Treasure Hunting in the Junk Drawer

Mom

 

Copyright © 2012 by Ralph Couey

 

 It was a rainy day, one to leave the motorcycle in the garage.  Feeling bored and restless, I decided to tackle my junk drawer. With a sense of adventure, I slid the drawer out and carried it over to the bed, where I had thoughtfully placed a junky towel to protect the frilly-quilty bedspread. I dumped the contents and went to work.

 

I dug through the flotsam, keeping some items, discarding others.  But near the bottom of the pile, I found a folded piece of notepaper. Opening it, I felt my heart skip. 

 

It was a letter from my mother.

 

Mom contracted cancer in the early '70's. But after a very extensive surgery, it seemed she would survive. Six years later, however, the cancer started again, spreading rapidly. She underwent chemo and radiation, but it was too late and on a sad September day in 1982, she passed away. 

 

Between the two illnesses, we were gifted with 6 more years with her. Doesn't seem like much, but during that time she saw both her children get married, and was able to cuddle her grandchildren. 

 

I was in the Persian Gulf when I got the news. What followed was an epic 48-hour journey back home to Missouri, arriving just in time for the funeral.  It was a hectic few days, and before I was able to fully comprehend the event, I was on my way back to my ship.  I had been back aboard about an hour when one of my shipmates brought me my accumulation of mail. In that pile of magazines, newspapers, and letters, was that note.

 

When you lose your mother, a light goes out inside. She was the one who loved us without question or condition. That care and devotion cannot be replaced. As author Erica Jong wrote, “Motherhood cannot finally be delegated. When a child needs a mother to talk to, nobody else but a mother will do.” When you lose her, nothing is ever the same.

 

Civil War: Events of October 1862

October 3rd saw the Battle of Corinth, Mississippi.  Union General William Rosecrans defended this vital rail junction from a series of attacks by a Confederate force under General Earl Van Dorn.  Initially successful, the southerners routed the first line of Union defense, a series of rifle pits dug during the siege of Corinth in April.  On the second day, Union counterattacks repulsed and drove the Rebels back.  But Rosecrans failed to pursue and Van Dorn's force escaped.

On October 5th, Van Dorn's retreating forces were attacked by Union forces under General Edward Ord in Hardeman and McNairy counties in Tennessee.  Ord drove the Southerners back five miles to Hatchie's Bridge, for which this battle was named.  Ord was then wounded and command was passed to General Stephen Hurlburt.  A hot fight developed around the bridge, but Van Dorn's scouts found another ford across the Hatchie River, which enabled them to escape destruction yet again.

Near Lavergne, TN, a Union force under General Negley met and defeated a combined force of Confederates, including General Nathan Forrest's cavalry.  The Rebels stood their ground for 30 minutes, then fled in disorder leaving behind most of their equipment and 175 prisoners.

Near Perryville, KY on October 8th, the South's Kentucky campaign culminated with a tactical victory by General Braxton Bragg over General Don Carlos Buell.  The South won the battle, but Bragg withdrew to Tennessee within a few days.  It was the largest battle fought in Kentucky, and in terms of the percentage of casualties to troops engaged, one of the bloodiest of the entire war.

On October 9th, J.E.B. Stuart circled McClellan's army for a second time.

On October 16th, Ulysses S. Grant assumed command of the Department of Tennessee.

On the 19th, Bragg moved his army through the Cumberland Gap, effectively escaping General Buell, who, allowing Bragg to escape three times, was relieved of command on the 24th.

Samuel Heintzelman relieved Nathaniel Banks of command of Union forces protecting Washington DC on October 26th.

"We" and "They," and Being Fans



From Erik Cassano's Weblog

 

Copyright © 2012 by Ralph F. Couey

In all my travels through the 28 countries I’ve had the privilege to visit, I’ve spoken to people of many lands, cultures, and races.  In those interactions, I’ve learned a lot about them and the lives they lead.  They, in turn have taught me much about how Americans are perceived.  But the one word that surfaced most often which they felt characterized us best was “competitive.”

 

Yes, we are competitive.  There lies within us an irrepressible urge to be the best; to be Number One.  That, in part, explains our fixation with sports.  

 

We can be totally fixated on sports, semi-pro, pro, and college, to the exclusion of almost everything else.  One company recently ran an ad about a couple who had attended every home game of their college alma mater for several decades.  Nothing got in the way of their attendance.  When their daughter thoughtlessly planned her wedding for one of those October Saturdays…well, as the ad put it, “they really enjoyed the reception.”

 

We develop a strong emotional tie to particular teams. Some college teams because we went there.  Other teams because we live in the same city.  For some teams and some fans, that adoration approaches the religious.

 

Close to the end of the 2006 AFC Championship game, the Pittsburgh Steelers were driving for a touchdown that would salt the game away and send them once again into the Super Bowl.  Running back Jerome Bettis took the handoff and blasted into the line.  But the ball was stripped and the Colts’ Nick Harper grabbed it and sprinted towards the other end zone.  At a sports bar in the Pittsburgh metro, Steeler fan Terry O’Neill keeled over from a heart attack.  

 

Dawn and the Journey of Life**

*Chicago Tribune
March 11, 2011
as "Everyone needs a reason to start the day"

*Somerset, PA Daily American
March 12, 2011
as "Everyone needs a reason to start the day"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

“When you arise in the morning,

think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive

--to breathe, to think, to enjoy…to love.”

