I've been retired for eighteen years now, so I have my daily routine down pat. When I'm not on the road photographing and blogging my daily journals, I have a pretty standard pattern to my days. I've thought lately about how that routine goes. Here's the result...
The creative side of my brain is alive and well, so I want
to introduce my latest attempt at poetry.This little ditty came to me in one of those bursts that usually last
about ten minutes.That's right, it
took just about that long to write the first draft.Then I spent about another hour refining it to come up with
this...
This is Independence Day Week, so it is appropriate to send out this
message. I hope you will read and reflect on it as you celebrate our
independence. The column is not my work, but is excerpted from a speech written
by Rush H. Limbaugh, Jr., father of the Rush Limbaugh of radio fame. The speech
is titled, “The Americans Who Risked Everything.”It is apolitical, so it shouldn't offend anyone regardless of
your leanings. The Americans Who Risked Everything
What kind of men were the 56 signers who adopted the Declaration of
Independence and who, by their signing, committed an act of treason against the
crown? To each of you, the names Franklin, Adams, Hancock, and Jefferson are
almost as familiar as household words. Most of us, however, know nothing of the
other signers. Who were they? What happened to them?
I imagine that many of you are somewhat surprised at the names not there:
George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, Patrick Henry. All were elsewhere.
Ben Franklin was the only really old man. Eighteen were under 40; three were in
their 20s. Of the 56 almost half - 24 - were judges and lawyers. Eleven were
merchants, 9 were landowners and farmers, and the remaining 12 were doctors,
ministers, and politicians.
With only a few exceptions, such as Samuel Adams of Massachusetts, these were
men of substantial property. All but two had families. The vast majority were
men of education and standing in their communities. They had economic security
as few men had in the 18th century.
Each had more to lose from revolution than he had to gain by it. John Hancock,
one of the richest men in America, already had a price of 500 pounds on his
head. He signed in enormous letters so that his Majesty could now read his name
without glasses and could now double the reward. Ben Franklin wryly noted:
"Indeed we must all hang together, otherwise we shall most assuredly hang
separately." Fat Benjamin Harrison of Virginia told tiny Elbridge Gerry of
Massachusetts: "With me it will all be over in a minute, but you, you will
be dancing on air an hour after I am gone."
These men knew what they risked. The penalty for treason was death by hanging.
And remember, a great British fleet was already at anchor in New York Harbor.
They were sober men. There were no dreamy-eyed intellectuals or draft card
burners here. They were far from hot-eyed fanatics, yammering for an explosion.
They simply asked for the status quo. It was change they resisted. It was
equality with the mother country they desired. It was taxation with representation
they sought. They were all conservatives, yet they rebelled.
It was principle, not property, that had brought these men to Philadelphia. Two
of them became presidents of the United States. Seven of them became state
governors. One died in office as vice president of the United States. Several
would go on to be U.S. Senators. One, the richest man in America, in 1828
founded the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. One, a delegate from Philadelphia, was
the only real poet, musician and philosopher of the signers (it was he, Francis
Hopkinson not Betsy Ross who designed the United States flag).
· Francis Lewis, New York delegate saw his home plundered and his estates in
what is now Harlem, completely destroyed by British Soldiers. Mrs. Lewis was
captured and treated with great brutality. Though she was later exchanged for
two British prisoners through the efforts of Congress, she died from the
effects of her abuse.
· William Floyd, another New York delegate, was able to escape with his wife
and children across Long Island Sound to Connecticut, where they lived as
refugees without income for seven years. When they came home they found a
devastated ruin.
· Philips Livingstone had all his great holdings in New York confiscated and
his family driven out of their home. Livingstone died in 1778 still working in
Congress for the cause.
· Louis Morris, the fourth New York delegate, saw all his timber, crops, and
livestock taken. For seven years he was barred from his home and family.
· John Hart of Trenton, New Jersey, risked his life to return home to see his
dying wife. Hessian soldiers rode after him, and he escaped in the woods. While
his wife lay on her deathbed, the soldiers ruined his farm and wrecked his
homestead. Hart, 65, slept in caves and woods as he was hunted across the
countryside. When at long last, emaciated by hardship, he was able to sneak
home, he found his wife had already been buried, and his 13 children taken
away. He never saw them again. He died a broken man in 1779, without ever
finding his family.
· Dr. John Witherspoon, signer, was president of the College of New Jersey,
later called Princeton. The British occupied the town of Princeton, and
billeted troops in the college. They trampled and burned the finest college
library in the country.
