Lessons learned

The following was forwarded to me by a friend.  I must say that it hit a chord with me.


An economics professor at a local college made a statement that he had never failed a single student before, but had recently failed an entire class. That class had insisted that Obama's socialism worked and that no one would be poor and no one would be rich, a great equalizer.

The professor then said, "OK, we will have an experiment in this class on Obama's plan".. All grades will be averaged and everyone will receive the same grade so no one will fail and no one will receive an A.... (substituting grades for dollars - something closer to home and more readily understood by all).

After the first test, the grades were averaged and everyone got a B. The students who studied hard were upset and the students who studied little were happy. As the second test rolled around, the students who studied little had studied even less and the ones who studied hard decided they wanted a free ride too so they studied little.

The second test average was a D! No one was happy.
When the 3rd test rolled around, the average was an F.

As the tests proceeded, the scores never increased as bickering, blame and name-calling all resulted in hard feelings and no one would study for the benefit of anyone else.

To their great surprise, ALL FAILED and the professor told them that socialism would also ultimately fail because when the reward is great, the effort to succeed is great, but when government takes all the reward away, no one will try or want to succeed. Could not be any simpler than that.  These are possibly the 5 best sentences you'll ever read and all applicable to this experiment:

1. You cannot legislate the poor into prosperity by legislating the wealthy out of prosperity.

2. What one person receives without working for, another person must work for without receiving.

3. The government cannot give to anybody anything that the government does not first take from somebody else.

4. You cannot multiply wealth by dividing it!

5. When half of the people get the idea that they do not have to work because the other half is going to take care of them, and when the other half gets the idea that it does no good to work because somebody else is going to get what they work for, that is the beginning of the end of any nation.

This story illustrated something I learned more  than twenty years ago as a union member.  My co-workers and I were  paid the same wage regardless of  how little or how much any one of us worked.  As long as a worker showed up to work, whether you actually worked or not, you got paid.  In the shop where I worked three of us carried the other five.  In fact when the shift leader was off we almost doubled the production because he wan't holding us back to insure that he kept the full crew of eight when we repeatedly proved that three of us could have completed the same production.

For me personally unions did not work.  To close to Socialism.  Unions have a purpose and place I just personally feel that they have outlived their usefulness.  But then I am an individual who is motivated by the fact that if I work hard I am rewarded for my hard work.  If I don't work hard I have to face the reality that I will earn less.

New Story

Last week started out full of stress.  I guess that's what happens when you have too much work and also have a family trip planned.

But, sometimes stress can lead to good things.  One night while trying to wind down and get to sleep a thought for the beginning of a new story came to mind.  Who knows when inspiration will come?

So for your consideration, "I began planning my escape the day I turned fifty years old."

As I have talked with other people near my age this thought seems to hit some kind of a chord.  I'm not sure what it is but the most common reaction is laughter accompanied by a nodding of the head.

We are not of the me generation or the x or y generation.  We are the tail end of the baby boomers.  Most of us are not quite at the age to retire and the more I talk with people even fewer of us are ready to retire.

I remember graduating from high school and going out to look for a full-time job.  There were two factories in our area.  The first was a paper products finishing plant. This included packing and shipping.  They weren't hiring.  The second was the manfacturer of moblie and modular homes.  They were hiring but I was neither a skilled carpenter nor an electrician.  So my first job out of high school was at the grocery store.  Because I was out of high school and not attending college I got the day shift and I was usually scheduled to work at least thirty hours a week.  Quite a treat.

At about the same time I was visiting with my paternal grandfather who had some advice for me.  He said, "Find a job, work there the next twenty or thirty years and then retire."  I'm sure he thought this was sound advice, he had just retired after twenty-five years with the City and now he and my grandmother were living in their retirement home on the Colorado River.

At the time I thought that was terrible advice.  I didn't want to go to work for some company for the next twenty years or more.  I wanted to travel, I wanted to try different things.  I didn't want to just settle down.

