An Unusual Summer

It feels like summer has just begun.  This could be for a few different reasons…
 
…the weather has been decidedly un-summer-esque, with tons of rain
…because of the above, I haven’t been able to do much outside
…my brother’s passing in late April
 
…plus, the usual suspects of being tired from earn-a-living work stuff and just generally not always feeling all that well.
 
I fully realize that some of the above I can impact, while others, well, not so much. 
 
In any event, I have started to get some of my summer mojo back, having mostly cleaned out the garage, temporarily fixing the garage door, putting together a bench (that was sitting in my shed for over a year) and organizing some tools.  There was also the incident yesterday when I was using my miter saw and it nearly cut the tip of my thumb open (thank God for thumbnails), but we shall not discuss that any further.
 
I’ve also been starting to get some more important things done, such as getting a new pair of glasses.  My old pair, which I had for about a year, were simply horrible, as they were too large, kept sliding down my nose, and a few other things.  Having been wearing glasses since I was 5 years old, one would think that I would be able to always pick out good frames, but there was a lesson learned in last year’s selection: Don’t allow yourself to be sold something you don’t really want.  I remember getting the glasses last year at a time when the opticians’ office was very crowded, they didn’t have the kind of frames I wanted, I felt rushed and pushed to accept something that I didn’t think would work.  In any event, and as noted, lessons learned, and new glasses should be ready this week.
 
As a side note, I am currently wearing a pair from a few years ago that are working well.  See above (thumb…) as to why I really need to be wearing my glasses.  All of the time.
 
Hanging over all of that over the last few months has been the news, particularly that of what has come out of Washington D.C.  This continues to be something of a dark time, for many reasons I have already explained in the past.  This cannot end soon enough.
 
While summer from a “doing summery stuff” perspective has been lagging, what hasn’t lagged has been the actual calendar.  It feels like summer is going by too quickly.  Part of this I readily acknowledge is the fact that time in general seems to pass by more quickly the older I get.  That’s a kind of cruel joke. 
 
What won’t be a part of this summer is any kind of multi-day trip.  With Ms. Rivers starting a new job and the 6 weeks of new hire training for me at work (as in my conducting…), the timing hasn’t been good.  We will probably go on some kind of trip in October though, after time off has accumulated (Ms. Rivers) and (hopefully) I won’t be in perpetual new hire training.  We shall see.
 
Speaking of trips, over dinner yesterday, Ms. Rivers and I brainstormed all the trips we would like to take in the years to come, before we get too old and decrepit.  While we still have to prioritize these things, here’s the list… 

Ireland

 

Hawaii 

 

Caribbean

 

Puerto Rico 

 

Oregon/Seattle 

 

Southwest/Arizona/New Mexico

 

Las Vegas

 

Michigan/Mackinaw Island

 

Mississippi River Cruise

 

Savannah GA

 

Toronto 

 

Canadian Train Trip

 

Norway/Sweden 

 

England - London

 

England - Liverpool, Wales

 

Germany - Rhine River Cruise

 

France - Paris

 

Mediterranean Cruise

 

Italy - Rome, Florence 

 
…given the math associated with getting older, I think we should get started.
 
Finally, and speaking of summer, while visiting my sister-in-law on the 4^th, I spent a few quality minutes with her beehive.  It’s a good reminder of what is important in life, and I am not talking about honey, which I don’t particularly like anyway.  No, this is more about order, simplicity and purpose…
 
 

 

…all of which the world could use a bit more of these days.

Wet Your Fanny (in the Susquehanny)

Each summer, Ms. Rivers and I do some kind of water trip, either a canoe or kayak(s) down the Susquehanna River.  I readily confess that this is something Ms. Rivers really enjoys, as it evokes memories of prior times.  Me?  I like being on the river and seeing the beauty that it offers.  I don't like getting into or out of a canoe or kayak.  That latter part is mainly due to two factors:

1. I am admittedly uncoordinated.
2. Canoes and kayaks are, by design, tippy.  And I am not talking gratuities here.

The above noted, I glad to go, and each year of going presents its own version of an adventure.

