Washington Weekend Wrap, melt down...

Summer is here, actually the August burning brown the grass and the people, must have skipped July entirely. Sun, lots of Sun, and not a cloud in the sky, motorcycle weather. We said good bye to our son, going off to serve in Hawaii (well, someone has to do it) and rejoin his wife, in-laws and friends. He moves so much faster than his parents and he left good memories, things to think about and a cordless mouse for his Dad to speed around the computer cave with, I can actually do vertical mousings now - from across the room in the daybed. Remind me that second time visits to Sea Tac airport in a short time period are a bit sadder than the first one.

My wife went to catch up with Church stuff and I go off to walk, jog, run in a Relay for Cancer, and find myself lost for forty minutes, then find the High School in time for my turn. Get on the track early and the Weekend meltdown has started. I have a drivers side sunburn, and the Relay is closing for heat problems two hours early. They did well on lots of participants, donations and pledges, big band sounds and dedication to defeating cancer. Back to home and hiding from the Sun - the grass is burning brittle by now, my wife re-introduces me to the fan and feeds me iced fruit juices. I find an old high school classmate in my email and ask him for his bio - since he seems to have read mine. I wander the blogs and notice the other parts of the world, Sailorcurt sends co-ordination messages, he and Big Bad Wolf are in Washington working, both from Virginia, both former Navy and never have met before (save on cyberspace blogs) so while here on Sunday it is set up.

Sunday, if I were going to exercise get it done real early, or talk myself out of it quickly... did the latter faster than I should have, I am so easy. Dress for church, I do wear a tie and ride my motorcycle, last day as head usher and we wish there were air conditioning, but I demonstrate using the bulletin program as a fan by vigorous movement. The Pastor brings rousing Amens while preaching a return to God in our country, always and first. But isn't that like preaching to the choir? Well, my anxiety level is getting up to peak, the Outback Steakhouse doesn't open until three, I am no longer a social fellow - but I will try. Riding fast keeps me cooling as I enjoy Sunshine, purring bike and V signs with the others in the brotherhood - still don't know what it means to them but always means I am riding to me.

Well, the talk was rich, constant and interesting - you should have been here. But then it was just men and what we know and feel strongly about and wanted to share. The steak was great and the waitress efficient, lovely and one hopes her love life is wonderful, I was there for the talk and got way too many calories in the desert, but I didn't want to stop - could have gone for more hours easily but had wife waiting to see a North Korean song and dance troop. Back burning up miles on the highway at high speeds, safely, of course. The weekend has already claimed a twenty year old on a motorcycle at high alcohol speed.

Don't know how they did it, but Seattle had its marathon with the mishaps that brings, at least they started early enough. My son sends his pictures of Dad on motorcycle, he tells me I should get some of Mount Rainier in the background, well, maybe but when will he be back to take it?

Don't trust them enough do you? they die for you.

Just when I thought sanity had returned I am reminded that STUPID still wanders the world striking out in petty spite. And what part of Reason remains to be found in your life?

For all those of many nations that stand to fight for what I believe in, to defend their loves against the coming darkness, that feel alone and so lost in the battle --- remember that I would be there if I could, that I am here when you get back, and that I am not only one, I am legion... God bless all your best, exploit success and discard the rest, All the Way!

Thank you, thank you good people everywhere...

Thank Mister Heller, thank you especially Mayor of DC for thinking the Supreme Court was against the People. I have to read the reasons for their thoughts and the votes. But I do know that drug abuse, alcohol abuse and poor reading levels and basic skills have all been taken care of by laws that prohibit drugs, public drunkenness, and support a very fine fully funded public education system in Washington DC. Maybe the next time my sister goes to Washington they won't be stealing stuff from the tour bus, maybe.

I do want to keep laws against harming life and property, but deciding an ice pick is a more terrible weapon than my fine Randall blade is foolish. Make sure I don't harm anyone, don't worry about rocks, sticks or nuclear weapons. I have handled them all well, and with those haven't harmed a soul. Now where do I get that BAR? They once were owned by real American citizens.

You meet the nicest people on a Honda, but I ride...

Busy work day, since I have been closed for thirteen hours and want to try and catch up, but I don't, the crew keeps working and I get all the help I can and the higher levels send me more to do, and we keep circulating items, over five hundred and seventy six in three hours, normal is only three hundred. The sunshine rules and I get to leave the island having been thanked for a picture of another motorcyclist from Saturday's ride.

So I am riding to the Dodge dealer to ransom my Caravan, they fixed the important stuff and told me how much more they wanted to help it along for another eighty thousand miles. The bill is as large as I want to pay so I delay the extras. I have my keys and the bill is paid and time to ride my trusty Triumph home, I won't meet the nicest people but I am sure that old ad was aimed directly at the Harley-Davidson riders and the one per centers.

