Old folks watch the weather. Young folks just run into it. Now that I'm old, I'm a weather watcher, and I'm seldom surprised by what happens. Weather comes in all forms, but the thing we watch the most is the prospect of rain. Here in the Texas hill country of central Texas, we've had damn little of it for the past few years. We're luckier than some sections of Texas where they've had essentially no rain at all, but it's been dry here. Our streams, rivers, lakes and ponds are either mostly gone or are at dangerously low levels. And then a few days ago, it started raining.
Most of our prospects for rain this spring have turned out to be disappointments. Clouds would come, the air would smell like rain, and then we'd either just get sprinkles or nothing at all. And then wind has been relentless this year, making matters worse. I hate wind. After living in the Oklahoma panhandle for 30 years, you either learn to tolerate it or hate it. I never took to it, never got accepting of it, and that's part of the reason I left that country. I'm somewhat of a yard person, like growing plants, and I like for them to bloom and do whatever they're supposed to do. That takes water, and we've had little of it except what comes from a garden hose. The rain that started falling was welcome. In fact, I was overjoyed to see it come. I've always loved the rain.
Yesterday was a particularly good day with thunderstorms moving through. All told, my rain gauge showed four inches, and we'd already received almost two inches before that. My back yard turned into a pond for a while, and the patio room at the back of the house flooded. But we didn't have high winds that damaged anything, no hail . . . just good old rain, and lots of it. I'm still watching the weather because the forecasts are for more rain, or at least a good chance of rain for another week yet. I'm ready for it. We not only need the moisture in the ground, we need some big time run-off. We need rivers and lakes full of water again. We need farm ponds full again and some wet fields and crops for a change. I realize it takes more than what we've had to end an extended drought, but the blessed rain over the past few days is a big help. It can rain on my parade any time it wants to.
Monday, May 26, 2014
Friday, May 23, 2014
HOME MADE PEOPLE VS. STORE BOUGHT PEOPLE
I should state right off that people who insist on everything in their lives being store bought piss me off. I'm talking about those folks who don't trust anything that comes from a small crafts shop, or is hand made instead of production made, or who thinks nobody but a large company is capable of producing a quality product. Yeah, they piss me off big time, and I work hard at avoiding these people. That's pretty much impossible because folks like me, someone who'd much rather have the home made version of something than a production run article, are a rare breed. "Did you make that yourself?" I've often asked. And it the answer is yes, I'm all the more interested in it. Well, unless we're talking something like medicine or a surgical tool. If we're talking pie, on the other hand, you can take most of that store bought stuff and stuff it.
Nobody in the production business ever made a pecan pie like my mother made, or like my wife makes. And if you're one of those creepy make-mine-store-bought folks who buy all their Thanksgiving or Christmas sweets at a grocery store, a big poo on you. What's the matter with you, after all? Did you grow up in Walmart or something? Store bought cakes and pies are for shallow, culturally deprived people, not real people. It's almost like going to a prostitute for sex. Yeah, you can get laid, but you sure didn't get made love to. Good sex is home made, not store bought. Food is fuel, what makes us go, and already prepared food, that crack open a box and heat it up stuff, is fuel for dullards . . . or lazy people. You know, the dimwits of society, and as it turns out, that's the way most folks are these days.
You are what you eat, so goes the saying, and if that's true, America has become an enormous garbage dump. Eat garbage, end up garbage . . . that's the standard. My house was a healthy place to live, until my grandson moved in with us. Yup, I'm living with a garbage gobbler, a 21 year old who lives on Big Macs, fries, and soft drinks . . . and lots of cookies . . . all store bought. Look into his eyes, and it's like staring into a couple of monkey assholes. The kid is zonked out on junk; that's my take on it. Then again, it could be because he's 21, and most kids that age have eyes like a couple of monkey assholes. I know this from experience because I'm a retired college professor. I've looked at lots of kids, too many kids. The neat thing about them is, they grow up someday, and maybe when they do, they'll eat real food - home made food. You are what you eat, and that's a fact.
OK, with that said, I've got an admission to make. Everything that comes from a store isn't bad, and that includes food. Some things we like to eat are almost impossible to make at home. Yeah, I watch those shows on television that show you how to make your own peanut butter, but that's silly. Grocery stores sell a big variety of good peanut butter, all kinds, and most of it is good. I like the natural kind, but I don't really care how healthy it is. I'm going to eat it anyway . . . with grape jelly on wheat bread. The wheat bread is my little touch of healthy stuff there, and peanut butter isn't bad for you. I love key lime pie too, and I buy it store bought, and I also buy my blackberry cobbler at the store. I don't know anybody who can make a key lime pie, and there's no way my wife could ever come up with a blackberry cobbler. Even if I had access to home made, I'd still buy the store bought stuff. Some production line companies do a pretty damn good job of turning out fun to eat stuff. I must also admit to loving MacDonald's fish fillet sandwiches.
But I'm not backing off the your are what you eat thing. If I hadn't eaten so much junk food in the past, so much store bought stuff, I wouldn't be in the shape I'm in. I am what I ate . . . and drank, but we won't go into that. My first love in food is still home made, always will be. My first love in lots of other things is what comes from the small shop of a craftsman, not from some factory. Hand me a guitar from a small shop builder, one that still has the little flaws craftsmen without expensive precision machinery turn out, and I'm in love. I'm in love with the guitar itself, with those little imperfections, and most of all with the fact that it didn't come from some big factory. Give me home made first, in most cases, and I'm a more contented man. And oh, by the way. I didn't make this Apple computer I wrote this on, but that's OK. I don't even like computers.
Nobody in the production business ever made a pecan pie like my mother made, or like my wife makes. And if you're one of those creepy make-mine-store-bought folks who buy all their Thanksgiving or Christmas sweets at a grocery store, a big poo on you. What's the matter with you, after all? Did you grow up in Walmart or something? Store bought cakes and pies are for shallow, culturally deprived people, not real people. It's almost like going to a prostitute for sex. Yeah, you can get laid, but you sure didn't get made love to. Good sex is home made, not store bought. Food is fuel, what makes us go, and already prepared food, that crack open a box and heat it up stuff, is fuel for dullards . . . or lazy people. You know, the dimwits of society, and as it turns out, that's the way most folks are these days.
You are what you eat, so goes the saying, and if that's true, America has become an enormous garbage dump. Eat garbage, end up garbage . . . that's the standard. My house was a healthy place to live, until my grandson moved in with us. Yup, I'm living with a garbage gobbler, a 21 year old who lives on Big Macs, fries, and soft drinks . . . and lots of cookies . . . all store bought. Look into his eyes, and it's like staring into a couple of monkey assholes. The kid is zonked out on junk; that's my take on it. Then again, it could be because he's 21, and most kids that age have eyes like a couple of monkey assholes. I know this from experience because I'm a retired college professor. I've looked at lots of kids, too many kids. The neat thing about them is, they grow up someday, and maybe when they do, they'll eat real food - home made food. You are what you eat, and that's a fact.
