the big adventure

Tomorrow we step off on the big adventure. We’ve been planning, arranging, and discussing this for over two years. We have a budget of $215,790 not including proceeds from the sales of patches, t-shirts, hats, bookpacks, etc. We have three fifty-plus passenger motor coaches. We have motel rooms in Knoxville, Kentucky and Washington, D.C. for six nights. We have 107 boys between the ages of 13 and 17, with a real steep frequency curve sloping down, away from the younger boys. We have three young men between 18 and 21 and nine adults. There are 119 of us.

We have shipped 62 tents, 135 cots (always need a couple extras), 12 patrol cook boxes, 15 eight-foot tables, 15 dining flys, 300 pounds of tent pegs, well over 600 pieces of aluminum tent poles, 24 two-burner propane stoves, 120 five gallon buckets (to sit on) assorted tools and other camping paraphernalia. Enough equipment to fill a box nine feet wide, ten feet high, and 15 feet long, packed tight.

We’ll spend two days on the road, tour D.C. and environs for three days, camp for nine nights, and spend another two days on the road before we get home. 39,881 other intrepid souls will embark on a similar journey and be our neighbors while camping. Some of the kids we’re taking don’t live in town that large.

That’s the Plan. Execution will follow the plan until events force us to develop and implement Plan B. We don’t know what Plan B is right now, and won’t know what it is until “events” dictate. Before we get back there may well be a Plan C, D, E, etc. One year we did this and got into Plan B before we were 150 miles out of town. After all, it’s the progression through the various machinations of hastily tacked together versions of the Plan that makes life exciting.

So, that’s all for a while. Upon our return and my hopefully successful effort at getting some rest and massaging my mush of a brain back into useful condition I’ll fill you in on the events to come.

attachments

My dog was born November 6, 1997. He’s been with me ever since. He’s a Jack Russell Terrier, or as the lady who bred him says, a Jack Russell Terrorist.

I named him Mowgli after the feral boy in Rudyard Kipling’s Jungle Book series. The story of Mowgli being accepted and raised by the pack is an integral park of the Boy Scouts of America’s Cub Scout program. I was going to name him Bubba, a good southern name. But, he’s really not a “bubba” type. Mowgli is much more fitting.

He’s never chewed up anything I didn’t give him with the expressed purpose of having it chewed up. His very first chew toy at 10 weeks of age was a sock my dad tied a knot in. It’s the only sock he’s ever chewed.

On occasion, he has peed on inappropriate things. Particularly when I’m on the phone or on the computer for an extended period of time. I’ve learned to usher him out the back door when these periods present themselves.

Socialization is not one of his strong points. He’s an only dog and doesn’t get many opportunities to be a dog with other dogs. Also, because I’m single, he gets extremely excited (see previous paragraph) when other people come to the house. He’s mostly harmless but he jumps. I’ve seen him nip a “stranger” (he has a house full of cats) and heard that he nipped a heat-and-air repairman at a friend’s house. I guess he was protecting his turf.

During the day when I’m at the office he lives in the back yard. He’s got the Taj Mahal of doghouses. The yard is his. He chases off squirrels, rabbits, yellow jackets, birds, and the occasional opossum or raccoon. He caught a squirrel once. This is proof that squirrels communicate with one another because they’ve all known better since then to get within range. The one he got was really pushing the envelope of dog v. squirrel conflict.

When I’m home he hovers or sleeps within a relatively close orbit around me. If he had his way, preferably touching me. I’m the alpha (at least I like to think so) in his pack. We’re not separated too often. An overnight once in a while, maybe a short weekend. He travels pretty well so when I drive north he comes along for the ride. I have kenneled him when I’ve been away for any extended periods.

Right now I’m preparing for a 17-day trip to the east coast. A dear friend up north was graciously agreed to dog-sit him while I’m away. She’s done this before so she knows what she’s in for. She keeps reassuring me that he’ll be just fine. I keep reassuring her that I know he’ll be fine, that I’m worried that he’ll drive her to lunacy before I return. I dropped him off last Sunday and drove south. At one point during the trip I thought I’d pull over at a good spot to get him out of the truck take him for a walk but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t standing at the back door wagging his stubby little tail furiously last night when I got home. He wasn’t there this morning when I woke up either.

