Friday, August 28, 2009

Conservatives, Liberals, and the Invention of Beer

A cousin of mine (from the Conservative side of the family) sent an email titled History 101, the invention of beer being a focal point of its thesis. I thought, like Fox News, that things should be "fair and balanced" so I wrote History 102.

The two versions of history: History 101, by a Conservative;
and
History 102, by a Liberal.

It is postulated that the Conservative description of a liberal is just as accurate and true as the Liberal description of a Conservative.

History 101
For those that don't know about history... here is a condensed version:
Humans originally existed as members of small bands of nomadic hunters/gatherers. They lived on deer in the mountains during the summer and would go to the coast and live on fish and lobster in the winter.

The two most important events in all of history were the invention of beer and the invention of the wheel. The wheel was invented to get man to the beer. These were the foundations of modern civilization and together were the catalyst for the splitting of humanity into two distinct subgroups:

1. Liberals, and
2. Conservatives.

Once beer was discovered, it required grain and that was the beginning of agriculture. Neither the glass bottle nor aluminum can were invented yet, so while our early humans were sitting around waiting for them to be invented, they just stayed close to the brewery. That's how villages were formed.

Some men spent their days tracking and killing animals to B-B-Q at night while they were drinking beer. This was the beginning of what is known as the Conservative movement.
Other men who were weaker and less skilled at hunting learned to live off the conservatives by showing up for the nightly B-B-Q's and doing the sewing, fetching, and hair dressing. This was the beginning of the Liberal movement

Some of these liberal men eventually evolved into women. Those became known as girlie-men. Some noteworthy liberal achievements include the domestication of cats, the invention of group therapy, group hugs, and the concept of Democrat voting to decide how to divide the meat and beer that conservatives provided.

Over the years conservatives came to be symbolized by the largest, most powerful land animal on earth, the elephant. Liberals are symbolized by the jackass.

Modern liberals like imported beer (with lime added), but most prefer white wine or imported bottled water. They eat raw fish but like their beef well done. Sushi, tofu, and French food are standard liberal fare. Another interesting evolutionary side note: most of their women have higher testosterone levels than their men. Most social workers, personal injury attorneys, politicians, bureaucrats, journalists, dreamers in Hollywood and group therapists are liberals. Liberals invented the designated hitter rule because it wasn't fair to make the pitcher also bat.
Conservatives drink domestic beer, mostly Bud or Miller. They eat red meat and still provide for their women. Conservatives are big game hunters, rodeo cowboys, lumberjacks, construction workers, firemen, medical doctors, engineers, corporate executives, athletes, members of the military, airline pilots and generally anyone who works productively. Conservatives who own companies hire other conservatives who want to work for a living.

Liberals produce little or nothing. They like to govern the producers and decide what to do with the production. Liberals believe Europeans are more enlightened than Americans. That is why most of the liberals remained in Europe when conservatives were coming to America. They crept in after the Wild West was tamed and created a business of trying to get more for nothing.
Here ends today's lesson in world history...

It should be noted that a Liberal may have a momentary urge to angrily respond to the above before forwarding it.

A Conservative will simply laugh and be so convinced of the absolute truth of this history that it will be forwarded immediately to other true believers and to more liberals just to tick them off.
And there you have it. Let your next action reveal your true self .

**********************************************************************************

History 102
For those that don't know about history... here is another condensed version:

Humans originally existed as members of small bands of nomadic hunters/gatherers. It is popular among romantics to view this life style as similar to that of a modern day leisure-class who spend summer in the mountains and winter on the coast. But these bands were often barely able to scrape out a living - a rabbit here, a few roots there. It was a tough existence, and many were lost to starvation and hardship. Some in the bands trudged on. They pursued a lifestyle because they were averse to change, and did not possess the imagination to consider an alternative way. Others in the band felt differently.

Some people believe the two most important events in all of history were the invention of beer and the wheel. Both of these were important, but agriculture must have been invented before beer. The order was: #1. The Wheel , #2. Agriculture. #3. Grain and #4. Beer. The wheel was not, as some believe, invented to get man to the beer. They might have happily used it for such a purpose, but they were getting the beer before wheel. But we all agree that these developments acted as a catalyst for the splitting of humanity into two distinct subgroups:

1. Liberals, and
2. Conservatives.

Conservatives think that beer was discovered first and that eventually led to agriculture. As usual, they are confused as to the order of things - and they conveniently avoid the question about origins. Agriculture didn’t arise spontaneously - nor did grain, or beer. So where did these come from?

