Moon Man

I promised a few of you cheated of the first Winter Solstice Lunar Eclipse since the Viking Age...that I'd share some images I was able to grab on early morning of the 21st. "I HAD to stay up since it was my birthday. Never know....there might be an omen in there somewhere."

So here they are:

If you want to catch the development of the eclipse, start at the bottom and work your way up. I had to do a little editing to get these close to what you'd see with the naked eye, but not much.

So, anyway, if you missed the eclipse because of all the rotten weather just about everywhere, you can now tell your grandchildren, "Oh, yeah I saw that event." Just play senile when they start asking you questions about it.

Dog Gone It

"WHERE'S VICTOR BORGE? I WANT TO PLAY."

Peggy wants a dog for Christmas. She says she wants the pet to keep ME company (aka keep ME busy) when she is not around. She pretends to be flexible on the breed, but let me list some parameters that OUGHT to influence her subtle choice.

With some mild hyperbole, let me say our backyard is about 10 x 10, and I'm not talking acres here. We have dogs to the left of us and dogs to the right of us. We have fairly high north and south fences. To the west? Barbed wire, followed by open space, followed by a new major thoroughfare.

Now here's another wrinkle I think should be considered. While I have at least three different cultures mixed into my DNA, at least one of them, enhanced by my surname, is Norwegian. So what appears to be Peggy's primary canine choice? Can you guess?

Would it be Great Dane? I'm not finding any research that shows the Danes and Norwegians to be particularly chummy with each other.

While the Great Dane's disposition ranks among the friendliest of the species, there is evidence they can raise a ruckus among other beasts of kind.

And sure, there is literature citing the Great Dane to be perfectly comfortable cuddling up in your lap (overwhelming your lap).

However, there is ample incidental evidence telling us any gentle Great Dane leap over barbed wire could not only result in great calamity? Is could also certainly lead to the this lesser Scandinavian breed crawling up into just about any lap it finds.

But I'm not going to be Scrooge here. Besides if Peggy decides she's going to have something?

Been there?

However, there is one sticking point I am going to insist on. She (Peggy) must promise to read Marmaduke every single day between now and Christmas Eve. Wish me luck! Or not!

DUCK!

I know it's a goose. Duck just seemed to be more polite.

So you may have read the rudiments of my vehicle woes in concert with my coffee drinking buddy Jeff Stroh. But if not, let me do a quick recap.

Well no holiday season is as wonderful as we tell everybody it is. You can't have this many things happening out of routine without something going awry. Well we are a two car family, and while that might be wasteful for a retired couple? It is what we are used to.

So this past week my OIL LIGHT came on. (That part of the story will require another blog entry.) Anyway, to get to the point, Peggy and I have been a one car retired couple for five days.

So I get her car Friday morning to go enjoy my ritual coffee with Jeff Stroh. We've known each other for 35 years and have a lot of war stories to relive. But to tell this part of this saga I need only go back to said Friday.

I pull into the parking lot at an agreed upon coffee house (they don't need any additional advertising.)

I pop out of the car, and according to my nearly lifelong ritual, I pat myself on all my pockets to make sure I'm carrying all my necessities. Yep, you guessed it. For maybe the tenth time in memory I forgot to pack my wallet and my cell phone.

Well, my tale of woe was covered by Jeff's pre-paid coffee card. We shared a glance I didn't totally understand as I returned to the table with my Soy Chai. I didn't need to nudge him much to get the whole story. Turns out when Jeff showed up at un-named coffee house, he had this sinking feeling he'd left his wallet at home.

"No problem, Paul will cover me."

And I would have, could I have. But hang on. This story is far from over.

We always talk a little politics, some sports, and then toss in the personal stuff of the week. So I shared with Jeff the sad news my oil light came on, and that so far it had cost me two hundred dollars and the tab was rising. He countered with a similar woe involving his wife Janie's vehicle.

Well, fully exhausted from our weekly therapy, we part. He has to stop at the facility before heading home, so I'm out of the parking lot before he leaves.

I get home and Peggy and I attempt to organize our one car priorities. Those plans were interrupted by my cell phone vibrating from another room. So I'm assuming I've got a message. I did and it was date lined about five minutes after I left the coffee shop. Guess who?

"Hey, Paul. It's Jeff. Just thought you'd like to know my engine light just came on."

My guess is it is the work of the ghost of a county commissioner whose life Jeff and I tried to destroy (for good cause) thirty years ago.

I'm sure there will be more to this story, but enough for now. I do want to add some thoughts about being a one vehicle retired family. Sure you get closer. You discuss (fight) priorities. You rediscover eye (daggers) contact. And you ultimately resign yourselves to compromise and sing together,

" 'TIS THE SEASON TO BE JOLLY!

