Variations-Verisms-&Stuff

2009-03-21T09:45:00.000-07:00

Well, there go my dreams of Sylvan Beach, New York ever becoming a quaint lakeside village like Skaneateles or Cazenovia. Or maybe something even in-between, not quite so yuppy, but a little classy.

It was bad enough when the village put up chain link fencing along the canal to keep people from falling into the water, I guess. Then they put chain link over all the rocks along the shore path. Lovely. To add insult to injury, they started charging for parking not only in the park lots, but also on the streets. Sheesh.

Last year, someone put up some ugly houses where Sweets restaurant used to be, cluttering up the lakeshore view with plastic walls. I notice that most of them still sit empty. Maybe some people actually have taste when they are looking to buy a house? With so many cute bungalows in the village of Sylvan Beach, I wonder why the developers couldn't come up with something that fit into the local environment a little better? These slap dash buildings don't do anything for me.

And now this.

From the village minutes: "A speed boat called the Screamer is traveling from Aruba to Florida. It will then travel by truck to Sylvan Beach; the intention is to provide rides on Oneida Lake to paying customers throughout the season. The owners, Doug Waterbury and Pat Goodenow are seeking a permit from the Canal Authority to park on the canal wall. After more information concerning the boat is obtained a three way meeting between the Village, the owners and the Canal Authority will be the next step."

The "Screamer?" From the picture on the news last night, it looks like a throw back to WWII fighter planes with the big jaws painted on the front of them that will "zip across Oneida Lake at 40 mph" and can also spin 180 degrees. Holy seasick, especially with all the beer that is consumed by the ones willing to pay about twenty bucks for a half hour ride on this atrocity.

"We think it's something that people are going to get a kick out of," said Doug Waterbury, who invested in the Sylvan Beach park two years ago. "The water, in effect, becomes an extension of the amusement park."

Right, Doug. And what about the people who come to Sylvan Beach for other recreation like fishing from the pier, or just taking a walk with an ice cream cone from Yesterdays? Do they have to listen to the Screamer, or even as bad, look at it? The
jet boat is painted with large shark's teeth on the bow and Waterbury plans to dock this ugliness on the canal wall near the amusement park and also near two of Sylvan Beach's best restaurants, the Canal View Cafe and Yesterday's Royal.

The Screamer has been in Aruba for several years, Waterbury said, but it failed to find an audience in the Caribbean resort. Why am I not surprised?? But it will probably be a big hit in Sylvan Beach with all the yahoos it will attract.

"We're really trying to beef up that teenaged and 20-something market," he said, "because they have plenty of disposable time and disposable income."

Sylvan Beach Mayor Tom Statkewicz said the boat and amusement park expansion benefit the village.

"I think it's a great thing for the village and it's a great opportunity for people to get on the water and experience that type of thing," he said. "Anything anyone can bring to the village as an attraction is going to positively impact tourism."

Come on, Tom. You have more sense than this. Is it always about dollars and cents? How about dollars and sense? The village has done some nice sprucing up in the park and elsewhere. I can't fault you a Dollar General here or there, but this...?

Canal Corp. Director Carmella Mantello said her office has been in contact with Waterbury and that many other tour boats already operate on the canal system. Maybe she'll figure out a way to stop this atrocity from plying the canal waters.

And I assume that the "screamer" screams...loudly. Great for the fish population, great for the neighborhood and those who want to enjoy a meal in the garden at the Canal View Cafe (yummy food)!

What's up with these people, anyway? Can't Sylvan Beach have a little class, or does it all have to be Harleys, cheap souveniers, and now, a lot of noise on top of it? Pat Goodenow owns Yesterday's Royal, one of the class-act restaurants in the Beach. How did he get involved with this noise and eye pollution?

I'm very disappointed.

Waterbury also owns the North Pole amusement park near Lake Placid and the Renaissance Festival in Sterling. Remind me to stay away from those places, as well. Who knows what he might do with Santa's sleigh, or workshop?

Well, if you're driving through the Beach starting Memorial Day weekend, all I can say is, "honk if you love noise."

P.S. Photo credit, The Post Standard

2009-03-18T11:32:00.000-07:00

I was googling today, looking for the name of a snack that apparently is popular in Texas and Alaska. I'm not sure about the states in between.

These things look like orange-colored macaroni (or should I say, pasta?) in the shape of wagon wheels. You deep fry them in oil and then shake them in powdered sugar (or should I say, confectioner's sugar?).

My friends say they are called Durals, or Derros. They're not really sure.

So I googled Derros, because I've already googled Dural, with no luck. I found out that a Derro is a person who people think dresses below her station. In other words, she could afford nicer clothes, but she doesn't buy and wear them.

I must be a "derro."

Or at least, I was, until I decided that once a year, after Christmas, I would go to Macy's and buy anything that fit me and was also 75% off in price. I have a natural affinity for Macy's because my mother once told me that she bought me in Macy's Basement in New York City. Not even on the second floor near the women's lounge, but in the basement.

But I've since gotten over it.

Anyway, this year, I brought home several items and the name "derro" didn't fit any longer.

But "party whore" seems to be the new label.

Yes, my daughter pronounced me a party whore because she and the rest of my family had thrown me a surprise birthday party. And I suppose because I attended said party, unbeknown to me where I was being taken, I was a whore. I call it "kidnapped."

But why split family hairs?

I recall a day when a child would never call a parent anything except Mom or Dad. In fact, in my family, it was considered rude to refer to my parents using a pronoun like "she" or "him."

SHE?? Who's SHE??? My father would boom if I slipped and made that reference to my mother.

I noticed that when my parents talked about THEIR parents, they used a plural pronoun. that was OK. So you referred to either one, or both parents as THEY.

As in, "They want a new pair of shoes."

But never as in, "They are party whores."

You will never hear Andy Rooney talk about this on 60 minutes, but I did look up "party whore" in the urban dictionary (urbandictionary.com) and got this:

party whore

The girl at a party who makes out with or fucks any guy as soon as she's drunk. She thinks everyone likes her, but she is more of a party decoration to get the party going than a guest.

This funeral sucked till the party whore made out with the dead guys dad.

I think the term was used rather loosely by my child when she referred to me using this term.

Perhaps she was thinking of "dinner whore":

A woman who pretends to be attracted to a man in order to receive free dinner from him.

One could say that I was a "dinner whore" who got my husband to spring for a party for me. Except that I am attracted to him and he's been paid handsomely since then for his efforts.

No, he can't say he's been "dicked in the ass" on this one. Another colorful phrase you won't hear Andy Rooney use. I ran across it as I was looking up derro.

It means:

something unfortunate, as in something going wrong with a carefully laid out plan.
Greg: "My Dad says I can't go out tonight."
Dan: "Well, that's a dick-in-the-ass."

Ouch.

2009-02-18T18:00:00.000-08:00

It's snowing again outside.

Mid-February, a few sunny days and crunchy sugar snow got me thinking about spring.

Just a temporary set back, I told myself as I tried to keep the snow off my groceries while I loaded them in the trunk this afternoon.

I haven't minded winter this year, even though this is my 60th year to heaven. I was thinking that as I got older, I might find winters intolerable. That must be what happens to the people who end up in Florida from November to April each year. And I figured, it would happen to me in good time.

But this year, I have really enjoyed winter. I've been out in the woods x-country skiing, yes, but most of all, I like to go out on the back porch at night while the dogs are doing their thing, and look up at the clear, starry sky of winter. Or, when the moon is bright, I love to look at the shadows that the trees cast on the snow. And I like early mornings, again when I'm watching my dog, Davenport, race around after the phantom squirrel he tries to catch. The pink morning sky is just so pretty...and the air smells so fresh and clean.

I'm glad I live where I can breathe relatively fresh air, and where there are woods surrounding us.

Even indoors this winter, we've been cozy. It has nothing to do with the huge blue tarp that the spousal unit stapled up to close off our cathedral ceiling. I don't look up there too often because I don't like that.

But we've been running the wood stove every day and evening. The Unit is sitting on the couch, grading papers and I'm sitting in the morris chair next to the wood stove. The dog is lying in front of the stove, head half on a little rug, body on the cool tiles. There's a pot of "wimpies" simmering on top of the wood stove. They are the Unit's favorite memory of home (family of origin home, I mean).

I have it there for effect. The spousal unit gets all sappy when he finds me cooking things. And when he finds me cooking things on the wood stove, he really goes crazy. So I take advantage of it. The wimpies were done some time ago, but I will leave them simmering to make him happy.

He's so easy. I'll get a lot of points for this.

Well, it's about time to let the dogs out and look at the sky. I guess I'll have to snow blow tomorrow. Possibly one of the last times for the season. But as I get up in years, I guess I start to think stuff like, hey. This could be the last winter you see.

I know I'm not that old, but instead of thinking that I should go to Florida, I started thinking this winter that I should stay where I am and really appreciate it while I can! I guess I've finally gotten around to realizing that I don't have all the time in the world...

Or do I?

2009-02-05T08:32:00.000-08:00

I love it when divergent things...seemingly divergent anyway, start to dovetail in my life. Recently, it was my weight, my trash bill, and peanut butter.

WEIGHT
I haven't told everyone that I am working on losing weight. I knew I had to, but getting my lab results from my doctor, with a couple of troubling numbers circled, did the trick for me. I do not want to become a diabetic, and that is where I was heading if I didn't look out!

I went into the doc's office and the nurse pricked my finger to test my blood. OUCH! That HURT! I complained. She reminded me that diabetics who have to test their blood several times a day, experience that hurt every time.

That did it for me. That famous Dr. Oz (love that name) says we need to pay attention to FIVE things to stay healthy. First, our blood pressure. Doc says mine is "perfect," but Oz says it should be OPTIMAL. So I need to get that down, I think.

Second is belly fat. Your waist size should be half of your height. I have 3 inches to go! Or, I need to get on a stretching machine to get taller.

Third, Stress. Check it out: how tense is your jaw muscle right now? Do you clench or grind your teeth? OZ says have a glass of wine and then take the cork and stick it in your mouth to stretch those jaw muscles and relax them. Well, if you don't drink wine, you could find some other stretching things. But don't do like our old and dear friend, Patrick, did once, he put a live bullet between his teeth! That wacky weed does strange things to our minds...gladly, he lived through that, but he did not survive other things he did to his body and we lost him at too young an age.

Fourth, Smoking. QUIT...I did, and I loved to smoke! I was a closet smoker, but I finally gave it up over ten years ago. And I'm so happy to say that my son, Teague, the last one to be smoking in our family...has quit...I think he's on his 7th day today!! He's proud of himself. he feels so much better about himself because he's not doing something so bad for him...and he's got a few coins of the realm in his pocket besides! (And he needs it, because he was laid off from his job in November!)

Fifth: stop eating crap. Get rid of white stuff: processed flour and white sugar.

That's it...you'll start feeling better and probably start losing weight. At least you'll start toning up!

TRASH BILL
So that's the first part of it. Then we got the trash bill. I like to follow my friend Elaine's practice of paying things ahead. Well, I might die tonight and then the company I paid up front gets to keep my money, but what the hell will I care then? You can't take it with you...Elaine, you heard me!! So I started paying our trash bill six months at a time.

Well, we only get it picked up twice a month and when we had housemates, we had a full can of stuff. But now, there's just the spousal unit and me, and we have taken to keeping our trash light. First, we burn our paper in the outdoor furnace, which is like an incinerator. Second, we recycle anything that can be. And we take our bottles and cans back for our nickel. Third, last year we put in a composter and all our kitchen scraps that Dolly and Davenport don't scarf up go in there. I'll tell you...we put a kitchen size trash bag in our receptacle and it stays there a good two weeks before we fill it. Closer to three!

So now we're paying megabucks to have them pick up our piddly bag of trash. So the Unit said, hey. If we drop the trash pick up, we can pay for another shore excursion on our trip to South America. Say no more.

We're still recycling and composting and burning the papers to start our fires in the wood stove and furnace. When I get a full Peewee (that's our Scion XB) full, I'll take a ride over to the "dump"...the land fill that is, and toss in our recycleables, for free. And I'll have one 33 gallon bag full of trash, which will cost me...wait...drum roll...two bucks, instead of FIFTEEN!! That's right, our trash pick up for one can of trash is FIFTEEN BUCK twice a month...plus tax.

We are so proud of ourselves, not only because we're saving some dough, but because we are limiting our trash output.

And we're careful about what we buy and what it's packaged in. I get crazy when I see stuff packaged beyond anything necessary. And I SWEAR I am going to take my recyclable bags with me to the grocery store! I hate it when I walk out and leave them home by accident!

Not to mention what I know about what's going on world wide: Americans spend billions of dollars on WEIGHT LOSS programs and cutting calories, when people in our own country and around the world don't have enough to eat. Some are even starving and watching their children starve!

That's not right. It's disgusting.

And here's more...how much food in America is WASTED? Try half of it. That's right, half of the food we produce is WASTED...left to rot somewhere.

Take a look at what you threw away out of the fridge that you couldn't identify because it's been in there molding. How about the rest of your dinner from that restaurant where you ate last week? And check out all those veggies and fruits in the big fancy stores. Do you really think that it all gets SOLD?? Heck no. It gets tossed!

PEANUT BUTTER
Why are we putting up with this? I say let's have some food sovereignty around here. I want to know that what I'm eating is not contaminated.

So I'm sitting there yesterday and I hear someone on my voice mail talking at me. That's not unusual because half the time, I shut off the ring so it doesn't wake my granddaughter, Bryn, and then I don't hear the phone ring.

So I played it back and I'm getting a call from Sam's Club about the Kashi chewy granola bars I bought, with peanuts in them. They're telling me the barcode number and that I need to throw them away.

Hey. I just ATE one, dammit!!!!

But then I read the bar code and it wasn't the same, so I calmed down about that, and put a wine cork in my mouth.

Then I start thinking...hey. This is BIG BROTHER. Sam's Club tracks me down and CALLS ME because they know WHAT I BOUGHT AT THE STORE. And I didn't buy it at Sam's Club...I don't have a membership there...I bought it at the local WALLY WORLD!

They feckin' CALLED ME at home about my granola bars in the bread box.

Oh. My. God.

Should I be grateful, or appalled? That's it, I'm paying cash at the store. Enough of this invasion of privacy, whether it's for my good or not. Anyway, by the time they did get around to calling me, I'd eaten half the box!! So even if they claim it was for my protection, it didn't do me any good...and now I know that they know...

So people for goodness sake, think about it...don't stress...just think about it. And then DO SOMETHING!!

2009-02-02T06:37:00.000-08:00

February 2, 2009 Groundhog Day

Interestingly, I look back and realize that the last time I wrote on this blog was nearly a year ago to the day, February 11, 2008. So like the "whistle pig," I am coming out of a rather long hibernation to write again.

And what piques my interest? Why Groundhog Day, of course.

Punxsutawny Phil did see his shadow this morning, so in Pennsylvania, they're looking at 6 more weeks of winter. (The logic being that if it's cold and clear and you can see your shadow, it's still pretty cold, enough so to say that winter ain't over yet.) But in Staten Island, the Groundhog Day wannabees, a Woodchuck named...what else...Chuck...was yanked out of his cage by NYC Mayor Micheal Bloomburg...geez, what these politicians have to do for the public...and did NOT see his shadow (the logic being that if it's overcast, then temperatures tend to be a little warmer, indicating that spring might be a bit early). I wonder what happened to NYC's official groundhog, Pothole Pete? He must have been paved over during a neighborhood renovation.

So they had to blow the whole thing by getting two groundhogs in on the act, and not coordinating efforts, each location came up with a different forecast. Sheesh. So what are we, the mindless millions, supposed to do? Throw another log on the fire, or another shrimp on the Barbee?

And who started this whole annual event, anyway? Well, it was a simple effort on the part of those in the 19th century and earlier, who did not have the benefit of having the weather channel on their laptops. They looked for "signs of spring." I remember taking a second grade class out to look for such signs as part of my student teaching. It was a lot of fun. I always got my own kids in on looking for these signs as they were growing up, too. But farmers of olde didn't use just the Groundhog (also known as a whistle pig because of the shrill sound they can make when pissed off), they used any hibernating animal that happened to show up unannounced. You know, when you were out in the woods checking for culls for firewood and a bear showed up, you kind of thought that hibernation was over and spring was probably on its way.

I look for that skunk smell on the road after a night of unfortunate attempts to cross one from side of the highway to the other, as my sign of spring. It's a dead ringer. I can't wait for crocuses to start "peeking" out of the ground, because up here in Blossvale, close to the Tug Hill Plateau, that happens long after spring has actually sprung for most of there rest of central New York. Or the robins that return each spring. Some years we get a couple of losers who showed up too early, but again, the smart robins stay south of where I live. But the skunks, they show up right on time around here. I guess that's why my daugher Eilis came to love the smell of skunk...she grew up with that smell, along with another of our signs of spring...the farmers spreading watered down pig poo on top of the snow so it will seep into the ground as the sun begins to warms things up.

But it can't be that easy, just looking for animals. February 2nd is also Candlemas Day, the day of the BVM's (Blessed Virgin Mary) purification. Christians believed that if the sun came out on Candlemas Day, there would be an early spring. So it was on a day in the 1880s that farmers went out on Candlemas Day looking for a sign, and they saw the ancestor to Punxsutawney Phil. Well, if they were true to the rituals of Candlemas Day, they were heading out in a candlelight procession to observe the purifiction of the BVM and the presentation of Jesus in the Temple. The candles were meant to light the way for the Gentiles (in other words, let them see the light and realize the truth about God?) The Roman Catholics took the whole ritual and turned it into one of the "joyful mysteries" and dedicated a decade of the rosary to it.

