I Hate It When ...

Don't you hate it when you're cruising along and - for no apparent reason - you just fall off the track? Yeah, I hate that too.

Synchronicity

I've been working on a list of tunes to learn on guitar. Some are tunes I know well; others are tunes I've heard a few times, but I don't know the title ... or even the artist. Now, when I hear one of those mystery songs on 105.9 The Edge, I go to their website and look it up on the playlist. Last night - just before bed - I heard one; but my computer was shut down and I was tired. I decided to research it in the morning.

Well, it's called "All Apologies" by Nirvana. Hmmm ... Kurt Cobain again. I pulled up a link to the lyrics too:

All Apologies by Nirvana

Uh-Oh. Look at that third line ... Hmmm. Flash back to my post of November 18th:

Aye I See Sea

It was Kurt Cobain rhyming write with right ... Hmmm. I mentioned this song to my son and he said, "You're in luck, I already have that one in my Nirvana book."

Synchronicity

An Aside: I've been blogging so long I've actually referenced one of my own posts.

Because You Can

After a brief discussion regarding the prudence of opening a business letter with "Because", my co-worker e-mailed me these four lines by Emily Dickinson:

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

The Poem "Death" was a favorite of hers from college days. I'd never seen it before. If you feel compelled, I've included a link to the entire poem along with some scholarly analysis. Enjoy!

Death

Not Even Close

The U.S. just keeps falling farther behind in Hi-Speed Rail. We've been unable to compete with the Germans, Japanese and French for decades; now China comes along and leapfrogs them all. At these speeds, you could wake up early Sunday morning, take the train to Florida for the day, and then be back in Washington D.C. in time for a good night's sleep - and still make it to work Monday morning. Click here for a little more info on:

China's Hi-Speed Train

I know we're big on airliners in the U.S.; but come on - trains are so much more fuel efficient. How can a nation even pretend to care about global warming without investing in Hi-Speed Rail? People don't shun passenger trains because they are fuel efficient, they refuse to ride because trains are slow. We used to lead the world in Hi-Speed Rail ... about a hundred years ago. Now we lead the world in ... ah ... hmmm ... Does anyone know what we lead the world in now? I suppose we still produce the world's deadliest weapons. That's something, I guess. At least we can still kill people more better faster than anyone else. I guess we can be proud of that. Where is Sarcastica when you need it?

Merry Christmas

To those very few who waste time reading my blog, I wish you all A Very Merry Christmas! And if you find yourselves on the road this Holiday Season: be safe, try to relax ... and above all, remember to enjoy yourselves! Wash away the stress of the moment, and spread a little love to those around you. I know it's not easy to do; but if you dig down deep, I'm sure you can find a little something extra to brighten the lives of all the people that you meet.

Needed Software Enhancement

I hate software upgrades. I was a big fan of DOS. I liked the fact that there was only one intended way to do something. Did I really need to learn another ten ways to open a text file? Sluggish boot-ups, bloated code, the blue screen of death ... I hear maybe Windows 7 will finally fix everything - it's about time.

There is one thing I wish had been added a long time ago. We've needed a nationally recognized text font called "Sarcasm" or maybe "Sarcastica". How many times has one of your e-mails been misinterpreted because you lacked access to the "Sarcastica" font. Re-reading the first paragraph of this post, I can see where that font may have come in handy. Can you guess where?

Shovelin' Snow

There is something about shoveling snow that makes the mind wander. There's all that snow, and it has to be shoveled; and you can toss a couple of shovelfuls into a pile, and then look around and see it's going to take a long time. I vaguely remember seeing a statistic about the number of men who die each year from heart attacks while shoveling snow. I guess it's because all of us with desk jobs are in such lousy fiscal ... oops! ... I mean physical condition. So I came up with a plan to fix our fiscal and physical problems in one fell swoop. The Federal Government should issue a new labor regulation requiring all desk workers to participate in a one hour paid PE class each work day. We would all be in better physical condition, thereby reducing health care costs; and we'd all accomplish twelve and a half percent less work each day, forcing businesses to hire twelve and a half percent more workers - that should solve the unemployment problem too. I'm thinking a trillion dollars should cover the program. Anyone willing to sponsor this in Congress?

I also remembered one of my childhood dreams. For a while, I went through my "Dock Worker" phase. I wanted to be a Stevedore or Long Shoreman. Train yards filled with cargo, giant ships to load and unload, handling the commerce of the nation, joining the Brotherhood, what could be more glamorous? It seems a strange dream now - especially since I've never lived near a port and there aren't any dockworkers amongst my family or friends - yet, it was my dream for a while. Funny how none of the career counselors I've met ever asked, "Have you considered getting into dock work? There's a great program available, and we have scholarships too." Oh well, you can't change the past. I guess I'll just go eat another slice of deer and onion pizza and call it a day.

And Yet Another Blog to Follow

I gave up TV and newspapers long ago because they take up too much time - and they require your undivided attention. Instead, I turned to radio for news; at least I can do something else while I'm listening to the radio - like drive to one of my jobs maybe? I won't get into that whole question of why so many people work multiple jobs to make ends meet, at the same time unemployment is so high, and factory utilization in the U.S. is so low. Suffice it to say that what we have is a result of the leadership that we follow.

'Peace through escalating war' claims the Nobel Peace Prize winning Commander-in-Chief.

'Financial security through massively increasing debt' claims Time's Man-of-the-Year Federal Reserve Chairman.

In some bizarre way it all makes sense ... just not to me. It's all kind of depressing really, so I decided to do my part to stimulate the economy. I took my credit card and went to the pawn shop, and I bought myself a beeauuutiful guitar. It's a hollow body electric with tiger stripe maple top in sunburst blue, gold plated hardware, and pearl flames inlaid in the fretboard. It's truly a work of art. I would have bought a handgun, but pawn shops don't sell handguns in Montgomery County anymore. I wonder why?

I could never justify buying a new guitar like this one; it's way too nice for a hack like me - it retails for close to a grand. It was meant to be played by someone with talent. I can't help thinking about the previous owner each time I take the guitar out of it's case: Was he any good? Why did he have to pawn it? Why couldn't he make his interest payments? How could he ever let it go? In bad times, I can understand losing a car, a house, or even a spouse - but a guitar? That's like losing part of your soul. As a people, we have no shame.

So, now I spend my spare time pondering the State of the Union, strumming my new guitar, and studying the life of Kurt Cobain. Maybe that's not too healthy; but it's probably better that sitting around pondering the State of the Union, cleaning my new gun, and studying the life of Randy Weaver. For inspiration I've taken up reading:

Play a Little Guitar

It's the kind of web site that makes the internet revolution worthwhile. Well I guess I'd better sign off now, and go shovel that record snowfall sitting outside my window. I've got multiple jobs to go to tomorrow. Damn global warming ... why is it so slow in coming?

In a Rock 'N Roll Song

I used to work with a guy who believed that the answers to all questions, indeed the required responses to all of life's experiences, could be gleaned from the lines of Rock 'N Roll songs. I didn't agree ... and I still don't; but I think he was close to the truth. I do believe you can find those answers in the pages of books. The more I read, the more I am convinced that there really isn't any need for new books to be written. Everything that needs to be written is already out there; and the more books that get written, the harder it is to find the truth. We just need a better list of which books to actually read. Someone should separate the wheat from the chaff for us. Perhaps a new government agency is required to tell us which books to read - and then we could just burn the rest.