· Judge Richard Stockton, another New Jersey delegate signer, had rushed back
to his estate in an effort to evacuate his wife and children. The family found
refuge with friends, but a Tory sympathizer betrayed them. Judge Stockton was
pulled from bed in the night and brutally beaten by the arresting soldiers.
Thrown into a common jail, he was deliberately starved. Congress finally
arranged for Stockton's parole, but his health was ruined. The judge was
released as an invalid, when he could no longer harm the British cause. He
returned home to find his estate looted and did not live to see the triumph of
the revolution. His family was forced to live off charity.
· Robert Morris, merchant prince of Philadelphia, delegate and signer, met
Washington's appeals and pleas for money year after year. He made and raised
arms and provisions which made it possible for Washington to cross the Delaware
at Trenton. In the process he lost 150 ships at sea, bleeding his own fortune
and credit almost dry.
· George Clymer, Pennsylvania signer, escaped with his family from their home,
but their property was completely destroyed by the British in the Germantown
and Brandywine campaigns.
· Dr. Benjamin Rush, also from Pennsylvania, was forced to flee to Maryland. As
a heroic surgeon with the army, Rush had several narrow escapes.
· John Martin, a Tory in his views previous to the debate, lived in a strongly
loyalist area of Pennsylvania. When he came out for independence, most of his
neighbors and even some of his relatives ostracized him. He was a sensitive and
troubled man, and many believed this action killed him. When he died in 1777,
his last words to his tormentors were: "Tell them that they will live to
see the hour when they shall acknowledge it [the signing] to have been the most
glorious service that I have ever rendered to my country."
· William Ellery, Rhode Island delegate, saw his property and home burned to
the ground.
· Thomas Lynch, Jr., South Carolina delegate, had his health broken from
privation and exposures while serving as a company commander in the military.
His doctors ordered him to seek a cure in the West Indies and on the voyage he
and his young bride were drowned at sea.
· Edward Rutledge, Arthur Middleton, and Thomas Heyward, Jr., the other three
South Carolina signers, were taken by the British in the siege of Charleston.
They were carried as prisoners of war to St. Augustine, Florida, where they
were singled out for indignities. They were exchanged at the end of the war,
the British in the meantime having completely devastated their large
landholdings and estates.
· Thomas Nelson, signer of Virginia, was at the front in command of the
Virginia military forces. With British General Charles Cornwallis in Yorktown,
fire from 70 heavy American guns began to destroy Yorktown piece by piece. Lord
Cornwallis and his staff moved their headquarters into Nelson's palatial home.
While American cannonballs were making a shambles of the town, the house of
Governor Nelson remained untouched. Nelson turned in rage to the American
gunners and asked, "Why do you spare my home?" They replied,
"Sir, out of respect to you." Nelson cried, "Give me the
cannon!" and fired on his magnificent home himself, smashing it to bits.
But Nelson's sacrifice was not quite over. He had raised $2 million for the
Revolutionary cause by pledging his own estates. When the loans came due, a
newer peacetime Congress refused to honor them, and Nelson's property was
forfeited. He was never reimbursed. He died, impoverished, a few years later at
the age of 50.
Of those 56 who signed the Declaration of Independence, nine died of wounds or
hardships during the war. Five were captured and imprisoned, in each case with
brutal treatment. Several lost wives, sons or entire families. One lost his 13
children. Two wives were brutally treated. All were at one time or another the
victims of manhunts and driven from their homes. Twelve signers had their homes
completely burned. Seventeen lost everything they owned. Yet not one defected
or went back on his pledged word. Their honor, and the nation they sacrificed
so much to create is still intact.
And, finally, there is the New Jersey signer, Abraham Clark.
He gave two sons to the officer corps in the Revolutionary Army. They were
captured and sent to that infamous British prison hulk afloat in New York
Harbor known as the hell ship Jersey, where 11,000 American captives were to
die. The younger Clarks were treated with a special brutality because of their
father. One was put in solitary and given no food. With the end almost in
sight, with the war almost won, no one could have blamed Abraham Clark for
acceding to the British request when they offered him his sons' lives if he
would recant and come out for the King and parliament. The utter despair in
this man's heart, the anguish in his very soul, must reach out to each one of
us down through 200 years with his answer: "No."
