Good morning, blog readers everywhere...

I am up and working on becoming a better man again, no hope but it is one way to try and pick the better of two options. I am fatter, thank you for feeding all my desires and few of my needs, it is great to be able to have to problem of too much than the challenge of way too little. Since twenty pounds is what I complain about most, thinking thirty five will really ring my alarm bell. But my blood pressure was 115/82 this morning with the heart rate of 42 beats per minute, so vacations are still very good to me. Note to self, when visiting places with water and sand, take swimming suit and get in and swim, how can one just go without (yes, there are swimming suits and various things to wear in my chest of drawers), also use the fitness facilities, and drag some friends or family along to sweat and talk to.

Also, take a couple of your good knives, it does seem really strange to have to find a Wal-Mart and pick a Chinese product when I have all those great ones from Germany and the old proud of our product America - before Gerber sold out. I guess I could have found out about my concealed carry permit from Washington in Florida - but that wasn't on my list of important things to do. I did find my sister, the one closest to me in many things, has a License To Carry Firearms from Pennsylvania. Which to my eyes didn't make it clear what the intent of the license was, having looked it up I kind of understand. I do appreciate the efforts of the State of Pennsylvania, but doesn't that fly in the face of simple 2nd Amendment language? It is 'Shall issue' so that isn't too bad, unless one is living or working in Philadelphia (would Benjamin Franklin choose to live in that city today?).

Still in the sibling competition of which of us is the better at whatever, I have to hand it all to my brother on the motorcycling front. He was the one that recommended the Trusty Triumph to me, and he has ridden motorcycles for many more years than I, many many. But he rode his bike all the way from Aurora, Colorado to Palm Coast, Florida, and is zigging back by North Carolina to visit Mom and get some tubing twisted for his exhaust system on his bike then home. Now that is some riding. He needs good thoughts to go with his good riding skills, those highways are a zooming jungle out there. You have no idea how many times I got lost looking for some area, and it was very nice to sooner or later be back where I was supposed to be. I have my niece's home zeroed in -- so I figure the perfect home is coming on the market soon for her to lock in and buy --- just so one day I will have to find them again. I will be taking my swimming suit, shorts, jogging shoes and good attitude, dude.

Traveling as fast as I can...

wandering through the friendly skies and stopping at points along the way, is one way to expend a good night's sleep and dreams. But sure enough I am now here in Florida, and my wife made me stop and sleep off the road before I fell asleep on the road, that worked so well.

Family are those which acknowledge that you are related, and the children respond quickest to new found members, and they all make the journey worthy. How do we find each other, by bumping into one another at the pool, at the registration desk and by asking after. All very disorganized, but all real life not something that will ever get written into a script and on your screen.

Time to go and get a good night's worth in preparation for the morrow.

if I wanted to see the West, just go East...

I finished the chores, took a shower and packed the Caravan, and hit the road, dropping off real mail for my mother. I notice after driving over the Cascades that I am entering the real West, they have horses, cattle, desert looking country where the Columbia Basin hasn't been lifted up to the big sprinkling systems. Barns are either falling apart slowly or now made of space age materials. I took the turn off at Vantage and thought how wonderfully empty the road is compared to I-90 to the north. I am passed by an Air Force couple and later I see them pulled off with emergency flashers on, so I stop and ask if they are okay, they are and I am gone again, they catch up miles and miles down the road.

I have finally seen Pullman, yes it was in the dark, no I didn't stop except for fuel, but that counts - now I know everything about Washington State University, I have been there. Might see it in the daylight going back. I am in Lewistown, Idaho, named for Jerry Lewis I think but then I remember Clarkston isn't named for the candy bar - is there still a Clark Bar out there. One of the problems with getting old is they keep improving all the stuff you liked the way it was. As I drove into the West I kept singing old Western Ballads and thinking about Cowboy movies that could have been made here. Why go to Spain for Italian Westerns, didn't Ford use some prime property in Monument Valley or some such?

