Reflections on music, memory, and the power of gratitude – a BIG ole thank you Old Dominion, Eric Church, and Kenny Chesney

 

There have been so many moments in my life when music is more than just a gentle backdrop of white noise, that's pretty much all my moments if I am being honest.  It has often become the lens through which I look at myself, my past, and the intricate dance of connections that have shaped who I am.  Lately, I have found myself in such a moment. Three songs that scrolled by one after the other in a playlist, one from Old Dominion, one from Eric Church, and the last from Kenny Chesney, did more than act as background noise.  They illuminated my life’s journey, casting both shadows and light on the faces and memories that define my story.

It began with Old Dominion’s “I Miss Ya Man,” a song that opened the door to memories I carry, loved ones lost along my six decades long journey. Each verse was a quiet invitation to revisit those Brothers and Sisters from other Mothers who are no longer with us.  The childhood laughter with Alison Bodey, and later, the years we dated, we rode along for 44 years. The steadfast friendship of Lyndon Boyer, one of the best human beings I have ever known, we shared the road for 45 years.  I realized, as the melody played, that certain stories now live only in my heart. The laughter, the exaggerations, the moments that once belonged to “us,” now rest in my memory alone. There was sorrow in that realization, and unexpected gratitude, too, for having shared such precious chapters with each of them.

The song reminded me, grief is a companion on the ride of life.  It’s there in the missed goodbyes to friends like Debbie, whose recent passing I’m still processing.  It lingers in the memories of those, like Eric, Grady, and Cary, who found the world too heavy to bear.  In recalling them, I’m reminded not only of loss, but also of the enduring bonds that even death cannot sever. Their stories and love continue to shape who I am and who I am becoming.

Eric Church’s “Those I’ve Loved” followed, and with it, a wave of gratitude. The song’s quiet truths, lessons from a grandfather, the strength of those who’ve walked beside us echoed my own life.  Some important people in my young life helped me like a grandfather would’ve if I’d had one.  Alva, Don, and Rodney were instrumental in shaping who I am today and it was a reminder that none of us arrives at our present alone.  We’re molded by the kindness, patience, and generosity of countless souls along the way.  Some of whom remain and others who’ve moved on.  In being reminded of what I already knew, I feel compelled to offer thanks to all who’ve walked with me. Life is too fleeting for appreciation to go unsaid.

Kenny Chesney’s “When I See This Bar” completed the musical trilogy, painting a portrait of memory and belonging. The bar became a symbol, not just of time spent with friends but of those suspended moments when we stand between who we were and who we’re becoming.  Faces change, stories evolve, but the longing to connect remains constant, a universal chord that reverberates through every one of our lives.

The cumulative impact of these songs was profound. They’ve offered me a renewed sense of purpose, to cherish those beside me, literally and figuratively, honor those who are no longer with us, and savor the transient beauty of every gathering, every conversation, every shared silence. They remind me the ride is unpredictable and finite but made immeasurably better by the company that travel along with us and the love we share with them.

With each loop of the playlist, the meaning deepened for me.  I see my own journey with greater clarity, not just for myself, but for everyone who’s traveled alongside me, even those who were there for a short stretch.  Music, in this way, is both salve and guide, helping me embrace the fullness of my story and a reminder to always lead with gratitude into whatever chapters I have remaining.  

So, to those I’ve loved along the way, thank you for your presence, laughter, and your light. Thank you for helping me become, in ways small and profound, a better human.  May we all find the courage to say “I love you” freely, honor our memories, our stories and make the most of the time we share on this wild, beautiful ride of life.

Beginning a new chapter in a place we’ve never been is equal parts exhilarating and disorienting at the same time.  I often find myself longing for the closeness and physical presence of friends who know the rhythm of my life, my past, the shorthand conversations, the inside jokes, and quiet companionship that only years together can forge. As Dolly and Kenny sang, “You Can’t Make New Old Friends.”

Feelings of isolation don’t knock loudly, sometimes they hum faintly in the background like the white noise of life.  In those moments, I will remember these three songs. “I Miss Ya Man” reminds me that love and grief share space. “Those I’ve Loved” nudges me toward gratitude and the roots of who I am.  And “When I See This Bar” reminds me that memory can turn any place into sacred ground, wherever I am and whenever I reflect.

So yes, I feel isolated at times. But I also know these feelings are transient and are part of the reshaping that comes with writing a spanking new chapter.  I carry y’all with me in the details, in the music, in how I greet strangers with warmth, wondering if a micro-relationship might blossom into something more.  And I know this season, like all others, will eventually bloom.  The ache of loss of the familiar will soften, the streets will start to feel like mine own, and I’ll find my new tribes - and I know they’ll add to the amazing tapestry that is my life.

Thanks for being my friend and joining me on this journey.

I cherish what I call micro relationships

So to start with that term is one I created and defined, if you google that, it has other meanings that are FAR from what I am talking about when I use that term.  When I use that term I am speaking of those relationships that start out super topical and grow at the pace of a great redwood tree.  They mostly get started through some transactional interaction, for example the teller at the bank that you prefer or the checker at the grocery store or maybe someone you meet while watching a sunrise from a amazing spot.

While these relationships are often taken for granted, they are so important – at least to me.  They fill in the gaps between our close friends and strangers we have yet to be acquainted with.  They bring a certainty to our lives, a comfort in knowing a bit about the Dude or Dudette selling ya a car battery or cutting your hair or selling ya a lotto ticket.

I make a deliberate effort to cultivate micro-relationships whenever possible. They often times start with a few words to a person, saying thank you Randy to the man who checks you out at the Safeway grocery store, and you know his name is Randy initially because his name tag says Randy.  That eventually leads you to going to his line to get checked out, even if that line is longer than the other lines.  This can happen anywhere, even at the car wash or the landfill.

I have seen so many service folks like Randy abused by “Karens” (sorry Karen B and Karen F as you are not Karens in the way I am using that word here).  I have seen folks like Randy completely ignored while some Kevin (male version of a Karen I just learned from Google).

