Lord, Mr Ford! (Riding the bus)

When I was in college about 20 years ago, I thought it would be great to graduate, and then teach in a smaller community somewhere in the inter-mountain west, in a place small enough that I would not have to own and operate an automobile.  I was enamored of the idea that I could save thousands of dollars a year by not having the associated expenses of car ownership -- not to mention the health benefits of walking and cycling. 

So far, since I've not made it out of the Phoenix-metro area, I never got to put this idea into practice.  But every once in a while, (despite my love of the automobile), I remember this is something I wanted to try.  Yesterday, my beast of a pick-up had to go to the shop and I found myself on public transport and on foot.  I have two motorcycles in the garage, of course, but I bought a bus pass that was good all day and I decided to use it to fullest advantage. After all, I am a cheapskate, skinflint, so-tight-I-sqeak-when-I-walk descendant of Scotsmen.

Ka-Ching!

So, I dropped off the truck at the shop and caught the bus home.  Later, I had a doctor's appointment and I used the bus system to get to that. Today, I hopped on bus #138 to get to the Safeway store and back.

Living like that would take some adjustment and it just isn't possible with my current job (as the bus schedules are not at all convenient between home and the office).  But, if that changes, as it easily could, I think I could actually live a greener life by not having the infernal internal combustion machines in the driveway. 

It takes a little longer to get places on the bus, so I'd have to be more thoughtful about trip planning.  But that's a fairly simple lifestyle change and I could do it if I thought I was gaining enough of a benefit. It probably wouldn't be as earth-shaking a change as I have imagined. The mass-transit life-style is as common as hamburger in other areas of this country (in a large Eastern city like New York, for example).  I'd live longer and I am OK with that. 

And think of all the extra money I'd have to eat out on!

Get to know me - the realities and beliefs of Bob!

I wear glasses for reading – can’t see anything close up.

My absolute favorite person in the history of the world is my maternal Grandmother, Lula Belle.

I am fearful of falling, and fish with sharp teeth.

Since I really enjoyed making this list, I guess I am a bit of an egotist. Oh well. At least I know it.

I believe I miss the simplicity of times past. I like almost all things simple.

Mom and Dad 1938

I miss my parents.

My first real job, at age 14, was working for a Chinese grocer as a bag boy and pop bottle sorter.

My childhood nickname was Bobby. Nobody calls me that anymore, probably only close friends.

My distant ancestry is mostly Scot, plus English of various types and some German.

I was a stud-muffin in grade school. I lost that before the 9th grade. This is one of my biggest regrets, but we are who we are.

The last time I climbed a tree, I had a most difficult time getting back down.

I have faced imminent death and remained calm, maybe too calm. I do not believe I am afraid of death.

I am partially descended from a noble British family (Carey). But aren't we all?

If I become interested in something, I tend to be obsessive about it for a time.


I have seen whales swimming in the sea.

One of my favorite things to do as a boy was to fly a kite.

I have been a failure at “relationships” with women.

The greatest sense of freedom I have ever experienced was piloting my own airplane.

I loathe telling others what to do, even when I have opinions about it.


I would abolish capital punishment. There is no correcting mistakes once you've executed a person. Plus, if killing is wrong, then it is unequivocally wrong. Not that I don't think some of them deserve to die for what they did.


I love darkness; I am not afraid. I figure if I can’t see it, it can’t see me.

Perhaps because I am from a hot dry climate, I really enjoy cold, wet, dramatic weather.  If it rains, I want to sit and watch it.

I am a predator with tools and an attitude, I figure it is safer for me than whatever I meet, man or beast.

Attitude is everything.

I am a farmer at heart in that I have an emotional tie to “my” land. I descend from farmers who were rooted to their land. These are my origins and I feel them strongly.

I am a bit of a hillbilly and I am OK with that. I do not value artificial or affected sophistication.

When ill, I am a big baby. Still, I take care of myself when that happens and am uncomfortable if others make a fuss over me.


Sometimes I wonder if I am normal, or crazy. I think it is a fine line. I think I tilt dangerously toward crazy sometimes.


I hate stupidity, bigotry and intolerance.


I avoid conflict if at all possible.


Until pushed beyond my limits, I carry anger internally.


I have a rather mercurial, temperamental personality.


