On The Road Again

We’re in our fourth day on the road, heading north from Burns, Oregon on U.S. 20. We should arrive in Bend, Oregon by early afternoon. We will be staying there (Crown Villa RV Resort) for six nights including July 4th.

It’s been a pretty good trip so far. We’ve had the normal issues that arise as soon as the motorhome hits the road; there’s always something. This time is was the Norcold 1200 refrigerator acting up. The freezer got super cold quickly, but the two bays of the refrigerator proper didn’t want to cool down. It took a couple of days, for some reason. I will have to look into that.

The on-the-road weather has been pretty good thus far for the trip. Not much wind except once when, without notice, the rig shifted about 8 feet to the left very quickly. Luckily, no one was in the oncoming lane, or we would have made a terrible mess out there on Hwy 95.

Speaking of that, yesterday I passed a crappy pileup near McDermitt, Oregon. A semi-tractor trailer combo had executed a head-on with a truck hauling a bunch of porta potties. A messy sight, for sure. I hope the drivers made it out okay. I wonder if a strong wind gust caused the accident? Scary.

The two dogs, Baby and BonBon, are in “RV mode”: they are happy, playful, and enjoying the sights and sounds of new places. This is BonBon’s first big trip, although we broke her in on a couple of small trips (like to Denver and Cedar City).  She particularly likes to sit on top of the couch and look out of the window at people and animals at whatever RV park we are visiting. JayJay used to like that, too.

It will be warm when we get to Bend later today. The entire Northwest has been suffering from record heat (it was 110 plus degrees for a couple of days earlier this week in Seattle…an all-time record). We can probably expect temperatures in Bend to be in the 90 to 100 degree range while we are there. Luckily, our ceiling fans and air conditioner units work well…so far. If we can survive Bend, then we can expect the weather to improve markedly on the Oregon coast where it has been in the 60 to 70 degree range. Ahhhhh…the beach! Can’t wait!

We ate “out” in Burns last night at a little Mexican restaurant. Okay food, nothing special…but it tasted great. We’ve been on a Nutrisystem diet for several months, so anything with a little flavor tastes special. I am really looking forward to the great seafood on the Oregon Coast. We know some joints in Charleston and Brookings with excellent fish, calamari, and crab. Yummy!

The Covid-19 pandemic seems to be winding down in Nevada and Oregon. Most people are vaccinated and maskless, and the businesses that survived are attempting to resurrect the prosperity that they once enjoyed. It is hard to believe how any small business survived twelve months of restrictions. The ones that did are going to find less competition, for sure, at least for awhile. They are also going to have trouble bringing back all of their low-wage employees, many of which have moved on to other careers or may have returned to Mexico for work (how ironic!).

Our 120-mile trek today to Bend will complete a 1,000 mile swing through one of the most desolate, sparsely-populated portions of America (central Nevada and eastern Oregon). Lots of sagebrush, very little evidence of moisture, and rudimentary structures, mostly in need of repair. It is amazing to me that anyone would choose to live in this region but places like Tonapah, Winnemucca, and Burns have survived for a long time…obviously somebody likes it there! Incredibly, even in these most desolate areas, farmers and ranchers are able to eke out a living.

I wonder if they will make it another hundred years, given the toll that Global Warming will take. Groundwater wells can only last so long. (Heck, we face the same jeopardy in Mesquite, Nevada, where scads of new homes are putting pressure on our limited acquifer. I expect restrictions to be announced soon from our local water district.)

And Awaaaaay We Go

The big RV road trip is almost upon us: only a couple more days to go!

Starting tomorrow (Saturday), Charlie and I will begin loading the motorhome with three times as much shit as we really need for the trip. It will be hot (100 degrees), muscles will get sore, and tempers will flare. Some bad words will be uttered. Ultimately, by Sunday night, we will have The Beast ready for the journey, we’ll have a few drinks, and we’ll be friends again.

Our plan for Monday is to drive about 260 miles to Tonapah, Nevada. It is a desolate, unattractive, piece-of-crap place where we will stay overnight in a large, gravel-paved parking lot with hook-ups. The air temperature will probably be 105 high, 85 low, so the air conditioner will be running from the time we hook up until Tuesday morning when we head to Winnemucca, Nevada, another 260-mile stretch. Again, a pretty miserable place out in the middle of nowhere, but…it’s on the way. We will again hunker down, enjoy the air conditioning, and count the hours until we can head 221 miles up the road to Burns, Oregon for another overnight stay.

Yeah, it’s going to be a crummy 3-day stretch of driving.

We are going to try out Bend, Oregon this trip. Our friends, Dan and Peggy Quinn, have stayed there and liked the resort (Crown Villa) and the town. We will be there for 6 nights. This will provide us a chance to catch our breath, give the dogs some opportunity to wander around, and I will be able to get the TV (satellite) running. We will do a couple of barbeques and maybe have a “date night” at a local restaurant. Hopefully, it will not be scorching hot in Bend.

I have a thermostatically controlled ceiling fan in the rig that needs to be replaced. A new one was delivered today by Amazon, and I’m thinking that I may try to install it in Bend. What could go wrong? Haha.

