A few days ago a person we know sent us this bit of wisdom: “Never hold your farts in. They travel up your spine, into your brain, and that is where shitty ideas come from!”
The first thing I thought of after reading that was John McCain who must have squeezed his sphincter tight when he picked Sarah Palin to be his running mate. Without her he would have stood an even chance to be elected.
But I’m not here to criticize McCain, I’m writing to criticize Senator Conrad for not supporting a public option for health reform. After listening yesterday to reports that he had not voted for it in committee meeting I fired off the first letter I’ve ever written to a member of Congress. In it I reminded him that I’ve voted for him in every election but that I’m disappointed in his stand. State newspapers reported that he has taken money from the insurance industry, and I asked him if that influenced him. I reminded him that he should be an advocate for the common man, not the insurance industry. It is our votes that put him in office.
Recent figures show that one percent of the U. S. population holds more wealth than the other 99 % put together. I think of the elite status they must hold themselves in. The insurance industry needs no further assistance, but they must be clapping their hands with glee at the prospect of writing so many more policies. I place them in the same category as big oil and the banking industry. North Dakota’s BC/BS has had to have their hands slapped a few times for the “shitty ideas” they promulgate.
The greatest deterrence in this country to prosperity is the high cost of medical care. People are either in debt because of past medical events or are paycheck poor if they have to buy their own policies or are unemployed and have to beg for services. I pay no heed to those who say this is socialistic. What this country suffers from borders on criminal. We should stand idly by and let big business continue to steal from us? I don’t think so!
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
On the Road to Yellowstone Park - Part II
Traveling with the expectation that Yellowstone Park and the motels catering to its tourists would have few patrons at this time of year, we were surprised to find out we were very wrong. Most of the people we encountered were willing participants of social security checks, that is, older folks. We thought getting a room at Gardiner would be easy, but nothing doing. The best option remaining was to drive to Livingston, fifty-some miles to the north. The extra miles proved to not be a problem though: the drive was beautiful as it passed through the Gallatin Mountains and Forest, and we experienced it again the next morning, only this time the sun lit the valley from the opposite direction.
The last time we visited the park we observed the charred rubble left by the huge forest fire in 1989. Now you can observe a lush new growth of trees caused by the fire’s heat which opened the tough-hided pine cones so they could reseed themselves. Old Faithful gave a good show with a powerful eruption lasting several minutes. We needed an ice cream treat after that where I saw someone I thought I knew from Leonard. I said “You’re from Leonard, ND, aren’t you, but I can’t remember your name. No, my name is Paul Smith and I’m from Texas.” A bit embarrassed, I added, “Well, it was nice meeting you anyway.” The ice cream was good.
After our sightseeing we exited the park at the West Yellowstone entrance for our drive back to Livingston. This highway wound through the Madison Mountains and the Gallatins past the Big Sky recreation area. Many fly fishermen waded the creeks and rivers as we drove along. We talked with one fellow from Chicago who had been in Montana fishing for three weeks and planned to stay another three. I dug out my copy of A River Runs Through It when I got home to re-read that author’s take on the sport. I know this type of fishing counts many passionate followers.
When we left home we thought we would stay 5-7 days in Montana, but we decided to head for home on the third day. I thought it funny when leaving the motel that morning to hear and see a chattering magpie perched on the roof. I don’t know what he was saying, but I imagined him laughing at us and telling us to go home.
Montana in places looked very dry, especially so in the Miles City area. Only where irrigators painted the landscape green did we see any color. Just east of Medora near the Painted Canyon exit a truck hauling bales sat burning. Lots of flashing lights from park ranger, highway patrol, and fire department vehicles created a scene of excitement, and west bound traffic stood backed up quite a distance.
I thought as I neared home how the mountain scenery let me forget my every day cares and how I hadn’t watched or heard any news for three days. My imagination still worked when near Dickinson I saw the oil pumps and told Mary they look like big birds bobbing down to peck seeds from the ground.
