I found a red rock.

I found a red rock the other day.

It was embedded in the driveway. Dark red, like a brick. More polished, nearly shiny. It was really attached to the driveway. I had to get my leatherman out and use the screwdriver to pry it out. I took it home and my grand daughter and I washed it off. Seems bits of the driveway were quite attached to the rock as well. I put it on the windowsill above the sink. In the morning the sun shines on it. The rock likes this. While it was so very attached to the driveway, it's better to be in the windowsill where the sun shines on most all of you in the mornings. The sun doesn't reach everywhere though. Not underneath. Not on the side facing inside the house. This is as it should be. There should be secrets. The rock doesn't want the sun to see everything. The rock doesn't want all it's hidden bits to be illuminated for all to see. We all have our dark bits. We all like to sit in the sun sometimes. It seems we're all red rocks sometimes, attached and embedded in the driveway. Torn out, scrubbed up by old hands and tiny hands. So we can sit gloriously in the sun. Sit there in the sun but still keep our secrets. Hide our dark. It's a dark red rock. I like it quite a lot but I don't exactly know why. Maybe it's part of my heart. That part that turned to stone. Maybe not though, just maybe not.  

(c) 2017 John P. White

It's hard.

It's hard.

You want it so badly. 

A constant ache.

So you go. 

Out to the bar. 

No joy there, only forced hilarity fueled by chemicals.

Online. 

It's all the rage. 

Some truth. 

Some lies. 

A strong undercurrent of desperation.

It's hard.

They have warts. 

Ailments. 

Hope, dreams, desire.
We take tests and surveys and are collated. 

We are paired.

Off to Starbucks. 

It's only a cup of coffee. 

But in reality an inspection. 

Rife with suspicion.

It's hard.

With her, it was youth. 

Fumbling with words.

Fumbling with feelings. 

Fumbling in the dark.

There was beauty. 

Joy. 

Real actual, human hilarity.

There were years. 

Never seeing. 

Youth to maturity to age

It's hard.

Now those warts. 

Ailments. 

Broken hope, dreams, desire.

They stand out so boldly. 

Like grey edging out the black. 

Dark spots against the pale.

I never saw her warts. 

Ailments. 

Hope, dreams, desire. 

All real. 

Vibrant.

It's hard.

She's gone. 

Now there's no time.

Can't grow into someone. 

Can't gain the blindness.

That thing makes it work. 

It's missing, not there. 

There's no time.

It's hard.
Too hard.

(c) 2017 John P. White

Ah, Monica. Why?

I sense that Monica is upset with me. She mostly seems alright but now and then, goes all on and off and flashes malicious looks. I've done as much as I can for her right now. Oh, I know there's more to do in this relationship but a guy can only do so much at once and then there's the money issue.

Anyway, she's unhappy. I know it. Seems like about once a week she'll throw these codes at me. Like I'm supposed to know what all that crap means. Seriously. And now she's started to smell bad. <sigh>

So, what I've been doing is sticking that thing in her and resetting everything. What the hell is that thing called. . . oh, an OBD II reader. I talked to Dennis about it and he thinks the coil pack might be bad. We already rebuilt her engine and most of the time it runs like a top but now and then the cruise control will quit working and the check engine light will flash. I stick in the reader and it's usually cylinders 1 & 2 misfiring. Or cylinders 3 & 4 misfiring. The odd thing is it seems to run fine when the light goes on. But then it ran fine when the damn squirrels chewed up the plug wires too. And truly it's my fault she stinks, I could have cleaned the spilled oil off the headers better than I did when we pulled the engine. I dunno. I guess I'll get the coil pack.

If I think about it I'll let you know how she's doing after that. Maybe not. I'm gonna have a long talk with her about all this and see if she can tell me what's wrong. After all, listening is the most important part of keeping a good relationship good. So that's what I'll do. As for those damn squirrels, we're gonna have a talk about personal space and chewing on stuff that's not yours.

Cheers.

While in the Woods. Or the World.

You gotta be careful. Pay attention to what's in the bushes. Check your back-trail. Don't just stomp through the woods, blithe in the knowledge of your own goodness. The woods don't care if you're good. Good isn't really a part of nature you know. Morality is a human concept and out here there aren't a lot of humans. And the humans that are here are a helluva lot closer to the wild than the civilized. You gotta be careful. 

Just the other day I saw a squirrel. Cute little grey squirrel. The kind that packs his chubby cheeks with nuts and saves up for the winter. Cute li'l guy.He sat on a rock in the sun, happily chowing down on the meat and bones of another squirrel. Maybe that other squirrel had been unkind. Maybe he was just too slow and hunger was in the air. You gotta pay attention to what's in the bushes. 