The only other item on the fix-it list, as we start this trip, is the horn: it has gone inoperative, for some reason. It is air-driven (operating off of the same compressed air system that operates the brakes and levels the coach), so I suspect that it was messed up when the air bags and air system was being overhauled last month at the diesel truck repair shop in St. George, Utah. I will have to find someone who is smarter than I to fix this thing. Until then, we are horn-less.

I’m taking a bicycle with me on the trip for the first time. Also, I’m taking my golf clubs just in case Dan Quinn wants a game up in Coos Bay or Brookings. My neighbor Galen (and his wife Sherry) will also be camping near us in Coos Bay and Brookings for a bit, and Galen will be bringing his clubs, as well. An easy, cheap public course would probably do us fine. I’m also bringing a tennis racket, because another neighbor, Sandy, will be staying at Coos Bay in a cabin for a short period: we may do some bicycling and tennis together.

We are doing the 2021 RV road trip in two segments: the Oregon portion, which will consume about two months, and the Southern California portion, which include a 30-day stay in Oceanside, California and some side trips to see friends and relatives. There will be a 5-day stopover in Mesquite, Nevada between the Oregon and California episodes where we can rejigger the camping supplies and our wardrobe to better accommodate the beach stay in Oceanside.

Charlie and I have been on a diet (Nutrisystem) since February: she’s lost 10 pounds and I’ve shed 16. We will be going off of Nutrisystem for this trip but will continue to watch our calories somewhat up in Oregon: Charlie wants to arrive in So Calif having lost an additional 5 pounds. I’m now at 180, which is about right, but might slim down an additional 2 or 3 pounds. I got down to 170 pounds several years ago (while on the annual RV trip) and I looked like Skeletor…way too lean. So, 177 might be a reasonable target for me: I will look okay and my clothes will still fit.

The dogs are ready to go. They are sick and tired of the 100 degree days and all the missed opportunities to go on walks with me. The cool beach up in Coos Bay is going to be Heaven to those mutts, and they will be able to enjoy several strolls on the sand each day with their best friend. “Off leash” is okay there, so it will be interesting to see how BonBon behaves: I hope that Baby will give her helpful cues.

Charlie is not bringing her “office” with her this year, which is a first. She will be able to communicate with Jonathan (her son and partner) via my laptop and help put out “fires”, if need be. But, for the most part, this should be my wife’s first RV road trip where she won’t be working most of the time. Hallelujah!

Roots

I’ve been digging into my family’s genealogy again.

My Dad used to tell me that we Manning’s were related to “Uncle Dick” Wootton, a well-known frontiersman and mountain man of the Southwest. He provided me with a biography about Wootton that was published in 1890, I read it maybe 40 years ago, and didn’t follow up on it in any way. I loaned the book to one of my siblings and never saw it again.

Recently, as I’ve hiked and explored the mountains and trails of Utah, Arizona, and Nevada, I’ve come across some of the places that are prominent in the Wootton narrative like “The Old Spanish Trail”. My curiosity got the best of me and I purchased another copy of the biography and read it cover to cover.

Wootton was a member of the fraternity of mountain men who trapped for furs, traded with Indians, hunted buffalo, and served as expert guides for entrepreneurs and the military who came to the Southwest during the period from the late 1830’s through 1880. “Uncle Dick” counted among his friends Kit Carson, John Fremont, “Old Bill” Williams, Brigham Young, and Santa Fe Trail trading pioneers Charles Bent and Ceran St. Vrain.

During his life, Wootton herded 9,000 sheep from Santa Fe to California to feed Gold Rush miners, was the first man in the West to ranch-raise buffalo, built the first commercial building in Denver, and built a toll road through the Raton Pass in New Mexico which significantly enhanced the Santa Fe Trail for freight traffic and cattle drives. That Raton Pass tollway later evolved into a Santa Fe railroad route (including tunnel) and the current Interstate 25 connection between Colorado and New Mexico.

During his fifty years in the rugged Southwest, “Uncle Dick” fought many battles with hostile Indians, traded with and became friends with many other Indian tribes, fought hand-to-hand with grizzly bears and desperadoes, conducted massive wagon train expeditions, made and lost great amounts of money, and raised a large family. Of his twenty children (from four wives), ten of them were sired after his 56th birthday, and his youngest son was born when Wootton was 66 years of age.

Quite a life.

When I was young, my Dad told me that we Mannings were related to “Old Dick” via my father’s mother, whose maiden name was Enz. Her family (the Enz’s) were all “railroad men”; in fact, her brother Lester (my Dad’s uncle who we called “Les”) was, at that time, the Engineer of the Santa Fe “City of Las Vegas” train that regularly traversed the Los Angeles-Las Vegas route.

(My Dad also told me that the Enz side of the family was related in some way to the Carillo family of early California fame. In fact, he related to me a story of him, as a young boy, being taken to a “big mansion” down in South Los Angeles somewhere, where he was introduced to the “matriarch” of a very influential family. My guess has always been one of the Dominguez daughters (the heirs of the Rancho San Pedro Spanish land grant). For some reason the Enz clan was known to this Early California family…perhaps through marriage by way of Leo Carrillo, the famous actor of the 1950’s. The Carillo family and the Dominguez families go back to the original Spanish exploration of California by Gaspar Portola, Father Junipero Serra, etc. A Dominguez family member was in that Portola expedition and, as a reward, received the first Spanish Land Grant in California, a 75,000 acre behemoth that encompassed what is now the L.A. Harbor, Los Angeles International Airport, Palos Verdes, the West Bay, Hawthorne, Signal Hill, Domonguez Hills, Compton, and so forth. A Carrillo was the Governor of Alta California, another Carrillo was Alcalde (Mayor) of Los Angeles three times, and the Carillo’s were related by marriage to Pio Pico, twice the Governor of California when it belonged to Mexico. Somewhere in that cobweb of intertwiningEarly California families, supposedly, there is an Enz-Carrillo-Dominguez connection…at least that is what my Dad implied many years ago. Of course, what did he know!)

