New Blog: Back Roads and Small Towns USA

This morning I created a new blog: http://backroadsandsmalltownusa.blogspot.com/.

I'm now the National Sales Manager for www.backroadsandsmalltowns.com and will be recruiting sales representatives nationwide.

Backroads & Small Towns is an idea hatched by Joseph Shelley of Sandy, Oregon. He started development in late 2007.The main though is to provide a single place for all small towns and their businesses to have an inexpensive way to get their basic information out on the web. The other reason for this is for travelers to be able to find information about these out of the way places that many people never knew existed.

Seaching for Yoder

Now please understand, Yoder was never lost, I just couldn’t find the little Willamette Valley community.

The Saturday started out simple enough. My eldest sister, with whom I share a town house, wanted to visit Al’s Nursery in Woodburn. We live just a block off of Hwy 99E in Gladstone, Oregon. For those of you who don’t know, Gladstone is located between Oak Grove and Oregon City, north of where the Clackamas River joins the Willamette River. Time wise the city is somewhere between the 1940’s and the 1960’s. Most peole zip by on the 205 freeway, which is the way most local people like it.

Anyway, we headed South to Al’s Nursery and had a great time viewing the wide variety of plants. Soon the car was loaded with two large hanging baskets in the truck and the back seat was full of plants too. Lunch was next on the agenda. I had thought about going back to Canby. Then I remembered the Marquam Inn, located in the small community of Marquam on the Cascade Highway. I had no problem finding the place and we had a very enjoyable lunch.

After lunch we headed for home. I have driven the Cascade Highway many times. When I twin daughters were with me I would always say “where’s Yoder?” when we passed the sign. They would respond “yonder.” Ok, it’s a bit corny, but we would laugh and enjoy the humor.

So, I decided to take my sister to Yoder. Now I have been to Yoder but never from the Cascade highway. We headed north and made the left turn onto Babcock Road. The sign said Yoder 4 miles.

Babcock Road soon ended at a “T” intersection and a filbert (ok hazelnut) orchard and no sign. Right or left on Dryland Road? I decided on left and drove for what seemed like 5 or 6 miles. No Yoder and no signs. I turned about and went back to the intersection and took the right arm of Dryland. We soon came to another intersection. I picked right again and in a couple of miles was back to Babcock Road, right where we had started from.

Around we went again. This time I turned left and nothing looked familiar and no sign of Yoder. So back to the last intersection and I made a left turn onto Dryland. Soon the countryside changed from valley to foothills. At one point we had a great view from high above the Willamette Valley. After a series of roads I found one headed down onto the valley floor and soon were were approaching a small community.

As we got closer I told my sister there would be an antique store around the next corner. Sure enough. We were back in Marquem and nowhere near Yoder. At that point I gave up. We were soon headed up the Cascade Highway toward Oregon City and home, only to be detoured when we got to Molalla because of bridge construction.

I made a left turn toward Woodburn and knew that I could get to Highway 99E there or in Canby. Soon I came to a highway sign “Marquam – Canby Road” Then there was another sign pointing to the left. “Yoder – 1 mile.” I turned right. Yoder will have to wait for another day.

What is so exciting about Yoder? Nothing. According to Ralph Friedman book In Search of Western Oregon, Yoder was established in 1915. the Yoder family had settled in the area in the 1888 and the place was called Yoderville. The family still owns the lumber mill, built in 1891 and there is a store, built when the Willamette Valley Southern RR arrived. According to Wikipedia, the community is best known as a filming location for Nowhere Man (TV series).

Maybe next time we will carry a map with us. Why Yoder? No reason, I just like the name.

Off on a new adventure with Squidoo

Today I created my first lens (web page) on Squidoo (http://www.squidoo.com/) Squidoo is an awesome site that let's us create our own web pages. I have already discovered that the magic of Squidoo is how quickly the serendipity of exploration kicks in. Another words, there are thousands of pages on hundreds of topics just waiting to be explored. It's very easy to get lost surfing.

The link to my lens is http://www.squidoo.com/coachtom. Take a look and give me some feedback. There is a comment section at the bottom of the page.

As you can see from the lens, I'm building my Take Shape for Life coaching practice. This week I joined the Sandy (Oregon) Area Chamber of Commerce and worked a booth at their annual Golf Tournament at the Resort at the Mountain (http://www.theresort.com/) That was Wednesday when it rained all day.

