Football As War

A Duck or A Dog?

Here's a great shot of an avid football fan. So what's with the school sweater?
Somehow, the marriage of Thanksgiving and football is something I remember from my high school days in Flint, Michigan when Central played Northern on Thanksgiving Day. This turned out to be a classic "good news-bad news" situation. I would return home after the game frozen solid. The good news - I could thaw out with turkey, dressing, cranberry jelly and tons of other good stuff. Not a bad deal when you are a starving teen but now, in retrospect, it was a weird combination of two completely different events. Since Flint now has several high schools, I'm sure this tradition is long gone but back then, weird or not, it was a big deal.

The Tradition (off by two days) Continues

Following a custom that dates back to 1894, University of Oregon played Oregon State University in football last night. This annual event is referred to locally as the Civil War. I'm sure it makes sense to some people, but the fact that the two schools are 40 miles apart, causes me to question the choice of nickname. There is no North and South, no Rebel or Union soldiers; just Ducks and Beavers. Oh well!

The final score of this year's game was 65-38 in favor of University of Oregon. The loss knocked Oregon State out of a sure Rose Bowl date, and added to the enmity between the die-hard believers. My take on the whole thing? Go Wolverines! Wait until next year!

This post dedicated to all those who live in other states but graduated from Oregon State University!

Happy Thanksgiving To My Family & Friends

Yes, this is last year's picture of a perfectly done turkey. Time is scarce this year for Google searches and picture taking so we'll just have to be content with last year's bird!

To everyone, have a great Thanksgiving! If you're at Father Time's house or spending the day elsewhere around the globe, the sentiment here is just the same.

May your day be joyful, your food hot, and your emotional state "gently" warm.

One Dad Story Leads To Another

Painting A Sign On An Airplane

In my last post I noted that my Father, who worked for GM, supplemented our family income by painting signs on weekends. Usually, he painted windows for businesses having sales, or gold leaf signs on doors of doctors and dentists, or a delivery truck touting the virtues of some business. Since I was young and restless, and to give my Mom a break, Dad would let me accompany him on his sign-painting trips and be his "gofer". That meant I got to sit around a lot but do the dirty work when needed.

Once, much to my delight, he was asked to go to the local airport and paint the name of a doctor friend of our family on the side of his Beechcraft Bonanza. The plane was unique back then for its unusual tail configuration - a "V" design that was a first in the recreational aircraft field.

The day in question was windy; not a good thing for an lightweight aircraft sitting outdoors. To help anchor it, the doctor heaped some sandbags on the co-pilot's side and asked me if I would mind sitting in the pilot's seat for some extra weight. To me, that was a dream come true! I had to sit in the pilot's seat by myself for about an hour.

So, what does a seven year old boy do in a real airplane while sitting in the pilot's seat?

Let's see.

For starters, I single handedly destroyed all of the enemies of the United States with a series of strategically planned bombing runs. Having tasted blood, I then flew spy missions over New York City looking for Mafia types. Spotting them easily from the air, I would swoop in and shoot them down with with a cleverly concealed .22 caliber pistol I always carried in my shirt pocket for just such an occasion. In particular, I was looking for any bad guys who might be holding June Allison as a hostage, taking them down without mercy and then delivering June to the local deputy sheriff who was in charge of Hollywood Star Hostage Detail.

And finally, as my coup de grâce, I spotted the Frankenstein while flying over Chicago. We engaged in a vicious gun fight - he from his castle, and me from the Beechcraft Bonanza. Luckily, I defeated him and flew back to the airport to receive the Congressional Medal of Honor which surprisingly was presented to me by June Allison.

As I stepped out, exhausted from all that imagineering, my Dad smiled and asked if I had enjoyed myself.

"Enjoy myself? Are you kidding? By the way, I'm dieing of hunger. Can we go get a Coney Island Hot Dog."

Mission accomplished!