--Marcus Aurelius
 

There’s something marvelously clean about the morning. The day is perfect; clear of wrinkles and scribbles, stains and tears. The hours ahead are ruled solely by the power of potential, and after a restful night’s sleep, we have the strength and energy to turn possibility into wondrous reality. Yesterday is done. The mistakes we made, the opportunities we squandered are in the irretrievable past. Before us is a blank canvas, ready and waiting for whatever portrait we choose to paint.
 

“It was morning; through the high window,

I saw the pure, bright blue of the sky.

It, too, seemed full of joy, as if it had special plans,

and had put on its finest clothes for the occasion.”

--Herman Hesse
 

As dawn approaches, the sky changes. The black starry dome lightens to non-committal grey as the night stubbornly gives way. On the eastern horizon, the great beacon edges upward, the glowing rays the harbinger of its pending arrival. Even in these pre-dawn moments, the sun engages in a bit of artistry as the still-hidden star brushes the clouds with strokes of pure gold. In the landscape around, that which was formless and invisible in the dark now becomes familiar and known. Our deepest fears are associated with darkness. We know instinctively that in the light we will find safety from those unknown dangers that lurk in the night

Economic Sanctions: Predicting Utility

Copyright © 2000 by Ralph F. Couey

ECONOMIC SANCTIONS:

PREDICTING
UTILITY

The Challenge of Effective Foreign Policy

in a Monopolar World

By Ralph F. Couey

ABSTRACT

Can game theory be married with real-world cases to provide a predictive framework for economic sanctions? In this study, the theoretical work of Jonathan Eaton and Maxim Engers is applied to selected case studies from the data base of Gary Hufbauer, Jeffrey Schott, and Kimberly Ann Elliott. This application will demonstrate the utility of game theory in the real world and also provide the ability to predict the appropriateness and effectiveness of economic sanctions.

INTRODUCTION

Throughout human history governments have sought at various times to influence, or coerce, the policy directions of friends and foes alike. In cases where this diplomatic interaction has become hostile, states have resorted to force to settle disputes. In other cases, governments have used a superior economic position as a basis for imposing economic sanctions against other nations as an alternative to open warfare. With the improvements in the technology of warfare the ability of states to inflict increasing amounts of damage upon each other motivated governments to seek less destructive methods to settle disputes.

For most of the 20th century economic sanctions have been used as a leverage tool in disputes. Success in those cases has been mixed, at best. In recent years, as relative prosperity has become more widespread, and due to the fundamental shift from bipolar to monopolar global politics, the effectiveness of economic sanctions has declined. Despite their less than successful track record governments, particularly the United States and the United Nations, continue to resort to this ineffective tool in attempting to solve interstate disputes. To most governments, the resort to armed conflict is an anathema. Novelist John Ball wrote, “Nobody wants war; it’s an unmitigated horror. The only reason a sane nation involves itself in one is because the alternative is even less acceptable.” (Ball, 206) The imposition of economic sanctions has become the alternative of choice in international politics, one that requires a careful examination of costs versus benefits.

Hypothesis: Governments should weigh the cost of imposing economic sanctions against the gain realized by coercing a policy change in a target government.

Pearl Harbor: Conspiracy or Complacency?

USS Arizona -- where the blood first flowed,
and USS Missouri -- where the killing finally ended.
Pearl Harbor, Hawaii


Copyright © 1991 by Ralph F. Couey

"Yesterday, December 7th, 1941, a date which will live in infamy,
the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately
attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan”

With those evocative words, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt committed a deeply shocked and angry America to war with Japan. The surprise attack at Pearl Harbor, coupled with other assaults throughout the western Pacific united a bitterly divided government and galvanized the citizenry. Even with the newfound unity, many pointed questions were raised, not the least of which was “how could this happen?”

Today, over 65 years later it is even more difficult for present generations to comprehend how a military, a government, and a nation of free people could have been the victim of such a terrible surprise attack. It is that still pointed question that leaves some unsure whether the attack was facilitated by a numbing complacency on the part of America towards blatant Japanese aggression, or the result of a dark conspiracy originating within the highest levels of government to involve the United States in global war.

As with any disaster, the inevitable witch hunt to locate the person or persons responsible ensued with nine official investigations by the executive branch, the congress, and the military. In addition, historians have delved deeply into this subject publishing countless books, articles, and essays. It is safe to say that no other event in American history has been subjected to the level of scrutiny as the attack on Pearl Harbor. Yet even after six and a half decades, the search for the smoking gun - and the hand that held it - remains alive.

How Ideal was the "Ideal State?"

Copyright © 1998 by Ralph F. Couey

Throughout human history, philosophers witnessed the worst parts of man's inhumanity to man. In response, they strove to construct, at least in a theoretical sense, an outline for what was perceived at "the ideal state." One of the first of these efforts is embodied in Plato's epic work "The Republic."

This exercise, interestingly enough, grew out of a discussion centering on the nature of justice. Socrates and the elders quickly reached the realization that in order to properly define justice as it relates to the individual it was necessary to consider the larger question of the nature of the state's view of justice. The attitudes of the state shape the attitudes of its citizens, so in order to nail down what constitutes a just man, one must account for the state's definition of justice.

In our modern world, punishment for crime is meted out in accordance with the way the state's laws have been molded by culture. In Singapore, for example, theft is punished by caning; in Somalia, by the amputation of a hand; in America, by a stern lecture from an overburdened Judge and perhaps a few weeks in a climate-controlled corrections facility with satellite TV and three squares per day. In each of the above examples, the punishments reflect the respective culture's highly subjective view of justice.

