It was about this time each year when the matter of Camp Rotary came up. This wonderful Boy Scout Camp (girls used it, too) was located in the boon docks at the edge of Bal Hinch. It ran from the entry gate all the way down to Sugar Creek. I have no idea how many acres it contained but when I was a lad, it seemed like hundreds of acres. I would guess, maybe 60 or so. After we attained our full tenderfoot scout rank --we were no longer "Cub Scouts" -- If we had the small fee, we could go to Camp Rotary for a week or maybe even two weeks in the Summer. There we were awakened by a real bugle call from a real player. I remember John Marshall was the bugler. I don't know who woke him up. Anyway -- let me tell you a little about this wonderful camp, in case you never got the experience of going there.
There was a swimming pool of sorts. It was a dammed up creek supplied by a spring which filled it with water about 30 degrees cold -- well, not quite that cold but it felt like it. There were wooden flat floors over which were pitched old army tents which housed eight boys each with four bunk beds. If it rained, we got wet! Yes, a few boys cried the first night or two from homesickness but we got them over that pretty fast. Each tent had a name -- mine was Pine Tree Patrol. We were in competition with the other tents (patrols) for various events. We had string burning contests and fire building contests and water boiling contests and all sorts of dangerous events (sarcasm intended). We made up skits and learned to march in step and had a flag. Sounds like my basic training in the USAF. No wonder I got through that so well.
That bugle call meant get your butt out of bed and go to the mess hall -- but first -- get your wash pan off the nail hung on the back of the building -- and wash your hands and face in cold water. Then, what a breakfast! Oatmeal and eggs and toast and hot chocolate. (My grandmother was the cook).
Then it was the teaching of skills. Make a fire with only two matches or with no matches and friction or flint -- Identify various trees and plants (poison ivy? and poison oak?) -- learn how to use a knife properly -- how to pitch a tent and ditch a tent . We learned to tool leather and make lanyards. There were so many things I learned that I still use today.
Each meal was eaten in the chow hall and was wrought with tradition with younger scouts catering to the older scouts with more rank. We could look to the day we were the older scouts and so it went as the years passed.
There was an outside chapel with logs for seats. No special religion -- no preacher -- just a nice peaceful interlude on Sunday morning.
We learned to swim and save lives in that freezing pool. We learned to canoe in Sugar Creek. And then there was that night I went out to earn a special camping badge. All alone with a few bits of food an my knife and shovel and little pup tent and a blanket -- I stayed out in the woods. You can't imagine how many sounds there are in the woods until you are all alone. That's right -- at the ripe old age of 12 or 13, we learned how to make it on our own for one long day and night. I thought the sun would NEVER come up!
Well so much for reminiscing about Camp Rotary. I just wonder how it is now. I'll bet they have a nice warm pool and stay in a shelter and don't worry about the rain. You think they really go out and camp all night alone? I hope so -- but I doubt it!
That's it from Olaf Hart
Monday, June 4, 2018
Wednesday, May 30, 2018
Keeping up to date
I just looked at my old blog. My God, it has been 8 years since I posted anything. Well, we need to fix that.
Since I am legally blind (no, don't pity me -- I am doing just fine, thank you) I get to down load and listen to a library of many hundreds of books of all sorts and from a myriad of authors and subjects. Thank you VA! And also think you Dr. Walter Trenschel. Dr. T (as we call him) is the resident Psychologist at the VA Hospital in West Palm Beach Florida. He creates a support group by phone for those of us who want to help ourselves by helping other blind vets. This group has gotten me rather well acquainted with Dr. T. He has led me into some subjects I did not know existed. Things like "Hermetic Teachings" and "Noetics". But somehow I found myself into Quantum Physics -- looking at things that are so small we can't imagine; and looking at some of the newer quantum theories. I must admit that most of these subjects are way over my head but they are very interesting. And a little spooky (as Einstein put it). I need to read the "Dummies" version just to understand the basics.
For example, I have learned that an electron can be in two places at the same time (super position). And when you try to measure something as small as a quantum, it changes just because it is being measured. And entanglement is really complicated -- causing a particle to spin and react by reverse spinning another particle millions of light years away (can we go faster than light?) Whoa -- lets slow down a little here. Why would anyone but a brainy physicist want to know all this stuff? What I am leading to is the next level of computers -- called Quantum Computers. They use all this stuff. Once they are invented, they will attain unbelievable speeds unheard of today -- millions of times faster.