Anyway, when I re-read the “Old Dick” Wootton biography I got interested in this passed-down family story and did some follow-up research on the Internet. Lo and behold, I found another book (No Time to Quit) which incorporated the “Uncle Dick” first-hand account into a broader historical narrative of the Old Soutwest and was written by Wootton’s great-great-granddaughter, Janelle Wootton McQuitty. So, I bought that one and read it.

It is a very absorbing work, particularly if the reader is interested in the history of Manifest Destiny and the expansion of the United States westward in the 1800’s. Lots of facts, interesting first-hand tales, and explanation of how and why history unfolded the way it did. The book tells it the way it was, which is not the politically correct way that the story is now told in school and in the movies. It is a “warts and all” version that paints the Indians, generally, as testosterone-charged groups who were constantly stealing, warring with each other, and who broke treaties as often as the White Man did. The early American frontiersmen and traders who dealt with the Indians (like “Uncle Dick”) required a significant skill set to thrive, i.e. conduct business, establish boundaries and trust, and keep from getting killed and scalped. They were brave fellows, for sure.

Wootton, during his lifetime, interacted and traded with the Cheyenne, the Pawnee, the Kiowa, the Pawnee, the Utes, the Piutes, the Comanche, the Apache, the Pueblo, the Navajo, the Sioux, the Crow, and others. He was held in high regard by the Arapahoe Indians because he had rescued one of the tribe’s young maidens from certain death. According to Wooton, the most hostile and nasty Indians were the Comanche: he avoided them like the plague.

The author (great-great-grandaughter Janelle Wooton McQuitty) concluded her book with some mini-biographies of key historical figures that played a role in Uncle Dick’s life and a genealogy of the Wootton clan.

Wootton and Kit Carson were close friends who lived in the Rocky Mountain communities of Taos/Santa in New Mexico and Pueblo in Colorado. Their wives and families helped each other out when “Uncle Dick” or Kit were on scouting or trading expeditions.

One of the historical figures whom “Uncle Dick” interacted with was John C. Fremont, who has gone down in history as “The Great Pathfinder”. He conducted several expeditions in the mid-19th century which explored routes from the Midwest to the West Coast. On each trip, he engaged expert guides like “Old Bill” Williams, Kit Carson, and “Uncle Dick” Wooton. These guys already knew the viable routes: they’d been traversing them for decades. Fremont comes across as something of a know-it-all who regularly disregards the advice of the mountain men. On one occasion, he did this and almost lost his entire expedition to exposure when the group got bogged down in a Winter storm. He later, unfairly, blamed his failure on one of the guides, “Old Bill” Williams…which both Kit Carson and “Uncle Dick”  knew to be a boldfaced lie.

Coincidentally, my best friend in high school was John “Pat” Freemon. His father was also named “John”, and I was informed that the Freemon family name was a modified form of the Fremont name and that, in fact, the Freemons were part of the Fremont lineage going back to The Great Pathfinder. Who was I to judge?

Also interesting was the Wootton genealogy as sketched out by the author.

It so happens that the second wife of “Uncle Dick” Wootton, a widow that he met on a wagon train, was named Mary Ann Manning. My wife’s legal name is Mary (Charlene) Manning. What a coincidence! Poor Mary Ann Wootton died giving birth to the couple’s third child.

Look as I might, I was unable to find a direct crossover from Wootton to Enz, thus frustrating my quest. I did, however, discover that “Uncle Dick” and Mary Ann Manning spawned three children, including William Michael “Bill” Wootton who was born in 1858. He and his wife Mary Elizabeth McDougall had several children, among which was a daughter, “Lillie Mae”, who was born in 1882. She later married and had children, although the author is unclear as to her married surname.

Interestingly, my grandmother’s maiden name was “Lylia Mae” Enz. It is possible that this is the connection that I’ve been searching for. Could “Lillie Mae” Wootton have married some guy with a last name of Enz and named their daughter after herself, with a minor modification in the spelling? Stranger things have happened: every female child in my wife’s family (all good Catholics) was given a first name of “Mary” or a middle name of “Marie” to honor the mother, whose first name was Mary… and the Virgin Mary, of course.

They did things different back in the day.

I’ve written a letter to Janelle Wootton McQuitty to see if she can shed any light on the genealogical “missing link”. Hopefully, she might also know something about the Californio “Carillo” legacy.

It’s worth a shot.

Adios, Amigo

My best friend Lloyd Chartrand’s home is in escrow.

Lloyd is a 72-year-old single guy who is lonely. He has a girlfriend who lives in South Africa and can’t resettle in the United States due to immigration policies. Charlie and I have met her (“Juanita”) and she is a very nice divorced lady who is maybe a dozen years younger than Lloyd. She’s also athletic and good-looking. Why should he hook up with her?

