HAPPY HOLIDAY

  It certainly is Christmas morning. So far all I’ve done for the holiday was yesterday at Walmart I nodded approval when a lady with packages and kids thanked me for pushing her empty basket to the cart corral. I had my own canvas shopping bag full of avocados and chips for today. What could be more ‘In the spirit’ than corn chips, guacamole and ginger beer. It is very cold outside and snow won’t go away until the temp gets up above single digits. But I am still glad for Christmas.
It is Sunday as well. At my church the traditional service has been forsaken for an extra hour of sleep and the board of directors is hosting brunch in the dining room. We are Unitarians so that or something more sociable (if not secular) would be keeping with our tradition.
December has been a silent writing season. I think it was Mark Twain who said, “If you have nothing to say, say nothing.” and I take anything he says to heart. I will enjoy good company soon. It takes about half an hour to get to church but with the cold weather and people traveling I don’t think a parking space will be hard to find. My long range plan is to go south and west until I find a “Welcome To Arizona” sign. After I discover the desert again I’ll wait for an omen, like three lost wisemen trying to find their way back to where they came from. Have a merry, Mary quite contrary how does your garden grow-Christmas? How did that ditty go: silver bells and cockle shells and one dandelion. Don’t want to miss the bacon quiche so I’m going out the door as I type.   

ADMIRE CURTAINS ALL NIGHT

  I vacationed several weeks in July in Colorado with my teardrop camper, mountains, a traveling companion and old friends. Some old friends are long lived and others long treasured, some both but never the less friends. Then for nearly four months it has been waking up in the same place every morning. Having a sticks & bricks home is more work and responsibility than investment and reward. Thanksgiving weekend in New Orleans was an appreciated getaway. Road time is always equal to destination time. I hadn’t forgotten but rediscovery is like a booster shot against doldrums.  
Driving time lets me reflect and butterfly (verb) from one idea to another. I never know when or where one thought will springboard off into unchartered water. Driving still requires diligent focus so the mind can’t afford to wander too far. On several occasions there has been the idea to write an essay on places I have spent the night. It will make a good story without any embellishment. Last Friday I did a rare thing, stayed in a motel. No defense necessary but I am a hard core pinchpenny in that regard. Without making a case, I can sleep just about anywhere and I do. All I need is a safe, clean, climate friendly space; I bring my own soft pillow. I remember $22 overnights at Motel 6 and Econolodge and it doesn’t seem all that long ago. But I am old now and time doesn’t age well with frugality. 
My $62 overnight last week provided what I need (safe & clean). The hot shower was appreciated but not necessary and I found several electric outlets that worked. The TV glowed with no sound or tuner and the wifi came and went away like a late night, AM radio station. It rated one star on the five star scale and I can make that work; went to sleep at 6:00 p.m. and was back on the road at 2:30 a.m. For me to get value from a $100 room I would have to stay awake and admire the curtains all night. 
It begs the question; is this a peculiar weirdness or just another age related throwback to another time. I liked the 20th Century at the time and even with the flexible, stronger, more resilient body I don’t want to redo that period. If motel prices were rolled back to 1980’s rates I would still condescend. Our first real family vacation (I was 12 going on 13 - 1952) five of us in our overloaded ’47 Plymouth took off for Yellowstone. It was long before Interstates, campgrounds and google maps. With 45 & 55 mph speed limits several hundred miles in a day is a good day. Along with my parents, Grandpa Roy and little brother, wiggle room was nil. The trunk was full of clothes and soft stuff with a canvas water bag hanging outside, over the license plate. Two folding army cots, blankets, an improvised camp kitchen and whatever else was deemed essential but no space to pack was assigned to the borrowed roof rack.
In Nebraska on the second day a rear leaf spring broke and we lost a day. The unexpected expense just meant we would have to cut back on spending. Back on the road we stopped the car to fix food and to camp at night, washed up in the dish pan. Compared to mules and a covered wagon, we were convinced how lucky we must be. Mom & Dad slept on cots beside the car, Grandpa slept in the back seat and I slept with a blanket and little brother on the ground. In Yellowstone we splurged, rented a cabin with one bed. Grandpa slept outside in the back seat and my brother and I slept on the cabin floor and loved it. This was the good life, traveling was never better. 
The Plymouth was still dangerously overloaded and we had to drive slow. On my 13th birthday we arrived in Cheyenne, WY late in the day but celebrated with a restaurant dinner; I had the Rabbit dinner. It was getting dark with no convenient place to camp so my dad paid for himself and Mom at a tiny motel then parked the car close to the cabin. Nobody noticed the old man in the back seat or the two boys on the ground. I am sure, if she were alive today, my mother would still feel guilty for three unpaid sleep-overs, even if we were outside. To her disapproval, my dad never had any such guilt anxiety and told the story as if it were a clever stroke of ingenuity. 
So now, after this nostalgic reflection; I think maybe my long suffering discontent with motels and traveling sissies who need more than they need; I think there is a logical backstory and credible rationale for my ‘Covered Wagon’ attitude. I do think in recent years (my lifetime) ‘Fast Forward’ technology and quality of life has reached a tipping point. Carl Sagan noted and I paraphrase; in a society where more and more of what we depend on (actually need) results from a system of science/technology infrastructure, fewer and fewer individuals know anything at all about either science or technology and that is a ticking time bomb. 
Telltale anomalies and outright warnings (Global Warming) that surface in the greater science community are generally dismissed by political and/or economic authorities; Sagan’s ticking time bomb. Barely 2 years ago a freak cold snap seriously damaged and shut down the power grid in Texas. By the second day there was no supporting infrastructure to keep people safe. No power to pump fuel, to transport food or keep it frozen, grocery stores had empty shelves by the next day; just one of many important systems that depend on other systems. The great failure of that lopsided dependance is; only a minuscule percentage of people have skills and access to fix technical things and they are not elected officials. The risk of exploiting that ‘real’ power in their own personal interests is scary. Even if everyone wants the right thing for the right reasons, there are not enough expert ‘fixers’ to fix everything in the next few days or weeks. Even a week without electricity would cripple the nation and that possibility (like in Texas) is unlikely but it is just as real. So I keep on sleeping in my truck or on the ground. It doesn’t fix anything but I get my sleep and feel a lot better. 

