Cluck! Cluck! Cluck!

We have chickens.  In addition to the eggs, meat, and pest control that these feathered fowl provide, they also provide entertainment.  Above is a 1 minute clip of some of  our chickens in action.

Have you heard of the Sand Hill Preservation Center?  Here is the link:  http://www.sandhillpreservation.com/
This is a wonderful place that sells heirloom poultry and seeds.  On the front of their hard copy catalogue is "over 1600 rare and genetic treasures for your selection."

During the long winter, this catalogue is a great one to just sit down and read . . . like a book.  The enterprise is run by a husband and wife team.  They live on a working farm.  The reader of the catalogue is also cautioned not to expect immediate email responses.   They also only take  orders by regular mail. Their time is limited.  And if you are someone who wants immediate service, this place is not for you.  But if you are someone who has patience and is willing to wait, wonderful things will come your way.

The catalogue is black and white.  The 2010 catalogue cover was done by a student at Calamus-Wheatland High School.  Sand Hill  Preservation Center is run by Iowans involved in their community.  I've never met these people, but I like them, just because of their catalogue.

My husband has been ordering seeds from them for several years, but this was the first year we decided to try their chickens.  What beautiful chickens they are turning out to be.  We ordered the farmyard assortment.  It's a crazy quilt of chickens!  Polish, Egyptian, the beautifully named Crevecouer, and other breeds.

Corporate farming involves millions of chickens -- all one breed -- the breed that will provide the most eggs and meat in the shortest amount of time.

Sand Hill Preservation Center is dedicated to those breeds of poultry who are overlooked and forgotten.  The seeds for the garden are heirloom seeds also.  Worthy genetic strains which still have value today.  If you are a "hobby" farmer or gardener, I urge to order one of Sand Hill's catalogues.  The catalogue in itself is a great read!

SLANTED SHADOWS

The slant of the sun's light is beautiful this time of year. During the summer, the sun glares down from overhead washing out all but the brightest of nature's colors. The landscape turns into a setting for a Cormac McCarthy novel. But autumn brings a gentler sun and with the gentler sun comes the angled light and slanted shadows.

Beginning with my feeding the cats moon shot at 5:20 this morning, above is a collage of pictures taken on our morning walk. Lovely time of year.

Take a deep breath and relax.

No ranting today.  The older I get, the more rants I have!   My generation -- the baby boomers -- seems to be up in arms about something all the time.  


Today, though, is a peaceful posting. Enjoy.  If your Internet connection is good, this clip will just take a minute of your time.  It's composed of a moon shot when I was  outside at 5:15 this morning feeding the cats, then shots I took during our two mile walk this morning.


And I'll leave you with some autumn roses which are blooming just outside our kitchen door.

October roses

DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME - WHY DO WE STILL HAVE IT?

Walking at 7:30 this morning.

Reflective wear I don before
walking.

I've already talked about the dangers of walking on our road in a previous post, but since it was dark this morning on our walk -- my husband put on his flashing tail light -- I thought I'd post pictures yet again of what we wear to avoid being smashed by a vehicle. I recommend this clothing for all cyclists, joggers and walkers.

Someone, whose name I will not allow my lips to speak, once commented that the United States is a "nation of whiners." True. I just hate it that the words were spoken by the unnameable one. Nevertheless, this quote is a nice segue into my latest "whine."

Daylight savings time. Really. Isn't it time we just stick on one time and quit switching the clock back and forth? No matter whether the clock is "falling back" an hour or "springing forth" one hour, it still takes us at least a week to adjust to the time change. We are either feeling rushed or too early.

Isn't life in the 21st century stressful enough without looking at whatever one looks at to check the time (cell phones, clocks, watches, etc.), without the (warning: old lady trying to be hip) POA (period of adjustment) our bodies go through each time the change takes place?

Think of young families with babies and toddlers who are (hopefully) on some kind of schedule. Even one hour can throw the whole day off. And farmers. While not true farmers in any sense of the word -- one could call us "farm piddlers" -- we have sheep and chickens whose tummies tell us to show up at a certain time of day, hang the darkness. I can't imagine what it is like for full fledged farming operations.

The National Geographic has a good article on the history of Daylight Savings Time, the full text of which can be seen here: http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news

The article says that we are sold (my word) daylight savings time with talk of the decrease in the number of traffic accidents and crimes committed. Congress chimed in by stating that our Nation's youth benefit from the extension of daylight at the end of the day so they can play outside longer. Consumers can continue shopping, spending money further into the extended daylight. Congress also pointed out that it helps domestic offices when the USA's office hours overlap those of the European community.

It sounds nice . . . it always does. Kind of like a frog being dumped in a pot of water on a stove burner. Slowly the flame turns up and slowly the unaware frog boils.

Society is running 24/7 all the time now. Thirty years ago, when our children were babies and required late night feedings and rocking, we could still see a bit of flag waving and listen to the National Anthem as the television stations, one by one, signed off -- and we were living in a big city at the time. Do any television stations sign off anymore?

Some brick and mortar stores are opened all the time, and the Internet offers us 24/7 opportunities to research, shop, and communicate at home.

Let's choose a stable time -- a time that does not switch back and forth with the seasons. In this unstable world, we need something that is always the same: a calendar year has 12 months, a day has 24 hours, a week has seven days, and a clock, whose hands, when they are on 3 o'clock, it is really 3 o'clock.

