Gryphon Views

Good Government

2009-12-07T08:54:00.000-08:00

I see the citizenry as being divided into two broad groups. One group is comprised of people who were taught to believe that it is the responsibility and duty of every American to support, with a portion of their funds, the government that is needed to guarantee our access to "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" -- call them the contributing group. The second group contains those who appear to believe that the government is the very source from which flows funding and access to happiness -- call them the receiving group. The contributing group would like to limit the size and role of government to those items that actually are necessary, because it is their funding that the government is taking and spending, and frankly, they would like to see it wisely spent. The receiving group, by contrast, would like to expand the role of government into as many areas as possible, primarily because other people, namely the contributing group, are largely funding those programs, but they will be the primary beneficiaries. This arrangement seems fair to the receiving group because, after all, the contributing group being taxed have more money, so those taxed can better afford to pay for these programs.

This portrayal is overly simplistic, of course. And, not everyone falls cleanly into one group or the other (although quite a few actually do). But it illustrates that the fundamental emotion behind give-away programs is a negative one masquerading as a positive one: It is greedy and selfish to desire for oneself benefits that can only be obtained by taking money by force from someone else -- it smacks of envy, and also of theft. It masquerades as altruism -- to help and benefit those less well off than ourselves -- but altruism implies that the giver is not coerced. If coerced, it becomes not altruism, but robbery. One can argue that people pay taxes out of altruism, but more often than not, this is simply not true, and it is suspect in all cases because the tax rates are set by the government (heavier on the more wealthy, note) and are rigorously enforced. And when our representatives in Congress spend the money, that is not altruism either, because it is not their money that they are spending! If they want to be altruistic, they can spend their own money -- and I note in passing here that they are much more careful when spending their own money than they are when spending mine.

"Ah", you might say, "but you did agree, when you elected representatives to the Congress that passed the laws setting up such programs." There may be room for this argument when those doing the electing are from the contributing group, or even largely from that group. The argument is less convincing, though, when the receiving group, which has the same voting power as the contributing group (one person, one vote, after all) begins to outnumber the contributing group. Then representatives are elected that seek to solidify their base by constructing programs that benefit the receiving group that elected them at the expense of the contributing group that opposed them. (See former blogs on getting elected as the number one priority of elected representatives.)

Those who give are now at the mercy of those who take.

Worse yet, many of our representatives are willing to spend not only all the tax money there is, but also money that has not yet been collected. It is not their money; but they incur no penalty for spending it, and there is no operative force to act as a restraint. But the contributing group is appalled, because it is their money, and the unfunded expenditures will eventually have to be paid for with their future money. The receiving group sees no problem. It is not their money. They won't have to pay for it.

When my kids were in college, I seethed when my taxes went to fund scholarships for which my own children were not even eligible. I worked hard to pay for my children to go to college, and financially it was a difficult time, but not only did I have to pay college expenses for my own children out of my own pocket, but in addition, the government took even more so I could (altruistically, Congress no doubt thought) also pay for someone else. There was absolutely no benefit whatever to me, because my children were positively disbarred from these scholarships. It was a program that benefited a specific group of people at the expense of a different group of people.

This brings me to the subject of what is the proper role and scope of government. This is a subject that varies all over the map, so I will give only my own views. When the government takes money from taxpayers, it should expend those funds for projects that will benefit taxpayers as a whole, and rigorously restrict itself from projects that take money from one group of people and expend it for the benefit of a different group. Further, it should maintain a high degree of fiscal responsibility for those funds. When funds are expended, it should be, in general, to buy something -- either that the government needs, or that is used for the benefit of the general citizenry.

Examples of proper government funding include such items as roads, bridges, and infrastructure (benefits the expansion and maintenance of commerce, which benefits all people); defense (protects the whole country and ensures continuance of our way of life); law enforcement (protects all citizens -- even those not abiding by the law, most of the time); statecraft between us and other nations; treasury and fiscal policy; other needed government institutions that represent the citizenry as a whole.

Examples of improper government funding include such items as "entitlement" programs or any other "spread the wealth" programs (money taken from one group and given to a different group -- violates the benefit taxpayers as a whole test and violates the "buy something" test); social security (a tax, run as the most monumental Ponzi scheme in history, that is masquerading as a retirement fund -- violates the "buy something" test, and egregiously violates the fiscal responsibility test); lotteries (persecuted as illegal when run by the Mob, but was taken over by the government when it saw how much money could be made and now run as a "stupid tax" -- encourages bad habits, does not "promote the general welfare", preys on the ignorant and poor); schools at the federal level (this a responsibility of the states); bailouts (violates fiscal responsibility test).

There is a tendency for representatives elected by the receiver group to see tax money as a gold mine, limitless in scope, to be mined for the benefit of themselves and their supporters. And they are not alone: Every government agency also sees the tax revenue as a source for their own needs and tries to get as much of it as they can. The President sends a budget to congress each year that is full of items that are (in the view of the contributing group) unwise, unnecessary, unwarranted, and wasteful, and it is up to Congress to eliminated those that do not fall within the definition of good government. But instead, members of Congress hasten to add to the problem rather than the solution. They scheme and maneuver to carve out portions of the budget to favor their own specific groups or organizations. Each member believes that if others insert these "earmarks" into the budget, it should be called "pork", but if they do it, it must be good government -- after all, if it helps get them re-elected what could be better than that? It must be, by definition, good government.

But in my mind it is clear: If a program or law benefits one group at the expense of another, it is almost certainly bad government, and if it does not apply equally -- including to members of Congress -- then it is almost certain to be bad government. Congress should be ashamed.

Intelligent Dogs

2009-09-19T16:23:00.000-07:00

At work there is a young woman – and by “younger”, I mean younger than me – who has a seeing eye dog. This is her second dog since I have known her. We held a retirement party for her first dog, “Penny”, and then she was gone for six weeks while she broke in her new one. This one is a yellow Labrador called “Randy”, and he is young and energetic. We all learned with Penny the do’s and don’t’s for seeing eye dogs and so everyone in the office knew how to relate to Randy. We are not to feed it unauthorized snacks. We are not to let it out of the office. If the dog is “working” we are to leave it alone. But there really isn’t much for the dog to do during the day, so often it appears to be bored out of its mind. The dog is free to wander around the office as long as he is within calling range if he is needed. There are a number of toys for the dog to play with in his owner’s office, but Randy keeps his place pretty clean so people don’t trip over his toys while walking by.

I have to walk past Randy’s office to go out to the soda machine, cafeteria, and at the end of the day as I go home, and I say hello to Randy, but I hadn’t actually spent any time with him. But yesterday I was bored, so I walked to one end of the office where there are windows that look out over the parking lot and the city. Then I thought I would go out to the soda machine and get something. I turned around and, looking down the path I would walk, I saw Randy, about 150 feet away, looking at me. He continued to look at me as I approached, and then when I got close to him, he picked up a rubber ring – one of his toys – and offered it to me. I took hold of it, and there ensued a tug of war for awhile. Then I said, “Do you want me to throw it?” and immediately he let go and got prepared to chase it. I tossed it down the way I had come and he bounded after it, catching it on the second bounce. He brought it back to me and wanted another little tug of war. I said, “Ready?” and he immediately let go and tensed for another run. I threw it and he chased it down. We continued for awhile as I threw the ring down the hall over and over. Each time I would say, “Ready?” and he would get set for another run. Finally he came back and did NOT offer the ring to me, but tossed down on the ground and flopped down next to it. I said, “OK, we’re done” and rubbed his ears. I started toward the door again, and his owner murmured in my ear, “Thanks.”

I got to thinking about other dogs I have played with. One of my daughter’s friends had a dog named “Seven”, a young golden retriever or perhaps yellow Labrador, who had more energy than anyone in their family could really deal with. I was visiting one day because we had been invited over for dinner, when Seven decided he wanted to play. I threw toys all over the house for Seven, until he was completely worn out. Later I heard my daughter’s friend mention to my daughter that I was the only person who had ever worn Seven out. She said Seven slept almost the entire next day.

Then there was Barney, a mixed rotweiller/retriever, who belonged to a friend of ours. Barney was a city dog who easily got car sick, but he liked to come out to the cabin, and after a few trips, began to get over his car sickness as soon as he figured out he was headed toward the cabin. Barney had a herding instinct, I guess, because he was very conscious of the whereabouts of everyone in the family. He would make the rounds of the house in the middle of the night to make sure that everyone was in their right place. I would wake up with a cold nose in my face and reach out to pet Barney and assure him that I was all right, and my wife would do the same. One night Barney came in to check on us when my wife had left the bed to go to the bathroom. People say that dogs don’t really have different expressions, but I tell you, Barney did the most astonishing double take when he looked in the bed for Carol and didn’t find her there. It was so human-like that I nearly laughed out loud. Then Barney put his front feet on the bed so he could get up to see better and looked up and then down the length of the bed for Carol. He was clearly just astounded that she wasn’t there. Finally I said, “She’s in the bathroom, Barney.” I believe he understood what I said because he immediately got down and walked over to where he could see the bathroom door and sat down to wait for her. He waited until she came out and escorted her back to bed where she belonged before leaving to check on the rest of the household.