I finished reading that book by Andy Rooney, and it's given me a bad case of writer's block. I can't believe how many of my future blog entries were already in his book - which he wrote almost thirty years ago. In particular, his essay on copper pennies has me questioning why I bother to write at all. In speaking with an old friend today, I've come to the realization that I've become a bit of a Curmudgeon ... and I have to admit that it feels good. The world actually is going to Hell in a hand basket ... why try to deny it. I've become the Ralph Metz of my generation. Ralph, if you read this, I mean that in the nicest possible way. I hoped to channel some of Andy Rooney's spirit into my writing; but when I did some web searching on his life ... well ... I found out that he's still alive. He was even involved in the movie I, Curmudgeon - which sounds really great. Has anyone seen this? Here's an

I, Curmudgeon

review in case you are interested.

Book Abusers

That's a frequent post in my personal journal. It's a pet peeve of mine - people intentionally damaging books in various ways: corner folders, spine breakers and underliners to name a few. Generally, I try to leave a book in as good a shape as when I pick it up. Of course that's not possible in an absolute sense - there is always some wear - but I try. So what brings the matter to the fore today? Well, I finally baked a perfect shortbread. It has taken more attempts than I'm willing to admit, but it's not completely my fault. After consulting several other sources, it appears the book I used contains an error in the specified oven temperature. That's not a big deal for someone who already knows how to cook shortbread; but for a novice it has caused a lot of trouble. So now comes the big question: How do you make a correction to a factual error in a book? - especially given my aversion to book abuse. I'm leaning towards inserting a hand written correction on a little slip of paper - but what if it falls out? Someone else could get burned by this in the future. Maybe a sticky note would be a better choice. Does anyone know how sticky note adhesive effects book paper after years of exposure? I assume 3M must have test data by now.

Infamy? What Infamy?

"But always will our whole nation remember the character of the onslaught against us ..."

Franklin Delano Roosevelt - December 7th, 1941

That above quote appears in FDR's Pearl Harbor speech. On December 7th, 1941 - following Japan's surprise attack on U.S. Naval Forces stationed in Pearl Harbor - the U.S. launched headlong into World War II. For the next three and a half years, my parents' and grandparents' generations fought, bled and died on the islands of the Pacific. They fought to protect the United States from invasion by the armed forces of Japan. Monday was the 68th anniversary of that world changing event. Although I was not alive when it happened, I've studied the event in some depth; and I am humbled each time I think of the hardships and sacrifices they endured.

It seems few remember anymore. The top story on one news site was "Tiger's wife moves out." Really? On Pearl Harbor Day? On another "One Hit Wonder of the Decade". And on a third "Wintry Weather Wallops United States". Now there's a nice alliteration; but, come on, does that really sound like a day that will live in infamy? Couldn't they at least have titled it "Wintry Weather Wallops United States on Pearl Harbor Day - Just Like the Japanese did 68 Years Ago" - you know, to help us all remember? Does it matter that so many Americans drive Japanese cars while U.S. auto manufacturers and dealers run through bankruptcy. Is that why all of our soldiers and sailors fought ... and died? So we could drive Japanese cars?

Here's a link to

President Roosevelt's Speech

just in case you'd like to read it. And if you read this and are actually old enough to remember that day, I would be honored if you would take the time to leave a comment.

A Confession

OK, I'll admit it. I put the tamarinds out in the snow yesterday. We don't have a sweet tamarind tree in our yard; it was just a joke ... but the snow is real.

Winter Wonderland

Our first snow of the season. I like snow; it gives the world a nice clean look - despite all the filth underneath. I don't so much like being out in the snow, as I like to look at snow. When I'm out in the snow, I always get cold. I guess that's because I prefer to wear cotton. When I get cold, I always seem to eat more. I guess it's a natural defense mechanism; me trying to speed up my metabolism. In fact, I'm getting hungry right now.

What's this doing in my yard? It looks like a big pile ... but you can never tell. It could actually be some kind of food. Maybe if I eat it, I'll feel better.


I wonder who was the first person brave enough to eat this:


Break off the crusty outer shell, peel back the stringy fibers...


and take a big bite. Mmmm ... that's some good eatin' - for some folks, it's an acquired taste. I think it tastes like the fig in Fig Newtons.


Don't forget to spit out the seeds. They are really hard. In some cultures, they grind up the seeds for medicine.


So that's the end of today's "food" post. I'd like to see what "Next Blog" does with this. If you want to know more about sweet tamarinds from Thailand - really tamarinds in general - here's what they have to say at

Wikipedia about tamarinds

More Next Blog

I can't understand why - when I start from my own blog - "Next Blog" always defaults to food. I decided to run another test. I went to a friend's blog and ran the "Next Blog" test. Starting from her blog, "Next Blog" always defaults to World of Warcraft stuff. Weird ... her blog doesn't really seem to be about World of Warcraft at all. What is up with that?

By the Cover

There is an old saying that goes: "You can't tell a book by its cover"; well, let's take a closer look. Here are four books I have handy:

1. Beckett Baseball Card Price Guide Number 18
2. Adolf Hitler - by John Toland
3. Still Cove Journal - by Gladys Taber
4. And More by Andy Rooney - by Andrew A. Rooney

Number 1 is self explanatory. Number 2 ... that's a definitive biography of Adolf Hitler. Number 3 requires a look at the front and back of the dust jacket. There's a sketch of a cozy house on the front, and picture of an old woman and her cat on the back. What do you know, it's an old woman's journal written about her life in a secluded little home on Cape Cod. Number 4 is a collection of essays adapted from Andy Rooney's newspaper columns. I think you should be able to tell a book by its cover - and you can ... if the cover is done well.

I didn't choose these books to prove a point; they just happened to be books I've read recently. From where I sit, I can also see: Family Circle Christmas, Simple French Cookery, Seed-Starters Handbook - they're all easy to judge by their covers. I reckon they're easy to judge because they are all non-fiction. A work of non-fiction is designed to convey new information to its readers. People who design covers for non-fiction books want to be sure you know exactly what you are getting. They want you to know that the information inside is what you are looking for. To convince you to buy their books, they do the best they can to ensure those covers are easy to judge. How many copies of Beckett's would sell if - between the covers - it actually contained "The Perfect Sphere - A History of Ball Bearing Production in the United States"? Maybe one?

With fiction, it's a whole different ballgame. Good fiction tries to teach you something about yourself by presenting you with personalities and situations you're already familiar with. If the cover reveals too much about the plot, you won't waste your time reading the book. Maybe that's why I don't read much fiction; it's kind of deceptive by nature. Adolf Hitler didn't like fiction ... and neither did Andy Rooney. I don't mean to imply that Andy Rooney was anything like Adolf Hitler. Rooney worked as a war corespondent attached to the US Army in the fight against Nazi Germany - I'd guess he despised Hitler as much as the next guy.

Next Blog

I've played with the "Next Blog" button many times, and I'll concede that it's gotten better - now, at least all the blogs are in English. But I'm still not satisfied. By the third or fourth click, the blogs always seem to default to food. Are there really that many food blogs out there? I've never been directed to a railfan blog; aren't there any railfan blogs out there? I know that "Next Blog" is supposed to use the blog I'm on to find another blog of similar content. Does my blog really have so much food content that "Next Blog" is getting confused? I must start including more railroad stuff in my blog so "Next Blog" will understand. To wit, here's a shot of the business end of EBT 15. Wow, that's not much room to stand on when you're shoveling coal into the pitching firebox of a moving locomotive. Luckily, speeds here are slow ... and the fall is a short one.

An Opposing View

I listened to a re-broadcast of the President's speech last night on C-Span radio. It was a typical speech ... if you were President Bush that is: The war on terror will go on and on forever, we need to stop the spread of weapons of mass destruction, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah ... It was the most depressing speech I've heard President Obama deliver; and to think, he just won the Nobel Peace Prize.