Hindsight is wonderful and a curse.  Looking back my grandfather's advice wasn't so bad.  I have friends and know others who followed my grandfather's advice.  Here they are at fifty-five years of age and retired.  Some of them have even retired twice.  And what am I doing.  I'm getting up each morning and heading out the door to work, taking orders from people younger than me and hoping that the next round of layoffs don't have my name on them, again.

On the plus side I have traveled, some.  I have expereinced new and different things, not always by my choice.  I haven't just settled down.

So, like many others of my generation I will continue working, while plainning, dreaming about, my escape.  Hoping that one day my numbers will come up.  The only problem there is in order to win the numbers you have to play them.

Ventura

It seems that the only times I take the time to post something new is when I'm talking about a recent trip or event.  I'll say it again, I need to get better.  Better at time management, better at writing more regularly, just plain better at life.

That being said, we spent the weekend on the coast in Ventura, CA.  Ventura is about an hour up the Pacific coast from Malibu, about an hour across the San Fernando Valley from Los Angeles.  Close enough to get to anything you want while being far enough away to be pleasant.

We recently, in the past few years, began returning to Ventura for weekend getaways.  I say returning because we first met in Ventura more than 33 years ago, we were married there and our oldest daughter was born in Ojai, about 30 minutes north of Ventura.  We have some history there and we like to visit, get reacquainted with the area, explore and just enjoy the beautiful beach and moderate weather.

When I told a friend last week that we were going to Ventura he asked if we were flying or driving.  Logical question.  We drove.  You can fly into the Ventura County airport on regional shuttle flights but last time I checked you could not get one direct from Sacramento.  That means you fly into LAX, or some other major airport, and then catch a shuttle flight on a much smaller airplane.  With airport security and everything else it takes almost as much time as driving, and those shuttle flights are not cheap.  So, we drove.

We were on the road from Sacramento by 12:30PM,   It's about a 6 hour drive down interstate 5 to the northern edge of Los Angeles, then 45 minutes, more or less, through the foothills to Ventura and the coast.

It seems that each trip we have taken lately we have had some different experiences.  This trip was no exception.

We had lunch in Stockton, just an hour after we left Sacramento.  We didn't need gas, just a quick lunch and back on the road.

A few hours later we stopped at Copus Road for gas and a bathroom break.  As I took care of the gas my wife found the ladies room.  We met back at the car where my wife was sitting quietly waiting for me.  I asked if everything was okay and her response was we needed to get on the road.  As we pulled back onto the freeway I asked what was going on.  I missed the excitement by using the men's room.  My wife said there were 3 truck stop hookers cleaning up, getting ready for there next customer in the ladies room.  Before i could ask if she was sure she told me she was sure, there was no mistaking these women and there occupation.

We drove on to Ventura and stopped for dinner as soon as we got to the city.

After dinner we drove down Main Street, the oldest part of the city which includes the original Mission.  The last few times we've been to Ventura we have found the downtown to be reinvigorated.  After dark lights strung between the palm trees lining Main Street are lit up giving the street a festive atmosphere.  Couples are walking up and down the street between those stores that are open and bars and restaurants.  It is very inviting and on this trip we found a parking space and walked a few blocks window shopping and enjoying the cool evening air.

Finally we drove to our hotel.  For the second time we chose the Crown Plaza on the beach at Ventura.  Last year when we stayed there we were subjected to the Thousand Oaks High School Winter Ball on Saturday night.  When we checked in we asked about functions at the hotel for the weekend.  We were informed that Saturday night the hotel was hosting a ball, party, for two squadrons of Navy aviators (pilots).  No wonder the reservation was nonrefundable.

With all of that in mind we checked in and found our room on the fourth floor, only after being pushed aside and forced to share the elevator with a deliveryman and his handtruck.  We opened the door to our room to find the carpet and furnishing have not been replaced since the hotel opened, as a Holiday Inn, in the late 1970's.  My wife opened,and quickly closed, the sliding glass door that overlooks the parking garage next door and to a lesser extent the pier and beach.

