VACATION

  I have been on vacation, for lack of a better word. If you don’t have a job and you’re not looking either, what exactly is a vacation? I suppose it’s when one alters their normal routine in favor os something more enjoyable, more satisfying but likely unsustainable. In the end, falling back on a commonplace routine would seem the unavoidable result. Vacation took me back to some old, fondly remembered places for a couple of weeks and I kept company with long treasured friends. For nearly two weeks the road kept winding through hairpin turns while my truck strained up 7% mountain grades, over 12,000 ft passes and groaned in a lower gear on the way down to the next green valley. Surrounded by 14,000 ft. peaks we made our way past cattle grazing in high, alpine parks and meadows. I anticipated the optical illusion where the truck kept kicking down to a lower gear on what appeared to be a gentle, downgrade and the stream next to the road seemed to flow up hill. It was as if the mountains were mocking us. I love the mountains but that should be obvious here. I love the sea shore as well, where the irresistible force meets an immovable object. Something has to give but that tug of war has been waging for eons; no winners or losers, just give and take, rise and fall. I can stand on a high peak and see in a straight line for a hundred miles to a distant mountain top. Standing barefoot in wet sand I can see only a few miles before the horizon gives way to the curve of the earth but it doesn’t matter. Waves lapping at my feet share a bond with ripples lapping at a beach on another continent. I like to think I share maybe a little bit of that connection.
In the beginning, when the first, modern people searched for food and shelter in mountain valleys and along seashores, all they had to work with were bare hands, the naked eye and primitive tools. Still they wanted to know how and why things worked. Maybe (perhaps) the most important attribute of humankind is that without a factual, qualified backstory we will use imagination and a threadbare experience to create one: the origin of myth. Nowadays there is another option, a legacy of critical thinking, research and creative problem solving but those old, primitive feelings are still deeply rooted in there, inside our neural vault. I understand the ocean’s (epipelagic - sunlit zone) and how it compares to the (bathypeligac - deep, dark water). I understand how tectonic plates subduct and override each other, uplifting mountains where there had been flat lands. Still, as much as I know, the sheer magnitude and overreaching influence of mountains and seas are too much to compete with. There is so much we don’t know or understand, I think we come undone in that vacuum. We like to believe we are the captains of our own destiny but that is our modern myth. We find ourselves in over our heads, simple pieces in a vast, open ended, mind boggling puzzle. On my bravest, most confident day, on the mountain or at the shore; I am reduced to feelings of awe and wonder. Mountain ranges and sea shores do that to me just like they must have with my ancient ancestors. Just when we start feeling important, even proud; Mother Nature serves us a strong dose of humbling irrelevance. That’s when we either fall back into the comfortable myth or swallow our medicine.
Early Greek philosophers surmised that tangible matters fall into the temporal realm while matters that can only be accessed with the mind are spiritual in nature. Later, theologians monopolized the language and presumed divine authority. In that climate anything that alludes to the spirit must conform to their religious persuasion. I prefer the old Greek model. When I experience something both incomprehensible and profoundly relevant I have no trouble playing the ‘Spiritual’ card. It is fixed in my experience and it speaks to something important, greater than my ability of process it but never the less, it is real as real can be. My life has been marked again and again by spiritual experiences that I cannot explain but neither can I blow them off like a sneeze. We (people) overestimate our ability to control and override our feelings. Truth is, they rise to the challenge long before we seek a rational path and that tendency is hardwired.
I will keep going to the mountains and to the shore for as long as I can move my feet. My feelings, and I can’t ignore my feelings, they reduce me to the role of a fly on the wall; I get to watch it all unfold. I don’t need the thrill of climbing the mountain. If I get the view from the top it doesn’t matter how I get there: and if my feet get salty-wet on any shore, they have been by default all over the world. 
Midnight, I was warm and dry on my folding cot, in the shelter of my truck-camper somewhere in western Kansas; pouring rain beat out a healthy rhythm on my aluminum roof. Raindrops the size of peanuts had been on vacation from their mundane commonplace, vaporized, gone for a cloud ride and then jettisoned. We were on our way home, each in our own way. On the road next day I thought about those raindrops booming on my roof. Where had the storm dropped them; maybe breathing new life into a thirsty sunflower. There I go; making myth again. Sometimes I can’t help myself. 

