Godzilla

Recently the subject of the many Godzilla movies came up elsewhere on the 'net, and it got me thinking about them.

I do like Godzilla.  I have not seen every single Godzilla movie, but I think I would like to:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Godzilla_%28franchise%29

I looked for trailers for those movies:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VKrj1ymJzmo

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ll8H4bpZgTw

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PBbK8tkTE8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UsP_vCffBe4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vC4rMWD7MXw

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=esLZFPL3dDE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SpbaeNbCM_w

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fx5_3__XIP8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r_rWm_u2oQQ

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OTd0HAMA50U

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LVOR-463obk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DyOVKYabImw

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=REMsbJMtN0Y

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_L5Fz-vDXOg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fotSbx0D1A0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ePtjMbETOI
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9aKtjGBtf9s

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QSmLbhifByc

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6E6t37NRfN8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-5zw6PrBp7g

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kQuWkSDjNME

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-MLvi8pp-uc

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xxeZUbKLNlI

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7CDU21yKliM

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z4iXgZkdGS8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SaZ3iR-wo-I

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UnVajjMrqd0

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j5lXP2NMo8U

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D5ASNlqnrhM

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CkJ_n9ygZRw

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1b2CtgkwJQA

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_D2c34KDbEk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGOX_FdEccc

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4_oiHWXLIFI

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mBwsUD7jYCI

I was delighted to learn that I could find all of them on YouTube.

But my number one kaiju fantasy is of recutting Frankenstein Conquers the World
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wu6waDbmPNU

and War of the Gargantuas
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=swC1wZAJ5lU
into a recreation of the original planned sequel, The Frankenstein Brothers.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "GRONK!  GREEE-OOOO-OOONK!"\\

Pete Seeger, 1919-2014

http://www.chicagotribune.com/entertainment/music/chi-pete-seeger-dead-20140127,0,3986283.story

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HlSpc87Jfr0

Ninety-four years, none of them wasted.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Y7P4n2uT0w

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

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mt9jWoXmrLw

An American hero.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AvyvBRfJuIE

http://peteseeger.net/wp/

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RXKJ1jPuaoI

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "To everything there is a season."\\

Martin Luther King Speaks

A bit late, but here is a quote worth quoting:

“Call it democracy, or call it democratic socialism, but there must be a better distribution of wealth within this country for all God’s children.” -- May 1965 speech to the Negro American Labor Council

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "A cornered mouse will bite a cat.  This does not make the mouse a predator or make the cat into prey."\\

My Best Salute

I have told this story more than once, but a search indicates I haven't told it on my blog, so here it is:

My career in the Navy (January 1981 - June 1982) was not my finest hour, much less the Navy's, but it had its moments.

One was when I was crossing the grounds of the Naval Regional medical Center at Portsmouth, Virginia, and saw a person approaching.  My thoughts were, approximately,

Officer approaching, will need to salute . . .

She's a Captain, better make it look good . . .

She's a Line officer [i.e., not a lawyer or a nurse, but a "real" officer, the kind who commands ships], that's interesting . . .

In order to have risen to Captain as a Line officer, she must have either been one of the first ever commissioned, or else have risen quite rapidly through the ranks.  In either case, she must be something pretty special . . . .

I gave her the smartest salute I had in me.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "She deserved it."\\

A Small But Wonderful Thing Happened Today

I almost didn't notice it at the time.

I was telling Gideon a "Gideon story" (I tell him a lot of stories, and Kathe is after me to start writing them down -- I know she's right...) in which Gideon was with a group of carolers.  They sang "Stille Nacht", and Gideon told the group that his Dad had written a book about the Christmas Truce.

Gideon interrupted to ask if it was true that I had written a book "with pages, that people read?"  I told him, not many people so far, but I had hopes that it would sell more eventually.  I opened my laptop and showed him the illustrations I had used, and he pointed to one of my advertisements and said, "I have seen that!"

  

 

 

So I guess now he knows it's true.  In the morning, I will sit down with him and page through the copy I had made at CreateSpace.

I'll try to find a passage from the book that I can read to him.  

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Maybe the soccer game?"\\

The Christmas Mutiny, Carbon-based Form

I just got in the mail a proof copy of The Christmas Mutiny from Amazon's CreateSpace. Now I can show people a physical copy. I expect to show it around a lot.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "It looks pretty good."\\

Tinnitus

My tinnitus began in early childhood, in the form of occasional sustained notes (at the time, I thought I must be especially sensitive to noises from electronics), and an occasional loud noise, swelling rapidly and then fading rapidly, very much like feedback.

It evolved into a frequent sound like cicadas buzzing (and which I long thought was), and these days is a more or less constant chorus ranging from a sound rather like the leaking of air from an almost-blocked sinus to a large field of cicadas.  That nasty feedback noise seems to be gone for good, though (touch wood).

My recently taking a job in a noisy industrial environment probably isn't helping -- one more reason for me to find a new one ASAP. My hearing was never all that good, and I think the tinnitus is making that worse.

I am leery of taking the tinnitus medication called "Quietus".  I think Children of Men had it right about what sort of medication ought to have that name: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QYy80trSPSI

//The Magic Eight-Ball says: "Don't be silly, try it and see if it helps."\\

Happy Anniversary, Kathe

Love You, Dad

My father will always be with me.  Like today, when I was handing over a check marked VOID in order to set up direct deposit for my paychecks, and I heard Dad's voice saying, "This is so much easier than in the old days, when you had to actually take a check and void on it".  Love you, Dad....

//The Magic Eight - Ball says, "He loves you, too."\\

Corvallis in 2063?

The other day, Kathe and I visited the "Corvallis in 2063" exhibit at the Arts Center. It showed various visions for the future in various media. Some of the model homes were very clever in design.
I was disappointed that it did not include a print of the famous painting of "Corvallis in 2057".


In the middle there was a table on which was a map of Corvallis. People were invited to place Post-It notes describing what they would like to see in the future. Among them was a suggestion of a municipal nuclear power plant. This was surrounded by several Post-Its saying things like "NO!"

I thought it over and came to a conclusion which I thought was worth sharing:

One day, we will have the technology that will allow us to build small nuclear power plants which are safe and efficient, but we probably won't build them for the same reason that we are unlikely ever to build personal jetpacks for commuting, zeppelins for passenger travel, or humanoid robots for household help. Not because these things are impossible, but because with the technology that makes them possible we can build other things that are more practical and useful.   //The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Predictions are always tricky, especially about the future."\\

My Laptop Died

Not a good thing, for my writing career or my mental equilibrium, neither of which is on a very good footing just now.

I wonder whether it can be repaired, or if I will have to replace it again.  Oh, well, neither one is really within my budget, anyway.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Kinda stinks, don't it?"\\

I'm Ready to Beg, Folks

Unemployed for close to two years, nobody is hiring, my books aren't selling.

If you have not bought one of my publications, please consider it. I personally think The Christmas Mutiny is a good story. I also think highly of my short stories "Hansel and Gretel Lost in the Bardo", "The Men Who Saved JFK" and my manual on massage technique, With a Friendly Touch, all of which are available for download at Amazon.com.

For the next seven days, if you e-mail me at john_m_burt@hotmail.com or text me at (541) 602-6026 to inform me that you have bought one of my stories, I will reply with 1) my personal thanks and 2) my new story "Dragons Live Forever", a 375-word flash piece which has not yet been offered to the public.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "You can always ask."\\

Makayla Kelley Burt

My first grandchild.


//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Let the stars beware."\\

Fortune Cookies

Kathe and I had a Chinese supper from Safeway. It was our first plausibly normal meal since her surgery. Did me a world of good, for sure.