Everyone of us is just trying to do our thing and every single one of us should be given every bit as much respect as everyone else in the world!  NO ONE should look down on, ignore or be an asshat to someone just doing the gig they have to support their lives.  ESPECIALLY when it is so easy to share a smile, a kind word or just an simple acknowledgement of their existence.

While I have many friends who mean the absolute world to me, I have an equal amount of relationships that fall into the micro relationship category.  Funny thing is that for me, they both hold equal value in my heart, absolutely different but absolutely equal.  Equal because they fill a gap, we don’t always get to see our friends every day, and yet we do see and interact with all sorts of folks all the time, and each is an opportunity to spool a bit of positive out into the inverse.

I am absolutely convinced that most of the positive fortune I have had in my life came back to me because I have been deliberate about spooling positive out.  Basically many of the eastern religions call that Karma, not being religious in any way I prefer spooling positive out, I learned today that there’s some science backing that up.   At least on the good Karma side, which is very different than the Karma the Karens and Kevins of the world spool out.

SO… you might be wondering why I am even typing about this??  Well, with our recent move, in addition to missing my Brothers and Sisters from other Mothers, I also acutely feel the loss of the myriad micro-relationships I had formed in the 10 and half years I spent in Oregon.  I know that I will rebuild those here in Lincoln, but I feel the loss and look forward to getting those back in my life, and I have started.

These are long game relationships that build slowly over time, as you only have minutes at time with these folks.  It also starts for me with a simple smile and asking how they are doing and then some little joke or smart aleck answer to how I am doing.  For those who know me you have hundreds of them.  They range from “living the dream” to “if I were any better I’d be twins of you” to “it’s too early to tell”. 

As you can imagine those get any range of responses, but it also indicates to me if a micro-relationship is worth pursuing.  I only recall a couple of times that I thought, nope, nope and NOPE.  I have found after a couple of interactions they start to recognize me and initiate the conversation, ya know with how ya doing today?

Over time, a few tiny nuggets at a time, you learn about who they are, what they are about, what pets they have or what their kids are doing and other little mundane factoids, and they learn those things about you as well.  Over time you start to look forward to the check in with them at the check out line and if ya haven’t seen them for a while you wonder and hope they are ok.

This can happen with many folks, like Samantha, who went by Sam, who cut my hair for a number of years before she had a kiddo and became a stay-at-home Mom.  Or Smitty who was the guru over at Advanced Auto Parts, who eventually learned each vehicle I owned, and he had a kick ass 32 Ford.   That relationship was easy to get started, as we were both Smitty. 

It was also Chuck, who delivered firewood to Smithlandia, who was a super interesting dude who spent a few years building his own house, and it was amazing – yes he took me over to check it out.  Or Bobby, the first dude we had in Oregon taking care of our yard.  He was in previous life a pot farmer and eventually helped me grow a bumper crop one year, just to see if I could do it.  I remember him being pissed that my harvest came out better then his, hahaha, all I did was exactly what he told me to.

It could be Roy, who I met on the beach watching the sunrise in Jacksonville and became very close friends.  I took him to both his cataract surgeries and eventually he came to our home every year for Thanksgiving.  He also took me to his country club for lunch, which he really enjoyed doing.  A lasting and meaningful relationship that started with us at sunrise one morning at the beach.  Here is a story I wrote about him when he passed.  Mr. Oatmeal's Oratories

I am sure I am not alone in having these kinds of micro-relationships and I am probably not alone in how important they are in my life.  Anyway, I wanted to tell you about and encourage you to slow down long enough to make a difference in someone’s life, no matter how small. 

Which leads to me Ariel, my first micro-relationship here in Nebraska.  Well, I feel it is the beginning of one anyway.  Bride and I went out to breakfast a couple of weekends ago and I noticed one waitress doting over an elderly gentleman at a table near us.  To the point of sitting with him for a few minutes two or three times. 

The bits of the conversation that I overheard were just the day to day of life events but there was a connection between them for sure.  I recall thinking how awesome is that that she took a few minutes out of her day to brighten his day, spooling the positive into the universe.

So we were there a few days later and she ended up being our server on this visit.  I told her that I had noticed her spending time chatting with an older gentleman the last time we were in.  Her face lit up and she said yeah, that was Glenn, he is 97, a veteran, and drives here every day for breakfast.  She went on to tell us more about him and it was just beautiful. 

I told her how much I appreciated her spending those minutes with him and that I enjoyed watching her spool positive into the universe, and that it was clear that she meant a great deal to Glenn.  She touched her heart, holding back a tear and said “you have just filled my heart up, thank you”.   That interaction touched my soul and led me to reflecting on the power and importance of micro relationships.

Go spool some positive into the universe Y’all – it will come back multiplied!!

 

 

What it means to Me to be an Ally

An ally can have a number of meanings, for example, a sovereign or state associated with another by treaty or league, or one that is associated with another as a helper : a person or group that provides assistance and support in an ongoing effort, activity, or struggle, or a plant or animal linked to another by genetic or taxonomic proximity.  In this Oratory I want to talk about what it means to me to be a person and group that provides assistance and support in an ongoing effort, activity, or struggle - which includes marginalized groups of folks for the various ways we are different.  

I want to start by talking about two good friends of mine, Jade and Cody, I have changed both those names to protect them.  I knew Cody for about 6 years, and I have known Jade for a bit over a year.  The thing that leads us to know each other was technology, we are both technologists in one form or another and we share a love of all things nerdy and technical.  

When Cody and I first met she identified as male.  When she decided to come out and that she also said she was going to transition and would start identifying as female.  Our conversations were definitely different and took on new meaning for me.  As someone who identifies as a CIS gendered, as a white male in a position of power and privilege.  I did not fully understand and am a naturally curious person and she helped me gain a different perspective and a better understanding so… 

Those early conversations were a bit uncomfortable for both of us I think.  That discomfort is all gone now btw.  As I listened to story after story about her having to hide and never being able to be authentically herself, it was all very sad and hard for me to hear.  I never even thought this much about the experiences of someone who changes how they identify if I am being honest because I was not aware of any of my friends that had.