OK, with that said, I've got an admission to make. Everything that comes from a store isn't bad, and that includes food. Some things we like to eat are almost impossible to make at home. Yeah, I watch those shows on television that show you how to make your own peanut butter, but that's silly. Grocery stores sell a big variety of good peanut butter, all kinds, and most of it is good. I like the natural kind, but I don't really care how healthy it is. I'm going to eat it anyway . . . with grape jelly on wheat bread. The wheat bread is my little touch of healthy stuff there, and peanut butter isn't bad for you. I love key lime pie too, and I buy it store bought, and I also buy my blackberry cobbler at the store. I don't know anybody who can make a key lime pie, and there's no way my wife could ever come up with a blackberry cobbler. Even if I had access to home made, I'd still buy the store bought stuff. Some production line companies do a pretty damn good job of turning out fun to eat stuff. I must also admit to loving MacDonald's fish fillet sandwiches.
But I'm not backing off the your are what you eat thing. If I hadn't eaten so much junk food in the past, so much store bought stuff, I wouldn't be in the shape I'm in. I am what I ate . . . and drank, but we won't go into that. My first love in food is still home made, always will be. My first love in lots of other things is what comes from the small shop of a craftsman, not from some factory. Hand me a guitar from a small shop builder, one that still has the little flaws craftsmen without expensive precision machinery turn out, and I'm in love. I'm in love with the guitar itself, with those little imperfections, and most of all with the fact that it didn't come from some big factory. Give me home made first, in most cases, and I'm a more contented man. And oh, by the way. I didn't make this Apple computer I wrote this on, but that's OK. I don't even like computers.
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
STUPID IS AS STUPID DOES
It's an old line, popularized more after the movie Forest Gump. His mother said, "Stupid is as stupid does," and that's fairly close to the truth . . . in practical terms. Forest was "intellectually challenged," gifted in other ways, and lovable. My sister, who died back in 2004, was supposedly mentally retarded. My parents were told that early on, and she never really attended school. Late in life, a specialist tested her and came back with a startling result. She was not retarded. Her physical condition, severe handicaps, led people to assume that she was likewise just as mentally retarded. She didn't speak well, and since she never went to school, didn't know much. Learning that distressed my mother in one way, but it didn't surprise her. She had two master's degrees - one in mental retardation, and one in the exceptional child. Vindication, that's a good word for what it was for my sister.
IQ is easy to assess, difficult to understand. The average person running around out there has an IQ between 90 and 110, with the average in the U.S. being 98. Your average high school grad has an IQ of about 100, with a college grad coming in between 115-120. If your are above 115, you're designated as bright. If you're somewhere in the 125-135 class you're exceptionally bright, or gifted, and if you're between 135-145, you're exceptionally gifted, near genius. Above that is genius. Below 90 gets sort of fuzzy when it comes to definitions. 80 to 90 is not a retarded class, but most folks call it dullard class. Smart enough to function, but barely. An idiot is the worst and lowest class at under 25 IQ, and morons are at 50 or less. I've seen other designations and some variations in scores, but that's about it.
What does all that mean? Well, as it turns out according to statistical studies, a lot. The higher a person's IQ, the better their chances at success in life. Higher IQ people are happier, more productive, healthier . . . and that's because they're smart enough to make mostly smart decisions. Yeah, stupid is as stupid does. Right. Then why is it that high IQ people do some really stupid things? Just look at the list of politicians who've fucked up big time while in office, and we're talking high IQ people here. What about Bill Clinton, a high IQ guy for sure, and those famous blow jobs at the White House? What the hell was he thinking? What about Clarence Thomas, a Supreme Court Justice, and his idiotic remarks to a woman? I could go on and on because there's no running out of examples - smart people doing stupid things.
Does that mean that Forest Gump's mama was wrong? Well, not really. When the result of some action turns out to be stupid, it came about as a result of a stupid thought process. What we're talking about here is a big time brain fart, a lapse in judgment, an episode of stupidity. One of my first cousins had a Ph.d. in chemistry, and he drank himself to death at a fairly early age. OK, so the AMA long ago said alcoholism was a disease, so a disease killed him . . . technically. But we all have choices to make in life, and smart people sometimes make stupid choices. I had my bout with alcoholism, and maybe it was an addiction outside of my control, but I did it. It was my fault, my stupid decision to drink. It didn't kill me because I finally made a smart decision and went to treatment for it, joined AA, fought back, and got my life back . . . and that was more than 30 years ago. My high IQ finally kicked in, and that saved me. And yeah, I've got a high IQ. I'm one of those exceptionally gifted folks, a former college professor . . . with a history of doing a lot of stupid things.
So, mama Gump, you hit the nail on the head. Stupid is as stupid does. I've seen some people with low IQs do some remarkable things. Some of them have been highly successful in life because they got the most out of what they had, and even if they're weren't successful in most things, they managed to get through life . . . a life they enjoyed and made a difference in other people's lives. My sister made a big difference in my life. Growing up in a home with a handicapped sister broadened my perspectives about some things, made me aware of how lucky I was, made me appreciate some of the things in life most people overlook. Some very intelligent people have shaped my life in ways I could never fully explain, but I'd be a complete fool to overlook the things some people who weren't smart taught me.
Maybe we should turn mama Gump's statement around. Maybe it should be "smart is as smart does."
IQ is easy to assess, difficult to understand. The average person running around out there has an IQ between 90 and 110, with the average in the U.S. being 98. Your average high school grad has an IQ of about 100, with a college grad coming in between 115-120. If your are above 115, you're designated as bright. If you're somewhere in the 125-135 class you're exceptionally bright, or gifted, and if you're between 135-145, you're exceptionally gifted, near genius. Above that is genius. Below 90 gets sort of fuzzy when it comes to definitions. 80 to 90 is not a retarded class, but most folks call it dullard class. Smart enough to function, but barely. An idiot is the worst and lowest class at under 25 IQ, and morons are at 50 or less. I've seen other designations and some variations in scores, but that's about it.
What does all that mean? Well, as it turns out according to statistical studies, a lot. The higher a person's IQ, the better their chances at success in life. Higher IQ people are happier, more productive, healthier . . . and that's because they're smart enough to make mostly smart decisions. Yeah, stupid is as stupid does. Right. Then why is it that high IQ people do some really stupid things? Just look at the list of politicians who've fucked up big time while in office, and we're talking high IQ people here. What about Bill Clinton, a high IQ guy for sure, and those famous blow jobs at the White House? What the hell was he thinking? What about Clarence Thomas, a Supreme Court Justice, and his idiotic remarks to a woman? I could go on and on because there's no running out of examples - smart people doing stupid things.