Today, of course, we can take advantage of the long view not only of history, but through the images and impressions of other contemporary cultures through electronic eyes in order to properly contextualize these very basic questions. In contrast, the view of Classical Civilization was necessarily myopic, there being no GNN (Grecian News Network) to expand their limited view beyond the eastern Mediterranean.

The Center of...Everything*



The famous Hubble deep field image

Photo copyright © NASA/JPL

 

Copyright © 2012 by Ralph F. Couey

Written content only

*Johnstown, PA Tribune-Democrat
October 2, 2012

The universe fascinates me, and has since my formative years during that breathless era known as “The Space Race.” My earliest recognizable memory was following Alan Shepherd’s Mercury suborbital flight on the radio (yes, the radio). It was a wonderful time in history. NASA reigned supreme, and everything seemed possible. We would put men on the moon before 1970, so it seemed logical, even expected that human footprints would decorate the surface of Mars by the 1980’s.

But times and national priorities change. We still explore space with robots, but it is sad that humans haven’t left earth orbit in…well, it will be 40 years this December.

Even today I still remain deeply curious about space. I watch a lot of space-oriented programming on the television, and I’ve learned a lot.

But I still find myself looking into the night sky at distant stars and wondering if there might be someone up there looking back at me, asking the same unanswerable question.

In trying to understand the universe, scientists have probed deeply, achieving amazing discoveries.

Planets range from small and rocky to huge orbs of rotating gasses. The smaller ones contain various layers of progressively denser rock as one gets closer to the center. Some, like ours, contain hot cores of molten metal. As this core rotates, it creates a protective magnetic field that shields the planet’s surface from life-robbing radiation. Earth has such a field. But her close relatives, Venus and Mars, do not.

In our solar system, and also some other systems now being discovered, are the gas giants. Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune consist of rotating atmospheres of carbon-based gasses. Some speculate that as the elemental carbon sank into the depths over the millennia that the incredible pressures at the core of such giants may have created planet-sized diamonds.

Skyline Drive and the Perfect Day

 

The delicate palette of an evening's colors cloak the Shenandoah.

Copyright 2012 © by Ralph Couey

A perfect day is hard to come by. For one to happen, you really need three things to synch up.

First, it has to be a day off. Yes, we can have rewarding days at work. But perfect? Secondly, it has to be a day on which you have nothing scheduled, nor any errands to run, and an empty honey-do list. Thirdly, it has to be a perfect weather day. Partly cloudy is great, but nothing’s better than that clear blue dome above. Oh yes, and the temperature has to be right. Not too hot, not too cold, like baby bear, just right.

During the last week of June, I had one of those days, a Tuesday. It was a day off, with my somewhat unusual work schedule, my “weekend” runs from Sunday morning through about Wednesday noon, when the walls of work once again enfold me. The weather couldn’t have been any better if I had special ordered it on Amazon.com. The sky was clear of anything resembling a cloud, and the temperatures were forecasted to be in the low 70’s, a rare day indeed for Northern Virginia in late June.

I had but one mark on my calendar, a short appointment that was done by mid-morning. My honey-do list was clear for the first time since we moved into our new home in April. With the appointment done, I gleefully headed home, geared up, climbed aboard my motorcycle, and headed west.

Still new to this part of the country, I’m in the process of finding out where all the good roads are. This day, with all its beauty and freedom, was written for the Blue Ridge.

Leaving Chantilly, I headed west on VA 234, Sudley Road, which assumes a number of identities as it meanders through the Virginia countryside. After crossing US 15 at Woolsey, it becomes Waterfall Road. The path is mixed open and forest at first, but once on the Waterfall segment, it becomes mostly forest.

9/11: Where Do We Go From Here?

The Flight 93 National Memorial

Copyright © 2012 by Ralph F. Couey

 

We made it through the 10^th anniversary commemorations.  Memorials now exist at Ground Zero in Manhattan, at the Pentagon in Arlington, and in that field near Shanksville.  The enemy who planned and carried out the attacks, in the opinion of some experts, is on the ropes, their founding leader dead, courtesy of the U.S. Navy SEALS.  Other terror groups are discovering how hard it is to hide from drones.

 

The United States is a far different place than it was on September 10, 2001.  The changes, far too many to enumerate here, have for the most part become second nature, part of the background of our daily lives.  People are far more vigilant.  In fact, several terror attacks have been discovered before they were carried out simply because someone somewhere saw something, and said something.  Higher security measures are in place, but like an old man with a limp, we’ve all learned to live with them.  Instead of constantly looking over our shoulders, we’re focused instead on the depth of our economic rut, and the spinning wheels of the government bus that only makes the hole deeper.  The election campaign has done more to spotlight our divisions instead of our unity.  None of us know when we’ll get our national feet under us again.  Some are quietly suggesting we may never come back; that the chapter of world history entitled “America” is coming to a close.

 

There hasn’t been a successful attack on our soil since 9/11.  That success is attributable to the unceasing efforts of thousands of unsung heroes, ranging from soldiers humping through the mountains between Pakistan and Afghanistan, to the deskbound intelligence analysts relentlessly digging and sifting, looking for that one nugget of data that could stop a potential attack in its tracks.  But make no mistake, an important part of that success is due to the actions of ordinary citizens who notice things that don’t look right, and report them.

 

But I think it important to pause and ask ourselves a very important question:

 

Where do we go from here?

