This is... the Life. Oh Yes it is!

Slathered... Slaked

2012-02-10T15:01:00.000-08:00

Can you say that 3 times?
Real fast?

Kennedy gold mine, Jackson, California
As it looks today

Never mind, here's the real point
(As if there could be one?)

On the day before today
The Coyote and I
Decided to break out the Harleys
For a little pre-Spring run

To the NorCal foothills
Mining country, gold that is...
Jackson was our destination
Mel and Faye's diner for a damn fine late breakfast

Jackson is an old gold mining town
Named after "Alden Appola Moore Jackson"
Helluva name wouldn't you say?

Tyler you are lucky I didn't know about this
When you were born
"Alden Appola Moore Campbell?" Hmmmm....

I have been there dozens of times
In my Harley riding life
And it has been beautiful each time

The forecast was 70
It was in the fifties on our way up
In the sixties on our way back

Cruising... handlebar to handlebar
On the stretches less traveled
Two throaty, rumbling Harleys making music

On one stretch of the return
I picked up the scent of a bakery
There is nothing quite like it

Unless you consider similar smells picked up while outdoors
Like bacon frying in the pan
Or potatoes and onions frying in butter

The thought then struck me
In my scented reverie
"Slaked and Slathered"... or vice-versa

Flashback to the Azore Islands
Fresh made bread
Slathered with dollops of the world's richest, most delicious butter

Coupled with home-made wine - made using genuine Portuguese feet
Bottled in old liquor containers
Two bits each - to slake your thirst

Why "slake"?
Consider a National Geographic special
On Africa; commentator, Alec Baldwin

Alec had the world's worst script writer
So every time the animals stopped to drink
Alec said they were "slaking their thirst."

That's why

Anyway, where was I?
Oh yes, Slathering and Slaking
Two things you definitely want to do
If you are ever in the Azores.

The River

2012-02-05T12:21:00.000-08:00

The "River"
Otherwise known as "Fifth Street"

The Pocket

In the game of chance: Texas Hold'em

In Hold'em, each player at the table
Is dealt two cards, face down
This is the "Pocket" as no other players
Can see them

Next comes the "Flop"
Three cards face up on the table
To be shared by each player
In determining the best hand

Next; the "Turn" or "Fourth Street"
Is turned up on the table to join the first three
Finally the "River or "Fifth Street"
A card that has made and destroyed many fortunes.

Wagers are placed
At the completion of each step
The "Pocket", the "Flop", "Fourth" and "Fifth Street"
The player with the best combination of five cards wins

Tournaments are held that typically begin
With many tables of 10 players each
As each players loses all their chips
They are eliminated from the competition

When the last 10 players remain
The "Final Table" is formed
And each is typically "in the money"

From there they play on until the last person remains
Or until the players mutually agree to "chop" or tie
For the remaining cash pay outs

Yesterday, from a beginning field of 80 or so
I made the final table
I was a little "short stacked" or behind the average chip count
But at about 35,000 I had a fair share

In the second hand my pocket was Ace and Ten of Hearts
Blinds and antes were fairly high at that time
So there were over 10 thousand in chips in the pot
Before wagering even began

One player in front of me
Placed a raise to 12,000 chips
To call would have taken almost half my chips
I guessed my opponent had a middle pair

I decided I could out race him
So I shoved my chips in the pot; "All-in"
The remaining players folded to the raiser
Who called my all-in bet and showed pocket queens

The Flop came, a small heart and two Aces
Giving me a huge lead with a Set of Aces
The Turn came, a King of Hearts
Giving me a flush draw on top of my set

The River.... a Queen of Hearts
Giving me a flush as well as a set
But giving my opponent a full house
Queens over Aces

Some amazing cards hit that table
And I got "Rivered"
Knocked out of the tournament in 10th place
With a little cash and a bruise on Lady Luck

I cashed yet I left a huge stack of chips back there
That was mine for the first six cards
If that first heart on the flop would have been a Jack
I would have had a Royal Straight Flush

Damn I love this game!

Robbie

2012-01-27T15:59:00.000-08:00

Sometimes... one thing leads to another.

Lajes Field on Terciera Island,
The Azores Portugal, Circa 1966

They were Air Force medics at the Lajes Hospital
They were also room mates in the enlisted dorm
Located on the hospital grounds

Robbie was a dental technician
His room mate was a public health technician
Robbie was Dr. William "Hands" Malde's assistant
All the medics called him "Hands" in tribute to his dentistry skills

In those days docs supplied pilots
With "go, no-go" pills clearly marked
Red for "Go" - Blue for "No-go"
Two small bottles taped to
Either end of a tongue depressor

When on long missions, if needed, pilots would take stimulants
Most often dexedrine to stay awake
And some form of sleeping pills to rest between missions
It was common practice then
And likely still is today

Robbie liked "go" pills
He took them fairly frequently, perhaps from "Hands"
As they were little controlled and abundantly available
Never the less, he was known as a terrific technician
...Quiet yet quick to smile and good at his craft

Robbie also had a taste for scotch and cigarettes
Of course, the majority of medics smoked back then
Ignorant of any potential consequences
And somehow Robbie knew how to make his small paycheck
Last much longer than his room mate's.

His room mate didn't have the same taste for go pills
But did acquire a taste for scotch
As often just before payday
Scotch was the only booze
Available in the room to drink

Robbie and his room mate got along well for a couple of years
Then Robbie's tour ended and he was honorably
Discharged from the Air Force
He returned to his home area of Tacoma, Washington

Robbie's friend and room mate
Was also discharged
A few months later
And returned to his home area of Seattle, Washington

After a couple of months
Robbie's old pal
Looked him up
And they decided to get together

Robbie picked him up in his Corvair
And they headed to downtown Seattle
The Queen Anne District
Where one of Robbie's friends lived

When they entered the house
There were perhaps a dozen young people
All seemed to be nodding, eyes glazed over or closed
As if on drugs (heroin?)

Robbie didn't seem startled at all by the scene
He talked to a friend for a few minutes
Then he and his old Azores room mate left
It was the last time they would meet

Shortly thereafter, Robbie's friend
Rejoined the Air Force
To get back in action
Seattle somehow had become boring

A few years later
His friend was home again in Seattle
And decided to try to track down Robbie in Tacoma
He found Robbie's parents phone number and called

Robbie's Dad informed him that Robbie had passed away
A few years earlier
He did not offer any details
Robbie would have been in his mid-twenties then

To this day, his old friend and room mate
Believes Robbie succumbed to drugs
He misses his brother Robbie
And thinks of him on occasion, when he tips a drink of scotch

So easy in this life... to take a step in the wrong direction

Black Out II

2012-01-20T08:03:00.000-08:00

This one doesn't have a hole poked in it
Person who prepared it doesn't have any class...

To the House, its SOPA
To the Senate, its PIPA
Together, that spells SOPAPIPA

Could be thought of as a variation on the word, Sopapilla
A delicious Mexican concoction that often involves
Frying a puffed up pastry
Then while its hot
Poking a small hole in it and filling it with honey
Then making a mess of things while trying to consume it

SOPAPIPA and Sopapilla
They both seem to share the "puffed up"
And "making a mess" characteristics
Do they not?!

Could be flogging a dead horse here though
As both chambers seem to be backing off
To find a better way for protecting against online piracy
Rather than some Orwellian concoction

You know these silly little elected officials
Only work a few days a year
And they have shiploads of staff
Waiting on them hand and foot

Couldn't they find a way
To better vet their ideas
Before taking them to floor
Wasting our time and theirs?

When was the last time
Congress put something on the table
And we all sat back and said;
Jeez, they did a great job with that?

Black Out II?
Here's one connection
I could eat sopapillas until I black out
Just love'em, no kidding

Blacked Out

2012-01-18T16:38:00.000-08:00

Blacked out

blacked out

blacked out

SOPA

2 Hunnert - This Life

2011-12-24T18:46:00.000-08:00

Looking back
Two hundred posts on this blog
Reflections, near and far term
Of one life, just one life is all

The essence of life... mine
The mistakes of life... mine
The achievements of life... mine
The mistakes... ah, the mistakes...

I did not imagine this
It happened
I did not deserve this
It happened anyway

I just stepped off the curb
Without looking
And there it was
Life large and in my face

So I wrote about those close to me
Testimonials to our family of four
Testimonials to our goldy, Molly
Testimonials to friends
Testimonials about the human condition

Right now... I feel the love of family
As they laugh and talk
While preparing Christmas dinner
I peeled the spuds - that was enough
Love is warm

We're not done.
We. Are. Not. Done.
There's more to say
Until there's life, no more.

To all who see this; Merry Christmas

Herding Cats

2011-12-16T14:23:00.000-08:00

Julieann Marie Campbell
Receiving Air Force Certificate of Appreciation

I asked her recently
If she had ever though of herself
As beautiful
She was surprised, and answered "No".

Then I showed her a photo
Taken of her when we left the Air Force
Years ago and said, "See"?
She remained surprised

*****

Once she said she regretted
That she had not completed college
I said, "Are you kidding?

You have four college degrees

One in Economics
A Masters in Health Care Administration
Another degree in Digital Media
And this coming Spring a degree in Philosophy"

The point being there likely would be no degrees
In our family were it not for her
Her energy, her optimism and her belief in all of us
Brought us to this point

She has been corralling three lefties all this time...
Like herding cats right?!

*****

In recent years I have noticed, and admired

Her sense of things is to give way in deference

To oncoming traffic

On foot, in cars, in conversation... in everything

Her time is yours, in all things

I wish I was more like that

I wish we all were more like that

To step back, to let another in, to listen

Note: This is my 200th post in the past four years. Without Julieann Marie Campbell there would be zero - as in no posts. That is a fact - I am so fortunate to be able to do something like this, that I love... and to be with someone I love. I'm not sure she is done racking up college degrees either!

Get a Job(s)

2011-12-08T13:32:00.001-08:00

Yup.. that's a little adaptation of the title
From the old Fifty's hit by The Silhouettes

But this is really about today
Right now
As we 'speak'... so to speak...

Its about the best nonfiction book I have ever read
And why you should 'Get' one
Its about the best company for customers that perhaps has ever existed
Its about the man behind it all

Yes its Steve Jobs and its his biography by Walter Isaacson

Do you have to be an Apple fanatic to appreciate the story?
Nope.
Do you have to be a management expert to appreciate the seeming contradictions in his philosophy?

Photo from the book's cover

Nope.

Neither attribute would hurt but I am convinced...
If you like to read you will love this book

Now I'll confess, I am left-handed...
Therefore by definition I am a dreamer
As a result I have always leaned toward fiction

Haven't read much non-fiction... nope
But this... this book is proof that truth can be stranger than fiction
That truth can be just as intriguing as fiction

Okay, I am done fawning here
Lets move on to a few (just three) excerpts
That prompt me to add my $.02 worth

On the use of PowerPoint;

"I hate the way people use slide presentations instead of thinking," Jobs... recalled. "People (at Apple) would confront a problem by creating a presentation. I wanted them to engage, to hash things out at the table, rather than show a bunch of slides. People who know what they're talking about don't need PowerPoint."

$.02 worth: He had just returned to Apple and was trying to review product lines. He quickly realized how the company had turned bureaucratic, had too many products and was too confusing to customers. He wanted them to engage each other and focus... PowerPoint wasn't (isn't) the answer.

On packaging;

(He understood) that people do judge a book by its cover... and therefore (made) sure all the trappings and packaging of Apple signaled that there was a beautiful gem inside.

Compact, precise and conveniently packed
inside and out... through and through

$.02 worth: If you have never seen the box iPhones come in they are something to behold. I have a photo here but the real thing needs to be experienced to appreciate. I have boxes from two iPhone models on the shelf in my office. To me, they represent the finest packaging I have ever seen. If he wanted someone to feel there was "a beautiful gem" inside it worked. The look, the quality of construction, the fit... everything about it. It is a classic.

On Setting Realistic (limiting) Objectives;

Jobs would stand in front of a whiteboard (he loved whiteboards because they gave him complete control of a situation and they engendered focus) and ask, "What are the ten things we should be doing next?" People would fight to get their suggestions on the list, Jobs would write them down, and then cross off the ones he decreed dumb. After much jockeying, the group would come up with a (prioritized) list of ten. Then Jobs would slash the bottom seven and announce, "We can only do three."

$.02 worth: This is a spin-off from an old management adage that suggests during a limited, 3-5 year tenure a top exec should limit objectives to five (Jobs liked three). The point, whether three or five or something within reach, is right on target in my not-so-humble estimation.

Jobs was not without fault in his relationships with others and he apparently wasn't afraid to admit it. On the other hand, he was a genius at knowing what people (we) wanted before they (we) knew it ourselves. He was a 'product first, customer first' type person before bottom-line profit. The beauty of this philosophy was and is that profits followed... big-time. If only more companies were like this today.

Simplicity and quality
Beginning to end
That's all
That's everything
That was Steve Jobs
RIP Steve... you have changed our lives forever
Walter, you did a damn fine job too, thanks

Gimme' An M!...

2011-12-01T07:57:00.001-08:00

Gimme an R!
Gimme an I!
Gimme an M. R. I.!
What's that spell?!

Nothing.

Its an acronym
For Magnetic Resonance Imaging
Or what I like to now refer to as
A day in the looney bin.

You see I 'got this hearing loss
All started in '72
When Julie, brother Dave and I
Attended a rock concert
At the Los Angeles Forum
Iron Butterfly and Canned Heat

Sound engineer must have been on something that day
When we left my ears were ringing
And haven't stopped since
No problem, pretty easy to get used to... But
Other noise since and aging
Have compounded things

Friend from our soccer daughter's past experiences and ENT doc
Thought it would be good to check my head with an MRI
See if anything is there (many of you believe there isn't I know)
So I was off to get my head examined (as many of you have requested in the past)

Fast forward to exam room...

Exactly as I was positioned
Note Lady Gaga apparatus over head
I was ready to sing "Edge Of Glory"
White object is mirror so patient (me)
Can see tech in room behind machine

The tech was friendly.
Got me quickly positioned with head in restraints (as many of you have long hoped for)
Positioned a Lady Gaga Memorial plastic face over me
And as she crammed plugs in my ears continued explaining things
"I can't hear you at all now" and she just gave me a knowing smile
I picked up "...half hour", "...don't move", and few other tidbits anyway

As the machine crammed me into this giant tube my last words were;
"2001, space Odyssey!" She smiled again for me
Okay, okay I was desperate to break the tension with a little lame humor
My tube was snug-on-shoulders cozy

Then, a cacophony of loud frickin' noises hit my space capsule
First the sounds of a circular saw making passes at... My head?
Next a jackhammer... rhythmic and persistent
Then a klaxon (What? The hard hats taking a break already?)
And then, in "dueling banjos" fashion a klaxon and a hammer tapping some metal object,
All in sevens; seven tolls of the klaxon followed by seven blows of the hammer

Finally at the end of the first round Klaxon II went off...
Louder and more persistent, it made me want to shout "All hands on deck!"
...except I was never in the Navy so I kept quiet
Then, 15 minutes in, came the injection she had mentioned
"Contrast agent" she had called it
I thought it might in fact be some sort of shape altering substance

So I was laying there.. waiting for my eye teeth to grow longer.. Much longer
Instead we made mashed potatoes... at least that is what it seemed like
It was the muffled sound of an electric mixer working partly mashed potatoes
And tapping against the side of an aluminum pan...
Ok maybe it was stainless steel
Trip over... Gimme another M!

If all those noises were in my altered state of mind, it was definitely like a day in the looney bin.

Turtle Summit II

2011-11-16T15:09:00.001-08:00

The scene of TS II
They met for breakfast
So they ate the flower
(click on photo to enlarge)

They met again, innocently enough
Near the pool
Neath the shadow of the oak

"Why the centerpiece?" the littlest turtle asked
"We can't see each other
Around that flower pot"

The elder turtle replied; "That pot is in the middle.
A place we are all looking for
It is right in front of us... yet some of us can't see it

Some of us want less corporate influence over government
Some of us went less government influence over corporations

We adopt these positions as avowed members of the left, and right respectively
We refuse to see that there is balance in the middle

That corporations must have a voice in politics
Otherwise government will regulate them to extinction

That government must have a voice in business
Otherwise corporations will drive the middle class to extinction

In history little turtle, we have seen that corporations left unchecked
Will ultimately ignore their social contract to properly maintain the resources that feed them...
People, air, water, highways, railroads... all the things they need for long term prosperity
It is almost like they are trying to see which will be the last company that remains...
When the last breath of air, the last drop of water, the last road and finally
The last person... is gone."

We have also seen that governments can deteriorate into ineffective bodies
That focus on winning far beyond the point where they remember what it was they were fighting for
Governments that knee-jerk to wars, that bankrupt their children, that are willing puppets of special interests
It is like they are saying "Tomorrow is not my responsibility, I must not give an inch today.
When faced with reason, I must equivocate.
When faced with truth, I must deny."

The little turtle said; "But elder... is there a way to change our government and corporations
So that they see what must be done
So that they act to give us young ones the same opportunities they had?"

"There is," said the elder turtle.

"But the way is difficult
All of us turtles must become active
We must give voice to these causes... both left and right
We must insist on balancing the social contract

If you think about it little turtle,
You can see the turtles on your left, and your right
Around the flower pot

They are good turtles, just like you
They will listen, you just need to speak

You need to remind them of historical precedent
You need to remind them of the moral compass
That made them, their corporations and their politicians great

This reminder, from little turtles and common turtles,
To all big turtles with shells tough as nails
Has happened before
Its time for it to happen again"

The Drift Of Things

2011-10-25T18:17:00.000-07:00

draw dead - heater
flood - drought
feast - famine
good - bad
rain - shine
ying - yang
day - night
ebb - flow
up - down
high - low
hot - cold
win-lose

The drift of things...

Letter To Charlie

2011-10-25T17:21:00.000-07:00

September 8, 1993

Charles W. Brown III, Colonel, USAF, MSC
Administrator, 4th Medical Group
PSC 41, Box 4465
APO AE 09464

Dear Charlie,

Yesterday, I received a note postmarked San Antonio, Sept. 4, 1993. The note announced your retirement ceremony on the sixteenth and suggested return mail be posted a week to ten days early to arrive in time. My reckoning says I should have mailed this yesterday and, once again my good friend, we are behind the power curve. Just like the good old days right partner?

