The Spin Of Things

There is nothing 

Nothing we can say

That hasn't been said... 

Already

Nothing read
That hasn't been written... 

Already

So why do we say it?
Why do we write it?

For the fun of the spin we're in...
To share the past
To capture the moment
To predict the future

To redirect opinion
To convince ourselves
To protect our memories

Why do we say,
"Words cannot describe...?"
When that, in and of itself
Begins a description.

And if its a competition of words
Either spoken or written
We will spin it to win it

That's what we do.

Hayseed - Minibio I

A little kid in North Dakota circa late 1950's
Willow City...population 250, give or take

 More background and photos 
Help set the stage at this link... 
"Nort-A-Kota Nuggets" 

At age 8 or 9, a time of boundless curiosity -
That became a growing source of trouble

He once snuck into their neighbor's house to explore
It was his pal's place, Punky Kunert
He knew they were gone for the weekend - holidays

The Hayseed knew he wasn't supposed to be there
So he was pretty excited
While snooping, he came across the biggest candy cane
He had ever seen

It had to be a foot long
And big around as a half-dollar

There's an old expression
"A watermelon tastes better when its stolen"
(The saying may have originated with Mark Twain)
We'll call it the Watermelon Effect
That's how it was with that candy cane.

Their second house there was rented... like their first

It had an indoor toilet!
The owner used the detached, one car garage for storage
The Hayseed figured out how to get in
And found a cache of old baseball cards
In a cigar box

The real small kind mostly
They would be worth a fortune today
He had no idea
Yet, the Watermelon Effect kicked in
So he made those cards his own

(A few years later, walking to school one morning in Michigan, he was told part of the school had burned down. It was his part, an old wooden frame addition. The box of baseball cards was in his desk there. He didn't think much of it then as they were mainly a curiosity to him.)

One day, he was sent to his room upstairs as punishment
He decided he would rather go to the movies
He put on his first Communion suit
(His coveralls wouldn't work for this serious adventure)
Then he tied his bedding together and began to lower himself
From his second story window to the ground

The knots gave away about half way down
And he fell...
Unhurt, he picked himself up
And headed for the lumber yard his dad managed
He asked his dad for a quarter to go to the movies
Told him "Mom said it was ok."

He was all set. Fifteen cents to get in
With ten cents worth of candy
From the next door drugstore
He was found out of course
But the punishment that ensued, whatever it was
Did not measure up to the crime... no way

(This - The first of many adventures in a life is all it is - there are countless others of course, many sprinkled through this here blog and in this book The Hayseed...  Also - the photos are the real thing. I was able to return to Willow City a few years ago and snapped them then.)

Slathered... Slaked

Can you say that 3 times?
Real fast?

Kennedy gold mine, Jackson, California
As it looks today

Never mind, here's the real point
(As if there could be one?)

On the day before today
The Coyote and I
Decided to break out the Harleys
For a little pre-Spring run

To the NorCal foothills
Mining country, gold that is...
Jackson was our destination
Mel and Faye's diner for a damn fine late breakfast

Jackson is an old gold mining town
Named after "Alden Appola Moore Jackson"
Helluva name wouldn't you say?

Tyler you are lucky I didn't know about this
When you were born
"Alden Appola Moore Campbell?"  Hmmmm....

I have been there dozens of times
In my Harley riding life
And it has been beautiful each time

The forecast was 70
It was in the fifties on our way up
In the sixties on our way back

Cruising... handlebar to handlebar
On the stretches less traveled
Two throaty, rumbling Harleys making music

On one stretch of the return
I picked up the scent of a bakery
There is nothing quite like it

Unless you consider similar smells picked up while outdoors
Like bacon frying in the pan
Or potatoes and onions frying in butter

The thought then struck me
In my scented reverie
"Slaked and Slathered"... or vice-versa

Flashback to the Azore Islands
Fresh made bread
Slathered with dollops of the world's richest, most delicious butter

Coupled with home-made wine - made using genuine Portuguese feet
Bottled in old liquor containers
Two bits each - to slake your thirst

Why "slake"?  
Consider a National Geographic special
On Africa; commentator, Alec Baldwin

Alec had the world's worst script writer
So every time the animals stopped to drink
Alec said they were "slaking their thirst."

He also threw in an occasional "slathered."

That's why

Anyway, where was I?
Oh yes, Slathering and Slaking
Two things you definitely want to do
If you are ever in the Azores.