ARTIFICIAL SWEETENER

  This will not be entertaining or informative but I’ve had a few weeks where the illusion has worn thin and the need to recenter is too much to dismiss. It’s been over twenty years since the movie, A Few Good Men and the hook line from that movie is what we remember. The scene is set in a courtroom during a military court martial where Tom Cruise is an aggressive young prosecutor and Jack Nicholson is the uncooperative witness. They are in the throws of a heated exchange and Cruise tries to regain control with a passionate plea; “We just want the truth!” Nicholson’s response comes like a cannon shot, full of rage and contempt: “You can’t handle the truth!” My illusion has to do with how slippery the truth can be and whether or not you can deal with it once you have it in your grasp. 
Buddhism leans heavily on the Four Noble Truths. Simply stated they tell us: This life is rooted in suffering, that suffering has a cause but the suffering will end, and that has a cause as well. I am not Buddhist but I think the overarching ideas there are profound. Buddha informs us that separation & avoidance help us along the path of enlightened. Rather than engage, we should strive to isolate from worldly distraction; not with a pious, submissive religion but through our own virtual self (meditation). 
I like the message but I cannot resist, do not want to abstain from the stuff of suffering. I want to warm in the shine and drench in the rain, so I suffer like everyone else. The fact that we are self aware, combining imagination and language to write our own future, it does not save us from whatever destiny has in store. But living in that (deliverance) myth allows enough wiggle room to offset the suffering, at least a little bit, at least for a while. Can we brainwash ourselves into a comfort zone, not all that different than hitting on cocaine or marijuana; maybe so. But you have to keep taking the pill. 
Stoicism is a school of philosophy that I am drawn to. The principle is that one should use reason to overcome self destructive emotions; it defaults to rules and patterns that are consistent with nature. That is truly a tall order as we (humans) have evolved to fall back on emotional conditioning long before we ever consider reason. That observation deserves repeating (long before we ever consider reason). In my attempt to recenter if you will, one's ability to push back against instinctive emotions is central to my purpose. If you have no concept of a parachute or its life saving potential then the thought of jumping out of a plunging, out of control airplane will never move you to action. I tend to be stoic, even skeptical and it (almost) always leaves me in the lurch between my own mortality and human mythology. 

I remember enough from my own experience and have filled in the blanks to see how people fumble the (truth) like football players drop the ball. Germany in 1936, a groundswell of self obsessed patriots put their faith in a narcissist demagogue to make Germany great again. He surrounded himself with subordinates whose first loyalty was to the despot himself rather than their responsibility to their country. We know how that turned out. Germany will never completely shed the embarrassment and shame of that folly. Now, some 80 years later there is groundswell support in America for another narcissist demagogue who is promising to make America great again. He parrots the same racist, nationalistic argument that propelled Adolph H. and his 3rd Reich. I get it! I’m old and irrelevant but I get it and it is terribly disappointing. If one cannot define narcissist, demagogue and despot then they should go dig in the nearest dictionary, right now. The collective history of demagogues reflects and repeats the same scenario, all ending with really, really bad news. 
I like to think I no longer need a buffer (an emotional preset) to ease the suffering. If my logic is nothing more than an unidentified emotion then the joke is one me. But iI'm not afraid of the unknown or life's undesirable, unavoidable destination. It simply is what it is. Meditation and withdrawal are not a cure. I am convinced that a short but exciting ride is better than a long nap. Maybe I’ve brainwashed myself into accepting my insignificant little part in disbursing the human genome. My ego and my culture would favor a comfortable afterlife and a plaque on a pillar somewhere but the illusion and the myth have no legs of their own. There in lies the truth that is so difficult to reconcile. Regardless of how the story goes after I’ve gone; I was here. I identify with Jack Nicholson. If you can’t handle the truth then someone who wrestles with the math and trusts the numbers should be trying to get your attention. I suspect I will wake up tomorrow and take comfort in the new day. It will be good enough but not all that wonderful. After all, a true stoic wouldn’t know how to respond to artificial sweetener. 