My fortune: "What you will do matters. All you need is to do it." Okay.

Kathe's fortune: "Your happiness is before you, not behind you! Cherish it." I sure hope so.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "I suppose you noticed you were sitting right before her at the time...?"\\

Hold Kathe in the Light

After more than a week of pain and nausea, Kathe is now being admitted for emergency surgery. Looks to be appendicitis.

I'll post updates to my blog.

Anne Adjusts

Anne Hiler, my father's sister and last of her generation, is adjusting to widowhood as well as can be expected.

My mother is with her, and Kathe and I are checking in with her.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "It's okay if that's all you have to say."\\

Good Cookies

http://www.williams-sonoma.com/recipe/oatmeal-chocolate-chip-cookies.html

I make them for Kathe and me to eat on the paper route.

Still wish I could find Becca's recipe card for the recipe I used to use.

Or ask Becca about it....

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "She loved her mother. And she loved you."\\

A New Post at My Massage Blog

You might find it of interest, especially if you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders just now.

http://johnmburtlmt.blogspot.com/2013/02/the-shoulder-well.html

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Don't we all?"\\

Edublog Post

I found this while searching the phrase "Frankenstein's World", because that is the title of my next book and I was wondering what else people would find when searching for it.* I found the thoughts of someone reading the original novel, and a final post which expresses disappointment in the ending. My comment:
"I have to say I disagree with you about the ending of the original book. I think Frankenstein dying unavenged, and the monster likewise unavenged, is entirely appropriate, since what I have known of revenge tells me that even when it is 'successful', it is almost never satisfying.
"Clearly, though, many have disagreed, since I have not yet seen any dramatization or adaptation which has ended that way. The monster almost always kills Frankenstein and then dies himself, via a bolt of lightning (as in the original stage version) or in a fire (as in the 1931 Universal film) or literally fading away (as in the 1910 Edison film). The closest to the original ending that I have seen is a TV adaptation in which Frankenstein and the monster wrestle aboard Walton's ship and then fall through the ice to drown together."
In my own Frankenstein's World, I don't kill off either Frankenstein or his abandoned child. But I hope readers will find it satisfying.

*Mostly, references to a TV series called Once Upon a Time -- it looks interesting.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "There are as many Frankenstein's worlds as there are readers -- at the very least."\\

Light a Candle

Although Kathe and I haven't attended the Quaker Meeting in several years, we still get e-mails from them.
The other day, we heard that a Quaker had suffered a stroke. We have visited twice, talking with him and me rubbing his shoulders. Today, I read to him from a book about the peace witness movement. In one essay, the author said that the act of bearing witness was more often a candle held over an abyss than a bolt of lightning illuminating the landscape.
The thought occurred to me that if you lean over the abyss with a candle, you won't see very far, but anyone at the bottom will see your light, and know that someone is looking.
An isolated person will feel less lonely.
A despairing person will know someone cares.
A guilty person will know that the abyss does not hide everything.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Brighten up the corner you're in."\\

Meanwhile, The Ice Continues to Melt . . . .

[W]ith thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport.
Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain,
As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea
Contagious fogs; which falling in the land
Have every pelting river made so proud
That they have overborne their continents:
The ploughman lost his sweat, and the green corn
Hath rotted ere his youth attain'd a beard...
The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
The human mortals want their winter here...
And thorough this distemperature we see
The seasons alter...the spring, the summer,
The childing autumn, angry winter, change
Their wonted liveries, and the mazed world,
By their increase, now knows not which is which....

We can't blame the fairies for this. It's us.

We are their parents and original.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "It is decidedly so."\\

Whose Flag Is This?

Anybody know?

I saw it the other day, and thought it was quite interesting.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Run it up the flagpole and see who salutes it."\\

Magic Eight-Balls Got Legs

They were sitting on our doorstep, much the way the Magic Eight-Ball arrived on our doorstep some weeks ago, with three black suction cups and a note explaining that they were "Eight-Ball legs". Well, okay, then they must be....

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Thank you."\\

[Update: Finally did find out who was doing all that stuff. He came by while we were in and gave us a "cuestick" (not sure what it really is, but it's pretty) to go with the ball. And its legs.]

I Forgive You For Hating Teen Moms

I have only just discovered the FB page "I Hate Teen Moms" and the unfortunately large group of pages which imitate it. Looking them over has helped me to finally understand why Jesus said "Judge not, lest ye be judged". Clearly, Jesus understood that most people who are extremely judgmental are trying to push away the possibility that they would not measure up to the standards they set themselves, and think that attacking other people they will somehow shield themselves from judgment. Lighten up, people. It won't work. In fact, the best way to feel better about your own failings is the opposite: to be forgiving and understanding of other people.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "I think Jesus said that, too."\\

Happy Birthday, Walden

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Hold him in the Light."\\

Christmas Truce Poem

Not long after I finished The Christmas Mutiny, I met a woman writing poems "to order" at the Saturday Market. I commissioned a poem on the subject of the Christmas Truce, but then didn't see her for several months. I learned later she had been out of town most of the time.
Yesterday, she was at the market again, spotted me and delivered the poem. I like it a lot:


The Christmas Truce, by Cassie Ruud

We will not fight today.
We will not let you order us
into these pukish
mud-blood-soaked trenches
on this day.
You took us from our families,
from the arms of our wives and children
and thrown us against each other
for reasons
we do not understand.
So we will not fight today.
We will stand a tree,
sing our songs,
play soccer out in No-Man's-Land
almost far enough away
to hide from the trench stench
We will pretend our darlings
are close to us, show
each other pocketed lockets
full of pictures,
smoke our pipes in silence and stare numbly into the fire.


//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Peace on Earth."\\

The Magic Eight-Ball Says, "Here I Am!"

Kathe and I were just out, and when we returned there was a package on the porch.
A note read only, "As the Magic Eight-Ball rolls."
Inside was, sure enough, an eight ball. It appears to be just the usual pool table type of eight-ball, but I am going to watch it for any signs of magical properties.
In the meantime, we have an eight ball. How cool is that?

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Totally cool."\\

Philmfotos

I saw this on Facebook today:

http://philmfotos.tumblr.com/

Nifty.

Before there was such a thing as Google Street Views, I imagined it, and added bonus features like icons floating in the air: you could move your POV in front of the icon and "look through" it to see things like notes on the location, historical images of the same place, paintings of the same view and, yes, stills from movies which were filmed on the spot.

And then there are sites like

http://dearphotograph.com/

and one I really like

http://sergey-larenkov.livejournal.com/

The Taming of the Shrew

It was pretty cool.

The weather was mild, also.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Kiss me, Kat(h)e."\\

I Am An Oddfellow, But I'm Okay With That

I have just come home from an Oddfellows meeting, and have been reflecting on the Oddfellows' call for honorable conduct and service to humanity.

Thinking about how profound are simple truths such as, "This, too, shall pass" and "governments depend on the consent of the governed".

Thinking about how my parents really did raise me to be a good neighbor and to help move the world forward (or at least not impede it).

Thinking about my relatives and their values, and how I do feel privileged to be a member of a family like mine.

Yes, really.


//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Psst -- all men are brothers. Pass it on."\\

Fifty-Two Pickup

A week from Friday, I will turn 52, and as of now I am resolved that the theme of the next year of my life will be Fifty-Two Pickup.

The cards are all over the floor, but I will pick them up, one by one. I will shuffle the deck thoroughly. I will deal everyone a new hand.

Many thanks to my hypnotherapist, Robert Plamondon, who helped me reach this resolution*.

