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Trying to take care of my little piece of the planet

Footings…Check!

The concrete pour went splendidly.
Next week. Block laying begins. Hopefully.

Footings

Plodding Along

After a period of using Facebook to blather about my world, I’m returning to the blogosphere. No, it’s not because I’m convinced that my story needs to be heard. Rather it’s that my memory sucks, and if no one reads these posts in the future but me, they will have served their purpose.

So, the first phase of the additions started with the front looking like this, taken in mid-February:

Before

Now, on April second, it looks like this:

Footings Approved

Six weeks is a long time to just get this far, and it’s been discouraging. But so be it. First, the weather has sucked. Second, I am not the thirty-two year-old that did this part the first time in 1987. Third, this time, it was me and a shovel, mattock and wheelbarrow. No backhoe, etc. And fourth, I did manage to slow progress by squeezing in one trip to the ER and two follow-up medical ‘procedure’ days lost (3/16, 3/24, 3/31) due to ‘acute colitis’ and excessive dehydration. But at this point, I am smarter, lighter, and better hydrated, and looking forward to the next steps. And today, the County gave me a thumbs-up to pour concrete; hopefully tomorrow.

Stay tuned readers. By that, I mean me.

Wrapping Up a Personal Interregnum?

Yeah ‘interregnum’ is an SAT prep kinda word, but for some forgotten reason it came up the other day, and hung around in the back of my mind. I’ve always thought of it as defining the ‘unruly’ period between two monarchs, and it occurred two me that perhaps that’s what I could call the last six months: my own personal interregnum. By that I mean, that period between my previous life, which was ruled on a daily basis by school/work, and my future life, which will be ‘ruled’ by….still unclear. While I’m not certain, I think I’m beginning to sort out what will order my daily routine. Don’t get me wrong, my first six months of retirement have been both productive and enjoyable. I’ve gotten ahead on some projects here in the country, though by no means am I caught up. And I’ve also had some time to think about me, and what brings me satisfaction. On that list of satisfiers, (along with a stiff bourbon at sunset), is a task to be done, preferably in my own manner and at my own pace, with skills that I at least sort of possess. I mean, while I’ve thoroughly appreciated having more time to fish, and continue to look forward to my weekly sessions gardening with the kids doing community service in Siler City, I realize that I emotionally need a to-do list damn near everyday or I start twitching. So, in gradually ending this first phase of retirement, I’ve decided to tackle a big project, which will likely ‘rule’ my life for the next few years. It’s one that my wife and I have talked about for years, but I’ve been seriously dragging my feet, reluctant to spend our savings to pay for someone else’s labor (and giving that someone else control to boot). So starting in early spring, I plan to embark on stage one of a three-stage home renovation/addition project. It will mean sore muscles, and acquiring or dusting off construction skills largely dormant since we built our own house in 1986-88, while I was teaching high school. I’m hoping to farm out as little as possible, but point-and-pay is always an option, since I’m definitely not as young as I used to be.

This week, my opening moves have been spent in front of the computer, learning the CAD program I used to generate the 2D and 3D images below.

Draft of Parts 1 and 2 (west view)

In the image above, our existing house is under the light colored silver roof, and is sided in white. Stage one is adding a new entrance, seen in brown siding, under the darker roof (red arrow) seen at the left front. Stage two (a dining room) also uses brown siding in the drawing, but is largely under the light-silver roof of the existing house, since it consists of converting an existing screen porch/entrance. This addition is seen on the right. While stage three (the most ambitious) is a large, geriatric-friendly bedroom and bathroom, seen under the back right red arrow.

Renovation Plans2

In the two dimensional plan, stages one and two are outlined in red. The area in green is the existing screen porch, which we plan to double the existing width and morph the area into a new dining room. Stage three isn’t shown on the 2D plan (it’s off the bottom of the page), and is only vaguely roughed in on the last 3D image below, in which it is the right-hand red arrow. The middle arrow points to the planned bump-out to widen the dining room, which will require adding six feet or so to the existing roof line.

Draft of Parts 1 and 2 (south view)

So, after six months of deciding how to spend my early years of retirement, I’m hoping that this is a good call. Wish us luck.

Cutting and Running?

On June third, I was arrested and charged with second degree trespassing and failure to disperse at a Moral Monday protest at the NC General Assembly. Tomorrow morning is my first court appearance. After several days of consideration, I’ve decided to accept the District Attorney’s plea agreement rather than plead ‘not guilty’. The agreement involves paying $180 in court costs and serving twenty-five hours of community service. Accepting it was not an easy decision, and most of those who are aware of my arrest will likely be disappointed in my choice. So, I’m going to try and explain my rationale.

