From Arrival it was clear that the Big Easy is different… there are bars… set up for arriving guests… not just the common bars where you drink while waiting for your flight… there are people with looking for their bags at the carrousel with a beer in their hand… Even inside at the airport you could feel the heat and the humidity… Clara Patterson called it “Swelterly…”

We reclaim our checked luggage, then wait in line for a cab…

The driver liked to keep the windows down… (he asked if it was ok) It seemed right…

We looked for Katrina damage on the ride in… at first there was little sign… then you see a building with its roof covered in tattered blue tarps… other buildings now abandoned… one nearly collapsing… From the cab trip to the Convention Center and our hotel you might not have noticed it if you didn’t know, but you and everyone else knows. The idea seems kind of ghost like…

We ask the cab driver if he was here for Katrina… he says no, meaning he was living in New Orleans for the storm, but got out early and wasn’t trapped for the aftermath… He had stayed in California for 18 months before returning… his house gone, his business gone… Now he drives a hack…

The Hotel has a doorman, Bruce… He was in Texas for a year plus after the storm…

We checked in… we walked across the street and picked up our badges and stuff (yes, you need a stinking badge) the badge line was unorganized… people were impatient… but the conversations were interesting… we were standing in line with two gentlemen from Gabon and a woman from Pittsburg. With badges in hand we went looking for a snack and ended up at the bar at Mulates… sitting next to Rotarian from Santa Cruz and his wife… Two beers each and a plate of alligator later we headed back to the hotel…

We met friends… cleaned up… then gathered in the lobby and went off to a dinner at the Commander’s Palace… An old time, old line New Orleans restaurant. A dinner with friends… a nice time… a good time…

To home (the Marriott Convention Center) to bed… Up early the next day… Downstairs, Coffee, then off to the New Orleans Mission… for our project… set up a library… We asked for directions along the way… locals seemed concerned we were going there.

The project was good… successful… bridge building… the folks there were thankful… there was a lunch… with Marti-gras gifts… I got a Zulu coconut… the coolest gift in the world… there was a ribbon cutting with the RI president…

Having done good, T and I went back to the hotel, showered (we needed it) then walked to the French Quarter… looked about, found beer and wine.. then returned to Mulates near our hotel for more beer, a rendezvous with Maureen, and eventually dinner… In the bar we met for a second time a New Orleans cop… I had taken his portrait the previous day… Interesting conversations… new friends…

We dined… we talked with friends… T & I danced…

Now home… tired… Blogging… to bed…

Headed South

The day began early... Too early... Well before dawn... Up, shower, make coffee, wake the son, the driver, then into the car for the drive to the airport...

Now 6:50 am. SFO... line up to check luggage... For security... For the baggage scan... For the scanner (the old fashion metal detector, not the hands over your head then wait for the results body scanner)

Find the gate... Find seats... Then... Wait

The trip has begun... Off for New Orleans... Just in time to watch the Mississippi rise. Here in San Francisco it is dawn... The sky transitioning from dark, to a pale glow... Now to grey... I suspect we will be long gone before the sun wins and the sky turns blue...

Line up at the gate... There are announcements about carry-ons... There are always announcements about carry-ons... We are both handed pink "Planeside Valet Baggage" tags... Everyone is handed a pink tag... They seem to expect us to check our computer bags... We decline their kind offer... Repeatedly... The gentleman (aka the baggage monkey) suggests that T take her laptop out and hold it in her lap...) The flight attendant intercedes... We retain possession of our precious stuff...

We board, and realize why they wanted us to surrender our stuff... The plane is tiny... Not Cessena Tiny, but really small for a commercial jet... (this is a Delta flight between SFO and LA... Not the Fresno connector or the Redding-Medford-Salem-Portland milk run). The plane is a CRJ900..(Canadian Regional Jet)... It has 1/2 seating up front in the "High Class" (1st class, Business Class, More money, and "paid more money than you class) seating. Back in steerage, with the common folk, where T and I are seated they squeeze in 4 seats... Which leaves almost no space for any carry on luggage. In the 16th and 17th century The Royal Navy allotted 14" per man to hang his hammock on a Man of War... We didn't get much more... Maybe 18"...

The flight itself was fine... Outside coastal California was sheathed in clouds... I read a little... I looked through the stuff in the seat back pocket... I discovered that Delta's air sick bags have a cheery "Feel Better" printed on them diagonally in large letters... I planned to work on the blog until they announced it was time to turn off electronic device... By 7:14 we had started our decent. Instead of an announcement, The flight attendant just said "turn that off" as she walked by... (no Please offered…)

Once on the ground, those who had surrendered their stuff curtsy of th pink tags where waiting in the jet way for their stuff as the rest of us de-planed

Neither of us were impressed with Skywest...