Lloyd likes adventure and is contemplating moving to Merida, Mexico (in the Yucatan peninsula). It is a nice colonial town with low crime, cost of living is reasonable, there are lots of things to do and see, and Juanita would not have the immigration issues if she decided to move there.

The climate in Merida is tropical wet and dry, which is much different than that of Mesquite. Lloyd served in Vietnam, so he knows the drill. Instead of dodging horned toads and rattlesnakes in the Nevada desert, he will be dodging bombardment from iguanas in trees.

Lloyd bought his house here in Mesquite a little over 3 years ago, paid $240,000 and put another $15,000 into the place, so he’s $255,000 all in right now. He just accepted an offer on his home for $381,000 (plus the buyer is going to assume Lloyd’s community facilities bond obligation for another $4,000). So, he stands to net around $125,000 from the deal. He’s an ex-C.P.A. and financial consultant, so this is not his first rodeo. He’s going to plunk it in the bank, wait for the real estate bubble to pop, and then snatch up a bargain property in the States or elsewhere.

If Lloyd resettles in the Yucatan like he’s contemplating, I’m sure Charlie and I will go visit him. We’ve traveled there before (via cruises to Cozumel and Belize and land-based vacations in Cancun and Tulum) and we like it down there. It is hot and muggy, but that’s what showers and iced drinks are for, right?

Chichen Itza is nearby

I will certainly miss Lloyd, as will Charlie. He and I golf, play tennis, and hike together in the local mountains. The three of us have a weekly dinner/card game which alternates between his house and ours, and sometimes we go out to dinner here in Mesquite. Lloyd likes Charlie and he loves our dogs.

Lloyd and I hiking among Joshua Trees

As I say, Lloyd is my best friend, although he and I don’t see things through the same lens: he’s very conservative, believes in a lot of conspiracy theories, and is racist, to be blunt. I try to ignore the propaganda that he puts out and concentrate on the things we have in common, like love of adventure, Old West history, ribald humor, and good-natured ball-busting, which we do almost constantly. It will be difficult replacing this component of my life, but I’ll have to try.

Lloyd will close escrow in early July, as I understand. We will be on our RV road trip to Oregon by then, so our house will be unoccupied and we’ve offered it to Lloyd while he tidies up his affairs here in Mesquite. He will have to put all of his household goods in storage while he goes down to Mexico to survey opportunities.

Charlie and I hope that Lloyd finds happiness wherever he ends up.

Hotter than a Popcorn Fart

We’re in the midst of another heat wave…our second this year.

At the end of May, the temperature in Mesquite got up to 110 degrees, which is roughly ten to twenty degrees above normal. That is the temperature “breaking point” for most people out here: activity pretty much stays indoors and the air conditioners and iced drinks take over.

This week is forecast to be a scorcher, with temperatures exceeding 110 degrees for seven days straight and a high temperature of 118 degrees on Wednesday, June 16th. Yipes, that is some serious HOT!

The earth’s atmospheric temperature is warming…of that there is no doubt. 2011 to 2020 was the warmest decade ever recorded, and the six warmest years ever recorded have occurred since 2015. Air temperatures have been recorded throughout the world since the 1880’s, and since that time the overall mean temperature of the earth has increased by two degrees. That doesn’t sound like much, but that small difference has begun to shrink the polar ice caps and affect ocean currents.

Some of the by-products of this “global warming effect” have been increased droughts, increased number of severe weather events (tornadoes, hurricanes, ice/hail storms and floods) and a steadily rising sea level as polar ice sheets melt. Many people want to pretend that these changes to our climate are natural (particularly lobbyists and apologists for Big Oil), but the scientific data indicates clearly that the world’s slide toward climatological Hell coincided with the advent of the Industrial Age. We have polluted the earth’s atmosphere with exhaust from the burning of fossil fuels and this has upset the natural chemistry of the skies above us.

Out here in the Nevada high desert, we’re used to warm temperatures and low humidity. It’s a nice place to live, away from the “maddening crowds” of Southern California and other urban areas. Unfortunately, as a by-product of the Covid-19 pandemic, there is significant exodus from those urban areas (note: coughing, sneezing multitudes in crowded buildings) to more remote areas like ours with lots of elbow room and clean air. Properties are being snatched up with “California money”…there’s a friggin’ bidding war going on right now!

My best friend Lloyd has decided to cash out before the price bubble bursts. He put his home on the market last week and has received a half dozen offers already…I think he’s going to decide today. He should pocket a $150,000 profit after living here for three years.

One big problem that this retirement “paradise” will be facing, sooner or later, is the availability of water. This is the desert, after all, and there’s only one river nearby (the Virgin River). It normally flows all year round, draining the southwest corner of Utah and a bit of Arizona (the “Arizona Strip”), but that flow is normally quite modest. This year, as we begin the Summer, the Virgin River is barely flowing.

With the atmosphere getting hotter, we can expect droughts (like the one that we’re experiencing now) to be longer and more severe. Meanwhile, there are approved plans to build thousands of additional homes in Mesquite to accommodate those ex-pats from California and other states.

Question: Where are all those new folks going to get their water?