First, why did I get arrested in the first place? For me that is easy. What was happening behind the closed doors of the General Assembly was in my view unconscionable, yet the majority of voters were ignorant of the policies that were being enacted in their name. The Democratic legislators in the minority were powerless, and so the NAACP, joined by a cross-section of citizens, committed civil disobedience week after week by refusing to leave the General Assembly rotunda when directed to do so. The resulting nine hundred plus arrests made news week after week. And citizens in their living rooms across the state, indeed across the nation began to ask why. The answer to that question required an airing of the specifics of the myriad of horrific bills that had been passed. And that exposure caused an increasing number of people to question the actions of their legislators, so that in time more people approved of the Moral Monday protestors, than approved of their legislators. So far, the movement has been a remarkable success.

Fast forward to September, and decision time for me. I lay out the pros and cons of accepting the plea agreement, versus continuing the protest by pleading ‘not guilty’ and forcing the case to trial. I attempted to divide the argument into how my choice would affect me personally, and how it would affect the overall goal of the protest. Personally, foregoing the plea deal is less risky for me than for many. As a retiree, I have time. I live within sixty miles of the courthouse, and I can afford a larger fine if that is the result. That said, I do not want to invest large amounts of time, or money, and I certainly do not relish the thought of actual jail time. However, I feel strongly about the issues that drove me to protest. If I didn’t have serious concerns about the wisdom of an ongoing number of Moral Monday-related trials, I honestly feel I would stand my ground. But I’m not. Because I think pursuing this further is a bad strategy when it comes to achieving our goals. I’ll try to articulate why.

The protest was about legislation involving voting rights, educational cuts, regressive tax rates, etc. It was not about access to the rotunda. In that sense, I have a hard time pleading ‘not guilty’ to the charge of trespassing. I knew the law. Frankly, I was not there to protest the law I was accused of violating. But I violated that law, and I am willing to pay the price demanded. Yes, as these cases proceed through the courts, that law will be challenged, and it may or may not be eventually overturned. But the attention of the public will be on the burden on the court system, not on the law itself, and most importantly not on the horrific legislation I was there to protest. If that particular trespassing law needs to be challenged, then a single case will have the same impact as nine hundred cases; the law will stand or it will fall. And a single case will not burden the court system and the taxpayers further. In addition, this situation is not analogous to the the lunch counter sit-ins of the 1960s or the Campaign for Southern Equality protests of today. Those protests directly challenge an unjust status quo, and each and every case reminds the public of that specific injustice directly. In our case, most people outside the movement would fail to connect the dots; while watching news coverage of a trespassing trial, they’re unlikely to ponder cuts to early voting.

Let me be clear. I am proud to have been arrested as part of this movement, and am not re-thinking the wisdom of that decision. Because I am firmly convinced that those protests achieved their goal – the enlightenment of many North Carolinians who would otherwise have remained ignorant about cuts to their school budgets, about steps taken to suppress future voting, about additional abortion restrictions, etc. The publicity surrounding those weeks of protest accomplished that goal. But the question I asked myself was: “What would the publicity surrounding months of Moral Monday trials accomplish?” Would it improve the public’s understanding of the new regressive tax structure? Would it highlight taxpayer money diverted from public education to private education? Would it explain the gutting of the state’s key environmental oversight commissions? I expect not. I don’t think that it will educate the voters. It will simply showcase taxpayer money being spent on trials of people like myself, who deliberately got ourselves arrested. I believe that many largely apolitical voters, feeling that these trials could have been avoided, will lose sympathy for our efforts. In short, I think continuing this process could backfire. And I believe it is time to declare victory and focus our energies on voter registration and education, so that we can overturn the acts of this past legislative session.

Finally, I fully realize that my position is somewhat heretical among people, zealots like myself, who feel strongly about the righteousness of the Moral Monday protests. But if our goal is repeal of these laws, then that must happen at the ballot box. And to win at the ballot box, we must convince large numbers of non-zealots of the wisdom of our efforts. We did just that with this summer’s rallies, and with the exposure generated by our arrests. I am proud to be associated with those who feel the need to continue along this path. But I do not believe that we will repeat our previous success by pursuing this avenue.