What I found most disturbing was the Republican rebuttal delivered by Mitch McConnell. To paraphrase: We agree with everything the President said - except we don't think the troops should leave Afghanistan before the next Presidential Election; and we should use the balance of the economic stimulus money to pay for the war.

Really? In the old days, the opposing party would lambaste the sitting President for his misguided policies. If the Republicans are in total agreement with President Obama, what does that mean? Where is the opposing point of view? Where is the Congressman with the balls to stand up and say, "The President of the United States is wrong."

OK, enough politics. Now back to our regularly scheduled ramblings.

Stack Overflow

I knew it would happen eventually. I finally have so many passwords that I can't remember them all. Some of them have been pushed out the top of my stack and have disappeared. Now I'll have to reassemble them, write them all down, and hide them in a safe place ... and then remember where I hid them. What a pain. I'm old enough to remember when the average guy could go through life without any passwords at all. Progress?

Generally speaking, I try to avoid talking politics and religion - but today I'm going to make an exception. I swear I remember hearing Senator Obama say - if elected - he would bring our boys home; and now he wants to send more troops off to war ... are you kidding me? Am I the only one who remembers this? (Weird, but Blogger says Obama is misspelled and gives as replacements: Obadiah, Obadias, Bamako, and Alabama in that order. Really? Bamako? What the hell is that?) I suppose - what with me forgetting passwords and all - maybe what Senator Obama really said was, "If elected, I plan to send more US troops abroad and I will continue ... Nay, I will escalate the war in Afghanistan", and I'm just not remembering correctly. Can someone within my circle of trust help me out here?

One last comment: I received an e-mail from the President wishing me and my family a Happy Thanksgiving. I returned the same sentiments and appended a note requesting he bring the troops home. I'm starting to think he is ignoring my advice.

Addendum:

Wikipedia on Bamako, the fastest growing city on the continent of Africa.

Fit for its Intended Purpose

This guy bought a tool to adjust the sights on his SKS from Ebay. It was manufactured by a company named UAG. He couldn't use it because it wouldn't clear the hood over the sight. He was going to send it back, but I suggested we just modify it a little. We cut back one edge of the clamp far enough to clear the hood. We used a 10" double cut file; and then cleaned it up with a single cut file. It took about ten minutes to finish the modification. Here are some pictures showing the work:

The sight adjusting tool:


Close up of the cut:


The tool in position to adjust the sight:



I hate it when I go out and buy something - and then it won't do what I bought it to do. In this case, the tool probably works on other rifles - just not his; but many times the problem stems from a deficiency in the tool. Maybe it's too small or too big or too weak. You never know what kind of problem you'll find, but I'm amazed at how often this happens. I think the law used to refer to this as merchantability - "a promise, arising by operation of law, that something that is sold will be merchantable and fit for the purpose for which it is sold." I guess nobody really cares about that anymore. It's nice when you can make a quick modification to something so it will actually do its job.

Common Interests

I recently added "interests" to my profile. When I looked them over, I noticed that they were actually links ... hmmm. I tried clicking on the link for model ships, and Blogger returned several pages of profiles that also list model ships as an interest. About half way down the second page, the profiles seem to stray a little from the subject. Below is the link for profile #18. I did not know you could hold a beer can that way.

Cup Holder

Wedding Day

We went to a wedding yesterday in a beautiful church down in Washington D.C. It had one of those amazing pipe organs in it; I'd show you a picture, but I feel kinda' funny about taking pictures inside of a church. I like going to weddings. Everyone is so happy; a new beginning; two people committing to meet life's challenges together ... instead of alone. I think married couples should attend weddings frequently. Hearing their vows reminds us of why we married all those years ago. Best wishes Jim and Liza on your new life as one.

Here are the proud parents ...


and the happy couple.


In the next image, children are performing a traditional Philippine dance: Four children move long wooden poles around on the floor while the other four dance - barefoot - within them. Danger Will Robinson!


Somehow I managed to use all of this table wear for a single meal. The food was delicious!


Here is Robert cutting in on the bride. He looks awfully happy.



The reception was held at the J.W. Marriott at Pennsylvania and 14th Street. Parking was abysmal; I ended up in a garage over on 12th Street. On my walk back from the garage, I found this:


It looks like a fun place to go. Next time I'm in the area, I think I'll stop in for lunch.

What to Wear?

In my previous life, I worked in an almost exclusively male environment. Now, I'm working in a field that is dominated by women. With that change has come a new challenge: deciding what to wear. Our company has a dress code, so I know I should wear dress pants, a button down shirt, and tie; but the problem is the weight. Should I go with the light cotton blend, or do I need the lined wool trousers and the thermal under-shirt today? There's really no way to know. One day the office is so cold, my fingers can barely type; the next day it's so hot, I might pass out at my desk. Men have spent a lot of time developing automatic temperature control systems so the temperature of a room can easily be regulated to +/- 2 degrees; but we never figured out how to control women. In my old male dominated environment, there was a company policy for room temperature; if you didn't like it, you could always find a new job. Now, there is chaos.

One woman says the room is too hot and she turns the thermostat down to 65 - I've heard about hot flashes before, so I'm not too surprised by this - then another woman will come by an hour later and set it up to 80! I guess that would be a cold flash ... hmmm. Then they all start looking at me like I'm the one who keeps changing the setting - but I'm smart enough to know not to touch the damn thing. What I don't understand is why they can't move the setting 1 or 2 degrees at a time - instead of from one extreme to the other. On second thought maybe I do know why, but it would be better left unsaid.

The Full Montage

I was sitting at my desk thinking about Half Smokes. A friend of mine calls it "doing the full montage" because I get this glazed look and a big smile; you can tell I'm thinking about something far, far away.

mon·tage:

1) A single pictorial composition made by juxtaposing or superimposing many pictures or designs.

2) The art or process of making such a composition

She was the first person to mention that I did this. I knew I was thinking and smiling on the inside, but I never knew anyone else could tell. Anyway, I'm thinking about Half Smokes: Why do we call them that? Are there any Full Smokes or All Smokes or Whole Smokes? I figured Wikipedia would know, but there seems to be some doubt there:

Wikipedia on Half_Smokes

I grew up with Half Smokes never realizing they were a regional thing. The rest of the world seems just a little poorer to me now.

Then a co-worker comes along and breaks my reverie, "Be careful what you say to me, I'll put a hex on you." So I asked her why she thinks she has the power to do that, and she shows me the palm of her hand: "I've got the mark." She points to a place on her palm where the lines make an X. I look at my hands and the lines make a sort of M, but on her hand - between two lines of her M - there is also this X that I don't have. Then she says her powers are weak because she only has the X on one hand. Does anyone know if this is true? I don't believe in that sort of thing, but - for people who do - does the X really mean that?

Misleading Advertisement

When you go to Blogger's log in page, there's a button to "Create A Blog"; and underneath that is the comment: "It’s easy, and only takes a minute." (emphasis added, ed.) Really? Don't you think there's a little more to creating a Blog than saving a blank web page on a server somewhere? I've already spent three minutes on this post ... and it sucks. Shouldn't there be some kind of warning about the hundreds of hours you will steal from every other aspect of your life ... just so you can jot down a few random thoughts that no one else should waste his - or her - time reading? Just a thought.

Making Connections

Electric railway systems normally use a single overhead wire to bring power to the train; and they use the running rails as the current return path back to the power station. There are variation on the theme: dual overhead wire, third rail, and underground conduit; but normally it's single overhead wire. Copper is the wire of choice for overhead because of its low resistance, high strength, and moderate cost. Using the rails for a return path has its own set of compromises. Steel is plenty strong, and rails have a large cross-section to handle the return current. The biggest problem occurs at the rail joints because steel rails rust - and iron oxide is non-conductive. To compensate, electric railways must join their rails together to form an unbroken path back to the power station. You can see that work in progress in this photo.