The weight? It's still coming off. I have now lost 65 pounds since May 9th. I cannot remember being this skinny. I feel great and people tell me I look great too.

Summer of loss

Like many people I have experienced weight gain over time. Yes, I was once skinny. I can barely remember it, but I do have the pictures to remind me.

Since 2000 I have been writing a goal “to reach my ideal weight in a healthy way by December 31, 2000. Then every January 1st I would change the year.

This year started the same way, with me weighing a record high of 267. That’s a hundred pounds heavier than I was in the above picture.
I spent time upgrading my goals, knowing that there would be no change. I would plan to lose a pound a week and in the first 18 weeks I had managed to lose 7 pounds.

All during this time I had been watching Melissa at the weekly Sandy Chamber of Commerce meetings. She was promoting a weight management program. Then another friend announced he had gone from a size 44 to a size 36 pants in a very short period. That got my attention.

About the same time an associate at work left me a note on my computer that included a drawing of me that was very unflattering. I also hated to see myself in mirrors. The drawing was right; I was fat, obese according to the Body Mass Index.

A phone call to Melissa started me on a new adventure. On May 9th I started using the program. On Sunday, August 10th, 14 weeks later I had lost 60 pounds, two thirds of the way to my ideal body weight of 170.

The real challenge is still ahead of me. 85% of people who diet will end up regaining their weight. Eating right and exercising are not temporary conditions to be dumped when I reach my ideal body weight. They are lifestyle choices, and ones to be made for a lifetime.
Stay turned for further updates.

Bit of Oregon and Literary History Preserved

Today, while surfing the net on the second hottest day of 2008, I came across an AP report that ownership of a remote 32 acres in the middle of the Rogue River wild and scenic area had been sold to the Bureau of Land Management.

The land, at Winkle Bar, was the old mining claim purchased by Zane Grey in 1926. There he built a crude one-room cabin of peeled logs and hand-split shingles. This was his wilderness retreat. Grey loved what would become one of the first rivers protected by the National Wild and Scenic Rivers Act in 1962.

Grey first discovered the Rogue River in 1916 and the river became the backdrop for his novel “Rogue River Feud”. What other stories came out of his visits to the remote cabin?

The AP reporter interviewed Eric Grey, Zane’s great grandson. The article quotes Eric saying that Zane Grey once wrote, “The quail and trout have vanished from California and the forests are following. I’m glad Romer (Zane Grey’s son and Eric’s grandfather) can still see something of wild America, but I fear his son never will.”

This bit of Oregon and literary history is being preserved, Rafters on the wild section of the Rogue will continue to stop and peer into the windows and wonder about the man who created a retreat in this bit of the wild west. What dreams does the brief visit inspire today?

Honoring an American Hero

Today (Saturday, May 10, 2008) there was a gathering that included four Medal of Honor recipients and seven former prisoners of war. They were at Bath Iron Works to honor a fellow Vietnam POW and Medal of Honor receipient.

Vice Admiral James Stockdale flew 201 carrier-based missions before being shot down in 1965. He was the highest-ranking naval officer captured during the war and spent 7 ½ years in captivity in North Vietnam. Upon his release in 1973, he received 26 combat decorations, including the Medal of Honor.

He was honored today with the christening of the USS Stockdale, the Navy’s newest guided missile destroyer. His widow, Sybil, christened the ship with the traditional bottle of champgagne

Noting that the new destroyer's motto is "Return with Honor," Sen. Susan Collins, R-Maine, said "Admiral James Stockdale did just that, and our nation is forever indebted to him. I know that all who serve on the ship that bears his name will do the same."

In a few months the ship will sea trials and sometime next Fall will be commissioned as the USS Stockdale (DDG-106).

Good Bye Audray

Every once in awhile someone who touches my life without me even realizing it. Three years ago I came across a reference to the “Adopt A Nursing Home” program in Texas. My search for information leads me to Audray Landrum in Tyler, Texas. We may have met on the How Much Joy Facilitators group on Yahoo. Anyway we connected and she sent me a wealth in information on the “Adopt A Nursing Home” program.

A year ago I moved and did not have easy access to the Internet and I lost touch with many people, including Audrey.

Today I decided to check out a publication she wrote for The Senior Voice. Her column wasn’t in the latest issue. I started back through the issues and found her last column in the June 2007 issue.

