EXPLORATION

PUSHING BOUNDARIES

     Here's some context.  Jimmy Carter was in the White House, Magic Johnson was at Michigan State, Stephen King released The Shining, Tom Watson won the Masters and Apple released their new color logo. 
     35 years ago today one of this planet's greatest accomplishments was launched. Voyager 1 began the journey that today has taken it 11 Billion miles and to the edge of our solar system.  Voyager 1 and companion Voyager 2, now some 9.3 Billion miles in another direction, continue to mine data of deep space, soon to be interstellar space. Voyager has gone the farthest human kind has reached.
     On board are those gold discs containing sounds, data and renderings of human life, in case an intelligence encounters our sub-compact car sized "human offspring" wandering beyond our knowledge base.
     Alicia Chang of the Associated Press reports each Voyager "has only 68 kilobytes of computer memory.  To put that in perspective, the smallest iPod-an 8 gigabyte Nano-is 100,000 times more powerful. Each also has an eight-track tape recorder."
     Mind bending isn't it?

THE OTHER BOUNDARY

      Jack Kerouac's cult classic On The Road was published by Viking Press on this day in 1957.

From back cover of ON THE ROAD

       The original manuscript, a long continuous roll of type written script, now belongs to Jimmy Irsay, owner of the Indianapolis Colts.  

        A few years ago the late George Plimpton told me he was in an office as the On The Road manuscript roll was being read and considered.  He said while it may be revered now on that particular day, people in the office were having  fun unrolling it across the floor and back, like a kid's toy.

Photo from mountholly-lamano.com

DAY FILE

GARDEN NOTES

      We've got a "volunteer" and "mystery" squash growing
down the back hill side.  

     Not sure what it is-something like a butternut or summer squash.  We've had a few and it bakes and sautés nicely and is great in a casserole.  I decided to pick a few when they were smaller.  One that had "hidden" beneath a slope side leaf grew to the size of a small pumpkin. That "prize" went home with a stone mason working on a neighbor's fire pit. He was delighted.

     A tomato update.  The "beautiful" greenhouse continues to endure evening breezes and winds and the crop inside flourishes. It ain't pretty, but the crop is.

      It continues to amaze us that we can grow tomatoes in this climate near the Pacific fed by the cooler than 
hot and humid mid-west conditions which favor tomatoes.

See you down the trail.

LABOR DAY

A WORKING DAY

     Labor day was just one more working day in a newsroom.  Yet there was a kind of cosmic foreshadowing that occurred in my kid hood.  

       As a grade school kid I became fascinated with radio news. There was something special about those voices coming in from great distances, telling about events of significance.  Perceptive man that my father was, he made sure I paid attention and thought about the process.  As it turns out, he knew the local radio and TV newsman.  

      Fred Moore Hinshaw had been an NBC announcer and legend had it that he and Lorne Greene (later of Bonanza) were the deep voices of NBC East and West back in the days when radio news reached more people than TV.  Fred came to Muncie Indiana, following his wife who was the local drama teacher.  Fred became a founder of the local television station and its news director.  Hinshaw Edits the News not only aired on radio, but in the early days of television, became the only source for local news on the tube.  Dad made sure I watched and listened to Hinshaw edit the news.

      Well one labor day, a rare day for my dad to be home and not at work, he loaded me into the car and we drove a ways into what I recognized was a "nicer" part of Muncie. The homes were larger, many of them were brick and they all had beautiful large yards with plenty of shrubs, hedges and shade trees. There on a slight slopping large green lawn was a man, sweating and wearing a cap as he shoved a lawn mower, the non powered type, over the lawn.  Dad pulled to the curb and honked.  The fellow turned, recognized dad and came over to the car.  It took a moment for me recognize the sweating man as Hinshaw, from Hinshaw Edits the News. I was stunned.  

     Dad and he chatted about politics and then said I was interested in the news.  I can't remember what passed in that conversation, but I was struck by the fact the man on the radio and television was mowing the lawn. At our house, my brother and I mowed the lawn.  