Now I want to back up a little -- as folks my age like to do. I mean I want to go way way back a little -- back to the bible. That's pretty far back. Genesis tells us that when Noah was ordered to build his ark, he was told to build it 200 cubits long, 50 cubits wide and 30 cubits high. We are told that a cubit was the measuring unit of that time and was the distance from the elbow to the middle finger or about 20 inches. Why am I telling you this? What does it have to do with quantum computers. You won't believe this -- |The unit of measure of a quantum computer is a "bit" just like any computer. BUT-- a quantum computer has "quantised" the measurement into a quantum bit -- Q - BIT or qubit. Does that sound familiar? Qubit -- cubit?
Now don't tell this old guy that things don't come around -- just like Einstein said -- "The whole universe is one big circle.
That is it from the Heart of Olaf Hart.
Since I am legally blind (no, don't pity me -- I am doing just fine, thank you) I get to down load and listen to a library of many hundreds of books of all sorts and from a myriad of authors and subjects. Thank you VA! And also think you Dr. Walter Trenschel. Dr. T (as we call him) is the resident Psychologist at the VA Hospital in West Palm Beach Florida. He creates a support group by phone for those of us who want to help ourselves by helping other blind vets. This group has gotten me rather well acquainted with Dr. T. He has led me into some subjects I did not know existed. Things like "Hermetic Teachings" and "Noetics". But somehow I found myself into Quantum Physics -- looking at things that are so small we can't imagine; and looking at some of the newer quantum theories. I must admit that most of these subjects are way over my head but they are very interesting. And a little spooky (as Einstein put it). I need to read the "Dummies" version just to understand the basics.
For example, I have learned that an electron can be in two places at the same time (super position). And when you try to measure something as small as a quantum, it changes just because it is being measured. And entanglement is really complicated -- causing a particle to spin and react by reverse spinning another particle millions of light years away (can we go faster than light?) Whoa -- lets slow down a little here. Why would anyone but a brainy physicist want to know all this stuff? What I am leading to is the next level of computers -- called Quantum Computers. They use all this stuff. Once they are invented, they will attain unbelievable speeds unheard of today -- millions of times faster.
Now I want to back up a little -- as folks my age like to do. I mean I want to go way way back a little -- back to the bible. That's pretty far back. Genesis tells us that when Noah was ordered to build his ark, he was told to build it 200 cubits long, 50 cubits wide and 30 cubits high. We are told that a cubit was the measuring unit of that time and was the distance from the elbow to the middle finger or about 20 inches. Why am I telling you this? What does it have to do with quantum computers. You won't believe this -- |The unit of measure of a quantum computer is a "bit" just like any computer. BUT-- a quantum computer has "quantised" the measurement into a quantum bit -- Q - BIT or qubit. Does that sound familiar? Qubit -- cubit?
Now don't tell this old guy that things don't come around -- just like Einstein said -- "The whole universe is one big circle.
That is it from the Heart of Olaf Hart.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
The Guys
Mealtime was the time we all got together. It was at 7am -- noon -- and 5 pm. We called ourselves "The Inmates." No we were not in prison. But we all had at least two things in common -- We were all Vets of one period of time or other -- and we were all blind. At least we were all "legally" blind. We were all trainees at the Blind Rehab Center at the Souwestern VA Hospital in Tucson, Arizona.
There were about 30 of us in various stages of visual imparement. A few were totally blind but most of us had some degree of vision. Many of these vets were from WWII. Some were from Korea and several from Viet Nam. The most popular problem was ARMD -- Age Related Macular Degeneration. This condition takes the central vision leaving only the periferal vision. Many of the older guys had that.
