Okay, Happy Birthday, MARINES!

Probably one of the few things I am jealous of the US Marine Corps is that they really know how to celebrate their birthday - the Army has buried its under Flag Day I think, and for some reason they don't know how to party.

So today, for a force that began in a tavern, Happy Birthday! from a former paratrooper, who was always glad to be shot at along side you, wouldn't have wished it any other way.

Hey, Old Timer...

I am very aware of how near retirement and impending doom I am, but I was walking down to the dock in Steilacoom when a bright red BMW pulled off the road and stopped. I walked up and leaned towards the open window, hoping it would be the mythical long legged red head looking for guidance. It wasn't but was a young soldier with sunglasses perched on his head and three metal qualification badges on his digital Desert Camo Uniform, he leaned towards me and asked "Hey, Old Timer, would you like a lift?"

As soon as "Old Timer" came out I was thinking Gabby Hayes and cringing internally in denial. I had just slipped in the movie of my mind from leading man, the hero, to comic relief sidekick, how had that happened? I kind of smiled and told him the walk was my exercise and thanks for the offer, as he sped off I hoped he just wanted to be nice and show off his ride - not that he thought I really needed a ride, I hadn't been limping nor lumbering on. I was enlisted for the Vietnam War in 1967 and stuck around through other military operations to including Desert Shield and Storm in 1990 and '91. But I started putting that life together with riding my motorcycle up behind a car waiting at a stop light, and reading the Memorial tribute in the window, of a young man, born in February of 1991, when I was getting prepared to invade Iraq with the French, that died in our current wars in 2009, he hadn't gotten to nineteen. So in honor of those Veterans, the "Old Timers" everywhere I will tell you about Samuel.

He was born before the turn of the Century, the Eighteenth Century, and grew up big and strong and joined the King's Dragoons to fight in wars on the Continent, against France or Spain. After the first little war he came home and everyone admired the fine Calvary saber with the gold inlay and shining sharpness -- asking how he had come by such a fine saber. He said modestly that a French officer had no further use for it and he had. His military career had gone on and the places would change but Samuel didn't for he went to the sound of the guns. In one of the many wars against France he rode off and came back with a fine pair of horse pistols,matching French pieces. When asked to tell the tale about that, he again replied that the French officer having no further need for them had given them up to him. He couldn't go on being a gallant dragoon forever, so he settled down to a small farm and small wife, raising crops and children and getting old. His years were wearing and he limped a little and later a lot, but there was no quit in him.

On April 19th, 1775 with the country rising up in arms to stop the British regulars Samuel Whittemore took up his musket, his horse pistols and cavalry saber and went out to do battle for his family and neighbors. He took up a strong position behind a stone wall about a hundred and fifty yards from the road and began to fire upon the advancing British redcoats. His fire was effective for they sent a squad of flankers to eliminate the position believing there were several rebels there. Samuel got several shots off from his musket before he had to pick up the pistols, and he got two shots off wounding with one and the other, he was drawing his saber when one of the regulars shot him in the face, taking away part of his jaw. the others quickly bayoneted him about a dozen times and left him for dead, then hurried back to the marching column, not wanting to be left behind in the coming darkness with the rebels everywhere.

Samuel's friends and neighbors came out after they left and went to see what they could do, expecting to find him dead, but they found him trying to re-load. They got a door off a home, laid Samuel on it and took him to Doctor Tufts. They begged the doctor to save him, but the doctor said it was too late, they asked him to try anyway and he did. When he finished he did tell them quietly that Samuel was going to die, he was seventy-eight years old. The doctor was correct Samuel Whittemore died, eighteen years later - scared horribly but always proud of his service to his adopted country and sure that he would do it again if called. A very dangerous old man, the oldest combatant on the field that day.

So the next time you see someone old and almost ancient, smile before you call him "Old Timer", it would be kinder to ask if he could help you -- for he would be glad to be the leading character in the movie of his life.

If you really understand the gun control point...