My temper is often short, so I try to cultivate patience.


I am not normally a physically violent person, but I have no compunctions about self defense, or defense of others.

Life's biggest surprise was how short it really is.


I find myself good company (this means I do not usually mind being alone).


My public face is extroverted, but this is artificial and a result of my profession. My natural tendency is the opposite.


I am painfully awkward and shy in initiating romantic relationships. If I’m interested, I’m in trouble.


I thought I was a homophobe, but I have inadvertently grown to love a “gay” person (or two). Who would have thought?


I believe that humans are gradually and relentlessly destroying this planet and there is no hope. Zero. 

Mother Nature wins in the end, in a universal sense, no matter what.


While life is an unnatural aberration (from a universal perspective), I still believe it is universal.


We humans, despite our inherent hubris, are not the center of the universe.


I am not a good prospect for any woman to marry, nor at this stage of my life do I wish to be.


I believe a truly good person looks after the needs of others, before and instead of their own. I am not always a "truly good person."

I am a sleeping machine.


I do not believe in ghosts, nor do I think an individual or conscious afterlife is a logical assumption. I could be wrong.

I fully comprehend and believe in the normality and likely finality of death.


I am a casual seeker of truth, but I refuse to be wedded to belief systems that seem ludicrous and in any event, cannot be proven. I will wait until truth reveals itself while understanding it may not ever do so.


I am agnostic, but I increasingly lean toward unapologetic atheism.


If God exists, he is pretty much a “hands-off” God. The good and the bad that we encounter are random and simply part of the experience. 


I believe that humor is the oil of life, although some people do not “get” my particular brand of lubrication.


It is important not to take things too seriously - in the end, no one gets out alive.

Politically, I am very conservative, in a classical sense.

Liberal or conservative, the most important considerations in selecting a leader are steadfastness, integrity and honesty.

I am not a nationalist.


The golden rule is paramount.


Integrity is everything.

I can like chick flicks.

Intelligence does not seem to be universal, but ignorance is. I am continually amazed by how ignorant and unthinking so many of us are.

I should have been a sea captain (or at least an able-seaman), about 175 years ago. Ahoy, matey!


There is perhaps nothing quite as musically perfect as a Handel gavotte or minuet.


Beethoven’s 5th Piano Concerto (the "Emperor"), specifically the 2nd movement, is the single most perfect and beautiful piece of music ever written.


“Evangelina” (Hoyt Axton) is also pretty cool; I would like to meet a girl named Evangelina so I could sing it to her.


I love motorcycles, airplanes, trains, motorcars and ships. Pretty much anything you can use to get from point A to point B. Speed is a plus.


I own a slingshot. Beware, you Grackles!

I know the words to almost every Gordon Lightfoot song I've ever heard.  There are hundreds.


It’s Ford or Chevy for me, not BMW, Lexus or Mercedes. I prefer pick-ups, although the scarcity of cheap petrol may force me to rethink this... [at present, I own a truck that can get 30 mpg! Yay!]

While I have been lost a few times, I have a very well-developed sense of direction.  I can usually always find my way around on land.


If I could be a bird or an animal, it would be a bear. A grizzly bear. The biggest, baddest, bawdiest grizzly. Or maybe a seagull, except for the diet. I do love that "soaring and surfing" thing they've got going on...


As I get older, I no longer enjoy "cold" as I used to.  My favorite place these days seems to be in front of my portable heater.


Beaches are good. I love the beach, although I don’t usually stay on the beach too long. Gotta keep moving.


For me, abortion is personally unthinkable. It runs counter to everything I believe about morality and right. 


I like the idea of fishing. But I’m not certain the execution of fishing interests me.


I find the idea of simplification – even a monastic life – attractive.


I love sleeping outside – nothing but a starry sky, a fading fire, a cot and a sleeping bag. Oh, and a fluffy pillow.

Hubbard Glacier

I have seen glaciers!  Did you know they are sky-blue?


I shall be cremated. My mortal remains should not be a burden unto the earth.


I do not hunt or kill. Leave the critters be. Even the snakes and bugs. But not Grackles. I will fling a rock in their direction every time I get the chance. Keep them bastards nervous and moving!


When sitting or waiting, I might read anything, even cereal boxes. Anything at hand.