LUCKY TO BE ALIVE

  Our neighbors to the north observe thankful gratitude on the 2nd Monday of October. Like our Thanksgiving it stems from a perilous journey and crushing hardship upon arrival. In both cases, those white Europeans were lucky to be alive in a harsh, unforgiving new world and they attributed that miracle to God’s intervention. Over the next 400 years their Thanksgiving celebrations have acquired a more secular feel. Still, I like the idea of humble gratitude. The bounty of harvest time is like the rain that falls; it falls on the sinner and the saint both and Black Friday is a springboard for unchecked consumerism and its holiday spending spree. 
In 2012 I got to celebrate Thanksgiving twice. In Nova Scotia it was certainly about abundance and gratitude. It must come easier when defending the “We’re Number #1” title isn’t hardwired in the national fabric and run amok religion does not prevail. That whole cultural shift away from self righteous conformity leaves me with some hope. It is easy to fault my parents for birthing me south of the border. No question, I would have fit the Canadian profile much better than I do the American. 
Here in my homeland we celebrated our own big ‘Thank You!’ in late November, on a Thursday. A four day weekend is something to behold and I cannot fault that tradition. I remember when I was teaching school, the pre week was only 3 days long and the 4 day break was plenty, a win-win.
I am not selling salvation, only a pause to reflect and be thankful. Even as my prayer goes off into the cosmos unaddressed, it is mine and it is real. This is old news but I no longer concede to the pride and swagger that exalt and laud the human pedigree. I marvel at evolution, the process that got us down out of the trees and up on two feet. Along with it came self aware sensibility with language and imagination so we can create our own backstory. I don’t know who or what to thank but I need to make that gesture. It doesn’t matter who notices as along as I know.
I do know that I am no more important than a fruit fly that squeezes a lifetime into 4 or 5 weeks. I am programmed to live for 4,500 weeks and with a little luck enjoy the good life that comes with electricity, milk chocolate and a good book. So, Thanks, Thanks a lot, Thank you; really. I like going back to Canada, I have friends there. We can all push the bubble a little closer to mutual civility and good will. The bonus, Thanksgiving would be like having two birthdays in the same year without the added aging. 

