Father Time Gets Busted

Here's To Honesty In Journalism
In an earlier post entitled Father Time Needs A Break I intimated (in a light-hearted way - hint hint), that a rat's nest of tangled lights constituted my holiday lighting endeavors.

Unbelievably, one of my neighbors surfaced as a closet reader of my blog and chided me for my less-than-honest approach! So, for those who live some distance from me, and in the interest of full disclosure and compliance with obscure Federal laws known only to unemployed attorneys, I am forced to reveal to the world that my Scrooge disguise is bogus, and deep inside Father Time resides a small child who lives for the Holidays!

Extra Added Bonus!
For those in Michigan, Florida, Nevada, New Mexico, and Virginia, please note the abundance of snow. For the Michigan crowd, the little dribble of snow should cause you to erupt in gales of laughter. (I can hear you now; "And you call THAT snow?") Ok, so it isn't 10 feet deep. It isn't even 10 inches deep. Since I'm posting this as an act of contrition, I truthfully confess that 3" shuts down everything around here and is considered a major catastrophe. Therefore, please send me MRE's this year.

But that's a story for another time (when my neighbor is on vacation.)

Wisdom For The Holidays

Vegetarians, and their Hezbollah-like splinter faction, the vegans ... are the enemy of everything good and decent in the human spirit. - Anthony Bourdain

This is sure to win me some friends.

Happy Holidays!

Father Time Needs A Break

Finally got the Christmas lights up! What a chore. I'm cold, exhausted, thirsty, and hungry. Time to go inside and take care of all those issues while I wait for neighbors to come by and compliment my creativity and hard work.

It's not easy being me.

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?

Mother Nature - Developer, Architect, Builder

Oregon's Back Woods

One of my favorite hiking spots is Pamelia Lake in the Mt Jefferson Wilderness. Getting to the lake entails a 10 mile drive on a Forest Service Road to the trailhead, and then hiking about 2.5 miles to the lake. The hike gains about 600 feet in altitude so youngsters like myself find it slow going. Slow is synonymous for "time to ponder life and all its perplexing questions."


Blow Down Pick Up Sticks

The hike starts with a nice path through the woods but soon becomes a tangle of blown down trees. The high number of "blow downs" resulted from extraordinarily heavy snows last winter followed by moderately warm temperatures. The heavy loads of snow on the shallow rooted trees left tangles of huge tress propped up at crazy angles everywhere. Luckily, the Forest Service, with the help of volunteers, has cleared the path to the lake but left behind a bizarre landscape of crazily tilting trees interspersed with huge fallen ones. The sight is absolutely surreal.

Boulder City

Then came the boulders, rocks, and gravel. I'd been up this trail several times in past years but with the heavy devastation caused by the blow downs, the trail has been diverted through areas that resemble gigantic economy size gravel pits. Keep in mind that these remnants of the last ice age are even older than me! It almost started me thinking about global warming but I quickly turned my mind to more pleasant philosophical thoughts and away from ugly political issues.

Tranquility In Abundance

Finally, after huffing and puffing my way uphill for over an hour, my reward was the lake itself. Pamelia is pristine in every way, unspoiled by humankind, and so quiet one can hear ones heart beating. I stood there for at least two minutes listening for anything - a bird, a fish jumping, a flies buzzing around, the rustling of wind blowing through the trees. Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Now, think of that when you're ready to throw a rock through your TV screen after the umpteenth negative political ad! So, there is a place you can go and hear absolutely nothing without going to a clinic for a hearing test. I find it simply amazing that Mother Nature thought of it first.

This is one of the places I go when my batteries need recharging. I wish I had learned about this place when I was much younger. In retrospect however, I doubt I would have appreciated it then as much as I do now. Sometimes batteries need replacement. Sometimes they need to be recharged. Thankfully, I fall in the latter category and plan on continuing my hunt for solitude amidst the chaos around me. Too bad one can't make a living do that.

Back In The Saddle (For Awhile*)

This was the longest summer ever! With remodeling, hiking, some not-for-profit volunteer work, and a mini health scare, my days flew by. Now that the health issue is resolved and the remodels are completed, I'm slipping back into a more normal routine.

So that means my long neglected blog can play catch up. Join me for the ride!

* My research on the use of the word "awhile" can be found here. Don't you just love it when old people discover something new?

Whew!