     Then that evening as the clatter of the teletype and the announcer intoned that Hinshaw Edits the News I was struck by the fact the man behind the desk with the deep voice and serious look had been the profusely sweating fellow on the nice lawn.  I'm not sure what I expected, that perhaps Hinshaw never left the station, was always on alert for news.  It then dawned on me that on this big deal holiday when working men and women had the day off, this guy was  there, working.  And just a few hours earlier he had really been working, breaking a sweat on a beautiful lawn.

     By the time I was working in a newsroom, I was not at all surprised by the fact that a holiday, even for working men and women, didn't mean a thing other than the stories we covered-parades, picnics and people working in their yards.  Like Christmas, New Year's eve and Thanksgiving, it was just another day of work.

     A quick post script.  Years later when I was in college and working as a radio news reporter in Muncie, my boss was Fred Moore Hinshaw. He was a brilliant writer, journalist, thinker and a bit of a rascal poet. Had he chosen the lights of a big city he would have succeeded, might even have been Chet Huntley.  He chose family, home and making a contribution where he lived, even if it meant sweating a couple of times on Labor Day.  My dad and Fred were of the same generation.  They were great teachers.

    See you down the trail.

THE WEEKENDER :)

SMILE

     It's a long weekend.  Barbecues, picnics, parties, parades, summer's climax.  Enjoy.

Time passes.  We all change.  Even royalty.

A tribute here to a beautiful woman.

Enjoy your weekend.

See you down the trail.

AN IGNORED WARNING

LIFE IN FAST FORWARD

PHOTO FROM JIMMY CARTER LIBRARY

    The "hot line" direct communication link between Moscow and Washington went into service on this day in 1963.  It took 12 hours to decode, translate and respond to Nikita Kruschev's message months earlier during the Cuban Missile Crisis.

    By the time the hot line was on Jimmy Carter's desk, the technology had evolved. The dinosaur phone in the picture, once was the picture of modernity.

     49 years after the groundbreaking channel of instant communication we have come to this:

YouTube's Election hub, a child of the internet, which has revolutionized communication. Social media fueled the "Arab-Spring" and now Phillip DeFranco, the lad on the left who began his program in his basement, has more viewers than Anderson Cooper, Rachel Maddow and even Jon Stewart's daily show.

     DeFranco is one of the multiple offerings on YouTube's election site which puts the director's call of what to air into your hands, truly at your finger tips and on the screen of your choice.

SO IN SUCH A WELL WIRED WORLD
A WORRIED WHY?

     The story of shrinking arctic sea ice, the largest melt since tracking data began, was reported two days ago and barely drew a notice. Arctic sea ice is disappearing more quickly than any time we know of and more rapidly than predicted.

Graph courtesy of Japanese Aerospace Exploration Agency and THE WASHINGTON POST

     The increasingly warm summer trends indicate earth's warming and the probability the sea ice will disappear in a future summer.  Warmer Arctic waters can cause Greenland's ice sheet to melt and that can lead to many problems. The shrinking of the Arctic Sea Ice and the diminishing of Greenland's Ice sheet will likely lead to more extreme summers and winters everywhere.

    Man made?  Nature's cycle?  A combination?  Don't you think it's worth exploring?  Still you had to search to see or hear anything.

    About the time the hotline was established a network of radio and television stations, produced a docudrama. Set in the future it was the story of how a news organization covered an environmental and ecological disaster that threatened all human life.  In one chilling passage the anchor does a voice-over of historic clips, listing a litany of warning signs of impending doom, sighting years, and failed international conferences.  Warning after warning went ignored while the people occupied themselves with buying and wanting more.  Until it was too late to hide from the impending end.

     How are we using or listening to our great communication tools? Is mother earth calling our hotline?

DAY FILE

A CORNER OF THE STUDIO

   I was looking around Lana's studio when I became intrigued by the corner near the window.  It's got "personality."