I was and am profoundly disappointed and sad that ANYONE would have to hide who they truly are.  For those who know me, you know I am not a hider of any damn thing, and my privilege has allowed me that luxury in life.  I simply cannot even begin to understand what it would be like to not feel safe enough to express myself in a way that was not authentic and true to who I am.  I recognize that as a privilege and realized that many do not get the chance to truly be their authentic self. 

Jade is the first person, at least that I aware of, that I had a relationship with that was transitioning.  She is the first person I have been able to be a tiny part of (observationally for the most part) a transition like that.  This experience was all very new for me.  Over that transition I got to watch my friend evolve from who she was into who she is now.  It has been an amazing experience for me to watch her turn into someone completely different.  The years of hiding behind a façade and dealing with the fear mostly melted away, at least from my perspective.  It was like watching a caterpillar going through its metamorphosis into a butterfly and I was honored to be an observer. 

As a 58 year old white man living in America, I cannot recall a time where I was unable to be 100% myself.  As flawed as I am, I have a certainty about who I am in the world that has never been questioned and I have never been marginalized for any of the ways I identify and operate in the world.  Well, I am sure most of my friends have said on multiple occasions, what the fuck Smitty but that is more related to my outlandishness vs the ways I identify myself. 

Jade’s journey is still a difficult one, mostly because of the prejudice, intolerance and hate and that makes me both sad and angry.  And why, simply because someone has some prejudice or hate in their heart?  Or because their particular religion tells them it is immoral?  What bullshit!  I get mad thinking about it, who the fuck is anyone in this country to impose their baggage, in the many, many forms that takes, on anyone else, regardless the reasons.         

I want to be clear in saying that I am an ally to those in marginalized groups, regardless of the group.  Or at least I am committed to be the best ally I can be as strive to be better at it.  And when I say marginalized, I mean any group who has not experienced the world in the same ways I have. 

I will defend and fight for anyone who cannot flow through life in this country in the same ways I can and do.  I don’t care if it is race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, or across any of the myriad differences that exist.  I am here for you as an ally because I believe strongly that you deserve the same rights and privileges I have enjoyed, and mostly taken for granted, my whole life.

I feel that way for a few reasons, first and foremost is empathy for another human being struggling along in life carrying whatever weight they happen to be toting around in life.  And make no mistake, every damn one of us is struggling with carrying our own bag of things, some more like a small carryon and others have packed up a whole moving truck full.  Regardless, we all have our own shit we struggle with and deal with on our journey in silence so…  I try to live by this simple rule – BE KIND! 

As decent humans I feel we have a responsibility to pause, put out our hand and say “what can I do to help you in this moment”.  Simply because as humans we need to look out for each other.  This is exactly how we outlasted all the things that wanted to eat us on our way to the top of the food chain.  We relied on someone to holler – LION, RUN.  Humans are built to help each other out when the road gets rough, and we always have been. 

So as we rolled into June, National Pride month, I decided this was an opportunity for me to step into my role as an ally for LBGTQIA2S+ community by making a statement.  For those who don’t know, LGTBQIA2S+ is an acronym for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer and/or Questioning, Intersex, Asexual, Two-Spirit, and the countless affirmative ways in which people choose to self-identify.  The statement I decided to make was to fly both the American Flag and the Progress Pride Flag on my truck for Pride month. 

I did not want to make permanent modifications to my truck for the gigantic flags I see on trucks, so I decided to order smaller ones, the ones that go in when ya roll up your window.  Both were made in America and our country’s flag was one inch larger in both dimensions, making it slightly larger and placing it slightly above the Progress Pride Flag.

As I did this, I was reflecting on the lived experiences of my friend Jade.  When I told her what I was doing with the flags she shared she would not feel safe doing something like that, and that was again profoundly sad to me.  Bride actually said to me “you are going to get shot”.  I doubted that would be the case but did suspect there would be reactions to them flying together.

As someone who served our country for 10 years under the ideals our flag represents, I find the overall intolerance and judgement about Pride month particularly offensive.  I feel like our flag over the last few years have come to represent the opposite of the ideals our flag represents, and I spent time defending, American values or whatever you want to call them. 

Much of my irritation was around the feeling that our flag had been co-opted by group(s) who do not, in my view, represent the ideals that our flag represents.  I mean think about it, when we see a vehicle flying the flag now (not on a holiday) it is mostly understood, at least to me, that that person is probably white, probably republican, probably some version of a Christian, and most seem to be angry.  Before ya say I am stereo typing folks, I would add that generally speaking there are other iconology present on the vehicle that would reinforce that idea.  One can see what color the person is, I can see the maga sticker or hat on, usually there is a cross or other religious reference and in my experience they tend to be argumentative.  So while I am stereo-typing it is based simply on what I have observed.

So when I talk about ideals the American flag stands for, I wanted to share with you how I think about those ideals.  We are all created equal, we have certain unalienable rights, such as life, liberty and pursuit of happiness.  When I think about freedoms, I am of a firm belief that we have freedom “of” things not freedom “from” and there is wide gulch between those two things.  We literally formed this country because we were sick of folks in power (King George III) telling us how we should live and how we should go about our lives.

In freedom of, we each have the right to be whoever the hell we want to be and do whatever the hell we want to, and obviously there are limits to that as we cannot go around plundering, maiming and killing.  Individual freedoms are a key part of that declaration, we are meant to be free from ANYONE applying their bullshit on us.  Key to that was freedom of religion, so key as matter of fact it was adopted in the very first amendment of the Constitution.  “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof”. Meaning we can practice whatever religion we want to, and NONE AT ALL if we so chose.

The none at all folks, which I consider myself, have their freedoms protected by the constitution, freedom of choice, the choice not to be governed or oppressed by someone else’s beliefs and morals.  That by the way was a key part of the conversation back in the day as that is exactly what the King and church of England were doing to us, one religion one voice.  Our Founding Fathers did not ever want the religious establishment power to tell the rest of us what to do, based on whatever particular religious dogma rose to prevalence in that moment.  Not from the government or anyone else.