Rich 2

Rich

Soar with Eagles

Some decades ago I took an adventurous drive across the middle of the West on U.S. Highway 50. I had my camera with me and got some great shots...but this was one of those trips where the big one (not a fish) got away.

Highway 50 ends in the middle of California, and at least in those days there were not any clearly marked detours.

So I stopped the car, sat the camera on my dash, and opened up a map on the hood. About a minute into my perusal I hear this familiar "rattle" a few feet away. My juices started to flow. I knew I hadn't moved around so I shouldn't have been the irritant that had this beast shaking it's tail.

Then from behind me I feel a gust of wind, and then?

A huge Golden Eagle swept over my shoulder, dipped to the ground, and popped right back up with this very upset rattlesnake in the grip of the Eagle's talons. And where was my camera for all this? Still sitting there on the dash.

Well for the most part I've been pretty kind to birds since then, and the word must have gotten. Because this past weekend, the BIG BIRD you see here visited this Austrian Pine in the backyard and seemed to say, "Okay, Paul, go get your camera. I don't have all day."

It's no Golden Eagle, although it is about the same size. It is a Female Ferruginous Hawk, probably here to make sure the open area behind us is rodent free.

"Could you just move your head a little bit back to your left?"

"Yeah, but make it quick. I'm late for supper."

"SNAP!"

"Thank you, ma'am. Will I see you back around these parts again, any time soon?"

"Too hard to tell. Is that a digital?"

"Yeah, Nikon D-70."

"Nice! See you around. Prairie dogs are barkin'. I gotta fly."


Wow!

Mighty Eagles

50 years ago a bunch of students from working class families outside Los Angeles, got their education in Bell, California at BELL HIGH SCHOOL. Oh, there were some bright and talented members of that 1960 class. But sociologists weren't convinced we'd amount to much. But as we returned to Bell High on homecoming and 50 year reunion day, that sure wasn't the way we felt.

The entire high school band stepped out of class to greet us. As fellow offensive lineman on the football team, Warren Sapp (different Warren Sapp) quipped, we never got this kind of salute when we were playing. Of course none of us could remember a football game we won.

Here's that football field. It has changed very little in 50 years. One change you can't see well in the picture is a fast-food restaurant that's taken over the site of Bell Plumbing and Heating. That's where my Dad used to work on his days off as a fireman.

That's Bell's Warren Sapp down there with a little less hair than he owned in 1960. That's his wife Mary on the right. Classmates Loretta and Elaine on the left.

We ran into a number of jaw dropping revelations on campus. This one really blew our minds. See all the names on the back of that Tee Shirt down there? They are names of Bell High Graduates who are now employed at Bell High School. The man wearing the shirt, a math teacher, graduated in 1969.

I'm pretty confident we didn't have anyone working in Bell willing to reside within ten miles of the place.

We were really impressed that pretty much the same physical plant could hold twice the number of students it held in 1960.

We were overwhelmed with the politeness, the self confidence and the pride this new student body carried with them.

Oh, we've had our life successes. That's Larry Ramos vocal lead and CEO of the Association. One of his group's songs, "Never My Love," is still the third most played single in radio history. I was a big fan of their hit "Wendy." The students revealed a mural in honor of Larry on the cafeteria's Wall Of Fame during our visit.

That's Steve Snyder on the left below, member of a very successful San Francisco law firm. He is sitting next to Rich Case, my college room mate. Rich was trained as an engineer, but has since gotten his Masters degree in environmental science, and is a consultant to agencies wanting to preserve their forests.

He is most famous amongst us for taking a copy of the "Whole Earth Catalog," traveling to British, Colombia in the late 1960's, finding some land he could homestead, and building his cabin from hand. It still exists, and he spends a lot of time there. A warning to anyone wanting to visit. It involves a two hour canoe trip with portaging to get there.

That's Paula Prewitt Perich on the right, who has had a very successful marketing and public relations career. She flew in from Texas to hug Alice (Purcell) Goecke, as we all did. That's because Alice, once again demonstrated some incredible skills at bringing us all together, and getting us to behave.

It is not the best shot I have of Tim Ewing, but I wanted to show him in his comfort zone. Tim was a starting forward on the basketball team. They fared much better in competition than the football team. He is standing right underneath the same basket that captured his jump shots 50 years ago. (They have a new gym, but have kept the old one.)

Tim is retired from careers in steel and pharmaceuticals. He owned a company in one field, and was national sales manager in the other.

John Shilling (not shown) is a prominent attorney in Newport Beach. Tom Wariner (not shown) is a Superior Court judge in Northern California. Kenny Long (not shown), carved a great career in journalism. And that is just a sampling.