They told me it was all going to be alright. We would all come together. It would all be good. Again. But while I can be fooled, I've been too much in the woods to be fooled by this. It's always there, quiet, deep underneath. In Sweden they take care of their own. They help the less fortunate from other places. They work and they learn and they do civilization really well. But down there somewhere in those Swedes, under the compassion, the sophistication, the enlightenment, somewhere there in the land of the Nobel Peace Prize, lives the soul of a Norseman carving the blood-eagle out of a monk's back. You gotta check your back trail. 

Sometimes walking through the woods you can feel it. Not exactly malevolence, that's a very human thing, more like opportunistic, expectant watchfulness. It's not just an animal or a wildling human. It's all of it. The woods, the animals the humans. Everything out there in the woods is primarily interested in its own survival. The woods as a whole, as a system, as an ecology is far beyond willing to sacrifice you for its own good. You. The pinnacle of civilization, of caring understanding, of enlightenment, of humanity, you are intrinsically an offering to the survival of the system. Don't just stomp through the woods blithely. 

You're only hope is to become what you fear. No, don't jump into that raging Genghis Khan mantle and rage like a fool. Become the watcher in the bushes. Embrace the wild and let the Genghis-ragers be wary. Don't give in to the wild, the Norse carver, the wildling, but acknowledge that it lives within you. Acknowledge it is there, available for when the wild seeks to destroy you. Be secure in that feeling, there below the surface. Maybe buried deep, deep, but maybe not all as far below the surface as your veneer of civilization had you thinking. You gotta be careful. Pay attention to what's in the bushes. Check your back-trail. Don't just stomp through the woods, blithely.

But while you're doing all that, let the woods, the wild, the watchers, wildlings, ragers and carvers be careful. Let them pay attention and check their back-trail. Let the madness be wary of you. 

Twitter (T). Yeah. About that.

This has become a big thing. I remember when it came out a friend was all excited about it. "You talk about stuff and can only use 120 words!" Or something like that. If you've been here before, you know that's not near enough words for me. I'm deep. Or full of shit, could go either way. However. . .

I know I'm not in the mainstream with my thoughts on this. I does give me to wonder though if low these many years down the pike from the introduction of Twitter if we're using it correctly? Should this be the medium in which we declare the basis for our deepest beliefs and policies? Don't we need to say more about these things? Don't we need to provide attributions for our quotes? I don't know.

I do think that tweets are great for stuff like, "Getting hammered at the dive bar with a woman I think I know!!" Or, "I'm done with that sonofabitch and leaving for Tibet to become a monk-ess!" Very cool for mini-rants, describing your latest epiphany, bragging about your bitchen new girl/boy friend. Very good indeed for all that.

But do we, possibly, in the not distant future want to read the State of the Union Address in a series of tweets? I don't think so, I mean, if nothing else it lacks the gravitas that such an address should have, no?

#WTF you talkin' 'bout fool?

Oh, Crap. Politics.

Politics.

I wrote several hundred words on this subject yesterday and today.

While I was pondering what I had written, I glanced up at the opening sentences. Here they are:

"I know what you're thinking. STFU! I've had enough."

I pondered while reading this. What the hell am I thinking blethering on about all this. I nailed it right there at the top. So while you were to be treated to yet another boring analysis about why our political parties should commit suicide and other angry rants, Surprise! I ain't a-gonna do it.

I was driving up to Vallecito Lake to get my hair cut, because that's where I go to do that. About half way up a mountain lion ran across the road. Now all you city folk will think, "Oh, cool," in a very lukewarm fashion. But you see this is quite amazing.

 Mountain lions, or if you prefer, cougars, pumas, catamounts or big-ass kitties that eat you, are very solitary creatures. They each have a range they patrol of up to 500 square miles. They meet with the opposite sex once a year for the purpose of procreation. Mama cougar raises her kits all alone. Pa cougar sneaks around his 500 miles eating mostly deer. They don't like people, traffic, roads, or being messed with. They do swim, though I don't know if for pleasure. I'm pretty sure they like sushi. Anyway, most cougars live far from people as they can get.
So, seeing one run across the road is big deal.

Some people are like that. They don't like to hang around people and while they might get along with folks ok, they prefer solitude. I've a friend like that. When he goes camping he finds a spot as far away from other people as possible. He doesn't like sushi though. I don't understand it. I mean sushi is really good. Personally I really like to be around people, some have said this is because I'm a clown and clowns require audiences. Probably true. Sometimes I like to be alone but by and large I'd rather be around people.