I wanted to set a baseline for what the United States is as a country and why we did not accept the oppressive life that being a simple colonist was, based on the original governing documents.  That also is where my views are formed on most things in my life.  Most of the opposition I hear around LGBTQ rights are morally based.  Moral grounding in my experience tends to be tightly interwoven with religious beliefs, not that heathens like me cannot have morals.  I have been pointed to various passages in the bible that tell me why something might be wrong through the lens of that particular religion. 

I find that hilarious in most cases as there is a lot of other things in that bible I find even worse, stoning wives, killing everyone on the planet with a flood and on and on.  Religion only has the value we place on it, and while I admire those who are true believers the religions themselves have no inherent moral certitude or value nor do they get to decide what is moral or not for anyone else.  My understanding is God is all about Love, not hate, of ANYTHING – at least from my reading of the bible. 

Back to our declaration of Independence, for which we recently celebrated the signing of, I hold these truths to be self-evident, that everyone is created equal, that we are all endowed by whatever Creator or no creator, with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness - I think we need more of that, a lot more of it.  And a note, it does say creator and not God on purpose.

So let’s fast forward a bit to the end of pride month and I realized it was time to take the flags off my truck.  I am not a fan of any adornments on my vehicles, bumper stickers, flags or anything else that does not belong so there is also that.  As I took them off I realized how simple it was for me to take them off and walk away and my life goes back to normal, or whatever version of normal I live. 

I could simply walk away from all the mean ass people who flipped me off, cursed me, and all the other intimidation tactics deployed towards me over the month of flying those two flags.  I got in that month a VERY small sampling of the abuse endured by those in the LGTBQIA2S+ community and I did not like it, I was stunned by the abuse and intimidation endured on a daily and regular basis. 

This experience has absolutely solidified my allyship for anyone who may find themselves in a marginalized group, for whatever your differences happen to be.  The fact you are not allowed to simply be yourselves is offensive to me in so many ways.  While not an exact fit for this conversion, I was reminded of one of Brides favorite songs by Kris Kristofferson called  Jesus Was A Capricorn.  So, I say to Y’all, if your looking for someone to look down on, help yourself to me Brother! 

And please know, I am an your ally if you EVER need one.

I wanted to share a couple of examples of the reactions to flying both those flags.  

·  ** The most common reaction was to simply flip me the bird, which I received multiple times a days.  I  also got what I considered glares and animated conversation in that car with passengers. 

·  ** I was sitting at a light turning left and I saw a woman giving me two thumbs up and smiling ear to ear.

·  ** I received heartfelt thank yous from so many folks, not quite as many as had a negative reaction but they were there supporting my decision to be an ally.

·  ** I received a text from a friend of mine who simply said “thank you for not letting the bigots co-opt the American flag, nice statement.”

·  ** I pulled into the Lowes and parked behind a truck that had a Trump sticker on the bumper, I parked there because it was a Veteran spot, not to provoke a reaction.  He was just getting out as I was and took a look at my flags and I could tell he was not happy.  Sure enough he asked why ya flying those together, to which I responded it is about being inclusive of those who are different than us. 

He then asked where is our flag, he was a white man about my age I guessed.  I found that an ironic question as he was wearing a shirt with the stars and bars emblazoned on it, so of course I said isn’t that what you have on your shirt?  I followed up with that I felt like that flag represented exclusion of those who may be different and I stood for something different. 

Well, he got loud and angry and I thought for sure he was gonna whip my ass right there in the Veterans parking spot in the Lowes parking lot.  His wife or girlfriend helped deescalate and then went on into Lowes, I waited a minute or two and went in a different door to avoid any further confrontation, as getting my ass whooped was not part of my plans for the day.   

** I was down in Portland running an errand when I had an interaction with a person asking for money at a corner by a traffic light.  I have always kept cash in my truck so I can offer assistance to anyone who is asking because who am I to judge their predicament.   Anyway, I handed him 4 bucks and he said thank you.  Then he said I DO NOT approve of your flags, to which I asked which one?  He mentioned the pride flag, I let him know that it was technically the progress pride flag.

I said “I notice you waited until I gave you a few bucks before saying anything.”  He looked a little shocked that I said anything and stared for moment.  Then he said “fuck you” and took off like Jessie Owens running for gold.  I just laughed at how silly I thought that whole interaction was.  

·    And I think my favorite one, I stopped to let someone turn left into my lane because traffic was an absolute mess and I knew it would be a while before he could get out.  I flashed my lights and he started pulling out, then saw the two flags, stopped and flipped me off with both fingers and would not pull out.  Hahahaha, it seemed so silly to me.

So, I ask each of you to ponder ways you can be an ally for those who are marginalized in the myriad ways we marginalize folks.  If ya can’t find a path to do that, I ask that you please follow my Mom’s advice when I was a kid, if ya got nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

 

What could a raccoon and an Incentive Spirtometer possibly have in common??

So, the two things are a Raccoon, which is how this story gets started, and the other is an Incentive Spirometer which is where the story is now.  This blog will tell of my 6 month journey between the two as well as some next steps I will be taking that will finalize that very same journey.   

 

So about six months ago I got home from work one day to find my trash scattered all over my driveway, all over the grass and later I found all through the woods on my property.  I have  kept our trash cans on the side our garage for the 7 years we have lived at Smithlandia.  I spent a couple of hours with trash bags cleaning up a scattered mess that included everything from a pizza box to plastic wrapper a pork roast came in.

 

As far as mitigation strategies, I set about scrubbing out my trash cans, the Rubber Maid 50 gallon commercial model.  I used Dawn Dishwashing liquid and for reference they were pretty damn grungy.  I then bleached the hell out of them, inside and out.  I cleaned thoroughly the area where my cans sat and put out mountain lion piss I picked up at the local feed store.  That last bit was recommended to chase off Raccoons, predator scent thing I guess.

 

I also decided I would keep the garbage in bags in the corner of the garage for a month as well, hoping the little raccoon bastards would forget and find new places to find and enjoy a dinner.  I spread mountain lion piss around my cans and along every path and all the places I found my garbage scattered about.  That was at the recommendation of Bill at the local feed store to chase Raccoons completely away, the thought being they know which predatory animal leaves that particular piss smell, and vacate the premises.