But I've buried the lead a bit. If those sociologists, and statisticians were to look at the futures of today's Bell High School students, they'd likely conclude, as they did with us, their chances of thriving in this society are slim. This town is currently rife with scandal. With language barriers, poverty level incomes, and crippling costs of living, you'd guess success would be the last goal on these students minds. But WE now know different.

As we cheered together, shared tales of yore, and new student adventures in 2010? As we sang the fight song and Alma Mater together, we found an instant bond. We share a pride. We know they are going to make it. And one of the reasons they are going to make it is that same pride we all had in ourselves....that when were told we couldn't do it? We said, and this new student body says, "WATCH US!!!"

"ON BELL HIGH SCHOOL." "WE UNITE TO SING THY PRAISES, PLEDGING WILLING HEART AND HAND." "GET THAT BALL AND FIGHT." "GO BELL!"

How Many?

Let's get this started. Mark Twain, a roll model of mine, said over and over again, "there are three kinds of lies, lies, damn lies, and statistics."

He said it so many times, that even though he attributed it to British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli, most people are determined to assign it to Twain.

Let me add to that a quote from my ex-wife Karen. An accomplished lobbyist, she must have said this ten times a day.

"DO YOUR HOMEWORK!"

Like Twain I doubt Karen would take quote creation credit.

What does any of this have to do with Bell, California and its scandal?

Well, I've been doing my homework, and I'm about to share with you some "lies, damn lies, and statistics."

The first harmless lie comes from me. "No one who graduated from Bell High School in the Summer class of 1960 still lives there." I won't declare that an absolute truth fearing there is a straggler hiding in the bushes. Suffice it to say the character of Bell has morphed into a whole new world. And, if we just stick to the conclusion we typically apply to these statistics, the change is not for the better.

Let's look at some of the conclusions drawn by City-data.com. They have pulled their supporting numbers from a number of sources, including the census.

. Median household income is below the state average. ($39,394.00)

. Unemployment percentage is above the state average. (15.7 % April of this year)

. Cost of living index as of 2009 is very high. (162.0 in Bell compared to U.S Avg. 100)

. The size of Bell is 2.48 square miles.

. The population of Bell in 1960 was approximately 20 thousand.

. The population of Bell today is just under 40 thousand.

. Just under 20 thousand of that 40 thousand are foreign born.

. The city is 90 percent Hispanic.

Bell has no theatres. (They had two in 50's, one in the 60's.)

It has four small motels listed ( I didn't see them), no hotels.

The streets are narrow.

Most of the housing stock can be traced back to the 1930's and 1940's.

(They tore our house down in the 70's to make room for a school. My sisters and I argue whether the historical Reinertson site is now in the middle of a parking lot, or a grassy play area of the school. Can't give you a date but my sister Brenda remembers Dad telling us he paid about $2,500.00 for the house in the late 30's. And she remembers him negotiating with the bank and got a $ 25.00 a month mortgage until he could afford to pay $50.00 a month. Thanks to an alleged corrupt city government that house today would be valued at over $400,000.00. My other sister, Theda and her husband Jerry still own property in Bell. They say they HAD noticed taxes seemed to be getting a little high?)

So you can probably guess my level of disappointment as the tour bus inched into town. And you would be WRONG!

Here are some other numbers for you.

Bell has one of the lowest property crime rates in the entire L.A. Basin.

The divorce in Bell rate hovers around 5%.

I saw very few homes that weren't freshly painted, and yards immaculately landscaped.

I know there must be some, but I saw not one spray can's worth of graffiti.

Not everyone on that bus is going to agree with me, but I LIKE THE NEW BELL. It really is SWELL.

And that really raises my indignation towards these city officials ripping off people who they knew were vulnerable. And they were ripping off people who clearly care.

But wait until we get to our trip to Bell High School on Home Coming day. That's coming next.

Is that a crack in the BELL?

"So where you all from?"

"Bell, California!"

"Oh, you mean Bell Gardens?"

"No, Bell!"

"Was that Bellflower?"

"No, Bell!"

"Oh, now I get it. You all are from Belair?"

"NO, Bell!"

"Belmont Shore?"

"LOOK, PAL, remember the little town where the city manager, mayor, some council people and a few others employees were caught making fortunes, at the cost of poor local taxpayers? Some of them, we are told, were making more than the President of the United States!"

"OOOH, THAT BELL!"

This is going to be all about the town I grew up in, ( 9 miles south of Downtown Los Angeles) and I'm not going to put a lot in this first posting. I don't want to risk boring you.

Let me just say to you, me and my classmates just held the 50 year anniversary celebration of our graduation from Bell High School. It took place in Huntington Beach this past week. What a hoot! The highlight for most of us was a bus trip to and through Bell. We got to look at our old houses, then a student led tour of our high school.

