The Blog Is Not Dead; The Proprietor Is Just Tired

Nothing more, nothing less. Facebook and Twitter may be better for communications but this is my toy and my place to play.

Enjoy!

The Music Critic's Corner

Ever heard Dilmon Ivory play the piano?

He is absolutely amazing. In fact, "amazing" is far too mild an adjective to describe Ivory's music. In fact, there are no words to adequately describe the way this man plays the piano.

For starters, let's break down his repertoire. He plays the music of one composer - Dilmon Ivory. It's as if there's an unrestricted flow of music from his brain to his hands. Nothing is written or planned in advance. He starts playing and the music ends when he's too tired to play anymore or that part of his brain that spawns (or maybe "regurgitates") the music finally runs out of gas.

Basically, there's no harmony or rhythm to be heard

Let's talk about the melodies incorporated into his compositions. There are none, absolutely none!

How about key and time signatures; what key is it written in and how many beats per measure? Zero, nada! None whatsoever.

So what do we have?

Technique. Unbelievable, unimaginable dexterity and speed.

When it comes to technique, he's on a par with great pianists like Rachmaninoff, Beethoven, Chopin, or Mozart. In every other category however, he couldn't water for them. He possesses no knowledge of composition or music theory. What he hears in his head he somehow transmits to his piano keys. Whether this is some kind of mental illness, or he just possesses a weird skill is open to question. No one to my knowledge has ever demonstrated this kind of unearthly ability; what he does is hard to classify. He just makes his fingers fly over the keys in ways that are impossible to describe.

All I can say is you need to hear it once. You'll never forget it!

WOW - Father Time In Hyperdrive Is Killer!

Putting on the brakes

My absence is not deliberate; maybe semi-deliberate is more accurate. I keep forgetting to put make sure to update my blog on my priority list. More accurately, I consider finding my priority list the #1 item on my priority list. Yes, I know that makes no sense unless you're Father Time. But hey! Retirement is about living life at a less hectic pace, right? For example, priority lists are not shown as an ingredient in relaxation recipes. Go to the Food Network web site and look it up. I kid you not!

Other stuff for relatives and friends

[If you're looking at this blog for the first time, pass on this part. It will make no sense whatsoever.] As if it ever did!

Item #1 - Daughter and prospective son-in-law have decided that fiscal conservatism makes more sense than spending money foolishly. Note to Fly. This is not a capitulation or subscription to your wayward political views in any way shape or form. It's just another use for the word "conservatism." You can stop jumping up and down on your Cabela camouflage camping stool now.

So the marriage in Las Vegas, and the honeymoon in Jamaica have been canceled. The new plan is having the wedding and reception at Father and Ms. Time's palatial estate. Note to those who've visited my home before - "palatial" is a classic example of the concept of "using inappropriate bogus adjectives to cover feelings of inadequacy." See Freud's Gone With The Wind, Chapter 13, Par. 12, Line 11.

And there we have it!

So, in one short post, the latest chapter in the life of Father Time. In our next post, we cover item #2 - "Father Time converts the back yard from a forest to an idyllic sight for a wedding." It should be great and will probably be written from a hospital bed using my laptop!

Checking In

Pant, pant!
I have reached a point in my life where every day is a whirlwind of activity and it HAS to cease!

Fellow retirees have warned me that energy sapping stress replaces fun when one lives a "hurry-hurry rush-rush" focused lifestyle. Being arrogant by nature, I ignored their warnings.

What a horrific price to pay for being bull-headed!

So?
As of April 1st - and that's not a joke - I'm restructuring my life so that more time becomes available for me to do the things I enjoy, like fly-fishing, backpacking, woodworking, reading, and cooking.

Accordingly, some activities will disappear from my life. Sadly, one will be my board role for our local developmentally disabled housing non-profit. My conscience bothered me when I first made this decision, but looking back over almost 35 years of non-profit boards, I feel I've earned a break. Secondly, my Hospice volunteer role will be limited to only one client at a time. Refer to the third sentence in this paragraph for my feelings on that!

And what will I do with all that time?
Well, let's talk fun! For instance, I added a enjoyable task to my To Do list - getting the back forty ready for our daughter's wedding reception in early September. Now that's something I will take on gladly. And as a side benefit, it will feel great to work my butt off while simultaneously getting these old bones in shape for some awesome fall backpacks.