Resolution: 1) A formal declaration of understanding and/or intent. 2) The achievement of clearer vision.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "That is how the game is played."\\

A very Good Piece of Music

Someone sent me this link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=GBaHPND2QJg&feature=youtu.be

Really a gorgeous piece of music. That's why, among other things, I used it in The Christmas Mutiny.




//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Alle Menschen Werde Buredern".\\

Hope Needs an Eyrie

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7cVOOXQo22o

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "What makes one step a giant leap is all the steps before."\\

Inside the Benton County Courthouse

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9soLYwwl87s

I first saw the Benton County Courthouse in 1966, when I was six years old.

Coming over the Harrison Avenue Bridge into town, seeing the Courthouse illuminated by floodlights, I was powerfully impressed with it.

I still am, really.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "It's impressive."\\

Wanna Buy a Sputnik?

We call it "Sputnik" because it has a fault that causes it to beep-beep-beep whenever any of the doors are open.

For the most part, though, it's in pretty good shape.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "And you could use the money."\\

"Are You Superman?"

"Are You Superman?"
By: Russ Burlingame on June 14, 2012

In : Comics
- Comments

A little something to brighten your day. This story comes to us courtesy of Jeff Watkins, the properietor of City Comics and Toys in Syracusae, New York.

His store–which sits in the Shoppingtown Mall food court, the onetime site of a battle between Tom Peyer and Rags Morales’ android Hourman and his foes–is one that we’ve written about before. A small retailer, Watkins loves comics and is often the only store in town to participate in things like midnight openings for “event” comics and organizing local conventions and signings.

He also, according to at least one young fan, bears a striking resemblance to the Last Son of Krypton:

Yesterday I walked from my store to my car through the mall. There was a special needs kid that was walking next to me. I was wearing a dark blue V-neck t-shirt and my thick Clark Kent classes. Hair was dark from the product in it and was firmly in place, except for the little spit curl on my forehead.

He kept pace and I said hello.

He had to ask me something.

He leaned in close and whispered “Are you Superman?”

I chuckled a little bit. “Thanks kid. No.”

His face remained dead serious.

“I won’t tell anyone.” He said.

“You’re very nice. Thank you. I’m not though. Superman isn’t re…”

And this kid had this look on his face.

“I. Won’t. Tell. Anyone. I promise. I swear.”

I’m an emotional guy so I was getting a little choked up.

“We are not supposed to talk about secret identities, kid. It can get dangerous.”

And he starts enthusiastically nodding in agreement. “I know. I know.”

When I was almost to the doors, I turned back and took my glasses off and I put my finger up to my lips and I went “Shhhhhhhhh.”

And as best as his limbs would let him, he gave me a thumbs up.

I’ve been welling up thinking about it for about 24 hours now. Thought I was crazy until I told Shanna last night and she had the same reaction.

100% totally true story and despite his disadvantages in life, perceived and real, I thank that kid for being a superhero yesterday.

The story went viral shortly after Watkins posted it as a status message on Facebook, with other comics fans reposting it to Reddit (where it made the front page), Cheezburger and other social link-sharing sites.

Jeff’s story is not only a great reminder that the characters in comics mean something–even to those who may not be old enough to read most of what the Big Two is putting out yet–but of the enduring appeal of a character like Superman, who is constantly facing those nagging “Is he relevant anymore?” questions.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "He's where you find him."\\

The Frankenstein Book, Chapter 2

Locke walked through the cramped aisles of shelves groaning with bound newspapers, towards the clerk’s desk at the rear. “I need a comprehensive article or series about the history of vitalogy, and a biography of Dr. Frankenstein,” he told the tall hoover at the desk. Perched on a stool itself five feet high, the hoover’s boxy head almost brushed the ceiling.

The hoover looked down at Locke from behind his desk (some eight feet from the floor – why so high?), silently climbed down and made his heavy-footed way down one of the aisles, which held not only the five-year print run of the Sun but those of the Evening Register, the Long Island Farmer, indeed every noteworthy newspaper in the city’s history, as far back as the Royal New-York Gazette. Mr. Day had bought the collection at auction when the Commercial Advertiser folded. There was every newspaper, past and present, that Locke could recall having seen, aside from the Negro paper Freedom’s Journal.

The hoover unerringly found the volume he wanted and carried it to a lectern of a more reasonable height where Locke could stand and read it. The hoover opened the book to the correct page without even having to flip through it, and even laid a finger at the top of the right-hand page, headed VICTOR CAROLUS FRANKENSTEIN in old-fashioned newspaper type.

“I can read,” Locke snapped. He might have apologized, even to a hoover, but the creature had already turned away, without the slightest sign of resentment, or even reaction, except to the implied dismissal. He climbed his stool and bent to his desk, his quill pen scratching away.

Locke looked at the wastebasket at the foot of the stool, surrounded by wadded sheets of paper and used quills that had missed it. As a boy, he had learned to write with a quill pen, but in recent years he had only seen hoovers using them. Next to the wastebasket was a cylindrical shape held together with a worn leather strap. Locke realized with a start that it was a bedroll, presumably the clerk’s. Did the creature sleep down here? But then, why not? He was only a hoover. Still, the idea of the hoover living down here, possibly not having seen the light of day since he was brought down here . . . .

Locke shook himself and looked at the article the hoover had found for him.

Six decades before -- in the same year that a terrible fire had destroyed a quarter of the city of New York, Adam Smith had published his essay on The Wealth of Nations, and the United States had declared their independence -- a medical student at Ingolstadt, Bavaria, had discovered the elixir vitae: a transparent golden fluid which could animate dead tissue.

When Frankenstein’s elixir perfused dead tissue, hearts would beat, lungs would respire. A brain invigorated by the elixir would awaken and send signals to nerves. The nerves would command muscles to action. The muscles would respond.

Even a discovery as amazing as that might not have transformed the world as much as it had, or as quickly, if Frankenstein hadn’t also advanced the art of surgery amazingly. Most reanimated bodies would have been little use as they were upon death: torn muscles and broken bones would be unable to function, damaged nerves would not be able to control a limb, disease-ravaged organs would not sustain a reanimated body. Frankenstein learned to graft a healthy limb in place of a ruined one, to splice the severed ends of nerves so they would function, and to give a healthy brain command over a body.

Frankenstein’s genius still might have languished for years. His handful of reanimated animals might have been mere curiosities, and his first disastrous attempt to copy the human form might have led a lonely existence. The final key component was Frankenstein’s invention of conservante, the transparent liquid which allowed him to preserve tissue against decay for months, even years. That allowed Frankenstein and his friend Henry Clerval to quickly begin producing their first ouvriers, a word which entered English as “hoover”.

Much of this was long familiar to Locke, but a good deal was new. As he read, he felt a growing curiosity that he hadn’t had before, and wished he’d taken the time to study vitalogy prior to this assignment.

Locke thought about just how much Frankenstein and vitalogy had changed the world. From the moment Nereus had knocked on his door to now, there had hardly been a moment when he was out of sight of a two-legged hoover or a four-legged kimmer, to say nothing of the street flowers cushioning his feet and the ravens and rocs flying over his head. Even the luminous fungi in the ceiling and walls that provided the very light he was reading by was a product of the Vitalogical Revolution.

It occurred to Locke that he actually did have an “in” to the vitalogist community. Freddy Waldman, two doors down from his own room at the Decatur, was an assistant to Dr. Lavenza, who had a little workshop or surgery or whatever it was called that turned out some kind of fancy servant hoovers for the upscale market. If he could get Waldman to introduce him to Lavenza, he could interview the man, and gain access to other vitalogists. Locke would drop by Lavenza’s place of business and ask if he could interview him – it was unlikely, but there was no harm in asking, and it would give him an excuse to “happen” to run into Waldman as he was leaving for lunch. Locke could then suggest they get something together.

