The measure of a man...

Friday night, I was really tired when I rolled home in the Caravan, and waved good-bye to my wife going out to her Ladies Bible Study. Hmm, there were other things I once did on Friday nights in another life long ago and far away, and seemingly happily ever after. So I have Willie Nelson singing Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain on the television, and am thinking about the week.

I check my weight, blood pressure and heart rate daily after rising, and I am always making comparisons between the me I know and the one y'all do -- some how you have made judgments and mostly think well of me, or that I am a bit off the mark. Constant evaluations - how do I measure up, how am I, how do you do? The measure of a man... yes, those of the female gender may play, too. But I think you are way too hard on yourselves. We really like soft cuddly sexual objects, if we had wanted hard plane surfaces we would never have left the shop, with the wood work or automobile bodies. Honest, sitting on a couple thousand pounds of raging bull has no sexual gratification, that is the combat struggle that men need to rage back with... not about sex at all.

Being older and gentler I don't seem to have to rage in combat much anymore, although there are some trespassing turkey takers I thought fondly of taking out. A phrase my son once used in the presence of a lady - who immediately identified it as being one of my thoughts for solutions to problem people, I was very basic Bad Guy once, proudly.

Still, it seems to be the week I am evaluated, I was measured and found wanting, and that was a shock - who me? You talkin' to me? Yes, she was. I get a blog post out of it and a Face book mention, then more folks weigh in and the tower officer is mentioned in dispatches, unfavorably. Everyone seems to be getting measured against their level of professionalism, and the ideal, don't we wish we never fell short and we ask forgiveness but not often enough. The whole incident reminded me that I need to pray for my enemies more often - seemingly I don't have as many as I once did, I often think I prayed too hard for the Vietnamese Communists and not hard enough for the poor Iraqi troops (those guys were hope&helpless) but recently I haven't had much time to think about my enemies - don't have direct contact and haven't been shot at, been the target of tactical ops or sudden mischief. And the ones that the media and the White House have never seem to be mine.

Today I finish my week with my professional annual evaluation as the Library Keeper at McNeil Island Corrections Center. My supervisor gave me my evaluation, it went well since it is the third one we have done, and we are more willing to talk and trust each other and look to the next year and what we can do to improve and make it a better operation in line with the Library and the Department of Corrections' mission and the needs of my patrons. Don't worry, all my faults she knows about were noted, but so were my proper adjustments in performance and attitude.

When you need to improve it helps to have some independent eyes looking at you critically, like a coach. Still, I like to set my own standards, always have.

I wanted to be thought well of by my father, to measure up to the man he was. I want to be loved by God and not fall short, still working on that one. I want my mother's love and pride and seem to have had that always save those terrible teenage years where we weren't ready for my foolish breaks for freedom - and I still tell little boys to run away and escape to adventure. I want to be stronger and faster and healthier, and don't want to pay the price to get there - but I do measure it and I am still moving out and getting somewhere. I want to get the smiles of lovely people, good folks everywhere, ladies and little children. I want to be trusted to take care of stuff; for myself and those I love and those that need me, the real me. I want to live in love with it all, until the echo of that love comes back and warms me to a brilliance I didn't know I have.

Congress just didn't get the point...

Congress should be smarter, but they really didn't get the point when moving Memorial Day Holiday from the 30th of May to the last Monday of May to make it a three day paid weekend for starting the Summer vacations, sales and barbeques - Congress didn't get the point.

The small town in Washington State that couldn't have a Memorial Day Holiday parade in their town because they were short two thousand dollars - the budget was bust there is an economic crisis - the town leaders didn't get the point.

Everywhere in the World there are lots of Americans that don't get the point - they will miss it completely this weekend and on the 30th.

Okay, you are all better than that - you will remember that eight good men, neighbors were killed by British Soldiers on 19 April 1775, and you will remember that the statue of the Minuteman is fashioned after Captain Isaac Davis of Acton, who died at North Bridge of Concord having led his Minutemen away from Acton, leaving his wife with four sick children. When asked if you could find anyone prepared to fight to the death for our country - I would ask you to name them, and if you were as smart as you could be you would tell me to read the names on the Wall in Washington, DC from Vietnam, or walk those hills in Arlington, or your nearest National Cemetery.