In Over My Head

So I’ve been retired for ninety days. More time off than I can remember since I was fourteen. But it’s zoomed by, filled with two week-long road trips (one on the other side of the continent), preparation for three mega parties on the property (a retirement party for 100+ and two showers), six trips to Raleigh, culminating in getting arrested, a fortieth high school reunion, and a LOT of mowing and weeding to keep up with an amazingly rainy summer. Still, I’ve been making progress on some projects and am just barely beginning to get a handle on what retirement will hold for us. As part of the long view, I’m determined to acquire a few life skills, among them…cooking. Let me explain. We grow a lot of our own food. I help with that. A lot. We preserve a lot of our own food. I help with that. Very little. But most importantly, the VAST majority of the meals we eat are cooked at home. I help with that. Not at all. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Although, in my defense, honoring the prominently displayed plaque over our kitchen sink (“No man was ever shot while washing dishes”) I do wash a lot of dishes (take out the garbage and compost, etc.) But I do NOT cook. Ever.

Until tonight. And it wasn’t part of the plan. I had mentioned my ‘continuing education’ plan to my siblings. Error. As a retirement gift, I received kitchen towels, two books on cooking, and a kitchen knife worth more than my car. Crap. Bet called. So my wife and I agreed that I would start next week. No problem. Plenty of time to study up and achieve a sufficient level of Prozac beforehand. An over-reaction? Let me explain. My wife is a phenomenal cook. A freaking prodigy. I have dined like a king for thirty-five years. Practically every night. So my agreeing to cook dinner one night a week is roughly equivalent to saying: “Shit, I been playing b-ball since 1967. Meet Koby in the Staples Center? Hell yeah! And he better bring it!”

Yes. Self-induced pressure. But I had another six days to get ready, until early this morning. I have my list of chores at home. A full day. looking forward to it. Sent my wife off to work and started into the list. The phone rings. It’s my wife. She has that voice I’ve only heard a handful of times in thirty-five years, and hope to never hear again, though I certainly will. Something seriously bad has happened. Someone has died, and it has shaken her to her core. But she has a job to do; a staff of youngsters that need a leader. Her, their mama doc. So she plunges into her day, amidst the tears of her entire staff. Meanwhile, I hang up the phone. Sad at the loss of a young man I also knew, and unspeakably sad for his family, but also amazed at my wife’s resilience. My wife of thirty-four years, who will work a long, long day. And then come home to cook dinner as usual, after a most unusual day. So I jumped the gun. I called in the ‘pros from Dover‘ (my brother and his wonderful significant other) for assistance. Despite teaching college classes in Virginia, she helps me to do the only little thing I could do. Attempt to pick up the load and cook, so that my wife arrives to the smell of a homemade quiche, a unique summery salad featuring watermelon and cucumber, and ice cream with a truly killer blackberry sauce (from berries I picked here this morning).

My efforts (and hopefully the food) made her smile.

And that meant the world to me.

Pepper Train Wreck

Here are two shots of the impact.

Pepper1

Pepper2

Voter Suppression: Doubling Down

The circus that was the NC General Assembly has left town, and in response, the televised outrage that was Moral Monday has also disappeared from the airwaves. But while relishing the break from the yammering, those of us that have continued to pay attention are slowly coming to the realization that the madness continues on a daily basis, though it’s now carried out on a local level. North Carolina Republicans have clearly decided to double down on their gamble that suppressing Democratic voting by any means necessary is their only means of retaining power. So they are systematically restricting the right of college students, particularly minority students to vote, in what now appears to be an organized series of local efforts. First at Appalachian State in Boone, then in Elizabeth City, and now in Winston Salem.

Rachel Maddow covers the topic below, in her interview with my former State Senator Ellie Kinnaird, who has resigned in order to help combat these moves in future elections.

Visit NBCNews.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Yes, it’s likely that at least some of these measures will be overturned in the courts, but I know what kind of volunteer work I’ll be doing for the next year or so.

Louis Vuitton Cup – Day One

Here’s a six minute video I shot from the seawall at Marina Green (seen below), which had a great view of the starting line for the races, as well as a big screen to view the network coverage. You can hear their commentary in the background on my video.

Marina Green

The opening video sequences are pre-start practice by Oracle Team USA, Luna Rossa and Artemis, followed by the actual race between Artemis and Luna Rossa. During the edited footage of the warm-ups, you can see Artemis practicing their turns three times in a row, getting better each time. There are also several runs past Alcatraz (the subject of a later post). I realize that serious racing fans will have seen much better network footage of the sailing, but it was simply amazing to be there and capture these 72 foot flying boats on ‘film’ as they reach speeds of almost fifty miles an hour.

High Cotton Indeed

We spent last week in San Francisco, cramming in as much of that fabulous city as possible. But the main reason we were there was to take in some of the Louis Vuitton Cup, a series of races to determine who will challenge Oracle Team USA in the America’s Cup next month. To that end, we rented a condo in that part of town and spent three afternoons watching the competition. But prior to that, we were fortunate enough to hook up with an old friend of old friends, who took us out for a ‘three hour tour’ of San Francisco Bay in his Swann 51 sailboat. During that afternoon, we were delighted to see three of the Cup contenders getting in some practice time, as well as see a replica of the yacht America out for a sail. Highlights of the afternoon are captured on the five minute video below.