The 56 signers of the Declaration Of Independence proved by their every deed
that they made no idle boast when they composed the most magnificent curtain
line in history. "And for the support of this Declaration with a firm
reliance on the protection of divine providence, we mutually pledge to each
other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor."
As you fire up the barbeque grill or enjoy your day at the lake or watch the
fireworks display next Thursday, I hope you will think about these brave men
who gave so much 237 years ago so that we can live in this great country that
became the United States of America.Freedom is not now, nor has it ever been “free.”
Well, it has finally
happened.I learned the other day that
there is a proposed bill in congress to tax bovine flatulence. I suppose it has
to do with global warming, a term that has migrated to climate change so that
politicians and activists can blame anything on us. And regarding bovine
flatulence, the cows can't help it if they fart, but maybe someone is finally
realizing that once you tax an activity, you get less of it.
Have you ever considered
that, aside from sex in any form, the next most pleasurable thing we do is pass
bodily waste? It is gross, but spitting, farting, peeing and pooping all give
us good feelings. Admit it now... It's true!
Why do you suppose the above
actions are always thought to be offensive? The only one that is truly
voluntary, spitting, is actually a minor form of sneezing, which actually is
involuntary, so they're all quite natural.
While we're on the subject of
sex... Why is pornography, and even most soft porn, referred to as "adult
material"?It isn't very adult to
read or view it.We're supposed to
outgrow that prurient interest when we become adults.
Did you know there are over 400 examples of homophones in the English language?It's no wonder English one of the hardest languages to learn, especially
in the written form.
Why is Asian accented English
funny no matter what the person is saying?(Come on, you laugh inwardly if not out loud when you hear it.)
Why is the word abbreviation
so long, while etcetera is usually abbreviated as "etc."?
Why do people mispronounce so
many words?
Examples:
nuclear = nucularThere is no such word. (Look it up in the dictionary, if you
can find it)
realtor = realatorThat is another non-word, unless you accent the second
syllable and refer to someone as “one who relates”.
jewelry = jewleryAnd the person who sells jewels is called a jewler instead
of a jeweler.
comfortable - comfterbleThere are four syllables in the word.
asterisk = asterick - The 's' is not silent.
Why do we place our garbage,
much of itbiodegradable or recyclable,
into 13-gallon reinforced plastic bags that will probably last for hundreds of
years?Then we take it to a landfill
where it will be stored with thousands more plastic bags to spend eternity.
What happens to the used
plastic bags we take back to WalMart?
Here are five examples of
words and phrases that have transcended their original meaning: (I took the
liberty of altering the spelling just a little)
Algorhythm - Same old song and dance to convince
us to stop enjoying ourselves for his profit. (Al Gore's, that is)
Algorhythm and Blues - That sinking feeling you
get when you give up all your [so-called] earth-unfriendly activity and
contribute heavily to the cause, only to find that you're broke and you don't
enjoy yourself anymore.
Note: If you click on the link toward the end of the
column, don’t turn off your volume. Even though the video starts in Chinese
with English sub-titles, it soon goes to English with Chinese sub-titles, the
only one I’ve ever seen to do that.
I’m going to take you back to the year 1959 to introduce
today’s column.Some of you were alive
at that time and some weren’t.And even
those who were might never have heard or read this story.I know I hadn’t until very recently because
I was over in Korea at the time.Besides, the incident was classified for many years afterwards.
Okay, August of 1959… The U.S.S.R has launched their Sputnik
two years earlier, and we are on a fast track to try and catch up in the space
race.Everything is, however, top
secret, and nobody knows the names of the astronauts, or that there are
astronauts, or even that the term “astronaut” exists. Communist China is
threatening to attack two islands off their coast called Quemoy and Matsu,
which are held by the Republic of China on Taiwan.It is still a secret that we have a spy plane designated U-2, or
“Dragon Lady,” and Gary Powers is not a name anyone knows, because his U-2 will
not be shot down by the Soviets for another few months.
That U-2 is the focus of the column, because we were testing
it with American and Republic of China pilots.We were doing so with a terrible loss of aircraft and pilots.On one of those test flights a ROC Major, Hsichun Mike Hua, took
off from Laughlin Air Force Base in Texas on a U-2 mission.He was to fly a trapezoidal pattern up to
Ogden, Utah and back. The flight was designed to test celestial navigation, and
therefore, it was conducted at night.