Going back to July I found a note that Audrey had moved to Chicago for cancer treatment. Further research revealed that she had passed away on October 23rd.

The Senior View reprinted the following quote. In their December 2007 issue

“I’ve come to understand that happiness doesn’t just happen, it requires
effort. We begin with the decision to be happy, we take action in search of
it and most of all we are willing to receive it. In this glorious season of celebration,
I hope you will seek and find a light heart. After all, we’re
workin’ for God!”

I’m going to miss Audray. We only talked once or twice and exchanged a couple of dozen emails.

Thank you Audray for your friendship.

Saying Goodbye to a Neighbor

We often become very comfortable with our neighbors and don’t really pay attention to them. They will always be around.

When Lewis and Clark came West everything was new to them. By trails end they had described 178 plants and 122 animals previously unrecorded for science. The Sitka Spruce, a species new to science, was described in detail by Meriwether Lewis on Tuesday, February 4, 1806.

" there are several species of fir in this neighborhood which I shall describe as well as my slender botanical skill will enable me... grows to immense size; very commonly 27 feet in the girth six feet above the surface of the earth, and in several instances we have found them as much as 36 feet in the girth or 12 feet diameter perfectly solid and entire. they frequently rise to the height of 230 feet, and one hundred and twenty or 30 of that height without a limb."

Until last night (December 2, 2007) Modern-day explorers could view a Giant Sitka at Klootchy Creek Park, Oregon. Klootchy Creek Giant - aka the Seaside Spruce- is a Sitka Spruce that stands 216 feet tall, measures 56 feet in circumference and has a crown that spreads 93 feet. That makes it the biggest tree in the State of Oregon and the biggest Sitka Spruce in the Country. The Klootchy giant has been named Oregon's first Heritage Tree, a program that recognizes trees for their connection to Oregon History.

Klootchy Creek Giant is located southeast of Seaside, Oregon on Highway
The 750-year-old Oregon tree is most likely the state's oldest and has been admired through time, said Paul Ries, forester with the Oregon Department of Forestry. "We know foresters passed up that tree when they were scouting for lumber during World War I," he said.

During WWI logger were recruited and assigned to the Spruce Division. Their job was to log the giant spruces in Oregon and Washington. Spruce was an ideal wood for manufacturing aircraft.

The Sitka has been an Oregon icon. A sign on U.S. 26, some 1 1/2 miles east of its junction with Highway 101, diverts a steady stream of traffic across a single-lane bridge into a parking lot not far from the base of the majestic tree. Though many motorists make it a point to visit the Sitka on their way to the coast, others simply see the sign, "Largest Sitka spruce tree in the United States," and turn in out of curiosity.

Five decades ago the The Klootchy Creek Giant was struck by lightening and the tree was badly damaged during winter storms in 2006. The tree was allowed to stand while visitors are kept a safe distance in case it falls.

Now those people who drive pass the sign and said “some day we’ll stop” have missed an opportunity to visit a giant and a living legend. Of course they can always drive North and visit a sister tree that Washington claims is just as big.

Friday Mornings at the Pentagon

A very touching article that I think everyone should be aware of. Even us old sea dogs can be proud of how the Army honors their wounded. Tom

Friday Mornings at the Pentagon By JOSEPH L. GALLOWAY McClatchy

Newspapers Over the last 12 months, 1,042 soldiers, Marines, sailors and Air Force personnel have given their lives in the terrible duty that is war.

Thousands more hav e come home on stretchers, horribly wounded and facing months or years in military hospitals. This week, I'm turning my space over to a good friend and former roommate, Army Lt. Col. Robert Bateman , who recently completed a yearlong tour of duty in Iraq and is now back at the Pentagon. Here's Lt. Col. Bateman's account of a little-known ceremony that fills the halls of the Army corridor of the Pentagon with cheers, applause and many tears every Friday morning

It first appeared on May 17 on the Weblog of media critic and pundit Eric Alterman at the Media Matters for America Website.

"It is 110 yards from the "E" ring to the "A" ring of the Pentagon. This section of the Pentagon is newly renovated; the floors shine, the hallway is broad, and the lighting is bright. At this instant the entire length of the corridor is packed with officers, a few sergeants and some civilians, all crammed tightly three and four deep against the walls. There are thousands here.