For reference, the America’s Cup boats are 72 feet long. More on that (and race footage) to come.

The harbor tour was the start to a marvelous week; high cotton indeed.

#vaginamotorcycles – My Two Cents

Pirsig2

Earlier today on Facebook, I made the following comment in response to this: “When our satire makes the front page on CNN.com,
the NC GOP is losing the messaging war. Badly.”

My comment elicited the following response:

“A fetus at week 20 per WedMD (sic): Development at 20 Weeks. The baby weighs about 10 ounces and is a little more than 6 inches long. Your uterus should be at the level of your belly button. The baby can suck a thumb, yawn, stretch, and make faces. Soon — if you haven’t already — you’ll feel your baby move, which is called “quickening.” TO HELL with your CHOICE to rip your baby apart. You people are winning the PR war because you own the media. I will never get you people, you bend over backwards to allow people not to work but will not lift a hand to help the ones are are truly in need of help.”

That was five hours ago. Now that a previously scheduled business meeting and dinner obligations have been met, it’s time for a reply.

It is difficult to respond to individuals for whom the fetus card trumps all others in the game of life. Because, after a career of teaching young men and women whose age ranged from 15-35, I certainly regard them as individuals. Individuals who have made a space for themselves in the world, such that people depend on them, have built lives around them, would be devastated by the loss of them. (Yes, miscarriage is devastating, but that is vastly different than a deliberate termination of an unwanted pregnancy, which is the legal issue here.) For me, those young adults, with names, faces, personalities, accomplishments, and visceral connections with their loved ones based on years of shared experiences are not the same as a “ten inch, six ounce fetus”. They are so much more. A 20 week fetus, which has zero chance of survival, outside of a woman’s womb, has the potential to be a member of society. However, it is not a member, and never has been in the annals of history. Given historical levels of infant mortality, many cultures never even named infants until their first or second birthday. The idea that a fetus is on equal footing with a young woman, who our legislators want to legally mandate to carry such a fetus against her will, would have been mind boggling to our ancestors, as it is to many of us. Yes, the fetus has potential. The chance to be the next Einstein. Or the next serial killer. There is no way to determine if society will benefit or suffer by its survival, (though we can certainly agree that it has a better chance of being a contributing member of society, IF it is raised in a loving home that desires it). So it is crucial to remember that the mother has the right, so far guaranteed by law, to decide if she is prepared to assume the role of mother, and thus take on that responsibility. If she decides otherwise, then it is she alone who should make that choice. Not politicians.

Especially not politicians. Because, like my commenter above, though they call themselves ‘pro-life’, they are better described as ‘pro-birth’. (Agreed, I’m not the first to make that comparison.) But my commenter above states: ‘I will never get you people, you bend over backwards to allow people not to work but will not lift a hand to help the ones are are truly in need of help.’ (referring to the ten ounce fetus)….wow. Frankly, I would have less issue with the ‘pro-life’ crowd if they actually gave more than lip service to actual children in poverty (and their mothers). As Sheria says: ‘The same legislators have enthusiastically denied Medicaid expansion, made cuts to the food stamp program, made a 33% cut to unemployment benefits, cut the maximum number of weeks to receive those benefits from 26 to 20, and rejected, via these actions, extended federal unemployment benefits for 70,000+ North Carolinians. The message appears clear, the state is very interested in a woman and the fetus until after she actually births a baby, then like Prissy, our state legislature suddenly knows nothing about birthing babies!’

I am truly at a loss to see how someone can be so determined to increase the number of babies (wanted or otherwise) that they would sneak legislation designed to close women’s heath clinics into motorcycle safety legislation, yet those same politicians (and their supporters) are simultaneously shredding the safety net on which many of those same children depend. Where is the Christianity in that? My commenter says ‘TO HELL with your CHOICE’….and there you have it. This is not a rational debate. This isn’t even a debate about Christian principles, which as a non-believer I’m largely fine with. This is about a cult of fetus worship, to the detriment of women, denying them their due as sentient beings. Because mistakes happen. Condoms fail, promises fall short, rhythms become erratic, and even ‘good’ ideas look different in the light of day. And NO child deserves to be brought to term in anything less than a home that joyously awaits their birth.

So, send me to your HELL. But in the meanwhile, let me ‘help the ones are are truly in need of help’.