 

Civil War: Events of September 1862

Union General John Pope, apparently broken by his defeat at Second Manassas, planned to retreat to the defenses of Washington.  But  General Halleck instead ordered Pope to attack Lee’s forces at Manassas. But Lee had already begun to move.  He sent Stonewall Jackson’s corps around the Union right flank while Longstreet stayed in place to deceive Pope.  Jackson marched north and east and near the intersection of modern-day US 50 and US 29.  Union cavalry sighted Jackson’s forces and alerted Pope, who canceled the attack and began the retreat from Centreville.  On the morning of September 1^st, Pope sent two brigades under Isaac Stevens to block Jackson’s march.  Phillip Kearny’s division followed in the afternoon.  Jackson’s men, exhausted, made camp on Ox Hill.  About 3 p.m., Stevens’ Union brigades arrived at Ox Hill.  Despite being outnumbered, Stevens immediately attacked across a field towards the Confederate center.  The attack was initially successful, but a counter-attack by Jubal Early drove them back.  General Stevens died during this fight.  Kearny arrived about 5 p.m., along with a raging thunderstorm that soaked ammunition and eliminated visibility so much that at one point, Kearny rode into the Confederate line.  He realized his mistake and turned back but was shot and killed.  The Union troops then withdrew from the field.  Although tactically inconclusive, it is counted a southern victory because the battle neutralized any threat from the Union Army and allowed Lee to begin his Maryland campaign.  Pope was fired by Lincoln and replaced by Ambrose Burnside.

 

Also on September 1^st, in Madison County, Tennessee, Union and Confederate cavalry clashed at Britton’s Lane.  The fight resulted in a southern victory and helped the larger strategy of trying to keep Grant from reinforcing Buell in Tennessee.

 

On September 2^nd, southern forces under Kirby Smith began their invasion of Kentucky.  Two days later, they captured the state capital Frankfurt.

 

Robert E. Lee led the Army of Northern Virginia into Maryland on September 5^th, taking Frederick on the 6^th.  As they moved north, the southern troops destroyed the Baltimore and Ohio railroad bridge over the Monocacy River.

 

On September 9^th, Lee drafted Special Order 191, which described how he would divide the army, and what routes they would take into Maryland.  That same day Samuel Heintzelman takes command of the defenses on the south side of Washington.

 

The Battle of Harpers Ferry was fought from September 12-15.  Jackson attacked the town, location of the Federal Arsenal, from three sides.  The Union commander, Dixon Miles, although knowing of Jackson’s approach, declined to post troops to the strategically important heights surrounding the town.  When Jackson’s forces arrived, they set up artillery on the heights and began a systematic bombardment of the town.  Miles realized that his situation was hopeless and surrendered, making more than 12,000 Union soldiers prisoners.

 

Paradigm Shifts in Personal Transportation

Delivery, Korean style

Copyright 2012 © by Ralph F. Couey

 

This summer has seemed interminable.  Record-breaking heat, coupled with some violent storms and drought that hasn’t been seen since the Dust Bowl days of the thirties.  The weather has dealt a direct blow to an already-creaky economy, driving up utility usage, damaging infrastructure, and with a slim harvest approaching, food prices will likely spike and stay high through the winter. 

For a while, gas prices were headed in the right direction.  But in the last few weeks, the gains have been lost to an uncertain supply situation in a market where fuel usage continues to rise.

For motorcyclists, this has been a dangerous season.  Most states are reporting increases in crash-related injuries and fatalities.  In addition, there have been many accidents that involved the motorcycle simply driving off the road for unknown reasons in broad daylight.  You have to wonder if extended exposure to the triple-digit heat and high humidity is not taking a hidden toll.

But the increases in crashes has been readily apparent to anyone who has followed the news.  For a few years I carried an updated post on my motorcycle blog, Soul of a Motorcyclist, in which I posted brief summaries of motorcycle accidents culled from the news courtesy of Google news alerts.  Normally, updating the blog involved an hour or so a couple times per week, but this summer the accidents were coming so quick and fast that I finally abandoned the task. 

A large majority of the accidents involved the rider being the victim of a failure to yield by a car or truck driver.  The second-most often cause involved riders losing control of the bike for various reasons.  But drunk riders really made the news this summer, in crashes that more often than not involved very high speeds. 

This Vacant Room*

Photo by Michelle Perich

*Johnstown, PA Tribune-Democrat, August 12, 2012
as "NDIC: Memories permeate the silence"
 

Copyright © 2012 by Ralph F. Couey

The room is empty, and somehow seems much larger.  The lights are off and the only illumination is the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows.  But the most profound impression is the lifeless silence that permeates the space.

There was once life here, the noise of machinery and the hum of electronics.  Mostly, though, it was the sound of voices.  In this now-silent space, the delightful sound of laughter was heard.  There were low voices engaged in earnest discussion, louder ones raised in passionate debate.  It was the orchestra of dedicated people engaged in work that was important and vital. 

A building is…just a building.  It is an amalgamation of concrete and steel, plastic and fabric, wiring and piping.  Some are grand and glorious designs, others decidedly pedestrian.  But the building itself is never as important as what goes on inside.  

People give it life.

The floors bear the constant tread of footsteps, hurrying to and fro.  Walls echo with the vibrant sounds of human activity.  The building now has an identity; a name that presents to the world the nature of the work that goes on inside.  

But it wasn’t just the work.

Life went on here as well.  People came, some from far away and became part of a larger family.  Friendships were forged, love was found.  People married, had children, and shared the drama of their lives together.

And for some, this building was the last place before they passed on to another more glorious life.