"This hallway, more than any other, is the `Army' hallway. The G3 offices line one side, G2 the other, G8 is around the corner. All Army. Moderate conversations flow in a low buzz. Friends who may not have seen each other for a few weeks, or a few years, spot each other, cross the way and renew.

"Everyone shifts to ensure an open path remains down the center. The air conditioning system was not designed for this press of bodies in this area. The temperature is rising already. Nobody cares.

"10:36 hours: The clapping starts at the E-Ring. That is the outermost of the five rings of the Pentagon and it is closest to the entrance to the building. This clapping is low, sustained, hearty. It is applause with a deep emotion behind it as it moves forward in a wave down the length of the hallway.

"A steady rolling wave of sound it is, moving at the pace of the soldier in the wheelchair who marks the forward edge with his presence. He is the first. He is missing the greater part of one leg, and some of his wounds are still suppurating. By his age I expect that he is a private, or perhaps a private first class.

"Captains, majors, lieutenant colonels and colonels meet his gaze and nod as they applaud, soldier to soldier. Three years ago when I described one of these events, those lining the hallways were somewhat different. The applause a little wilder, perhaps in private guilt for not having shared in the burden ... yet.

"Now almost everyone lining the hallway is, like the man in the wheelchair, also a combat veteran. This steadies the applause, but I think deepens the sentiment. We have all been there now. The soldier's chair is pushed by, I believe, a full colonel.

"Behind him, and stretching the length from Rings E to A, come more of his peers, each private, corporal, or sergeant assisted as need be by a field grade officer.

"11:00 hours: Twenty-four minutes of steady applause. My hands hurt, and I laugh to myself at how stupid that sounds in my own head. My hands hurt. Please! Shut up and clap. For twenty-four minutes, soldier after soldier has come down this hallway - 20, 25, 30. Fifty-three legs come with them, and perhaps only 52 hands or arms, but down this hall came 30 solid hearts. They pass down this corridor of officers and applause, and then meet for a private lunch, at which t hey are the guests of honor, hosted by the generals. Some are wheeled along. Some insist upon getting out of their chairs, to march as best they can with their chin held up, down this hallway, through this most unique audience. Some are catching handshakes and smiling like a politician at a Fourth of July parade. More than a couple of them seem amazed and are smiling shyly.

"There are families with them as well: the 18-year-old war-bride pushing her 19-year-old husband's wheelchair and not quite understanding why her husband is so affected by this, the boy she grew up with, now a man, who had never shed a tear is crying; the older immigrant Latino parents who have, perhaps more than their wounded mid-20s son, an appreciation for the emotion given on their son's behalf. No man in that hallway, walking or clapping, is ashamed by the silent tears on more than a few cheeks.

"An Airborne Ranger wipes his eyes only to better see. A couple of the officers in this crowd have themselves been a part of this parade in the past. These are our men, broken in body they may be, but they are our brothers, and we welcome them home.

"This parade has gone on, every single Friday, all year long, for more than four years.

"Did you know that? The media hasn't told the story."

Growing Older

I have the privilege of working in a retirement and assisted living community and the other day one of the residents asked me how I felt about being old. I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old. Interesting question I said and that I would ponder it and let her know.

Old Age, I decided, is a gift.

I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Ok, maybe not my body! I sometime despair over the shape of my body, or especially when I am taken aback by that old person that has taken up living in my mirror (who looks like my father!), but I don't agonize over those things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating a little extra, not picking up the paper. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be lazy.

I have seen too many friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging. Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until late at night or to take a nap at noon?
Yes, on occasion I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60&70's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep a movie like A Walk to
Remember or A Walk in the Clouds... I will.

I will walk the beach in shorts that expose my lily white legs, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set. They, too, will get old.

Yes, I know I am sometimes forgetful. My mother always warned be about being care of who I hung around with. She said I would become just like them. Could it be true? The people I hang out with five days a week have gray hair and are forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. Besides, I eventually remember the important things. It's just the computer passwords that give me a problem.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car? It's the broken hearts that gives us strength and understanding and compassion. Somewhere I read that a heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I feel so blessed to have lived long enough to have my remaining hair turn gray, some even say silver, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. How many people have never laughed? How many have died before their hair could turn silver.

As I get older, it is easier to be positive. I care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.
It is in the second 60 years that we can begin to really enjoy life in what former Seagram's CEO Edgar M. Bronfman calls "The Third Act." Who knows, maybe we will get to attend our 100th high school reunion.