It was a quick trip but a long one: 1488 miles in three days. The Fusion told us on her digital mpg meter we made 29 miles to the gallon, but when I filled gas and did the math with a calculator I came up with 28.25 mpg at a cost $142.40. Considering we encountered a stiff headwind for most of the first day plus a lot of mountain climbing we were happy with the economy.
The last time we visited the park we observed the charred rubble left by the huge forest fire in 1989. Now you can observe a lush new growth of trees caused by the fire’s heat which opened the tough-hided pine cones so they could reseed themselves. Old Faithful gave a good show with a powerful eruption lasting several minutes. We needed an ice cream treat after that where I saw someone I thought I knew from Leonard. I said “You’re from Leonard, ND, aren’t you, but I can’t remember your name. No, my name is Paul Smith and I’m from Texas.” A bit embarrassed, I added, “Well, it was nice meeting you anyway.” The ice cream was good.
After our sightseeing we exited the park at the West Yellowstone entrance for our drive back to Livingston. This highway wound through the Madison Mountains and the Gallatins past the Big Sky recreation area. Many fly fishermen waded the creeks and rivers as we drove along. We talked with one fellow from Chicago who had been in Montana fishing for three weeks and planned to stay another three. I dug out my copy of A River Runs Through It when I got home to re-read that author’s take on the sport. I know this type of fishing counts many passionate followers.
When we left home we thought we would stay 5-7 days in Montana, but we decided to head for home on the third day. I thought it funny when leaving the motel that morning to hear and see a chattering magpie perched on the roof. I don’t know what he was saying, but I imagined him laughing at us and telling us to go home.
Montana in places looked very dry, especially so in the Miles City area. Only where irrigators painted the landscape green did we see any color. Just east of Medora near the Painted Canyon exit a truck hauling bales sat burning. Lots of flashing lights from park ranger, highway patrol, and fire department vehicles created a scene of excitement, and west bound traffic stood backed up quite a distance.
I thought as I neared home how the mountain scenery let me forget my every day cares and how I hadn’t watched or heard any news for three days. My imagination still worked when near Dickinson I saw the oil pumps and told Mary they look like big birds bobbing down to peck seeds from the ground.
It was a quick trip but a long one: 1488 miles in three days. The Fusion told us on her digital mpg meter we made 29 miles to the gallon, but when I filled gas and did the math with a calculator I came up with 28.25 mpg at a cost $142.40. Considering we encountered a stiff headwind for most of the first day plus a lot of mountain climbing we were happy with the economy.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
On the Road to Yellowstone Park - Part I
We left Mandan Monday, September 21 at 6:00 am with the intention of driving to Red Lodge and spending the evening. Montana hasn’t shrunk any since the last time we drove across it. The buttes and hills still seem so lonesome that they talk to each other sending messages airmail by hawkback. Fences still crawl up crazy little hills and knolls as if placed there by gymnasts. We stopped for coffee at a Conoco in Glendive; the gal there was talkative, she said a lot of people moved away since they built the prison. Why? Afraid of escaped convicts? No taxes went up and the older folks couldn’t afford to stay.
We kept driving along the interstate, past where the Yellowstone River crawls along like a snake, where the horizon looked like teeth on a rough-cut saw, where black Angus cows looked like pencil marks against dry parchment hills, where a sign advertising red Angus read “Better Bred Red,” (say that a fast a few times) where herds of antelope seemed to say “We’ve live here and we’re used to it,” where an old sheepherder’s wagon stood with big holes in its canopy top.
Our Ford Fusion ran like a hound through that countryside, past Billings, past Red Lodge, up and over the Bear Tooth Pass, and still we kept driving. Above the tree line there was a light dusting of snow. We stopped at the main overlook and looked down at the big trough we had just driven and climbed through, at the slides of scree, scrub brush, stunted plant life, an Alpine meadow. Mary thought I was looking around too much as we rolled along and got too close to the cliff edges. She’d holler at me as we passed through the switchbacks and curly loops.
