Sad Sack: Las Vegas Four

People were spread out around the casino. Some were playing Black Jack or a variation, some were at the Craps table and some at the Roulette table. Mostly they were having fun, whooping when someone won and moaning when someone lost. But definitely an air of fun.
Then there were the Slot Machines. Many folks slouched in the chairs that go with each machine, cigarette smoldering in hand or ashtray, drink nearby and a defeated look on their faces. They pushed the buttons again and again and seemed to find no joy at all. You have to wonder about these “sad sacks”. Las Vegas is a holiday destination that is supposed to be fun. I had fun. I saw lots of people having fun. But not at the slots. It seemed like these players were down to their last chance, and losing.
I could be wrong, but it looked like the atmosphere of defeat hung around them like a fog. I had planned to spend a bit of time on the slots myself, but after seeing the company, walked away.

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Las Vegas Three

It started as anxiety, and then quickly changed into alarm, then to pure pleasure. Sound like something interesting? You bet it was interesting. My first helicopter ride was an unbelievable experience. This was no ordinary ride around the beach front or up and over some county fair somewhere. We went over desert, up over mountains (lowish, but damn they looked tall from above) and then, drum roll, into the GRAND CANYON. First over, then into.
Anxiety began to build the day before the ride. I can’t stand heights or edges. Even standing on a second floor balcony I usually hold on to the railing. Tall buildings? I don’t even like to look down from a window. So this ride posed some scary scenarios. The day arrived and the trip was delayed. More anxiety. We finally sat in a small “theater” and watched the safety film. Seat belt, water landing, fire, DEATH at every turn. Then onto the tarmac, into the bird and the jet starts to whine. I sat on the outside by the door that was one sheet of Perspex (or some kind of plastic) and could look almost straight down ---- a long way down.
The rotor turns slowly and anxiety turns into alarm. Am I actually going up in this plastic and tin can? The rotor begins to really move and suddenly we lift a foot or so off the ground and spin slowly. Man, this is beginning to be cool, not scary. Then the pilot (a child really) moved the controls and off we went. Up and forward, gaining altitude and speed. There wasn’t time to stay alarmed or scared or worry about the fact that only ¼ inch of plastic and a belt was between me and a long fall. There was too much to see! It was just plain pleasure. Fun. Exciting. Glorious. We cruised over the desert and mountains to the end of the Grand Canyon, and flew up over the rim. Then, we dropped about 1500 feet below the rim and cruised around inside, looking at the sides, the river, the --- everything!!
Because we got a late start, we flew west back to Las Vegas as the sun set and by the time we got there it was dark, and the “strip” was ablaze with lights. Treat after treat after treat. When we landed I realized that there was never a moment of anything but awe and wonder the whole time. No fear or anxiety or even airsickness (the pill might have helped here). I would do it again in a heartbeat.
Thanks Sue and Bob for a wonderful experience.
Image: www.partner.viator.com/en/2511/search/3422_G02

Las Vegas Two

Next day we went to a real Las Vegas “Show Girl” show. Feathers, costumes of magnificent design, the Titanic sinking, Samson and Delilah, dancers, singers, extremely strong men, rope/rock twirlers, and breasts. Lots of bare breasts. Now here is where this gets interesting so if you don’t like breasts stop reading. I have always liked breasts and this show with perhaps 20 or 25 topless (most of the time) young women dancers was amazing. Not sleazy pole dancing or striping. Only Show Girls showing wonderful young and lithe bodies. No tattoos, no piercing visible. The variation of breasts was astonishing even to a mature (don’t ask my children about this) biologist. Even my wife mentioned the vast differences. And all beautiful. There was an equal number of “topped” women dancers and they were equal in talent and beauty in all regards.
I have a very difficult time understanding why this important part of the female anatomy is villianized and conceived of as shameful by certain groups. So, back to the interesting part: after a few minutes of being draw to the breasts, the view widened and the show became a whole piece of work, with some woman topless, some not, some men topless, some not. The bare breasts were noticeable but in the context of the action, not as objet d’art, but as part of the costume in a sense. These dancers and singers were very good at their art, and with or without tops would have been good at their art. So why topless? Brings in the tourists. Why big strong men? Brings in the tourists. Why feathers? Same again.
Everyone should see one of these extravaganzas once in their life. Not for the breasts, though they are lovely to see, but as a whole work of theater. Definitely worth the price.
http://www.destination360.com/north-america/us/nevada/las-vegas/las-vegas-show-girls