GOOD ENOUGH

  In the past week or so I have written my Season’s Greetings letter and a piece for my high school class newsletter. Both require a lot of trial & error and creative thinking. I can do that but it doesn’t just flow like a Robert Frost poem. It is more like a sculptor chipping away at a marble slab, trying to liberate the naked lady who is trapped inside. Whatever it is that I do, that I have ever done, I observe the rule of ‘Good Enough’. Every task has its own trajectory and when it satisfies the rule I give it a name and move along to another task. But there needs to be a disclaimer or one might think the rule is a weak excuse for shoddy work. ‘Good Enough’ simply means the result meets or exceeds my arbitrary expectations. Those expectations can range from awesome to barely meets the need and true, sometimes it does mean shoddy work.
Both written pieces required several edits and revisions before they measured up to my ‘GE’ rule. This piece is still in its first draft and I never know how they will finish. I tend to edit as I write which is very bad if you listen to authors who put on writing workshops. They think you should know the whole story and where you want it to go before you start. They want you (me) to get the whole idea down in rough language and sequential order and then do a final edit and rewrite. I smile, nod and go on with my own scheme and a dash of Creative License. I did put together a research thesis in graduate school and that requires a detailed format from start to stop. After what seemed like endless (go back and fix it) revisions it was approved and I got my degree. But I keep my writing in the narrative mode now where I get the last word. This little stream of consciousness will end up Good Enough for my journal regardless but a place in my blog is still up in the air. I will come back tomorrow and again in a few days, tweaking structure, phrasing and word selection, again and again until it either collapses under its own weight or grows legs of its own. 
The weather is unusually cold for this time of year and the only control I have is to dress appropriately. I have been weighing the pros and cons of a midwinter road trip to Arizona and that option looks better every day. At this point (in my life) anything that may stave off the sting of age related obsolescence is worth serious consideration. I tell others but more so myself that it is never too late to begin something new. That lets me look to possibility and good fortune rather than brochures and itineraries.  
I researched the word ‘Skinflint’ and wasn’t surprised by synonyms like miser, pinchpenny and chintzy. I don’t think I’m all that selfish but I am a pinchpenny when I travel. The idea of paying motel prices for a warm bed and a shower leaves me cold and dry in the cab of my truck. I have a tiny, 4’ x 8’ teardrop camper, a serious sleeping bag and can overnight at truck stops where a long, hot shower sets me back about $15. Addiction to creature comfort seems to me a greater insult than Skinflint-ing my way down the road. It takes about 3 hours for me to organize and be outbound, for as many miles and as long as it takes. I could keep throwing words at the page, whatever comes to mind but throwing words has lost its appeal for now and moving my feet sounds good enough.

BACK TO THE FUTURE

  The movie trilogy ‘Back To The Future’ was set in 1985 time but leapfrogged (time travel) backward and forward across time. In that sci-fi adventure Doc Brown (Christopher Lloyd) repeatedly warned against any interaction with characters from the past that could interrupt the (Time Continuum), it would likely change history. Not a problem while traveling in the future as that future was yet to unwind. A time traveler could go back and interfere, causing history to veer off an already established course to an unpredictable result (the rule of unanticipated consequences). Marty McFly (Michael J. Fox) almost kept his parents from falling in love. If they had not fallen in love, Marty would have never been born and who would have cared? Doc Brown would have been without a sidekick. 
‘Time Continuum’ is a profound idea. If you went back in time you could be armed with information on events and their outcomes before it happened. While in the future, Marty McFly bought a sports book with scores and winners so he could bet on them when he returned to (his time). But the book ended up in the wrong hands and a monster-bully-autocrat was created who never lost a bet and had so much money he could buy respectability for his blatantly corrupted self. The misappropriated book was the catalyst for all of that (unanticipated consequence). The bottom line would be, even a seemingly insignificant interruption to the (TC) has the potential to serious, far reaching, long lasting consequences. 
From ’Back To The Future’ its a short leap to ‘Back To The Past.’ For Marty McFly, his parent’s hook-up was iffy and unlikely with any number of alternate possibilities but for Marty it was the difference between a life and never been born. Who misses or even has second thoughts about the child who was never conceived? It begs the question, over countless generations, it took all of them, just the way they unraveled for me to be created. Times that by 9 billion people on the planet and the ‘Butterfly Effect’ doesn’t sound so farfetched. That would be, from Tokyo Japan the disturbance created by a butterfly flitting between flowers, compounding over time, might determine the exact point of landfall for a future hurricane in North America. 
Nature is an incredibly complex, dynamic system made up of many other complex, dynamic systems that all give and take between competing forces. The greater system is of its own necessity pushing and pulling, all the time, on everything in an effort to create ‘Stasis’ or equilibrium (balance). The odds against planetary equilibrium are so great it is universally understood that stasis will never happen. That’s how nature works. Think about it, a planet with a fractured crust that floats on a core of molten iron while rotating on its axis and revolving around the sun, absorbing radiant energy at constantly changing rates: and we (humans) busy ourselves on the surface like so many fruit flies on a great peach seed; really. I question (doubt) man’s self ordained high place in the overall scheme (the jewel in creation’s crown). It should be enough that we are functioning pieces in a grand puzzle. 
Still, the idea of time travel (Back To The Future) is irresistible. Knowing what I know now, ff I could go back to the 3rd grade again my life would have taken a decidedly different route. I would have certainly been more focused on work ethic and material wealth. But who knows if I would be any happier than I am now or healthy or even be alive. I think the human tendency is for short sighted, too good to be true schemes and no plan B. 