We peaked and then dropped down again past a sign reading “This Is Grizzly Bear Country,” where we didn’t see any, past a sign reading “Open Range, Expect Cows On Road,” which we did see and had to slow down for. We stopped in Cooke City and bought ice cream at a funky little shop filled with old books and classical music albums lining the walls. The manager said he has chess tournaments in the winter; I told him I could enjoy a place like that.
There were some buffalo on the hillsides; Mary stated there were buffalo all over the place. Huh? I looked again. I should have realized her eyes were getting road weary - what she saw where rocks that in the shadowed light did look something like those critters lying down. I laughed at her but admitted she was right. We thought we would stay in Gardiner for the night, but when we arrived we couldn’t find a single available room. The place was crawling with older folks like us thinking we would travel in the fall when there weren’t so many people around. We drove north to Livingston to stay the night. The trip meter registered 650 miles.
We kept driving along the interstate, past where the Yellowstone River crawls along like a snake, where the horizon looked like teeth on a rough-cut saw, where black Angus cows looked like pencil marks against dry parchment hills, where a sign advertising red Angus read “Better Bred Red,” (say that a fast a few times) where herds of antelope seemed to say “We’ve live here and we’re used to it,” where an old sheepherder’s wagon stood with big holes in its canopy top.
Our Ford Fusion ran like a hound through that countryside, past Billings, past Red Lodge, up and over the Bear Tooth Pass, and still we kept driving. Above the tree line there was a light dusting of snow. We stopped at the main overlook and looked down at the big trough we had just driven and climbed through, at the slides of scree, scrub brush, stunted plant life, an Alpine meadow. Mary thought I was looking around too much as we rolled along and got too close to the cliff edges. She’d holler at me as we passed through the switchbacks and curly loops.
We peaked and then dropped down again past a sign reading “This Is Grizzly Bear Country,” where we didn’t see any, past a sign reading “Open Range, Expect Cows On Road,” which we did see and had to slow down for. We stopped in Cooke City and bought ice cream at a funky little shop filled with old books and classical music albums lining the walls. The manager said he has chess tournaments in the winter; I told him I could enjoy a place like that.
There were some buffalo on the hillsides; Mary stated there were buffalo all over the place. Huh? I looked again. I should have realized her eyes were getting road weary - what she saw where rocks that in the shadowed light did look something like those critters lying down. I laughed at her but admitted she was right. We thought we would stay in Gardiner for the night, but when we arrived we couldn’t find a single available room. The place was crawling with older folks like us thinking we would travel in the fall when there weren’t so many people around. We drove north to Livingston to stay the night. The trip meter registered 650 miles.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Almost Forgot
Another Wednesday has rolled around, and a short while ago I realized I hadn’t yet written this blog. If I would have forgotten to write today the world would have continued to spin, the sun still would have glowed in the sky, and anyone who reads it would have discovered they got along just fine without it. But, this has all gotten to be a habit and is probably one that I will not break (even though I threaten to do so occasionally). My near-omission in writing came to light as I listened to public radio and heard Meryl Piepkorn and Clay Jenkinson discussing the Teddy Roosevelt Symposium scheduled for the middle of October, and I said to Mary as we drove home from the Merle Norman beauty works store in Bismarck, “Hey, is today Wednesday? I haven’t written my blog yet!”
The symposium at Dickinson State College this year is their fourth one and bears the title Theodore Roosevelt: Family Man in the Arena. TR raised quite a brood of children and the topics will discuss how he interacted with the family. Prominent writers and speakers always attend and the author of one of the best single volume histories of Roosevelt will speak: Kathleen Dalton, author of Theodore Roosevelt: A Strenuous Life.
Mary flies off to Minneapolis during that time to babysit our grandkids, so I will be free to make like a bird and go to Dickinson and soak up some interesting information. Part of the symposia will be a trip on Saturday to the Elkhorn Ranch in the Badlands. Jenkinson said today that past authors and speakers have all said they wished they would have visited that site before writing their books.