My friend though. He'll do anything for you, even if he doesn't really like you not only in a general sense but personally. Yeah, he'll bitch about it after but I think there's still some little bit of satisfaction in being a good guy under all the layers of crust. He doesn't think he's a cougar. He thinks he's a wolf. I'm pretty sure he's right but he's not your average wolf. He's the West's mythological lone wolf. Solitary in spite of his kind being devoted to the pack. He's a good man.

Ok. I told you I wasn't a-gonna do it, but I can't help myself.

I hope with all of the power of that thing in humans that creates hope that the people we've elected are similar to my friend. Similar inasmuch as underneath the crust, they are good guys. If they are then there is hope for me. Me and my friend, the cougar, the wolf pack, the country and the world.

You see, I'm a romantic. I think that even though there are a lot of really bad endings in a long story, the final ending will be a good one.

Oh, and if you're ever in Durango, Rice Monkeys on Main Ave. has good sushi.

I tried to find a pic of a cougar running across the road.
I didn't 'cause they don't like roads and traffic. 

He was haulin' ass by the way.

When you're young.

When you're young, it seems life is all about getting things. You get older, more hair, bigger. You get stuff. Clothes, shoes. If you're lucky some jeans, a couple flannel shirts, some t-shirts, a good pair of hiking boots. Cargo shorts, a boonie hat, some flip-flops. 

You get some stuff you don't like though thought you would--underwear that turns out too tight. Shoes that fit great in the store then magically crush your feet two hundred yards out the door. 

When you're real young you get a bike, maybe a skateboard, skis, snowboard. A fishing pole, ooh, that's a good one. With that you can not only have a lot of fun but can feed yourself once you get it figured out. A lot of stuff like that is good too because you get to know your Dad or Mom or uncle, aunt, brother, sister when they teach you how to work it. 

Maybe you'll get a car. I hope so. I got one even before I had a license to drive it. It was a '59 Studebaker Lark 7. Ok, well actually it was a Lark 8 but that #4 cylinder never did fire so I called it the Lark 7. It was baby-shit yellow with a gas-chamber green trunk lid. I loved it.

It had an automatic transmission but rather than shifting PRNDL, it was PNDLR. So when you were at the light with your buddy in the '51 Plymouth business coupe next to you and you put it in neutral revved it up and yanked it into gear when the light changed, half the time you skip right through low into reverse and lose the race by hauling ass backwards. Sure did smoke the tires good when that happened. But you still lost. 
That gave you something else, losing that race. Experience. You learned that you had to pay attention to how you did things or they could go terribly wrong. You learned that even though you looked really cool, you were going the wrong way. You learned that tires are expensive. Experience.

So you're young for a while and over time you get lots of stuff. You learn how to do things. How to act with people. How to have a really good time and how to deal with having a bad time. You learn how to love someone. If you're like me, the person you learn to love the most will be someone you didn't expect. And that will be grand.

Wow. It all seems so long ago. But it still feels good to smile about it.

I'm Back. Feels Good.

I've not posted to this blog for some three years. Seems there was a time in there where I got pretty spectacularly depressed. I had done pretty well for a while, lost some sixty pounds. Got told I didn't have diabetes 2 anymore. Had a girlfriend for a little while. But then a bunch of things, holidays, Beth's birthday, our anniversary, her death date all this conspired to make me feel things just weren't right. Abandoned the girlfriend (not her fault at all), went from 245 pounds up to 295 pounds, diabetes came back. Pretty much a personal train wreck.

Lots of changes in three years. I have a grand daughter now and will soon have two grandsons--all thanks to the human building efforts of my daughter. Seriously, Sis, it didn't have to be twins, but it's all good. My boys and their wives have moved to variously Virginia and North Carolina to pursue their dreams.

I'd let myself go. I got all depressed about a lot of things all stemming of course from Beth's death. Gained back fifty pounds. Slipped back in to depression an isolation. But I'm coming back. I'm not sure what the trigger for that was but the things that helped included making some new friends. One in particular discovered an interest in her Scottish ancestry, also a passion of mine (that and the Welsh side, too, of course). 

So what am I doing now? Well, laying about the house a lot of course. But I'm also working on all the rolling stock and with help have almost everything running and running better than it ever has. One thing I can recommend: Commune with your mechanical friends and helpmeets because it's good for your soul. It's also good for vehicular souls unless you're a complete mechanical idiot. In the latter case, find some expert help. 