First person I met was hollering at me from his little junky Japanese car - mentioning my heritage and his opinion of my links to apelike creatures with foul words and bad vibrations - I immediately thought I had found an enemy for life. He complained that I had "been Killed" back there - I started to guess he had wanted me to fall over and such. I had been paying attention and no one had gotten close, I hadn't violated any laws and I was still going to enjoy my ride. But then I didn't have long greasy hair with a wife beater shirt with stains on it, and I wondered if the performance was more for his passengers or his own ego - do I think he graduated high school, had a full time job, wasn't on some sort of government aid? Well, no I don't but I could be wrong I have been wrong before. The things one sees when you aren't carrying a gun, and I like athletic and muscle undershirts - but always clean ones.

Second person was a few miles farther along the Pacific Highway. I am at a red light and a driver again hollers at me, tells me that I have a nice ride. This man has two children in the car with him and his language is clean, and I like hearing that I have a nice ride. He asks what size it is, 795cc I answer. He asks if that was big enough (size matters!) and I answer that it got me to Minnesota and back - he is happy and I can feel a little wish that he could go do that. Responsibility gets us sooner or later if we are lucky, but we will dream anyway.

Third encounter was predictable, a big full crew cab, 4 wheel drive, Ford pick up truck with big tires. I am in the left lane beside the middle turning lane and this truck driving man is in the right lane. He cuts to cross my lane and I lean to avoid his crushing me - he doesn't see me - I am in the blind zone and his zone is bigger because he is so high - or he hates me and I am going to die. I don't lock up my front brake, I do continue to lean away and slow down and finally stop behind him in the middle lane. I am lucky, he doesn't back up to roll over me, my motorcycle is in good shape, my heart hasn't given out on me or the ride. He crosses all the traffic and turns around in an apartment parking lot and I have been put on notice that --- I am not important to big Ford truck drivers, my motorcycling skills are improving, and Someone is Watching over me. Thank the Lord.

On my Caravan is a bumper sticker, it says "Motorcycles, Start Seeing Them" should have put it on my helmet?

All is right with the world... or our little piece of it

He brings four younger women and two men into my dreams, not directly military but in the background, and my wife hugs me closer as she sleeps, and my life is a bit more alive than normally. I check some of my favorite blogs and then run back home after finding this jewel to share from the Edge of Empire. Oh, go out and do great little things today. In so many ways I was happy he had a skateboard in his hands.

Isn't it nice not to shoot anyone today (or want to)?

One of only two humans on the planet Earth that I would shoot to death without question has raised his ugly head again. No one is giving me the shot and so I don't take it, but someone should, actually if I feel those two deserve my best shot, then they should have been taken out a long time ago - normally one doesn't know the name nor the history of the people one kills in war - doesn't that fact make it all so much more proper. You didn't really know who you just killed, only that it was okay at the time in the place.

These evil people aren't forces of nature, but certainly when compared to the worst natural disaster they have longer lasting effect, why don't enlightened civilizations destroy them before they become such? Well, they will die of their mortality, but never soon enough and you don't need their names - if they died suddenly you might have been part of a conspiracy and there are better things to do with our lives - give love a chance.

If you can't afford the fuel don't get off the road...

I had to go to church, being the head usher, and the motorcycle was down for legality issues until Monday, the Caravan is big and clunky and eats fuel when run, so I lifted the bicycle down and prepared to ride. I have completely forgotten all I knew about the shifting, which hand does which gears, which lever is up and which one is down. So you experiment and practice and the ride goes right along. I am passed by a few autos, Sunday mornings most are sleeping, and I am riding on the white line or beside it. In Germany they must give a cyclist a meter of clearance as they pass, in America they don't have to give you anything - luckily for me (except for some Oklahoma cowboys) most drivers will share the road and only lightly snarl about my imposition.

When we lived as a one car family I did a lot more bicycle riding to get around, I should do it more in the local area, in the better weather. I talked a bit with the Pastor about riding bicycles. It isn't a Green thing with me, but having been in Europe I do think that America really misses by not encouraging more riders. I rode home after the service and a mother out with her two bicycle riding children pointed out that I was on the edge of the road, like being thought of as a good example of something, she didn't comment on my helmet, which might not be as good an example of art - but you would notice it when I ride. Pedalling back into my development and a couple walking their dog, do a double-take and yell at me asking "Where is your motorcycle?" and I answer "At home on the hill."

Attended a Motorcycle Safety Rally...

Lakewood had a Motorcycle Safety Rally and I went with the Patriot Guard Riders, the motorcycle police from Lakewood demonstrated their riding skills and we got doughnuts and some free stuff. There were prizes from sponsors and we got to look over everyones ride and talk about what ever. Then we took off on a long group ride.