The smallest but saddest group were blinded as a result of Agent Orange in Viet Nam. Richard is one of these vets. He is from Houston, Texas and looked and sounded remarkably like Patrick Swayze. He has a guide dog. His name is Alphonso. Richard became my short term buddy as we sat and broke bread together each day. He spoke of Alphonso as tho he was a family relative -- that is because he is! Rich said he could not function without his friend. He got a bit choked up when he admitted that his K9 friend would probably not out live him. One could probably have seen a tear in his eyes except that he always wore his totally black sunglasses -- hiding what might have been his grotesque eye sockets. Richard was in the computer training program -- it was his third visit to the VA rehab program. He was able to function as tho he could see perfectly well. When he finished the program, he was taken to the Tucson Airport and got on a plane and flew to DFW. There he changed planes and flew to Houston and got transportation to his home. All of this with no help except his friend Alponso and his cane and his GPS system. Oh yes -- and his training.
There was Doc, Roy, Mack, Ed, Jerry and a host of others whose names I can't recall. These mealtimes were an intergal part of our training -- although many of the guys didn't realize this.It was the time when werealized there are others who share our disabilities. It was the time when we joked and made fun of ourselves and told of our daily tasks and how we got through them. "What do I have on my plate today," Mac would say to Doc.
"How the hell should I know, I am blind." Doc would retort and we would all laugh. Doc is 90 and had been a surgeon in WWII. He developed a tremor in the 80's and switched to epidemiology and worked for the World Health Center. He joked about trying to eat Jello with his shaking hands. He said "If I try to eat this stuff I will throw it all over you guys." He had a wonderful sense of humor and a brilliant brain. His body was wearing out but he was still as sharp as a tack. I observed him in the hobby shop hammering out a Christmas tree on a piece of copper. I had a few seconds of pity for him as he struggled to see his little tools and hold them still. I thought something like how he was once a fine surgeon and now is hammering out copper Christmas trees. But that soon left me when he chorted, "I am making a Christmas tree. It'll take me 'til Christmas to finish it." It was June. No getting ahead of this blind vet!
My disease is called RP -- or Retinitis Pigmentosa. It has taken my right eye and narrowed my left eye to a tunnel of vision. I must hasten to say -- I am thankful for this small bit of vision. I was taught to use it to its full advantage. I was given a white cane which folds up neatly when I don't need it. I was given a thorough exam by two optomotrists -- which took about an hour and a half. This was to determine the extent of my visual needs -- no guess work here. I was taught how to c00k, clean and do all the necessary things to live a normal life. I was given a phychological exam by a young girl who I sware was only 16 -- who has a PhD. I was taught how to make things in a workshop and hobby shop and do it safely with my limited vision. But most of all -- I was taught "Mobility."
First order of business was my 56 inch cane -- white with a red tip. This is my eyes when I am walking. I was taught to use this extention of my vision with expertise. I was taught to determine when I heeded help and when I needed to go it alone. I was taught how to ask for help and when to refuse it -- politely. We began in the hospital hallway -- then out to the parking lot. Finally a trip to a neighborhood in Tucson. We practiced going up and down stairs hundreds of times -- until it was natural. Then the day came when I began to cross streets -- small ones at first -- then busier streets and finally the busiest intersection in the city. All this training took an entire month. But I passed the test.
I graduated from this wonderful institution a few days ago with my diploma in hand. I was asked if I wished to learn the GPS. I immediately said "Yes!" I will go back in a day or two for another week of training with this marvelous instrument (I Was given a demo to see how it worked).
Yes all this training costs the government (taxpayers) many hundreds of thousands of dollars. That bothers my consertive nature. But maybe it is a little payback for all the time we gave with such a small income. And I think we will each make a contribution to society in our own way after this training. Each "student" has only one instructor at a time -- everything is individualized to the needs and desires of the vet. You get only what you request. All instructors are required to have a Masters Degree in blind rehab training. They are the finest.
I was told before I went to this program that this was the best Blind rehab program in the world -- right here in Tucson. I was dubious. But not any longer. It is. I am living proof. I have no fear of the future -- I have my confidence, my cane and will soon have my GPS and I am ready to do anything anyone else can do.
From the Heart by Olaf Hart
There were about 30 of us in various stages of visual imparement. A few were totally blind but most of us had some degree of vision. Many of these vets were from WWII. Some were from Korea and several from Viet Nam. The most popular problem was ARMD -- Age Related Macular Degeneration. This condition takes the central vision leaving only the periferal vision. Many of the older guys had that.
