Sightings, criminals and solitude

There’s lots of traffic on the commute these days, but never as much as when I used to drive it early in the mornings. I saw the first moose in a while last night and at least one porcupine every night. Lots of birds flitting around, even saw an owl one night that I almost hit. A fox scampered across the road one night in that gait they have that is deceptively fast because they stay low and look like they are slinking with very little up and down motion. The one glaring exception is swans. No swans on the pond yet and it’s getting late now. I still wonder if the ones shot a week or so ago aren’t the ones that usually hang out on the pond I pass.

That criminal has been caught. Like the trooper said, we take our swans seriously. Someone had taken a picture around the lake where they were found and either accidentally or on purpose managed to photograph the license plate of the suspect’s car. Turns out he was a soldier on one of the bases here. He was arrested and two firearms confiscated. You just don’t mess with swans in Alaska. But, none of this is going to put two white birds on the pond I pass this year. I feel that loss and I expect others who pass the place do, too.

Another resident of the commute has been spotted as well. Though I often look, I haven’t seen the Solitary Man since that encounter in the movie theater parking lot a while back. But, a friend on a birthday picnic saw him the other day. Here in her words:

“Your solitary man was there too, just sitting with his gear at an isolated table. During the time we were there, he used the restroom, washed his hands in the river, and eventually gathered up his bed roll and other things. He walked under the bridge of northbound traffic, and climbed the hill to the area between the two highways - just like you said. The guy who is the park supervisor came around wanting money for the park use (yes, he was the real guy, not a sneaky panhandler), and he was collecting $5 for each car. He looked at the solitary man and ignored him. I am sure he has seen him often. As soon as Tess saw him, she said, ‘hey that guy was here when we were here last year.’ Interesting.”

Reassuring to know there is some constant in the world and that this fellow lives pretty much on his own and under the radar. But, curiouser and curiouser …

And there was a moon, an almost full moon, probably the last one we'll see until September or so,

Cheating death

A few minutes ago I made a post on facebook that might have sounded a little more dramatic than what was intended, at least it could be interpreted that way by folks who don't know me all that well. What I wrote was "it appears i have cheated death one more time," and referred to a bit of oral surgery yesterday. No big deal just a bit of exaggeration over the fact that I survived it.

So, here is the background. When I drove tour boats every day, when I returned to the harbor and the boat had been tied to the dock and I finally turned off the engines, I would turn to the people who were left in the wheelhouse, and say "Well, cheated death one more time." That usually got a laugh, and it was said with a smile and good humor. But underneath the surface was a sort of spiritual acknowledgement that we had returned safely from the sea, survived what dangers are out there had been delivered from whatever and by whatever forces are out there, the weather, the waves the unseen dangers, and by whatever power a person happens to believe in, an angel, a god, nature, your own skill... All of it is acknowledged in the phrase, Cheated death one more time.

A young fellow who crewed on that boat, also named Tim, picked up on that phrase. He joined the Army and the vessel service, I'm not sure what it's called, and told me as a helmsman on his first return from a voyage, to Panama, once the ship was docked he said "Cheated death one more time." For his quip he said he was almost laughed out of the wheelhouse. Today he is a chief warrant officer in that same service just returned from Haiti.

As if to drive the point home, this story popped up on the Daily news website today. A friend's boat went down. I first met the captain, Tom Sr., in the early 80s when he would put his bowpicking gillnetter into the water at Whitter to fish Prince William Sound. It had a catchy name. From his home in Kenai he had to take the boat on trailers to where he wanted to launch. It was bigger than the usual trailered boat so he was forced to put on one of those signs. That was until, he simply named the boat "WIDE LOAD."

Years after that I met his daughter and we worked at the same organization for several years. When I first read that article I stopped on the boat name and thought that sounded familiar. Then I got to the names of the crew, and a cold chill ran through my body. They were saved. But that chill, knowing what they must have gone through lingers.

If you take the time to read the news article, read down through the comments too. I am guessing there will be several thanking the Coast Guard. The number of rescues the Coast Guard makes in Alaska waters and in what outrageous weather is simply amazing. A couple of weeks ago another boat went down not too far from where the Cape Spencer did today. Within 10 minutes of hearing the Mayday, the Coast Guard had a Jayhawk helicopter and C-130 rescue aircraft in the air. The C-130 was on scene within about an hour and was able to drop a raft to the crew. When the helicopter arrived a rescue swimmer helped the crew who were in cold northern ocean water and all but one were saved. I am betting the same thing happened with Tom Tomrdle today. Go see the movie "The Guardian" sometime. It is much closer to the truth than you would believe.