There was the anticipation, the tour, and then some really wonderful flips of our expectations at the high school.

Just as a starter, that is not the City Manager up there cutting a deal with another city employee. That is me and my former classmate Loretta. We are PRETENDING we are cutting a deal.

The reason we had time to take this picture? We had a picnic on park benches right next to city hall. It was an arrangement made long before the scandal broke.

I'm not going to say much more at this point. But I'll attempt to tease you a bit by repeating my own revelation as a career journalist. "The STORY you think you have is NEVER the SAME STORY after you get there.

I won't promise a new posting every day. But I'm going to try. SO? Hope to see you soon.

WOW!!

It is so nice to have a BLOG when you know that Face Book, Twitter and e-mail won't do the trick.
It is going to start out as an instructional or entertainment piece based on your perspective. Entertainment for me. I will end it on a much higher plane than I've ever flown before. You'll decide for yourself.
The end of June of this year I was out loping branches off a 20 year Aspen. I tell you it's age because landscaping experts say that is just about the predicted life span of an individual Aspen.
Anyway, that Aspen got back at me. I started feeling dizzy, and then faint, and I went inside and my blood pressure ( I take blood pressure medicine) shot up to 180 over 120. (Those are not good numbers, by the way, on or off medication.)
So I tell Peggy what I'm experiencing. She takes my temperature. It is over a hundred one. And then she says you're calling the Dr. (And, oh, its on the weekend.)
I fight her for a while, but give in.
I get through to my Doctor (Dr. So and So) and, he and I chat. He says, "to be on the safe side you'd better go to the emergency room at (such and such) hospital. "
Peggy drives me there with neither of us knowing I'm in for a three day stay. I don't believe there is a heart machine or stress test in there I didn't take. And they kept finding nothing. So Peggy and I are sitting chatting with Dr. So and So,So, a compatriot of Dr. So and So.
He runs around the hospital checking out all these test results and says, "you know that CT scan we took of your heart?"
"Yeah." "
"Well your THYROID shows up so low in your sternum it shows up in the scan. It has a very irregular growth on it. AND it is sitting right on top of your Vegus Nerve which can affect balance."
Seemed to make sense.
"But I think I'm going to send you down to the radiologist to get a needle biopsy to make sure we are not dealing with something else."
So? Well the needle biopsy says all this irregular mass on my Thyroid is made up of Hurthle Cells. And I guess nobody in my little clique at this point knew that Hurthle cells are NOT always cancerous. In fact Hurthle cells in the THYROID are almost never cancerous.
(Don't take my word for that please. I'm just quoting and paraphrasing my sources.)
So! I was sent on to an endocrinologist to plan our life time relationship. She, too, spoke of cancer. ( She is a very stately yet easy to talk to person, who also assumed I had cancer.)
BUT, and this was the first time in the process it came out. You can not do an effectively true biopsy on your THYROID until you yank it out of there. So Dr. she and she sends me to THE SURGEON OF NOTE!
(He's had some pretty noteworthy clients, but seems uneasy with a lot of publicity so let's make him Dr. SEE AND SEE.)
After looking at ALL the tests, he says, "first of all Thyroid Hurtle cells are hardly ever cancerous.....about 20 percent of the time they are malignant.
But you are definitely a candidate to get that Thyroid out of there, and then, and only then can we confirm one way or another whether there is cancer in there."
"Okay, let's do it."
"Not so fast. I don't have an opening for a month and a half."
"But isn't that too long to wait?"
"A MASS that large has been there a long, long time, and there is no evidence any cancer has spread to any other part of your body. We've got plenty of time."
Okay, let's shorten this story. Last week they walked off with my Thyroid. I wait another 3 days for biopsy results, and the news is NO CANCER. So how do I feel? Angry? Bitter? Scared? Resentful?
NONE OF THE ABOVE. I STILL LIKE ALL THESE DOCTORS AND APPRECIATE THEY ARE HUMAN. I've been saving that picture I took about 15 years ago....just for this moment. I didn't know that's what I was saving it for, but THAT my friends is how I feel.

JUST HORSIN' AROUND!

But I do have some advice. About every five minutes say to your medical men and women, "ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT?"

Odd?

Money IS coming from somewhere.

Went for a walk today in a rural area very quickly becoming suburban.

How do I know that about the money? Because we're walking on this five mile long highway that wasn't even public knowledge 6 months ago.

They've already cut through a deep thoroughfare hidden by massive berms. It is already half paved. But because of those berms, it is not likely you'll ever know it's there until you use it, or fly over it.

Now here is the topper. They say they'll have it done by the end of the year.