Charlie and his XR 250
Sagebrush grows like a bush with pretty sturdy branches
You don't ordinarily want to run into it
Notice branch stuck into foot peg
Notice road rash on right forearm
Notice medicinal Michelob in left hand
Notice cheese-eatin' grin - this is why you never see
a motorcycle parked in front of a psychiatrist's office

For mostly selfish reasons, I dreaded this news though I have been expecting it for some time. For some reason I am trying to sort through as I write this, it strikes me as the passing of an era marked by hard work, hard play, trust and spirit. The moment began to pass when we began going separate ways from our (hospital administration and dirt bike riding days) in Idaho and it hasn't been quite the same since. Most of all, I miss the trust and the spirit. Of course, its sad but its also a chance to reflect on some great moments and our good fortune to have shared those times.

(As I reflect back), I see Jerry Salsberry at the rim of Bruneau Canyon, with a row of perfect (false) teeth grinning from ear to ear and his eyes gleaming with excitement. Old "Leadbelly" is wearing his crumpled tan felt cowboy hat and he is astride a mass of "thumper", what was once a Honda XL250 dirt bike. Its really amazing but the thumper is running.... running strong and reverberating like the heartbeat of a giant in some vast, empty building.

Every now and then Leadbelly cranks the throttle, making the thumps echo off the canyon walls. He's getting ready to descend into the canyon. The bike is (precariously) balanced on the first of several large and ominous looking stair step rocks that mark the first forty or fifty feet down a steep, mile long road. To a couple of rookie riders, say someone (you) on a green 125 Kawasaki, or a Honda TL 125 trials bike (me) it looks like a dangerous undertaking. After all, it seems pretty clear that once the descent begins you have to go all the way. It looks far too steep to turn around and return in the middle. The two or three hundred foot drop straight down the canyon wall on the right side most of the way doesn't look too inviting either.

Old Leadbelly is looking back at you once in a while. And he is saying; "C'mon Charlie! Its a new chapter unfolding in a wonderful life. Go ahead, look behind ya' and tell'em all thanks and you won't forget'em. That's the proper thing to do. But then, look with me toward tomorrow. Jack and Tom are already there and those two bastards are having a great time. C'mon? We all love ya' and we want you with us... seein' what there is to see."

L-R Tom, Jack, Charlie, Leadbelly
Idaho trip into Devil's Hole
circa 1977
Charlie and Tom have duct tape on bridge of glasses
This is to keep dust out and vision semi-clear
A few years later, Leadbelly would go to sing with Angels

And then Leadbelly says; "When we get there, I'll be leaving you for a spell to head on down the trail. You, Jack and Tom can catch up with me later. In the meantime, you guys take good care of your families and Charlie, one of these years I'll see you in the Canyon again right after run-off... sometime in the late spring right?!" Then he cranks up the thumper and one of his belly laughs simultaneously and the thunder echoes off the canyon walls clear down the Bruneau river to the Snake river and on into Oregon...

Congratulations on your imminent departure to a new and great adventure. The Medical Service Corps is losing a great leader. We miss you and hope to see you soon.

Love,

Julieann and Tom Campbell

Leadbelly and Tom C workin' it at the Bruneau Canyon campfire.

(Letter taken from original with minor edits and addition of photos. Charlie was about to retire from the US Air Force Medical Service Corps. Jack and Tom had preceeded him. Leadbelly had passed away in his early fifties - from smoking, booze and living life maybe a little too large but could he ever sing?!. He had a classic deep-tone voice that made "Long Black Veil" into something not of this earth. There was never a camp fire he didn't light up with his music.)

(Click the photos to enlarge.)

Eye To Eye

2011-10-09T17:41:00.000-07:00

Eye to eye
Loving the sea breeze
At the Bay Area's Treasure Island

A quiet afternoon
She was just three, or four
Playing around on Mom and Dad's bed
Mom was at work
He was nearby in the living room
Watching afternoon television

Then he noticed her
Standing in the foyer
Silent, looking at him
Clutching her throat
Looking desperate

It happened in seconds
For some reason he instinctively knew
There was CPR training
Years before
He recalled the unique method
Of clearing an infant's airway

He picked her up, legs and torso on his forearm
Face down and hanging over the edge of his fingertips
He thumped her on the center of her back
A marble, one of her big brother's, immediately dislodged
Clattered on the tile entry and rolled
Clickety-clack from tile to tile, to the door

He sat her down on the kitchen counter
And stooped slightly
To look at her... eye to eye
Searching for signs of further distress
Neither spoke
Tears formed and ran down her cheeks

Two years later...

They headed to Boreal ski resort
A father/daughter day
On the slopes with freshly falling snow

Five and fearless...
At Boreal

She newly taught and fearless

He looking on and worried
She would crash
But was awestruck at how well she took to it
They went to lunch at the lodge

He had forgotten his credit card
And sufficient cash
All they could afford that day
Was a hot chocolate to split

There were outside counters
Chest high to him
He sat her there
And they chatted

Eye to eye
While sharing tiny sips
Of the best hot chocolate
Either one would likely have in their lifetime

Turtle Summit

2011-08-31T14:26:00.000-07:00

The Turtle Summit
On the patio of the world famous
NorCal Campbell Ranch

It all began innocently enough.
Four local turtles
Convened at the NorCal Campbell Ranch
In the early morning hours
For coffee
Or Slough water
Or whatever it is that turtles drink

Conversation began in fairly mundane fashion
None were willing to come out of their shells
Then, all of a sudden
(No one was sure who started it)
The conversation turned to Warren Buffet
And his recent announcement that the wealthy
Should pay their fair share (heaven forbid!) of taxes

They were most concerned about his warning
That a nation's doubt about its Congress
Could lapse into hopelessness.
The little turtle beaks were clacking like crazy
Over that one
"What would happen
If that were to happen?"

"Well," the eldest and largest said;
"Nothing good ever comes of that."
"But I really wish for a future!, said the littlest one.
"Do you mean I may not hope to have one?"
"Nothing is guaranteed, even today", said the elder,
"Its just that the picture can get so much bleaker,
You may stop thinking about the future."

The elder went on, "Then, you might tuck yourself
Into the darkness of your shell forever.
That is the future without hope."
The little one thought about that and said,
"I will not let that happen. I will work hard, I will be brave
And I will gather the rest of the little turtles.
Together we will change the future."

To that, the elder said, "Good, because we have failed.
You must learn from our failures and fight the partisan extremes.
Draw the centrist line and focus the rest of the turtles on that.
Demand ethics from your Congress and temper special interests to fit the common man.
It will not be easy but you, little turtle and those of your generation, can do it.
We simply did not try hard enough.
We allowed too many big turtles to gain the edge."

Poker is...

2011-08-05T14:02:00.000-07:00

I caught this hand... this week!
Four Aces for the first time ever I think.

... a Mothaf___a!

Recently I recently heard a great professional poker player and keen wit, Daniel Negreanu say this about problems with poker amateurs; "When they are winning they think they are good and when they are losing they think they are bad."

The beginning of July, I started tracking my tournament results using notes on my calendar. Here's how it stacks up. In the past five weeks I have finished in the money 12 times including a couple of "chops" (ties) for fist. This translates to 12 top ten finishes among a field averaging 80 or more players. Twelve for 28 and I am money ahead yes, but not enough to quit my day job. Yet, in the past two days I have had my ass kicked and that has happened before. Whenever it does happen, I leave the casino like most players in that situation; head low, muttering "school let out early today" and second guessing my play.

I will be back in school Sunday though. I'll be hoping to cleverly use just the right combination of loose, aggressive and tight play to befuddle my opponents and make them call when they shouldn't and fold when they shouldn't. I will be shuffling chips, sipping coffee, checking my iPhone, studying player faces (I hardly ever get anything out of this), and looking for "tells" (I know a few but am not sure what to do when I see them). When I am winning I will think I am good and when I am losing I will think I am bad just as Daniel says but I love it just the same. That's why poker is a Mothaf___a.

For additional amateur insight, see Pocket Aces - "Dat Metaphor" and "Poker - more on "Dat Metaphor".

Long Shadows...

2011-07-29T19:06:00.000-07:00

...cast themselves gently on the south forty

"An Evening Stroll"
(If you are a member of a group, any group...
just 'clique' to enlarge this photo.
It looks pretty nice when you blow it up, honest!)

of Norcal's famous Campbell Ranch

Making wimps wax poetic
And Badasses wax their Harleys

"Cereal Killer" Molly
Strolls to enjoy her
Own personal swimming pool

The giant mulberry shelters her passage
And keeps the heat of the evening
From her back

The "Badass" (read wimp)
Watches from the worlds greatest
Sun room and home office
Where these words are painted,
Then pasted,
Then saved,
Then shipped,
Then read by a few
Hearty souls who collectively possess
Fine humor and patience

The wonders of life, and wife
Whose middle name is "Forgiveness"
Hold him in rapt attention
While these words are tentatively keyed...

Where shall we go tomorrow Julieann?
What adventures will our children lead us to?
What will we do when the long shadows return?

Dance

2011-07-19T17:20:00.000-07:00

“Dance like no one is watching. Sing like no one is listening. Love like you’ve never been hurt and live like it’s heaven on Earth.” – Mark Twain

Old friend Jack Sender posted this quote on his "Warming Trend" blog recently - it got me thinking about Daughter Samantha and son Tyler.

I'm thinking a person has to earn the opportunity to dance, otherwise it won't be appreciated. It's the old "work hard, play hard" expression at the least. At most, it's finding what you love to do and then figuring out how to get paid to do it. Either way can work... both ways have worked for me I am fortunate to say.

You just have to remember to dance.
To stop and smell the roses.
To discover then chase what you love and be relentless in the pursuit.

Here is another quote that is very much related:

“To me, there are three things we all should do every day. We should do this every day of our lives. Number one is laugh. You should laugh every day. Number two is think. You should spend some time in thought. And number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy. But think about it. If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that's a full day. That's a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you're going to have something special.” Jimmy Valvano - 1946-1993 (former UNC National Champion basketball coach).

This is the message I have for Tyler and Sam - one of you has already made your discovery, the other is still on the search. Keep at it. Never give up. You will fall down. You can and will get up. It will happen if you are determined to make it so. Then you will love certain people, you will love what you do, and most of all... you will love who you are.

I want you both to do this. It is all I ask.

I hope you dance.

'Neath The Fruitless Mulberry Tree

2011-07-18T16:41:00.000-07:00

We circled her base with lights
Once for Christmas
Now can't bear to take them down

I repose, I suppose
'Neath the fruitless mulberry tree
Only to find rapture
In a cool summer Delta breeze
That often caresses the Sacramento area
In just the right places

Molly, the Worlds Greatest Goldie
Savors her new tennis ball
In a rooted cradle
'Neath the mulberry tree

Long shadows provide perfect contrast
between tree, grass, plants and structures
I begin to wax poetic... to mark the evening
A mood feared by many

This Power keg 2009 Cabernet
Aint' too shabby either!

The green tin frog agrees.
With these observations

The Green Tin Frog helps Molly keep an eye on things
in the South Forty

Of the damn fine things in life
I make note that it is speechless with admiration.
Isn't it!?

I named it "Herb" after all those frogs
Jack Sender killed in Ohio
He claims he didn't do it
He claims they went missing
But the truth rides in on the Delta breeze
'Neath the mulberry tree

Just between you and me
And Molly of course
Because she presides
'Neath the mulberry tree
And Molly knows her frogs

As well as her "Cereal Killers"

Corporal Gupreet Singh, USMC

2011-07-04T18:46:00.000-07:00

Corporal Gupreet "Gobi" Singh, USMC
Soldier, Patriot, War Hero

Tuesday, June 28th, 2011
Location: Former McClellan Air Force Base, Sacramento area, California

It was not a typical June day in Sacramento
There was a hard rain coming down
The drops stifled typical noises of the busy city
It was an extraordinary type of quiet

The small Lear-type jet
Came smoothly to a halt
Just 50 feet from a large open hangar
Where the family of Corporal Gupreet Singh waited.

The Corporal was just 21
On his second tour in Afghanistan
He had arrived in the United States from India in 2000
For four of the following 11 years he was a United States Marine
His father said all his son ever wanted to be was "a soldier"

In between the plane and the hangar
Some two dozen members of the Patriot Guard Riders
Had formed a flag line
They were there to honor the fallen soldier
And to preserve the dignity of the moment

The cargo door opened
The young Marine escort
Stepped onto the tarmac
And stood at attention
In full dress greens

The plane's crew of two
Moved deliberately
Through a routine of opening
The side cargo hatch
Setting up their equipment
And unloading the flag-draped coffin

The coffin was protected from the elements in a plastic wrap
The crew was solemn and kept positions of attention
Right hand over heart
At all opportunities throughout the process

The flag line was still
Holding flags at "present arms"

Patriot Guard Riders assembling for services
July 2, 2011

Left hand thumb up at bottom of staff
Right hand on staff thumb down and chest high
They formed an "L" to enclose the space
For the fallen marine and his family

All then departed, wordless in the rain
The Riders did not escort further that day
Out of caution for the rain conditions

Saturday, July 2nd, 2011
Location: Mount Vernon Cemetary, Citrus Heights, California

A more typical day in the city... sunny
Temperature was to hit in the 100's

The Riders began showing before 10 in the morning
Services for Corporal Singh were to begin at noon.

Patriot Guard flag line, awaiting call to "Present Arms"
at Mount Vernon cemetary, July 2, 2011

By 10:30 there were some 100 Riders assembled
By 11 they had formed flag lines around the front of the church
At 12 the Riders took a water break as services were held
At 12:45 they reformed the flag line at the rear of the church

At 1 the attendees began passing through the flag line
To assemble for a brief memorial outside
Just prior, in the triple digit heat
A Sikh elder passed among the Riders on the flag line
Offering small bottles of water - a welcome gesture of appreciation
Shortly after, there were three volleys of seven shots
That sealed the finality of the moment for all present

His father said all his son ever wanted to be was "a soldier"
But he was much more than that
He was a hero in his adopted country

Obituary

Note: click on photos to enlarge in high resolution

36th Time's a Charm!

2011-06-29T14:25:00.000-07:00

"Its just over the next hill, I swear!"
"Is the grass really greener over there?"
"Wanderlust?" Some say he got it from his daddy.

1945 - Born Pontiac, MI - lived with grandparents
1947 - 50 Bottineau, ND
1950 - 54 Willow City, ND - house on west edge of town and house across from elementary school
1955 - Duck or White Lake, MI
1956 - Taylor St MI
1956 - Auburn Heights MI
1957 - River Road, Huron OH
1958 - Home on Lake Erie, Huron, OH
1959 - 1961 Laylins Court, Huron, OH
1961-62 - 412 Williams St, Huron, OH
1962-63 - Uncles home Lakeridge, WA (Seattle suburb)
1962-63 - Bryn Mawr, WA (Seattle suburb)
1963 - Air Force Basic Training, San Antonio TX
1964 - Basic Medical Training, Greenville MS
1964 - Public Health Tech Tng, Gunter (Montgomery) AL
1964-65 - Cannon Air Force Base, Clovis, NM
1965-67 - Lajes Field, Azores (Portugal)
1967 - Bryn Mawr WA (Seattle suberb)
1967-68 - Air Force Intelligence School, Lowry (Aurora) CO
1968-69 - Ellsworth Air Force Base (Rapid City) SD
1969-70 - UTapao, Thailand
1970-71 - March AFB (Riverside) CA
1971-72 - Udorn, Thailand
1972-73 - Luke AFB (Phoenix) AZ
1974-75 - San Bernardino CA (finish undergrad school)
1975-77 - Mountain Home AFB, ID
1977-78 - Richmond VA (grad school)
1978-79 - Andrews AFB MD (DC area grad school residency)
1979-80 - Fairchild AFB (Spokane) WA
1980-83 - Malmstrom AFB (Great Falls) MT
1982 - Gunter (Montgomery) Al (Squadron Officer School)
1983-84 - McChord AFB (Tacoma) WA
1984-85 - San Antonio TX
1986-87 - Randolph AFB (San Antonio) TX
1987 - Present... One home... same home... finally!!! Sacramento, CA

Yes he's a tired puppy all right.. and glad the eagle (more like pigeon) has finally landed!
(Note: estimates of years may be off by as much as... well, years)

Amen... Again

2011-06-20T07:30:00.000-07:00

The air I breathe

Son Tyler Thomas and Daughter Samantha Marie

This hour.
This minute.
This second.

I want to hold it
To cherish it
To have it help me
Contain my life

To help me
Contain the gifts
I have not deserved
But accept gratefully

The moment.
The breath.
This breath.
Forever

Amen

But to all good things
An end
Must come
So be it

Amen... again

I can live with that
I guess
But I would rather not

Drafted on Father's Day, 2011

Casey Thomas

2011-06-14T12:17:00.000-07:00

"Yunjkhan wanbli cha u kayapi. (pronounced "Unkan blicha ooocopy")" (Sioux)

"Das weikopfseeadler hat fassen ihm das hause." (German)

When he was young... Casey Thomas learned Sioux from a priest at school.

W. "Casey" Thomas, 194x

He also learned German at home from his immigrant family

Early American pioneer sod busting homesteaders.

He came through poverty, the great Depression and life on the South Dakota prairies
With a strong sense of family values

The keen eye of a craftsman

A great sense of humor

An affection for the Sioux and German languages.

He also had strong faith in “Hokah”, or “Gott” or God.

When those who knew him think of him

Many snapshots of a wonderful man, father and grandfather come to mind.

So join me on a little journey through some of them... please.

I will share a snapshot and I want you to participate in this by saying, or thinking, “hear, hear” with all the conviction you feel. Casey will really get a kick out of this I guarantee.

Here we go (!):

The strong, callused hands of a man who loved to work with wood (“Hear. Hear!”)

The pleasure and concentration in his eyes as he played a game, any game (“Hear. Hear!”)

The curiosity and delight of a man who loved tools of any kind (“Hear. Hear!”)

His patience as a teacher of craftsmanship.

(“Hear. Hear!”)

His respectful approach to his customers…always (“Hear. Hear!”)

The thoughtful pause to consider the merits of a joke…most often followed by an ear-to-ear grin and a scrunched up face that said, “Das ist Gut!” (“Hear. Hear!”)

The timber of his voice as he spoke your name, forcefully and with love. “My, My, My” that was good (“Hear. Hear!”)