This Memorial Day Holiday - visit the ones that gave all they had, it is their day, it is not Veteran's Day - not a shopping day, not a picnic day, not an end of serious school day - it is the day to remember those that gave, "that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom...." thanks to A. Lincoln, who got the point.

Funny how clearly one thinks when ill...

I dropped out of the rat race yesterday, just wasn't attending to the world around me much - I felt ill but struggling to stay with my workers and keep the library open, but I couldn't hold my mind nor will to the tasks at hand, just wanted to crawl off into a dark corner and rest up. So I gave up, there wasn't anything I loved enough to die trying... I gave up.

I don't like to be a quitter, many the times I have pushed myself to that far edge of pain and sorrow, but I don't really quit much. At one point there has to be more than pride in my power for that goes with the flickering strength and darkness closing in everywhere - when I begin to believe I might lose. That is when you only keep fighting for love, if it isn't about love there will be no more energy, strength from God only knows where. Being older and much wiser, I will look to see the cost and quit all the battles that aren't for better than I will ever be.

My mother doesn't realize how much of my fighting and killing has to do with my love of her, and dad and my other loves. If one doesn't love then one doesn't live and never understands what giving oneself up selflessly is all about. Better me than Thee. How many times have you heard that a parent would rather it had been them than their child, how many young people put on a uniform and march off to war to save everything their family means to them? It is all about love.

I laugh at kings and princes and presidents that think they have power and importance and should be given respect - if I loved them they would have it, if I am to respect them from fear then they should be afraid - what I fear I have destroyed to the best of my ability. Mostly I ignore them, there are enough fools in the world to glorify their pettiness. I am reminded that "as you do to the least of these you have done to me" yeah, got to love the little ones, the old ones, the left behind and forgotten ones, a quick smile and a gentle chuckle and tease - they are the ones worth fighting for.

With the government and the economy out of control...

The Media will concentrate on Gun Control, citing the recent attacks of lone gunmen upon the defenseless innocent law biding citizens, adding the number of victims up and wondering when it will all end. In my home there was much more anxiety about the North Korean missile launch and what will happen. Probably because my wife is Korean and she doesn't fear me with guns as much as the media thinks she should. I told her that if the United States government had feared the Korean missile launch it would have been bombed, just one laser guided bomb and the threat would have been over - and it never happened, although President Obama thought the launch was an illegal act - which I am sure was never written anywhere in Hangul for Kim to read. You do know that there doesn't seem to be any problem with Gun Control in North Korea?

So we are going to have media examine the American gun culture, again. Diane Sawyer has a special about arming for self defense. Which I would be happier about if she really had been armed for the last twenty years or so... is there a reporter that does carry? that shoots any firearm regularly? is there a successful reporter or correspondent that does believe in the Right of the People to Keep and Bare Arms? Notice the loud roar of them, or is that a deafening silence? I really don't know, but if there is one I would be happier. I do know that John Stossel has done his best to point out the myth. ABC 20/20 Myths, Lies, and Downright Stupidity with John Stossel, Myth #10 Gun Control Reduces Crime. On U-Tube forever!

Well, it is Palm Sunday and time to prepare for church, Luke 22:36. Be good out there, be very good. I will shoot this afternoon - but then it is still a legal activity where I live. Go gently.

Sunday Stills, well I am rocking...

I am working at an Appleseed shoot this weekend and traveling the distance and bearing the Winter weather's brunt. Since I don't really have photography as a talent nor skill I just give you my best portrait of who I think I am and what I am doing with my life - seeing Don Quixote and I have so much in common - too many books, too old and too honorable in the best way. I guess in some ways this is an excellent picture of me, it doesn't look at all like my father, it looks more like my grandfather but then not really - it is just the me that you can see. Go gently out there, from the Bible and Gun Clinging Community of Earl.

Sunday, without much Sun...

Slept in well, which make my day start so right, and the dreams are good, the blood pressure just fine. Church is good, stay to help clean up in the kitchen, help the kids make macaroni and cheese (kindergarten sized), then off to the range. Now it is cold, there was snow waiting outside my home but it is melted already, so this isn't the bone chilling cold like Indiana has, do you know what else Indiana has? Miss America, according to Wyatt Earp. Anyway I go out to shoot, trying to make sure I fire a rifle seriously at least once per month, I checked it out I could become a Master Hunter, certified by the State of Washington for my shooting proficiency and answering questions and doing twenty hours of service for Fish and Game somewhere in this state. Twenty hours of hunting feral hogs?