No, wait a minute, here's the topper! It is being built a mile away from a new highway that will run parallel to it. That road has been on the books for at least a decade, but it won't be fininished until 2012.

You'd think that would be about all the ODD a person could take in a day. But we are walking along this construction site and up pops a coyote. It skitters by us, crawls under a fence and disappears to where ever coyotes disappear to. I guess not THAT odd. But right after that?

Three cowboys ride up with their trusty cattle herding dog (either a Border Collie or Australian Shepherd.) Really nice looking quarter horses. So we exchange howdies, and they ride off down some creek bed to tend to some steers. But just as they part, that little cattle dog leaves the cow poke party and starts hiding behind us. Odd!

This soft spoken giant in beige boots (no spurs) comes riding up to me, jumps off Trigger, and says, "Here, hold muh horse," and hands me the reins.

"Yes, sir! Isn't he supposed to hang out with you and help round up the herd? "

"Well, first of all, he's a she. Named Dally (pronounced dolly.) Problem is she's afraid of horses."

He picks Dally up in his arms, remounts with my help, thanks me, and as he's is riding back into the creek bed, he says, " if I hadn't picked her up just now, she probably would have followed you all the way home."

So we mosied on our way surveying this new highway project. We walked about an hour in three or four different directions, and then on our way back to the car? Yup! Here comes Dally. With the cowpokes? Nope! Her herding instincts she applied to us. Licked us a lot when we behaved like we were supposed to. Nipped at us if we moved in any wrong direction.

Peggy was adamant.

"We are not going to leave her until we get her back to her owners."

Well turns out there were a bunch of phone numbers on Dally's collar. Cell phone to the rescue you'd think. But out of all those phone numbers we got through to just one female voice mail.

Well just as we were about to set up camp for the night, we see our wranglers up on a hill and wave wildly to them. They finally catch sight of us and with Peggy hanging on to Dally with all her might, the dog is reluctantly reunited with her family.

"Kind of odd for a Border Collie, or Australian Shepherd to be afraid of horses isn't it," I ask.

"That's not nearly half the problem. She's also afraid of cows."

I've got to tell you. In my mind, THAT'S ODD!

They rode off, and we drove off, and fortunately none of us into the sunset.

BUT IN THIS ECONOMY I STILL WANT TO KNOW WHERE THE MONEY IS COMING FROM TO BUILD THIS ROAD? AND WHO IS GOING TO TAKE CARE OF THE COYOTE?

Tough Talk

This is a story I've told often, but not one I really ever thought would be important to tell.

Back in the 70's, during some other oil crisis, I was doing a daily radio feature titled "Tighten Your Belt."

I'll be honest. It was not easy to come up with something interesting every day. But one day, whatever I did, elicited a rather entertaining reaction.

"Hey, Paul, y0u got a call on line one."

"Thanks. Hi! This is Paul, can I help you?"

"Maybe! My name is @#$#@. I own *%$#* oil. Whadda ya doin' right now?"

"Just gettin' ready to leave for the day, why?"

"Grab your tape recorder and get on down here to Combs Gates."

I need to tell you at this point that this guy had the "Voice of God." My vocal range drifts between bass and baritone, but this guy made me resemble a soprano.

But I was young and brave in those days.

"I'll be right there."

Combs Gates was where you landed your private jet in Denver. They had a small, but lush meeting room. I was told I would find my interview there waiting for me. You know, how some times, men with really deep voices, turn out to be guys about 4'8" tall in heels? Well, no Wizard of Oz in this case.

I can't be totally accurate, but I'd guess my height at the time? Oh, 6'1". Weight? Maybe 210 lbs.

Well, this owner of what he called a small independent oil company, out stood me by about 6 inches, and out girthed me a minimum of a hundred pounds.

"Sit down," he says.

I suppose I should have "high-tailed" it out of there right then. But a combination of that youth, false bravado, curiosity and out right fear, had me responding positively to his command.

Let me finish his description. He had a very ruddy complexion, arms the size of sequoias, a neck that didn't really exist.

I sat down and started to push play and record on the machine.

"Hold on," he says. "Let's talk first before we tape anything."
(Precursor of "Go On the Record.")

"Not a problem," I say.

"Why is it, whenever there is a story about oil, we always get all this rotten publicity from you guys in the media."

Well, well, well. I guess if I'm about to be cut up and swallowed by Shrek, I might as well get in some final words. So, and I can tell you from my side, this is not paraphrased. It is exactly what I said, and I guess in retrospect, since I'm still alive, glad I said.

"IT IS BECAUSE YOUR INDUSTRY IS MADE UP OF GRIZZLED OLD FARTS LIKE YOU THAT THINK IT IS NEVER ANYBODY ELSE'S BUSINESS WHAT THEY'RE UP TO."

