Finally, A Perfect Excuse!

Today is a happy day for truly yours, as he finds out that the reason for his humdum (sic) educational level in grammar and high schools is high sugar levels in the cafeteria food! In fact, we can now blame the far less than stellar scholastic achievement in America on Public School Enemy #1, brain cell-killing sugar.

After 10 years of research, the evidence is in, according to this CNN report:

"In the first six months of the sugar ban, disciplinary incidents went down 23 percent, counseling referrals decreased 30 percent, and in the first years of standardized test scores, reading scores improved 15 percent, she said. Browns Mill [Elementary School] was named a national blue ribbon school and a Georgia school of excellence in 2005."

So, please, take your criticism and place it where it is more deserved --- on the guy who went to private schools and had to eat broccoli for lunch.

Perfect Impression

I should have been more dazzled by his resplendent majesty. Perched in the tallest valley oak, the afternoon sun added to his regal splendor. But my excitement was muted by --- what? By not having the lens I needed to get the best picture.

Perfectionism is a robber and thief.

Photos From The Bus

A wonderful birding adventure punctuated the work week Tuesday as a dozen of us headed north, through Sacramento to visit two National Wildlife Refuges and Gray Lodge Reserve north of the Sutter Buttes. I wasn't happy with the noisy and bumpy bus ride and my short telephoto lens capability, but being with the folks and seeing God's creation made those minor distractions.

Quoting from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service brochure: "Today, over 90% of California's wetlands are gone, along with the grizzly bear. The ability of the valley rivers to create new wetlands naturally is largely prevented by levees that have been constructed to confine flows for irrigation and flood control. However, the birds continue to fly their ancient routes along the Pacific Flyway, and crowd into the remaining wintering habitat. The Refuges provide a significant amount of the wintering habitat for waterfowl in the Sacramento Valley. . . In 1937, with the establishment of Sacramento NWR, managers and biologists worked to transform the Refuge's dry, alkaline lands into productive marshes. The Civilian Conservation Corps, using bulldozers and tractors, began creating marshes and ponds."

Each of the areas we visited had vehicle tour routes, so you really didn't have to get out of the bus to enjoy seeing the waterfowl and scenery. But taking so many pictures from inside the bus was a real pain. Thankfully, I was able to get a few good ones and able to get out and use my wide-angle lens for a number of them, including the last group of pictures at Gray Lodge. Yes, the photo of the great egret was taken from a moving bus, as were the sunset shots.

Amazing what you can do when you improvise. You can see it all chronicled here: Dave Skinner Photography

Closing Guantanamo

For those of us who think harboring prisoners who want to destroy this country is in some way immoral (remember, even treason is punishable by incarceration or worse in America). Or for those who think that these captives are being mistreated (taking water-boarding out of the equation for the moment), please consider the horrors of the real, historical and ungodly prisons in America's past, namely Andersonville, Libby and Millen during the Civil War. Even northern prisons weren't exempt from inhumane and shameful treatment of prisoners.

The picture is of Philander Lewis, father of Mary Lewis Pleas Hill who lived in Lodi, CA at the turn of the last century. He enlisted in Michigan, was captured and died in Andersonville in May, 1864. That was a month before my g-great-grandfather was captured in Virginia and sent to Libby, Andersonville, and Millen prisons. Thankfully, the war ended early the next year or he would have probably died also.

Guantanamo by comparison is like being on vacation in paradise.

Din-Din Under Moonlight

Tonight's another one of those "close encounter" episodes when the moon winds (or 'wends' - your choice) its way close to the mother ship. High tides and 4th of July 'ooohs' and 'aaahs' will be heard around the globe (at least on this side for a few hours). We have such a fascination with all things astronomical, but hardly question or be amazed at how the same dirt chemicals can be transformed into the taste of tomatoes, potatoes or navel oranges. And then, further down the road that same dirt keeps you and me alive and healthy by what we eat.


It's still too cold today to get outside, except for a few minutes of fixing the vacuum cleaner in a frigid garage or taking a few bird photos or looking at the moon with my favorite granddaughter. I've become the proverbial wuss and perfect candidate for all things seniorish. "Where's the nurse?!"