Not, "OMG, it's really 4 o'clock". Heart races, blood pressure goes up . . . does the USA need that stress?

And, remember, FALL BACK the first Sunday in NOVEMBER.

The Wichita Mountains this morning at 8:10.

Voting, Bee Pollen, and our Morning Walk

Sunrise, Monday, 25 Oct 2010 

Today my husband and I voted!  We had our ballots mailed to us earlier last month.  We studied all the questions that are on the Oklahoma  ballot this year.  I am not sure why we have a legislature.  Don't we elect representatives to handle a lot of these decisions?  

This year, the time to fill out a ballot at a polling place will be 10 to 15 minutes in length because of all the questions.  It took us at least that long sitting at our kitchen table this morning reading over each question presented.  I'm not sure how actual voting -- next Tuesday -- will go.  After filling out the ballots we went to our local tag agent and had our signatures notarized before posting the ballots at the post office.

Bee pollen from the Elgin Tag Agency

The woman who owns the tag agency is also the wife of a bee keeper in Tipton, OK.  She had a nice display of honey and bee pollen.   (My husband has purchased hives from Tipton Valley Honey Company but his adventures with bees are for another time.)  I asked the tag agent about bee pollen and she said she mixes about 1/8 teaspoon in her yogart each morning.  It is supposed to help with allergies and other aches and pains.  I'm going to try it.  I've read about bee pollen before but have never seen it offered locally.

Our morning walks are on a beautiful road -- not much for
driving on but great for  walking. (25Oct2010)

The Wichita Mountains and windmills.  This is a
view from our road.  I took it this morning on our walk.

All Hail, Judge Judy

Before I begin my praise of Judge Judy, I wanted to share these pictures I took this morning of our sky in our little corner of a flyover state.  In the east, the sun was rising, and in the west, the moon was setting.  This  morning was beautiful.  This is a wonderful time of year.


Now, let the praising begin . . .






All hail, Judge Judy


I used to make fun of those judge shows.  “Who watches this stuff?” 


Until . . .


A few years back my second oldest grandson - Sweet Baby Boy 2 -- was sick.  He was only about four months old at the time.  My daughter had a busy day and she asked if I could drive up to watch him.  


Sweet Baby Boy 2 had a bad cold and all he wanted was to be held.  I rocked him, patting his back.  Holding a baby, rocking him, has got to be one of the best feelings in the world.  I knew I was doing the most important job I could be doing at that moment in time.


My daughter left the house, with the television going.  It was on the station that had the judge shows.  I didn’t  realize until after she had left that I didn’t have a clue how to work her television’s remote and I didn’t want to disturb Sweet Baby Boy 2, so I sat, rocked, and watched judge shows.  (One of our Oklahoma City stations has court shows all day long.)


The longer I sat and rocked and watched, the more I got into it.  I’d get up to change diapers and feed Sweet Baby Boy 2, but I always came back to the rocking chair and those silly court shows.  I liked “Judge Alex” but then “Judge Judy” came on.  


Wow!  Who knew?  She runs those plaintiffs and defendants through her courtroom like nobody’s business.  She is confident in her sometimes snap decisions.  And while I don’t always agree with the outcome, I respect the way she conducts her courtroom.  Plus, she has no reluctance in using the word “idiot.”  That is one of my favorite words and sometimes that’s the word that says it all.


I was hooked.  I am hooked.  She comes on in our area at 4 p.m. each weekday and, if possible, I try to catch her show.


My kids make fun of me for watching it -- I didn’t tell anyone for a long time -- it was my guilty secret. Then my husband retired and was hanging around the house more.  So I got him hooked on “Judge Judy” too.


I tell my kids that it is Sweet Baby Boy 2’s fault because if I had known how to operate that TV remote that day I was sitting and rocking him, I would never had enjoyed the opportunity to watch “Judy Judy.”

Emma and the Headless Chicken

My life today at 10:12 a.m. in my little part of a flyover state.


I was in the middle of cleaning, taking advantage of that zing of energy I get in the morning, hurrying before the zing went zang.  Tomorrow two of our grandchildren will pay us a visit. (It’s fall break in my  part of the flyover state.) 


The telephone rang.  Caller ID showed “Happy Hollow Vet.  Late yesterday afternoon, my husband had dropped our dog Emma off for a “deep” cleaning of her teeth and she was to be put into a twilight sleep for the procedure.


Me:  “Hello?”


HH:  “Hi.  How are you?  We have Emma under anesthesia right now and the doctor has noticed a mass on her right rear leg.  He said that he could also remove the growth as long as she is under anesthesia.  It would just be $75 extra.”


Me:  “Mmmmm. Let me check with my husband.”


I opened the kitchen door and stepped out onto the porch.  


“Carl!” I called.  (We have four acres -- he could be anywhere.)


He was within the sound of my voice.


He was under the carport, his back to me.  He turned.  


“Yes?”


In his hands was a headless chicken he had just finished plucking.  


I knew I had come a long way in our country living experiment when I managed to gulp once, ignoring the naked, headless chicken, and say, “Emma has a mass. The vet wants to know if he should remove it while she’s still out.”


“Yes.”


I gave the vet’s office the green light and returned to my cleaning, trying to recover any zing I had left.  


Carl continued plucking.


There will be no picture on today’s posting.  I leave it to your imagination.