So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be.

And if I feel like it, I will eat dessert every single day.

Cathy Leroy, The Gnat of Hill 881

It is amazing the memories that one picture can bring back. The picture I posted called “Corpsman in anguish, 1967” was taken by the French combat photographer Cathy Leroy on Hill 881 In I Corps.

Later Cathy would be wounded and was evacuated to my ship, the USS Sanctuary (AH-17). I was in triage when she came in and a young French woman in pink bra and panties was the last thing we were expecting that day. She had multiple shrapnel wounds and the story goes that our commanding officer, who was in radiology helping read x-rays declared she had bi-lateral chest tubes. He was seeing the under wire in her bra. We loved the story and loved Cathy.

The May 12, 1967 issue of Time Magazine had an article about “The Gnat of Hill 881."

“"My God, I don't believe it," said a gawking Marine. "What's a broad doing here?" The broad—if an 85-lb. twiglet of a female qualifies as a broad—was doing the same thing he was. She was getting ready to storm South Viet Nam's Hill 881. Cathy Leroy may have looked ludicrous with her size-4 feet swimming around in size-6 combat boots. But the little French girl is a tough freelance photographer; and for Americans looking at their front pages last week, her A.P. pictures of Marines headed up 881 North evoked ghosts of Iwo Jima and Pork Chop Hill.”

She passed away in 2006 at the age of 60. According to her obituary she was a licensed parachutist when she joined up with the 173rd Airborne Division and jumped along with them into a combat operation, becoming the only known accredited journalist – male or female – to jump into combat with American troops at war.

Living Treasures Updated

Several months ago I posted the following on my blog. I ended the posting by saying I would give you an update on what I’m doing in Sandy, Oregon.

It took a change in administrators, but we have now formed the Sandy Living Treasures Committee. We are hosting the committee and will host the ceremonies two or three times a year.

When I announced the program at the Sandy Chamber of Commerce’s Good Morning Sandy. The applause showed me we are moving in the right direction.

In my first posting I wrote;
While surfing the net I came across a reference to the living treasures program in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Check out their website at http://livingtreasures.kxx.com/

According to their website Living Treasures is“…a simple concept of honoring those in communities, schools, or the workplace who make a difference. Honoring those who serve as models and mentors--those who provide quiet inspiration with their hope, heart and wisdom. "Living Treasures" are the folk heroes who live among us. This special distinction is a community's gift to a beloved elder and a gentle reminder that we all need more Thank you's!”

I have always been bothered that we wait until someone is gone before saying thank you. The people of Santa Fe have found a way to say Thank You while our hero’s are still with us.

They offer a free workbook designed to help other communities create a Living Treasures program. Every community should be honoring their Elders. How about starting a committe in your community? I will let you know how I'm doing in Sandy, Oregon.

Please email at tagrimes@quixnet.net and I will send you the Santa Fe handbook and add you to my mailing list. I have started a blog but nothing is posted yet.

A Goal Achieved...

Some time again I added an entry into my dream log "to get a bicycle and
start riding again." Now it has been over 30 years since I owned a bike and a lot longer than that since I have really ridden for any length of time.
I even went so far as look at the new shiny bikes at our local Fred Meyers store and was turned away by the price tag. Ok, time to save the change and recycle money.

A couple of weeks ago I stopped by the local Salvation Army store, looking for printer cables. Instead I found a Vermillion mountain bike, with 18 speeds and Shimano grip shifting. Sounds impressive doesn't it. I thought so too.
The bike looked to be in mint condition. The tires still had the little rubber tags found on new tires. Well, there were a few scrapes from what looks like a crash. For $20 I couldn't pass it up.

I practiced on our lane and bought a helmet that cost nearly as much as the bike. Today I was ready for the big ride.

Near where I live in Damascus, Oregon, is the Eastern end of the
Springwater Trail. The trail began life in 1903 as the Springwater Division Line, a commuter railway that took folks from downtown Portland to outlying communities such as Boring, Eagle Creek and Estacada. At its peak in 1910, Portland's 160 miles of rails carried 16 million passengers a year. In the 1950s, the automobile became the preferred method of travel and passenger service was dropped in 1958.

In the 1990's the City of Portland and the Metro area acquired the corridor and turned it into a multiuse trail extending over 20 miles from near the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry to the small town of Boring. The State of Oregon owns an additional 10 miles of right a way.