The nature of a Conservative is such that he/she is averse to consider trying anything new or changing the way things are done. They were hunters/gatherers, and gosh darn, they liked things just the way they were. There were others in the band, however, that didn’t feel that way. They could see life wasn’t working all that well, and wanted to try something different. These were the Liberals. The Conservatives do not like to admit it but it was the Liberals that invented agriculture, then grain and then beer. Later, the Conservatives happily took up the practice of brewing, drank enough of the Liberal brew to become delusional, and eventually became addled to the point of thinking it was all their idea in the first place.

It is true that neither the glass bottle nor aluminum can had been invented at that time, so while early humans were sitting around waiting for these portable containers, both Liberals and Conservatives stayed close to the brewery, and that's how villages were formed.

It is agreed that some men spent their days tracking and killing animals to B-B-Q at night while they were drinking beer. This probably was the beginning of what is known as the Conservative Movement.

Other men who were not so skilled at hunting tolerated the Conservative boasting and breast beating at nightly B-B-Q's. Some of these became artisans, sewing animal skins, making pottery, or developing the bow and arrow. Others cultivated the fields, and provided vegetable variety to the nightly B-B-Q’s. This was the beginning of the Liberal Movement.

“Some of these liberal men eventually evolved into women. Those became known as girlie-men.” This quotation is an example of Conservative simple-minded dogma, and their tendency to revert to clichés and trite stereotypes - somewhat like the days of Jim Crow or centuries old Jew-baiting to denigrate their rivals.

Some noteworthy liberal achievements include the domestication of cats, and dogs. They trained dogs to help Conservatives hunt more effeciently. They invented group therapy, group hugs, bear hugs, and the concept of democracy. They came up with idea of voting to decide the fairest way to divide the meat Conservatives brought home, and the beer that Liberals produced.

Over the years conservatives came to be symbolized by the largest, most powerful land animal on earth, the elephant. Liberals are symbolized by the jackass, one of the smarted animals on earth.

Modern liberals like domestic beers produced by micro-brewery (some like lime added)… and they appreciate a good wine. They don’t like bottled water because it is environmentally destructive. Some eat raw fish, others like their beef well done. Many can’t stand sushi, tofu, or French food. Some Liberals even like hot dogs, hamburgers, and apple pie. Another interesting evolutionary side note: they treat their women as equals even though their testosterone levels are the same as Conservative men. Many social workers, community organizers, personal injury attorneys, politicians (more since the last election), bureaucrats, journalists, dreamers in Hollywood and group therapists are liberals. Liberals invented the designated hitter rule because it wasn't fair to make the pitcher also bat.

Conservatives drink domestic beer, mostly brands that closely approximate urine in color and taste - Bud or Miller or example. They eat red meat and still provide for their women (as they should). Conservatives are big game poachers, rodeo clowns, lumbering jocks, construction malingerers, frogmen, witch doctors, engineers, corporate thieves, athlete’s feet, paramilitary, airline hi-jackers and generally anyone who works the system. Conservatives who own companies hire other Conservatives who want to work for a living (But not the Conservatives who don’t want to work for a living??).

Liberals produce new ideas - a phenomenon alien to Conservatives. They like to govern through Democratic processes. Many Liberals believe Europeans are more enlightened than Americans, and in certain respects that is correct - for instance Europeans seem to have a better understanding of world events - probably because their news agencies covers world news, not empty drivel of US agencies.

Here ends today's lesson in world history...

It is wondered if Conservatives can take it as well as they dish it out?

Friday, August 21, 2009

The Sunday Drive

Our first car was a 1936 Ford sedan. Henry Ford said something about offering customers any color they wanted as long as it was black - so ours was black. Nearly all cars in those days were black. I don’t remember any other color before WWII. We drove the Ford until 1947 when Mom and Dad bought a new Pontiac. New cars were not available throughout the war years, so there was a great demand and long waiting lists while the industry shifted from war to domestic production.
Our new Pontiac was a two door sedan, and had a two-tone grey paint job. It sported a neat spot-light on the driver’s side like you saw on police cars. I still remember its new-car smell. There were very few models produced in 1946, and we were lucky to get a 47 model so early in the year. Uncle Joe and Aunt Gail ordered a Chevy from a Kokomo dealer because they could not get one out of Connersville. Their dark blue two-door sedan arrived shortly after our Pontiac.