(note the ankles)

This year we were on a group trip from Mehoopany to Tunkhannock (PA), which is about an 11 mile water trek.  Our vehicle of choice was a double kayak, with me in the back and Ms. Rivers, as usual, in the front.  This, by the way, seems to be the logical arrangement of these sorts of things.

Before I go any further, a big shout out to Susquehanna Kayak and Canoe Rentals, who we have used for our paddle trips for several years.  They are wonderful folks and highly recommended.

Normally we just take a solo paddle on the river, but this time around we opted for a group trip, where "group" was something like 50-ish people.  What was wonderful about the trip was the age range of participants:  Some were older than us (a nice thought...), some were our age, some were younger.  There was even a very young man (more to come on that...).  We did chat with some of the other participants, and everyone seemed to have a good time.  

This is the inevitable part of the posting where I add some weird element to the trip. To that point, we had three special paddle participants.

First, there was "Old Man Playing Loud Music".  One of the attractive parts of paddling in the Susquehanna are the sounds.  These include paddles in the water.  Birds overhead.  The sound of the water flowing.  The wind through the trees.  Things like that, all of which have a certain calming charm about them.  This year?  We had an old dude playing loud, crappy music from a speaker bungie cord tied to his kayak.  Yes, you got that right.  So we are paddling down the river and see four bald eagles flying over head.  It was a spectacular vison.  What did we hear?  That would be "Old Man Playing Loud Music" insisting that the entire group listen to Foghat (instead of the eagles overhead).  Other notable artists included Charlie Daniels, Journey, Boston and a few others I have tried to blot out of my head.  Had he been a bit younger, I'm sure there would have been some Nickelback thrown into the mix.  We did our best to paddle ahead of "Old Man Playing Loud Music", but every once in a while he would catch up and we would be forced to confront, for example, Separate Ways by Journey.

Second, we had "Standing Man".  This was the guy who had his own special kind of kayak that he could stand in every once in a while.  It was actually kind of interesting watching him.  Think a cross between an older Tom Sawyer and a skinny biker dude.  I want to state for the record that there is no version of Steve Albert in any version of any multi-verse that could ever muster the coordination to do such a thing.  While "Old Man Playing Loud Music" was annoying, "Standing Man" was weirdly kind of inspiring. 

Third we had "Little Man", who apparently was the son of "Standing Man".  "Little Man" was probably 8 or 9 years old and even had his own little version of his father's specialty kayak.  I didn't see "Little Man" actually do the standing thing though.  What did see was "Little Man" getting towed by his father towards the end of the trip, which was cool.  "Little Man" very much reminded me of my late brother Chris when he was that age...both in how he looked and his seemingly boundless energy.  This was nice.

Other than the characters on the river (see above), the two other notable parts of the trip involved how wet we got, courtesy of one too many speeding-boats-n-resulting-wakes and the fact that I badly burned by ankles.  Yes, to that latter point, I took reasonable precautions to prevent sunburn.  Except for my ankles.  One lives and one learns.

There may yet be another paddle this year.  We shall see.

Scotland - Day 3: Authenticity

I don't try to explain, after the fact, what these bordering-on-ridiculous blog postings mean.  There are a couple reasons for that, none of which are entertaining enough (for me...) to write about.  This noted, what I do find fascinating is how easy it is to read intent into written words.  That's both a curse and a blessing for folks that write things, even hacks such as myself.  Anyway, I'm going to make an exception to the blog posting interpretation rule.

For example, in my Day 1 posting, I compared how Edinburgh is, well, gritty, dirty, and kind of smells like the Scranton I knew as a kid.  I get that this certainly sounds bad...unless you are me, and you grew up in Scranton in the '70s.  Granted that other folks, outside of fans of the U.S. version of The Office, probably have a negative impression of Scranton, but I don't.  In fact, that gritty/dirty/smells description is, in a word, authentic.  While there are tons of tourists here in Edinburgh, as I noted in the Day 2 posting, this is a lived-in kind of place.  The tourists just seem to be here for the ride.  