Another time my daughter came out to the cabin with a new baby. Barney was extremely solicitous of both mother and child, and took it upon himself to monitor the health and welfare of the baby. If my daughter took the baby into the house, Barney would escort her to the door and would be at the door when she came out again. He followed the baby everywhere and sat next to whoever was holding the baby. From time to time he would move to where he could see the baby’s face to make sure it was all right. If the baby cried, Barney (his hearing was better than a human’s) would come right to the mother and move toward the house, looking back to see if she was coming yet. You could almost hear him saying, “Come on, come on, the baby needs you.”

Another friend came to the cabin one time and brought two German shepherds. One was quite old but the other was more frisky. She accompanied me out into the woods where I was working, but when I turned to go, she didn’t want to come. I discovered that she had found what looked like a dead limb that was mostly buried in the leaf thatch that covered the forest floor, and had gripped it in her jaws and was trying to pull it loose. She tugged and tugged at it, and each pull loosened it a little more. After a bit, she finally got it loose and triumphantly hauled it into the meadow – her every expression and body language just shouted “gleeful”. Well, it turned out to be a bit more than a “limb”. It was almost 20 feet long, but she waved it back and forth to show everyone what a great hunter she was. I tried to take it away from her, but only got into a tugging match. Between the two of us, we finally managed to break it up enough to have pieces that were small enough to throw and fetch, which we did for the rest of the day. Hmmm, she slept most of the next day too.

These dogs were all astonishingly smart, but unfortunately not all dogs are smart. When I was young, we had a Chihuahua named “Candi”. This dog was smart and I loved her. She slept in my bed with me at night. She had a litter of pups, all but one of which were sold. The one that didn’t sell was what I would call dumb – D. U. M. When food was put down for them, Candi would eat all of hers and then go to the sliding glass doors that looked out over the patio and bark. Chico (the dumb one) would come to see what she was barking at, and would also start barking, which he kept up for awhile. Meanwhile, Candi went back to the food and ate his too.

I think there is nothing so attractive as intelligence. Dogs – people – intelligence makes them come alive, and that is so very attractive.

Still Another Example

2009-08-31T09:47:00.000-07:00

For a very apro pro column on politicians and their innate need to look out for their own interests first, see the column by Tony Blankley in the Washington Times of August 25, here. The subject is President Johnson and his turmoil over the Vietnam war, but the unintended point of the column is that politicians protect their own interests first and foremost.

And Still More

2009-08-28T08:07:00.000-07:00

This from Newt Gingrich, in the context of how politicians bungled the Cash For Clunkers program:

"They're not concerned with the long-term, just the next election."

From his column:

Three Reasons Why Government Can't Run Health Care

by Newt Gingrich

08/26/2009

Read his column here: http://www.humanevents.com/article.php?id=33275

More on Election Scams

2009-08-26T12:42:00.001-07:00

A reader sent me the following:

"I've come to be increasingly baffled by the high degree cynicism and immorality displayed in big-time politics."

via Reason Magazine - Hit & Run on 8/24/09

Liberal blogger Matthew Yglesias is apparently shocked that liberal politicians would rather maintain their own power than work for "the public good." George Mason University law professor (and Reason contributor) Ilya Somin patiently explains to Yglesias how the political world actually works:

A politician willing to do anything to take and hold on to power will have a crucial edge over an opponent who imperils his chances of getting elected in order to advance the public interest. The former type is likely to prevail over the latter far more often than not. This is especially true in a political environment where most voters are often ignorant and irrational about government and public policy. Candidates have strong incentives to pander to this ignorance and exploit it in order to win elections. Those unwilling to exploit public ignorance because they place the public interest above political success are likely to be at a serious disadvantage relative to their less scrupulous opponents. Thus, those who value power above other objectives are more likely to succeed politically. As economist Frank Knight wrote back in the 1930s, "[t]he probability of the people in power being individuals who would dislike the possession and exercise of power is on a level with the probability that an extremely tender-hearted person would get the job of whipping master in a slave plantation."

An Actual Election Scam!

2009-07-27T09:07:00.000-07:00

With regard to election scams, a real example appeared in the New York Times on 27 July regarding the Iranian "election" of Mr. Ahmadinejad. I quote, "Mr. Ahmadinejad had won support from government pensioners prior to the election by significantly increasing their payments. Those payments have since been reduced ...". Notwithstanding any judgments regarding the honesty or dis-honesty of the Iranian election process itself, this example serves to support my previous contention that THE FIRST PRIORITY OF AN ELECTORAL CANDIDATE IS TO GET ELECTED. In the case of Mr. Ahmadinejad, apparently any scheme that enhances his chances is countenanced.

On Elections and Other Scams

2009-07-14T14:06:00.000-07:00

When my first child was born, we had an old black and white television that was given to me some years earlier. It was a vacuum tube affair, with knobs that wobbled loosely on their connecting rods. I used to have to lie in front of the TV, on my back, and continuously twiddle the knobs with my toes to keep a picture on the screen. I watched the first moon landing on this TV, and somewhere I have a picture of my son – barley old enough to stand by himself – standing in front of the set while on screen Neil Armstrong is taking his first step onto the moon’s surface.

As my children grew up, we had fascinating conversations around the dinner table, and one of the things we did was to dissect the television advertisements, and discuss the use of the English language through the prism of advertising propaganda. One of my favorite advertisements touted the ability to “… borrow up to $50,000 – OR EVEN MORE!” I would say, “Well, that about covers it, all right.” My children thought making fun of advertising was hilariously funny, and joined in enthusiastically; but early in their life, they learned to distinguish how language was used not jonly to inform, but also to sway opinion.

This tendency of mine to make fun of how our language is used and mis-used must be some hold-over from my own childhood because I can even to this day repeat verbatim, advertisements that I heard on the radio as a child – and can still sing those that came in the form of jingles, not to mention racy jokes shared with my friends about some of the products: “DUZ does EVERYTHING!”

Dissecting the techniques used and the motives that drive how language is mis-used in advertising is both serious and entertaining – sort of serio-comical – but the ability to determine both techniques and motives becomes a serious requirement when it comes to politics, where, in part at least, it is my money they are talking about spending.

In the United States, there are two broad views of government: There are those who have been raised to believe that supporting the government with their tax money is part of the responsibility of being a citizen; that the money spent by the government should go to buying something that benefits the citizenry as a whole; and that the government should otherwise keep out of their affairs. There is another view of government: That it is there to provide essential services to those citizens who should provide them for themselves, but don't, or can't; that the citizenry won’t provide this help unless they are coerced, hence the government needs to take the lead; and that other people than themselves – notably the “rich” who everyone knows have more money than they really NEED – should pay for them.

There are people with views, of course, that range all the way from the one end of the spectrum I have drawn, to the other end, but my point is, people have different views – sometimes radically different views – of what government should be and do. Candidates who run for office have their own views of government, and during their campaign for election they want to present those views in the most positive light. Their goal becomes not to inform, necessarily, but to get elected. What they do, in essence, is to form a business, of which they are the chief operating officer, the sole purpose of which is to present the candidate in the most positive light. In short, the candidate’s organization becomes a specialized advertising agency, with the candidate as its product. In this light, our childish game of critiquing television advertising becomes a much more serious tool for choosing among candidates for office.

The basis for advertising, whether for a commercial product or a political candidate, is information. But there is information – a neutral rendition of factual content without “spin” (e.g., adverbs and adjectives); there is mis-information – information that is designed to mislead, either intentionally (e.g., innuendo) or unintentionally, even when the information itself may be correct, although it not always is; and there is dis-information – information that is deliberately false and/or factually incorrect. From these categories of information an advertising campaign is constructed. Remember, for a candidate the primary goal is not to inform, but to sway opinion to get him elected to office.

The subject of the advertising campaign may be the candidate himself, or his views, for which usually information and mis-information is chosen, although dis-information may also be used: “I deny categorically that I ever said (or did) that!” Or, the information may be about his opponent, in which case the usage is almost always either mis-information or dis-information. “My opponent says … (mis-information) …, but I say … (information or more mis-information) …”. Or, “My opponent believes … (dis-information, always)”. These uses of information collectively form the techniques of propaganda.

Propaganda techniques have been studied for many years, but interestingly, they are not always recognized by the public. In addition, it is not only the candidates that employ these techniques, but the media as well, all the while telling the public what good watchdogs they are. “Yellow Journalism” is not new, it is just that none of the journals admit to it.

Here are some common techniques:

Assertion – an enthusiastic or energetic statement presented as a fact. It may or may not be true, but it is presented as if it were.

Bandwagon – “Hop on – EVERYONE is doing it!”

Stacking the Cards – Selective omission of information contrary to a position.