Brother Don and I were of the first generation to be born with a car in the family. Dad and Mom, born in 1912 and 1913 respectively, grew up with horse and buggies, homes without electricity, and outhouses in the back yard. They were of the first generation to see cars appear on the road, and to own one as adults. So, the car was more than just transportation. It was a family entertainment center, and the greatest entertainment for our family was the Sunday Drive.

Our Sunday drives occurred between 1946 and the early 50s. I can not say for certain when they ended. They just faded away as Don and I got older, but mostly the excursions took place in the late forties. As far as I can remember there was never a plan, we just took off in the Ford, and later in the Pontiac, with no destination in mind. Usually we headed north of Kokomo because most trips south were to visit relatives in Connersville or Versailles. Mom and Grandma Frank packed a picnic basket that included a couple of wide-mouth thermoses filled with fried chicken, and we piled into the car, Grandma, Don, and I in the back seat, Dad and Mom in the front.

I have few specific memories of those drives. Dad probably had a vague idea of where we were and where we were going, but from my youthful perspective it was a magical wandering over unknown county roads, passing by blue lakes, and going through small towns. Once we stopped for our picnic by an abandoned one-room school house. The door was unlocked so we went in. It gave us an eerie feeling to step into that old school. Everything was in order. We were not able to guess how long it had been since students sat at the desks, but the neatly shelved school books seemed old - of an earlier vintage. The desks were the same type as I sat in through elementary school. Each unit had a desk top with room for books on a shelf below, A folding seat was attached to the front of each unit. There were several rows of these desks facing the teachers desk. Behind that was a clean slate chalk board. We were so enchanted by it that I remember we came back a year or so later. The school had been vandalized. Books littered the floor. We closed the door and never went back. It wasn’t the same. The place had been violated - the spell broken.

We had other drives that had destinations, but they were entertainment also. To go out on the open road was just plain fun. Every Memorial Day we loaded the car with flowers and planting tools and headed south for Connersville, and Versailles to decorate graves. We made frequent trips there to visit Aunts and Uncles, and my Grandmother Buckingham. Once we went down into Kentucky to Catawba where Mom was raised. It use to be a station stop for the L&N Railroad, but it wasn’t even a ghost town anymore. Nothing remained. She indicated where the church use to stand, and where her grandfather Jacobs might have lived. She pointed in the direction of the Licking River and told us that her grandfather Frank use to pilot the ferryboat there. There had been a store and a Post Office, but now we were mainly looking over empty fields of tall grass. In 1946 or 47 we traveled to Norfolk, Virginia to visit Dad’s older brother Tom. I think that was our last trip in the Ford. In 1949 we took a grand tour to California and back. It seemed that it lasted all summer, but Don told me years later that it all occurred in just three weeks. There were trips up into Michigan and Canada, fishing trips to Wisconsin and Minnesota, and one south to Miami. I remember Lookout Mountain in Tennessee, and passing share-cropper cabins in Georgia. I remember everyone laughing at me after I wandered into and out of a “Colored” restroom. I didn’t know there was a difference, but got my first understanding of separate but unequal facilities. It was filthy.

The travel bug bit me in my youth, and to this day I have a raging fever, and suffer a delirium in which I hear the distant call of the open road. That’s one reason I went to Alaska. It was the longest road to the most distant place in North America, and it goes both ways.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Claiming Land in Alaska, 2009 - Part 5

My nephew, Lee Buckingham, and his son, Daulton, visited us in June of 2009. We wanted them to see as much as possible in ten days, so Mary put together a full calendar, whirlwind tour. The tour included a drive north to Hatcher Pass and Talkeetna, a day to Alyeska and Portage Glacier, a day in Seward, another day in Homer, a tour boat across Kachemak Bay to Seldovia (and a nostalgic visit to the cabin we once owned). Finally we camped at Deep Creek Campground and drove out Oil Well Road in an attempt to visit the land.
A couple years earlier I looked at the satellite view of Google Maps, and discovered two large gravel pads in the vicinity of where we parked our vehicle in 1990 (“P“ on Map). One pad (“A on Map) was just south of there and a road ran west from it to the second pad (“B” on Map). Much of the road connecting the two was build on the seismic trail we walked in 1990. If we could access the land via that installation it would cut the distance to half. I found that it was operated by Chevron. If we could get permission to use Chevron's road it would simplify our adventure. The office was on pad “A” along with some other buildings and company vehicles.We went in, introduced ourselves, and told our story. Our land was no more than a mile and a half beyond the west end of pad “B”, and if we could pass over it our trek would be a lot easier. The superintendent was friendly and gracious. He gave us permission to park in a gravel pit just east of the pad. The pad was fenced, and there was heavy activity going on, but we could walk its perimeter.
Five of us made the effort: Lee, Daulton, my wife, Mary, Moonshine (our old dog), and myself. We parked and easily made it around pad “B”, and headed west on one of the seismic trails. (The path of our trek is drawn in red on the map.) We passed through a cut in the trees, dropped down a slight incline, started across a marsh, and discovered we were woefully unprepared for the adventure.