I have little interest in fixing things, or in spectator sports, with few exceptions. My son, however, seems to have inherited these genes. It is possible he got them from his mother. 


I am a western boy. I want to be up high and immersed in an expansive view clear to the horizon. When I am east of the Mississippi I often feel smothered by trees.


I strive to create a tiny bit of order in the overwhelming chaos of life and my surroundings.

In that direction, I am a loathsome housekeeper. 


I like salads but rarely eat them. Too much trouble to make and they never make a completely satisfying meal. Where’s the beef!


I do not drink, generally. Never tasted anything alcoholic I liked at all. 


I have tried and mostly failed to develop a liking for coffee. I still occasionally drink it just for the effects. Given a choice of hot drinks, I prefer cafe mocha or cocoa.


I can kick a tin can for blocks and/or jump squarely in a puddle.


I will not intentionally step on a sidewalk crack.


I’m not a vegetarian but I do feel somewhat sorry for the critters I eat. I hope they had a good life. Please pass the sauce.


I never read the fortune in a fortune cookie. Nor anything remotely connected to astrology. Reality is my bailiwick. I do however, invariably eat the cookie, and yours too, if you are not looking.


I will change the T.P. roll to the proper orientation if it isn’t so already.


Sometimes I drive on the wrong side of the road just for fun.


Notwithstanding the last entry, my IQ has been calculated at 149 on at least one test. That's within the top 1%. (fat lot of good this has done me).


I would happily spend hours or days riding ferries.


I eat chocolate and drink cola at the same time – in almost any conceivable combination. I will pour Coke on chocolate ice cream for example. These two flavors are perfectly complementary.


I happily eat in cheap-dive Chinese buffet restaurants.

I love traditional music, especially fiddles, banjos and bagpipes.

I can easily get "lost" in the wonders of a night-time sky.


I cannot sleep on airplanes – too interested in what is going on – people, the aircraft’s machinery, the sounds and processes of flight, etc. I keep track of progress by identifying things on the ground wherever possible. I carry a map onto the airplane for this purpose.

If you are flying, I will flight-track your aircraft from start to finish.


I will not eat pineapple on pizza. In fact, the only toppings that should be legal on pizza are sausage (Italiano), pepperoni, and maybe mushrooms or black olives. Perhaps a bit of tomato. No fish, no fruit. There really should be laws for these things.


I am the cookie man.


I love to sing; unfortunately I have a voice like a toad. I do not distinguish between guy songs and girl songs. I sing ALL the parts. I will sing with Johnny Cash, his daughter, Paul Simon or Leslie Gore any one without any qualms whatsoever, as long as I am totally alone where you cannot hear me.


If money were no object… I’d be continually on the road in a great road car, perhaps a sporty Mustang, or a Northstar-powered Cadillac coupe. I would not come home for months. Trans-Canada highway, anyone?

I can drive at least 1,500 miles almost any direction within the USA from my home with no map or GPS, without losing my way.


I am not an adventurous eater. No sushi, no wild game. No slimy stuff.


I have jumped out of a perfectly good airplane, on purpose.


A life without chocolate is like… um… er….well it wouldn’t be a good thing.


Bob is to library as itty bitty bug is to Venus Flytrap.


Bob is to beach as ant is to picnic.


I love barbecue. I can make killer pork ribs.


Favorite foods – perfectly roasted or smoked meats; a home-made taco or chile relleno; home-made hash browns; a sauté of fresh corn with peppers and onions; a warm spinach salad; a perfect apple pie. I also love beanie-weenie.  Buttered, salted popcorn. Oh, and grilled or fried chicken!


I shower, rather than bathe. Long and hot and soapy as a general rule. This is a requirement before meeting the world in any way, each and every day. I must be C-L-E-A-N. Even at camp.


I love good films and loathe trash films. I have a world class collection of my favorite movies on DVD.


Life is too short to speed through.  While I enjoy driving or riding fast, I am more often the driver everyone else is passing. Live the moment!


I cannot tolerate negative attitudes and narrow uncomprehending minds and will separate myself from those afflicted with them.


I do not swim well. I can flounder along, perhaps well enough to save my life for a short time if necessary. Or perhaps not. All is not lost; I can FLOAT!


I would avoid a dental cleaning (if permitted) much as I would a guillotine. A root canal is unthinkable.


