That Crashing Sound

Even A Broken Clock Is Right Twice A Day

2010-12-29T20:17:00.000-08:00

Well, what do you know, First Financial Bank finally got it right. Or at least, so it seems for now. I had to call their toll-free customer service line, where I spoke with the delightful Debbie Raynor. I started the conversation by saying "I believe that you are the one who has the skill and the authority to correct the mistakes that all the others have made previously." I like to express my frustration with a positive twist! I told her the story of trying to close Derek's accounts, the fraudulent charges, the overdraft fees, the non-response of local managers who I had emailed. She listened carefully, viewed the transaction trail, and understood completely. I told her "If you can make all the fees disappear and close the account then Marcy and I would remain customers with our checking account." "Bless you," she replied. She had to put me on hold to OK the fee waiver with her manager but came back in a minute with the good word. She asked if she could call me shortly when it was all wrapped up but I said I really would like a letter to verify it. She agreed. I checked the account online the next day and it said "closed" with a zero balance, as it should. A few days later, the letter was delivered just as I requested. Debbie Raynor of First Financial Bank, kudos to you for your good customer service!

Today we received a form letter from First Financial Bank's local manager, the one I went to high school with, one of the two I emailed about the problem. The letter was to announce the closing of her branch, the one up by the old Walmart on the north part of Colerain. Corporations are so stupid - merge to grow, disrupt service, disrupt employees' lives, realize the have too many branches and redundant employees, close branches and screw up employees's live by eliminating jobs.

Join a local credit union. That way you are a member, not a pesky customer, and you get to vote on management.

Why Do They Call Them "Banks"?

2010-12-08T21:36:00.000-08:00

In his book Inferno, Dante places bankers in the inner ring of the seventh circle of hell, along with blasphemers and sodomites. They sit in flaming sand with fiery flakes raining from the sky. And these are your standard bankers, mind you - those who commit outright fraud are relegated to the eighth circle. Not judging, just saying. I'm not making this stuff up.

Oh yeah, why do they call them banks? Because they put you on the verge of jumping in the river? (Too cold for that today.) After yesterday's post, Fifth Third called again as if on cue. Wonder if they read this blog? The call always begins with a disclaimer that it may be recorded so I asked if it was OK if I recorded too, and they said that was OK. But I didn't actually record it - this is typed from my memory.

5/3: Is the address of the property xxxxxxxx?

ME: Yes.

5/3: Is that the mailing address?

ME: Yes.

5/3: And do you live there?

ME: For now.

5/3: Do you have a cell phone number?

ME: No.

5/3: Work number or other alternate number?

ME: I'm lucky to be able to talk to you on this one.

5/3: Why's that?

ME: Because I'm broke.

5/3: Oh, I know how that is.

ME: Someday you may know.

5/3: No, really, I was unemployed for six months one time, it was terrible. What's your occupation?

ME: Unemployed.

5/3: Oh, I'm sorry. For how long?

ME: Three years plus.

5:/3 And why haven't you been able to pay your mortgage?

ME: Because my wife had a stroke and my job was eliminated and my unemployment benefits ran out and our business collapsed and without health insurance her health declined and we went bankrupt and now we're on welfare and I take care of her.

5/3: What kind of work did you do?

ME: Computer support, electronics repair.

5/3: OH, you should go see my friend Richard, he runs The Computer Factory up by LaRosa's, you know where it is? He said he was looking for somebody, maybe part time. You could earn a little money for some pop or juice, maybe get your wife something she likes.

ME: Or pay my phone bill so you can keep calling me......but thanks....Thank you for trying to help.

5/3: Now Let's see, your file says you are on our forebearance plan and you missed your first payment which was scheduled for December 5th. But it says, the amount was supposed to be zero. I don't understand.

ME: Then you can imagine how I must feel.

5/3: Uh, yeah. Uh, I'll put a hold on this so nobody calls you for like a week, OK? And we'll look into this and try to get it sorted out, OK?

ME: OK, and again, thanks for that information.

5/3: You're welcome, I hope you find something soon and I hope your wife gets better.

It's so strange to encounter humans who are in the grip of the machine. They offer cheerfulness and positive thinking as they tell you your job has been eliminated or that you are on the verge of being kicked out of your home. I feel sorry for people who have to do that, far more sorry for them than for myself.

Pearl Harbor Day For Banks!

2010-12-07T09:37:00.000-08:00

Like a plague of locusts, banks are eating our wealth. Excessive fees for bad service. Why do we put up with banks? Here is one of our recent beefs with banks:

11/26/2010 Pre auth DIS*DISNEY MOVIE CLUB LOC: 800-362-4587 CA -1.00 -36.00

11/29/2010 Overdraft Fee -34.00 -35.00

11/29/2010 DBT CRD 0449 11/30/10 22000660 MVQ*CREDSCORECOMPLETE 800-316-8750 CT Card# **0847 -1.00 -1.00

Dear Ms. Phoebe and Ms. Aleda - Please help me clear up problems with my son Derek's account (Ckg 3958) with First Financial. The first difficulty began when he turned 18 in September and we wanted to change him from minor account under our name to his own adult account. A manager at the Mt. Healthy branch, a nice shaven-headed gentleman, tried to make the changes for Derek, but all it seemed to do was disable his ATM access. He became frustrated and made his own adult decision to open an account at another bank. I went with him on Nov. 1 to the Springdale Road branch and he withdrew the remaining $1.51 from his account and we requested that all his accounts with First Financial be closed. He cut up his debit card.

Derek recently tried to purchase a book from Amazon.com and it slipped his mind that he had changed banks until Amazon (which stores the most recently used bank information) told him the purchase was declined. He corrected his bank info and completed his book purchase. Later we got a phone alert from Visa fraud protection services alerting us to the declined purchase, and that is proper. However, they also said there was an attempted purchase of some "GLP Acai Nutrition" product which Derek had never heard of. Then I went to look at our account online and saw that Derek's account was still listed and had been debited for Disney Movie Club and also Credit Score Complete, resulting in an overdraft and the ensuing overdraft fee. You may recall Derek's "metal" fashion style - he is not the "Disney" type at all, and we have no knowledge of the Credit Score charge either.

Can you please investigate possible fraudulent activity or "hacking" of Derek's account? We would like your assurance that his accounts are truly closed and the overdraft fee waived. Thanks so much for your attention to this issue.

I actually went to high school with one of the managers that the above email was addressed to. No reply yet. And to continue the irritation, Derek found that his new bank - US Bank - charged him about $78 for doing too many funds transfers within an arbitrary time period.

What can we do about banks? Vote with your money. Take your business to a credit union, where you are not just a customer, you're a member, and you get to vote on management!

If life gives you locusts, make locust-ade? They aren't bad roasted. Crunchy, high protein. Come on, you probably eat crab, basically an undersea spider, or shrimp, which the Old Testament calls an abomination, same as homosexuality. I'm not judging, just saying.

But those banks...I was helping Marcy get in the shower when the phone rang, and caller ID said Fifth Third Bank. Better grab it, could be progress in preventing foreclosure via one of those Making Home Affordable / Save The Dream / Restoring Stability We'll Take Anything We Can Get programs that we've been working through since we haven't had the money to make mortgage payments. We didn't qualify for refinancing because our bankruptcy earlier this year wrecked our credit score (or as I fondly call it, our cancer score) which means they would give us a higher interest rate, not lower. After that, they turned us down for a mortgage modification, basically for the lame excuse that I've been unemployed for three years and have no income. So picky! So after the disclaimer that the call may be recorded, here is the gist of the conversation:

5/3: "You've been put on the forebearance plan, how's that working out for you?"

ME: "I saw you sent us a letter about that a couple of days ago but I haven't had a chance to analyze it or run it past a lawyer or even a realtor, so I don't know how I should respond."

5/3: "There's no need for that, it's simply that since you are in breach, the bank is giving you some time to come up with the money."

ME: "Breach, that's a new term for me. Lawyers and bankers often use special words that have different meanings from the way normal people would use them in everyday conversation."

5/3: "Breach simply means you have not paid your mortgage like you agreed to. So how's that forebearance working out for you?"

ME: "You keep asking me how the forebearance is working out for me. Is that just part of your script or is there some legal consequence to my response?"

5/3: "It doesn't make any legal difference, it's just that you now have about three months to come up with the money and we want to make sure you use your time wisely."

ME: "!!!!!!...What do you mean use my time wisely?! Do you think I've been playing tiddlywinks or having picnics?! I've been looking for a job for three years now while wrapping up a collapsed business and trying to make sure my disabled wife and our son get the care they need! How do you think I could use my time any more wisely/"

5/3: "Sorry about your difficulties"..."didn't mean to imply"..."hope something comes up so that you can make your payment before time runs out."

So let's light a fire under their butts. (Hey Lili, check out the pattern of the fire ring.) Soccer star Eric Cantona, who internationally is on a par (haha) with Tiger Woods or Michael Jordan as far as sports fame, is promoting the idea of everybody withdrawing all their money from the banks on December 7. Happy Pearl Harbor Day, evil banksters!

Beautiful Decay

2010-12-04T21:18:00.000-08:00

So, with Alzheimer's on the increase, scientists are studying what gives us our sense of self. Contrary to the typically American attitude that our work defines us, it looks more like an idle brain is the self's workshop. Gotta fill people's time with jobs, volunteer work, school, or extracurricular activities, otherwise folks might have a chance to figure out who they really are. Might be dangerous, might not blend in with the herd.

I suppose that the photos I take show my appreciation for the beauty that sometimes results from decay. Humans tend to muck things up or create clutter, overcomplexificating the world. I really enjoyed a show on the History Channel titled Life After People. Check it out, because things fall apart, the center cannot hold.

The city of Detroit is blighted and rusted out like an old Ford so they're gonna bulldoze about a quarter of the town and turn it back into farmland. They're even planning to raze Mitt Romney's boyhood home because it's an eyesore and a money pit. There's a magazine for everything - Urban Farm Magazine.

Tickled Pink at Ted & Katrina's Pool Party

2010-11-23T12:25:00.000-08:00

Ladies and gentlemen, Tickled Pink.

Scott Covrett

Bob Nyswonger

Rick "Bam" Powell

Homegrown's allright with me too, Ted.

Thanks to Ted & Katrina for a great time with super entertainment from Tickled Pink!

Corroded Trust

2010-11-22T19:06:00.000-08:00

Five years ago, a couple paid cash for a home in Florida, then this year Bank Of America seized the house, removed their belongings, and changed the locks. Jackasses had the wrong address on some foreclosure documents and couldn't be convinced otherwise. Lawsuit time! Do you think that's bad? Just getting warmed up - Bloomberg reports that BoA laundered money for Mexican drug gangs. I haven't heard of anybody going to jail over that, have you? Charles Hugh Smith states on his excellent Of Two Minds blog, "The bitter truth is that the nation's Financial Power Elites are not constrained by rule of law, and as a result of this revelation Americans' trust in their government and political class has been shattered."

I've been trying to write a song - I can imagine David Coverdale of Deep Purple & White Snake wailing it - that starts "My cholesterol is higher than my credit score." But I recently found out that can't be true, because my total cholesterol is only 205 (just a tad high), while credit scores for some reason start at a low of 300. You can check your credit score for free. It's the one our official bankruptcy counselor referred us to, so it's as legit as it can be. But I'm turned off now by the whole concept of credit score. Didn't credit in excess put us all in this whole big economic mess we're in? Why would I want to go into debt again? I have begun to think of it more as a cancer score. Who wants a high cancer score? John Matarese of WCPO-TV has some suggestions for improving your credit score and I really question the wisdom of it all. No, that's too polite - it's stupid and I say screw it! And if an employer wants to check my credit score as a condition of employment, then I don't want to work for them. In fact, I would like to see such employers be put out of business. Ditto for employers who say "Unemployed need not apply." Companies that do that should be named and shamed and we can make the choice to punish them with our spending choices.

Car Trouble With A Baby Chaser

2010-11-16T13:18:00.000-08:00

I don't think there is anything I hate more than car trouble.

We had kept awesome grand-daughter Logan overnight.

Then it was time to take Derek to his last driving class.

We loaded Logan into her car seat, with a bottle packed for after we dropped Derek off.

She picked that time to be hungry, and the van picked that time to not start.

She is such a good baby but I never heard such crying from her, and poor Derek was trapped next to her, baby wailing next to him and the class clock ticking in his head. We gave up on the van and took her inside and fed her.

We called AAA (great investment!) for a tow to Bob's Colerain Tire (great service!) and called the driving school to see what they could do for Derek. Well, what do ya know, they had a power failure and cancelled class that night!

Friday Clearance On Pics & Links

2010-11-13T15:46:00.000-08:00

Dark Reflections

The system just isn't working for us any more. Tension, frustration - people take action or just run away. A Washington State University student hacks into computers with a call to action like V For Vendetta. A man beats the crap out of a priest who molested him as a child. More power to him, take it all the way to the top. Half the population of a small town turns out to stop those Westboro Baptist Church idiots from disrupting a fallen soldier's funeral with their "God Hates Fags" nonsense. I would love to see a veterans group or some patriotic bikers do whatever it takes to "educate" those jackasses to show proper respect to a family mourning a flag-draped coffin.

Yup, that's our old bar in the background of the picture above. It went on the sheriff's auction block last week. The appraised value was less than half what we paid for the whole business less than 5 years ago.

A groundswell of discontent is growing like...well, like mold on yogurt. "Revolt Against TSA" has become a top search term on Google this week. Flyers' are forced to choose between a scanner that shows you naked or an intimate grope, and that's just too intrusive. Pilots say that being fondled in public while in uniform is an affront to their precious dignity, but the do have a good point when they say the scanner is a dangerous additional radiation exposure, which is already high due to all that time they spend at high altitude. It's true - us folks who worked at Fernald learned that in radiation training. But that's a labor union vs. government "security" thing so we'll see how that flies, haha. I wouldn't fly on a commercial airline even if I could afford it. Are y'all gonna put up with it? Some people are talking about putting up some resistance during the big upcoming Thanksgiving travel period.