This morning I got up, loaded my bike into the back of my truck, grabbed
my helmet and drove to the trailhead in Boring.

Surprise. The portion of the trail I had walked several time in Gresham is
paved. In Boring the trail is gravel. That didn't deter me. I was soon riding down the trail toward Gresham and Portland.

My plan was simple. Ride for 15 minutes and then turn around and ride
back to my truck. I quickly realized that Boring is higher than Gresham and I'm headed down a gradual slope. The first 15 minutes was easy and I learned how to use a couple of the 18 gears.

After 15 minutes I turned and headed back to Boring and quickly learned
that even a slight uphill grade is work. Of course a big part of the problem is being totally out of shape, which is the reason I got the bike in the first place.
After nearly 35 minutes my truck was in sight and I was able to make it back without collapsing. The legs were like rubber, but I was able to load the bike and make it home.

Ok, day one is history. I will be back out on the Springwater. Next time I will drive into Gresham and ride a level portion of the paved trail or ride
uphill toward Boring and the coast back down to my truck.

My goal now is to ride several times a week and lose 20 pounds.

Good Bye Todd

Todd "Dr. Toad" Williams

1938-2007

Today I stopped by the local store and found a very special bottle of wine on the shelf, a 2006 Chardonnay from Toad Hollow Vineyards. A bottle of Eye of the Toad or a Cacophony would have worked just as well. I wanted the bottle to say goodbye to a friend.

Todd Williams, sometimes called Toad, or Dr. Toad by his friends, founded the little Healdsburg Winery with his friend Rodney Strong. Rod passed away in early 2006. Because of Rod I got to know Todd and his wife Frankie.

The obituary in the San Francisco Chronicle says Toad Hollow is “famous for its oddball toad-themed labels – and award-winning taste.” To me it is famous for the two great men who decided to make wine togther.

It was the people that made the winery special for me. I got to spend time with Todd and Frankie, Rod and his wife Charlotte before she passed away in 2005. Twice I was able to drive Rod and his caregiver Nancy, a very special lady, to Oregon and Washington.

Never heard of Todd. Maybe you have heard of his brother, actor/comedian Robin Williams. All of the obituaries carried a quote from Robin: “Toad left a big footprint with a cork, or as a friend said, he left a great trail.”

The picture above is from the Toad Hollow website http://www.toadhollow.com/.

Thank you Todd, for being a friend and for making some great wine.

Delaney

Whenever I travel I like to pick up the local paper just to get a favor of the community. While driving down US395, on the eastern slope of the Sierra mountains of California, I had the opportunity to pick up a copy of the “The Sheet: News, Views & Culture of the Eastern Sierra.” The weekly is published in the resort community of Mammoth Lakes, California.

The cover story “Mountain-Biscuit: A Local Horse Defies the Odds” caught my attention. Now, I’m not a horse person but I like a good story and Mike McKenna did an excellent job telling the story of Delaney.

Delaney, a native of Montana, had ended up in Southern California. Delaney was approaching the end of his life. While working the rangeland around Elko, Nevada, he had developed pneumonia. He had been shipped to Southern California to recover. Instead of getting better, he continued to decline and was put out to pasture to fatten up before being shipped off to the glue factory.

A San Juan Capistrano couple found Delaney and recognized that there was still a sparkle in his eyes. They finally resorted to a horse psychic to find out what was going on with Delaney. So, what did the horse tell the psychic? It was simple. He wanted to return to the mountains.

That was two decades ago and Delaney is still living in the mountains surrounds Mammoth Lakes. This past 4th of July he participated in another parade, as he has done for nearly twenty years.

Dreams do come true, even for a sick horse who wanted to return to the mountains. Being a mountain person I can understand.

How many times have you read such a story then promptly tossed the paper away? Mike’s email address was listed on page 2 of the paper. I took a few minutes and send him an email, thanking him or a great story. A week or so later I got a short thank you email. He thanked me for spreading the story of Delaney. My pleasure Mike.

Oregon County Finances

Some andom thoughts on how we finance county government in Oregon

It has been awhile since I last posted here. There have been some changes in my life. I’m now have a Boring address (location, not frame of mind) and am living in my great niece’s granny unit/laundry room. Hey, it’s not bad. I have more room than I have had for several years. There is only one problem. The noise of the washer and dryer drowns out my music.