I really miss him.

history repeats

In 1872, facing voting irregularities in South Carolina, Louisiana, and Florida president Ulysses Grant said,

"No man worthy of the office of President should be willing to hold it if counted in or placed there by fraud. Either party can afford to be disappointed by the result. The country cannot afford to have the result tainted by the suspicion of illegal or false returns."

I guess what we saw in 2000 in Florida was not the first time this happened. In 1872, deals were made to cancel Reconstruction efforts and Rutherford B. Hayes was elected president. The deals led to the disenfranchisement of blacks until the 1960s.

If we don't learn from history we're doomed to repeat it.

some random thoughts

I saw a blurb in the news this past weekend re: a woman in Salt Lake City who auctioned her forehead through ebay. The high bidder was an online casino. There was a photo of her having the casino's web address tattooed on her forehead. Tattooed, as in permanent, forever, for the rest of her life, mortal eternity. She said she wanted the money to put her son into private school. Unless her son has special needs not included in the article, I think what we have here is a serious indictment against the quality of education provided by the public schools in Salt Lake City.

A friend spent the weekend with me. She likes creamer in her coffee; hazelnut flavored creamer. Now I've always been a member of the coffee purists' school. Strong, hot, and black. No sugar, no artificial sweetener, no cream, no non-dairy creamer, no hot chocolate. Nothing, nada, but coffee. No, wait, I have on occasion added a tot of whiskey, but only for medicinal purposes. I've always been opposed to foo-foo coffee. No foamy, frothy, sprinkled, flavored foo-foo coffee for me. No sir. Juan Valdez would fall off his donkey laughing at what some folks put in their coffee. I tried her creamer. It wasn't that bad. She said she thought it might be mildly addicting; after four days you can't live without it. I had some Sunday morning, and some Monday morning. As usual, I made coffee this morning at the office. Where's my hazelnut creamer? I want my foo-foo-coffee.

A big article in today's cbsnews.com about FEMA wanting to collect $27 million from Floridians who received funds they shouldn't have received after last year's hurricanes. FEMA money bought Florida votes for Bush in the 2004 election. Bush got elected. FEMA now wants their money back. Your president at work.

More later.....

a most superlative evening

A good friend is visiting from up north (I wish another friend from down south was visiting as too). We went to see Willie Nelson and Bob Dylan. It was general admission at an AA League baseball park. We started out sitting up high. There was an excellent breeze and everything was visible. However, the acoustics were pretty lousy. We realized this later on and moved closer. Big improvement.

The opening act was a group of Australians called the greencards from Austin, TX playing bluegrass. They were real good and the crowd really enjoyed their music. It's funny how you notice no foreign accent whatsoever while they're singing, but when they just talk to the audience its real evident, they're not from around here. After their set they came up into the stands to listen to the rest of the show. They're just a bunch of kids! Or maybe at 40+(closer to 50) there are more and more "kids" around every day.

Willie Nelson came on and played all his old songs that his core fans wanted to hear. I really wanted to here some of the reggae tunes from his soon to be released reggae CD. I really like some of his more obscure stuff. I'm not an average Willie Nelson fan. And in retrospect, that's a good thing. I really don't want to be grouped in the "average Willie Nelson fan" category. His set was kind of flat. The highlight was when his son did a blues guitar thing. He played real well, just lacking the confidence of a more stage adjusted performer.

Dylan came on and lit the place up. He played some old stuff and some newer songs. I didn’t find out until 36 hours later that he played more of his old songs than I originally thought. I guess as long as he’s been playing those songs it would be real easy to get tired of playing them for him and listening to them for his fans. He changes them from time to time. The words are the same but the tunes and phrasing change. He’d start a number that didn’t sound familiar then a riff would ring a bell and a few audible lyrics would stumble from his mouth and shazam, “I have heard this one before.” It was great.

His band was great. He had a pedal steel guitar player who also played banjo, lap guitar, mandolin, and fiddle. It added a distinct flavor to the music. They were extremely tight all through the set. No question here about recognizibility. Dylan seemed to be enjoying himself, which probably leads to a higher energy show. He never played the guitar; the two guitarists on the stage would probably have showed him up. He played an electric piano and did several excellent harmonica solos. They left the stage and came back fir a two-song encore that ended with Watchtower, one of my all-time favorite songs.

What an evening! I got to see one of my favorite artists play one of my favorite songs with one of my favorite friends next to me.