 

I reapplied the cougar piss once a week in all those areas and all the while slowly increased the perimeter.  After a bit longer than a month I felt I was safe to put my cans back along the side of the garage.  Because we recycle it takes about 3-4 weeks to fill up three of those 50 gallon cans.  It was a Wednesday afternoon when I put the first bag in the first can, optimistic the raccoons were gone.

 

WRONG, WRONG, and WRONG.  I came out in the morning and it looked like the first time they got into them, only there was not as much stuff since I had only one 13 gallon tall kitchen trash bag in there, even though the lids were removed from all three cans.  DAMN IT, I remember thinking.  I also began to realize the power of opposable thumbs.

 

It was the first time I considered maybe they were not raccoons and maybe it was a larger hybrid, a bearcoon perhaps.   That is what Bride calls them after seeing two rather large ones some time back.  What other explanation could there be?  The only critter out here, as I see it,  not afraid of a mountain lion has got to be a bearcoon, or just a plain bear.  Since I had seen no evidence of anything other than a coon, I am pretty sure that is what is was, a persistent one but one all the same was my thinking on it.

 

One more trip to the feed store and another conversation with Bill, who was not so sure as he was the last time we spoke.  He recommended a few other things to put out, which I bought and put out.  Again with the routine washing and bleaching the cans as well as keeping the trash in the garage for another month. 

 

I was not as sure this time and I was right to be apprehensive because the next morning after putting one bag in there, you guessed it my shit was scattered all over the place.  I really did not want to keep my trash in the garage, and neither did Bride which was an even more important point.  Damnit!

 

I have a small wood shed across from the house and I really did not want to tote the trash out there each time I had some.  Regardless of what I wanted, I had little choice, unless I wanted to continue to pick up my trash after the little bastard, or bastards, scattered it around.  I was not happy but rearranged the wood shed in a way that provided me a place to put my cans and easy access when I had to toss stuff in them.

 

Keep in mind there are a number of steps to the wood shed, that’s a clue on how we got to the Incentive Spirometer.  So over the next few months I grew accustomed walking over there to throw out the trash.  BTW, I take the trash up to the Waste Management transfer station to save money over pick up at the end of my driveway.  That saves me over $100 a month so while unrelated to this story it is still a thing cause a hundred bucks is a hundred bucks.

 

I had nary an incident since that day, no more trails down to my cans, no more scattered garbage and no sign of anything or anyone even trying to get to my trash.  Life was good at Smithlandia and I was happy, at least until last Tuesday night.  There is one other relevant fact that I want to introduce into evidence to insure y’all understand the rest of the story.

 

That fact is that I have never, not one single time, taken the trash out when it was dark out.  Yeah, the damn time changes are wrapped in this story as well and I think by this time you all have an understanding about feelings on that topic.   So yeah, that is just one more contributing factor, time changes for DST is BULLSHIT.

 

So early Tuesday evening, early or not it was dark out due to the dumbassedness of DST changes, I took the trash out.  You will notice going up the doors the concrete and wooden steps.  After turning my porch light on I wandered over and up into the shed, opened the door and tossed the bag into the can. 

 

I will mention that the porch light did nothing to illuminate my path or the inside the shed.  I remember as I closed the door thinking I will turn on the mercury vapor lights on the corners of the 2 story part of my house if I come out here again in the dark.  That was still on my mind as I started to descend the wooden steps. 

 

I will also note that I had slipped my black tenny runners on because there was still snow, slush and an overall wetness to everything and I did not want my feet to get soaked and cold. I was looking up at the house wondering how much light those lights would throw out here for the next time I run trash over here as we descended onto the concrete steps. 

 

Well my next step shifted my attention for lighting to footing.  My foot missed the landing and went down one step, that juts out.  that sudden feeling of weightlessness was quickly replaced by the sudden stop when my foot hit that next step down.  

 

Well, at that point my body was already in motion and Newtons laws of motion ran through my mind.  In the first law, an object will not change its motion unless a force acts on it. In the second law, the force on an object is equal to its mass times its acceleration. In the third law, when two objects interact, they apply forces to each other of equal magnitude and opposite direction.

 

Well I was pretty sure the second law was at play, as well as the first, my mass was in motion towards the ground and it was accelerating with nothing to stop it.  Well the next thing that came to mind was figuring out how to land in way that would not kill me.  I recall thinking I need to loosen up a bit and get my left arm ready to use as the start of a roll as not to just go splat on my face as I got close to the blacktop of my driveway.

 

I hit with a thud and while I am still not sure if the landing knocked the wind out of me or the pain of the landed was so great it took every bit of air out of my lungs.  It really was a difference without a distinction I realized as I lay in the cold slushy mess that was on the driveway, it was 33 degrees at the moment.  Basically the force of the fall was concentrated on my hand or about the surface area of a sledge hammer, which is what it felt like I was hit with.

 

So there I am, just laying there, not able to breath and already feeling the chill of laying in the slush looking at the house wondering if this is how it ends for me.  while I am unsure how long it took to get my breath back but, I only knew I recognized I could not breath, started getting a bit freaked out by that and realizing I needed to go to my happy places in order to help me stay calm while it did come back.  I suspect all that was like 10 or maybe 15 seconds on the outside.

 

It did come back and I just laid there looking at the front door and gasping a bit to catch up on the missing air.  I stayed laying there for at least a minute, maybe more, as I took stock.  Slowly working my way around my body looking for things that were or were not working.  

 

My shoulder was sore, and later I learned bleeding.  My left hand was scuffed and bleeding as well as being really sore, road rash.  My leg close to my knee was also bleeding, I was in shorts so there’s that too.  My ribs on the left side were screaming, it was very acute pain.  My left leg also felt tender.  After wiggling all my toes and fingers I tried to get up.  First attempting to roll off my back. 

 

That was when my body said, dude you are old so not so fast.  My side felt like it was on fire and the attempt nearly took my breath away again, but I made it over to my right side still laying in the slush.  I rested in that position for a couple of minutes, and was starting to feel the cold as pain.