In the old days, a mold - containing thermite charges and a copper bond wire - was placed across the rail joint, and then lit on fire. The thermite melted the steel rails enough to fuse the bond wire into the rails. We have the equipment to do thermite bonds, but we've elected to use a newer method. We're using a big MIG welder to make the rail bonds. The bonds we use have a steel bar on each end of the wire; and you can weld those bars directly to the rails - if your MIG has enough power. In the next picture, you can see a finished rail bond in place.


Every joint on the railroad needs one of these bonds before the trolley cars will run again. We are only bonding one of the two rails; but there are still a couple hundred bonds to install - and later inspect and repair. George Epperson and Bob Clarke have been working on this project for two weeks. They are getting close, but they still have a ways to go.

Twins Reunited

Last Tuesday, there was a reunion at the National Capital Trolley Museum. Twins - born in 1951 - saw each other for the first time since 1996. I caught up with the pair on Saturday parked together on track #14. TTC #4603 has been a mainstay of the museum's operations since its donation in 1996; and now, twin sister TTC #4602 has joined our fleet. She was purchased from a trolley museum in Ohio which sold off its collection. It's amazing that two, 58 year old, consecutively numbered trolley cars from Toronto still exist; bringing them together again in one place borders on the miraculous.


Since the cars were parked over the pit, I went underneath for a quick inspection. Generally speaking, the new car appears to be in good shape. The seller said that TTC #4602 was in operable condition before it was parked a couple of years ago. Next Saturday, we'll begin a thorough inspection of the running gear, and perform routine maintenance. With a little luck, she will join her sister hauling passengers on our new streetcar line.

Unfortunately, the museum's re-opening will probably be delayed a few more weeks. We've had more trouble with the tamper, we've still got overhead wire to string, and we're still working the kinks out of our new trackwork. We have a punch-out list a mile long, and members are working seven days a week to get the museum re-opened as soon as possible; but we've had problem after problem, and there are only so many hours in a day. Still, a bad day working on trolley cars beats a good day doing just about anything else. So check the Museum's website for up-to-date information:

National Capital Trolley Museum

Then come out and enjoy the ride. And while you're waiting for us to re-open, here's a link to some great Conrail photos:

Conrail Cyclopedia

Check out the cranes in the Maintenance of Way department.

Size Matters

The trolley museum will open soon. I've actually seen the first trolley car run over the rails powered from the overhead wire; but I'll save that exciting tale for another time. Instead, I'll just post a couple of pictures - since I haven't in a while. The first picture is of me installing a new line pole using the mobile crane. It's actually not as easy as I'm making it look in this photo. It's like trying to pick up a piece of spaghetti with a thread and then dropping it inside a straw ... only bigger. I used to think that this crane was a big piece of equipment, but now - after seeing what they use to build the bridges for the Inter-County Connector - I realize it's not big at all. It's amazing how your perspective changes over time.

The second image was taken inside the car shops of Pittsburgh's T System. That's an in-the-track wheel lathe; and it allows you to re-profile the wheels of light rail vehicles without removing them from the car. Must be nice! I wish I had one of these - or at least had access to one. Trolley cars have steel wheels, and those wheels wear over time. You wouldn't think that a steel wheel riding on a steel rail would wear, but it does. When you work on a PCC car's trucks, you will find a layer of steel dust all over the place. The problem isn't so much the wear - it's that the two wheels on opposite sides of the same solid axle don't wear the same way! You would think that - since both wheels are going to the same place at the same time at the same speed - they would wear the same; but nooooo, that would be way too easy. So eventually, you have to take the truck off the car, take the wheels off the axles, and put them on a really big lathe to cut them back into the proper shape; and then you have to put the whole thing back together again. That's a lot of work! If only I had a million dollar in-the-track wheel lathe, I could save all that time.


I asked one of the guys at Strasburg Railroad if he could turn our wheels on his wheel lathe, but - after mulling it over - he didn't think he could handle anything that small.

Lost - Not Forgotten

I'm constantly forgetting things. I'm not talking about names or phone numbers or my wife's birthday or stuff like that - I mean actual physical things: like keys and tools and money. I tell myself that I'm involved in too many things, and that's why I'm always leaving stuff behind; but it really sucks to show up somewhere without all the stuff that I need. I'm woefully unorganized, and my inner OCD self says, "Self, if you could just amplify your OCDedness - always put things in their proper places, make lists, prepare ahead of time - then you would always have the stuff you need - when you need it." But I know that's just not true.

I'm predisposed to "running back inside for one last thing before we go." It's not too bad as long as I know where that last thing is; but what about when an item is lost - not just forgotten? Usually, "I know I left it around here somewhere ..." I might have to scrounge around a little, but I usually find whatever it is that I remember I needed. But sometimes a thing is really lost. Maybe I dropped it or left it somewhere without knowing. Maybe someone borrowed it without asking, or somehow it got thrown away. That's the worst, because it takes time before I even realize that the item is gone. On numerous occasions, my family has witnessed the spectacle of me tearing the house apart looking for something "that's supposed to be right here!" Sometimes, the fits of rage that accompany an episode like that, result in the item reappearing - often with an apology for "moving it without letting you know."

Unfortunately, sometimes an item I "absolutely have to have right now" is really really lost; and all the frantic searching just drives me to another "Falling Down" moment. A falling down moment comes after all hope of finding an item is lost, when the floors are covered with the contents of overturned boxes and emptied drawers, when my family stares at me in wonder and asks, "Is Dad going to be OK?" At times like that, all I can think of is Michael Douglas telling Robert Duvall, "I thought I was the good guy."

When a line from a movie embeds itself in your psyche ... well I think it deserves a place on your shelf of ten favorite movies. Who could forget lines like "I got the pooh on me", or "somebody better ride back and git a shitload o' dimes", or even the classic "what we have here is a failure to communicate." And so I've decided to increase my shelf of ten favorite movies to twenty. I haven't actually picked all twenty yet, but I'm working on it; and I said shelf - not list - for a reason: I'm actually putting all of the movies on a physical shelf so I can see them as the body of work that they are. If a better movie comes along and bumps one from the shelf, so be it. And if you'd like to borrow one to watch, I guess that would be OK; but please let me know BEFORE you actually borrow it. If I go to the movie shelf and the movie isn't there - and I can't find it ... well ... it's not a pretty picture.

Another Flashback

There was another piece from "This Side of Paradise" that drifted across my mind today: Amory complained that one of his college buddies had become a rather dull conversationalist. His friend refused to discuss any thought provoking items which crossed his mind - instead preferring to sequester them for later use in his writing. Hmmm.

Aye, I See Sea

I use one of three different methods when I read a book. I may pick up a book, read it, then set it aside; or I may read it with a stack of business cards handy, and jam one between any pages where I find something of interest; or sometimes I'll sit down with a dictionary and Cliff's Notes, and really try to get something from the book. It all depends on how much time I want to spend. Usually, I use the second method so I can go back and quickly find the good parts. This is particularly handy if I've set a book aside a little too long. Many times I'm reading two or three books concurrently, and method number two helps me quickly refresh my memory. Method number three takes a long time, so I save that for something really special; number one is the quickest, but I never know what parts of the book are going to stick.

So I'm driving into work Tuesday listening to my new favorite radio station, and a song comes on where the writer has rhymed write and right. I shan't 'ave noticed, save for that book I just read. You see Amory and his Girl had a bit of a row because she wrote a poem rhyming see with sea; and he didn't think it sporting to use homonyms that way. It's so weird that I would hear that in a song and think, "You can't do that - F. Scott Fitzgerald said so!" What's even stranger is that I would remember such an insignificant part of the book at all. I read it using method one; then I gave the book away when I was finished reading it. Why - of all things in the book - should I remember that, when I can't even remember his girlfriend's name?