The River

The "River"
Otherwise known as "Fifth Street"

The Pocket

In the game of chance: Texas Hold'em

In Hold'em, each player at the table
Is dealt two cards, face down
This is called the "Pocket"
No other players can see them
If you protect them properly that is

Next comes the "Flop"
Three cards face up on the table
To be shared by each player
In determining the best hand

Next; the "Turn" or "Fourth Street"
Is turned up on the table to join the first three
Finally the "River or "Fifth Street"
A card that has made and destroyed many fortunes.

Wagers are placed
At the completion of each step
The "Pocket", the "Flop", "Fourth" and "Fifth Street"
The player with the best combination of five cards wins

Tournaments typically begin
With many tables of 10 players each
As each players loses all their chips
They are eliminated from the competition

When the last 10 players remain
The "Final Table" is formed
And each is typically "in the money"

From there they play on until the last person remains
Or until the players mutually agree to "chop" or tie
For the remaining cash pay outs

Yesterday, from a beginning field of 80 or so
I made the final table
I was a little "short stacked" or behind the average chip count
But at about 35,000 I had a fair share

In the second hand my pocket was Ace and Ten of Hearts
Blinds and antes were fairly high at that time
So there were over 10 thousand in chips in the pot
Before wagering even began

One player in front of me
Placed a raise to 12,000 chips
To call would have taken almost half my chips
I guessed my opponent had a middle pair

I decided I could out race him
So I shoved my chips in the pot; "All-in"
The remaining players folded to the raiser
Who called my all-in bet and showed pocket queens

The Flop came, a small heart and two Aces
Giving me a huge lead with a Set of Aces
The Turn came, a King of Hearts
Giving me a flush draw on top of my set

The River.... a Queen of Hearts
Giving me a flush as well as a set
But giving my opponent a full house
Queens over Aces

Some amazing cards hit that table
And I got "Rivered"
Knocked out of the tournament in 10th place
With a little cash and a bruise from Lady Luck

I left a huge stack of chips back there
That was mine for the first six cards
If that first heart on the flop would have been a Jack
I would have had a Royal Straight Flush

Damn I love this game!

Robbie

Sometimes... one thing leads to another.

Lajes Field on Terciera Island,
The Azores Portugal, Circa 1966

They were Air Force medics at the Lajes Hospital
They were also room mates in the enlisted dorm
Located on the hospital grounds

Robbie was a dental technician
His room mate was a public health technician
Robbie was Dr. William "Hands" Malde's assistant
All the medics called him "Hands" in tribute to his dentistry skills

In those days docs supplied pilots
With "go, no-go" pills clearly marked
Red for "Go" - Blue for "No-go"
Two small bottles taped to
Either end of a tongue depressor

When on long missions, if needed, pilots would take stimulants
Most often dexedrine to stay awake
And some form of sleeping pills to rest between missions
It was common practice then
And likely still is today

Robbie liked "go" pills
He took them fairly frequently, perhaps from "Hands"
As they were little controlled and abundantly available
Never the less, he was known as a terrific technician
...Quiet yet quick to smile and good at his craft

Robbie also had a taste for scotch and cigarettes
Of course, the majority of medics smoked back then
Ignorant of any potential consequences
And somehow Robbie knew how to make his small paycheck
Last much longer than his room mate's.

His room mate didn't have the same taste for go pills
But did acquire a taste for scotch
As often just before payday
Scotch was the only booze
Available in the  room to drink

Robbie and his room mate got along well for a couple of years
Then Robbie's tour ended and he was honorably
Discharged from the Air Force
He returned to his home area of Tacoma,  Washington

Robbie's friend and room mate
Was also discharged
A few months later
And returned to his home area of Seattle, Washington

After a couple of months
Robbie's old pal
Looked him up
And they decided to get together

Robbie picked him up in his Corvair
And they headed to downtown Seattle
The Queen Anne District
Where one of Robbie's friends lived

When they entered the house
There were perhaps a dozen young people
All seemed to be nodding,  eyes glazed over or closed
As if on drugs (heroin?)

Robbie didn't seem startled at all by the scene
He talked to a friend for a few minutes
Then he and his old Azores room mate left
It was the last time they would meet

Shortly thereafter, Robbie's friend
Rejoined the Air Force
To get back in action
Seattle somehow had become boring

A few years later
His friend was home again in Seattle
And decided to try to track down Robbie in Tacoma
He found Robbie's parents phone number and called

Robbie's Dad informed him that Robbie had passed away
A few years earlier
He did not offer any details
Robbie would have been in his mid-twenties then

To this day, his old friend and room mate
Believes Robbie succumbed to drugs
He misses his brother Robbie
And thinks of him on occasion, when he tips a drink of scotch

So easy in this life... to take a step in the wrong direction

Black Out II

This one doesn't have a hole poked in it
Person who prepared it doesn't have any class...