I have walked 25 miles to swim in icy cold, turquoise blue waterfall waters so clear they were like mineral glass.


I can easily spend the morning in bed, with only a tinge of remorse for the squandered time. I will do this tomorrow, if at all possible.


I cannot imagine myself as completely retired. Meaningful work is a requirement for quality of life, whether paid or not.

I have been told I am a great teacher.


I prefer to sleep in a cold room, under blankets. I feel like dying when I am too warm inside a room. I get headaches and feel “pressure.”


Mindlessness angers me; clear thought and situational awareness are primary virtues.

I love history, especially of the last millennium in the American West.


I am most definitely claustrophobic.


I'm still a John Wayne fan.


I have a deep love for the earth, its creatures and its surroundings.  To be alive on the Earth is gold.

Illegal Immigration

Arizona has been under intense criticism for its new law on illegal immigrants.  Was this law racially motivated?  I don't know.  I can say it's not written that way.  Will it be applied in some heavy-handed way that will result in some legal U.S. residents getting inconvenienced, hassled or abused?  I doubt it -- at least not any more than what already happens. We have to do something about our porous borders.  But I expect most police officers will continue to do exactly what they've been doing, this law won't change anything for the cop on the street.

A couple of things that are certainly true... First, we created this problem; agriculture and business in the USA created this problem.  This is absolutely true.  If there were no jobs, they wouldn't come here.  Years ago, a Latino troubador sang this plaintiff verse about how Texas aristocracy used to adjust the water levels in the Rio Grande at harvest time, lowering the flow so that workers could easily cross...

American ranchin', consists of a mansion, where illegal immigrants do much of the labor by hand. They sneak 'em through Customs, 'till time comes to bust 'em and haul 'em back over the border to their own native land.  With a ragged sombrero, and not much dinero, they'll be back again when the old Rio Grande gets down low; Is this a good neighbor, to take all his labor, then chase him back over the border 'til he's needed again.

Two, I don't think the illegals are the drain on our society that people think they are.  If I hire an illegal you can bet that I will withhold all taxes and fees from their paychecks (if not, I am breaking the law and I cannot take that risk).  The illegals just don't get the credit for the withholdings-- and the government keeps the money.  This is a fact -- I used to do the payroll at a large business that routinely hired illegals.  By the way, they were almost always the most reliable employees we had. For the most part, they don't participate in social services programs either -- they don't want to risk getting caught and deported.  They avoid encounters with the "system."

Here's why I think this entire situation is so unjust...  The southwestern United States was settled originally, thousands of years ago, by peoples who first hunted, wandered and farmed.  They existed here without the help of any modern "civilized" nation -- without electricity, without AIR CONDITIONING.  This land was taken from them, immorally and illegally, as if they were inconsequential and had no rights.  Remember the part of our nation's founding credo that said "...all men are created equal, and are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights?"  That's "all men," not just legal United States citizens!

In the 1530s, the Spanish invaded South and Central America and Mexico -- and almost as soon began moving north; Euro-settlement of the southwest began in 1598 along the Rio Bravo (Grande) in what became New Mexico.  In the early 1800s, Spain was kicked out through revolution and by the 1830s the land became part of the Mexican Republic. Finally, in 1846, with no good reason other than that we could and that Mexico could not effectively resist for long, we took the land away from them. Oh, but we treated them OK, right (?) -- we did buy the last little piece -- the land between the present-day border and the Gila River. (The Gadsden Purchase, 1852 or 53)

So... Mexican people of Indian and Spanish descent have been living, working and dying here for 500 years or more.  Spanish (as well as the aboriginal languages that pre-date Spanish) was and is the language of the American southwest, despite what we American late-comers think. Sorry, arrogant American, but those are the facts. The only reason this land is now ours is that we took it by force from a people who weren't strong enough to hold it.  That makes it right, eh? The strong abuse the weak, simply because they can?  So don't tell me they don't belong here. This was their land long before it was ours, and if they took it back by force, it would be what this nation deserved, based on our past bad behavior. What goes around comes around, as they say.

Is that going to happen?  You know it won't.  But we still have a problem... how do we deal with the very real problem of illegals in our country, especially the security issues that result?

Why not do the right thing for a change? Why not create a win-win solution to the illegal immigration problem?