Glittering Generalities – Using words linked to highly valued concepts, whether they actually apply or not. “Change”, “good”, “honest”, “fair”, “best”, are examples.

Lesser of Two Evils – Presenting a proposal as the least offensive of the only two available options, denying that there are other options.

Ad Hominem – Rejecting an argument on the basis of derogatory facts (which may or may not be true) about a person. Attacking a person instead of his argument or views.

Name Calling – A form of Ad Hominem: The use of derogatory language or words when describing the opponent.

Straw Man – Ascribing a false position to a real or imaginary opponent, and then demolishing that false position.

Simplification – Reducing a complex issue to a choice between good and evil, or a “bumper-sticker” slogan.

Transfer – The attempt to link a negative (or positive) feeling about an object or word to the proposal at hand (e.g., presenting the proposal while standing in front of a flag to invoke patriotic feelings; having a spokesperson stand in front of a well-manicured bookshelf of important-looking books, to imply a scientific basis.

False Analogy – Portraying two things as similar, even though they are not.

Testimonial – Using well-known personalities to testify on your behalf.

Plain Folks – Using a folksy approach or people to obtain support.

Faulty Logic – There are many techniques that deliberately misuse the rules of logic to support a position.

Contradiction – Information that conflicts with other information within the same argument.

False Cause – Because one event follows another, it must be the cause of the other event.

Begging the Question – Circular reasoning: Constructing an argument in favor of a claim that amounts to making the claim in the first place.

Evading the Issue – Answer to a question that amounts to changing the subject.

Composition and Division – Arguing that because the claim is true for one, it is true for all, or vice versa.

Poisoning the Well – Blindly explaining away all arguments, no matter how absurd the explanations become.

Appealing to Emotion – Use of an emotionally-laden sob story or argument to help prove a claim.

Appeal to Fear – Unless you support my position, really bad things will happen. “We can no longer afford to wait …”, “We risk a long-lasting and deep depression …”.

Even with these techniques in mind, it sometimes takes time to recognize them in practice. Television commercials and political campaigns are two good places to find them and learn to recognize them because these two sources are so very rich in propaganda techniques.

When we elect a politician -- especially to national office -- we not only elect that official, but in effect we also elect all those people whom that candidate will be authorized to appoint to government positions, and depending on the political office, this may be a very large number indeed.

A final thought to keep in mind: The primary goal of advertising is not to inform. It is TO MAKE MONEY. The primary business of newspapers and television news organizations is TO MAKE MONEY. And similarly, the first and primary business of politicians is TO GET ELECTED. Keeping the primary motivation in mind will be a substantial assist to decoding the propaganda they promulgate.

Personality Differences

2008-10-31T11:14:00.001-07:00

Every time I take a personality test (I always want to call it the Briggs & Stratton test, but I actually do know that is not its name, and that Briggs & Stratton is an engine manufacturer), such as the Myers-Briggs test – in any of its myriad forms – I always come out the same way. The first time I did this, my daughter – one of my favorite people in the whole world – supplied the test and had everyone in my family take the test and read the accompanying description of their personality. No one in my family had any doubt as to which category I would fall into, and, of course, they were right. The best part, though, was when they made me read out loud the description of my personality type. That was a little creepy, and not only because they all laughed until they could hardly stand at every sentence. The creepy part was that it sounded like a very astute description written by someone who knew me personally, and well. The only two parts that I can still remember were that: 1) less than one percent of the population fall into my category; and 2) the phrase – which may not be remembered exactly correctly – “… is able to instantly recognize contradictions, no matter how far removed in time or space.” It was creepy because I had no idea that there were other people not only like me, but apparently exactly like me. Not only that, but there were enough of them that a very accurate description could be written of them as a class of people with personalities distinct from all others.

Well, that was a long time ago. I just finished taking the test again on line, and found, to no surprise, that I am still in the same class – heavily introverted, heavily intuitive, slightly thinking (versus feeling), and moderately judging. (My family, I know, thinks I am heavily judging, but they are wrong.) A phrase in the current description of this personality class contains the following eerily correct statement:

“Personal relationships, particularly romantic ones, can be the INTJ's Achilles heel. While they are capable of caring deeply for others (usually a select few), and are willing to spend a great deal of time and effort on a relationship, the knowledge and self-confidence that make them so successful in other areas can suddenly abandon or mislead them in interpersonal situations.” From: http://typelogic.com/intj.html

When I was in college, I thought everyone thought the way I did. For years this was a good working assumption because I was in a school full of engineers and scientists, and their thought processes were close enough to mine that communication was never an issue.

Then I met my wife.

Needless to say, her M-B personality type is different from my own. Another phrase from my personality description fits this situation:

“This sometimes results in a peculiar naiveté, paralleling that of many Fs -- only instead of expecting inexhaustible affection and empathy from a romantic relationship, the INTJ will expect inexhaustible reasonability and directness.” From: http://typelogic.com/intj.html

Reasonability and directness – is that too much to ask for?

“… willing to spend a great deal of time and effort on a relationship …” That was certainly true in my case. When I saw my wife for the first time, she was 17, and I thought she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. It wasn’t five minutes before I was thinking of marriage, and I hadn’t even met her yet. I was told she was going with someone, and I thought to myself, “There is a boy who is going to be terribly disappointed.” She is still beautiful – she is beautiful in all the ways it is possible to be beautiful – of face and form, of personality and disposition, of spirit and adventure, in intelligence, and, especially, in her innate desire to help others.

It first began to dawn on me that our thought processes were not the same shortly thereafter. This was a brand-new idea – one I had never had before. The earlier description of my personality type included the phrase, “… feels no need to state the obvious.” I knew this about myself already, having spent untold hours at work sitting in silent deathly boredom through meetings where people debated at great length and in excruciating detail some subject, only to eventually come to what to me was already an obvious conclusion. Unfortunately, what is “obvious” to me is not always “obvious” to my wife. This difference led to several instances of me going one way and her another, which got me to thinking, “What is going on here?” I tended to feel that she was being deliberately obtuse, and she tended to feel that not only was I being perversely unfeeling and non-communicative, but also that her views were being deliberately undervalued.

Eventually I began to understand that our thinking processes were just different. Mine were not necessarily better (or worse), but were just different. Sometimes her conclusions were better than mine, which I found a bit confusing, because she had reached them by a path that I could not follow. But at other times, and in areas where I had done what I considered a lot of homework, I knew what I knew, and thought my conclusions were better.

“To outsiders, INTJs may appear to project an aura of "definiteness", of self-confidence. This self-confidence, sometimes mistaken for simple arrogance by the less decisive, is actually of a very specific rather than a general nature; its source lies in the specialized knowledge systems that most INTJs start building at an early age. When it comes to their own areas of expertise -- and INTJs can have several -- they will be able to tell you almost immediately whether or not they can help you, and if so, how. INTJs know what they know, and perhaps still more importantly, they know what they don't know.” From: http://typelogic.com/intj.html

Well, now I know more about what I don’t know than I did before I met my wife, but one thing I still don’t know is how my wife’s mental processes operate. Although she is a compelling attraction that I cannot ignore, she is still a great mystery to me. We share a great deal in common, but in the matter of how our brains work, we are different. Dealing with that difference, and trying to understand it, is, and has been, the work of almost my entire lifetime.

Hummingbird Wars

2008-10-20T08:01:00.000-07:00

All summer long I have watched the hummingbirds that come to the feeder that sits just outside the dining room window. First to arrive in the spring are the females. They are a bit drab – green and gray in color – but are so delicate and small that they are a joy to watch. The feeder will accommodate four birds at a time, but this is overkill on the part of the feeder’s designer because four hummingbirds will never, ever be feeding at the same time. The reason is that hummingbirds are extremely territorial. The one feeding will arrive, but before beginning to feed, will look all around to make sure she is alone. Only then will she dip her beak into the fake flower to sip at the sugar solution that mimics the nectar. She swallows at an extreme rate – about seven or eight swallows per second, so it doesn’t take long to fill up. Even so, she will stop often and look around again to make sure she is undisturbed.

And often she is not undisturbed. If another hummingbird arrives, the newcomer will take a higher position from which she can dive down to attack the resident. This maneuver is often enough to make the resident abandon her perch and dive down and away from the newcomer. If she has not yet filled up, she will take the high position herself as the newcomer tries to position to drink. From her superior position, she will dive at the newcomer and drive her away. This back and forth continues until one or the other gives up and retreats. The action is very fast – almost too fast to follow with the eye. If there is a dog-fighter among birds it is the hummingbird! In less than two seconds they will have exchanged positions three or four times.

The winner begins all over again by perching – or sometimes just hovering – in front of the fake flower, to look all around for any encroaching rivals before beginning to feed.

When the males arrive, a little later in the spring, things really get hot. One male and one female MAY share the feeder, but often will not, and two males will NEVER share the feeder. Females sometimes share with one other female, but I suspect these are nest-mates, as I only see them do so later in the summer and fall.