Does that mean that Forest Gump's mama was wrong? Well, not really. When the result of some action turns out to be stupid, it came about as a result of a stupid thought process. What we're talking about here is a big time brain fart, a lapse in judgment, an episode of stupidity. One of my first cousins had a Ph.d. in chemistry, and he drank himself to death at a fairly early age. OK, so the AMA long ago said alcoholism was a disease, so a disease killed him . . . technically. But we all have choices to make in life, and smart people sometimes make stupid choices. I had my bout with alcoholism, and maybe it was an addiction outside of my control, but I did it. It was my fault, my stupid decision to drink. It didn't kill me because I finally made a smart decision and went to treatment for it, joined AA, fought back, and got my life back . . . and that was more than 30 years ago. My high IQ finally kicked in, and that saved me. And yeah, I've got a high IQ. I'm one of those exceptionally gifted folks, a former college professor . . . with a history of doing a lot of stupid things.
So, mama Gump, you hit the nail on the head. Stupid is as stupid does. I've seen some people with low IQs do some remarkable things. Some of them have been highly successful in life because they got the most out of what they had, and even if they're weren't successful in most things, they managed to get through life . . . a life they enjoyed and made a difference in other people's lives. My sister made a big difference in my life. Growing up in a home with a handicapped sister broadened my perspectives about some things, made me aware of how lucky I was, made me appreciate some of the things in life most people overlook. Some very intelligent people have shaped my life in ways I could never fully explain, but I'd be a complete fool to overlook the things some people who weren't smart taught me.
Maybe we should turn mama Gump's statement around. Maybe it should be "smart is as smart does."
Monday, May 19, 2014
MY FAVORITE PROFESSOR WAS A UKRAINIAN
Dr. Tuchak was born in the Ukraine but ended up teaching political science at the University of Southern Mississippi. I attended graduate school there, worked on a Ph.d., and my major professor ended up being a foreigner. I didn't study a lot of Russian government, had no interest in it, but Dr. Tuchak was a comparative government specialist who taught me a lot about the governments of Europe, and that included more about Russia than I wanted to know. I did that because I didn't do well on my qualifying exam for entrance into the program, at least not concerning international politics and comparative government. Dr. Tuchak's first words to me upon reviewing my exam scores were, "You have deep gaps in your knowledge, but we shall rectify the problem." And, he did. Over the next 18 months I took a half dozen courses and seminars with Dr. Tuchak, and I'm proud to say that I came away from the with all A's. Better yet, he liked me, even invited me to his home to have vodka with him.
I left the university where Dr. Tuchak taught and seldom went back. A classmate called me sometime in the early 70s to tell me that my favorite professor had died suddenly of a heart attack. He remained a bachelor until he was about sixty, then met a Ukrainian widow woman living in south Mississippi and married her. I grieved some over his death, partly because I loved and admired the man and partly because I thought he deserved more time here on earth. But while here, he did his job well. I never intended to be a specialist in international politics or comparative governments, but ended up being qualified to teach those courses at the college level . . . and I did for many years . . . and I owe that to a man who started life far away from where he met and taught me.
Ok, I know you're thinking, "Well, what's your point?" It's this: I learned a lot from a man who spoke my language poorly, wasn't a great lecturer, but was still an outstanding professor. He knew the trick in getting people to learn - point the direction and the demand results. The best held information we have comes to us in strange ways, but it sticks best when we root it out ourselves under proper direction. After reading my first research paper for him, Dr. Tuchak said, "You are a very good writer. You write much better than you talk, and we need to work on that." He couldn't teach me to talk because he didn't do well at that himself, but he'd sometimes scowl at me and say, "Don't be lazy! Sit up straight, hold up your head, and speak clearly. You will be a fine professor when you learn to talk."
I practiced at talking once I got out on my own and started teaching. It took me several years to learn how to speak well, and it took me even more years to learn to say things people could listen to. And I became the kind of professor Dr. Tuchak was . . . I didn't lead or prod; I pointed the direction, gave instructions, and then expected results. And like him, I was a tough grader. Nobody got A's in my class for shoddy work, and I wasn't timid about giving F's to people who wouldn't study. He was a stern man in many ways, and so was I. But he was also a compassionate, caring man, especially when he saw that a student wanted to learn. Yes, Dr. William Tuchak was a foreigner, but he sure wasn't foreign to what it took to be a good professor.
I left the university where Dr. Tuchak taught and seldom went back. A classmate called me sometime in the early 70s to tell me that my favorite professor had died suddenly of a heart attack. He remained a bachelor until he was about sixty, then met a Ukrainian widow woman living in south Mississippi and married her. I grieved some over his death, partly because I loved and admired the man and partly because I thought he deserved more time here on earth. But while here, he did his job well. I never intended to be a specialist in international politics or comparative governments, but ended up being qualified to teach those courses at the college level . . . and I did for many years . . . and I owe that to a man who started life far away from where he met and taught me.
Ok, I know you're thinking, "Well, what's your point?" It's this: I learned a lot from a man who spoke my language poorly, wasn't a great lecturer, but was still an outstanding professor. He knew the trick in getting people to learn - point the direction and the demand results. The best held information we have comes to us in strange ways, but it sticks best when we root it out ourselves under proper direction. After reading my first research paper for him, Dr. Tuchak said, "You are a very good writer. You write much better than you talk, and we need to work on that." He couldn't teach me to talk because he didn't do well at that himself, but he'd sometimes scowl at me and say, "Don't be lazy! Sit up straight, hold up your head, and speak clearly. You will be a fine professor when you learn to talk."
I practiced at talking once I got out on my own and started teaching. It took me several years to learn how to speak well, and it took me even more years to learn to say things people could listen to. And I became the kind of professor Dr. Tuchak was . . . I didn't lead or prod; I pointed the direction, gave instructions, and then expected results. And like him, I was a tough grader. Nobody got A's in my class for shoddy work, and I wasn't timid about giving F's to people who wouldn't study. He was a stern man in many ways, and so was I. But he was also a compassionate, caring man, especially when he saw that a student wanted to learn. Yes, Dr. William Tuchak was a foreigner, but he sure wasn't foreign to what it took to be a good professor.
Saturday, May 17, 2014
TASTE IS OFTEN EXPENSIVE . . . AND STUPID
We all live in a pampered, spoiled rotten society of people who want it just the way the like it . . . and are willing to pay more money to have it that way. Everyone in the selling business knows this and takes advantage of our various tastes in things, all the way from our favorite drink to expensive houses. This blog is mostly about houses and where individual taste in homes costs fussy people lots of money, and for no good reason. How demanding you are about this determines the cost of your house and may not gain you much when you sell the home. If you do careful research about home sales, you'll find out what people have been conditioned to expect in a home . . . and by conditioned, I mean propagandized. Folks watch a lot of home network television, or other shows about house hunting or remodeling, and they often get sold a bill of goods on what a house should have.