The mischief in his eyes when he referred to someone affectionately as a “dikschniflik” and the joy he showed when teaching it to his grandchildren (“Hear. Hear!”)

The nearest translation I can up with for this would be "knucklehead."

The unconditional, nonjudgmental love for his family, his children, his grandchildren and all who were close to him (“Hear. Hear!”)

Okay thank you!

Wendelin "Casey" Thomas, 1997

Now, let’s consider Casey’s final hour just a few years ago.

At separate times during that hour his daughter Julie; sons Butch, Don, Chuck and Danny stepped outside Casey's Black Hills house and each time, they saw an eagle flying overhead.

They each thought that the great bird had come for him. As Casey would often say, “Isn’t that nice?!”

And so…

Yunjkhan wanbli cha u kayapi. (unkan blicha ooocopy)

Das weikopfseeadler hat fassen ihm das hause.

Which is Sioux, and German for;
“The eagle... has taken him home.”

Well-done Casey Thomas. Happy Father's Day for now and for always.

He was the father of my bride... now of forty-two years. I loved him and was fortunate to be able to tell him so before he passed.

Grad School Kicked His Ass

2011-06-08T15:00:00.000-07:00

The Grant House at MCV
Current site of the MHA program
(He visited there once after many years absence
and found one of the great professors,
Dr. Ramesh Shukla still there -
they had a fine time reminiscing...)

He was an Air Force health care administrator
A freshly minted officer
Serving as a sort of CFO... the main budget person
At a nicely located Northwest US hospital

He met a counterpart from a larger hospital
Who advised him on the next logical
Career progression step...
How to get into Air Force sponsored grad school
"I applied for it three times
And finally got accepted on the third attempt."

So he applied, fully preparing to get turned down
But was surprised with acceptance
First shot - dumbfounded and feeling lucky
Next step... find a civilian grad school,
Masters in Health Care Administration type
That would accept him.

His first choice... The University of Washington
Close to home and a cool place to live
They didn't want him

"Not enough meat in his mathematics undergrad work."
Which was true as all he had was undergrad statistics
He had challenged the required basic math via CLEP testing

Next stop (attempt), the Medical College of Virginia
Good possibility as there were two former Air Force
Health care administrators on the faculty
So he got a visit and an interview

One of the profs who was ex Air Force challenged him;
"You have nice letters of recommendation
But we all know they are somewhat inflated in the military."
His response; "One of my recommendations is from a civilian undergrad professor."
Blammo... accepted into grad school!

His goal... just take it easy and get through
He loved his work but had absolutely no interest
In cracking any books to further his education

He wanted to be around hospitals, patient care
Learning in the 'school of hard knocks,'
Just punch that ticket... Get that degree and move on.
Little did he know that the real 'hard knocks' were just around the corner

MCV turned out to be a good old boy college
Coat and tie to class... always
Southern blue bloods everywhere
One of his classmates was the 11th of his name
He liked to call him "Eleven" just for grins

He quickly found out the program was serious... very serious
The faculty was pretty proud of stating
They had an academic failure rate
And intended to use it when indicated
And it was... for one of his thirty some classmates
Who couldn't maintain the required 3.0 GPA

They worked so hard they felt guilty
Whenever they took a Sunday off to relax
He sweated every course, especially those
That included the math he had ducked earlier

Memorization was rampant
Cram it in, spit it back on essay
Don't worry about the short shelf life

But there were three major components
Coursework, residency with written "management study"
And a comprehensive oral examination
Fifty-four semester hours packed into two years

They made him take it serious
And somehow he made it through the coursework
Though he was often cowed by the brilliance of some of his classmates

Then he had a good residency and paper
Although his prof/preceptor hated him
The feeling was mutual as the prof's arrogance was palpable

Then came the oral exams
And a pucker factor like no other

You could go for two years...
Make it through everything
And lose it all in one hour-long oral examination

They wanted health care leaders
And you were not going to make it through
If you did not demonstrate it in orals

He thought he was a good leader
Having stepped up on every occasion
Since he was a kid
But who was he to presume
The MCV professors would agree?

Orals were conducted on the top floor
Of one of the hundred-plus year old buildings
Right across the street from their own grad building
It was a warm, humid day... they were in suits of course

The windows in the room were open
Hearing was difficult... complicated by street noise
From Richmond's main drag below
The panel's questions hit him like stones
He couldn't make out some of the words

In response to one, he asked to use the blackboard
To diagram some concept he would later not remember at all
Short shelf life... remember?

There was nothing to drink
He was pretty sure all the southern cotton harvested that year
Was stuffed in his mouth
He had never felt more out of place or less worthy
After... he stumbled out of the building sure he had failed miserably

Back in the grad school building the answer was quick
One of the professor's who was an ex-Air Force officer gave him the news
"You made it." He was stunned

He did not know why and still doesn't to this day
Maybe it was some enthusiasm he showed as he nervously
Fumbled with the blackboard that day.

He walked the few blocks to Shockhoe Slip
And one of its bars in old Richmond
Where the class often met

He was to meet one of his friends
The only other Air Force student in his class

He stood outside the bar waiting
Under an awning in light rain
Feeling more accomplished than
He ever had - reveling in every sight, smell
And the sound of rain drops hitting his umbrella

Then he looked up as his friend turned the corner
A block away
Their eyes met and his friend shook his head "No"

*****

He would readily confess that all the academic stress
Did not bring out the best in him
He never got over the shock of finding
Such a serious environment
His wife somehow put up with his extremes
Throughout the two years... helping him study
Forgiving his extreme trespasses
Making sure he had nothing but time to focus on making it
It ended up being her Master's degree in Health Care Administration...
Much more than his.

*****

His friend? Hung in there through a couple more years of waiting... returning at least three times in the interim to repeat his orals and, in an amazing feat of persistence finally made it.

Poker - more on "Dat Metaphor"

2011-05-26T13:27:00.000-07:00

Luck. Patience. Skill. Luck.
After several years study of the art of poker
He concluded it was a metaphor for life
... Sort of.

Made up of 4 equal components
The first and last being the same
And therefore a lot more equal

Luck borne from the deal of life
You begin with two certain "cards"
Your environment and your attributes
Face down, your "pocket" is the beginning

Patience drives your ability to moderate
To play your cards when the time is right
To play your life, "pushing" when there is opportunity
Pulling back, "folding" to see another day and a better chance
When you see that the time is wrong

Skill becomes strength
And at time weakness
Out of periodic self doubt
Over time it keeps you in the game longer

Luck again surfaces
And drives the "Beat"
The rhythm of your life
Sometimes taking you to the "Final Table"
A long and satisfying road
But then sometimes it takes you to the "Felt"
An early demise

When you are "felted"
You get back up
Parlay the four components again
Renew the cycle
Shuffle the deck
Reload optomism and hope

(See also: Pocket Aces - "Dat Metaphor")

("Pushing - to bet all your remaining chips - to go "all in". "Pocket" - your first two cards in Texas Hold-em, dealt face down. The remaining five cards are shared by all players. "Beat" - the way the cards fall - if you spend time pulling a lot of bad cards, they say you are experiencing a "Bad beat". "Final Table" - Tournaments typically begin with multiple tables - when all but ten players are eliminated they convene at the "Final Table" where there is typically a graduated pay-off for each of the ten spots. "Felt" - when a player is wiped out and has no more chips. All that remains in front of him is the felt that typically covers the table.)

The Leaves

2011-04-30T15:34:00.000-07:00

At door... waiting to come in.
March, 2011

Tyler Thomas Campbell... "Molly, have you been playing in the leaves?"

Molly... "No, I wasn't playing in the leaves."

Tyler Thomas Campbell... "Are you sure? Because it definitely looks like you've been playing in the leaves."

At Seven

2011-04-27T08:07:00.000-07:00

As her birthday party approached, her father remarked how she had so many things in her life it might be a good idea to have her friends bring gifts she could in turn donate to children through a local agency. Her reply at the age of seven; “Don’t you think we should wait until I am more mature?” In those words. Exactly.

So they waited. Then, as her next birthday approached the suggestion was made again. That time, she was ready. She gave the many gifts and donations from her friends to other children and also helped the agency with their annual Christmas toy campaign. They continued this tradition for several years. In the end many thousands of dollars in cash and goods were donated.

"I do it!"

From very early childhood, she was an “I do it” sort of person.

A button pusher; any gadget… any time.

An activity; skiing, blading, biking… any time.

She would just dive in fearlessly, marking her enthusiasm for life.

Most often, she would realize the outcome she desired.

When she decided she wanted to visit her grandparents in South Dakota. She didn’t want her mother or father to accompany her.
She wanted to “do it” herself.

Her parents were always in awe of the little person with such amazing skills and confidence. So they finally agreed, thinking she was more than capable of handling such an adventure. The day came and they put her on the plane to South Dakota with a change in Denver. She arrived safely and full of self reliance as her proud grandparents picked her up.

Within a day or so, regret set in and she was homesick but she conquered it, assisted by her mother’s soothing words over the phone.

This was Samantha Marie Campbell at seven... humanitarian and adventurer.

This is how she will be as a UCLA graduate.

The Story Of Aught

2011-04-13T16:07:00.000-07:00

A big, stocky man
Six foot plus
A fine athlete in baseball and tennis...
Maybe not golf

Don "Aught" Palen
and his famous blue sport coat.

A genius at music trivia
He can trace session musicians
At least 6 groups back
With no effort

An extraordinary collector of albums
He has a good sized home
Where at least half the space, including garage is taken up
It has to be one of the largest, most comprehensive
Collections in existence

He also has a good size (some would say great) heart
He looks for and emphasizes positive features
In every person he meets

He is a sentimentalist of the first degree
Who clings to 'the way we were' with steadfast devotion

Of course he has some eccentricities, as do most of us
His include a propensity to tell or email a joke
(... and yes Virginia, some are extremely lame,
or moldy, or both)

Collaborating with Lady Gaga

Every time he communicates with someone
Friend or foe

A Schenectady raised patriot
He served a full career in the United States Air Force Medical Service
Rising from the enlisted ranks to become a Lieutenant Colonel
While successfully ducking a single overseas assignment
You probably had to be there to understand just how significant that is...

He has a propensity to wear an (antique?) blue sport coat with a hue
That we most often see on an Easter egg
He also once sported a mullet long after the rest of his hair
Had bid him a fond adieu'.

He has a well deserved reputation for wearing outrageous outfits
On golf courses.. His standard is set on this objective...
The more conservative the golf course
The more outrageous his outfit.
It's likely an old carry over from military "Shock and awe" strategy

Hanging out with some Texas pals...

He failed to learn in Squadron Officer School

Finally, and after living in Texas... so close to the border for so many years
He shaved his head
I believe he did this in an effort to resemble a rare breed
A Mexican Hairless
And blend in better
But I have not been able to confirm this on Snopes, Truth or Fiction, or Urban Legends

When he played baseball, he favored a double "00" as his uniform number
Another sign that he wasn't planning to take anything too serious

Recalling this some years ago
Right at the turn of the century, 2,000 in fact
You see the connection
I nicknamed him "Double Aught"
Later shortened simply to "Aught"

Having a frosty with the Pope of Texas

You can find Aught in some unlikely places today
Such as in performance with Lady Gaga
With certain cowboys
And with some other Texas folks...
Including the Pope of Texas
Okay, okay... he's the Pope of the rest of the world too

Aught's actual name is Don Palen
An extraordinarily good man
He is married to a wonderful lady, Andrea
Also from the Schenectady area

Aught has two great sons
One; Sean, an inner city math teacher (and a hero of mine)
The other; Mark, a PhD candidate (another hero of mine)
He is my brother.

And this is just part of the Story Of Aught.

Spider Cave

2011-04-12T09:25:00.000-07:00

Entrance to Yosemite's Spider Cave
Slide in. Slide out.
I know, its a way below average photo
but its the only one I could track down.
This is only about the black part anyway...

The crawl space was pitch black
Just a few feet inside the entrance
The group moved without lights

A dozen or so
Training to work as a team
Each holding the feet of the one in front
Guiding through voice instructions

Through most of it you could not sit up straight
You had to crawl.

"The cave drops a couple of feet here."
"We are moving to the left."
"We are entering the room."

Daughter guiding father
Father guiding daughter
Training to trust one another
(The father was proud of his little girl guiding him through.)

No shadows just touch and voice
Their guide led confidently
Through the spider cave

All within Yosemite National Park
Known for its magnificent sights
Yet this one offered no sight at all

It was about feel and faith
How strong and comforting each can be

(Recollection of an elementary school class trip Samantha and Tom Campbell made circa 1998. No, there were no spiders... the name just made it spookier for the kids and adults, adding confidence to those who dared enter... and survived.)

Old Dogs

2011-04-05T10:24:00.000-07:00

Sacramento's famous Ancil Hoffman horse and foot path
The start of a 3.5 mile adventure for Molly and I.

Two old dogs
Molly and me
On an adventure

To recapture the old days
When she was young
And I had decent wheels

On this trip we had a new companion
The titanium hip (a new wheel)
We were testing all the parts, her, me and the hip

Molly looking over the famous American River - site of the
famous California Gold Rush and a famous Golden Retreiver
A lot of fame to be sure...

On the venerable Ancil Hoffman trail

But first a little (honest!) background
On my February post surgery visit
My surgeon had these words to share as it ended
"You can jog if you want, but we don't encourage it."

To this old dog those words were license to steal

Ancil Hoffman Golf Club -We circled the perimeter on a great
day and were not conked by a single errant shot!

Very similar to the taste of a watermelon that is stolen
As opposed to one that is purchased
The former infinitely better.
Yesterday, some 10 weeks after the fake hip literally 'joined' me
Molly and I were going for it!

Truth be known
The trail is 90% soft packed dirt - easy on the joints

Also, my "jog" is much more like a shuffle
Doesn't even cause Molly to break into a trot

We did it
Just over an hour
Likely around three and a half miles

Molly with the RedSled at the end of the trail
One pooped puppy!

An entire circuit around the park, nature trail, river and golf course

Life is good.
Nah, it is better than good.
It is great.
Just gotta' make it that way.

(You can see a lot more detail when you click on the photos...)

The Feel - Now... and Then

2011-03-27T08:41:00.000-07:00

"The game of billiards has destroyed my naturally sweet disposition."
- Speech, April 24, 1906

Now:
Make sure forward hand is completely dry and free of anything that can cause drag.
Use talcum powder if necessary but much better just to keep it clean and dry.
Smooth feel is the ticket.

Place tip of index finger firmly against tip of thumb and rest against middle digit of second finger, forming a circle around stick six to ten inches from cue tip. Spread second, third and little fingers evenly. Place these fingers and palm of hand on surface to make stable platform. Place opposite hand roughly half way from balance point and butt end of stick. Use thumb and two or three fingers to secure in light grip. You want it to feel secure and comfortable.

Place cue ball equidistant from first spots on near and side rail. Or place it close to side rail at second spots. Aim tip of stick slightly above center of cue ball. Take 4-6 easy practice strokes to make sure stick is aligned to cause the cue ball to strike the one ball. Draw back slowly, then suddenly move stick forward, accelerating with entire body to cause stick to smash cue ball into one ball. Proper forward english will cause the cue ball to hit the one ball, retreat slightly while still spinning forward then go through the rack of calls once again, effectively breaking the rack of fifteen balls twice. You are looking for a feel of controlled violence here.

Begin working geometry and physics on the table and balls.
The geometry of rail and ball angles.
The physics of english, spin and momentum.
Establish rhythm, use patience and a practiced hand.
Get in the zone.
Like many other experiences, the feel of it will stay with you for a lifetime.

Then:
"I wonder why a man should prefer a good billiard-table to a poor one; and why he should prefer straight cues to crooked ones; and why he should prefer round balls to chipped ones; and why he should prefer a level table to one that slants; and why he should prefer responsive cushions to the dull and unresponsive kind. I wonder at these things, because when we examine the matter we find that the essentials involved in billiards are as competently and exhaustively furnished by a bad billiard outfit as they are by the best one. One of the essentials is amusement. Very well, if there is any more amusement to be gotten out of the one outfit than out of the other, the facts are in favor of the bad outfit. The bad outfit will always furnish thirty per cent. more fun for the players and for the spectators than will the good outfit. Another essential of the game is that the outfit shall give the players full opportunity to exercise their best skill, and display it in a way to compel the admiration of the spectators. Very well, the bad outfit is nothing behind the good one in this regard. It is a difficult matter to estimate correctly the eccentricities of chipped balls and a slanting table, and make the right allowance for them and secure a count; the finest kind of skill is required to accomplish the satisfactory result. Another essential of the game is that it shall add to the interest of the game by furnishing opportunities to bet. Very well, in this regard no good outfit can claim any advantage over a bad one. I know, by experience, that a bad outfit is as valuable as the best one; that an outfit that couldn't be sold at auction for seven dollars is just as valuable for all the essentials of the game as an outfit that is worth a thousand. ... Last winter, here in New York, I saw Hoppe and Schaefer and Sutton and the three or four other billiard champions of world-wide fame contend against each other, and certainly the art and science displayed were a wonder to see; yet I saw nothing there in the way of science and art that was more wonderful than shots which I had seen Texas Tom make on the wavy surface of that poor old wreck in the perishing saloon at Jackass Gulch forty years before." - Mark Twain's Autobiography, Chapters from the North American Review, November 1907

TC's Road King Classic at Mark Twain's cabin on Jackass Hill Road.

A note of interest (to me anyway): Twain is referring to "Jackass Gulch" in Amador County, California, maybe an hours ride from Sacramento here. He had a cabin at the end of "Jackass Hill Road" a replica of which is still there today. I have stopped there several times while riding the Harley, just to soak some of the atmosphere there... sort of makes a person feel like writing you know?!

Look At The Horizon...

2011-03-08T08:12:00.000-08:00

"You never know what to expect -

You look at the horizon and you see nothing.

That's why you have to enjoy life while you have it."

Old man named Remi sitting next to me on the bus.

(Talking about how Steve Jobs has cancer at 55.)

Observation made by my favorite UCLA student of alllll

tiiiiimmmmee, daughter Samantha Marie Campbell while on plane, and bus

trip back to school yesterday.)

Wrinkle Walk

2011-03-01T14:07:00.000-08:00

Checking out the salmon from the
William Pond bridge

Molly, the tit. hip and I hit the American River Bike Trail today.