Now LAX - aboard our plane for New Orleans... Once again watching our fellow passengers trying to stuff their too many, too large carry-ons into the too small overhead bins...


The flight attendant is repeating the various pleas about clearing aisles, luggage stowage, and electronic devices... Much like this one. Privately he notes the folks clogging the aisles are the same folks who don't know how to merge on the freeway blocking progress on the 405 this morning... As they close the cabin door, I power down the I-pad...


Now having reached 10,000 feet, with Catalina Island visible out the window... I turn the I-pad back on and settle in...


In LA, between flights, we found food (OK Mexican, on paper plates with terrorist safe plastic knives and forks... We skipped the Bloody Marys and beer that many of our fellow travelers were consuming for breakfast... We considered the option, but decided it sounded too much like the lyrics of a country music song (The beer I had for breakfast tasted good so I had one more for desert...)


After eating we found seats near at the gate and watched the parade pass by, while listening to announcements about over sold flights (our's included) and lack of space onboard for carry-ons... they offered to gate check luggage... Some took them up on it... It was deja'vu allover again.


In fact we had no problems boarding, and there was plenty of space in the overhead bins... of course we witnessed one man Trying to stuff a bag overhead that was about the size of a pigmy hippo with wheels... Mean time blocking the aisle like a 70's Caddy doing 50 mph in the fast lane of the 405 with his left turn blinker on... Kind of clueless.


I blog, I read, I nap... I stare out the window looking for landmarks... But we are seated on the right side of the plane... Looking south, and our route takes us low across Arizona, New Mexico and Texas... A land with few landmarks or features that can be identified from 35,000'. I read a bit wore, then tried napping again... With some measure of success at each... Then tried the window again... I am relaxing... By now West Texas should have given way to central and east Texas... But I could only assume as my view was blocked by clouds... The captain announces we will soon start our decent for landing... He makes the traditional "Thank You for choosing Delta" speech.


Outside the cloud cover is thinning... Offering glimpses of east Texas and Louisiana... Cajun country... At first the rivers, the bayous look full but it hard to tell from above... As we get lower there are more signs of the flood... Here and there a creek has over flowed it's banks... Now, the low lands on the river side are flooded... We have arrived…

Fighting a bull

I once fought a bull… a real life male bovine, with horns… in a classic bull ring in Puerto Vallarta Mexico…

There might have been tequila involved… Hell yes… there was tequila… more tequila that might be advised… tequila shots… from crockery shot glasses hung from a lanyard about the neck… my neck, my wife’s neck… other people’s neck…

At the time my profession was selling forklift rentals and service… and the national company, which I represented had a sales contest… I and several of my co-workers won… the prize being a trip to Puerto Vallarta … in Mexico… at a beach side resort hotel…

Included were lots of activities… dinners, tours and such… one of which was a Mexican evening at a bull ring… This was not the traditional “the bull dies” bull fight… this was a gringo show, with donkey races (after chugging beers) and dinner… but we, the guests were offered a chance to fight the bull…

We arrived via a bus… greeted by people hanging the crockery shot glasses on leather lanyards about our necks, filling them with tequila, again, again, again… as we walked down the olive tree shaded lane between two low adobe walls…. To the bull ring…

We consumed the offered tequila… more than might have been advised… Judgment might have been impaired…

I took a chance to steal away, to see the bull… a small bull… less than 200 lbs.. lean… young… not the massive animal of the classic fight… who would be afraid of a baby bull… I decided to accept the opportunity to do combat with a bull… to fight a bull… One other of our number also stepped up to the challenge…

I felt that as one of my companies top salesmen, someone who they were rewarding for their success, success that made the company successful, they would not risk my heath… after all then needed me… that dog wouldn’t hunt… they didn’t care about me apparently…

We ate dinner… the donkey race commenced… the lovely Tina took part… she was ok with the donkeys… but the race also included chugging a beer… not the lovely Tina’s strong suit… she didn’t win... but she did hang on to the donkey’s back…

It was time for the Bull Fight… the other gentleman went first… He held the cape… the bull charged… he stepped aside… the bull passed by… the bull charged again… this time the bull hooked the cape with his horn and pulled it from the matador’s hands…

In a traditional Mexican (or Spanish) bull fight, generally, the bull loses… and as a result he loses his life… The bull does not get to learn from his experience… but this bull had fought the dreaded gringo many times… he had learned the arts of combat in the ring… something that we gingos had not had a chance to do, or learn… We were novices at the mercy of the experienced bull… a bull which chose to show no mercy…

The bull charged my fellow gringo… he tilted his head, turning the horns on one side downward… he hooked the novice gringo “want to be” bull fighter between his legs and tossed him head over heels… the bruise, on the inside of his leg was significant… the bull had won…

Now it was my turn…

I stood in the ring… cape in hand… they release the bull… the bull which had shown no mercy to my fellow gringo…

He charged… I pulled the cape back, I stepped back, the bull passed… Ole!