So that got me to wondering: What is the longest coherent sentence - or paragraph for that matter - which can by constructed from paired homonyms. I made up a four word forward as the title to this post (I crack myself up sometimes); but I'm sure someone can do a lot better than that. I've seen the longest palindrome in the Guinness Book of World Records and it's unbelievable. Anybody care to give this a try?

A New Station

There's a new radio station in town: 105.9 The Edge. Finally someone out there is playing the good stuff. From Aerosmith to ZZ Tops, these guys know how to kick out the jams. It's about time.

One and a Half Degrees

We all know the theory of 5 degrees of separation. We can debate its relative accuracy, but we know it is true more-or-less. Have you ever heard someone say, "I know someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows Kevin Costner."? Probably not. At five degrees of separation, it's not really "knowing" someone anyway. What matters most is that you know yourself, and that you know the people that surround you. These are the people that form your inner circle of trust. Not all of the people I know are trustworthy. I'm not afraid to associate with them, but I do try to avoid getting tangled up in any of their affairs; and I exclude them from my inner circle.

So when I need an answer to an important question, I first look inward, and then to my inner circle. But what if that's not enough? What if the answer lies outside of my inner circle? How far can you look outside of your inner circle before the information you receive becomes unreliable? At this point in my life, I've settled on a theory I call One and a Half Degrees of Trust: Trust yourself, trust your inner circle, and - by association - trust those few people whom your inner circle says warrant your trust. That's the limit. After that, it's just a crap shoot. There is a big difference between knowing and trusting. Leaders of nations know each other personally before they declare war on each other.

Why does any of this matter? It has to do with health care in the U.S., and the changes that are coming down the road. I've heard so many claims from those I don't trust, that sometimes I wonder what to think; but when I look inward, I know that health care is something everyone deserves - regardless of who they are and what they do. When I talk to people I trust, I often hear personal tales of woe centered on insurance abuses and outrageous medical bills. And when I talk to Canadians, they just shake their heads. How can we have such a poor system for health care, and why are we unable to fix it? I have yet to speak with Canadians who say their health care system is inadequate; and they all say it is cheap - the couple from British Columbia that I spoke with last week, said health care costs them about a hundred bucks a month. They wonder what we are waiting for ... and so do I.

A Defining Moment

The tide ran in through the inlet so fast, you couldn't keep your line on the bottom. It's difficult fishing the jetty then: casting and reeling-in, trying to keep your lure off the rocks, the salt water splashing up from the waves below. When the tide is this low, the slick rocks are exposed; you have to be careful. As I cast my bucktail out for the thousandth time, I heard a faint voice call, "Help me."

I turned to see a boy - perhaps ten or twelve - scrambling in the water. He had slipped on the rocks; and though he tried, he could not fight the tide that was pulling him in. I looked around at all of the people there, but no one could move. We were all frozen by the sight of that boy ... and the danger of the sea. He defiantly held his fishing pole above his head as the waves tugged him in; then he looked at me and called again, "Help me."

I tossed my rod to the ground and scrambled down the rocks. I reached out and grabbed the end of his fishing pole, pulled him in far enough to grab his hand, and - with the help of another man who followed me down - pulled him safely back onto the rocks. Perhaps I helped to save a life that day ... I guess I'll never know; but I did learn something about myself and the content of my character. It was a long time ago - I was in my mid-twenties - and I liked the part of me that said, "Go Time."

We all find ourselves in these situations at one time or another. Inside each of us, there is a voice that says "I may be afraid, but I'm not going to stand here ... I'm going to do what I can." When you face these defining moments, do you listen to that voice? Over the years, I've tried to nurture that part of my character I'll just call intestinal fortitude; and once you've risen to the occasion, you'll find the next time is just a little easier.

This Side of Paradise

We've just returned from a week's visit to Paradise Island. During our stay, we all went on the "Booze Cruise to Rose Island" - a one day trip away from the hubbub of touristy activity. No phone, no lights, no motor car; not a single luxury ... Our guide pointed across the water to a smaller island and said "a picture of that island was used in the opening for Gilligan's Ilse." Hmmm ... It looked right, but the Bahamas is full of tales like this; one can never be sure how tall they've grown. It is amazing how peaceful a "deserted" island is. We've all gotten so used to background noise - noise pollution - that we've forgotten what a toll it takes on our souls. How does one find inner peace amid the chaos of everyday life?

It rained Thursday morning before the sun came up. We could see the storm clouds moving off to the east from the restaurant where we ate breakfast; in the west, we could see new clouds stacking up. After breakfast, we went back to the room and I checked the weather channel. Back home - in Maryland - the remnants of Hurricane Ida were pounding ashore. For the moment, the sun was shining in Paradise; so I went down stairs and soaked in the hot tub, laid on a lounge and finished reading "This Side of Paradise", then went for a swim in the pool. As I floated in the pool, I caught myself thinking "What a perfect day! Storms to the east, storms to the west, even storms back home; but right here, right now, everything is perfect." As it turned out, those storm clouds in the west never reached us; and it really was a perfect day.

How many times in life have you missed a perfect moment? We get so caught up in the things that have just happened, and the things that are going to happen, and the things that are happening "over there", that we forget about the perfect moment we find ourselves in RIGHT NOW! So stop what you are doing and take a deep breath. Mentally block out the before's, the after's, and the over there's. Look around you and find perfection. Live in this moment; it will never come again.

Kindergarten Work Skills

I still haven't found that web site for the Viking ship I was looking for, but I did find this:

Ice Cream Stick Longboat

This guy makes a 45 foot long Viking Ship out of Popsicle sticks and plans to sail it across the Atlantic! Are you kidding me? The ship was built in 2005. I found a reference to a short sea voyage in 2008; but I can't find any pictures or more detailed information. Has anybody out there seen anything about this? I know it's old news; but come on ... did this really happen?

Well looky here. I ran a few more searches and found this from Reuters:

Ice Cream Stick Longboat Too

I guess there's no limit to what a man can do with Popsicle sticks, imagination, and a whole lotta time!

Time for a good sacking!

Sharon and I spent Sunday down at Solomons, MD visiting with Tracy Allison. She turned 35 this year and is really starting to show her age. While we were there, I made a new acquaintance. His name is Fred and he was pumping out the bilge of his longboat.


The boat looks like it takes a crew of ten or twelve, and he was kind enough to offer me a seat on her next outing - a couple of weeks from now. My guess is, they're always in need of men with strong backs and weak minds to man the oars. Fred has a wealth of knowledge on longboats; but I didn't take any notes, so I don't have much to write. He gave me a website to learn more, but it's all in Norwegian and I don't know how to change a web site's language.

I'd like to go on the voyage, but I don't have any Viking attire - save for a sword. I wonder how Fred would feel about that. Does the crew dress in period costume before heading to sea for a long day of pillaging? I've never gotten involved with any of the re-enactment groups. Some people think that playing in a bagpipe band is re-enacting, but I don't agree. Bagpipe bands are a current event. We strive to move the art form forward, not to recreate the past. I think there is a difference.

Bits and Pieces

It's been a while since I've posted any pictures. I have so many of them, I've filled all of my memory sticks again; I just haven't had the time to process any of them. But I guess I'll do a stick today, maybe another one on Wednesday. Soon they'll all be in the computer. Then I'll need to get them backed up on CD's before a random hard disk failure makes them all go away. Computers are not made to be trusted!