Two old dogs... some would refer to us as "wrinkles"

Never would have happened without the newest member of the triad
The fake titanium hip that likes TSA pat-downs

We were out there an hour and covered a little over two miles

From the William Pond bridge we saw good sized salmon

Pointed upstream... waiting for lunch to 'drop by'

This all happened smack in the middle of California's gold country

The river, the oaks, the gentle paths for horse, bike and feet

Still beautiful after all these years...

Molly and I jogged out there from the time she was 6 months old

We must have over a thousand miles up and down that pathway

Both of us looking, sweating, smelling, breathing rhythmically

Molly marked a lot of territory along the way today

I wanted to but there are exposure laws...

She probably did enough for both of us though

I daydreamed a little while out there too... "What a surprise!" you say...

"Old codger trips over gold nugget half the size of an NBA basketball!

Ponders what to do with untold wealth!"

Mark Twain, permanently hovering

Over his beloved Calaveras County looks on and says;

"That lucky bastard!"

I wonder what Molly was daydreaming about?

It Was A Dark And Stormy...

2011-02-17T14:07:00.000-08:00

... morning.

Molly Campbell; avid rider, chaser, chewer, wagger
and biscuit eater.

And I was heading out for my occasional
(Wish it could be several times a week.)
Texas hold-em poker tourney.

Molly loves to ride with me anywhere I go.
In fact she gets pretty pumped up about it.
(She likes to drool on my dash and stare at things.)

I decided not to take her.
If I did well in the tourney
She could have ended up sitting in the car
For three hours or more.

Whenever any of us leave Molly alone in the house or backyard
We always give her a large biscuit to sooth her feelings.
(Yeah its snake-in-the-grass trickery I know.)

This morning, as I handed her a biscuit
She was looking with disgust into the garage
And at my car saying;
"I don't want no damn biscuit,
I want to go along!"

I swear... that's what she said.

A Great Man

2011-02-13T08:04:00.000-08:00

He is a great man.

Loyal, thoughtful, gifted with intelligence, a remarkable sense of humor, a terrific voice and the ability to write great songs.

He is determined to chase his dream while sacrificing the making of his own family and personal economic gain.

He is a man of music... like many others.

He is a great man in the eyes of his family... like no other.

Freedom... and Rules

2011-02-08T10:30:00.000-08:00

"From Thy Bounty"
(This has nothing to do with the story,
its just photo relief. Sorta like "comic relief",
but not. Taken with my iPhone this morning.)

Okay! Consider the phrase, "Comic Relief".

Now hold that thought

You may need it

If you manage to make it through

This entire entry

When he left the Air Force he took a job at Foundation Health (now HealthNet) courtesy of the one and only Robert B. His background was mainly in hospital administration and he was pretty excited to be learning about HMOs. He was coming out of a closed, government health care system though and was pretty naive about new developments in the field. Turned out he should have done a little more homework.

He had another potential job lined up as COO at an HCA hospital in McCallan Texas courtesy of old friend and grad school classmate Jon G and likely a third with the Kaiser system in LA. He thought he could return to hospitals later if he wanted so he and his family went to Sacramento and Foundation.

Not long after, he attended the annual American College of Healthcare Administrators meeting in Chicago (the last one he attended) and was talking with a classmate from the Medical College of Virginia at the alumni dinner there. He told the classmate he was working with an HMO and asked him what he thought. His friend said, "I think they are parasites on the system."

His friend was absolutely right of course and he wasn't savvy enough to argue at the time but they (HMOs) were/are necessary parasites... just like unions. They were necessary primarily because the AMA promised "voluntary cost containment" program of the early 70s wasn't working. That left room for entrepeneurs to step up and use purchasing power to drive hard bargains with physicians. Unfortunately, as health plans grew larger and stronger they became the problem rather than the solution, again just like unions. In the end, they become just another means to ransack our economy which has turned out to be more fragile than any of us ever thought it could be. It all turns on leverage and greed when we let it go unchecked... just like unions and banks and Wall Street.

The year 2013 will mark the fortieth anniversary of the HMO Act - Will we like what we have created? Nah. Not enough rules and regulators to keep them in check plus, we have the "too big to fail" monkey on our backs.

Compare this to our great American pastimes of baseball and football - you are free to play with wild abandon as long as you stay within the rules and as long as we can see everything you are doing. Conversely, we don't have enough rules to balance HMOs, unions, banks and Wall Street.... probably not enough referees either... probably not enough transparency either. Not to mention the bigger they all get, the more clever they get at hiding crap so they can kick our asses when we are not looking.

Freedom and rules... you can't have one without the other.
It just goes against human nature to expect everyone to play fair all the time.

As you may have guessed his tenure at Foundation didn't last long. A couple of years later (after a great adventure helping start a program known as "TRICARE") he left to become a (Gasp!) health care consultant. A position that allowed him to spin his natural naivete' into "Expertise" and sell it for over 20 years.

Someone To Watch Over Me

2011-01-29T17:01:00.000-08:00

He sensed adventure...but somehow overlooked danger

Air Force Intelligence Badge

It was the mid-60's
He was attending Air Force Intelligence School
Lowry Air Force Base, Colorado
Sandwiched between Denver and Aurora

Lowry would later be noteworthy (at least in his mind)
For its close proximity to the bars of Colfax Ave
And the famous( ?) "Zanzabar" nightclub
Of Clint Eastwood's 1978 movie,
"Every Which Way But Loose" fame
But Colfax Avenue and the Zanzabar... is another story with a little more detail here: Ben and Jack
Another note: the old Zbar location is now a Walgreen's
The "Starbucks" of drugs... wouldn't you know?!

He was studying two separate but related Intelligence technician skills.

Air (current) intelligence was somewhat like gathering tidbits of news from different government spy agencies and passing relevant parts to air crews... keeping them up on the latest. Analysts were also responsible for tasks like building strike charts (maps) for aircrews to use on bombing missions and teaching them fighter aircraft recognition... "This here's a photo of a Russian MIG. You either want to shoot them down, observe them or stay away from them... depending."

The second skill was photo interpretation. This involved using the techniques of photogrammetry to analyze (mostly) aerial photography and identify bombing targets. When finished, he could be assigned to jobs in either skill. Either way, it was all interesting so he was enjoying school - a rare experience for him in his young life.

One day, in class there was an announcement. "We are looking for volunteers for training as Air Intelligence Parachutists." Since he was 21 at the time and feeling the same sense of immortality that infects most folks of that age he quickly volunteered.

First, there was physical conditioning testing at the base gymnasium. He was asked to do rope climbs to the rafters, push-ups, sit-ups and other tests of strength. He handily passed all. Next step was a physical exam and that is where he had trouble. His eyesight was 20/200 correctible to 20/20 and that was "outside the acceptable limits" for parachute training. He wasn't too happy about that, particularly since he played a lot of sandlot tackle football and had majored in billiards in high school... all without glasses (he was pretty content, and successful at playing the blurs).

Anyway that was that.

Shortly thereafter, he learned most of those accepted for training ended up in South America teaching counterinsurgency... at that time a job with an extremely high fatality rate.

Right there and then someone was watching over him. You know who.

(For more detail on Intelligence activities following this adventure: Randal C - You've Been Found!)

Janice E, David A, Jim N, Jack S and David Claud

2011-01-29T10:43:00.000-08:00

1972
The Forum in Los Angeles, California
There was a concert
Iron Butterfly and Canned Heat

Julieann and I were almost 3 years into this 41+ year marriage

Working and slaving our lives away in nearby Riverside

We didn't go to many concerts (as in none)

But loved the music
My brother was visiting from Seattle
So we decided to go as a special event for all of us

We decided to buy the best seats we could get
That purchase put us in folding chairs on the floor of the Forum
About 15 rows from the stage

The sound engineer
Orchestrated the whole event
From a few rows behind us

It was a great concert made more interesting by the
Smell of marijuana that permeated the building
And by the fact that the engineer had the music dialed in to penetrate everything in its path

The sound seemed to be focussed right in the center of my head
When we walked out my ears were ringing
Almost 40 years later, they still are

I have told this story dozens of times
For folks who are puzzled by my lousy hearing
And wondering why I don't wear my hearing aids
(they don' work very well - as in, at all - for tinnitus)

I must have been really impressed too because I posted another account (Damn I gotta find some new material...) with a little bit different spin back in late 2008:

http://tomcampbellsworld.blogspot.com/2008/11/infirmities-of-lesser-kind.html

What I have rarely mentioned it that it was probably cumulative
Air Force buddies David A, Jim N and I had gone to drag races in Amarillo, Texas
In the early 60's where you could literally lay in the grass
And take photographs just a few feet from the track
David A and I had also made many short and long hauls in his '58 Chevy
Music turned up as loud as it could go
Singing at the top of our voices
Through the prairies of northern Texas and New Mexico
Back then folks were pretty clueless about the effects of hazardous noise

This morning, on her Facebook page, Janice happened to mention
She had heard the long version of "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida" on the radio
And loved it.
That is what has prompted this little story
I will send the link to all five pals mentioned here today

Also Jack S... who mentioned in the earlier post that he too
Had attended the Forum way back when
And his ears rang for three days after
And he now has one gone with one to go

I can't help but wonder how many ears
Have been destroyed in the Forum?
Let's 'hear' it if you have!!! (bad joke)

The Bag

2011-01-23T09:32:00.000-08:00

The Bag - about to begin its third life.
(Harley tags will adorn it once again.)

In my last Air Force assignment as a Medical Service Corps Officer
I used to work a lot of hours
No problem...I loved the job

But there was one who always worked harder
He was always there when I arrived early
And always there when I stayed late

I approached retirement before he considered it
I was anxious to start a new life
And he at the time was content with his

One day just before I left, in a moment of candor and admiration
I told him he was the "hardest working sonofabitch
I had ever met."

A few years later... as a consultant
With some business in health care
I had the good fortune

To bring him on as an independent contractor
To assist my clients in pursuit of a couple of extremely difficult
Billion dollar plus contracts

My clients loved him... for good reason
And hired him for projects far beyond
Our work together

I have now been a consultant for almost 20 years
I have worked with and hired over a hundred different independent contractors
To assist with consulting work

In that time there is only one who has
Given me a gift as a token of appreciation
For the work we did together

It was the same person...
The hardest working SOB, and one of the finest gentlemen
I have ever known

It was uncalled for
And for that reason
All the more appreciated

He did it twice.
The second time it was a beautiful Tumi bag
Something I had never thought to purchase myself

I have used it off and on for years and hundreds of thousands of miles
I have retired it twice in favor of the newer model wheeled bags
To lighten my load... while on the road

But now, with lighter laptops
And ebooks
My load is getting light enough

L-R; Bill Grinstaff, Bob Bunker, Yours Truly
Here is a link to a testimonial about Bob:
http://tomcampbellsworld.blogspot.com/2009/09/ashtray.html

I am thinking about bringing the bag
Out of retirement for the third time
And that is what prompts this tribute

It is now well-worn with years of character
But otherwise bullet-proof
I love to hang Harley related tags of various kinds on it
So those who see it know,
That while I may be traveling with a high-end bag
I am still somewhat off center... right where I want to be

Harold W. (Bill) Grinstaff, Colonel
United States Air Force (Retired)
I salute you

You make an old road warrior proud to have worked for you, with you and to have known you as a friend
For over 25 years now.

"Minimally Invasive" - The Sordid Details

2011-01-07T14:31:00.000-08:00

She is waiting... for Meeeeeeeeee

One week prior:
It was a bad day in Black Rock
He was feeling low... and scared
It was cold out and rain was drizzling

He had aches and pains where there usually weren't any
He was considering the worst of possible outcomes
Instead of the best
Things like hospital acquired infections and what not...

Not like him to think that way.
It cost him a lot of sleep that night

He was hitting his 65th
A point where it seemed to him
Birthday celebrations became more for the observors
And much less for the beneficiary

To add insult to injury
He was about to become patient #(pick one)
Of the more than 200,000 in the US who receive
Hip replacements each year

His work often called him out of state
And, the economy being what it is
He had earlier decided he would postpone the surgery to take work
It didn't happen as he suspected - work that is
And that meant it would happen - surgery that is

He saw his Doc the Friday before
It was his hand-picked surgeon
He had inside info that the Doc was the "best"
In their large community
That was from a fake hip factory rep close to his circle of friends

The surgeon practiced the new "minimally invasive" procedure
Using an incision roughly half the size of the older method
Resulting in "faster healing with less pain"
"Oh really?!"

He and the Doc went through the usual information exchange
The Friday before the Monday surgery
And the Doc closed with a convincing, "We'll take good care of you."

That reassurance pulled him him out of the doldrums
And helped him focus on the positive outcomes of the surgery rather than the opposite.

Day one (December 13, 2010): In the hospital Monday morning at 6:15AM
Surgery scheduled for 8:15
He was already checked in and had worn his admitting wristband through the weekend
Yeah, you can pretend it is a band for admission to a rock concert if you want....

A short wait then, into a small room to prep
His two favorite ladies of all time were with him... wife and daughter
The OR nurse visited
"We are going to get you into this gown, get some socks on you,
Start an IV and a few other things."

The Gasser stoped by and said "hi" and talked a little about the epidural and
Other potions being mixed to reduce his patient to a vegetative state
The OR nurse stopped in and explained a little more
He noded his head continuously while scanning the area for the exit door
Finding none he resigned
He was wheeled into the OR...

The OR nurse said "sit up on the edge of the table",
"hold this pillow and stick your chin into your chest."

The Gasser sneaked up behind him (thats how they are),
found his spot and poked a needle to start the epidural
It was pretty uncomfortable but doesn't last long
"Now, lay down on your back here..."
Seconds later it was lights out.

They said he came to thrashing in the recovery room
So they turned up the juice, conked him out again
And brought him back slower

Woke again in regular room with a wedge strapped between his legs
"to keep you from crossing them"
Not much pain
Okay okay - he was pretty ecstatic to still be alive...
"Just relax the rest of the day.
Tomorrow we will get you up and about".

Family was there visiting
Nurses and techs attentive
All was good
Typical hospital night
PA system came on repeatedly announcing various codes

Day two: More dialed in to the present tense now...
Rehab folks show and he walks.. with assistance of aluminum walker
Everyone makes sure his 'jammies' stay closed
He retains his dignity
The walks and such go well

Day three: He is ready to go home!
Doc shows up and agrees
The walker and the patient are outta there!

Days 4-7: A lot better each day
Home health nurses and physical therapists keep showing up at home
And checking to be sure he is doing okay
He likes the attention

Day 8: He sheds the walker, moves to cane

Day 9-14: He starts, stops, then starts again... quitting the pain medication that is
The cane disappears too
On day fourteen the staples are removed
What a relief... it was beginning to feel like little piranhas nibbling on my_ss!

The love of his life says his limp is almost gone
"Better than it has been in years."
Damn... thats it for the sympathetic remarks he figures.

Day 15 - 21: The pain meds are long gone.
Everyone keeps warning him not to overdo it
But he feels like he is taking it slow
Even though he is way ahead of schedule
Even went back in the gym on day 16...

He calls the doc's assistant
"Get me off the blood thinner"
"Let me start driving again"
He loses the first request but wins the second
(providing I don't violate restrictions on movement of leg)
"I'll take that!!!"

Day 26 (January 7, 2011): First follow up visit to Doc
He is hoping to get license
To begin tormenting the world again
Very little waiting time

Some x-rays
Radiology tech said he "couldn't believe"
He had already returned to the gym last week
His head started swelling

Doc said; "Two more weeks of limitations on movement
Then he could return to normal
"Me?! Normal?! Little does he know..."

So the limitations are:
No splits while jamming on the dance floor
No high hurdles and
No parachute landings
"Okay I can live with that."

Or did he say;
"No crossing your legs,
No bending more than 90 degrees at the hip and
No inward torque on the fake hip?"
Yea that was it...

The miracles of modern medicine
And a damn good doc
He's a Happy Camper.

2/16/2011 Addendum:

It has now been precisely, exactly (about 8 weeks) since my doc took a frickin' sledge hammer and drove a titanium stake into my body. Rumor was he was going for the heart "Twilight" style but missed and nailed my femur instead.

I visited him last week and, shortly after he missed me twice (again) with two ill-timed swings of his hammer, we sat and talked. He opened with, "You can jog if you want although we don't encourage it." Now, what the hell was that?! I didn't even bring the subject up but in retrospect it was a nice nonsensical sort of thing for him to say. He also said other stuff like "Let your stretching exercises come along naturally, don't try to force it." I took that to mean don't do it at all which fits nicely into my regimen. He also liked the fact that I have already resumed golf, riding the HOG and hitting the gym so I scored a lot of points there I figure. We then lapsed into a conversation about riding bikes (turns out he is a fanatic too) so I poked him in the finger and made him a blood brother.

He closed with, "I don't want to see you for your next checkup for a year." Musta pissed him off. Then he said; "When you show up then, I will be lurking in the shadows somewhere in this clinic and will nail you when you least expect it you Bloodsucker." I think he has been watching too many movies...

"Vision"

2010-12-06T12:26:00.000-08:00

The video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zHZ_BkkB1Tk&feature=mfu_in_order&list=UL

Album Proof:

Verse:

Sing like you mean it

Live like there’s only one way to die

And you know there is a meaning

And there's only one way to ride

Yo this is Ty say hi not why,

Every other brotha get chips on the side

Get so nasty Otis goes wild

Get so noticed that's that life

Give another mother heart attack on site

Any other song I would sing this line

But this one’s different why uplift it

Any other time I'd oblige no fight

Get so lifted forget lines

Bring another hook just for old times

This one here goes down like

Verse:

Don’t waste all your time on go decide where you belong

Always on your mind is your safe life so comfortable

And even when you step your lonely mind to breathe how others do

You would rather not be bothered than discovered by the cold hard truth

Verse:

The end of the line will define your worth

Gotta leave a legacy behind on earth

For the sea for the sky for the trees for the birds

For those here now and long after

Just a play button with no rewind

Don’t get another try just one life

I don’t need to live too long just right

Always got another soundtrack in mind

To leave another mark on the man mankind

Bring another hook just for old times

This one here goes down like

Breakdown:

Sing like you mean it

Live like there’s only one way to die

And you know there is a meaning

And there's only one way to ride

Verse:

Don’t waste all your time on go decide where you belong

Always on your mind is your safe life so comfortable

And even when you step your lonely mind to breathe how others do

You would rather not be bothered than discovered by the cold hard truth

The Christmas Tree From Hell

2010-12-06T08:47:00.000-08:00

The "Christmas Tree From Hell" - 2010.

