but could be unpredictable and not someone to mess with, so Paul never became a friend of his.”

Veda Linford wrote a book about Monte and once cared for him when he broke his leg. The Linford’s probably knew him best. Monte divulged little about himself and seemed to like being a bit mysterious, for good reason. He was arrested and tried for stealing in Tuolumne County as Ed Mc Grath, not something the locals were likely to forget.

He lived totally off the land on fish, deer, and whatever game he could trap for food and pelts. Some of it was legal and some of it was not. He had many a run-in with the Calaveras County game warden and the law.
“He would routinely break into local cabins and take food, mostly canned food which was standard fare at the time. He’d usually leave something to replace it, or leave a note of thanks signed Monte The Wolf.” He would attempt give something in payment at a later date, perhaps a mess of fresh trout.
Paul recollected a story of one of Monte’s encounters with a game warden who walked up to Monte’s camp to find a lot of grouse feathers around it. The warden questioned him. Monte steadfastly claimed that he had seen no grouse and that the feathers must have blown in. Another time, a rifle that went missing from Sonora, out of someone’s car, was spotted hidden in a hollow sugar pine near his camp.
There were many incidents of things gone missing that irked people and the authorities. He was so adept in the woods and a dead shot with a rifle, people were not inclined to challenge him in his own territory, which encompassed three counties, Calaveras, Tuolumne and Amador.
(To be continued tomorrow.)

MONTE WOLFE REVISITED

2012-01-13T07:40:00.000-08:00

Last night, a friend of mine offered to share some information he has worked on about Monte Wolfe. I’ve known Mark for some time, but what I didn’t know about Mark Bonar was his long history of interest in the reclusive Hermit, Monte Wolfe. Since I’d written about Wolfe in the 1980′s, Mark came by with materials and we enjoyed an evening of ruminating about Wolfe. Mark had the good fortune of living in Calaveras County in the 1950′s. His then father-in-law, Paul LaTeer had met Monte and later wrote stories about Monte and influenced Mark and his family to engage the vast, mountainous arenas and rivers that Monte called home. I promised Mark I wouldn’t write anything from our interview until I passed it by him, first.

For those who don’t know the legendary Monte Wolfe story, I’ve provided two links to my blogs of 2009 as an introduction to Monte Wolfe.
http://marysramblins.blogspot.com/2009/03/disappearance-of-monte-wolf.html

http://marysramblins.blogspot.com/2009/03/monte-wolf-legend.html

Wolfe spelled his names two ways, sometimes as Wolf and sometimes as Wolfe. Mark uses Wolf with an e and thus this blog is consistent with that spelling.
Wolfe lived like an Indian, surviving completely in the wild with no services. He didn’t have a totem, that I know of, but on a recent walk, I took a picture of a neighbor’s totem that I’d like to share today. I’m always looking for ways to display my amazing pile of junk and this totem inspired me to build the bottle fence I’ve promised myself. I only save bottles and jars that are embossed with writing or insignias of some kind, or that have unusual shapes. Anyway, here goes. Don’t tell me. My kids have already informed me that I’m weird. And, they ought to know.

You might note that the top of this totem is made of carved wooden feathers.

What else can you do with rusty tools and broken pieces of tile?

A true totem has a face.

Two faces, optional.

Since I’m part Indian, and I approve, three and four faces are also appropriate.

I also took a picture of a chicken coop.

My brother, Norman, told me he will come back in the spring and build me a chicken coop. (But, what I really want is a totem.)

DIVORCE AND OTHER ODDITIES.

2012-01-12T06:38:00.000-08:00

Little tales from my walking journals begun in the 1950′s need this preface. A person wishing to divorce in the 50′s had to give a reason for it. The petitioner had to show hardship of some type for the divorce to be granted by a divorce court. The usual reason given was “mental cruelty” if you were incompatible with your spouse.

In Chicago, Mrs. Rum charged her husband with drunkeness-won her divorce and resumed her maiden name of Miss Cork. (March 10th, 1968)

These snippets are name related, as you shall see.

A women in Los Angeles charged her husband nagged her when she refused to drink with him. She was granted the divorce and resumed her maiden name of Selma Sober.
At one time, Mrs. Ashe was in charge of the barbeque pits at Golden Gate Park in San Francisco.

Donald C. Crooks was a probate judge in Redwood Falls, Minnesota in 1952.

William C. Wolf was voted President of the Lions Club in Duluth, Minnesota, also in 1952.

Dr. Michael Fox is an animal psychologist. (1976.)

I think Dr. Fox is still practicing, but it made more sense to treat the pet owners than the pets, in my opinion. Hmm! In a sense he did.

Morris Fisher is president of the Wisconsin Fish Company, Green Bay, Wisconsin.

Harlan Apple used to be a foreman for the Skoman Apple Corporation of Wenatchee, Washington.

Cardinal Sin has been the archbishop of Manila for 12 years.

Patience Scales has been a piano teacher in San Francisco for 30 years.

Jack Swallows has been hearing puns about his name ever since he moved to San Juan Capistrano. Swallows says: “I do fly away from time to time, but I always come back.” The radio stations call him every March and October, when the swallows normally arrive and leave the Mission San Juan Capistrano. They usually ask if he has packed his bags.

Whoo boy. That must get tiresome.
And, from this sign in Pittsfield, Massachusetts:

Ice Cream Cones, Sundaes, and Malts- J. Freeze Proprietor.

My walking journals have taken several phases. I readied six of them and thought I should launch them into the world that they might gather little stories wherever they landed. I placed my name and address in them to be returned. None has come back. I left one at a bus station, another in a doorway of someone who was moving to Texas. I passed one to a friend who sent it around with members of his writer’s workshop. I kept one journal, intent on collecting those trivial little stories from the lives of friends, family and people I meet. For instance, my friend Pam, after a painful second divorce, had the words Never Again tattooed on her ring finger.
On-line, they never disappear.

SOLUTIONS?

2012-01-11T09:15:00.000-08:00

I introduced you to my homeless brother yesterday. His problems were self-caused. For him to regain a respectable place in society requires that he have access to a toilet, a shower and an address. He can sleep under the shelter of a freeway without too much hassle from the law.