I am sorry that so many people were killed and wounded at Fort Hood, Texas today, they didn't deserve to be shot up like that. An Army officer did it (but we won't condemn officers) and doctor (but we won't condemn doctors) a shrink (but we won't condemn those that treat mental illness) a Muslim (but we won't condemn Muslims) with semi-automatic pistols with extra loaded magazines (but we won't condemn the firearms nor the bullets). In Texas, home to the Alamo, mythical Lonesome Dove, and cowboy culture there is Fort Hood (named for a fine Rebel general) with signs posted at all the gates that the Commander doesn't permit Concealed Carry and doesn't honor the state's permit to carry, that all weapons are locked up without ammunition, that all personal weapons are registered and locked in quarters or unit arms rooms unless given permission to use them in recreation. Nope, what happened today is what is the weakness in the argument that gun control means fewer deaths and destruction - in Texas that had the Texas Tower shooter, there are points of total gun control where potential victims abound. If those in the processing center had only made it to Indian Country they could have been carrying a weapon with at least twenty rounds as they wore their reflective belt, but they were being protected by foolish words and policies that don't bear the name of the commander, only his title.

Wandering, copying and posting for y'all...

I really liked this. Since I really hadn't thought about where Laconic reply came from. I learn so much from the internet and am missing breakfast. Thanks to J. Huff.

You know, the LIBRARY KEEPER....

Seems I got way off track and left the library guy behind in the dust, but I have just finished the second day of work in November and it was a great day. Cool to cold and clear so I burst out of the house and jog around forty minutes and come back to my breakfast, then I prepare to face the world as mild mannered Earl and get my tie tied right and put a scarf over it and the leather jacket on top of that - I am going to ride the Trusty Triumph to work, that was what I was born for... yes, I did put out the garbage, and I waved at the garbage pickup man as I jogged by him, but I was born to ride the Triumph, it is a fine ride going deeper and recovering smoothly and laughing in joy. I walk down to the dock, passed by a prisoner mobility transport team, one of my patrons has been out to see a specialist.

As I walk into the Corridor I see one of the inmate bakers with a big tray of cheese cake pieces heading out to feed the audit team I think. As I get closer he signs to me and asks me to take the piece closest to me, so looking at the lady escorting him with the money box - and she is nodding her head in agreement -- I take a piece of the best looking cake I have seen. And hurry off to eat it in the workroom before I move the mail, and it is good, all over my fingers but I will lick them off, but it is good. And I hear knocking on the library door, it is the Associate Superintendent and all the audit team, waiting for me to open up so they can look.

I open, invite them in, and give them my best briefing of how wonderful I am and how important the library is to the inmates and the mission of education and all our capabilities. Ask if there are questions, get none and congratulate myself in public on another fine briefing. They leave to get their lunch and a piece of that cheese cake that I return to before taking the mail down. Mail back up and l open a letter from a book shop in Seattle:

To Earl Dungey: Nov 1, 2009

A former inmate, who worked in your library, came into my
bookstore and spent $50 on SF and a few other things. He said
he was sending the books to you (I did not catch his name,
sorry). He made me think, a bit, of you and your needs. He
was very pleasant. -- tallish, dark hair, a bit of a gut, has a four
year old daughter...
He made me want to help out, when he said you might be
able to take hardbacks....I asked for your address.

Can you take hardbacks? I get a lot of surplus hardbacks.
(Can you provide a tax exempt number for me, too? This is
not absolutely necessary, but I thought I would ask, anyway.)

I can provide mysteries easily, and thrillers, in hardback,
but can also provide lots of other kinds of books. Even
hardback SF Books. I have a fairly large store, with lots of
surplus generated -- books I don't want to take in are often left
behind. So, this includes nonfiction of all types. Send me a
letter back, with your needs, and I will be glad to help out.
Can do a limited number of specific titles; some bestsellers
begin to pile up, for example, and I can send those, too.
Also, of course, if you want to buy specific titles for your
library, would be happy to oblige. Give you a good price!
This is my email, storeindistrict@yahoo.com, but I sometimes
miss the emails; send it again if I don't respond.