Battles between males are even faster and more violent than between females – and a lot more colorful too. The iridescent green of the wings, and the almost blindingly bright red of the throat give off flashes of color as the sun catches the feathers just right during their aerial duels. And, the body language, especially between males, is almost laughably human-like. The newcomer arrives and takes the high position with a haughty pose that clearly says, “I don’t know who you think you are, but you are at MY feeder!” The one at the feeder looks around and says, “Who me? I’m just taking a drink here.” But he eyes the newcomer suspiciously and somewhat nervously, and very carefully avoids putting himself at any further disadvantage like, for example, putting his beak back into the fake flower. Sometimes the feeder just leaves at this point, but if he doesn’t, the battle is joined when the newcomer dives to the attack. The winner perches at the feeder, and ruffles and settles his feathers, while his body language clearly states, “Well! I guess I took care of THAT guy!”

Hummingbirds fly amazingly fast, and because they are so small, sometimes they just seem to disappear. They’re here and then they’re just gone. There is a Bradford pear tree in the yard about 20 feet from the feeder, and often the hummingbirds go there after feeding or stage there before feeding. Being even smaller than the leaves of the tree, the hummingbirds are nearly invisible once they reach the tree. But the males sitting in the tree turn back and forth, and their red throats flash each time they move. They are like bright red lasers advertising their presence.

Now, in late October, the hummingbirds are gone. They seem to leave pretty much all at the same time. We won’t see them again until next spring. One day we will see one come to the window and hover there, saying as clearly as if they had spoken English to us – “What happened to the feeder that used to hang here? I’m back, let’s get with it, you humans.”

Life Comes At You Fast

2008-05-29T10:11:00.000-07:00

We welcomed our 12th grandchild into the family this month. It reminds me that when we stopped having children, I suffered a mild depression that no more little babies would be coming into our life. I dreamed that we had one more little boy, whose name was Michael. But after five births, and nearly losing her life over one of them, my wife and I decided we would do well to take care of those we had.

I loved all my children with all my heart. They taught me that there is no limit to love, which can expand infinitely to cover all those it needs to. I loved my children at all the stages of their lives, and my best memories involve watching them play with each other, with me, and with my wife-- another person that I love with all my heart.

When they grew up, I imagined all the bad things that can happen to a young person, and prepared myself in case any should befall my own children. Having lost one of them quite unexpectedly at age five, I was fully aware that life might not be all roses for them, and I knew the kind of heartache that comes when disaster strikes.

But they grew up well. None of those imagined disasters struck. I watched them develop into mature, thinking, competent people who I am proud to know.

And then, to my joy, the little babies began arriving again! I became a grandparent! Each little one came to bring joy to their parents, and especially (in my case) to their grandparents. I had not thought through this grandparent business, and wasn't prepared for the intense joy that it brings.

They came one at a time, giving us all time to get to know them and to love each one of them individually for a time. Each one was so perfect when he or she arrived. Each one so fresh from the presence of God.

Seventeen times this has happened to me! Once for each of my children, and once for each of my grandchildren. I sang to each of them as I held them in my arms -- nonsense songs and tunes made up just for each one of them. I don't feel foolish singing to the little babies, because I can see that the little babies look up at me and smile at my songs. Sometimes they will laugh -- that infectious baby laugh that is made up entirely of pure delight, and then everyone within hearing laughs along with them.

I am more thankful than I can ever say to see the marriages made by each of my children. Each one of them has chosen well. Each one of them has prepared well to make a good marriage. Each one of them has brought into the family a person we have come to love as our own children. And, each of them has brought little babies into the family -- babies we have loved from before they are even born.

Thank you, my children, that I have such joy in my posterity!

More on my drawing class

2008-04-27T17:26:00.000-07:00

We had a four-week break between classes, so our teacher filled in with four weeks of optional make-up-your-own-content classes. For something completely different, Carol broke out all the pastels we had in the house. There were about six boxes of pastels she had bought a long time ago on sale; there were some with Tona's name on them; and I had a few of my own.

I discovered two things right away: It is a LOT harder to think in color than in black and white; and, I didn't have NEAR enough colors. So I bought another set to go along with what we had. Pastels are just the pigments that are used in watercolor and oil painting, but are used in chalk-like sticks. They go on dry, much like charcoal, and they have the same problem -- they get rubbed off easily. Also, as soon as you use one, you have some of the pigment on your hands, and soon you have it on your clothes and all over your "painting". Some authors regard pastels as drawing, but others call it painting if all the paper is covered, and drawing if some of the paper is used for one of the colors. Something I didn't know: many of the master painters did their work in pastels. I thought at first that all pastels looked sort of fuzzy because of the chalk-like softness of the dry pigments, but since then I have seen some portrait work that I couldn't tell were done with pastels. They were crisp, with colors very gently blended in a continuous shading across the face.

MY paintings, as is easy to see, are the work of a beginner. I have a LOT to learn about painting. Well, I thought it best to start with drawing, since that is the foundation for all art, so that's why I was taking a class in drawing. But now I think I might like painting after all.

In case you are curious, I am NOT posting any of my "paintings" yet.

By the way, I took two of my drawings down to have them framed. This means they should be around for the next couple of hundred years.

One More Drawing

2008-04-01T12:41:00.001-07:00

OK, for those of you who care, here is one more drawing.

Geary's Drawings

2008-03-04T12:18:00.000-08:00

OK. By popular demand (at least it was popular with me) I am posting some of my drawings.

This first one is a drawing on Mi Tientes paper, which is a medium gray. Darks are added with pencil and the white highlights are made with a white pencil. The paper forms the medium value. This one was done about the third week after I started taking the class.

The next one was done a week later, using the same technique on the same kind of paper. Besides being able to practice drawing the shapes, the emphasis was on finding where the highlights were to go, and in visualizing how the medium value of the paper fit into the overall drawing.

The next one is about a month later -- pencil on white paper. It just looks gray because the camera tries to make the overall picture register at a medium gray, and since most of the drawing is white, the camera renders it as gray. Our instructor seems to have an endless supply of objects to draw. The fruit is actually plastic, so she can use the same ones over and over. Here the difficulty was that the bottle was partially full, so part of the bottle is semi-transparent, and part is not. Plus, the plunger extends down into the bottle and there are lots of reflections.

This one is charcoal on charcoal paper, done last October. Here the paper is rubbed with charcoal dust (just using a paper towel to do the rubbing) to make it a medium gray, and then darks are added with charcoal and lighter areas are made by erasing the charcoal. The good part is that ANYTHING can be erased entirely and drawn over, or, if you want to start over, you just have to rub the entire paper with your paper towel and start all over again with what looks like a new sheet of paper. I spent most of my time on the cup and just sort of quickly sketched in the fruit at the last moment. I was very impressed with how easy charcoal is to work with. The downside, of course, is that any rubbing after you are done, and the picture tends to disappear.

This is the same cup, but with lemons piled inside (I mention that they are lemons, in case you can't tell). This one is pencil on paper, and done last week, but since it is the same object as in the charcoal drawing, I put it here so the two drawings can be compared. You can see how, or if, anything is better or worse for having been drawn three months apart.

This is my first attempt at a portrait, done over Christmas week. This is the third attempt to draw this one, and probably the best of the three. The girl is Eva Green, and the scene is from the movie "The Kingdom of Heaven" .

The last one is of Lucy Liu, pencil on paper. I did this one today during class.

Spring Classes Begin

2008-03-01T16:10:00.000-08:00

Well, the winter is over -- I imagine, that is -- and my drawing class is starting up again. I first took a drawing class many years ago when my oldest daughter wanted to take it, but she didn't want to go alone. I had to drive her to the class anyway, so I just signed on for it too, and we took it together. But then she went on to greater things -- becoming a major writer of history, for example, and inspiring younger women to follow her lead, and I sort of dropped out of the drawing business. I did generate all the artwork, however, for the quilting business that my wife and I had for about ten years, but that was more of a drafting effort than it was a drawing, so I don't count that period.

But then last fall my wife talked me into taking her drawing class with her. I knew the instructor, because she came out to the cabin a couple of years ago, along with several other ladies from the class, and I found her to be enchanting, interesting, and vibrant -- and, perfectly able to hold her own against my verbal jabs during dinner. Besides, as it turns out, she is a wonderful artist, working mostly in pastels, now, but having worked other media in the past.

So I went to class, taking Tuesdays off from work to do so. I was just going to take off a few hours, just for the class, but I found that somehow the whole day got taken up, what with the class, and then going to the art store, and lunch, and running errands -- by the time I was ready to go back to work, it was time to come home!

I took the beginner's curricula, and it was a good thing -- I was in poor shape as an artist.

But the rule is, after you have taken the beginner's curricula, you are no longer a beginner. However, I sort of moved only halfway out of the beginner's circle for the second term, working sometimes with the beginners and sometimes with the intermediate students. Astonishingly, to me, I found after a few weeks that my drawings actually had a distinct style to them, clearly recognizable as mine, and even looked rather like the still life models that she set up for us.