No one seems to be asking that question, not even the State or local officials that approve new residential development. Don’t they read the news? It’s getting hotter and drier…and the river is drying up! Wake up, Folks…we got problems here in River City!

Here in the Manning household we have a plan to deal with these heat waves and the inevitable water shortage: (Short-Term) We will absent ourselves from the frypan during the Summer months and enjoy the coastal air up in Oregon; and, (Long Term) We will, hopefully, die before water runs out here in Mesquite, Nevada.

Hopefully, we have ten years before the place goes to Hell.

Iron Springs

We’ve taken a 3-night motorhome vacation to Cedar City, Utah with our neighbors, the Carnicellis.

Galen and Sherri Carnicelli just recently bought a 2018 38’ Coachmen Mirada rig. It has a Ford V-10 powerplant and all the modern fixins’.

They paid $93,000 for it and everything seems to work. It appears rather puny inside compared to ours, and the materials used for flooring, cabinets, etc. look inexpensive. The Carnicellis aren’t large people and, with their one dog, there is plenty of room.  It is their first motorhome and they asked us if we would do the 3-day trip to help them through the freshman jitters.

The place we’re staying is called Iron Springs Resort. It is about ten miles from I-15 (Cedar City), out near some old mines and just down the road from the city dump. We have water and sewer hook-ups but no cable, no picnic tables, no BBQs, no restrooms, no showers, and no groundcover other than gravel. Cell service is marginal.

Camping here is basically boondocking, as far as I am concerned.

Galen asks a lot of questions about RVing and I’m happy to give him all the information that I know. He is an ex-Navy electronics guy, so he is going to have a much easier time diagnosing and fixing the little annoyances that come with traveling in a motorhome. The Carnicellis are going to do a big road trip this Summer and, in fact, are going to stay at some of the same places we are (Coos Bay and Brookings, Oregon). It will be interesting to see how they like the lifestyle.

We just recently got The Beast shipshape in terms of air bags and (compressed) air lines: the RV rides nice and levels fine. Of course, there are always things that crop up as soon as the rig leaves storage. On this trip, I realized that the horn doesn’t work, and the thermostat that runs one of our automatic ceiling fans is not functioning. Galen may help me troubleshoot those items today.

Something that really panicked me was the Norcold refrigerator, which wasn’t working right when we left town. The freezer bays were ice cold, but the refrigerator compartment was not cooling, for some reason. When we got to Cedar City (a two-hour drive), the refrigerator bay was still room temp. This had us highly annoyed for the rest of that day. However, by the next morning, everything was working correctly. I don’t know what the problem was: I’ll have to research it.

We’ve been here in Iron Springs for three days now and the wind has howled each day for most of the day. We can’t put up our awning and sit outside in camp chairs like we normally would, so we’re hunkered down in the RV, reading and watching TV.

Charlie teaching the dogs how to beg

I also did some Web research on a lady who is the great-great granddaughter of “Uncle Dick” Wooton, a pioneer mountain man in the Old West. I believe that I may also be one of his great-great grandchildren (on my father’s mother’s side), so I’m going to send the lady (Janelle Wootton McQuitty) a letter inquiring about potential common genealogy. She’s a writer and historian, so she probably has some stuff that would interest me. I hope we can connect.

Last night, the Carnicellis had us over for dinner (delicious meatloaf, mashed potatoes and corn) and we later played a board game called Sequence.

Tonight, it is my turn to cook the meal. I’m going to grill a marinated pork tenderloin and serve with scalloped potatoes and spinach salad. And, then, we’ll probably play some more Sequence, which they liked.

Tomorrow morning, we will head back down the I-15 to Mesquite in the morning and stow the rig. In a little over two weeks, we will pack it up and head off toward the Oregon coast for Summer. I can hardly wait to enjoy the cool climate and the beach sand in my feet.

As far as Iron Springs Resort is concerned, on a 1 to 10 scale (with 10 being excellent), I would give this place a 2…something to avoid unless you are desperate for an overnight stay. In that case, you’d be better off parking at a WalMart and saving $65.

The Cause

Some folks are obsessed with determining who is at fault for the coronavirus pandemic.

Biologists are certain that the actual cause is zoonotic in nature: a disease transmitted from a non-human organism to a human receptor. There have been a number of these over the years: the Bubonic Plague; West Nile Virus; SARS; MERS; HIV/AIDS, and so forth. A human being is bitten or scratched by a non-human or makes contact with an infected surface and the virus is transferred.

Shit happens: it’s basic biology. Epidemics and pandemics have occurred ever since human beings have occupied Earth and will probably happen more frequently in the future as more humans encroach on territory occupied by non-human species.

So, who is to blame for this?

We could blame God, because He created humans and non-humans and all the viruses, bacteria, germs and such. That would be logical, I guess. Maybe He’s sending a message? Typically, when a disaster takes place, pious televangelists will blame the catastrophe on homosexuals or non-Christians…because God is mad at them.

We could blame the Jews. That’s what Christians did in the Middle Ages when the Bubonic Plague killed forty percent of the people in Europe. The Jews were accused of poisoning the wells and causing widespread havoc and suffering (which they succumbed to, as well). Hundreds of years later it was determined that freight-hauling ocean ships, infested with rats carrying a deadly bacterium, brought the Black Plague to nations near and far. That information came a bit late for the Jews, however, who were persecuted and killed for centuries by angry Christian mobs.