Anyway back to Fort Lewis and Range 15, pay my fee, set up and fire away. One shooter came over to ask if I re-loaded my 30-06, and I had to confess that I hadn't started yet but it was my intention. I didn't mention that my wife has already outlawed re-loading in her home. He asked about my rifle and if I had gotten it through CMP, and I said I had and that it was Correct Grade.
I fired eight rounds and then watched other shooters on the pistol side, where I see the young man (they are all young men) firing a .45, and he stops and come over and shows me his reloads for it. He casts his own ball with lead found around, and reloads at about $17.00 per five hundred rounds. Which is super cool, and he was doing alright with his pistol while I was there.

I check my target mostly low right, paste the holes and change my sights when I get back, but they are loose. My next eight are low left, paste them, change my sights one last time. I should be close. I wonder about American shooters, they seem to always want sitting and a bench to fire from, and I liked the military a bit better. Firing from firing positions (foxholes) gives one a firm start, both for excellent tactics (if you had to choose between cover and concealment - go for the cover) and a supported position. When moving: then standing, sitting, kneeling, squatting and prone positions are better than sitting at a bench. Nothing is perfect in life, we will take what we get, and should practice all those positions, dry fire and live fire. With sling and without, but lots of practice. Well, I fired my last eight rounds, took the target down I am close enough for today and Redmonkey Zombie-paras. If they stand still and don't bounce around, I do need to start that practice, too.

Something made me look up WWII and the cartoon is one of the truest ones from a war zone by Bill Mauldin, who must have been an excellent political cartoonist - Patton didn't like him. But even before I got a chance to go to war I understood a certain reality of it, because I had read his book (Up Front) at my grandfather's home - and my grandfather was a working Peace Activist.

The things I learn on the Internet...

From Doubletapper, that other seasonal holiday, Chanuka Festival. Well worth reading.

Well, ladies and lasses, were you there?

On Christmas morning my mother would always insist that we read the story of the first Christmas from Luke, 2 vs 1 to 20. So I was on to the shepherds being told of the birth and coming to tell Mary and Joseph, I also read enough that in Matthew 2 that there were wise men (Magi) from the East that came to find the promised baby born to be King of the Jews. So we have the story of the news of the birth going to the most common of folk, shepherds and the most special, almost rocket scientists - well, for the time of the Romans anyway. That is pretty much it, but then you weren't there were you? Seems a pretty empty land, town of Bethlehem, Kingdom of Judea and Romans roaming around but only shepherds, angels (in chorus) and three wise men from the East, Mary and Joseph.

What is wrong with this picture? it is on most religious Christmas cards, the children's Christmas pageant has more sheep and animals than humans - doesn't it? But there are hints, Mary goes to visit her cousin Elizabeth. Now that sounds just right, a young girl going to have her first baby visits a cousin that will soon have her own - women do talk, they do go find out about stuff - not like a man never asking always pretending to know. It couldn't have been possible that you were written out of the story? You could have been traveling to Bethlehem with Joseph and Mary - just going in that direction (David had lots of wives and lots of decedents, twenty-eight generations worth!). Ever see women ignore another woman carrying a child? They always ask how she feels, about when she would be due to have the baby, where she is going, does she need anything? There were women, children and men going along that would have talked to Joseph and Mary, given sound advice and assistance as needed. Joseph didn't need any, he was a guy - and he would find Bethlehem soon enough without asking directions.

Well, this crowd gets to the little very important town, and find places to rest up - some would still be sleeping on the ground. Mary and Joseph get shelter - she is going to have a child, and other women are called in to assist in the birth -- that got written right out of history. Now, I know that women can have children all by themselves, it isn't easy but can happen. But even in a small town those that do understand hospitality (and that is a real sign of civilization) would be sure the local wise women and midwife would know and be attentive. There are rules about birth in the Bible, most misunderstood by men since it isn't really where they get to shine. So people the picture of the new mother, Mary, surrounded by women caring for her and encouraging her, bringing the swaddling clothes, cleaning mother and child, informing Joseph the boy was born as he heard the birth cry.