That reminded Locke that he was feeling hungry himself. He must have been reading in the morgue all morning, running on nothing but a spoonful of Blue Mass. He had better be about getting some nuncheon before trying to interview anyone.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "There are some things Man was not meant to know...."\\

Not Babysitting

Over and over I heard it: "Babysitting today?" Over and over, I gave the same reply, always with a perfectly straight face: "No, he's my kid." At least nobody ever asked Kathe where she got the gay nanny: http://echidneofthesnakes.blogspot.com/2012_05_27_archive.html#1384367121943060380 //The Magic Eight-Ball says: "Admit it, you'd have loved it if that had happened."\\

Kathe and I went to a neighborhood committee meeting. There was talk of forming a watch. If so, I will want to join just to make sure nobody is "carrying" like George Z. //The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Heaven forbid."\\

Do You Read Me?

Read from The Christmas Mutiny at the Interzone tonight. Not a big crowd but I managed to read a chapter out loud without choking, so I count it as a success. Now on to the next reading. Eight-Ball, where will I do a reading next? //The Magic Eight-Ball says, "TBA."\\

Kathe heard a coyote yipping and howling last night. Sounded like it was about five blocks away, she said. Okay, Corvallis is only about 50,000 people, and I saw one just a couple of miles outside of town, but still a wonderfully spooky (and trickstery) thing. Sorry I missed it. //The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Be careful of wishing for a visit from a trickster."\\

Shoot-'Em-Ups

I have finally noticed that I read comics in two modes: one for Persepolis and Vogelein, and another for Birds of Prey and 52. The latter serve for me the function Ace Double Novels did for my father (what he referred to as "shoot-'em-ups"). I think other people establish these categories early in life, often discarding one or the other entirely. Not sure what that means, either the division or the timing, but it's something I have noticed. //The Magic Eight-Ball says, "A rolling stone gathers momentum."\\

The Ink Fairy

Okay, that's just weird.*

Spots of inky black liquid are appearing at seemingly random places around the house. So far there is (no pun intended) no pattern we can make out.

I'm tempted to walk through the house saying, "When I said I was hoping for ink, I meant publicity for The Christmas Mutiny!"

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Don't look at me, my ink is all staying inside."\\

* I think I'll make this a new tag.

It's Up There

I stood on the porch and looked up at the evening sky. There was just one brilliant light, high and bright. I thought it was too high to be Venus, and therefore presumed it was Jupiter. Which was cool, because someone I know is particularly fond of Jupiter.

But I looked it up, and it was indeed Venus.

But that's okay, because one way or another, it was Brightly Shining.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Shine on."\\

God Damn It All

http://pandagon.net/index.php/site/comments/a-young-black-man-being-late

Emmett Till was an awfully cute kid, too . . . .

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Inch by inch, row by row."\\

Goodlife

During his campaign, Gardner promised average voters would inspire his actions. One ad said, “I will always put Colorado families before the Washington special interests.” But in Key Largo, Gardner appeared to offer special interests lots of face time. He was seen on camera talking to an attendee who said he works for a bank. In another shot, he’s seen going charter fishing as part of the fundraising package—they head out on a group of boats including one named “Good Life.”

Re the S.S. Good Life, two references come to mind.
One is the obvious, the short story "It's a Good Life", that was made into a Twilight Zone episode (and a Simpsons Halloween special, also).
The other is even more pointed, that in Fred Saberhagen's Berzerker stories, when a human chose to serve the killer robots in their crusade against organic life, s/he was called a "Goodlife". I have long felt that this word, like "robot" and "flash mob", should make the transition from science fiction jargon to common language.
The Repub party, long under the influence of people who have turned Goodlife, has now fallen completely under their sway.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Live long and prosper."\\

So, I Hear There's This Doonesbury Strip . . . .

Some newspapers don't want to run it.

http://www.poughkeepsiejournal.com/assets/pdf/BK186474313.PDF

Others are only putting it up on their web sites -- that way, kids won't see it, I suppose.

http://www.gocomics.com/doonesbury/2012/03/12

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Some people have no sense of humor."\\

Christopher Robin and Pooh Come to an Enchanted Place

Tonight I read the last chapter of The House at Pooh Corner to a little boy, and we talked about it a little.

I remember my mother reading to me from that book (especially the Woozle sighting), but I definitely don't remember her reading me the ending.

Possibly she thought it would be too confusing for me. Or possibly she was simply interrupted by her fast-changing life, back when she was a college student and the mother of three preschoolers (good grief!). Or perhaps, knowing what a fickle child I was, I one day said, "Winnie the Pooh! Yuck! I'm not a baby!"

I read Winnie the Pooh to my own kids, but we never got around to The House at Pooh Corner. Not sure why that happened, either.

But I by-Christopher-Robin did read that last chapter to one little boy, anyway.

For whatever that's worth.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Leave them there."\\

The Christmas Mutiny, Now Available

My novel, The Christmas Mutiny, is now available for download at Amazon.

I hope people read it, and like it.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "They will, John. It's good."\\

Where Does It Hurt?

On my right side, near the lowest ribs, when I take a deep breath.

My left shoulder aches some days.

My right knee hurts occasionally, when weight-bearing.

My right shin hurts some days, with or without weight-bearing.

Both wrists ache occasionally. It doesn't feel the same as the hand pain that led me to have to wear hand braces at night and eventually to having surgery on one hand.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Watch and see how it changes."\\

Another Minor Loss

Awhile back at some web site or other, Kathe and I saw people discussing the moral blind spots of previous generations, and speculating on what our descendants might be appalled at our tolerating.

I'd like to nominate our persistence in pretending that dental and optical care somehow aren't health care, and shouldn't be covered on the same plan, or even at all.

Just the other day, Kathe told me that I couldn't have any more dental problems until she'd had some deferred maintenance taken care of on her own teeth. Alas, I woke up at 5:30 this morning with a toothache that hadn't gotten the memo.

A root canal and crown would have cost a thousand dollars we didn't have, so I got to have an extraction for $80. We didn't have the $80 either, but we might get it sometime relatively soon.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "At least it's over."\\

Another Small Sacrifice

Without my beard I look less jolly and ingratiating.

But more respectable. And younger.

I really dislike shaving every day. And I don't care much for having stubble.

Oh, well. Maybe this will help me get a new job. Something's got to do it.

Oh, wait, no it doesn't. Maybe I just won't get another job, ever.

Still, if I quit trying, I definitely won't.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "It does make you look younger, though."\\

Camelot 1:16:48 -- Look Familiar?

In 1967, even George Lucas didn't know who C-3PO and Princess Amidala were -- so what gives?



And how on Earth did it take until 2012 for someone (me) to notice?

Oh, also: We made it to Aumsville today.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Sometimes a coincidence means something really profound. Other times, it's just this thing that happened."\\

Bit Wet

We awoke to a drip from the ceiling. The pan that was supposed to catch the drip had overflowed due to very heavy rainfall.

We went out so Kathe could serve some papers and were first amused by swollen creeks, then annoyed by water crowding the lanes, then alarmed by overflow running right over the roadway, and finally blocked by flooding that cut off one route and then another.

We never did make it to Aumsville.