If you have the money, and if nothing else makes you happy, then you're a bird's nest on the ground for builders and remodelers. Want those granite counter tops in kitchens and baths? Get ready to shuck out the big bucks 'cause they don't give it away. Just got to have the finest when it comes to fancy wood floors? More big bucks. Want that swanky tile on the floors? More big bucks. And just some seemingly moderate cost things in a house can be foolish investments . . . unless you just can't live without it.
My home has ten ceiling fans, an extravagance, and they're not cheap fans. We love ceiling fans, want them going most of the time . . . and so we have them. Dumb? Yeah, probably, but we save money other places. You won't find marble or granite in my house, and you won't find bamboo floors or anything like that. Nice fixtures for sinks, bathtubs, etc? Yup, got them. Really nice window treatments? Yep, got that too. Extra expenditures on the yard? Yep. So, we've got lots of things we don't need, and that's a matter of taste. Not an enormous house, about 3,000 sq. ft. We talking small town here, and that means a house this nice would sit for a long time before it sold. Hardly anybody here can afford over two hundred grand for a house.
My neighbor up the street has done a wonderful job of remodeling their home, about the same size of mine. Their yard alone offers a wow factor, and inside there's lots of upgrades. Yeah, all that granite and nice fixtures . . . yeah, all that stuff you see on television that everyone wants in a house. And now they need to move and can't sell the house. They offered it for close to a quarter million bucks, got no takers. The price is down to $215,000 now, and still no offers. Not even many lookers. That same house just down the road in Austin would cost half million, but not here. What I'm saying is that you can over build or over remodel . . . which is what I've done and what my neighbor has done.
I don't really care because I'm not inclined to move anywhere. I'm also not inclined to put any more big money into this house. My daughter has just bought an old house in this town with the intention of remodeling it. She's got big plans for turning it into the kind of home they can enjoy. They bought the house cheap because it needs lots of work, but it could be a showplace. They want to do most of the work themselves, and they're willing to lean how. I'm the teacher. So far, she's using her head when talking about remodeling, and I've been trying to teach her some things I've never been able to get my wife to accept. Like all women, my daughter wants to completely change the kitchen, but she's reasonable about how to do that, and she willing to make concessions. All the bedrooms need new floor coverings, and there's lots of woodwork to be done, lots of painting, things like that. Bathrooms need work too, as does the living room and den area.
I bought an old house ten years ago and put in a floor over there, and I did it with wood bought from a local lumberyard. I bought pine 1 by 12 lumber, and then screwed it down. I didn't do anything to it, no stain or varnish . . . nothing. And after ten years, it looks good . . . has that weathered, rustic look, and it's still solid. She saw that, asked about it, and I said, "It can be done for much less than hardwood floors, and it can be made to look gorgeous." She's now wanting that done in her house, just smaller boards. She's given up wanting tile, and she doesn't want granite. I showed her what kitchen countertops could look like made of wood. I made them from 2 by 6 lumber, glued them together to where you can hardly see the separation between them, and they look great. Do they scuff up? Sure, but since they're 2 inches thick, you just re-sand and reseal them. No big deal, and doing that is dirt cheap. And it looks damn good.
So, we're off to a start with remodeling, turning an old house (it's a Spanish Bungalow) into a really nice place . . . and with one big thing in mind. Made it look good, do structural repairs to make it last, and don't get stupid and spend too much money. Yeah, stupid because it's easy to run the costs on a home past what you can sell it for. Be cognizant of the community, the neighborhood, the town. Make it nice and comfortable, and make it into something you don't get stuck with.
If you have the money, and if nothing else makes you happy, then you're a bird's nest on the ground for builders and remodelers. Want those granite counter tops in kitchens and baths? Get ready to shuck out the big bucks 'cause they don't give it away. Just got to have the finest when it comes to fancy wood floors? More big bucks. Want that swanky tile on the floors? More big bucks. And just some seemingly moderate cost things in a house can be foolish investments . . . unless you just can't live without it.
My home has ten ceiling fans, an extravagance, and they're not cheap fans. We love ceiling fans, want them going most of the time . . . and so we have them. Dumb? Yeah, probably, but we save money other places. You won't find marble or granite in my house, and you won't find bamboo floors or anything like that. Nice fixtures for sinks, bathtubs, etc? Yup, got them. Really nice window treatments? Yep, got that too. Extra expenditures on the yard? Yep. So, we've got lots of things we don't need, and that's a matter of taste. Not an enormous house, about 3,000 sq. ft. We talking small town here, and that means a house this nice would sit for a long time before it sold. Hardly anybody here can afford over two hundred grand for a house.
My neighbor up the street has done a wonderful job of remodeling their home, about the same size of mine. Their yard alone offers a wow factor, and inside there's lots of upgrades. Yeah, all that granite and nice fixtures . . . yeah, all that stuff you see on television that everyone wants in a house. And now they need to move and can't sell the house. They offered it for close to a quarter million bucks, got no takers. The price is down to $215,000 now, and still no offers. Not even many lookers. That same house just down the road in Austin would cost half million, but not here. What I'm saying is that you can over build or over remodel . . . which is what I've done and what my neighbor has done.
I don't really care because I'm not inclined to move anywhere. I'm also not inclined to put any more big money into this house. My daughter has just bought an old house in this town with the intention of remodeling it. She's got big plans for turning it into the kind of home they can enjoy. They bought the house cheap because it needs lots of work, but it could be a showplace. They want to do most of the work themselves, and they're willing to lean how. I'm the teacher. So far, she's using her head when talking about remodeling, and I've been trying to teach her some things I've never been able to get my wife to accept. Like all women, my daughter wants to completely change the kitchen, but she's reasonable about how to do that, and she willing to make concessions. All the bedrooms need new floor coverings, and there's lots of woodwork to be done, lots of painting, things like that. Bathrooms need work too, as does the living room and den area.
I bought an old house ten years ago and put in a floor over there, and I did it with wood bought from a local lumberyard. I bought pine 1 by 12 lumber, and then screwed it down. I didn't do anything to it, no stain or varnish . . . nothing. And after ten years, it looks good . . . has that weathered, rustic look, and it's still solid. She saw that, asked about it, and I said, "It can be done for much less than hardwood floors, and it can be made to look gorgeous." She's now wanting that done in her house, just smaller boards. She's given up wanting tile, and she doesn't want granite. I showed her what kitchen countertops could look like made of wood. I made them from 2 by 6 lumber, glued them together to where you can hardly see the separation between them, and they look great. Do they scuff up? Sure, but since they're 2 inches thick, you just re-sand and reseal them. No big deal, and doing that is dirt cheap. And it looks damn good.
So, we're off to a start with remodeling, turning an old house (it's a Spanish Bungalow) into a really nice place . . . and with one big thing in mind. Made it look good, do structural repairs to make it last, and don't get stupid and spend too much money. Yeah, stupid because it's easy to run the costs on a home past what you can sell it for. Be cognizant of the community, the neighborhood, the town. Make it nice and comfortable, and make it into something you don't get stuck with.