 

I eventually got to my feet and shuffled towards the front door, most on my mind at that point was getting out of the freezing ass wet clothes I had on.  As I was doing that I realized I was unable to take a regular breath without stabbing pain on my left side on my ribs.  I recall thinking this is what it feels like to get hit with a sledge hammer. 

 

I also realized I was starting to hurt all over, the realization of how fortunate I was not falling any further than I did.  I got changed and situated in the living room in my chair.  It was hell getting up and down, the pain in my ribs brought tears to my just standing up. 

 

Bride of course wanted to take me to the ER right away.  We did decide that I had only been to ER one time in our 30+ years together.   Probably countless trips to various doc in the box or minute clinics but only once to the ER.

 

Having banged my self up in many ways over the years I have gotten pretty good at reading what the body is writing.  Everything moved, no bones sticking out, only discomfort when I moved around.  After much dialog on it I convinced her that if the morning it was the same, we would go.  No sense in spending ER dollars unless necessary has been my standing policy.

 

I did not sleep worth a shit, could not find a position that was even remotely comfortable. Ended up getting out of bed around 4am and had some coffee.   The pain was stabbing in my side so I wondered if maybe I broke one of those ribs, I took some Advil and waited for Bride to wake up, we were going to the ER. 

 

My thinking was if it were broke, maybe I am causing more damage so off to the ER we went.   The waiting room was, of course, filled with sick people.  Coughing and hacking and spreading ebola, covid and probably the bubonic plague, at least that was my thinking at the time.  I finally made it to the triage nurse to whom I relayed my story of woe. 

 

In the course of our conversation I learned the hospital itself was full as was the ER, the flu had brough the place to its knees.  Amy, that was her name, told me even if it were broke there is nothing they can do for that, great I remember thinking.  She took the vitals and let me know the doctor would be in soon, I was still in the triage room.

 

Doctor Johnson came in and asked more questions and finally said, lets get that x-rayed, to which I was grateful as that was really the purpose of the trip.  Someone came and got me and back to the waiting room I went, awaiting word.  After about 15 minutes I heard my name and went into a treatment room, as you will recall there were no ER beds.

 

We shared a few words, I listened to her recommendation to take Tylenol and Mortin and alternate between the two for pain.  She also suggested ice if the pain got too great.  She asked if I wanted something for the pain and I declined.  While Bride swears that is a macho thing, I have completely different reasons.

 

For most of my life any time pain medication is offered I don’t take it.  I consider moments like that as learning opportunities.  If I have to sit in pain for a few days because I did something stupid, in this case taking the trash out and up the steps in the dark I am more likely to remember the lesson life just gave me.

 

So we are six days later and I feel much better, still can finally take a deep breath and I am no longer having to use the spirometer every hour.  The progress is slow but at the end of the day, it is still progress.  I also have started thinking about how I do not put myself in that situation again. 

 

Many options came to mind and I quickly narrowed it down to two options I wanted to explore, and my mind had returned to the damn raccoon.  After a bit of research I learned in Oregon you cannot trap a raccoon and then release him someplace else, at least not legally.  I was not ready to get sideways with “The Man” just yet.

 

That said, I am contemplating the impact here and my desired outcomes – my trash cans back beside the garage, unharassed by the Bearcoons.  My current thinking is shooting one maybe two of them, which is permissible under current Oregon law.  I was also thinking about hanging them by their necks out there by the trash cans.

 

I can only imagine their friends and family will come to the conclusion that they are not to mess with my trash cans,  They will no doubt realize that I mean business on them leaving those trash cans alone.  And to be clear, the law is a little vague on hanging animals after shooting so we may be setting some precent in this. 

 

Of course, I am still exploring other options, but this one is currently and fully in the lead as a way to protect me from falling over and hurting myself again.   Getting old sucks and I now have much more appreciation of what I means when someone says they took a fall – that shit is serious! 

 

 

 

 

Smitty gets a gas grill, and gets all sentimental and emotional about his old grill.

Well, I certainly was not expecting to get emotional on my first use of a restored gas grill when I popped the first chunk of meat on it.  There were many choices for the first thing to cook, I even received from suggestions from friends on the Facebook.  I ended up deciding on a garlic and herb pork Tenderloin, which I just love anyway. 

Since this was the very first thing I had ever cooked on any gas grill I was a bit apprehensive.  I did not want to burn the first thing I tried, I also did not want to have it come out undercooked.  I have been cooking on a Weber kettle for so long I just know how much and where to put the charcoal to get the desired results for whatever I happen to be cooking. 

That no doubt came from years and years of cooking on a kettle with charcoal.  I have cooked all manner of things on that old kettle, burgers, dogs, steaks of all kinds, fish of all kinds, vegetables, pork tenderloins, pork loins, pork chops, bacon, veggie burgers, beer butt chicken, I mean pretty much everything.  

I remember very distinctly when I bought my first Weber Kettle, it was January of 1991.  It was actually the first grill of any kind I had purchased.  We had just moved Sandy from Baltimore to Jacksonville and I was being transferred from Norfolk to Bath Maine.  We pulled into Jax with a few items to last until the moving company brought our stuff.

I was able to stay about 7 days before I had to pack up and head to Norfolk and then onto Maine.  On the second to the last day Bride came home with an AMAZING looking rack of ribs and a disposable tin foil one use grill, supposedly to cook them on.  I kept saying no way and she ended up going out on the patio of our apartment and fired up the “grill”.

It did not take me long to wander out with a bucket of water to dump on that pitiful thing, she had not put the ribs on there yet.  I then proceeded to a Kmart that was only a few blocks away, where I found a Weber Kettle for 59 bucks. 

At the time we were young and poor as dirt and had like 100 bucks until my payday and she did not have a job yet.  Regardless, I bought that Weber and cooked those ribs and they were MAGNIFICENT!  We could ill afford that grill at that moment in time but the thought of those ribs on a tin foil grill, well I just could not do it, not for what she paid for the ribs in the first place.

