The Road Less Traveled

We took a road trip to the western side of the Catskills this weekend.  The trees were all dressed up for Fall.  Unfortunately, the sun was not cooperating so the photos are less than spectacular and the below photo, sadly, is not mine.  I did, however, manage to get Tammy to sign the purchase order for a new 12.5 megapixel digital SLR to replace my ancient 6 megapixel camera.  Blaming the camera for my artistic shortcomings is an argument I have been using since my first Kodak Brownie.   Intellectually I know the pixel count barely makes a difference (technique and composition are way more influential) in what the eye perceives,  but I am doing my part to stimulate the economy so the Tea Party can quietly disappear.  If we are all making money then what do they have to bitch about?  It certainly isn't the erosion of our civil liberties since many of them are apparently against the separation of church and state.  I don't know of any more fundamentally American civil liberty than our right to worship, or not worship, as we please, without an official endorsement from the government.

But driving along route 28 at the height of the fall foliage season diverts one's attention away from the physical self  to a more emotionally based peace of mind.  For most people anyway.  In spite of our common objectives, the other leaf peepers on the highway still manage to disturb my idyll as they motor along at a velocity significantly less than that which is clearly posted.  Of course to really enjoy the natural array, one must exit the car and proceed at a pedestrian's pace.  Motorcyclists (a favored mode of transport in the Catskills) like to think they are getting down and dirty with nature as they barrel along the highway, but at 50 miles per hour their conversation with the trees is more perfunctory than profound.

In fact there is a grave misconception in many natural areas around the United States  that one can actually enjoy the surroundings without exiting the vehicle.  Many tourists drive along the winding national park roads at a snail's pace snarling all the traffic behind them.  If they happen to notice a spectacular view do they pull over and get out of the car?  No. They slow up even further, roll down the window, and the passenger snaps the picture without even taking her bare feet off the dashboard!  The beautifully air brushed toe nails live to see another day.

I take a different tack.  I race along at 20 miles over the speed limit so that I waste little precious time in the car getting to my next scenic destination.  Plus, by barely slowing down around hairpin turns I am easing congestion and the resulting waste of expensive petroleum that comes from stop and go driving.  One time on Antelope Island in Utah I was practicing this technique when a park ranger happened to be on the very same road.  After a deliberative time period of examining my New Jersey driver's license he proceeded to lecture me about the importance of slowing down to enjoy the scenery "here in Utah".  Apparently he was not familiar with my above mentioned theory but in the interest of not further tainting his opinion of New Jersey drivers I decided to nod in quiet concordance.

Don't get me wrong.  I  love driving on blue highways.  It is being lectured by an officer of the law who doesn't understand the subtlety of  my perspective on life that irritates me.  He has it all wrong.  It is the destination, not the journey, when traveling through life........in a car.

Anniversary of September 11, 2001

These two speeches from the First World Parliament of Religion meeting in 1893 were published in my local newspaper.  When I read items like this I can't help but think of the old adage, "Those who don't know history are doomed to repeat it".  If anything should go viral on the web today, I think it is this link:

Speech on religious tolerance

Regards,
Richard

Take A Stand

President Obama and General David Petraeus have expressed their wish that more Americans will stand up and speak out against the proposed Koran burning on September 11 by a small Pentecostal congregation in Florida (50 members and their pastor).

My view is consistent with a theme I have discussed before.  This minister feels we need to take a strong stand but one does not combat bullies by being a bully.  That is not to say one shouldn't use force (intellectual and physical) when appropriate, but in this case it is just going to make the extremists angrier.  What does he think he will accomplish?  The terrorists are going to stop terrorizing?  No, they are only going to get more intractable and he must know this.  I can only assume he believes this is the beginning of the Rapture as foretold in Revelations and he is fighting God's War, whatever that means.  Maybe he has read one too many "Left Behind" books.

In any case there can be no reasoning with this pastor because God is on his side and that is that.  I am frightened for America and everything we stand for.  I have always disagreed with radical atheists (e.g. Sam Harris) who believe that even moderate religious views lead to the implicit condoning of more extremist views.  I believe that people are naturally  inclined to believe in something beyond themselves (whatever that may be) and this should in fact be a positive force in their life.  But with behavior like this I am beginning to think the extremist atheists have a point.  I know this is just one insignificant group in Florida but coupled with the "Glenn Beck types" in the media, I think we are losing all semblance of reasoned and reasonable discourse.  We are allowing emotions rather than rational thought to determine our response to extreme Islamic ideology and violence.

So to the Pastor I say; Put down the match and embrace tolerance, it's what Jesus would do.

What If, Redux

If you think living in the woods is relaxing you are sadly mistaken.  Okay, if you think living in the woods is relaxing for me then you have never actually met me.  I find myself at various times in the relaxation cycle staring at the many half dead, hundred foot tall trees surrounding my cabin.  There is ash borer infestation, hemlock woolly adelgid, hemlock bracket fungi, and hemlock rust, to name a few.   If you think I was heavy on the hemlock diseases it is because my cabin is surrounded by the eastern variety, and they are not in good health.  I have in mind one particular hundred foot tall hemlock which just happens to stand exactly opposite my perfectly situated Adirondack chair.  Sure, it lives across the stream, but that is little consolation due to its majestic height.  And it sits on state wilderness land so I have zero control over its management.  One stiff breeze and this thing is going to take out my Adirondack chair, the shed behind that, the road adjacent to the shed, and quite possibly my neighbor's house across the road.  I have not done the actual triangulation survey to determine it's exact height and the distance to my neighbor's house but just the idea of this tree is enough to turn my easy chair into an uneasy chair.