The room was stuffy so I turned on the air conditioner, I attempted to turn on the air conditioner.  After a call to the front desk and a visit from the maintenance man the air conditioner was working and we unpacked, showered and went to bed.

Saturday morning we were awakened by a barking dog.  I checked and the window was closed, it was a dog in the hotel.  As w left the hotel for the day we asked about the dog at the front desk.  We were informed that we were on the dog floor.  Now we like dogs, we have a dog, we left ours at home and we did not expect to be dealing with other dogs in our hotel.  Something we would have liked to know before we checked in.

Throughout the day we watched the fog come in and go out.  When we got up in the morning the sun was out and we walked along the beach.  Halfway through our walk the fog came in and the sun was hidden.  Later in the day we rode bikes along the boardwalk and bike trail along the beach.  Again the fog came in and by the time we returned to the hotel room we could barely see a few feet in front of us.

After dinner on Main street, where the fog did not reach, we returned to the hotel to find the fog had cleared and we walked on the pier to watch a beautiful sunset.

One of the reasons for our trip to Ventura was the Flea Market and the Fairgrounds just down the street from our hotel.  Last year it was all but rained out, this year the weather was perfect.

The Flea Market opens at 6 AM so we went to bed early Saturday night.  We were glad to be on the 4th floor, well away from the party on the 12th floor and we didn't hear it.   But, at 12:15 AM we were awakened by some of the pilots returning to their rooms on our floor.  True to their reputation the Navy pilots were drunk and loud as they stood in the hallway near our room and argued about something.  We couldn't understand them but they woke up everybody on the floor.  After about 15 minutes someone convinced them to return to their rooms and it finally quieted down.  Fortunately we got back to sleep fairly quickly.

Sunday morning we woke up, the sky was clear and the sun was up by 6:30.  It was a good day.  Both the Flea Market and the drive home to Sacramento were uneventful.

Before we left the hotel I had to stop at the front desk both to check out and to  let them know that the staff had been wonderful but we will not be returning to that particular hotel.

We enjoyed Ventura, it was part walk down memory lane, part beach getaway.   We will be back!

Ziplining, The Aborted Adventure

Last year my wife and I vacationed in Hawaii for a week.  Before we went my wife said she wanted to try ziplining.  I'm usually up for anything so I searched and booked a zipline tour, nine ziplines with lunch and a swimming hole.

My wife has a fear of heights.  Not just a little fear but a petrifying, "I can't look" fear.  We arrived for the zipline tour, on a working cattle ranch, rolling hills and ziplines strung above and through the treetops.  After we climbed the stairs to the platform of the first zipline my wife asked the guide if they ever had someone try the first zipline and then call it quits.  The guide, a woman about my wife's age responded, "honey, we have people walk up here, look at the wire and turn around and walk back to the office!"  My wife's response was, "I'm afraid but I'm going to try it."  The level of enthusiasm was underwhelming to say the least.

We, both my wife and I, completed all nine ziplines,  walked across a suspension bridge and swam in a swimming hole.  During the lunch break we talked with the guides who informed us they knew of at least one reputable zipline tour near us in northern California.

By the time we got home my wife had talked me into finding a zipline tour near us.  We found one at Mr. Hermon, in the redwoods just inland from Santa Cruz.

Later last summer we had a camping trip planned with our grandchildren to Santa Cruz.  At my wife's insistence I contacted the zipline company at Mt. Hermon.  I found out that I was above their weight limit, and not by just a few pounds.  I also found out that our grandson, who was 7, was both to young and to small.  So, I booked the zipline tour for my wife and our 2 granddaughters who both met all the qualifications.

The day of the zipline tour arrived and we all drove from our campsite to Mt. Hermon.  After checking in and getting their gear my grandson and I followed my wife and granddaughters across the street to the beginning of the zipline tour.  Unlike Hawaii, this was not a tour through and over the treetops, this was a tour from platforms built and attached to the redwoods, the majority of them 100 feet, or more, off the ground and under the tree's canopy.