The bull turned… He looked at me… he snorted the challenge… he charged again… again I pulled the cape back, I stepped back… the bull passed… Ole! So far all was going pretty well…

The bull turned again… again he looked at me… again he snorted the challenge… again he charged… again I tried to pull the cape back but this time his experience showed, and he pulled the cape away from my hands…

Again the bull turned and snorted his challenge… I, without cape or other defense, stood, I against the bull… Things were not looking good…

As a child I had spent much time in the Kern River Valley, in the Southern Sierra… we had a family cabin… a family friend nearby had horses… we helped gentle them… helped break them… the local rodeo grounds were nearby… we attended regularly… the events included “Bull dogging” a cowboy ridding next to a running cow/bull and roping, jumping on, and pulling it down… a cow/bull of a size similar to the bull now charging at me…

Back to Mexico… As the bull charged, twisted, turned his head and prepared to hook my leg a memory of those old rodeos returned… and I grabbed his horns, and gently twisted him over onto his side… on to his back… I grabbed his legs in one hand, and raised the other… I won!

Cheers erupted from the drunken gringo audience…

The solution was not conventional, but it had the advantage of success… the local cowboys were concerned for the heath of their animal… (not for my heath… for the heath of the bull which if successful would have emasculated me… ) Their bull was fine… his pride bruised… but he was fine… Pity the next foolish gringo…

I was pleased with the outcome… as was my wife… I had fought the bull… and won.

The River Rose All Day

Those of us who are weather junkies have been watching the City of Memphis… The Mississippi River has been rising… the Army Corps of Engineers has dynamited one levee flooding farm land, but taking pressure of the levees around Memphis…

As of this morning the river was at 47’ 7”… it is expected to crest tomorrow, May 10^th… at 48’, then slowly drop… Then all that water has to move downstream…towards New Orleans and the Gulf of Mexico.

The National Weather service is predicting that the Mississippi River, at New Orleans will crest at 19.5’ above flood stage on May 23… The Levees are designed to protect the city to 20’…

Tina and I are planning a trip… a trip to New Orleans… arriving on May 18, departing on the 26^th… assuming the river doesn’t rise and flood the streets of Evangeline… In the back of my mind I am hearing a song, by Randy Newman…

Louisiana, 1927

The river rose all day
The river rose all night
Some people got lost in the flood
Some people got away alright
The river have busted through cleared down to Plaquemines
Six feet of water in the streets of Evangeline…

Our blacksmith is suggesting at take flippers, a mask and snorkel… I would, but the airline luggage rules are a pain…

What ever happens, it should be an interesting trip

Thoughts on music....

Increasingly find myself drawn to music…

U tube is ruining me… It appears “everything” is on line… Damn you Google… (Tina works for Google)

I am addicted…

I am drawn to both the music I remember (I be old) and the new music I now listen to and am drawn to… There is vinyl on the turntable (yes, we still have one)

Technology makes the journey easier and more difficult…

On one side, I am currently stuck on Emmy Lou Harris and Gram Parsons… with side trips to the Band and Counting Crows.. It is a good journey.

On the other, Currently I am following Houston Jones… Munford and Sons… Blame Sally

I think I may be a old geezer … a grey beard… But I continue to find new music (and old) to follow… via the new technology

Tina and I are increasingly drawn into the house concert circuit…. Joe’s Garage, the Acoustic Vortex, Foster City House concerts… The San Gregorio General store, various cafes and coffee houses… Small concerts, small venues… personal spaces… Along with the used record stores… Ameba and Rasputin’s…

It is increasingly about web sites… Facebook and MySpace… music everywhere on line… follow link to link… down load to download to I-tunes… (of course, I still don't have a I-pod)

A week from now we have a Blame Sally concert on Saturday at the Great American Music Hall... then on Sunday we have a concert at Joes... a Walter Strauss CD release party... It will be a good weekend...

It is about the music Damn it,,,,

Mom is dead… part 2… and an earthquake in Japan…. Layers of crap

A few days later,

Tina, aka the wife has flown home, back to work and such…

I remain here, in Florida…

Things here are well, all considered, and getting better day by day.