Parts of the ride I have done before and most of it was brand new, the riding in a group is still new and I have been placed at the back of the pack because of that - but that was where I felt best before. I had a good time riding and wanted to go to the reception of the returning troops, but I am informed that I don't have a current sticker on my tags and looking at my registration I find I don't have a new registration with me. I turn around at the Fort Lewis gate and go home. Some days I just can't get it right.

Happy Friday, First Day of Summer and it is...

Noticed while riding my motorcycle to work, that it was a great day. My workday planned out, a hundred and fifty new items to link and circulate, ILLs to request, patron information requests to answer and the Sun would be with us all day. That was how it went and the day was fine, I have about three hours of work on Monday, open one hour for patrons, then I close until Wednesday, my son is coming home before heading off to Hawaii. His room has been cleaned and prept, the spare bathroom is off limits to me - my wife has cleaned it and left the silent notice that I had better not mess it up. I have motorcycle safety stuff on Saturday morning, a Patriot Guard mission for the last units of the 4th Brigade of the 2nd Infantry Division, returning from Iraq in the afternoon, then a Homeowners meeting and grass cutting and house cleaning after that.

I will say our cold wet Spring seems to have been beaten back by Summer Sun, but most people feel it is only an illusion, the rain will return. The only temperate Rainforest is just across the Sound and it doesn't dry out in the Summer. Tacoma got to eighty-three degrees today, but Spokane got even higher so our season is officially and beautifully changed. Have a great one!

Multi-tasking is for fools...

I have been trying to hold too much, and on the way with everything I try to pick up another thing to bring along and then drop half of what I was carrying and begin to start all over - piling it on, the first adaptation to stress, just pile more of it on. In the 82nd Airborne we were accustomed to juggling lots of priorities, and the only important thing about juggling - was knowing which of the balls were made of glass and which could bounce harmlessly. Nice thing about the procrastination pile, that is all stuff I don't want to do anything with right now... later when I have more time, no glass balls there.

Once a much younger and forward looking fellow (ME?) I stopped every Friday to work on my charts and accounts to figure out what my Networth was, and since I had been keeping paper Cash notebooks since 1969 I could tell you at any point what my dollar value was. Just reaching up on the bookshelves and pulling one down. Oct 1973 (year of the Yom Kippur War) I owed $9595.19 on my trailer, $2803.20 on my Buick, and $70 on my color television, I had $1,191.64 in savings and Savings Bonds. Every month after that the debt went down and the savings went up. Okay, that is a simplification, but I knew where I was and where I was going and could focus. On Fridays I started watching Wall Street Week with Louis Rukeyser as my host and guide into the world of investment. That was about the time I started my IRAs, for tax relief and future retirement, mainly the tax relief - until Congress started messing with it, reduction of my income by whatever my wife and I could put away (up to two grand apiece) was wonderful. My advice to the young, start early, add often and use dollar cost averaging and broad market. I will mention that I don't do that stuff now. I have figured out that I can't ever retire completely, that having some money means that the government automatically wants parts of it, that piece of the pie that they are sure someone somewhere needs more than my wife and I.

One of the things I dropped was that careful accounting of my networth, not really worth the time now. I am running out of time, falling apart physically and likely mentally. I went to the doctor and had my examination and got his best guidance and a new prescription - four days later, after the blood tests (that I haven't seen) came back his office calls and leaves a message that I should call them, I don't. I will stop and talk to the doctor, next Monday on my way to work, for it is easier to dream of chasing long legged redheads, and just smile about how much nicely my motorcycle slides through the traffic and our Sunny days, my son is going to be home that evening... Best do one good thing at a time, multi-tasking means I might miss that smile that will go into my tomorrow, and that would be a shame.

End of the Year (Fiscally speaking)

All the money must be spent by the end of June, and accounted for and don't disturb the fellows over there doing it. It is a lot of work. My part of it was spending the money budgeted smoothly over the ten months I was granted (two months belong to the accountants that I must not disturb), and I am close to where I should be. Explained to me several times during the last few weeks that my dollar amount granted was only a temporary figure and it could end up higher or lower - as the accountants worried at it. I was given a day to go Purchase Order Shopping, first amount was $1089.52 but by the time I made the telephone coordination it was $1122.00. The first time I went to the book store the manager wasn't in, and it was a wasted trip, so I went back to my library and worked on stuff that had piled up. I have procrastination piles at work as well as home, but my Program Manager has told me for years that it was okay not to get everything done each day and to have something left for tomorrow - hmm, they haven't been working with a military mission that says all equipment accounted for, cleaned and refilled and ready to roll back out - or you don't get to go to bed or back home until it is done, my habits are engraved on my work expectations.