Another way to think about this is to consider Edinburgh as a kind of anti-Disney.  This isn't a magic kingdom; this is a place where people work, sieges have been had, and more than a few people hung and/or otherwise dispatched.  In the words of our tour guide on Sunday, Edinburgh had for the longest time a reputation for being one of the most disgusting cities in Europe.  The magic in this kingdom is that people have called this home and fought for it over centuries.  

The above noted, my quota for actually explaining blog postings has been met.  Since this is about the first time since 2008 that I've done this sort of thing (explaining...), if I do the math then I won't have to do it again until sometime in 2038.

On to the day's festivities.

******

Today we did the quasi-common bus tour of the countryside thing.  It was fun, based partially on the fact that my knees appreciated that they weren't responsible for all of the day's locomotion.  To be a bit more specific, the big stops today were Loch Lomond and Stirling Castle.  See the links for more (likely & possibly) factual information.  

As we were headed to Loch Lomond, we stopped to see an attraction known as the Kelpies.  For purposes of picture set-up, know that this is a very large metal sculpture. 

As I alluded to in the first paragraph or so of this posting, Scotland pretty much does what Scotland wants.  Giant horse heads?  Sure, why not.  There actually is some mythology about the Kelpies, which you can get from the horse's mouth HERE.  

From the Kelpies we headed to the Loch, for an all too brief visit.  Photographs don't do it justice, but here's one anyway.

This is an old place, well-used, yet still incredibly beautiful.  Something else to mention?  It smelled wonderful.  Actually, the Kelpies smelled wonderful too.  Just the right combination of flowers were in bloom I suppose, creating a scent that would rival a stand of honeysuckle.  

By the way, I am reasonably sure that there are more sheep in Scotland than there are people.  Without any exaggeration whatsoever.  The sheep we saw driving around the countryside were legion, for they were many.

Granted, I don't want to think too hard about Scotland's sheep, as that results in thoughts about what becomes of the cute little guys (re:  Haggis).

After the Loch and countless sheep-spotting opportunities, we stopped for lunch.  That was something of an adventure (for mundane reasons I will not get into), but what was really cool was the fact that we stopped at a town that was literally at the border between the Scottish lowlands and highlands.  

Foreground = Lowlands.  Background = Highlands.

Our final stop was Castle Stirling, complete with a larger-than-life statue of Robert the Bruce.  Yes, that was a character in the movie Braveheart, and yes, the locals are keenly aware of how inaccurate Mel Gibson's movie really was.  Regardless, it's an impressive statue.

I didn't do the castle tour (Ms. Rivers did), but instead went wandering around the castle grounds, which were beautiful.  The history of this place literally permeates the air.

Finally, I can't let the opportunity pass to take a few critter shots, and today was no exception.  

With apologies for the off-center shot, but in all fairness, 1) He was moving a lot and 2) I was using a cellphone camera.

All of the above noted, it was a long but interesting day.  Now to get some rest.  I think I slept for something like four hours last night, due to a variety of reasons.  I need to do better,.  Tomorrow will be more castle touring and maybe a ghost* bus tour.

More to come.

(*) Ghosts don't exist, but for the purposes of this vacation, I'll play along.

 

Wind Up (or is that wind down)?

I'm not sure what was going on with me from about early February through mid-late April, other than, in some respects, it wasn't good.  Part of this was definitely physical...I struggle with some digestive issues, no doubt made worse by the "6-year-old eating mentality but with adult money" diet.  However, I know, at least for me, that parts of my physical health are strongly tied to my mental health at any given point.  This kind of makes how I am physically feeling something like a "Canary in a mine" for what's pinging around in my head.

I do have at least one theory.

That period is probably the worst of the year for me.  One of the few things in life I can say that I enjoy, without any qualification, is working outside.  Yet during that period, there is just so little I can actually do.  This is mostly because it's just too damn chilly/cold outside.  And in the spirit of my ability to dramatically over-think everything, I would never want to live anywhere that is warm all year.  I enjoy the seasons...even the advent of winter...but I just wish it would end.  This year's relatively warm late winter was similar to hanging a cupcake just out of reach of a starving person.  