And away they all flew like the down on a thistle. Maybe somebody is laying the groundwork for selling airline stock short, the way it happened just before 9/11. The Fat Cats feel entitled to "make a killing" using insider trading info. We can pool our resources and make them feel our influence as well. Max Keiser says "Buy a silver coin, destroy J.P Morgan." One commenter suggested maxing out your credit card buying silver and then not paying the (unsecured) credit card bill, a double whammy. Another person devised a plan for the people to take direct action against the banksters in "How To Destroy A Bank."

Once you get started on such a path, don't turn back because everything is pointed against you. You may feel small and lonely, but you are not alone. We have strength in numbers. But some people are ready to play rougher still. On the right, a Republican Congressional chief of staff threatens to use bullets if ballots don't work. On the left, a political cartoonist says to prepare for revolution and has a book about it. But regular folks like us have to remember that right/left/black/white/brown/male/female are just ways we get divided and conquered by the 1% elite who own the plantation that we are forced to toil upon like a banana republic. Many realize that the left-right paradigm is over: it's you vs. corporations. The Second American Revolution could be an all-out class war.

I don't expect a soft landing. But come on, senator Mitch McConnell's admitted goal is for Obama to be a one-term prez - inaction is the best we can hope for. Let things fall to crap and blame Obama. But like I always say, the republicrats are like two pro wrestlers who roar and throw each other around then retreat backstage and take their cut of our money and pass the lion's share to their masters. Sometimes it even reminds me of Battle at Kruger, two species of predator squabbling over who gets to eat our babies.

Light at the end of the tunnel? Yes, maybe scuffed and dirty but we'll make it.

OMEB Halloween at Bobby Mackey's

2010-11-10T10:45:00.000-08:00

This old mechanical bull at Bobby Mackey's has thrown many a cowboy wanna-be over the years. We saw a few get tossed on Halloween night, one more worried about his hat than his ride. Normally we wouldn't roam down to Wilder, Kentucky, just to visit a haunted honky-tonk since we used to own one ourselves. However, our buddy Mike Carr, who performs as OMEB: One Man Electrical Band has made an unholy alliance with old Bobby, culminating in a FREE Halloween show to taunt the spirits into extra activity for the tours of Mackey's basement, mouth of Hell and all.

We got there early for a good seat and enjoyed karaoke and line dancing hosted by Miss Wanda Kay the DJ and gift shop keeper. She even had authored a book about the paranormal activities there, for sale in the shop. Mikey debuted his new CD, "OMEB, Bloody OMEB" and also sold raffle tickets for a nice guitar to raise money for the late Ronnie James Dio's Stand Up And Shout cancer fund (click Dio's link to donate).

For those who have never seen OMEB, here's the deal. He used to be in a band but grew weary of the hassle of dealing with 3-4 other guys and all the complications. You know how us rockers can be! So he began recording all the backing parts - drums, bass, keyboards, harmony vocals, etc. - and loaded the results into his laptop. In his live performances, his laptop delivers the backing tracks, just like karaoke but of his own making, and he plays guitar live and sings live and feeds it through his PA system. Add the evil clown and light show and you've got some real rock entertainment!

Mike covers a lot of tasty metal tunes from Metallica, Guns n Roses, Pink Floyd, System Of A Down and such. With the new Bobby Mackey alliance, he cover's Bobby's song "Johanna" about the restless spirit of a young woman who used to work there but ended in tragedy. It really works, since country and rock have ancestors in common (Elvis, Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins, etc.). Ditto for a new song they do together called "Rockin' The Country." Get out sometime and see OMEB play and visit Bobby Mackey's. Tour the basement if you dare!

Comments On Canning

2010-11-07T18:52:00.000-08:00

My online buddy Tommy runs the Freedom Guerilla blog. He's an interesting guy who has worked for the forest service out West and got a medal from the Coast Guard for his involvement with the rescue effort when that jet landed in the Hudson River. Now he is learning metal work and teaching at-risk NYC school kids how to garden. He's not one to sit on his butt and pontificate. A while back he did a post about how canning the food you grow is an essential part of self-reliance. I added my comments about it there but I would also like to capture them here, just for my records.

Great post, Tommy! It touches off a string of memories… I was lucky to grow up in the country, not on a farm but surrounded by them, with enough of a yard for quite a large garden. One of my earliest memories is helping Dad plant tomatoes, then watching him use what he called a push-plow to make rows in which he planted beans & corn. We always ate the tomotoes & corn fresh, never canned them, but beans, yes, and as you say, a community event. I can picture my mom and her mom (Nannie) and maybe an aunt or neighbor or two, all settled in those folding aluminum lawn chairs, the kind that can snap a kid’s finger off, under the shade of that huge ash tree in the back yard. Several brown paper grocery bags, the tops cuffed over for easy access, would be distributed, brimming with fresh picked green beans. The women would commence to stringin’ and snappin’ the beans, all the while discussing family history & relations, or maybe what some of the folks at church were up to. I would most likely be nearby on a blanket applying calamine lotion to the many chigger bites I got from being primary bean-picker. They tended to cluster around the underwear elastic, occaisionally making it past that tightie-whitie bearier.

After the women finished prepping, the canning process took place. I remember lots of steam as the empty jars were sterilized then filled with raw beans. Was there a pressure cooker involved somewhere? I recall that it was treated as something as potentially dangerous as a nuclear reactor. We had to lay in front of the fan to cool off, never had AC. Quite a process, but in mid-winter mom could pull out a mason jar, unscrew the ring and pry up that lid with a “toink!” of the vacuum seal opening. Heat ‘em up, no butter – Nannie had a special little kitchen cannister embossed with the title “bacon grease” and kept on the stove top. Yum!

Friday Clearance On Pics & Links

2010-11-05T10:31:00.000-07:00

"Remember, remember the fifth of November." Maybe you know this quote from the movie "V For Vendetta," an entertaining film from The Wachowskis, who also brought us "The Matrix." While you may not agree with the politics or the motivations of the characters in the stories, both films are required viewing for the modern freedom lover. The reason I mention "V" today is that it hinges on the historical story of Guy Fawkes. It's a tale of religious dogma made law by a tyrannical monarch, weapons of mass destruction, confessions extracted by torture, unfair trials, cruel and unusual punishments. Quite fascinating, and today is the anniversary. Read up on it if you can, or at least watch "V For Vendetta" tonight.

Come on, you're smart enough to recognise a trap when you see one. You can think for yourself. It's OK to check what Al Jazeera is reporting to the rest of the world. Read it with the same skepticism and critical-thinking skills that you would use with Fox News. I don't believe anything I hear or read, and only about half of what I see with my own eyes.

I'm currently re-reading one of my favorite books - William Least Heat-Moon's Blue Higways. It's about his travels around America's back roads, avoiding cities and interstate highways. That's where real people live. You should explore America's Byways.

I don't know why but this cockleburr pic reminds me of our new friends Nan & Eric's asparagus farm. They are some really nice folks, friends of our friend Dr. Dan.

Thanks to all who look and read, gratitude to those who comment, and much appreciation to those special few who spread the word about my blog!

Like A Fox...

2010-11-04T20:58:00.000-07:00

Grand-daughter Logan, my favorite redhead in the multiverse, paid us a visit. Four months old now and doing great, standing (with help), trying to hold her bottle, babbling and squealing like a little monkeybird.

Speaking of redheads, Marcy & I saw a fox yesterday. We had dropped Derek off at Stanley's Driving School and had camped out just a bit down Bridgetown Road at Zen and Now Coffee Shop to spend time rather than make multiple trips. We were heading back to pick him up, waiting for the light to change at the intersection of Glenway, Bridgetown, and Race when out of the corner of my eye I spotted the critter running in front of the car wash there. Big bushy tail as large as its body streaming behind as it scampered on those skinny legs, pointy snout leading the way. "Holy crap, it's a fox! Look quick Marcy!" It ran around the car wash into a parking lot behind the adjacent building and paused there. The light changed and we had to move with the rush-hour traffic. We picked Derek up and then we saw a deer on the way home, but we really expected that one, because we take the back roads that skirt around Mt. Airy Forest and it was getting dusky and in early November. It was a doe starting to dart from the brush at the side of the road, probably being wooed by a randy buck. I was hyper-alert and honked the horn and she reversed back into the woods.

Signs, portents and omens surround us. I've been remembering a lot of dreams lately, too. Last week in "reality" we got a letter from the bank that notified us that we were too broke to qualify for a mortgage modification via the Making Home Affordable program. No surprise, really, we're just working through all the steps of the program as a delaying tactic. That night I dreamed that I was in a car that I used to own, somehow perched on a window ledge high in the Fifth Third Bank building. In my dream I considered jumping from my precariously balanced car to a nearby structure, a pipe or something, but it was just too far, too high to risk the long fall. Then someone, maybe Derek, appeared in the car with me and somehow drove it from the bank building to safety. What the heck does that mean? Last night in "reality" I stayed up late and rewrote my resume and applied for a job at Children's Hospital. I went to sleep and dreamed that a nurse wanted to take my temperature so she stuck an old-fashioned mercury thermometer in my mouth, but it was cracked and it shattered inside my mouth. In my dream I was carefully spitting shards of glass and gobs of quicksilver into a safe container, carefully working the razor-sharp shards one by one from under my tongue and from between my cheeks and gums, uninjured and unpoisoned.

Better or Worse?

2010-10-26T18:56:00.000-07:00

So thanks to our State of Ohio social safety net of welfare I was able to get an eye exam. I picked the doctor out of the provider directory because he had the same name as Deep Purple's bass player back in the Seventies and the office was close by. When you look through this machine they flip different lense combinations back and forth and ask "Better or worse?" until it gets so close you can hardly tell the difference. It makes me think of all the political ads that are infesting TV lately. Better or worse? A thief or a creep? A Commie or a Nazi? I want more choices, or even a "None of the above" selection.

They put drops in the eyes to dilate the pupils so they can look inside. It makes you very light-sensitive so they give you a little sunglass panel to help shield the peepers. It takes a long while for the dilation to wear off and it was a beautiful sunny day. Women used to do the same thing with belladonna (deadly nightshade) so their eyes would be big, dark, and beautiful. I'm not sure if they used the same stuff on me or not.

By the way, a couple of days later I also got a colonoscopy but I left my camera in my pants in the locker, plus I was narcotized/sedated, so no pics. But they tell me it was something like this. Except they didn't find any gerbil adventures, nor polyps neither, just a bit of diverticulosis. That's right, I got me some pouchy chitlins. I need less stress, more fiber.

Friday Clearance On Pics & Links

2010-10-22T09:32:00.000-07:00

Greetings, my friends! Once again I'm devoting Friday's post to clearing out my photo archive and Favorites list. Here's one for my good friend Lili, who posts over on FEARLESS NESTING. (Hey the pic reminds me of her white pumpkins!) It's the 10 in 10 Diet.

The 10 in 10 Diet is a total system that makes it easy to transition off meat and cook healthy food conveniently while keeping your grocery bill under $150 a month per person, and reducing our contribution to climate change – think 10% reduction by remembering these 10 key points. It's a way to fast track to a simpler, more peaceful life. It's totally possible to really enjoy food while eating more like the majority of people in the world.

Too many people live just the way the Fat Cats & Corporations want them to live. To live they way you want, you have to be as self-reliant as possible. Check out Adventures In Self Reliance for some neat do-it-yourself projects, especially the food. She has a recipe for Homemade Survival Bars that sounds pretty good, plus fruit leather and such.

You can see what nature thinks of fences. Robert Frost's poem said "good fences make good neighbors" but he seemed not to agree with his own poem's character who said it. I feel the same. I haven't really been all that fond of neighbors since I moved out of Mom & Dad's place next door to Nanny & Grandy, and there was no fence betwixt. Now, I've been called all kinds of hippy and anarchist for my views on property but my old pal George Carlin reminds us that we all need a place for our stuff. He says if we didn't have so much stuff we could just walk around. I got too much stuff - do you need any of it?

Did you ever feel that life was sending you coded message? Ones and zeroes? Just me, huh? It figures. If your Adobe Flash Player app seems hard to decipher you can get help, and make sure to protect your privacy and security. You can also get lots of help with your Bleeping Computer. Vigilant Citizen deciphers the occult symbols in modern buildings, songs, videos, and movies.

I'm not sure what my little friend here is up to but you can Enhance Beneficial Insects With Native Plants, highly recommended by my bee-keeping friend, Dr. Dan. Maybe I can identify the little guy with Discover Life, a tool that has over a million and a quarter species pages. There is also a huge amount of material at Encyclopedia Of Life.

Meet my friend Horace Wyche. When I first met him he was a pretty skinny dude, then he made the decision to get fit. He can help you do the same with his Hoss Innovative Fitness Training.

Injury report update

2010-10-18T06:33:00.000-07:00

So-called legitimate journalists hate bloggers and belittle us at every opportunity, saying we lack credibility. Therefore, I want to counter that and give you a news update on the young woman who fell in the fire when my band played 2 weeks ago. As a reminder, I was singing on stage and happened to be looking right at her as she toppled backwards into the bonfire. As a matter of fact, I was singing at the same place this past Saturday night and I flubbed the lyric because I flashed back to the image of her falling! Initial eyewitness reports said her hands were dripping burned flesh like a melted candle. That perception may have been a bit distorted by the excitement of the moment. A reliable source tells me that her name is Amy M and she suffered second degree burns to her hands but also broke her wrist, requiring a couple of pins to hold it together. Kudos to Paul F who was standing close by and wrenched his back when he quickly yanked the fallen Amy from the bed of hot coals. Way to go Paul!

Friday Clearance on Pics & Links

2010-10-15T22:34:00.000-07:00

I have such an archive of photos that I'd like to share and an overcluttered Favorites collection in my web browser that I'm going to post a clearance, hopefully each Friday if I can be disciplined. Hey, it could happen!