In the early 90's, we were still holding out for real Christmas trees each year.You know, the ones that are freshly cut and smell so good? Plus, I was a little snooty in thinking fake trees were just that... fake. The idea of having one seemed like it would be taking a lot out of the Christmas experience for our family.

But then somewhere around the mid-90s the wonderful world of allergies kicked in with both Julie and I and we lost the fight. We decided it would be a lot more comfortable, sneezewise in our house if we had a fake tree.

A measly few hundred dollars later we had her up in all her glory. 800-900 built-in lights, all hand wound with authentic looking fake branches; she was the works in all her artificial glory! I even bought a huge molded plastic storage box to keep her safely contained in our mini-barn during the off season.

Then, over the next few years I was 'fortunate' to discover first hand how fragile the lighting system was. Those 800-900 lights on the Tree From Hell were in a string of eighteen independent plug-in sections, each of which would go dark if two or more of its lights went out. Back then, as now I was and am pretty clueless about lights. I also found out, no matter how careful I was in handling the tree, dozens of lights would go out each year.

The first year I recall noticing this problem I was lucky(?) to hit the local hardware store and purchase a pen-like device that would test an individual light after it was removed from the string. Each light on our tree was secured by a small clasp that required a fingernail maneuver to open and the tightness of the connection required another fingernail maneuver to get it out. Easy enough for a couple of lights but after a dozen or so the process made fingertips mighty tender.

Oftentimes, I would attempt to locate the beginning of a string then remove, check, and if needed replace each light independently until the string had enough gumption to come back on. It was enough to bring small utterances of the blue kind on occasion. One year (the worst) I had to remove, check and replace several hundred of the lights... a process that took me most of the day and had me searching for new cuss words to loudly spread throughout our home.

Along the way I also found out once you have found and purchased replacement lights the battle is far from over. While those tiny lights all appear the same there are literally dozens of different plug-in bases and the diameter of the base will sometimes vary. There is also some form of electrical variance (ohms?) that can cause perfectly fitting replacements lights to burn out instantly when they are inserted in your string. This all made working replacement lights very hard to find.

I usually had so many lights burned out I didn't want to buy the individual packs of 5 or so replacements they typically sell. It was and is a lot cheaper to buy an entire string of lights and pop them out individually for replacements.

All of these developments served to have me dreading Christmas as I knew the Tree From Hell would kick my ass again. I also knew the experience would start me on a dark cussing streak that would cause Julieann's blood pressure to rise and generally spoil a day or so of our holiday season.

Then, a few years ago, I found a wonderful device. A pistol shaped contraption that you hook to a light string to restart it. You pull its trigger a few times and it jump starts the string so you can immediately see which lights are out. This meant I no longer had to remove and check lights individually to find out where the weak ones were.

Most recently, as in last year, I had finally found an effective replacement light at Ace hardware and was so proud of that I bought four boxes of 200 light strings. I figured that would last me at least three years considering how many seemed to burn out each year. When I started replacing them this year though, I found out the bases were just slightly smaller than those on our tree and they would be so loose they would fail to make the connection needed to get the whole string working again.

At that, I was ready to give up. I had been to so many stores. I had tried and bought so many lights that looked like they might work, replaced so many bulbs and had so many tender fingers I was ready to cash it in. Julie witnessed all that and, much to my surprise seemed to agree. In fact, she said, "We just won't have a tree this year." I was with her on that notion and stashed the entire three piece contraption along our fence for later disposal. Then I hit Google to see what replacement trees might cost. I was figuring (hoping) the technology might have improved and we might get a better model. What I quickly found out was that getting a comparable tree would cost us roughly a thousand dollars. That represented a fair amount of chrome for my Harley so I quickly decided to hit the replacement bulb circuit again.

I found Phillips lights at Target and was encouraged. I brought them home, removed and plugged one into our tree and it instantly burnt out. Deja vu? Yes. No problem though as I am a veteran light-replacer of many years. I hit the road again... nothing different at Ace hardware but two promising possibilities at Orchard hardware including GE and some generic brand. The GE's worked and now we have a bag full of several boxes of replacements.

The Christmas Tree From Hell is working too. But I know, deep down inside her fake branches she is thinking of ways to torment me next year. Inside that Beauty is a true Beast. I will be ready though. I will have two (yes two) diagnostic guns and several boxes of tried and true GE bulbs. Bring it on Tree!

"Greater Love...

2010-11-12T15:03:00.000-08:00

"Reflections in the Wall" Artist Unknown

hath no man...
That he would give up his life
For his (country)." ***

Yesterday our nation commemorated its veterans
For the 91st time (give or take)
Since it was originally called "Armistice Day"
At the end of WWI on November 11, 1918

That same month my Father was born
He would go on to serve in the Navy during WWII
He was assigned to a tanker ship, the USS Cimarron
He never saw combat

I would follow with service in the Air Force
For 24 years starting around the time of the Cuban Missile Crisis
And ending many years after the War in Viet Nam.
I spent two years in Thailand during the war and never saw combat

Wife Julieann would serve with me as a military spouse
For 18 of those years (that's 11 PCS moves for her in military parlance)
Many would argue that she did see combat
But that was only what she contemplated
On various occasions when she was trying to
Get me to do the right thing.

Between the three of us
Over 45 years of service...
Over 16,000 days of service
To our country

And here... is a fact
The sum of all those years
The sum of all those days
Is not even a drop in the bucket

In comparison to one Soldier, Sailor,
Marine or Airman's day in combat
With precious life at risk
Not one drop.
Period.

These are the ones we hold closest to our hearts on Veteran's Day
The combat veterans who survived
And the ones we lost
The ones who demonstrated the greatest love
The ones who gave us all they could possibly give
God bless them, heroes every one.
I also want to once again commend this song...
To them...our heroes... for you to enjoy:

Il Silenzio

***Attributed to the King James version of the Bible, John 15:13

The Line

2010-11-05T10:21:00.000-07:00

Chalk line

(Click to enlarge this puppy and check out the lines...)

Power line

First in line

Center line

Chorus line

Clothes line

The fine line

Jump the line

Draw the line

Cross the line

End of the line

Back of the line

Front of the line

Latest in the line

Middle of the line

Mason Dixon line

I Walk The... (you know)

Queue (the highbrow version)

I’m not li’ne (Nah, not to you anyway!)

Beautiful lines

This is about the last one.

Beautiful lines

See the picture?

See what I mean?

Struck by a tree…not in the literal sense

As in having one ripped out by the roots

And smacking me where I deserve

“Take THAT you pitiful reprobate”!

But more so in the figurative sense

As in gawking at our old oak tree

It is a Western or “Cork” oak

It sits in the far back of our yard

It is noticed mainly at times of the year

When its small leaves make a mess out of

Molly’s own Personal Swimming Pool

And when it’s branches grow too close

To the power lines

So the utility company has to

Give it kind of a brutal trim

With little or no thought to esthetics

I happened to be back there

At the right time for beautiful morning shadows

And noticed she has grown somewhat stately

In the twenty plus years we have been here

So I wanted to give her credit for being around for us.

Look At You Jon Stewart!

2010-10-31T08:27:00.000-07:00

I stopped making political posts some time ago, when a close friend pleaded with me to quit. I thought he made a great case as my writing is intended primarily for two things; to recollect life for the record and to entertain along the way.

At the Rally

In my mind this entry does not signal a return to politics, it celebrates a plea to restore sanity... yesterdays's Rally hosted by Jon Stewart in our Capital Mall. I loved his speech at the end, so much so that I am posting it verbatim here. To me, his is the voice of reason at a time when left and right extremists seem to be the ones taking center stage all too often.

I am fortunate to have a fair number of friends and they come from many persuasions; left... right... between. Some lean pretty far toward either side of the spectrum but they remain my friends nonetheless. This post is for them. This post is for you.

Take it away Jon:

"And now I thought we might have a moment, however brief, for some sincerity. If that's okay - I know that there are boundaries for a comedian / pundit / talker guy, and I'm sure that I'll find out tomorrow how I have violated them.

So, uh, what exactly was this? I can't control what people think this was: I can only tell you my intentions.

This was not a rally to ridicule people of faith, or people of activism, or look down our noses at the heartland, or passionate argument, or to suggest that times are not difficult and that we have nothing to fear--they are, and we do.

But we live now in hard times, not end times. And we can have animus, and not be enemies. But unfortunately, one of our main tools in delineating the two broke.

The country's 24-hour, political pundit perpetual panic conflictinator did not cause our problems, but its existence makes solving them that much harder. The press can hold its magnifying glass up to our problems, bringing them into focus, illuminating issues heretofore unseen. Or they can use that magnifying glass to light ants on fire, and then perhaps host a week of shows on the dangerous, unexpected flaming ants epidemic. If we amplify everything, we hear nothing.

There are terrorists, and racists, and Stalinists, and theocrats, but those are titles that must be earned! You must have the resume! Not being able to distinguish between real racists and Tea Party-ers, or real bigots and Juan Williams or Rick Sanchez is an insult--not only to those people, but to the racists themselves, who have put in the exhausting effort it takes to hate. Just as the inability to distinguish terrorists from Muslims makes us less safe, not more.

The press is our immune system. If it overreacts to everything, we actually get sicker--and, perhaps, eczema. And yet... I feel good. Strangely, calmly, good. Because the image of Americans that is reflected back to us by our political and media process is false. It is us, through a funhouse mirror--and not the good kind that makes you look slim in the waist, and maybe taller, but the kind where you have a giant forehead, and an ass shaped like a month-old pumpkin, and one eyeball.

So why would we work together? Why would you reach across the aisle, to a pumpkin-assed forehead eyeball monster? If the picture of us were true, of course our inability to solve problems would actually be quite sane and reasonable--why would you work with Marxists actively subverting our Constitution, and homophobes who see no one's humanity but their own?

We hear every damned day about how fragile our country is, on the brink of catastrophe, torn by polarizing hate, and how it's a shame that we can't work together to get things done. The truth is, we do! We work together to get things done every damned day! The only place we don't is here (in Washington) or on cable TV!

But Americans don't live here, or on cable TV. Where we live, our values and principles form the foundation that sustains us while we get things done--not the barriers that prevent us from getting things done.

Most Americans don't live their lives solely as Democrats, Republicans, liberals or conservatives. Americans live their lives more as people that are just a little bit late for something they have to do. Often something they do not want to do! But they do it. Impossible things, every day, that are only made possible through the little, reasonable compromises we all make.

(Points to video screen, showing video of cars in traffic.) Look on the screen. This is where we are, this is who we are. These cars. That's a schoolteacher who probably think his taxes are too high, he's going to work. There's another car, a woman with two small kids, can't really think about anything else right now... A lady's in the NRA, loves Oprah. There's another car, an investment banker, gay, also likes Oprah. Another car's a Latino carpenter; another car, a fundamentalist vacuum salesman. Atheist obstetrician. Mormon Jay-Z fan.

But this is us. Every one of the cars that you see is filled with individuals of strong belief, and principles they hold dear--often principles and beliefs in direct opposition to their fellow travelers'. And yet, these millions of cars must somehow find a way to squeeze, one by one, into a mile-long, 30-foot-wide tunnel, carved underneath a mighty river.

And they do it, concession by concession: you go, then I'll go. You go, then I'll go. You go, then I'll go. 'Oh my God--is that an NRA sticker on your car?' 'Is that an Obama sticker on your car?' It's okay--you go, then I go.

And sure, at some point, there will be a selfish jerk who zips up the shoulder, and cuts in at the last minute. But that individual is rare, and he is scorned, and he is not hired as an analyst!

Because we know, instinctively, as a people, that if we are to get through the darkness and back into the light, we have to work together. And the truth is there will always be darkness, and sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel isn't the promised land.

Sometimes, it's just New Jersey."

"S__t Happens"

2010-10-09T12:22:00.000-07:00

Or at least that's what my old pal Forrest Gump says.

Cats left... dogs right ("Poop" sign is at bottom of right window)

While we are on the topic I should recount
My visit to our Vet's office this morning
To pick up Molly's thyroid meds

First, I took in the familiar dual entrances
With a different, say "human" perspective
As in; what if they were intended for people?
Cats to the left and dogs to the right... pretty clear
Well, I used to be a Cool Cat so I woulda' went left

Famous "Poop" sign for those who may be in continent...
you know, like... in North America.

But now I am an Old Dog so the answer is obvious.

Then, I took in the 'Poop' sign
From a similar... person's perspective
Don't know about you but I'm grateful they provide bags
And I certainly would need assistance if I were to attempt to use one.

Brake... Down

2010-10-05T11:39:00.000-07:00

Julieann Marie - Pattaya Beach Thailand - 1972

Yup its a Brake Down

Want to wash Bertha, the family auto, before picking up
Julieann from the Airport this afternoon
But there is a chance of rain
Today and for the next couple

Should I slow down, or stop
As is my custom?
My approach has always been
Delay things until the last possible moment

Julie's is to do things immediately
When they surface

A conundrum here
Please pass the...
Container holding
Moments of decision thanks.

Aw I'll just go
Julie will give me an "A+"
For effort the moment
She realizes I did it

She's that way you know.

Marbles! (A Deadly Game...)

2010-09-17T15:57:00.000-07:00

Not so long ago
In my feeble mind
We gambled

Kids in the streets of Pontiac, Michigan
We lived within bicycle distance of downtown
It was friendly and safe then
Not so now

Life was idyllic
Though we were poor
We lived in the back half
Of an old house rental

Cousin Phil and his family
Lived in the front of the house
Cousin Dennis and his family
In their own place behind us

Dads were all factory workers

It was that way for a couple of years
As I recall
And we kids gambled...
With marbles that is

And not just the old style game of "Ringer" either...

Turn an empty coffee can upside down
Poke a hole in it slightly larger than a marble
(Be careful! The larger the hole, the easier the game.)
Set your odds based on how difficult you have made your can

Cruise the neighborhood with can and marbles
You know someone out there will take you on
Give'em the rules and play the game
"You gotta' hold your marble at least waist high."

"Drop it through the hole in the can on the ground.
If you miss I keep the marble.
If you hit, I give you back your marble plus two more.
C'mon. You can't lose!"

Remember, if it is an easy can (large hole) you might set the odds at 2:1.
If it is a hard can you might set the odds at 3,4 or 5:1
If you make it too hard word'll get out and you
Might as well "kick the can"...

In the marble gambler's lexicon: "Cats-eye, Purie,
Steelie, Shooter, Knuckle Down, Boulder..."
All part of talkin' tough
When you're in the game

Gambling. Its what we did.
"A Deadly Game?" Nah, just kidding.

Serenity

2010-09-11T11:14:00.000-07:00

Tyler Thomas Campbell

To me, this song characterizes the "generation gap" angst we experienced between ourselves and our parents. A gap we, in turn saw or will see between us and our children and one that is likely destined to recur between all generations:

Click here for the recorded studio version of "Serenity."***

The lyrics follow:

Verse:

Thank you for giving me what you've given me and I...
Will take everything and make it quite worth your time

But, all I'm livin for is some... some serenity and I...
All I'm asking you for is some peace and quiet.

I know that you've lived more life and you've seen so many things,
this time it's not the same and I see with 2 different eyes

Chorus:

Samantha Marie Campbell

The world is about to explode and I want to live it up

It's no perfect fairytale or some theme from a storybook

It's all about slaving the grind is that what were fighting for

A cold concrete paradise well I hope there is more in store for me...

I hope there's more in store for me.

Verse:

Thank you for giving me opportunities and I... Know it took all your strength to swallow your pride

Each day has givin to me... more of that inspiration and I
Will channel it from deep down inside

I know that life is so hard, and we have come way too far, it's just another wall that I need to climb.

Chorus:

The world is about to explode and I want to live it up

It's no perfect fairytale or some theme from a storybook

It's all about slaving the grind is that what were fighting for

A cold concrete paradise well I know there is more in store for me...

I know there's more in store for me.

Just my interpretation but I appreciate the soulful effort to explain conflict and gratitude followed by an expression of hope for the future in the first chorus, then certainty in the second.

*** From the Album, No Regrets in the Garden of Weeden by Arden Park Roots, copyright 2010

Asides

2010-09-01T20:05:00.000-07:00

Unrelated Photo by old pal Dave Evans included without permission
because it is more exciting that way.

Well. Today we have gathered to share our understanding of a phenomenon that has perplexed the best of us through good times and bad but then there are those who would contend that times would not be what they are if there were not a mixture of both; therefore, who among us is fit to judge whether there is merit in the thinking of the masses who would prefer to ponder the complexities of various approaches to the solution of problems that have plagued us since the last time man was face to face with anyone of significance and therein lies the proverbial rub?
(WTF?)

But then again. Tomorrow we will see that there are many forms of this sort of activity none of which assume a definable figure at least as far as we can see but then our vision is limited by our perspective borne out of background, study, experience and fundamental understanding of the per-mutable laws which define the essence of man from a truly unbiased standpoint as if there were such a thing as unbiased, unblemished or unvarnished for that matter.
(Ok... I am getting the point... there is no point.)

On the other hand. In the past, our experiences have been derived from a collection of known and unknown factors the unknown being the most confusing at least from the continuance of studies limited by literally having to lick ones fingers to gain purchase on the next page but then we now are able to turn those pages with a simple sweep of a finger across a screen therein unlocking the great literary works of mankind including some of the worst and, as is this, some of the best.
(Yup.. it is some of that cheap California wine at work here my Dear... just go with the flow...)

"Asides"... you gotta' love'em.

DCWC

2010-08-29T09:39:00.000-07:00

He is a gentle, loving man... of keen intellect.