You can tell that the disciples were men, the writers of the Gospels were men, the leaders of the church that chose the stories to repeat, were men. For they put in the important parts of God and Man, and forgot the women - mostly - Jesus never did, from his mother to all the women that he taught and traveled with - they were always there. I suggest that we put them back into his birth scene again - or just remember that because women really care, they would always be there. They have always peopled my personal Christmas's, even if only in my mind and heart while we were apart.

Uglies keeping one awake at night?

Well, I guess next Halloween we'll see Earl "sitting out ... on a rocker
on the porch, with a beat up hat, corn cob pipe, jug of moonshine
(almost), shotgun and hound at my feet with the King James Bible open
before me - and giving out candy and grinning at the kids with my teeth
out. That should scare them well enough... one of those rednecks that
the fellow fears while among the cultured of San Francisco."  Should be
an interesting sight - I'll have to see if I can manage a visit to him
then!



Well, y'all come, y'hear? The above picture was lifted from
Hillbilly Beans Espresso, of Little Rock, Washington.

Anyway, don't be bitter thinking this is King Charles the First
against the Parliament, nor are we going to go from Rhodesia
to Zimbabwe anytime soon. The fools and the stupids that
aren't locked up already will attack like the fellow in the one
of my comment responses - a college educated fool with bad
language and attitude but I am already on record against bad
language, I can't help his stupidity, but I try. Time to return
to bed and better sleep. God loves us, even the worst of us.

The best I get is name calling and bad attitude, nobody knocks
on the door to ask me to come out and fight in their joy about
the election?  No one fights anymore, wonder why that is? It
isn't civilization, and he already has bad manners - must be
fear... pure fear. And the worst that could happen in a fight is
to die, everything else heals eventually... even pride, go gently.

There is good news...

I am going to work very hard on becoming an American Rifleman. I can't be a Nation of Riflemen, but I can be an American Rifleman. There are tough times ahead, I need to be able to take my rifle and ammunition and make that well aimed shot and hit the target as I called it. That kind of skill and discipline is exactly what will get me to that great life that my family has always worked for, each shot is new and exactly (if one is doing it correctly) like the last one.

Those life skills don't change either, what has made my life a success to this point are truths that I can offer to others, and have. Many may count the number of dollars to mean their success, and others count the numbers of A-list invitations and coverage by Star and People magazines, but I count the smiles of the people I love, the laughter of the children I tease in their growing up, the touching of the elders that have lived it all before me - before they go away. I count the thank you's that I can respond with "It was nothing" or "de nada" and mean it. It costs so little to be so good, but it does improve with practice.

Yes, I will work on becoming an American Rifleman, each shot a work of art, a moment in time when the man, the rifle, the bullet and the target are one - dependent and yet separate - frozen in thought, action, follow through and release - on to acquire the next target.

Flipped one calendar five more to go...

Yes, it is November, time to change the calendar to reflect reality - some months it is two weeks before I get to the last calendar - time is relative? I had to check blogs after my measuring, and leave a note or two - don't give up on Halloween - for all the little ones especially.

I know very little about music, I like it, I support it, and it isn't on my list of talents nor goals - but I am singing in the choir until the younger men take up the slack... and that could be a bit. Anyway I was recommended to listen to a beautiful woman. Younger, really beautiful, lady... and being me I was happy to go chasing after her - don't ever want to catch one, it is the prancing after the thought that thrills me. Well I found her and listened and was happy - sometimes waiting on the loading is worth the wait and then I noticed another song by the same fine voice and it called to me, being who I am and where I've been and what I know about the world.

Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep every so often there are wonders in the world worth sharing.

Good morning, too early but sleep is done...

Time to run, haven't gotten the blood pressure measured yet, but I am very heavy, although a half pound lighter than yesterday morning. Imagine that, change to fresh batteries and the air pump and measuring stuff hummmm, right along and find the pressure and the heart rate in record time. Duracell, not that Energy Bunny.

Dreams were different, a bit, there was a military overcast, but a church was much more central than barracks with broken plumbing. The church was a bit disorganized, but the ladies of the church (and this was a kind of country church) rode around in shiny aluminum camper vans with busy hens painted like nose art on the rear end in eight foot by seven foot size - nothing 'chicken little' about that, and they were busy. There was singing, picnicking and good works being done, but there was friction and the minister was in shadows and not leading as much as led... I did get to slide my M1 Garand into the dream, to take shooting, right up there with the other church activities. I have thrown darts, played cards, dominoes, volley ball, softball and pitched horse shoes - but have never shot targets with the church. More the Boy Scout activity, is my life that compartmentalized? Is compartmentalized a verb? Don't forget the Girl Scouts need to learn how to shoot, too. Breda would never forgive my lapse.