Well, for entertainment to lull me to sleep I picked up some gun magazines to leaf through, knowing I am not really a gun blogger, but still working on that American Rifleman, one of the Nation of Rifleman (or so I pretend to be - such a joiner I am not), don't you wonder how Kim is? Hope all is well in his life.

So you did remember 19 April, 1775, yesterday?

The day the people of Massachusetts got very serious about restoring their rights to govern themselves, very serious. You can Google it, and the Wikipedia covers it a bit, but don't go to most American High Schools for any detail, go to your libraries and know they wrote books differently in the 18th and 19th Century about which we continue to write about in the 21st Century. It must have been important and my question is where would you have been on that day?

Today is the Boston Marathon, and since I am on the West Coast and three hours back from the East except on Mainstream Media (tape delay with Live printed on it), it should be starting soon. It was once on the same day as the celebration of Patriot's Day, the 19th, but the race got more important than the day and so was placed for coverage, advantage and tourist bucks. More people KNOW about the Boston Marathon than the 19th of April, 1775, but that is how the world works. It is still one of my un-run marathons, but I would be so far back that the support crews would be sweeping the chutes up and packing the timing machines by the time I got in. It would be more interesting to walk from Charleston, to Lexington, to Concord, the North Bridge, and back to Meriam's Corner, to Parker's Revenge, through Lexington (again!) to Charleston and safety, but following those poor British flankers tracks would wear me out, but it could be done in a couple days well. Seems the military is always cursed with LONG interesting days.

I find returning home after time spent on the ranges with shooting stuff doesn't cure me of my addiction to finding out how the normal people of the world are behaving. Looking for email about my far-flung family relations and relations that are only friendly is justified but most other things, can wait for my devotions, exercises, sweating, cleaning up and going to work. It is Monday and the Library calls. My second PC is spinning and chirping at me, and I thought it was using electricity for power - it couldn't be wind up, could it?

Dreams and reality... could be important...

The American Hunters and Shooters Association sent me the bumper sticker.
It won't go on my vehicles, but I was glad that they delivered on their promise, which makes me wary of all their other agendas and promises unsaid.

I woke from a wonderful dream this morning, and I am fat, the dream was of the military I am old but not as presently useless, and competing gently with young skinny kids in running, swimming and shooting. When a young seven year old girl comes up and introduces herself and we talk, as soon as I hear her name I remember her mother's name and she leads me away to meet her mother, so we go and I do. Too much about dreams may be about the me that never was but could have been, but the child was beautiful and so was her mother and that works. I am reading Daniel in devotions, which means one shouldn't dismiss dreams some times.

In the basket of daydreams is going to the NRA convention in Phoenix, Arizona, on my Trusty Triumph - day and a half down, two days coming back against the wind and the fatigue (information from another motorcyclist that has done it the same way I would - yes, he is a current inmate). Also, a more reasonable ride, to Boomershoot 2009, I have to ask for media pass - I don't think I am ready for the Precision Rifle Clinic - another year perhaps. But I would like to ride, watch and take pictures, and meet those that are enjoying the weekend. Yeah, where is that application for someone to pay attention to my dreams? Oh, email Joe Huffman. Thanks.

Who were Sunshine Patriots?

I went to learn to teach, and did. Then I taught and that was also great. After four days of intense Revolutionary War Veterans Association, I have that April 19, 1775 stuff cold. Speaking of which it was snowing and chilled and wet muddy ground to lay prone upon. So I leave you with one of the new Riflemen, earned on the last shoot of her day.

She became a citizen of the United States on Thursday, became the Rifleman on Sunday and the only thing I suggested to her was that she try the kneeling position, she locked it. One of her group was from South America a bit ago, said he could never have spent a day shooting in his original country - the weapons are controlled, but then the ballot box probably is, too.