I don't get how people are nostalgic for the Reagan years. He fulfilled my college economics professor's prediction that he could not both cut spending and reduce taxes, thereby tripling, maybe even quadrupling the national debt. You call that conservative? Hmmm. More like setting us on the road to debt slavery. And what about the treasonous conspiracy that became known as the Iran-Contra Affair? Selling weapons to Iran through Israeli intermediaries? That just shows you that those people are loyal only to money and power and just use patriotism as a mask in public. They even dealt drugs to fund their adventures while cracking down on Americans with their empty "Just Say No" sloganeering, pushing for drug testing to get a decent job, and putting many more people under government control by jail, parole, and probation. Such hypocrites! Such massive corruption!I can't believe those people are still walking around free! People may not realize that there hasn't always been a middle class. Labor unions have been an important tool for working people to better their lives, at least until the labor leaders became Fat Cats themselves. Even though old Ron was big in the union when he was an actor, he struck a blow against working people when he broke the air-traffic controllers strike. Reagan proved to be a tool of the Fat Cats. He sold us out in favor of the elite: "Mission Accomplished."

So our power seems to have been handed over to Big Brother and our wealth seems to have been shovelled into the coffers of the elite super-rich. But they only take good enough care of us to drain us further. All us peasants have to join up and show our masters that we don't need them.

"5 Doomsday Scenarios For The U.S. Economy" was posted in early September and already seems a bit out of date as the foreclosure fraud scandal grows, currency wars loom, and jobs are still scarce.

I first started this blog with the tagline saying "That Crashing Sound is the collapse of the middle class, or maybe it's just me" thinking that I was firmly in that group. As I studied it more, it looked as if the party was over before I got there. People can't even agree on what "middle class" means, it's such a wide range of income and social indicators. Here are 6 Signs That You've Made It To Middle Class. Do you fit in? Remember, a mortgage is debt, not ownership. And don't get too comfortable: here are 22 Statistics That Prove That The Middle Class Is Being Systematically Wiped Out Of Existence In America. I feel so wonderful at being validated!

There is a new word in our language: 99er, meaning someone who has exhausted all 99 weeks of unemployment benefits with no more extensions. You may hear news reports of a drop in unemployment, which ignores these people. Perhaps even worse you may hear the newsreaders say these people have given up looking for a job. And in related news, here are the 2009 Federal Poverty Guidelines. How does your income compare?

The super-rich people have been buying gold literally by the ton, abandoning the stock market to computers doing high-frequency trading, as much as 70% of all trading volume, getting price information 30 milliseconds before the rest of us and making profits on the tiniest of changes regardless of the value of the stock, while us peons are told to buy and hold for the long term. Glitches in this system have also spawned a new term in our language: Flash Crash. Savings accounts used to be the way to go until they crippled them to give practically no return on investment. This was done to force us to take risks in the stock market. We have no security net for those risks. The big players get their bailouts. Socialized loss, privatized gain. That's the real transfer of wealth that people should be worried about. Oh yeah, this happened under the Bush regime but Obama seems no different. Another tool of the elite.

Health Care At Last!

2010-10-11T14:16:00.000-07:00

So we're finally broke enough to get welfare. I've had zero medical care since corporate America chewed me up and shat me out about three years ago. I've had zero infectious disease since I've not been cooped up in an office breathing other people's air, touching other people's keyboards, or sharing cells in a call center. But now we're covered and we're catching up on those over-fifty type things we're supposed to worry about. Dig that generationally appropriate Bugs Bunny bandaid I'm sporting. Nobody ever messed with Bugs without paying a heavy price. Mel Blanc, one of the most under-rated actors ever. Anyway, they gave me a tetanus shot and threw in an adult pertussis booster, since we have baby Logan in the house. My arm swelled up like Popeye and I felt kinda crappy for a couple of days. I did it for little Peewee!

Speak of the devil! That child loves to be nakey. I don't know where she gets it ;-) Logan recently had her 3-month checkup, can you believe it? Her growth is in the 80th percentile for girls her age. She's doing great, learning to coo and starting to roll over, switched to soy formula and gulping it 6 ounces at a pop. We'll do a feature on Logan and relatives again soon.

This is the view of Clifton from the window of Good Samaritan hospital where Marcy had her colonoscopy. They snipped out one polyp and the biopsy came back OK. She also had a mammogram at Mercy Mt. Airy. They had some concern about one of the images so they called her back for a retake. After a closer look they decided it was granular tissue, not to worry. Marcy goes back to her doctor later this month for a followup.

OK, back to yours truly. My blood pressure had been reading pretty high at those machines in Kroger and the doctor verified that. They did an electrocardiogram in the office and showed me a big spike on one of the charts that was about twice as big as they like to see. They said it was a sign of left ventricular hypertrophy, basically an enlargement of part of my heart from pumping against that untreated high blood pressure all this time. To determine the extent of the enlargement, they sent me to Mercy Fairfield for an echocardiogram of my heart. I had seen sonograms of Logan in utero, and this was pretty much the same. They even have a doppler funtion that can shade different directions of blood flow red and blue to make sure the valves are working properly. Really neat. I guess I'll get the results when I go back to my doc later this month. By the way, my doc prescribed lisinopril for the high blood pressure, and it seems to be working well. The Kroger machine recently said about 104/74, the lowest reading I can remember in my life!

After the echocardiogram I figured I had fasted long enough so I stopped back in the doctor's office to have blood drawn for my lipid profile. From my own past tests and current family conditions I expected my cholesterol and/or triglycerides to read high. I've even been trying to write a song, "My Cholesterol Is Higher Than My Credit Score," but my doc called and said it was fine. Must be from eating lots of olive oil, avocados, nuts, whole grains, and sushi. I still need to get the numbers when I go back so I can compare to my credit score, just for kicks. I also have appointments scheduled for an eye exam and my own colonoscopy - I can't wait! I'll keep you posted.

Fantasy at Pier 27

2010-10-04T23:16:00.000-07:00

So it was Homecoming Weekend for Ross Senior High School, time to get back together with the guys and dust off those old classic rock songs for a gig at Pier 27 (formerly The Farm).

We've all known each other since the mid-Seventies and played in various combinations together in various bands. We played under the name "Fantasy" for this job. I never was acually a member of Fantasy back in the day, but it holds some dear memories for some of the guys and they hoped the name would be recognized, so I was cool with it. Left to right that's Randy Campbell, Ron Gray, me, Paul Roberts, and Mike Sawyers.

We played outside on a cold and damp night, so I layered the turtleneck & silk shirt & leather vest and was comfortable. The hair helps. I got more hair in my ears than some of the guys have on their noggins. The rest of the guys who actually play instruments had those little chemical-pack hand warmers to keep their hands ready for action.

You may notice I had a little podium thing off to the side for the song list and some of the lyrics. They say the whatchamacallit is the first thing to go. I guess we're all a bit long in the tooth. Much of our conversation at band practice pertains to arthroscopic surgery and blood pressure medication and such. Old Grandpa has still got it though!

Paul & Mike, guitar duel. Foghat maybe?

Referee Randy is ready to blow the whistle on Ronnie for a tempo violation.

Mike broke a string about three songs into the performance. Doh! Had to grab his spare guitar.

It was a fun night but at one point as I was singing Grand Funk's "Closer To Home (I'm Your Captain)", I looked out into the crowd and witnessed a woman toppling backward into the firepit, her hands naturally plunging into the blazing hot bed of coals and her hair catching fire. The people nearby yanked her out at once and she ran, probably to get some cold water on those hands, what was left of them. Somebody close by said he saw the burned flesh dripping off her hands like a melted candle. But of course, the band played on, and we soon heard the siren of an ambulance speeding to her aid. I hope she will be OK.

Hey, somebody filled Paul's glass guitar slide with tequila - better empty it so you can play that solo you got coming up...

That's Pauls daughter Tara getting a pic of her daddy jammin.

Go boys go! I'm behind the camera where I belong.

So I cut off Paul's head but he still rocks!

Lights are on but nobody home.

We shared the stage with some more Ross boys, Okeanas, known as southwest Ohio's premier roots-rock band. Any band named after my blessed little hometown had better be good, and yes they were.

Anderson State at Mad Frog

2010-09-28T03:29:00.000-07:00

We recently got (re)aquainted with Dan & Lisa Johnson on our visit with our mutual friends Dr. Dan & Rosario Johnson. Dan & Dr. Dan became close buddies in college. You can imagine the confusion. Dan & Lisa now have two sons around college age who play in an aspiring band called Anderson State. This is a big night for them - playing at Mad Frog, breaking into that University of Cincinnati market. When we were college age, there was a bar on that hill in the picture, called at that time Lighthouse Limited, at an earlier time Reflections (where some great classic rock bands such as Yes performed), and later called Primetime. In the background is the old St. George church. I believe it's steeples were blasted by lightning a few years ago.

This mural is inside Mad Frog. I'm such a nerd, I thought it was Ninja Turtles!

Let's just shut up and let these boys play, shall we?

Wait, there's a monkey...

2010-09-19T13:19:00.000-07:00

...I stand corrected. In the "About Me" section of this blog I used to say "Uninsured" but no more, as evidenced by my insurance card pictured above. We are still waiting for Marcy's insurance card but she does have her monthly Medicaid card with no spend-down. I actually had to schedule a state hearing against Hamilton County Job & Family Services (well, their call center agent practically dared me to do it) to get the answers we wanted. After I had the state hearing scheduled, Mr. K of HCJ&FS (but based at University Hospital, how about that?) called and said "Why'd you have to go and do that? You got your approval and I did you a favor by backdating coverage to Marcy's hospital stay last October." I said "I received the first approval letter back in April and after I selected her insurance carrier, somebody cancelled it and nobody will explain why, including the Section Chief Ms. C.G. who was supposed to call within 48 hours but failed to do so. Maybe I'll get my answers in the state hearing. If I get Marcy's insurance card, I'll cancel the hearing." Besides, Marcy and I have both been paying taxes since we were teenagers and neither of us expects our social services to be based on "favors", but upon need and following the rules. Well, I got a follow-up call from Mrs. Cottrell of HCJ&FS (also based at University Hospital). Mr. K must have asked her to talk me down to get him off the hook for the hearing. At first it seemed that she wanted to brush me off with a short call but I was calmly insistent ("you DO want to listen to me and sort this out and give me some answers, RIGHT?") so she spent about 45 minutes on the phone with me, about half of that time spent by her retracing the story in the computer system.

Yeah, what a tangled web we weave. Mrs. C told me a lot of technical details and rules about income levels and time periods and stays in hospital vs. nursing home vs. home that a case worker would use to make coverage decisions and I have to take her word for that. But here is my viewpoint: After we closed our business at the end of July 2009 I had to watch Marcy's health spiral downward because she refused to seek medical care that we could not pay for. I applied to HCJ&FS for assistance. Shortly after that she collapsed and had to be taken to University Hospital for a week in intensive care. I visited the financial assistance office there and they insisted on filing an additional application for assistance with HCJ&FS, knowing that I had already done so, claiming thay had some kind of inside track on getting us help. Marcy was then transferred to Veranda Gardens nursing home to build her strength and continue treatment for an infection she got in the hospital. Veranda Gardens financial office also insisted that the had some kind of inside track on getting us help and filed a THIRD application to HCJ&FS, knowing that I had already done so, as well as the hospital's action. Mrs. C commented that ideally these 3 cases all should have been assigned to just one case worker, but they were not. Apparently, the applications filed by University Hospital and Veranda Gardens were both approved and those two institutions were taken care of, and to my limited understanding we were never informed until now. I thought the case workers and the system were working on OUR behalf, silly me. We filed bankruptcy thinking we owed over $100,000 in medical bills. It may not have been necessary. Mrs. C said "These decisions do take some time. Maybe you can go back to your lawyer and have the bankruptcy court do it over." I guess I could run it by him but I have zero expectation of success. I did thank Mrs. C profusely for listening to me and for digging into the case history as she did. She has a few loose ends she said she is going to look into and follow up with me, and she suggested that I contact the Medicaid-related insurance carrier to verify Marcy's enrollment. I did that very thing and expect delivery of her insurance card this week. I called and cancelled the state hearing but I expect to speak with Mrs. C again. I still don't understand why we got a letter back in April telling us to pick an insurance carrier and then after we di it, coverage was denied. But our schedule is now filling up with doctor visits, mammograms, colonoscopies, dental exams, eye exams, dermatologist referrals, all the things that us over-50 people have to take care of.

The Pariahs at The Comet

2010-09-05T13:14:00.000-07:00

The Pariahs reunite for an annual show on singer Kevin Donahue's birthday. He's been extra-busy lately painting rental properties around the Clifton Gaslight district and campus area in anticipation of the fall influx of students. But there's always time for rock & roll! This year they played at long-time Northside favorite The Comet. We love it that The Comet has no cover charge!

Kevin paints other things besides apartment walls. I've seen some very interesting canvases covered in beatnik hieroglyphics. He uses animal bones in some pieces too.

Marcy remembers guitarist Bill Weber as a customer back when she tended bar at Daniels Pub.

I can't swear that Bill would remember that, though.

This is not Kevin's "sweetheart" face but he is a nice guy. He stepped up willing and able when we needed pallbearers at the funeral of Marcy's dad, George. Gosh, how long ago was that?

Pariah fans crowd in close.

Watch it, that blonde with the tat on her back is trouble waiting to happen.

Best to turn a blind eye sometimes.

Oh, are you still here? Not seeing ya.

Bill Weber twanging that Telecaster.

I didn't get to meet the bass player.

Kevin still wears that Iron Cross medallion.

It's the old "picture of a picture" trick.

I didn't catch that drummer's name either.

Kevin was also on the production staff of local rock 'zine called "imminent" back around 1992.

The man knows his garage/punk music.

Kevin reeks of attitude! I mean that in a good way.

Bill means business!

Kevin is calm before the storm.

Watch, this is how it's done.

"Once I get started, I go to town."

"I'm not like anybody else!!"

Best keep 'em at arms length. Hey, why are all those emergency vehicles flying past the window with sirens wailing?

Driving home, we find that all of College Hill is blocked off by police.

Cops for blocks.

We found that there was a big shoot-out at Shakers. Welcome to slumburbia.