The Will to Win

Gabby Douglass, Olympic Champion

Photo by Dylan Martinez/Reuters

Copyright © 2012 by Ralph F. Couey 

America now has a new crop of heroes. Gabby, Michael, Missy, and others have performed their way into our national heart. This is not the first time this has happened. Remember Mary Lou in 1984? And who can forget Kerri Strug in ’96? That sprint down the runway, slamming into the catapult, soaring into the air , and sticking the landing, all on a leg with two torn ligaments. There was the “miracle” U.S. hockey team who, against all odds, beat the Soviets in 1980.

And we will never forget Jesse Owens running through Hitler’s delusional wall of  Aryan supremacy in 1936.

Over the years, we have watched, utterly enthralled as our Olympians inspired us through their efforts, and their victories. They honored our country, and made us all proud to be Americans.

And yet, there is a curious myopia at work. We cheer them lustily when they win, and groan when they fall short. But in reality, we only see them during this two-week window.

An Olympic athlete is a rare human. Of course, they’re gifted with extraordinary ability. But the most impressive thing about them is the one invisible element that sets them apart from the rest of us.

Will.

The path to the games is long and tortuous. It is an endless procession of years in a gym, on a track, or in a fieldhouse. It is enduring the frustration of trying to get muscles to precisely obey the demands of the mind. It is working through injuries, fighting fatigue. It is pushing aside their anger at the end of a very long day, muscles burning with utter exhaustion, facing a hard-nosed coach who demands, “It’s not good enough. Do it again.” We never see that part of their life, and why we will never really comprehend the tears on the medal stand, and also the more private tears of the defeated. This is something we can never understand because most of the rest of us don’t live a life of excellence. We are mired instead in a culture of “good enough.”

Civil War: Events of August 1862

On August 1^st, Brazil formally recognized the Confederate States of America.

Looking to fund the war effort, the U.S. Congress on August 2, passed the first federal income tax.  There was only one rate, 3% on earnings greater than $800.

On August 3^rd, a federal fleet bombarded Galveston, TX.

On August 4^th, the Confederates launched an attack aimed at recapturing Baton Rouge, LA.  Rebels under John C. Breckinridge approached the city under the cover of darkness, but lost the element of surprise when his troops were detected by Union sentries.  However, the main body of defending troops had been out of training camp less than two weeks and the Rebels pushed the Union line back all the way through town.  The Union commander, Thomas Williams, was killed and his relief, Col Thomas Cahill led a retreat back to prepared defensive positions south of town under the protection of the Yankee fleet.  The Confederate ironclad CSS Arkansas suffered engine failure north of the city, so her guns were not available to support Breckinridge, so he withdrew.  Union troops, concerned for the safety of New Orleans, evacuated Baton Rouge, but returned in the autumn.

On August 5^th, Union troops under Hooker retook Malvern Hill, but withdrew then next day.  Also on the 5^th, USS Vincennes in a naval engagement at Fernandina, FL ended the Rebel blockade of that area.

On August 8^th, one of the ugliest battles of the war was fought in Kirksville, MO.  Union cavalry troops under John McNeill had been pursuing a Confederate force under Joseph Porter, who had been recruiting in the area.  He had put together a brigade-size force, but the troops were raw and ill-equipped.  McNeill attacked the town, where the enemy soldiers were hiding in various buildings and within the crop-laden fields.  A detachment of cavalry courageously rode around the square trying to draw fire and thus reveal the Rebel positions, which cost the lives of two Union troopers.  Having sited the positions, McNeill deployed his artillery and began a march in line of battle through the town.  The cannon fire demoralized the southerners.  Despite returning heavy and accurate fire, the Rebels were forced to retreat.  Union troops secured the town.  Then things turned ugly.  A 60-yo farmer with two sons fighting for the north was shot down in cold blood.  15 captured Rebel soldiers were discovered to have violated their parole and were court-martialed and executed.  A rebel officer, Frisby McCullogh, despite wearing a regular uniform and carrying papers authorizing him to recruit for the south, was nonetheless convicted of being a “bushwacker,” or renegade, and was executed.

Summer Nights and Memories

Copyright © 2012 by Ralph Couey 

I have always enjoyed, nay, reveled in the changing seasons.  The progressions of nature are very much the rhythms that move inside of us.  My favorites are the temperate weeks of spring and autumn.  Spring is a time of rebirth, when the trees and grass rebound from winter’s sleep in an explosion of life.  Trees bud, then leaf out as their limbs dance in unison to the warm breezes.  This is a time when grass grows green again, and flowers dazzle the landscape.  Birds, silent and absent for so long, fill the air with their joyous songs.  After huddling indoors from winter’s cold and storms, it is exhilarating to go outdoors and feel the warm sun on faces and arms that have for too long been covered in coats.

Autumn is my favorite time of year.  The heat and humidity of summer has finally released its grip.  The air is cool, dry, comfortable.  The sky has shed its milky summer haze for a blue that is vivid beyond words.  And as time glides through the season, the trees withdraw chlorophyll from their leaves, leaving their natural tones, bright yellows, vibrant reds and oranges.  In those areas fortunate to still have forest land, the landscape fluoresces especially when lit by that butter-colored sun as its light beams among the trees.  Life has become more intense.  The kids are back in school, and the clock-driven tension of football moves to center stage.  The days are ever shorter, but that only pushes us to higher activity levels in the knowledge that we have less daylight to finish what we started.  Fall has an aroma, a musty scent all its own as the leaves begin to fall and cover the ground.  You can smell it in the forest, and even walking through the neighborhood.  Kick up a pile of leaves, and there you have it:  Eau de October.