Well, the shopping went well, since I had a long wish list for older books missing from series, favorite authors that we had worn the pages out for heavy circulation, some classics and music requests - get us more music CDs! In three hours I shopped and picked up and looked over and grabbed the final copy - kind of fun spending the State's money on my fancy - but then I did get many things I won't read, but that they will. It is an almost regular library I keep and reading will set one free, if only while he dwells in the world between the pages and his mind. I was rung up, and packed out and get a ten percent discount for bulk purchases of used books. Four big boxes on a hand cart and out to my Caravan, load it up, return the handcart and drive off to the Depot loading dock. I label the boxes "Library" and talk to the freight chief, he gets them put on the first truck for the ferry in the morning and I am done for the day. I missed the last ferry that could have gotten me to work an hour, so I took two hours off after calling my supervisor, who had been holding down the library while I was shopping.

The following day I report for work, and catch up on what I hadn't done the day before and take my whole four inmate crew down to the mailroom, and there are the boxes and two days of mail bins - work awaits and we haul it all back up the stairs to Control and into the library. I unload the boxes on a bookcart and hide it away - curiosity is terrible, and knowledge is power and a commodity on the inside my clerks have real work to do and fondling new books and CDs just isn't going to be done on this day. Next week we would start processing.

So I organized the books, and searched the internet for MARC records to download, I find a hundred and fifty of the items. I get the inmates to make call numbers and add genre labels as needed, stamp, barcode, date due slip and 3M security strips. I will wait on downloading the MARC until I have a clean day and can link all the items, since I must submit a report to the State Library about all the additions to the collection. Since I can't find everything, the British and Australian publications not always covered in my search areas I have to send those items off to Acquisitions for them to process and return to me with a MARC to link to, I am still waiting on two from April but it is all part of that end of Fiscal year clean up and account for all the dollars. I am receiving other material prepared for adding to the collection as they continue to process the small additions and stuff that was stuffed in the closets until they could get around to them. Twenty-four items and eight items and I have loaded them up and the patrons are already reserving some of them - everyone wants to be first for the latest Patterson or Vachss.

Well, keeping the library open and normal operations, plus adding the extra processing and accounting makes a busy day, but on Friday I will download and link and they will scan, check one last time, putting those special books on reserve and grabbing the ones they just can't wait to read (the best part of working a library is first dibs). From only a wishlist on Thursday, to an actual item in the collection for circulation on the following Friday, and I get to ride a motorcycle with a smile for a job well done and a great week's work.

*The picture is posed from last year's movement of the library - not from receiving new books...

I broke ten thousand! but who is counting?

Well, the sky opened up and Sunlight blinded us for a bit, then the Blue warmed us and Friday ended so well, riding the trusty Triumph home through the busy roads with other cyclists and cars and cellphone addicts. On Saturday I went for my second social event of the week - aside from church I am a recluse and they hardly notice me there.

I met the other motorcyclists at Denny's, some I work with on McNeil Island but most I didn't know. Some girl friends, wives, one young son and bikers in leather and personal colors riding a Gold Wing, Harley's, Honda Shadows, and one trusty Triumph. Off we went around Mount Rainier. Until we got to the Eastside of the ride it was cool and gray but as we climbed the clouds burned off and lifted and that Sunlight hit us. We got into the snow line - yes, there is still snow up there. Actually, there are earlier seasons and the potential of Polar Bear habitat, don't even think about swimming in mountain water. The sights were awesome, the ride thunderous (some of the riders don't believe in quiet throbbing) and fast, and the roads really mean it when the sign says rough - was that a six inch or nine inch drop and where did those holes come from? When it freezes at night the roads crack so well under pressure, like the rock face the road was cut into.

The National Park has signs against carrying guns, the bars along the way had announcements against guns and under age people wandering inside. I wasn't drinking anything but coffee and wasn't interested in carrying guns to make someone nervous - but I watched to see what was going on. I got an oatmeal cookie with the coffee at a tourist stop, and later potato salad and a big hamburger in a tavern with service away from the liquor for minors. I had a root beer there. My luck in gambling hasn't changed, I had a pair of tens, a queen, a deuce, and a five, couldn't beat three of a kind by two other riders.

We ended the ride at the sponsor's home and a barbeque, it was my first group ride and aside from spending my time concentrating on keeping up and more or less (much less) in formation I really enjoyed it. On my own I would have gone slower, stopped more for beauty - both natural and enhanced female types, and taken more pictures of same. I do think I might drag my wife along on something like this again, or on solo jaunts into the great Northwest, on Sunny Days, because there is so much to see and do out there.

The ten thousand I broke? the mileage on my trusty Triumph, it was 10,235.4 miles when I parked it in the garage last evening. Need to clean and maintain it today, it has done a fine job.

End of the world, just around the corner...

I am not a scientist, but was watching a demonstration of the effect of cellphones on honey bees, and they were dying so badly - compared to honey bees a foot away without cellphones. Now I don't believe all the cellphone users in the world are hunting honey bees, but they are being attacked by the constant bombardment of the GPS satellites.