Las Vegas One

We checked into the Hotel (a giant pyramid). The next morning we took a drive out into the Mohave Desert to Red Rock Canyon. Guess why it’s called that? Yup. Red sandstone. Lots of it. And beautiful desert plants mostly in spring flower. This is the perfect time of year for desert flowers as luck would have it. A rattle snake, a jumping rat of some kind, some pictographs, a discussion with a ranger on invasive grasses and control burns, and old sandstone quarry, some folks (nuts in my opinion) repelling (abseiling for Europeans) face down. Everything you could ask for in a 13 mile drive. Oh, and my “Senior” pass got us in for free. What a treat.
Image: www.lvlg.com/lasvegas/attracts/parks.htm

Moving Day

Matt is graduating Friday. PhD. The second one in the family. Sally was first. Both of mine should have been second and third, but I walked away from them, unfinished. Not the best decision I ever made, but far from the worst. Matt and his husband are off to Oregon for another chapter in their lives. The challenges of a new job, new town, and new friends will be significant, but they are up to the challenge.
Hal and his wife moved into a new house a week or two ago. They are opening up another chapter of their lives, albeit not as big a chapter as Matt’s and they, too, are up to the challenge.
Sal and I are staying put. Right here. Going nowhere. Well, that doesn’t sound good, does it? We are not going to MOVE again, until it’s time for the dirt nap. I am glad the kids (Effie: Oh Kids!! [Sigh loudly]) are moving around and finding new places to light. I think the price paid for this pelagic kind of lifestyle, though, is a paucity of new friends that become old friends. So my advice to them and anyone in the same circumstance is: One: Try to stay in the same place for at least 25 years. Two: keep in touch with your old friends and try to find a few good new friends. The kind that stick with you no matter what. And be that kind of friend yourself. And finally, stay close with the family. And don’t forget to send money to your parents when they get old. They deserve it and you can afford it.
Image: photobucket.com/.../MovingDay.jpg

News of a Death Today

The email said” Just wanted to let you know that Ben died on April 12th by his own decision. All of us who knew him will miss the Ben we knew.” The guy I knew was a guy you would want to know. This guy had it all, but was bent in some significant way that made him doomed in the end to fail. Educated, polished, easy to talk to and smart. Intelligent too. He went to jail early and redefined himself a few times afterwards. He made it to a Presidency at a State University, and by some measures did well. But his fatal flaw, I guess, couldn’t be overcome. I don’t know how it ended for him. But I do know this: He left a lot of pain behind, both for himself and those who loved him. We will get together some day and talk of him, laugh a little and cry or be sad a little. Most of us moved on long ago, but never forgot him.
I have no belief in an afterlife so I don’t believe Ben will “get his Just Dessert”. What he got, finally, is peace. So rest in peace old friend. I won’t be seeing you any time in the future, but will think of you from time to time, and that is the most anyone can ask for. I’ll focus on the wine, laughs and discussions. Others will remember what they will. And remember this:
"Life is short.
Drink the good wine first"

Image: http://www.jjchandler.com/tombstone

A Drivers Tale.

Ok. I’m writing this so I am not dead. But an inch and a second is all the difference there was between life and death. Here are a few details: Picture a straight 2 lane road in Waukulla County. I am traveling south at 50mph with no traffic in my lane ahead of me. Traveling north is a line of cars. Three down from the lead northbound car a guy (wait, you’ll see) in a blue sedan pulls out and tries to pass all three cars ahead of him. He doesn’t have the power to make it. Meanwhile I see that I am closing with the north bound car too fast for the passer to make it. I slow down and begin to move right to give the passer room to pass on my left. The north bound car does the same. The guy now has enough room to pass. We have effectively turned the road into a tight 3 lanes. But, as I move right, the passer moves to his left and keeps heading directly at my grill. Time to make a decision by someone; I put two wheels onto the shoulder making more room in the middle for the guy to pass. The northbound car does the same. Plenty of room now to complete the pass, but the guy keeps coming straight at me. At the last possible second I debate swerving right, but I remember that that is the best way to lose control of the vehicle. In that same instant the asshole in the blue car (oops, did I give way to angst?) swerves hard to his left and passes me in the ditch on my right, slides sideways, spins and ends up back end up a bank. I see his face as he passes. He is laughing. He passed me by INCHES!!!! If I had moved even slightly right -----
What is the point of this tale? It’s really simple: never forget to tell those you love that you love them, and live every day like it is your last. Yesterday it almost was, and who knows about today?
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Why Not Notice the Good?

