Tag: summer

Travelog

jono55

The past several days we’ve been traveling and there has been little time for blogging. We’ve moved along by car, which is my favorite way to go, and so passed through Colorado, Nebraska, Iowa, and southern Minnesota. All along the route and at each bathroom stop on the freeway system, the humidity increased, until I estimate that it is above 100% here in Minneapolis. Or at least that’s what it seems to desert dwellers like ourselves. If you listen carefully you can hear your hair matting on your forehead and the creases falling from your trousers to the floor.

The purpose for the trip was to attend our granddaughter’s wedding. I had been asked to give the bride away, and everyone hoped that I could perform that brief duty without tripping, drooling, exhibiting excessive flatulence, or in any other way embarrassing the family. I think that I did okay, although the reviews are still coming in.

The bride was beautiful, the groom seemed blissfully happy, and the assembly was refreshingly young. When you are a senior citizen you have a lot of social options you can choose from, but most of them are comprised of getting together with groups of other seniors. Moving to a room where the average age is under 30 is a treat. You are reminded of how sleek and supple the bodies of people are when they are in their twenties, and that once upon a time you owned one of those bodies. ‘Twas a pleasant recollection.

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Summertime, by Janis Joplin

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From The New Yorker

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I have let the world turn largely without me during these travel days, but it is a joy each morning to find that we are not yet at war, not in a depression, and have not yet set ourselves completely apart from the rest of humanity.

President Cluck, it seems, has become quite adept at lowering his rank in the opinion polls each time a new one is taken. My take is that the scales are finally dropping from the eyes of those who are willing to see what advanced thinkers like myself have noticed all along. That he is an unprincipled gasbag with no more right to be POTUS than your average intestinal roundworm.

(That may only be my opinion, of course, but you have to remember that once upon a time I was a physician and that makes my opinions so much more valuable than those of your run of the mill poltroon.)

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From The New Yorker

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The journey home has been uneventful so far, except for a 40mph headwind, rampant humidity, and a temperature that held right at 100 degrees all afternoon and early evening. The headwind was so forceful that our Subaru posted the worst mileage day of its life – 24.4 mpg. It was a long day of two-handed driving and subsequent cricks in the neck. At one point I was loading ice into our cooler when I dropped the bag and it flew away too fast for me to ever catch it, although I did run after it for a few yards. So, today I am a litterer. Ugh.

Were there any pluses, you ask? Well, yes, quite a few. Other drivers sharing the road with us on this trip have been remarkably polite and well-mannered. A young man at a gas station came out to the car to offer me a huge bag of ice at the same price as two lesser bags. Another very young man who we asked for restaurant recommendations suggested we try the Crystal Cafe. “I’ve been eating there since I was a kid, and it was always good,” he said. Of course to Robin and I he was still a kid, but the food was very good.

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Summertime Blues, by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts

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Moving Toward Plan B

jono55

We’ve entered a new phase now in the protest movements against this government’s unlawful policies. This past weekend Cluck has called out the California National Guard to intimidate people who were demonstrating against the Gestapo-style tactics of his ICE agents. Tactics that have involved episodes where masked men are grabbing persons off the streets and disappearing them into unmarked vans. There is quite a disconnect between the Armageddon-is-at-our-doors rhetoric coming from the Federal government and the much quieter statements from California law enforcement.

Cluck’s move is a transparent one that all totalitarians use, where they magnify a threat and give themselves an excuse to bring out the truncheons and the tear gas. In the weeks to come we will see jails filled with demonstrators. We will unfortunately probably see violence and people injured on both sides.  Tyranny thrives on violence.

But we will also see mass non-violent actions all across the country, by groups like Move On, Indivisible, 50501, and many, many others. Eventually these actions will prevail, as they must, but our beloved and imperfect country is likely to undergo a painful wrenching before that happens.

A possible peaceful resolution to this present situation is in the hands of the disagreeable people in the White House.  If they could begin to behave as a representative government, instead of a gang of thugs on a pocket-filling rampage, these dark times could end. Right at this moment I don’t see that happening.

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Robert Reich wrote a stirring piece on Substack on Sunday, which I can recommend to you. Its title: Time for Nonviolent Disobedience.

(There was another guy who wrote an essay on the same topic, quite a while back. Perhaps you’ve heard of him? I’m so bad with names.)

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Drift Away, by Dobie Gray

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We’re about a week and a half away from our journey to Minneapolis for our granddaughter Elsa’s wedding. It will be a time to touch bases with my children as well. The wedding will be a special occasion for me as well as the wedding couple, as I am giving the bride away. Which means I will be wearing a dress suit for the first time in many years. ( I lead a simple life )

Trepidation? Not too much, but in recent days I have seen reruns of old men tripping going up steps into airplanes, both Cluck and Biden, and they are years younger than I am. I am doing what I can do to not repeat their faux pas in front of the assembled guests. This will be complicated by the fact that I will be wearing rented shoes, and who knows where they have been or what embarrassments they have already caused? The rental store assured me that they are not evil shoes, and I have to take them at their word. But how do they really know?

My usual footgear are built for trails and paths that require non-slip soles and sturdy construction. Brands like Oboz and Hoka are in my closet these days, for very good and utilitarian reasons. I had briefly thought of wearing them with the rented outfit but then that same granddaughter discouraged my making such a fashion statement at her party. I acceded to her wishes

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Shelter From The Storm, by Bob Dylan

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One of my favorite moments from the movie Gandhi. The line: “They are not in control … we are” rang out clearly when the film was released in 1982. It rings out even more clearly today.

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Last evening was one of those with a golden twilight. Where the seemingly aimless flight paths of countless insects were backlit and it is a beautiful thing to see. Hypnotic, really.

Now I realize that using the word “aimless” when talking about another species is an arrogant thing to do. A more honest phrase would be “I don’t understand why they do what they do.” As simple as that.

How can I possibly presume to make assessments of these flying creatures’ behavior when I can’t even understand or explain why my own species does what it does half the time?

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Where Have All The Flowers Gone, by the Kingston Trio

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I seem to be quite busy these days. My involvement with Indivisible is taking up a fair amount of time, I am painfully trying to learn some Spanish with Duolingo as my cranky guide, and I am now growing psilocybin-containing mushrooms in my pajama drawer.

Without going into detail, there are many, many people who struggle with chronic pain and depression that does not respond to present-day therapies. It turns out that there is an accumulated mountain of anecdotal evidence that psilocybin can provide help to many of these people. Not in doses that produce a “high” or a psychedelic experience, but in tiny fractions of that dose. Microdosing is the term that is used.

Here in Colorado it is now legal to grow “magic” mushrooms and to ingest them. It is also legal to give some away to friends.

It is not okay to sell them, however, so there are no legal commercial outlets.

Exploring the world of mushroom culture has been really interesting. What I did was purchase something called a “grow bag,” containing a sterile mixture of everything an aspiring mushroom spore needs to thrive. From another source I bought a syringe filled with spores of a variety of mushroom called Golden Teacher and injected that solution into the bag. The instructions were to then keep it in a warm dark place for some weeks until a certain stage is reached. Thus, the pajama drawer.

There are other stages to come that require other sorts of care for the growing mushrooms, but no more than you experience in any sort of gardening. There is also the possibility of failure, since my previous gardening experiences have been … shall we say … only occasionally magnificent ones.

Stay tuned.

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