Father Time's still alive but moving at a slower pace. This week I'll finally have time to update you on a few of the more interesting events that consumed most of my time for the past 30 days.

Clearly, some of the things that transpired can't be described as interesting, but are definitely semi-gruesome in nature. We'll spare you details in an effort to maintain, at the very least, a site with a modicum of good taste. Won't that be nice for a change? Maybe an even better question would be, "Does Father Time understand the meaning of "in good taste?"

OK, we'll quit now while we're ahead. I dearly love to change from third person to first person, and back again. Must be a sickness of some sort.

Is This Progress or Not?

The Problem With "Before" and "After" Pictures

When I took these two photos, my objective was to show progress on my kitchen remodel. But the question becomes, "Which cupboards are before the remodel and which are after?" Obviously, the question hinges on personal taste.

Those who know me are aware of my preference for Shaker inspired design. Now....using that as a hint, is it easier to determine which picture shows the new cabinets?

If not, send $1.00 and a Wheaties boxtop to Who Cares?, P.O. Box 123, Boring, Oregon 90210, for the correct answer. Then you too can enjoy inner peace along with Father Time.

Updates For Those Who Are Interested

What's Going On Now?
When I started this blog, my goal was to create a kind of "road map" of my retired life. As the new path ahead of me unfolded, I wanted to use this to track my varied interests and activities. Now, almost three years later, I've discovered some immediate family and a few good friends read it on occasion, using it as a means of making sure I'm alive and well. When I don't post, they become concerned.

OK, since I'm a humanitarian at heart, I thought it would be fun and informative to randomly post an update of what's going on up here in the land of gray rain. (Today is August 20th and it's rainy and gray, following a 100 degree heat wave this past weekend! Thank goodness for "gray rain.") By randomly I'm suggesting that these updates will occur when I find some spare time. Read on and see why "spare time" is becoming a joke!

So What's New - Or Old?
Kitchen remodel is 45% Complete. I was going to include pictures of before and after but for some weird reason, Google won't let me upload them. No, there are no nude pictures of anyone since that would change the entire character of this place! So, whatever their reasons, my pictures will be uploaded here when the censors decide that my kitchen cabinets are not some sort of terrorist threat!

Backpacking in Jefferson Park is temporarily on hold due to our really unusual weather this year. First, we had snow at 5,000 feet until late July. Since my planned campsite was as 5,600 feet, snow camping in July was not a priority! Then, when the snow did melt, the mosquitoes were out in full force. So, new plan - go in September right after the remodel in complete. Oh yeah!

The famous ceiling cave-in is now history and has become yet another re-modeling project. For starters, the ceiling in one of our downstairs bedrooms developed a large bulge and with a little poking and prodding from Father Time, became an indoor storm. No lightening but plenty of rain! The culprit was a pipe in our master bedroom bath that had sprung a leak. When our plumber started digging around, we found other copper pipes in the same area with lots of little corrosion spots - cause unknown. So, after consulting with Ms Time, a decision was made to replace the old fiberglass shower, replace every pipe we could see, and install a really nice "man-made" marble shower. That project is underway and at this point, with both the kitchen and the bathroom in a state of total disorder, law and order does not describe our home! "Oh yeah" one more time!

And finally, a surprise from inside. Inside my body that is. For the past couple of months, I've had some short episodes of a racing heart beat. They lasted about 15 seconds or so, but were becoming more frequent. Not being a hero, I went to see my friendly doctor. After a couple of tests and a thorough debriefing of my eating habits, he suggested I cut back on my coffee. I did. It's been two weeks since my last episode with NASCAR Heart. End of story.

End of update. I'll do this again when things look, smell, feel, and sound better.

Stay tuned!

Lastest From Joey

 
Some of you may remember we rescued a Shetland Sheep Dog three years ago. At first, I updated the blog monthly while we searched for his true personality. Later, as is my style, I either became lazy or preoccupied with my next adventure and didn't say too much about him.

So, as repentance for my wayward writing habits, here's the latest picture of Joey. His coat is much fuller, and he's fully recovered from the horrible matted fur his past owners' treatment caused. He's still a little shy, which is typical of his breed, but he realizes he has found a good home and is clearly thankful for our hospitality.