The smallest but saddest group were blinded as a result of Agent Orange in Viet Nam. Richard is one of these vets. He is from Houston, Texas and looked and sounded remarkably like Patrick Swayze. He has a guide dog. His name is Alphonso. Richard became my short term buddy as we sat and broke bread together each day. He spoke of Alphonso as tho he was a family relative -- that is because he is! Rich said he could not function without his friend. He got a bit choked up when he admitted that his K9 friend would probably not out live him. One could probably have seen a tear in his eyes except that he always wore his totally black sunglasses -- hiding what might have been his grotesque eye sockets. Richard was in the computer training program -- it was his third visit to the VA rehab program. He was able to function as tho he could see perfectly well. When he finished the program, he was taken to the Tucson Airport and got on a plane and flew to DFW. There he changed planes and flew to Houston and got transportation to his home. All of this with no help except his friend Alponso and his cane and his GPS system. Oh yes -- and his training.
There was Doc, Roy, Mack, Ed, Jerry and a host of others whose names I can't recall. These mealtimes were an intergal part of our training -- although many of the guys didn't realize this.It was the time when werealized there are others who share our disabilities. It was the time when we joked and made fun of ourselves and told of our daily tasks and how we got through them. "What do I have on my plate today," Mac would say to Doc.
"How the hell should I know, I am blind." Doc would retort and we would all laugh. Doc is 90 and had been a surgeon in WWII. He developed a tremor in the 80's and switched to epidemiology and worked for the World Health Center. He joked about trying to eat Jello with his shaking hands. He said "If I try to eat this stuff I will throw it all over you guys." He had a wonderful sense of humor and a brilliant brain. His body was wearing out but he was still as sharp as a tack. I observed him in the hobby shop hammering out a Christmas tree on a piece of copper. I had a few seconds of pity for him as he struggled to see his little tools and hold them still. I thought something like how he was once a fine surgeon and now is hammering out copper Christmas trees. But that soon left me when he chorted, "I am making a Christmas tree. It'll take me 'til Christmas to finish it." It was June. No getting ahead of this blind vet!
My disease is called RP -- or Retinitis Pigmentosa. It has taken my right eye and narrowed my left eye to a tunnel of vision. I must hasten to say -- I am thankful for this small bit of vision. I was taught to use it to its full advantage. I was given a white cane which folds up neatly when I don't need it. I was given a thorough exam by two optomotrists -- which took about an hour and a half. This was to determine the extent of my visual needs -- no guess work here. I was taught how to c00k, clean and do all the necessary things to live a normal life. I was given a phychological exam by a young girl who I sware was only 16 -- who has a PhD. I was taught how to make things in a workshop and hobby shop and do it safely with my limited vision. But most of all -- I was taught "Mobility."
First order of business was my 56 inch cane -- white with a red tip. This is my eyes when I am walking. I was taught to use this extention of my vision with expertise. I was taught to determine when I heeded help and when I needed to go it alone. I was taught how to ask for help and when to refuse it -- politely. We began in the hospital hallway -- then out to the parking lot. Finally a trip to a neighborhood in Tucson. We practiced going up and down stairs hundreds of times -- until it was natural. Then the day came when I began to cross streets -- small ones at first -- then busier streets and finally the busiest intersection in the city. All this training took an entire month. But I passed the test.
I graduated from this wonderful institution a few days ago with my diploma in hand. I was asked if I wished to learn the GPS. I immediately said "Yes!" I will go back in a day or two for another week of training with this marvelous instrument (I Was given a demo to see how it worked).
Yes all this training costs the government (taxpayers) many hundreds of thousands of dollars. That bothers my consertive nature. But maybe it is a little payback for all the time we gave with such a small income. And I think we will each make a contribution to society in our own way after this training. Each "student" has only one instructor at a time -- everything is individualized to the needs and desires of the vet. You get only what you request. All instructors are required to have a Masters Degree in blind rehab training. They are the finest.
I was told before I went to this program that this was the best Blind rehab program in the world -- right here in Tucson. I was dubious. But not any longer. It is. I am living proof. I have no fear of the future -- I have my confidence, my cane and will soon have my GPS and I am ready to do anything anyone else can do.