That first kettle was with us for 17 years before one of the aluminum legs finally gave up on me.  It sat outside in the elements, pretty much ignored as far as maintenance and protection went for its whole life.  I remember writing Weber to articulate my disappointment in their product, lasting only 17 years.  My true hope was to convince them to provide me a coupon or a deeply discounted offer for a new one.

That is not what happened at all.  I got a nice letter back singing my praises for my love of their grill, I had spoken in my letter about what a loyal and faithful servant it had been to me over those years.  And then, in the last line of the letter they reminded me that the grill comes with a 15 year guarantee and that was it, no break on it replacement was to be had.

I was undeterred, I went out and bought another, identical to the first with the exception of improved air vents on the bottom.  Instead of three separate vents operated independently there was now one handle that controlled all three vents simultaneously, I feature I grew to appreciate.   

It was not long after buying this one when I switched over to a cast iron replacement cooking surface.  The wires ones that come stock would only last a year or two before needing replaced and initially I just wanted a longer wearing part.  Little did I realize how much better the cast iron would be to cook on.  more consistent heat, easier to clean and never wear out – I was happy.

Back to today, as I was turning on the gas for the new grill I started contemplating, I wondered how many pounds of charcoal had I purchased and used over the years in my Weber kettles?  How big would the pile of Kingsford briquets would that be?  I am a Kingsford dude exclusively for the charcoal.  How big would the pile of ashes be?  How much money had I spent on all that charcoal?  I determined the answer to all three of those questions was a shit ton and half.

Then I started thinking about all the things I had cooked over the years.  How many hamburgers, how many steaks, how many pieces of fish and how many beer butt chickens.  The only one I knew for sure was beer but chickens, it was 2.  How many slices of cheese for the burgers, how much relish for the dogs, and how much marinade for the steaks? 

I am sure I have ruined many things on those kettles over the years, although none come to mind immediately.  How many things did I over cook?  How many were undercooked?  And how many times did I empty the ash holder that hung precariously below the three vent holes?  SO MANY unanswered questions, in some ways I wished I had kept track, that’s the engineer in me, I think.  In other ways, I am glad I didn’t.

I then started thinking about how many of my friends and family have eaten things I cooked on those kettles.  I suspect over time pretty much everyone I know had something off one of both of those grills.  How many good times, how many great times, how many pool parties, how many family gatherings, how many intimate moments with friends.  Too many is the answer to that question.  I have been so blessed with so many great friends in my life and that is a fact.

After our first pork tenderloin Bride says it is probably time to get rid of the charcoal grill.  She says that right out of the blue and with no deference to the service that thing has provided us.  Get rid of it, I just can’t do it.  Maybe someday I will or could, but I don’t see that day any time in our near future.   it will be getting a good thorough cleaning and the cast iron oiled up really well this weekend and tucked away in the corner of the shed for the time being.

I am sure I will build the same relationship with this new to me grill.  It is a 2001 model of the Weber Genesis gold and after refurbishing it has done a fine job so far.  I have cooked one pork tenderloin, eight Hebrew National hot dogs and about a pound and half of thick cut applewood bacon and it all came out fine.  I look forward to cooking for friends on this and building those memories with friends to cherish.   

Might throw some salmon on this weekend, anyone want to be the first guest who gets something I cooked on my new grill?

  

I am so fucking conflicted about Afghanistan right now.

 

So much loss of life is what is standing out for me today, in the longest war that the United States has ever been in.   Vietnam is very close in second place in duration, we spent 19 years and four months.  Compared to 19 years 10 months for Afghanistan.  Just as comparatives, the Revolutionary war where we fought for our very country lasted 8 years 5 months and we had very little by way of technology to fight that war.  WW2 was a scant 3 years, 8 months, WW1 was 1 year, 7 months. 

 

Russia spent 9 years and one month in Afghanistan starting in 1979.  They lost in the neighborhood of 15,000 troops with 35,000 injured.   35,000 Russians officially injured, wow.  Since we arrived in Afghanistan, nearly a quarter of a million people, including everyone on all sides, have died.   Somewhere north of 70,000 of them were civilians.  2448 American military (as of April 2021) and another 3846 American contractors.  Over 1,000 NATO and allied forces, over 400 aid workers, and 72 journalists

 

We sent over 775,000 American service men and women into that country over the time we were there.   I have read stories of fathers and sons both serving there, sometimes at the same time.  I ask you to ponder that for a moment and let it sink in.   384,000 of them did at least one tour, 222,000 did two tours and nearly 100,000 did three.  40,000 did four tours, 16,000 did five and over 1,000 did more than 5.  More than 5 tours, these Brothers and Sisters deserve even more credit.  I mean even the freaking coast guard was there for fucks sake!

 

The numbers we claim were injured are closer 21,000 but I would argue strenuously that number is 100% complete bullshit.   War is hell as we have heard and EVERY SINGLE service member who spent time there was impacted (injured) in one way or another whether the wounds were visible or not. My heart of with you hero’s who struggle every day and I pray to the universe that you don’t wind up being one of the 22 every day who decide, for whatever horrific reasons, to take their own life.

 

Think about the rippling effects of that number, 775,000 service men and women.  A big ole bunch of them had two parents, probably some siblings.  A big ole bunch had spouses and children, there were many, many  friends and loved ones.  If every service member had just 5 people who cared about them that is 3,875,000 who were impacted, in one way or another, by the down stream effects of the war there.  Then think about all the folks who took care and are taking care of our veterans, hundreds of thousands more folks impacted.  I simply cannot imagine any American does not know someone who was there or who was impacted by the down stream effects.

 

Then we get to the money, because that is always in the mix in one way or another.  The US has spent a big ole bunch of money.  The defense department is north of $820,000,000,0000 and reconstruction projects by other government agencies have spent north of $131,000,000,000.  Germany and the UK have sunk nearly $50 billion and NATO spent about $72 million worth of supplies and equipment.  All dumped into a country roughly the size of Texas.  Afghanistan is 252,071 square miles and Texas is 268, 956 square miles. 