According to Albert Einstein, our very existence is inextricably linked to bees - he is reputed to have said: "If the bee disappears off the surface of the globe, then man would only have four years of life left." is a quote used much, and it helps if four years from now the Mayans, Einstein and William Earl Dungey have said it is over, we blew it and we had our chance. The Road by Cormac McCarthy is worth reading but not worth looking forward to living as... a minor character, there will be no major characters.

I was naked today - which in ancient terms meaning unarmed - when Sir Lancelot was caught with Queen Guinevere, naked (without his sword) and had to borrow the sword and armor of the first knight he killed coming through the door. So I was visiting the doctor for my checkup and not carrying pistol, knives nor tools - I was so defenseless. But my weight was fine, the blood pressure great and the vein found and blood flowed freely - into the vials anyway. Too much LDL, 177, others are in the box, that terrible box. I was warned by the Pharmacy that my new improved medication may cause upset stomach, adjustments, and if I have strange muscle pains to report it to my doctor - oh, and get some Liver enzymes done in six weeks. I asked if it was necessary to attack my liver, I only have one, but they don't look at it that way. Kind of like shaving a little excess from the door to make it no longer stick... and after great training days my muscles always talk to me... since Junior High football practice.

As I was wandering the streets without a police escort, personal body guards or my personal weapons I thought about how I was going to take on and out my attackers - Jeff Cooper had a thing about awareness and the need to know which situation one was in, so you are prepared - and I was going through combinations and take downs and outs that I never got from watching movies. It was an interesting exercise, but futile, no one came at me. After all I am just a harmless older man. Back home, knives everywhere, pistols and rifles, ammunition and hot coffee, hot shower and a soft bed to sleep in - the world isn't going to end today, but when they come for my piece of pie I will be so upset. I wonder how the honey bees feel felled.

What are dreams made of?

It has been a rough day; too much anxiety and restless feeble fears, the work was huge, the pace meaningful and most is done. I was caught by The Aboves in my lapses, the fax machine didn't connect even once, the telephone kept getting busy signals and the internet alone made me linked. So I close shop and head for home, thinking of girl friends - isn't that what men are always supposed to be thinking about? If they only knew the truth...

Roads were dry, I could have been going home on the motorcycle, but didn't take it to work today. I talked with another motorcyclist, has had his for two years and now has a thousand miles on it, since he only rides in the Sun, and you don't want to know how infrequently that happens up here. I have a long ride on Saturday, no girl friends there, going around Mount Rainier, poker run and barbeque. I drive to my home, and open the garage door and see that I am alone - ever wonder why I would think about girl friends? I don't get dinner tonight, have to fast for the blood work tomorrow, the final check. Still I notice my wife has done wonders and there is a picture I will share.

She has always worked, and even in our ancient aged condition she continues. And some people are blest to have the perfect profession that fits them - Joy in the Job! Meet my wife and her passion. And if you don't know that she is beautiful, you aren't looking at her heart and have missed the best part of my life.

How you bring them back counts, they don't forget...

I came back from Vietnam, alone, sure there were lots of soldiers on the jet but I didn't know any of them, and the stewardesses were wonderful - but I still couldn't talk to women so they were all safe. There was a stop for fuel in Hawaii, but didn't get far from the plane, then we flew on to Washington State and landed in the dark. Got on a bus, rode to Fort Lewis, and into outprocessing. We were weighed and measured, issued a new Class A uniform with all awards and decorations and fed a steak dinner. Given our orders for our next assignment, 82nd Airborne Fort Bragg for me (I was finally so lucky!) then paid, tickets issued for our flights out to leave destination and given the day to report to next unit - and sent off into the night and America the unknown. It was on that flight I had the woman, with daughter and anxiously hovering husband tell me that she wanted to thank me for serving in Vietnam. I was dumb, mute, and unable to say anything because of the shock - that she would thank me, that she had no idea what the war was to me and I wasn't going to dump it on her. I had been told America was ashamed of me and all those other baby killers and war ravagers, so met the first of many lies by mainstream media. I did get home, I did settle in, I did keep a lot to myself (still do) and I should have ridden off on my motorcycle then, but didn't.

At 12:30 am (dark of Saturday morning), on my motorcycle I met some of the Patriot Guard Riders at Galloping Gertie's Cafe, and rode onto Fort Lewis, got lost on the wrong road in the dark, back tracked and found the place I was to be, and was issued a flag for carry. Instructions were simple, how to hold the flag, what the commands were and joined the unit welcoming back the troops from the 4th Brigade of the 2nd Infantry Division, a Stryker unit coming back from Iraq, 240 in the group and fourteen months of deployment to Operation Iraqi Freedom. As we waited the arrival of the soldiers I looked at the families, friends and children with flags and wishes and dreams and making noise, waiting for the soldiers and the reunion. I was told by another PGR that two of the women waiting were War Widows, their husbands had died earlier. I remember the battalion's return from the Gulf War I, flags flying, battalion formation and families waiting on Pope AFB, North Carolina - signs made and wishes and dreams and noise.