Thursday, May 15, 2014
EVERYBODY'S SELLING SOMETHING
It's a good thing I'm not a businessman 'cause I've always been a lousy salesman. What I'm talking about here is selling material things - you know, like cars or shoes or guitars or vacuum cleaners. I couldn't sell hand warmers to Eskimos, but that doesn't mean I'm still not a salesman. In fact, almost everybody is a salesman one way or another. I'm a retired college professor, and that means I spent a long time in the classroom selling information to students . . . and folks, that's not an easy sale. And it is a sale because they paid for it in the way of tuition and other college costs. You'd think they'd be willing to listen and learn, but most of them aren't.
I'm also a writer, and that makes me a bullshit salesman. Yeah, most of my books are pretty much bullshit one way or another, and crafting bullshit is actually an art form. It's easier to sell bullshit, I've noticed, than it is history or political science or anthropology. Bullshit is an effective method of selling ideas. You just have to disguise it a little. People don't want to be bothered with facts and figures most of the time, but they're always susceptible to bullshit. Just call me Phil, bullshit salesman.
And that is my real name, by the way - Phil Martin. I write under the names D. Paz Dalton, Cletus Duhon, and Philip Martin Cawlfield . . . all bullshit names. I don't even know where I came up with them, but they've been around a long time. I've used other pen names, but these voices have been around the longest. I use them as salesmen for various ideas I come up with, things that turn up in blogs, short stories, or books. They're better salesmen than I am, but that makes sense 'cause that's why I invented them. Like I said, I'm a lousy salesman.
I'm fascinated by the way various things are sold, have spent a lot of time studying it. I'm not a big fan of a laissez faire capitalist system by a long shot, lean more toward democratic socialism . . . but, only a fool would argue that any system would work that ignores man's need to profit. He needs to trade or sell in some way to feel worthwhile, and this is what makes people productive. I'm especially fascinated with goods, the crafting of a specific product . . . like a guitar. I'm a guitar maker by trade, have a shop where I build them from time to time. I don't make money doing it, have sold very few guitars, but I've traded some. I started off thinking I'd sell them, though, and that got me into crafting them. Wanting to sell or trade gets people started into lots of things, and even if the sales don't materialize, something good has happened.
The idea that we should in some way profit from our endeavors might be more of a social need or drive than anything else, but it's important to our wellbeing. Like I said earlier, I'm better at selling bullshit than I am at anything else. But I'll always keep peddling something, just in case somebody might come along who wants it. Since I'm a lousy salesman, I've got lots of stuff saved back. I'm not a hoarder, but I do like to collect things. I've got lots of vintage musical instruments, for instance - guitars, mandolins, fiddles, accordions, etc. And I've got a big collection of old film cameras, and stuff like analog recording equipment, and even toys. Maybe some day I'll start selling it . . . but I've got to get better at being a salesman first. Selling a $5,000 guitar is lots harder than selling bullshit. My books usually cost about ten bucks, a fair price for good bullshit.
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
THE GRIM REAPER IN DISGUISE
Don't you just love the various depictions of the Grim Reaper - you know, those skeletal figures wearing a hoodie and toting a deadly looking harvesting tool? I suppose that's supposed to strike fear into the hearts of everyone, and it probably does. But . . . death doesn't look that way at all. In fact, death looks very friendly in most cases, and here's some facts to support that contention. Cars have killed 20,000,000 people since its invention, and most of us love cars. We've had a fascination with cars since the things first appeared just over a century ago. I'm 72 years old, and I've walked away from a dozen fairly serious car wrecks. I didn't walk away from one, and it left me partially crippled for life. Like many others, I've had a lifetime fascination with the automobile, and it's been costly in more ways than just the injuries.
Like to smoke? Tobacco related deaths snuff about 450,000 people a year in this country alone. And yeah, I'm been a tobacco user on and off for a long time. I still smoke a pipe, which puts me in the slow learner class at best, and the outright dumbass class for all practical purposes. Like to eat? Me too, and that's the most risky thing we do. You don't expect the Grim Reaper to look like a t-bone, or a bowl of ice cream, but he does. And overweight related deaths amount to nearly 40,000,000 a year. That's forty million, if you need it written out. Are you a gun lover? Since 1968 guns have killed more people in America than all the wars put together that this country has been involved in. Alcohol use kills close to 90,000 people a year. Addictions to illicit or prescription drugs take down another 40,000.
I could go on and on about the health risks and the tools employed by the Grim Reaper, but I think you get the point . . . and if you don't here it is. We're awful when it comes to using things that otherwise could be a good thing. In many cases drugs are a wonderful invention, saving millions of lives each year, but too many people abuse them. There's nothing good about tobacco at all, not up side to that, and there's no reason anyone should die from alcohol use. Those things we can do without, totally. Cars? Well, everybody needs to have an automobile, and it's a wonderful creation for the most part. It's not the car that kills; it's the driver. Same with the gun. It's not the gun; it's the individual employing it wrongly that kills. There's no excuse for all the blubber-butts and lard-asses running around this country, and it's killing them. And in the process of doing that, it's inflicting misery on the rest of us in terms of health care costs. The problem is us, the abusers, the overdoers, the gluttons, and the careless. Add in those with evil intent, and you've got a bad situation all the way around.
It's us, dammit! The Grim Reaper looks like us.
Like to smoke? Tobacco related deaths snuff about 450,000 people a year in this country alone. And yeah, I'm been a tobacco user on and off for a long time. I still smoke a pipe, which puts me in the slow learner class at best, and the outright dumbass class for all practical purposes. Like to eat? Me too, and that's the most risky thing we do. You don't expect the Grim Reaper to look like a t-bone, or a bowl of ice cream, but he does. And overweight related deaths amount to nearly 40,000,000 a year. That's forty million, if you need it written out. Are you a gun lover? Since 1968 guns have killed more people in America than all the wars put together that this country has been involved in. Alcohol use kills close to 90,000 people a year. Addictions to illicit or prescription drugs take down another 40,000.
I could go on and on about the health risks and the tools employed by the Grim Reaper, but I think you get the point . . . and if you don't here it is. We're awful when it comes to using things that otherwise could be a good thing. In many cases drugs are a wonderful invention, saving millions of lives each year, but too many people abuse them. There's nothing good about tobacco at all, not up side to that, and there's no reason anyone should die from alcohol use. Those things we can do without, totally. Cars? Well, everybody needs to have an automobile, and it's a wonderful creation for the most part. It's not the car that kills; it's the driver. Same with the gun. It's not the gun; it's the individual employing it wrongly that kills. There's no excuse for all the blubber-butts and lard-asses running around this country, and it's killing them. And in the process of doing that, it's inflicting misery on the rest of us in terms of health care costs. The problem is us, the abusers, the overdoers, the gluttons, and the careless. Add in those with evil intent, and you've got a bad situation all the way around.