To the House, its SOPA
To the Senate, its PIPA
Together, that spells SOPAPIPA

Could be thought of as a variation on the word, Sopapilla
A delicious Mexican concoction that often involves
Frying a puffed up pastry
Then while its hot
Poking a small hole in it and filling it with honey
Then making a mess of things while trying to consume it

SOPAPIPA and Sopapilla
They both seem to share the "puffed up"
And "making a mess" characteristics
Do they not?!

Could be flogging a dead horse here though
As both chambers seem to be backing off
To find a better way for protecting against online piracy
Rather than some Orwellian concoction

You know these silly little elected officials
Only work a few days a year
And they have shitloads of staff
Waiting on them hand and foot

Couldn't they find a way
To better vet their ideas
Before taking them to floor
Wasting our time and theirs?

When was the last time
Congress put something on the table
And we all sat back and said;
Jeez, they did a great job with that!?

Black Out II?
Here's one connection
I could eat sopapillas until I black out
I just love'em, no kidding

Blacked Out

Blacked out


blacked out


blacked out


SOPA

2 Hunnert - This Life

Looking back
Two hundred posts on this blog
Reflections, near and far term
Of one life, just one life is all

The essence of life... mine
The mistakes of life... mine
The achievements of life... mine

The last fueled by my beautiful bride

The mistakes...
Ah, the mistakes...

I did not imagine this
It happened
I did not deserve this
It happened anyway

I just stepped off the curb
Without looking
And there it was
Life...large and in my face

So I wrote about those close to me
Testimonials to our family of four
Testimonials to our goldy, Molly
Testimonials to friends
Testimonials about the human condition

Right now... I feel the love of family
As they laugh and talk
While preparing Christmas dinner
I peeled the spuds - that was enough
Love is warm

We're not done.
We. Are. Not. Done.
There's more to say
Until there's life, no more.

To all who see this; Merry Christmas

Herding Cats (Julieann and Her Lefties)

Julieann Marie Campbell
Receiving  Air Force Certificate of Appreciation 

I asked her recently
If she had ever though of herself
As beautiful
She was surprised, and answered "No".

Then I showed her a photo
Taken of her when we left the Air Force
Years ago and said, "See"?
She remained surprised

*****

Once she said she regretted

That she had not completed college
I said, "Are you kidding?

You have four college degrees
One in Economics
A Masters in Health Care Administration
Another degree in Digital Media
And this coming Spring a degree in Philosophy"

The point being there likely would be no degrees
In our family were it not for her
Her energy, her optimism and her belief in all of us
Brought us to this point

She has been corralling three lefties all this time...
Like herding cats right?!

*****

In recent years I have noticed, and admired

Her sense of things is to give way in deference

To oncoming traffic 

On foot, in cars, in conversation... in everything

Her time is yours, in all things

I wish I was more like that

I wish we all were more like that

To step back, to let another in, to listen

Note:  This is my 200th post in the past four years.  Without Julieann Marie Campbell there would be zero - as in no posts. That is a fact - I am so fortunate to be able to do something like this, that I love... and to be with someone I love.  I'm not sure she is done racking up college degrees either!

Get a Job(s)

Yup.. that's a little adaptation of the title
From the old Fifty's hit by The Silhouettes

But this is really about today
Right now
As we 'speak'... so to speak...

Its about the best nonfiction book I have ever read
And why you should 'Get' one
Its about the best company for customers that perhaps has ever existed
Its about the man behind it all

Yes its Steve Jobs and its his biography by Walter Isaacson

Do you have to be an Apple fanatic to appreciate the story?
Nope.
Do you have to be a management expert to appreciate the seeming contradictions in his philosophy?

Photo from the book's cover

Nope.

Neither attribute would hurt but I am convinced...
If you like to read you will love this book

Now I'll confess, I am left-handed...
Therefore by definition I am a dreamer
As a result I have always leaned toward fiction

Haven't read much non-fiction... nope
But this... this book is proof that truth can be stranger than fiction
That truth can be just as intriguing as fiction

Okay, I am done fawning here
Lets move on to a few (just three) excerpts
That prompt me to add my $.02 worth

On the use of PowerPoint;

"I hate the way people use slide presentations instead of thinking," Jobs... recalled.  "People (at Apple) would confront a problem by creating a presentation.  I wanted them to engage, to hash things out at the table, rather than show a bunch of slides.  People who know what they're talking about don't need PowerPoint."

$.02 worth: He had just returned to Apple and was trying to review product lines.  He quickly realized how the company had turned bureaucratic, had too many products and was too confusing to customers.  He wanted them to engage each other and focus... PowerPoint wasn't (isn't) the answer.