Finally the buses pull up outside, soldiers getting off lining up and instructed and they are coming in. They march in passing the line of American flags held by the Patriot Guard Riders, and our children. This is a family event. There was some canned message by a Command Sergeant Major about the job the Brigade had done to improve life in Iraq, I didn't like it because it was poor sound, poor form and just so wrong for a serving Sergeant Major not to be here in person (only my personal opinion) - but that they had done something important did need to be said loud and often. Once they were all lined up, everyone got up for the Prayer of Thanksgiving and Memory, and the National Anthem to salute and remember, then a member of the Brigade Staff spoke a few words, but he didn't spend too much time, the important thing was to get the unit dismissed and joined up with their family and friends. So he did and they did and we marched out to return the flags to the car, we got our own debriefing and pep talk and thanks for honoring the retuning soldiers. This was my first, and another man was at his first and we received a Mission Accomplished tag from the Commander. So we rode off in the dark, 3 am in the morning, I returned home feeling the night well spent.

After church today, I rode to Fort Lewis joining the already prepared Patriot Guard Riders, getting a flag, instructions and into line. The times had been changing all weekend and I had missed the second reception because of conflicting schedules and sliding arrival times. It wasn't fifteen minutes after I arrived that we were inside on line and waiting, and five minutes later the buses arrived with the soldiers, the families and friends, the canned Command Sergeant Major's story about the Brigade's mission accomplishments, the Prayer, the National anthem and the new Brigade Staff Officer to welcome the returning soldiers and to give the command to dismiss. We marched outside, rolled the flags or folded them and packed up, debriefed and thanked by almost absent commanders, who got there just before our performance (a wrong turn along the road). I liked that those that weren't in command stepped up and did the correct thing at the time - the way it works in the little wars I was privileged to attend.

I don't know what the soldiers think of motorcyclists in leathers and jeans standing with flags at their return, but I know how I feel being part of it - I feel great, they are owed so much more but this I can do. As I am sure the reason we had the Armed Forces that could win in Iraq was because of Vietnam, I am sure the reason the Patriot Guard Riders show up is because of the void from Vietnam Vets' returns. How you bring them back counts, you only get one first impression... Toy Soldier sums his return up well. From the point of view of those that waited...
SondraK

No it isn't a National Holiday, but it is important...

6 June 1944, after a twenty-four hour weather delay the invasion of France is on, from the air, from the sea, far from the hearts of the women that loved them - thousands of American, British and Canadians would assault the wall that Rommel built, and he was off to buy some fine shoes for his wife, funny how life works out. Lots, and more than lots of men would leave their lives in the sea, in the trees and on the ground they fell upon, you can still visit the cemetery and look upon the markers, there were so many acts of true heroism performed that day - most unreported, that the Allied Force won a hold on the beach, up on the cliffs and into the interior - then slowed down to catch their breath and reorganize, rearm and wonder 'why me Lord?' It would take Patton to break free of inertia, but he didn't pay attention to physics just martial courage. Still, this is the day, D-Day, and in Europe they understand its importance more than we ever will. But we should Never Forget, so remind everyone what day it is - I don't need Congress to make it a holiday, I just remember it.

It isn't as bad as I want it to be...

End of the day, wrapping up and I am listening and looking at 'Raqstar which makes me want to get off the comfortable life style and back to the dust and duty. Too old, too old, too old. The meeting went well, good work done, changes to start next week at work, a day for medical visit and book and CD buying, a day to present the ILS Blog again - keep pushing it will happen or I will just go back to my exile on McNeil Island. Another man joins the ILS pack - four of us now and we do add so much to the day, and the return of one most capable former Marine to working with us, she was really good. I did try to keep tabs and reach out and touch an old friend today, it didn't exactly happen but that lack of social graces (or whatever mental illness I am denying) gets in my way. I did get to ride my motorcycle and feel frozen for most of the morning - it is June isn't it? I wished a nice Library Lady a Happy Birthday, and noticed that Kim had a couple of very nice recommendations for .22 caliber rifles, very nice. I was drooling over his CZ 550 Ultimate which is on my Lotto winning list - MegaMillions is tomorrow, right? I have been invited to welcome back the 4/2 to Fort Lewis, the advance party was in at the end of May and the rest are coming Friday and Sunday. I guess two of my Iraq links will dry up and I will have to find a new source for my daily fix. I will be glad they are back. So, I can now wrap my day up, no one noticed my concealed carry, which is what is supposed to happen. Looking in a mirror somewhere today I noticed another crag in the face, erosion wears one from inside out...