Saturday was a busy day at the Trolley Museum. We finished the brakes on #4603 and then worked on the heat system until lunch time. As we sat around the table, Mr. Clarke asked "So what are you going to work on now?" I thought about it and replied, "We've had such a string of successes recently, I don't really know what to do next." He mentioned that the tamper was having trouble starting, so we decided to look at it when we got back.

As we were probing the circuits looking for an electrical problem, I came across a disturbing find: On the right side of the photo are shards from the air compressor connecting rod which shot through the side of its crankcase. Bad ... really bad. It's the kind of failure that can keep the tamper out of service for a long time - and right now we need it while we finish stringing the overhead wire. There are so many people working so many hours preparing for our Thanksgiving Day re-opening - and now we have to deal with this.

After working at the museum, I followed George over to the Agricultural Farm Park for a behind the scenes tour of the property. 450 acres of fields and trees, barns, even hogs. Some of you know my secret desire to own a sawmill. Well, they have one of those too; that's really what I went to see. I'm trying to link up with the crew so I can help cut lumber next time they fire it up. After we toured the sawmill, we stopped by the potato fields and I gleaned a few potatoes. You can see them on the left side of the photo. Potato fields are one of those things that never seem to run out. They'll keep getting smaller and harder to find; but if you dig for a little while, you can always find more potatoes. After that, we went to the building where they restore antique farm equipment. Wow, a whole new world. It's like a trolley museum for farmers. I need to find a way to join up with these guys; I need to find a way to retire now. The last photo is a picture of my friend George. Chain saws are so much fun!

In the Oven

The shortbread is in the oven baking away and I have a few minutes to write. I just finished reading Better Homes and Gardens Heritage Cook Book. This is a 400 page oversize hardbound edition from Meredith Corporation. I know it sounds strange that someone would read a cook book, but this is more like a food history book with recipes thrown in for good measure. It is a third printing circa 1976 - just in time for the Bi-Centennial - and it details the development of American Cuisine from the beginning to the present ... uh, the present as of 1976. The story begins with the Indians and the Colonists of England, France, and Spain; then moves on to the Pioneers. Later chapters cover the wave upon wave of immigrants: Western and Eastern Europeans, Africans, Asians, South Americans; each new group bringing along its own traditions and blending them into the American diet. Oops, there goes the timer ... gotta run!

I'm back. Did you know that when an oven mitt touches the bottom burner in an oven, it immediately bursts into flames. I did not see that coming. Wow! Now where was I? Oh yeah, I remember ... the melting pot. All those different foods from all over the world, and all coming together here. One section talks about the changes in our taste for food. Has anyone out there ever prepared - or even tasted - Calf's Head Hash? There are also chapters on kitchens, preserving food, and changing techniques. I'm old enough to remember the invention of the microwave oven. Anyone out there remember the Ice Man?

There is a chapter on cook books as well early cook books were pretty useless if you didn't already know how to cook for starters the sentences did not begin with capital letters the sentences are devoid of punctuation to make matters worse none of the recipes use any measurements how anyone got any useful information from them is beyond me you get the picture. They attribute the use of measurements in recipes to Fanny Farmer - a wheelchair bound cooking student at The Boston Cooking School in the 1890's. Before that, you just had to know stuff. Imagine all those girls going to all those schools learning how to cook ... hmmm.

Makin' beef jerky, potato latkes, why we call hot dogs hot dogs ... even cannibalism gets a brief mention. There is a lot of stuff between the covers. Anyway, there is one last section I'll mention just for fun. There was a brief discussion of where the future would lead, and their predictions are worth a look in hind-sight:

1) New and different convenience foods. Check.

2) Home-computer systems that will order items from the grocery store and plan balanced meals. Maybe a Half-Check on this one - at least we have computers and PeaPod.

3) Packages or wrappings that will self-destruct as the food is cooked. Baaah! Not even close!

and last but not least:

4) Metric weights and measure. Hahahahahahahaha (insert maniacal Mike laugh soundtrack here). Jimmy Carter, what were you thinking? I have a copy of "The Metric Cook Book" and it is the most worthless thing you can imagine. Switching to metric fasteners almost killed off all the mechanics; it will take generations to convert the kitchen. You may buy soda in a 2-liter bottle, but when you make 7-up cake, you still measure it by the cup! Oh well, that's the risk you run when you try to predict the future - at least if you put it into print.

This book is inscribed to Ruth Ann Bress. So Ruth Ann, if you ever read this, drop me an e-mail; I'd like to chat.

Errata

Generally speaking, when I become aware of an error in Scarred Bark, I just go back and fix it. So if you read a post you don't like, go back and check it again in a few weeks ... maybe I'll have changed my mind. Somehow, a journal is different. I always write in pen! Once you write something in pen - or maybe print something out from your computer - it acquires a kind of permanence that a blog doesn't seem to have. That's part of the magic of the web: Nothing is permanent. When you hold a book in your hands, you know it's been through the entire writing, editing, publishing, distribution chain thing. It has a certain air of authority - especially if it's been handled by one of the major publishing houses. It feels like something you can trust, something you can reference, something you can quote. Compare a book to an article on Wikipedia. There isn't even a claim that the article is correct let alone permanent; it's all about the change. (Weird side note: Blogger's spell checker says Wikipedia is misspelled, and gives as suggested alternatives: pediatric, pediatrics, cyclopedias, cyclopedia, and encyclopedia in that order. You would think Blogger would know what Wikipedia is ... but I digress.)

There is an error in yesterday's post involving that fortune cookie quote. I was going to go back and correct it, but I've decided to let the original post stand as is. However - to set the record straight - the correct quote is "Behind an able man, there are always other able men." (italics added - ed.) It's a subtle difference, but noteworthy none-the-less. As I said, I've received this fortune before; and I've pondered its various meanings. Any fortune worth its salt must allow for multiple interpretations. For this one, I've had trouble deciding. Is it: a piece of advice, a statement of fact, or a poorly veiled threat?

While the meaning lies shrouded in mystery, the subject it pertains to is clear. I've been procrastinating about the Drum Sergeant position for Grade 3 in 2010 - whether to serve another season or step aside. I'm sure the second copy of that fortune arrived to hurry things along. It will be hard to let it go after almost a decade at the helm, but I think it's time to move on. There are things I need to accomplish; and I can't fulfill the task of Drum Sergeant and do those other things too. Something's gotta give. It's nice to know there are "other able men" ready to shoulder the task.

Again?

There are some women out there who just don't like men. You can try to be nice to them, but it doesn't really matter because their minds are already made up ... like all guys are the same. Anyway, this woman is going to throw away her fortune cookie, and I say, "That would be a waste, I'll eat it if you don't want to. Who knows, maybe there will be some winning lottery numbers in there." So she gives me the cookie, and I start eating it and looking at the fortune. And she says "What does it say?" And I say "34 15 39 ..." And she says "No, not that; what does the fortune say?" And I turn it over and I'm almost afraid to read it out loud, but now I have to. "Behind an able man there are other able men." She glowers and says "You're making that up. Let me see that", and snatches it out of my hand. She reads it, tosses it back on the table, and walks away. Maybe she had been expecting "Behind every successful man there is a woman"; but she never said a word.

Have you ever gotten a repeat fortune in your fortune cookie? I've had that particular fortune once before. It seems like there is some sort of cosmic force that guides the cookies to the right recipients; but we all know that can't be true. Still, I wonder why she didn't open that cookie herself ... or just throw it away.

The #1 Result Is ...

Do you have a favorite place to write? Think about it for a minute: Do you always sit at the same desk, writing in the same journal, surrounded by the same old things? I always do my writing for Scarred Bark on the same computer, at the same desk, in the same room - day after day. It's good to go somewhere else to write ... to try out a new location; it can jolt your creativity. Occasionally I'll write something when I'm on the road, but usually I'm just "there". Sitting in a familiar place surrounded by familiar things ... it helps to block out the noisy world. Solitude focuses one's attention; but it's also good to change things up now and then.