Big day today, register the newer rifle on Fort Lewis, registered weapons hurt so many fewer people than unregistered weapons - look it up (everyone has an opinion). Then drop off twenty-six dollars in rolled coins for my savings account - every penny saved today will help the credit crunch. Bankers know if they don't have money to move and if they don't move money quickly that they won't get rich and be able to send their grandchildren to Ivy League schools - because bankers only get paid by the number of times they assist in moving money - more times equal more money (successful moves, not the throw away kind). And it doesn't matter what kind of money - drug money, thug money, tax money or Zimbabwe's best fresh printed. The only thing the government needs to do is make sure the money is sound - but policy seems to dictate that is really beyond the control of the government, or they pretend it is. Although the United States is my country and is BIG, STRONG and wonderfully Democratic as an evolving Republic/Empire - the current policy of printing money to pump up the volume is exactly what little ol' Zimbabwe does to keep the population placid... along with thuggery. We haven't gotten to the laws making us behave better yet, but they are right behind the bail out. Anyway, back to my last positive thought - put your loose change into a bank today, help jump start the economy (no, don't go buy anything on credit, pay all that off!).

The visiting English librarian visits today, this afternoon, the crew cleaned up and we look okay. I have eleven boxes of almost new books, donated by a citizen probably because our library was in the newspaper and he was reminded that not everyone was as fortunate as he. So he shared, and it adds to the work day, but he is a man and the books I have looked at so far will circulate well in my reading population. Still, there are too many for just my library and we will list and ship to other libraries and camps over the coming weeks.

My wife has finally paid attention to my being gone this weekend -- off to shoot, wondering if I was going hunting. Nope, just shooting. She has the estimators coming on Friday morning before she goes to work. She had yesterday off, Federal Holiday, and was housemaking and humming along. I got the Kiwi, Strawberry, Pineapple, Cherry shortcake for desert last evening - which is why I am not two pounds less weight this morning, but it was so good - yes, Cool Whip could have added a pound but she didn't add that and I like real whipped cream - but no one does that anymore do they?

Cleaning up, the Procrastination pile...

I had about three months of Lotto tickets to check for winners. I have been buying tickets since 1994 and our arrival in Washington State. One ticket for Lotto and one for Quinto, twice a week. Yes, I do know that state sponsored gambling is the best form of taxation on the poor, it is always a punishment for the mathematically challenged, and it takes no skill to become a fool separated from his money on the false hope of untold riches, yes I do know. And I play anyway, seven cents on the dollar go to the store the machine is at, thirty-five cents goes to the State of Washington - and forget any promises that it was going to schools, education, school construction or other worthy programs a voter could get excited about - it will be in the General Fund and used anyway the current political leadership think it should be (because it was too much for the education system to absorb?)

They decided they needed more money - so they went with adding Mega Millions for a bigger prize in a combination of states, and they added one more daily drawing for Lotto and Hit 5 (which replaced Quinto since it sounded Mexican). Once I had them emailing me the winning numbers, so I could check immediately but that was in the days I was counting all my pennies and rolling them and adding them to the son's credit union account - the pennies and other coins from my jogs that I picked up. I don't count all the coins, not like the obsessed fool I was once, but I do still pick them up and roll them and put them in my credit union account. Another change is that I don't buy every ticket for every drawing, I just don't believe I will ever get the big one - it could happen but I don't have faith in the government's ability to randomly crown me King for a Day, or until they get their tax money and I squander the remainder. I just buy a ticket so I feel a part of the foolishness.

Anyway I am checking winners and putting the losers in the tax folder for off setting my big taxable winnings - if I ever win it. I end up with fifteen dollars won, and won't tell you how many losing tickets I put away except there were more than fifteen, by more than thrice. Since I am now aware of my failure to win at this benevolent government's game, I give the winning tickets to my wife for cashing in, that will put a smile on her face (even if I don't see it I will be happy in the knowledge). She will try to give me the money, I will tell her to keep it and take the two tickets she bought for the next drawing. We share well, even if money isn't the same for us in our minds or life.