He has one characteristic which can be bothersome at times. He feels his role is to act as our early warning system for anything within 100' of our house. This includes cats, deer, and kids on bicycles. When he detects the intrusion of evil near our premises, he cuts loose with a piercing series of barks that only Shelties can produce. Once we acknowledge his disruptive behavior, he quiets right down and goes back to sleep. In other words, it's Father Time's job to rid the house of evil spirits. Joey's only job is to make sure I'm doing my job.

Fear not! Father Time shall prevail - maybe!

Transition

The Loss of Another Great Friend
Art was always the same; he greeted you with a big smile and his ever-present twinkling eyes. You knew from the beginning this man was special.

Mrs. Time considered him her second father, (and not because he needed another daughter. He already had four!) In her formative years he made sure she was included in most of their family outings and gatherings. When she moved on to college, he was there to make sure she didn't end up being "all work and no play." When she needed help and counsel in her early married years, he was there as part of her support system. After she met and married Father Time (OK, so he wasn't a good judge of character!) he added me to his list of friends and confidants.

Now here's the scary part - because I worked for a bank, by default I became his source of all wisdom and knowledge when it came to investments. Despite the fact that all my training was in commercial lending, he considered me his financial guru. OK. I will admit that a couple of my recommendations went well, but trust me - it was sheer luck. Nonetheless, whenever we met, we always spent 20 minutes catching up on our lives and kids, and then invariably he hit me with this question. "Now, what should I be buying now to make some money?"

Saying Goodbye
This past weekend,(Aug.1-3) we attended his funeral. It was very traditional which is something not often seen these days. After a church ceremony, he was buried with both military honors and the Masonic Scottish Rite ceremony. The list of his accomplishments is lengthy but the real proof of his life and his character was fully evident at a celebration of his life afterwards. Art and his wife Dorothy raised four daughters and a son, and grandchildren and great grandchildren too numerous to count. The sound of laughter and heart-warming conversations about things he said and did were in evidence everywhere.

The only thing missing was Art. He would have loved it. I even missed the ever present question; "What should I be buying now to make some money?" By the way, it was always said with a twinkle in his eyes that said, "Don't worry. If you're wrong it's only money!"

Farewell To A Great Friend

His name was Zippy. He didn't get his name because he was as slim and svelte as a greyhound, but because his tail never stopped twitching back and forth. His tail was a prime example of living perpetual motion.

He could move fast when necessary, but only if fun was the end game. For instance, if something was being dragged across the floor, he would wake up out of a sound sleep and pounce on it. Several of my leather belts have scratches on the ends as a testament to his vigilance and my sloppy early morning dressing habits.

His greatest feat occurred several years ago when our garden was attacked by moles. One morning as I was leaving for work, there were three dead moles lined up in a row on the driveway in front of the garage door, their heads pointing in the same direction. I felt better knowing I was not the only anal person in our household.

Mrs. Time will miss him greatly. Each morning Zippy would help himself to a big drink of water using whatever droplets were left over in the shower. After a quick clean up, he would jump up on the bed where Mrs. Time was reading and want a warm coffee cup massage. We knew he was in trouble two weeks ago when we noticed his tail wasn't twitching and he couldn't jump up on the bed.

The vet said it was some sort of mysterious neurological problem that was attacking his spine. First his tail went dead, then his right hind leg, and finally his left hind leg. It was progressing quickly and it was clear his days were numbered. Reluctantly, Mrs. Time and I went to the vet's office today and said goodbye to our faithful friend. It was one of the hardest things we've ever done.

Zippy, wherever you go, you will welcomed with open arms and loved dearly. It will automatically become a better place and no doubt be free of moles. There may or may not be a heaven for humans but I have no doubt there's a cool place for cats like you! Line 'em up big guy!

Serupticiously Becoming A Building Contractor

What Happened?

For the past several months, I have been planning a simple kitchen remodel. The most complex aspect of the project would be arriving at a amicable agreement with Mrs Time over color, lighting, cupboard design, and wood finish. I was hoping for a contemporary look, while Mrs Time wanted a more traditional feel. So we turned to our kids for additional opinions. Both of them demonstrated strong feelings that can be best described as, "Whatever."

Thus through this arduous process of give-and-take, we arrived a the final design - the more traditional feel. Clearly, my skills as a negotiator served me well. I caved on almost every area to maintain domestic harmony. Am I good or what?