The student emailed a typical request: Can I come see you during your SSS time to go over my last exam? Sure, I responded, come by whenever you can and we can talk. He came in and sat down at a table and waited for me to finish with another student. I sat with him and got out his exam. I started to go over the answers he missed and he stopped me: “I know I got some things wrong, but would you tell me what I got right first?” Ooops. Teaching moment. But not for him, for me.
You see it is all too easy to notice the things that are wrong while either overlooking the things that are right, or at least not focusing on them. All teachers know that you should focus on the strengths of their students while at the same time bringing along their not-so-strong areas. This student wanted to know that I knew he got some things right. So we went over the exam questions in order, and I reviewed his right answers and we discussed why they were right as well as the other not-so-right answers. He was pleased that I saw him as a student that got a lot right, and not so much wrong.
A lesson for all of us in this? You betcha (Thanks Grandpa Search). The next time you go somewhere and notice something slightly off or downright wrong, skip it until you notice all the right things, then if you must, mention the not-so-right things. I think you will quickly find that the world has more “right” than “wrong” if you try this technique. Hopefully what you won’t hear me say is jeez, you need to lose some weight. Instead I’ll say, Boy, that shirt is really cool. What size is it? Just kidding. Notice the good and forget the bad. We all know when we screw up. What we all need is to know that sometimes we do well.

Image: www.cdc.gov/ulcer/consumer.htm

A Tale of Surprises

She left the office late one night, a good feeling of a job well done. On the way to the parking lot on a fairly dark path she had the distinct feeling she was being followed. She walked faster and the follower kept pace. She gathered the courage to look back, and in her own words: “ I was being followed, and it was my butt!!!”. She did have a notable butt (now much reduced by diet and exercise) and we all had a good laugh over her story. So today I was burning some dead branches, doing the manly thing of poking and rearranging the fire when a puff of smoke got in my eyes and I turned and walked away from the fire. The strange thing was that the smoke followed me, was sort of drafting along with me as I walked. Then another puff of dense smoke right in the eyes. I turned and saw…….no smoke from the fire at all!! Crap!!! My hat was on fire!!!!
I put it out and saved the hat and me from burns, but whoa! that was close. Might have lost what little hair I have left.
Image: Water Butt at http://www.hellenicgarden.co.uk/waterbuttoak-premium.html

Did you know Madieye Diallo?

Humans are capable of the most despicable and degraded behavior imaginable. Hate some ethnic group? Hate some religions? Hate some lifestyles? Hate some genetic disorders? Hate anybody for anything? Well, welcome to the human race. Hate away pal, hate away. You are in hated company. But beyond hatred is irrational and dangerous behavior it causes. The beautiful young man pictured died and was buried. Two hours later a mob dug up his body, spit on it and dumped if front of his parent’s house. Why? He was gay. That’s all. Just gay. What kind of depraved sick people would do something like that you ask? You don’t have to look very far to find them. Reflect back to Pogo and you will find the answer. This is nothing new in the world. In the late 1700’s gay men were stoned to death in London, and lesbians were hung.
An old friend of mine used to say “there are reasons, and then there are real reasons”. I think the real reason for homophobia is the fear of difference. I think that is why most hatred manifests. Someone is different and must be feared and eliminated.
Tolerance is a virtue preached by most or all religions in some ways. Mankind is not biologically a tolerant animal. The core drive and value of survival makes us suspicious of anyone that is different from us. So we hate, and by hating survive. But at what price? Who wants to be hated because they are different? My Mexican friends? My Jewish friends? My gay friends? My black friends? My short friends? My fat friends? My French friends? My, well, you get the point. Everybody is probably hated by someone for something.
See? A human imperative.
So don’t be surprised by the disgusting results of hatred. Rail against it when you can and stop it if you can. Vote it out and pass laws against it and stamp it down. But don’t expect it to go away. Do the right thing and try not to hate anybody for anything. Not easy is it?


Image: http://www.commercialappeal.com/photos/2010/apr/10/163251/