There is a larger issue at play here, namely that I am borderline (seemingly) genetically pre-disposed and always on the lookout for threats, be they big or small, real or imaginary.  The appropriate mental health term is "hypervigilance", and in addition to being tiring, it takes up a heck of a lot of personal bandwidth.  The ironic part is that when viewed objectively, I have a pretty good life.  I suspect though that's all part of the larger set of complexities that reside inside my head.  I am okay, and I wouldn't be me without this stuff, but yet there are times when I would just like less of certain stuff.

I have no grand plan on dealing with the kinds of things that late winter/very early spring brought this year.  Maybe this kind of introspection* is the plan.  Who knows.  What I do know is that I spent a few hours in the yard this weekend, and it felt right.  In the third paragraph of this posting, I noted that I enjoy working outside; maybe an even better term for me is that it just feels "right".

I need to be focusing more on what feels enjoyable and good and right, which is a far harder task than it seems.  But it needs to be done.  There is a kind of hidden guilt inside of me that wants to immediately engage in castigation at the mere thought of not being on the edge, scanning for threats.  It all ties together, and I have some work to do.

Here's to basking in the warmth of the sun, the smell of flowers, and feeling growth all around us.  

(*) Introspection:  Something that requires no real effort from me, but I just wish there were more practical outcomes resulting from it.

Picking Up Leaves

I recently bought a small, 20-volt battery-operated leaf blower to compliment the massive gas-powered Toro model I usually use for stuff around the property.  I also have a gas-powered Husqvarna leaf vac that only gets used about once a year, as I end up looking like a coal miner by the time I've finished using it (i.e., it spits out a lot of dust).  Anyway, with that gear in mind, Ms. Rivers commented that, with the new leaf blower, I will have less time to spend outside picking up leaves using a bucket and the greatest tool I own...a $3.00 plastic pick-up tool from Harbor Freight (link HERE).

This last piece of leaf pick-up technology is shown below.

Picking up leaves (and other yard thingies) using this combination of gear is, quite frankly, exceedingly inefficient.  In fact, it is ridiculously inefficient.  There is an almost "Fool On The Hill"-esque  quality to the activity.

Well on the way, head in a cloud

The man of a thousand voices

Talking perfectly loud

But nobody ever hears him

Or the sound he appears to make

And he never seems to notice

But the fool on the hill

Sees the sun going down

And the eyes in his head

See the world spinning round

This is pretty much an activity I engage in most days, March through November, so if you are ever in West Pittston, Pennsylvania just driving around one evening, you're likely to see this ungainly guy (me) wandering around with a bucket and a blue stick-like thing.

So what gives?

Simply put, this really isn't about picking up leaves, sticks, or other yard detritus.  The actual end-product of the buckets-full-o-plant matter is only a by-product of a sort.  This is about me having a seeming excuse to 1) Be outside on a nice day, and 2) Be alone with my thoughts.  I feel, in an odd sort of way, at peace when I am picking up stuff.  It feels as if I have some measure of control over my world, even if that world is confined to just a yard in Northeastern Pennsylvania.  And for the record, the worse the day I have, the more I look forward to picking up yard stuff, one bit at a time.

My bucket detail work isn't just a bad-day kind of thing.  Good days warrant it as well.  In fact pretty much any day when it's not raining (or snowing) and about 45+ degrees fahrenheit outside is fair game.

I do have a more upgraded metal pick-up tool, but it's just as much fun to use the $3.00 model.  The only downside to the $3.00 model is that it has a limited shelf life, meeting its eventual demise via cracked plastic parts.  I always have a few spare ones on hand, by the way, for just such situations.  Over the year it has not been uncommon for me to buy 3 or 4 of them at a time, just to keep a supply on hand.  They are also quite handy for picking up the odd thing that falls behind the dryer every once in a while.  