My grandson and I watched as my wife and granddaughters received instruction and did a practice run on a very short sipline about a foot off the ground.  We could see them walk across a suspension bridge out to the first platform and then watched anxiously, waiting to see if anyone would chicken out, as they took off, suspended in air and traveling very fast to the next platform.  The girls both said they were fine so we left and ran some errands and explored some of the other things available like a climbing wall and "cope" course.

At the end of the day when we picked up my wife and granddaughters they all talked about how fun it was.  They talked about it so much that my grandson insisted that he wanted to do it as soon as he was big enough.

This year we planned a camping trip to a campsite almost across the street from Mt. Hermon.  We chose this campground for 2 reasons.  The first was to be near the zipline tour, the second was to explore a different campground.

I made a reservation for the zipline tour.  My daughter and son-in-law were coming with us and their children so I initially made the reservation for 7 of us.  Only 5 of us went but that's a different story.

This year I had lost enough weight to be within a "white lie" of the weight limit, and besides unlike the company in Hawaii, Mt. Hermon does not, or did not, weigh guests before embarking on the zipline tour.  More importantly, my grandson had grown enough to be tall enough and weigh enough to meet the minimum requirements.

The week before we left for the campground our grandson was so excited.  He was so excited I made him a bet that he would wet his pants on the zipline, of course he bet that he wouldn't.

The day of our zipline tour arrived.  We drove the short distance to the site and checked in.  Just before we checked in I remembered there was an age requirement so I whispered to my grandson that if anyone asked he was 10.  Sure enough as we checked in he was asked how old he was, he responded in a quiet voice "10".  I didn't think anymore about it.

We met our guides, suited up in harnesses and helmets and walked to the beginning of the course.  My wife took the lead, our grandchildren, our grandson in the rear followed, and I was the last of our group.

The practice run went fine, no issues, although my harness was not the most comfortable thing I've ever worn.  Next a short walk on a suspension bridge and we were on a platform, under the canopy and ready to ride the zipline.

My grandson did not hesitate on the first zipline.  He followed his sisters and rode across just like everyone else.  I followed and we stood together on the next platform and talked about how much fun that first zip was.  The exhilaration of flying through the trees.  The beauty of being up in the trees and looking down at the world below.

My wife stepped up and was about to be strapped in for the second zip when my grandson announced he was not going to go across.  My wife stepped back and talked to him for a minute.  One guide had already gone across and the other members of our party, a young couple, were already across.  Regardless of what was said my grandson insisted he wasn't going across.  He was done.

Finally my wife and our granddaughters strapped in and went across to the next platform.  By this time my grandson had begun crying and insisted he wasn't going across.  With the tears I told the guide we were done and I would take my grandson back to the office.  Next thing I knew the guides traded places and we were waiting for a supervisor and safety rope.  The options were to go back across the first zipline, this would require inching back up after we reached the halfway point and the line went uphill.  The other option was to rappel down to the forest floor from the tree platform and then hike up from the creek bed, about a hundred feet uphill.  My grandson stated he had come across the first zipline and he could go back across it, he just couldn't go any further forward.

So, the guide hooked onto the line, first with my grandson and took him across the zipline and then the suspension bridge to where the supervisor was waiting.  Then he came back for me and we did the same procedure.  It was more fun riding across the first time, it was work to go backwards on the course.

My grandson and I walked back to the office and turned in our gear.  After we were done at the office my grandson turned to me and said, "you owe me 5 bucks."   I couldn't believe it.  "You owe me 5 bucks", he repeated, "I didn't pee my pants, that was the bet.  You didn't say anything about finishing the ride."

So, for the second time my wife went on the zipline at Mount Hermon without me. At least this time I got out on the course.