I have been thinking about the problems facing many of the counties here in Oregon that are facing the loss of federal funding. They have been paid millions and millions of dollars over the years and have become dependent on the federal handouts. The payments may be justified because of the large tracts of federal land that are exempt from the local tax bases. Are there other ways for the federal government to pay? For example, could the counties charge the government for services provided, such as law enforcement.

Local voters continue to vote down tax increases. Is it time to re-look at how we fund local government? If the people are unwilling to tax themselves, is it time to revoke the county charters? Oregon has 36 counties. Are 36 necessary today? Could be govern ourselves between if we had 12 counties?

Something needs to be done. Libraries are being closed. County law enforcement is being cut back to bare bones. Jails are being emptied.

Just some random thoughts on the state of things here in this great state.

A Real Lesson

Every once in awhile I get an email that really hits me. This is one of those. I have gotten into the habit of checking these out on the Urban Legend website (http://www.snopes.com/). According to the website this story is true. I could not pass up reprinting it here. I just have two words for you Mrs. Cothren: Bravo Zulu (Navy lingo for well done or great job).

Classroom Desks

Back in September of 2005, on the first day of school, Martha Cothren, a social studies schoolteacher at Robinson High School in Little Rock, did something not to be forgotten. On the first day of school, with permission of the school superintendent, the principal and the building supervisor, she took all of the desks out of the classroom.

The kids came into first period, they walked in, and there were no desks. They obviously looked around and said, "Ms. Cothren, where's our desk?" And she said, "You can't have a desk until you tell me how you earn them."

They thought, "Well, maybe it's our grades."

"No," she said.
"Maybe it's our behavior."

And she told them, "No, it's not even your behavior."

And so they came and went in the first period, still no desks in the classroom. Second period, same thing. Third period. By early afternoon television news crews had gathered in Ms. Cothren's class to find out about this crazy teacher who had taken all the desks out of the classroom. The last period of the day, Martha Cothren gathered her class. They were at this time sitting on the floor around the sides of the room. And she says, “Throughout the day no one has really understood how you earn the desks that sit in this classroom ordinarily." She said,
"Now I'm going to tell you."

Martha Cothren went over to the door of her classroom and opened it, and as she did 27 U.S. Veterans, wearing their uniforms, walked into that classroom, each one carrying a school desk. And they placed those school desks in rows, and then they stood along the wall. And by the time they had finished placing those desks; those kids for the first time I think perhaps in their lives understood how they earned those desks.

Martha said, "You don't have to earn those desks. These guys did it for you. They put them out there for you, but it's up to you to sit here responsibly to learn, to be good students and good citizens, because they paid a price for you to have that desk, and don't ever forget it."

Be an Early Riser

I hear people complaining that they don’t have the time to do the things they want. Yet there is a simple technique that will allow them to add a month to their year. The math is simple. A 40-hour workweek means we will work around 2000 hours annually (assuming a two week vacation), or around 166 hours a month.

Getting up an hour early five days a week will add 260 hours of available time. That still leaves two days a week to sleep in. What could you do with an extra 260 hours?

According to Julia Cameron, author of “The Right to Write,” lawyer Scott Turow wrote his novel “Presumed Innocent” on his daily commuter train, while his fellow passengers slept, read the newspaper or talked among themselves.

The trick is not finding the time. It is taking the time to do what you want. It’s a choice: the Wheel of Fortune or a 30 minute walk. You make similar choices all day.

Some people use their extra hour to run. That never looked like fun. Most runners I see never smile. I have used my extra hour to walk. That is one activity I really enjoy. I also use my hour to meditate, to study and to write. After reading Julia’s Cameron book “The Right to Write” I started writing morning pages. She recommends three pages in longhand.
For some this early morning hour is their most productive time of day. There are no telephones, no interruptions, and no distractions.

Dale Carnegie, in his book “How to Stop Worrying and Start Living” takes a different approach to adding an hour to every day of your waking life. His recommendation is taking breaks throughout the day. His theory is that you should rest before you get tired. “If you are over fifty and feel you are too rushed to do it, then buy immediately all the insurance you can get. …Your spouse may want to take your insurance money and marry a younger person.”

Just imagine what you could accomplish both being an early riser and taking breaks throughout the day.

A Second Life

Five years ago I started publishing a weekly E-Letter. In my first issue I talked about the second life that each of us will have the opportunity to experience. My friend, and subscriber, Dave immediately emailed back and said, “A second life after 50? I think I'm on my third right now.”