I had warned our visitors they might be plagued by swarms of mosquitoes, but the weather had been dry, and there was hardly one in sight. I told them rubber boots might be advisable, but it didn’t seem cost effective at the time as they would use them for only a single afternoon. That was a mistake. We had wet feet within minutes.

Bogs can appear inviting when viewed from a distance. They look like lush green cushions that one could lay upon and nestle in their soft billowy vegetation. When you get into one though its more like walking on a wet sponge that is laying on top of a waterbed. The surface is a matrix of interwoven tendrils floating on top of a reservoir. Sometimes its solid, sometimes it bobs under your step, sometimes it breaks, sometimes you can sink up to your knee. Its not all that easy to navigate. Lee and Daulton were wearing tennis shoes that soon became saturated. Mary and I had low-cut rubber boots that weren’t much better. Moonshine didn’t mind having wet feet, and was frolicking like a puppy. We forged across the bog, went onto slightly higher and drier ground, but then seemed to get back into boggy terrain. Mary and I lagged behind and became further separated from Lee and Daulton. Moonshine was working overtime, doing double distance by running back and forth between parties. Mary was upset with having wet feet, and concerned that we might get separated and lost - never to find our way out. She has a goal oriented personality and wasn‘t enjoying that particular process.
About a half mile into the adventure we were forced to re-evaluate. Lee was energized, leading the way, taking lots of photos, checking alternative routes, and covering nearly as much territory as Moonshine. He, like myself, would have trudged on. Daulton, at fifteen years, was stoic, not having much to say, but probably wondered why we were out there, with wet feet, in the middle of nowhere.

Mary was for going back. Moonshine was having too much fun to comment, but her age was beginning to show. She was a twelve year old, 110 pound Husky/Lab mix - an exuberance puppy trapped in a geriatric body. Her knee joints have deteriorated causing her back legs to bow, and her feet to turn inward, giving her a pigeon-toed stance. She was showing signs of tiring. If we went all the way, she might not make it back, so we decided to give it up. We walked a triangle (red line) back through the bog and then crossed a wooded area with lots of down fall and tall grass to get back to the pad. Maybe I’ll make it another year.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Claiming Land in Alaska, 1990 - Part 4

Ten years passed before I revisited the land. Four of us made the journey in the summer of 1990 - Dan Wilson and I were accompanied by a couple of fellow teachers. Pat Podvin was Dan’s son-in-law; the other, Robert Moser, was a physics teacher at Bartlett High School.

We chose a different route, one further east along Oil Well Road. We left our vehicle and headed west on one of the seismic trails. The group descended a steep incline, crossed a small creek, gained the opposite slope, and found the going fairly easy thereafter. Dan and I recognized familiar features - enough to keep us on track, and we reached the land without much confusion. Nearly twenty years had passed, but it had not changed that much. The birch tree with the giant burl was still standing and the flat area overlooking Deep Creek was still a grassy meadow. I don’t think we found any of the survey markers, but didn’t spend much time looking. The four of us soon headed down the gentle slope toward the river below.


There must have been some heavy rains earlier that summer. Deep Creek was jammed with fallen trees lying crisscrossed over each other. I’d not seen a stream so full of downfall. There were sweepers and standing waves; it looked menacing as we walked upstream, the bank to our right. Dan was leading. I was second while Pat and Bob followed behind. We came onto a treeless area filled with shoulder high grass. It was a beautiful day - blue skies, pleasantly warm, and imminent danger the furthest from my mind.


Dan stepped over the hole and I stepped into it - my right foot sank into empty space and I pitched to the right, rotating as I fell toward the water. I grabbed for anything available - and came up with two hands full of grass. And there I suddenly was, suspended over water, and looking up into a blue sky, my feet on solid ground, my hands grasping at straws, and the river tugging at my backpack.

If I’d been alone I might still be hanging there, but within an instant Pat had hold of my right foot, and then Robert, my left. I was looking directly at Pat and still remember the intense concern that showed on his face. My predicament must have appeared dire from his point of view.