Closed down and moving out...

I wrapped up a short week at the library, the crew did well, and what needed out is gone, what came in was receive and processed, the circulation was great on Monday, hanging back because of a Fire Alarm on Tuesday, and a too short hour on today. My Liaison checked in and looked around the library to see if we were still getting ready for the big inspections coming for accreditation. She thought we looked good, I think we will look better - I may be harder on myself and crew than some. My supervisors, the Gang of Three, are off plotting discomfort and readjustments in our, the Library Keepers, lives and work. Tomorrow we join them in Federal Way at the Palisades Retreat.

So for two, or three days for those from Western Washington institutional libraries, our services are cut off to our special populations. I will watch eagles swoop by, and humming birds dance, and take notes to be ready for work on Monday. Really it will be interesting, the other Keepers are better at social graces than I, are hard workers, and some of them have a great sense of humor - if we didn't laugh we would cry - something said to me long ago and far away, but it stuck. I packed up some work and ideas to share, and I will share, gently - I don't need to make waves, they will know I am around even if I don't grate and irritate. I am riding my motorcycle, the weather man promised no real rain today, and the forty plus degree temperature isn't a problem, it is near sixty-something by the time I take my last ferry ride of the week, low tide was 12:30 pm today, deeply it drew.

On my way home I stopped at the Triumph Dealer, to pick up my foot pegs. Seems I am dropping the bike too much and have to replace parts as they break. Which would make me an almost mechanic - but I am not - I treat putting things together to work like those wooden puzzles and IQ tests. I bought the Military approved reflective ugly orange vest by ICON, for riding on the Air Force Base and Fort Lewis. At home I had a great dinner, said good-bye to my wife going to church and I started working on cleaning, greasing chain and replacing broken parts and looking deeply at a new headlight rim, since it was one of the injured from the last great wreck. By the time my wife returned I had the motorcycle ready for the morrow's mission, she would start to work on fish and I would iron the shirts and close up domestically. Time for the hot shower - I washed my grease stained hands and arms three times this evening, do I really need a shower? Cyberspace isn't sharing smells yet, is it? Good night!

Registration Day, more paper about Earl's life...

I had to register the new pistol, the one I purchased to keep concealed, worn always and forgotten about normally. I have to register all my firearms on Fort Lewis, so I can use the ranges and hunt, and if I ever bump into what I am hunting I could shoot it. Hunting may not be one of my strongest points, but I love looking, tracking and figuring game out. Anyway, off to register I go, since we have a returning Brigade from Iraq there are lots of soldiers processing vehicles and weapons, lots of soldiers making plans for their future and getting settled back into Garrison life after FOB. I have filled out the documentation before and do so again, get a number and wait to be called forward to one of three clerks processing.

I have a long list of firearms already registered, and I understand the effort is to improve the control of the weapons, make sure they have responsible owners and users, and if there were ever a crime committed with a weapon they know which one of us might have that particular weapon. No fired cartridges, and no fired full metal jacket bullet saved, but still they do know that the next time a 9mm is used wrongfully my name could come up. I also have three vehicles registered on post, for vehicles they give you a large sticker so the gate guards can identify registered vehicles - it doesn't make any of the drivers better or safer, but everyone knows it has been registered, had insurance coverage and a licensed driver at the time of registration. On my motorcycle I also had to have an approved motorcycle training course certification and the Army Approval of my motorcycle training. All paperwork must be carried when riding the motorcycle on post, along with reflective gear - since they really frown on stealth motorcycle riders running under cars and trucks of people talking on cell phones.

The registration process is quick, the temporary ten day paperwork lists all my weapons registered and amazes me, the fellow that thinks more than one of anything is a bit too much to carry, but it isn't a really long list like some of the real gun toting crowd - I just like to shoot a bit, and am not completely paranoid yet, so I only have three rifles for real game getting, five for small game, targets and plinking, one shotgun, two authoritative .45s, two .22s with sass, and one lone 9mm. But they are all enough for me. One new twist to the registration process, I got my picture taken, which is now permanently attached to the registration record - yes, they did look at my military ID, and my driver's license - and still they need a picture along with my signature to prove I am me and I have all the rules and am approved for using my firearms responsibly on Fort Lewis. Not a universal, international registration for world wide but good for right here and right now. Let me see, the Federales got my finger prints again for my Concealed Carry, the Post has all my firearms registered and my current picture - the weight is wrong by twenty pounds, but I was so much heavier when eating Frank's Doughnuts and Scones. Still if anyone needed to know about me, there are government agencies that know - I have used my passport for years. Don't you all feel safer, knowing I am totally a registered fellow? I certainly do, but then realize that it was like the TSA, a large waste of money and effort, to make some people feel safer.