Oh, and in a non-rain-related matter, our daughter Mestowet called from Georgia. It was good to hear from her. I also noticed something that I hadn't before: whenever I hear from one of our kids, I think of how grateful I am to Kathe for making it possible for me to know them. That's true of each of my kids, as much as if she had borne them: I wouldn't have known any of them if it weren't for her. Thank you, Kathe.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "I'm glad you made it back safely."\\

Lights Out

This site is observing the Internet Blackout.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "-------"\\

New Web Site Coming Soon

Soon, if all goes well, the link above these words will be live, and my web site, designed by Kathe's son Jake, will be up and running, offering my stories for sale.

Jake asked me to write summaries of some of my stories for the site:

The Christmas Mutiny, a Young Adult novel of alternative history, about 50,000 words.
Several young people are present at the famous Christmas Truce of 1914, in which for a brief moment enemies lay down their arms and enjoyed a moment of peace. History says that after the truce, they went back to killing one another for another three years -- but perhaps there are other worlds than ours...?

"Rattler Lil", a Western fantasy, about 4,000 words
An adolescent boy finds a surrogate mother, as do many other strays in a frontier town. Miss Lillian Clay seems to be a good person to have around, especially where children and rattlesnakes are concerned. And there may be more to "Mama Lil" than the neighbors suspect.

"The Right Man", a story of alternative history, about 2,000 words.
It's the fall of 1932. The Great Depression is at its worst. An army of unemployed men are occupying the Mall in Washington. How will President Hoover remove them? He needs to find the right man for this job.

"Frankie", an incident at a 1930s candy store, about 1,500 words.
Is Frankie really that Frankie? What race is pulp magazine her Dusty Ayres? Why doesn't Frankie listen to The Romance of Helen Trent? None of these questions will be answered.

"Secret Identity", a writer's thoughts at work, about 1,000 words.
What makes a man a hero? Can we always tell? Do we need to?

"Gandhi Versus Hitler", a story of alternative history, about 1,000 words
Everybody knows Gandhi could never have stopped Hitler. Everybody knows that....

"The Salmon Cage", a science fiction story, about 5,000 words.
An old man ties his boat to a salmon maturing cage while it drifts across the Pacific from Macao to Canada. A silent boy stows away. Much against the old man's wishes, they gradually bond during a very difficult crossing.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Good. Now go make some money with it."\\

List of Defunct Automakers

Could be useful for writing historical or alternate-world fiction.

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

And while I'm at it, here are links to fictional car companies:

http://dictionary.sensagent.com/list+of+fictional+companies/en-en/#Automotive
http://www.coloradostangs.com/auto-news/24985-auto-autoline-after-hours-holding-first-annual-automotive-fantasy-draft-%5Bw-video%5D.html
http://nerowolfe.org/htm/tidbits/tidbits.htm#heron

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Have you driven a Heron lately?"\\

The Year Ends

Was it a good year for you?

Yeah, me neither.

No job, acute emotional depression, dubious prospects for the new year.

My father died, my grandmother died, and other things were difficult also.

The first post in this blog was titled, "It's Easy to Get Discouraged". It still is.

I am taking antidepressants, and they help some, but not enough, really. I wish I could go back into therapy, but we really can't afford it, and my former therapist has moved away. I am looking for a support group for the long-term unemployed, but there doesn't seem to be one. Maybe I should start one.

On the other hand, we did get the water out of the oil tank so the heater runs again. And we got the mud out of the kitchen sink drain so water runs through it again. I finished my first novel, and possibly it will bring in some money. That'd be good.

And the new year...will be a new year. Anything could happen.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says: "Put one foot in front of the other. Repeat."\\

Corvallis From Above

Here and there around Corvallis, there are aerial photos and aerial views of the city:

At the OSU Registrar, a painting dated 1932.
In the lobby of the Park Plaza Apartments at 124 NW 7th Street, a painting from the 1960s.
Upstairs at the Corvallis-Benton County Public Library, a photo from 1999.
At the city water department, a photo from the 2010s.
At the historical museum in the old Philomath College building, a painting of a speculation of "Corvallis in 2057" which was, fortunately, quite inaccurate in most details.

//The Magic-Eight-Ball says, "Perspective helps."\\

Peace On Earth

I have just read Nate Powell's Any Empire, and I like it rather a lot.

It tells, in a non-linear fashion, about how children's "missions", the play which they approach in absolute earnest, shapes their choices in adult life.

I am especially reviewing it here because one of Powell's young protagonists is deeply impressed by the classic cartoon "Peace on Earth", which deeply impressed me, and remains one of my own holiday favorites.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "People say war exists because of 'the nature of the beast', and they are right, but the beast in question is not Homo sapiens but Leviathan."\\

No American Blackout!

In honor of American Censorship Day, I am turning my blog black.
Sorry if it hurts your eyes.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says: "I'm a good deal more conservative than John, and even I think Federal online censorship is a bad idea, much less giving corporations veto power."\\

Boy, Does My Back Hurt

It started hurting on Friday afternoon, and it hasn't stopped yet.

At times it has been really, really bad. Naproxen helped. So did Cyclobenzaprine. A shot of Toradol at Immediate Care helped a whole lot. Also an electric heating pad and frequent hot soaks in the tub.

Kathe is taking good care of me.

Mostly, though, I'm just waiting for it to get better.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Don't despair. It will get better."\\

Occupy Corvallis

I told people attending tonight's meeting in Corvallis's Central Park that by the time they got home they'd be able to view http://groups.yahoo.com/group/OccupyCorvallis and http://OccupyCorvallis.blogspot.com, and here they are.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Don't forget the already-existing FaceBook page."\\

Questions From Sierra

My niece Sierra sent me an e-mail:

Could you please answer some questions for my family history project? here are 5 questions.


1.What was your life like when you were young?
My parents were college students, living in rented accommodations until I was six years old. I didn’t really understand what all of that meant, other than that Daddy went to “the school” every day to collect “day-da” for his “diss-ree-tation”, and that this was very important work.
Spending my childhood in an academic setting, I learned a great deal, and developed a large vocabulary from an early age. I absorbed concepts like cultural parallax and the need to test an hypothesis. I also absorbed an intellectual snobbery that I didn’t notice for the longest time, making it all that harder to discard.

2.What were people afraid of when you were young?
People talked a lot about pollution and about social changes that seemed to threaten civilization, but above all about the threat of nuclear war. Although my parents tried to divert me from thinking about it, I lived under the threat of destruction until I was twenty-nine years old. I went to school suspecting I would not live to grow up. I joined the Navy because I thought it might be safer than being drafted into the Army when Ronald Reagan inevitably went too far. I got married and had a child still under that shadow, because life did have to go on. It was not until Kathe and I saw the Berlin Wall being demolished that we really believed it was over.

3. What is a story from your childhood?
One day, Dad had been working on an old radio, the kind that was the size of a cabinet and stood on the floor, with a huge green light like an eye at the center of the dial. He talked about how much fun he and his siblings had, listening to old radio shows. He turned it on, joking that since it was an old radio, perhaps it would bring in an old radio show…and it did.
We listened, rapt, to an episode of Chandu the Magician. When it ended, the announcer came on and told us we were listening to the Old Time Radio Hour on KEX 1190 AM. We wound up listening to KEX every night, and recorded episodes on cassette tapes. But I will never forget the eerie experience of hearing those voices and sound effects coming through the radio just as Dad had predicted.