...And Back Again

2010-08-29T21:22:00.000-07:00

One advantage of not running your home's central air conditioning is that you get to connect with the big world right outside your house. I heard the "scree-EEE" of the hawks and ran outside with the camera to squint teary eyed up into the bright sky to find these two spiraling upward on the day's first thermal updraft, probably from the pavement of our cul-de-sac. I think hawks are my spirit animals - I keep having encounters like Blood On The Snow and Raptor Synchronicity. But these two are the top of the food chain around here and are the terror of the neighborhood. You can hear the bluejays squawking their alert all the time. And I just realized that I haven't seen a lot of rabbits lately. There has been a lot a varied air traffic lately - different helicopters, some circling an area repeatedly, small single-prop planes, and one weird one that looked like a combination hang glider, dragster, and space shuttle.

We babysat for grand-daughter Logan quite a bit this week. I just love that baby! 8 Weeks old Friday. Feast your eyes.

There is nothing like a cute baby to get everyone in a positive attitude. At our last visit to Job & Family Services. I went in with Sarina to help get our various applications for assistance sorted out for all of us under one roof. We met with a very good case worker (bless you, Ms. C) who was able to get things on the right track and she asked for Dylan to come to her office as well. They worked on the application while I stood and did The Loving Grandpa role (what a stretch, eh?). The mood seemed so positive that I thanked her profusely and asked if she could look at Marcy's case while we were there.

Back in April we had received a letter from J&FS that said she had been approved for Medicaid for the Aged, Blind, or Disabled, and to call and enroll with an insurance carrier. I did that right away and then The System acted as if we had never gotten approval and never enrolled. No call center agent or case worker would acknowledge that we had been ever approved or why we were now denied. I would ask them to please explain the approval letter that I clutched in my paw and all they would tell me was the scripted response. I began to suspect that they were trying to provoke me into losing my cool so they could close the case permanently. I felt like a character in ~~a Kafka novel~~ one of those sci-fi movies with memory implant/erase like Total Recall.

She makes me laugh.

I must have somehow communicated my exasperation to one agent who stated that she was emailing the Section Chief and she is allowed by law to take up to 48 hours to contact us. She never called. I gave them one more "courtesy" call and said I wanted to give them one more chance to do their jobs without the State policing everything. Um, maybe not the most diplomatic thing to say but I said it politely, really in kind of a friendly "just between us folks" way. Needless to say, I ended up calling the State to get a hearing scheduled. But then...

The antidote to a toxic world!

...that's when I went with Sarina for her application just in case they needed info about our domestic situation. Case Worker "C." looked at the records, verified that my unemployment had run out, and assured me that I was not crazy: Marcy really had been approved for Medicaid back in April. And with the new domestic and financial status we were approved for everything. Everybody in the family, all 3 generations, will get medical coverage, food stamps, and cash assistance. Marcy and I both worked non-stop since our teens paying for these kinds of services, now we need them and use them, gratefully. Thank you! But I'll probably wait until I get the insurance card in my hand before I cancel that State hearing...

I don't know the meaning of the word "No."

Grandpa let Logan taste a mashed up banana for the first time last night. She seemed to like the taste but her mouth has to learn a non-nursing swallow.

Lips like Cupid

Love that chin...

You want some of these "guns" fool?

Grandpa's wearing me out teaching me how to roll over.

I sincerely believe in my Grandpa heart that molds of this beautiful child's face put on dolls would sell millions.

Last night Grandpa carried Logan outside and pointed up at a moving light in the sky and said, "Look baby, what's that light? It's the Space Station! There are people up there riding in it and looking down at us. Wave hi!" Then he said, "You gotta get used to grandpa - he might run you outside any old time, pointing at the sky or the ground and lecturing." In the distance we could hear the marching band play at the Mt. Healthy football game The International Space Station, with all solar panels and such extended, is about the size of a foot ball field. We see them as a dot of light - do they see the lights of Mt. Healthy Stadium at all?

Best Road Trip In Ages, Pt. 4, Conclusion

2010-08-23T11:29:00.000-07:00

Here's grand-daughter Logan with her Great-Aunt Rebekah. Who can resist the "I'm so cute" face?

Marcy and I woke that last morning, a Monday, at Dan & Rosario's knowing there would be more more partings later in addition to those who had to leave Sunday night. We had become attached and could not hurry ourselves to leave, although we had to in order to make it to an appointment at "the welfare office" Tuesday. We savor our remaining time as we prepare to leave, taking in all the sights & sounds & smells one more time.

The style-conscious moth says to the shell, "Love your colors, who's your designer?"

~ The Monarch March ~

So I walked up on the latter part of a conversation between Lisa J. and Eric the entomologist concerning monarch butterflies and what plants attract them. Eric stated that milkweed is their preferred food/habitat and that he had seen a stand of it along the two-lane highway near Dan's house. He announced that he was going to bring back a sample to show her. I invited myself along.

Shelf fungus

Milkweed

Eric spotted another inhabitant.

Eric takes samples of milkweed and finds a fallen monarch along the road.

I'd sure like to know what this is. Currant? Some related edible berry?

Marcy takes a good look.

~ End of The Monarch March ~

We hiked up Mount Johnson and found this beautiful specimen of fungus on a fallen log. The camera ran out of juice with no spare dilithium crystals.

The ritual fire stirrer. We'll carve the date at each gathering of the tribe.

Massive egg recall? Not my problem!

Tiger Swallowtail Butterflies attracted to Joe Pye Weed along the trail down Mount Johnson

Fairies watch over fallen St. Francis. Not sure if that bottle was involved.

Dan traded these elderberries for a bushel of beets from a local farmer he knows

Zucchini

This honey is not up to Dr. Dan's exacting standards of sweetness (he blames the Devil's Walking Stick nectar) so he's giving it back to the bees. Note the sticks for them to crawl on so they don't get too bogged down.

Here there be Salamanders in spring-fed purity.

Dr. Dan snubs the honey but I go at it like Winny-The-Pooh.

This is the head of Dr. Dan's femur bone. A ball joint in a Ball jar! He let me take a picture of his scar from the replacement surgery but I decline to post it in the name of decency ;-)

"I wish you guys could stay!"

This is the road by Dan & Rosario's home.

Gently sloping down out of the Alleghenies

The kind of store I like to see

The power grid leaves a scar

Are we near Three Mile Island?

That building & tower look a bit depreciated

We spent all day chasing the sun and still can't catch it on the glacial plains of Eastern Ohio. Where are we, Zanesville?

Mark has been at the helm all day, guiding the van homeward non-stop. Nice job Mark. It's nice to know it can still shoot the gap, even with the "service engine soon" light on. We arrived home after dark but the warm glow we felt from being with good people in a good place still remains even as I post this 2 weeks later.

Best Road Trip In Ages Pt.3

2010-08-18T21:09:00.000-07:00

So our third day away from home and we're really missing Logan, but we resist the urge to call home and check up on the kids. They have to learn to stand on their own, like little Logan is doing here. The previous night had brought a new noise which sounded like a military helicopter zooming past the window. Some of the gang is talking about going to town for the Sunday flea market. Marcy & I already have a flea market in our house so we opt to hang out at the Johnson home.

Dan & Rosario are both fans of Art Deco/Nouveau and have a lot of neat pieces around the house.

Rookwood, if I'm not mistaken.

Mark's peppers, grown in the soil of Shandon.

When I was a kid my dad worked for Diamond company up in Middletown, making wire-screen forms for these paper-pulp egg cartons. These eggs are nothing like the massive commercial egg recall I heard about on the news today. They are different sizes and colors, with rich yellow yolks. I met the chickens who laid these eggs and I saw the yard they run around in and eat from. They are not "Matrix Eggs". Raising chickens is very do-able. I bet someone near you has chickens and might trade you some eggs.

Everyone has gone to the flea market so Marcy enjoys some quiet time by the fire before we hit the shower.

And we enjoyed some quality time with Rosario.

She told us some great travel stories...

And she shared some photo albums with some great pics of Mayan Ruins and scuba diving and such. She and Dan are both certified to dive. That's fascinating!

"That sounds so nice..."

This is Eric Day, an entomologist at Virginia Tech. In addition to knowing his bugs, he is a member of the Virginia Christmas Tree Growers Association and he has that asparagus farm with Nan. Nice guy, smart, not afraid to get dirt (or bugs) on his hands. Everybody is back from the flea market. Time for a snack and then something really special.

~ The Honey Heist ~

Eric advised me to tuck in my shirt so no bees would confuse me for the hive. You better believe I took his advice!

Dan smokes the hive.

Got the top lid off, showing the hanging frames of combs , with room for the bees in between.

This is a foundation for a new comb, not much built up yet.

This comb shows a lot of bee-labor put into it.

Here is the entry to the hive. Do you see any fat drones amongst the workers?

Dan re-assembles the hive carefully so as not to squash any bees. If one gets hurt it sends out a pheromone that alerts the entire hive. We all are careful about where we step, squat, or move at all.

The Bees Brothers?

A loaded comb.

Dan & Rosario's daughter Autumn, 19, watches intently.

I hope she knows how cool her parents are.

Whew, what a day! But it's not nearly over. I still have go in search of Monarch Butterfly habitat with Eric and Dan makes goat vindaloo for dinner, and then we sit around the bonfire again...We might be able to wrap up this trip in one more big post. Join me for the thrilling conclusion next time!

Best Road Trip In Ages Pt. 2

2010-08-17T20:19:00.000-07:00

4 Generations of Prices: Jackie & Glen, Barry, Dylan, and Logan

Even when you're having a great time travelling you still think of the folks back home. We were lucky enough to get the 4Gen pic above when Mom & Dad came up from Tennessee for a visit. We really miss having them closer by.

We had a pleasant night at Dan & Rosario's place. We rarely sleep through the night, what with trips to the bathroom, muscle spasms, and round-the-clock kid traffic, so the chugging of trucks & Harleys on the nearby road and the crowing of the rooster in the yard were not disturbing. No sirens, much different from back home.

In the kitchen, a pot of coffee and a big cast iron skillet with fresh eggs scrambled with some spicy peppers that Mark brought from his garden. Toast, bacon, forks clicking on plates, quiet conversation as we watch the hummingbirds & dragonflies buzz past the window.

Hey Nigel-cat, did you ever see that movie about your alien duplicate hatching from a pod to replace you?

Rolling gargoyles gather no moss.

I poked my finger 3-4 inches into this soft green cushion and it never hit bottom.

Mike Lebens, Mark Schlembach, Marcy Price, Nan & Eric Day, The Other Dan Johnson, Dr. Dan Johnson, and Lisa (Mrs. Other Dan) Johnson.

Hmm, what could this gift be? Nan is acting so innocent...

Best of all, it's microwaveable!

Nan is a soil scientist and also has an asparagus farm in Virginia with her other half, Eric. She says you shouldn't use a knife to harvest asparagus, but just snap it off. It knows the right place to break.

Fresh zucchini for dinner tonight.

Sun inside.

Mike Lebens, a social worker in Pensylvania. He made a couple of varieties of real nice beer for the party. Delicious and hearty, dark strong foamy stuff, still alive, I think. Mike was in attendance when Dan's parents' let my old band Ruff Midget set up a stage using haywagons and box trucks in their front yard. Most of Morgan Township must have heard us that full-moon summer night, and half of them came to Dan's to join the party. Was that a special occaision? Does anybody have pictures? By, the way Mike, you gotta try the fresh-picked broccoli, steamed with wild lamb's quarters that was growing right next to it.

Dr. Dan dons his hardhat to extinguish the inferno. Good thing they didn't put all 50 candles on the cake or we'd have needed an open burning permit.

Happy Birthday, Dan Johnson!

We went to bed that night relaxed and happy. What a nice bunch of people! What a lovely place! We expected a good sleep with motors and roosters and a great day tomorrow, and we were not disappointed.

Best Road Trip In Ages Pt. 1

2010-08-17T07:31:00.000-07:00

We made sure that grand-daughter Logan got to her doctor visit before we got ready for the trip. Gosh, so long since we went anywhere, and never without the kids before! First, an instruction sheet to tell the kids our expectations for the dog & the house. Next, a call to Fifth Third Bank to let them know that the money for our mortgage payment won't be in our account for the forseeable future. We've been working through the list at http://savethedream.ohio.gov/ to see what can be done. The Bank says the automatic Billpayer 2000 (woo, sounds futuristic!) is already in action and can't be stopped. It's the rise of the machines! So we'll get hit with overdraft fees on the checking account and late fees on the mortgage. But they said it's realy not even considered delinquent for 30 days. I said we know, we're working the approved programs, we're just being proactive and communicating, not dodging, but no money. Please don't beat us to death with overdraft and late fees! But I hear that's how banks make money these days, aside from bailouts of course. For the record, we tried.

Dan Johnson, summer 1984

I've known the Johnsons about as long as I can remember. I must have met 2nd-grade Mike on the playground when I started in 1st Grade at Morgan Elementary. No kindergarten at Morgan back then, but we never missed it. Dan started school the year after me. As we grew up we found that we shared some interests in science, music, and country life adventures. He once invited me over to his house for some squid and taught me everything about them but the names of their children. One summer our work & school schedules converged to allow us to spend many a summer day cruising the back-country roads in my 1967 Mustang Convertible. Did I have an 8-track tape player in that car? Why yes, I do believe I did. Endless loops of Yes and sunshine and King Crimson and cornfields and ELP and big skies. One day we went to play Frisbee golf and then see the Symphony In The Park, which was all great. On the way home I hit a pothole at the side of the road in Hamilton which flattened both tires on the passenger side. Who carries two spares? The police stopped by to chat about our situation but would not help us. Dan and I ended up walking to Millville and waking his ex-girlfriend's dad to ask for help. Considering the circumstances, he was extremely gracious in giving us both rides to our respective homes in Shandon and Okeana to sort things out the next day. Thanks again, Mr. Bastian. Anyway, Dan graduated from Ross and went on to Wilmington College. When the college sent him away to Mexico for a winter term, he met another student from Wilmington there. Her name was Rosario Iglesias.