From the Heart by Olaf Hart
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Dog doesn't bite man
In our local Casa Grande Dispatch this mornng, an article was written by two AP reporters (Phil Davenport andJonathan Cooper) It begins: "Arodi Berrelleza isn't one of the targets of Arizona's new anti-illegal immigration law -- he's a U. S. citizen.
But the 18 year old high school student from Phoenix said he's afraid he'll be arrested anyway, if police see him driving around with friends and relatives, some of them illigal immigrants.."
The article goes on to talk about how he is afraid he will be stopped and asked for "papers" just because of the color of his skin.
Well now! How about a big headline that "Thousands of Mexican-Americans are NOT stopped today." Or "Hundreds of cops did NOT racially profile or invade anyone's privacy today." or "Dog did NOT bite man today."
Why do these AP writers seem to need to write a front page story about someone who did NOT get stopped -- nor is likely to get stopped if he is minding his business and staying out of trouble? Thousands of high school kids were out of school on the day of the signing of this new bill by Governor Jan Brewer,just to protest something they know nothing about. I wonder who let them out! As I understand, this bill takes the language of the Federal law word for word and makes a state law out of it. If one is not constitutional -- then wouldn't the other also be unconstiutional?
Maybe I just don't get it. But it seems pretty simple to me. Some are breaking our laws and need to be arrested and taken into custody for it -- and then delt with in an appropriate manner. If that is the job of the Federal Government -- then why did we have a rancher who's family has lived just next to the Mexican border -- killed in cold blood by an illigal immigrant -- and the Federal authorities said they had insufficient manpower to do anything about it? We do. Arizonans do -- now. But a segment of our population (not nearly a majority) are screaming about getting stopped because they have brown skin and will use "racial profiling" as a means of filtering out the illigals. They are yelling about stopping people just because they "Look like Mexicans." Welll -- at the risk of sounding politically incorrect --- DUH! They are coming from Mexico they would -- in all probability -- look like Mexicans! Right?
My neighbors all around me are Hispanic people -- American
Citizens. They were either born here or got their citizenship. Thoughout my life, I have had felolow workers and hundreds of friends who are of Hispanic origin. I have not discussed this law with them. However, I suspect they would tell me they would be happy to fork over their "Papers" in the very very unlikely event they should be "stopped" for some reason. I liken it to a drunk driving blockade. If you are legal (not drunk), it might be a little inconvenient -- you simply stop and show your license and go on down the road. No big deal But if you are drunk and might get caught, it really scares the hell out of you and pisses you off for getting stopped and checked. (But it also might save your own or someone else's life, too.)
Back to the writers of the AP article. Guys -- I was in the news reporting business for many years. I know we need a glamerous hook on the story to get the attention of the public -- it is the way we make our living and revenue for our media. But, for God's sake -- lets stop slanting stories in the wrong direction and stick to the facts and the truth.
From the Heart by Olaf Hart.
But the 18 year old high school student from Phoenix said he's afraid he'll be arrested anyway, if police see him driving around with friends and relatives, some of them illigal immigrants.."
The article goes on to talk about how he is afraid he will be stopped and asked for "papers" just because of the color of his skin.
Well now! How about a big headline that "Thousands of Mexican-Americans are NOT stopped today." Or "Hundreds of cops did NOT racially profile or invade anyone's privacy today." or "Dog did NOT bite man today."
Why do these AP writers seem to need to write a front page story about someone who did NOT get stopped -- nor is likely to get stopped if he is minding his business and staying out of trouble? Thousands of high school kids were out of school on the day of the signing of this new bill by Governor Jan Brewer,just to protest something they know nothing about. I wonder who let them out! As I understand, this bill takes the language of the Federal law word for word and makes a state law out of it. If one is not constitutional -- then wouldn't the other also be unconstiutional?
Maybe I just don't get it. But it seems pretty simple to me. Some are breaking our laws and need to be arrested and taken into custody for it -- and then delt with in an appropriate manner. If that is the job of the Federal Government -- then why did we have a rancher who's family has lived just next to the Mexican border -- killed in cold blood by an illigal immigrant -- and the Federal authorities said they had insufficient manpower to do anything about it? We do. Arizonans do -- now. But a segment of our population (not nearly a majority) are screaming about getting stopped because they have brown skin and will use "racial profiling" as a means of filtering out the illigals. They are yelling about stopping people just because they "Look like Mexicans." Welll -- at the risk of sounding politically incorrect --- DUH! They are coming from Mexico they would -- in all probability -- look like Mexicans! Right?