On packaging;

(He understood) that people do judge a book by its cover... and therefore (made) sure all the trappings and packaging of Apple signaled that there was a beautiful gem inside.

Compact, precise and conveniently packed
inside and out... through and through

$.02 worth: If you have never seen the box iPhones come in they are something to behold.  I have a photo here but the real thing needs to be experienced to appreciate.  I have boxes from two iPhone models on the shelf in my office. To me, they represent the finest packaging I have ever seen.  If he wanted someone to feel there was "a beautiful gem" inside it worked. The look, the quality of construction, the fit... everything about it.  It is a classic.

On Setting Realistic (limiting) Objectives;

Jobs would stand in front of a whiteboard (he loved whiteboards because they gave him complete control of a situation and they engendered focus) and ask, "What are the ten things we should be doing next?"  People would fight to get their suggestions on the list, Jobs would write them down, and then cross off the ones he decreed dumb.  After much jockeying, the group would come up with a (prioritized) list of ten.  Then Jobs would slash the bottom seven and announce, "We can only do three."

$.02 worth: This is a spin-off from an old management adage that suggests during a  limited, 3-5 year tenure a top exec should limit objectives to five (Jobs liked three).  The point, whether three or five or something within reach, is right on target in my not-so-humble estimation.


Jobs was not without fault in his relationships with others and he apparently wasn't afraid to admit it.  On the other hand, he was a genius at knowing what people (we) wanted before they (we) knew it ourselves.  He was a 'product first, customer first' type person before bottom-line profit. The beauty of this philosophy was and is that profits followed... big-time.  If only more companies were like this today. 

Simplicity and quality
Beginning to end
That's all
That's everything
That was Steve Jobs
RIP Steve... you have changed our lives forever
Walter, you did a damn fine job too, thanks

Gimme' An M!...

Gimme an R!
Gimme an I!
Gimme an M. R. I.!
What's that spell?!

 Nothing.

Its an acronym
For Magnetic Resonance Imaging
Or what I like to now refer to as
A day in the looney bin.

You see I 'got this hearing loss
It all started in '72
When ultra patient wife Julie, brother Dave and I
Attended a rock concert
At the Los Angeles Forum
Iron Butterfly and Canned Heat

The sound engineer must have been on something that day
When we left my ears were ringing
And haven't stopped since
No problem, pretty easy to get used to...
But other noise since and aging
Have compounded things
To the point where "What?" is by far the most common word in my vocabulary

An ENT doc & pal from our soccer daughter's past experiences
Thought it would be good to check my head with an MRI
See if anything is there
(Many of you believe there isn't I know)
So I was off to get my head examined
(As many of you have requested in the past)

Fast forward to exam room...

Exactly as I was positioned
Note Lady Gaga apparatus over head
I was ready to sing "Edge Of Glory"
White object is mirror so patient (me)
Can see tech in room behind machine

The tech was friendly.
Got me quickly positioned with head in restraints
(As many of you have long hoped)
Positioned a Lady Gaga Memorial plastic face over me
Then crammed plugs in my ears & continued explaining things
"I can't hear you at all now" She just gave me a knowing smile
I picked up "...half hour", "...don't move", and few other tidbits anyway

As the machine crammed me into this giant tube my last words were; "2001, space Odyssey!"
She smiled again for me
Okay, okay I was desperate to break the tension with a little lame humor
My tube was snug-on-shoulders cozy
And I thought...I'm kinda' like human toothpaste right now!
Hope nobody squeezes it...

Then, a cacophony of loud frickin' noises hit my space capsule
First the sounds of a circular saw making passes at... My head?
Next a jackhammer... rhythmic and persistent
Then a klaxon (What? The hard hats taking a break already?)
And then, in "dueling banjos" fashion a klaxon and a hammer tapping some metal object,
All of them were in sevens; seven tolls of the klaxon followed by seven blows of the hammer

Finally at the end of the first round Klaxon II went off...
Louder and more persistent, it made me want to shout "All hands on deck!" and maybe "Abandon ship!"
...except I was never in the Navy so I kept quiet
Then, 15 minutes in, came the injection she had mentioned
"Contrast agent" she had called it
I thought it might in fact be some sort of shape altering substance

So I was laying there.. waiting for my eye teeth to grow longer... Much longer
Instead we made mashed potatoes... at least that is what it seemed like
It was the muffled sound of an electric mixer working partly mashed potatoes
And tapping against the side of an aluminum pan...
Ok maybe it was stainless steel

Trip over...
Gimme another M!
Gimme another...nah, never mind.