Republican politicians in the United States initially blamed Democratic politicians for creating a “hoax” to derail the Trump 2020 re-election campaign. They claimed that Covid-19 was just the “flu”, too much attention was being paid to it, and it would go away in the Spring like flus always do. Later, they changed their tune: Covid-19 was exaggerated, every death from anything was being attributed to it, etc. Even later, they just gave up the pretense of caring: re-open businesses even if people will die, because the economy is more important than human beings. (After that, they tried to invalidate the election by intimidating Congress and State election officials. They are a determined lot, except when it comes to fighting viruses.)

We could blame the Chinese. That’s where this latest pandemic started, based upon information that we have right now. It is well-established that the first cases of Covid-19 were observed in China late in 2019. Someone was either bitten or scratched by an infested non-human species or that person could have obtained the virus by transfer from an infected surface. Whether that was in a “wet market” ( a place where exotic animals are sold for consumption) or in a laboratory (where epidemiologists were studying viruses), no one knows for sure.

Conspiracy theorists/Trump Republicans would like us to believe that the Chinese government purposely released Covid-19 as a biological weapon…upon America and, simultaneously, its own citizens and China’s allies, as well. That sounds implausible to me, but those Chinese are “inscrutable”…according to some people.

If the Chinese can be blamed, perhaps the ineptitude/hubris of the Trump Administration can be overlooked?

“We’re magnificently organized to fight the virus” —-February 28, 2020

Maybe someday there can be a determination of Patient Zero: the first victim of the Covid-19 pandemic. Or maybe that will never happen. Who was the first SARS, AIDS, or Bubonic Plague victim? Does it really matter?

What matters is what society does when it realizes that an epidemic (or pandemic) is underway. Hopefully, government is prepared for such disasters and can quickly mobilize resources to contain the damage.

What we’ve discovered via the Covid-19 pandemic is that most governments were not adequately prepared, nor could they quickly address the myriad legal, technical, social, and economic fallout from the plague.

The United States did not do a very good job handling the pandemic. More people died in “The Greatest Country on Earth” from Covid-19 than in any other, although it is likely that India will, in the end, take the mortality crown. Of course, they have four times the population we do.

Politicians in America spent an inordinate amount of time debating the reality of the pandemic, how lethal it was, whether or not to employ precautions (like masks, social distancing, business shutdowns, etc.), and who was to blame for the catastrophe. Meanwhile, millions of citizens got sick and hundreds of thousands died. Had strict measures been put in place early in the pandemic to flatten the infection curve, the socio-economic devastation would have been minimized. Unfortunately, the politics of “freedom” trumped science at the Federal, state, and local levels. A half-assed counterattack against the coronavirus was assured and many more people suffered than had to.

WE are to blame for the impact of the coronavirus pandemic on our Nation. Let’s face it, Folks: we did not pull together as one and we paid the price.

The latest distraction of “Who’s to blame?” typifies politics and government in America. When problems arise, it is easier to seek blame than solutions, and it is easier to kick the can down the road than immediately address the issue. Solving problems requires consensus-building, something that America is woefully short on.

Many other nations who found out about the coronavirus epidemic in China at the same time that America did were more successful at containing Covid-19. Thus, our delay in tackling the virus, and the ineptitude of our response, is the problem, not who got the first infection in China and how that happened. We need to get our act together for the next pandemic, which could be right around the corner.

Covid-22 could germinate in Canada…or anywhere. So, what?

If a burglar enters your home in the middle of the night, does it really matter who he is or where he came from?

A Week in the Life

Who said retired life is boring?

Now that the Covid-19 pandemic has abated (in this community, where 90 percent of the old codgers have been vaccinated), life is resuming normal speed. People are out and about, smiles are back on folks’ faces, and everyone is either hunkering down for a hot Summer or planning to hit the road toward cooler climes.

Last week, I helped a neighbor widow install some chicken wire fencing. That all-morning chore left me with sore hamstrings and leg muscles for a week.

I followed that up with a long day in my own yard, repotting a half dozen shrubs and cacti and drip irrigating the whole mess. More sore legs.

For some reason, I agreed to play tennis with my buddy Lloyd the next day. I never was a tennis player, so my skills are negligible. Of course, I can now supplement that ineptitude with the sore legs (from yard work) and the general atrophy that my lower limbs have suffered in the past couple of years courtesy of two hip replacements. Needless to say, the tennis outing was embarrassing, as I lumbered about with my Redwood tree-like legs, chasing tennis balls to no avail. Lloyd got a good laugh, particularly when I fell backward and crunched my noggin on the concrete court surface.

Charlie and I visited our new neighbor “Dale” at his home the other day. The layout and size of his home is virtually identical to ours; however, he is a 70-something-year-old bachelor whose home is decorated rather sparsely…with the exception of his 85” HDTV, which he uses to watch sporting events at all hours of the day. Dale also has a 26’ travel trailer, which he will use to absent himself from the Mesquite hot plate starting in mid-June. I think he’s heading north to Wyoming.