Hassle from the law is part of what prevents MEN like Norman from getting out of their situation. I emphasize men because homeless women and families with children are treated differently.
When he still had a trailer, he was parked on private property with permission of the owner. The police department of that city, which I will not name, banged on his door one night. A familiar problem. They know who the homeless are. They had arrested him for drunk on more than one occasion. Without opening the door, he asked what they wanted. They ordered him out of the trailer. He refused and with a copy of the bill of rights on his door he quoted: “I have a right to be secure in my own house with my papers and effects against unreasonable searches and seizures. So, tell me what you want?” They demanded twice more that he come out. When he refused they threatened to break the door down, and did.
They towed his trailer. He didn’t have money to get it out of the storage yard. He had no income. He did odd jobs, cutting weeds, mostly, on the property where he was parked. He fed himself and his dog from dumpsters.

Money is power, with no power to fight the illegal arrest, his chances of changing his situation diminishes. District Attorneys routinely recommend “human refuse” to plead guilty and promise them probation. He refuses. He always demands a trial. His latest arrest, for trespassing was dismissed by the courts. Yet, his belongings that he carefully accumulates between arrests, is often trashed and he ends up with only the clothes on his back. In this case they gave him three days to remove his belongings. There was no citizen complaint against him living in a brushy property owned by Cal Trans. He had been secure there and invisible for eleven months.

The Sheriff’s Department called Cal Trans officials to register a complaint against him when they discovered him. Then, they went in and cut all the brush so no one else could seek shelter there.
He has had his social security for three years now, an income of $837 a month. Yet, when they arrest him, even though the case was dismissed, they cut off his medical, his social security and he has to re-apply for all of those benefits he is entitled too, which sometimes takes months. The Social Security office told him you have to go back to the Sheriff and pay for a piece of paper that declares you are no longer in jail. It cost him $25. It seems like a good safeguard for we the people. But, he is on a bike, he is crippled from his stroke. He is not very clean, normal people shun him. He is accosted by business people if he sits anywhere. His stroke prevents him from standing very long. When he tried to rent a place in a cheapie trailer park, they took one look at him with a flowing beard, and turned him away. He is fortunate that he has a friend who will allow him to use an address, where he can pick up his check. Without his friend, he would be unable to collect his social security.

There are many solutions proposed for homeless, getting them jobs, advocates that work to get them many benefits, but without an address, a contact place, decent clothes, and transportation, he will most likely be stuck in an unrelenting shuffle from one illegal spot to another. There is no written law that says so, but it is illegal in this country to be homeless if you are a man.

A community that remains stable and self-sufficient is Slab City in Southern California. The residents maintain a community without facilities and services and manage quite well with solar and a hot springs. They have successfully governed themselves for many years. In fact, I’ve offered to take my brother to Slab City, but, he worked construction for years and has many skin cancers. The relentless sun there is his enemy and he declined. Couldn’t a solution be a fenced area where the homeless can congregate and form their own society? How much would it cost to level a campground, and put up porta- potties for the homeless. A solar, out-door shower fenced off for privacy. At least, they could rest their heads without being hunted by the police.

A TABLE FULL OF POLITICS

2012-01-10T07:26:00.000-08:00

Oh, if we could run the world! Somehow, when we gather, and realize that we are just working cogs in a pyramid scheme that benefits others to live in luxury, we try and solve the problems of the world. My oldest brother is running for congress for that reason.

This is my oldest sister and my homeless brother. Much of our discussion surrounded homelessness. All primitive cultures governed themselves . They chose leadership of some kind meant to benefit the whole tribe, not just a few at the top. A tribe took care of its members including the weak and sick. When they found a food supply, they shared it equally. They meted out suitable punishment to those who offended.

While many groups try to do something about the “homeless problem”, our laws and our police at every level treat the homeless as though it is against the law to be homeless. Norman worked all of his life as a carpenter; he contributed and paid taxes. Somewhat late in life, he began drinking. He is an alcoholic and he smokes marijuana. He has never been arrested for any thing but drunkenness, possession of marijuana, and trespassing. He doesn’t steal. He has never been violent. He carries a bible wherever he goes. He is what some of us like to term a “Jesus Freak”. When Norman first became homeless, seventeen years ago, he protested that a person like him, in our society, cannot legally occupy a place on the planet. He cannot sleep anywhere because he has no home. He cannot use public restrooms, they are for customers only. It is quite draconian that because he is so powerless, the police can treat him any way they choose.
He has two suits against the Sheriffs Office for false arrest. He has been falsely hauled away from two properties where he had had permission to stay. I’ll relate those stories to you another time.

He has (hopefully) a superficial skin cancer. He also had a stroke four years ago, for which he received no treatment. He suffers a lot of pain and cannot walk or stand on his feet for a lengthy period. His latest arrest, was for trespassing on “public” property. He was sleeping in the bushes on property owned by Cal Trans. When you go to jail, they suspend your medical, they take away your social security and when they dump you back out on the street, you have to re-apply for your benefits and wait for them all over again which can take months. You cannot get your social security unless you have a physical address. You cannot pay for a post office box to receive your check. Since he was kicked off the Ca-Trans property, the cancer tripled in size. The nurse in the jail looked at his head and wanted nothing to do with that problem. A homeless advocate got him an appointment to have the cancer removed on the 14th of January. When he tried to get an appointment at Highland Hospital on his own, his wait time to be examined was six months.
I love my brother. I believe he made poor choices about his life to get into such a downward spiral. All of us at one time or another have tried to “help” him. He doesn’t want our handouts. He receives social security of about $800 a month. (I’ll revisit this subject again.)

WITH A BIT OF LEVITY

2012-01-09T07:47:00.000-08:00

I bought this 1998 camper van that I don’t need. My family believes it to be a ridiculous idea. “What are you going to do with it?” I’m not sure yet!

Many times during the last 30 years I’ve been in situations where I would have liked the convenience of visiting people and going places without inconveniencing friends or staying in a hotel. Those occasions come up rather regularly.

It was a great buy, clean, low mileage and easy to handle. If I stopped to question my motives too long, I wouldn’t have bought it.

One asset to owning this type of van is that I have the ability to park it on any city street or neighborhood without having to pay park charges. It goes anywhere, the beach, the mountains and narrow roads, with ease. Now I have to build a garage to store it! I should probably stick to cooking when I’m home. Human psychology is as difficult to understand as electronics and who can understand electronics? I should probably stick to cooking when I'm home.