My troubled point of view consisted of not being able to view what lay just inches from my backside. I didn’t know whether I was suspended over a deep hole, or a shallow sand bar. Was I about to be swept away and then snagged under one of those fallen trees? Or would I soon be wallowing on my back in six inches of cold water? It seemed that I was either going to die or make an ass of myself. Some folks may be vain and chose death over dishonor, but being more of a pragmatist, I didn’t much care how it ended as long as I was alive.

If I had been alone I would have eventually had to ease a foot over the edge to test the water - to see if there was a foot hold. That is what I did. Robert let go and I slid my foot down the steep edge, about three feet, and placed my boot on solid ground. I stood in about three inches of water. We all laughed in relief. They helped me up the bank and we continued our walk. Nearly twenty years would pass before I returned to the land.

GO TO: Part 5

Monday, August 3, 2009

Claiming Land in Alaska, 1970 - Part 3

On one of our early trips we stopped by a cabin, the last place on Oil Well Road. The resident was an old guy who had lived there for many years. The pioneer was 75 or 80 years old, had homesteaded the place, and knew the area well. He invited in for cup of coffee.

The homesteader told us that there had once been a road all the way to the river, but much of it had gone to swamp after the seismic trails were made. He told us where it connected to Oil Well Road, and thereafter, we had an easy walk for three-fourths of a mile, but would then get lost in a big swamp, eventually finding our way to the south side an hour or so later. We also found the road on the bluff side, but would again get lost in the swamp on the way back. We eventually connected the two ends of the road and marked the swamp route with colored survey ribbons and many notched trees.

We went down to the State Land Office after we had finished staking our corners to make inquiries about filing leases. We were trying to identify our parcels by describing their location in relation to a birch tree that had a very large burl and a "W" shaped bend in the river. The guy there looked at our info and said “no” that wouldn’t do - trees tend to fall and rot, and rivers change beds as often as politicians. “Then, how do we do it?”, we asked. He said it would be best if we could describe it in relation to an existing survey marker.

We inquired at the survey office and they helped us determine the location of the nearest marker to Oil Well Road. On our next trip we foumd the survey marker without much problem (pleasant surprise), and it was located only 30 feet from one of the seismic trails. From there we used a compass to shoot bearings and a one-hundred foot tape to measure the distance up one seismic trail and down another, zigzagging our way to our stake. Once done, I calculated the bearing, and determined that the straight line distance between the two points was one and a third mile. The State gave us our lease

The next summer Dan was commercial halibut fishing in Kodiak so I walked into the land by myself to check it over. I found that a bear had discovered our camp and taken revenge. Our coffee pot had a large hole in its bottom edge. I suspected it was made by a large canine tooth. Camp utensils were scattered about. The tent was shredded with long claw mark tears down its side. It had been collapsed so only the top peeked above ground level. I looked inside and found my Coleman lantern, which I’d hung in the top of the tent, was the thing holding it up. The lantern was okay, even the mantle was intact. I didn’t want to carry it home so I took a length of wire that had been used to detonated charges along the seismic trails (there was a lot of it lying around) and strung the lantern up in one of the cluster trees.

That night I made a lean-to with a piece of plastic and crawled into my sleeping bag. It was a bit uncomfortable as I had no protection from mosquitoes until the air cooled that evening. I awoke a few hour later by the howling of a pack of coyotes. Their yipping and yapping were both eerie and beautiful. I was entertained twenty minutes as they moved through the valley below, their serenade first rising and then ebbing as they passed. My 308 was lying at my side, but it never occurred to me that the coyotes were a danger.


That winter several of us skied into the land. There was a couple feet of snow and the trip was pleasant. When we got to the land we found that one of the trees had blown over. Our tree cluster was broken. Upon closer observation I realized that the downed tree was the one I had hung the lantern. I when along the fallen trunk to the branch I tied it to and dug into the snow. There it was undamaged and the mantle was still intact. I took it home.

We had the lots surveyed in 1980 by Henning Johnson, a well know surveyor of the area. I purchased my lot for $225. The surveyors said we were off by only 50 feet from our original measurements - not bad for amateurs. We returned that fall to check the survey and note the position of the corner markers. The surveyors had changed the lines so that the two lots had a common side. I ended up with most of the grassy slope but more that two acres were over the bluff and not of much use. I still had a couple of good acres. It was another ten years before we got back to it again.
GO TO: Part 4