(Dale is a character. He is an interesting, outgoing guy with lots of stories. However, he has a very annoying habit when he talks: he pauses seemingly every ten seconds to ask, “Okay?”, as if the listener is having trouble following him or doubts the bullshit that he’s spreading. It’s a bad habit that reminds me of a lousy public speaker who interrupts his patter with scores of “uhs”, pauses that allow the fellow to collect his thoughts (I guess). Lots of professional athletes, who aren’t trained speakers, have this annoying habit while being interviewed.)

My hiking/golf/tennis buddy Lloyd is now doing Nutrisystem with Charlie and I. He wants to lose 15 pounds or so, which should be easy since he will supplement the reduced calories with a lot of exercise. He dropped by the other day to play cards with us and mentioned that he’d lost 5 pounds in the first week.

Another neighbor, “Kenny-J”, came by on Friday to talk with us about a landscaping project that he will be doing for us in the next month or so. He will be building us an artificial “mountain-scape” to shield our large cactus plant from southerly winds. He makes these things out of slabs of multicolored sandstone: quite beautiful. Kenny charges $20/hour for his time, works hard and good, and most people that we know use him for various landscaping chores that they’re too lazy (or lack the skills) to do themselves.

Our good friend “Sandy” also dropped by on Friday for drinks and snacks while we played cards for a couple of hours. Sandy is divorced and is an IT tech who used to work for IBM. She does “gig” work now out of her house, hosting “change management” seminars for corporations. I don’t exactly know what she does, but she’s making a few grand a month doing this…so someone’s pleased with her contribution. Sandy will be joining us up in Coos Bay for a week in July, so I may be doing some biking and hiking with her up there.

Earlier today (Saturday), I went over to the marijuana dispensary to pick up some distillate to enhance my Betty Crocker chocolate chip cookies (for our RV trip). That place has to be the most thriving business in Mesquite; loads of cars in the parking lot, lots of customers inside, and the cheapest thing they sell costs $25 CASH. My little container of RSO cost me $75; however, I saw a number of people filling up grocery bags with product…mucho dinero, Senor.

In the evening, Lloyd, Charlie and I went out to dinner at Worden’s (“casual fine dining”) Restaurant here in town. We’d never been there before (it just opened a few months ago). Nice restaurants are scarce here in Mesquite, so we were hoping that we could add this joint to our skimpy list of acceptable dining opportunities. That hope ended early in the evening when our Calimari appetizer arrived at the table: it was terrible, easily the worst that I’ve ever eaten (and I order Calimari often whenever it is on a menu). Then, we waited and waited for our dinner. After an hour, we complained to the owner. She came up with a variety of excuses, ending that pathetic display by throwing her waitress under the bus. Another half hour ensued until Charlie and Lloyd’s entrees arrived. The owner materialized again to explain that they got my order wrong (chicken wings!) and offered me some Buffalo shrimp as a peace offering in lieu of my tardy chicken wings, which were now on the boil in the kitchen.  I did not like the owner/lady, who was in our face making excuses and got testy with Charlie for a minute. About 1-1/2 hours into the ordeal, my chicken wings arrived: they were terrible, the worst I’ve ever had at any restaurant and certainly not “fine dining” by any stretch. We left the restaurant after two hours of crappy service and lousy food. Thankfully, we have a McDonalds in this town.

Making matters worse, Lloyd (my best friend in Mesquite and someone whom Charlie adores) announced that evening that he is going to sell his house and move to Merida, Mexico. I think he is bored and misses his girlfriend, Juanita, who is having problems visiting him from South Africa. Evidently, she can easily travel to Mexico City without the American immigration/visa issue. Lloyd needs some adventure in his life and has just about exhausted the possibilities here in the Sun City area of Nevada. I can’t blame him: I get bored easily and would do the same thing if I was in his boat. Unfortunately, his leaving will leave a void in my life, as we hike, golf, play tennis, enjoy card games, and bullshit a lot. Bummer.

Next week will be busy: Memorial Day on Monday; a pedicure for me on Tuesday; pick up the rig in St. George, Utah on Wednesday; BonBon has surgery (a biopsy) on Thursday morning; and, Charlie will also be having an out-patient procedure that same day at the offices of the local vein doctor.

Our neighbors, the Carnicellis, just bought a motorhome (their first) and have asked us to hit the road with them (in our RV) to break it in. So, we’re leaving on June 7th for a 3-nighter up in Cedar City, Utah, which is about 100 miles north of us on Interstate 15.

Other than that, Charlie, the dogs, and I are just sitting here absorbing heat, counting down the minutes before we can head off to the cool seaside of Oregon on June 28th.

No Shirt, No Shoes, No Come In

I read an article in the news today about the State of Florida outlawing the ability of social media services to “deplatform” (kick out) users who violate their terms of service. It sounds un-Constitutional to me.

Florida lawmakers, led by Trump bootlicker and potential 2024 Presidential candidate Governor Ron DeSantis, want to punish social media providers who would have the audacity to deny their platform to abusive candidates during an election campaign.

Gee, I wonder what brought this on?

Could it have been caused by the provocative use of social media by Donald Trump in 2020 that violated every rule of Facebook and Twitter and ended with Trump using those social media sites to egg on supporters to riot and trash the U.S. Capitol on January 6, 2021???? The ex-President was “deplatformed” for that seditious behavior.

Excuse me for saying this, but…the government doesn’t own the Internet or any of the social media companies who ply their trade therein. What gives the State of Florida the right to regulate commerce in this fashion?