4. What is the bravest thing you’ve ever done?
Bicycling home from work after a night shift, I came upon a group of men standing over a fallen jogger. None of them seemed to know what to do. She had a pulse but wasn’t breathing, so I dove in and started giving her mouth to mouth. I gave her breaths until I couldn’t find a pulse, and then started CPR. To spare the others from the risk of infection, I gave her all of the breaths while they took turns giving chest compressions.
One of the men peeled back her eyelid and said, “There’s no pupillary response. I don’t think we need to bother.” I heard the voice of Sergeant Preston of the Yukon shouting, “We will continue until we are relieved!” – and it was me. That’s literally how it felt at the time.
An ambulance came and took over. I went home and went to bed. I heard later that the woman had died, but I knew we had done our part.
They always tell you at CPR classes that the person in charge at an emergency was whoever spoke up first, but I never thought that would be me.

5.What is one thing you’re proud of?
I am very proud of whatever role I have played in how my children have turned out. Some of them were half-grown when I got them, and none of them were related to me genetically, but I did what I could for them. They had many difficulties to overcome, and some of their problems could not be solved, but all four of them have faced and are facing life on their own terms with tremendous courage and persistence.


//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Teach the children well."\\

OMTA Meeting

Kathe and I just got back from the Eugene edition of the annual meeting of the Oregon Massage Therapy Association. The theme of the meeting was keeping your business afloat during the current difficult times.

I noticed that in addition to the meeting being divided into Eugene and Portland editions, almost everything else at the meeting was oriented to either Portland or Eugene. No big surprise, since those are the largest centers of massage activity, but as Kathe put it, there was a distinct lacuna, and we were in it.

So now I am thinking about setting up a mid-Valley chapter covering the Philomath-Corvallis-Albany-Lebanon area, extending maybe as far as Salem and Sweet Home. I will be contacting local LMTs to see what they think of the idea.

I Suspect This Is Not Going to Feel Good Either

Carpal Tunnel Release surgery in the morning.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Adulthood. What fun."\\

They Broke It

I used to be a free-market anarchist, but that was back when the free market hadn't been broken.

Now? The rotters have broken it as thoroughly as they broke the Code of Honor.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "This is why we can't have nice things."\\

Now, This Does Not Feel Good

I have had chest spasms and pains on rare occasions for years, but every test and exam indicated that my heart was in fairly good shape given my overall physical condition, but after today, I am wondering.

Chest pains, a vague sick feeling, no energy -- it does not feel very good at all. I took one of Kathe's nitroglycerine tablets and it seemed to help a little. A few hours later I took another.

I do not feel good right now, no I do not.

Dying right now would really stink.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "It usually does."\\

A Couple of Bits of Family News

Kathe sent out this message to the family:

"First, John's grandmother Zoe is definitely on her deathbed, although it seems to be in no hurry to bear her away. We see her at least once a week, and the last time we were there, she slept most of the time. She was awake for five or ten minutes and completely lucid, so we had some conversation. She was completely herself, although Pat and Dorothy say she has been delusional sometimes.

"Second, we have been telling people that we know where Tes is, and that he must be at least mostly okay. But the last letter we sent him, with a money order enclosed*, came back yesterday. We sent it in June to the rehab place where he was staying, and I guess they held it until they were sure he wasn't coming back for it, so now we don't know.

"We're still okay, still discovering new horizons of household economies, but I think winter is going to be a challenge.

"*We send money orders because he can cash them more easily than personal checks."

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Tesfaye can be more easily located than Zoe."\\

Zoe Cook: No Longer Improving

She isn't planning to return to her apartment anytime soon.

But she is surrounded by family and taking a positive attitude. We'll see what comes next.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "There is never anything to do but see what comes next."\\

GoodBlogs

I am trying something new, called GoodBlogs.
http://www.goodblogs.com/bloggers/6565
I don't know whether this "get votes and be paid money" thing really works, but I am willing to give it a try.
Also, it's been years since I wrote reviews of the things I read, but I find I still enjoy it.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Try it and see."\\

Zoe Cook Continues to Improve

See?

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Seeing is believing."\\

Buy My Massage Book

If you haven't been to my new massage blog, go take a look:

http://johnmburtlmt.blogspot.com/2011/07/buy-my-book.html

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Nice book you have there."\\

The Salmon Cage

I have just published a story of mine on Amazon.com for the first time:

http://www.amazon.com/The-Salmon-Cage-ebook/dp/B005BCP7L4/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1310151380&sr=8-2

I am hopeful for the story. I think it's a good one. Of course, that is no guarantee that anyone will be interested in it, or even know that it exists.

But, as I say, I am hopeful.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Your only choices are to live in hope, or to live without hope."\\

Yes, Riverbend

http://www.peacehealth.org/shmc

patient tracking 370551

Mom and Pat are at her side.

She has had corrective surgery and is reported to be comfortable at the moment.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Hold on."\\

Grandma's In The Hospital*

*Probably Riverbend, but I'll let people know when I know for certain.

She fell and broke her hip last night.

Mom (Dorothy) is rushing to her side.

I'll let you know more when I know more.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Keep calm and carry on."\\

Kill Your Darlings

Peni R. Griffin recently posted a deleted scene from her latest story on her blog. That sounded like a good way of assuaging the pain of doing so, so I will now try it myself:

A two-lane paved road, the Niemandslandbahn, connected a row of towns from the Alps to the North Sea. Some had already existed, like Armentieres, while others grew out of the temporary shelters built in No-Man's Land, and had names like Pax Romana, Réconciliation and "Wir Sagen So". Thousand of French Citroens, British Wolesleys and German Autopopuli drove along it every day, except on December 25th, when all traffic ceased for 24 hours, and much of its length was used for festivals and parades.

Heh, that does feel better.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Learn from the experience of others."\\

Out With The Old, In With The Stored

Big events taking place around here -- big by our standards, anyway.

* We got rid of the two worst mattresses in our bed and replaced them with a mattress and box spring from the majestic bed, formerly belonging to my parents and given to me about 30 years ago, in which I slept for oh, a couple of years in the 1980s. The bed, stored in our shed for a number of years and eventually borrowed back by my parents, has now been rescued from my mother's Corvallis mobile home and stored in our storage locker. So, still not actually sleeping in the bed, but it is my hope to have it assembled in some room of the house eventually.

And meanwhile, the bed we're actually sleeping in is more comfortable. And taller.

* We finally pulled some of the old stuff out of the garage and placed it where it will do some good. The hardwood chunks left behind by Corky the woodcarver who used to have his workshop in our shed have gone to a woodcarver in Albany, and the organic gardening magazines have been claimed by someone else. Thank you, Freecycle groups!

* We are finally cleaning out "the boys' room" (where several young boys and teenagers have lived for most of the time Kathe has owned the house) and are turning it back into a habitable bedroom.

Not a lot of progress, but some.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "A little and a little and a little...."\\

My father left very few things undone. One that comes to mind is that he never published or wrote (so far as I know) a science fiction novel like the ones he so liked to read.

One story that he mentioned he would enjoy writing is one in which the Central powers were victorious in the First World War.

I'm not writing that story either, but I am right now engaged in a project inspired by the Christmas Truce of December, 1914, and it does involve an alternate history and a different outcome for the war that his own father fought in. And I do think of my father and his father often as I write.

I feel another affinity for my father as I work: I am doing it in no small part because I have a family to support.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Filius est pars patris, for better or worse, like it or not."\\

Goodbye to the Stink Factory

One of my first memories of the Greater Corvallis Co-Prosperity Sphere was of the incredible wet-dog stench of the papermill we always called "the Stink Factory".

Today we drove past it and saw that the walls are being removed. We could see daylight through it.

Kathe wrote to the family: They are taking it apart! I can't remember before it was there, and soon it will be gone! Of course, it hasn't operated since a year ago last Christmas. Is that right? Or was it two years? Great time to close Millersburg's main business. Oh, about that Christmas break . . . take all the time you want . . .