   I'm fascinated by the, texture, lines, divisions and proportionality of the frame below.

See you down the trail.

OUTRAGE & IS THERE A CAT SHRINK IN THE HOUSE?

"OUTRAGEOUS?"
YES!

     I add to the chorus who say a decision by an Israeli judge is outrageous.  
     Judge Oded Gershon cleared the Israeli Military in an incident where an IDF (Israeli Defense Forces) bulldozer  drove over an unarmed 23 year old American woman.  
     The family of Rachel Corrie filed civil action in Haifa to overturn an IDF investigation that found the bulldozer operator, an army member, did nothing wrong when he crushed the American non-violent activist who was a pro Palesntian demonstrator in 2003.  The IDF said the driver didn't see the woman.  She was wearing an orange vest and speaking into a bullhorn.
     Corrie's parents, from Olympia Washington, say they are 
"deeply saddened" by the decision and will appeal.

DAY FILE

For Cat Lovers

Just Add Joy

      This goofy little gal, Joy, is a new arrival here on the ridge.

      She is adopted from HART (Homeless Animal Rescue Team) in Cambria and comes with a great verbosity and
curiosity.

      Joy also seems tireless.

    There are some "howevers."  As she begins to integrate with Luke and Hemingway, we see the emergence of social and/or personality issues in the pack.

     Hemingway, lovable goofball that he is, was the first to adapt. He is such an affectionate cat that we expected a good bonding.

    But whether it is fatigue from playing, or something else, he has become a little more inclined to withdraw, something he rarely did.  He was always underfoot, trying for a lap or asking for attention.  Now, and I am projecting here, clearly, he seems to have a bit of a "aren't I good enough?" attitude.

   Our ocelot/cheetah/leopard-like Luke has been very cool.
When in the garage at night, he retreats to a cave like spot in a corner, under a table.

     He does not seem pleased by a little sister at all.  She has some "tiger" in her as well and that could be part of it.  Luke is a runner, climber, solitary hunter cat anyway, but never so stand offish.

    He is still affectionate and loves his back rubbed, but less so when Joy is around.  He also has taken to "resting" away from our decks.  Usually he is ready for dinner and entry into the garage cat condo at early evening.  The second night Joy was here, he stayed away, running thru fields and didn't come in until after 11PM-dangerous here with so many coyotes, bob cats and cougars.  

   If any of you feel inclined to practice Cat Psychology, please do so.  Our assumption is that with a little time Luke will realize he is the Alpha and has nothing to fear from little sis and will get used to sharing the facilities with one more.  

   Hemingway seems to be adapting to having a new playmate.  We adopted Joy, in large part because he seemed so lonely.  Luke is off hunting and stalking most of the day and our dear old Nesta is gone. Like us, Hemingway really seems to miss Nesta.  They were napping companions and slept near each other.

   Nesta was failing for the last several months.  At almost 18, we knew it was only a matter of time.  One morning she left the garage when they were let out.  She never returned.  We assume she simply went off to die.

    Nesta was a unique old gal-a Pantera as a Uzbekistan friend called her.  She and her sister, who was killed by a raccoon in Indiana, were beautiful cats from the Russian blue grey line.  She made the continent crossing with us and adapted well to retired life in California.  When her daughter Ziggy died, Nesta went into a real funk.  We adopted Luke and then Hemingway and their companionship brought life and zest back to her.  For a year they were mates.

NESTA

1995-2012

See you down the trail.