Just an Empty Box: The End of an Era

Once upon a time there lived a "ladies' man" called Mr. Hess.  He was as much of a ladies' man as one could be in Arkansas City, Kansas in 1885.  There was a social event one hot August evening and Mr. Hess wanted to get a date for the event.   He went to the telephone and “sounded the alarm” -- that is what “ringing” was called in Kansas in 1885.  His call was misdirected.  Not knowing that his call had gone to the wrong telephone, Mr. Hess called out “Hello” into the receiver and a female voice answered.  He asked the lady if she would accompany him to the party.  She replied in a distant, cool tone, “My husband will go with me.”  Mr. Hess was so embarrassed by the encounter that he “is opposed to telephone communication now and says it is wrong on general principles.” (Arkansas City Republican, August 29, 1885)


Flash forward to 1889:  The United States’ first pay phone was installed in a bank in 1889 in Hartford, Connecticut by its inventor William Gray.  It was a trusting pay phone because at that time, coins were installed after the call was made.


Fast forward to 1905.  The first outdoors pay phone was installed on a street in Cincinnati.  It was not a big hit.  Oddly enough, people in 1905 were reluctant to have a private conversation in a public area.  Now, over a century later, we can listen to people’s private lives anywhere we go, whether we want to or not.


By 1957 we were able to drive up to a pay phone and make a call from our car.  The last time I checked, the only drive up pay phone in our vicinity now -- and we live in a rural area -- is at the Fina Station just before getting on I-44.  People still use it.  I, for one, am glad it’s there.  Cell phones are nice, but they have to be charged up, maybe one is in a “bad” area tower-wise for using a cell phone, and land lines are always necessary.  (Witness our January 2010 ice storm.  We were so happy we still had a land line because the cell towers were down for a time.  Land lines still serve a purpose.)

Empty pay phone box at the Fina station
 just west of Elgin.

Well, guess what?  I just drove to the Fina to make sure the pay phone was still there and look what I found.  


Back to Hartford, Connecticut, in 1966, the “dial tone first” was introduced on pay phones.  Before that time, one had to deposit coins to get a dial tone.  Now, emergency numbers could be dialed from a pay phone without depositing coins.


In 2001 ATT announced it was getting out of the pay phone business.  Will the pay phone be a victim of cell phone technology?


Not everyone can afford a cell phone and the contract plans that go with it.  It’s just as much a hassle to get all that set up as it was waiting for the telephone man to come out and install your telephone and land line.  If I’m not mistaken, the actual telephones belonged to the telephone company.  The telephone man brought out the telephone and set everything up.


Progress isn’t always progress.  For more information on the history of the telephone, visit this interesting link: www.telephonetribute.com

Oh, and after seeing that the pay phone was no longer at the Fina station, my husband and I became curious.  There is no longer a pay phone at the local grocery store -- just the empty box -- and then we drove to Fletcher and there is no longer a pay phone at the convenience store, just an empty box.

Empty pay phone box
Fletcher OK

THE INTIMACY OF PAPER, PART III: NEWSPAPERS AND MAGAZINES

One of my genealogy magazines (hard copy) recently had an article about reducing clutter in one’s place of research by scanning and saving everything electronically and discarding the paper records.  Well, I save everything electronically and I save my paper too.  Behind me are banker boxes full of records and documents for each branch of  my family tree.


I also read magazines while eating lunch or watching television. I mute the commercials and read. Don't think I could read The New Yorker articles on line.  That great magazine deserves to be held in my hands and read thoroughly.   (I'll bet The New Yorker didn't know they were writing for a little old lady in a flyover state!)   The Internet does not invite thorough reading. 


We recently watched a DVD about the earth and what would happen if human beings no longer lived here -- how long all the things we have produced would last.  Surprisingly to me, DVDs and CDs had a very short shelf life in the scheme of things.  The program mentioned that DVDs and CDs would probably last no more than 10 to 20 years, if that long.  I did a little bit more research and learned a lot of things come into play such as the type of materials used to create the DVD or CD, but at the most, in perfect storage conditions, 100 years is the longest range I could find.  And we are talking “perfect storage conditions” that rarely exist anywhere. (Not to mention the electronic devices necessary to watch or listen to the DVDs or Cds.  The only device required of a hard copy of anything are a pair of eyes.)


Doesn’t anyone like to sit and read a copy of a newspaper anymore?  We subscribe to three newspapers: the Oklahoma Observer, the Lawton Constitution, and The Oklahoman.  Reading these three newspapers keep us informed about our state.  I always learn something new everyday reading the newspaper.  More often than not, the articles are much more in depth than what one sees on the television or hears on commercial radio stations.  National Public Radio’s “Morning Edition” and “All Things Considered” are the only two news sources that can rise above newspapers in the depth of news reporting. The general manager of the radio station where I once worked was always heralding the demise of the newspaper.  He was actively looking forward to the day when there were no newspapers (even though he contacted the newspaper when he wanted publicity.)  I read news on the Internet but I’ve found that I do specific, targeted reading rather than general reading.  With a newspaper, I see an article I’m interested in and read it, then I glance at the rest of the page and there might be something else that catches my eye.  If I think that article might interest someone else, I clip it out, pop it in an envelope and mail it.  On the Internet, I zone in on precisely what I want to read.  I rarely jump to other links on that particular web page.