Sincerely,

Nice Lady in
Seattle WA 981??

I sent an email off to the other Library Keepers and our leaders, since answering this letter with more than a thank you is echelons above my capacity - although I do seem to be the person so many of my former workers want to contact about things and donations do seem to show up from inmates, family, interested folks and others. Still this letter needs answered by someone higher than a lowly library keeper. I was very happy to receive it, and only change the addresses and real name to protect the nice lady and paste the intent all over my blog.

My supervisor was chosen as the Employee of the Quarter, and written up very nicely, and as another of the staff said "it was about time the two of you were recognized for your work". No, there aren't two of her - just does twice as much as she should have to, make all those dwindling budget dollars last a little longer... I suggested to our party girl, that this was a perfect reason for a Winter Holiday party - she is working on it.

Well, we were open and the books started moving, legally and otherwise, the alarm at the gate kept going off - the new guys making sure they had something for themselves.

I got two calls, and I answered in my most professional voice (I am wearing a tie, ya know?) "Washington State Library branch at McNeil Island Corrections Center, Earl speaking, may I help you?" or something very close... and on the other end is "I'm ____________ from Tower Three, and I wanted to apologize about what I called you." I hadn't know that was tower three, but if I remembered which was tower four (it has the armory) I could have figured it out. Anyway, we had a good talk about that incident and a little better understanding of who each of us were, and how we aren't going to be mistaken for fools in the future. She made sure it was clear that no one was making her apologize, and I made it clear that I didn't want an apology, I just wanted what was not normal conduct looked at and fixed. She had been sure I was mocking her, and I was sure I wasn't doing anything but being completely out of touch with what was supposed to be happening. She also didn't know until this week that I had been upset at being outed as a jackass. I lived through it but....

The second call was from another Library Keeper that had attended a meeting for communications, her interest being the Institutional Library Services blog. Her concern was that a portion of the new rules for social networking, individual personal blogs which mentioned the bloggers working with the Office of the Secretary of State must comply with the new rules. Since I often make dark mention of stupidity, foolishness, or downright mean conduct on my blog I might not be looked at favorably. I calmed her fears a bit, the only mention of risk to my job was for working on State Owned Equipment and this is my machine, and the intent was to keep the twittering for political reasons to a minimum... and I don't tweet, twitter nor twitch. I have no idea what to do on Facebook, and we cannot access any of the social networks at work. So I won't worry about my blogging, I can bore a few folks some of the time, I can bore lots of the folks lots of the time, and then once in a bit, I can be entertaining... I do notice that once the independent bloggers are corralled and the safe guards and laws laid down - the joy of blogging is gone, and the input for posting good stuff about our libraries dries completely up. But we aren't here to be happy, are we?

I ride the Trusty Triumph home to a fine meal, coffee and my only opportunity to tell my mother what happened today at work. The full moon shining down on me was a nice touch with the Autumn chill, but it has been such a good day I didn't want to ruin it. Thanks, Lord, and all those that participated to make it possible.

Well, the new Shoot Boss has had a great day...

Appleseed at Castle Rock, does. In spite of the potential down pours possible, the distances from home, the holiday foolishness of Halloween that one might miss (I gave out candy at my home to costumed children) we had sixteen shooters to learn from some dedicated volunteer instructors. Really glad that we fired all those rounds safely, that the groups were getting tighter, and the shooters got to do two AQTs and are eager to return tomorrow. Me, too, and I will like that one extra hour, this time.

Back from jog, just a quick note before church...

My cousin, a minister in New Zealand currently, was born and raised in South America, and she is now visiting Argentina and Uruguay and friends and family that are still living there. That was the background.

The picture is from the efforts of the current government to say that a previous government was so wrong. The reason I bring this up, is for those that still think one needs a King, or a Czar to get things done and have law and order.... re-read 1 Samuel 8, should be part of Civics 101, but the book doesn't cost $75.00 a copy.