Dickinson State University has earned some notoriety in the academic world because they have worked with the Library of Congress in developing and now housing a digitized library of all of TR’s writings, a massive undertaking. Anyone interested in looking at this work go to www.theodorerooseveltcenter.com and click on Documents.
The symposium at Dickinson State College this year is their fourth one and bears the title Theodore Roosevelt: Family Man in the Arena. TR raised quite a brood of children and the topics will discuss how he interacted with the family. Prominent writers and speakers always attend and the author of one of the best single volume histories of Roosevelt will speak: Kathleen Dalton, author of Theodore Roosevelt: A Strenuous Life.
Mary flies off to Minneapolis during that time to babysit our grandkids, so I will be free to make like a bird and go to Dickinson and soak up some interesting information. Part of the symposia will be a trip on Saturday to the Elkhorn Ranch in the Badlands. Jenkinson said today that past authors and speakers have all said they wished they would have visited that site before writing their books.
Dickinson State University has earned some notoriety in the academic world because they have worked with the Library of Congress in developing and now housing a digitized library of all of TR’s writings, a massive undertaking. Anyone interested in looking at this work go to www.theodorerooseveltcenter.com and click on Documents.
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Tonight
I will forgo listening to the president’s speech to congress tonight and will instead attend a talk given by George McGovern who is in town to discuss his recent book Abraham Lincoln. I’m sure tomorrow I will find the president’s address all over the talk shows and internet where it will be thoroughly replayed and dissected then. I’m glad some voices of reason came from the Republican ranks yesterday regarding his talk to school kids. Laura Bush, always known for her graciousness, supported it, and Newt Gingrich found it to be of value, too.
McGovern’s book is very readable and interesting. I know, I bought a copy at Barnes and Noble yesterday. I’ve always admired the man and since he isn’t getting any younger I’m going to take this one chance to see him. He is a World War II veteran, and that puts him somewhere in his 80’s. Here is a good place to let Ole and Sven have their say:
Ole and Sven, the old retired Norwegian boys, lived at the Old Retired Norwegian Home. One afternoon they were sitting on the front porch looking at the sunset and talking about this and that. Lena, who lived there too, was standing around the corner and heard the boys talking. Being a mischevious lady, Lena decided to play a trick on the boys. Taking off all her clothes, she ran around the corner and raced past Ole and Sven as fast as she could run.
Ole and Sven watch in astonishment as Lena runs past. Finally, Ole asks, "Vasn't dat Lena?" Sven replies, "Yah, ay - ay tank so..." Ole says, "But, vat vas she vearing?" Sven shakes his head and says, "Yah, ay don't know, but vatever it vas, it sure needed ironing!"
…
A doctor in Duluth wanted to get off work and go hunting, so he approached his assistant. ‘Ole, I am goin’ huntin’ tomorrow and don’t want to close the clinic. I want you to take care of the clinic and take care of all my patients.’ ‘Yes, sir!’ answers Ole.
The doctor goes hunting and returns the following day and asks: ‘So, Ole, How was your day?’ Ole told him that he took care of three patients. ‘The first one had a Headache so I gave him TYLENOL.’
‘Bravo, Mate, and the second one?’ asks the doctor. ‘The second one had stomach burning and I gave him MAALOX, sir,’ says Ole.
Bravo, bravo! You’re good at this and what about the third one?’ asks the Doctor. ‘Sir, I was sitting here and suddenly the door opens and a woman enters. Like a flame, she undresses herself, taking off everything including her bra and her panties and lies down on the table and shouts: HELP ME – I haven’t seen a man in over two years!!
‘Tunderin’ Lard Yeezus, Ole, what did you do?’ asks the doctor.
‘I put drops in her eyes!!
McGovern’s book is very readable and interesting. I know, I bought a copy at Barnes and Noble yesterday. I’ve always admired the man and since he isn’t getting any younger I’m going to take this one chance to see him. He is a World War II veteran, and that puts him somewhere in his 80’s. Here is a good place to let Ole and Sven have their say:
Ole and Sven, the old retired Norwegian boys, lived at the Old Retired Norwegian Home. One afternoon they were sitting on the front porch looking at the sunset and talking about this and that. Lena, who lived there too, was standing around the corner and heard the boys talking. Being a mischevious lady, Lena decided to play a trick on the boys. Taking off all her clothes, she ran around the corner and raced past Ole and Sven as fast as she could run.