BIZARRE SEXY FUN

2012-01-08T05:08:00.000-08:00

You may NOT wear any revealing or “skimpy” clothes. If deemed too revealing, we will ask that you put your pants back on. This includes thongs, jock straps, a**-less chaps, whitey-tighties that can be seen through etc. Please use common sense. You are responsible for obeying the law.
Those are the stated rules. This is Seattle’s big, bizarre fun day-IT IS JANUARY 8th. PANTS LESS SUNDAY.

Officially called No Pants Light Rail Ride, it is just a fun, kind of bizarre way to start the new year when the weather chills. A bit like a polar bear swim.
The “No Pants” event stunt started on New York’s subways about a decade ago, and it has gained popularity in other places. Pictured are people from Seattle’s event. Word of mouth usually spreads through e-mail lists and Facebook — kind of like the Occupy Wall Street movement.
A week ago, Seattle Post Intelligencer learned that about 90 locals had RSVPed to the ride, with about 60 on-the-fence “maybes.”
“I am shaving and shivering for this event,” one fan wrote. “I am so shopping too for some lovely panties.”
The SPI pictures are from Joshua Trujillo’s blog which shows guys in pink-flowered shorts and others wearing tights. Crazy socks. Women with net stockings. Fun. The photos are from the 2011 event.

The No Pants Light Rail Ride in Seattle on Sunday, Jan. 9, 2011. (Joshua Trujillo, Seattlepi.com)

Once on board, the pants come off, one leg at a time.

Shirts and shoes! No problem.

BAD NEWS RUNS IN THREES?

2012-01-07T06:11:00.000-08:00

I popped a tire, had it fixed and my mechanic informed me another tire has a split in it. He wrote on my service tag, do not drive over 50 mph, nor farther than 200 miles.

My brother came to stay for a week and revealed to us that he has cancer.

And, I had a fire from dumping ashes in my compost bin that nearly took out my greenhouse.

When I tried to move pictures from my camera to a file, even though I highlighted all of the pictures, only one picture moved. I erased the rest from the camera and it is still too dark to take new ones. The year 2012 is off to a troublesome start.

Bad news is said to run in threes. I’ve had my three. Tomorrow will be a better day. I know it because, truth to tell, I've had much more good luck in my life than bad luck.

OH BOY! SOME ADVENTURE!

2012-01-05T06:47:00.000-08:00

Some adventures are questionable, like this one:

Returning from Sonora, I stopped at a gas station. The driveway is practically a block long, how can you miss it? A sweeping curve is not sweeping. It has an impediment, a curb. Pop! I hit the curb with my back right tire.

Road service arrived. Vic's guy was terrific.

He said, "Happens all the time. You think your back end will follow through. I've hit that same curb myself. That driveway was widened and they didn't do it right." True or not, he made me feel better about a lousy and expensive fix. He told me the tire got pinched and isn't fixable.

My consolation prize? A meltingly beautiful sunset. Life is beautiful.

ADOPTED, I HOPE.

2012-01-04T07:00:00.000-08:00

A few years back I had my yard registered as Certified For Wildlife and it has been an interesting panorama of wildlife frequenting my small acreage. Mostly they come for the water. I have had deer, cougar, bobcat, fox, raccoon, squirrel, owl, bat and various cats and dogs stop in to have a drink. Over the last couple of weeks I’ve seen this chicken pecking about. She is bantam of a mixed breed. During my 40 year marriage, we had chickens in every yard we had until this particular spot. The hawks came by and gobbled up my last 17 chickens as we were moving here. I never replaced them. I never cooped them, either, they were always free range. And this little bitty seems to have survived the predators on her own. My kind of gal.
I know she must belong to somebody, but she seems to have adopted my place. She isn’t wildlife. I don’t feed her. One neighbor down the way may be her owner and I’ll check with him, but, chances are, she is going to stay. And, I hope she does. Karen’s cat took a swipe at her, but she just ignored him and Wiley just doesn’t know what to make of a bird that isn’t afraid of him.

The woodpeckers that regularly meet on my power pole and I had a conference, and they agree with me. She is here to stay. (I hope.)

A COLD, GOLD DAY

2012-01-03T06:44:00.000-08:00

Weather, these last weeks, has been shirt-sleeve summer. Every day, we see beautiful winter sunrises and sunsets at odds with warm days. Sqaw winter makes you crave the natural order of things; to do right by the trees, and grasses, and critters. Bears hanging low, refusing to hibernate. Birds haven’t a proper signal to migrate. It’s all wrong.

Weather so dry I’ve had to water the yard lightly, so I decided its time to go gold hunting. It never takes much convincing to get Jan and Brian out looking for gold. We arrived at what was a dry creek in the fall of 2010. Brian commented that we hadn’t considered the snow melt with this warm weather.

Not to be deterred, I took off my shoes and socks, rolled up my pants, crossed over to a promising area of gravel and loaded the bucket. The gravel was so wet and heavy, and I expect the bucket a bit weak, the bottom fell out. I ended up washing the spill on the riffles of a rock. Not a smidge of color.

Jan spotted some old tailings. We checked the topography and found a spot where water had once gushed down this hill and filled a crevice with gravel. I went in with my trowel and reached for the gravel. Water invisibly clean and clear I didn’t even see until I touched it. Beautiful gravel and good muck.

We brought three buckets. This time, I made sure I didn’t fill the bucket.

We drove around for several hours, stopping at various spots. At this place someone had placed a board to sit on and left a crevice tool and a linoleum slide. It was wet and tough to work.

We went to a popular panning spot under a bridge. The property owner had built a rock dam to catch the gold before it ever got to the bridge. He built a dam, but it takes a tri-dam to be effective. Then he fenced it and posted no trespassing signs. What the owner probably knows is that no one owns a river. As long as you don’t walk above the high water mark, you aren’t trespassing. The signs discourage rubes, which we aren’t.

By this time, I was wet and cold. The gold eluded us but we got a taste of winter. On the way home we reflected on how the early miners slogged through creeks and winter melts and cursed their lot but never gave it up. They survived on the fever. We’re pikers.

POLL

2012-01-02T09:44:00.000-08:00

My partner Jim and I are taking a poll. He is interested in a different picture for our frontispiece at this address.

If you want to add your two cents, click on the link below:

http://otrwjam.wordpress.com

Thanks for stopping by. Hope you had a great new year.

Mary

KISSED BY A STRANGER.