There is only one... of me and watch how you step

I was about to do something bad, but got distracted and wrote some replies and that has me on a roll in a different direction... it wasn't evil, just bad, which in degree is almost always excusable, or so I would tell myself if I were caught. Since I haven't done anything bad this morning it must be going to be a beautiful day. Anyway, back to the thought in the title.

There is only one of me, and I am, by law, a taxpayer - so why are there so many layers of government taxing me? What have I done to deserve so much painful attention and extraction? Is it that I was born, that I work, that I invest, that I can smile and think about pretty young women? Is it that I as an individual don't get to decide, my one vote among millions just doesn't count. If I were a Senator in Washington DC I would only have ninety-nine others that would water down my choice, in Congress a few hundred others. If I were a state I would be one of fifty. They (THE POWERS THAT BE) seem to have designed the entire system so I feel I have choice and opportunity to vote - but the reality is that my vote doesn't count, in Washington they keep counting until King County gets a number that picks the proper Governess, and in Florida and Ohio the courts get to decide what a proper vote is until the correct President is selected, or something like that. If I sat out the election it would upset them (THE POWERS THAT BE) only if large bunches of me's would, since I am only one taxpayer and voter, it doesn't bother them at all. All the former Felons can't vote and there are several million of them - wow, several million disenfranchised people? Nah, there can't be that many, can there? Well, back to the important ONE, me, the taxpayer the individual person serving so many Masters.

Federal Government, State Government, County Government (City Government too if you live in the proper locations) - why do they feel the need to suck from my little pile of plunder? I work hard for that, and I do understand that my taxes, with all the blood sucked from other taxpayers build schools, roads, defend my home and country, promote greatness and periodic goodness and in general I am all for that. Here in the Great Northwest, there was a Kingdome and it was home to two professional teams, one baseball and one football - they used the dome for other stuff as well. But the teams, which make lots of money in their seasons, decided they needed new, better places to play, and wanted some of my pile of plunder to pay for it. They could have taken my ticket money and used it, but they decided that the taxpayer needed to make Seattle a first class sports city. The taxpayers voted NO - and they (The Local POWERS THAT BE) went around and over that vote and assumed the bonds and built the wonders and the teams play on. Now why would I want my grandchildren to pay for the lost Kingdome, the current venues and such? I am the fellow that is working to pay off my current debts so no one has to assume them if I crash on my motorcycle - I have insurance coverage to pay every debt I currently have off if I die - but they (THE POWERS THAT BE) are counting on more little taxpayers to pay off their excesses, sigh. What happens when we stop producing more little tax payers?

Ah, well, it isn't really important, I am only one - that is why the system is designed like this, and if I really wanted to I could become one of THE POWERS THAT BE, and live on top of the pile. But then I like myself a bit more where I worked to be a better person, a gentle man, and only the LAW makes me a taxpayer, a voter, a citizen. How much do I count the LAW? not too much : I am me because of my parents and grandparents, friends, relations, lovers, and mostly I am because of the Great I AM, and never because of THE POWERS THAT BE. There is only one of me.

Happy Birthday! Gideon Dungey

Yeap, Thirty-one today, you are so old, man. So old, but us even elder folks love you anyway.

Dear Gideon, I guess you are 31 today, Happy birthday! Hope you are
celebrating, and having lots of fun! Glad you will be, or are in
Hawaii!
 I remember in 1977 (I think I'm right on the date)when my father and
China were there at my house, and Joy and Jerry were here too (Sherry
was born in 1976). China and I and Joy were in the kitchen at the table
talking. (the men were in the living room). When China said casually,
that it was great that your folks were adopting. They had heard it at
Earl and Kum Cha's, They were living, I'm sure, in Oklahoma. I sat
there and cried with joy, while Joy got up and said"What are you crying
about, Mom?" and I told her and we all were so happy together. I could
hardly wait to tell Don.
 Then in February or March, Earl called from Denver, you arrived with a
bunch of babies, all of them were crying, except you, you were smiling.
They took you with them to the hotel, and they called Don and I, and I
could hear you babbling like babies do. You were nine months old,
they'd known they were getting you when you were 4 months old, but all
the paper work etc. was what held it up. As soon as we heard, we
started our way west to see you. It took us one or two days to arrive
to Oklahoma.  you were such a happy baby. Already at that time, you
would hold onto you Dad's knees and walk holding on to him, you were so
cute! After that we had many times when we were privileged to be with
you and your parents. It was always fun... Remember when we traveled in
Europe together? And the travel guide to London complimented you for
being so well behaved.... (and you were only 4 years old)... Having
children is wonderful, having grandchildren is so much fun. Having
great grandchildren is the decorations on top of the frosting on the
cake. (frosting is grandchildren, children is the cake). Anyway happy
birthday,enjoy, enjoy!
 lots of love, hugs and kisses,   Grandma