In the Gospel of Luke 2:22–40, Mary and Joseph took the baby Jesus to the Temple in Jerusalem forty days after his birth to complete Mary's ritual purification after childbirth, and to perform the redemption of the firstborn, in obedience to the Law of Moses. It was kind of a baptism, or christening, I would say.

At the temple, they ran into Simeon the Righteous, a guy who had been promised that "he should not see death before he had seen the Messiah of the Lord." So I guess the promise of Punxsutawney Phil is that we might see spring again before we die, and that leads to more thoughts and beliefs and rituals around spring and rebirth and Easter. But that's a story for another day.

These guys were so nuts and giddy after being cooped up in little cabins all winter, breathing in wood smoke and rancid food smells from what was leftover in the larde...happy to have survived the winter and to be alive... that they jumped up and down, clapped one another on the shoulder (or so I imagine) and vowed to meet again every year for the same outing. Then they probably shot old Phil and took his carcass home for the wife to whip up into a dinner meal. I don't know, but I think people ate pretty much anything in those days, and there was something to be done with every part of Phil, except the whistle.

Lest we leave our neighbors to the North out, we have Wiarton Willie as their favored rodent.

2008-02-11T14:42:00.000-08:00

This is War...

I know I haven't done my blog in a long time. We had a new grandbaby, Bryn Anwen Freeman, born last August, then a wedding, Eilis Wagner to Ted Byrnes in October. Then it was the usual holiday thises and thats, when the Spousal Unit promptly ruptured a disc in his back and spent the holidays writhing in pain on the sofa. I spent most of December and January helping him out, even going to work for him for three weeks! But I'm happy to say that the Unit is pretty much good as new after some physical therapy. We just have to detox him off the pain killers the doc prescribed. So life is good...or at least it was, until I opened my mail today.

Now I'm pissed.

At least two years ago, maybe three, I went down to Raymour and Flanigan furniture in New Hartford and bought a new sectional sofa. I have to say I wasn't happy with the quality and even sent sections of it back, which they replaced. But today, the sofa is no more comfortable than it was the day it arrived in our livingroom. It's nice looking and some parts of it are comfortable, but one whole wing of the sofa is impossible to sit on. It's a good thing our kids left home so we didn't need to use as much of it as in previous years.

So, I paid a pretty penny for this sofa, taking it on an "interest free" loan that they set up with Wells Fargo Financial Bank out of Las Vegas. I knew that the price of the sofa was jacked up, not only because furniture is always marked up pretty high, but also because finance charges become hidden in the price of the furniture. But I didn't have three grand to plunk down on a couch, so I took the payment plan. Yes, I said, "three grand."

Pretty soon, I began receiving the monthly bills from Wells Fargo, indicating that I needed to pay $65.oo each month. Kind of like a car payment you'd figure. I paid $279.17 a month for who knows how long until we paid off my convertible. This was the same deal with the sofa and if I paid it off diligently every month, I'd get a "paid in full, thank you very much" by the end date.

You'd think.

Instead, I opened my bill today and saw not only a late charge because somehow my payment, which I've been making for at least the last 24 months if not longer, posted two days late: I saw a finance charge.

So I called them up.

The customer service rep says that I was notified on the bottom of my invoice that there was an end date to the interest free account. I looked. I know when I use Home Depot's interest free offers, that they put it out there on the monthly invoice pretty clearly...pay this amount by this date to keep it interest free.

I finally found what the rep was referring to, down at the bottom of the last page:

"Subaccount ends 1/1/08."

What's that supposed to mean? I query.

It means that's the date you have to pay this off without interest, she replies.

And I, as a consumer, am supposed to know what a "subaccount" is?

Well, there's nothing I can do, she says. You were notified.

Oh bull shit.

Don't use profanity with me, or I won't be able to take the late charge off your account, she threatens.

Mea culpa.

She doesn't know what THAT means, so she ignores it.

So here's the deal. Raymour and Flanigan and Wells Fargo are in cahoots. They overcharge you for a piece of crappy furniture and give you the so-called interest free deal. But then no one tells you what the end date is and they also don't tell you that the amount they are billing you for every month isn't the amount that you have to pay in order to keep the account interest free. Just about $500 away from the finish line on a $3000 loan, you start getting hit with interest charges to the tune of 24%!!!

So beware all you out there in consumer land: beware of Raymour and Flanigan: their furniture's quality and their finance free offers that they tout on TV 24/7. And beware of Wells Fargo Financial Bank. They're a big rip off, too. And hey, you'd better learn the inside bank jargon. Your first vocabulary word is "subaccount." What is that, anyway? Since I didn't ever have an account of any type with Wells Fargo, what was it "sub," or beneath? It also sounds pretty sub-terrestial to me.

Here's the message I sent to Raymour and Flanigan's Customer Service, in case you want to imitate any of my crank letters (yeah, I can crank 'em out):

To Wells Fargo Financial National Bank and Raymour and Flanigan:

I have just received a bill showing a finance charge for this account that I took out when I purchased a sofa from Raymour and Flanigan. It was my understanding that I was opening an interest free account to pay for my sofa over time and when I received my payment invoices from your institution, there was a minimum monthly amount indicated that I assumed was the amount I needed to pay in order to finish paying for the furniture on time. Instead, I ran out of time and am now being charged interest on this loan. Your customer rep told me on the phone that I was "notified" of this on the bottom of my invoice. It says, "Subaccount ends 1/1/08." Tell me what you think a consumer is supposed to understand when reading what amounts to an inside term, "subaccount?" Do you think it was made clear that this meant I had to pay up the account by 1/1/08? I had no idea what that meant; I thought I was paying the required amount, as you would on a car payment, to pay the amount in full within the allotted time. I am going to complain about your service to Raymour and Flanigan and to our NYS consumer department. I will not do business with either of your companies in the future and I will recommend the same to any of my family and friends.

Consider yourself warned.

2007-08-19T16:24:00.000-07:00

Norwegian Sailors on World Cruise Stop by for a Visit

Following a brief email conversation, which confirmed that the BIKA, a 26-foot sloop designed and built in England in the 1970s, was motoring this way through thirty-something locks of the Erie Canal from Troy, we saw her mast and the Norwegian flag as she entered Lock 22 at New London.

”Are you the BIKA?” we called to the two young sailors, a diminuitive woman and tall, lanky man.

”Yay-es,” the one called Nina replied in her sing-song Norwegian voice.

”We’d like to meet you and offer you some dinner this evening when you dock at Sylvan Beach,” we called back.

They smiled, nodded and waved as the BIKA shot out of the lock and wiggled down the canal, her small outboard motor pushing the boat forward.

The tall, bearded young man was Henrik Nor-Hansen, born 1967, from Stavanger in the south of Norway. He grew up with coastal cruising and dinghy racing, dreaming of travelling the world in his own boat. He’s an author and has published a novel and three collections of poems, all in Norwegian.

His wife, Nina Kristin Nilsen, born 1971, is from Tromsø in the north of Norway. She grew up with small fishing smacks, never thinking of sailing. After some years as a mapping surveyor in Oslo and Svalbard, she went to Stavanger, studied chemistry, met Henrik, found work as an environmental engineer and moved aboard a sailboat, the BIKA.

After living aboard the BIKA for nearly a year in Norway, even through the winter, Henrik and Nina, and their cat Luna, left for a long planned world cruise in May of 2005. They have been sailing ever since: from Norway through the canals of Scotland, through Wales, Cornwall and across Biscay. To Spain, Portugal, Morocco, the Canary and Cape Verde Islands, across the Atlantic and on to Trinidad, Tobago, Venezuela, Curacao, Aruba and Colombia.

From there, weathering stormy seas, the loss of their cat overboard in a freak accident that pulled her from her little harness, loneliness, boredom and fear of hitting something big like a whale, or a tanker, Henrik and Nina visited Honduras, Guatemala, Cuba and the Caribbean Islands.

They entered the U.S. at Beaufort, North Carolina and sailed northward to New York where they picked up the northerly route along the Hudson River and at Troy, dropped their mast for the motor tour up the Erie Canal.

It was there that we picked up their trail, following their movements by calling each of the canal locks and asking the attendants their whereabouts. We had their arrival at Lock 22 pegged pretty much to the minute.

After a dinner of home made New York State foods, corn on the cob, coneys, hamburgers, and fresh blueberry crisp for desert, topped off with a bottle of Finger Lakes wine, we sat down to learn more about Nina and Henrik. We saw the pain in their eyes as they recounted the tragic loss of their cat, Luna, in stormy Atlantic seas.

They accepted a hot shower, but refused the use of our guest bedroom, preferring to sleep on their boat, 4.5 square meters of living space, rather like the size of two large home freezers set side by side.

We thought our connection would be brief, but Henrik and Nina stayed on through the week, mooring the BIKA next to our Contessa, Overdraft II, at Callahan’s Marina in Canastota and then again at the pier in Sylvan Beach. You couldn’t miss the small, sturdy boat, bright red paint, Norwegian flag and two banners, one on each side, red with white lettering, announcing the BIKA. We spent several afternoons and evenings in their company, sharing stories and laughs.

Henrik would like to sail and live on the boat all his life, but Nina dreams of some day returning to their native Norway and living in a seaside cottage, raising goats and making cheese. In the meantime, while resting awhile in our little village, Nina and Henrik discovered their next adventure: they had been hired to cook meals for moose hunters at a lodge in far northwestern Alberta, Canada for 16 days, beginning September 10. They quickly changed plans, scrapping the idea of making it to Georgian Bay, to make way for a more extended visit to Toronto where other Contessa owners reside. Following that, in exchange for some caretaking, they would be able to winter over in a cabin there, while the BIKA was put up on land in Toronto to await spring.

We saw them off on Sunday morning at 5:30 a.m., sailing our Contessa out to cross their path as they followed the channel markers down the center of Oneida Lake. We exchanged goodbyes once more and waved them off toward Oswego and Lake Ontario.

”See you in the spring!” Nina called to us.

Some friendships begin quickly, but you know that they will be long and deep like the snows of Alberta.

2007-04-11T09:55:00.000-07:00

I Thought Candles Were Made Of WAX!!

Here's one that flew under my radar.

I like to think that I am a conscious person. That I'm aware of my surroundings. But last week, I realized I've been really out of it when it comes to something as inoccuous as CANDLES!

I love those smelly Yankee Candles that cost an arm and a leg. With some $15 off coupons, I bought a bunch of them for the Wagner Christmas get together and for Eilis's upcoming wedding.

I have given the larger candles as gifts and burn them in my house. Love the Balsam and Cedar.

One of my friends gave me a soy candle for Christmas and I thought that was interesting...I had seen them sold in stores, but I kind of avoid things that say SOY on them. Not because I'm racist or beanist, I guess you'd say. But because I thought it was just a gimic. Candles made from soy. Hmppph. Like door mats made from old tires.

Wait a minute. Made from old tires. Recycling. Could it be...??

So I innocently asked the Spousal Unit: what are candles made of?

And he uttered the words I feared that he would: from petroleum.

For how long??

Forever. What do you think parrafin is made of?

I thought it was made from WAX.

And where do you think WAX comes from?

Bees?

Beeswax comes from bees. Parrafin wax, which most candles are made from, is a petroleum product.

Oh for shit sake.

Now I don't want to burn these things. I don't want to give them as gifts. I want to throw away the whole stack of them we have saved upstairs for the wedding reception.

I don't want to buy things made from petroleum. They're not good for your health and they're definitely not good for our economy and for our world.

We're already beyond PEAK OIL. That means that we'll never produce enough oil, even in Saudi Arabia, to meet the world's needs...the U.S.'s needs. We're going to continue squabbling over the crumbs that are left.

That means we need to stop buying gas guzzling cars. We need to live and work and shop closer to home. We need to stop buying cheap plastic crap and other items that are made from petroleum.

Like CANDLES!! Unless they are labeled soy, or beeswax.

Unless I find out that it costs just as much in energy, which is usually petroleum based, to make even the alternative candles!

If that's the case, then I guess I better just sit in the dark until I figure this one out.

Oh...and another thing. You know those light bulbs that are energy savers?

2007-04-01T15:15:00.000-07:00

Crying all the way home from the Christmas Tree Shop

The spousal unit and I ended up crying after our visit to the Christmas Tree Shop yesterday.

Not because there's necessarily anything wrong with the store, or the chain, or maybe not even with buying a lot of cheap plastic crap made in China, but because of our own sense of "loss and change."

It started out to be a fun outing on a sunny, but chilly spring Saturday. We decided to spend the whole day together, as we'd both been running in different directions the past few weeks.

First, a stop at Flo's Diner on Route 31, "home of the 10 cent cup of coffee." And of the two dollar cheese omelet. You can't beat that with a stick.

Then it was on to the Farmer's Market in Syracuse. I used to live nearby, on Wolf St., as a kid, and we used to bring a little wagon down with us on Saturdays to buy produce and what not. It was great fun. Live chickens in bins. Puppies. A kid's delight.

There was only one building open this weekend, maybe two. Well, yeah...one had produce and food in it, the other had a lot of flea market stuff.

We came upon an old woman with huge, gnarled hands. You could see she was a hard worker and still is. She had some huge garlics in a basket, that still had the dirt clinging to them. And some huge carrots...not exactly the baby carrots you find in the grocer's section of the supermarket.

I knew the Unit was going to buy stuff from her, just because he considers people like her, "survivors."

And when she mentioned the fresh young rabbits she's just killed this morning, I knew what we were having for Easter dinner: the Easter bunny herself!!

The little skinned body is sitting in our refrigerator as I speak, waiting for someone to do something with it. The Unit will cook the little bunny, just like he used to when he was a boy who went hunting with his father. I'm not sure what my daughter will say, or my granddaugter. The younger one will probably be fascinated, while her mother is repulsed.

We left the market and headed over to the Christmas Tree Shop, not exactly the Unit's cup of tea. While I was shopping he excused himself to the restroom.

So I stuck around the area where he'd left me, looking and looking at curtains and rugs, looking over toward the restrooms, back to the curtains and the rugs, back to the rest rooms.

No sign of the Spousal Unit.

Had he snuck by me and went meandering through the store? He's been known to be that thoughtless.

Had he been stricken by something he ate this morning and was now lying in a heap in a bathroom stall, unable to call out for help?

My mind began taking over with my wild imaginings.

After all, he does have a heart condition and wears a stent to prove it.

I went toward the food section, figuring he always likes to check out a possible snack.

No one.

I went back to the curtains and then to the restroom myself, as the Flo's coffee was beginning to work on me.

Then down to the cash registers. Maybe he was looking for me there.

No luck.

I went back to the restrooms, stopped by the men's room door and called out to him, but he didn't answer.

Possibly because he was unconscious, maybe even needing CPR.

I could feel myself getting upset, like a spring is spiraling up to the top of my head.

I raced down to the Customer Service desk, only to find a line of people waiting to return items, ask questions, etc. I'd never get up there before he bought the farm.

Disgusted and upset, I left my cart and walked out the door.

Then I decided I'd better get back in there and rush the service desk. To hell with lines, this was an emergency!!

I began pushing my way past people to get back to the entrance, when I noticed someone who looked a lot like the Unit, standing on the sidewalk, looking out at the cars. He may even have been whistling, but for his sake, I hope he wasn't!

"Should I kill you now, or wait until later??"

He gave me his Huh? look and hobbled after me as I stumbled to the car, half in tears with relief and...well, I was pretty pissed off when I found him standing outside, not having a heart attack in the men's room.

When he realized how upset I had gotten, he got upset too. I'm not sure if it was a sympathetic upsetness, or his own sincere one. He related about how he couldn't find me, either, after he had quickly "shed a tear for Ireland" and came out of the men's room.

He looked up and down the aisles, he stopped to browse at some CD's. Then he got tired of it all, came outside and went to the car to see if I'd gone out there. He finally had come back to the sidewalk and stood there, not sure where to look for me.

While relating our stories to one another, we both realized that one day we will really "lose" one another and then the tears really began to flow and we were both blowing our noses. I guess we were feeling a little low since a friend of ours had had a stroke the day before and was currently in the hospital.

And then we realized...what are we doing? It's Sunday morning, we're home, we're safe, we're both right here and we're OK.

Next time, we'll just both take our cell phones and avoid the whole predicament we put each other through.

If, that is, there is a next time. Maybe I'll just go shopping with a friend. Or by myself.

2007-02-11T16:50:00.000-08:00

A True Tax Preparation Story

I've spent the last couple of weekends getting my tax information calculated and began plugging it into H&R Block's online Tax Cut program.

About 73% of the way through, I notice that my deductions on home office expenses are way off. Instead of receiving a 10% deduction for indirect home business office expenses, I am receiving 1/2 of a percent.

I went to online chat for technical support and got Deborah M. After much deliberation, she suggested that I shut the program down, wait 15 minutes and then log back in to see if the problem fixed itself. I assured her it would not, but she signed off on me.