CUMPLEAÑOS

  Feliz cumpleaños para me. En la fecha de hoy, mi madre me lanzó en un viaje que me traería aquí, hoy. Gracias mamá y gracias a todos. Hoy se cumplen ochenta y cuatro años de historia de fondo para mí. Todavia tengo la mayoría de mis dientes y todos los huesos rotos han sanado. Soy un milagro que camina y habla.
Mi vida ha sido larga con muchas recompensas y solo unos pocos fracasos. Aún así, esta vida se trata de la lucha y uno debe recordar eso. Comparto la misma fecha de nacimiento pero año diferente con Barrack Obama, un buen hombre pero presidente mediocre y con Percy Shelley, un escritor maravilloso cuya reputación e ideas mejoran. Feliz cumpleaños a mí también a Obama, que sigue vivo, sigue convirtiendo el buen vino en orina. Y no se olvide de Shelley, cuyo legado aun vive.

BIG & LITTLE DOG

  These are the Dog Days of Summer, July 3 thru August 11 if it matters. The Greeks responded to the sultry midsummer and gave it a name. Midsummer was generally associated with drought or storms, lethargy, fever, mad dogs (why I don’t know) and particularly the heat. The “Dog” comes with the constellation ‘Canis Major’ (or Big Dog). The moon rises in the east just like the Sun but it can come up any time of day or night, depending on just where it is in its orbit around the earth and likewise, the stars keep their own schedule but they have a different story. There are ten stars in Canis Major and the Greek astronomers were quick to note that one of them (Sirius) was the brightest star in all of the sky (except for our Sun of course but it does’t count because it is so close to us). So the Big Dog rises in the east, sometimes sooner, sometimes later and they (Greeks) kept close track of that schedule. 
Just so happens; on July 3 (Gregorian) calendar the last constellation to rise before the Sun comes up is Canis Major; The Big Dog. They couldn’t miss it then, we can’t miss it now because Sirius is so bright. Shortly after that the sky turns pink and the Sun comes up. By midwinter the Big Dog has been up all night, starting to sink in the west. So said, they associated Sirius and the Sun coming up so close together as a signal if not the cause for summer’s heat and discomfort.
There is a proud story that accounts for the order in which constellations follow one another across the night sky and what their business is; why the dogs, there are two (Canis Major & Minor) following Orion, the hunter and whose trail is the hunter on? I loved the story when I first heard it but the complexity of two satellites both in rotating and revolving relationships with each other and a relatively fixed star (Sun) if you will; that had to wait for me to grow up. But the Greeks were famous for their stories. 
These are the Dog Days, 2023 on the current Gregorian calendar. Nowadays the Dog reference is no more than cultural carryover from the early Greeks that has found a niche. Back then it had astronomical significance that no longer prevail. The official dates are Greek but we will still be in the Dog Days (Hot) thru August and into September, as long as it is stifling hot and we’re longing for cool nights and some fall color in the trees. We don’t need the stars to tell us, it’s hardwired into our comfort zone. 
But it is hot how, uncomfortably hot. Today makes three days in a row to register three digits, 102 degrees today and a few more forecast in the next week. Some rain on the way and a break in the heat, down into the mid 90’s and then back to lethargy and watching the voltage dial on the electric meter spin. I have a new, improved air conditioner and I can take comfort in that my bill will be less that with the old one. I keep the thermostat set on 80 or 82 while most of my family and friends think I’m trying to prove something. They need it down in the low 70’s or they think they are being punished. I don’t think I’m different, I just remember 100 + when I was a kid and we didn’t have to be told, just go play with the water hose to keep cool. We acclimate to what we’ve got. That is worth repeating, and I don’t want to be fixed on a hook at 68-70 degrees when the Dog Days are set on parboil. If I stay acclimated to the mid 80’s then a 15-20 degree bump can be tolerated; a 35-40 degree bump cannot. With my new AC, if the air is dry and moving I can cope, even take a nap. 
But I hear on the news that all over the world, even here in the U.S.A., people are dropping over from heat exhaustion and some don’t get back up. I should count myself lucky and I do, not just for the heat but the cold as well. I used to brave the blizzard with frost in my nostrils and eyelashes but I come inside now before I have to. If I don’t like the weather where I’m at I can go someplace where it checks to see what I’m wearing before it makes up its mind. By the way, Orion the hunter is following Leo the lion with only a sword and two dogs that don't seem to care one way or the other if they catch up with the lion. 