Rosario & Erica Johnson, summer 1984

Dan & Rosario fell in love amongst the magic of the ancient Mayan pyramids at Palenque. Just look at them - how could they not have done so? Those pictures above may have been the last time we saw them, possibly Dan's college graduation party. That was the day that he called us out to the garage and hoisted a pillowcase writhing like Medusa's head. He reached in for a handful and baby boas ran through his fingers like Scrooge McDuck with his gold. So Dan's life path of raising a family and becoming a doctor took him farther away from "home" and for longer periods, until we rarely heard from each other, until this past year. Then he sent out the message: Dan is turning 50 and is calling in his tribe to help celebrate at his place in Ashville, Pennsylvania.!

Mark Schlembach, summer 2010

We probably could not have made the trip had it not been for Mark joining us. He's been married to Dan's younger sister Sue for some 3 decades now and the whole family is quite close. In fact, they are neighbors of Dan & Sue's parents, Jerry & Maureen., out there near Shandon. Well-planted. Mark just found out that after 15 years of doing corporate accounting for a hospital chain, his job is being eliminated. Consolidation, you are a satellite office and the funding goes to headquarters. So if you are looking to hire an experienced corporate accountant, you should interview Mark Schlembach. I can attest to his good attitude and his energy, his systematic way of thinking, the way he throws himself into a task wholeheartedly, always ready to pitch in. The company that hires him is a lucky one, but don't get your hopes up. After seeing him drive our van on the long trek to the Allegheny Mountains and back I told him he should drive a truck.

I drove from Cincinnati up I-71 through a lot of glacially-planed flat land that contained things such as amusement parks, tennis stadiums, outlet malls and cornfields. We turned east on I-70 and the terrain gradually became more rolling. I handed over the wheel to Mark around Wheeling, West Virginia, since he was more familiar with the drive ahead, and I was way behind on taking pics.

The beautiful landscape is a treat for my weary, jaded eyes.

See the windmills just above the treeline near the middle of the picture? They have quite a few of those scattered across the horizon, making at least some attempt at clean & independent energy.

We're there! It's Dr. Dan's welcoming committee!

Everyone named Dan Johnson who is also having a birthday this weekend please raise your hand. Strangely enough the guy in the brown hat at the left is also named Dan Johnson. They're old college buddies, probably had all kinds of document mix-ups back in the day.

Boris is a 1-year-old Doberman who keeps bears out of the yard. He's still not made his mind up about me.

Mama Rosario soothes the beast.

Little Kings from home, just what Dr. Dan ordered. Thinking about tearing into those two Crave Cases of White Castle sliders that Mark also brought for him.

Wilderness begins at the edge of the yard.

Mark lights the bonfire to keep evil & beasts at bay.

Dan planted jewel weed to use as a remedy against poison ivy.

The chickens have indeed come home to roost.

Tomorrow's breakfast! Look at those colors.

Sitting hens are pretty single-minded and sometimes forget to get up off the eggs to eat or drink. He lost this one.

Fresh free-range eggs.

A gaggle of geese, guarding the garden gateway.

Marcy breathes easier in the clean, fresh mountain air.

It's cool & green everywhere you look!

We spent the evening around the bonfire under starry skies with good people who have long histories together. Some of the it was catching up and some was new, but it was all good. Marcy & I hit the hay that night looking forward to tomorrow.

reply to imag @ Boing Boing - Why do you even post this?

2010-08-03T21:57:00.000-07:00

So I tried to get noticed on Boing Boing and got this comment:

1 Comment • Add a comment

imag • #1 • 11:59 PM Saturday, Jul 31, 2010 • Reply Why do you even post this? You just want people to visit your blog? You don't even have a post about the middle class in the first page.

So I had to reply but BoingBoing displayed some kind of error message when I tried to post it there, so I have to vent here to get it off my chest:

@imag - Thanks for your comment! Why do I even post this? Because Boing Boing is reputed to have a somewhat intelligent readership with a certain creative slant. I was hoping for insightful comments and evaluation. I thought this was the point to The Submitterator but maybe I missed an inside hipster joke somewhere along the line. Am I that ugly date that snarky frat boys take to the Pig Party? I dunno. In addition, I feel that a way of life is disappearing. I feel like I'm (we're) sinking, and I don't want to sink without a ripple. I don't want to become invisible. You know, one of those "poor" people who have nothing to contribute, so, since we can't just make them into Soylent Green, we grudgingly pay taxes to provide welfare or make ourselves feel like good people and donate to a charity to provide for them (us). I want to feel that I matter.

Do I just want people to visit my blog? That would be a nice start. Reading, viewing, commenting, advising, networking, uprising would be better.

I don't have a post about the middle class in the first page? I find that comment fascinating. Maybe I'm like a fish blogging about his fishy way of life, not bothering to mention that all us fish swim in water until he is gasping on the dry banks. Maybe I'm like one of those RenFest "Knights of Ye Rounde Table" that I used to go see when I had money, dressed up in a tin can and poking broomsticks at each other, pretending to be something that maybe never even really existed. I try to avoid loading up on jargon from a sociology text or using "talking points" language from political parties or talk radio or punditry, but if you want to map my reality to those frameworks then that's cool. Maybe the label "Middle Class" has been so kicked around that we aren't seeing the same thing, our society so fragmented in terms of geography, age, occupation, education etc. that it takes on a different meaning depending on what the user wants it to mean, like gay used to mean happy, catholic used to mean well-rounded, liberal used to mean free. Maybe there really was a Middle Class and it began to die just as I was starting to arrive late to the party. What do you think?

Once again, imag, thanks for your comments!

Vote For Me On Boing Boing!

2010-07-31T13:25:00.000-07:00

I've submitted That Crashing Sound for comments and voting on Boing Boing, one of the most widely read blogs in the world. Please go there now and click the + sign and leave me your loving comments. Thanks!

Ohio RenFest

2010-07-31T07:40:00.000-07:00

I'm seeing references to knights from sources as varied as my blog-buddy at The Archdruid Report to tonight's episode of House, so lest anybody think I'm all rant and no fun, here are my vids & pics from Ohio Renaissance Festival. Huzzah! Blogger is being finicky about letting me post more vids so I may have to add more music and jousting in separate posts. Enjoy!

No More Tiers

2010-07-29T13:09:00.000-07:00

So this is our grand-daughter, Logan. It's our first time watching her for more than a few minutes for a run to the store. She's a good baby, so I taught her to stick out her tongue. She's not quite 4 weeks old.

Mommy's out doing foxy boxing tonight and it looks like Logan is, too. Dynamite comes in small packages!

That's my size 10+ foot next to the biggest mushrooms I have ever seen. Wish I was better educated in whether they are edible. Too risky.

I spent a lot of time on the phone yesterday with different branches of Ohio Job & Family Services. The first call I made was to unemployment. Actually I had tried them on Monday and their outgoing message said that people with names that start with "P" should only call on Wednesday, so being obedient and orderly and a former call-center drone, I called on Wednesday. Sometimes the outgoing message says that call volume is too high, please call back at another time, this call is now ended, but I managed to get through. The menu choices didn't fit what I wanted so I punched # and 0 until I got that sickeningly peppy light jazz hold music and I waited a very long time.

Finally a human answered the phone and I was able to ask my question. I said that I had not received a benefit payment for several weeks and could not even file a weekly claim online so I assumed that I was one of that new class of people in today's economy called a 99er. I had even logged in to the unemployment website and counted payments and it looked like I had used up my legally allotted 99 benefit weeks. The reason for my call was that I had just received a direct-deposit payment after that gap of several weeks, and I wanted to make sure it was legitimate before I spent it, because I would not be able to repay it if it was a mistake. The call center agent told me that it was indeed legit, that it was my 99th payment which just happened to get held up by that tug-of-war that had been going on in Congress. So unless Congress passes a Tier V, it's the end of the line for my unemployment benefits. I'm still applying for jobs though, so any phony statistic from the government or media that says that I have given up is just baloney. There is a growing number of people like me who can now be left out of the official unemployment numbers and ignored, like a shadow army growing increasingly frustrated and desperate.

That bottle in the picture is a little experiment we're trying for the first time. It's homemade blackberry wine! And it turns out that blackberry wine is kind of a family tradition from back before my Mom was born, and it created repercussions with the Patriot Act, but that's a story for another post.

Targeted For Destruction

2010-07-28T22:30:00.000-07:00

Serious stuff today, please don't tune away. Alert readers may notice that I have revised the tagline for this blog. I used to say "That Crashing Sound is the collapse of the American middle class. Or maybe it's just me." Today I changed "collapse" to "deliberate and systematic destruction." We didn't just get wobbly and start dropping on our own. On the contrary, our hamstrings are being cut and our legs kicked out from under us and a booted foot is planted on our necks to hold us down.

Get that false idea out of your head that says your wealth is being massively redistributed to illegal immigrants and welfare bums and Chinese factory workers. Remember: The RICH are geting RICHER. That "divide and conquer" stuff has been used through the ages to make us dogs fight over scraps instead of biting our masters like we should. We'll identify those masters and how they make us slaves in later posts. Then maybe we'll commence to biting.

Not only have I reached this viewpoint through my own experiences of being outsourced, downsized, bankrupted, etc., but I have collected various reports of millions of people like me and read lots of analysis by smart people who have studied this socio-economic turmoil in which we find ourselves. I hope we can tear our attention from the bread and circuses that the empire uses to distract us and wake up to what is being done to us and figure out what to do before it's too late. First, check out this article from Yahoo Finance. These are statistics with numbers and stuff so read one at a time and let it sink in before you try the next. Hang in there.

The Middle Class in America Is Radically Shrinking. Here Are the Stats to Prove it

Posted Jul 15, 2010 02:25pm EDT by Michael Snyder in Recession
Related: ^DJI, ^GSPC, SPY, MCD, WMT, XRT, DIA
From The Business Insider
Editor's note: Michael Snyder is editor of theeconomiccollapseblog.com

The 22 statistics detailed here prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that the middle class is being systematically wiped out of existence in America.

The rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer at a staggering rate. Once upon a time, the United States had the largest and most prosperous middle class in the history of the world, but now that is changing at a blinding pace.

So why are we witnessing such fundamental changes? Well, the globalism and "free trade" that our politicians and business leaders insisted would be so good for us have had some rather nasty side effects. It turns out that they didn't tell us that the "global economy" would mean that middle class American workers would eventually have to directly compete for jobs with people on the other side of the world where there is no minimum wage and very few regulations. The big global corporations have greatly benefited by exploiting third world labor pools over the last several decades, but middle class American workers have increasingly found things to be very tough.

Here are the statistics to prove it:

• 83 percent of all U.S. stocks are in the hands of 1 percent of the people.

• 61 percent of Americans "always or usually" live paycheck to paycheck, which was up from 49 percent in 2008 and 43 percent in 2007.

• 66 percent of the income growth between 2001 and 2007 went to the top 1% of all Americans.

• 36 percent of Americans say that they don't contribute anything to retirement savings.

• A staggering 43 percent of Americans have less than $10,000 saved up for retirement.

• 24 percent of American workers say that they have postponed their planned retirement age in the past year.

• Over 1.4 million Americans filed for personal bankruptcy in 2009, which represented a 32 percent increase over 2008.

• Only the top 5 percent of U.S. households have earned enough additional income to match the rise in housing costs since 1975.

• For the first time in U.S. history, banks own a greater share of residential housing net worth in the United States than all individual Americans put together.

• In 1950, the ratio of the average executive's paycheck to the average worker's paycheck was about 30 to 1. Since the year 2000, that ratio has exploded to between 300 to 500 to one.

• As of 2007, the bottom 80 percent of American households held about 7% of the liquid financial assets.

• The bottom 50 percent of income earners in the United States now collectively own less than 1 percent of the nation’s wealth.

• Average Wall Street bonuses for 2009 were up 17 percent when compared with 2008.

• In the United States, the average federal worker now earns 60% MORE than the average worker in the private sector.

• The top 1 percent of U.S. households own nearly twice as much of America's corporate wealth as they did just 15 years ago.

• In America today, the average time needed to find a job has risen to a record 35.2 weeks.

• More than 40 percent of Americans who actually are employed are now working in service jobs, which are often very low paying.

• or the first time in U.S. history, more than 40 million Americans are on food stamps, and the U.S. Department of Agriculture projects that number will go up to 43 million Americans in 2011.

• This is what American workers now must compete against: in China a garment worker makes approximately 86 cents an hour and in Cambodia a garment worker makes approximately 22 cents an hour.

• Approximately 21 percent of all children in the United States are living below the poverty line in 2010 - the highest rate in 20 years.

• Despite the financial crisis, the number of millionaires in the United States rose a whopping 16 percent to 7.8 million in 2009.

• The top 10 percent of Americans now earn around 50 percent of our national income.

Giant Sucking Sound

The reality is that no matter how smart, how strong, how educated or how hard working American workers are, they just cannot compete with people who are desperate to put in 10 to 12 hour days at less than a dollar an hour on the other side of the world. After all, what corporation in their right mind is going to pay an American worker 10 times more (plus benefits) to do the same job? The world is fundamentally changing. Wealth and power are rapidly becoming concentrated at the top and the big global corporations are making massive amounts of money. Meanwhile, the American middle class is being systematically wiped out of existence as U.S. workers are slowly being merged into the new "global" labor pool.

What do most Americans have to offer in the marketplace other than their labor? Not much. The truth is that most Americans are absolutely dependent on someone else giving them a job. But today, U.S. workers are "less attractive" than ever. Compared to the rest of the world, American workers are extremely expensive, and the government keeps passing more rules and regulations seemingly on a monthly basis that makes it even more difficult to conduct business in the United States.

So corporations are moving operations out of the U.S. at breathtaking speed. Since the U.S. government does not penalize them for doing so, there really is no incentive for them to stay.

What has developed is a situation where the people at the top are doing quite well, while most Americans are finding it increasingly difficult to make it. There are now about six unemployed Americans for every new job opening in the United States, and the number of "chronically unemployed" is absolutely soaring. There simply are not nearly enough jobs for everyone.

Many of those who are able to get jobs are finding that they are making less money than they used to. In fact, an increasingly large percentage of Americans are working at low wage retail and service jobs.

But you can't raise a family on what you make flipping burgers at McDonald's or on what you bring in from greeting customers down at the local Wal-Mart.

The truth is that the middle class in America is dying -- and once it is gone it will be incredibly difficult to rebuild.