Most of the trees in my area are second or third growth so I don't know how this beast escaped the lumberjack's axe.  I am quite certain this tree was familiar to the actual last of the Mohicans.  The hemlock was an important tree commercially in the latter part of the nineteenth century due to it's high tannin content and tough wood. So I am sorry, but I wish this one was part of somebody's leather belt or kitchen table.  It isn't just that all the hemlocks are in trouble in the Catskills, but this one's root support system is also totally eroded away on the downhill side facing my property.  The photo is above.

My agitation is not limited to this one particular piece of wood.  Every half rotted tree, every woodpecker pecked trunk, every squirrel hollowed out still standing stump is a potential WMD.  I can't even take a relaxing walk down my beloved Woodland Valley Rd without feeling like I am walking through a mine field.
Most people visiting the valley, surrounded by sublime beauty, feel the presence of their Creator.  I on the other hand feel the presence of Shiva the Destroyer.  And if it is not the sickly trees that worry me, it is the abundance of undergrowth and dead fall, all fuel for a property destroying conflagration started by the careless flick of a cigarette butt out a car window.  If I could single-handedly tidy up the forest I would.  The fungi, moss, bacteria, and lichens do not work fast enough for me.  Come to think of it, they don't work fast enough for Mother Nature either and that is why she sends down lightening every so often, to hurry things along.

Maybe I shouldn't own a cabin in the woods, surrounded by the chaos of nature.  But living in the well groomed suburbs has not provided me with much solace either.   Right off the bat I can recall three incidents where a seemingly healthy oak tree fell on a house during a routine thunder storm.  And I have a couple of very old trees on my property in Woodbury that lean menacingly over my bedroom roof.  It's a wonder I get any sleep at all.  Maybe next time I'll buy a condo in the city, no higher than the third floor, so I can walk up....because, you know, elevators get stuck.

Blatant and Brassy

Raise your hand if you enjoy staying at a bed and breakfast while on vacation.  I thought so. The women and the gay couple in the back of the room. I don't know at what point the B and B niche went from being a source of an inexpensive room and a decent meal to being a destination in and of itself.  Which brings me to my first complaint; They are not cheap.  Why pay $150.00 to sleep on a bed that the cat has most assuredly peed on, when you can get a room and continental breakfast at the Super 8 for $69.99 double occupancy?  And all the Super 8s now have that cool make your own waffle, waffle iron thing.   Plus you don't have to act like you give a damn about the desk clerk's personal life.  And this brings me to my second and third points.

What if you don't feel like having breakfast at exactly 7:25 AM?  At the Super 8 there is a breakfast window of opportunity. Usually 6 AM to 9:30 AM on weekdays and 7 AM to 10 AM on weekends.  Did I mention the cool do it yourself waffle iron?  One time, at "The Cat's Tongue B&B", I was served one half of a bran muffin and one half cup of fruit salad.  Period.  Another time, at "The Bearded Muskrat B&B", I was served curried poached eggs with  sugar free allspice sour apple chutney and gluten free spelt toast with tarragon herbed butter.  Seriously.  At the Super 8 I put whipped cream and maple syrup on my waffle, grab a bagel, cream cheese, and banana to go, and I have now included lunch in the $69.99 room rate.  And I don't have to ask Sinjay the desk clerk how he slept, nor does he ask me.  And I never ever, ever ask the other guests in the Super 8 dining area what they have on tap for the day.  Because, really, I don't give a crap.

At a quaint little B&B in Bar Harbor Maine I  was roped into buying a book the Innkeeper wrote.  Apparently Mount Desert Island (where Acadia National Park is located) is actually the mythical island of Atlantis.  It seems it never sank after all, but instead drifted over to Maine so Rockefeller could buy it and selflessly donate it back to the citizens of America.  I only know all this because our hostess was gracious enough to regale us with the story over a hearty breakfast of  Madagascar cinnamon scented toast and poached egg (singular) with Hollandaise sauce.  What man eats poached eggs with cream sauce for breakfast, let alone have to choke them down while pretending to pay attention to some gasbag who's house you happen to be trapped in?  And pay for the privilege?

And all this after a night of having to sleep in a room like the one pictured above.  I now know why Victorian England was populated by sexually repressed and sleep deprived souls.  Laying on a mattress six feet off the ground with another three feet of pillows, comforters, and lace provides enough extraneous sensory input to make even the most somnolent among us stare wide eyed at the ornamental canopy all night long.   Never mind if there are also milk faced porcelain dolls sitting upright and at attention on every chair.  Have you ever tried to have marital relations with your spouse while a preternaturally human looking tweenage doll is staring at you and there is a 65 year old prudish innkeeper sleeping one hairs breadth away in the room next to the headboard?  And even if you are successful in pleasing your spouse, the entire act has to be performed while you cover her mouth with your hand so she doesn't accidentally scream out and inform the entire household that, well, you know.

Then of course there is the  facilities factor.  One must pay extra for the room with the bathroom.  Do I really want a house full of strangers to know the status of my prostate health?  Plus there is always way too much furniture in the hallway. If I didn't wake everyone with my lovemaking, I surely will wake everyone when I scream out after stubbing my toe on the side table groping my way down the dark hallway.  A few years ago at the "Captain Conch Shell Guesthouse" in Cape May, NJ, I had a bad night after eating some raw oysters.  The next morning at breakfast, with two other couples sitting at the table, our hostess served me dry toast and tea because "I could hear you had a rough night".

Click on the link below for Super 8 world wide reservations.  I recommend the waffles.
SUPER 8