I'm currently away from my writing desk; but I have web access here, and I thought I'd spend a few minutes penning something pithy. Unfortunately, I don't have the address for Scarred Bark handy. I thought of going to Blogger.com and logging in, but then I decided it might be fun to try finding my blog with a search engine. I used Yahoo, but nothing came up ... at least not in the first 50 results - and really, who ever looks past the first twenty. Then I tried Google. Well ... what do you know, the #1 search result for "scarred bark" on Google is Scarred Bark. I'm actually #1. I'm not really sure what to make of that; I've never been #1 in a search engine before. It seems like I should be able to do something with that, to leverage it somehow; but - though I sit and think - I've got nothing.

Rainy in Richmond ... Again

The 2009 season has drawn to a close. The final Scottish Games for the MacMillan Pipe Bands took place in Richmond, Virginia on Saturday. It was windy with frequent showers all day long. This was the third year in a row for a rainy day in Richmond. I'm starting to consider it a part of the event - like a water hazard or sand trap out on the links. I guess all Scottish Games have their own characteristics stemming from the time of year and the location. The choking dust bowl at the Devon Horse Show grounds in June and the searing heat of the Episcopal High School in Alexandria every July are two that immediately come to mind. Even though those events vanished long ago, their memories linger on. Somehow, successful bands learn to compensate for the venue.

There were successes and failures throughout the season; I won't bother to elaborate. Now is the time to begin planning for the new year: the Annual General Meeting, the election of officers, music selection ... and all the practicing to prepare for 2010. Even though I've been doing this pipe band shtick for more than 30 years, it's still impossible to predict how a new season will shape up - there are just too many variables. You try to account for them all, but you can't control your personnel. This is a volunteer activity, and musicians are an unpredictable lot by nature - think cat herding. They join, they leave, they practice ... or maybe they don't. We all memorize music at different speeds, and sometimes players lack the technical ability to perform a piece of music. Even when you think you've taken all of that into account, there is still a weird dynamic that takes place when you throw a group of musicians together and tell them all to play a piece of music as one. Sometimes the sum is more than the parts ... sometimes not.

For the MacMillan-Birtles Memorial Drum Corps in 2009, the sum was surely more than the parts. During the band's first season in Grade 4, the corps placed well in all it's competitions - even garnering a much coveted Best Drum Corps award at one event. If any of you read this, I'd just like to say, "Congrats on a successful first year in Grade 4." I know you all worked hard this season, and it showed when we stood in the circle together. It was a pleasure serving as your instructor, and I'm certain the corps will enjoy many successes in the upcoming year.

Last Saturday - after all the practicing, hiding under the tents, stomping through the mud, and the performance - we formed up for the final massed bands. The drizzle continued as the first wave headed out onto the field. Our band was in the second wave. As the Drum Major prepared to march us in, all hell broke loose. The rain came down in buckets. With half the massed bands out on the field, the Drum Major had two choices: he could dismiss the bands and run for cover, or call "By the Center! Quick March!" As the drums began to roll, a cheer came up from the crowds. We had thumbed our collective noses at the weather, and we marched proudly out onto the field. My kilt is still drying and my car smells like wet sheep, but it was the right thing to do. Nice call Drum Major Ricklis.

That's Not Right

This guy goes out to his car and he accidentally trips the car alarm. Then, he gets in the car but he can't seem to turn the alarm off. So he starts the car and drives off with the car alarm blaring away. Everyone turns to look; and we're all wondering the same thing, "Did that guy just steal a car and none of us said a word?" But he's driving away like there's nothing wrong. He pulls up to the corner and waits with all the other drivers for the light to turn green - all the while that car alarm keeps going and going and going. It must be deafening inside the car, but this guy is driving away as if nothing is wrong. Maybe this happens to him all the time, but it does make a body wonder. If your car alarm is supposed to stop a person from stealing your car, why doesn't it prevent the engine from starting until after the alarm has been cleared? Just wondering aloud.

Summer's Over

It seems a shame to see September swallowed by the wind; but more than that, it's oh so sad to see the summer end. And tho' the changing colors are a lovely thing to see, if it were mine to make a change, I think I'd let it be ... but I don't remember hearing anybody asking me.

Anyone remember that snippet from the autumn part of John Denver's four seasons medley? It's been cold and rainy here for three days. Working outside at the trolley museum on Saturday left me with a chill even a hot shower couldn't wash away. There's nothing left in the garden but the collard greens. I didn't know they could grow so tall! Indian summer will arrive soon, but summer is really gone. How did it go by so fast? It's kind of depressing.

As soon as we get a break in the weather, I'll clean up the garden for winter, cut the grass one last time, and fill the compost bins. It feels like snow will come early this year. It's time to fill the kerosene cans, round up the snow shovels, and dig out the long johns. Can it really be spring time in Rio?

Remember to Pause

I finished reading "You Just Don't Understand" by Deborah Tannen last night. This is a First Ballentine Books Edition, June 1991. It's a heavily marked up paperback full of someone else's personal experiences overlaid onto the author's original text. I usually don't like to read marked up books because it affects the way I perceive the original work - like I'm being constantly interrupted while I'm trying to read; but in this case, it was OK. I found the book enlightening in many ways. It highlights many differences in the ways men and women communicate; and it explains some of my own idiosyncrasies of speech as just being typically male. Although the book is a serious scholarly work, there is a joke inside which says a lot about the entire subject. Here's a paraphrase:

A woman sues her husband for divorce; and when the judge asks her why, she explains, "He hasn't spoken to me in more than two years!" The judge turns to the man and asks, "Why haven't you spoken to your wife for more than two years?", and the husband replies, "I didn't want to interrupt her."

Yes, men and women really do have different styles of speech. Sometimes it's really hard to remember that.

Today at the hotel, we had concurrent banquet events. On one side of the hall was a funeral reception for a man named Young; and on the other side was the annual clown convention. I made a comment to one of my co-workers about the interesting juxtaposition; but - instead of seeing the irony of grieving relatives on one side of the hall and a room full of clowns on the other - she just ridiculed my "two-bit attempt to use a college word in regular conversation." I was flummoxed. I could feel my deflector shields go up and my phaser banks begin to charge. I had been challenged. I instinctively reached for the mental twibill and prepared to verbally cleave her asunder; but then I remembered that book. Men and women really do converse in different ways ... perhaps she was just trying to make conversation ... hmmmm.

I decided to take a different tack. I lowered my defenses and allowed as how my usage of "juxtaposition" may have been flawed. Perhaps her suggestion that they had just "been placed too near each other" might have been more clear. Perhaps - in the future - I should be more careful when choosing my words. She smiled! How pleasantly unexpected. Then she began to tell me how she suffers from coulraphobia - talk about your "college words" ... Geez! I guess all the clowns were really stressing her out and she just needed someone to listen. Women are weird like that.

The Lost Month of September

I have a few minutes to sit and write an entry. I'll try to be brief; I'll try to ease my way back into blogging. It's been a long time since my last post. I knew this would happen. An average post takes an hour, and I don't really have that kind of time. September is a busy month for the band. We've been on the road almost every weekend since the beginning of September. There's Car Club and Train Club and workin' at the Museum. There's a hundred other things to do too ... like keeping my real estate license up to date. Sometimes I forget how nice it is to have a few hours at home - a few precious hours of peace and quiet. So no heavy lifting today: No big thoughts, no photos, no posting to the web site ... just a few minutes to jot down a random thought or two.