Witch's Salad

2010-07-23T10:04:00.000-07:00

Eating wild foods is not for the ignorant. You've seen my posts here about some delicious greens and fruits that I've enjoyed for free. You gotta remember I've been studying this stuff on and off for about 35 years. Here are some pics of stuff from the yard that might look tempting but which I WILL NOT EAT, at least not without further education. And I wrote some song lyrics about it, too. Let's call it "Witch's Salad" for now. Copyright 2010.

Times are so hard
Our gardener, se llama Brujo, rode the Big Gray Dog back to Mexico
Out in the yard
Once manicured and green, a strange new garden of Eden grows
No gas to get to the grocery store
And if it’s still there I’m not even sure
And I’ve never been so hungry before
My belly growls like a hateful hound
So I stuff it with a witch’s salad
Any weeds that spring from the broken ground

Mushrooms and nightshade and belladonna
Blind as a bat and the brain turns to bone
Thorn apple, moonflower, mad as a hatter
Hotter than hell and the heart runs alone

Mescalito with a red umbrella
Eyes shine with black and my tongue is like stone
My third eye sees better than ever
Hotter than hell and the heart runs alone

I see the flaming sword
Of the cherubim
At the eastern gate
Never let me in
My tortured mind sees eternal flame
It’s just the landfill burning off the methane
I see the tentacles
Of the mighty one
In a filthy pool
Gonna drag me in
My tortured mind sees Cthulhu squirm
It’s a reflection blowing in a windstorm

I see the gaping void
Of the black abyss
Cold nothingness
Inside all of us
My tortured mind sees what it sees
And the abyss is looking back at me
It’s looking back at me, it’s staring at me
It’s me!

Raptor Synchronicity

2010-07-19T23:41:00.000-07:00

As I sit trying to title this post, Craig Ferguson is on TV holding up a picture of a barn owl. That does it. I gotta tell you a few things. But I have no pictures of what I want to talk about, so look at my grand-daughter, Logan.

I just fed her about 3 ounces of a four ounce bottle. She would normally consume the whole thing but I was so happy to see her I probably distracted her from it.

Happiness is a lapful of Loganberry. Check out those feet!

So after that last post, "Blood On The Snow," I crashed on the couch as usual, beat. I slept OK, but the minute I woke up I thought, "How could I have forgotten The Mole?"

My dad never was one of those lawn nuts who had to have a yard like a putting green. But he always hated moles with a passion. I've never know him to go hunting, except for moles. If he saw their tunnels or mounds of dirt in the yard, he would stalk them with traps, spikes, shovels. Never poison though.

Back when I was raising that baby hawk, Falcon Eddie, dad spotted a mole tunnel in process of being dug. I had an idea! I called dibs on the mole and got my trusty Crossman 761 pellet gun. Dad flipped the mole out of his tunnel and I popped it with a pellet. A good clean kill.

Moles are pretty weird looking, with that pointy nose and those digging claws they have. I got my X-Acto knife and skinned it and then washed the skin and scraped the inner side fairly clean. I pinned it fur side down to a piece of cardboard and covered the inner side with a mixture of salt and baking soda. I let that do its thing for a couple of days and ended up with a nice dry mole skin. I folded it up just so into a nice bundle the size and shape of a mouse and tied a piece of yarn onto it. Bingo, a little tackling dummy for Falcon Eddie. Since hawks are visual hunters like cats, they like to play with furry toys that wiggle. That's how he knew how to nail the first mouse I got for him. I can't believe I forgot about that, but glad my subconscious retrieved it.

Then last night was a fitful sleep, with phone ringing and kids coming and going. We keep irregular hours here. I gave up on sleep before 5 a.m. and got up to check email, do job apps and read blogs and such. Then in mid-morning I was tired again so I laid down for a rest. I dreamed. I had been telling my new buddy Tommy over at Freedom Guerilla about urban homesteading so a chicken coop appeared in my dream. But it didn't contain chickens. First I saw what seemed similar to a rooster but it was longer and much slimmer and man it moved fast and sinuously, like a mongoose with golden feathers but obviously a bird. Afterwards I thought maybe a phoenix. And then I felt something pinching my right index finger and there was an owl with my finger in its beak, gently pinching when it could have taken it right off. I was then jolted awake by the kids asking me to swap vehicles in the driveway so they could run an errand. My finger still hurt slightly.

What do you make of that? A phoenix that rises from the ashes, kept in a chicken coop along with the symbol of wisdom which bit my finger but not as hard as it maybe could have.

I love this picture, for obvious reasons.

Blood On The Snow

2010-07-17T20:36:00.000-07:00

I heard the calls, unusual for this neighborhood, from the big maple out front. She was a female redtail hawk, enjoying the sunset from her high roost. I had seen her a few days ago carrying away another bird to be eaten, chased by the distressed mate. Bird-on-bird violence, distressing indeed. I don't have the optics for good pics at a distance so I pulled this set from my archives.

Only minutes before, a live pidgeon was wrapped around this kernel of corn. A customer at our former business, The Cup & Saucer Cafe, had been sitting out on the side deck for a smoke and witnessed the whole thing. He said the hawk hit the pidgeon like a living hammer. Once he had his dinner on the ground he hunkered down and held it with his talon and shielded it with his wings while he ate it, like a guy in prison shields his cafeteria tray from the other prisoners. The hawk was completely aware of his audience but not at all intimidated - he held his ground and finished his meal.

And finish he did, leaving only feathers and corn. Not much use for corn, to a hawk.

I raised a baby hawk when I was a kid, some three decades ago. It had fallen from its nest in the huge hickory tree in front of Mom & Dad's. I kept my distance all day as the parents swooped and squawked and screeched. I gave them every chance to get their baby back but they couldn't do it. At the end of the day I couldn't just let some cat get it, so I picked it up from the yard and put it in a nest I had made for it in some old parakeet cage I had borrowed from Nannie and I kept it in my room. Even a baby hawk has that fierce eye, and we just sat and looked at each other a lot. I named him Falcon Eddie after a character on a TV miniseries that aired back then.

I fed him raw hamburger, and as days went by he got somewhat comfortable with me and would perch on my finger. I carried him around and let him look at the world with his fierce little eyes. Eventually he started trying out his wings so I had to put a piece of soft yarn on his leg as a leash. As his wings grew stronger I lengthened the leash to give him a fair chance to practice. Once, I made the mistake of letting him practice a bit too close to the hawthorne tree in the back yard and he decided to perch in the top of it instead of on my finger. I was always a tree-climber, but the climb to the top of that thorny tree while untangling the snagging yarn leash, and winding it up without yanking or otherwise upsetting my little bird friend - well, it wasn't something I wanted to repeat. He was ready.

Next day, I went to a pet shop and bought two white mice. They came in a carton like Chinese food! Back home, Falcon Eddie was perched in his cage, waiting for his usual raw hamburger. Knowing that hawks hunt visually, I dangled the first mouse by the tail and swung it before his fierce gaze. His eyes could have faced down Genghis Khan or Geronimo that night as the squirming mouse drew his total focus. I opened the cage door and set the mouse down. Eddie was on it instantly! His little talon gripped the mouse by the neck and he tore into it with his little hooked beak. I was transfixed by his total hawk-ness.

That night in my room, a young man on his mattress, a hawk in his cage, and a mouse in a carton. I'm not sure if any of us slept. When day came I talked with Falcon Eddie for the last time, looking into that fierce hawk eye that I had come to love so well. I told him that it was time for him to fly off and be a hawk and eat mice, not live with humans and eat hamburger. I told him I had one more mouse for him before he left because it might take some time to figure out how to find them, and I didn't want him to be too hungry. I took him out on the front porch and gave him that second doomed mouse. Falcon Eddie told he that he understood perfectly. When he had finished eating I picked him up in my hands, carried him across the road to the big pasture that slopes down to the farm pond and the woods beyond, and tossed him into the air. He flew away. I saw him a few times later, larger. I'm sure he did OK.

In Bleak Midwinter

2010-07-15T22:12:00.000-07:00

Forget for the moment that the thermometer in the hall reads 87 degrees. Forget, in fact that it's digital. Forget that it's the middle of July. Time ain't nothing. I just sneaked over to the neighbors' yard and plucked a single holly leaf for inspiration, came back and put on one of my favorite recordings of "Christmas" music: The Chieftains piece called "The Bells Of Dublin."

(The Holly and the Ivy, when they are both full grown

Of all the trees that are in the wood, the Holly bears the Crown)

Wolfie loves it!

Chillin'

Forgot to wrap the hose

When Thrift Stores Give Up

2010-07-13T22:39:00.000-07:00

I can't stop thinking about the poor little guy. We met him just a couple of weeks ago when the Valley Thrift store around the corner from our house displayed a sign that said they were permanently closed. Our van was packed with a bunch of still-useful household goods, toys & games & such, things that we had decided that we no longer needed but which didn't make the cut for our own "indoor yard sale" which is coming up this Saturday. We hate to throw away something that somebody else could use so we went on over to Colerain Avenue, where a new thrift store had opened in what had been a nice golf shop not long ago (for you local geezers, long ago it was a bar called TJ Mineshaft). It's next door to the Graeter's ice cream shop kinda catty-corner from Northgate Mall. The large printed sign just said "THRIFT STORE", black on white.

We walked in the open door and the place was like a bake-oven (as my Dad would say), just like our house, but the man behind the counter greeted us even more warmly. He reminded me so much of Marcy's late father, George - that long nose, the sharp cheek bones, the brown eyes, hair white as I imagine George's would be if he lived still. He welcomed us in a heavy accent that my ear knew was from somewhere in the eastern Mediterranean. I quickly zeroed in on the books (mostly romances, no thanks) then circled around to find a couple of small boxes of my beloved vinyl LP records. As I flipped expertly through the disks I half listened to their conversation. "Isn't it hot?" "I am used to it." (Merle Haggard with a Dixieland band!). "...Ladies shirts...drapes...bedspreads..." (Glenn Campbell, Tiajuana Brass, some nice Sixties & Seventies gems). "Barry, bring those boxes in." No money and no need to buy any records, I obediently toted in our donations to his cause.

I had to ask. "Sir, where do you come from?" "I come from the land of our lord, Jesus Christ. Sixty two years ago I come to America, sixty two years, and I love this country, and love God and God loves me, he loves us all." Ah, a Palestinian Christian I suppose. We promised to return soon after we cleaned our house some more. Well met and well parted.

And clean we did. Basement. Attic, both sides of it. Sweeping, sweating, sorting. The file cabinets, the bookshelves, the backroom where all the stuff gets dumped to be sorted. Done, with lots of junk thrown out, some interesting things for our "indoor yard sale" (ahem, THIS SATURDAY) and the van once again full of stuff for our new thrift store buddy. We tried to visit on the Saturday of the Independence Day weekend and found the store closed. Probably the holiday, we thought. We tried again the Tuesday after the holiday and found a sign on the door in his broken ("sixty two years I come...") English, something like "A lot have goning on, I be back in afternoon." It was late afternoon, you know Marcy & I aren't exactly earlybirds. We hoped everything was OK, but it didn't look good. We waited another week and passed the time with still more cleaning and a little pricing of our for-sale goods and stopped in at the thrift store again today.

Our buddy was outside the open doors straightening the shopping carts and he greeted us happily as ever. I skimmed past the romance paperbacks to check the records and again listened to the conversation between Marcy and her "Papa-Ganger", as I thought him. The bad news came out right away. He can't take donations because he is trying to sell everything and get out. "Robbed, robbed by Dan Howell-Templin, a man I tried to help, a man I took under my wing and gave a job, gave him rides to Hamilton, Ohio. Robbed of all of my gold, my silver, my jewelry, my gold and silver, my life savings. He sold it all to pawn shops and I have not money to buy it back. My son had a gun pointed at the man but could not pull the trigger to shoot him. "I leave him to God to take care of him" my son said. We must trust in God, we must all trust in God's love for us."

I can't stop thinking of the poor guy. I'm gonna go back with a few bucks I got for my birthday and see if I can't find something I can use. Maybe you can help too. It's not far from our house. You can go after our indoor yard sale.

Networking and Encouragement

2010-07-07T00:11:00.000-07:00

So here it is going on midnight, it's 87 degrees in the house and I'm sucking on an orange ice pop with The Colbert Report on in the background. I'm half afraid to play a record or it might melt. I guess I could put on Pandora.com, maybe after Colbert. Pandora is cool. You can tell it what you like and it will play it for you, then it will try other music that it thinks you might like. You give it a thumbs up or thumbs down and it learns what you like. I have several channels set up, based on different starting suggestions: one for my prog rock, one for bluegrass, one for jazz, one for baroque classical, so on. Give it a try sometime. But there's no substitute for picking a real vinyl record from the crate, blowing the dust off the disk, letting the needle drop, and hearing that little scritchy-scratch before that beloved music plays, my mind already stroking the memories of where I bought it, who I've enjoyed it with, live performances. But that other room is so far away...

(thistle, not fireworks)

Dang, it's hot. At least we have electric fans and the fridge, and water comes out the faucet when I turn it on, unlike at some other times and places in human existence. Phone still works too, but the call I'm waiting for hasn't come yet. Dylan left with his buddies hours ago to go check on Sarina. She took Logan with her to some appointments for medical & WIC assistance. But she's having some trouble with anemia, dizziness, and blood pressure so she is supposed to get checked out.

Speak of the devil... Phone just rang and it was Dylan. Her BP was around 150/100 (maybe we should do the DASH diet together) so they wrote her a prescription. They called it in to a Walgreens down there where her Mom lives and they don't have the 15 bucks to pay for the meds. He's trying to get the scrip transferred up to Colerain so he can bum the money here and get the meds. My unemployment ran out weeks ago but I'm mature enough to manage my money and compassionate enough to buy Sarina's meds. They've got a lot to learn. I asked Dylan 2 or 3 times throughout the day to get the garbage to the curb but he blew me off and now he has this to deal with. I went out to carry the cans and numerous bags and actually felt cooler doing that than sitting here at the computer. He still owes me though.