Drawing the still life was both interesting and instructive, but what I really wanted to be able to do was to draw people -- faces -- portraits. I find people so INTERESTING! I spend most of my time observing them. I study their psychology both individually and as revealed in group dynamics, but what I like best is observing faces.

We took a break from classes over the holidays because our instructor needed surgery on her foot and would be house-bound for awhile. During the break, I tried drawing a portrait. My first attempt clearly looked like A person, but not THE person I was using as a model (it was a print from a movie -- I had chosen it because the camera focused on the head, so that it filled the screen, the lighting was good for a portrait, and the emotion was clearly evident on the face).

On this first attempt I learned several things: My ability to place items on the paper to match their placement in the scene is rudimentary at best; my judgment about the relative length of lines needs improvement; my judgment of angles is poor. Still, my wife could recognize the drawing as the same person, so I was encouraged. I put that drawing aside and started over.

My second attempt was better, but still not what I wanted. I know, I know, every artist is his/her own worst critic. This is true in our class, too. We have one person who is really very good at portraits. It was from watching him work that I took heart and tried it myself. My second drawing had places where it was much better -- the nose was rendered both in the right place and the right size this time, and the shading was actually quite a bit better. But it still didn't LOOK right. The expression wasn't captured well, and, when I measured the original against my drawing, I could see that the chin was slightly too long. I put this drawing aside as well, and started over.

This time I measured very carefully, and drew little rectangular blocks where the eyes, nose, and mouth would go. I went more slowly and took my time. I discovered that previously I had drawn the lips too narrow. By comparison it seemed that this time I was putting lips all over the paper, but when I stood back and looked at it, they looked much better. This drawing really did look like my model -- it was clearly the person I intended it to be -- and the expression caught the sadness so apparent in the original. I was actually pleased with this one.

While my instructor was house-bound, my wife arranged to bring over dinner one day and then we had lunch on another day. On the day of the luncheon, I took my drawing over to show her what I had been doing over the holidays. She, of course, deflated me immediately by pointing out where I could improve. She was right, of course. No one can become a portrait artist after three tries. But then she began pointing out what I had done right, and loaned me her book that she used most for her own work. I felt so much better. I read the book while we were in Oregon for my father's funeral and it described exactly what I wanted to be able to do, so I ordered a copy for myself over the Internet so it would be waiting for me when I got home.

So then class started up again and the first day was spent on a still life that was very similar to one I had done in charcoal last fall, but this time it was to be done in pencil. When I was finished, I pulled out the charcoal version to compare it with and was surprised to see how good it was.

During the past week I have sifted through pictures of people to find one to work with. Actually I didn't sift through people -- I knew who I wanted to draw -- but I had to find a photograph that focused on the face, had appropriate lighting, and looked like something I could actually do. Yesterday I blocked it out.

Our class last Tuesday was to be a two-week effort, continued next Tuesday, but I finished my drawing of that still life during the first class, so I can do what I want next time. I plan to take my blocked-out plan and begin to fill it in.

I am having so much fun doing this! I am inordinately pleased when after a few hours work, I have a drawing that actually looks like the subject. I am doing so much better than I expected to. I hope I can learn to make faces appear -- faces that actually look like the subject -- out of blank paper, like photographs appear out of blank paper when it is placed in the developer. There is something magic about facing a blank sheet of paper and watching it slowly turn into a picture of a real 3-dimensional scene.

On the Passing of my Father -- Part II

2008-02-20T16:49:00.000-08:00

We held the funeral two days later. As my father wished, the service was a simple graveside ceremony. But first there was the viewing, a tradition that I have mixed feelings about. My father was all dressed up in one of his best jackets and tie, and, as usual for these viewings, he looked like he was sleeping in the casket. Mostly the people who came circulated around in the room outside the viewing room, although most came in at one time or another to see him. My mother sat outside the door most of the time, but she too came in for one last look. We all took lots of pictures of the people who came -- most of the family was there except my brother's two youngest children did not come up from California as they had school. Doug gave the family prayer there, and it was beautifully done.

We got to the cemetery a little earlier than scheduled, but because it was sort of cold for Mom to be out in the weather, we decided to go ahead about 15 minutes before the advertised starting time. The ceremony itself was quite short: Roy read a poem, Pat thanked all those who helped, and I dedicated the grave in the Mormon tradition. We were through before the advertised 1:00 pm starting time, and after the ceremony was over, many people showed up to attend the graveside service. Many friends of Mom and Dad came, some of whom I recognized -- even some who didn't recognize me. We felt sort of bad that the ceremony was already over, but there it was.

After the service the local Ward insisted on fixing a luncheon for us at the Chapel. The Bishop was also at the funeral but was careful to make us aware that he was not there in any official capacity. Since I hold the keys to do so, dedicating the grave was not an issue with him -- since he was not officiating, I was the senior Priesthood official for the funeral. The Relief Society ladies put on a very nice luncheon for us, and all the family members were there to visit together. It was very, very nice of the Ward to do that, and we all appreciated it.

Doug took Mom to and from the service, so we said goodbye at the end of the luncheon. I told Mom I would come by and see her the next day.

When I visited her the next day she was out in the "living room" of the home, sitting in her usual recliner chair. The door to Dad's room was closed. Mom said it was very strange to come by his door that morning, as she usually turns in there to be with him. Mom was in good spirits and doing well, as she had all through the funeral the day before.
Mom talked about the one thing that she always wanted but never got: for Dad to take her to the Temple to be sealed to her. Perhaps she was afraid that he didn't want to be sealed to her, or perhaps she was afraid that it wouldn't ever be done -- it wasn't clear. She started a count of the days to when she can go and have the work done for him. I told her that in God's wisdom all thing would be made right -- something that I believe with all my heart -- but she was fixated on this one thing.

I told Mom we would be leaving the next day to go home, and she was all right with that. She said again how glad she was that I was there. Later my sister wrote to tell me, "Today Sofie said something to me that was really very touching. She said that some nights she goes into Dad’s bedroom, closes the blinds and says, “Goodnight, Doc” and closes the door. She says, “It’s still Doc’s room.” (It was difficult to hear her say that and it continues to be difficult even to type it. Very sweet!) Ted still isn’t around much these days – we hardly see him. Dad’s death has been surprisingly hard on him."

We looked at the weather that night and decided to head south instead of east and take a southern route home. We left in the morning and drove south. Just south of Eugene it started to snow. The further south we went, the harder it snowed. There was enough snow -- slush, really -- on the road to obscure the lane marks, so traffic mostly stayed in the right lane. I finally decided to pick a large 18-wheel truck and just follow it. When it moved over to the left lane, so did I, and when it moved back to the right lane, I just stayed in its tracks. That worked pretty well, but at least once when we were in the left lane, trucks coming the other way threw huge waves of slush over the barrier. It hit our windshield like a ton of ice with a huge WHUMMP! Somewhat later I discovered a crack in the windshield that began at the bottom in the middle of the car, then turned and ran over to the driver's side a couple of inches from the bottom. I watched it grow a little longer each day. I'm pretty sure the wave of slush started it.

When we got to the California border the clouds disappeared and the sun came out -- just like all the advertisements! We spent the night in Redding, and in the morning it was snowing again. We didn't go far, though, before the sun came out again and stayed out all day. We stopped at a place in the Imperial Valley to buy nuts, and passed mile after mile after mile of almond orchards in all stages of growth. At Bakersfield we turned east and spent the night in Barstow.

The next morning we went to visit Calico, a partially restored mining ghost town a few miles outside of Barstow. We got there just as it opened and were informed that the shops wouldn't open for another hour. We didn't care about that -- we wanted to take pictures of the town without a lot of people in the shots. We spent about two hours happily hiking all over the town, taking digital pictures of everything that took our fancy. Digital photography is perfect for things like this because you can take almost unlimited numbers of pictures and know immediately what you got. The idea was to take pictures from which Carol can paint her watercolor pictures, and maybe I can do drawings. Whether that will actually happen has yet to be seen, but we have the pictures, anyway.

We drove to Flagstaff, AZ that evening. Flagstaff is 7,000 feet high and was covered in snow and ice, and it was snowing again when we got there. We looked in the hotel guest book to see where to go to eat, and found an intriguing advertisement for Black Bart's Steak House that promised live singing entertainment during dinner at no extra charge. We looked at each other and said, "Why not?" Black Bart's is located in the rear of a trailer park, and it is easy to miss the entrance -- which I did. The live entertainment turned out to be the waitresses and waiters, all of whom were students at Northern Arizona University. Some were better than others, but it was a lot of fun to listen to them. Steak house or not, I had a nice salad with chicken on it.

The next morning it was snowing again, but it quit as soon as we descended below about 5,000 feet. We visited three more "ghost towns" in Arizona and New Mexico, because they were located just off I-40 (also called "Historic Route 66" in many places) and easy to get to. Although they were nothing like Calico, some of them were very interesting and made fabulous pictures. Here's two taken in Foss, NM.