Dave is right; he is in his third age.

Alan Pifer, former chairman of the Carnegie Corporation Project on an Aging Society, has suggested that our increasing longevity gives us a new third quarter in our life span. He says this “should constitute a period of rebirth, with the awakening of new interests and enthusiasm for life, and few possibilities for being productive.”

The challenge that we face is how can we make our additional years better for ourselves and better for our society.

William A. Sadler, author of The Third Age, uses sigmoid curve (a S laying on it’s side and stretched out). According to Dr. Sadler there is a brief dip in the learning curve during early adaptation to life. Then we progress upward towards a peak near the middle of life, where we reach a plateau. From there it is a gradual descent. This is the old, conventional view of life.

The poet T. S. Eliot, at age seventy expressed a conventional view of the second half of life in very unconventional and blunt terms: “I don’t believe one grows older. I think that what happens early on in life is that at a certain age one stands still and stagnates.”

What has really changed is our lengthening life span. In eighteenth-century American, the average life span was barely forty. From 1900 to 1993 the average American life expectancy went from 47.3 yeas to 75.5 years. As we enter the twenty-first century, the average American life span is nearly eighty.

Many of us are getting a thirty year bonus. I’m going to live mine to the fullest. Dr. Walter Bortz of Palo Alto, California, has specialized in vital aging, says that we should plan on living one hundred years or more. Between 1960 and 1996 the number of centenarians in America increased from 3,000 to over 55,000. He feels that millions will pass this milestone in this century. There will be too many of us to be mentioned on the Today Show. Willard will have to up the age to 110 or 115.

According to Dr. Sadler, “Getting older has commonly been associated with five deadly D words: decline, disease, dependency, depression and decrepitude (feebleness). After these, of course comes the sixth dreaded D word, which marks the end of the line.”

Ever since that first E-Letter I have focused on the R words, such as rebirth, renewal, regeneration, revitalization and rejuvenation. It has also lead into a new career field and looking at new dreams and goals. I’m enjoying my second life.

I welcome and encourage feedback. I want to hear your stories. It also lets me know I anyone is reading this.

A Memorial Day Note

I know Memorial Day is still several weeks away, but I came across this article I had written in 2002. I was looking or something else but this one spoke to me. If we want to do something different this Memorial Day, May 28th, we should start planning now.

While researching material for my Memorial Day presentation to the Columbia Gorge Kiwanis Club I came across the following on the Internet:

"This weekend I am going to do something different. I am going to buy some carnations each day and go to one of the nearby cemeteries and walk through the sections for soldiers. When I find a grave that has no flowers, I'll leave one and say a prayer for the family of that person, who for some reason could not bring their soldier flowers. I will pray for our country and all who serve or have served. For their families, who also serve by losing precious days, weeks and months spent with their loved ones who are off serving, preserving peace and the freedom we have in this country. I'll pray for the families who paid the ultimate price, who's loved ones died, or were taken captive and never returned. I'll pray for anyone who may still be held in captivity and thinks perhaps they are forgotten. I do NOT forget."

How are you going spending this Memorial Day? Is this just the third day of the three day weekend that marks the beginning of summer? Did you visit the grave of someone who served his or her country? Did you pause for a moment to remember the true meaning of today?

I will be in a local cemetery tomorrow morning with a bunch of carnations, looking for the graves of servicemen without flowers. I will leave one and say a prayer for that person. In many cases, it’s not that the families forget; there are no families left to remember these men & women. I do not forget.

Moina Michaels wrote in the following in 1915.

We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.

General Order 11 of the Grand Army of the Republic, issued in 1868, states:

“Let us, then, at the time appointed gather around their sacred remains and garland the passionless mounds above them with the choicest flowers of spring-time; let us raise above them the dear old flag they saved from dishonor; let us in this solemn presence renew our pledges to aid and assist those whom they have left among us a sacred charge upon a nation’s gratitude, the soldier’s and sailor’s widow and orphan.”

In 2002 I went to a local cemetery. Since then I have traveled to Cathlamet, Washington, my mother’s hometown and visited the cemetery when my relatives are buried. I have taken a bunch of carnations and visited each of their graves. I have also honored the veterans long forgotten.

Where will you be on Memorial Day, May 28th, 2007?