All went well until Major Hua reached Delta, Utah on his
return flight.Then, at an altitude of
70,000 feet, his engine suddenly flamed out.The time was 10:28 PM, so it was pitch black outside.And if you have ever driven or flown over
the Wasatch Mountains in Utah, you will know that there are several peaks in
the range that top 10,000 feet.Beyond
the mountains there is a canyon- and mesa- filled land.
Major Hua tried several times to restart the engine after he
glided to a lower altitude, but his efforts were unsuccessful.Fortunately, the U-2 has a great glide slope,
so the plane was kept high for a considerable time while major Hua assessed the
situation.But finally, he was down to
about 15,000 feet and things were getting dicey.He was in danger of becoming the 18th casualty and the
12th fatality of the U-2 program. As he was preparing for a forced
night landing, possibly in those rugged mountains, he spotted runway lights in
the distance.
Southwest of the little town of Cortez, the gateway to Mesa
Verde in extreme southwest Colorado, there was a municipal airport not even
shown on Major Hua’s aviation maps.The
town council had been debating for months the practice of leaving runway lights
on overnight.No decision had yet been
made, so they were on that night while Captain Tom Johnson finished up some
paperwork in the flight shack.Little
did he know the events that were unfolding far above him.
Major Hua was able to turn the craft while still on a glide
path and line up with the runway, though he had no idea in which direction the
wind was blowing or what the altimeter setting would be to touch down on the
runway.And since the U-2 doesn’t have
the typical tricycle landing gear, but rather a in-line bicycle configuration,
he would have to land it very precisely while totally unable to see the ground
and with a dead stick—no power.
Not only was Major Hua successful in bringing the U-2 in on
the runway; he was able to turn it off to the edge before the wing touched
down.He climbed out of the craft and
proceeded to the flight shack, walking in on Captain Johnson in what must have
appeared to be a totally alien “space suit.”It was later suggested by Captain Johnson that he fully expected the
alien to say the words, “Take me to your leader.”
Major Hua, who later retired with the rank of General, was
awarded the “Distinguished Flying Cross” for his achievement on the night of
august 3, 1959.And he was in Cortez on
August 2, 2009 for the celebration
of the 50th anniversary of the feat.
On my recent trip to the Four Corners I stayed three nights
in Cortez, and I was able to drive over some of the country that Major Hua had
traversed in his crippled airplane.I
also visited the airport at Cortez. It has a wall of fame inside the passenger
terminal that recounts the “Miracle at Cortez.”
The runway at Cortez, barely visible in the middle running
center to right edge, is just below the Mesa Verde National Park in the background. On the other side, behind the photographer, is Sleeping Ute Mountain, an even higher obstacle.
A modern passenger terminal has since replaced the crude
flight shack that existed in 1959 and Cortez is a commercial airport today with
commuter flights to and from Denver.
Here is a 2-minute video that shows how difficult it is to land a U-2 even with a chase car to relay height above the runway to the pilot. Chase cars are always used during landing the U-2 night or day, so Major Hua's feat was even that much more challenging.
In a recent column I made an issue of all the tests that the
"health professionals" want us to take and how expensive and
threatening those tests might be.I
also opined about how tests seem to lead to further tests, which lead to positive
results, which lead to full-blown diseases, which lead... Well, you know where
this is going.
Last week I heard a news item about a clinic in Atlanta that
was alerting some 486 people who had had colonoscopies that they might be at
risk for HIV.
Yeow!Talk about the
proof is in the pudding (no pun intended, but that just came to me).
Of course I had to do some research on the news report when
I got home, so I did the old Google search and, lo and behold, that warning was
only one of many that have gone out over the past couple of years.Atlantans weren't the only ones in jeopardy;
there were alerts for several communities.
It seems that the equipment used for the rectal exams is not
being cleaned properly.That is not to
say it isn't being cleaned at all, but plain soap and hot water is used prior
to the sterilization process.Turns out
that antibacterial soap is prescribed to kill bacteria.Well, who'd a thunk it?
You see, I was absolutely correct in refusing to get a
colonoscopy.It might have saved my
life.
Since I'm on the nasty subject anyway, here's another alert
I saw this week.We have had a shortage
of cucumbers lately, and when we finally did get some in the produce section
they were from Greece.I cannot recall
ever seeing European produce in our stores, but there it was.
later that same day I got an email alert with an article
about the high incidence of salmonella in 18 states.The bacteria was traced to imported cucumbers from (wait for it)
Mexico.The article pointed out that the
main difference between Mexican fields for vegetables and American fields for
the same produce is the lack of porta-potties in the "South of the
Border" fields.