BRING BACK THE SMOKE FILLED ROOMS

SHAMS

       With apologies if I start sounding like an old goat, but the political conventions today are nothing like they used to be.
        Coming of age as a journalist when I did gave me a chance to cover conventions with things like floor fights, battles over credentials, platform debates and open challenges.  A generation before me there was actual suspense about who'd get the nomination and on what ballot. I saw that at the state level, but the drama at the national conventions was about issues. At least when I started.  
       The last national convention I covered was the start of what they have now become, staged, public relations spectacles.  I remember grousing about it with Larry King and Peter Jennings as we took hallway breaks outside the "Skyboxes".   Our body clocks must have been on the same time zone because we headed to the men's room about the same time. "Here we go again," King would intone.
         At my first convention I had pretty much free access to the convention floor and all of the delegations for the whole week.  By the time of the last "coronation" as they were called, the media was kept in a building a block away, allowed only timed and limited access to the floor, and moved in sequestered zones. 
        In the early days we could see and hear protest demonstrators.  By the last convention they had been moved so far out of sight none of the candidates or delegates might even know they were around.  These events have become managed to the point it is a sham to call them a convention.
        At one of the mid 70 conventions, it might have been the issues convention in 75 or the New York gathering that nominated Jimmy Carter in 76, there was a lot of speculation about the intentions of the Black Caucus headed by Ron Dellums and a feminist contingent headed by Bella Abzug.  The question was about what they would vote on a particular plank.  Delegates and the media were speculating about what Dellums and Abzug would do.  I was walking through the lobby of the hotel where a meeting was scheduled. I spotted a delegate credential, on a chain,  laying on the floor.  I picked up the credential and started toward the desk where I intended to turn it in.  However on the way through the lobby I spotted Dellums, Abzug and others marching into a salon meeting room.  I squeezed into the pack, holding the delegate credential in the air, while trying to cover my own media credential. The caucus was "closed" to delegates only.  
      I stood there listening, and was obvious about making notes on my reporters notebook.  No one seemed to take offense. They decided they would be united on the issue and that both would have a chance to speak.  The caucus adjourned.
      I almost sprinted back to the working news center-in those days almost all of the media was housed in the same large working space, with little warrens of feed centers and edit spaces off to the side in cubicles. I was reporting for a group of radio stations and I filed my report into a special phone line.  I remember Jack Nelson, who went on to win a Pulitzer, asking me  "Where'd you get that?"
       I told him the circumstances.  By this time Walter Mears, also now a Pulitzer winner, seemed interested. In those days, for many of us, the story didn't really register with our headquarters until it appeared on the AP wire with a Walter Mears by-line. His putting it on the wire gave an event a kind of sanction with editors and producers miles away and out of touch.  Nelson asked me to repeat how I got it.  I did.  He and Mears smiled.  They were the big boys, I was just a kid, but I beat 'em that day.
       Chance of that sort of thing occurring again?  Nada.  The Republicans wont even let one of their own, Ron Paul, address the convention.  Despite winning about 8-10% of the Republican Primary votes, he's being shut out.  That wouldn't have happened, back in the good old days, when conventions were really conventions!
       

DAY FILE

THE QUEEN'S CHAMBER

     A few of you have asked about the bees.  They appear to be prospering with their new young queen.  When Michael did his last check of the frames he spotted the queen's chamber.  It looks a bit like a thrown earthen ware vase or jug.

    Now that our bee keepers have found the queen and are pleased with the latest inspection, your reporter is waiting for the honey to appear!

      See you down the trail.

THE WEEKENDER :) PLEASANT DIVERESIONS

A NICE EVENING

     We began the evening with a terrific Caprese salad
and bottle of Aron Hill Primitivo.

    Diane and Lana were there to help observe my first

annual "Medicare eligibility" celebration.  

      Aron Hill provides a great hill top view of the setting sun while offering a menu which has never failed to please.

It has been an easy spot to mellow on summer Thursdays and the acoustic artists find appreciative ears.

       We rounded out the annual holiday with the Friday Lunch Flash mob festivities followed by a lecture on Adam

Smith's "Invisible Hand."

A LITTLE BRITISH DECORUM 

Thanks to Ann for finding this great "performance."

HOW CAN YOU NOT MARVEL AT THIS?
Mike and Beverly are to thank for this
link from Mars. Activate a camera from Curiosity by linking here.

         Wow!!
        See you down the trail.