We'll hopefully take Angel to the Serpentine Museum again tomorrow after church, and then maybe visit the Hill House Museum on School Street in Lodi. It's one of those restored turn-of-the-century Victorians with all of the old family's stuff still in it. The father (or some relative) was an artist and designed the east side of the upstairs with lots of windows for extra light while painting. Very authentic. Don't know if an 8-year old can appreciate any of it, except for the kids' bedrooms, but one thing about Angel - she hardly complains about anything. Unlike her crotchety old grandpa.

Yellow and Blue Blazes

There's just something about blue and yellow in juxtaposition. What a horribly sounding word --- juxtapose. It's almost as bad as tongue, or conjugal or svelt.

Thankfully, like harmonious colors, certain English/American words incomparably exude an exquisite beauty in their pronunciation. And remove the stilted sentence structure and you're left with something like this:

TO A BRIDE
February 17, 1846
-by W.S. Landor

A still, serene, soft day; enough of sun
To wreathe the cottage smoke like pinetree snow,
Whiter than those white flowers the bride-maids wore;
Upon the silent boughs the lissom air
Rested; and, only when it went, they moved,
Nor more than under linnet springing off.
Such was the wedding morn: the joyous Year
Leapt over March and April up to May.

Regent of rising and of ebbing hearts,
Thyself borne on in cool serenity,
All heaven around and bending over thee,
All earth below and watchful of thy course!
Well hast thou chosen, after long demur
To aspirations from more realms than one.
Peace be with those thou leavest! peace with thee!

Is that enough to wish thee? not enough,
But very much: for Love himself feels pain,
While brighter plumage shoots, to shed last year's:
And one at home (how dear that one!) recalls
Thy name, and thou recallest one at home.
Yet turn not back thine eyes; the hour of tears
Is over; nor believe thou that Romance
Closes against pure Faith her rich domain.
Shall only blossoms flourish there?
Arise,
Far sighted bride! look forward! clearer views
And higher hopes lie under calmer skies.

Fortune in vain call'd out to thee; in vain
Rays from high regions darted; Wit poured out
His sparkling treasures; Wisdom laid his crown
Of richer jewels at they reckless feet.
Well hast thou chosen. I repeat the words,
Adding as true ones, not untold before,
That incense must have fire for its ascent,
Else 'tis inert and can not reach the idol.
Youth is the sole equivalent of youth.
Enjoy it while it lasts; and last it will;
Love can prolong it in despite of Years.

Don't try to figure it out, just feel the gentle beauty of the words flow through the sandy regions of your mind and wash out the ugly gunk and grunge that may be there.

California Name Game

Another new law here in the Golden State permits prospective newlyweds a wider choice of last names during their marriage. Effective immediately, partners can:

~ Take either spouse's current last name.
~ Take either spouse's birth name.
~ Create a hyphenated combination of the last two last names.
~ Create a new name using a segment of both spouse's last names.

Sure, if your last name is Dunderhead, you'd definitely want to do some surgery. Ditto for Klediddlehopper. Hollywood stars have changed their lackluster names for years.

But this new law really lets you do some creative wordsmithing. If my daughter had married a Mr. Christian, she could be Elizabeth Christmas (using her former married name, Limas). If my brother's last name was Dimmel, and he married Miss Yonowitz, they could now be Mr. and Mrs. Dimwitz. Pretty cool, eh?

USC Blowout

I took this locomotive's Trojan-colored picture yesterday. The merchandise still keeps trucking along, or should I say, 'tracking?' Brute force on rails communicates a sense of controlled power. There is little danger while it stays within its boundary. Let it get off of the rails and it transforms into a devil that will smash and kill indiscriminately.

Like a train barreling through the fog, the Trojans are whipping Penn State with great passing offense, keeping the Nittany Lions on the tracks. The score right now is 31-7 in the 3rd quarter. After the 'low scoring' prediction by the announcers, USC is running away with the game - so far. We'll see what happens when the final minutes roll around.

Go, Trojans! And Happy New Year to everyone!

Tried Green Tomatoes?