The same with looking up a definition of a word.   I like the speed of typing, say, “definition of gerrymander” into a search engine on the Internet and getting back a swift answer, but that’s the only thing I get back -- that particular definition.  Loads of ads, one telling me how I can cut down on belly fat, but there are no other words and definitions around “gerrymander” - just “gerrymander.”   In a hard copy of a dictionary, i.e. The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language (c. 2000), I see that definition, but then I read the words before and after that particular word.   I can see a picture of the terrible gerrymandering of 19th century Massachusetts -- looks like a griffin -- and down below that picture is a portrait of one of my favorite composers, Gershwin, which reminds me I need to listen to “Rhapsody in Blue.”  There are also definitions for “gesundheit,” “Geronimo,” “Germany,” but perhaps the most fascinating word on this two page spread is a very common one: “get.”  The definitions for that three letter word comprise one and one-half of page 739 of the aforementioned dictionary. And to show my ignorance, “got” is a passive form of “get” but we really shouldn’t use “got” when writing.  I never really knew where “got” belonged in the English language, I just knew I should think of something better!


We are always “throwing the baby out with the bath water.“  (I know that is a trite saying and that I use it frequently, but it’s such a visual one and so apropos. But, really, has anyone ever thrown a baby out with the bathwater?  www.wisegeek.com has a great history of that phrase.)  


Hard copies are good.  Virtual is good.  Why can’t we have both?  Why does one have to be sacrificed.  Why can’t both exist?  We are a large enough world, aren’t we?  

THE INTIMACY OF PAPER, PART II: BOOKS

Just a few of our books

The intimacy of paper, Part II: Books


We are losing the intimacy of paper -- paper found in letters, books, newspapers.  That touch.  I am a tactile person. I cannot imagine reading “To Kill a Mockingbird” on a Kindle.  I have read that Kindle’s design has been streamlined and that it now weighs just a little over 8 ounces.  Granted there are books that weigh well over that, making them difficult to hold while reading in bed.  And, if I had vision problems, which could be in my future, I can see the advantages to owning a Kindle or something similar.  There are a lot of bells and whistles, though, and I’ve read complaints about the software freezing up and other issues.  Plus just the replacement costs if it does crash.  Even though the price has gone down considerably, that is still a chunk of change.


But actual physical books -- they are the ultimate delivery system for fiction, non fiction, poetry, any kind of writing imaginable.  No swift Internet connection is needed. Books don’t have to have a battery charged periodically, books don’t freeze up.  Books just need a human being to read them. 


I have books by my bed, books in my vehicle, books everywhere.  I cannot imagine life without reading and books.  It is difficult for me to donate books to library sales or Goodwill, but occasionally I will, (and my husband will praise me).  The donated books are usually books that, when I’m just scanning the bookshelves and my eyes hit on that one particular spine of a book, I don’t get a good memory burst -- that’s the only way I can describe the feeling.  You know, how you really get into a book and you hate for it to end, but you can’t stop turning the pages because you are so into that story.  Well, little memory bursts come back to me whenever I scan my loaded bookshelves.   Those tiny memory bursts can include the story, the feel of the book in my hands, how I was feeling when I read the book, where I was while reading it; if the book was a gift, remembering the giver, and, yes, at what point in my life I was at that particular moment.  There are books that I don’t pick up again because I’ve passed that stage in my life, but I don’t discard them, because of the pleasant memory bursts -- that’s the only way I can describe it -- associated with that particular book.



Paper.  Let us not dismiss paper and its function and purposes so readily.  Our society has such a great talent for throwing the baby out with the bathwater.  Why can’t the Kindle and others like it just be part of the great mosaic of delivery systems for information and entertainment?  Why do we have to dismiss one form in favor of another just because it’s the latest trend?  Can’t they exist together, enhance one another? Sometimes the word “modern” is one of the most archaic words around.  Books are never dated. Paper isn’t “sexy” right now but it’s a dependable delivery system.  

THE INTIMACY OF PAPER, PART I: LETTERS AND THE POST OFFICE

On my blog about my paternal grandmother's side of the family,  I have been posting scanned images of pages from an autograph book which belonged to my great great grandmother.  The earliest dated entry in the autograph book is April 1875.

Entry made by my great great grandfather, Thomas Riley Carson,
to my great great grandmother, Lovina Jane Record Carson.

Other scanned images from Lovina's autograph book can be viewed at http://holtcarsongenealogy.blogspot.com/    I only show it here to lead me into the following:


We are losing the intimacy of paper -- paper on which our letters, books, and newspapers have been printed.     


I found a letter today from my son.  It was from November 2005.  He wrote about his oldest son -- the only son he and my daughter-in-law had at that time.  Alex was saying “oooooo” and trying to get into the entertainment center.  The letter was written on three ring binder notebook paper in my son’s scratchy handwriting.  I held the letter in my hand, smiling as I read, thinking about how much had changed since November 2005.   I had saved his letter as I save all letters and cards.  They are special.  People have taken the time to sit down and write something to me.  I do not think there are too many things that are more special than that act of writing, except maybe reading.  


Something I don’t save except on-line or on the hard drive of my computer: emails.  Everyone’s emails look the same, no individuality.  I save them for the information contained therein but that’s it.  We are living in the “Information Age.” 


There is the anticipation of going out to the mail box and finding a letter or a card.  I always look at the postage stamps on the different pieces of mail.  My daughter-in-law is a good one for picking out special postage stamps to put on the outside of envelopes.  We tend to buy the “Forever Stamp,” but I do appreciate the various postage stamps that are out there.  I save the stamps and use them in collages.  Tiny pieces of artwork. 