2012-01-01T09:28:00.000-08:00

Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross, to see a fine lady upon a white horse. Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, she shall have music wherever she goes.
I woke up this morning, late, with that nursery rhyme playing through my head, instead of Brown Eyed Girl, or Big Wheels Keep On Turnin’, the loud, jumpin’ music from last night at Cactus Jacks. There is no accounting for the twists and turns of the brain.
It was my intention to stay home New Years Eve, but a neighbor, Jan, insisted I go with her to the Murphys Hotel. We arrived at 9 p.m. Planned to stay a couple of hours. Myself, Jan and Cynthia got our picture taken by Cynthia’s boyfriend, Dave.
The Murphys Hotel is about 150 years old and has a reputation for being a cowboy bar. But, the cowboys have changed considerably, I noticed.
Jan, the storyteller, regaled Dave with old stories from the hotel’s checkered history.
There was no band, the dance floor is practically non-existent. We danced twice to canned music. The people made it fun, but we all decided to leave the hotel and walk down to Cactus Jacks. The dance floor there is bigger, the band was better and it was jammin’.
Cactus Jack sells shirts called Plan B.
Translation: After you leave Cactus Jacks and go to the Murphys Hotel, you’ll come crawling back to Jacks where all the fun is. It was fun. They don’t have a liquor license, only wine and beer. The grizzly was good, dark and chewy.
People watching is half the game. It was a dance free for all, everybody dancing with everybody. Nobody obnoxiously drunk.

Some friends, Lianne Smith and her new boy toy popped in. She and others went from party to party. Over the course of the evening, I met old friends, kids, who are no longer kids, who went to high school with my no longer kids. Then, I met a guy who graduated from the same High School I did, only twenty years later than me.
Cactus Jack provided paper cups of champagne at midnight. And, I got kissed by a stranger.
Anything can happen. It’s a new year. 2012 is here.

SEMI-IDIOTIC

2011-12-31T07:50:00.000-08:00

It’s New Years Eve, a cause for celebration. A symbol that all things from 2011 can be put away and everything begins anew. The idea is semi-idiotic, but we love its symbol of hope for better things to come. Why not make a resolution and promise to make the New Year personally better than the year we’ve left behind? There is room for much improvement in this world, so, lets celebrate: (Click the link.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3GwjfUFyY6M&feature=player_embedded

Its time to get the party started and put all cares away:
http://www.nutsie.com/song/Auld%20Lang%20Syne/2144120?artist_id=1000315&album_id=2813801

And have a toast or three to good things to come:
Here’s to the bright New Year
And a fond farewell to the old;
Here’s to the things that are yet to come
And to the memories that we hold.
In the New Year,
may your right hand always be stretched out in friendship,
but never in want.
In the year ahead,
May we treat our friends with kindness
and our enemies with generosity.
“Let us resolve to do the best we can with what we’ve got”, says
William Feather
Worthy thoughts and deeds we set before us. It gives us a breath of happiness to see the numbers on the new calendar. Was the old year a good year? A bad year? We can spare for one day to set all of it aside and share with others, strangers even, a bit of nostalgia.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvJRmdN9iyU

FRACKING VS. GREEN TECH.

2011-12-30T08:20:00.000-08:00

Fracking pumps as many as 900 unregulated chemicals into the ground to open rock beds to get at the oil and gas. The Halliburton Loophole exempts oil companies from major environmental laws, like the Clean Air, Clean Water, and Safe Drinking Water acts. Drillers do not have to reveal what is in the six million gallons of watery chemicals they pump into these wells that have been known to contaminate drinking water. Of course the companies owning these leases want to get at it, but the truth is, fracking isn’t needed. We do have alternatives.

This is my 1994 Chevrolet Electric Car, totally battery operated, still running in 2005 on its original battery pack. It’s range was only 48 miles. Near the end of its life, it could only make it to the grocery and the dump and back, about 14 miles. That was old battery technology. My 2001 Prius is still running on its original battery pack and gives no signs of stopping anytime soon.
The mass-produced Nisson Leaf and the Chevy Volt are all doing well. 2011 was a big year for electrics and growing. Well known dependable companies have come out with electric vehicles that work beyond expectations. They are so good, they’ve become luxury cars for the rich. Hundreds of new electric vehicles are out there, and here are some of the top green cars, as listed by Gas.2.0.

Hydrogen Ferrari. This is a student designed concept car and isn’t on the road-yet! But Id’ like to crawl into one of those. It would make me look 20 years younger.

Rimac Automobilli EV One is a working model with 1,088 horsepower, and a driving range of almost 400 miles. Snazzy, beautiful. The future is here if we have guts enough to say no to big oil.

Brabus 4WD Hybrid Mercedes is a diesel-electric hybrid that provides performance as well as efficiency. This vehicle uses Proton’s in-wheel hub motors for propulsion and improved get-up-and-go.

e-Wolf Alpha 2 EV, with a driving range of 185 miles, a 0-60 mph time of under 4-seconds, and a price tag of over $400,000. Top speed? 230 mph, supposedly. Slated for limited production, none of us are likely to afford one of these, but dreams to come true, and if it weren’t for dreamers, we’d be back in the dark ages.

The only natural gas car that made the list. Maximus LNG 2000 has a highly modified all-aluminum V8 engine that can produce 1,500 horsepower. A 2,000 horsepower version named the Prodigy is also in the works. I’m not big on natural gas but I didn’t make the list and don’t consider it a really green car like electrics.

Porsche Spyder EV plug-in is prohibitively expensive, but Gas.2.0 admires Porsche for working tremendously hard to integrate hybrid drive trains into their performance vehicles. Porsche is at the forefront of luxury performance hybrids and will probably continue to play with hybrids in the years to come. Good news for all of us.

Veritas Plug-In Hybrid, again, isn’t all electric but these carmakers are concentrating on performance. A barely street legal racer, the Veritas RSIII uses a 600 horsepower 5.0 liter BMW V10 to power the rear wheels, and an electric motor providing another 140 horsepower for the front wheels. An on board flywheel energy recovery system can charge the batteries while driving, or be plugged into a standard outlet, providing up to 30 miles of all-electric driving.