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.

Yesterday, just a sleep ago...

The rain was at a temporary truce, fog bound the Western Washington, so the Trusty Triumph rolled out of the garage and turned on to warm up. At nine thirty in the morning I wondered at the number of fools running without headlights, it was thick fog. Interesting trying to gauge where I am in the ride when I can only see the road just around me, makes the journey a bit longer. I seem to be one of three riding a bike to work. Park it 'til evening return trip - what was that point about Daylight Saviings Time? It is so dark so early I have completely forgotten.

My sister mentions walking through the fallen leaves, the fat Maples await the stirring of my feet, and I am always taken back to the mountains of Pennsylvania and their colors for the weekend tourists. Homeboys soak it up while looking for deer. Which reminds me that it is hunting season and I haven't seen one - but as I look into a little valley in the woods, there she is. Looking back at me, pistol range and I am not carrying, So I talk to her about where she is, how she looks and wish her luck. Wondering if the hunters of yester-year would have let her go for another year or a bigger one around the corner, and would they have talked to her - probably.

In the evening as I walk out the gate of the prison and across the road I find another deer waiting for me - must be a sign, this one is feeding on a particular clump of vegetation and ignoring me, but most long legged females do so I am comfortable being a fleeting distraction. Again, we are talking short pistol range - less than twenty-one feet, and silly me, I start talking to her, too. Since the island is a National reserve there isn't any hunting on it, the deer population is large, only the coyotes and bumbling bears make an attempt to thin the population. Maybe I should think about hunting this weekend, enough to find some I could shoot, for me it is the time on the hunt more than the meat, I wonder if I can pick up a cougar instead. I wonder a lot.

Update, just an update...

Nothing important here, people are hunting or harvesting or working their tails off (think that phrase comes from the old days of horse drawn stuff) and I am pretending to catch up to the things on the internet, I am so behind, older and fat and that is my fault.

The Civilian Marksmanship Program is out of ammunition, and that can't be a good thing. Still I put in my order for ammunition, on September third, and yesterday, October nineteenth, it was delivered to my door by the friendly folks at Federal Express (FedEx for those in the know). I looked for all the stereo typical Gun Loving fools stuff, didn't find the cases of beer, or trash barrels of empties, no Confederate Battle Flags nor patches, I do have, hanging on the wall in the Computer Cave a Bennington flag from the fine efforts of General John Stark and company (it is just beautiful). And the Green Mountain boys were there with their flag, which has a whole different type of being Green.

And to really check on this Redneck stuff, I am again reading James Webb's Born Fighting : How the Scots-Irish Shaped America, yep, I do like to look that over periodically. Our family oral tradition is that the Dungeys left Ireland for England during the struggle between James II and William, and the evidence is that one of William's soldiers (from the Dutch?) settled in Kent and they married good English women ever after until they departed for America, Australia, and other points in the the British Empire. I go with the oral tradition, cause you got to believe family and it would explain my love of fighting and the Williams that keep cropping up in the male names.

Almost time to rejoin Humanity, have breakfast, unpack and store ammunition, exercise and jog (I have been so slack) and be a better fellow than you would ever know --- or try to be.

Facebook funnies....

The children are beautiful, but the thug behind them doesn't have a hearing aid, hoping that he won't be mistaken for Secret Service (suit is way too cheap, although the shoes might make it and that is about thirty extra years of wear in his face and body), still it could make it difficult to get a job in day care, don't you think? You would be so wrong if you thought I was carrying a Glock that day, only a Colt .45 would have met the requirements and I fall so short. Still I do like that picture.

Why am I working in a prison library? or any?