Writing about “Forever Stamps” leads me to thinking about how we complain about the rising costs of stamps.  1982 was the last year that the U.S. Postal Service accepted tax dollars from the tax paying public after a 1970 strike of postal workers caused the Postal Reorganization Act to be passed, signed by President Nixon on August 12, 1970. (www.usps.com/postalhistory) Beginning in 1971, that act removed the U.S. Post Office Department from a cabinet position and morphed it into the United States Postal Service which is independent and set up like a corporation.  On page 25 of that actual act which can be found at http://www.kevinrkosar.com/, you can see how the United States Postal Service was gradually weaned from taxpayer support.   I don’t think we realize that, as we whine about the costs of rising postage, the United States Postal Service now operates as a corporation.  Something created of the people, by the people and for the people doesn’t have to turn a profit, because it exists for the benefit of the taxpayers.  A corporation does have to turn a profit, hence the rising cost of postage.  If we all give a little -- "life enhancements" - my word for taxes, we all get a lot.  But I got off track, sorry about that.


As I write, I realize the irony of how and where I am posting this.  I’m on a computer sitting in an upstairs room in a flyover state.  I’ve managed to include a couple of links in this posting that can take the reader to other sites where I found information.  The reader doesn’t have to leave his or her computer and neither do I to do these things.  A Boston terrier is snoring nearby and two cats are sleeping at my feet.  Outside I can hear the rooster crowing.  My husband is downstairs getting lamb chops ready for supper. (Yes, roosters crow all the day long, not just in the morning.) And in just a moment my finger will hover over "publish post" and on the Internet will appear my words about the demise of letter writing and the post office in general.  And that posting will be done electronically with no paper or mail carrier involved.  Just a binary code going out into the ether to be caught and posted on the Internet.  We live in a virtual world.

SCORPIONS I HAVE KNOWN

My husband (a November Scorpion) and my son (a late October Scorpion) are two Scorpions that come to mind when I think of Scorpions I know and love.


And, then there are those that I have stepped on . . . literally, not figuratively.
Scorpions are encountered too frequently for my taste in our part of the flyover state.  (One encounter is one too many.)  We built our house in the mid 1990s, and, at that time, we were warned that scorpions like to inhabit recently built homes.  My guard was up for the first couple of years but when I didn’t see one, I forgot about them until . . . 


One night I rolled out of bed to make a 1 a.m. visit to the bathroom.  Halfway to my destination,  I placed my right foot down and received a painful sting.  Screaming, I turned on the light, and there was a scorpion with its tail curled.  I screamed again.  The scorpion screamed too!  (No, it didn’t, sometimes I just like to anthropomorphize.)  My knight in shining armor leaped out of bed -- scratch that -- try instead, “my knight in shining armor stumbled out of bed, searching for his glasses, “Whaaaaa……????”  


“SCCCCOOOOORRRPPPIIIOOONNNNN”  My husband whipped out his Colt .45, aimed and (nah, now tell the truth) my husband grabbed the largest book he could find by his side of the bed and brought it down on that poor scorpion.  I say “poor scorpion” because it was doing what it was born to do -- sting.  But why?


After checking www.thebuggyokc.com/scorpions.htm I learned that I was probably stung by a bark scorpion.  Its sting produces “severe pain.”  Amen.  But then the site also mentions that frothing at the mouth could occur.  So that explains that!  


Nocturnal loners, scorpions  feed on insects and small lizards and snakes.  Their venom paralyzes their prey.  Okay, great, so that explains their part in the balance of nature.  But I really don’t like them in my house which explains what I did when I encountered a scorpion several years later, same house.


I was talking on the phone to my parents one July morning and I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.  A large scorpion had rounded the corner of the dining room and was hurriedly heading  toward . . .an appointment with death, perhaps?  I don't know, but it was moving.  I screamed.  My dad said, “What’s wrong?”  “A scorpion!”  “Well, kill it,” he said.


I put the phone down, went to the  kitchen and grabbed the biggest pot at hand, held  my breath and brought it smashing down on that scorpion.    I didn’t want to kill it but it was in my house.  Just stay out of my house!  Here’s a picture of the scorpion.

"Life Enhancements"

I received my copy of Internet Genealogy (Oct/Nov 2010) in the mail the other day.  On page 41 there is an article by Tony Bandy titled, "Get in Touch with Your Ancestors: Common-Place."  Family history is a passion of mine and I always enjoy the different genealogy magazines that arrive periodically at my door.  


So, I visited www.common-place.org and discovered that one of the sponsors of the web site is a University in my flyover state.  The web site is interesting and well done; if you love history, I  urge you to visit this site.


More importantly on this site I found a link to http://www.governmentisgood.com/index.php which bills itself as "an  unapologetic defense of a vital institution."  The  web site is developed and maintained by Douglas J. Amy, Professor of Politics, Mount Holyoke College.



It discusses why government is good and why we need government.


Government is good.  Government is not composed of space aliens from another planet.  The government of the United States is of the people, by the people and for the people.  To that end, we have elections every two years to choose human beings, citizens of the United States, to represent us on local, state and national levels.  


Yet, for the past decade, the negative comments about government, any government, have increased to a deafening roar.  The United States needs government.


If we didn’t have government and if we didn’t have taxes, how would money be raised to educate our population, build and maintain infrastructure, etc. 