MID DAY SUN

  Arriving home after a roadtrip has some good aspects I suppose but I’ve never been one to dwell on them. Like a villain returning to the scene of a crime, I am reminded of all the tasks I left undone and how much catching up there is to do. On second thought, maybe all the mundane responsibilities are cause enough to get away from it on the road. I came home to a kitchen full of fruit flies, too small, too quick to swat, they lurk unseen until I get too close and then they swarm. All I can say for sleeping in my own bed is that there is no downside. I created a sleeping berth in the back of my Ford F150; a folding cot, several folded blankets, two good pillows a sheet and a good sleeping bag. In summer, even on cool nights up north I get the right combination and sleep comes easy.
This is day #2 back and I’m still putting things right. It rained an inch & a half last night so no need to water or mow for that matter but it’s always a puzzle figuring out what comes next and what after that. I’m gradually gaining on the fruit flies. A couple of spools of fly paper strategically placed overnight and (stuck) flies this morning are doomed to dry up and go out in the trash. 
Today is supposed to be the the first of many forecast with heat advisories. If we get even a small breeze, 97 today will be alright but after that the prediction is nonstop 98, 99 and triple digits for over a week. I will go out early, wear sunglasses and a hat that shades my ears. I’ll get my stuff done (gym, chores, coffee group) and hide inside through afternoon and evening. I used to thrive on hot summer but that’s for kids, mad dogs & Englishmen, so I hear. 
Back when Britain was an empire (18th & 19th centuries) most of their foreign territories fell on or near the equator. British officials and travelers alike were famous for a double dose of indifference and ego. Whether on assignment or vacation, Englishmen in particular arrived with little or no protection from the midday sun but it didn’t keep them from going out in it. Resulting sunburns were painful but their prideful pretense with British superiority would make it unthinkable to reveal any chinks in their condescending disregard so they flaunted their pain and discomfort instead. It would be a shameful day in Bombay when an Englishman conceded to the Indian Sun. Playwrite Noel Coward wrote a song by that name in the 1930’s that poked fun at England’s long held, self obsession. The song, Mad Dogs & Englishmen visits every former British colony with clever rhymes that go on and on like a Bob Dylan manifesto, laced with humor in the style of Randy Newman. I don’t remember hearing the song but the phrase still rings of self obsessed conceit one would associate with modern day New York City and all of Texas. If I have overstated N.Y.’s pomposity I have no problem taking some of that back. 
I’ll be out in the midday sun soon but I will be under shade, long white sleeves and with water bottle. I’m starting to imagine road trips again; too much planned for K.C. in the coming months to test my (West Coast) appetite but it isn’t even August and I hate to think my travels (long weekends don’t count) are done for the season. 

GOOD BAGELS

July 13, 2023: I just spent a few days with my kids in St. Paul, Minnesota and that’s always good. They just moved there from San Antonio, TX but they have been Great Lakes kids from the start. Getting back to real winters and (what is the opposite of ‘Toxic’?) nontoxic culture just makes the world feel a little better. The governor down there is competing with the governor of Florida to see who can get their head the farthest up their arse. Texas must have been a great place before the Spanish discovered it. But there are lots of places people have spoiled, too many to get hung up on just one.

I am in a coffee shop in Manitowoc, WI waiting for afternoon to drive onboard the ferry and cross the Lake to Ludington, MI. I have a folding cot and sleeping bag in the back of the truck, slept very well last night considering; the coffee and sausage/egg croissant this morning seem so much better knowing I didn’t throw a bunch of money at a motel just to be unconscious under their roof. I learned to sleep anywhere when I was in the army. I don’t tell that story when people thank me for my service, just nod and change the subject. I slept in the truck parking lot at Francis Creek Travel Plaza, just north of Manitowoc. At 5:30 this a.m. the hot shower was great. Talk about efficiency; try a full size towel and wash cloth rolled up in a paper floor mat with a rubber band around it and the key to shower #3. Falling asleep a little on the grungy side is tolerable when you know the hot shower wake-up is on the other end; and the $8 charge is just right.

I don’t know why I have this ‘Motel’ thing but it goes way back. I was in graduate school on spring break in 1970, my brother in law and I team-drove (sleep while the other is driving) my VW Beetle from Illinois to Colorado for a job interview. But we both needed sleep at the same time in Durango, Colorado and at midnight talked a motel owner into letting us sleep on the sofa in the lobby until they opened at 6:00, for $5. I thought it was a win-win and he didn’t complain. I got the job offer but turned it down.