 

I cannot help but wonder why.  Why did so many have to die?  Why did so many have to be injured, visible or not?  Why did so much money need to be spent?  Why all the suffering?   This makes me sad, sad for the world as no one I suspect was left unscathed in one way or another by this war.

 

While I am overjoyed that our direct involvement is over and super saddened by what this means for the loved ones of those who lost their lives.  What does it mean for those families who are living with the injured service members, some severely injured.  I am saddened by the thought of all my Brothers and Sisters who lost best friends, who lost good people they loved and respected both up and down the chain of command.  I just cannot imagine the confusion and pain that they must be left with, what was it all for? 

 

I am also super saddened and afraid about the progress made for women in Afghanistan, that has come to an end and the burqas will be right back.  Not sure if the personal freedoms of women there is the saddest thing but it has to be near the top of the list.  Imagine gaining that level of freedom and then have it yanked away.  Who do ya think they will blame, the Taliban?  The United States?  ANYONE else who brought them a false hope of a future that is simply not to be.  And we wonder why so many in the middle east hate the United States, how many times would it take you getting the rug pulled out before you rose up in rebellion?  It just fucking saddens me!

 

How did fighting there strengthen our place in the world?  How were we protecting our freedoms here at home?   How have we made the world a better place due to our leadership?  I don’t have those answers, I don’t think those answers exist truth be told – at least not to normal folks.   Now for those who profited from it, that is a different story.  Those whose purpose to build war fighting things, planes, tanks, bombs, guns and all the rest – now they probably don’t have any issues, other than the cash cow teat just dried up – hopefully.

  

They are the likes of Lockheed Martin, Raytheon Technologies, General Dynamics, Boeing, Northrup Grumman round out the top 5 with a total of 158,000,000,000 in contracts with the defense department.  Be wary in the coming months and years for a new enemy to miraculously appear that will require the services of these companies.  You can predict it but watching the stocks of these companies, they will hit a point and their lobbyists will go to work with a campaign that will be even easier to perpetrate now we have the insidiousness of social media – WATCH OUT FOR IT!

 

So what are lessons, what are the takeaways from all of this.  Well we have all heard that if you don’t understand history you are bound to repeat it.  There are a lot of debates about the attribution of that phrase.  The Irish statesman Edmund Burke is often misquoted as having said, “Those who don’t know history are destined to repeat it.” Spanish philosopher George Santayana is credited with the aphorism, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it,” while British statesman Winston Churchill wrote, “Those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”

 

Regardless who said it first or best what will our lesson be here?   We OBVIOUSLY did not learn a fucking thing from the second longest war, Vietnam.  What will stop us from a three peat of the absolute misery that is war?   So many pictures coming out of Afghanistan that I have seen before as Saigon fell.  Another time we quit because of whatever reasons, what the fuck.  Another instance of what in the fuck were we doing there in the first place.  One does not have a shitty exit from a shitty situation if one does not play in the shitty game in the first place.   

I don't know how many of you recall a man named Charlie Wilson, you should read the book Charlie Wilsons War - get one printed before they made the movie.  The Taliban is really nothing more than the Mujahideen that we HEAVILY supported and funded in Afghanistan during time Russia was fighting in the country.  Reagan not wanting to cede any ground to the evil empire as he called the Soviet Union.  They are an enemy of our our own making and the United States bears a great deal of responsibility for their existence and actions over time, including what is going on now.  

      

I wonder if we will ever learn that Democracy can NEVER work as a top down approach.  Democracy can ONLY work when it comes from a ground swell of the people.  There are more than enough examples of that to prove it.  I wonder where the lines are about leading in the world with American values starts and where it stops.  We cannot be the police for the world, that much is clear.  I wonder if we ever learn that regardless of what we might think about how a country governs itself, it is their’s to govern – period. 

 

I mean the very tenants of our country talk about freedom – that means the right to choose and do as we want.  Shouldn’t that hold true for others in other countries?   Where is the line, when do we go in to make a difference and where is the line where we walk away and not get involved?   As a Proud American and Veteran I struggle with this one.   If the majority of Afghanistan people support the Taliban and their rule than who are we to interfere?  I think the speed at which they took their country back is evidence that most want that in their country. 

 

But the suffering and oppression, especially of women, how do we reconcile that?  I have no idea!  One thing I know is that we cannot go back and change our involvement in the war in Afghanistan so maybe it is more of a theoretical argument left to the scholars to sort out in the decades ahead.  There will be no lack of opinions on that I am sure.  The lessons learned are for preparing you for what is next and what we do next time something like Afghanistan pops up. 

 

I am praying to universe that it does not happen but I suspect it will, even in my lifetime.  I mean why wouldn’t I?  The United Stated has been at war with someone for 222 of our 239 years of existence.  I am by no means an isolationist but I really do feel we the people ought to be a HELL OF A LOT MORE VOCAL when our elected officials want to engage in these sort of my dick is bigger than your dick arguments turned into a shit load of war which has really only benefited those building the war fighting staff.

 

I am saddened and confused.  My heart goes out to all of my Brothers and Sisters who served there.  My heart goes out to all of my Brothers and Sisters who died there.  My heart goes out to all of my Brothers and Sisters who came back broken or injured, seen and unseen.  My heart goes out to all the families of those brave military members.  My heart goes out to all the friends of those brave military members. 

 

We should EXPECT better and we ABSOLUTELY deserve better and should DEMAND better from our elected officials!  We need to get them out of the pockets of those in the military industrial complex that Dwight Eisenhower warned us about way back in the 50’s.   I am sickened and saddened by it all, they loss of life, the waste of money, the inability to learn from our past, all it!

Ya know I’m sure President Biden will take a shellacking for pulling our troops out.  But if we remember back President Bush couldn’t get us out in his second term, which I recall he said he would.  President Obama couldn’t get it done either, in either term, even though he said he would.  president Trump said he would as well, and couldn’t get it done.  So before we cast a bunch of stones at the current dude I just remind us other said they would and we supported them for saying it.  At least this one had the courage to do it, and he will no doubt pays high cost for that decision.

  I feel like I have more words, but I am going to stop here.