It's us, dammit! The Grim Reaper looks like us.
Monday, May 12, 2014
PANARIN'S PROPHECY: THE DISINTEGRATION OF THE U.S.
Russian political scientist Igor Panarin has predicted the break-up of America into something like six states, or new nations. And he thinks this is coming soon, not in the distant future. He came up with this prophecy some fifteen years ago, but only in the past few years has it drawn international attention. This is due in part to America's enduring political gridlock that is crippling the nation, but it is due more to America's flagging influence in the world. As we weaken at home, we weaken abroad. Some prominent American political scientists are in agreement with Panarin, at least in part. I too am a political scientist, a veteran of 35 years of teaching at the college level . . . and like some others, I think Panarin's prediction has some merit.
Panarin has also predicted that the break-up of the U.S. might solve some problems here, but it could be devastating for Russia. Close economic ties to this country exist not only in Russia but around the world. The housing bubble bursting here in 2007 sent shockwaves around the world, causing similar situations in Europe and elsewhere. We might be weakened some as a nation both here and abroad, but what happens here is going to affect billions of people around the world.
But Panarin is a Russian, not an American, and that puts him at somewhat of a disadvantage in predicting what will happen here. For one thing, he has underestimated American determination and stubbornness. It will take a lot of suffering to break up this nation, and only the most astute of political observers will be able to predict when and where that will happen. Will we have another raging civil war? Not likely. We didn't learn much from the one and only civil war this nation has had, but I think we learned one thing - don't do it again. Foreign observers of the U.S. governmental and political system may fail to understand exactly how our federal system works. Panarin thinks the break-up will start when richer American states start refusing to give up money to the federal government, to big brother. Perhaps what he doesn't understand is that our richer states are more dependent on the union than are the weaker ones.
California, for example, likes to point out that if it were an independent state, a sovereign nation, it would be the 7th largest economy in the world. What Californians probably don't want to point out is that California takes more federal money than any other state. I live in Texas, the second largest state in the union land wise, and the second largest in population, and one of the richest, if not the richest. And you hear a lot of talk here about how well Texas would do as an independent country. What you don't hear about is how dependent Texas is on the federal government. Only California takes more federal funds than does Texas.
Let's take a closer look at Texas and how it would fare as an independent country, or as part of a new nation consisting of several southwestern states. Without federal funds, Texas would be in dire straights. The closing of military establishments here would be devastating to the economy. The closing of federal office buildings where the feds conduct many social programs, like social security and medicare and workman's comp, and all that would shut down and be gone. And who's going to pick up the tab for all that? What will happen to the people dependent on federal aid? We're already the most lawless state in the nation, but pardner, you ain't seen nothing yet until what would come about with the loss of federal funds. We'd be hard pressed to deal with the suffering caused by the break-up of America. And even if Texas went into a confederation or union with other states, they'd be worse off because they'd have to carry the load for states like Louisiana, New Mexico, Oklahoma, and maybe Arkansas and a few others.
And still, it could work in the long run. It would be very hard at first, but as the new government got underway and started dealing with problems, they'd learn to either sink or swim. The bordering Mexican states would likewise go under, as perhaps would all of Mexico, unless they joined in with this new nation. Through proper management of resources in the area, the oil and gas and agriculture and mining and all that, there'd be room for economic growth . . . but only in time. It would be a very difficult transition, but it could be done. And perhaps the time is coming when there'll be no real choice. I don't think that's going to be soon, but if the current trends continue, it's coming. I'm an old man and probably won't live to see it, and for that, I'm thankful. What I'm not thankful for are the politicians who've almost ruined this great nation. We die from the inside out, and if we have the resolve for it, we will live and prosper from the inside out. We still have options, choices to make, but I'm sure of one thing: It won't be politicians who make them . . . until they are forced to, or are replaced by wiser people.
Panarin has also predicted that the break-up of the U.S. might solve some problems here, but it could be devastating for Russia. Close economic ties to this country exist not only in Russia but around the world. The housing bubble bursting here in 2007 sent shockwaves around the world, causing similar situations in Europe and elsewhere. We might be weakened some as a nation both here and abroad, but what happens here is going to affect billions of people around the world.
But Panarin is a Russian, not an American, and that puts him at somewhat of a disadvantage in predicting what will happen here. For one thing, he has underestimated American determination and stubbornness. It will take a lot of suffering to break up this nation, and only the most astute of political observers will be able to predict when and where that will happen. Will we have another raging civil war? Not likely. We didn't learn much from the one and only civil war this nation has had, but I think we learned one thing - don't do it again. Foreign observers of the U.S. governmental and political system may fail to understand exactly how our federal system works. Panarin thinks the break-up will start when richer American states start refusing to give up money to the federal government, to big brother. Perhaps what he doesn't understand is that our richer states are more dependent on the union than are the weaker ones.
California, for example, likes to point out that if it were an independent state, a sovereign nation, it would be the 7th largest economy in the world. What Californians probably don't want to point out is that California takes more federal money than any other state. I live in Texas, the second largest state in the union land wise, and the second largest in population, and one of the richest, if not the richest. And you hear a lot of talk here about how well Texas would do as an independent country. What you don't hear about is how dependent Texas is on the federal government. Only California takes more federal funds than does Texas.
Let's take a closer look at Texas and how it would fare as an independent country, or as part of a new nation consisting of several southwestern states. Without federal funds, Texas would be in dire straights. The closing of military establishments here would be devastating to the economy. The closing of federal office buildings where the feds conduct many social programs, like social security and medicare and workman's comp, and all that would shut down and be gone. And who's going to pick up the tab for all that? What will happen to the people dependent on federal aid? We're already the most lawless state in the nation, but pardner, you ain't seen nothing yet until what would come about with the loss of federal funds. We'd be hard pressed to deal with the suffering caused by the break-up of America. And even if Texas went into a confederation or union with other states, they'd be worse off because they'd have to carry the load for states like Louisiana, New Mexico, Oklahoma, and maybe Arkansas and a few others.
And still, it could work in the long run. It would be very hard at first, but as the new government got underway and started dealing with problems, they'd learn to either sink or swim. The bordering Mexican states would likewise go under, as perhaps would all of Mexico, unless they joined in with this new nation. Through proper management of resources in the area, the oil and gas and agriculture and mining and all that, there'd be room for economic growth . . . but only in time. It would be a very difficult transition, but it could be done. And perhaps the time is coming when there'll be no real choice. I don't think that's going to be soon, but if the current trends continue, it's coming. I'm an old man and probably won't live to see it, and for that, I'm thankful. What I'm not thankful for are the politicians who've almost ruined this great nation. We die from the inside out, and if we have the resolve for it, we will live and prosper from the inside out. We still have options, choices to make, but I'm sure of one thing: It won't be politicians who make them . . . until they are forced to, or are replaced by wiser people.