He grew from a poor family in Seattle
Once briefly living in the projects as a child
Reared paycheck-to-paycheck style
In a loving but poor family

He briefly embraced the counter culture
That was all around him in the sixties
And seventies
But finally shook it as he discovered
Abiding interest in music, martial arts and electronics

It wasn't until the 90's that he met and married
A resourceful, energetic, upbeat Canadian who herself had emerged
From a culture of abuse and dysfunction
Together they forged a relationship that
Placed heavy dependence on each other's strengths
And shored up each other's doubts

Seven years ago after an amazing run of persistence
That would challenge the patience and resourcefulness of both
They had a fine towheaded, blue eyed son... Dakota
He would prove to be the final catalyst to their already strong marriage...
The meaning of their lives

Dakota was up to this in every way
A handsome, thoughtful, inquisitive, athletic son

DCWC and son, Dakota at Sacramento's famous Gunther's Ice Cream Parlor
August, 2010

With a wonderful sense of humor
Who would bring laughter to every day of their lives

As time passes, this son will grow from a loving, professionally successful family
His father in aircraft electronics; his mother in construction insurance underwriting
His family will nurture his direction to its fullest
As he finds his way through life

This is America
This is the place where my brother
David Claud William Campbell
Develops his life to it's fullest

Where he emerges as a gentle, loving man... of keen intellect.

My hero.

Stone

2010-08-14T08:58:00.000-07:00

Two TC's in Bruneau Canyon circa 1990

"Oh I've been down to that place....

Where water falls on my face...

and drink it down... mind erased...

then wander around contemplate."***

The implementation period was six months.
As COO, he would hire, house and equip 120 operations staff
And begin delivering managed care services
For almost 400,000 people living in Northern California

It was a federal government program for military retirees
And active duty families

Staffing went extraordinarily well
The pivotal directors and managers he hired
Would all make good decisions
About who they, in turn hired

The implementation was characterized by high energy
A positive mood permeated the entire group
The program was new, the cause was noble

It was to be part of a test program
That was the first of its kind

It was a program that would grow to cover
Almost 10 million people living all over the world
And will celebrate its 30th year in 2018

A year after implementation
The program was judged
By Federal representatives and their consultants

It was considered a success by all
The founders congratulated each other
While the CEO... a newcomer brought in
Well after the deal was done

Elected to consolidate operations
And let go over half the staff
Who were responsible for the program's success

His job as COO was eliminated
But he was asked to stay on to assist with the transition
To reassure the customers key representatives
That service would continue satisfactorily

After a couple of sleepless nights
Reflecting on the fate of the good people who were laid off
Trying unsuccessfully to understand the logic behind the consolidation
He consulted with his wife and decided to leave the company
He made the announcement and the great team began disbanding

In the following weeks he turned to activities at home
Activities that would help him regain his perspective on things
That would help him heal his view of the world

One day, in his garage he picked up a fine, unfinished specimen of Bruneau Jasper
It was one of the best stones he and his son had collected
On a trip to Idaho's Bruneau Canyon, just off the Snake River

He decided to hand polish it
He didn't have the right equipment but he didn't care
He strapped an electric drill in a vise
Locked a grinding wheel in the drill and began

Tyler's Bruneau Jasper (click to enlarge)

First the coarse wheel
Next a finer grained wheel
Next various grits of wet sand paper
Finally polish powder

He had no particular shape for the stone in mind
He just followed it's natural lines
Let it dictate it's own final form

He did three that way
One the size of a plum
Two of them half again larger than his fist
Twenty hours or more for each stone
The best of them was his son found
On his first and only trip into the canyon

Along the way he found his own personal form again as well.

An Old Friend Missed

2010-07-27T08:26:00.000-07:00

Chasing a Catharsis

I was back in Ohio after an absence of over 30 years. I was there to do some work for a client in Columbus and it required a couple of weekend layovers. I took advantage of that chance to look up some junior high and high school friends in Huron, a small town on Lake Erie about 120 miles north of Columbus. Huron is a town of around 5,000 in the winter. In the summer it swells to twice that size, filling with inland folks who want to spend time on the lake.

The roads between Columbus and Lake Erie are remarkable in the spring. They are filled with beautiful rolling hills, picturesque farms and dense forests. It was wonderful to see them again and great to be on my way to a town where I had spent so many of my formative years. We moved around a lot when I was a kid but to me Huron was my hometown. So you can imagine I was pretty fired up about the trip. The fact that I got to be dazzled by the countryside while on my way there was just frosting on the proverbial cake.

One friend I would not see on this trip however was Tom Cook. Tom was a classmate of mine in the ninth and tenth grades. At that time we both lived in Laylin’s Court just outside of Huron. Laylin’s was a blue-collar combination of cottages and house trailers right on the beach of Lake Erie. Some folks lived there year ‘round and that’s what we did in one of the rental cottages. Others, the ones with a few extra bucks, owned most of the trailers and would come in from the Cleveland area to spend summer weekends.

Tom was a couple of years older than me and was behind a couple of years of school. That put us in the same grade. I think he had flunked because school was never important to him. He had worked part time and had received a little financial help from his Mom so he could have a car. It was a ’38 Plymouth, bone stock and in fairly decrepit condition. It was beautiful to me though because it represented a certain freedom I did not yet have.

The summer before my freshman year I was working toward attending the Maryknoll missionary high school in Syracuse, New York in preparation for the seminary. I don’t think I had any particular calling. I was just thirteen and it sounded like a cool thing to do. It just seemed to be a logical next step from my experience at Huron’s Saint Peter’s Catholic elementary school. But then one day though I was swimming in Lake Erie just off the beach where our cottages were and I met a girl named Patty M.

Her folks were Irish or Scottish immigrants and they had just moved up from the South as so many did during that time to work in the auto factories. We swapped some insults and in the process I noticed she had this amazing way of talking with a combined Scottish and southern accent. It was love at first sight, or so I thought, so I immediately dumped the missionary idea in favor of more basic instincts. When high school started Patty took the place by storm and had all kinds of guys chasing her so my time was limited.

Eventually a guy named Dick took center stage with Patty. I guess he was a little jealous of me though because he started rattling my cage. For example, once I was standing by my locker in between classes with a load of books tucked under my arm when he came up behind me and tipped them out of my arm to the floor. I just stood there thinking, “What was that?” I didn’t know whether it was a simple joke or an act of aggression but I had my suspicions.

Now Dick was over six feet tall and I was probably five and a half feet tall at the time. One day I headed into the bathroom in our school cafeteria. Tom Cook was behind me. As I entered, Tom pinned my arms behind me and Dick, who was standing in front of me, shoved a fruit pie in my face. Just as he did that, Tom released my arms and I caught most of the fruit pie as it fell from my face. Instinctively I shoved the pie right back in Dick’s face.

Dick grabbed my shirt and punched me in the chin. It wasn’t very hard though. I think we were both pretty surprised by the events that had just occurred. He stood there looking shocked and that was pretty much the end of the incident. Except… from that point Dick and Tom were my friends. It’s funny how these things go when you are a kid… how friendships arise out of conflict.

Tom had a real ironic outlook on things and, in my completely uninformed naive opinion a ton of common sense. He had a tendency to curl his lip and smile all the time in good times and bad. So you always thought he maybe knew something (About life? About the situation?) that no one else did. He also smoked, drank and knew all the standard cuss words. This gave him that grown up and worldly aura that impressed our whole crowd.

I was just learning things like how to cuss and, in fact, would often engage in conversations where I would find myself using completely unfamiliar words. What I mean is I didn’t know what part of the anatomy or what sort of activity they were referring to. I was clueless in a very happy sort of way.

Tom also had this combination flat top and duck tail hairstyle with a curl centered in front. I think the Italians from the “Little Italy” section of Huron referred to the curl as a “pachuco.” I believe “pachuco” had some vague reference to being a gang member or something. I didn’t know how he got his hair to do that but I knew I wanted mine to do the same thing and it wouldn’t quite work, no matter how heavy I loaded it down with whatever greasy substance was at hand.

Tom would do 50 pushups and 50 sit ups at the start of his day, every day that I knew him which was at least a couple of years. I don’t know where he got the motivation– maybe he wanted to stay in shape for football. I was in awe and to this day wish I had thought to imitate him. Also, he had that car which to me was a symbol of complete independence.

I was just coming out of eighth grade and a very sheltered existence as a student at Saint Peter’s Catholic School. So you can see that Tom was the coolest person I had ever met up to that point. He was a classic teen angel and bad looking dude and my first hero. I was the “wannabe” but I learned fast.

Tom always treated me pretty square. Since we were classmates and I hung around bugging him a lot, he would give me rides to school. We also hung out together from time to time– attending area school dances, beer parties (!), camping and so on. I appreciated that a lot. After all, I am sure I was just a naïve broke kid in his eyes. I didn’t have much to contribute to the relationship but for some unknown reason, Tom put up with me.

I lost touch with Tom after moving from Ohio to Seattle, Washington in 1962 in the middle of my junior year. I never forgot him though. Then, sometime in the Eighty’s I was on the phone talking to another old friend from those days.

He told me that in 1978 Tom had been on his motorcycle and had a fatal encounter with a billboard. He also told me Tom had always been the first in the area to get the newest machine, things like snowmobiles, bikes and so on. I don’t know why I wasn’t surprised. It sort of sounded like Tom I guess. Tom had only made it to his late 30’s. If I could spend five minutes talking to him right now today I’ll bet we would both be rolling on the floor in laughter over those amazing high school days.

A Jog in the Rain

And so, while I was in Huron I decided to try and find Tom and pay my last respects even though I was twenty years late. My old friend did a little investigating and handed me a slip of paper with Tom’s plot information on it. I found out the cemetery was a couple of miles from town and decided to jog out there to see him on an early morning visit.

It was a little cloudy but very pleasant when I left the bed & breakfast place where I was staying. I took off at an easy jogging pace looking forward to the visit and not worrying about the weather at all. I had received directions and took the turns I thought I was supposed to be taking but there was a lot of farmland out there and I was getting a little concerned about getting lost. Then, it started raining.

It was a fairly heavy but warm rain but it was comfortable enough so I decided to press on with the jogging. Just when I was getting pretty soaked and thinking I would turn around, I saw the cemetery ahead. I went in and began looking for Tom. It took me a while to figure out how the plots were laid out. At the moment I did find him though, it stopped raining.

I know it was just a coincidence but it doesn’t take too much imagination to think it could have been Tom’s way of saying, “Hey, glad you could visit! What? Are you stopping by to bum a ride to school?”

I hadn’t figured out what to say when I got there. So, I just said, “Tom. We had some great times together. I loved you like a brother and I have missed you. I will see you again.”

*****

Ciudad Juarez

2010-07-25T20:15:00.000-07:00

1964.
Cannon Air Force Base, Clovis New Mexico
He was a Preventive Medicine Specialist
For the Air Force
Duties: Industrial Hygiene, Toxicology,
Environmental Medicine, Public Health
Everything from swimming pool inspections
To Mosquito collection and identification
To VD interviews

He once rode a helicopter on a mapping expedition
Of the base perimeter to identify potential mosquito breeding areas.
He once rode an ambulance as a volunteer to physically extricate
The remains of a F-100 jet pilot who flew into the ground.
He once interviewed a husband and wife, together
About which was the source of their gonorrhea infection
(They both pointed at each other.)

His buddy, William K. Smith
Was a Flight Surgeon technician
On flying status
Collecting a few extra bucks a month for it.

They were heading out for a weekend in Juarez
About 300 miles Southwest of Clovis
They got off late on a Friday afternoon
And stopped a little over half way
At another friend's mom's home
In Tularosa, New Mexico
The next morning... 'Mom' made them
New Mexico style enchiladas for breakfast
Small corn tortillas, stacked about 3 inches high
Each layer with sauce, or beef, or cheese or frijoles
All topped with a fried egg
They were so hot they made the Airman's eyebrows sweat.
Still, to this day the best enchiladas he has ever had

They spent the day in Juarez, roaming from bar to bar
As teenage Airman would do
Whiskey sours for a quarter
Each bar with a line of woman outside and in
Groping and trying to catch attention for a quickie
And a stage for the ladies to take turns strutting their stuff

At their last stop of the evening
They sat in chairs that directly faced the bar's semi-circular stage
And ordered beers
It was better than a bird's eye view

Finally, one of the seasoned strippers
Hit the stage and between entertaining the whole crowd
Would occasionally squat directly in front of one of the
Guys drinking at the stage

She was working her way systematically from her left to right
And sure enough, she stopped in front of the
Barely 18 year old, small town Ohio ex-altar boy
He was doing his best to look composed as the two
Were also bathed in the bar's spotlight

While she was in front of him trying to tantalize everyone
He chose to casually pick up his beer and take a swig
Then return it to the stage in front of them
He managed to complete that task before she
Figured out what he was up to
But the she had his number

She bent real close to him
Smiling and moving provocatively
Then took both breasts in hand and
Smacked him on both sides of the face
One right after the other
In the process knocking his glasses so they sat
At a 45 degree angle
The audience roared
And the Airman turned deep sheets of red

The rites of passage
Some never leave you

The Test (for Samantha)

2010-07-14T09:22:00.000-07:00

Philosophy 101
Gotta have it to graduate
*************************************
He was on a crash course through college

Working full-time as an Air Force Airman
Attending night classes to graduate with a BA
While serving at four locations (assignments)
Two in California
One in Thailand
One in Arizona
All in under three and a half years
It was all made possible because
Courses could be successfully challenged
Under the College Level Entrance Program tests
And others could be taken in accelerated, shortened terms

But still... there was The Test.
Glendale Arizona Community College
Night class in Philosophy
The professor didn't want to be there
The students didn't want to be there
No one wanted to be there
Four hours a night
Two days a week
For eight weeks

The professor lectured
The students took notes
The professor didn't like
Philosophical discussions
He just kept lecturing

Finals approaching
The professor gave his students a break (?)
He wrote four topics on the blackboard
"I will include three of these on the final, essay exam."
The Airman went home to his wife
Who was also working full-time
He said, "We gotta study."
Without hesitation she said, "Okay."

First, he cleaned up his notes
On the potential four essay topics
To meticulous outline form
To four levels:
I. Roman Numerals
   A. Capital Letters
   1. Natural Numbers
   a. Lower Case Letters

Then he started memorizing
First all the Roman Numerals
Next all the Capital Letters
And so on

In the latter stages
She would follow his notes
While he laid on the couch
Moaning and groaning
Trying to memorize
And recite the seemingly endless notes
None of it made any sense to him
But he just packed the information in
************************************
The night of finals
Professor wrote 3 of the 4 essay questions
On the blackboard
No stated time limit
The student started writing
Not the essay
Just his outlined notes

Much later...
He began transforming
His notes to long hand
Note style to essay style

Much later...
The student looked up
All the others were gone
Just the professor and the student remained
Still not quite half way done
He wrote a little more
Than made a decision

He gathered all his papers
Stood and walked to the professor's desk
"Look, I still have a lot to do here.
But if you will review what I have done so far
And agree to give me an "A" for the final
We can both go home."

The professor looked at the papers
Than focused on the notes and said,
"Did you bring these in with you?"
"No!" said the student
"I just wrote them out tonight
Right after you posted the questions on the board."

The professor said, "Done."
They both went home.

Campbell Ranch Dominates NorCal Landscape

2010-07-11T09:41:00.000-07:00

This will be a photo essay - that soon will be snatched for billions in movie rights...
(Please note... if you click once on each photo as you go they will probably fill your screen - making it all the more stunning in its splendiferous beauty, wonder and scientifically inaccurate detail. When you finish looking at the photo, just click the back arrow to return to this electrifying treatise.)

Not many of you know we are
Carpetbagger, robber barons
Who have ravaged Northern California
While amassing vast holdings in land
An embarrassment of riches so to speak
Its not a big deal... just how we roll
So" ima letchu finish" this with your own thoughts

To get you started I am going to plant a few notions:

First, you want to know how I did it
It was through blatant use of migrant farm workers
Here's one now taking a break (goofing off)
In the back yard of our vast estate.
Claims her name is Julieann and we're married (yeah right)
(photo r. undocumented farm worker who already shows signs of US patriotism by wearing a weird stars and stripes hat)

Next in the "how I did it" department
We need to observe the huge crop (millions of acres)
Of loaded tomato plants growing in our huge truck farm
There are also millions of acres of basil,
Sweet peppers, and chives there
Although you may not be able to tell because the photo
Has been taken by satellite.
Millions of miles away
(photo r. high resolution satellite image)

You are also curious about where I store
My huge herd of thoroughbreds here in NorCal
Truth is I no longer have them
As my migrant farm worker has taken
Over the horse barn
And filled it with large plastic storage boxes
That contain seasonal bric-a-brac decorations
Anywhere from one to 8 boxes per holiday
With Christmas coming in first of course
(photo r. former gigantic horse barn)

Having seen all this, I know many of you
Are wondering and hoping that we have
Luxurious, palatial guest accommodations
Available here on the estate
Well of course. Don't be ridiculous.
If you should be invited to visit (you won't)
Your cottage is prepared and includes
All the comforts you are accustomed to
No bed, no bath, a four foot grand main entry
Two, that's right, two side windows
And a 2.5' by 4' grand Southern style
Front porch that holds (0) relaxing rocking chairs
(photo r. commodious guest quarters)

No folks that's not the end of it
A couple more features to titillate you here
A gigantic grove of (2) cork oak trees!
(Click on THIS photo and you will see some
Really cool, gnarly [really] bark!)
Yes, thats right
For all you cork lovers out there
Why, heres one now!
Notice how it likes to grow in odd directions
(Much like me)
Wandering around our stupendous NorCal acreage
(photo r. Cork oak growing where it wants)

Finally, when you have logged in as our distinguished guest
(that will never happen)
You will next question whether there is a place to bask in the sun
And wonder at the magnificent Tahoe Blue swimming pool
Well, there isn't
I mean there is a pool
But it belongs exclusively to our dog Molly
And she will not allow you to use it unless
You know how to throw a tennis ball
A trick few have mastered
(photo r. Molly in her pool being observed by
Arizona immigration law refugee)

Atlas Shrugged

2010-07-09T13:54:00.000-07:00

Yes, they are making a movie!

But, and this is a really big but, they are casting it with unknowns (at least to me anyway).

Hopefully it won't have Ayn's fans, me included, shrugging.

This is... Love

2010-07-06T18:14:00.000-07:00

A bond that shrugs off the first blush
That grows through pain
That is nurtured by forgiveness
A bond that seeks balance
That defines life with the start of new life
That is fierce with devotion and tenderness
A bond that graduates to maturity
That is justified by success
That survives setback with determination
A bond that rests comfortably in silence
That celebrates the life of another
That finds peace in a touch
A bond that fosters faith in a shared eternity
With the one love and with the family
A bond that is nurtured with laughter

A bond relentless with hope
A bond that thrives on optimism
This is... Love. Oh Yes it is!

Lighthouse...