Safety is always prime importance, so I never got to shoot just help, and we broke a bit early for ice storms approaching - thanks Governor Palin, I did get on the highway early enough to make it almost home. Then the Air Force rent-a-cops closed off my shortcut and I had to travel three times as far on iced roads. Didn't bother me as much as all those folks spinning out and into ditches. Home is a really great place to be, hope everyone makes it home safely, and thanks for having me at a really great event, but I am going into hibernation, until the flowers bloom.

I am proudly stealing this to share... I am so shameless.

I was out visiting today, when I happened to stop for a rest at Airman Mom's place. I was there for a while as she has some wonderful reads. The one below I have reposted here with her blessing.

Before you read, grab some tissues. I was a sobbing, sniffling mess as I left her a comment, requesting my 'steal'.

Next week, I'm heading up to Dayton to catch a flight to the Sunshine State. I think I might take some extra cash with me. Just in case I happen to see a few or a dozen of "Our Guys".

Who knows, it might be her son...


Day after day, we are blanketed by news of our failing economy, we are sickened by the political advertisements, and some days it seems as though the only news we hear is negative.



This story was posted on the "Blue Star Mothers" site.



Please enjoy these uplifting words.





The Sack Lunches

I put my carry-on in the luggage compartment and sat down in my assigned seat. It was going to be a long flight. "I'm glad I have a good book to read. Perhaps I will get a short nap," I thought.


Just before take-off, a line of soldiers came down the aisle and filled all the vacant seats, totally surrounding me. I decided to start a conversation. "Where are you headed?" I asked the soldier seated nearest to me.

"Chicago - to Great Lakes Base. We'll be there for two weeks for special training, and then we're being deployed to Iraq ."

After flying for about an hour, an announcement was made that sack lunches were available for five dollars. It would be several hours before we reached Chicago, and I quickly decided a lunch would help pass the time.

As I reached for my wallet, I overheard soldier ask his buddy if he planned to buy lunch. "No, that seems like a lot of money for just a sack lunch. Probably wouldn't be worth five bucks. I'll wait till we get to Chicago."

His friend agreed.

I looked around at the other soldiers. None were buying lunch. I walked to the back of the plane and handed the flight attendant a fifty dollar bill. "Take a lunch to all those soldiers." She grabbed my arms and squeezed tightly. Her eyes wet with tears, she thanked me. "My son was a soldier in Iraq; it's almost like you are doing it for him."

Picking up ten sacks, she headed up the aisle to where the soldiers were seated. She stopped at my seat and asked, "Which do you like best - beef or chicken?"

"Chicken," I replied, wondering why she asked. She turned and went to the front of plane, returning a minute later with a dinner plate from first class. "This is your thanks."

After we finished eating, I went again to the back of the plane, heading for the rest room. A man stopped me. "I saw what you did. I want to be part of it. Here, take this." He handed me twenty-five dollars.

Soon after I returned to my seat, I saw the Flight Captain coming down the aisle, looking at the aisle numbers as he walked, I hoped he was not looking for me, but noticed he was looking at the numbers only on my side of the plane. When he got to my row he stopped, smiled, held out his hand, an said, "I want to shake your hand."

Quickly unfastening my seatbelt I stood and took the Captain's hand. With a booming voice he said, "I was a soldier and I was a military pilot. Once, someone bought me a lunch. It was an act of kindness I never forgot." I was embarrassed when applause was heard from all of the passengers.

Later I walked to the front of the plane so I could stretch my legs. A man who was seated about six rows in front of me reached out his hand, wanting to shake mine. He left another twenty-five dollars in my palm.

When we landed in Chicago I gathered my belongings and started to deplane. Waiting just inside the airplane door was a man who stopped me, put something in my shirt pocket, turned, and walked away without saying a word.

Another twenty-five dollars!

Upon entering the terminal, I saw the soldiers gathering for their trip to the base. I walked over to them and handed them seventy-five dollars. "It will take you some time to reach the base. It will be about time for a sandwich. God Bless You."

Ten young men left that flight feeling the love and respect of their fellow travelers. As I walked briskly to my car, I whispered a prayer for their safe return. These soldiers were giving their all for our country. I could only give them a couple of meals.