After getting a sunburn on the Sunny beaches of Florida, Sunday afternoon, my wife says I am as red as a radish. But I was preparing to ride the Trusty Triumph to work and it was a bit chilly outside, not frosty yet but certainly stirred me to cut a couple of minutes off my jog because I wanted to go faster and stay warm as my breath clouded when I exhaled. Yeah, leather St. Johns Bay jacket, white, knitted by wife, scarf around my neck (flashbacks to WWI flying outfits), pulled on the almost winterized thick gauntlets and allow the motorcycle to warm up a little longer as I adjust the helmet. Florida was nice wasn't it? I waved good-bye and rolled off into the ride, and I don't have to share, go get your own ride, worth every penny and all the unexpected shocks along the way.

A walk to the dock, finally thinking about what I need to accomplish in the library, nap on ferry, and walk into the prison, okay it is a Corrections Center, but that is so many extra key strokes. I am on the outgoing mail, the incoming mail, and find a Library for the Blind bag, knowing immediately who that should have gone to - I know his name, been here too long? Check the four days of email, and answer some that have already been taken care of by others. But one has to look, sometimes they don't skip you and they wait. Find a message from my supervisor that says I have to get the branch manual updated before she returns, and I was so sure I had it updated before I left - put that on the procrastination pile. Finally I have a full crew the last one tells me that his unit was locked down - since movement is already thirty minutes late I could believe it. And we work and help the customers, I find small problems only I can fix, others they should have already and guide them back to doing it better for the library and customers. Sending patrons to me is only when they have done all they can, I get interrupted many times, and that sometimes makes me forget my place and I start over. Can't say there is any boring stuff in my library, everyone wants something from me - the hustle is constant.

Another patron comes to my door and I almost start to snarl, I am such a bad guy, but then I ask what I can do for him, he wants to know what to read -- seems he has a lot of time on his hands and wants to get that stuff he missed in school. He wants the classics and stuff the college types all know, kind of. So I hit Google and print out about three recommended reading lists - glancing at them most of them aren't on my reading list but the education and media elite think they are worthy. Sigh. So I go out and we start to talk more about what he wants from the reading, self education opportunities in the library (all libraries everywhere), and why he didn't do it all the first time years ago. I want to give him Ender's Game but it isn't on the shelf but recommend it (he looks like he need teenage male romance -- which is always competitive adventure not sex, folks). Yes, I did show him the Great Books collection briefly - but I won't start anyone on Dante or Plato, I talk and discuss some more and head for Heinlein - grab Starship Troopers and The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, tell him not to think about any movie about any book - books are always better. He is still oriented a bit towards the classics, been talking to others, and wants to look at Moby Dick and a Dickens or two. So I show him a Classic condensation with illustrations of Moby Dick and walk him over to Dickens and grab the Christmas Carol - since Nicholas Nickleby is way too thick for starting out. I then talk a bit more, another inmate slides a book about reading for self education towards him (now where did that book come from?) and recommends it -- there are no private conversations in prison, every thing is monitored. But that is one of the great things about real readers - they are always willing to share their books just like Oprah (yes, I mentioned her book club - he thinks he might like to join one in the prison). I do go back to the Great Books shelf and find Melville and Moby Dick, or The Great White Whale. So he thanks me and hopes he can talk to me again later and my day is done, it won't get any better than that, all twenty minutes of nudging him into reading and hoping I have picked books that will make him come back for more. I stop at my internet computer and add a couple of self study books for purchase, and the ones that were recommended by Bob to add to the next book cart.

By the end of the day, as I work to clear the paper shredder jamming (when you don't buy it you don't care for it lovingly) and wish my request for labels and removable tape had been filled and decide I will have to purchase them with my own money, since it seems the Governor lost all of hers, where do the dollars go? by the end of the day, I mention to one of the old library workers (a fine large hunk of a man - okay, potential thug or gentle giant) that I had a great fifteen minutes today - out of the eight and a half hours, and he understood. Yeah, I will have to remember that because they aren't often enough, but they are golden.

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.

Happy Birthday, Gideon Heun Dungey...

All of thirty-two years lived, entering your 33rd year of life, congratulations!

You are still producing wonder and joy and lots of warm feelings in your parents - how wrong are all the nay-sayers, gloom bringers and false prophets in their petty predictions of best intentions coming to naught.