2010-06-13T16:19:00.000-07:00

...for the Blind
A non-profit organization that provides support for the blind.
Not intended to help people see the truth.

###

When I was in high school in the Seattle area
I worked for Lighthouse for the Blind
It was a house to house affair
We were given small suitcases
Stuffed with common household items
Much like the Fuller Brush man of old
The suitcases contained; yes, brushes
And ties, and scissors, and knives,
Plus pencils, pens
and all sorts of household items

We were also given scripts to memorize
Once some one opened their door
We were to head pell-mell into the spiel
I was typically paired with another
High school acquaintance of mine, Chuck.
We would carry different stuff in our bags
And swap leads when knocking on doors
Whoever was in front... did the talking
Chuck was a no-nonsense sort of guy
More or less totally devoid of humor
I mean I could get him to laugh once in a while
But I had to work my ass off at it
Not sure why I even tried
It was just something I felt compelled to do

Chuck was also terribly shy.
He was so shy
He could not look our potential customers in the eye
He would just knock on someone's door
And when they answered
He would stare at the door frame or something inanimate
And recite his spiel mechanically, from memory
I swear most of those who answered
Thought Chuck was blind when he did that
And perhaps I was just there to escort him
Make sure he didn't trip over anything
As far as I recall

Chuck had the highest sales volume
Of anyone on our sales force there in Seattle.

###

Chuck and I hung out as pals... sort of
In our Junior year in high school
Not so much in our senior year
In fact, one night we were both
With our separate little, fairly low rent cliques
And some of my buddies and I
Stole a case of beer from Chuck and his buddies
Unseen of course

Later they were convinced it was us
So our two groups met in a deserted area to hash it out
One side said their piece and the other side said theirs
I said something in outright denial of the act
And my old pal, Chuck stepped forward and called me a "S___head".
I hadn't heard the word before and in a burst of righteous indignation
Called him to the middle of the group to do battle
Chuck was a lot taller than me but no stronger I believe
We took a few rookie slugs at each other
And I caught him then wrestled him to the ground
I was a high school wrestler of very modest skill
And Chuck knew absolutely nothing about it
I quickly had him pinned and was proceeding
To rub his face into the gravel
When he basically gave up
At that point, everyone had lost their taste
For the beer argument and that was that

Chuck didn't show for school for the next couple of days
Preceding the weekend
Presumably to heal his road rash a little
We never spoke again

###

If I were to see Chuck today

I would apologize

And offer to buy him

A case of beer

I am sure he grew to be a good man.

Pocket Aces - "Dat Metaphor"

2010-06-04T13:49:00.000-07:00

Texas Hold'em - the most popular poker game
Pocket Aces - the most powerful starting hand
Deuce-seven unsuited - the weakest starting hand
How would you play these?

"You play the hand you are dealt" - a common metaphor
For making the best in life from what you have
A life of pocket aces would be the best
Except the odds are 221:1 against you getting them for starters.

So maybe sometimes you are dealt deuce-seven
But you act like you have pocket aces
And others believe you
If it is life, you still have to play

Maybe sometimes you are dealt pocket aces
But feeling inferior, you act like you have deuce-seven
And others believe you
It is life and you are not taking advantage of what you have

Pocket Aces.
I have been dealt these starters many times in life
More than my share
Beating the odds big time

I haven't always played them the best though
On the other hand I have been dealt plenty of deuce-sevens
And once in a while played them like a pro
I guess it depends on other factors

Sometimes just playing the hand
No matter what you are dealt
Is the greatest thrill

Like one of my great heroes, the one-armed young man
From the book, "Badass, the Harley Davidson Experience"
Who rode the scooter from his home in Texas
To Sturgis, South Dakota and back

He was just celebrating the hand he was dealt.

. . . . . .

To put things in perspective

Here is the hand I was dealt on this particular

Gorgeous Friday afternoon

In the City of Trees

A Perdomo Reserve stogie,

A Heineken

A damn good book (Steig Laarsen's latest)

A faithful, beloved hound dog

(Thanks for planting the idea Tom McD!)

Spinmaster

2010-05-22T09:49:00.000-07:00

Take a side, any side

Spin a story, any story

Get it on the Net

Titillate the masses

Beg the Question

Fire the first shot

Rely on the propensity

Of people to believe what they want

And abstain from researching both sides

Trust they will view only one side of the coin

This is the way of the Spinmaster...

Both amateur and professional.

"If I Were President"

2010-05-19T11:23:00.000-07:00

"If I were President
I woed make shore that
ivrething was fare
and I woed make shore that
ivreone had pece and
ckwit. and for kids I'd care."

Samantha Marie Campbell, February 24, 1995

Yes, it is framed.
Yes, it proudly hangs in my office.
Yes, one day it will hang in her office.

(She did this three months after her 6th birthday... learning phonetic spelling in school. Note the birthmark on her mirror side - there is no mistaking it is her. Also note the Lincolnesque beard, will have to caution her about ways to prevent this but I do like that hat as well as those mighty fine campaign promises.)

Louise!... is Zahgidiwin

2010-05-15T11:36:00.000-07:00

The thing is; when you are writing you have a chance to properly ponder things before placing them at the feet of your reader to be considered... or not. On the other hand, when you are speaking you can easily say something stupid and splash the words awkwardly toward your listener while perhaps dribbling something on your shirt in the process. As it happens I am really good at the latter. For example, I have this annoying propensity to state the obvious. I will just spit it out then immediately regret it as the look from my listener(s) says; "So, you really think I'm stupid eh?"

Anyway, this little story isn't about me. It's about you and a writer who is there for you to treasure if you haven't already done so.

As a little background, you may already know that I enjoy writing as a hobby. What you don't know is Louise makes me feel like a church mouse at the foot of the altar in Saint Peter's basilica in comparison. That is why we are here today Ladies and Gentlemen... to inadequately review some of the works of Louise Erdrich. (photo right)

As it happens (and this is really cool; to me that is) Louise and I are two of 30,000 or so enrolled members of the Turtle Mountain Band of the Chippewa Tribe. Most (many?) of the tribe are mixed blood "Metis"; the most common being French and Indian. My grandmother and grandfather on my Mother's (Chippewa Princess) side were both half French and half Chippewa. Louise, on the other hand is half German and half Chippewa, or so the bio information says. She is also an extraordinary mind and will totally engage you if you dare to start one of her many best selling books.

I have known about Louise for quite sometime as many years ago a dear friend (Thanks May U.! - I am sorry I didn't pay more attention back then.) suggested I read some of her work. I held off because I incorrectly thought I would be reading a lot of spiritual "Today is a good day to die" stuff and that is not my interest. Instead, I have encountered a brilliant, imaginative novelist who provides sparkling details about the love, hate, sex, primitive details and beauty of day-to-day-life. I have also been exposed to enough of the Ojibwa (Chippewa) language and gritty reality to help me feel like I am right there in each of her stories.

While I have only read three of her books thus far, permit me to suggest that you begin with "The Last Report On The Miracles At Little No Horse." You will be hooked immediately in the Prologue as you learn the origins of Father Damien. You will get caught up over and over again in passages such as those about the "naked woman playing Chopin", the moose and canoe and the remarkable loves of Agnes Dewitt. When finished, you may also agree with me; it is a stark, sensuous story that would make a great movie for the ages. Two others I have read and loved so far; the "Plague of Doves" and "Love Medicine." Thankfully, I have many more to look forward to.

And now, here is a little pearl from Louise I just discovered, her 2009 Dartmouth commencement speech... short but sweet! Even if you don't get to one of her books check it out.

Thank you Louise and my apologies... you deserve a lot better reviews than this one but there is no professional reviewer out there who could do you justice anyway.

Finally, just to bring it all closer to home, the photo to the right is of my great grandfather and grandmother Dubois. It was taken somewhere in the Dakotas on what appears to be a nice day sometime around the turn of the century. Can you guess which is French and which is Chippewa?

From the stern look of admonishment (?) on their faces, I would suggest they are both looking directly at me and have been considerably sobered by what I have become. But then the more I think about it... it is probably my son Tyler they are looking at... or both! (If you click once on the photo, it might enlarge to full scale... notice Tyler and Samantha's great great grand daddy is wearing coveralls along with his snappy white shirt, tie and vest! Could be a fashion trend for Ty to set when he is on stage!)

Stogie Time

2010-04-18T12:46:00.000-07:00

Note: this will be the first (maybe the last)
In a series of
Salient, Visceral, Sage, at times (all) irreverent
Observations from yours truly
The Common Man

Its about the intricacies of life
As seen through the eyes of
A passionate, cigar smoking...
(okay, one a week or so)
Wine swilling...
(no comment)
Harley riding...
(not as much as I'd like)
Old dude
(yeah I gotta admit it sooner or later)

So. Now that I think about it
This has been the general tone
Of all my blog entries
For the past couple of years!

Looking backward
It appears something
"May be gaining on me"
To paraphrase my old hero,
Satchel Paige

So here it is in sum,
The ride is great.
Don't F___ with the ride.

And here is a "ride" from today: Molly, Famous Olympic Dog

(Photo R: "Welcome to the Club", by famous Harley, Celebrity and Wine artist, Scott Jacobs: http://www.scottjacobsstudio.com/)

Turns

2010-04-16T09:32:00.000-07:00

Many a winding

For the worse

For the better

The corner
Dangerous

On a dime

Pleasant

Around

It down
Vicious

Gentle

Wrong

Lucky

Down

Sharp

Away

Nasty

Back

Right

It up

Your

Left

Stile

Key

To Grow Old

To Grow Bold

To Grow Old and Bold

Ben and Jack

2010-04-12T09:15:00.000-07:00

1967, Lowry Air Force Base in Aurora, Colorado (a Denver suburb). I was there to attend Air Force Intelligence training. One of my roommates was there to train as a Precision Measurement Equipment Laboratory Technician.

He was Bernard B., a hayseed of German ancestry from a farm in Northwest Texas, near Umbarger...
Buddy Holly country. He could play an expert guitar but he couldn't dance. I was something of a naive youngster myself and we both had a humor streak that was slightly left of center so we became fast friends.

There was a famous country and western club in Aurora called the Zanzibar (which was later made famous in the Clint Eastwood movie, "Any Which Way But Loose"). It was also fairly popular as a spot where a whitewall haircut Airman might have a few dances and a date with a local babe. Ben, six-four or thereabouts, didn't know how to dance so I taught him a few steps of the Foxtrot which we later learned could be easily adapted to "The Cowboy Shuffle". This presented a fairly comical picture for the rest of the Airmen in the dorm and likely for patrons of the Zanzibar as we later tried to hoof it with others.

One evening we had hit the Zanzibar with no success but weren't ready to call it a night so we stopped at a small bar further down East Colfax street. The bartender was pretty friendly and there weren't many people in the place so we raised hell and joked with her until closing. As we walked toward Ben's car in the parking lot, we noticed a Jaguar convertible blinking it's lights at us. We approached, I got there first and noticed it was the bartender. I asked, "What's up?" and she said, "Not you. Him." They took off and I drove Ben's car home that night.

It turned out she bought the Jag off an insurance settlement after her husband died. She also had a young son. Not long thereafter they got married and Ben was assigned to Wheelus Air Force Base in Tripoli, Libya. We lost touch for a while but a couple (few?) years later I heard from Ben. He had come home one day to catch the bartender in an affair with a senior NCO. While he was arguing with the NCO, the bartender went at him from behind and he kicked back. Later that day they both filed assault charges against him.

The next day he found himself in front of the Judge Advocate General, a Colonel B - they too argued and Ben told him to "kiss (his) ass" whereupon the judge smashed his cigar down in his ashtray and said, "Sergeant, I could have every stripe on your shoulder!" Ben asked if that meant he could go back to Texas and start farmin again and the Judge said, "Yes." and Ben responded, "Then no problem!" The Judge responded he wouldn't do that because of Ben's great service record.

As a result, Ben left with an honorable discharge after a four year stint. He returned to the Amarillo, Texas area and became a helicopter electronics technician at a plant there. He also spent a fair amount of time working out his anger on the streets by engaging in many fighting adventures.

He got pretty bored with that life so he went to college at Texas State University, San Marcos where he majored in German. It was noteworthy that he also served as an orderly at a mental institution. He worked there with a Japanese pal and fellow student named Yoshio. Among other things, they learned to pretend to be martial arts experts so they could scare the patients into thinking they would be in big trouble if they didn't behave. Ben and Yoshio were so poor they lived in a tent on the river for six months of that time - no problem though as that lifestyle was thought of as fairly fashionable during the late 60's and early 70's.

Ben graduated Phi Beta Kappa and was accepted into the Law program at the University of Texas, Austin. After graduating, he received a Fullbright fellowship and spend a year completing comparative studies in German and American Law in Heidelberg, Germany. Next, Ben took up private practice in San Antonio, Texas where he remains actively engaged today. It is noteworthy that over the years he has hosted and trained several hundred law interns from Germany... much about law and much about how to survive margaritas on San Antonio's famous Riverwalk.

Shortly after arriving in San Antonio Ben met a Biology major, Cindy and they were later married. Cindy is one of the only people on the planet who can accommodate Ben's self-styled adventures in law, music, frequent business travels to Germany and his love for dogs.

Fifteen years ago, almost to the day, he noticed a Jack Russell terrier on the street in front of the old San Antonio courthouse. He saw the dog wanting to get back into a car and as it drove away someone in the back waved goodbye. Ben drove up and noticed the dog sitting there in a blue and white bandanna looking pretty distressed so he opened his door and said, "Jack, let's go home."

Ben had to get out to pick Jack up who at that point had just laid on his back with his feet up in the air. After about a week of walking with him in the morning and evening and coming home to eat lunch with him Ben had to go to Amarillo as his Mom was deathly ill. He returned a few days later and Jack acted like it was Christmas morning. For the remainder if his life, Jack followed Ben around from room to room in their home every day, even in his last months when he would fall down and sometimes drag his back feet.

My friend Ben and his dog Jack
April, 2010

As he got older Jack would sit with Ben for a while, then go sit with Cindy. Often, they would see him playing with a tennis ball by himself, throwing it in the air, catching it and throwing it again. When they walked, Ben would just follow Jack where he wanted to go, and often there was a little female dog as his destination. One day after about 4 blocks there was this cute little dog he was smelling all the way from their home, she was out sitting next to a house. He sat about 15 feet from her, and slowly a foot or two at a time moved closer to her. Finally when he got right next to her she growled at him - he ran back to Ben in fright and disappointment and they went on.

Jack quickly became a full blown family member. Over the years Ben and Cindy bred him, keeping some of Jack's children and grand children, ultimately accumulating a half-dozen or so terriers in their sprawling Olmos Park home.
(Photo rt. - Ben and Jack a week ago)

#####################

Every November, the San Antonio Beethoven Choir sings, some trombonists play and some prayers are said for the 135 German, 4 Italian and 2 Japanese soldiers buried at Fort Sam Houston. They all died in Texas POW camps in 1944 and 1945. Ben gives the accompanying speech in tribute to these soldiers. To honor Ben and thank him for his service, the chiefs at Fort Sam have offered to bury him in that same old section.

Last Saturday, on the fifteenth anniversary of his Mother's passing and of his discovery of Jack, Ben called to tell me that he finally had to have the good old dog put to sleep. He figured Jack had made it to eighteen years of age. He said he was going to have Jack cremated and they were going to be buried together at Fort Sam Houston one day. Knowing his capacity for love and loyalty as I do, I believe him.

I am proud to call this old Hayseed from Umbarger, Texas my friend and I will be swilling a glass of wine or two in Jack's memory.

The Wire

2010-04-11T17:28:00.000-07:00

In recent weeks, I have had a welcome break
In road warrior activities
Thus preventing further physical injury
Also enjoying time with family and friends

As part-time empty nesters
Wife/Pal and I can often have time on our hands
One day a couple of weeks ago
I happened to mention that the HBO series, "The Wire":
http://www.hbo.com/the-wire/index.html
Might provide some entertainment we were missing in general viewing

"The Wire" has often been reviewed as one of the greatest series
Ever produced for television:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wire
I had seen a few episodes while imprisoned in hotel rooms
So I thought we should rent some of the first episodes
To see what the fuss was all about

We rented and devoured the first season
Then the second and so on
Until we had viewed the entire 5 seasons
Sixty hours worth within a couple of weeks

The Wire is everything that has been written about it and more
Its about crime, drugs, ghettos, murder, politics, the school system
And the Baltimore police force... not necessarily in that order
Most actors you won't recognize but you will love before it is over
Even some of the evil ones!

Start at the beginning and have a blast
You won't regret it
(Warning, much of it is R-rated and it gets so intense you will want a lot of fine wine close by.)
(Note: renting the entire series turned out to be complicated and sort of expensive at Blockbusters so we just went to EBay and bought the entire boxed set for sixty bucks -- well worth it at a buck an hour!)

Tax Man Cometh...

2010-03-29T16:14:00.000-07:00

...and he doth kicketh my ath!

Recent email from family accountant:
"...just finished your 2009 taxes and it is not good news..."
It's like this just about every year
In fact, my pal/wife and I joke about it
In grim anticipation just before we get the news

He has been our family and company accountant
For just about 20 years now
However, he does not work for us
He works for the government

Years ago he called;
"This is what you need to do to reduce taxes..."
And then he went on with some vague advice
That shot from one ear to the other
And exploded against my office wall
Like a Blue paint ball.

I need to find a new accountant
Who doesn't work for the government
One who has the 'paint' balls to fight back

There probably aren't any...

The Commercial

2010-03-19T07:02:00.001-07:00

Gotta Love It!

Cold Cocked

2010-03-17T10:40:00.000-07:00

They were young Air Force airmen; immortal, confident
They were also reluctant roommates
In the base dormitories
Parked near a small town
On the Northeast Plains of New Mexico

One was from the Northcentral states
The other from a Northeast inner city
Different folks altogether
But with an uneasy truce
To keep then at bay from each other

Then the day came...at morning cleanup
There was to be a room inspection later
One was working... the other loitered
They argued over who was doing their share
Of cleanup duties

Small town boy, then 17, took offense
At large town boy's propensity
Toward doing nothing
"Small town" said; "There is going to be a fight."
'Inner city"' agreed.