(Troy lost his teeth again)

Marcy had another round today in the seeming endless struggle with the Leviathan system. She went to her Social-Security-mandated mental evaluation and I tagged along of course. The interview with the psychologist lasted 2 hours. She told how she had been healthy and active, owned the cafe for just a month, had a stroke and all the plans flew out the window. Her frustration with her decline in health, her struggle to care for her elderly mom who has her own issues (!), how my job was eliminated and we lost insurance, her continued decline in hyealth & finances leading to us closing the cafe, her crisis last fall with congestive heart failure & gastritis & pancreatitis, her stay at the hospital & nursing home with the mounting unpayable bills, the bankruptcy, the mostly-futile struggle with Social Security & Medicaid & Job & Family Services. (Is everybody up to speed with us now? Good.) After the interview came a brief test. Repeat increasingly longer number series. Now do it backwards. Some arithmetic problems. Explain some common sayings like "Make hay while the sun shines." I think that means Dylan should take the garbage out the first time Dad asks, when he has buddies around to help, because some kind of crap is always ready to hit the fan. The psychologist asked the typical questions "Who is President now?" and of course Marcy knew it's Obama. Then she asked who was President before Obama. A pause...It was Clinton wasn't it?......no, it was that Bush!" That was genuine, no fake, so precious. So the psych said she'll send the report in and the deciders should have an answer around the end of August. We'll see. When we got home there was another letter from them telling Marcy to report to a physical exam on July 22. At least they seem to be doing their jobs, not like some other agencies that shall remain un-named until we can nail them.

Oh, let me finish this post with what I titled it for. Over in the right hand column you'll see a list of links, my favorite spots on the Internet, I hope you take a look at them now & then. I decided I might as well reach out and contact them to let them know that I enjoy what they do, that they are having a positive effect, at least on me. I got a very encouraging reply from Tommy over at Freedom Guerilla. Check it out:

"-------- Original Message --------
Subject: kindred spirit
From: "Barry G. Price"
Date: Fri, July 02, 2010 9:08 pm

Hi Tommy! I enjoy your blog and publish one myself at http://thatcrashingsound.blogspot.com/
"That Crashing Sound is the collapse of the American middle class. Or maybe it's just me." I hope you can check it out, since I just put you at the top of my link list. Even though our life experiences may be different, I sense that we are questing for similar things. Best of luck to you in your quest, and feel free to keep in touch.
Barry

Hi Barry,

I gave you a shout out:
http://freedomguerrilla.com/frugal-living/that-crashing-sound/

I really like your writing. It's very poetic and has a certain melancholy/reflective appeal. I read several pages, and able to surmise that you owned a restaurant that went out of business?
I'll keep in touch if you promise to do the same. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help out.
Best Regards,

Tommy"

And if you follow the link (but you already did that, right?) you'll see that he posted this:

Freedom Guerrilla

None are so hopelessly enslaved as those who falsely believe they are free.

That Crashing Sound
I get a lot of offline comments, thoughts, and shares emailed to me as a result of this site, but this one really struck me.

Check out thatcrashingsound.blogspot.com. Barry is an artist, and I find his writing and photography intriguing and important.

“That crashing sound that you hear just might be the collapse of the middle class. My cholesterol is higher than my credit score. I just found my first white chest hair. My teenage son is reading Nietzsche, so I am too. I think about lots of things I want to share with you. Sometimes I’ll share a picure or song or story or recipe. It’s late now and I’m sure I’m not impressing anyone, so I’ll get a few hours of sleep then get up and watch CBS Sunday Morning with my wife. Good times.”

Thanks for the email, Barry. We’re definitely kindred.

Good luck out there, Everyone. I am pulling for the best in us with all my might. "

Did you see that? Barry is an artist? He finds my writing and photography intriguing and important? WOW! I was just getting comfortable thinking of myself as that guy who used to have a job and a business and now just takes pictures and writes to sort his thoughts out. Now I have to live up to "artist" and "intriguing" and "important." DOH! Talking about coming down to earth...this insane heat just made the dog barf and I have to clean it up! Gotta go, until next time, friends!

Happy Independence Day

2010-07-05T20:52:00.000-07:00

My grand-daughter Logan is smiling in her sleep. I still haven't got a real clear look at her eyes.

Later that night, some of my neighbors had some pretty spectacular backyard fireworks displays.

I'm glad somebody in slumburbia still has plenty of money to waste. Not all of my neighbors do though. I'm seeing more vacant homes. Two houses on my block are vacant and for sale because the elderly owners both died within a fairly short time period. I haven't seen any of those neon door stickers in our little cross-street neighborhood. However, just around the corner they are becoming more common, even appearing in clusters, like metastasizing cancer cells. I finally stopped for a closer look.

I chatted with a neighbor who was sitting on his front porch watching the world go by. He said the previous owner died and his surviving girlfriend became a crack whore and let it just go to hell. He reported that she kept breaking in and squatting in the place so they disconnected water service, completely removed the meter, to make it even less attractive to her. So far so good. He said the place was listed for $24,000. Neighborhood property values like that put my mortgage farther underwater than Atlantis, that is, there is a better chance of Atlantis rising from beneath the murky waves than of our selling our house for a price high enough to pay off the balance of the mortgage. I crossed Pippin Road to see this on another house:

By the way, our local school district is putting up a couple of new buildings and consolidating into nice new digs. They were to have auctioned off six old properties, though I still haven't found who bought them and what will become of them. It will be weird for the kids in the neighborhood next winter when the best sledding hill within walking distance is somebody's private property. Come to think of it, the nearby school was one of the selling points that were so important when we bought our house that are no longer the case. Others were decent bus service at the entrance of our neighborhood and a thriving strip mall with an independent grocery, independent video store, a butcher shop, an Angelo's pizzeria. All gone. I stopped today and looked at a little RV parked by a repair shop with a "For Sale" sign on it, got the number to call.

Opposite of an Obituary

2010-07-02T20:44:00.000-07:00

This morning Dylan's gal Sarina gave birth to Logan Virginia Price, 7 lb 4 oz. Everything went well and everybody is healthy.

Aw, I feel the same way, my little Loganberry. My unemployment insurance benefits (not welfare, John Boehner!) ran out weeks ago. Job & Family Services flipflops on Marcy's medical coverage, now denying it to her. Our household has zero monetary income, just food stamps. But today especially we do not despair.

I wish I could write the opposite of obituaries. The obit tells of the loved ones who have to survive the departed one, the career accomplishments of the past, the community service no more, the creativity extinguished. I wish I could write "Do not despair, for this baby born today will grow up to cure dread diseases, solve our energy woes, and bring us peace through her enchantingly beautiful art."

I just met Logan this morning and I miss her already. I can't wait for her to come home. I just don't know how we'll pay the mortgage. But we'll be OK. We come from good stock!

Cincinnati Summer Pop Festival, June 1970

2010-06-16T17:53:00.000-07:00

It's hard to believe it really happened. A year after Woodstock, moon landing and Manson. Mere days after the Kent State massacre, with University of Cincinnati graduation ceremonies canceled and the campus on lockdown, just in case of sympathetic "unrest." It was a major music festival held in the final days of Crosley Field, home of Cincinnati Reds baseball. Better yet, the show was videotaped by WLWT-TV and the edited highlights aired later that summer as Midsummer Rock with simulcast audio on local FM rock radio stations. This was of course before our once-great local media (with shows like Midwestern Hayride, 50/50 Club, etc.) deteriorated into generic corporate mush. (I can't stand WEBN radio "personalities" and music programming, WLW is a haven for simpletons and blowhards, and local news is a shallow and uncritical repetition of corporate and government press releases spiced with sensationalism of murder, molestation and weather hysteria. They should save the money they blow on weather radar and hire some real reporters. Or for quality entertainment it would be great if Nick Lachey hosted a revived 50/50 Club broadcast live daily from the Aronoff Center, with Bootsy Collins leading the house band. They both seem to care about the town. How about it Nick & Bootsy, are you reading this? Stan Aronoff, get the ball rolling!)

Marcy & I attended the screening of the video at the Main Public Library (which happens to stand on the site where her grandfather had the first-ever Cincinnati-style chili restaurant back in the 1920's, but that's another blog post). I wore one of my special wild shirts as a magic charm to ensure the attendance of an old acquaintance of ours (Bevo) who also owned the same style shirt. It worked: he was there, but did not wear The Shirt. The can be only one, and I am it. In the meeting room where it was shown there were plenty of old hippies. One nice chick moved her oxygen tank so we could have the end seat for the wheelchair. She and her gal-pal had both been at the concert and it was a real kick to hear them reminisce. Another nice hippy touch was the free slices of watermelon offered to all.

There were opening remarks from the organizer then video magic began. There was a large lineup (Bob Seger, Mott the Hoople, Ten Years After, Zephyr, Savage Grace and more) at the all-day concert but the video included only 5 bands: Grand Funk Railroad, Mountain, Alice Cooper, Iggy and The Stooges, and Traffic.

Grand Funk was first on screen. My old band mates always liked them and we played a few of their songs even within the past year but after watching them flog away at "Inside Looking Out" for over 20 minutes I'm not sure if I can ever stand to see or hear them again so I won't bother you with any pics or video. Mountain was up next. They did some OK bluesy rock but the song "Theme For An Imaginary Western" stuck with me. Enjoy. I seem to have an aging hippy moment and goofed up my HTML code so click here for that video.

Next act on the vid was now-famous Alice Cooper but this was before he had any hit songs. He goofed around with some unstructured sounds and silly theatrics and then started the old swinging-a-watch hypnosis bit on the audience until somebody flung a big hunk of cake that smacked him right in the face. To his credit he smeared it around into his own face real good then flung it back into the crowd. Move on.

The next act was what we had come to see: Iggy and the Stooges! They were not the most musically sophisticated band by any means but the simplicity and intensity of the performance earned Iggy the nickname "Godfather of Punk." The Age of Aquarius is so over! Iggy probably was the first to stage-dive and to crowd-surf, even crowd-walk as in this iconic still pic from the vid. So rock-n-roll! They were long overdue for their induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame this year.

Now watch this AWESOME vid and check out the square they got to host. He doesn't know what to make of it! Iggy got the best reaction from the crowd at the screening.

I would love to know what became of the sketch that one person in the crowd was doing, and I'd love to see snapshots taken by the kids that Iggy was diving amongst. Are you out there kids, and can you share those with us?

Last act on the vid was Traffic, featuring Steve Winwood. They were great musically, very eclectic. I especially like this song "John Barleycorn" because it feels timeless and has some rather challenging harmony.

They say they pulled the plug on Traffic promptly at midnight. The screening was over. There was an intermission to be followed by a panel discussion of some people involved and then a book signing by Bob Seger's manager of his book of photos. But we were ready to roll on out into the hot summer with songs of 40 years ago running through our heads.

House on the Corner

2010-06-13T21:29:00.000-07:00

We're old and withered but we still have all our own petals.

So we're still tying up the loose ends of the cafe business that closed last July. We thought we might do the right thing and get a few bucks to boot by returning some premix syrup tanks and CO2 cylinders to the local Pepsi distributor.

Turns out we get no deposit back because the gas cylinders have wandered their way from various places, not from them. Syrup tanks are non-deposit. We wrapped ourselves in the warm fuzzy feeling of doing the tight thing.

While we were out we decided to cruise by our old Cafe and eyeball things. A few locals on the street spotted us driving by and gave us a wave. The Cafe looked about the same, still standing vacant, no neon stickers on the door. We turned the van towards home.

Along the way, we noticed the changes in the businesses we used to consider partners or competitors. The Mexican restaurant that got shut down for selling drugs had re-opened to sell pizza by the slice. That might work. Another restaurant that sat vacant for a long time had opened selling "comfort food." Good luck with that. Your customers will all tell you they do it better. The Mudslide Tavern was under new ownership and Andy's Cafe had become Someplace Different. That one was a surprise. On up the road in Hartwell, what used to be called Someplace Different had become The Last Laugh. We turned left on Galbraith and began the climb out of The Valley.

We felt a bit snacky and decided to hit the Taco Bell at the top of the hill. No dice. It was empty and for sale. Since when does that happen to a Taco Bell? We decided to go around the corner to visit the nice Indian folks at Brentwood Spirits, our assigned liquor supplier when we ran the Cafe. Guess what - that space in the strip mall was empty, for lease. We even checked the back service entrance to make sure. It was getting weird. Oh well, we decided to stop at Village Thrift at Northbrook Shopping Center near our house to drop off a couple of bags of donations and do a little shopping. The big sign on their door said the store was Permanently Closed. How bad is it when the thrift store goes out of business? We went on home and sat down to rest, TV on. News update: another home invasion and double shooting just a few streets over at the corner of Wenning and Sacramento. No motive, no suspects. A mother pit bull & pups were removed from the home for safekeeping.

An intricate cascade of electric guitar notes flowed down from Derek's room. Over and over, faster and faster. I closed my eyes and let the sound wash over me, glowing behind my eyes like an audible stained glass window. Again and again he drilled himself in his air conditioned solitude, striving for perfection. Eventually he halted playing and bounded down the wooden stairs and into the kitchen to make coffee. I went in to slice some melon.

"Hey, kid, you learning a new piece?" "Nope, just practicing something I learned a while back and hadn't played in a while - 17th Century Chicken Picking by Impelletteri." "Oh yeah," I said, "he did some work with Ken Mary, who drummed for Alice Cooper and produced that record that my cousin Kelly McAnly did." I told him about the shooting. He said "I really hate this neighborhood." Coffee in hand, back upstairs to his arctic fortress of solitude.

"Athena" Melon, $1.48 at Kroger. Chilled overnight, so ripe, so sweet, so juicy.

My sundial said "time for melon." My heart said "time to sell this house." The music soared above me, unfettered and unafraid.

Asian Food Fest 2010

2010-06-08T10:21:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday morning we were "getting ready to get ready," sipping strong Kroger French Roast coffee (it's a dollar cheaper on the can than Columbian) and watching Fox19 on TV. We had no plans for the day other than stopping at the bank before 5 o'clock. Our ears perked up at the report of the day's events: Asian Food Fest 2010, free admission, free parking, free entertainment, food from all over Asia, and just a few miles away at Kolping Center. The plan is set: bank first, then swing by the festival.