Somewhere along the line, the word “taxes” has become a dirty word.  Perhaps we need to have a different word for taxes such as “life enhancements.” 


I urge to you to read http://www.governmentisgood.com/articles.php?aid=1&p=1

The article is titled "A Day in Your Life."  You can read it because, chances are, you learned how to read in a public school.  And your education was funded by . . . taxes.



And to quote two Presidents who were at opposite ends of the political spectrum:



“Taxes are, after all, the dues we pay for the privileges of membership in an organized society.” (Franklin D. Roosevelt)

and

“The taxpayer -- that’s someone who works for the federal government but doesn’t have to take the civil service examination.”  (Ronald Reagan)

And thanks to www.common-place.org for having that link.  I didn’t know there was anyone out there anymore who held government in a favorable light.  Living in a flyover state, sometimes I wonder.

So get out there and do your job. Vote.  Nobody else can do it for you.  And if you don't vote, you shouldn't complain.  


And, remember, our democracy is of the people, by the people and for the people.  Corporations are simply set up to make money, to turn a profit.  Our democracy was created by American citizens for American citizens.  The government we have is the one we wanted.  It was not imposed upon us.  We are not USA, Inc.  We are fifty states united into one country.  I think sometimes we forget.

FOG WALK

Exercising in a flyover state means taking your life into your own hands.  Several cyclists in the greater Oklahoma City area have made the news by being unintentionally killed by inattentive motorists.  There are even attorneys in the OKC area that advertise that they will handle one’s bicycle accident case.  


Yes, losing a few pounds or saving money on fuel can be dangerous in a flyover state which is sad.  My flyover state ranks 6th in the nation . . . not in education -- something worthwhile -- but in obesity.  


My favorite form of exercise is walking.  It’s low impact and  it can be done anywhere.  I’ve been walking for years and this exercise has become even more important since entering that dreaded “change of life.”  It’s a great stress reliever and there are new sights to see every day.


What will always amaze me is how drivers will not slow down when they see walkers or cyclists.  We get all the way off the road when a driver approaches because although the speed limit on our road is 45 mph, invariably the driver is doing 60 or more.  And, really, our road is in no condition to travel on at high speeds.  Being in a vehicle must make people feel invincible.  Most of the drivers around here drive those gigantic pick up trucks advertised on television by men with very deep, macho voices.


Since my husband retired, he’s been walking with me.  It takes awhile to get decked out for our walks.  Summer, winter, sunny or not, whatever the weather, I wear an inexpensive bright orange hunter’s vest purchased in the sporting goods department of a discount store. My husband wears a florescent yellow hat. 


This morning my good natured husband wore something extra. Check out this 60 second clip.


And please watch out.  That walker or cyclist could be your loved one.

Telstar and James Agee - What do they have in common?

What does a satellite and James Agee have in common?  Absolutely nothing except there are some lines from Agee's A Death in the Family that remind me of the summer nights that, as a child, my mother, father, brother and I would spread blankets in the back yard and wait for Telstar to fly over. (And night fell earlier in the 1950s and 1960s since we didn't have that hideous Daylight Savings Time.)  Telstar was fairly easy to spot.  Airplanes had flashing lights and noise.  Telstar was higher up, silent, and moving quickly.  


Anyway, on to James Agee.  In his book "A Death in the Family," Agee writes:

"On the rough wet grass of the back yard my father and mother have spread quilts.  We all lie there, my mother, my father, my uncle, my aunt, and I too am lying there.. . . The stars are wide and alive, they seem each like a smile of great sweetness, and they seem very near . . . May God bless my people . . . oh remember them kindly in their time of trouble; and in the hour of their taking away."


Watching the stars and looking for Telstar is a wonderful memory.  We stayed out until the "dew had fallen."  But dew doesn't fall, does it?

"Come Take a Ride in my Airship!"

This blog is called “Life in a Flyover State.”  You must have known, at some point, a posting would appear about airplanes.   Growing up, we lived not far from Will Rogers World Airport in Oklahoma City.  In fact, the elementary school I attended -- New Hope School -- was torn down when the land on which it was sitting was purchased by the FAA Administration.  Airplanes have been a big part of my life.  Airplanes are what put food on the table for my family.  My dad worked at FAA.  There once was a hill where people would go to watch the airplanes land and take off.  What can I say?  It was a simpler time and we were easily amused.


We now live in a time of brightly digitized colors.  I still remember when our neighbors got a color TV.  They were the first ones that I knew to have a color television set.   It was the year that one of President Johnson’s daughters, either Lynda Bird or Luci, got married.  We were invited over to view the hoopla surrounding the wedding in color.  Oh, and the Wizard of Oz?  I never knew that when Dorothy, Toto and the house slammed down in the Land of Oz, everything turned to beautiful colors when she opened the door until we bought our own color television set.  The color film used in the 1960s now seems garish and dated.  


When I think of my ancestors I think of them growing up in black and white or sepia tones, but, of course, I know that isn’t true which brings me to this little piece.  All the pictures in the film are real, either taken by me or in my possession, it’s just how they are used that is the fiction.


Airplanes were a curiosity at the turn of the 20th century.  Birds and kites, and maybe the occasional hot air balloon were the only things that were flying high in the sky during that time.  Now we are accustomed to satellites, airplanes, jets, helicopters and space shuttles leaving earth’s surface.  In fact we are so accustomed to flying that I will always remember the eerie quiet that filled the skies in the three days following Sep. 11, 2001. 