"Small town said; "C'mon then, hit me."
"Inner city" then placed a right cross
Perfectly on "Small town"s chin.
"Small town" didn't not come to his senses
Until later that afternoon at work... several hours later

Cold Cocked

Three years later Small Town, now 20
Is visiting a close friend and his family
At their home close to the Air Force base
Lajes, on the small island of Terciera; the Azores
His friend's wife had recently borne twin sons

His friend named one of them after Small Town
They were enjoying a small weekend party
Everyone was pretty well lit
Then Small Town's friend turned mean
Began abusing the family dog

Small Town asked him to give the poor dog a break
His friend kept at it, with verbal and physical abuse
Small Town said he was leaving and went out the door
His friend followed, belligerent that Small Town would be upset
At how he was treating his dog... his property

Small Town said, "Stop or there is going to be a fight."
His friend said, "Go ahead and hit me"
Small Town tagged him with a right cross
Perfectly on the point of the chin
His friend was on the ground...

Cold Cocked

"It's (much) better to give than receive."

All Counts

2010-03-12T10:49:00.000-08:00

I seen what I seen
I done what I done
It doesn't matter
To anyone

I am what I am
I do what I do
It shouldn't matter
To any of you

But it does...
On both counts
Or so you say.

So I'll keep on paying
My daily dues
Blinking and nodding
According to cues

I'll reach for glory
To the depths of my soul
I'll spread it before you
So all you know

Is that I care...
On all counts
Or so I say.

How To Acquire A Manly Scar

2010-03-07T11:18:00.000-08:00

First, it doesn't hurt to be in Baton Rouge, Louisiana
Especially if you have been invited to a Super Bowl party there

Next, you will want to be in a hotel for the weekend
Staying over for work
Or any reason

This will give you the opportunity to walk in places unfamiliar,
(An essential ingredient for this primer)

The evening before the party, proceed to an establishment
That carries wine; (another essential ingredient)
Purchase three bottles; two for the party
Plus one for your most deserving self to be enjoyed in your room

Also stop at any store and acquire
Some large bulky packages
Containing anything that suits you
Just make sure they are bulky

Then, (this is vitally important)
Return to your hotel
Park in spaces immediately in front
(Yes, this too is essential)

Grab ALL packages and attempt to negotiate
The curb (in this case over 12" tall)
Here, it is the panache that is important...
The way you carry yourself

Caution: from here on in this story and its accompanying photos is PG-13
Proceed at your own peril...

Now, for the critical part
Attempt to negotiate the curb
By carefully placing your best foot forward... really.
Now attempt to guide your slightly lame other foot
Up and over the curb

Failing in this, attempt to catch
Yourself by throwing your arms forward
As you land on the pleasantly decorated large-pebble style concrete
Curse yourself softly as you notice the wine bottles in your left hand
Have somehow placed themselves between your arm and the concrete

This will allow your forearm to arrive at the concrete at
Precisely the same time as the wine bottle
Thereby breaking the bottle
Curse again softly
Then pick yourself up and investigate for damage

Notice only that your
Precious Downtown Harley Davidson (Seattle) long sleeved shirt
Has been torn and the elbow seems soaked with wine
Curse again softly
And consider your next step... literally

Quickly inspect your packages
And gratefully notice you have lost only one wine bottle
Pick up all packages

Bled all over sneakers
ER tech said soak them in cold water overnight
Put them in filled hotel tub. It worked!

And head for the hotel entrance
Thoughtfully place one foot in front of the other

Glance down and curse again softly
As you notice red liquid
Beginning to drip all over your
Dazzling New Balance sneakers

Curse, slightly louder when you notice it is blood and not wine
Refuse to loosen your purchase on your purchases
Continue to entrance and enter hotel looking for assistance
Position yourself over an all weather entrance carpet
To minimize the effect of the blood flowing quite freely

People rush to assist
As soon as they realize there is no danger to them
Efficient guest (I believe her name was Florence Nightingale)
Wraps hotel apron tightly around forearm
In effort to stem the bleeding

Ambulance is called
People try to get you to "sit"
But you are not as cooperative
As your dog, Molly
Besides, you don't want to bleed on the nice hotel chair

Attendants arrive and check vitals
Kindly offer to drive you to hospital ER
"I just need a few stitches
I will drive myself if you will tell me where there
Is an Urgent Care Clinic".

Receive directions
And proceed
Keeping your left arm out of the way
And held over a hotel towel on the armrest
To keep blood off the rental car interior

Urgent Care Center... feeling okay

Just after ER arrival

Attendant quickly checks wound
And says, "We can't take care of this here.
You may need arterial repair, microsurgery
So you need to go to the hospital ER"

This time you get a nice compress
But it is quickly saturated
So you use the hotel towel again
As you head for the nearby hospital

Enter Emergency Room
With requisite proof of insurance in hand
Before the clerk can check it
Your arm decides to go into action again
Blood all over prompts attendants
To rush you into treatment room

Then nurse arrives
Immediately cuts off your
Precious Harley shirt despite your objections
And hooks you up to vital sign machines
Everyone looks happy... so they leave

While waiting for the Doc

You are left alone for a short time

So you take pictures with your

Trusty iPhone
And consider your luck in not doing more damage

Doc arrives

Multiple injections of healthy doses of Lidocaine

In an around the wound

Make you glad you took Lamaze with your wife

As you now get a chance to practice breathing

The morning after
Looks a lot like a baseball stitch doesn't it?!

Techniques to curb real pain

Stiches, first 8 in the muscle

Then a dozen in the skin

No problem

As the lidocaine and tourniquet

Have you feeling nothing in that arm

Job done

Tourniquet removed

You are insructed to wait around

While they make sure you get feeling back
"An hour or two".

And that funny paralysis in your hand

Goes away

Healed... and manly.

Take another photo

This time of the stitches

For posterity you know.

Return to hotel room

After evening filled with adventure

Report for work the next day

Where your thoughtful clients

At first express sympathy

Then quickly turn to ridicule

When they realize what a klutz you are

Forward a couple of weeks

Grab trusty iPhone

For grand finale

Presto!

You have acquired a manly scar.
No need to curse any more...

The Towel Game (A Road Warrior Post)

2010-03-05T08:59:00.000-08:00

Now listen

You may not to read on

You may not have the stomach for it

Ok don't say I didn't warn you

This is about a new form of intrigue

Of the towel snapping kind

To appreciate it

Or I should say, to experience it

You must spend an ungodly amount of time in

HOTELS

Mainly, of the Marriott kind

Only because I kind of like them

I am addicted to their points system

And I use my old military ID

To get a government discount on the rates

It all adds up to...

So here's the story...

You see, someone in hotel land
Figured guests could and would reuse towels
If only a reminder was posted that it was good for the environment

Less energy used and less soap consumption right?!
Any monetary benefit accruing from reduced
Laundry cost would be retained by the people in hotel land of course.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch (hotel)
Yours truly was stacked up again for weeks at a time
In his favorite hotel (read slave to points) of choice

A Marriott in Red Stick, Louisiana

Being the seasoned Road Warrior he was
He quickly sized up the scene
And determined the hotel had two kinds of bath towels

One had been around a while
Washed a bunch of times
And had the home spun feel of... sandpaper

The other was relatively new and still felt like...
Well... a towel that the average human
Would find acceptable

Note: The Road Warrior is an average human.

The problem was
The good towels were sorely outnumbered
By a scientifically determined ratio of three to one

So, he immediately began scheming
How to be sure that among his four room towels
One would always be a towel of the good and righteous kind

First he did the obvious, following the instructions on the card
And carefully hung the towel on a rack signalling an intent to use it again
It didn't work!

The wily maid had removed it to be cleaned in the sandpaper conversion factory.

Apparently the maid
Had not been informed
Of the environmental situation

Next, he lurked in the hallways
Under full scrutiny of the hotel security cameras
Hoping for an opportunity to raid the maid's cart

Of all the soft towels it contained
That didn't work either
The maids were much too wily

Plus they were probably on the look out
For desperate guests
When they find one, they like to taunt them

By failing to replace their morning coffee supplies
Or, by leaving the bathtub drain closed so you will discover
It right in middle of your shower when you notice
The water level is rapidly rising
So you have to bend over to release it...
A fairly humiliating posture.

Finally, he had his eureka moment
He knew from travels far and wide
That maids have an aversion to room closets

That they wouldn't put ironing boards, irons
Or anything else back in the closet
If left out

So, he took to dropping all four bath towels on the floor
That put them in automatic replacement status
Always honored by the maids

When he got a good one
He would carefully fold it
And place it on a hangar in the closet

Thus giving it sanctuary status
And insuring his bare butt
A comfortable rub post shower

Score one for the Road Warrior

Maserati

2010-02-25T16:56:00.000-08:00

So what's with all the Maserati's on the road all of a sudden?
I thought we were in a recession
And why don't I have one?

Guess I need to convert to Buddhism
Forsake all things material...
Or not.

But still the Maserati is beautiful
And how do you forsake beauty?

American 'Idle

2010-02-11T16:11:00.000-08:00

Interesting, I had a post here
But it somehow disappeared
Could it be related to something
The show initiated?

Maybe it got zapped because
I posted an image of the logo here as well.

Well, it wasn't that bad honest
Not even sure I recall what was there
But here goes a second attempt...

Americans idly watching American Idol
Judges idly watching potential American Idol's
Future America Idol's watching judges anxiously
While Americans idly observe
Not such a bad pastime

Or something like that....

Serenity

2010-01-14T08:45:00.000-08:00

Thank you for given' me what you've given' me
And I will take everything make it worth your time
All I'm livin' for is some... some serenity and I....
All I'm askin' you for is some peace and quiet.
I know that you've lived more life
And you've seen so many things...
This time it's not the same
And I see with two different eyes.

The world is about to explode and I want to live it up
It's no perfect fairy tale or some theme from a story book
Its all about slaving the grind... is that what we're fighting for
A cold concrete paradise
Well I hope there is more in store for me
I hope there's more in store for me

Thank you for giving me opportunities and I know it took
All your strength to swallow your pride
Each day has given to me more of that inspiration
And I will channel it from deep down inside
I know that life is so hard and we have come way too far
It's just another wall that I need to climb

The world is about to explode and I want to live it up

It's no perfect fairy tale or some theme from a story book

Its all about slaving the grind... is that what we're fighting for

A cold concrete paradise
Well I know there is more in store for me

I know there's more in store for me

You Taught Me To Fly

2010-01-11T07:53:00.000-08:00

Inside every man

There is a being

Inside every man

there is a hidden soul

There is a spirit he cannot control

Trapped by the constraints of time

This kindling fire seems left behind

A young and restless heart

A child that wishes to run free

An eagle ready to fly

A hope to one day be alive

Alive again and beautiful

A lonely hand reaching out

A singing flower leaning to the sun

A brand new view, never before seen

A race against time not yet begun

It lives only within him

It breathes on the love he breathes

It walks only the road he walks

It sees only the magic he sees

Until one day, suddenly

A chance to soar to new heights

To light new flames

To live a new life

Out of the depths of your love

A child is born

Out of the strength of your dreams

A new promise sworn

She will be the correction to your mistake

The jump in your heart

The fulfillment of your aspirations

The light in your dark

She is in you

You created her

And for you she will fly

Your baby bird

(by Samantha Campbell - December 2005)
(Photos - top Treasure Island, Bay Area, 1990 - bottom 1st flight over Sacramento, 2005)

Question?

2010-01-11T05:58:00.000-08:00

Research at warp speed
Beam me the answer Google!
Ahhhhh....

Eating My Cake

2010-01-10T18:01:00.000-08:00

I miss…

Playing baseball with my son Tyler Thomas Campbell. Shagging balls he’s hung on a string to the outfield. Watching him go 5 for 5 in one game and batting .585 for the season; .565 the season before that. Being the best of the best in his league. Having someone who knows compare his high body in the water style of swimming to that of the Olympian gold medalist, Don Schollander. Having him play sweeper in soccer, alone in front of the goalie, stopping everything coming from either side and down the middle…fast…fast…fast…speed and right-on decision making. His cookin’ hyperdrive synapses. Having people tell me what a great athlete he is. I didn’t expect any of it from him and that made it all the better.

The throw-your-head-back laugh of my daughter Samantha. My little girl who is now a beautiful young woman. Her natural grace and speed in pursuit of a soccer ball. Having people tell me what a terrific player she is. Having people tell me what a terrific person she is. I didn’t expect any of this from her and that made it all the better

The high notes, the volume, the passion of rock and roll. Sooooo sweet baby. Chills up and down the spine…really.

Being lean and mean and 165 pounds…the energy…the vitality.

A good, rip-roaring drunk…the fine times and the spirited discussions…the attempts to resolve the issues; war, religion, politics, women and friendships over too many drinks.

A pack of Marlboro’s. The high of nicotine…the feeling of a good smoke after a meal. A lit cigarette in my hand punctuating a high strung conversation. Yes, I am a lifetime addict and I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Over 18 clean years is not too shabby though. Here is the word on this...

Being poor...the little things really meant a lot then.

Riding a dirt bike in the high desert of Idaho. Falling off. Getting up. Picking up. Kick starting again. Hauling ass. Rolling, flying speed. The smells. The sights. The camaraderie.

Playing racquetball, softball and golf when I could rip all of them. Putting soft hands on a football and running through/over tacklers in sandlot tackle games. Being able to run in several speeds…all of them quick.

Friends I have lost track of...or simply lost. William K. Smith, Tom Cook, Marty Atha…others. Friends I have but don’t see often enough.

Mopsie’s Aerial Motions – Old English Sheepdog, friend and Frisbee catcher extraordinaire.

A three and a half pound German Brown trout caught on ultra light tackle in the swift Missouri River…with eagles flying overhead and beaver swimming by.

My Mother and my Father

These days are gone.
The memories vivid... indelible.

I celebrate:

My wonderful, forgiving wife of over 40 years, Julieann Marie Campbell. I have already asked her to marry me again in the next life, to have fifty kids and help me run a custom big twin motorcycle shop. She will probably not accept all those terms.

Watching my kids grow up and learn about life. The significant charity work they are or have been involved in.

All the people and experiences I have known and had. The things God gave me that have made up my life. I am very lucky to have been there… to have done that. I am also lucky to be here right now... doing the things I love right now.

Friends! How else are you going to celebrate life?

These moments are here
The memories forming... growing stronger each day.

"Cabbage" or "CABG"? Whatever...

2010-01-06T10:52:00.000-08:00

He was trimming branches
While perched in crook of the mulberry tree

Centerpiece of their back yard

Where their children grew

He was working with a hand saw

When he noticed a heavy feeling

Gripping his chest

He paused; it passed

A few days later he teed off at the first hole

And as he walked down the fairway

He noticed the feeling again

He slowed; it passed

Over the next couple of weeks

It occasionally returned

Brought on by slight exertion

Leaving quickly upon rest

He saw the family doctor

Thinking it remained from a recent cold

The doctor said, "angina"

And sent him to a cardiologist

The cardiologist

An interesting man who peeked around corners

Before rounding them... ran his tests

A catheterization up through the leg to the heart

And declared blockages

85% of the left descending aorta

The "Widowmaker"

Among others; four to be exact

Coronary artery bypass surgery

"CABG" in the industry was strongly suggested

He wanted another opinion

"Could it be reversed through diet?"

He saw another cardiologist

Harvey M did not peek around corners

He came right in and shot straight,

"This is a no brainer."

"We'll do the surgery here

And I will follow you if you want"

They went for two weeks later...the deal was set

It took away his breath to agree

Surgery was due on a Monday

His son, age 12, had a baseball game scheduled the following Saturday

He had two things in mind,

Reassure his wife and attend that game

Though still in his 40's
He told her
I have had a great life
If it is over now, so be it

"You will be on a respirator in ICU."
"We will keep you under so it won't bother you."
He woke up there and was still intubated
He made motions to the nurse so he could make her a note

Reminding her he wasn't supposed to be awake
She just turned up the juice
On his IV
And conked him out again

It was Monday they worked
Tuesday they had him walk
Wednesday more of the same
Thursday he told them he wanted to go home

His cardiologist said, "You're a little fresh,
But we'll see."
Friday they let him out
Feeling better then he had in a very long time

Saturday the game was cancelled
On account of rain
He asked his son to take batting practice
So they could go to the field anyway

He sat in a lawn chair with his daughter nearby
Watching opposite field line drives
Being hit by his perennial All-Star
Using a day given to him... the right way

That was it
A new life began
Enriched by compassion
From family, friends, doctors, nurses and technicians

That was almost 20 years ago
That was remarkable

My Tears...

2009-12-31T11:13:00.000-08:00

...land smack on the last few pages

Of a fine book

On this eve of the new year

The Art Of Racing In The Rain

A novel by Garth Stein

Man... I am a sucker

For a good dog book!

Avatar The Movie!

2009-12-23T20:15:00.000-08:00

An extraordinary film

An extraordinary experience

In IMAX

In 3D

Daughter Sam and I

Saw it this evening

All the classic elements

Of a great movie

I walked out of the theater

And proclaimed to her...

"I could turn around...

Go right back in to see it again!"

Taken... By The Wind... By The Wave

2009-12-15T11:24:00.000-08:00

This I write:

Spring and leaves grow

To capture the sun

And nurture the tree's trunk

Autumn and the winds take

Leaves to the ground

Weakest first

Wind makes way

For the leaves of spring

And live begins anew

When it is time for me to fall

I hope to look up and see you

Lingering

Stronger than others

Selfish I know.

And this written by another: Epilogue (Author Unknown)

With twig in hand

I wrote in the sand,

"Darling I Love Thee!"

Then a wave from the ocean grey

Washed my token of love away.

Frail twig

Tender letter

Cruel, cruel wave

Ah, but then I would pluck from the forest

The tallest tree

Dip its tip in the molten Vesuvius

And write across the sky

In flaming letters,

"DARLING I LOVE THEE!!"

And I would like to see any damn wave wash that away...

Tenderness

2009-12-09T10:49:00.000-08:00

For those you love

For soldiers past

A rhapsody on Taps

Here is the beautiful rendition in very good resolution

Here are the words (Author Unknown):

My love you go away
it's so sad and you know that
What useless days
I will live by thinking of you
I'll give my life to have you always
close to me
Like a voice that by now
I know already,
this silence will speak to you of me
nothing could change
even if I must wait

Like a voice that by now
I know already
this silence will speak to you of me
My love, you go away ,
but you'll return again
Good night my love
I'll see you in my dreams
Good night to you
who are distant