They say you can't really buy happiness, which is probably true.  But for $3.00 I can buy some measure of contentment though, which seems like a really good deal.

That Changes in the Yard

I love yard work.  This means I also love Spring.

Part of this springs (pun intended) from having grown up in a housing project where I learned to associate planting flowers, etc., as being a sign of affluence.  A bigger part though is more deeply ingrained in the machinery running inside my head.  More specifically, most of the time my mind is like Times Square in New York City, pre-pandemic:  Things going in all different directions, lots of flashing lights vying for attention, and so very much noise.  It is, in a word, tiring.  While I can physically relax (and probably do so too much these days), actually mentally relaxing is far more difficult.

That changes in the yard.

The grass needs to be cut...so my mind focuses on getting out the mower, making sure it has gas, cleaning it off a bit, and actually cutting the grass.  The grass was too high before I cut it, and now it is just right.  I've spent effort and gotten a result.

Time to trim the trees...the dwarf plum in the front needs a bit of shaping, so I break out the tools and get to work.  It looks really nice afterward.  Making sure that the old maple in the back is free from dead branches that might fall onto the garage.  Time to get out the pole saw.

I could go on with about four more examples, but they all revolve around the same story, namely that for whatever combination of reasons, being outside and working in the yard gives me the ability to (figuratively & temporarily) move from Times Square to a quiet meadow.  There's a certain clarity to the yard that I don't get at, for example, work...the goals are easy to understand, there are no ulterior motives and the results are easy to see.  There's also certain predictability to the yard; for example, the lilac's bloom in late April/early May.

This is not just about immediate gratification by the way.  In the yard this year I am hoping for two fully blooming honeysuckle plants (which I spent countless hours on last year planting, trimming, and fertilizing).  I also have plans to remove a rather ratty-looking ground cover plant in the front, but the replacement is still under consideration.   Maybe put in a light pole and clematis?

I'm sure this kind of thing is not unique to me, and perhaps we all need times and places where we can be free from the noise.  Mine just happens to be the yard.  For others, maybe it's sailing.

Conditioning the Air

I've probably mentioned once or twice over the years that I grew up poor.  Now not "we ate lard sandwiches and had holes in our shoes" poor, but definitely on the lower end of the economic scale.  This was something I was painfully aware of as a kid, where "painfully aware of" means that I was ashamed of it.  Now I could go down a rabbit hole on that one, and maybe I will one day, but for now, the thing that spurred this whole thought in my head was air conditioning.

As a side note, according to the United States government (via the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration), July 2020 was the warmest month ever.  Reference HERE.  As in the warmest, on average, for the entire planet.  Having spent July 2020 doing a lot of work outside (I have some free time; see HERE), this fact does not surprise me one iota.  

Anyway, growing up my single-parent mother worked the night shift.  Trying to sleep during the day is tough; trying to sleep during the day when it's hotter than Daisy Fuentes, circa 1988, is nearly impossible.  The solution for my mother was a set of dark curtains and, during the summer, an actual window air conditioner (I'm going to say AC from now on, as I'm already tired of spelling out "air conditioning").  That was a luxury which was more or less a necessity for her.  The rest of us lived in a completely un-air-conditioned environment.  Granted that this was the 1970's and very early 1980's, but it was still hot in June, July & August while living in Scranton, Pennsylvania.  

We survived.

Now I'm not going to turn this into a "kids today are soft..." kind of rant, because this isn't about kids.  While the cost of air conditioners has gone down dramatically since I was young, your average 10-year-old in 2020 probably still doesn't have the means to buy their own AC unit.  The extent to which I think AC is over-used these days, well, that's squarely on the shoulders of the adults in the world.

These days, our home as two ductless and two window AC units.  My office, from which all of this spew originates, is not a room where we use AC.  That's on purpose, by the way.  While getting hot and sweaty isn't on my short-list of fun things to do, I just don't like being in a room with AC for an extended period of time.  To me, fresh air, even if it is on the hot side, is far better than the alternative.  I do have a pedestal fan running in the office now, but I'd like to think that is just moving around the fresh air, as opposed to "conditioning" it.  One of the ductless AC units is in our bedroom, and we do use it if the night is going to be on the warm side.  This is in part because of the fact that I have, for my entire life, been engaged a running cold war (no pun intended) with sleep, so there's no sense in handing the "can't sleep" side some extra ammunition.  