So awhile later, I logged back in, looked and saw that nothing had changed, so I contacted technical support again. This time, I was connected to Bunnie:

The rest I don't even have to make up:

The next available Agent will be with you in a moment.
All agents are currently busy. Please stand by.
You have been connected to Bunnie C.
Bunnie C: Hello Geraldine, welcome to H&R Block's TaxCut Online Chat Support in North America! How can we assist you today?
Geraldine WAGNER: I have already spoken with someone in online chat about this problem, she suggested that I shut down, wait 15 mins. and log back in to see if it corrected itself, which it did not.
Bunnie C: I can help you with that.
Bunnie C: May I have a moment to research some information for you?
Geraldine WAGNER: In the home office section of my business Technicrafts, I have a 10% ratio of sq. footage of my office to the rest of the house and should receive 10% of my indirect expenses as a deduction. However, the program is only giving me 1% as indicated on the summary screen:
Geraldine WAGNER: Home Office Expenses Summary Form 8829
Indirect Expenses
Casualty losses $0 Interest $1
Real estate taxes $3 Insurance $1
Repairs $3 Utilities $2
Other $0

Direct Expenses
Casualty losses $0 Interest $0
Real estate taxes $0 Insurance $0
Repairs $0 Utilities $300
Other $1,327

Bunnie C: What section of the interview is that in?
Geraldine WAGNER: Income, Self Employment, Home Office Expenses
Bunnie C: We appreciate your patience; we are still researching your issue. Do you mind holding for a few more moments while I find a resolution?
Geraldine WAGNER: OK
Bunnie C: Unfortunately, technical support is not qualified to provide tax advice. Useful information may be found from the "Advice & Help" section of the Online Tax Program at http://www.hrblock.com -or- you can take advantage of the H&R Block "Ask A Tax Advisor" service by navigating your browser to:
http://hrblock.com/taxes/products/product.jsp?productId=44
Geraldine WAGNER: What?? That's not tax advice, I'm telling you there's a glitch in the online tax cut program; it is not calculating things correctly.
Geraldine WAGNER: I just went back to my 2005 taxes which I also did in Tax Cut, and for a $2808 indirect expense of real estate taxes, I received $281 deductible as a home office expense. It was calculated correctly. This year, it is not calculating correctly.
Geraldine WAGNER: For nearly $3000 in real estate taxes, I received only a $3 deductible business expense. That is not 10%, it's 1%.
Geraldine WAGNER: No, it's not even 1%, it's less than that. Multiply $3000 x .001 and that is how your program is calculating this deduction.
Bunnie C: I see that you use 10% of your house for you business, but I do not know if you get 10% you real estate taxes, I am not a tax professional, so I could not tell you it is a glitch. Thats why I told you to ask a tax advisor to verify that you get 10%.
Geraldine WAGNER: Believe me, I get 10%. I have been doing this for years. You have a problem with the calculations for this form. A programmer needs to look at it.
Bunnie C: We apologize for the inconvenience, however, the error in your return requires us to escalate your case to a higher lever of customer service. Our development team is currently working on a resolution and will provide you with a status update within 2 business days via email or phone. Which method of contact do you prefer?
Geraldine WAGNER: Email.
Bunnie C: Can you verify your e-mail address.
Geraldine WAGNER: geriw@yahoo.com
Bunnie C: Is there anything else we can assist you with today?
Geraldine WAGNER: No, I'd say this is pretty major and I can't do my taxes until it's fixed...plus, you have all kinds of other people trying to do their taxes, too, with a program that is not correct.
Bunnie C: Thank you for contacting TaxCut Online Support, Geraldine, and we look forward to serving you in the future! Your session has ended. You may now close this window.

2007-02-03T12:29:00.000-08:00

I just remembered why I stopped clipping and saving coupons to buy things at the grocery store. What a pain in my arse!

A friend of mine gave me some coupons for my favorite body wash, Aveeno. The stuff is pretty expensive. I also got some coupons from those already made mashed potatoes that the Unit and I really like. They are yummy. The ones called Simply Potatoes. Now they even have mashed SWEET potatoes! I may never peel another potato again. Why? Well, first of all, mashed potatoes aren't that great for those of us trying to lose some weight. Second, when I buy a 10 lb., or even a 5 lb. bag of potatoes for just two people, I eventually find green vines crawling out of the pantry and I know that the potatoes I forgot about have sprouted. I usually take them out and throw them in a trough in the garden, but they don't ever seem to amount to a new crop of potatoes. I think maybe some critters dig them up and eat them for dinner before anything gets to sprouting.

So anyway, I was on my way home from teaching classes in Utica and I needed groceries. The Unit was working late, so I pulled into a Price Chopper near the college and figured that way I could skip stopping in Rome. Lo and behold, a big sign across the window said, DOUBLE COUPONS.

I dug in my coat pocket and found the coupons I'd put in there for the Aveeno and for the mashed potatoes that we like so well. I stopped to ask a cashier what the limit on the coupons was and she said you could go up to $3.

Cool, I says to myself and went around shopping, being sure to get Aveeno and the potatoes...and also some smoked sausage, for which I had another coupon...must be the same company as the pototo company. I don't keep track of all conglomerates.

Shopping done, I pull up to a cashier and she puts up her CLOSED sign. This is not good.

I'll close after you, she tells me.

OK.

But she's in a sweat; all she talks about to the bagger is how she can't wait to get the hell out of there.

I can't blame her.

The place is crawling with crazies, which I've chalked up to the full moon. It has to be happening some time in the next week, anyway. But it could have just been a normal evening in North Utica.

I unpacked my stuff and gave my coupons, fully expecting double reimbursement on them: one for a dollar, one for 35 cents, one for 40 cents and another for 75 cents that you had to pull off a piece of cheese I had purchased.

Let's see...carry the two...plus one...that should be $4.25 (I don't think the in-store 75 cent cheese coupon is going to count for doubling).

She rings me up, yakking the whole time about how she can't wait to go home...OK...shut up about it and we'll get done faster here.

$95.38, she says.

My coupons are still sitting on her register.

What about my coupons?

She starts looking at them, trying to figure out how much she owes me, opens her drawer and hands me $2.50.

Wait a minute, I say. This one coupon is for a dollar itself, doubled. That should be $2.00 for just the one coupon.

Yeah, but you didn't give me THIS coupon for the doubling. She shows me a coupon cut out of the paper that you were supposed to take with you to the store in order to get your coupons doubled.

No one told me about this.

Now any nice cashier would have an extra one that she would run through for you.

But not this one, because that takes extra time and she wants to leave.

I look her over, wondering if I'm ready to take her on.

She's big. She's really big.

And she looks tough.

Screw it. I walk out muttering to myself, but no one notices because half the people in there are doing the same thing. Not for any particular reason, I think they just talk to themselves out loud a lot.

I get outside and my nose starts running from the cold and I have no tissue, so I pull a piece of paper out of my pocket...my receipt from the groceries...and kind of blow my nose. Then I wad it up and throw it away.

When I get home and unpack my stuff, I notice that she didn't even give me the 75 cents off my cheese.

Gall dang it! I'm calling the store. No. I'm going back there on Thursday and tell the manager.

Then I remember that I blew my nose in the receipt.

Ahhhh, forget it.

I am swearing off coupons. They just give me agida.

2006-12-28T18:21:00.000-08:00

Blog Tag

My daughter in law, Mindy, tagged me for this. I’ve never done this before, not being one to tell secrets about myself. My experience has been that people tend to use those things against me in times of turmoil. But here goes:

1. I named my breasts once, a long time ago and my husband, Don, has been trying to guess their names for years. He’s way coooollllldddd. I cracked up when SNL had a segment on women who name their breasts. I thought I was the only one, but then guys have all kinds of cute names for their dicks, don’t they?

2. My childhood nickname was Cannonball because I was not only a champ at Dodge ball on the playground, but I had a temper rather like a loose cannon! (I can get angry easily, but forget it almost as quickly). Just call me “Cannonball Baron” and I’ll know you read this!

3. I always wanted to be on stage and my 11th grade honors English teacher encouraged me to do so after I did an impromptu talk entitled, “Bad Breath in Dogs.” It was an assignment that I’d forgotten to do and I was the first one called upon to give my speech. I came up with this on the spur of the moment, from a TV commercial I’d happened to see. The class roared and my teacher gave me an A and said I should be in theater. I did a brief stint in community theater, my favorite role being “Opal,” in “Everybody Loves Opal.” I have a tape of the show if you’re ever in the neighborhood…

4. I have a secret fear of the BVM (Blessed Virgin Mary) stalker and this Christmas became fearful that he had entered my house. I found Davenport, my dog, barking furiously at the front door, which had swung open. I immediately thought of the BVM stalker with whom I had an encounter several Christmas Eves ago on the streets of Utica, NY. I haven’t heard from him since his last phone call and a package he sent me, a picture of the BVM, which he says he bought in Medjugorie. But I think it’s only a matter of time before he shows up…if I disappear, you’ll find his name and address on a piece of paper in my address book (the pink one with flowers on it).

5. I sometimes can’t tell reality from fantasy and dreams. My dreams can be so real that I think they really happened. And when they haven’t, and I expose myself by bringing up a point from my dream to someone who was in the dream, and they say, what the f___ are you talking about? I get really embarrassed, because I don’t like people to think I am an airhead.

:-))

2006-08-21T07:09:00.000-07:00

The Loose Cannon of 9/11

By Michael Slenske, SMITH Magazine. Posted August 21, 2006 on alternet.org, an alternative news source.

How a 23-year-old Army grunt-turned-film producer is undermining the 9/11 Commission Report with $8,000 and a laptop.

It took two governors, four congressmen, three former White House officials and two special counsels two years to compile. They reviewed over two and half million pages of classified and declassified documents, consulted 1,200 sources in 10 countries, and spent over $15 million of the taxpayers' money in the process. And on July 22, 2004, the 9/11 Commission issued its final report on the terror attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. Is it possible that two twentysomethings from "a small hippie town that time forgot" could undermine that entire effort with $8,000 and a laptop?

Yes, if you ask ex-Army specialist Korey Rowe. The 23-year-old from Oneonta, New York returned home from two tours -- one to Afghanistan, the other to Iraq -- to help his best friends, Dylan Avery (director) and Jason Bermas (researcher), produce the sensational 80-minute, Web-based documentary "Loose Change," which seeks to establish the government's complicity in the terror attacks by addressing some very tough questions: Why wasn't Ground Zero treated like a crime scene? How did both towers "free-fall" to the ground "in 9.2 seconds" in just under two hours? And where are the black boxes from American Airlines Flight 11 and United Airlines Flight 175?

While the film is admittedly flawed and draws on some dubious new media sources, including Wikipedia, it's inarguably sparked a new interest in the "9/11 Truth movement." Since its April 2005 debut online, "Loose Change" (the first and second edition) has received over 10 million viewings, it was just featured in the August issue of Vanity Fair, and the final cut of the film is expected to debut at the Sundance Film Festival in January.

"I've got four movie studios [including Paramount and Miramax] beating down my door to make the final cut," says Rowe, who's now got offices from California to London to handle his growing company. Last week SMITH caught up with Rowe -- who's been labeled everything from a traitor to a CIA operative in the past year -- to see how he went from protecting the Iraqi-Syrian border against Muslim insurgents to a self-described "conspiracy theorist" poised to take Hollywood (and the country) by storm.

MICHAEL SLENSKE: Do you work for the CIA?

KOREY ROWE: No, I do not work for the CIA.

SLENSKE: Just wanted to get that out of the way. What made you want to join the military?

ROWE: The fact that I was doing nothing. I was 18; I wasn't ready to go to college yet. I knew that if I went to college I wouldn't have spent too much time in class, I would have spent my time partying. I wouldn't have gotten done what I needed to do. It would have been a waste of my parents' money. So I decided it would probably be best if I joined the military -- this was pre-Sept. 11 -- Bush was in office, there wasn't a whole lot going on, I didn't foresee a war happening, I just thought it would be a good way to get out of town, man-up a little, and then move on with the rest of my life. Before I knew it, I just joined.

SLENSKE: Did you want to go to war?

ROWE: At first I did. I wanted to retaliate for Sept. 11. The government told me it was Osama bin Laden, the government told me he was hiding in caves in Afghanistan, they told me he had killed a bunch of innocent Americans, so at first I wanted to go over there and defend just like everyone else. It was the hooah thing to do at the time.

SLENSKE: What were you doing in Afghanistan?

ROWE: My primary MOS (military occupational specialty) was 11 Bravo, which is infantry, frontline infantry. I was carrying a gun, humping a lot of weight on my back. That was what I did in Afghanistan full time. I was at the Kandahar airfield, Bagram, and Khost. But in Afghanistan I really didn't do much. I was there for six months, pulled a lot of guard; I went on, I think, three missions. Never got any enemy contact, never got fired on. I watched it on my perimeter, a couple hundred meters out while someone else was getting shot at, but I never really got any action.

SLENSKE: And in Iraq?

ROWE: In Iraq I rode in the back of a truck from the southern tip, through the desert into Al-Hillah, took the battle of Al-Hillah, which was pretty crazy. It looked like a Vietnam movie. Then we moved further north into Baghdad, where we were in Medical City. I was stationed in an emergency room door for about a month and a half just watching these bodies of children and their families come in. Then I moved north into Mosul, swung west into Sinjar, on the Syrian-Turkey border where we had to watch for insurgents coming across the border.

SLENSKE: How did that experience change you?

ROWE: I went from being some kid who had no idea about anything in the military--I didn't even know what the infantry was when I joined, I just told them I wanted to shoot stuff and blow stuff up -- to being a communications specialist for my commander. That was really when I started to see the bigger picture -- when I started working for higher commanders -- seeing how things ran.

SLENSKE: When was the first time you heard from Dylan Avery about what he was doing with "Loose Change" back in New York?

ROWE: After I got back from Afghanistan, he started to talk about the idea that 9/11 was an inside job, and started letting me know about some of the information he had come across. It was between returning from Afghanistan and redeploying for Iraq that my mind started to click on. I was like, "Wait a minute -- I was in Afghanistan three months ago, and now I'm going to be in Iraq in four months. I've got to invade another country; where is this going?"

Then -- and I hate to say this -- I saw "Fahrenheit 911," which to me is a terrible movie. But a lot of it made sense in the pretext and military build-up to Afghanistan before we were actually attacked. When I walked out of that movie I was like, "Wow, that messed with my head." Right before I deployed for Iraq, I had the inclination that something was seriously wrong. But then it didn't matter because at that point I had to go. My unit needed me. I was the company RTO (radio telephone operator); I was running communications. It didn't matter what my personal beliefs were. I just had to go over and shut my mouth for another year.

SLENSKE: So why this film?

ROWE: "Loose Change" happened by accident. The whole thing started out as a fictional screenplay about me and Dylan and another friend of ours finding out 9/11 was an inside job. It started out as a comedic action film with us being chased by the FBI and all that. But when Dylan started researching the screenplay, he found out the attacks really were an inside job, so we made it into a documentary. I see myself as a person who's a buffer between conspiracy theorist and military informant, so I thought my help on "Loose Change" would make it a better quality piece, something more mainstream people who aren't into conspiracies could really watch and take in.

I call it the gateway drug because it can take someone totally green to the information -- who believed Muslims carried out 9/11, that the World Trade Center was brought down because of jet fuel, and that the Pentagon was hit by a plane -- you put them in front of this movie, and 80 minutes later they are going to question it at least. Bottom line: They're going to question it. It makes people think. It made me think, so I wanted to make other people think.

SLENSKE: When you got back from Iraq did you know you wanted to go work on the film?

ROWE: No, I went back to work. I was training. That's what you do. When you're not deployed, you're in the rear either fixing your gear or using your gear. I was stationed in Fort Campbell, Ky., the whole four years besides the time I was overseas. When you're back from overseas you get a month off, you clean your gear, and then go fight again.

SLENSKE: Didn't you ever stop and think, "Wait, Dylan is just a kid"?

ROWE: Yeah, several times. I thought, I'm in the military, I know stuff. But Dylan was way more informed than me. Like I said, I'm getting the Army Times, I'm getting the AFN, and now it's out. It's reported that the government spent millions of dollars spinning false articles to newspapers across the world. So who's to say the Armed Forces Network and the Army Times aren't chockfull of bullshit?

SLENSKE: How prevalent is that mindset in the Army?

ROWE: That they know what's going on?

SLENSKE: Yeah?

ROWE: It's 98 percent. It's a fantasy world those people live in. I mean it's really something. I call them infected. They can't come back to civilian life. They're like, "You can't get out of the Army, you ain't gonna get no job, you ain't gonna do nothing. You gonna work at Burger King. What are you gonna do at Burger King? You still wear a uniform; you still get a haircut at Burger King. So why don't you just stay in the Army, join up, sign again, get $6,000." If you don't reenlist, they just make you sit in a chair. They made me sit in a chair for a week. Sit in that chair until you reenlist. I just sat there. "You want me to sit in this chair," I said, "I'll sit in this chair for a month, because in a month I'm out of here."

SLENSKE: When you came back, was there anything that really bothered you about the American public?

ROWE: Yeah, their ability to believe the B.S. they see on TV. They're so in tune with their television and CNN and Fox News and the New York Post. They watch the news and the news reporter, whoever it is, forms an opinion for them. Take the release of the Pentagon video. CNN had been bashing conspiracies all day because people kept writing in about conspiracy theories. They build it up for two hours, then they show the video, then Jamie McIntyre, who we actually use in our video says, "All right, there's the plane, you can see it. There's the vapor trail, and there's the explosion. They only shoot in half-second frames; it's the only shot of the Pentagon. We'll be right back to cover more of this. This is undisputed proof that a plane hit the Pentagon."

They go to commercial, and instead of coming back and going to Flight 77, they go to "American Idol." They just implant the idea, there's Jamie McIntyre saying he sees a 757 flying into the Pentagon, and then they switch to "American Idol." So then when someone says there's no plane that hit the Pentagon, someone else can say, "That's not true; I watched CNN this afternoon. Jamie McIntyre saw the plane; he showed me." People believe anything because it's on CNN.

SLENSKE: What do you think about the Popular Mechanics cover story about "Debunking 9/11 Myths"?