At any rate, that is what "cheated death one more time" is all about. And today the crew of the Cape Spencer cheated death one more time. And, for that I am very relieved and happy.

One more sign

Saw the first porcupine of the season on the way home last night, so the bloom is in progress. Only one more sign to go and everything will be in place, but I am a little worried about that one. The swans have not showed up on their pond yet and it has been ice free for about two weeks now. That in itself is not so worrying, but there is another factor. While there was still ice on the pond where I have seen them every year, on another lake near here (for geography's sake, my swan pond is about 8 miles west of here and this lake is a couple of miles to the east) some idiot with nothing better to do with his high-powered rifle shot two swans. A couple of canoeists found them floating on the water. It is pretty easy to imagine my swans not being able to land yet on the pond to fly on to that other lake and meet that violent end. A serious hunt is on for the shooter (a state trooper was quoted as saying we take our swans seriously here) but there is probably little chance the culprit will be caught and strung up until his neck is proportionately as long as a swan's. So it goes.

Meanwhile my son is racing north from college at a rate of almost $200 a day. At that spending speed for what it is going to cost me, he and the truck could have flown north. These kids today.

Originality

All right. It is or should be the goal of every artist to be original. How many actually succeed? The word derivative probably wouldn't exist, at least in that context, if many did. For a writer to be original, well if you think you are, don't read Shakespeare, because just about everything written about since, was written by him first.

My father once told me there were only 39 basic plots. A few years later I figured that one out: That's how many shows there were in a television season at the time. Does that mean now there are only 20 plots? If it is indeed finite, I would say it is the number of plays Shakespeare wrote, whatever that number is. But, of course it is infinite, not challenged much these days, but infinite nonetheless. I recall once saying something original. We had had a volcano eruption. I was staying with friend and for a reason I cannot recall at the moment I had my huge Weber barbecue grill with me. I looked out the window and said to my friend, " Maybe I had better go out there and clear the volcano ash off my grill." Thinking about it, I doubt anybody else in the world had ever said that. Original, I believe.

With that in mind, now I am wondering if this is original. In many, many sitcoms, the main guy has a sidekick who is a little off, maybe a slob, maybe stupid, maybe conniving. Think Maynard G. Krebs, think Joey, there are many. So in the slob sort of sidekick forma, tonight I was talking with my niece on line about my daughter's wedding plans and having some frozen fried chicken that I managed to overcook so the breading was crispy. It was the Banquet variety which my son and I call mystery chicken because many of the pieces don't look like they came from any chicken we have ever seen.

So here I am alone in my little bachelor house, chatting online, nibbling on mystery chicken and watching a "Bones" rerun on TV. What I wasn't watching was where all the little crispy crumbs of chicken were falling. Now most people would probably use a napkin to clean them up, right? I DID have a napkin in my lap but it didn't do much good. What does the slobby sidekick do? Not sure. What I did was reach for my Dyson industrial grade hand vacuum cleaner. End of problem, though I probably could have used a different accessory that wouldn't have sucked my shirt in several times. This might be original. I am pretty sure Shakespeare didn't write about it, although I will bet that some king or Roman in his writing did something unusual to rid himself of food residue. It does seem an effective way to deal with the problem though I am pretty sure I will not be taking the Dyson to my daughter's wedding dinner. (Although the slob sidekick in the sitcom might... it would be the kicker at the end at the main guy's wedding, the last thing you see before the fadeout is him pulling out his trusty Dyson to pick up a spill on the floor, or table favors, or the groom's tie, or picking the wallet out of a rich uncle's pocket, or...)

So, for now, at the very least I am claiming originality. Now the work begins to expand it into an entirely new plot. Believe me, this is not a breath-holding situation.

Addendum: This is embarrassing. For fun I looked it up. Shakespeare wrote 38 plays that survive. Could my father have been right? Just one number off? I am sticking with the number of shows in a TV season. Or, and this might be intriguing, is there one plot out there Shakespeare didn't write? Like maybe that thirtieth song of Robert Johnson's?