Oh, yeah, I got the expression you'd imagine, and I was thinking maybe I should have left some nice notes for next of kin. But you know what? That grimace, very slowly turned to a grin. And following a VEEEEERY long pause he says, (unfortunately I still hadn't turned on the tape recorder) "YOU MIGHT BE RIGHT."

With that, he flew back to Texas and immediately hired a sharp, reputable public relations firm.....clearly something BP might have considered.

I think I heard from him once after that. That oil crisis ended soon afterwards, and we all got back to doing what we were doing before it started. To be honest?

I hope this gulf situation doesn't end that way. We need some good solar powered cruise ships in the Gulf.

Mea Culpa Diva

Ante-pros! Seems like a well structured and thought out oxymoron, eh?

Instead it is a short form of ante-proscenium.

Ante-proscenium is a theatre term that often describes a production element that originates off stage. Oh, lets say like a follow spot, or spot light that follows the action of key players on stage. Bored?

Well I guess I was bored too during college rehearsals of Gilbert and Sullivan's Ruddigore. Let's see, that was back in 19*^$. You see I was sitting up in this slit in the ceiling (ante-pros) above the audience. I was operating the follow spot making sure every Diva Gets Her Due.

Okay, now jump up to a week ago.

A week ago is when I was doing my fourth ever piano recital piece. It was "All I Ask of You," from Phantom of the Opera. I really wanted to shine, particularly since it was a duet piece with my Piano Guru, Rosemary Rogers. And I have to say it was going pretty well. And there was good evidence the melody was recognizable. But more on that later. Right now back to Ruddigore folo spot.

Partly because I was bored, and partly because it was just something I always did, I found myself humming along with the airs of Gilbert and Sullivan. And over time during rehearsals? By golly I memorized all the lyrics of all the parts. And guess what? I started singing along during rehearsals. Nobody seemed to notice, and I was having a ball.

Back to my recital. About two thirds of the way through "All I Ask of You?" I hear this humming from somewhere in the first row. It is a resonant, well trained hum and at first I didn't think much about it. It seemed flattering.

I was probably thinking I was flattering the light opera stars during that production of Ruddigore, but I guess not. During technical and dress rehearsals all of us technical people put on our headsets so we could hear each other and get things right on stage. It also meant the director, the stage manager, the props manager, the sound manager, the lighting guru? They were all listening to me enhance Ruddigore. And I guess they didn't like it.

They were going out of their minds trying to figure out who was doing the accompaniment. It was not helpful, they said in harsher words than those. In fact whoever it was, was "screwing up the whole production."

Not being as sensitive as I am today, I just giggled to myself and ultimately shut up. And besides nobody ever said I was flat or sharp. And in case you're wondering? No I never did tell them who that was singing along.

Well back to the recital and that flattering humming coming from the first row. It must have been pretty good humming because I started paying more attention to it than what I was doing. And as I looked at the music in front of me, D's became A's, F's became E's. And then I froze like a Popsicle. Oh, I got through it. But now in retrospect I want to express my sincerest apologies to the cast and crew of the producti0n of Ruddigore at Long Beach State in the year 19*&^%. I hope you all went on to have smashingly successful careers in opera and theatre.

(I'm going to try and not hum at other people's performances from now on. It is not going to be easy. Ye that hum know what I'm talking about.)

Spring!...into action.

"KNOCK, KNOCK! ANYBODY HOME?"

Well, here it is again, eh? Spring. Not all the trees are leafed out yet. But we've had enough moisture I felt pressured to trim the grass today.

I rather enjoy doing the front yard 'cause I get to talk to the neighbors. And I hope you'll see that as a comfortable transition in to the topic of this posting.

Some of you, at least I hope some of you, that gather with me on Facebook...may be aware of my disdain of a certain door to door sales pitch. If the PITCHer, says to me the PITCHee, "sir you are gong to want this service because all your neighbors are getting it.?"

You see I know he is lying because? I know my neighbors. So recently I vowed the next time I came face to face with that pitch from the PITCHer, I would reply, " Hey, let's you and I go talk to all my neighbors and see how many of them have signed up for your service. "

Let's be honest. That was an after thought, sort of an internalized road rage. But you know what? Who is it going to hurt, huh? So, today, as fate would have it? I'm having my graham crackers and milk when the I hear the "BRINGG BRINGG of the doorbell. I look through the peep hole and there HE is, the PITCHer.

He is youngish, from my perspective. I'm guessing he is working his way through Junior College on his door to door commissions. And yet he must be wise beyond his years. For, he could, with all certainty, predict that a bunch of little bugs would be around to munch on all my leaves soon (leaves, by the way that haven't even arrived yet). And then he DID IT!