Back to the point at hand.  Maybe I truly am the crazy one, but I look at almost hermetically sealed homes with a bit of disbelief.  Windows are truly fine and functional, and there are few things better than a summer breeze and the smell of nature in the air.  The improvement of simply making it cooler inside seems like it comes at just too high of a cost when you chronically miss those things.

By the way, next year's breezes here should include the smell of the honeysuckle I planted and have been dutifully caring for since April.  

Free advice:  Open your windows and actually smell the fresh air.

And wear a mask when you go outside for Pete's sake.

Spaces In Between

I think that, in each of our lives, we have times and places where big, good things occur to, around, and for us.  There are also times and places where genuinely bad things happen.  Then there are the spaces in between.  Thinking back over this past week, I'd have to go with myself currently being in one of those spaces between.

The week was intended to be what we all expect a vacation to be:  Physically and mentally escape from the pressures of everyday life.  In my case, that's a fancy way of saying "not be at work", where "work" is how I earn a living.  That, however, was really not to be, as I found out during the week that several of my co-workers had lost their jobs.  These are good people, and while I don't want to make this about the subject of corporate layoffs, I'll simply say this:  I've been there, and I know the pain.  I know that all of them will land on their feet, and I'll do anything I can to help them in that regard.

So what do you do when you try to escape work but work does not escape you?

In a way, given my experiences over the past year or so, the above isn't exactly shocking.  Maybe it's a reminder of sorts, a lesson designed to teach the fact that you can't really escape certain things.  Maybe the trick is to just seek momentary truces where available.

I, for one, am back at work tomorrow morning.  Just about anything could happen.  I could be laid off.  I could be fine.  No amount of mental gymnastics will have an impact on that outcome, which by now has already been determined anyway.  Either way, I'm good with the outcome.  To partially quote Quentin Crisp in The Naked Civil Servant, "you can't touch me now", although in my case that's because I've already felt the business end of (the rotten to the core term) rightsizing once; the second time would just be anti-climatic.

Now that I have the machinations of the corporate world fully covered, it's back to the beach.  A few random photos and observations:

The sand crabs cared not our human concerns; for them, it's all about fish for dinner.

On Friday afternoon we sat on the beach for about two hours.  I brought a book.  Instead of reading it, I instead just watched the blue sky, the white clouds, and the rolling surf.  #TimeWellSpent.

We really enjoyed our time in Sandbridge Beach.  There are no hotels there; just two large condominium complexes (the one we stayed at is above) and many homes.  It wasn't crowded and it was impeccably clean.  

Finally, while I don't take too many videos (and I've never included a video I took on the blog before), I had to capture frogs at night.  They are as good a send-off as I can think of when thinking about the week that past.

Yes, the video is mostly just blackness.  Just listen to the frogs for 30 seconds.

A Frozen Lake In Winter

A few pictures from our recent stay at the Ricketts Glen family cabins, a tradition of my wife's family.  The first three photos are of Lake Jean.

A rotting tree that just happens to also be making a face.

I've been going up "to the cabins" with my wife and her family for a number of years now.  The exact number of years escapes me, and Ms. Rivers for that matter.  The accounting though really doesn't matter all that much in the grand scheme of things.  What does matter is family, and I am eternally grateful to be a part of my wife's family.

So, what does one do in a place with no cell or Internet service in 2018?  Well for me, it was...

...about 5,000 words written.  Of that, maybe 2,000 are actually any good.

...several hikes in the "not too cold for this time of year" grounds of Ricketts Glen.

...finished reading Almost Everything:  Notes on Hope by Anne Lamott.  

...eating more cake than I should have.

...taking photographs (see above for a smattering).