Apparently the world needs a lot less kraft paper, now that so many of us bring our own bags to the grocery store.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "I'm glad I'm not a paper-dependent fortune cookie."\\

Walden and Mary Got Married

Wow.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Amazing."\\

'Bye, Bellfountain

Kathe and I went to Bellfountain one last time today, to retrieve a few more items and for one last walk-through.

That's it. We have given up the keys and will have no more reason to go out there.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "To everything there is a season."\\

Plan For Armageddon, But....

My father once told me a story about a congregation which had been thrown into great anxiety by their pastor's lurid sermons about the imminence of Armageddon, until someone passed the word that the pastor, although doubtless quite sincere in his belief that the end could come at any moment, had been seen in his yard, planting fruit trees.

I thought of that the other day, while collecting more of Dad's things from the barn, walking past the small grove that lay between the house and the creek.

He planted those trees. I have eaten fruit from them. Now he is dead, and his ashes are nourishing their roots. The trees and the house and the land are all going to be sold soon. The people who eat the fruit from those trees are unlikely to know the name or the life of the man who planted the trees. But the trees are still there, and will be for years to come.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Be prepared for the end to come at any moment -- but plant fruit trees."\\

A Flag

Out driving around with Kathe today, I saw a flag I'd never seen before (the one with trees). I was interested enough that we went around and stopped at the house. The woman there said her husband had bought it, and she thought it was the flag of the province of Prince Edward Island, or maybe the personal banner of King Richard the Lionhearted.

I have no idea what either of those things might mean to her husband, but it was an interesting experience.

Oh, and for the record, it is PEI. Richard's banner is the one with three lions.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "A flag can mean many things."\\

My Father's Funeral Is Today

He died not long after my last post. Services will be held at the First United Methodist Church in Monroe, which he and my mother attended for some years. Afterward, my brothers and I will scatter his ashes at the land at Bellfountain where he and Mom lived for the last 20 years (but which Mom has just sold).

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Keep it together."\\

What a Good Boy

I'm not getting up at 4:00 to go help with my father anymore. Instead, I'm getting up at 3:45 to ride with Kathe on her paper route.
Among other things, I'm trying to learn the route so I can cover for her if need be.
I am learning things about how I learn things. I notice that I still fail to integrate verbal or written instruction with practice -- even when I have both read and done the task before. A significant difficulty if I want to go back to nursing school.
I also noticed something else that might be even more useful: I got quite upset over a series of mistakes, and noticed that I wasn't successfully calming myself. Quite the contrary, I was reinforcing it. Was I enjoying the rush of emotion?
I don't think that was quite it. I think it was that I was saying to myself, "I made a mistake. That's bad. But I am a good boy. I have to be. I am quite upset over that mistake, so clearly I know how bad it is. I had better make myself even more upset, so I can be sure I was upset enough, or else I won't be good enough."
Got to stop thinking that way. Ummm, make that, I've got to stop responding that way.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Or perhaps, 'I have to start responding differently'."

George Sherwin Burt, 1930-2011

My brother David has written this obituary for our father:
George Sherwin Burt
July 4, 1930 — March 6, 2011
George Sherwin Burt died peacefully at home in Corvallis, Oregon in the presence of his family on March 6, 2011. Despite health problems during his final years, he remained spirited and engaged with life until the end. His family and friends benefited from his presence and will miss him greatly.
George was born in San Francisco to John and Velma Burt. After graduating from high school George served in the Air Force during the Korean War, where he instructed South Korean servicemen in radio operations. George’s experiences in Korea were the beginning of a life-long love of teaching and helping others. After being honorably discharged from the Air Force, George earned a Master’s in Psychology from San Jose State University, and eventually his PhD from Arizona State University.
In 1959, George married Dorothy Cook, who remained at his side through many adventures and until the end of his life. George and Dorothy moved to Corvallis, where they would raise their three sons in 1966, when George began his 24 year employment with Oregon State University as a professor of psychology. A very engaging teacher, he involved himself in the well being of those who studied with him. He read voraciously and always viewed the world with wonder. The love of science that he encouraged in his students was more than academic and spilled over into all aspects of his life. At the same time, he never let his dedication to intellectual pursuits supersede his concern for what was going on in the world. He conveyed this profound enjoyment of life to those around him, including the many friends he made in Africa and South America.
When George retired from OSU in 1990, he and Dorothy began a new adventure when they enrolled in the Peace Corps, where they would complete two tours instructing local people in agriculture in Tunisia, 1990-1992 and in Paraguay in 1994-1996.
Upon the couple’s return from the Peace Corps, George continued to work for social, political and environmental causes in many roles and took the welfare of all those he met to heart—especially the rural poor of Benton County. He continued to assist with community food banks and other charitable endeavors until his health rendered him unable to do so.
Until the end, George possessed a love of science, the world, and other human beings that filled himself and those around him with joy and the drive to do good works.
He is survived by his wife of 51 years, Dorothy Cook Burt; his sons John, David, and Thomas; his grandchildren Walden, Mestowet, Ashnakech, Tesfaye, Sierra, Darius, Cuba, Linda, and Andrea; and his Sister Anne Hiler.
A service will be held at the Monroe United Methodist Church at 11 A.M. on Saturday, April 2, 2011
George asked that you give of yourself to some cause that is important to him or to you. He wouldn’t want to dictate to your conscience. If you have to give money instead, make it a gift to something important---by the way, there was nothing more important to George than children. They are our future.

Thank you for writing this, David, and thank you for being with Dad when he passed.

//The Magic Eight Ball says, "Everything changes and ends."\\

The Mysterious Island

Kathe and I have been watching a lot of videos from the library lately. We saw a Ray Harryhausen film awhile back, and she mentioned that she hadn't seen most of them, so I reserved all of them that the library had.

The most recent one was The Mysterious Island, and that reminded me of just how many film versions of it there have been, and how many extraneous elements each of them have had: giant crabs, a feral child, cultures of aquatic humanoids, Caribbean pirates of the 1600s in the western Pacific of the 1860s, a rival in his own submarine, an oddball tie-in with a totally different Verne novel and so on.

I suppose it's the result of the book's being a sequel to 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, one of the most famous books of all time (even in English, where it has suffered from some very poor translations), but isn't anywhere like as colorful or bombastic.

Still, invaders from Mercury...?

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "The book remains unharmed, on the shelf over there."\\

Who Said That?

I don't recall who said it -- not one of those famously thoughtful or witty persons, but someone famous -- and for that matter, I can't recall exactly what it was he said, but it was something like,
If I had my way, I would start life as a little boy, following which I would be a young girl, after which I would be a young man, then a mature lady, and end my life as an old gentleman.
Something along those lines, anyway.
The other day something reminded me of that thought, and I turned it over in my mind and saw the sense in it. But my next thought was that this is rather like the way we do live today:
Pretty much everyone, regardless of gender or race or social class, has a childhood that includes riding bicycles and playing soccer and collecting cards.
Pretty much everyone spends their adolescence deeply concerned about clothing and grooming and social events.
Pretty much everyone leaves school as an adventurer: going to college or starting a business or joining the Army or doing something else reckless and glorious.
Pretty much everyone tries to arrive at "a certain age" with some measure of gravitas and respectability and if at all possible, some degree of financial security.
And pretty much everyone would like to end their lives with a few good stories to tell.
It's not a perfect model, but I do think we live closer to that now than we ever have.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Find the good in being who you are, and welcome whom you are becoming."\\

Second Breakfast

Greatly though I have always admired the lifestyle of the Hobbits of the Shire, I have never gone so far as to indulge in the practice of "second breakfast" until just now.