ROWE: That's a good article. It covers some good information, but it directly takes away from some of the facts. It states that NATO scrambled planes at one time that could've intercepted the planes but couldn't because they couldn't reach them in time. That's bullshit. That article reports they only would've had to have flown at 24 percent of their full-blower, and an F15 flies at 1,800 mph. You're telling me when the first plane was hijacked at 8:20 a.m. until 9:45, when the plane was flown into the Pentagon, you're telling me that not one F-15 could be scrambled and taken down one of those planes. Not to mention the ("Debunking 9/11 Myths") piece stands on the Nova theory (the "Pancake Theory") that one floor collapsed on another floor creating a succession of collapses where the towers fell.

If that's true, you have a 75-story office building untouched by fuel, fire, any debris whatsoever. You have a 30-story chunk above that, which is also untouched. You have the 78th to 82nd floor, which is on fire. Think about that. You have a 70-something story office building, untouched, unscathed by fuel. You're going to tell me that the steel supposedly weakened, fell on one floor, on top of another floor, on top of another floor, for 78 floors, reaching the ground floor, and fell in 9.2 seconds. 9.2 seconds is the exact rate of freefall for a building that tall, which is 1,368 feet tall.

If you take Galileo's Law of Falling Bodies and you calculate the distance by the time it takes to fall, it's 9.2 seconds. That means that all those floors fell without any resistance from any of those untouched floors below it. It's completely impossible. Not only do you have to do that, you just have to watch the collapse of the towers. You can see the bombs going off. It is so obvious. It's an umbrella theory. You blow up the top to conceal what's going on beneath it.

SLENSKE: The "Blair Witch Project" also looked real to people who were in on the documentary preceding it. It totally worked. The first time you watch it, it grabs you. But "Loose Change" isn't meant to be fictional. It's a watchable film, but what do you expect people to do with it?

ROWE: What I encourage people to do is go out and research it themselves. We don't ever come out and say that everything we say is 100 percent. We know there are errors in the documentary, and we've actually left them in there so that people discredit us and do the research for themselves -- the B52 (remarked to have flown into the Empire State Building), the use of Wikipedia, things like that. We left them in there so people will want to discredit us and go out and research the events yourself and come up with your own conclusions. That's our whole goal, to make Americans think. To wake up from the 16 amps of your television to watch something and get a passion in something again.

And that's what America has always been about. From the Vietnam protests … it's always been about a passion. And now we're trying to build that passion in people, to wake up, to stop watching television, to stop reading the crappy newspapers, and go online and find those declassified documents. Go find the scientists that aren't young filmmakers, but the ones after Steven E. Jones at BYU, who has steel from the World Trade Center and has conducted tests on the steel. And it's come to the point, over and over again, that what they (the 9-11 Commission) say can't be true. That it had to be brought down by controlled demolition. Our whole goal is to wake Americans up to do something about it.

SLENSKE: What do you say to people who'd say you're doing this to make a dollar?

ROWE: You should see my dilapidated house in upstate New York. I drive a Ford F-150 that has a tape player. We sell DVDs, we make money, but we just give the shit away because we don't want to be war profiteers. We're not about making money on the whole thing -- we're about getting information out. That's why we've turned down seven figures, more than once, from people looking to buy our film and put it in theaters -- because they don't care about it. They only see the moneymaking aspect of it.

We want to make sure it's handled correctly. That the movie gets out 100 percent accurate when it comes out in theaters, because it's obviously not now, and that it's projected in the right light so people aren't threatened by it. If we coordinate 500 theaters across the country to start playing it, it's going to start a wave. We're going to have a whole weekend of events on 9/11 just to raise awareness among New Yorkers so that we can try to get an independent investigation to look back into the facts that every news agency in the world has ignored. Americans are going to be pissed.

Michael Slenske writes the "Back Home From Iraq" column for SMITH Magazine.

2006-08-20T13:18:00.000-07:00

Special `Conspiracy Theory' Edition, Part II

Tens of millions of people across the country witnessed what happened [on 9/11], and had the images of that day seared into their memory. But what we want to focus on here is what we didn't see happen that day, because some of the most compelling evidence lies, strangely enough, in what no one saw happen that day.

No one, for example, saw any defensive measures taken during the entire time that the lengthy spectacle played out. None whatsoever.

No one saw any jets scrambled to intercept any of the hijacked aircraft, though their locations and flight-paths were known and there was more than ample time for a military response. No one saw any jets scrambled to secure the airspace over Washington, though some of the hijacked flights were known to be headed that way, and interceptors were sitting on the tarmac just minutes away from likely targets.

And strangely enough, no one saw or heard any demands by television talking-heads for the military to respond in some capacity, or any questioning of why no response had yet materialized. Not after the first WTC tower was hit. Not after the second WTC tower was hit. Not during the agonizingly long interval before the Pentagon was hit. Not even after the Pentagon was hit.

We were all assigned the task of sitting back in fear and watching helplessly as the attack continued and the death toll mounted, encouraged to feel powerless not only as individuals, but as a nation -- as if we had no choice but to participate only as passive spectators, watching dumfounded as the carnage unfolded.

But clearly we are not powerless as a nation. Obviously we have procedures on the books that are to be followed in the event of national emergencies, and we have thousands of qualified personnel in the military and in various federal agencies that are thoroughly trained to fill various roles when given orders to do so.

And just as clearly, we all saw that those procedures were not followed that day.

Another thing that no one saw happen on September 11 was the World Trade Center towers toppling in a way that was consistent with the damage that was inflicted upon them. This was particularly true in the case of the south WTC tower.

As we all did see, the south tower was not hit as `cleanly' as the north tower. Rather than smashing into the face of the structure, the aircraft that allegedly caused the implosion of the south tower clipped a corner of the building (for those who have forgotten what the impact looked like, here is a reminder: http://serendipity.magnet.ch/wot/impact2.htm).

The significance of this is twofold: first, the enormous fireball created by the instantaneous ignition of the jet's payload of fuel was ejected out the side of the building adjacent to the point of impact; and second, the structural damage to the tower was almost entirely confined to one corner of the building.

This raises some rather troubling questions about the official story of the tower's collapse. For if the jet fuel was largely ejected from the building, as photos and video footage clearly show, then how is it possible that the ensuing fire attained the extreme temperatures required to weaken the massive amount of steel in the building to such an extent that the entire structure spontaneously collapsed?

And, perhaps more importantly, how is it possible that the structural framework of the building failed in a perfectly symmetrical fashion, creating the mythical "pancake" effect that is supposed to explain the implosion of the building?

Another thing that we didn't see that day was repeatedly aired footage of the collapse of WTC #7, a building that attained the dubious distinction of being the only steel-framed high-rise building in history to ever suffer a complete collapse due to fire alone. That seems a little odd to me as well.

According to The History Channel, WTC #7 happened to house the World Trade Center complex's crisis management center. Staff there were monitoring the unfolding tragedy in the two towers -- until, that is, they received a call of unknown origin advising them to evacuate the building. One can only wonder what records from the crisis center might have revealed about the collapse of the towers, had WTC #7 and everything in it not been destroyed.

Our memories of what happened that day are filled with emotionally-charged images of burning buildings and falling bodies. But we need to detach ourselves from the deliberately inflamed emotions and remember back to what we didn't see happen that day, for what we didn't see is far more significant than the smoke and mirrors that we did see.

We didn't see an Air Force response. We didn't see a presidential response. We didn't see a Secret Service response. We didn't see a response from NORAD, or from the Department of Defense, or from the Joint Chiefs of Staff, or from the Secretary of Defense. We didn't see an appropriate response from anyone of any authority in Washington.

Most readers are probably familiar with the Carlyle Group, through which George H.W. Bush had (has?) financial ties to the bin Laden family. Some readers are probably also aware that George W. Bush had business dealings with Salem bin Laden, brother of Osama, dating back to the days when Bush was posing as a Texas oilman (Salem, by the way, met with an untimely end when his plane Wellstoned ... oops, I meant to say crashed, in the state of Texas).

I'm guessing though that some readers are not yet familiar with a business entity formerly known as Securacom, and now known as Stratesec, Inc. And that is really a shame, because the Securacom/Stratesec story is a fascinating one indeed.

Billing itself as "a single-source provider of comprehensive technology-based security solutions for medium and large commercial and government facilities in the United States and abroad," the company is based in a Virginia suburb of Washington, D.C. -- in an area that I like to call "Spookville."

The company's clients have included the U.S. Army, the U.S. Navy, the U.S. Air Force, the Department of Justice, and Los Alamos National Laboratories. Also on the company's client list were - and this is where the story gets interesting - the World Trade Center, United Airlines, and the Metropolitan Washington Airport Authority -- operator of Dulles International Airport.

The company first began doing work at the Trade Center in 1993, following the first `terrorist' attack on the building complex. In 1996, Securacom apparently received an exclusive contract to provide security at the Center. The year before, it had received a contract from the Metro Airport Authority. In the late 1990s, the WTC and the MWAA were two of Securacom's top three clients.

But that's not the most interesting aspect of this story. It gets better. Beginning in 1993, when Securacom first began doing work for the WTC, none other than Marvin Bush - brother of George, Jeb and Neil - was sitting on the board of directors and was a significant shareholder in the company.

Also sitting on that board was Mishal Yousef Saud al-Sabah, and a man named Wirt D. Walker III, who served as chairman. "Walker" is, of course, the name of one of the families that spawned the Bush clan, as evidenced by the "Dubya" in both George, Sr. and George, Jr.'s names. And "al-Sabah" is, as we all know, the name of the Kuwaiti royal family.

During the years 1993 to 1999 - while Securacom was doing contract work for the WTC, United Airlines and the Metropolitan Washington Airport Authority, and while Bush, Walker and al-Sabah were sitting on the board - a large and sometimes controlling interest in the company was held by KuwAm.

And what is KuwAm, you ask? It is a Washington, D.C.-based, Kuwaiti/American investment group whose board of directors has included - you guessed it - Marvin Bush, Wirt Walker, and Mishal Yousef Saud al-Sabah.

Let's briefly recap the coincidences, shall we? The Bush family coincidentally has close business ties to the family that supplied the mastermind of the terrorist attacks. The Bush family also coincidentally had ties to the company that provided security for the principal target of the attacks, the World Trade Center (this company would, of course, have been afforded unprecedented and unquestioned access to the buildings). And the Bush family coincidentally had similar ties to United Airlines, which supplied two of the hijacked flights, and Dulles International Airport, which supplied a third.

The prime suspect, the weapons, the primary target ... I guess the question that comes to my mind is then: is there any aspect of the September 11 story that is not coincidentally covered with the fingerprints of some member of the Bush family?

Speaking of which ... I was recently invited, by a website that I've never heard of, to submit a missive on the topic of "Did Bush Know?" This question is, in a sense, rather silly, in that it assumes that George W. Bush is actually running the show, or is at least an important member of his own administration.

Had I the time and the inclination to address the question of "Did Bush Know?," I guess the first question that I would have is: which Bush exactly is it that we are talking about? Is it the Bush that has deep financial ties to the bin Laden family and the Saudi royal family? Is it the Bush that sat on the board of the corporate entity that supplied 'security' to the World Trade Center, the Metropolitan Washington Airport Authority and United Airlines, and that had deep financial ties to the Kuwaiti royal family? Is it the Bush that inexplicably declared a state of emergency in the state of Florida just four days before the September 11 attacks, setting the stage for the possible imposition of martial law? Or is it the Bush who is currently posing as the president?

Here's another question that I have: at what point does the fraudulence of the "War on Terror" become so blatant, and the complicity of the media in selling Washington's lies so glaringly apparent, that the huddled masses of America will awake to the fact that there is a completely different reality out there than the one we are being sold?

Consider that even while Team Bush has been doing business with its Saudi and Kuwaiti partners, it has long been plotting to launch a completely unprovoked assault upon neighboring Iraq -- all, of course, in the name of `fighting terror.'

Now the last time I checked, Saudi Arabia was the country that spawned the alleged mastermind of the attacks and 15 of his 19 henchmen, and also supplied most of the funding for the ethereal Al Qaeda organization. And both the Saudi and Kuwaiti royal families are fond of advocating the brand of militant Islamism that allegedly inspired the attacks.

Iraq, on the other hand, has the rather unique distinction of being the only country on the Arabian peninsula to host a secular government. And there is absolutely no paper or money trail linking Iraq to the events of September 11, or to any other purported acts of terrorism.

And yet here we are massing troops and stockpiling weapons in the very countries that supply the foot-soldiers, the funding, and the ideology to so-called `terrorist' groups, so that we can brutally attack a country that has not attacked, nor threatened to attack, any Western targets, and that has no connection to Islamic `terrorism'. And all the while, the media collectively pretend not to see anything wrong with that picture.

And it matters not, by the way, what Iraq does to appease Washington's warmongers.

The following quote from Rumsfeld appeared in an article on the front page of the January 16 edition of the L.A. Times: "The fact that the inspectors have not yet come up with evidence of Iraq's [weapons of mass destruction] program could be evidence in and of itself of Iraq's noncompliance."

Many `conspiracy theory' bashers have claimed that the "who benefited?" question is an illegitimate one to ask. If so, then someone really should break the news to police detectives all around the world, who seem to think that asking that question is integral to conducting an investigation of a crime.

The fact that someone, or some entity, benefited from a crime certainly does not alone prove guilt. And Washington is certainly ready, willing and able to manipulate outcomes to serve its purposes, regardless of whether the opportunity was manufactured, or just happened to present itself.

Nevertheless, the question of "who benefited?" must be taken into consideration, along with other indicators, when attempting to ascertain the truth of what happened on September 11. And the party that gained the most from September 11, without question, was the Bush administration.

So if we look at what happened that day in terms of who benefited, the most likely place to look for suspects would be in Washington. If we look at what happened that day in terms of historical precedents, then the most likely place to look for suspects would be in Washington. And if we look at what happened that day in terms of the evidence in the case, only a portion of which was reviewed herein, then the most likely place to look for suspects would still be in Washington. And, finally, if we look at the fact that there were very clear signs that the country was already headed in the direction that we have taken since September 11, the attacks just seem entirely too convenient for the most likely suspects not to be in Washington..

Make no mistake about it, the situation that we currently find ourselves in was coming with or without the specific provocation of September 11. The warning signs were everywhere. You couldn't miss them. All that was required was taking a look at the big picture.

I indicated earlier that conspiracy theories can not generally be proven. Comprehensive conspiracy theories can, however, be tested -- just as scientific theories can be tested. This is generally accomplished by employing what is referred to as the `scientific method' -- observing to see whether predictions drawn from those theories prove to be valid predictions.

If the predictions, or hypotheses, prove to be valid, then it can be concluded that the results lend support to the theory. This certainly does not prove the theory, but does support it ... which is about the best that can be hoped for.

Center for an Informed America, Newsletter #28, 23 January 2003

(Permission is hereby granted for this material to be widely distributed and reposted, provided that the content is not altered in any way.)

2006-03-06T13:17:00.000-08:00

Happy Birthday, Jim!

We've been talking all weekend about our Saturday evening at the Brewster Inn on Cazenovia Lake. Not that the Unit and I tend to eat at establishments like the Brewster; we're more inclined to go for the liver and onions at Flo's Diner, Home of the 10 cent cup of coffee.

But it was certainly a special evening...to celebrate our friend, Jim Brown's, 60th birthday. Now, in this day and age, you might think that reaching 60 years of age isn't all that unusual a feat...unless you are a member of the Brown family, from which Jim's lineage descends. You see, Jim and one cousin, who was in attendance on Saturday night, are the only members of that Brown clan to have ever reached the young age of 60.

And so, it wasn't just a milestone in terms of years; it was a thumbing of the nose at the Brown actuary table.

I can't help but think that Jim has stayed around on our planet to continue his good works and like Clarence in "It's a Wonderful Life," to continue earning his wings. You see, he's not only been an EMT, something that takes a lot of stamina and no fear of blood and gore (something my son, Teague and I can't relate to), but Jim has spent his time keeping our kids, yours and mine, as safe as can be on the big yellow school buses. Yes, for years Jim was involved in the safety training of school bus drivers in the Madison-Oneida BOCES district and from what I recall with his Operation Safe Start, that day each September when law enforcement was out to remind drivers to never pass a stopped school bus, Jim's record has been golden. So thanks, Jim! I wish you were still at the helm here in the VVS area for the day when my little Bella granddaughter gets on and off the school bus.

Jim and Heather both looked radiant on Saturday night; I must say I haven't seen "Jimmy" (although he winces when I call him that) looking as healthy and smiling in some time, as I did when I saw them for our dinner party. And why not? He's beaten the odds and he had a good number of friends and family surrounding him to celebrate that fact and to wish him "another 60 years!"

So here's to you Jim, and your thoughtful wife, Heather, who arranged a mighty impressive evening. Thanks! You've done well. Carry on.

2006-02-16T09:15:00.000-08:00

Well, it's been 23 minutes...make that 41 minutes now... trying to get a $19.95 refund from H&R Block, America's tightwads. If I were being paid an hourly rate for this, I would be making let's see...carry the two...minus 5...oh, I don't know! I'm just telling you this is a pain in my arse!

You know how well I love the IRS and tax time, since their agent, who (or is that whom?) I fondly called Chops, descended upon me about 10 years ago because I am in business for myself...and the Spousal Unit thinks...because my politics are far left of center. I had just returned from a peace and justice retreat in Mexico, where phones were being tapped at the retreat house where I was staying, and in my mailbox was a notice from the IRS that I was being audited. And not just a one question audit, a "field audit." That means, they want to know what I ate for breakfast three years ago...and to prove it.

My good friend, Brenda, who worked for H&R Block helped me get my taxes straightened out back then and has continued doing so for the last decade. But H&R Block was getting more and more expensive every year, with Brenda's hourly salary not keeping pace. She has since left and I was out on a limb.

