Surveillance State of Mind

March 3, 2022 10:50pm

All your life, you’ve been waiting for some revelation, a sign….but it never came. Your connection to the eternal was missed. The seconds ticked on, memories packed into the interstices, each its own eternity.

We put up security cameras at a factory making spinal braces. Each brace representing the complete torso of an actual human, sitting on the factory floor like clay soldiers in a tomb erected to the God of obesity. Nary a one of these braces looked like it could walk up a flight of stairs or pick up a gallon of milk or rise from a toilet. Out of hundreds, I saw only one that was close to fit. How many of these braces would survive any ordeal greater than a trip to the pantry for more chips and cookies?

This factory was in an industrial park near the airport. UPS planes took off every couple of minutes passing overhead a little to the southeast at maybe 400 feet of altitude. The trains behind the factory added to the din with screeching wheels that sang on the rails all day long – moving the raw materials of American consumerism.

Between the factory and the train tracks were retaining ponds that looked like abandoned stripper pits. These two oases surrounded by weeds, garbage, factory debris, and a few cedar trees. Who knows what fluids and liquids flow into the green water of those ponds – but in the midst of this industrial miasma, two pairs of Canadian geese had set up housekeeping and were clearly preparing to nest. Imagine the goslings born to this paradise! I watched as one of each pair dipped a graceful neck down into the water feeding on the contaminants of the needy slugs sitting before their propaganda devices watching a war a world away caused by the foreign policy of a hegemon intent on projecting power around the globe while convincing its ignorant serfs that “we are the good guys – doing whatever we must to promote democracy” (with the tip of a spear) and also to keep the stock prices of the military industrial complex always rising…..always rising and transferring wealth from the middle class to the owners… the ones that own the world.

And behind a factory, a fish-eye camera sees all. It watches a stinking pond surrounded by weeds on which four geese live their lives and try to raise a family in a surveillance state of mind.

Tractor Tales

March7, 2022 9:39am

We got 2.5 inches of rain last night. We knew this was coming so after a week of dry weather and before the rain, I was able to haul in a load of composted horse manure, move a pile of dirt off the garden where I had “stored” it for the winter, build up a walkway into the barn with the aforementioned dirt, and, best of all plow the garden!

Now, the plowing was a questionable project because it required a smoothly running 1961 Allis-Chalmers D-15. And therein lies the problem.

I’ve had the D-15 for 30 years and used it for mowing some acreage and preparing a garden plot both here and at a previous house. It developed problems several years ago and would lose power after only a few minutes. Eventually, I parked it and paid someone to mow the back field and plow the garden. That guy shot his sister over an inheritance dispute and went to jail (there is a whole ‘nother story there – I digress) so I bought a Kubota so I could mow the field myself. ….but the proprietary AC snap couple plow didn’t fit the Kubota’s 3 point hitch.

So, plowing meant getting the Allis running! I started working on the D-15 and each repair led to new discoveries, more work, and more expense. By the time all was said and done, I had rebuilt the carb, re-cored the radiator, put on a new water pump, checked out the generator, installed new points, plugs, and condenser, replaced the voltage regulator, and adjusted the timing.

A few weeks ago, I put in a half-gallon of gas and fired it up for the first time in years. It ran fine for a few minutes, but I did not even drive it, much less try to do any work! So, you may imagine my doubts when two days ago, I fired her up, rolled her out of the barn, got the plow attached and dropped that baby on the ground. I throttled up and set off in first gear pulling 2 14″ plows. It never coughed, sputtered, or threatened to stall out! My joy was complete.

The question now: how does this tractor tale fit the existential nature of this journal?

Here’s how. When you question everything and wonder why it should continue even one more day (the universe, that is), a small success like a properly running tractor is a welcome reprieve from existential woes.

We are here. We must continue. Get the damn tractor running and prepare to plant the garden! Spring will not wait for your hand wringing, self-absorption, and over analysis. The days are getting longer, there is no time to waste!

The End of Doubt

March 10, 2022 11:49pm

Doubts creep in like a tide, gradually and stealthily raising questions that we cannot answer. Waves follow waves of nausea, each a little higher than the last. All we seek is certainty but that commodity is scarce these days….perhaps it always has been.

But we are able to delude ourselves very well. If we KNOW in our hearts, we are confident and content. Unfortunately, life affords little certainty whether we speak of politics, ethics, love, religion or world events….it is all in flux, a moving target. What you thought was true yesterday is now in question and doubts breed more doubts. Can you trust those who assure you that your worry is unfounded? Why would they lie? Perhaps there is a heaven after all….when our hearts finally rest and our minds and memories go dark and release us from the burden of doubt.

One Day in the Lie…..Life…..