Friday, May 9, 2014
A FEW NOTES ABOUT WORKING ON OLD HOUSES
First off, I'm not a carpenter or a professional house restorer. Second, I don't want to be. Third, but I know how to do a lot of things regarding home upgrades, renovations, and remodeling . . . and I mostly enjoy the work. I don't mess around with electrical at all, and I'd rather not have anything to do with plumbing. The work I've done on houses in the past relates mostly to building small ones from scratch, fixing worn out flooring, doing trim work around doors and windows, building cabinets, and replacing windows. And, I've learned to do other things, and that comes from having restored a few houses.
I bought a mostly tumbled down house in an across the tracks section of town back in late 2003 and then set about restoring it. According to the deed, this old house was built 1919. It had the original oak flooring in half the house. The floors were drooping at the edges because of foundation settling, but the oak floors still looked good. A room had been added on to what was originally a small rectangular home with a front porch the width of the structure. A shop area had been added to the back of the house. I spent the best part of a year fixing it up, got it looking presentable. I call the place The Line Camp, an old ranching term, and it's home to some of my collectibles and my guitar shop. It is also home to 9 cats, my workmates, hanging out buddies. Anyway, I did some carpentry work on the outside, replaced the front porch flooring, and painted the place. Inside, I painted every room, did some fancy trim work in places, completely restored the kitchen and bathroom, and generally turned the place into an area to display the vintage guitars, accordions, mandolins, fiddles, etc. I collect. It is rustic but comfortable, and I learned a lot working on it.
I've built a number of outdoor buildings like sheds and small cabins. I built a patio room onto the back of my home, and I closed in the two car garage and made a large sewing room out of it for my wife. My home is now about 3,000 square feet, 3,500 if you count the patio room. And I built an attractive little house in the back yard for storage. I'm at an age now where I can no longer do the heavy work, probably couldn't build an entire structure now and can't do some of the repair work. But I can still do some things, and my skills at remodeling will soon be useful again. My daughter and her husband recently bought an old house here in town and will be moving in early next month . . . and it needs lots of work. My first bit of advice to them has been, "don't destroy the integrity of the house." Stay within the limits of what it needs to look nice and be functional, and don't go nuts with fancy fixtures and such that aren't practical. But . . . do the things that turn a house into your home, with heavy emphasis on the your home.
The place is a Spanish bungalow that has been doubled in size with various additions. They got it for a very good price knowing work would be required to turn it into a reasonably comfortable residence. It's livable as is, and they can work on it once they've moved in. And I'll be recruited to help out, since neither of them have any experience doing remodeling work. I've gone through the place three times now making mental notes of what must be done and in what order. All they see at the moment is the cosmetic stuff, the work that makes a place look better. So they talk about tile flooring in the kitchen, wood flooring in the bedrooms, new bathroom fixtures, etc. And I talk about making sure the sub-flooring is sound before any surface is laid down. I talk about new windows in the older part of the house, work that must be done in preparation of that. I suggest what colors will work best inside and out at the house, what work must be done to reduce water damage to the exterior, and what can be done to make the yard look better.
They're chomping at the bits to get started, and I'm willing to help. It's not like I don't have projects around my own home that need attention. I seem to never catch up, and my older house across town with the shop needs work again. It won't be long before the heat of summer shuts down most of my yard work here at home . . . or whatever other projects I've got to do outside. I'm no longer capable or willing to work when the temperature exceeds 100 degrees. We're already having days like that here in central Texas, so I'll be looking for more indoor projects. It's going to be a busy summer. Maybe I'll write some blogs later on about how to renovate specific rooms in a house.
I bought a mostly tumbled down house in an across the tracks section of town back in late 2003 and then set about restoring it. According to the deed, this old house was built 1919. It had the original oak flooring in half the house. The floors were drooping at the edges because of foundation settling, but the oak floors still looked good. A room had been added on to what was originally a small rectangular home with a front porch the width of the structure. A shop area had been added to the back of the house. I spent the best part of a year fixing it up, got it looking presentable. I call the place The Line Camp, an old ranching term, and it's home to some of my collectibles and my guitar shop. It is also home to 9 cats, my workmates, hanging out buddies. Anyway, I did some carpentry work on the outside, replaced the front porch flooring, and painted the place. Inside, I painted every room, did some fancy trim work in places, completely restored the kitchen and bathroom, and generally turned the place into an area to display the vintage guitars, accordions, mandolins, fiddles, etc. I collect. It is rustic but comfortable, and I learned a lot working on it.
I've built a number of outdoor buildings like sheds and small cabins. I built a patio room onto the back of my home, and I closed in the two car garage and made a large sewing room out of it for my wife. My home is now about 3,000 square feet, 3,500 if you count the patio room. And I built an attractive little house in the back yard for storage. I'm at an age now where I can no longer do the heavy work, probably couldn't build an entire structure now and can't do some of the repair work. But I can still do some things, and my skills at remodeling will soon be useful again. My daughter and her husband recently bought an old house here in town and will be moving in early next month . . . and it needs lots of work. My first bit of advice to them has been, "don't destroy the integrity of the house." Stay within the limits of what it needs to look nice and be functional, and don't go nuts with fancy fixtures and such that aren't practical. But . . . do the things that turn a house into your home, with heavy emphasis on the your home.
The place is a Spanish bungalow that has been doubled in size with various additions. They got it for a very good price knowing work would be required to turn it into a reasonably comfortable residence. It's livable as is, and they can work on it once they've moved in. And I'll be recruited to help out, since neither of them have any experience doing remodeling work. I've gone through the place three times now making mental notes of what must be done and in what order. All they see at the moment is the cosmetic stuff, the work that makes a place look better. So they talk about tile flooring in the kitchen, wood flooring in the bedrooms, new bathroom fixtures, etc. And I talk about making sure the sub-flooring is sound before any surface is laid down. I talk about new windows in the older part of the house, work that must be done in preparation of that. I suggest what colors will work best inside and out at the house, what work must be done to reduce water damage to the exterior, and what can be done to make the yard look better.
They're chomping at the bits to get started, and I'm willing to help. It's not like I don't have projects around my own home that need attention. I seem to never catch up, and my older house across town with the shop needs work again. It won't be long before the heat of summer shuts down most of my yard work here at home . . . or whatever other projects I've got to do outside. I'm no longer capable or willing to work when the temperature exceeds 100 degrees. We're already having days like that here in central Texas, so I'll be looking for more indoor projects. It's going to be a busy summer. Maybe I'll write some blogs later on about how to renovate specific rooms in a house.
Thursday, May 8, 2014
SO, WHAT DO YOU DO WITH A SLEEPLESS NIGHT?