"Sir I've been working with a lot of your neighbors so you can all get control of these bugs right away."

BIG MISTAKE.

"I'm sorry son, may I call you son? I don't much like that sales tool that asks me to be just like all my neighbors. I'll tell you what! Let's you and I go talk to all my neighbors and just see how many of them have signed up for your service."

Now the first time you do something like this you can only guess at the response. And I have to tell you I was WAY off. Were it me I think I'd get a little defensive and try to say something mean to this PITCHee (like your mother wears army boots). But this guy?

He just starting giggling, uncontrollably. Even after I added, "No I don't want your service," he couldn't squelch his quiet guffaws.

He stepped off the porch, passing the Aspen, Maple and Pine trees on his way. I'm pretty sure he looked up at the trees, and giggled even harder. And you know how your ABS start BOUNCING, and it is hard to get air in when you are trying to control a laugh? Those were his symptoms. I only wish I could have been a fly on the front door of his next stop.

I will feel guilty if he doesn't earn his Fall tuition this summer.

So, any way, there is my Spring gift to you. Go mow the front lawn, get to know your neighbors, and go lie in wait for the PITCHer.

Oh, here is another little gift I got brave enough to use while working in a TV news room. I've already shared this one with most of my students. When the station's network decides to cut into a local football game, to show some other game from another part of the country? Every phone in the complex will be ringing and every voice on the other end will be furious. It is hard to stay polite. So instinctively, one day, I just opened up the line and answered, "CUSTODIAN."

Believe me, nobody wants to talk to, let alone complain to, the CUSTODIAN. For what its worth. Happy Spring.

Shake, Rattle and.....

ROLL WITH THE PUNCHES.

If.....you become a reporter and stay one for any length of time? Well you are going to be out there reporting on most natural disaster phenomena known to man. I've missed a few. Let's see....

Lightning? Been to lightning caused fires, been to stories where lightning has taken lives. Been to stories of miraculous survivals from lightning strikes. Stood within 200 ft. of lightning strikes.

Forest fires? Too many to count living here in the Rockies. You always remember the pained expressions of those who've lost homes or loved ones.

Blizzards? Almost too many to count. People buried alive in snow drifts. Seen ranchers entire live stock herds wiped out. Landed in military chopper, and then traveled a quarter of mile in 5 to 10 foot snow drifts to rescue hunters.

Tornadoes? Chased them, ran from them, witnessed them, but mostly reported on the impressive aftermaths. Seen entire communities leveled. Hard to believe there could be that much force in the universe.

Floods? Can't remember how many trailer parks I've seen wiped out by flooding....how many lives taken by high water. Why do they let them build those parks in flood planes?

Hurricanes? Not been in one or reported on one. But Peggy and I were in Cozumel a week after one there. I'd call the damage moderate. And on that trip we spent a night in New Orleans just before Katrina hit. Just the thoughts of our timing leaves an impression.

Tsunamis? Only seen the results of them along the Pacific Northwest coast. If you are paying attention along Highway 1 and 101 north of San Francisco all the way to Alaska you'll see all these markers showing you escape routes if one hits.

Ironically there is one natural disaster I've clearly never reported on.

Want to avoid lightning? Stay inside. Don't climb mountains above tree line after noon.

Forest fires? Clear growth around your property. Pay attention to fire warnings. Know an escape route.

Blizzard. You'll know its coming. Get inside or underground or break the speed limit getting to grandma's house. Have provisions around.

Tornadoes? React to warnings Go underground or as last resort into a gully. If you are going to out run them (in a motor vehicle) make sure you're going the opposite direction.

Hurricanes? Inland.

Floods and Tsunamis? Higher ground.

How about EARTHQUAKES? Know what to do when an EARTHQUAKE HITS? Me neither.

And the irony is I grew in California. I know all about slip faults ( The San Andreas Fault is a slip fault.) I know all about thrust faults. (Those are the ones they always portray in movies because the land moving up and down is more dramatic than moving back and forth.)

I've been through the "rolling earthquakes", the "shakers", watched the dishes fly out of the cupboard, seen the watter slosh up out of the pool. But ask me what to do when an EARTHQUAKE HITS?

NOTHING! I HAVE NO IDEA. It is the only experience in my life that has given me TOTAL HUMILITY.

It is a sensation you will never forget. As I've said to many people in and outside EARTHQUAKE territory? Please forgive me, but I MISS THEM.

UMPH!!!

I've been working out at a health club the past couple of months. Just trying to get in shape for life. I'm past the point of having to show up in the middle of the night so no one will see me. Lately I think I've been making some progress....but until yesterday I couldn't know for sure. I can't afford a personal trainer who'd be sure to tell me every day how I am doing.