I've gone back on the diet of my own devising that worked so well last time. I'm down nearly thirty pounds from the recent weight spike. I'm getting a little more exercise walking around the back forty mostly. That also helps with attitude. Communing with nature and all that, especially quiet contemplation of breeze interacting with pine and juniper. The wary Leporidae eyes peering suspiciously until a burst of cottontail bunny or blacktail jack nervous energy scurries out of imaginary danger. . .

So, anyway I'll try to quickly get back to more philosophical meanderings but meanwhile it feels good to be back. I hope you think so too. Thanks for coming. 

Death, Cancer and Time.

As the second anniversary of Beth's death approaches, I find myself taking stock. The grief is still with me all the time, everyday. The quick jab of loss still stings at odd moments of remembrance. The constant dark companion of cancer appears at every turn, Komen commercials, TV sitcoms, drama, daily situations. That bastard cancer and all the attendant memories of the last days rush forward in an instant. The mantle of sadness still dampens my basic good nature.

But it is dulled I suppose by the passage of time. It is said time heals all wounds, I'm not sure of that. Perhaps rather than heal anything, time slides a soft-focus lens before our memories. The pain, despair, the depression remains but it is somehow muffled or blurred by the passage of time.

It could be that like a lump of coal the weight of Beth's death has crushed me to a hard crystalline center that can no longer be reduced. It's possible that Nietzsche was right and this hasn't killed me. So maybe I'm stronger. I don't think so though. I am diminished by the loss of Beth. I'm not stronger, much the opposite. The power her passing had to destroy me just was not quite up to the job. The strength I had before was greater than death's destructive resources could conquer. The battle hasn't left me stronger, on the contrary I am smaller, weaker.

It could be that though reduced, I'm a better person for the experience, hard as that is to say. Maybe I feel the pain of others a little more sharply, my level of compassion is increased. Paradoxically I find it easier to resist the tugs of other's heartbreaks. The crushing defeat of Beth's death, it was my defeat as I could not cure her or save her, has left a hard shell. That shell is like unto linked mail though, the blunt axe and slashing sword is turned away, but the thin, sharp point of the rapier can slide through the holes to pierce deeply.

So, two years from the first end of my life, where have I landed? In a world where the colors aren't as bright, the laughter less sincere, the light more muted. I am better though, better. Perhaps when I get to the twenty year mark I'll have recovered all that I was, but it is doubtful. Still, I learn how to endure this diminished world a little more effectively each day.

“One morning I woke up and I knew that you'll be gone....
A new day, a new way, I knew I should see it along...
Go your way, I'll go mine and carry on...

The sky is clearing and the night has gone out...
The sun, he come, the world is all full of light...
Rejoice, rejoice, we have no choice but to carry on...”

“Carry On” --Neil Young

Growth? I dunno. . .

I've been thinking about growth.
My wife worked for JCPenney for 33 years. Over most of those years the company wanted her department to exceed last year's sales by x%. This never made sense to me. I mean, think about it.

 If your company is to
--maintain its real estate and infrastructure
--pay its employees a wage that will motivate them and keep them working for you
--provide a benefit package that will aid in retaining employees
--provide the best service to customers to keep them coming back
--maintain a broad product line to keep customers interested

Then doesn't it make sense that there is a limit to how much you can increase? You can strive to increase your market share, but that will require you spend more on advertising, thus cutting into potential growth. You can reduce what you pay your employees, but that will likely cause you to lose your best employees thus reducing sales and service. You can reduce benefits but that causes the same problem.

So, doesn't it make sense that if you made a reasonable profit last year and were able to keep the doors opened, the infrastructure maintained, the employees paid and happy and had enough left over to keep the stockholders paid then whatever percentage of profit you made last year should be your goal for this year?
I thought so.

How about if we expand this thinking to our economy. Maybe if we hadn't been trying to maintain growth, that is increase our national profits over the year before we wouldn't have taken a dive in '08. Yeah, yeah, I know, it was all the bankers and such that screwed us, but if we could just change our perspective--sort of metaphorically shift from a corporate agriculture mindset to a horticultural one. Let's be prosperous but instead of constant growth which by its nature unsustainable, go for stability which is.

I dunno, I only got a B+'s in Econ 101 and 102 so maybe I'm way off here. Seems to me though there was something about prices go up until there's a glut on the market then they plummet. Seems to me there was also a formula I forget for maintaining prices and thus sales at a constant rate.

But again that was a long time ago and I'm not a math guy so I could be wrong.

Maybe one of you math guys could work this out and we could tell someone in Washington about it. If you do let me know and I'll make sure you get the right Washington 'cause while I'm not a math guy, I am a geography guy and I know where stuff is and how to get there.