I shadow dad… to the pigeon club… to the store… where ever…

We shipped pigeons yesterday… to a race… I marked off pigeons as they were put in crates… I needed to participate…

This morning… the race… we wait, we watch… Dad was 46^th… not good but on the first page… on Saturday he was 4^th… he is still first place in one of the average speed categories…

We drop the clock… we shop… a new TV… new sheets…

Since I got here… each night we return home… generally I cook dinner… we went out Sunday… we return… I drink beer… later in the evening I drink Mom’s scotch… she won’t notice… Then too, to bed…

Horror Earthquake, Tsunami, Nuclear meltdown… Will Godzilla climb out of Tokyo Bay next? A personal story in several parts…

For me it was more personal than a giant green monster stomping on buildings…

Mom died.

I had been in Washington DC… sitting in libraries, visiting nieces, nephews, and the kids… I flew home Tuesday night… Tuesday March 8th… Wednesday morning Dad called at 7:00 as we were waking… Mom had died. It was a shock but not a surprise, but it was not expected. I had already had plans to visit a week later… plans changed.

I think I walked around in shock for a while…

Tina took on the problem of finding flights and reservations… I hadn’t been at work for a week… there were things that needed to be checked… I had unpacked the night before, but mostly had filled the hamper with laundry… I checked email…

Tina found flights… for both of us. I drove to work, spent a half an hour… made calls, answered emails, checked in… then drove home… packed… laundry had been done in my absence…

We had a flight to catch… a 11:05 flight… a flight 4 hours after we found out…

You really need to be at the airport an hour ahead… they can refuse luggage 4 minutes out or so… I dropped Tina 45 minutes before our flight, then parked the car, but forgot my carry on’s… then went back, gathered carry on’s… cleared security, and made for the gate…

The night before, I spent 5 or so hours on a plane west bound… now it was 2 hours eastbound to Denver… a wait… then on east…

We found a place to eat in the Denver airport… elk medallions eaten with plastic silverware… and a bottle of wine, and a scotch… I am looking for a crutch.

Back in line… for the flight to Tampa… more hours on an airplane… We are about the last to board… we only booked this morning… In the Southwest system, we are “C”’s

A very nice lady takes pity on us and changes seats with me and we get to sit together…

We arrive a bit after 10:00 pm… in a thunder storm… tossing the plane about… exciting and probably scary for some… but all is well… we land… we deplane… take a breath…

Dad has a friend picking us up… by now he has been up for 48 hours… he is in no condition to drive… John, the friend, drives for a limo service… he finds us, takes care of us… well… I don’t realize how much I needed it…

We arrive at the house about 11:30 (EDT) about 11 hours after we found out… Dad awakes… we sit and talk for a while… we all go to bed, but I suspect none of us sleep well…

The next morning we rise… coffee… Dad and I sit and read the newspaper with coffee… much like other visits… not that much is said… I think we are establishing a normalcy… A place we both are comfortable in… Tina sleeps in…

People stop by, there are telephone calls, discussions of what should be done… who needs to be called…

I break into mom’s computer, find the address list, and look for my uncle’s phone number… I send some emails to family… Dad is ok, but has trouble talking to people… the closer he is to them, the harder the conversation… I call my uncle and break up when telling him… I guess we are a lot alike…

As we talk to people, we mark them off a mental list… its harder than expected and dad in particular is relived when he gets to leave a message, talking to a machine, not a human… humans are still to close and too hard.

We deal with more as time goes by… by late Wednesday, stuff is starting to come under control… By Thursday the obituary is written and sent off, one to friends via email, another to the funeral home… a third to our daughter…

We make dinner… we eat… we take a collective deep breath…

Late in the day there is a remote distraction… An earthquake, followed by a tsunami hits northern Japan… It is bad… we watch the evolving news coverage… we search the web… people elsewhere are suffering more than we are… I think that it makes it easier for us… we are distracted…

We continue with life with the news on in the background. Dad ships pigeons to the race… We make dinner… we go to bed…

We awake to a new day, and increasingly dire coverage of the earthquake… the pigeons come home… Dad does well… 4th place among 1,600 pigeons…

Life continues in the shadow of death…

I am starting to slip into black humor… I write an alternate obituary… “Betty Hees, She got old, she died, get over it… thanks for your thoughts” I only send it to my daughter, Betty’s grand-daughter… she knows and understands me… I read it to dad… he laughs…

Tina and I go looking for lunch and new bedding… (Dad threw the sheets that were on the bed when she died away)… We find lunch in Bayport… a long time old style Florida road house with bar, deck, former whore house out back, motorcycles out front and an alligator in the canal… a big gator… we eat grouper sandwiches and drink beer…

We look for new bedding without success… we will turn to an online retailer…

Home… dinner again (my brother has left us wells stocked with shrimp and scallops…) watching the continuing coverage of the Japanese disaster… Issues with their nuclear reactors are increasingly severe…

Dad goes to bed… he is starting to relax… starting to crash… Tina goes to bed… So far I am not tired… it is probably as much emotion as anything else…

I need to go to bed… good night…