I don't know about you, but I'm going to start checking
those little stickers on all produce from now on.If it says anything like "Crecido en Mèxico" it
doesn't go in my cart.
I'm going to borrow the title of that famous Bee-Gees song
for my column this week, and I'll tell you why in a moment.
By the calendar and the clock, I should not be here.Sometime last year I should have run out of
time, yet here I am, still kicking and enjoying life.I have a reason for believing that negative scenario and you may
call it superstition, but I call it the natural order of things.
Modern medicine has kept me going far longer than I have any
right to stay on the green side of the grass.There have been several close calls in the past few years, but good old
Doctor Clark has performed his miracles on me and, like that Timex commercial
used to say, (and my wife echoes it) I... "take a lickin' and keep on
tickin'."
The calendar/clock reference above is to the fact that I
lost my oldest brother in 2003, my brother-in-law in 2006 and my other brother
in 2009.Hmmm, every three years one of
us kicks off.Since I'm the next oldest
of the family I should be next to go, and the cycle of three years should
apply. I feel like I'm living on borrowed time.
When I took my solo car trip to the northwest in 2009, I was
convinced that it would be my last long road trip, and I tried to do as much as
possible while I was out there.Heck,
I've taken ten road trips since then and I'm already locked and loaded for
another one this month.I keep thinking
"this is my last," but then time keeps passing and I get to go onanother one.
Along the way I've crossed off a lot of my "bucket
list" items, but I have also added a few to make life more
interesting.One that we'll accomplish
in June is to ride on the Durango and Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad.That one has been on there for almost twenty
years, and I sure hope I finally get to do it.
You might be justified to ask what happens if I "meet
my maker" while on the road.
Well, I've thought about that, and I think the solution is
cremation.Judy can transport my ashes
back to Georgia, or she can take me wherever she wants to inter me.You may recall that when I took my trip to
the Upper Peninsula of Michigan with my friend, Tom, we transported his
father's ashes to Wisconsin.Hence, I
titled the trip "Urban's Ashes."
I prefer my ashes to be interred in the nice Bellevue
Memorial Gardens right across the road from our subdivision, but I won't be
around to protest if Judy chooses another location.Of course, she could take the easy way out and just scatter them
along the road to commemorate our many road trips.
I saw a recent news report regarding the emergence of the
17-year cicada in the Northeast and it brought to mind the column I wrote two
years ago about our 13-year cicada invasion here in Augusta.I believe it calls for a revisit to that
topic.
I won't repeat the entire article, but you may read it for
yourself if you care to click on the highlighted link for Brood
II, the name being given to the huge event.
The article really downplayed the scope of the cicada
lifecycle that people will be plagued with in eastern states all the way from
North Carolina to Connecticut.And
there is nothing to keep them from spreading to other New England states as
well.
As I detailed in my former column, these critters make one
heck of a racket.The males sing to
attract the females to engage in the only activity they are there for,
S-E-X.The noise is loud and long, and
with as many as 1-million-bugs-per-acre, that sound will be multiplied enough
to drive a sane person crazy.
If you happen to live in one of the affected states, you are
in for a serenade the likes of which you can hardly imagine.Or maybe you can imagine it, if you think
about a high-pitched scream and then hear it at about 90 decibels.Cicadas love to sing in the morning and
evening, so don't plan on any early or late patio sitting this spring.
The article also states that most people will not even see
the cicadas, but I don't believe that for a second.They are about an inch long, and they all have one thing in
common: after they mate the males die.The female gets to lay her fertilized eggs--up to 600 of them--and then
she also expires.Birds are pretty good
scavengers, but I doubt that they can consume that many carcasses.Yes, folks, there will be bodies
galore!Be prepared for the
crunch-crunch of carapaces under your shoes.
I thought the stink bugs I encountered up in Maryland and Virginia
a few years ago were bad, but at least they didn't make any noise.They were just ubiquitous and a
nuisance.The cicadas threaten to be a
real hazard to your mental health.
It would be nice if I could avoid the northeast for the next
couple of months, but I have made plans to visit my son up in Maryland later
this month, so I'm afraid I'll be caught up in the middle of the invasion.Hint: I'm taking earplugs with me.
Oh, in case you want to see what the cicada looks like, and
you don't want to take the time to click on the link above, here is a picture
of one.Nasty looking, aren't they?