After getting snowed on in NM, and stopping to replace a turn signal light, we also got snowed on in Oklahoma, and Arkansas. We came across these states just behind a big winter storm that had moved north. Along the way, he heard on the radio that the other routes I had considered taking had massive snowfalls -- up to 14 inches with road closures in places on I-80 and in Reno NV, another possible route home, and the route we took the last time we went to Oregon in the middle of the winter.

Home again, we got the windshield replaced. The new one was so clear that I thought for a moment it wasn't there -- the older one was so pitted from stones, sand, rocks and cracks that it scattered a lot of light.

As is typical for me, I had put my emotions on hold while there were things to do with the funeral and while concentrating on traveling. I knew they would come sailing back one day to catch me by surprise when I least expected it. I thought because I had lived so far away from my parents and siblings for so long -- more than 45 years -- that things would go on pretty much as before. So I was a little surprised to find that they did not. In my head, where my father was there is now sort of a hole. It will fill in eventually, but it hasn't yet. When I think of him, I see him clearly as he pointed at my ring, and smiled and nodded to me -- exactly as he always did -- sharing our understanding of how I came by the ring, and what it stands for without the need for words. Then I remember how he focused completely on me and shook my hand so firmly when I bent over to say goodbye. I knew he wasn't able to speak to me, and I wondered as I left him that day if it truly was goodbye -- the last words I would ever speak to him. And, as it turned out, it was.

On The Passing Of My Father – Part I

2008-02-06T17:33:00.001-08:00

My sister called to tell me that my father was doing poorly. He turned 94 last November, and actually had been doing poorly for the past five years. I asked if I needed to come right away, imagining in my mind leaving the next morning. She said that I would have to decide for myself, which left me torn as to what to do. I immediately thought of driving, because I hate to fly. I have done enough flying to last me a lifetime, and if I never see the inside of another airplane it will be too soon.

But my wife wanted to come with me, and immediately assumed that we would fly. I reluctantly looked up possible flights on the Internet, only to find that not only were there not any good choices, but all the flights that I could find were apparently full to the point where we would have to sit in different parts of the airplane. This, coupled with the amount of material we would want to take with us, argued decisively for driving. But driving would take five days in the best of times, and January would not be the best of times.

We didn’t leave immediately. Instead, we packed up the car (Toyota 4-Runner 4WD) as if we were leaving, but went to the West Virginia cabin on Friday afternoon, while we waited for further word from my sister. On Monday I went to work as usual, but warned my colleagues that if I didn’t show up on Wednesday (I was taking Tuesday off) it would be because I had left for Oregon.

On Monday evening we decided we would complete all the things we had planned for Tuesday, drive to West Virginia to spend the night in the cabin, and then leave on Wednesday morning for Oregon. My sister was still telling me that I had to decide for myself when to come, but when I told her we would leave on Wednesday, she said she was so relieved.

One of the reasons to go back to the cabin was to collect my laptop to take with us. Having it along meant that we would be able to connect to the Internet each night to collect and send emails, and to check the weather along the next day’s route. I had planned several alternate routes that we could take depending on the weather.

As it turned out, we left in time to move across Kentucky, Indiana, and Missouri just ahead of a winter storm that moved in behind us. Each evening we checked in with the family on the Internet to tell them where we were and examined the probable weather for the upcoming route. I wouldn’t say I was driven, but I did have a certain anxiety to move right along, and it seemed that each day we were just marginally ahead of the bad weather.

Crossing Kansas and Colorado, it was sunny, but we were just a day behind a big storm with lots of wind. We saw five instances of tractor-double-trailer rigs that had the rear trailer blown over by the wind, causing the rigs to end up in the ditch along the road, sometimes with the cab jack-knifed as well. In Wyoming we crossed the almost 9,000-foot pass between Cheyenne and Laramie in sunshine, just ahead of a storm that dumped a lot of snow there. We crossed the 7,000-foot high Wyoming plateau under sunshine, but low temperatures and lots of wind-blown snow across the road. But because the snow was blowing, it gave us no problem, except for a few times that it blew so high that it looked more like fog.

Utah was sunny. Idaho was sunny. The Blue Mountains in Eastern Oregon were terrible. It was cloudy, foggy, and snowing. This 150-mile section was the one I feared the most. All the big rigs had to put on chains, but automobiles were allowed to go without. The road was snow-packed and I was glad for the 4-WD of the Toyota. We actually had no problem here because it was cold enough that the snow was not melting, so it wasn’t particularly slippery. After we got to Pendleton, it was sunny again.

We arrived in Hillsboro Sunday early afternoon (I had scheduled arrival for Monday afternoon, so we were a day ahead because we didn’t hit any bad weather). I went to see my parents that afternoon and found my mother by my father’s bedside, where he was sleeping. He looked very, very frail. My mother hugged me and told me she was so glad that I was there.

On Monday when I went to see them, Dad was sitting up in his recliner chair, which had been moved into his bedroom. Although he was sitting up, he was drifting in and out of consciousness – sort of drowsing. Whenever my sister would talk directly at him, then he would rouse himself and look at her. But he had great difficulty speaking – it seemed like he couldn’t move his lips to make the consonants, and his lack of breath control caused him to sort of huff out each vowel sound. Pat seemed to understand him, though, having had more practice at it than I had.

I was sitting on his bed with my right hand draped over the end. I looked up to see him pointing with his left index finger (one of the ones he had cut off) at the ring I was wearing on my right hand. This ring is the one my mother gave him in 1958, and that he wore for 40 years before he gave to me on my 58^th birthday, in 1998. I saw him pointing at the ring, and looked up into his face. He was looking at me and nodded. And for that moment, he was fully present and powerfully THERE. He was the father I remembered, with a little smile on his face, and intelligence in his eyes – I knew exactly what he was thinking. He was telling me as clearly as words that he and I both knew the significance of that ring, just as he explained it to me when he gave it to me.

On Tuesday, we all went to visit them because it was Mom and Dad’s 70^th Wedding Anniversary. We took them an ice cream cake to share with all the people there at the home. Again Dad was sitting up in his chair. Because it is more tiring for him to sit in his chair, we were surprised to find him there again on Tuesday. We thought he would be in bed instead. He looked much the same as the day before, dozing and drifting, and from time to time responding to direct questions. As we left, I reached for his hand and said, “I want to say goodbye”. Suddenly he turned and looked me right in the eye, and again, suddenly he was fully present. He looked at me and nodded, and gripped my hand in a very firm handshake.

The next day we had agreed that Pat and Roy would go in the morning to see them, and Carol and I would go in the afternoon. Carol and I were going to the store when my cell phone rang and Pat told me that I had better come now. We were halfway to their home already, so it didn’t take us long to get there. My father was breathing like he had run a long way and was trying to catch his breath again – very labored. I ached to see him like this. For three days I had had a very strong feeling that I should put my hands on his head and give him a Priesthood blessing, and now I asked my mother if she thought that would be all right. She said, “Oh, yes! I would like you to”. I put my hands on his head and released him from the cares of this world. I told him that he should not be concerned about my mother – that we would take care of her. And, I told him to go in peace. About 40 minutes later I heard a sharp change in his breathing. Whereas it had been rather loud, it became almost silent. I looked up from where I was sitting and watched him take one, two, three breaths and then stop. I looked at my watch and saw 40 seconds go by. Then he took another breath and stopped. I counted 30 seconds. Then he took a shallow breath and breathed it all the way out and stopped for good.

My mother dropped her head on her lap and cried bitterly. I have never seen her cry so before. When she could pause, I asked her if she wanted a blessing. “Oh, yes.” I blessed her that at a time of the Lord’s choosing – not now, but at a later time – she would understand why these events happened the way they did, and see the rightness of them. I told her not to be concerned – the Lord held all things in His hand, and all would be made right in the end.

Finally my mother looked up and me and said she wanted to go to her own room. She looked at my father’s body and said, “This is not him.”

Other Fun Sentences

2007-11-03T16:48:00.001-07:00

It occurs to me that you can have a lot of fun, not only with the "buffalo" sentence, but also with other similar forms. For example, "Mississippi misses miss misses Mississippi misses miss", which is sort of self evident. Also, "Robbers rob robbers robbers robbers rob rob". Longer sequences can be formed in the same way that long "buffalo" sentences are formed, by forming categories and then having one category miss, or rob, another category.

Have fun. Can you find other nouns and verbs that make long fun sentences?

Happy Birthday Dave

2007-09-29T12:19:00.000-07:00

By the way: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO DAVID. This wish is only two days late, but heartfelt even so.

The "Buffalo" Sentence

2007-09-29T12:15:00.000-07:00

10/28/07

GRY

Explanation of the “Buffalo” Sentence

The word “buffalo” can be used in three ways:

Buffalo – the city in New York. Use the notation “B” to refer to this meaning.
Buffalo – the animal (bison in America). Use the notation “b” for this meaning.
Buffalo – the transitive verb, meaning to intimidate. Use “$” for this meaning.