Just past two in the morning, and I'm still up trying to get a miserable night behind me. I've been caring for some abandoned newborn kittens since Sunday, and that's something I know nothing about. I care for quite a few cats - tame house cats, semi-wild outside cats, and some feral cats that show up to be fed at night. I live just across the street from a city park, a place where irresponsible people dump unwanted animals. Some of those animals show up on my front porch from time to time, begging for food, cats mostly. I've found homes for several dogs abandoned in the park. The cats come and go, but I have some regulars that want to be fed every day. At my shop across town, a place where I keep some stuff and work on guitars occasionally, I have acquired about 15 cats to feed. Six of those cats are full time indoor cats, my pets, my work buddies. Lately, I've had several more cats inside (it's a fairly large place) on a temporary basis. One of those cats had kittens Sunday, and she refused to take care of them. I waited a day, hoping she'd start feeding them, but when she didn't, I took on the job.
I tried nursing the kittens there at the shop, which required me keeping them in a bedroom area away from the other cats. The second night after they were born, a kitten died. I held it the last hour of it's life because I firmly believe that nothing should die alone. Then I gathered up the kittens and brought them to my home. They did fine for a while on the replacement milk I bought from my attending veterinarian, but I'm clumsy at this sort of thing. My wife has helped out, but another of the kittens died earlier tonight . . . and the other two are fading and will probably not survive the night. And that makes me a very angry man - angry at myself for being lousy at this sort of thing, angry at the mama cat for abandoning them, angry in general because life does shitty things to us from time to time. Yeah, I'm having a night where I'm really pissed off . . . and a whole lot sad.
There's a weird parallel here between cats and people, I've noticed. I've been a college professor, a highly successful rodeo coach, an avid outdoorsman, an explorer and adventurer, a writer and all sorts of other things that I've been good at. But I'm an old man now, almost 73 years of age and trying to get along with a broken body. Too many years of abuse on this old fart, and it's probably a miracle that I'm still here. I'm pretty much bored with life these days, even to the point where I no longer fear death. At times, especially on nights like tonight, I'd welcome it. I've done everything in life that needs doing, did the best I could with it, and that's all behind me now. There's no real reason for me to be here anymore, except for the cats. Yeah, the cats. I didn't invite them, didn't go out and look for one as a pet, but they found me. All of a sudden some six or seven years ago, they started coming. I have a couple of dogs, have always loved dogs, but I've never been much of a cat person. But they came, and I accepted them, and along with that came the responsibility of taking care of them. My cat habit costs me around $500 a month for food, etc., and that doesn't count the vet bills. It's a big expense, and it takes up quite a few hours of my day . . . and it's a big job.
But guess what? I actually have a purpose in life. All of a sudden, I find myself running a cat sanctuary, a care facility. My home has turned into a zoo, and I have a nice house. Keeping it clean these days is a full time job. And I have that house across town, that shop, and there's more cats there. I'm a cat caretaker, a full time cat keeper . . . and I love it most of the time. On nights like tonight when I've got dying kittens or sick animals to look after, this newfound occupation isn't much fun. In fact, it's downright heartbreaking. Did you ever hold a dying kitten? Want something to rip your heart out, try that. And I'm no novice with death. I've been with a number of dying people, including my mother and my best friend. I've had to say goodbye to lots of people I loved, occasionally up close and personal. I've never been able to find much hope in death, but there is one benefit. It ends suffering. It ends the possibility of a miserable life that some animals would be destined to have. I don't hate death, and in fact often see it as a friend.
If you're wondering where I'm going with this, here it is: I know what this is all about. My time to die isn't all that far off, and I'm coming to terms with that. I'm not afraid. I've been too close to death to be afraid of it anymore. I'm gaining some valuable lessons from my cats, even from dying kittens. The time comes for all of us when death is a valuable ally. It is a killer, that's true, but it is also an end to suffering . . . and it is most surely not the worst thing that can happen to us.
I tried nursing the kittens there at the shop, which required me keeping them in a bedroom area away from the other cats. The second night after they were born, a kitten died. I held it the last hour of it's life because I firmly believe that nothing should die alone. Then I gathered up the kittens and brought them to my home. They did fine for a while on the replacement milk I bought from my attending veterinarian, but I'm clumsy at this sort of thing. My wife has helped out, but another of the kittens died earlier tonight . . . and the other two are fading and will probably not survive the night. And that makes me a very angry man - angry at myself for being lousy at this sort of thing, angry at the mama cat for abandoning them, angry in general because life does shitty things to us from time to time. Yeah, I'm having a night where I'm really pissed off . . . and a whole lot sad.
There's a weird parallel here between cats and people, I've noticed. I've been a college professor, a highly successful rodeo coach, an avid outdoorsman, an explorer and adventurer, a writer and all sorts of other things that I've been good at. But I'm an old man now, almost 73 years of age and trying to get along with a broken body. Too many years of abuse on this old fart, and it's probably a miracle that I'm still here. I'm pretty much bored with life these days, even to the point where I no longer fear death. At times, especially on nights like tonight, I'd welcome it. I've done everything in life that needs doing, did the best I could with it, and that's all behind me now. There's no real reason for me to be here anymore, except for the cats. Yeah, the cats. I didn't invite them, didn't go out and look for one as a pet, but they found me. All of a sudden some six or seven years ago, they started coming. I have a couple of dogs, have always loved dogs, but I've never been much of a cat person. But they came, and I accepted them, and along with that came the responsibility of taking care of them. My cat habit costs me around $500 a month for food, etc., and that doesn't count the vet bills. It's a big expense, and it takes up quite a few hours of my day . . . and it's a big job.
But guess what? I actually have a purpose in life. All of a sudden, I find myself running a cat sanctuary, a care facility. My home has turned into a zoo, and I have a nice house. Keeping it clean these days is a full time job. And I have that house across town, that shop, and there's more cats there. I'm a cat caretaker, a full time cat keeper . . . and I love it most of the time. On nights like tonight when I've got dying kittens or sick animals to look after, this newfound occupation isn't much fun. In fact, it's downright heartbreaking. Did you ever hold a dying kitten? Want something to rip your heart out, try that. And I'm no novice with death. I've been with a number of dying people, including my mother and my best friend. I've had to say goodbye to lots of people I loved, occasionally up close and personal. I've never been able to find much hope in death, but there is one benefit. It ends suffering. It ends the possibility of a miserable life that some animals would be destined to have. I don't hate death, and in fact often see it as a friend.
If you're wondering where I'm going with this, here it is: I know what this is all about. My time to die isn't all that far off, and I'm coming to terms with that. I'm not afraid. I've been too close to death to be afraid of it anymore. I'm gaining some valuable lessons from my cats, even from dying kittens. The time comes for all of us when death is a valuable ally. It is a killer, that's true, but it is also an end to suffering . . . and it is most surely not the worst thing that can happen to us.
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