July 15, 2023; Saturday morning in Glen Arbor, Michigan. It is 6:15 a.m. daylight but the sky is overcast and the sun is still off in the east somewhere thinking about it. Nothing open this early. Tourism is the only business here in mid July so the streets are bare and I’m alone at a temporary shelter next to the book store, across the street from Cherry Republic, a foodie place where everything has cherries in it: wine, cookies, chocolate, salsa, mustard, etc. I really like Cherry Republic but they won’t open for several hours. Most of the village is still asleep, it’s Saturday in the summer after all and who gets up with the sun besides me? 

Night before last I stayed in the parking lot at Little River Casino in Manistee. It rained so hard it woke me up several times but I was so comfortable I fell right back asleep. Morning came like today, still dark when my alarm went off but with a high cloud cover, puddles everywhere but promise of a beautiful morning. Inside the casino the security officer looked up, a couple of derelict guests were slowly feeding the quarter slots but I think my visit to the men’s wash room was the only productive action in the place. I’m even farther up the coast today in Glen Arbor. With no travel plazas or casinos I stayed in a campground. They (locals) up here are paranoid about not letting hobos like me camp on their streets or parking lots when we don’t pay taxes or fill their motels. I do spend money but that seems not to count. But I slept really well again last night, 3rd night in a row. 

I plan to take photos along a remote Lake Michigan beach and a meadow up in the National Lake Shore. There is a bed waiting for me in Grand Rapids tomorrow night but I’ll stay again with the revelers at Little River Casino tonight. They have a hotel in the casino but lots of their clients bring  their campers and sleep over like me, in the parking lot. I will say the food is both affordable and very good there. I was and then I wasn’t surprised to see kids in the casino, like 10 or 12, some with little siblings, playing the arcade games. Their parents turn them loose with a roll of quarters and a debit card (with a limit I would guess) in lieu of paying a babysitter. They seemed perfectly content to eat ice cream and talk to friends (I suppose) on their cell phones. 

I think I’ll try the coffee shop down the block. It feels like mid morning to me and I can hear cars on the main drag; not a stream of traffic for sure but the bagels are good and a dark roast sounds even better. 

DENSITY

  So far this life of mine has been charmed. The seasons of growing up, exploring, making hay, of breaking things and mending fences; my calendar has spent itself and all that’s left is December, which day I don’t know and that’s good. I identify with the line from the movie ‘Back To The Future’ where George McFly needs help expressing himself to Lorraine and Marty, his future son (Michael J. Fox) tells him to tell her, “You are my destiny.” But when the time comes, the pressure of the moment is too much and George tells her, “You are my density.” So here I am, December is my destiny, not what happens to me someday in an uncertain future. I think one’s destiny is framed in the moment, always in the ‘Now’. What becomes of you someday, I would call that my ‘Density’ and George would have been correct. The more years I accumulate the (denser) more dense I get. As the riddle comes together I hope it is early in December as I would like to stick around a while longer. “Charmed” I think is a fair depiction. 
Funny (figure of speech) how people tend to view the world as either a good place or not so good a place. Going back to the bible where King Solomon grumbles in his old age; “Vanity, vanity, all is vanity.” then Saint Paul tells us to be glad and take comfort in whatever condition we find ourselves. Personally, I favor Abraham (the other one) Lincoln who said, “People are about as happy as they choose to be.” and I prefer to be more than less even if it requires a dash of creative license. One does not have to be religious to make that connection. 
I am in Minnesota, visiting my kids in Saint Paul. In a few days I’ll head east, take the ferry across from Wisconsin to Ludington, Michigan. Friends there are taking me to a concert in Grand Rapids and music is more good medicine. If I have time I want to go across and check out London, Ontario. It is close enough and far enough as well. Something to be said for a civilized place where wannabe patriots are not carrying guns and women choose their own health care options. I can stay in Canada for six months on my passport and it’s only a two hour drive back to Port Huron, Michigan. My dollars go a little farther up there which counts a little bit. I spent 3 months in summer and fall of 2012 in Nova Scotia and enjoyed every day. There is a strong American expat community in Halifax and I fell in well with them like I belonged. I can’t do that (expatriate) even if I wanted to; too old and not enough money to invest but I can visit and spend what money I have. I would be looking for a warmer clime in winter anyway. January and February in Argentina would be perfect; summer down there.