My neighbors all around me are Hispanic people -- American
Citizens. They were either born here or got their citizenship. Thoughout my life, I have had felolow workers and hundreds of friends who are of Hispanic origin. I have not discussed this law with them. However, I suspect they would tell me they would be happy to fork over their "Papers" in the very very unlikely event they should be "stopped" for some reason. I liken it to a drunk driving blockade. If you are legal (not drunk), it might be a little inconvenient -- you simply stop and show your license and go on down the road. No big deal But if you are drunk and might get caught, it really scares the hell out of you and pisses you off for getting stopped and checked. (But it also might save your own or someone else's life, too.)
Back to the writers of the AP article. Guys -- I was in the news reporting business for many years. I know we need a glamerous hook on the story to get the attention of the public -- it is the way we make our living and revenue for our media. But, for God's sake -- lets stop slanting stories in the wrong direction and stick to the facts and the truth.
From the Heart by Olaf Hart.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Urban Legends
My old uncle Ned(Rest his soul) was a wonderful Urban Legend guy. Oh, he really believed those stories -- as did most of the folks in my little home town. It is a kind of small town passtime -- these stories of strange happenings. The first one I recall was shortly after I-74 was completed just a couple of miles outside of town. It seems that a local guy (no one can recall who) was driving home down the Interstate and he came upon a big black Cadallac with a flat tire. He stopped to lend a hand and was confronted with a very pretty black woman who was sitting in the drivers seat of the car. He got into the trunk and retrieved the spare tire and changed it for the pretty black woman.
The story goes -- in a few days, a big delivery truck pulled up in front of his home and he was soon the proud owner of a new color TV (that was considered the prize gift back then). There was a note with the big TV set. It said "Thanks for changing my tire" and was signed "Mrs. Nat King Cole." I guess they did not know her name was Maria.
This story was the gospel truth in my home town. Everyone believed it.
A few years later, I had moved to the LA area and was watching a
TV interview with Maria Cole. She told the same story. Except -- she said it happened in every state in the Union, outside of hundreds of small town along the interstate. And it was simply not true!! It never happened! She never drove a black car of any sort across the country. And, she had no idea where the story originated.
TV interview with Maria Cole. She told the same story. Except -- she said it happened in every state in the Union, outside of hundreds of small town along the interstate. And it was simply not true!! It never happened! She never drove a black car of any sort across the country. And, she had no idea where the story originated.
That was my first experience with Urban Legends. Since then I have heard of scores of stories from the Pepsi can that refused to put "Under God" in the pledge (It was Coke and it was a July 4th ad campaign using only the first line of the pledge.) -- and more recently -- the new dollar coin that left off "In God We Trust." (It is on the edge of the coin if anyone bothers to look).
Many of these legends are of a religious nature. I am not a terribly religous man -- but I have no problem with religous symbols and words that are traditions in our country's history. But it might be nice if these people would get their facts straight before they e mail everyone in the world to boycott this that or the other for no good reason.
Anyway -- back to Uncle Ned. There are hundreds of Uncle Neds in the world living in small towns -- telling stories that have little or no basis -- and swearing they are true because someone or other (they can't remember exactly who) was there and saw it happen. I really loved my Uncle Ned and wouldn't have him be any different.
I suppose it is a part of Americana and we should just let it happen -- shake our heads with wonder and let the teller of the story have his moment of fame with his scoop. At least it makes for good memories of all the old Uncle Neds in the world.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Where's the Coffee Pot
I think it twas Sunday night. But what ever night it was, it was time for Gun Smoke!! We all watched every episode. But the part I remember the best was when Marshall Dillon had a discussion with Chester (played by Dennis Weaver) about the coffee. Chester would hobble over (he had a stiff leg) to the old wood burning stove in the Marshall's office and get the old coffee pot and pour the coffee. He always had a word or two defending his special blend. It had little to do with the plot -- but I remember it well.
I remember my parents and grandparents all had a coffee pot or one sort or another. Some were pretty simple -- just put in the water and put in the coffee and let her boil. It often boiled over and had to be pulled off with a hot pad or towel and the mess wiped up.