First, eliminate the possibility of employment for them and they won't come.  We should vigorously prosecute ANY employer, personal or corporate, that hires someone who isn't legal here -- but we need to give the employers the means to figure that out quickly and accurately.  If we can control the purchase of guns, we can do the same thing with people. Do it more than once -- hire an illegal -- and get closed down, out of business, forever. 

That said, we need these foreign workers (that's why they came here) -- so make it easy for them to come here and get a job.  Create a guest worker program for legitimate law-abiding Mexican citizens -- and others too.  Give deserving people a work visa.  If they come and can't get work, they'll leave.  For those illegals already here -- require them to go back to their own country to get the proper authorizations and visas.  END of problem -- and we didn't have to resort to an illegal, unwanted amnesty to do it.

What about the "anchor babies?" If a person is born here, that has always meant you were a citizen whether your parents were legal or not.  I think it would be a mistake to change that now. 

But, there have also been a few instances where some of these kids, born elsewhere but here with undocumented parents all their lives, have been discovered to be illegal -- in high school or college even, and they get deported (or the public screams for them to be).  These kids should have an avenue to citizenship even if we can't give it to them based on birth -- they are not responsible for their parents' mistakes or illegal acts.  What jerks we would be to punish children for the acts of their parents.  How unconscionable it would be to deport an effectively-American child to a strange land. Yet, this is what some of our citizens want. I hope we never become that officially mean.

Those of us who are native to the southwest, many of us (or our families), came here because the Hispanic culture already here was attractive to us; relaxed, laid-back, friendly... the proverbial land of mañana! Personally, I like my home with Mexicans in it.   They are mostly good, hard-working family-oriented people -- the very kind of people that we think make good Americans just like other waves of immigrants before them. 

One way or the other, there's going to come a day -- soon -- when the Caucasian-American is the minority here, because these boogers out-breed us.  Get used to it, aprenda a hablar -- and be nice to them now.  Maybe they won't treat us like we've treated them...

Viva la México!

Making Bread

Those who know me know how I like to eat -- and cook.  I like old fashioned foods -- I make my own food products whenever possible, without the use of manufactured ingredients (tortillas, sauces, jam, relish, mayo, apple butter, pickles, etc).  I'm not a zealot about this, but where I can, I do.  I've been learning to bake bread.  You realize a loaf of good bread costs $4 or more?  Hey, I can make a loaf for less than a buck -- and it is better, healthier even, than anything you can buy in a store!

So far, I've tried my hand at basic white (meh!), mustard-rye, light whole wheat, 10 grain, Italian-rye and French.  There was also a loaf of great cracked wheat in there somewhere.  I am Bob's Red Mill's new best friend!

I have learned about yeast.  Many recipes call for the dry ingredients to be mixed together with the yeast -- but for this to work, you have to use the right kind of yeast.  If you don't, it may not activate properly (even if good) and the bread will not rise.  So even if the recipe doesn't call for it, I soak the yeast and proof it if I haven't been using it already (I buy the yeast in bulk form, not individual packages -- so if it is good today, it is likely still good tomorrow.  So I don't always have to proof it.)  You can substitute other types of yeast than the recipe calls for, you just adjust the process to accommodate the differences.  This is pretty easy, fortunately.

I have begun adding a small amount of gluten flour to my breads.  It seems to have a beneficial effect on the texture of the bread.  I am not afraid of gluten.

At first, I thought it wouldn't hurt anything to let the bread rise longer than necessary.  I want a BIG rise, right?  Well, if it rises too long, then the structure gets weak inside, and the bread falls when you bake it.  What a drag! The problem is somewhat akin to stretching a rubber band too much -- stretch a rubber band too far and it snaps, but if you don't overdo it, then it holds its tensile strength and stays flexible much longer.  Same with bread gluten and rising.  So I am careful to watch it closely and not let it sit too long.  You can, if you do screw it up and wait too long, punch it down and let it rise again.  Although there is no punching, really.  I gently fold the dough and press it lightly with my fingers.  This is the kinder, gentler way of kneading and forming bread dough.

I use a stainless steel baking sheet to knead the dough.  Most recipes, I do not even have to flour it too much (whereas if I use a wooden board for kneading, it seems to absorb flour like CRAZY!)