ITS LEAKING

  Last spring I noticed that my truck was losing antifreeze. It was a very  small, slow leak, just an occasional drip spot on the drive but I asked the service manager at my garage to check it. They specialize in brakes & exhaust systems but run a full service shop. They found the leak, small now. Ford trucks have a problem there but will not fix it with a recall so he sees that problem frequently. It could drip for a long time and it could blow out any time. He said “You don’t want to be far away in another time zone when it blows up.”  and it made sense. The part would be $400 and labor about the same. I decided to watch and wait a while and take my chances. 
My son is a good mechanic so I asked him what he thought. True, Ford trucks have that problem. He reached in beside and below the motor and found the wet, drippy spot and concurred, “Its leaking.” But he also said, “Eight hundred dollars os too much, let me check on it.” He made a few calls and got the part for $120, fixed the leak with hand tools in about half an hour. The shop manager has always been fair with me but nothing more serious than oil, filters and wiper blades. I don’t want to believe he was trying to gouge me and I don’t run a brick & mortar business. I still get my oil changed there. 
Going on two years ago my dentist noticed something on an x-ray. “That tooth is going bad and cannot be fixed.” No rush, but someday it would have to come out. It is the big molar in the back on the bottom and it has never given me a moment of trouble. Then my dentist retired. His practice has grown exponentially from two to a tribe of dentists and all the technicians it takes to keep them busy. My new dentist is great but she is on maternity leave and her backup wants to pull that tooth now. “You don’t want to be out of town on a holiday and have that tooth blow up.” I thought about my truck and its leak. “The tires on my truck will wear out too and may blow up when I’m out of town.”  She didn’t care for the analogy and said they were just concerned with my best interests, reminding me that oral/dental health is directly related to other major-serious conditions and bad teeth makes them all get worse. I already knew that but I’ve never had a bad bite with that old tooth. It still works and who knows how long it may keep working? “The tooth needs to come out.” I put that into street talk and came up with, “Pay me now or pay me later.” I have a few hours now before I leave to go get my tooth pulled. I don’t have any relatives who are dentists or I would check with them. I like my own teeth and the only option after one is pulled is a false tooth. I have two implants now and they are much more expensive than my meager insurance will cover, the equivalent of the $800 truck fix. Not wanting to wait for it to break, just the weight of knowing it will, someday: you don’t have to be a dentist to do the math. So I’m on my way to say goodbye to a tooth that has served me very, very well. I will be happy when my old, new dentist comes back off maternity leave. I think I trust her, like her better than the Toothologisgt I don’t even know his name yet but he surly needs a patient in his chair this afternoon. I bet he has a blue-water sailboat or an ex wife with expensive appetites  and to leave him sitting on his hands when he could be pulling my tooth would be selfish of me. 

ON MY BEST DAY

  A former classmate (sixty-some years ago) spent all his adult lifetime preaching evangelical, Pentecostal religion, laying on hands, people speaking in tongues, moaning, falling down: my dad called them, “Hoot & Holler” Christians. Recently I learned he cannot preach from the pulpit anymore. I don’t know if he can’t meet the physical demands or if his followers found a younger champion to keep them coming back. You know, hootin’ & hollerin’ through a two hour sermon can leave an old man too weak to collect the offering and shake hands at the door. He said he misses his connection with the congregation. I believe him but also think he misses the sound of his own voice and the righteous authority it presumes. So now he writes his religious views and political opinions, trying to grow an online following. 
I can identify to the extent that for years I had a captive audience, 120 young people for an hour, five times a week. Teaching  biology doesn’t rise to the level of righteous authority but I do miss contact with teenagers. Add to that, I write a blog, several posts a month now for over 12 years and have kept a dedicated journal for decades before that. Where we truly part ways is that he believes his message is vital to both the salvation and proper prejudice of everyone who hears it. I believe objective, open ended communication is better than propaganda. Flogging a dead horse is bad business and whatever I believe about knee-jerk issues, it’s a dead horse: who really cares? One of the best life lessons I've learned is to not take myrself too seriously.
I tend to get stuck on issues but not the ones that make headlines. I keep trying to unravel Human Nature and the complications it precipitates; the perception of free will, decision making, neuro plasticity, confabulation, etc. I can write about it for my own sake (better understanding and rationale) but if I try to frame that story for others, all I get are long, blank looks. It still feels important and I sympathize in some small way with my old classmate in that regard. Still, sleeping well is its own reward and I don't have to sell anything. At my age it is easy if not troubling to dig in the same hole too long. So I try to not do that anymore, content to file those ideas away in my journal now rather than scroll them out in my blog, sounding like a conspiracy theorist. On my best day I will never save a soul or influence the Supreme Court but I do like to play with words and ask well thought out, relevant questions.