The first two meanings can be used to form categories, or sets, of animals as follows (using the short form for brevity):

b – the set of all animals called buffalo.

Bb – the subset of those animals near the city of Buffalo, or Buffalo buffalo.

We can divide these two sets into further subsets of animals that are intimidated by either of the first two sets:

bb$; Bbb$; bBb$; and BbBb$ – bison intimidated by other bison; Buffalo bison intimidated by bison; bison intimidated by Buffalo bison; Buffalo bison intimidated by other Buffalo bison.

Each of these four sets will have two subsets, made of those bison, and Buffalo bison, intimidated by each of the above categories of bison:

b(bb$)$; Bb(bb$)$; b(Bbb$)$; Bb(Bbb$)$; b(bBb$)$; Bb(bBb$)$; b(BbBb$)$; Bb(BbBb$)$

I have added the parentheses to make the categories more clear.

Each of these sets will have two subsets, made of those bison, and Buffalo bison, intimidated by each of the categories of bison. Each new set is made by adding “b” or “Bb” to the front, and “$” to the end, as follows:

b(b(bb$)$)$; Bb(b(bb$)$)$; b(Bb(bb$)$)$; Bb(Bb(bb$)$)$; b(b(Bbb$)$)$; Bb(b(Bbb$)$)$; b(Bb(Bbb$)$)$; Bb(Bb(Bbb$)$)$; b(b(bBb$)$)$; Bb(b(bBb$)$)$; b(Bb(bBb$)$)$; Bb(Bb(bBb$)$)$; b(b(BbBb$)$)$; Bb(b(BbBb$)$)$; b(Bb(BbBb$)$)$; Bb(Bb(BbBb$)$)$

Each of these sets will have two subsets, made of those bison, and Buffalo bison, intimidated by each of the categories of bison, and so on. Each category must have at least one animal in it, so when you run out of buffalo, there is an end to the categories.

Sentences can be formed by having any category intimidate any other category, in the form:

C₁ $ C₂

Example: Let C₁ = Bb and C₂ = b. The sentence is represented by “Bb $ b”. Written out, it is “Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo”, or “Bison in the vicinity of Buffalo, N.Y. intimidate other buffalo.”

In addition, the city of Buffalo could be intimated by any category, as in “b $ B”, or “Buffalo buffalo Buffalo.”

A valid English sentence can be formed for any number, n, of “buffalo”. For n=1, the shortest sentence, it is the declaration, “Buffalo!”

As a verb, “buffalo” is transitive, requiring an object. But, if it were to be used (mis-used) as an intransitive verb, one could say “b$” or “Buffalo buffalo” meaning “Buffalo intimidate”, yielding a sentence for n=2. Although one could also say, “Buffalo buffalo!” (Bb) indicating a recognition that the buffalo in question were associated with the city, or “Buffalo, buffalo!” (bb) indicating continued amazement at the appearance of buffalo.

Buffalo, the city, is always capitalized, so within the sentence, all capitalized “Buffalo” refer to the city. The first word in the sentence is also capitalized, so it could refer to the animal or the city, but not the verb, because the verb requires that an object precede it.

Example: Take the two categories Bbb$ and bb$, and form the sentence:

(Bbb$) $ (bb$)

It translates as the perfectly valid English sentence:

Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo.

Or, to take a more extreme example:

(b(b(bb$)$)$) $ (b(Bb(BbBb$)$)$) translates as the sentence:

Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo.

But, care must be taken to get the capitalization right.

Thoughts on Moisture

2007-09-06T17:12:00.000-07:00

Storm Damage

2007-06-30T16:48:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago we noticed on the weather report that the West Virginia area where we live was under a tornado watch. But, since we were in Virginia at the time, we didn’t pay much attention except to make a mental note to check to see if the house was still there the next time we went to West Virginia.

Well, it must have been quite a storm. The big white oak tree next to the path to the “Never-Ending Village” broke off about 5 feet off the ground. We knew the tree was hollow – Dave and his friends cut off one large branch several years ago about 15 feet off the ground. Not only was the branch hollow, but we could see all the way down to the ground, or as least as far as our flashlights would penetrate.

When the oak fell, it took with it the juniper tree that was right next to it. The juniper was probably 30 feet tall and a good foot in diameter. We used it as a ladder to climb up into the oak tree. Also as it fell, the oak uprooted and toppled a medium sized hickory tree. The juniper was broken off about two feet off the ground, but the hickory just toppled, leaving a big hole where the roots used to be. The hickory tree is quite tall and very straight. I think I could get a very good log out of it, and might try to do so. If it is solid wood all the way through, it will be worth it to try to save a piece of it.

Farther down in the meadow, the juniper tree that is next to the wagon wheel path broke off about 15 feet up, so that the top third of the tree is now gone. It didn’t break off cleanly, but is held by a few splinters. I will have to find a way to get up there to cut it off cleanly.

In the north woods a very large black walnut tree broke off about 8 feet off the ground, and then broke again about 10 feet further up the trunk. Then it caught in other trees around it. It must have been nearly 100 feet tall, and probably two feet in diameter. None of it fell cleanly onto the ground, but it is all tangled up in other trees – it will be a difficult and dangerous job to get it down. But, it looks like there are at least two places where a 8-foot log could be salvaged from the tree, and many other smaller pieces could be harvested. Black walnut being such a beautiful wood, I want to salvage as much of it as I can. I think Carol is going to try to call some lumber mills and see if we can get a custom sawing of any logs I manage to salvage.

Down in the ravine, the top of one tree broke off, probably 80 feet up, and is hanging ominously over the road down into the ravine. I have no idea how to get it down or cut off cleanly. And down by the target range area there is a quite large chunk of another tree laying in the path. It is too large to move by hand, and it is blocking the ATV road there, making it hard to turn around. It will have to be sawn apart with the chain saw. The part that is laying on the ground is the top part of a tree that broke off cleanly about 80 feet up. The trees in the ravine have to grow straight up for about 100 feet in order to get light, so all the trees there are very tall and very straight.

Today I tackled the white oak. Last week I went around it with my trimming axe and cut away a lot of the smaller branches so I could see how the main trunk lay and what was holding it up. Even with that preliminary work, I made six piles of trimmings at various locations around the tree. Thinking about it during the week, I decided that I could cut away the main trunk beginning at the lower end where the diameter is probably three feet. But because it is hollow, there is only an annulus to cut through. So today I began. I cut off one very large branch of the oak, climbing up on the main trunk to get at it – I didn’t think the trunk would shift as I cut the branch away, and it didn’t, much. I also thought the trunk was resting on the juniper, but when I saw daylight all along the juniper trunk, I decided I could cut it through, so I did, getting a good 10 feet of juniper trunk out in one piece. Cutting the juniper filled the glade with the scent of cedar – what a wonderful smell!

Having cut the juniper away, I could now see that the oak trunk was resting on the hickory tree via a small remnant of one oak branch about 6 inches in diameter. I tried chipping away at that branch with my axe, but couldn’t get the trunk to move any. Then I went around and cut up the large branches that I had trimmed the week before. One of these was a branch that I thought might be holding the trunk up some, but I cut it away without the trunk moving any. Then I continued cutting off the main trunk from the bottom up to just below the short branch that rests on the hickory. Once I got to where the trunk was intact all the way around, I had to cut first from one side, and then go around and cut from the other side. At some point, the piece I was cutting off would split lengthwise, so the trunk would come off in arcs rather than as a complete cylinder. The actual living wood was only about 3 or 4 inches thick all the way around the trunk – the rest was hollow.

By this time I was drenched with sweat and could hardly hold my chain saw up any more. I knew I was reaching the end when I would pick up my saw, start it, make one cut, turn it off again and wearily place it back on the ground.

It’s going to be a lot more work to get that tree down and cut up. And, that’s just one of five that need work.

The Cardinal Returns

2007-06-22T17:25:00.000-07:00

After disappearing for a couple of weeks, the Cardinal has returned. Two weeks ago he discovered the Toyota after a couple of hours and spent the day admiring himself. Interestingly, he flew from the tree to the running board, then up to the window of the back seat, then to the front seat window, then to the top of the mirror (where he would bend over -- I guess to try to see himself upside down in the mirror) then back to the tree -- staying in each location just for a few seconds. Then he would fly off to the west forest, or off to the east forest, but he would be back again in just a few minutes. He did this all the time we were there.

I took some pictures of him through the screen door. Carol said she had gone out onto the steps and sat there to watch him, and she thought I could photograph him from there, but that didn't work for me AT ALL. As soon as I came through the door he took off and didn't come back even though I waited without moving for a VERY long time.

Last week when we arrived, I whistled his song (sort of) as soon as I got out of the car, and he showed up less than a minute later. His behavior remained the same -- from the tree to the running board, to the back door, to the front door, to the top of the mirror, and back to the tree. Sometimes he perched on the hood and looked in through the windshield. He seems to spend more time on the outside mirror than he did at first, and he is CLEARLY recognizing his mirror image as no threat. I think he knows it is himself.