Jury Duty

Some days I wonder if people are just plain crazy?   Whether it's walking down the halls of a courthouse or on the streets downtown the question comes to mind on almost a daily basis.

Because I'm around courthouses and attorney's offices people always ask me if I know how to get out of jury duty.  My usual response is there is no surefire way of getting excused from jury duty.  That doesn't mean that I haven't seen people try all kinds of crazy things.

One Monday morning when I was running down the hallway where potential jurors check in, I pulled up short and had to cover my mouth so no one saw me laughing.  Sitting there among all the other potential jurors was a women who had to be in her mid-thirties.  I noticed her because of the way she was dressed.  I usually notice women who are dressed nicely in clothes that are flattering or at least clean.  This particular woman was going for a different look.  I was close enough to see that her T-shirt was inside out and backwards.  On her feet were fuzzy slippers and her hair was ratted to the point of standing two feet out from her head n every direction.  Based on the fact that no one was standing, or sitting, within three feet of her I can only assume that she hadn't bathed for a few days.   I hope her efforts paid off but I doubt it.

Have you ever sat through jury selection?  It's nothing like in the movies or TV.

I sat with my boss at the counsel table the first day of trial studying notes and comparing them to the people sitting around the room.  No one had been directed to the jury box.  the judge was first trying to determine who, if anyone, would be excused from jury service.  After a short speech about what did, and did not, qualify as an excuse from jury service.  Then the judge began asking for a show of hands those who qualified for one of those excuses.

For the next half hour people stated their excuses.  They ranged from medical conditions, to vacations and included sole proprietors of businesses.  About half of those who stated their excuses were actually excused.  No one stated an excuse that had anything to do with mental illness or other excuses that stretched credibility.

Before to long we had what is called our jury pool and after another two hours of questions we had  twelve, actually thirteen people, seated in the jury box.  Then it was lunch time.

Nothing qualified any of these people to sit on this, or any particular jury.  That's why some refer to a jury as twelve jokers in a box. 

Travels

I woke up Saturday morning looking up at Mount Shasta.  Unlike other Saturdays, in the distant past, this time I remembered how I got there.  It was the first morning of an 8 day vacation, in some ways a glorified road trip.  Over the course of 8 days we traveled more than 1,600 miles.  Little did I know when I looked up at Mount Shasta Saturday morning that this was just the beginning of a journey through truly beautiful country.  But I have to ask, who says vacation is all about relaxing?  We did sleep in a little bit, but our days were full.

Sunday morning I woke up to this view of the ocean on the Oregon central coast.  The drive to the coast was interesting.  We left Mount Shasta Saturday morning in sunshine and blue skies.  By the time we reached Medford Oregon the sun had disappeared behind the clouds and we experienced some drizzle, but no real rain.  Continuing north we stopped in Eugene Oregon, overcast, and just wandered around admiring the city.  Then it was off to the coast.

I don't believe I have ever driven through so much greenery in my life.  From the time we reached Eugene until we arrived at the coast we were driving through forest.  The layers and textures of the different shades of green was breathtaking.  For a boy originally from the desert of Las Vegas it was like being on a different planet.

Just before nightfall Saturday we arrived at our destination, a friend's house on the central coast of Oregon.  Unlike the beaches I ran on during my high school years on Southern California, it was not warm and inviting.  I didn't even touch the water but I'm sure it was COLD!  Still, the beach and the rhythm of the waves has an allure I can't deny.  Unfortunately, as we started to walk along the beach the rain finally came in force.  If not for my coat I would have been soaked, even with it I was wet before I got back to the house.

After waking up to the ocean Sunday morning we headed out for Portland.  Back from the coast to interstate 5 and then north.  The weather report said we would have rain in Portland.  The worst rain was between Salem and Portland.

Our first stop in Portland was the Oregon Zoo.  That's where we met this talented little guy.  You may not be able to tell from this picture but this is a full grown black bear running on this log inside his enclosure.  We spent the day with our umbrella and poncho walking around the zoo watching the different animals.  We watched the fruit bats at feeding time, kind of freaky.