Jaguar CX75 EV was debuted as a twin-turbine concept car late last year and has been greenlighted for production…sans the turbines. It will keep the plug-in hybrid system, allowing the wheel-mounted electric motors to deliver up to 30 miles of all-electric range, as well as a 0-60 mph time somewhere in the 3-second range. What’s the cost for this beauty? Put your wallet back. About 1.4 mill. Hey, somebody will buy it! The future is looking very snazzy.

JOB PRODUCING VIDEO

2011-12-29T07:04:00.000-08:00

This Christmas, the three gifts I bought for my grandkids I would have bought no matter where they were made. One was from Japan, the others were from Taiwan. From the giving tree, you choose a name and buy a gift for a child in need, which was a request for a robe, I absolutely could not find a robe in any store that wasn’t made in China.
Just before Christmas, I wanted to buy a picture frame. Small town shopping choices are limited. After realizing that every frame in every store came from China, I went to a custom shop and had it made. Certainly not a choice for people on a limited budget.
At the grocery store, I bought an off brand of pumpkin for pies and much to my irritation, it too, came from China. I’ve received emails about buying in America and then I received this one from my cousin Karen. This job producing video was a real eye-opener.

http://cdnapi.kaltura.com/index.php/kwidget/wid/0_04vzdsr5/uiconf_id/5590821

Imports and trade are not all bad for our country. I’m picking on China for a reason. My neighbor, Jan, had two teachers from China staying with her for a short time on an exchange program earlier this year. They bought a camera made in China. When she questioned their choice they told her it was cheaper to buy it here than in their own country. I’ve read where China is manipulating money, doctoring dog food, selling knock-offs illegally, pirating music and other shoddy business practices. So, visit the Made In America Website after watching this video and see how much power our purchases have.

ANARCHY 2012

2011-12-28T07:45:00.000-08:00

The U.S. Constitution has been a model for other countries since its inception more than two centuries ago. Our Bill of Rights is considered one of humanity’s finest achievements. People from many nations have sought refuge here to enjoy those freedoms. Yet, our current government has suspended important protections in the name of terrorism. A dangerous precedent via the Rave Act, the Patriot Act and the National Defense Authorization Act. With those and U.S. drug policies we are the most controlled and monitored society on earth. There are cameras watching our every move on practically every street corner, every store, every mall. From the satellite above, every vehicle can be tracked by GPS devices; there is one in every cell phone. Big Brother Is Definitely Watching. And, we’ve allowed it to happen.
Legislators are toying with interfering with our Judicial branch of government, by making laws against the court’s unpopular decisions. Whether we like them or not we must not give up our checks and balances because they are currently unpopular. Let them stand the test of time.
We must give thought to what is happening in our country and become involved. It has swung out of control, prosperity evades us, and anarchy approaches, carried in a flag with a cross. Thomas Jefferson was famous for the Virginia Statute as much as for writing the Declaration of Independence. He organized a Virginia colony that separated Church and State, the very choking environment the colonists left behind in England, the new colonies wanted to reinstate in “their” particular view of God. Thanks to the Virginia Statute we didn’t have to fight that same nightmare all over again. And now, religionists are pushing strongly for laws that inject their morality into our laws on same-sex marriage, abortion, doctors rights to counsel, planned parenthood, and other bills slipped by us by both Democrats and Republicans.
With idyllic frenzy we’ve made laws that affect our country negatively. Two million Americans are incarcerated in the U.S., most of them for non-violent drug crimes. Billions of dollars have been spent building prisons to house all of the Americans convicted of drug crimes. For carrying a half ounce of marijuana, a man who works and supports his children can go to prison for life in California and Texas. Now Oklahoma is considering a similar law.
We are living in a police state not only from the surveillance, and the drug wars, but an increase in Police over-reaction. Nevada police have skipped free after killing an American Woman who came to the aid of her husband whom they had just killed when they asked him for identification and he reached into his jacket for his wallet. Such things should not happen in America. Protestors tasered, more police attacks on unarmed citizens. America imprisons more citizens than any other nation. The government cannot afford to pay lifetime care for people who could and should be working and paying taxes. It is insanely expensive and yet, they are willing to pay an informant, even a convicted felon, up to $250,000 to testify against someone charged with a drug crime. Of course, what convicted felon would lie to receive that kind of cash?
America’s prohibitionist policies have eliminated freedom all over the globe and the high money paid for drugs crossing our borders has helped fuel the terrorists instead of our tax purse. It is draconian.
Now, I read where the Occupy Wall Street protests are bothering the government enough to instigate a huge anti-public relations move and that the FBI will penetrate large OWS groups to sabotage their effectiveness, make petty arrests and harass them.
Beware! We don’t lose our freedoms, we give them away.

PHOTOS WICKEDLY WEIRD

2011-12-27T12:01:00.000-08:00

The family left for home this morning and I began the clean-up which I do in stages. Rolling up sleeping bags, pulling bedding, etc. I also decided to spend a bit of time cleaning up my email. I found one on Christmas pictures I thought I’d share.
Most of us like to take Christmas photos. Sometimes, in the excitement, they don’t turn out well. Then there is the photo set-up for your yearly Christmas card. A website lists them as Awkward/Weird Christmas Photos.
Have a look:http://www.uproxx.com/webculture/2011/12/a-golden-treasury-of-awkwardweirdawesome-family-holiday-photos/
We’ve never done a Christmas family picture for a Christmas Card. But, if Santa had a black eye would you still have the picture taken?

Many of these have questionable logic. What were they thinking?

FUN WITH GIFTS

2011-12-26T10:01:00.000-08:00

Christmas morning, Theo got up, opened his stocking and found a book. He plopped immediately to the floor engrossed. We had to shovel him out of the doorway. When everyone was up and had had breakfast, the kids were allowed to open their presents. Having stayed with them a couple of weeks ago, I heard all of the stories about how they guess what their presents are. “You always buy us Lego, Gramma, one shake and we know what it is,” I was told with a smile. Then Owen confessed to the real tricks. Dousing the ribbons with catnip so the cats would tear open the wrappings. Slitting the taped ends with a knife and peeking at the ends to read the box, then resealing; pressing the paper tightly and try to read through it; measuring the boxes and comparing those measurements with their favorite toys in the store. Oh, they are clever.

This year, I told them they could shake, rattle and roll and they would not be able to guess. Owen opened his big box, failing at many guesses, to find:

…another box. After five boxes total, he discovered an Ipod. It measures about two inches square.