It's been so long since I've made an entry that I considered just deleting my blog altogether. Just for grins I decided to re-read my entries before I let it all go. But now I've decided that there's something of value in it after all. I'd forgotten so much of what I wrote way back in July and August. It was refreshing to read a bunch of stuff I was totally in agreement with; it seems rare when I agree with anyone anymore - even myself. My blog made a handy reference tool; it allowed me to recollect my own thoughts after a disorienting month on the run. I used to read my own journal for the same purpose, but it got so long that I don't think I'll ever have the time to read it all again. If I keep blogging, I guess the same thing will happen here.

We had a minor milestone at the hotel today. We received the results from our recent audit: A+. The official wording was something like "no deficiencies found"; which is not a very impressive way to phrase it, but accounting professionals tend to be a pretty dry bunch - if you know what I mean. Anyway, it appears to be a first for the entire hotel division. Even hotels consistently rated highest by the auditors have had at least "one deficiency found" during their audits. E-mails are circulating, backs are a-slappin', high-5's all around. How is it possible that we could achieve such results? Begging the bigger question, "What are we going to do for an encore?" Perhaps now would be a good time to retire.

I've been baking a lot of shortbread lately. I still haven't perfected the art. It should be really easy: Flour, Sugar, Butter, Salt. Mix and bake for 20 minutes. What can go wrong? Results so far have only been acceptable. By that, I mean that all the shortbread gets eaten, but that's just not enough. Where is the A+? Where is the crunchy, melt-in-your-mouth goodness of a perfect piece of shortbread? What drives a man to attempt perfection? Why can't acceptable ever be good enough?

One More Time

Have you ever noticed how - when you get down to the end - you can just keep on squeezin' a toothpaste tube harder and harder 'til enough paste comes out to let you brush your teeth one more time? It seems like the tube never really empties. It's like there's some sort of toothpaste asymptote or something. Eventually you have to throw the damn thing away; but you can't help wondering, "Was there one more day's worth left inside?" It's not just toothpaste tubes either; take for instance: White Out. No matter how old and crusty it gets, it seems like there's always enough left in the bottle to fix one more mistake. Don't even get me started on High-liters. This same observation - made thousands of years ago - provides us with the foundation of a major religious holiday. You put one day's worth of oil in a lamp, and it keeps burning and burning for like six or seven days! Oil can be a funny thing like that.

I don't care if you believe oil was placed here by God, or that it's recycled dinosaur juice, or even that it's abiotic and really is being replenished by the earth; intuitively, we all know that it has to run out ... someday; but we just keep on using it like it has some kind of magical power to replenish itself forever. I guess we all believe that the oil will last long enough for us; and maybe that's all anyone can really care about. A thousand - no, make that a hundred - years from now, I wonder what people will think when they look back on the age of oil.

I'm old enough to remember the first two oil crisis (is that plural?) under Nixon/Ford and Carter, and we all lived through the Bush oil crisis last year. There is a big difference between a Democratic oil crisis - where everyone gets 10 gallons every other day - and a Republican oil crisis - where you can burn all the oil you want at $4.25 a gallon. I don't really want to get into the politics of it, but I think it worth remembering that an energy crisis is non-partisan. There are those alive today who were born and raised before the age of oil - back in the days of king coal. My parents burned coal to heat their homes when they were young. The coal came from a coal yard in a big truck and was dumped - or worse, shoveled - into a bin in the cellar. It's a dirty, time consuming form of energy compared to oil - at least for the consumer. Could we ever go back to living like that?

And so it is that we live with oil. It's the best thing going ... and at least it will last a lifetime ... we hope. Have you considered laying in a personal petroleum reserve? I'm not talking about a lifetime supply; I'm thinking more along the lines of a tactical petroleum reserve: Eight 5 gallon cans - enough to get from here to, say, Canada. In the future, there's every possibility of another oil crisis. If one believes the rumors of water cut in Saudi oil wells, it seems that future shortages are all but guaranteed. Wouldn't it be nice to know you have enough fuel on hand to make a journey somewhere - even when no fuel is available? It's not like you're ever going to need it, but doesn't it seem prudent?

Perspective

Sometimes - when you're down in the trenches - you can't really see what's going on. All you can do is follow orders, keep your head down, do your job to the best of your abilities, and try to stay alive. You have to trust the people above you - the ones who give the orders. You have to believe that they know what they are doing. You have to believe that they understand the big picture; that the orders they give will advance you toward your goal. But what do you do when those orders call for your sacrifice? What if their objective has no merit? What if it runs counter to your own convictions? How can you gain any perspective when you spend all of your time down in the trenches?

Sometimes ... yes sometimes you just have to stop! You have to take some time to rest. You have to climb up out of the trenches, hike to the top of the mountain, look out over the fields, and decide for yourself if the objective has any merit. You can't rely on the people above you; you need to verify the situation for yourself. Only you can decide, "Shall I go back down into the trenches and continue the fight, or should I turn my life in a new direction."

Sometimes the view from the mountain will be hazy; your vision will be less than clear. But the view from the top will be better than the view from the trenches - and a lot safer too. Make sure you take some time now and then to look at the big picture; make sure you can trust the judgment of the people that you follow; and make sure that the goal you're pursuing is one you believe in. Then - if you choose - crawl back into the trenches and fight the good fight. The strength of your convictions will see you through.

All In Good Time

A Bloggie posed the question: What is up with the times on your blog entries? They seem to be hours ahead. Or do you have some powers of time travel?

Although the content for Scarred Bark is created here in Maryland, the posting is handled through our affiliate in London. For those of you with a burning desire for more useless knowledge, here is a link to the history of time:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greenwich_Mean_Time

It's easy to forget how much the Royal Navy influenced the shape of our modern world. Their mastery of timekeeping in the days of sail gave them dominance over their rivals. If you have the time, read Longitude by Dava Sobel

http://www.davasobel.com/

(The book was made into a PBS TV show - in case you don't like to read) It presents a fascinating technical problem and the struggle between competing groups to find an answer. There is a valuable lesson here about using government stimulus to bring about desired results: If you want to find a solution to a problem, stop handing out grants; instead, offer a 10 billion dollar prize to the person who finds the solution. Maybe that's too much money. How about 10 prizes of 1 billion each to solve 10 different problems all at once. Yeah, I know, again with the multitasking, but it's not my money so what do I care. In a country with an annual deficit exceeding one trillion dollars, you'd think we could scrape up a couple of billion in prize money from somewhere. Maybe we should offer a prize to the person who solves our budget deficit problem. We could always borrow the prize money from the Federal Reserve - they seem to have more than their fair share.

Laying Tracks

The National Capital Trolley Museum closed last winter. The Inter-County Connector - a divided highway currently under construction across Montgomery County - runs right through the old museum site, so we had to move. The museum will reopen some time this fall - the exact date as yet unknown. The trolley cars were moved into the new car barns on flatbed trucks, and have been patiently waiting while construction continues on the rest of the system. Here's a recent picture of the car shops where we carry out routine maintenance and repairs. These cars form the backbone of our operating fleet. The rest of the cars reside in the adjacent display barn and they rarely see service; but the cars in this picture - along with #1329 at the back of the center track - see continuous duty hauling patrons along the line.

Reese has been at the museum for the last couple of weeks laying track. They still need to finish the yard ladder into the barns and the loop in front of the visitors center. If you look closely at this image, you can see that track #16 - the one on the right - has been finished. The New York City car is now connected with the main line. It will be a few more weeks before the overhead wire is installed, but we're getting close. Soon the clang of the trolley will return to Northwest Branch Park. I hope you all will stop in and visit the museum when we re-open and take a ride on one of our antique trolley cars.

The museum's website:

http://www.dctrolley.org

has pictures and information about the museum; and the official date for the resumption of service will be posted as soon as it's available.