One thing I haven't tried yet is sour dough.  Perhaps I will try making a "starter" soon.  But I am not quite ready to master that technique yet.  Soon.  Very soon.

I am learning more with each loaf I make -- certainly not an expert yet but I am learning.  Mom said stop making all this bread -- we can't eat it all!  My sister's chickens are the beneficiaries of the excess -- after it is too old for me to eat it -- they are not nearly so picky.  I have had some spectacular failures.

But I have found that making bread is not nearly the inconvenient and lengthy process that I remembered from earlier attempts.  I actually look forward to the next attempt each time. There is a certain amount of waiting involved while things soak or rise -- but other than kneading for 8 or 10 minutes it isn't that bad.  The process of creating the bread is therapeutic.  And the eating is good.  I can't think of anything better than a slice of fresh home-made bread, with butter and my own home-made blackberry jam slathered on it.

This is a loaf of my Cracked Wheat and 10-Grain, still warm...

I am hungry.  I am going to the kitchen.

Frequency of blogging

My nephew suggested I write a blog. I started this one a couple of years ago, but quickly ran out of anything to say... or so I thought. I don't always have something to say, but perhaps I could write a bit more than once every two years. Since I haven't written here for a couple of years almost, I do have several possible "hot" topics at present -- so perhaps there will be a flurry of posts for a day or two. Then, I'll probably forget about it again for awhile. I assume that won't bother anyone.

Summer in Arizona

Phoenix thunderstorm

If you don't like the Arizona weather, wait a moment and it will change... well, that's true sometimes, but... the weather in Arizona really does follow a predictable pattern. If the spring is cool, people begin making predictions about the summer based on that. If the spring is wet, they predict how it will be from that. If it is hot too soon, they prognosticate about that. And they are never right, because you cannot predict what Arizona will be like next month based on what it is doing right now. There is no connection. I'm serious, so listen!

I am amazed at how much of the year is climate-perfect when compared to the public's perception of the hell they think it is here. We have about two to three months of searing heat combined with higher humidity. These weeks are definitely uncomfortable, to say it plainly. But the rest of the year is comfortable if not exquisite. Not San Diego perfect, for sure, but in its own way still nearly perfect.

Not too cold...

I very rarely find things cold enough here to even wear a jacket, even in January (in my part of the state anyway...). Short sleeves in winter-time are the norm for me. In March and April, the days are warmer and the evenings cool or even chilly. Spring winds do not happen here in March like in other places -- but as a general rule Arizona's spring winds arrive in April. That's one time when allergies are worse for people here. Then in May the days start to warm. The skies are blue, blue, blue.

In June, the heat arrives -- but it is still dry and not uncomfortable. Even 105 degrees in June isn't that bad -- and at first, it is even desirable. There's something especially comforting about a 100 degree day in June -- that warm air hits you and soothes your soul. You think, it is going to be a good summer. The evenings are still cool, once the sun sets. Oh, but then in late June or July that humidity starts to creep in and the winds shift... and we start to think about visiting people who live in cooler places.

The air masses reverse their prevailing flow -- and warm moist air from the nearby ocean gulfs flows in with the Arizona monsoon -- a true monsoon. However, if you call our seasonal dust storms "haboobs," I will slap you silly. (What a stupid word. Save it for the Sahara.)


Anyway, in July and August, this seasonal shifting of the air flow brings in our "wet" season -- thunderstorms, dust storms, lightning. It's dramatic, beautiful, with 45,000 foot tall cumulo-bumpers surrounding us -- but in between these afternoon "blows" it is muggy-hot and after a couple of days of that I am ready for October's cool crisp air.

A summer thunderstorm "anvils" out along SR85 near Lukeville.

In the days of my youth, from the time I was 11 or 12, I would spend part of each summer with my Dad wherever he happened to be. One year, he was in Michigan, another New Mexico. When I would be sent home after the vacation, I traveled by air occasionally. There were no "jetways" in 1965. To get on an airplane, you walked out across the concrete and climbed a set of "air stairs." One of my best memories, one of those things that you never forget, was (after spending a few weeks in some cooler place) stepping out the door of an air-conditioned jetliner at the Phoenix airport and having that first blast of Arizona heat hit me in the face like a blanket. It was tangible. It was home. It was a warm-fuzzy. Or should I say it was a blast-furnace HOT-fuzzy. I loved it (for a minute or two anyway)

I am always happy when our heat arrives. I enjoy it for awhile. Then I am just as happy when it goes. Arizona does have its seasons -- they are just not like other places' seasons! They add variety to our desert existence and keep us from getting too bored.