Theo guessed his gift as a puzzle. I told him it does sound like a puzzle but that is not what your gift is. When he opened it, attached to the puzzle was a note telling him where his gift was really located, under a quilt, in my office. A Lego game.
I fooled them this year. I’ll have to get smarter by next year.

For Christmas dinner we had five pheasant and two ducks that Ken hunted with his boss. With a paella salad, and a green salad, we feasted.

When it got dark, the guys lit the Christmas Tree. The kids played with their new toys and we talked and snacked until 11 p.m. Ken brews his own beer, some of the best he has ever made.
I thank you all for visiting my blog and hope that you’ve had a good year and an especially Merry Christmas.

IS THERE A TRUE MEANING IN CHRISTMAS?

2011-12-25T06:41:00.000-08:00

Traditions change from year to year. For us, one daughter and her family missing.
Ken made an amazing beer, his best so far. It has a hint of rosemary and wonderful bitter herbs. He and his family visited his wife, Laurie’s siblings in Lodi because her brother and his wife flew redeye to their son’s wedding in Korea this morning. Its 2011. What varied lives we live.
We spent most of the day playing games, walking the dogs, and stuffing ourselves silly with party foods. It warmed enough for the kids, Owen and Theo, to jump on the trampoline. The weather has been unseasonably warm this December. Dry, too.
I made Chili Verde for dinner, made with chicken rather than pork. I’ve wanted to try it that way for years, and it was very good by all accounts. (It will never be as good as my friend Norma Tapia’s authentic verde with pork, though.)
The kids were allowed to open one present and the adults wanted to watch a Christmas movie. The kids were so busy with their new lego games, we ended up watching The Help, a movie about black maids and their horrible treatment by employers in Jackson, Mississippi. The kids soon got interested and are old enough to question what was going on between the races. For them it seemed unreal that people treated blacks so shabbily.
It was within our lifetime, not that long ago. It amazed me how “good Christians” could justify treating anyone the way they did. So, on this very Christian commemorative, the reason for the season, as we hear chanted, may Christians around the world pause and consider the true meaning of Christianity, as in love thy fellow man.
Well, that was yesterday, on the Eve of Christmas. I HAVE AN IDEA. LET’S ABOLISH WAR TODAY, ALL LEADERS OF THE WORLD, AND HAVE A REAL MERRY CHRISTMAS. AND LET US REACH OUT A HAND TO OUR MUSLIM BROTHERS IN LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP. AS INDIVIDUALS, LET’S NOT SPREAD HATE.

THE COOKIE FACTORY

2011-12-24T07:02:00.000-08:00

Peg Bracken, noted cook and cook book author, claims the best way to keep cookies is in a can marked Rat Poison. I wouldn’t go that far, but it is tempting to save your favorite ones for a later time when you can savor them the more.

Doug arrived first and we made room for his tins. He has several to deliver to the neighbors since I’ve given over the cookie baking to the kids.
Then Laurie unloaded her stash of tins and bags until there was no room.

But, somehow, we stacked tins and Virginia unloaded her treasures.

The many types are the result of Doug trying to out-do Virginia and Vice-Versa. Laurie brings the family favorites and adds something new each year, which happened to be gluten free almond chai cookies and marzipan stollen, so the list goes on and grows. With 22 different kinds of cookies, Virginia wryly commented, the ratio of cookie bakers to cookie eaters is out of kilter with four cookie eaters missing. She was referring to Daughter Kristannne, her husband and two boys who were unable to come for Christmas because of their son Alec’s work schedule.
The cookie factory started years ago when I made cookies with the kids, and sometimes the neighbor kids, allowing them to cut and decorate sugar cookies with paint brushes and bowls of colored frosting.
We traded painted cookies each year with the Evans/Dollar family and one year Joanne Evans said enough, and brought a variety of yummy cookies that didn’t have to be decorated. A nurse, she worked full-time, often with duty hours during the holidays. So, the cooky factory got started with more and more different types of cookies, easier to make and better tasting.
It is hard to pick a favorite, but, you might try this one:
1 8oz. package dates chopped., 1/2 cup firmly pkd. brown sugar, 1/2 cup butter, 1/2 cup orange juice, 1 tsp. grated fresh orange rind. Cook first five ingredients over low heat, stirring until slightly thickened. Remove from stove and cool a bit.
Beat in two eggs, 2 1/4 cups flour that has 1 tsp salt and 3/4 tsp. of baking soda mixed in it. Add a 16 oz. package of chocolate chips, and 1 cup chopped walnuts and stir. Drop by rounded spoonfuls 2 inches apart on ungreased sheets. Bake at 375* ten minutes. Remove at once to cool.ing racks. Makes 3 dozen. If you cool the ingredients a lot, the chocolate chips stay chunky. If you leave the batter quite warm, the chips get melty. I like them melty.
Ciao!

CHRISTMAS PAST

2011-12-23T06:54:00.000-08:00

My gang arrives today. Nostalgia for Christmases past and simpler times come to mind as I sort through old cards, but I know, Christmases past are best remembered and not relived. I wonder how different my kids remembrances of Christmas will be as they get older and look back.
The beautiful lettering on this card, along with the clothing says “old-fashioned”.

Children cry when meeting a scary department store Santa. What would it be like to see this Father Christmas at the door? Smithsonian Magazine’s website asked people to vote for the scariest Santa from about twenty pictures. There were some doozies.
Quaint language tickles my fancy since I love poetry and doggerel, both :
When Christmas comes to your abode,
May care be laid aside,
That naught but cheer, good will and mirth,
And joy and peace abide.
or:
We wish you a glad, merry Christmas
Surrounded by dear ones and friends;
We wish you a sweet, pleasant pathway,
For New Year, wher’er it wends.
And from 1931 :
We hope you’ll have a drumstick that is eatable,
Potatoes mashed , and gravy of the best,
A slab of mince or pumpkin pie unbeatable,
And-it doesn’t matter much about the rest.
.
Today, I’ll finish any cooking to be done ahead of time, clean out the ashes in the stove, stack in some wood, turn on the music and wait for the best part of Christmas-the family’s arrival.

2011-12-22T07:23:00.000-08:00

The older I get, the simpler my Christmas becomes. I feel closer to old friends as I write my cards.

As a family, we gave up giving each other gifts long ago, except for the children. As I age, I know that Christmas is a matter of the heart and we value the gift of time with each other over anything else. That includes the food, an important part of our shared time together. Special dishes, lovingly and thoughtfully prepared.