Several times I stepped to the door and whistled his song through the screen, but each time he fled. Probably can't stand to hear his song butchered the way I do it. He likes to sing while perched on top of the outside mirror -- that seems to be the only location he sings from.

I'm glad to see him back.

Jewelry Tools

2007-05-30T11:38:00.000-07:00

I never knew there were so many tools for jewelers to use! I took a beginner's course in jewelry making a few weeks ago and decided to try making some things at home, so I needed a few things ...

Anvils, hammers -- lots of hammers, pliers, files (big and little), tweezers, solder, flux, torch for soldering, a pan of pumice stones to hold my soldering pieces, a fireproof little square to do it all on, "third hands" to hold little parts in place, files, "pickle" to clean off soldering residue from the parts, a used crock pot to heat the pickle, a pair of copper tongs to fish items out of the pickle with, jeweler's saw, saw blades, bench clamp to saw on, buffing wheels, buffing compounds, and on and on ...

I made two hammers into tools to pattern copper and silver sheets with. One is a random series of lines, and the other is a starburst pattern. I carved the patterns into the faces of the hammers with a little tiny cut-off wheel, using the flex-shaft machine (which I forgot to mention above), and then polishing the hammer faces. Used to pound patterns into sheet metal, they leave a surface pattern that catches and scatters light. The sheets have to be pounded on an anvil -- the bigger the better -- in order to put a clean pattern on the metal. This procedure makes a lot of noise, so I can't do it after my wife has gone to bed.

Then I had to make some tool-holders so I could find things. I made two out of wood -- just holes drilled into the side of a 1x4, about 3 inches deep into which I could put things like tweezers, pliers, saw blades, and other small things. I wanted to make one out of copper tubing soldered to angle iron, so I bought some angle iron and cut a foot off one end with a hacksaw (although I could have used the jeweler's saw -- it cuts ANYTHING). Then I cut some 1/2 inch copper tubing into four-inch pieces (getting two blisters in the process, one on my thumb and one on one finger). I spent two days thinking about how to hold all the parts for the soldering process, and finally came up with one I thought would work. Applying flux to all the parts, I began.

First try was an abject failure. By the time I got the metal parts hot enough to melt solder, the flux had been burnt to a solid black film. And, there was no adhesion between the copper and the iron, so it just fell apart. I cleaned everything up and tried again.

Attempt number two was no better. In fact it was somewhat worse. I had taken everything out onto the back patio because I thought it would be better to try this operation outside. That was a good idea, but unfortunately, it was the last one I had. Everything was rearranged outside. In particular, the hoses for the torch were rearranged, and when I pointed the torch at one end of the copper tubes, flame shot out the other end of the tube and melted holes in the hoses to the acetylene and oxygen bottles! I heard this tremendous hissing sound and thought to myself, "That can't be a good thing". It took me a few moments to figure out where it was coming from. Well, I guess there isn't a more fundamental mistake for a beginner to make than to melt his own hoses. Best to get it out of the way right at the start. Now I can make more sophisticated mistakes.

That put me out of the soldering business until I could get new hoses, so I passed the time by downloading instructions on how to change hoses from the web. I discovered that I didn't actually need NEW hoses, I could just cut off the ones I had. But the instructions cited the use of a "ferrule tool" -- whatever that was. I looked closely at the picture of the new hoses and saw what had to be the "ferrule tool" (because it couldn't possibly be anything else) and thought, "I can make that". I did, too. Out of aluminum. And it worked, at least to get the brass holders off the hoses at their connection to the torch. But when I tried to use it to get the brass holders back onto the new connections, the brass slid into the tool and jammed there. So, after un-jamming it, I made a new ferrule tool with a slightly smaller hole, which was perfect for putting the brass holders back on. Also, for the first time I used my very smallest hammer with the plastic face -- perfect for this job.

Back in soldering business, I gave it another try. This time I managed to get a copper tube soldered to the angle iron at one spot, but not along its length. It felt loose, so I pried it up, thinking I would just pry it off and start over. But instead of breaking at the solder joint, I managed to pry a piece right out of the side of the copper tube! Now I had a tube with a small hole in it.

"Well, no matter", I thought, "it won't matter if it has a small hole in it -- it won't been seen anyway." I cleaned everything off for one more try. I decided that I was using a torch that was too small, and I wasn't able to heat the whole area I wanted to solder, so I changed the torch tip to the biggest one I had.

My torch is called "The Little Torch" because it is quite small, and has very small nozzles in the tips. I have five tips, so I picked out the largest of the lot. Ready to go again, I was very careful to position all the parts in place, taking lots of time to get it right. This time things were looking much better. I was heating a much larger area this time, and it looked much better.

But then, about halfway through the process, when one piece of solder had melted and I was working on the second, I discovered that I was soldering the angle iron on upside down.

Obviously, I was out of my league.

Later that same day, however, I managed to make a jig for bending wire into the shape I wanted for making a pendant or earring. I made two of them, and when it came to the soldering part, everything went perfectly.

Maybe I'll try the iron and copper another day. After all, I have lots of short copper tubes around because I made them all (and got blisters!) before even started the soldering trials, and there is still quite a bit of angle iron left over. Or, I might epoxy them together -- I know how to do that.

But I hate to fail. On the other hand, I learned a lot. I especially learned to pay attention to my hoses. And, I learned how to changes hoses. That's something. It will have to do.

The Cardinal

2007-05-27T06:41:00.000-07:00

22 May 2007

We have been watching a cardinal here at the cabin. He is a very bright red and the very image of the Virginia state bird. And he is so full of himself! I first noticed him when I was looking through the bedroom window at the bird feeder in the Linden tree in the front yard. As bright red as he was, he all but forced the eye to focus on him. Then, later, I saw that he was fluttering up against the window of the Toyota. “What is he doing?”, I asked myself, so I stopped to watch him. Pretty soon it became evident that he had discovered that there was another male, also bright red, horning in on his territory, or so he thought, because he was looking into the side mirror of the car on the passenger side. He would perch on what little window sill there was, and from time to time would fly at the mirror, and then return to his precarious perch. When he got really excited, he would poop down the door.

When we went out to get in the car, he flew off into the woods. I checked the mirror, to find beak marks all over it, and what looked like a fine dust. I think that was from his flying into the mirror to attack his rival. He must have thought that his rival gave as good as he got when he hit the mirror! I had to wash the door off before we drove away.

When we came back, we parked in the same place, and before long, the cardinal returned and went through all the same motions as before: he perched on the window sill and observed himself in the mirror. His attacks were fewer, though, and his observing himself was more prevalent. But he continued to poop all over the door. He spent a long time there – several hours.

Then my wife went out with green plastic garbage sacks and duct tape and covered the window from the top to part way down the door, eliminating the window sill altogether, and covering the mirror and part of the windshield. This move was intensely frustrating for the cardinal. He tried to perch on the windowsill, but there wasn’t any, and he slid off down the door. He perched on the running board instead and surveyed the situation. Then he hopped back and forth on the running board, looking up at the window. Then he tried to fly up to the windowsill again. He seemed to try to hover in order to look into the mirror, before fluttering to where the windowsill should have been, only to slide off again. Then he flew over to the Linden tree and looked the situation over from there. Then he flew to the running board. He hopped back and forth, looking up at the now covered window and mirror. Then he tried to fly up to the windowsill, but there was no purchase there for him to perch. He kept this up for a long time. We left the plastic sacks taped to the car overnight until we left for home. I still had to wash off the running board!

The next week when we came out to the cabin, we parked in the back instead of out by the Linden tree. We saw the cardinal in the Linden tree, but for a whole day we didn’t see him out back where the car was. Then, the next day, he discovered where the car was! But instead of going to the passenger side, which would have been on the side away from us, he went to the driver’s side where we could see him. First he hopped up on the running board and looked around. Then he hopped from one end of the running board to the other and back again (leaving little evidences of his passage as he went). Finally he flew up to the window sill where he could see into the mirror. From time to time he would lose his footing on the window sill, it is so narrow, but he would just flutter his wings and get a better grip. Again, there was less attacking, and more admiring of himself in the mirror. Do you suppose he began to understand it was himself he was looking at? It sure seemed that way to me. He stayed there most of the day and only flew away when we went out to get into the car. Again, I had to wash the bird poo off the car before we left.

The next time we came to the cabin we drove my Honda, and we didn’t see the cardinal at all. We thought maybe because my car was black instead of gray, and a different shape, that he didn’t recognize it as the same kind of object.

This week we drove the Toyota again, and parked out by the Linden tree, but we haven’t seen him this week either. I keep thinking he has found a mate and is now so busy trying to feed his family that he has no time for admiring himself in the mirror. I sort of miss him – he was the most beautiful cardinal I have ever seen.