Old photographs have been passed down to me from both sides of my family tree.  The lightning shots and single shot of an airport (ca 1916) were taken by my maternal grandfather while he lived in Omaha, Nebraska.  He dearly loved his camera.


The picture of the group of people standing around an airplane in a pasture is from my paternal side of the family tree.  The picture includes my great grandfather.  This picture was taken close to Grand Summit, Cowley County, KS.  The house shot is of my great grandfather’s house in Grand Summit.   


The motion shots were filmed by me in the 21st century in Oklahoma.  The strange light photographs are actually of the moon and Venus taken by me last year (2009).  I didn’t realize I had my camera on an incorrect setting, but I liked the outcome anyway!


The song, “Come Take a Trip in my Airship” by J. W. Myers was recorded on a wax cylinder in 1904.  It is in the public domain and can be found at www.archive.org.


Airplanes flying overhead were so rare between 1900 and 1920 that a sighting of one would be written about in newspapers. The article clip shown in the film is from the July 2, 1919 Emporia Gazette which can be found at www.genealogybank.com.   In full, it reads:

“Airplane Flew Over Emporia.  An airplane flew over town about 8 o’clock yesterday evening.  It came from the east and was seen over Melvern before it came to Emporia, according to Santa Fe officials.  The pilot flew near the ground while he went over Emporia but did not stop.”

When researching my family tree, I actively try to imagine what it must have been like for my ancestors when they walked this earth.  This little film is a result of my imaginings.

My Electric Clothes Dryer bit the dust! It's time to go green.

My electric clothes dryer bit the dust in June 2010.  While I try to hang my laundry out of doors during the summer months to save on electricity we use running the central air conditioning, I am going to try to go a whole year without using a clothes dryer.  I figure not having a clothes dryer that actually works will be a good incentive. (Wish me luck.) Plus our grandchildren are still at the age that they think it's fun to hang the clothes outside.  Cheap entertainment, yes?

Suggestion for NPR

After all this time, I would still rather hear Bob Edwards give me the latest bad news.  Rene and Steve certainly are competent and bring their own talents to the table.  That being said, I know I need to move on.  Everyone else has.  


My suggestion is this: since there is an NPR East and an NPR West, why can't there be an NPR Flyover?  Maybe Chicago or Dallas?  I realize NPR needs to be in a city, but it would be wonderful to have an NPR anchor station in the middle of the country.  Maybe when the economy improves?  


Life happens in the flyover part of the nation too.  Just a thought.

No Country for . . .

True story.  When the movie, "No Country for Old Men," came out, I thought it was a documentary about the health care system in this country.  Boy, was I surprised!

The Great Digital Conversion

So it's been over a year since the great Digital Conversion. How's that working out for you? Is it really better to be able to see pictures in greater, clearer detail? How about when the scene on the television freezes up, goes to colorful little squares like a Matisse collage, then fades to black and the words "no signal" pop up on the screen. Better quality is always something to strive for, but at least with analogue, a picture, fuzzy though it could be at times, was still there. We are on our second digital television antenna. Unfortunately, we had a horrific ice storm in January 2010 which took out our first one.


In March 2009, I sent the following letter to our public television station, revised for this blog to protect the innocent:


"Gentlepeople:


I heard a report on NPR the other morning about how peachy the digital conversion is going. It has not been peachy for us. 


We were as smug and snug as two bugs in a rug thinking we were ready. My husband began purchasing equipment to convert to digital television last summer. He read everything he could lay his hands on about converting to digital television. 


This is what we have purchased and installed, to the tune of over $800 so we could continue to receive “free“ television: 


1) An omni directional D-8 antennae advertised as HD ready; it is installed on our outside 50 foot pole. 


2) An HD-TV for our living room; 


3) A converter box for an older television in our family area. 


4) A television signal amplifier from Radio Shack to boost signal. 


We thought we were ready because we began receiving all these new stations and the original stations we had received before were coming in great. We were prepared for the “Great Conversion” and we looked down on the poor slobs that were waiting until the last moment to get ready for that wonderful thing called digital TV. We extolled its virtues to friends and family. 


February 17, 2009 came -- it was a bright, sunny day here in southwestern Oklahoma. We had no qualms because we were ready. However, when we sat down for our evening television viewing, the PBS station and the CBS affiliate, both broadcasting from Oklahoma City, 65 miles to our northeast,  were nowhere to be found.  We cannot then and cannot now pick them up. We have scanned ad nauseum. Do you know how long it takes to scan????? But we do it religiously every day in hopes that we will be able to pick up these stations. My husband goes out and adjusts our antenna -- admittedly with trepidation because we do not want to lose the stations we are receiving -- to see if today is the day we can perhaps pick up those stations. 


In 8 Mar 2009's Lawton Constitution, (yes, we still read a hard copy of the newspaper), there was an article about digital conversion and how individuals who live in rural areas are having difficulties picking up digital signals. We learned something new. At least one station -- the CBS affiliate -- had been broadcasting its digital signal from Channel 36 but when February 17 came, they switched to 9, losing quality in the signal.  Apparently that is why we are no longer able to pick  up that particular channel.  Perhaps this has happened with public television also?


Question: As average viewers, how are we supposed to keep up with what signal a television station is broadcasting from? This is ridiculous. 


We remember the days of the rabbit ears. We remember snow on the television screen. We remember test patterns. We miss those days because even if one had snow on the screen, one could still watch a television program. Now it's all or nothing, and I gotta tell you -- we feel screwed. 