There are, of course, some indicators that bring hope. For one thing a left hand swing on the arc of your weight scale seems to mean something positive. Oh, and having to punch a new hole to the right on your belt seems to bode well.

And, oh yeah, the 20 year old pair of Levis you stuffed in the back of the closet until some day you might wear them again? Sure they're tight, but now you are not ripping out the seams to get them on.

These revelations at least keep you motivated.

But last night I went from MOTIVATED to "STOKED". Why? Well because here I am working on this machine that pumps up one's deltoids. I'm on my tenth rep of my second set of three. Out of nowhere comes this middle aged guy who is really cut, showing off his "washboard abs." He saunters up to me and I'm thinking he's had a shot of testosterone and is about to say something like, "aren't you a little old to be playing with the big boys?" Instead this is what comes from his lips:

"Excuse me SIR,, would you mind if I worked in with you on this machine?"

As soon as I got my mandibles back in place, I replied, "uh, uh, yeah, not a problem."

First of all the guy asks nice. Second, did you hear that? He calls me SIR! But here's the topper. This guy DOESN'T EVEN INCREASE THE RESISTANCE WEIGHT ON THE MACHINE. WOW, what a night.

I do think positive feedback is the ultimate reward for any hard work. But let me tell you the benchmark I'm really waiting for. What is it you say? Well it is , and you likely guessed it already, WHEN MY "OUTIE" once again becomes an "INNIE". That will be a day to celebrate.

In the meantime I need to go practice saying, "pardon me sir. Would you mind if I worked in with you on this machine?"

Just say SOON

"WHEN PIGS FLY!"

In some fashion this economic situation we're in affects us all. And, in my mind, it is not all negative. Oh sure, on a personal level I'm angry with roofers, banks, insurance companies, panic motivated greed, and other stuff. BUT! When I go out to eat now, it is at lunch. I can't believe the bargains available, even at the poshest pantries.

This next observation is probably less true in the top ten major urban areas of the country. But here in the second population tier (Denver for example) I see a direct correlation with the price of gas and the number of cars on the road.

I don't get to shopping malls very often, but when I do? You can actually window shop without being crushed by a horde of humanity. In fact, while I've always heard they existed? Now I actually SEE these mall walkers who just show up to get some indoor exercise.

However, lest I attract your disdain by trying to make a silk purse out of recession, I do have what I call a negative. These downturns are starting to have a lasting impact on our language. I'm just going to use one example and I'm sure you can add your own.

There had to have been a time when the phrase "opening soon" would have been linguistically bundled with well known demands for urgency like ASAP, STAT, SOS, AND ANON. No more is that true, I say.

Four months ago I first saw a fancy sign announcing the opening of a Vietnamese restaurant, a first in this neighborhood. I got excited. I love lemon grass. But like I said, that was four months ago. I peeked inside the window last week to see only patched drywall, and concrete. But the sign is still there, OPENING SOON.

My favorite example around here is this huge piece of commercial ground a few miles away with a massive taunting sign touting a new BOWLING, AMUSEMENT CENTER. It used to say opening in the Fall of 2005. Well that date has been crossed out a lot, and replaced with the next year's numbers. And then, I'm pretty sure it was in 2007 the sign was replaced with an even bigger sign that reads, you guessed it, OPENING SOON!!

I did a story sometime in the 90's in this area, during another economic downturn, where some local entrepreneurs promised to build a golf course along a popular creek. And right after the first backhoe showed up, so did the sign giving a planned date for completion. So developers with some land close by did what? They quickly jumped on the bandwagon building slightly upgraded homes touting them as "Golf Course" homes. AND there were some people around whose wallets were fat enough they could buy these over priced structures, almost site unseen, just to be on a golf course.

Well their homes got built, they moved in, and out their windows they saw the SIGN. First it read Golf Course opening in the Spring of 199_, fill in the blank. Yeah, and after a few years of editing the OPENING DATE? The sign read: GOLF COURSE OPENING SOON.

Well those local entrepreneurs ultimately went "belly up." That of course was after the lush flora around those fancy new homes was scraped right out of the landscape. But time has been kind to the people who live in those once fancy new homes. The wildflowers, the tall grass, and even some trees came back on their own. So now, as I understand it? Homeowners, if and when the housing market turns around, will be trying to recoup their losses by touting their homes proximity to breathtaking open space. OPEN SPACE, OPENING SOON.

So anyway, thanks to the economy, let's scratch OPENING SOON off our URGENT expression cache. I don't know, I'm thinking OPENING SOON should be required to have an attendant phrase that reads, BUT MAYBE NOT IN YOUR LIFE TIME.

Well I gotta run and get some laps in at the mall. See you SOON!