Being semi-retired but working full time I can afford the foolish buying of Lotto tickets, but I wonder as I see people putting ten and more dollars into it and then decide it isn't my business and I should wish them well in all they do. For any that care, Mom, I still give more to the church in a month than I put in the Lotto tickets for the year, and I continue to fund my wife's IRAs and our lavish life style (okay, it isn't lavish but it is comfortable enough for our wants).

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?

Friday and the house is full of laughter...

Well, I rode my motorcycle on Thursday, to work and to choir practice, did all of Wednesday and Thursday's mail and stuff and Friday was clear. I wasn't feeling well, the right foot still hurts in moving but bears my weight just fine. My sinus problem comes back with the cold weather or the total pollenization by growing green stuff and the fungus and mushrooms blowing up in the yard. Still I am the guy in the home, and I get to move the furniture for the little woman - what were all those pushups and chin ups for, more than my looks. So the home is shifted and reworked and set up, and cleaned up. This is the time I notice all the STUFF we don't need, but are so fortunate to own (or someone would say). I also vaccum and try to make the computer cave organized enough not to shame my wife. Then sleep for tomorrow Winter will return to Western Washington - Global Warming anyone? that bear over there is white for a reason. I sleep restlessly with a clogged head that hangs so heavy.

Still, with the new morning of the LAST workday of the week, I get up to get going, no motorcycling this morning - Seattle is threatening rain and snow - and King County thinks they are in charge, who are we to protest? I don't do the walk to the dock either, my sinus problems won't get better in the whipping cold wind. They cram everyone on one ferry - to save twenty thousand dollars this month - the budget is rapidly running out. At work we put thirty-two new books in circulation, and twelve new CDs. I have thirty-nine donations that I download the MARC records for, three British publications I haven't found records for will have to wait. Our last morning hour the cabinet makers show up with the new nine foot long Staff Reference desk, only needing one more hole drilled for power cables. It is impressive - I keep thinking I could get a castle built for me if I wanted it, but this will do. I empty the old desk and then decide I don't want all that junk going into the new one, so I could organize it couldn't I? That and all the normal library stuff for closing out Friday, seems I have to schedule interviews and testing for new inmate library clerks - I must drive them away with my lack of charm and personality.

Home and my wife is happy and worn, she has been finishing the home, and cooking and preparing. At six I start opening the door and greeting everyone in my best Korean - and it isn't that good but I always tried to learn the polite phrases and the proper time to use them, so the person listening to my poor pronounciation won't be totally lost. Total audience of eighteen women and one man (token male leadership from the church - the women have their own leader of the group, and his wife is here, too). I get to eat, the picture above, squid, clam on half shell, spiced pork, mixed vegetables and noodles, rice with barley and seaweed soup - Coffee from America. I am always well fed. They celebrate one lady's birthday, I print out two copies of the picture (aren't computers wonderful?) and I talk about Army Service and military careers with the Deacon, he did twenty-three years in the Republic of Korea Army as an officer, but I was a paratrooper and in the American Army. The devotions start with singing hymns, prayers, small sermons and the good gospel message. My wife hands me her mobile phone to talk with my daughter-in-law in San Diego, her husband is coming home on Sunday - from a long deployment on the other side of the Pacific, she is excited and happy and it adds to the joy of the day.

We have a pile of cars outside, sixteen pairs of shoes on the porch, and happy well fed people about to depart - taking the extra to their homes to share. Life is good, even for reclusive almost monklike Library Keepers.

The Government isn't going to save us... it could try

I'm from the government and I am here to help, is the joke and for some reason some people think it is true. The President and the Treasury are going to fix Wall Street Bankers, the credit problems of those of us that think borrowing money is good for us - beyond temporary it never was. Anyway, to make this short - the President of the United States and the Treasury are supposed to make the dollars sound... I am sure there are appropriate words in the Constitution - but they aren't paying attention to that are they? If, and they won't, they made the American dollar worth what it was in 1948 and held it there... I must have lost my faith in government, but then they only think they are in charge and can do it all, so faith in government doesn't really get me anything. I have other things I can affect to work on - lots of work awaits me. Bye! Such a beautiful lady and a nice sized heavy coin to sew behind one's Airborne Patch on the garrison cap. Back when a dollar was worth something besides a soda.