Look she said, get an online program, do your taxes and as a favor to you, I will check it over for you, just for your peace of mind.
It worked like a charm. So far, I haven't been bothered by Chops and his gang of thieves in many moons.

This year, I toddled over to the computer, adding machine tapes in hand, paid my $19.95 for the H&R block online program again, and proceeded to input my tax information.

Things were going along swimmingly until...oops...I got a little online reminder from H&R Block that said something like,

"Remember when we told you that some schedules and forms might not be supported? Well, you've just come to one. You have two options: go buy our software at the office supply and download it onto your computer and start all over again, or pay $269 for one of our agents to finish your tax forms for you."

Ah hah.

Well, I wasn't about to give them any more of my money, so I went out and bought myself some software, installed it and started putting my information in again. It was a windy sunday afternoon and out here in the sticks, an ill wind bodes not well.

The fecking wind knocked our power out. Don't ask me how, because our power lines are under the ground. But someone, they must be susceptible to breezes...and before I could save, I lost everything I had now put in for a second time.

I called Brenda screaming and she calmed me down, but said I was just going to HAVE to do it. After pouting for awhile and kicking the desk, I got down to business, saving every after every 3 character strokes, and got my info in.

So, now I'm just waiting for Brenda to look things over...last year she found a myriad of errors...so it's a lucky thing she's such a good friend.

And then I started to think, why should I let twenty bucks go to waste? Maybe Teague and Mindy can use the online program that I paid for and can't use. So I got online and went to the live chat. Lou greeted me.

"How may I help you?"

I told him what happened about Schedule E being dropped off and how cheesy I thought that was and said I wanted my son to use my program.

"I'm sorry but that is not possible" came Lou's reply.

"OK, then I need a refund."

Lou: "I'm not able to give you a refund from my department, please call 1-800TAX Cut and they'll help you."

So I call them, and get the usual voice mail drivel. Press 2, please wait, all representatives are currently helping other customers yaddayaddayaddayadda.

Classical music blares in my ear while I hold the phone under my chin and try typing while I wait.

Several repetitions of the All representatives are currently... come across the phone line and finally, I am connected.

I tell the rep that I want a refund.

"Do you have an order number?"

"Yes, I do: 8F456TG375EWR87788GVDE9"

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. CAn you repeat that?"

I repeat.

"I'm sorry, that order number cannot be refunded from this department. I will put you in touch with our customer service department. Please hold."

So, I get the voice mail message that I've already heard once...and the classical movement...all representatives are currently...and finally, a rep comes on the line.

I tell her the spiel.

She tells me that this isn't the department for that, that she needs to put me through to customer service...

"Wait a minute...that's what the last person told me, she put me through to you...your voice mail says this is the customer service department...what's going on??"

"I apologize for the inconvenience...but this is the department for CD's, not online. Please hold."

More music, more waiting...

Finally, a message, welcoming me yet again, to the customer service department.

Ian finally answers, ask what he can do for me. I go through the whole story again. I am YET AGAIN in the wrong department!!

Yet more music, more waiting...

Finally, I get the troubleshooting department. It's not really their job to give refunds, but she's going to open a CASE for me...I even got a case number with about 20 digits in it.

All for a refund of $19.95.

As she interviewed me, I could hear her typing her case notes, asking me all kinds of questions about when I purchased the online program, why I wanted the refund.

She suggested that maybe I didn't NEED SChedule E, that if it wasn't going to make a dramatic difference in my taxes, I could SKIP it. Chops would love this. He would love for me to SKIP claiming income.

I said, "it would make a dramatic difference. That is not an option."

"I see."

"What was the date that you purchased the online program?"

"January 29....do you want to know what I had for breakfast that day?"

"Oh heavens no!"

"Thank you Mrs. Wanger (that is how she ended up spelling my name...I figured, why not?)...I will submit my notes to the Supervisor of Refunds to People Who Tried Using Our Program But It Didn't Work Out and you will be receiving a call within the next 24-48 hours, verifying that they have received your request for a refund..."

"What??? All this for $19.95? You owe me more than that for all the time I've wasted."

More apologies and have a good days...I should be hearing within 2 days, and receive my refund within a week.

They must have taken lessons from the IRS.

2005-12-07T07:40:00.001-08:00

Share a Caring Christmas This Saturday

The folks at WMCR Radio and Nye Automotive Group have been sponsoring the local Share a Caring Christmas for...I don't know how many years. And once again, Share a Caring Christmas comes to the Nye showrooms on Route 5 in Oneida this Saturday, starting at 10 a.m. to 1 pm.

WMCR will be broadcasting live and you will have an opportunity to drop off new, or gently used toys for area children, have some refreshments and listen to the music of numerous local groups from schools and churches around the area.

I have had the pleasure of Emceeing Share a Caring Christmas back when I was an announcer for WMCR. That was a fun time. If they'd give me a raise, I'd go back in a heart beat!

But that's another topic.

Meanwhile, I invite you to help out with Share a Caring Christmas. Bring your toys and gift items for kids of all ages, babies through teens, to Nye on Saturday. Volunteers will sort them, wrap them and deliver them to families in our area. What a great way to offer the spirit of Christmas right in our own community.

2005-12-07T07:40:00.000-08:00

2005-12-07T06:30:00.001-08:00

I like the Advent season; it gives me a chance to pause from my every day life and to reflect on where I've been and where I'm going. Even if I've been skipping mass for a good part of the rest of the year, I always make it a point to attend mass during Advent, to meditate each day, to light the Advent candles each week and to attend an Advent retreat for the weekend.

You can imagine my surprise, when I went to a local church for the second Sunday in Advent last weekend, ready to listen to the spiritual message of the priest. It's a traditional church, full of the many little rituals that Catholics come to crave, like the incense that has invaded our pores over many decades of sitting in a scented room Sunday after Sunday. I watched the priest wait until the readings were completed and we had each had time to reflect on them. He then went carefully onto the altar and removed a gold-covered Bible from its encasement. He kissed the Bible and brought it to the lectern, carrying it high in the air for everyone to see.

My Catholic giddiness took hold and I began to feel the old thrill. Following the gospel reading, I settled back in the pew, ears pealed for the message.

"...annual expenditure for flowers."

Huh?

"...office expenses."

I looked up to find everyone following along on a xeroxed sheet that had been inserted in the church bulletin. It was the parish financial statement for the fiscal year.

I looked over at the spousal unit: "THIS is the homily??" I asked him. He shrugged.

The reading went on from the lectern, down through the line items on the parish budget sheet. Two sides of a business sheet of paper.

Line.
By.
Line.

"Let me out of here!" I said to the Unit, who was blocking my way into the aisle.

"Wait until he's finished," he admonished me.

I began to pray as I looked at the stained glass windows. "Magnifcat" one of them read. We were singing Vivaldi's Magnificat later that day with the Oneida Civic Chorale:

"My soul doth magnify the Lord,
And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.
For he hath regarded the low estate of his handmaiden: for, behold, from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.
For he that is mighty hath done to me great things; and holy is his name.
And his mercy is on them that fear him from generation to generation.
He hath shewed strength with his arm; he hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
He hath put down the mighty from their seats, and exalted them of low degree.
He hath filled the hungry with good things; and the rich he hath sent empty away.
He hath holpen his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy;
As he spake to our fathers, to Abraham, and to his seed for ever."

How could this priest be using the homily during mass on the second Sunday of Advent to talk about materialism? About money and capital gains?

The frosting on the cake was when he talked about the ushers and how he loved to watch their dance, "...like a waltz," as they swung the collection baskets in and out of pews.

"Enough!" I shoved the Unit into the aisle and clambered out behind him.

In the car, I fumed and cried. The Unit patted me on the shoulder.

"Your image has been shattered," he said sympathetically. "I know it's upsetting."

"What am I going to do?" I wailed. Our own church in Williamstown has closed. And even when it's open, the priest there has turned many people away with his own mannerisms. Having been a fallen away Catholic in the 60's, returning only in the 1980's when I met what I considered sane people, spiritual priests who helped me return to my religion, I am perhaps a "fussy" Catholic. I want not only the community of a parish, but I want spiritual leadership from my priest. With the crisis going on with the Church in general and its bad press, along with a new Pope who is in my opinion, a travesty, and then the diocesan problems of an increasingly aging priesthood and very few new priests joining, it's getting harder and harder to find that kind of person. They are, as the Unit reminded me, a dying breed.

Don't get me wrong. I looked for other religions to take the place of Catholicism. But none of them did much for me. And I finally came to the sociological conclusion (being a sociologist by training and education) that a religion is a reflection of the culture in which it emerges.

I am not a Buddhist, although I enjoy much of Buddhist teachings. I am not a Siekh. My family's heritage is eastern European. It's cultural roots are tied with the Catholic Church. But how can I take part in a church's rituals when all around me are the shards of that faith's misdemeanors and mortal sins?

"Take me to St. Wally's then, where everyone else is celebrating Advent," I barked, not being comforted.

As I thought, there were tons of people already shopping at Walmart, while the pews of the church were only spattered here and there with attendees.

Hmppph. With homilies like that, what did the guy expect?

So, here I am, going into the third week of Advent, a woman without a Church, once again. What a mercy I'll be on retreat this weekend. After that, who knows? I'll keep praying and leaving messages for our "Old Padre," our former parish pastor. Perhaps I can convince him THIS TIME that we should start our own church.

I found something out on the Net, written by an English woman, about Advent. I place it here as a reminder to me and to that priest in Rome, about what this season is really about. And I ask forgiveness for perhaps the pride and arrogance that caused me to write and mail and scathing letter to him. I look for my paths to become straight and for my blindness to turn to seeing.

Meanwhile, I will perhaps join the Spousal Unit in our "Cathedral in the Pines" and reflect myself, with my Higher Power, on the message of Advent:

"We will soon be celebrating Advent. The word "Advent" comes from the Latin word "Adventus" which means coming and Advent is a time of waiting and expectation for the feast of Christmas when we remember the coming of Christ, who came to bring salvation to each one of us. But what does Advent mean for us personally? I am asking myself this question. Is it a time of waiting or have we succumbed to the world's way of preparing for Christmas - spending more than we can afford and getting short tempered because of all the rushing around we are doing?

There might be a lot of celebrating happening and money being spent on presents but the actual event that we are celebrating has often been forgotten. Last year the Red Cross even gave instructions that no religious Christmas cards were to be sold in their shops. And the Scottish parliament said the words "Merry Christmas" were not to appear on their Christmas cards. If the true meaning of Christmas is to be kept alive in the world, however, it is up to us Christians to do it. If we don't, who will? Christmas is a really important time for us to witness to our faith and if we are open God will create situations for us to proclaim what we believe by our words or our actions.

Today many people don't even know what the real meaning of Christmas is. One of my friends was asked by her neighbour. "Why do you always send religious cards?" The neighbour had no idea that Christmas had anything to do with a spiritual event - the greatest spiritual event of all - Jesus coming into the world to save his people. This question, however, gave my friend the perfect opportunity to share the Good News.

If we are to keep Christ as the centre of Christmas, however, and make him known to the world, we ourselves must have a good understanding and grounding about the true meaning of Christmas and take every opportunity we can to make this known. The readings of Advent tell us what we need to know about this great event and help put it in context. The theme for the first Sunday of Advent is a preparation for the coming of Jesus into the world as man. This is such an awesome event, but we often don't reflect sufficiently on it : Jesus, the Son of God, the Second person of the Trinity, left his place in heaven and came, as one of us, like us in all things but sin, to reconcile us to the Father and offer to each one of us the gift of Salvation.

"A wake up call"

The second theme is the preparation for the Second Coming of Christ at the end of time, which is the gospel reading from Luke 21: 25-28; 34-35, where it speaks about the signs we can expect and the fear that will come upon the earth. This reminds us that Advent should be a real wake up call for us, to remember what life is about and what Christ's coming ultimately means for us. It is a call to wake from our slumber because our liberation is near at hand and it will come at a time we do not expect, so we must be ready.

The gospel of the 2nd Sunday of Advent leads us very well into this preparation. "Prepare a way for the Lord", says the gospel of Mark (1.3). This is the cry of the last great prophet of the Old Testament, John the Baptist, and is the central theme of Advent. When it says "prepare a way for the Lord, make his paths straight, what does this say to us?"

An interesting interpretation I came across recently suggested that it is not talking about the Lord's paths that need to be made straight, but it's our paths, the paths to our hearts that need to be made straight. It is an invitation for us to look at our lives and to try to see what are the blocks that are preventing Christ from being born again in our hearts this Christmas.

Thus Advent is a time of preparation for us, asking the Lord to show us, what needs changing in our lives, knowing that he will give us the grace to do this. So often there can be blocks in our relationships with others - family members, friends, work colleagues - and Advent can be a time to sort these out.

Do we let misunderstandings run from year to year, meaning to clear them up some day?
Do we keep quarrels alive because we cannot quite make up our minds to sacrifice our pride and end them?
Do we pass people sullenly, not speaking to them out of some silly spite, and yet knowing that it would fill us with shame and remorse if we heard that one of them were dead tomorrow.
Do we let our neighbours starve, till we hear he/she is dying of starvation?
Do we let our friend's heart ache for a word of appreciation, which we keep meaning to give him/her one day?
Let's not delay. Let's realise that time is short, straighten any crooked relationships and make Advent this year a true preparation for Christ's coming at Christmas.

2005-11-14T11:44:00.000-08:00

TWO EVENTS in the AREA THIS WEEK!

Make that THREE, counting my son, Teague's 25th birthday on November 15, 2005. If you see Teaguer, wish him a happy birthday and tell him his mom sent you! We are celebrating Teague's birthday with dinner at Ichiban Restaurant in Liverpool, a Japanese steakhouse where they throw the knives and swallow fire and all that as part of the food preparation. Yeehah!

As you may recall, Teague married Mindy Law last May in Bar Harbor, Maine. He is now owner and operator of "Wagner Design and Construction." Teague is scheduling winter redecorating/repair/renovation projects now, so give him a call 315 569-5825.

Other events this week include the Peace Vigil on Wednesday evening, November 16 at 6 pm in Sherrill at the Gazeebo. A list of Iraq war dead will be read. Bring a candle and a friend.

Friday night, November 18, there will be a free showing of the movie, "The High Cost of Low Prices," better known as the Walmart movie, starting at 7 pm. the movie lasts about an hour and a half. We hope to have a bit of discussion over coffee and doughnuts afterward. Now, we don't expect that all the thousands of Walmarts across the country will go away. But is there such a thing as "conscious capitalism?" Can Walmart be pressured to be more fair to its employees and its competitors? We'll decide together! RSVP 337-6463.

And on Saturday, November 19, we'll be celebrating my granddaughter Bella's second birthday (actually on Nov. 21) at her house. Bella is a hoot...she can count to 13, sing the ABC song, the Barney song, the itsy bitsy spider, I'm a little teapot, and probably more. She has quite a vocabulary...and sense of humor! I'm so glad she's around!!

2005-11-11T10:50:00.000-08:00

One thing I enjoy doing every year when the Christmas catalogs start jamming the mailbox, is to imagine what my house would look like if I had one of EVERYTHING in just one of the catalogs, especially something like the Lillian Vernon catalog, in my home. YIKES!

I also like looking for the most ridiculous things you can give as Christmas gifts. For years, we have had some version of a "tacky Christmas party" where gifts were given out like, Mr. Ed's Urine, a jar filled with the belly button fuzz of famous people, a fur lined sitz bath and more. That old gang of people is scattered now and we no longer get together, but the Wagner Family Christmas party always has a "dirty bingo" game in honor of our late patriarch, Donald K. Wagner, Sr. Everyone brings something they want to get rid of, wrapped as beautifully as possible. As each person's card (we use a deck of playing cards) gets called, he or she can take one of the gifts from the pile, or even steal one that's already been chosen. That's the dirty part. I have been saving things all year that I thought could go for dirty bingo. I won't divulge my secrets here in case anyone who is going to attend the family party is reading this.

And I certainly wouldn't spend a lot of money (none, if possible) on a tacky gift. But I really can't believe that some of the stuff in those catalogs actually gets purchased by anyone in their right mind.

For example, would you pay FIFTY clams for this??

Imagine shoving hotdogs down into those little holes. Gross! What a greasy freakin' mess!

What?? Is Vinnie Valente's method of wrapping a hotdog in aluminum foil and holding it over a flame on the stove on the end of a long fork TOO DIFFICULT??

Oh, you say that no one actually has a stove anymore with a FLAME? Everyone has those flat surfaces that just make a hot circle that can RIP THE BOTTOM OFF YOUR PANS?? (I kid you not, this happened to my daughter just recently!)

Well, go ahead and get the hot dog toaster then.

Good night and good luck.

2005-11-08T06:24:00.000-08:00

MURMURATION OF STARLINGS

"When a murmuration of starlings enters a holly grove, it ruins the entire crop. Their droppings are very acidic, and the plants are defoliated after the starlings are there. Amurmuration of starlings often would amount to a thousand or so of those beautiful, destructive birds."

Well, I don't know about the destructive part. For the third time this fall, we've had a "murmuration" of starlings surround our house. In fact, I have considered changing the name of our property from Pine Knot Lodge to Bodega Bay. Except we have no bay. Unless you count the little flooded creek on Millers' land over the road bank.

First, you hear a strange creaky, scratching noise. Is that the woodpecker banging on the side of our house again? Is he or she warning off a competitor, eating the bugs that no doubt lodge in the log walls of our Pine Knot Lodge, taking the name literally to themselves?