Plus, a hidden benefit is buried in the whole package. For my birthday in about six weeks, I've dropped about a hundred hints on why I need a new small, light-weight camera. It will take great "wedding reception" pictures (and even better backpacking shots.)

Who knows? I may even get a pic or two of some trout to torment my relatives in Michigan and friends in Las Vegas. Yummy, fresh caught, and cooked over an open fire with a little butter and wild onions.

Wouldn't that be evil? Heh, heh!

Souper Sunday aka how to avoid rainy day cabin fever

Goal - to develop a group project to help mitigate the rainy day blues

In Oregon, when you've spent many hours watching it rain, your brain starts to gather moss and get all mushy. As a potential antidote, Father Time's friends have come up with a partial solution to challenge.

Ingredients

Every other Sunday evening we gather with three other couples for Souper Sunday. Since it's dinner time, the host prepares some sort of hearty soup. Since this a really informal affair, I.E., using everyday china and low-cost wines, the menu is deliberately kept simple - soup, a salad, rustic bread, and dessert. No frills, no fancy finger foods, and really disgusting manners after the third glass of wine.

The Result

Bottom line (after all I'm a retired banker) - a great Sunday, a nice way to wrap up the weekend, and minimal discussion of the weather. On the negative side of the coin however, is discussion of the current economy. Typically, someone requests a nice cordial to wrap up the evening and suddenly the economy unimportant until Monday morning's CNBC news.

Not bad. Not bad at all!

Too Fast, Too Slow, or Just Lazy?

The Usual Lame Excuses

To say that things have been crazy around here is an understatement. The good news is that I've not encountered some devastating disease or horrible impairment. The reality is I've been overloaded with a huge "to do" list (of my own making) that covers everything from simple errands to a renovating of my back yard so it looks "mature" in time for my daughter's wedding. In between are the usual Hospice patients and some non-profit board activity. Backpacking? Someday maybe.

So those are my excuses. Let it not be said that I can't be creative under pressure. Maybe I should have been a litigator.

So Now What?

I'll have some pictures of (1) the recent flood devastation in the state of Washington, (2) the destruction of my well-engineered deer fence after it was attacked (wrecked?) by some hungry apple-seeking deer, and (3) the wreckage at the back of my property after the BPA removed some fir trees that were endangering (their word, not mine) their 200 foot high power lines on the adjoining neighbor's property.

Anyone want some fire wood?

The Plan For 2009

Phantom Father Time

It's been a while since my last post, but worry not my friends. A huge amount of cognitive restructuring has been occurring upstairs and creating enough heat to keep downstairs comfortable. I'm becoming a self-contained heat pump. That's energy efficiency in action!

Notice I'm thinking green this year? A new administration calls for a new approach to viewing the future. Like any good citizen, I'm forging ahead with positive intentions. (Let's not tarry long in this vein since logically I should follow that comment with a political opinion, and as we all know, that would result in the death of a perfectly good blog.)

If the shoe fits, wear it!

And Now The Plan

First, let's catalog everything that's on the list:

1.) Finish the media room. Isn't it fun what you can do with your house when all the kids have moved out?

2.) Celebrate my 70th birthday on May 1st. Seems like it popped up 20 years too soon!

3.) Turn my long-delayed backpacking trip to Mount Jefferson into reality. If the snow melts in a timely manner, this should happen in late May.

4.) Whip the back forty into shape for the next item on the list.

5.) Celebrate my daughter's marriage with an Autumn reception to be held in our back yard. Now this will be almost as much fun as the Mount Jefferson trip! (Am I in trouble here?)

6.) Start the planning for Phase II of the kitchen remodel.

7.) Build a Shaker end table for a friend.

8.) Add cabinets in my workshop to help control the creeping blight of tools, sawdust, and wood in waiting.

9.) Enjoy watching the stock market turn around in the 4th quarter.

10.) Get my bi-annual physical followed by reading two books on Eastern Philosophy. This is one item I semi-dread.

Disclaimer

This list can be modified at any time since I'm in the unique position of having 50% of my life under control.

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.