Ole and Sven watch in astonishment as Lena runs past. Finally, Ole asks, "Vasn't dat Lena?" Sven replies, "Yah, ay - ay tank so..." Ole says, "But, vat vas she vearing?" Sven shakes his head and says, "Yah, ay don't know, but vatever it vas, it sure needed ironing!"
…
A doctor in Duluth wanted to get off work and go hunting, so he approached his assistant. ‘Ole, I am goin’ huntin’ tomorrow and don’t want to close the clinic. I want you to take care of the clinic and take care of all my patients.’ ‘Yes, sir!’ answers Ole.
The doctor goes hunting and returns the following day and asks: ‘So, Ole, How was your day?’ Ole told him that he took care of three patients. ‘The first one had a Headache so I gave him TYLENOL.’
‘Bravo, Mate, and the second one?’ asks the doctor. ‘The second one had stomach burning and I gave him MAALOX, sir,’ says Ole.
Bravo, bravo! You’re good at this and what about the third one?’ asks the Doctor. ‘Sir, I was sitting here and suddenly the door opens and a woman enters. Like a flame, she undresses herself, taking off everything including her bra and her panties and lies down on the table and shouts: HELP ME – I haven’t seen a man in over two years!!
‘Tunderin’ Lard Yeezus, Ole, what did you do?’ asks the doctor.
‘I put drops in her eyes!!
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
Rambling
I wondered out loud to Mary if all the street work in Bismarck might be the result of an injection of stimulus money. Sure enough, an article in the Bismarck Tribune said it was. Forget about getting someplace fast in that town for awhile. Four lane streets line with orange cones that funnel traffic into two lanes.
This news is so fresh that reactions haven’t been recorded yet, but the Bobcat plant in Bismarck will close by the end of the year, and all the production will be moved to the Gwinner site. Good for Gwinner, Lisbon, and the surrounding area, bad for Bismarck. I know two men who work at the Bismarck plant who will have to look elsewhere for employment.
I drove over to the Target store this morning to develop pictures taken of my pickup in preparation for an ad to sell it. While waiting for them I went across the street to Barnes and Noble for a good cup of half-caff coffee and some reading time. I picked up a book in the New Biography section about Abraham Lincoln written by George McGovern of South Dakota, a past nominee for president. McGovern has always fascinated me. In the seventh grade a gym teacher branded him a “physical coward” because he wouldn’t somersault over a vaulting horse. The teacher’s undeserved assessment of McGovern’s bravery psychologically bothered McGovern a lot through the years, but it never stood up since McGovern enlisted in the army air force at the start of WWII, became a B-24 bomber pilot, and flew 35 missions over enemy territory. He was highly decorated for his BRAVERY.
This news is so fresh that reactions haven’t been recorded yet, but the Bobcat plant in Bismarck will close by the end of the year, and all the production will be moved to the Gwinner site. Good for Gwinner, Lisbon, and the surrounding area, bad for Bismarck. I know two men who work at the Bismarck plant who will have to look elsewhere for employment.
I drove over to the Target store this morning to develop pictures taken of my pickup in preparation for an ad to sell it. While waiting for them I went across the street to Barnes and Noble for a good cup of half-caff coffee and some reading time. I picked up a book in the New Biography section about Abraham Lincoln written by George McGovern of South Dakota, a past nominee for president. McGovern has always fascinated me. In the seventh grade a gym teacher branded him a “physical coward” because he wouldn’t somersault over a vaulting horse. The teacher’s undeserved assessment of McGovern’s bravery psychologically bothered McGovern a lot through the years, but it never stood up since McGovern enlisted in the army air force at the start of WWII, became a B-24 bomber pilot, and flew 35 missions over enemy territory. He was highly decorated for his BRAVERY.
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