Fond remembrance for Christmases past. The profound enjoyment of the music, the tinkling of bells. Teasing the kids, perpetuating the magic, and looking at Christmas through their eyes.

Appreciating the trappings of the season all around us, glowing lights, cheery voices, the smells of cedar and pine, the colors shining bright, secret smiles, hidden glances, the scurry and hurry and expectation of things to come.

And Peace. We don’t expect World Peace to happen as much as we may wish it. But, in our country or city neighborhoods, where Christmas dwells, 80% or more people take a day out of their work to celebrate Christmas, and there is a sense of peace. Little traffic on the road. The quiet of a neighborhood as everyone turns inward to reflect upon the beauty, the warmth, holiday hugs, the family together, the deeper meaning of Christmas Spirit. Love, Joy, Hope and at least, a day of peacefulness.

LIVING THE AMERICAN DREAM

2011-12-21T07:44:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a quiet day. I made two cranberry dishes, good keepers, for Christmas. The last three years, I have not baked cookies for Christmas. My youngest son and daughter have taken over that task, and it had become a task more than a joy. It was good to let it go and enables me to slow down a bit, and take in the season leisurely. Kind of checking through the cookbooks to think about something different and festive to make for the holidays; polishing up the house for company in stages.

An old friend dropped by for a chat and a glass of wine. Bert is a Vietnam Vet who almost didn’t make it. Still, he claims, he’s suffered more from a car accident 25 years ago than the war. Bert is a prankster and once put up highway survey stakes across our orchard and caused my husband to think the county was cutting across our property for a new road! He loved watching George “hit the ceiling.”
Last night, with my new leisure, I came upon a PBS program I’d never seen before called Lidia Celebrates America. It’s a food show and I came away a fan. I looked up the program on-line and Voila! I can watch it on-line, if I so choose. I probably won’t, but I know I can. Somehow it is satisfying just knowing I have the option. I’m glad Christmas doesn’t happen all at once. We slide into Christmas a bit each day. Getting out the lights and decorating. Attending a party or two. Donating to the food bank and wrapping a present for a child in need. Sending cards and letters, catching up with old friends I don’t see much anymore.

Murphys puts on a free Christmas dinner every year for anyone who wishes to attend. All are welcome. They are expecting a bigger than usual crowd this year. I know the city of Pleasanton has a free Thanksgiving dinner every year and The Little Red Church in Sonora feeds people one free meal every day. We’ve come a long way since the days of the work houses and poor houses. It wasn’t that long ago that poor houses existed. Orphanages were full. My own great-grandfather had to take his children to an orphanage when his wife died because he couldn’t take care of them and work too. He eventually found a wife and was able to get them back. Before I was born, a baby was left on my Grandmother’s doorstep because someone chose a family for a child they couldn’t take care of. They were hard times. And I sometimes marvel that coming from a hardscrabble background, I’m affluent, I know no hunger, and I have leisure and choices. Would that it were true for everyone.

We must not lose the American dream that changed us and the world for the better.

PLASTIC BAG BAN

2011-12-20T08:06:00.000-08:00

I celebrate every gift I get. This one is a biggie. I believe Berkeley, CA was the first city to ban plastic bags in grocery stores. San Francisco followed. Coastal North Carolina did the same. Now, Seattle follows Bellingham, WA but their ban does more.
The Seattle City Council passed a broad ban on plastic bags Monday, outlawing them not just in grocery stores, but in department stores, clothing stores, convenience stores, home-improvement stores, food trucks and farmers markets.
The bill goes further than bans in other cities, which have largely banished plastic only groceries and sometimes drug stores. Customers in Seattle will still be able to get paper bags from retailers, but for a 5-cent fee.
Monday’s bill exempts customers on food assistance and other government benefits from the bag fee. The city will also make free or reduced-cost reusable bags available to poor people.
The ordinance applies only to single-use, checkout bags, and not to produce, bulk-ban and dry-cleaning bags. Plastic bags for take-out restaurant food are also still allowed, because they help protect health and safety while transporting hot food and liquid.

http://www.seattlepi.com/local/article/Plastic-bags-banned-in-Seattle-2412950.php#ixzz1h5V777oN
I shop with my own bags and my little grocery store, Sierra Hills Market, will reward you with a $25 gift certificate, for using your own shopping bag. People who use their own bags are allowed to mark their name and phone number on a small paper by the checkstand and put it in the draw box. I’ve won the certificate, once. I regularly see about four others using their own bags.
A chain grocer in nearby Angels Camp tried the “recycle” your plastic bags idea. The container was always stuffed full of plastic bags and was emptied regularly in the dumpster. The bags are cheaply made, tear easily, don’t hold much and the only person I ever saw taking recycled bags on their way into the grocery store was-ME. It just doesn’t change habits.
“A study a few years ago “found that the inks and colorants used on some bags contain lead, a toxin. Every year, Americans throw away some 100 billion plastic bags after they’ve been used to transport a prescription home from the drugstore or a quart of milk from the grocery store. It’s equivalent to dumping nearly 12 million barrels of oil.”
So, I celebrate it as a gift to our common environment. I’ve seen pictures of animals entrapped and dying from plastic bags drifting into their environment. And, just a reminder, there is a huge glob of plastic bags the size of the state of Texas in the ocean vortex where water circulates and keeps miles of plastic afloat. Other countries have banned bags in some cities. Mexico City, twelve towns in Australia, Rangoon, Burma, Five major cities in India, London, Rawanda, the whole country is bag free.

It seems to me this is an opportunity for college students across the country to collectively push for plastic bag bans in their communities. Hey, they know how to solve the deficit. Over and again, they have proved to be smarter, and more effective than our do nothing government.

JUST FIVE MINUTES

2011-12-19T08:12:00.000-08:00

My neighbor, Jan, is known for popping in for five minutes, always with some ulterior m0tive. She decided I was lacking “bling”. You can see the bling on my shoulder.
I had hired a homeless guy, looking for work, to do some chores around the place. He told me he had worked as a roofer, had some carpentry skills, knew how to use a chain saw, etc. I have a storage shed with warped doors and I asked him if he could fix them. He did and I gave him some paint to paint the shed. Unfortunately, he painted the doors shut. So, I asked my friends to help me get the doors open. Jan is one of those people who likes to have fun with anything she does, and she likes ceremonies. She grabbed a pot to beat on, and Karen, my housemate, is half Cherokee and did a ceremonial dance.