Your mother will call later, and neither of us will express enough how happy we are that you have been in our life. Take care out there and quietly celebrate when you have a minute to reflect on where you are now and where you are going.

Happy Birthday, and all our blessings and best wishes for your life and loves. Mom and Dad

My wife calls me by a new name...

Seems I am really old now, I am Ha-ra-bo-ji now. I remember seeing my father-in-law once in his traditional clothing very much like the older man on the bench in the picture.

In keeping with the ancient one's desires we went to see UP and in Digital 3D, which was very cool. A family story, an adventure, and a love story... and we liked it, and noticed the children all enjoyed it, too.

Between Walt Kowalski and Carl Fredrickson I could have this old man stuff nailed, I know just how to act - like I matter and still exist. They built this world and may have to put it back together or at least fill some sandbags.

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.

Violence Never Solved Anything...

One of my mother's favorite "I know so much better than you" quotes to squander upon my bold boy being brutal mind... I didn't believe it then and I still don't. I grew up fighting, and that was a good thing. Watch most mammals you Evolutionists and see the dominate males snap, push and shove the younger males into line - playfully, until they later have to drive them off to keep the fertile females for themselves. For those looking for religious reasons for little Johnny to fight it is in almost every religious text, myth and fairy tale. Fighting for the benefit of the pride, the clan, the community is heroic and necessary for the survival of the species, so God and Science do approve.

So I have been worried about this constant chatter from the more wonderful thinking folks of the Left (mostly) that have zero tolerance for school yard squabbles. Force young boys to spend eight hours somewhere and not clench one's fists and toss a quick punch in frustration - why you might have to drug them into better behavior. Without the release of those fight and flee chemicals in violent conflict you could get some sick puppies -- now I do know the difference between fighting and killing, and I don't hold with the young folks running around killing each other, but then I see someone that hasn't fought jumping to picking up guns and blasting bullets as the only way to settle those strange thoughts, so sad.

If you fight, with fists and fury, you will often lose and that is an important lesson. If you fight you will notice that bigger, smarter, faster and competent makes a big difference but ready and willing still counts. You will notice after large numbers of attitude adjustments that sometimes diplomacy is required to live to fight another day, that the kid with guts that stood up to your best punches and kept coming is exactly your type of guy and if you were old enough you would buy a beer for him - so he might become your best buddy instead. There are many male life lessons that depend on the fighting and the growth of other ways to settle conflicts - which only come from fighting in that famous free school - the School of Hard Knocks.

About the picture - around Christmas 1968, I am twenty and a sergeant and I left my date twice to go outside and fight at the Battery party. She thought that a little strange. In 1993 at another formal function (Senior NCOs, Officers and dates) another Command Sergeant Major asked my wife if she would like to dance, she said he would have to ask her husband, her husband asked him if he would like to fight before or after the dance, he didn't - so my wife had no dance and I got no fight, sigh. The proper answer was to fight after the dance... I do wonder if those that want to have only peace understand the light that a woman might have in her eyes when her man is fighting for her and the things they believe in... ah, I only know a little about the fighting and nothing about the romance stuff, but I do think there could be a connection...

And don't blame it on that...

Tuesday night a patron asked me something and I told him it happened on Monday - which seemed like several days ago - I was loading my days with lots of work, which is good, and the motorcycle rides were like a vacation, but you might not understand. Still for the last few days the rumor mill and local newspapers have talked about the closing of McNeil Island Corrections Center to save money because we aren't taxed enough when we don't spend the money for purchases. Now the Federal Government sent out the software to give us some of our money back to stimulate the Economy (but they know if the economy is stimulated that they will get more from the rich fat cats that will rake it all in). But in Washington, they would like to add an income tax to get more money to spend, and yes the voters will get to turn it down, and the politicians will pass it anyway - someone has to pay for sports complexes in Seattle, don't they?