Teenagers on the Ocean

Abigail Sunderland's attempt to become the youngest person to sail around the world (originally, the idea was to do this unassisted) ended a couple of days ago near the Kerguelen Islands (sp?). Yesterday, she had to be fished off the boat out in the middle (almost exactly the middle) of the southern Indian Ocean after her boat's mast was broken by the winds and waves of a storm a couple of days before.  This rescue was not cheap, nor easy.  The crew of the rescue boat put themselves and their vessel in danger to complete it.  One crew member fell into the ocean in the midst of the effort. And for what?

The debate has begun anew, why was she sailing alone around the world? "What were her parents thinking?" I don't know if that is the most important question -- in fact I don't think it IS. The whole endeavor reeks of poor judgment from the very start -- whether the sailor was 16 or 60. This has been done before -- by people of all different ages. So what exactly was she trying to accomplish? Of what value would such an endeavor, if successful, be? Why did she continue the journey (one) once it was no longer possible to secure the record she was attempting and (two) once delays had put her in the position of crossing that very treacherous sea in the midst of a winter maelstrom?

I think her considerable ambition and energy could easily have been directed to something a hell of a lot more useful.

What we have here is an ego-driven individual who had no ability to save herself when things went "south" -- and things were almost a sure bet to "go south" (when you set out across the Indian Ocean in a small boat in winter). This was an entirely predictable outcome. For no real purpose, the maritime rescue agencies of at least two different countries had to be set in motion at the cost of (probably, guessing here) hundreds of thousands of dollars of public monies. Who is supposed to pay for these rescues? It seems certain that the Sunderlands aren't planning on it -- in fact, the girl's mother even suggested that if the rescue needed to be paid for, the US government should be the one to do it!  Huh?

Here's a quote from the LA Times on June 18th, 2010...

Even the U.S. Sailing Association refused to sponsor Sunderland's bid, considering it too dangerous. She did not have insurance for her trip, and her mother has said there is no way the family could pay the rescuers even if asked. [Not that they would be.]

Is that not just a bit arrogant?  Irresponsible? And already the young lady is starting to think about another attempt. This is the epitome of irresponsibility (on the part of the parents).  This should not be her choice. A teen-aged brain isn't as developed as an adult's in the ability to foresee consequences and outcomes -- so it is not appropriate to allow them to make those decisions on their own when the stakes are high. But these parents at least should have the social consciousness and humility to recognize that the nations of the world should not have to rescue their daughter while she is in pursuit of a totally frivolous goal, personal in nature and for no legitimate purpose.  Don't get me started!

When a person embarks on a personal adventure of this scope, all possibilities should be planned and accommodated. Only a selfish fool sets out without planning for the contingencies and the ability to cover the possible costs. I'm all for personal adventure -- I just don't think any person should have the option of billing others for it without their acceptance.  Thank you, France and Australia, for your quick and generous rescue of this intrepid young woman, but you shouldn't have had to.  Just my opinion...

I have been following the adventures of a couple of others who are out on the land -- or on the water. First, there is a young man (Matthew) currently walking across the entire breadth of the USA. Don't know if I'd have the fortitude to stick that out to its end -- but he is about halfway across, just now entering North Dakota at Fargo/Moorehead.  Here's his link. He posts photos from along the road each day.

Second, there is Alessandro Di Benedetto.  He also is sailing unassisted around the world.  His record will be, if he makes it, the smallest boat ever to complete it. He is sailing a boat not much longer than a fishing skiff -- 21 feet.  I wouldn't go on the Columbia in a boat that small -- much less the southern ocean.  To contrast Alessandro with Abby Sunderland -- Alessandro also lost his mast in a storm a few weeks ago.  Rather than abandon the attempt and call for help -- he had the wherewithal and ability to jury-rig a replacement mast of sorts -- and is continuing his journey -- still unassisted.  You see, there is a way to do it right -- and if you can't, you shouldn't be out there.