While they did their work, I used a hacksaw blade to cut through the thin coating between the two doors.

It wasn’t budging. My crowbar and nail puller both disappeared but I had a long, strong mechanic’s screwdriver. It took some doing to pry the doors open without wrecking them.

That’s when we discovered he had nailed the doors shut. I guess he figured he wasn’t coming back anyway. Gotta take laughter where you find it. And, what the hey, the guy needed the money.

STREET WISDOM

2011-12-18T07:21:00.000-08:00

It doesn’t look like Congress is going to do anything, anytime soon. We are broke, in trouble and struggling. The food banks are overwhelmed. Cities are going broke. Higher education is unaffordable. People on the street are weathering this mess. They will survive as the song says. And all around me I hear wisdom, wit and a bit of sarcasm that at least brings some levity to the mess.

From the New York Times: “It’s been such a stunning year,” said Cecile Richards, the organization’s perpetually embattled president. “More than a million new activists joined Planned Parenthood, and our approval rating is at 68 percent. Congress is I think at 9.” (It may be time to stop pointing out that you have a higher approval rating than Congress. Really, everything has a higher approval rating than Congress. Termites. Zombies. Donald Trump.)

“The idea that we have to destroy the environment and kill workers to have a healthy economy must be put to rest. …regulations are actually catalysts of technical innovations and economic development.” Negah Mouszoon.

“A nuclear disaster is too big a price to pay for our electric bill.” Ralph Nader

From the Los Angeles Times: "The health care law is likely to put the brakes on the profit bonanza from biotech drugs.”

“Don’t blame medicare. Fix it.” Barry Rand, CEO AARP.

“...more tax breaks for the rich is only one of the symptoms of an econimic and political system that is grotesquely failing the average American.”‘ Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.)

“Instead of throwing children out of Head Start or cutting back on Community Health Centers, maybe we want to ask Exxon Mobil to actually pay taxes rather than get a refund.” Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) (GE, Exxon,Citigroup, Boeing and others have paid little or no tax.)

“You need to understand, it isn’t gridlock in Congress, it is roadblock. Gridlock happens, roadblock is deliberate.” Congressional candidate Will Moore.

When students at Flagler College in Florida were asked to balance the budget, they had the same options that paralyze Washington. The human consequences of their decisions were very much on their minds as in: “… we don’t want to throw grandma out on the street and deny health care services.” Hey, these kids are smart. They took the long view, sacrifices should be a shared responsibility. They didn’t cut education, protected the environment and didn’t touch Social Security. They froze wages for congress; used carbon tax to clean up the environment. They made sizable defense cuts, closed tax loopholes and added or raised taxes including higher gasoline taxes and a new 5% sales tax that will make their Big Macs sky-high. Across the board, they were evenhanded and sensible.
Don’t you just love it? Our kids are smarter than Congress.

THE NATIONAL DEFENSE AUTHORIZATION ACT

2011-12-17T06:27:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, my congressional candidate brother, Will, visited Cousin Gary visiting from Southern, CA. Gary had never been to an Occupy Wall Street protest because, as he put it, “I’m not interested in closing ports and businesses where people have jobs. And, I don’t want to lay down in the street.”

He also confessed to not quite understanding what the point is. While vitriolic radio show hosts criticize and condemn the movement as pointless and leaderless, I notice that all National news organizations are covering this movement- because it has legs. As one local protester, Rick Mines put it, “Protesting the concentration of wealth and power held by less than 1 percent of the population is an effort to save capitalism. Capitalism has to be fair,” (And I would add regulated.)
You can’t compete when some guy is putting $100 million down to put a Supreme Court Justice in place, or when 80% of congress regards their major job in governing is to get rich by way of hand-outs, insider trading, and million dollar jobs when they leave. I take heart because the long term apathy among the general population is finally over. You couldn’t get people to take to the streets. That has changed all over the world as well as in our highly conservative mountain counties, Tuolumne, Calaveras and Amador.

It was a small band on a cold December evening during the busy Christmas season. Two young students were there. The only other woman said to me, “In our county we are all part of the 99%. We don’t have any concentration of wealthy here. But, it is still important to let people know, its time to take a stand and we desperately need change and jobs and a robust middle class.”

This sign speaks to an issue that may be more important than the government laws that tilt toward the wealthy. It is a slippery slope to a fascist state when we weaken our first amendment rights. There are many good things in the NDAA, like protections for whistleblowers. But, we are not to know if sub-par maintenance of our airplanes is a factor in crash. We cannot know who contributed what to the congressional committee people overseeing the granting of government contracts. On any contract, any savings realized cannot be directed to the National Debt once the money has been set aside and is not used for that project. No clue to where that money WILL go. Suspected terrorists will not have the same rights of trial, detention, and ability to defend themselves as we do now. There are good things in the act, but many slippery areas. The idea to audit the Defense Department Budget was soundly rejected. Hmmm. It’s on-line. Read it.

STARTING A NEW LIFE

2011-12-16T06:46:00.000-08:00

My cousin, Gary, is visiting me for a few days. A widower, he is trying to come to terms with a splintered life, making this Christmas different from any other. I spent time last night demonstrating the wonders of the computer. I think I convinced him to buy one and get involved in the on-line community.
I had him laughing at some animated jokes and reality segments that found their way into my mailbox, one of a cowboy being given a drunk test, probably still out there on Youtube under the title Best_DUI-Stop Ever. And another of cops stopping people in their underwear. Both hilarious.
I then had him pick a subject and went to my search engine and found all he needed to know about surplus airplane parts. (His former business.)
We looked at nuggets of wisdom that come through the mail as well as marketing lies and blatant promotions to pick up $30,0000 from a poor immigrant that just needs your signature to get it from the bank.
I enjoyed the cruise through my picture files as well since we share a lot of childhood memories. It dawned on me how much I depend on the internet, for news, information, fact checking of rumors, jokes, beautiful pictures from the greatest photographers in the world. Such a deal in a box. It boggles my brain at how many people I know who don’t get on the internet highway.
My neighbor popped over with a plate of Christmas cookies and we enjoyed a treat before bed. Life will move swiftly away from you unless you make an effort to catch it by the tail and fly.