Back to my work days, the inmates are saying that forty of them are going to Connell, Washington as part of the closing of McNeil Island (could be they are going to add to the population at the new facility at Coyote Ridge Corrections Center, so they can get operating at full speed.) That rumor is as good as the one where everyone is going to get an earlier release date because they can't afford to keep everyone locked up. The drug offenders like that one the best - they are always sure that the drug laws don't protect anyone and drugs never hurt anyone - but then everyone believes in fairy tales when they are young and foolish, or old and foolish. Still, everything inside the library is finishing with "it doesn't matter they are going to close this place soon", no matter what the subject, the problem, the service, the END is near.

So, I am looking at changing work - or just retiring at sixty-two (nah, I would die if I retired too early), but this whole economic downturn might be designed to move me into another field (I am so self centered). If I wasn't so good at paying my taxes properly I could have worked for Obama in Washington, DC. Now I will have to see what is out there I can help with in America's future, which is where I seem to have spent most of my life. All because the elected representatives couldn't manage a budget - is there a message there?

Economy... if it were to be better,,,

If every dollar I earned was a whole dollar - not net, if I only paid for the product, not and the tax and the interest on the credit card I get slow about paying -- my economic situation would be so much better. Or, so I thought as I rode my motorcycle to work. Just take away taxing everything and it would mean I get to spend and invest more of my work in caring for me and those I love.

The first comment is without taxes the government can't exist and take care of the stuff it does -- which isn't exactly true but almost. I see a government that could make, print, create more dollars depending on the economy - when it expands and contracts. Just a thought.

And about the banks charging interest on consumer spending, smarter consumers and they will die on the vine - the cards are convenient, but the interest rate is terrible and for consumption just not the way to pay on time - you are paying for that Big Mack and fries long after they gone from your system...

Aren't you glad I am not helping the Treasury Department fix the current Crisis - I have already declared it a raid on the pockets of working Americans, by those that want theirs NOW.

Yeah, AWOL... all my get up and go ... went!

I woke up tired Thursday, and all the blog crawling in the world wasn't getting my blood pressure, heart rate nor attitude up, I was almost a member of the walking dead but I was so tired I didn't even walk to the dock - I rode like a sack of potatoes the bus. I did open the doors, did turn on the computers but I was not really in attendance at work so I decided to take Friday off of the hamster wheel and rest. President Obama won't notice, my taxes are filed and my assault weapons are only in his mind.

I have my wife's garden to turn the soil, add compost to and rake out a bit. I have to renew my concealed carry at the Courthouse (where I must turn in my pistol for safe keeping while I am there - but the Police Sergeant says his men will protect us all - and I believed him until he asked for my knife). I have to do some monetary fund transfers at the bank, pay some bills, buy fuel for the Caravan. I have to get a red sweatshirt, document protectors for three ring binders for my Appleseed Instruction material and schedules. I need to stop at two gun shops for a check on a scope for the Model 70, and possible National match sights for the Garand. I should exercise lightly after my devotions and hit the road for some time with Nature and sweating. And if I do it all right and correctly I will go back to reading The 47th Samurai by Stephen Hunter. I caught back up on Battlestar Gallactica last night but then I really didn't since I have whole seasons of strange relationships between friends lovers and enemies I will never understand - still when they got down to Earth and found it radioactive and a wreck - I was finally able to see what happened to the cast of LOST and that beautiful island they had lived on so badly. Terminator VII will be so much better... if the Governator will just run out of term limits.

Having wandered to politics, remembering you can't force me to be better, braver nor beautiful, I give you what is wrong with America from Kevin's Corner The Smallest Minority , something to think about - but I like to remember it was my father and mother that are responsible for the fellow I am today - not Darwin, President Truman, Stalin nor Gary Cooper. See how quickly I prove I know what is important in my life... it isn't in the media.

Hope you all (y'all) have a chance for a real day off and time to sit over breakfast with ur signif othr and TALK. Lost arts in America: conversation, caressing the soul, romance, penmanship, spelling and grammar. Blog on!