Then there were the percolators which bubbled up into a dome top and sang a little tune. There were drip-o-laters. Then we switched to various electric versions. Then we had a glass pot under a gadget into which we poured the water and let it do its thing. One could even set the timer and -- bingo -- coffee in the morning when you got up. The similiarity in all these various versions of the coffee pot was -- they all smelled so good. NOthing like the smell of a good pot of coffee in the morning. Until now!!
A few weeks ago my daughter and son-in-law took us to visit a wealthy friend who invited us for a breakfast at his home in the mountains in Arizona. He has a beautiful view through his big picture window -- looking out over the valley below and the mountains above. But he also had something else to show us -- his new coffee making machine. It was made by Keurig. He showed us how one simply filled the reservoir on the side -- then lifted the lid and placed a pre measured little plastic cup with a sealed lid into the recepticle -- pulled down the lid and lights began to flash. Then you select just how strong you wanted your coffee by determining the size of your cup -- smaller cup -- stronger coffee -- place you cup under the spout and here comes your fresh coffee.
We all got a cup of our choice of coffee from scores of blends and brands from all over the world. He even had several blends of tea and hot chocolate! And it is all fresh and took only about 10 seconds to brew.
My daughter fell in love with this new gadget and went out and bought one immediately -- that same day. Also available is a nice display rack which holds a few dozen of those little plastic cups. And, of course, the little plastic containers of coffee. The whole thing was nearly $200.
Well -- now guess who has one in his kitchen? --ME -- We had to have one. Gone is our coffee maker with the clock and the timer. Now we select a little plastic container of our favorite blend from the rack and put it in and pull the handle, press the botton and here comes fresh coffee in about 10 seconds.
But there is no smell -- no aroma. It never boiles over. It is perfect every time. What would Chester say about that?
I remember my parents and grandparents all had a coffee pot or one sort or another. Some were pretty simple -- just put in the water and put in the coffee and let her boil. It often boiled over and had to be pulled off with a hot pad or towel and the mess wiped up.
Then there were the percolators which bubbled up into a dome top and sang a little tune. There were drip-o-laters. Then we switched to various electric versions. Then we had a glass pot under a gadget into which we poured the water and let it do its thing. One could even set the timer and -- bingo -- coffee in the morning when you got up. The similiarity in all these various versions of the coffee pot was -- they all smelled so good. NOthing like the smell of a good pot of coffee in the morning. Until now!!
A few weeks ago my daughter and son-in-law took us to visit a wealthy friend who invited us for a breakfast at his home in the mountains in Arizona. He has a beautiful view through his big picture window -- looking out over the valley below and the mountains above. But he also had something else to show us -- his new coffee making machine. It was made by Keurig. He showed us how one simply filled the reservoir on the side -- then lifted the lid and placed a pre measured little plastic cup with a sealed lid into the recepticle -- pulled down the lid and lights began to flash. Then you select just how strong you wanted your coffee by determining the size of your cup -- smaller cup -- stronger coffee -- place you cup under the spout and here comes your fresh coffee.
We all got a cup of our choice of coffee from scores of blends and brands from all over the world. He even had several blends of tea and hot chocolate! And it is all fresh and took only about 10 seconds to brew.
My daughter fell in love with this new gadget and went out and bought one immediately -- that same day. Also available is a nice display rack which holds a few dozen of those little plastic cups. And, of course, the little plastic containers of coffee. The whole thing was nearly $200.
Well -- now guess who has one in his kitchen? --ME -- We had to have one. Gone is our coffee maker with the clock and the timer. Now we select a little plastic container of our favorite blend from the rack and put it in and pull the handle, press the botton and here comes fresh coffee in about 10 seconds.
But there is no smell -- no aroma. It never boiles over. It is perfect every time. What would Chester say about that?
Monday, April 5, 2010
Easter has come and gone
Is it the first Sunday -- after the first full moon -- after the first day of Spring? I don't remember but that is close enough. Easter! That day of the year when we do strange things in strangely different traditions.