We are NOT getting a satellite dish. We are NOT hooking up to cable. We are NOT watching television programs on our computer screen!!!   


Fortunately we like to read and we listen to public radio. We are playing more games of Scrabble. 


We remember the days of free television paid for by our sitting through intermittent advertising and we certainly are not going to pay a fee to watch cable and/or DishTV which also has advertising. I remember the days when cable first came out. Our neighbor came over and said, "We are getting cable. $12.00 a month. You know what is great? There are no commercials."  Well, now cable/satellite costs an arm and a leg and there are the same commercials on cable that are on regular broadcast "free television." 


We just wanted to let you guys know that not everything is going great with the transfer to digital.  Have a great DIGITAL day! 


Sincerely,"

* * * * * * * * * *

Fast forward to today, October 7, 2010.  I can say I like one thing about digital television. It's allowed television sets to become more compact and lightweight so they can be displayed on a wall. Hanging a television on a wall provides more floor space.  That's it.  That's the only thing about digital television that I like.  

THE ICE STORM OF JANUARY 2010

The dragonflies are drifting down our road today.  They are riding the heat rising from the black asphalt of the county road that runs in front of our house.  Autumn is my favorite time of year.  However, the season after beloved Autumn, the long, cold dark one whose name I cannot utter, is not as welcomed.  Especially after the last long, cold dark one.  


On Thursday, January 28, 2010, our lives, powered by electricity, stopped.  An ice storm of mythical proportions pounded the southern half of the State of Oklahoma.  We held our collective breath and stared out the window at the pouring rain, which, moment by moment, became heavier until it turned into ice.  The power lines swayed close to the ground and our television antenna looked like an Ice Beast preparing to attack our home.  Accompanying the tremendous amount of rain were high winds that whipped around the corners of our house.  Sometimes we could not tell from which direction the wind was coming.  If this event had happened in the spring or summer, it would have been a severe thunderstorm.
  
It was 1:20 p.m. Thursday afternoon when our lives, powered by electricity, stopped.  Sitting in the living room we wondered out loud how much longer we would have our lights, central heat, computer and Internet access, television, shower, and the ability to flush our toilets – such an inane thing that looms large once one isn’t able to flush.  


“Divorce Court” was airing on the television.  Judge Lynn Toler had just said, “Now, tell me your side of the story, Mrs . . .”.  Darkness and silence.  Everything stopped.  We looked at each other, then stared out the window.
  
To one another, we said, “Sometimes, the electricity comes back on.”  Yes, it does, but it didn’t on Thursday, January 28.  We waited a little bit.  Then I heard a beep coming from upstairs.  It was the battery to my computer beeping that I could still use the computer for another 45 minutes before it shut down too. Life support.   I climbed up the stairs and turned everything off, unplugging all electrical equipment from their outlets.  Still, I hoped. There is always hope.


The ice still fell from the skies, though.  The wind whipped the trees into a frenzy until two of the oldest, weakest trees fell from west to east across our road, preventing traffic traveling north and south from getting through.


The first night of darkness, we set up in the living room.  We set up battery powered lanterns and lit candles.  Earlier last year, Carl purchased a propane powered heater for his workshop in the garage.  He brought it over and set it up in the living room.  On a full tank of propane, the heater burns for four hours.


We huddled under our blankets. Instead of television, we set up our battery powered tape recorder and listened to audio books.  Daniel Pinkwater talked about dogs he had owned, then “Killer Angels” was put in – that great story about the Battle at Gettysburg by Michael Shara.  We still had that little glimmer of hope that the electricity might return.  


We soon tired of listening to audio books and our battery powered radio. Public radio was hard to pick up and country music or Golden Oldies were the only stations we could receive.  Radio station KOMA out of Oklahoma City aired weather breaks from Gary England with television’s KWTV-Channel 9, also out of Oklahoma City, and that helped some.  (It was a help until the storm stopped and the station went back to regular programming.)  Even though the news was out of Oklahoma City, it helped to make us feel less isolated.  (We didn’t have much faith in Lawton’s media coverage.  During the Christmas Eve blizzard of 2009, we didn’t lose electricity, but when we switched to KSWO Channel 7, the ABC television affiliate in Lawton, for weather and road updates, the station had switched to a picture of a Yule log burning in the fireplace, while holiday music played in the background.)


Bedtime came.  It is funny how early one is willing to go to bed when there are no lights and no television.  I piled all the blankets I could find on our bed and we allowed Emma the dog, and the cats, Taylor and Zippy, to sleep with us.  The outside air temperature dropped to the teens; we weren’t sure how cold the house would get during the night.  It was a long, cold, silent night.  There was no light from the digital alarm clock and no white noise from the sound machine.  There were only the noises that two humans, one dog, and two cats can make.


And that is as much as I can write about that time, except for this:  When there is no power to a community, that means there is no ATM service, no power to the grocery stores and no power to local gasoline stations.  NO POWER means no power anywhere. And that is a lesson we have paid attention to.  We can read about what to do when a disaster strikes, but it's only until something does happen, that we sit up and take notice.


I did do some filming and have posted a little film about our experience.  The only comfort was in knowing that everyone else in southwestern Oklahoma was in the same pickle!  And, really, compared to other disasters, manmade and natural, I have no complaints.  We made it through and have prepared for this coming “long, cold dark one.”