Winter has its own form of excitement as we witness the first flakes of snow, and the beauty that a heavy snowfall gives to the land.  But the romance is short, and soon, the damp cold, the continual shoveling, and what snowfall does to traffic around here, combine to make life miserable.  One of the biggest reasons that spring is so gloriously welcomed is the reprieve from the assault of Old Man Winter.

Aurora and the Unknown of Tomorrow

Copyright © 2012 by Ralph Couey 

It was a festive occasion, the first showing of a long-awaited motion picture.  People had gathered, some waiting in line for several hours.  Part of the crowd had donned costumes in honor of the event.  When the doors opened, they filed into the theater, probably talking and laughing in that giddy atmosphere of friendship and anticipation of good times shared.  But within minutes, everything changed.  In an act of unspeakable and unimaginable violence, lives were ended; others changed forever.

The impact of that event spread well beyond the walls of that particular theater auditorium.  The hell that sprung into being for the victims was shared within minutes by their families.  

The evening didn’t start that way.  I’m certain there were many who were swept up in the routine of life that evening, having no idea that their parting would turn out to be their final goodbye.

To lose a loved one to an act of violence has to be one of the most painful experiences a human can endure.  There never seems to be a satisfactory answer to the question: “why?”  There is only the overwhelming feeling of loss. 

We share their heartache. But I don’t think any one of us can fully comprehend the depth of their loss.  Grief is a journey; a difficult, yet cathartic path strewn with rocks and potholes.  But it is a journey that must be taken.  There are no shortcuts or bypasses on the route to healing.  Sadly, there is nothing we can do to assuage their sorrow; nothing except accompany them on their walk, and help them to know that they do not walk alone.

Ticking

Copyright © 2012 by Ralph Couey

Information for this column came from various media reports,

including the Denver Post, the London Telegraph, AP, Reuters, and others.

A little time has passed since we all heard about the tragedy in Aurora, Colorado.  The initial numbing shock has started to fade, and the question on everyone’s mind has begun to shift from “what happened?” to “why?”

Unfortunately, this question is much harder to answer.

Details about the life of James Eagan Holmes have begun to emerge, but it is hard to detect the trigger that drove him to kill. 

By all accounts, his life until recently was a solid string of personal success.  A pretty good soccer player, he quit the high school team in order to concentrate on his studies.  That dedication apparently paid off.  Four years at Cal-Riverside produced a degree in the demanding field of neuroscience, receiving the highest academic honors. He was active in the Presbyterian Church.  People who knew him used words like shy, quiet, pleasant, and really smart. 

In other words, normal.

But they also used other words, like recluse, introvert; a loner.  Fellow students have said, “No one knew him.  No one.”

Independence Day and the Train Ride from Hell

Copyright © 2012 by Ralph Couey
Words and image

The Fourth of July is, and should be, a day of celebration for all Americans. It is one of those rare days when we can lay aside our partisan bickering and revel in that unifying thread of national pride. The template is familiar to most, friends and family gather for grilling and good times, then retire to the nearest fireworks display before going back home and the welcome relief of air conditioning and a shower.

This year, we went to the National Mall in Washington DC, that rectangular strip of abused grass and bare dirt that lies between the capitol and the tall, spare obelisk of the Washington Monument. We waited until mid-afternoon to leave Virginia, riding the metro into The District. We met up with our son and his family under a shady tree and from there, we went in to the Natural History museum. Our son’s wife had family in from Korea and they were anxious to view the Hope Diamond in all its glittering 56-carat glory. While the unprecedented heat beat down mercilessly upon the Nation’s Capital, we whiled away the hours in the relative comfort inside.

As the afternoon waned into early evening, we claimed a small patch of real estate from which we could watch the fireworks. Those patches get harder to find each year as the mall fills up with tents and pavilions. I took some moments to look closely at the faces of the million or so of our closest friends who had gathered for the show. There was ample evidence that we are truly an immigrant nation. I don’t care what ethnicity you claim, you’re still an immigrant. Even those we call “Native Americans” are descendants of people from Asia who traipsed across the Bering Land Bridge beginning some 16,000 years ago. Americans, along with visitors who may harbor a desire to become one, were all gathered in communal purpose and singular meaning. For anyone with even a shred of appreciation for the patchwork story that is America, it was certainly a moment of note.

It was still very hot, close to 100 degrees, but some evening thunderstorms to the west provided a welcome curtain from the direct blast of the setting sun, and a very welcome breeze began to make itself apparent.

Civil War: Events of July 1862

On July 1st, Union Naval forces began an assault on Fort McAllister in Bryan County, GA.

Also on the 1st, Robert E. Lee's forces launced a series of uncoordinated assaults on a strong Union position at Malvern Hill in Henrico County, VA.  The attacks failed, but despite the victroy, Union commander McClellan withdrew to Harrison's Landing on the James River where his forces could be protected by Union gunboats.  This was the last day of the Seven Days Battles, and the end of the Union's Peninsula Campaign.

It was a busy day in Washington as well as President Lincoln signed into law the Pacific Railroad Act, which incorporated the Union Pacific Railroad and subsidizing it with federal money.

And in South Carolina, General David Hunter organized the first all-black infantry regiment, which became the legendary 33rd U.S. Colored Infantry Regiment.

On July 2nd, President Lincoln issued a call for 300,000 3-year enlistments.

From July 4th until August 1st, Confederates under John Hunt Morgan raided Kentucky.

Requiem for a Sojourner

Picture credit:  Washington Post

Copyright © 2012 by Ralph F. Couey, written content only

All rights reserved



Requiem enim Peregrinus

Requiem for a Sojourner

Life is a journey and like every other journey, it has a beginning and an end. It is an existence bound by the limits of time and space.