No, that's not the woodpecker...it's...(I open the side door and the noise gets increasingly louder)...holy cat birds! It's thousands of starlings!! (Well, actually, it probably isn't all starlings, often they are flocks of grackles with some starlings mixed in, and maybe even some red-winged blackbirds.) But from my vantage point, even though I've had lasik surgery to correct my vision, I can't tell what they are.

They're in the trees, everywhere, jumping from one tree to another, following one another like kids in a game.

But now, they are dropping out of the trees and down onto the ground over in that stand of pines behind the sauna. The warm weather must be making grubs appear, or come up from the ground and these guys are hungry.

People complain about starlings, that they are pests, that they roost in the yard and make a "mess" and chase all the other birds away and are generally "persona non grata" according to many in the bird world.

But then others say they eat more than their share of grubs and insects and without them, we'd be overrun, drowning, in insects.

We have never been "bothered" by starlings and we always enjoy these "murmurations" that occur, usually once in a season.

But as I said, this is the third "murmuration" we've had this fall and this last one was by far the biggest and the noisiest.

I don't know where they are going...are they migrating elsewhere for the winter? Are these starlings the same ones that you see flying in huge flocks in the air, looking like so many bits of black paper tossed in the wind?

I love watching these birds every autumn. I've come to listen for them with as much anticipation as the honking of the Canada Geese. (Hah hah! You thought I was going to say "Canadian Geese," didn't you? In my first-ever column for the Dispatch, I mentioned "Canadian Geese" and immediately received a call from a reader reminding me that geese have no nationalality. They are not Canadian, and they do not carry passports. Since then I have been careful about my name-calling...at least for geese, that is.)

2005-10-25T13:31:00.000-07:00

CNN just reported grim news:

2,000 American soldiers have now died in Iraq.

Their caskets have been hidden from view, and the news of their deaths has receded to the back pages. But the men and women who died in recent days were no less brave or less honorable than those who died in the first days of the war. It's time for us to publicly honor them—to remind the country that they're dying every day in the quagmire of Iraq—and ask, "How many more?"

Together we're organizing candlelight vigils at 6:30 p.m. tomorrow night—Wednesday, October 26, 2005. One will be held locally at the home of Marcia Newsom on Broad St. in Oneida. Bring a candle and holder.

2005-10-24T19:29:00.000-07:00

Donald Rafte, You'll Be Missed

If you or any of your children have been involved in theater productions either in Rome, Oneida, VVS or Clinton, then you've probably known, or knew of, Donald Rafte. Don's parents live in Sherrill, too, and his wife, Deb Epperson Rafte, has been a teacher at Verona Elementary for numerous years. She was my oldest child, Dria's, first grade teacher, and she also had my youngest child, Teague, in her first grade.

So I knew "Miss Epperson" long before I met her husband.

Through some of the other kids at school, my middle daughter, Eilis, became involved in a youth theater group over one particular summer when she was perhaps fourteen. The kids did "The Wizard of Oz" as the musical "The Wiz" and performed it so well at the little school in Verona Beach, that I recall raving about it in my Dispatch column. Liz Miller played Dorothy, Eilis Wagner played the Wicked Witch of the West, singing one of my favorite show tunes, "No Bad News."

But it wasn't until much later on that I realized how the show became so good. The kids had talent, yes. But there was a force behind them that brought that talent to the forefront and showcased it: Donald Rafte.

He made his own acting and singing debut in the area when he was cast as Tevye in Rome Community Theater's "Fiddler On the Roof." And then he turned to directing for the local theater group.

I had never made the cuts at RCT during auditions for their shows and I figured it was because I had nearly taken out half the prospective cast during one audition when I accidentally danced into a huge step ladder...the biggest one I've ever seen...and knocked it over onto the stage where others were cavorting about, showing their talents. I recall sitting in the VVS cafeteria hall telling Donald the story as he and I signed kids up to attend our "After the Prom Party On" sponsored by VVS Safe Homes.

He told me then and there that he was directing the next musical at RCT, "Hello Dolly" and that I was to audition. And he reminded me a couple of more times as auditions rolled around.

Well, I don't think I brought down the house with my voice or my dancing, but littled did I know Donald Rafte's all inclusive attitude when it comes to productions. EVERYONE who auditioned who wanted a part, got one. And everyone got a "moment" in the spotlight. He made sure of it.

Pretty soon, I was "promoted" from the chorus to a small part as Mrs. Rose, the street vendor, in the show. And then that part became larger. He was giving me my "moment." And then, the theater bug really bit me. I went on to take the lead at RCT's "The Curious Savage" and several other shows.

But my all time favorite was playing "Opal," in "Everybody Loves Opal," directed by Donald Rafte.

It was hard to do; my mom was at home being taken care of by Hospice. But my family knew this was a part for me and they also knew I needed some "time out." So with all their help with Granny, I was able to go out several nights a week for some seven weeks to rehearse, and then perform in some 8 performances at the theater.

I loved it and I guess it showed, because I won RCT's best actress award that season. And at the banquet, I told everyone who got me there: Don Rafte.

He gave me a chance that no one else had been willing to give me in the theater and performing arts realm.

And he was good.

Donald went on to found Broadway Bound Youth Theater for the Rome area and put on some spectacular shows. My most memorable was "Godspell."

If you attended the open air show "Down at Sylvan Beach" a few seasons ago, you were in the presence of greatness: that show, written by a local woman (forgive me, Eileen, I can't recall your last name!) was embellished upon by Donald...and it was a smash hit. Not because we brought in name actors and dancers: it was just people from the Beach, from Camden, Blossvale, North Bay...nothin' fancy. But once again, Donald had the knack to know what people enjoyed and how to get amateur actors and singers to give it to them.

Don passed away last week at the too-young age of 52. But wait. I correct myself. He lived a full life in his 52 years. And so, he died exactly when he was supposed to. (Although his friends and family certainly wish it had been many more years down the road when that inevitability was to occur.)

The wake at Campbell Dean Funeral Home in Oneida was filled with people, a tribute to the Rafte family and their place in this community.

"It's like an opening night!" I exclaimed to Flora Rafte, Donald's mom. "It is!" she exclaimed, looking around. "And he's probably up there directing it all!" We grinned through our sadness at the thought of it.

This is probably the last time I'll get to write about Donald and his theatrical contributions to the area, but I'm proud to do so. And I'm proud to have worked next to Donald as an actor, a stage manager and as a producer. He was a great friend, especially to my middle daughter, Eilis, and we will remember him always with fondness.

If you have any digital photos from any of the shows that Donald Rafte was involved in, or stories about working on shows with him, and you'd like to have them posted here, send them to me: geriw@twcny.rr.com.

2005-10-24T19:25:00.000-07:00

2000 Soldiers Killed In Iraq - Vigils Nationwide

MoveOn is organizing vigils across the country again to be held as soon as possible after the 2000th soldier dies. Since Marcia Newsom was a sponsor for the one in Sept. they contacted her and asked her to do it again. There was a conference call last night for the sponsors of the MoveOn vigil, informative for contacting and handling media, reiterating that this is a vigil honoring the fallen soldiers--NO POLITICS!

They want this one to be big. I hope we can get a big turnout. The kicker is that we do not know when the vigil will be yet. They want to have it within 36 hours of the announcement of the 2000th death. Marcia believes it will be at 6:30 P.M., probably some evening this week. Please send her email addresses -- Marcia Newsom [drmarciak@yahoo.com]-- of any local friends who might want to attend, and contact anyone you know who would be interested.

The agenda will be very simple: Open with a short reading or poem. Read the names starting where we left off last time. End with a poem by a 4th grader that I love. Please: NO POLITICS in front of any press or during the vigil. The Quaker groups across the nation are joining this effort, as are some other organizations.

2005-10-22T08:41:00.000-07:00

Join me at a Vigil for 2000 Killed in Iraq

The event details are:

Citizens of Madison-Oneida for Peace
My home or lawn on Broad Street
426 Broad Street
Oneida, NY 13421
Date and Time To Be Announced

To sign up for this event, click here:
http://political.moveon.org/event/iraqvigils/5613

2005-10-21T09:51:00.000-07:00

Little Known Things About Social Security?

My brother called the other day, pretty worked up. This wasn't all that unusual, but I wondered what it was all about.

When he finally calmed down enough to tell me the story, this is what he told me about losing his social security benefits for the next three or more months:

My brother, John, retired last February when he turned 62. He had called SSA to apply over the telephone and told the intaker that he planned to continue working part time for the NYS Thruway Authority. She asked him how much he planned to earn "this year." And his response was the $11,600 cap before your social security is taxed. The woman didn't delve any further.

John expected to receive his first social security check in 30 days from his 62nd birthday, around March 9. However, he did not receive a check until April. SSA told him that there had to be a 30-day CALENDAR wait, not just any old thirty days from his birthday before his benefits began. This was the first bit of "new" news John received.

In April, he began receiving his social security checks regularly and continued working, planning to remain, now that he was officially "retired," under the $11,600 cap. And things went along pretty smoothly.

However, the nature of John's work is that he is required to make himself available on holidays like Christmas and New Year's. He usually ends up working Christmas Day. And when he is called in, he needs to go, or else he could lose his position. So on some months, he has earned more than he wanted to, but planned to keep within the eleven thousand and so limit.

In October of this year, John received a letter from the SSA telling him that he had been overpaid in social security benefits and that they would be reducing these benefits by not sending him a check for at least three months.

When he went into the SSA for an interview to inquire about this, he was told that the SSA works on a January-December fiscal year. The money that John earned in the first three months of 2005, January-March, before he actually began receiving social security benefits, were being counted "against him." Not only had John earned about $5600 in those 3 months (he worked extra time, figuring he was retiring and should give himself a bit of a cushion) but he had also gone over a MONTHLY cap of about $900 in earnings.

John didn't know any of this, because no one at SSA told him about it, and there isn't anything in the literature that the average person receives when getting ready to retire, about it.

I looked on the SSA web site in the application process, in the FAQ's. I saw nothing to explain these little things that people contemplating retirement should know. I thought about the Spousal Unit. His birthday is in July. Does that mean, if he retires on his 62nd birthday in July, that all his earnings for the first half of the year would count against him? That might be OK to know up front, but for my brother, who didn't know, it meant losing his benefits for several months.

So what's going to happen? While my brother is waiting to get his benefits back, his income will be cut in half, or more. He will have to work more to pay his bills. And then what will happen? He will again be in the "overage" catgory, probably jeopardizing his benefits for even longer.

It seems like a catch-22 situation, if I've ever heard of one. I plan to contact the SSA to inquire further about all this, but I thought I would put it out there for you, or for anyone you know who is thinking of retiring before their full retirement age (when you retire at full retirement age, you don't have any cap on your earnings, to my understanding).

The other thing to pay attention to, and this I think is covered on the SSA web site, is if you have a spouse who is still working. Your spouse's income could put you over the taxable cap of $44,000 for a married couple filing jointly. If that occurs, 85% of your social security benefits will be taxed.

So there's a lot to think about when you consider retiring early. If anyone knows anymore about these issues, please post!

2005-10-09T11:23:00.000-07:00

Geri's recent trip to New Foundland and Labrador

Don is probably tired of seeing these over and over, and some of you I don't see too often, so I thought I'd send these along as a bit of a chronicle of my recent trip to Newfoundland and Labrador. (In case you didn't know what I'm "dabbling in" as WMCR's Vivian Warren used to like to call it, these days, I have syndicated my travel writing and have been working for the travel industry via the Internet. From there, I began selling travel and taking a few trips here and there, as well. This year, my friend Ginnie Trask and I (the Spousal Unit was indisposed...and fearful of getting seasick) took a Norwegian Ice Breaker around "The Rugged Rock" for ten days, going out in zodiacs each day with our 107 fellow and sister passengers to explore that "marvellous, terrible" place. The following are a few photos from that trip. If you're interested in travel, especially something unique like this trip, do let me know. My travel email address is geri@starshiptravel.com.

Williams Harbour

Airing out the quilts on this fine day in Labrador. About 77 residents, 5 children in school, all let out for the day when we arrived. They had a reception for us in the community center. Wms. Harbour is an island, quite remote, 3 planes come in each week, take pregnant women out a week before due date to closest hospital...St. Anthony, Labrador City, Goose Bay.

Williams Harbour

Not much in the way of trees, but still a colorful autumn here. Heath/bog is full of all kinds of berries and the area is known for its preserves: crowberry, bakeapple, partidgeberry, squashberry, etc.

Williams Harbour

Cemetery above the town. Inhabitants of town are part European, part Inuit, called "Metis."

Williams Harbour

A lovely place, but as you can see, quite remote.

MV Polar Star

Our ship, a Norwegian ice breaker that rocks like Paul Bunyan's cradle in the gales of the North Atlantic, me jollies!!

Cape Bonavista

East coast of Newfoundland, a "hyperoceanic tundra" according to one of our resident experts.

Battle Harbour

An abandoned outport in Labrador. When the fisheries died, the Canadian gov't decided on a 'resettlement' program. All services were cut off to many outports and people were forced to leave.

Firewood??

You call this firewood??? Kindling, maybe! About the size of any trees you might find in these parts. It would be easy to trim their size Christmas trees! They come up to about my knees!

Labrador

Another view of Battle Harbour in Labrador. You can see our ship in the distance. We took zodiacs in whereever we went. During the beginning of a gale storm that lasted about 19 hours, we nearly lost one of them, scared a couple of older folk!!

Bella Freeman

My little buddy, Bella, who came to visit when I got home. We were glad to see each other.

Moose

This moose was walking up a hill in the middle of the road. All we could see from our side was his antlers at first! I got this through an open bus window.

Gros Morne National Park

A view from one of the hiking trails. The little town of Woody Point is on outskirts of park. Places to stay, restaurants, etc.

L'anse amour

"L'anse Amour" in Labrador, near Red Bay. A L'anse is a bay, I guess. This is a 7500 year old burial mound found near the shore. About a 12-yr old boy was found buried face down with a huge rock on his back and a fire on each side of him.

Tablelands

Tablelands in Gros Morne National park, a UNESCO world heritage site because of its unique geological formations. Notice the bare brown rock on left, which is from beneath the earth's crust and was heaved up on top of the surface. Full of metal, turns brown when it hit the air, nothing can grow on it.

Labrador

Penware River, near L'Anse Amour, Labrador. Crossed a wooden bridge spanning it, good fishing.

Trout Lake, Gros Morne National Park

Near the Trout River the town of Trout River, looking into Gros Morne National park. Lovely place.

Pitcher Plant

The national flower of Newfoundland, the Pitcher Plant. This one in the Tablelands. Notice the brown, metalic rocks.

Francois, Newfoundland

A Lilliputian size town on southern shore of Newfoundland, this is Francois (called Fransway by the locals). We had a "Time" there that night, put on by residents. Music and local food. We treated them to a BBQ on the ship. Fransway is landlocked even though on mainland, only accessible by water, surrounded by steep walls of fjord.

L'anse au meadows

L'Anse au Meadows" on northern tip of NFLD, another UNESCO World Heritage site, location of a Viking settlement that has been studied by archaelogists.

2005-08-18T08:26:00.000-07:00

Last night, about 20 people in the Oneida area joined some 100,000 people across central New York and indeed, the entire country, to hold vigils in support of Cindy Sheehan. Sheehan is the woman who in my opinion, bravely went to Bush's ranch in Crawford, Texas to demand some answers to her questions about her son Casey's death while serving in Iraq. I guess her main question was, Why did my son have to die? Was his death worth it? Cindy Sheehan Vigil in Oneida Wed. night

Many of us could have hard-heartedly told Cindy long ago the answers to that question. Not because we are soothsayers. But we have the experience of Vietnam behind us. And we have had many warnings since prior to the invasion of Iraq, that the attack on that country was not a good idea.

Bush and his cronies, those who profit from warmaking, set up the link between Al Quaeda, 9/11 and Iraq. That connection has proved to be a false one, recently brought to light once again by the now-famous Downing Street memo, showing that the run up to the war was trumped up.

My heart goes out to Cindy Sheehan and those parents, siblings, children and spouses who have lost family members and friends to this invasion. I don't call it a war, at least I didn't when it began. Now it is turning into one because every insurgent on the block is happy to have a shot at taking down the Americans in that no-man's land called Iraq. Four more soldiers were killed just today from a roadside bomb, two more were "injured." We can imagine what those sustained injuries are. Not pretty, and perhaps life-long. The VA hospitals are full of injured soldiers whose lives are permanently changed, their bodies permanently disabled. This war's effects are far more devastating that many Americans realize.

Last night's vigil group was a mixed one. We were all there for different reasons and while we wanted to "support the troops," knew that we could not somewhere in our hearts, support them being in harm's way for a war that is becoming increasingly to more and more of us, a war that should not be fought. Otherwise, wouldn't we be supporting our troops and mourning their losses, but knowing that the sacrifice is necessary? The ambivalence was felt among us: we had thought that some wars are "just" but couldn't articulate clearly where we would draw the line. But somewhere, somehow, we are discovering for ourselves that we mourn the loss of Casey Sheehan and the other nearly 1900 American soldiers, not to mention the thousands of Iraqis and other nationalities killed in this war, because it does not seem necessary, or just. More Vigil attendees

When I was interviewed by Channel 9 WIXT TV who showed up last night, but gave us short shrift on the 11 pm news, I was asked too, about supporting the troops. Some of the people were there at the vigil to simply support those in harm's way with thoughts and prayers. Could I join them in such prayers? Yes. Some people say, well, they joined the military, they weren't forced into it, as in a draft. But they are so young, many of them and so vulnerable. I talked about the danger these troops are in, that they are simply thinking about their own survival, about getting back home to their families intact. And they are concerned about their buddies, about the interdependence that is cultivated by the military. They don't know much about the politics of the war and they aren't told much. They are not allowed to express their opinions or behave in any political ways. When they signed up the military or the reserves so they could get some free tuition, or a part time job, they didn't realize they were signing their lives away.