After the zoo we found our way to our room for the next three nights.  After dropping off our luggage it was off to meet a friend for dinner.  Those that have been to Portland may have heard of the "Kennedy School", I never had.  So we had called our friend Cindy and asked where would be a fun place to meet her for dinner.  When she suggested the "Kennedy School" we thought she was talking about a cooking school.  Not quite!

I hope I get all of this right, or at least close.  The Kennedy School was an elementary school in northeast Portland constructed in the early 1900's.  In the 1970's, I think, it was to be demolished and was eventually bought by a private company who left the building intact and "repurposed" it as my wife would say.  It is now a hotel, with at least two restaurants, two bars and a movie theater.  We ate in the courtyard that evening, under the stars, near an outdoor fireplace with a patio heater nearby.  The food was very good and the atmosphere was fun.  The walls of the school are decorated with black and white pictures of former students and staff over the years of the school and supplemented with eclectic art, mostly from local artists.

We enjoyed the Kennedy School so much that Monday afternoon when we found ourselves in the area we went there for a late lunch.  This time we ate indoors, seated at a window where we could watch the rain falling on the courtyard and the beautiful plants.

So, enough of a travelogue.  Portland, and the rest of Oregon, was beautiful.  My wife commented several times that if we had moved there when we were younger we never would have left.  Maybe so.

I do have a couple of comments to include.  Our friend Cindy said, "welcome to Portland the polite".  She was right everyone was very polite, until we were on the freeway coming home and a minivan with Oregon plates and a Jesus bumpersticker gave us the finger as they passed us at 85 mph.

Portland seemed a lot like Santa Cruz north.  We saw more people with dreadlocks, panhandling, and/or homeless than I've seen anywhere besides the Bay area in Northern California.   I don't travel a lot.

The big question is, would I go back to Portland?  Probably.  But, as my wife points out, there are a lot of other places we would still like to explore.  So, it may take several years to get back to Portland but I bet we will.

Celebrity Spotting

I don't know when it exactly started but I do know why.  For years now anytime I go somewhere with my wife and children within minutes someone says the name of a celebrity and the rest of us look to see who they're referring to. This began as a means of keeping our children occupied at some event, like waiting at my oldest daughter's 6th grade graduation.  Whoever had the idea that families should all sit and wait through a graduation ceremony for the end of every school, elementary school, middle school, etc., never had to sit through one with a 5 year old.  I'll tackle that subject another time.

Anyway, I digress, as a means of keeping the children, and their father, entertained, my wife started celebrity spotting.

This activity reached an all time high when the first "Pirates of the Caribbean" movie came out and we vacationing in Santa Cruz.  One of the kids started it and it just went on and on.  There are blocks in Santa Cruz where there's a lot of people roaming around that look like they could have played Johnny Depp's double in the "Pirates" movies.  One day the kids spotted Johnny Depp 13 times between the boardwalk and downtown.

Another high point of the game was at my daughter-in-law's college graduation.  It was on the lawn  on the campus, in late May, temperature near 100.  It was a miracle there weren't more people with water bottles and water balloons starting something.  This time it wasn't Johnny Depp that was seen every where you looked.  The name I heard most was "Snookie".  The first time I heard the name I looked just in time to see a rather large young lady wearing a dress, I think it was a dress, that was about 3 sizes to small with orange skin and her handing standing at least 2 feet above her head.  After that I didn't bother trying to see who people were referring to when they said, "I see Snookie again".

Some people may not think it is nice, but it can be a fun diversion.  And, every once in awhile you actually do see a celebrity.  On one trip to Disneyland, coming out of Autotopia I grabbed my wife's arm and said "look, it's Teri Hatcher!"  My wife didn't even turn around and just said, "yeah right."  She finally looked when she heard somebody walking by saying they had just seen Teri Hatcher.  Yes, it was Teri Hatcher at Disneyland.  Once in awhile.