March 16, 2022 12?27pm

At the end of long life, will you remember what you did on this day? I am retired so my days may be very different from your day spent in the workplace.

Here’s what I did: tomato seeds are planted but the grow light quit. I started the morning cutting and grinding the mounting system for the new ballast for the light. The sparks from my cutting wheel melted a polyester hooded vest I was wearing so now it has a “scab” of roughened, melted polyester in a couple of places. Easily distracted and too often jumping from one task to the next, I shoveled more dirt around the raised walkway into the barn.

Back in the basement, I made sure my mods to the mounting system would work but put off drilling the final holes to complete the job. Then, I gathered all the tools needed for some roof repairs at my parents’ house. Dad is 89 but still threatens to try to replace the shingles lost in the last high winds. So, at 66, I’m up on a roof so steep I cannot maintain position on the 8/12 pitch. Luckily, the problem is at the ridge, so I straddle the house and painstakingly remove the cap and pull off the broken shingles. Replacing the two broken ones was the easy part. Next, I cut nine new caps on the ground and then, with great difficulty, I scampered up with them under my arm, barely able to lunge for the ridge and pull myself up with one hand. With legs dangling off each side, I was able to enjoy the blue sky and long country view on a 71 degree day…..hot enough to feel the heat from the roof and warm enough to make the shingles good and flexible. I have roofed many houses and marvel at being able to do this work all day long as a 20-something. Now, my hips are cramping from the odd positions I assume trying to relieve the strains of sitting astride this house.

My father is watching the proceedings from his lawn tractor seat two stories below and I know he’s thinking he could have had this done in 10 minutes….”what’s the problem,” he says. “Nothing….it’s just awkward trying to hold all this and work at the same time,” I reply as I drive another roofing nail.

We all die or reach the point where we realize that some things are better left to youth. I ponder this and conclude that this may be the last time I try to do any roofing on his house OR mine.

The last step is to use tabs to “cap” the ridge….the peak of the roof. I applied tar liberally under every one of those caps hoping it would insure I won’t have to get back up there any time soon. Finally, I reach the last cap on the west end of the ridge (the weather side) and dab some tar on the last nails which of necessity must be left exposed. Done with this chore, I clean up tools, ladders, and debris.

As I leave, Dad is revving up his Harley….at 89, regardless of what he thinks, he’s not doing any roofing, but he still rides and has three bikes…the Harley, a Goldwing and a 750 Yamaha. He’s still got his motor running and it makes him believe he can still do it…..all.

Next stop is to help a friend load up the pieces of a pool table he was given. Each of the three sections of the slate top weighed maybe 150 pounds and we had to carry them up a flight of basement stairs. We loaded all the pieces parts of the rest of the table and then grabbed a hamburger before I headed home to shower and watch an Irish themed movie with my wife in this St. Patrick’s Day season.

And that is the way I spent one day of my life. Unremarkable, isn’t it? I was going to change the world but instead shoveled dirt, ground/cut metal, nailed shingles, and moved slate.

We can describe our entire lives with a few sentences, but we believe ourselves to be unique and worthy of God’s attentions. Perhaps he did take note of the care I used on those shingles….we’ll see.

A Boy and His Dog

March 19, 2022 11:57pm

I left the house at 8:30am in a light mist. It was 47 degrees under a gray sky. My route ran along railroad tracks on the right and a sidewalk on the left. Passing through an area that was popular for summer homes 100 years ago, I saw a tall white-haired gentleman walking a small dog.

Often, I speculate on the lives of the people I see. What did he do for a living? Did he perhaps get drafted into the Vietnam War and kill his enemy? How much education does he have? What writers and thinkers does he admire? Did he play sports? How many times was he in love? Does he have children? Does he believe in God?

And then I was past him and his dog walking in the cold mist….my questions unanswered for all eternity.

I continued to the training session where I would help instruct some Sons of the American Revolution members in the 1764 Manual of Arms and where I would learn that the troublesome lock on my gun had become “unrepaired” even after I spent two hours tracking down the problem, fixing it, and assuring myself that the lock would hold the half-cock.

It’s not a good sign when the “instructor” can’t pass inspection.

The Answer

March 27, 2022

A few times in my life, I have posed questions to the void and have gotten an answer. This morning, in that curious state between dreaming and waking, I asked – in my internal dialog, “What is the answer?”

Immediately came the response, “There is no question.”

Now, I interpreted this to mean that I waste time and effort in a search for something that does not exist. However, upon further reflection, I wondered if it meant that the answer I seek is self-evident …and therefore there is no question.

One is the pessimist/nihilist philosophy, and the other is the positive, life-affirming philosophy. Perhaps we get to choose our own answers depending on which interpretation we prefer.

You do know the question…..right?