I was also interviewed briefly this morning on WMCR's Open Line. Joel Meltzer, the show's moderator, asked me about the vigil, what it was all about and whether I thought this was the beginning of a peace movement.

The peace movement started a long time ago, before the invasion. It has been ongoing, purring sometimes in the background, but still there. Like molten lava, the Cindy Sheehan break through, brought it bubbling back to the surface a few weeks ago.

I was and wasn't surprised at the reaction to my brief talk on the radio this morning. One woman called in and of course, stated in a roundabout way, that I was being unAmerican by questioning my decisionmakers and not supporting the troops. Another called and claimed that we could all stop this quibbling about who was right or wrong, that history would tell us who was right. As if "history" is a species in its own right and it will speak to us as if it were our higher power. She thought she should wait 20 years and history would come down out of the clouds, I guess, and pronounce either the "right" wrong, or the "left" right. Confusing, eh? That's what you get when you leave it to history. I wonder if anyone ever told this woman while she scribbled on her notebook in social studies class, that history is written by people and that it can be revised at any time?

Naturally, one caller invoked Hitler and tried to make a connection between Saddam Hussein and Hitler. Humph. How about Hitler and Bush? Oops. Some senator did that and had to eat his words. Well, folks, Hitler was a very popular guy. Charismatic. He took the German people down his primrose path and they followed willingly. They did not want to question the decisions of their leaders. And look what happened? The god History has frowned on them, majorly.

Thank goodness to the Vietnam vet who called in and reminded everyone what a fruitless war that was. He also reminded people AGAIN that there is no connection between Al Quaeda, 9/11 and Saddam Hussein. Why did Bush decide he needed to invade Iraq and take out Hussein in the midst of the aftermath of 9/11? IMHO, it was a great inroad for earlier plans to invade Iraq. All they had to do was make a connection with 9/11 and people would jump on the bandwagon. (Sorry, all I can see in my mind is Charlie Chaplin's movie, Modern Times, where an image of workers flooding out of the gates of a factory fades to an image of sheep flooding out of the gates of a pasture.) That is a difficult connection to dissuade. And that leads to a discussion of the media and the control put on it by this administration. Did you know that many "news" stories are put together by the administration's spin doctors and distributed to news sources? Few bother to mention that their source is the spin doctors themselves, that this is not news, but propoganda thinly veiled as news.

Well, it was a great evening, meeting people who have concerns about where this invasion-come-war is going. It doesn't look like it's going anywhere positive for anyone, whether Iraqi or American. We made plans to continue meeting and keeping in touch. I'm going to suggest that we create a blog where we can all post our thoughts, experiences and ideas. If that happens, I'll be sure to put the link here on this blog. Thanks for the small inroads we are making locally through the radio, maybe even the Dispatch (they sent a reporter to cover the vigil last night and I sent over some of these photos this morning), WIXT TV, moveon.org, Syracuse Peace Council, and all the individual peace makers out there, 20 of whom showed up at Marcia Newson's house, to realize that we indeed are not alone! Oneida Vigil for Cindy Sheehan

Are you one of the people, like my brother and sister-in-law who refused to watch Michael Moore's Documentary, Farenheit 911? My brother had heard from Rush Limbaugh that it was a pack of lies and he took that as "gospel," kind of like "history." He wasn't about to actually watch the film and come to his own critical thinking. Well, if you refused to watch it back then, maybe you're beginning to have second thoughts. I urge you to watch it. In fact, I have a copy that I'll gladly lend out.

I could go on and on, but will stop here and pick up later on.
This man is a Marine, his son is currently in the Marines

2005-08-01T07:38:00.000-07:00

I was just saying last night to my Canasta partners, Brenda, Elaine and Linda that there are several things I don't understand. WAR is number one on my list. Why do people kill people to teach people that it' wrong to kill people??

Next on my list might be Nascar racing, but I'll bet you're a Nascar fan like every third person I talk to and you'll be offended by that statement. You'll tell me I don't know the first thing about car racing, or Nascar and the drivers and their famililies and all that. I know. I know. But I also don't like shows like "Desperate Housewives." Call me old fashioned. Call me silly. Call me a prude. I've been called that and worse. (Yes, I heard that!)

But perhaps even before Nascar, I have never understood the notion of two people bashing each other in the face until one falls down, unable to get up, being called "sporting." Nevertheless, our neighboring town of Canastota hosts the Boxing Hall of Fame. And last month, the place got a nod from the Washington Post. Here's the story:

"New York's Boxing Hall of Fame: A Knockout

Sunday, July 10, 2005; Page P10

"So, what is it, dad, a Darth Vader training helmet?" asked my daughter, the ninth-grade movie buff. "You could put a pumpkin in that thing."

She was peering in disbelief over a display case holding the enormous full-face protective headgear of light heavyweight champion Melio Bettina. In the case beside it were a bronze molding the size of a small pet -- a cast of the fighter's right fist -- and an unused ticket for his match with challenger Tiger Fox on Feb. 3, 1939, at Madison Square Garden.

The International Boxing Hall of Fame in Canastota, N.Y., honors boxers with exhibits that include their ring attire. "Looks like gladiator stuff," said the unlikely visitor prowling the International Boxing Hall of Fame with her father in Upstate New York. "Boy things."

That might be the universal teen reaction to this quirky little museum in sleepy Canastota, high on the flatlands of central New York along the Erie Canal. From the outside, it's a wood-clad construction that might be an outlet store or a small medical building.

Inside, the eye wanders over what looks like clothes racks and mannequins -- the vintage ring clothes and robes worn by boxers long ago. Looking closer, you'll find old programs and fight magazines, television monitors showing boxing matches from the 1920s, and lots and lots of stuff that once meant the world to those who lived and died for the ring.

For folks of a certain age, who perhaps remember the glory years of Muhammad Ali and the electricity generated by Washington's Sugar Ray Leonard, the museum comes layered with nuance and shadings of its own.

"One of the things that is most interesting," said the museum's executive director, Edward Brophy, "is that each generation of visitors seems to relate uniquely to the exhibits."

Ken Burns's researchers contacted the museum while preparing his documentary on the racial torment of black boxing champion Jack Johnson. Clint Eastwood's researchers consulted, too, in preparing for this year's Oscar-winning best picture, "Million Dollar Baby," as did the crew for the just-released "Cinderella Man."

"They wanted to look at old photos in our collection, old film and news reels, to get a sense of what people wore to boxing matches back in the '30s -- wardrobe things, I guess you call it," said Brophy.

While sound and motion has its place, the museum experience here offers a quieter gravity. Take, for example, its collection of fist moldings. Every modern boxer of note is represented, as well as old timers like Johnson and Jack Dempsey, legends at the start of the last century.

Looking like oddball lawn ornaments at first glance, the burnished bronze castings have their own story, explained Brophy. The concept was unknown before Walter Jacobs, a New York dentist who also happened to be a fight fan. Jacobs, who died in 1989, loved boxing and got into the game early in the last century by offering to make custom mouthpieces for the boxers. When they lost a tooth in the ring, he would fabricate a new one from the molding taken earlier.

Friendships were formed, and when one day he hatched the idea of casting their fists, as he did their mouths, the boxers were glad to help. From this came the museum's earliest collection, including all the great fighters who visited New York. Jacobs even saved Joe Louis's gauzy hand wraps after one of his bouts in the 1940s.

Another fascination is the museum's collection of bling, the fluff and stuff that the bygone boxers cherished. Display cases hold dozens of velvet robes with forgotten Kid-This and nobody Sugar-That elaborately stitched across the fabric. Satin boxing shorts worn by Louis, Willie Pep, Joe Frazier, and Marvin Hagler are shown. And there is a collection of their flat-soled ring shoes, curled with years, frilly and tasseled signatures of their championship days.

Most conspicuous are the championship belts, big leather diadems loaded up with mirrors and spangles, metal studs and unworldly macho designs in testimony to their grandeur. As you enter the museum, larger-than-life plastic statues of hometown boxers Carmen Basilio and Billy Backus are draped with their championship belts. Forever crouching -- menacing with their dukes up -- the sight is pure rococo extravagance.

The International Boxing Hall of Fame in Canastota, N.Y., honors boxers with exhibits that include their ring attire. In a way, it was Basilio and Backus who started the museum. Townspeople wanted to honor the two natives for their boxing fame. In 1982, they set up an outdoor glass-enclosed display under lights showcasing their gaudy robes at the McDonald's across the street from the present-day museum.

People started coming by, and after some fund-raising and $50,000 in state seed money, the museum went up in 1989 in a field by the tollbooth off Route 90, the big Albany-to-Buffalo throughway.

"American has changed," offered Angelo Dundee, 84 and perhaps dean of the boxing establishment from its glory days. "Boxing has changed, too, especially today with all the movies and television and the new casinos with their own rings.

"It's still a tough hustle for the kids," said the trainer of Ali and Leonard. "But when they come to visit [the hall of fame], with all they do for boxers here, you know this [museum] is strictly done from the heart."

"For boxers, it's priceless," Dundee said.

-- Raymond M. Lane

The International Boxing Hall of Fame is at 1 Hall of Fame Dr. in Canastota, N.Y., about 15 miles from Syracuse. Admission is $7. Details: 315-697- 7095,http://www.ibhof.com."

Hmmmph. Well, there it is. The only thing I have to do with boxing is that every year at the New York State Fair, I had to have a sausage sandwich at Carmen Basilio's sausage stand down on the midway. Not because I have any close connection to Basilio; but my Italian girl friend's family always went there and I simply followed suit. In recent years, my family has preferred Dinosaur Barbecue. I eat it, but I don't care what you say, it's just not the same as Carmen Basilio's.

Here he is in all his glory, looking like his face went through a meat grinder. Anyone for a sausage sandwich?
P.S. Photo © www.antekprizering.com

2005-07-20T17:52:00.000-07:00

Today was a perfect summer day. Not too humid, not too chilly. The pool water temperature is about right, even in the early morning when the sun isn't yet overhead.

After my deep water jogging ritual, which follows a mile on the treadmill while I watch Good Morning America, I was checking out the portion of our side lawn that my son Teague and I dug up a few years back and planted with flowering bushes and perennials. We could never get much grass to grow there and even now, around the pool, what we basically have is clumps of quack grass. Needless to say, the inground pool at Casa Wagner is nothing grand, nor fancy. But it sure is nice to have!

Of course, much of what Teague and I accomplished has gone half wild under my supervision. But I kind of like it that way. We have lots of wild berries in our yard, especially this year: strawberries (they make great jam because they are so tart!), black caps, red raspberries, grapes and what our old friend, Leo Miller, used to call "runner berries." I guess the real name for them is "trailing berries," but loggers like to call them "ankle saws." Ah, yes. Now you know what kind of berries I am talking about, because you have probably been tripped up by the prickly vines as you walked around the local fields and woods. The berries are nice and juicy and sometimes I'll get a handful of all the different kinds of berries I find as I wander around and put them on my morning cereal.

You wonder how I can walk around in my yard out here in the sticks without being taken away by mosquitos? We have discovered a clever product: a granulated mix of garlic juice and some other potent, yet non-toxic stuff, that you sprinkle around the yard and it keeps mosquitos away! Yay! We bought it from Gardeners Supply (http://www.gardeners.com.

I wanted to take some pictures of things I've come across, things that gave me a warm fuzzy feeling about summer time: a young girl riding her bike to the Sherrill pool, back peddling and taking her time, not in any hurry to get there, just enjoying herself. Another bike leaning against the little bridge in Verona Mills on the Greenway Road. You know the owner had probably been riding by, spotted the cool water down below, parked the bike and was down over the bridge splashing around, or maybe checking out a fishing spot.

But. I didn't have my camera with me for those shots, so I hope you can get the image in your mind's eye. I decided instead to give you a few pictures that I thought were more funny than summery. The first is the name of a street in Fremont that I came across. You may recall that my girlhood nickname was "Cannonball."
Whaddya know? A street with a volatile name!

How about some pancakes at the "Merry Moose?" This little restaurant in the woods is actually located at the KOA in Saco, Maine, where Sue and Art Law are currently on the work crew, trading off for their RV spot. I was hoping to catch Art wearing some moose ears, but he had been reassigned to "pool duty." He says its a lot of stress: is the PH too high? Too low?? Sheesh.

The spousal unit and I stopped in for a visit a few weeks ago and found it was easy to locate the Law digs, following the description Sue had given us. Something about a lobster and a flamingo.
It wasn't hard to find Sue and Art's place!

OK, if you don't want to go so far away for a pancake breakfast and you can't decide if you want to gamble for money, or gamble for eternity, you could try this:
I like efficiency!

Ahhh. But back to some summertime pictures. Here we all are at Green Lakes recently, sporting our "Wagner Design and Construction" tee shirts that Eilis had made up for her brother, Teague, as he begins his new endeavor.

And here we have my granddaughter, Bella Freeman, 20 months old, cooking and eating her first "S'more" with her gramps, mom and dad.

And...ahhh...oh for heaven sakes...oops. Was I getting political again?? I don't know how this one slipped in here. I will research how to remove offensive material from my blog.

2005-07-19T17:15:00.000-07:00

This just in from our friend, Becky:

"A few weeks ago my sister Shelley's boyfriend Mark got home from work and found a skinny lost kitty at the end of their driveway. She was very friendly and ran right up when he called to her. She had no collar and appeared to have been dumped in their driveway, which is in a rather remote area outside of New Hartford (near Utica).

They contacted the proper agencies and took care of getting the kitty vet care (she was skinny and had fleas). She is only a few years old. She is now cleaned up, spayed, and eating like a kitty should. However, during all this they also discovered that she is blind.

They are calling her "Helen" for now--and Helen needs a home. She is a very sweet, lovable kitty. Shelley and Mark cannot keep her because they have a big St. Bernard who likes to chase cats. With Helen's blindness, it's not a good match!

If you or anyone you know is interested, have them get in touch with me and I can put them in touch with my sister for more details.

Here are some pictures:

http://www.kodakgallery.com/BrowsePhotos.jsp?&collid=210514265205

2005-07-15T06:12:00.000-07:00

Had a great evening last night at Graziano's Restaurant in Canastota. I have never been to this restaurant, don't ask me why. Teague and Mindy have tried it a couple of times since they now live nearby and liked it, they said.

We had planned to celebrate Ted Byrnes's birthday at the Gingerbread House in Sherrill/Vernon. (It's pretty close to the line, there isn't it?) But then Teddy decided he'd like to go to Graziano's instead, one of his old favorites. What a pleasant surprise!

The restaurant is kind of a throw-back to the sixties, which is OK by me. I was a little surprised by the carpeting on the washroom walls, but then I thought, hey. Who didn't use that design technique at least once back in the sixties? It's obviously held up well and I can see that the Graziano's don't fix something that isn't broken.

Eilis and Teddy had a wonderful antipasto, while the rest of us chose the house salad with my favorite, Italian dressing and crumbly blue cheese. There was plenty of that! I ordered the braciole, which was tender and very tasty, along with a side of spaghetti. The Unit and Eilis ordered the lasagna with meatballs, Teddy's Mom, Pam, (she is a riot, like her son!) ordered the eggplant parmesan (recipe to follow). Geez...I can't remember what Pam's hubby, Jerry, ordered. Teddy had the chicken parmesan. Everything was great. The waitress was even gracious enough to serve us a Friendly's Ice Cream watermelon roll that Eilis and Teddy had brought along for our dessert. Anyway, if you haven't tried Graziano's and you like Italian food, I definitely give it two manicured thumbs up!

We spent the evening trading lots of "stupid human tricks" or "brushes with stupidity" kind of stories that can be so funny. There's a long story that goes along with this picture of Ted and the Spousal Unit, which I'm sure you'd like to hear. (Call me.)

I haven't laughed that hard and that long in awhile and I look forward to getting together with Pam and Jerry again soon. She has promised me a strawberry shortcake and I am to reciprocate with blueberry crisp!

The berries have been great this year. My daughter Dria has blueberry bushes in her backyard and they are loaded! I'm even finding the wild blackcaps all over the yard, and the kind our good buddy, Leo Miller, always called "runner berries." They're those ivy-type of prickly vines that run along the ground here in the sandflats (the old shore of Oneida Lake from millenia gone by)that produce a fat, juicy black berry (red before they are ripe.) My granddaughter, Bella, loves to find "beh-wies" and pick them, green, ripe, or not. We'll have to watch her in case she ever finds some that she shouldn't eat!

2005-07-13T12:32:00.000-07:00

Our friend, Victor, hates to go to Walmart. He hates supporting corporate greed and that yellow smiley face. But he must admit that he can find almost anything he needs at Walmart, and he can't often do that at locally owned and operated stores in our area.

Pretty frustrating.

Meet Charlie Kernaghan, a member of the adhoc National Labor Committee. At a talk in Ashland, Ohio in 2003, he gives a small audience of working Americans some facts: "About 83 percent of all garments sold in the United States are now made offshore, as are 80 percent of the toys, 90 percent of the sporting goods, 95 percent of the shoes. The people who make these items largely work in sweatshops for pennies an hour. The companies who commission the work, the famous brand names, buffer themselves from employing slaves and children by using brokers to contract out the work." These items are often sold at Walmart.

He continues: "We've lost more than 2 million manufacturing jobs in the last two years. Last year China surpassed the U.S. as the destination of foreign investment, manufacturing is being dismantled, the consumer is being hurt, the economy is stagnant. In the last two years China has created 30 million jobs and the U.S. HAS LOST 2 MILLION."