It seemed so little...

The above story stolen without any permission from anyone - From Little Drops
it is time for Atonement, but not over this one...

Yes, I am still working in the prison library...

Travelling Librarian Award

An award jointly sponsored by the ESU and The Chartered Institute of Library and Information Professionals (CILIP) is granted each year to a professionally qualified librarian working in British libraries or information centres. The programme is designed to encourage US/UK contacts in the library world and the visit is for two weeks and normally takes place in the autumn.

The 2008 travel grant has been awarded to Sibylla Parkhill from HMP, Bronzefield who will travel to the US in Autumn 2008.

Washington State Library (ILS) is hosting her visits to four of our Institutional Library branches next week, I think she is in Maryland this week touring. I received the clearance yesterday and the coordination has been made. Weather permitting and the creek don't rise it should be very interesting. We are doing better at making sure the world knows that the Institutional Library Services exist and what a fine job we are doing. I should inform the Superintendent and his Associates that she is coming, he saw me on the steps taking mail down and asked how the Book Business was - I told him it was great, we had six hundred plus circulation yesterday with the reduced evening open hour, that is a good thing.

Yes, it is snowing in my backyard, Al Gore....

I am a failure, didn't do the day's start correctly and fell behind so quickly. I was distracted by a long legged redhead, that couldn't dig a fighting position, wasn't slick when loading a shotgun and she had a tattoo. Still I was tempted to put my life on hold while her song and story loaded and then played. Needless to say it was just the tip of the iceberg (no global warming here) I watched another and read blogs and dropped some comments and the morning was gone...

I did get my gruel, shave and dress and get a sleepy kiss good-bye from my wife (who likes staying up and sleeping in), teasingly I nuzzled her and she smiled keeping her eyes closed and told me to have a great day, I told her to care for those kids (infants and toddlers' childcare on post). Which led me to think as I drove through the wet darkness about when I stopped taking hugs and nuzzles from the people that cared for me - I figure it was when boyhood meant being tough and hard and working on becoming my father or some other larger than life hero. Must be a way for a boy to grow up without missing the nurturing and still be as hard as he needs to be to destroy his enemies quickly and completely. That brings up the carrying a weapon, so one is prepared, and I don't carry because I am almost certain that it won't be needed in my quiet life (I do need to re-new CCP next year) and absolutely positive that if I had to shoot an enemy I would and without regret for their loss of life, but sad that my life wasn't gentler - nothing changes when you have been over that ground before, ride it the same way if it brings victory.

So I come home two library periods early, for a forty hour week is difficult to schedule when I have to attend training away, and I watch the snow falling; gentle fat flakes, covering the mown backyard, the little statue of Saint Francis and my wife's freshly seeded garden. The pile of procrastination wouldn't take care of itself, and the snow will fall as it wills, looks like minivan in the morning.

What you bring back from your time away...

I am avoiding my exercises and heart rate run this morning, the weather man says it is raining outside somewhere - Seattle is so big and wants to dominate. The road is damp but it isn't raining here right now, and the neighbor has his wet weather gear on but is mounting his motorcycle for his trip to work, much more dedicated than I? or the only transportation he owns? I slide my wooden shoes on and move the garbage can out to the curb. I got the wooden shoes in Holland, one of many adventures into a beautiful little country, with flower gardens, long legged ladies that love to walk or bike, and where paratroopers from both sides in WWII would battle. I did the Four Days with the military and loved the greetings of the crowds in town on the final day, with flowers, they say it all with flowers. Of course, after one has the cheese, sees the canals and windmills, takes too many pictures of the flowers with ladies, and notices the homes are really small - then one finds out that the shoes are made in Wisconsin and shipped to Holland for tourists to buy, unless they are that special pair that a young man makes for his lady love - that pair would be from Holland. I track though the wet grass and spongy moist ground and know that wooden shoes with memories are the only way to keep my feet dry.