...discussing all things corporate learning and HR metrics with my sister in law Julie.

...creating a new bill tracking spreadsheet for 2018.  I know, only I care about that.

...explaining the ins/outs of blogging to my mother-in-law, a published author.

...trying to figure out how to be both comfortable and warm in a cabin bunk bed.

...enjoying homemade bread created by my wife's sister's husband (my brother-in-law?).

...a drive to Benton, PA to shop in two antique stores; I bought a 40-year-old architect's scale.

...fishing a dropped prescription out from the dishwater.

...talking about our life in (real) retirement with Ms. Rivers.

...pondering life in 2019.

Happy New Year to one and all!

Penguins

While at the Mystic Aquarium on Sunday I happened upon the penguin exhibit.  These are, without a doubt, some of the most photogenic creatures on Earth.  The seem to pose for the camera.  Anyway, here are some pictures of penguins.

Lastly, this isn't a penguin, obviously, but I like the photo never the less.

Rickett's Glen Hike - September 14, 2013

A few shots from the hike at Ricketts Glen this past Saturday.

I probably took 50 or 60 pictures, so picking out 5 that Blogger will let me share was difficult.  

The hike itself was invigorating.  The air was clean, if not a bit chilly at the top and the terrain challenging from time to time.  I will confess to having mildly sore knees by the end of the day.  But all told, it was the best possible way I know of to get sore knees.

A special "shout out" to Chris' mom, who proved that the key to living a great life is, in part, to stay active.  She was there the whole way up, up hill, as folks younger than me were going down hill and complaining.  Inspiration 101.

It would be nice to do this again just as the Fall foliage is at its peak.  You can read more about Ricketts Glen HERE.

In NEPA, how we treat our rivers says a lot about how we view ourselves

We were driving through downtown Wilkes-Boro the other day, in route to Staples to pick up some boxes for my unending process of cleaning, packing and (hopefully, eventually) moving.  Heading over the Market Street Bridge and spying the Hotel Sterling, I was once again amazed at the fact that here was prime real estate sitting along what could be a scenic river and it was a occupied by a building that is basically just a petri dish for mold.  Very sad.

In fact, as you drive up and down the frontage that towns have along the Susquehanna River it's not difficult to be amazed by how beautiful it could all be.  Then, of course, I remind myself that not that long ago, the river was basically viewed as being some combination of toilet/industrial waste disposal facility.  With this in mind, a decrepit and decaying hotel is, probably, par for the course.  In fact, it's probably a decent avatar for a river is the equivalent to a 55 year old Meth-head.

(Scenic river vistas, Forty Fort style)

Now to be fair, this isn't just a problem in "Da Valley", as Scranton is (in)famous for treating the Lackawanna River like a toilet for decades a well.  Personally I think it's all part of an attitude that is still somewhat prevalent in NEPA today, where many residents simply don't really care what happens around them, just as long as "they got theirs".

Got that good job at the Da Depot?  Score!  Who cares if [insert name of convicted NEPA politician here] was ripping the tax payers off!

Got your uncle on the School Board and now in line for a teaching position?  Excellent!  Who cares if the river stinks of benzine and feces!  It's "down there" anyway!

It's as if local residents had their brains permanently switched over to survival mode, and just as long there was money for a decent car, some Genny in the fridge and a mortgage payment for that former miner shanty, all was well in the world.  It's the modern day equivalent of Bread and Circuses.

It doesn't have to be this way, and slowly some attitudes are changing.  River events happening throughout the area (like THIS) actually mean that some people see these natural places as resources, and not just for industrial and human waste disposal either.  A younger generation, maybe not quite so indoctrinated into the "turn a blind eye to what the Man is doing just as long as you get yours" philosophy of life, may yet see the rivers as a place to go to, not avoid.