According a writer for Mother Jones magazine who attended the Ashland, Ohio meeting, Kernaghan then started pulling clothing out of a bag. "He holds up a Wal-Mart item and says, 'THERE IS BLOOD ON THIS GARMENT,' and then tells about the Vietnamese women, imported to an American Samoan factory (the Daewoosa Factory), who made it, the way they were beaten and kept behind wire, fed gruel and sexually used, the wages they were paid. The facts slap the union members in the face; the bodies suddenly tighten and sit up alert on the hard seats. Enslaved women and kids? Making the clothes on my back? He rolls on with the Gap, Disney, Nike, label after label tied to tales of Third World horror. 'If you listen to Nike,' he snorts, 'you'd think they were a religious organization.' He holds up a Nike jersey that retails for $140 but is made by women in El Salvador for 29 cents each. Kernaghan presents a Nike memo he salvaged from the local dump, a favorite research site, that breaks the sewing of another garment into 22 steps, each step timed to a ten-thousandth of a second, all totaling 6.6 minutes. He rolls on that wages account for 10 percent of the retail price of a garment made in the U.S., but only one-third of 1 percent of the price of a garment made in the Third World."

"'This,' he spits out, 'is the true face of the global economy. Labor has been erased. Wal-Mart is larger than the economy of 161 countries … It was 104 degrees in the factory … housed in rat-infested dormitories." Kernaghan's hands wave; he is possessed. He holds up a huge photo of a 13-year-old girl in Bangladesh: "This is the real face of Wal-Mart. She only had two days off in the last four months. She's never ridden a bicycle. Seven cents an hour.' "

Well, Vic, we have even more cause for concern than Walmart. Check out http://www.buyblue.org to see what companies you have inadvertently been doing business with that supports not only the neo-ultra-conservatism this country seems to be sucked into like going down the bathtub drain, but also the business practices that include disregard for human rights, workers' right, a clean environment and more.

I just had lunch with my good friend, Heather Brown, of Raymond James financial company; her office is in downtown Oneida in the building with the shiny gold windows. I don't have much of anything in a savings or retirement account, but Heather humors me by "handling" my money for me.

Once a year, she calls me for our annual "money" talk. This meeting consists of Heather pulling out all kinds of charts and graphs to show me where the Dow (the benchmark for investments) has been since 2000, and how my investments are doing in comparison, while I yawn and try to remember what companies it is that my money is invested in.

I'm not so much concerned about the companies themselves, but in what companies they are investing my few measly bucks. Heather reads down the list: Geico, G.E....

Oy! Check just these two out on buyblue.org and see why I cringe. There's my insurance agency, too, Allstate. And Staples, where I buy my office supplies. I'm typing this moment on the screen of a Dell computer. My Verizon cell phone is sitting on the desk next to the Dell.

Now I'm upset. I'm going to start investigating what their stories are. And if I don't like what I find out, I don't know how quickly I can unhitch myself from these companies, but I'm going to start working on that.

Heather and I have lunch at Tom's Deli just behind the gold windowed building. Great food! I had a wrap filled with hummous and veggies. Heather had some cream of broccoli soup and a chicken curry sandwich. Brought home some other neat sandwiches for the crew at Casa Wagner2 (see http://www.ourfixerupper.com). Thanks for lunch, Heather! Say hi to Jimmy, sorry to hear about his fall in England and the boo boo elbow! See you next year and ummmm...can we do something about investing my greenbacks in a more "socially responsible" manner? From the list on buyblue.org, that's going to be a tough call.

2005-07-11T14:11:00.000-07:00

The spousal unit and I have just returned from our cottage in Maine and as you can see from this picture, they don't call residents there "maniacs" for nothing!

Our friends Sue and Art Law are 'summering' in Saco, Maine and we stopped by for an overnight. When they told us about the "Fishin' Optician," I said, this I gotta (ahem) see!

It was no joke! We found the Fishin' Optician in Ellis Beach, just off Route 9W. If you look closely at the sign, there is a lobster wearing glasses. If you're up around Old Orchard Beach any time soon, you might look him up for either some lobsters or some sunglasses!

Of course, the Spousal Unit found out first hand what it is like to fish for lobster. Our neighbor, Chris, is a lobsterman in Bar Harbor and after much cajoling, he finally invited the Unit on board for a day of fishing. Even though I had to get up at the unearthly hour of 4 a.m., I managed to go along to chronicle the event.

First, we stopped in at the local convenience store/restaurant to meet up with other fishermen for breakfast.

"It's going to be a long day," explained the Unit as he ordered a he-man (or was that heave-man?) breakfast of eggs, homefries, corned beef hash, toast, sausage and orange juice.

On the way out the door, he grabbed a few Snickers bars and more bottled OJ for a snack.

Chris did it up right. He dressed the Unit in galoshes, rubbery orange overalls, arm protectors and gloves. I wore my Acadia National park fleece and jeans, bringing along some lawn chairs and a picnic lunch. It was a balmy fall day and it was glorious to look up at the national park as we swung around, and swung around from one lobster buoy to another.

That's another pretty sight, just seeing all the colorful buoys bobbing around in the water!

I settled myself in the back of the boat out of the way and began to take pictures as the men got to work. Generally there is the "skipper" of the boat, that's chris. And then there's the "sternman." He's usually a young man with a lot of stamina. You figure lobster traps, that measure about 4' long and two feet wide, with a huge brick, bait bag (kind of a drawstring purse filled with dead herring) and about 100' of rope, weighs more than 50 lbs, not counting the water that is being dragged through the wire mesh as it is pulled up out of the water.

Chris would wheel the boat into position when he found one of his buoys, usually strung out in groups of 10's in an area. Then with a long hooked pole, he would snag the buoy in order to get the rope started on a winch. Standing well out of the way of the whipping wet rope, Chris would haul the trap (sometimes two or three on the same buoy) to the water's surface. The stern man's job is to hump the trap up onto the wide flat edge of the boat. Working quickly, he opens the trap door, pulls the bait bag out and throws it into a bucket. There isn't much left in the bait bag at that point except some bones and mushy flesh. He has a fresh bait bag ready to tie in. Then he pulls any fish out that he doesn't want and either throws them over board or uses them for additional bait. Then he pulls out the lobster or lobsters.

They have to be measured and checked to be sure they don't have a "V" notch which indicates they are a female and have to go back in to ensure the propogation of the lobster population. The lobsters are thrown into a wooden holding station, where the body is measured from eye to beginning of tail. Too short and back in he goes. Right size, a bander is used to secure the lobster's claws with a wide rubber band. It's an art just to figure out how to use the bander because it's the opposite of using a pair of scissors. The lengths of scissors start out closed and then are opened in order to use the blades for cutting. With a bander, it's the opposite. The bander handles are open and have to be squeezed shut in order to spred the rubber band and snap it onto the lobster claw.

The Spousal Unit was put to work banding and measuring lobsters. It was obvious after about an hour that the day was going to be busy. We were hauling in lobsters faster than the stern man and his assistant, the Unit, could manage the lugging, baiting, measuring and banding. Lobsters were piling up all over the boat, in baskets and overflowing the wooden holding station. I began to feel silly just sitting there like a prima dona, taking pictures, so I decided to pitch in.

I grabbed a pair of rubber gloves and began opening bait bags, emptying the mush out and filling them with dead herring. The herring come in large rectangular plastic bins and they are generally about 8 inches long. The little bait purses are about half that size, so in order to fit the herring ito the bag, you have to bend them. This is a strange sensation.

I could see that this was helping the stern man who began flinging used bait bags at me. That was fine except they were splashing into the herring bin, where herring are packed tightly in a brine. The brine also smells like...dead herring. And this brine was now splashing all over my new fleece. There went forty bucks down the drain. I knew I'd never get the smell out if I washed it a hundred times.

The spousal unit had started his day of lobstering, which he fancied would be his new vocation after he retired from his job at the university, in a merry mood. He was singing pirate songs. Well, if he knew any pirate songs. Snippets of things like, "shiver me timbers" and "ahoy matey!"

But suddenly, he seemed noticeably quiet. I looked over at him and saw that his face was white; his lips were white. My first thought was, "heart."

"Are you OK?"

"Nooooo."

I ran to get him one of the folding chairs and he flopped into it, eyes closed.

Seasick as a dog.

It was a long day on the water. Chris had lots of traps to pull and re-bait. There was the boat to scrub down and rinse and all the lobsters to be put into carrying bins and moved off the boat once we got back into harbor, placed in a truck and taken off to the buyer. In all, we did some 1200 lbs. of lobster while the Unit sat trying to keep from tossing his cookies overboard, which he thought would have been the ultimate insult added to injury.

He limped home like a sick puppy and went right to bed. His dreams dashed. No being a stern man on a lobster boat in Bar Harbor, Maine, for the Unit. He was doomed to working with computers forever.

However, with our discovery of the "Fishin' Optician," there is new hope. He doesn't have to be a stern man ALL the time! He can do it some of the time, thanks to about a case of dramamine that we keep stored at the cottage. That, and no breakfast does the Spousal Unit quite well, thank you very much.

So may I introduce to you, the "Fishin' Technician?"

By the way, I'll never complain about the price of lobster, having learned first hand what a hard job being a lobster fisherman is!

Motion in the ocean

Oooo Wooo

His air hose broke

Oooo Wooo

Lots of trouble

Oooo Wooo

Lots of bubble

Oooo Wooo

He was in a jam

S'in a giant clam

(Part of the lyrics of "Rock Lobster" by the B52s.)

STUFF:

Happy birthday, July 15, to our friend, Teddy, aka Ed 'Kooky' Byrnes, pictured here with my younger daughter, Eilis, as they visited Bar Harbor in May for the Teague and Mindy Wagner wedding. Teddy's mom, Pam and step dad, Jerry, live in Sherrill! We'll be celebrating at the Gingerbread House on Route 5 on Thursday evening, so stop by to wish Ted a happy birthday!

More Stuff: I went onto our dental plan web site today to get some information and happened to find this photo! I guess the Fishin' Optician idea is catching on all over!

2005-06-28T20:00:00.000-07:00

Vacationing in Bar Harbor, Maine, with the Spousal Unit and the two dogs, Davenport and Phoebe. I do hope you will check out my new blog, Acadia National Park (http://www.acadianationalpark.bloggerspot.com). We have been coming to Bar Harbor since 1978 when the Unit and I took our first trip together on the vrrroom machine (back then it was a 1973 Yahama 500). You may recall that my son, Teague, was married to Mindy Law over Memorial Day weekend here in Baah Hahbah. Why? Well, for one thing, no one seems to get married at home these days. Although I must say that for Teague, Bar Harbor is kind of a second home. Mindy and her family, Sue and Art Law, recently of Kenwood, now "summering" in Maine themselves, also spent their fair share of summer vacations in Maine, as well.

So it seemed kind of natural for Teague and Mindy, who "got together" during a family vacation in Maine, to become engaged there on a subsequent vacation and finally married there, this past May.

We've been bragging about how great Bar Harbor is for years to all our friends and family. Until the wedding, only four of them (Patrice, Carra, Elaine and Victor) had braved the 9-hour trip, often being subjected to my weird notions of "good music" in the bargain. And yes, everyone enjoyed themselves, but no one has asked for a return visit.

Then, when the "kids" decided to get married up here, things began to change. We picked a long weekend so people would be more apt to travel and make it a mini-vacation. We also chose an off season weekend so people would be able to find reasonable accommodations. I'm usually in Bar Harbor over Memorial Day weekend and I have to say, it ain't bad, weather-wise. So we figured, how bad can it be?

How about gale force winds? Torrential downpours? Flooding? Capsized fishing boats? Twenty foot seas?

All week before the wedding, it went on and on.

The spousal unit and I had intended to paint our cottage before the wedding and when we arrived the Saturday before, on a glorious day, we tackled the job. We got one side painted (the front) and it began to sprinkle. Then to rain. And it didn't stop, for days.

The worst day was actually Thursday. Guests had already begun to arrive and we welcomed them to the "monsoons." We were distraught. What would people think of our beloved little island? We tried to tell them that storms actually make the place more dramatic: crashing waves and all that.

But people's notion of a "destination wedding" is typically somewhere warm and dry, sipping mojitos or pina coladas. We were digging out my supply of dollar store rain ponchos that I've kept handy ever since that ONE OTHER VACATION, years ago, when it rained cats and dogs. We had no rain gear for any of us, and we ended up using plastic garbage bags for makeshift raincoats for the kids.

We told Teague and Mindy that rain on a special day is a blessing and so, well, they were getting lots of blessings!

In the end, the rain stopped as suddenly as it had started, on Thursday evening. Friday was cloudy, but dry. Saturday, the day of the wedding, turned out sunny and pleasantly warm. No one wore rain bonnets, not even a shawl was necessary, even with strapless dresses for the bridal party (the females, that is).

There was a large VVS contingent present for the occasion: of course, the Laws: Mindy, the bride, Sue, MOB, Art, FOB, and Cody, a groomsman. And the Steve Thompsons, along with son, Mike. Then there were the Freemans: Dria, John and Bella, Rolfe, Barb, Scott, Vicky and little Aaron. We also had Brent and Jackie Collins, Chris and Cheryl Collins along with their son Jason (best man) and his date, Stephanie Stockbridge. We had the Don and Terry Law family there, along with sons Garrett, Ethan and Tyson. Paul and Diane Miller made the trip, as well as Tracy Byrne (bridesmaid) and Katherine Dam Shea, with husband Kurt Shea. And of course, the rest of the Wagners: Don (FOG), Geri (MOG), Teague (groom) and Eilis (maid of honor). If I left anyone out, beg pardon.

We ate and danced and cavorted around Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park all weekend. Some folks shopped, some hiked, some sat in their motel room and watched the History channel. It was all good. On Sunday, we all took a trolley ride through the Park, entertained by our driver and guide, Santo. Or was it Santa? No...Santo. It had to be.

The bride and groom left the monsoons (or so they thought) and flew to warmer climates in Florida (where it promptly began to rain, shortly after their arrival!) for their honeymoon. A canceled fishing trip for the "men" on the day before the wedding became a quest for Teague who has always been a sucker for the games on the State Fair midway and for $25 fishing trips where thirty people line the perimeter of a boat, wait for a horn to blow and then begin waving fishing poles up and down furiously until the horn blows again. I have to say, I always enjoyed those trips myself, if for no other reason than watching the antics of my fellow and sister fishing people (how does one say that gracefully, yet without gender bias?).

And so, like Thanksgiving dinner, which takes days of preparation and ten minutes to eat, the wedding was coming...coming...coming...

And now it's gone.

We are having good weather here this week and we fully intend to finish painting the cottage, including the parts where the rain washed the paint clean off the surface during our first attempt. The Spousal unit remarked today as we admired our work, going back over the front of the house, how much easier it is to paint when you're not wearing a slicker and wading boots.

Amen.

2005-06-20T13:28:00.000-07:00

Two of my favorite people, Isabella Eve Freeman (Bella)
and her "Aunt Weezie." See more favorite people below!

2005-06-20T13:26:00.000-07:00

Teague and Mindy Law Wagner, married in Bar Harbor, ME, May 28, 2005

2005-06-20T13:24:00.000-07:00

From left to right, Dria, Eilis and Yours Truly.

2005-06-20T08:20:00.000-07:00

Well, I've finally done it.

Began publishing my former Dispatch column on the web. Why? Well, to tell you the truth (and you know what a stickler I am for truths!), I miss writing my column, "Variations, Verisms and Stuff," that appeared for so many years in the Oneida Daily Dispatch. I find I still have a lot to say and this is the perfect way to be able to talk to you, have you respond, and not have publishers and managing editors censoring me!

So many of you have stopped me over the past couple of years in the grocery store, or called, or emailed me and wished you could continue reading my column. You didn't know why I had stopped writing so abruptly after a decade.

Well, it was two things: my spontaneous temper (they didn't call me "Cannonball" in grade school for nothing!) and my anti-war stance regarding the invasion of Iraq in 2003.

I began talking about the war in my column and the managing editor, Kurt, began calling me on it, complaining that I wasn't sticking to "local" news.

When have I ever done that? I wondered to myself.

I figured Kurt was new and a new broom sweeps clean. But Kurt wouldn't give up. Maybe his publisher was on his case. Maybe because he comes from an even more conservative area, Carlisle, PA, he didn't like my liberal stance.

But I've been antiwar since Moby Dick was a minnow. Well, at least since the war in Vietnam, which was going on as I was coming of age. I haven't veered from my beliefs about war, about society, about why small dogs are better than children. So I thought, what the heck?

I had blown up at Kurt when he refused to publish my last column and then said he'd publish it but I wouldn't get paid for it. I burned my bridges when I told Kurt he could have my column, but it would be the last one I'd write (ah, there goes Cannonball again!).

And I was sorry that it had happened, although I have not changed my mind one iota about the war and about government and politicians. But I wasn't going to grovel and ask Kurt to take me back. He'd have the upper hand. He had already complained that he was paying me more than he paid for any other column.

"I can get Andy Rooney for five bucks," he had told me.

"Yeah, but Andy Rooney is only WORTH five bucks!" I told him back.

But he was glad to see me go. I was too mouthy, I was insubordinate, I cost too much.

Kind of the same reasons why my parents were glad to see me go when I left home.

Hmmmm.

So, dear reader, let's carry on. Let's pick up where we left off so many months ago. I hope you'll stop in often and see what's going on at "Casa Wagner" these days and tell me what's going on with YOU!

I think that will be the greatest part of this new way of communicating.