Tomorrow will herald the last day of this long year. Time to say "goodbye" and "thanks for the memories," both good and bad (Romans 8:28). Time to appreciate another day of blessing and new year of hope. Time to pull out the summer's vegetable garden and find some recipes for hundreds of green tomatoes.

San Luis Obispo Crime

San Luis Paso ain't. Does that make sense? It will when you go to this crime map of San Luis Obispo, then take the little hand cursor and drag it down and down and down until you get to see little ol' Paso 30 miles north.

No comment from this Paso lover.

Rock of Ages

I took this picture almost 40 years ago while visiting Glacier Point in Yosemite for the first time. The powers that be have restricted taking pictures from this point since then. You have to stay on a fenced path (to reduce lawsuits most likely). Some things don't change, like this chunk of rock facing into the valley a mile below. Photos taken over a hundred years ago at the same angle could be superimposed on this one without seeing a difference.

There is a more ancient rock, called "the ancient of days" who is God in Christ. Eternal, unchanging, Jesus Christ is the "same yesterday, today and forever." Hebrews 13:8

A Little Sand in Your Sandwich

Boy, is it cold, or what!? And to top it off they're showing The Day After Tomorrow over and over on FX network. What we need are some beach movies, like Beach Blanket Bingo and Muscle Beach Party with Annette and Frankie. Anything to warm us up a bit. Hey, even a little global warming documentary would be nice!

We used to head over to Cayucos during the summer to 'cool off' when it was about 118degrees in Paso Robles. The sand would burn our feet, but the water was freezing - cold enough to erase the thoughts of sweltering on the other side of the hill. Here's a 1967 photo of Marvin Herreid and Susan Wynn dripping after a dipping. Looks like fun, but hard to imagine when you're expecting another night of ice capped world around you.

Vocational overtime and seasonal stress have contributed to my blogging demise the past few weeks. It might also explain the sparse entries on the website. My humble apologies until things get back to normal.

May God bless each and all as we celebrate advent and a new year, remembering we are here at His behest, owe our all to Him as a Loving Creator and Redeemer, and will soon enter eternity.

Birdless . . . Wordless

Many years ago we lived in a house on Monterey Street with a canary Grandmother Cockrell had given us. This rusty yellow warbler was quite the fellow, perched in his wire-rimmed cage and singing most of the day.

We named him Chrysostom, after the golden-throated preacher from centuries ago. He was the much loved friend of family and friends as he preached his own gospel in song, cheering the sad and lonely with heavenly strains befitting one of God's beautiful creations. He didn't ask for much --- water, food, a good talking to and lots of noise to get him going.

Chrysostom was no weak-feathered wimp. With machismo manliness, he sounded a melodic scale of notes that would have impressed the hardest heart. As a 'chopper,' the music was often louder than we liked, but his enthusiasm atoned for this slight sin.

Poor Chrysostom's end would come as an overactive vacuumer bumped his cage and sent it toppling to the floor. He would never sing again in this life. He died within a few weeks from the shock.

In honor of his death, I wrote this poem. I believe it is the shortest poem ever written.

On the Death of Our Canary, Chrysostom

Birdless . . .
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . Wordless

Keeper

Angel went fishing with her dad this evening at the Calaveras River. She was the only one to get a fish and was more than eager to show it off.

I used to fish with my dad in canals and on rivers. The most memorable trip was south of El Paso on the Rio Grande where we camped out near the beach and fished the next day. I landed a 24" carp. Quite a fight, but had to let him go. Can't remember if Dad caught anything. I think he just liked getting away from the women in his life for awhile and commune with nature's silence.

October Surprise

Our recent trip to Paso Robles turned into a whirlwind see-fest as we attended more than a few events and reconnected with old friends, including cousin Larry. We hadn't seen each other in 15 years or more, but there wasn't a lot of catching up during a Paso Robles Inn breakfast.

Larry has been a custom cabinet craftsman for many moons and still loves what he's doing. He was working on a $100,000 contract for someone in Paso. That's a whole lot of cabinets - but, hey, it's Paso Robles, the land of the free and the home of the rich.

Thanks to cousin Bruce for this picture.