 

Today you left home on your motorcycle. And somewhere out on the road, the journey of your life came to an end.

 

To a rider, a motorcycle is not just a machine. It is the ticket to adventure; a way of leaving the mundane and passing through the musty wardrobe into a world where the possibilities are as limitless as the universe that surrounds us.

 

To ride is an experience and an expression of joy that, like love, can never be explained, but only felt.

 

It was in that moment when you felt most alive that you were taken away.

 

We who knew you, who loved you, who shared the joy of your life now feel an empty ache, one that will never completely heal.

 

But in the midst of our sorrows, we take comfort that your last moments were ones imbued with that singular joy of a motorcyclist in a world without horizons.

 

As we shared the road and the ride, we also shared the joy, and thus we were bound together.

 

We will think of you when we are on the road. We will think of you when we feel the urge to ride,

seeking places we’ve never been, things we’ve never seen, experiences we’ve never had.

 

When the horizon calls to us, it will be your voice that we hear.

 

You now are a Sojourner on a ride without limits on a journey of indescribable beauty. You have nowhere to be and all the time in the world to get there.

 

Joy trails in your wake. Peace lies ahead.

 

The sun is warm, the day is perfect, the road is wide open.

 

Ride on, Brother;

 

Ride on.

Motorcycles and the Summer Heat

Copyright © 2012 by Ralph Couey

It was going to happen, whether I wanted it to or not.  After becoming accustomed to the mild summers in the mountains of Western Pennsylvania for the last seven years, I now find myself in Northern Virginia, where they have REAL summers.

It’s been a pleasant spring.  But today, on the first day of summer, temperatures vaulted from the delightful upper 70’s to near 100 degrees.  With dew points in the 65 to 70 degree range, “sweltering” was the word of the day.

Days like this create something of a moral dilemma for this motorcyclist.  Up north, winters run from mid-October to mid-May, so one is loath to surrender a riding day for any reason.  Here, the warmer climes make a 10-month riding season possible, “warmer” of course being a term of some subjectivity.  But in the same way I had to surrender to mountain winters, here I need to re-think my standards with regards to heat.  I work in a shirt-and-tie environment and arriving for duty sopping and smelly doesn’t sit well with my co-workers.  Thus, the hottest days find me in the air-conditioned comfort of a car with the bike in silent, but reproachful repose in the garage.

Some years ago, I did a trip to the southwest.  Mid-July found me in Phoenix, Arizona, the land of triple-digit summers.  I fully expected dry heat, but unbeknownst to me, July is monsoon season for the desert.  That means the usual bone-dry air mass is replaced by a soupier tropical pattern.  So not only was I faced with 114-degree heat, I also had to deal with Florida-like humidity levels.  I learned a lot that day, not the least of which was the addition of Gatorade to my diet.  That saved the trip, and quite possibly, my life.

Now faced with similar conditions, I thought it might be prudent to dust off some advice on riding in the heat.

Civil War: Events of June 1862

On June 1, what was undoubtedly the most important personnel moves in history occurred when Jefferson Davis appointed Robert E. Lee to command of the Army of Northern Virginia.


The next day, James Andrews, the Union special ops warrior who commanded what became known as the Great Locomotive Chase, briefly regained his freedom, escaping from Swims Jail in Chattanooga, Tennessee.  He was recaptured the next day.

Confederates, outflanked and outmanned, evacuated Fort Pillow in Northern Tennessee on June 4^th.  Ft. Pillow was the last Rebel garrison on that part of the Mississippi River.

June 5^th saw President Lincoln establish diplomatic relations with the “Negro nations” of Haiti and Liberia.

The city of Memphis, TN was surrendered to the Union on June 6^th.

On June 6^th, a short skirmish was fought on Good’s Farm near Harrisonburg, VA.  Stonewall Jackson’s forces had given way before the superior numbers of John C. Fremont.  Fremont advanced from Harrisonburg toward Port Republic.  A Rebel unit under newly-promoted Brigadier General Turner Ashby formed the rear guard, covering Jackson.  The 1^st New Jersey Cavalry attacked Ashby’s forces, but Ashby defeated the attack.  In a subsequent infantry fight, Ashby’s horse was shot from underneath him.  Not hesitating, Ashby continued to charge on foot and was killed. 

We Can Stop the Madness

Image from Dr. Seuss

Copyright © 2012 by Ralph Couey

There was a time when I was passionate about politics.  I lived it, I breathed it.  I drank deep from the cup of partisanship.  The world, in my mind, was divvied up into two factions:  Us and Them. 

Anything said by “my” side had to be the unvarnished truth.  Conversely, every word rendered by the “other” side was assumed to be skewed and distorted, if not an outright lie.

It was about this time that I attended a course entitled “Critical Thinking.”  Critical thinking is actually a process; a learned and practiced skill.  And a vital element of any deliberative research endeavor.

Critical thinkers probe patiently and deeply for the truth, challenging equally the “facts” of both sides.    The real revelation comes when those methods are applied to the wares of the political marketplace.  What shocked me was the sheer amount of deliberate deception.  Leaders venerated as honest were in truth world-class manipulators.

It’s easy to be critical of those with whom we disagree.  It’s hard, however, to demand of someone we do agree with, and even respect and admire, “cite your evidence,” and then to follow up with research.  Most people are reluctant to do that because it risks popping that delusional bubble that surrounds our comfort zone.  For still others, seeking the truth is simply too much work.