Green Day, plus two or three

So, after more careful watching than ever before, it happened on a day I didn't drive the road, or two days after either. So, here's a picture from two days late. Unfortunately my continual choice of doing things on the shaded north side of things messed me up again and that spot I chose to illustrate green day is about the last along the road to turn. If you look closely there are buds on the twigs. More green farther down the road. Last Wednesday when I went to work all those trees were still brown. Saturday green. Some spring events are still to come, though. For one, the bloom of porcupines has yet to occur, haven't seen a one. Second, while the pond is now open, no sign of swans yet either. But, I did see that Canada goose Fred standing by the roadside Saturday. He has a bright yellow tagging marker around his neck now. It would be interesting to learn where he obtained his fancy new neckwear. So spring is progressing but not quite there yet and I am now the proud owner of a $7 "nearly wild" rose bush that I put out during the day and bring in every night until it's safe to plant for good. The strawberry plant from last year has growth coming from one of its stringers and the lilac is showing new growth despite providing a meal for a moose. This weekend will bring the trip to the greenhouse to fill out the garden. I expect to be housebound and have wealth of free time next week and then go at it full tilt. And when I put the rose bush out this morning -- two robins.

Thoughts on Mother’s Day, I’m just sayin’

An e-mail conversation with Patricia Monaghan

are we losing it? here is my son's mother's day post

"Word to your Mother's Day to all the moms out there. Thanks and respect!"

-- TJ

There are two friends (young) on FB who communicate in some patois that I haven't a clue about. It's all "playa" this and "moman" (mo' man?) that. I read such postings and remember "back in the day" that I said things like "wow, farm out," but I really didn't say them very often, and certainly not in mixed (age) company. not only has the language deteriorated, but so have manners. But then, I'm officially old now so I can bitch like that...word!

-- PM

S'up yo

One of the real challenges of the new age copy editor is battling this 
patois getting into print. there seems to be a major assault on the 
language in terms of shortening some words and compounding others. 
And worse, the people actually writing this stuff don't seem to care. 
I don't know how many times I have put bio and info back to their 
original form. Lite for light comes to mind and it goes on and on. 
Somewhere along the line it became acceptable to write veggies instead 
of vegetables. As you might be able to tell, I could go on and on 
but I get tired of it myself. I was so proud of my son when he used “you're” properly in a facebook 
post.


I'm just sayin'

--TJ

You should be correcting college papers. But actually, one expects marginal literacy there. But writers for the paper? I am also just sayin'. I just distinguish between That Stuff and slang, though. I rather like slang. Except for "at the end of the day," which isn't so much slang as some kind of bureaucratize jargon. But slang is peppy and fun, in it place (tends not to stay there). Emoticons? Gimmeabreak. And these Palinesque uses of the ampersand and suchlike (or is that amprsnd&schlk) which as far as I can tell is just a way of squeezing more words, but less content, into Facebook postings. I am a dinosaur, I admit. I am saying harumph a lot these days. remember when "a lot" was considered very downscale? have to go figure out placement for two paw-paw trees now. We don't know if they will survive this far north, but in a sheltered spot maybe? w/memrys of back-in-day

--PM

I like slang, too, but in its place. I always get a kick out of the new phrasing that rips across the language but alot of it (on purpose) getting into what is supposed to be proper language bothers me. I think every writer particularly newspaper reporters, should sit down with a 10 year old kid some time and go through a newspaper. First all the sex and violence will have you rushing past pages and turning to sports in a hurry, as if that is even safe any more, but the language usage.... but , dad my teacher says.... We are supposed to set the example and it is not happening. They are bombarded with the wrong stuff before they have a chance to learn what is correct.

I was out playing with a rose bush today. Very amateur at this but I enjoy it. And I seem to have good luck. 7 bucks for an "almost wild" rose bush at Fred Meyer. If I kill it, I won't lose much. I have been slowly getting my little flower garden ready. I actually had one geranium last the winter indoors and now has four blooms on it. Not supposed to put things out until June here, but I took the rose out of its package and put it in a big pot that I can move in and out of doors by day and night... we shall see.

Rambling here

word

Okay, we have the pawpaw in. Plus its friend/mate/spermdonor, which isn't looking too healthy. I'm going to buy another for insurance. Does that make a menage a trees? (If one partner is nasty, do they have a meanage a trois)

Did you really mean to say alot? My stars.

I was blessed with good editors. I thought I was pretty good when I got out of college, but I remember Larry Davies peering over his glasses at me and saying "committee. Now when did that become a plural noun?" I was always writing "the committee took their time deciding..." and so forth. I learned more grammar in a year of working for Larry than four years in college. But I did have some pretty good primary instruction, though. I think I can still diagram sentences.

We oldsters are charged with complaining about the young. Don't you feel conventional?

-- PM

I did mean "alot" did you not notice the words in paretheses after it:?

I also had some good basic education and then worked with some good editors. A book about Max Perkins who edited Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Caldwell and Wolfe also helped. And another thing is working with some good writers over the years, including yourself, that, too, is an education in editing.

And age? Conventional? I feel empowered.

-- TJ

Word

--PM

Represent

-- TJ

Patricia Moneghan