I get up at 0400 (I used to get up along with Kathe at 0345, but that tended to interfere with her getting ready for her paper route), eat a half-sandwich and drink coffee, and cross town to my parents' new place. I assist my father as best I am able (the last few days, I have just been giving him a bed bath and putting socks on him, because he hasn't been up for getting out of bed), and go home to get in bed with Kathe (who is usually home by then) at about 0630. We get up about 0830 or so and have (second) breakfast together -- usually for me, another half-sandwich.

Small as they are, that does still mean adding another meal to the day. My weight is probably going up. I haven't been checking lately. Too much else to worry about.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Too much to do is not an excuse for neglecting your health."

George S. Burt

Dad recovered from his bladder infection enough to leave the hospital for the nursing home, and then recovered enough to go home.

He was home two days and then when I arrived to help my mother get him up, found him on the floor. We could not between us get him into his wheelchair, so we finally called 911.

All we thought Dad needed was fore three or four burly EMTs to hoist him into his chair, but as they checked him out, they found more problems and took him to a hospital (one which was closer than his last one, but not as nice).

They had been in the process of moving from their hobby farm into town, but this latest crisis and Dad's further deterioration inspired them to move up the schedule.

It should be easier for Mom to take care of him in town, and emergency response will be faster. It will be easier for me, since instead of a half-hour drive to help get him up in the morning, it will be just a ten-minute bicycle ride. I am looking forward to having an excuse for a bicycle commute -- nothing puts me in a better mood for work.

Still, two hospitals and two homes within the span of a week is a lot for a failing old man to deal with. And Dad is going downhill all the time. There is less of him each day.

Part of the reason Mom finally bought a place in town was that Dad no longer recognized the view out the window as his own land, bought with his own earnings. The property, and the cash value of it (as real estate and as standing timber) had been a source of satisfaction to him, but if he didn't even know what it was, there was not much point in staying there.

Last week, I helped him out of bed and steadied his walker on the way to take a shower. Today, I gave him a bed bath and helped him transfer to a recliner, and in the evening back into bed. Soon, I expect, he won't get out of bed at all.

I'd been warned that it would be a very difficult experience for me, the first time my father didn't recognize me. That hasn't happened yet (though he has been a bit hazy on how he is related to me), but the other day something arguably worse happened: he asked me where he was and what the date was. When I told him, he smiled and said, "So I am George Burt!"

Well, at least he was pleased by the knowledge. And well he should be.

You could do a lot worse than to be George Sherwin Burt, and have lived his life these past eighty years.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Do what you can."\\

The Ronald Reagan Centennial

Let us never forget the many ways in which Ronald Reagan changed the world forever.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Never forget."\\

Dad Goes Home

Not yet moved into the new house in Corvallis, but at least back to the old place at Bellfountain.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "A little and a little and a little...."\\

Soaking

Dear Kathe:

I love you.

I love you so much that over the last 27 years, it has soaked into every fiber and fluid in my body.

When I realized that being too emotionally dependent upon you was not good for either of us (my therapist once told me it seemed as though we had become potbound, our roots painfully intertwined), I thought that learning to stand on my own would mean that I would not love you quite so intensely and passionately. It was quite a surprise to find that actually I was able to love you far more.

Friction and frustration and defensiveness built up over years of difficult times have made both of us shy of saying what we are both thinking. This note is a small step towards reminding us both of a simple fact of life:

John loves Kathe.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "Yes."\\

Now It's Dad's Turn...

...to be hospitalized*, with a new multi-species bladder infection and aspiration pneumonia.

He's at Riverbend, the same Springfield hospital where his mother-in-law stayed.

All of which means it is my turn in the barrel tonight.

Not that other people don't have it harder. Mom, for instance. Still, this gets old after awhile.

Not that other people aren't older.

Sometimes I feel nostalgic about working night shifts, and having been one of Night's Own Children is a cherished part of my identity, and to be sure if I am offered a night job I would take it so fast I'd be there the night before, but I don't think I want to actively court a night job.**

//The Magic Eight Ball says, "Stand watch through the night. Somebody's got to do it."\\

*Funny, I thought I had written at least something about Grandma's heart attack last week. Maybe later I will go back and make a post about it.

** Which means either that I am getting old, or that I no longer need to abuse myself in order to feel worthy of love and respect. Or both, I guess.

Happy Holidays*

*Whichever and however many you care to observe, and anyone who wants to be exclusive and hog all of December for themselves can go do it elsewhere.

We didn't buy a tree this year, but while we were looking for a convenient way to display our incoming cards (the mirror where we usually tape them up has been removed while we restore the living room wall -- note the nice fresh drywall in the background), we saw the ladder leaning against the wall and decided to set it up. And having once done that, it seemed like a good idea to drape a string of lights over it.

So there you have it. Our Yule Ladder for 2010.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "For goodness' sake, do please ring in the new."\\

A Narrow Escape?

A few minutes ago I was up in the lookout tower on top of the house (which these days is located in the former boys' bedroom at the top of the stairs*), working on a story I'm writing**. I had carried the laptop up there in its bag, mainly because it was still in it after I'd gotten home,*** but I picked up the computer as I usually do, tucking it under my arm and wadding up the extension cord, then picked up the carrying case and my coffee cup, and then picked up my glasses case and held it between two fingers....

And then I suddenly saw how precarious and unstable the whole arrangement was, and felt a chill at the possibility of falling on the stairs.

So I put the computer and its cord into the bag, and my glasses case into my pocket, and descended the stairs in a much more sensible and grown-up fashion.

In how many alternate timelines am I lying dead or crippled at the bottom of the stairs for Kathe to find me when she gets out of the bathtub? Possibly quite a few but hey, that's their problem, as is the loss of the laptop in the timelines where I dropped it.


//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "The one thing nobody ever gets to know is what would have happened."\\

* Kathe's grandson Dick may be moving in soon. We would both enjoy the extra company, as well as the rent money.

** I'll let you know how that works out later.

*** I spent the morning sitting up with my father while my mother attends to the closing of the house and their moving to a mobile home in Corvallis.

One, Anyway

Driving out to my parents' place this morning, the fog was very thick until I got up onto the elevation of Reese Creek Road, when it suddenly became clear. I grumbled about how I could have used to have clear driving on 99W, until I noticed how very frosty it was up there, also.

Some of these microclimates are pretty damned micro, I must say.

Also, I must say the Valley sure is flat, that the entire stretch from Corvallis to Monroe is in the same band of weather.

And one more thing about the weather this morning: as I got out of the car, I saw just one brilliant meteor. We'd have seen many more, if the sky had been clearer lately. But it almost never is, in the Valley in December.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "One can be enough, if you let it be."\\

The Last Christmas

My father's health is not improving, and my mother is not large enough or strong enough (or young enough) to take care of him without more help, especially not in a house that is not really suited to an aging couple in frail health.

So, they are moving to a more-accessible mobile home in Corvallis, to be nearer to their doctors and to emergency services.

They will be moving early in the new year, which means, among other things, that this will be The Last Christmas (cue portentous music) in the house at Bellfountain.

David and Tom and their families will be gathering at the house, and will help with some of the moving (and will take away some quantity of family heirlooms, as will Kathe and I).

It probably won't be too difficult or too tearful, but I reckon it's going to be interesting.

//The Magic Eight-Ball says, "You can cue portentous music all you want, but it still is going to be The Last Christmas."\\