Birthday

Copyright © 2012 by Ralph Couey

I awoke on Wednesday morning, and my mind, as it usually does, was accessing the list of “have-to-dos” for that particular day when my wife rolled over and said sweetly, “Happy Birthday, Honey!”

A birthday can be many things.  A day of celebration, a day of reflection, or just another day.  It is a magical thing in a way, for it’s the one day of the year when a person celebrates…themselves.  We are free to be self-indulgent and our family, friends, and loved ones are free to spoil us, even just a little.  We look around and realize that no one can pass through this life without leaving some traces of evidence of our time here on this planet.  It could be something as substantial as a granite monument, or something as ephemeral as a fading memory.  Our family loves us, our friends cherish us, even acquaintances will carry a piece of us inside.  We have touched, and been touched along this journey we call “life.”

For me, this was number 57.  An incipient collection of aches and pains reminded me that this was a number that will only increase.  But in that reflective moment between sleep and full wakefulness, a curious sense of happiness enveloped me.  It was a warm kind of feeling, different from the burning desire for wild celebration of other years.  Maybe the 6-month-long hullabaloo of relocating has left me needing a normal kind of day.

I like this shift I work.  I go in around noontime and return home around midnight.  I get a break from the big-city traffic going both ways, and the ride home in the protective cloak of darkness gives me time to think and ponder.  And every writer worth their salt needs time and space to think and ponder. 

Splitting Hairs Over Splitting Lanes

Copyright © 2012 by Ralph Couey

Several years ago, California enacted a law that legalized the motorcycle practice called “lane splitting.”  This involves the rider easing through heavy traffic by utilizing the space between the lanes, riding along the painted lane divider.  There are several very good reasons for this.  First off, it’s a way to get at least some of the traffic moving during those legendary Southern California traffic jams.  Secondly, the stop and go ooze is hard enough on a car.  A motorcycle is far more prone to things like overheating engines and burned-out clutches.  And nobody needs yet another disabled vehicle on the roadway.  It’s safer for the rider, avoiding the very real possibility of becoming the meat in a tractor-trailer sandwich.  It thins out the traffic herd and is better on the environment since there are fewer things dirtier than an idling engine.

But Southern Californians, normally a pretty laid-back group, decidedly don’t like lane splitting.

A recent survey conducted by the California Department of Transportation (CalTrans) turned up some disturbing results. 

Though lane splitting has been legal for some time, that’s news to some 53% of California drivers who thought the practice against the law.  But even among drivers who do know the law, it’s still highly unpopular. Motorcyclists, though, thoroughly love it.

But buried in the statistics was a disturbing number.  7% of drivers admit to cutting off riders and even opening their doors to try to block them.  This isn’t news to the two-wheeled set, all of whom have their private stock of horror stories to relate.

Now, 7% doesn’t sound like much until you consider the larger picture.

The Motorcycling Month of May

Copyright © 2012 by Ralph Couey

“While riding down the street one day
In the motorcycle month of May
I was taken by surprise
By a minivan of size
And a soccer mom who ruined my day”

--Lyrics twisted by Ralph Couey

With abject apologies to Edward Haley

May has been proclaimed National Motorcycle Safety Month, and across the country states are launching public information campaigns urging the driving public to increase their awareness of motorcycles with which they share our national roadways.  But it’s not only to remind motorists, it’s also for reminding the riders themselves to learn and employ safe riding habits.

Motorcycle accident deaths have been trending downward for the last few years.  That’s really good news, even though in the context of human tragedy, a single death is one death too many.  The issue is still being studied, so nobody has yet pinpointed the reasons for the reduction.  But like many others, I have my opinion.

1.      Better training.  In nearly all states a prospective rider can avail themselves of rider training courses offered through the Motorcycle Safety Foundation (MSF).  In most cases, passing the course earns you that coveted “M” endorsement on your license.  The course is dynamic, updated every year to reflect the growing body of knowledge.  As a result, new riders hit the street much better prepared than in decades past. 

2.      Better riding habits.  Though squids still abound, most riders are, in my observation, riding much safer and more defensively of late.  Much of that may have to do with the increasing mean age of riders, which has changed from the mid-20’s to the mid-40’s, a much more mature, responsible age group, well aware of the limits of mortality.  Although as comedienne Caroline Rhea is fond of pointing out, “Men don’t mature.  They just get old.”

3.      Better machines.  Technology is racing forward at breakneck speed.  Today’s bikes are engineered far better, and are therefore easier to handle than those sold even 10 years ago.  In addition, handling improvements like ABS and linked braking systems are far more common.  Tires get better each year as well.  Even the technology of road building has improved.  Any highway worker will tell you that it’s not just the same old asphalt.

4.      Better drivers.  I’m admittedly on shaky ground here, since the advent of cell phones has added a whole new level of hazard to the roads.  All I have to support my point is my own experience.  I’ve been riding for 20 years (anniversary last month, thank you very much).  When I first began, I knew how to properly execute an emergency evasion and a panic stop.  Why?  Because I had to do them both several times each month.  But in the last several years, I’ve noticed that I haven’t had to do that nearly as often.  In fact, I find I have to take time in a parking lot to practice those maneuvers in order to keep sharp.  Of course, I’ve learned several things, like don’t hang out in the other car’s blind spot, looking ahead and planning my way around hazards before they become hazards.  My instincts are far more acute.  Now when I ride towards someone waiting to turn onto, or across my traffic lane, I can look in their eyes and “know” when they aren’t actually seeing me, even though looking in my direction.  Mostly, I’ve learned to leave them room to be stupid, because they will rarely disappoint the expectation.