I also think there are some common sense (but because of politics probably unlikely) things that governments can do in NEPA to help transform our river-scapes:

1. Eliminate development in chronic flood zones.  There are still too many boarded up places along the Susquehanna River...just drive up the Eight Street Bridge to see what I mean.
2. Require local municipalities to maintain their portion of green space along river banks.  See the photos above.  A rotting washer sitting along a river bank screams volumes about NEPA.
3. Encourage local businesses to adopt portions of the river. We do it with highways, so why not with something like a major river?
4. Aggressively pursue those folks who still insist in not connecting to sewage treatment systems (come on, we all know or have heard of people who have their toilets dumping into some mind bore hole that eventually makes its way into the Susquehanna).  Ditto for industrial polluters, for what few there may still be in the region.

The Hotel Sterling's property should be an incredibly valuable asset.  Why not? It's prime real estate sitting along a major river, which is most places in this country would be a good thing; the fact that it's not speaks volumes for the work that is still to be done in NEPA.

About the header.

The new header picture was taken at Great Falls National Park using a telephoto lens on my Sony Alpha.  The park covers both sides of the Potomac River, northwest of Washington DC, where there are rapids that make the river generally not navigable.  You can read more about the park HERE.

Here are a few more pictures of the park.

It's a beautiful place...well worth visiting if you are in the Washington DC area.  

Critics of the hurricane Irene warnings

I continue to be amazed at the Monday morning quarterbacks who bemoan what they perceive as the overly hyped warnings associated with hurricane Irene.  These are, without a doubt, the same folks who would complain the LOUDEST if the damage from the hurricane were greater than anticipated.  Pardon me, but when it comes to protecting human life I will always air on the side of caution.

Conversely, kudos to the hard working folks at the National Weather Service, NOAA, and all of the state/local officials (including NJ Governor Christie) who cared more about safety than expediency.  In this day and age when too many are quick to point the finger of BLAME at government for all the ills of society, it's important to point out where government plays an essential role.

Field Notes, Thursday August 18th

I had this preconceived notion of just what Maine is supposed to be like, you know, not all that different that the preconceived notions that many of us have about other places (for example that the Jersey Shore is full of air-headed greasers and orange bimbos with multiple tattoos).  It's heartening to know that, on balance, those notions were correct.

The above noted, I give you the Bass Harbor light house...

Yes, rocky coast, waves crashing, buoys buoying, sailboats plying the coast...it's all here, in living color.  This place is as exactly as advertised.

There is a certain uniqueness in this day and age to a place like this.  I know, it sounds as if I am writing advertising copy, but too bad, 'tis how I feel. I am sure that, somehow, the Maine tourism folks would be happy at this spew.  I think that in this day and age we get accustomed to the sensational.  We expect the be dazzled at the moment so that then we an move on.  This is the same culture that decided that instant communication via email wasn't enough...no, we also need it is about 60 characters or less via Twitter.  In all of this crazy pace, you know what?  The sailboats seem to move up and down the waterways here at what must be the same speed they have always moved.  Couple that with the fact that I sit here typing via a wireless Internet connection and we get an interesting dichotomy.  Despite the speed of my connection and the wonderful tech I have in front of me, this place still seems to move slowly.

Ah, moving slowly.  I sometimes forget just what "slow" means.  Here and now I appreciate just how fast my life moves.  Whether it is the mile and a minute pace of work (where I seldom actually get a sit-down lunch) or evenings filled with trying to get stuff crammed in, now I think I truly appreciate just how fast my life has become.  This is part of the uniqueness of this place:  it forces you to measure time the old-fashioned way.  Tides don't operate in Twitter time and the fog takes most of the morning to clear out.

As the week winds down I'm beginning to think about some what I will be taking back to my "real" life.  I know that there will be some tangible things, such as maybe 300 pictures and a tee-shirt or two, but I am mostly interested in the tangible things that sit in the back of your head, things that persist long after the tee-shirts are fashioned into rags and the photos misplaced.  These are the things that really matter.  I suspect I will have a few of these really important things to take back with me Scranton.

One things I know to be true:  I needed to be in this place at this time.

Field Notes, Wednesday August 17th (Whale Watching)

There be whales off the coast of Maine...

It's going to take me a good hour or so to get the salt out of my Sony H7 but it was worth it.