We headed out around 2 p.m., travelling along a residential street called Niagara to avoid the congestion typical of Colerain Ave. Suddenly a Colerain Township police car came flying down the narrow street with sirens & lights going. Hmm, wonder what's up? There is always some kind of drama within earshot, but we found out later that this turned out to be 4 people shot, two of them dead. Our kids know that you can't walk to Northgate Mall without getting jumped. And Northgate Mall is going through foreclosure. Welcome to slum-burbia! But at that moment the biggest threat to us was the sky. A silent stroke of lightning etched the horizon as I exited the bank after appeasing the bank with another monthly mortgage payment. The atmosphere is muggy and heavy for so early in the season.

Minutes later we pulled in to the spacious parking lot of Kolping Center, cruised past an ongoing softball game, and parked in one of the many handicap slots near the shelter/building. The paved walkways were wheelchair-friendly; the grassy area that held the various food booths was not to hard for me to push over. There were a few known restaurants represented but most of the booths seemed to represent countries or regions of Asia. We selected a chicken paad thai and a Korean meal and found a table under the spacious shelter. Oh, I forgot to mention there was a light drizzle going, so much for a good hair day.

Under the shelter a demonstration of a martial art called akkido was beginning. According to the old sensei, the main feature of akkido is to use your opponents momentum against him. Not much striking or kicking, lots of spinning and flipping. Check out the pics.

After the akkido demo, there was a group of kids that did the dragon dance.

Apparently dragons eat dollars. After all, this festival is helping to raise money for Haiti.

Do you still have all your fingers, Marcy?

Dragons also go for peaches on a red plate. Good luck?

The dragon crew posed for photos with anyone who wanted. This young lady was one of the volunteers who made sure we had fun. In fact, several people asked us if we were having fun. The answer was yes! We're already looking forward to the 2nd annual Asian Food Festival.

Memorial Day Weekend 2010

2010-05-31T14:31:00.000-07:00

Any day is a good day to be alive of course, but some days more so. Enough of shuffling paper, and the cleaning and mowing just needs done again as soon as you finish. The sun is shining, the van has good tires and a tank of gas, so Marcy and I are heading out on a quest. First we stop at Mt. Healthy Dairy Bar for a malt to share as we drive. Very "Archie & Veronica" isn't it? We take Gray Road along the northern boundary of Spring Grove Cemetery (We'll have to stop at that Weavers Guild sometime). Circling around to the front gate we find the cemetery had closed at 6 p.m. So we don't get to visit Marcy's dad George's mausoleum and we don't get to enjoy the beautiful, historic cemetery. We sip the last of the malt as we take Spring Grove Avenue to the incedible urban industrial nexus where railway, Mill Creek, and highway throb together like an aneurism ripe for rupture. We get on I-74 West and the landscape soon begins to open. Each breath comes easier as wooded hills appear. We cross the Great Miami River and soon comes the New Haven Road exit to Harrison. The land of my people! We roll down Broadway past my dad's old high school, hang a right on Hill to go past our old church. I turn down the radio's Memorial Day countdown of hits as we approach the cemetery.

Marcy & I share a wedding anniversary with my aunt Robin (Beatty) and late uncle Ernie. It all looks good here. Respects paid, we exit the cemetery.

This house at the top of the hill was where my dad grew up. Because my Grandpa Lloyd Price died when I was little I always thought of it as Grandma's house. We would stop there after Sunday church, sometimes eat lunch, and Grandma and I would watch Mutual Of Omaha's Wild Kingdom, yes, in living color, and often linger over Marty Stouffer's Wild America. It's changed, and I don't want to look too closely. Some neighboring houses have been torn down, and the big new house in the background was built in the big side yard/garden. There used to be nice maple & catalpa trees out front, and a gigantic willow behind the house. The porch is wrong. Better move along.

Down the road along the hilltop ridge, the turn on Flora. It's the old church shelter house. Summer revival meetings on hard wooden benches in the thick summer air, fans a-flutter in old ladies' hands. My cousin Kenny Hornsby was married here. So many dinners laid out on long tables covered in sheets of that glossy Champion paper cut from rolls. Granny Jones' annual birthday gathering.

Down the hill was the water fountain, bathroom, and garage for the church buses, complete with mechanics pit in the floor. The urinal in the men's room had woodsy spiders the size of saucers. The outdoor water fountain put out a big thick stream of unchilled water that made great misty rainbows when directed skyward by any youngster who dared to get his church-clothes wet.

The softball field filled the terrace just above the shelter. There was a real nice big backstop along the tree line back there but there still must be a lot of softballs composting quietly just inside the woods. Some stout fellas could jack a ball clean over the shelter. Wasn't that a ground-rule home run? That house on the hill was built for the preacher. It was quite an obstacle course when it was under construction. Too many changes here, time to roll on.

We navigate over to California Road and enjoy the ruler-straight northward course up hill and down towards Governor Bebb Park. But Okeana-Drewersburg Road calls me to turn left and we ramble over the Indiana border somewhere. My smile grows wider as the roads grow more narrow and rough, the landscape seemingly an endless expanse of fields and pastures planed smooth by glaciers a few thousand years ago. Holstein cows freshen the air. I channel my inner Daniel Boone and we find Indiana Route 252 and head east. Look, here are a bunch of wild turkeys!

If I have to travel, let it be on a two-lane highway. We roll through the tiny border-town of Scipio and resist the urge to go north on State Line Road up to the old pioneer church. We can not resist a quick look at Governor Bebb Park, one of the most wonderful places in my world. All is well, not too crowded on this holiday. Away we roll, thinking it might be nice to go downtown to Taste of Cincinnati to round out our day. The ribbon of asphalt carries us along the creek past the superlong rail trestle, through Okeana, through Shandon (Strawberry Festival coming up June 12!) we wave at the Francis sisters' alpacas, go past the Fernald Uranium Plant where my dad & I have both worked, through Ross (Venice Castle is for sale) and we turn south on US 27. I think about the airport that used to sit where Northgate Mall does now. So many things I look at used to be something else. Is that a sign of age? No, just longer perspective, stuff to write about later. Before long we are back down in that valley where we first started our ramble.

We wander around downtown a bit then manage to find free, fairly safe parking on East 4th Street. Wheelchairs in a thick crowd have advantages and disadvantages. I only run up on the heels of one person. We score a couple of Great Lakes pale ales and a mythos gyro and settle down on the doorstep of my old employer to enjoy Bad Veins play. P&G must really be working on their public relations. The gardens used to be a sacred and untouchable spot. Now they seem to be avoiding any appearance of elitism as they open at least the walkways to the public.

The drummer seems to be looking up at my old office in the Twin Towers.

When finished, this building will replace the Art Deco era Carew Tower as Cincinnati's tallest building.

Farklishly Nice Things

2010-05-24T22:58:00.000-07:00

Yeah, you Facebookers know what I'm talking about. But this is real life. Over my shoulder I hear the click of the five dice and then the rumbling roll on the gameboard. We call it "Zilch." Dylan, Sarina, and Marcy each won a game and this is the tiebreaker. Friendly family competition to relax in the heat of the night. We already played a game of Scrabble - The Nightmare Before Christmas Edition - and I won. I got "unique" on a triple word space. I also got to play the word "naif." Like Dad always told me, I quit while I'm a head.

In the background the TV is playing "Diners-Drive-ins-and-Dives." I was hoping it was the episode where they visited Cincinnati's Terry's Turf Club but I guess it's not tonight. It's nice to hear the threesome next to me laughing and having fun. Oh, they've switched to "Uno" now. I wish you could hear Marcy laugh! Mom & Dad, thanks for getting her that playing card rack.

We went with Sarina to her ultrasound last week. It was cool that we got to see our grand-daughter Logan and all, but I was amazed by the technology, how far it's come since our kids were tadpoles. That GE machine showed us the girlie parts, the beating heart, a well-formed spine, a palate un-cleft. We saw the healthy placenta, then they highlighted the cord and measured for proper blood flow. Neat. Then they clicked the images of the leg bones and arm bones and it calculated her size to be perfectly average for a 32-week tadpole. It did everything but take the kid's fingerprints, and that's probably in next year's model.

I've been too busy to post much lately besides some photos and a poor excuse for writing. Our mental energy has been poured into a few very important and time-sensitive challenges but now we are seeing the results of our efforts just as we set out to do. First of all, the bankruptcy. "But wait," you say, "Isn't bankruptcy bad?" Yeah, like chemotherapy is bad for cancer! I really like our attorney, Robert Liebman. He reminds me of Charles Foster Offdensen, the manager/lawyer for Dethklok on the show Metalocalypse. He nailed the bankruptcy for us and got a lien on our house cancelled. He's a lethal legal fencing master. We actually shared a laugh right before the hearing, tee-hee! Next, Marcy's medical care. We finally got her approval for state Medicaid with actual "insurance" provided by Buckeye Healthcare starting in June. Whew! And speaking of her condition, we also completed a symptom report for SSI. That was not so much fun. List ALL symptoms, what they feel like, where you feel them, whether they spread, what makes them start, what makes them worse, how bad on on scale of 10 is a good day, how bad on a scale of 10 is a bad day, how many good days vs. bad days each week, how long each symptom lasts, how often each one hits, and even more. Grueling, but it produced a well-organized picture of Marcy's misery. Social Security also required a Work History analysis for the last 15 years, detailing all work duties plus how much she had to sit, stand, walk, crawl, climb, crawl, stoop, crouch, reach, schlep, manipulate, write, and so on. Done.

The Victory Garden has produced its first tomato!

Speaking of which, I found another great use for the profusely growing lemon balm: bruschetta. I chopped up a couple of ripe tomatoes, took a few plucked tops of fragrant lemon balm and cigar-rolled them and cut little chiffonades, slivered a few "wild onions" I plucked from the back yard, a shake of dried basil and a splash of extra virgin olive oil and presto! Spoon that stuff onto slices of Kroger Italian bread (marked down to under $1) and it is so delicious and fresh. And take a look at this salad I made using baby lettuce thinned from the Victory Garden, plus garlic mustard, lemon balm, chive blossoms, wood sorrel (shamrocks), and those beautiful little wood strawberries. We had it with dinner when our old friends Terry & Loey visited.

Totally Rad-Ish

2010-05-12T17:20:00.000-07:00

Hey, Lili! Check out the moose in the iron fire-ring.

Hungry as a wolf. Friends like this keep a lot of pesky bugs from invading your home.
Click the pic for a good look at the eyes, the fangs, and the pedipalps.

Is there a bit of a happy tear welling in Marcy's eyes?

Marcy and I shared the first radish of the season. The texture was perfect and the flavor flowed from sweet to peppery.

Happy Mother's Day

2010-05-08T20:05:00.000-07:00

Hi Mom, happy Mother's Day. I love you and miss you a lot. See you soon!

Shroom Bloom

2010-05-05T23:21:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure these are Inky Cap Mushrooms. I would not consider eating these unless I was desparately hungry.

I read that Inky Caps are sometimes called Alcohol Caps because if you drink alcohol within a few days after eating these you'll feel like you're gonna die, even if you don't. I don't want to have to worry about that.

Inky Caps mature quickly and can turn to black slime within a day. Don't even try to pick and store them. Manna from heaven? No thanks! These are growing near the stump of a red maple and they follow the tree's old root system. And these mushrooms are really all connected. Mushrooms are called "fruiting bodies." Imagine a bunch of apples scattered on the ground, you wouldn't think of them being connected, all fruits of the same subterranean tree that's managed to push its progeny to the open air for dispersal. The mushrooms are connected all over the yard. And certain mushrooms have affinity for certain trees. In late summer I'll show you some ash tree boletes that appear in the back yard. Fungi are so fascinating!

Stella's 94th Birthday

2010-05-02T19:21:00.000-07:00

Stella Marie (Wellman) Beam, born 4/29/1916, with her daughter Marcy. Happy Birthday!

Progress in The System

2010-04-29T06:06:00.000-07:00

I haven't had much time to compose decent posts here lately because we've been so tied up with administrative stuff. But it's having the desired effect. Marcy finally got approved for Ohio Medicaid For The Disabled and we picked a carrier, so now we're waiting for delivery of the manual & provider directory so she can choose a primary care physician and then make an appointment. That's a real relief to me. Our son Derek got approved for Medicaid pretty quickly because he is under 18, no quibbles about it. That's the way it should be - we provide for the care of those who really need it. We also spent an afternoon at Social Security and I think she'll finally get approved for SSI assistance. It still has to be looked at by some state disability board but I think it's the same one that just approved her Medicaid, so we should be OK there. Too bad she is not eligible for regular Social Security Disability, but they ruled that she did not have enough work on the books. Raising kids, caring for the home & neighborhood, being a room mother, raising tens of thousands of dollars for the PTA - these activities are irrelevant to Social Security. It's for workers, not volunteers, and it's mostly women who pay make that sacrifice, who pay the price when they become disabled and find big gaping holes in the safety net.

I swear this picture was not selected to go with my next topic: bankruptcy. Our hearing is scheduled for mid-May, not much to do on our end but take Part 2 of the required credit counseling. Part 1 told us that we were not doing anything wrong or living extravagantly, but that we got dealt a tough hand to play.

Sometimes I can detach from all this struggle and view it objectively. It's interesting to consider all your possessions and their value in regard to the precious minutes of your life that are required to earn stuff, buy stuff, store stuff, clean stuff, dispose of stuff, let alone just to ENJOY the stuff. The picture above came about when I realized I spent more time skimming than swimming and just let the chips fall where they may. It's also interesting to be told that you can't get help because you have too much stuff. And there are whole industries based on taking away your stuff and more industries built on the sorry fact that you ain't got no stuff. Aw, stuff it! George Carlin might say, "Move your crap so I have a place for my stuff."

Today is Marcy's mom's birthday. Stella is 94. We'll go visit her and take her a little gift, a framed collage of some recent photos of the boys playing music. We wanted her to have a tangible reminder that they are not little babies anymore but young men getting on with their own lives. She can't keep much stuff, but she'll like the picture.