I lived in New Mexico for many years. That is the home of the Penatente. That is a group of believers who are leftovers from the Catholic/Indian culture, I am told. They select a member of their group to become Jesus for the weekend. He is honored by allowing himself to be hung on a cross (some assure me that years ago he was actually nailed to the cross -- but that is highly suspect in its validity). On Easter morning he is removed from the cross and hailed as the messiah and the celebration begins.
I was in Old Mexico one year on Easter weekend and observed a man in a small village in the Copper Canyon. He was in great pain (and also a good actor) as he carried a very large and heavy cross down the street, through the village, leading what appeared to be a parade of every person in the village behind him. They were singing and moaning and celebating the holy day (holiday?) as they reinacted the legend of Jesus's path to Calvery.
Then, we are all familiar with and have participated in, the traditional Masses and sunrise services and religious gatherings with which we all grew up. No need to describe those.
But for some reason -- I know not where it originated -- we switch to eggs and rabbits. Children all over the country hunt eggs planted by the Easter bunny -- a kind of spring-time Santa, I guess. In my career and as a parent, I have participated in these hunts many times..They are a sight to behold. Little kids go first. Parents help tikes who are not yet old enough to know what is going on. The struggle to find their hidden treasures. Then the next age bracket. They have been here before -- they know the ropes -- they grab and fight over the eggs as though they were gold. And so it goes with the hunt.
When I was a lad, there were no commercial hunts -- just around in our back yard. My Easter bunny parents did the hiding. But before the hunt began, there was a big basket of candy for each of us, waiting to be discovered when we got out of bed. It was a day of candy eating that was allowed -- stomach ache or not. My parents had little money for frivisous things like candy --(maybe that is why I still have my own teeth) but Easter was the exception. Those baskets were home created -- put together by my parents -- no pre prepared baskets in my famiy. But the candy was great with lots of jelly beans (they were cheap). I liked the black ones best.
Yes -- Easter has come and gone for another year. The faithful have celebrated it in whichever way they have seen fit. The bunny is gone for another year with his eggs and candy. And I wonder -- What would Jesus have thought about this holiday and its various spinoffs?? He would probably roll his eyes and chalk it up to progress.
From the heart -- Olaf Hart
I lived in New Mexico for many years. That is the home of the Penatente. That is a group of believers who are leftovers from the Catholic/Indian culture, I am told. They select a member of their group to become Jesus for the weekend. He is honored by allowing himself to be hung on a cross (some assure me that years ago he was actually nailed to the cross -- but that is highly suspect in its validity). On Easter morning he is removed from the cross and hailed as the messiah and the celebration begins.
I was in Old Mexico one year on Easter weekend and observed a man in a small village in the Copper Canyon. He was in great pain (and also a good actor) as he carried a very large and heavy cross down the street, through the village, leading what appeared to be a parade of every person in the village behind him. They were singing and moaning and celebating the holy day (holiday?) as they reinacted the legend of Jesus's path to Calvery.
Then, we are all familiar with and have participated in, the traditional Masses and sunrise services and religious gatherings with which we all grew up. No need to describe those.
But for some reason -- I know not where it originated -- we switch to eggs and rabbits. Children all over the country hunt eggs planted by the Easter bunny -- a kind of spring-time Santa, I guess. In my career and as a parent, I have participated in these hunts many times..They are a sight to behold. Little kids go first. Parents help tikes who are not yet old enough to know what is going on. The struggle to find their hidden treasures. Then the next age bracket. They have been here before -- they know the ropes -- they grab and fight over the eggs as though they were gold. And so it goes with the hunt.
When I was a lad, there were no commercial hunts -- just around in our back yard. My Easter bunny parents did the hiding. But before the hunt began, there was a big basket of candy for each of us, waiting to be discovered when we got out of bed. It was a day of candy eating that was allowed -- stomach ache or not. My parents had little money for frivisous things like candy --(maybe that is why I still have my own teeth) but Easter was the exception. Those baskets were home created -- put together by my parents -- no pre prepared baskets in my famiy. But the candy was great with lots of jelly beans (they were cheap). I liked the black ones best.
Yes -- Easter has come and gone for another year. The faithful have celebrated it in whichever way they have seen fit. The bunny is gone for another year with his eggs and candy. And I wonder -- What would Jesus have thought about this holiday and its various spinoffs?? He would probably roll his eyes and chalk it up to progress.
From the heart -- Olaf Hart
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