Just as a shop owner has the right to deny service to patrons (“No shirt, no shoes, no come in!”), the social media companies have the right to deny service to prospective customers…particularly those who refuse to behave according to the rules laid down by the service provider. When someone desires to participate in social media, that person must agree to abide by the behavioral standards set by the provider. Donald Trump did that…and then violated those standards.

“You do the crime, you have to serve the time”…at least that’s what we teach our youngsters.

What comes next? Is government going to fine broadcast media who refuse to report an obviously erroneous story? Is Papa Giuseppe’s pizza parlor going to have to admit shoeless patrons…because they’re Republicans?

We’re already being asked by those deranged politicians to pretend that President Trump was cheated out of re-election and that the January 6th Capitol Riot was merely a bunch of tourists who were innocently sightseeing on Capitol grounds.

Now, it seems, that same political party is trying to legislate the ability of government to punish corporations who won’t promulgate The Big Lie.

Our country is circling the drain, Folks.

Blowin’ in the Wind

It’s windy a lot in the desert, something that we’re pretty used to by now.

Probably because hot air rises, and the desert dirt, rock and sand can get warmer than a pancake griddle, the rising air must be replaced with something…which is the not-as-hot air rushing in to fill the vacuum. Even on a clear, sunny day we have a mild breeze out here…and thank goodness for that.

My buddies Lloyd, Galen and Scott joined me last Thursday for a game of golf at the Oasis-Canyons course here in Mesquite. It was a brutal exercise, and I’m not talking about our golf skills: the wind was a’howlin’ out there. We teed off at 9:40 a.m. into a modest breeze, perhaps 15 mph. Nothing we couldn’t handle with our hacked slices, pulls, and topped shots. A piece of cake!

However, a couple of hours into the ordeal, the wind picked up to maybe 25 mph. Now, we were challenged. Perfectly struck shots (yes, there were a couple of them from the foursome!) dropped from the sky like wounded pheasants. Putts that were on-line and headed for paydirt veered sickeningly away from the cup and guaranteed a three- or four-putt outcome. It was torture.

By the middle of the back nine, we were spent. The blow was now gusting to 45 mph and had now incorporated fine sand into the punishment. Adding to the misery was the backup of other foursomes that were trying valiantly to finish their round. At the 17th tee box, perched up on a ridge and looking down the green, some 150 yards away and 100 feet below us, we could hardly stand up, let alone attempt to strike a 7-iron.

Like the pansies and cowards that we’ve become, we gave up and took our sandblasted asses back to the clubhouse: this was no fun. (However, with two fewer holes played, we were all able to record decent scores…I think I broke 90!)

(Interestingly, on that Thursday and Friday, the world’s best professional golfers were playing one of the sport’s “major” tournaments at Kiweah Island in South Carolina…in very similar windy weather. Those pros got their asses handed to them…I think the average score on Thursday and Friday was 75 or so…just like we had in Mesquite. On the last two days of that PGA Championship, the wind calmed down a bit to around 15-20 mph, allowing the guys a chance for a few birdies. Still, the winning score after four days was only 6 under par…by Phil Mickelson, the oldest player, at 50 years old, to ever win a “major” golf title. He is a very skilled shotmaker and he needed all of that experience to better the efforts of his “flatbelly” opponents, many of whom were half his age. Take that, you whippersnappers!)

On Friday, good guy Craig helped a neighborhood widow.

Heidi, whose husband Gary died a couple of years ago, and whose Doberman Pinscher died during the pandemic, finally bit the bullet and bought a Dachshund puppy named “Oliver”. That little dog is a cutie; however, it is also a little weasel who can scoot under fences in the blink of an eye. Heidi, who is no small gal, can’t keep up Ollie and is terrified that the dog will get loose on her.

We had that problem with Bon Bon when she was a puppy, so I installed 20” high chicken wire at the base of my 5’ wrought iron fence around the 250’ perimeter of my back yard. It did the job: Bon Bon has now grown just enough that climbing through the wrought iron grates would be a chore if not impossible for her. So, at this time, the chicken wire is not needed at my house.

Good Samaritan that I am, I volunteered to take it down and install it on Heidi’s backyard fence.

What a mistake that was.

Heidi has, probably, the largest lot in our subdivision, a huge pie-shaped monstrosity with probably 350 linear feet of wrought iron fencing in her backyard. My recycled chicken wire would only do about two-thirds of the job, so I had to buy more material and cut it into panels for application with galvanized wire.

Heidi was able to recruit two other Old Fart volunteers to help me with installation. Thank goodness for that, because it took us 3 hours to do it… in 20- to 40-mph winds! Man, that sucked! It was hard enough to crouch down and twist wire for 3 hours, but the ferocious wind really took the starch out of us…we could hardly stand at times. What an ordeal. My thin-skinned hands are now all pocked with scabs from scratches and punctures.

All in a day’s work for Mr. Scabby…

Afterwards, Heidi said, “Craig, what can I do for you to thank you for all you’ve done? How about a gift certificate or a fancy dinner for you and Charlie?” I said, “You can thank me by not telling any other widows that I did this!”

For the past three days, I’ve been relegated to sitting on the couch, watching TV…while my aching hamstrings regain their composure.

It sucks being old.