My Loud Mouth Conscience

The Conflict Begins

In 2005, when I started this blog, my goal was to post anything and everything I found interesting. Sounds like "it's all about me" doesn't it? (Well, it is, so don't interrupt.)

One of my earliest posts dealt with the Lockheed P-38 Lightening, a WWII fighter-interceptor. Somehow in the ensuing years, posting new pictures of this magnificent aircraft has became an annual event.

Don't Weapons of War Conflict With Your Personal Values?

(You know, you're really getting on my nerves.) To understand my fascination with this airplane, I need to step back to my childhood. When I was about 8 years old plus or minus a couple of years, my Father built a model of this plane from scrap wood he had in his sign shop. He was a journeyman sign painter but choose instead to work for GM and supplement our family income painting signs on weekends. Dad gave me the finished model for Christmas, and promptly hung it from the ceiling over my bed (knowing I would probably destroy it trying to make it fly.) For the next several years, I went to sleep watching it spinning in lazy circles over my bed. Those memories are still etched in my mind.

As an aside, keep in mind my mechanical engineering background. If its a machine, I will love it. If its a weapon of war, dump truck, pencil sharpener, or silicon chip factory, I'm entranced.

So Values Don't Count?

(Yes they do, now stop it! Note to self - Never use format again. It's creating anxiety and I'm here alone. Am I a candidate for therapy or what?)

For example, if I owned one of these, I would NOT be flying around shooting at things. If it were wartime, I would be flying the photo reconnaissance version. So in my warped mind, there is no conflict. So, look for a new picture of a P-38 next year.

A Rare Political Comment From Father Time

My first presidential election involved Richard Nixon vs John Kennedy in 1960.

For the chronologically gifted, that also means I've seen:
Johnson-Goldwater
Nixon-Humphrey
Nixon-McGovern
Carter-Ford
Reagan-Carter
Reagan-Mondale
Bush I-Dukakis
Clinton-Bush I
Clinton-Dole
Bush II-Gore
Bush II-Kerry
and now Obama-McCain.

Notice carefully the pendulum swinging from right to left and back again. Notice too, despite the claims of the losing party that the end of the known civilized world was at hand, we are still here doing business.

Maybe we aren't the sharpest, most effective, most innovative, or best loved (or feared if that's your bag) country in the world, but we are still here. And compared to most of the rest of the world we are, as a people, pretty well off.

The pendulum swung again yesterday just as it will again 4-8 years down the road. Get ready to enjoy the ride on the swing; it'll be fun!

Note to Fly. The "feared country" part was specially inserted to acknowledge your unique perspective on the world.

Trapped By Mother Nature

Continuing my outdoor theme from the previous post, I want to share something interesting I discovered about fish in Pamelia Lake. It's about the Cutthroat trout found there. The question was, how did relatives of the salmon family end up isolated in a lake at least one hundred miles from their nearest relatives.

How Did They Get There?

According to the US Forest Service biologists, this species originally swam upstream thousands of years just prior to the last Ice Age. Then, when a huge glacier carved out Pamelia Lake valley, it created a modest-sized lake without an above-the-ground outlet. So, the melting snow pack which drains into Pamelia Lake has to go underground through porous volcanic rock to emerge later some distance from the lake shore and become the headwaters for Pamelia Creek. In the process, Cutthroat trout swimming in the lake have ended up landlocked and trapped without a path back downstream.

Good News or Bad News?

Depending on your point of view, it's both. Being landlocked, the Cutthroat originally had plenty of natural food but only enough for a reasonable population. But now, because of the limited volume of water, the lake is home to a huge population of stunted Cutthroats surviving on what has become a limited supply of food. The good news is that fishing this lake is not unlike shooting fish in a barrel. Plus, the south end of the lake is home to a pair of bald eagles who work very hard trying to keep the fish population under control. Incidentally, they are very happy eagles!

And This Means?

Fish for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the lucky hiker who happens to know where Pamelia is located and just happens to carry a fly rod. I wonder who that could be?