The Fun Begins

The removal of the fluorescent lights to make way for track lighting revealed the former owners of the house had installed the lights themselves without assistance of an electrician. The four large fixtures covered up non-code wiring, wallboard cracks and holes, and with two of four fixtures, no electrical boxes to secure the wires! There were just holes poked in the ceiling with protruding wires that were so unbelievably unsafe I can't believe we lived here 18 years without an electrical failure or fire.

The solution - call in an electrician to rewire the whole thing, then a dry wall contractor to replace and refinish all of the cracked areas, and we should be looking good! In case you're keeping score, we now have two sub-contractors gainfully employed.

The Ceiling Caves In

That is not a figurative expression - it's the real thing! Apparently a water supply pipe between floors sprung a leak, causing a ceiling to partially collapse in one of our spare bedrooms. So, add a plumber to the mix. We decided that since we had some of the water pipes available for inspection, why not open it up even more and look at the other pipes? A little preventative maintenance before closing up the ceiling made sense. Incidentally, sense and cents sound alike but when it comes to sub-contractors, it should be sense and dollars - many of them!

Since we were looking at all the cool pipes running between floors, Mrs Time suggested this would be a great time to replace the entire shower stall in the master bath! $$$$$ later, another contractor enters the mix. This time we have a small project remodeler who will take over the shower stall and pipe replacement project, freeing me to return to the kitchen extravaganza. We'll use his dry wall crew to also repair the kitchen ceiling after the electrical guys finish their work.

I think this is what modern management consultants refer to as "synergy." It's so cool to be "modern."

Happy Ending

In the meantime, I keep busy building the new cabinets in the workshop and taking phone calls from sub-contractors who are called away on emergencies, (read "more lucrative") jobs. I'm sure this is only the first chapter in the remodeling adventure, and depending on my propensity to locate sources of stress, will be followed by at least four more chapters. Whether I have the stomach to write about any new disasters remains to be seen. Don't stay tuned. It may take awhile. Whoops! Gotta run answer the phone!

"Hello Max, how are you? Oh really? His whole house is flooded? That's a shame. See you in two weeks."

Are Big Cars A Thing Of The Past?

Please don't let this be a trend,
Apparently, Mercedes Benz still feels there is a place for large, I.E. expensive, automobiles in our future. For example, here's something they whipped up recently in their design studios.It almost looks like one of those big Chevrolet Impalas from 50's doesn't it?

Now, here's the really interesting part - the interior.
Specifically, note the driver's side. No steering wheel! In other words, this car will be a gamer's delight. If you're skilled at "Grand Theft Auto IV", you're right at home. Ironically, the new X-Box version of NASCAR requires a steering wheel. Isn't it fun to watch industry thrash around trying to find a lucrative marketing niche?

Would Father Time ever buy one of these?
Let's see. How should I answer that? How about a resounding, "NO!"

Family

What's The Clan Up To Now?

Well, let's start with the new and progress quickly to the ancient. That makes sense to me but I'm open to other people's ideas as long as they agree with mine. I'm open minded if nothing else.

NASCAR Sister and Cool Dude

A few posts back I mentioned that my favorite relatives are now retired. But check this out! This picture was attached to an recent e-mail from NASCAR Sister. My first reaction was, "What the heck?" Am I a victim of the dreaded "paradigm shift" or did my sister win the lottery?

Before she sent this picture, I considered my life modest but comfortable. I was a prototypical middle class retired guy. But now, have I somehow been recklessly tossed into an entirely new socio-economic demographic? Am I actually somewhere between homeless and just plain old poverty?. Am I in some kind of time warp? More importantly, what kind of pensions do municipal workers in North Carolina get?

This just in: Buried in the fine print of the e-mail was a note that this was a picture of a nice area taken during one of my sister's frequent sight-seeing tours.

I can breathe again without pangs of envy. I am a lousy envious person. Sibling rivalry? What are you talking about?

Last Out Of The Nest

Yes! He's on his way to independence. He has a job.
Let me ask one (and only one,) question. Did you ever have a teacher this young? When I went to school, teachers used to have gray hair and wear sturdy shoes. Yes, back in my day we had to walk to school through the snow, uphill both ways, yada, yada, yada. On a "younger" note, as long as the pay check can be redeemed for cash, I will never be critical!

Congratulations Big Guy! You are the greatest.

For A Later Post

I will share Father Time's misadventures with home improvement. Watch for Killer Kitchen Kapers which, in retrospect, is a really lame title. How about Father Time Tests His Frustration Quotient With Inept Construction Techniques?

Much better!