About Me

Pearl City, HI, United States
Husband, father, grandfather, friend...a few of the roles acquired in 70 years of living. I keep an upbeat attitude, loving humor, and the singular freedom of a perfect laugh. I don't let curmudgeons ruin my day; that only gives them power over me. Having experienced death once, I no longer fear it, although I am still frightened by the process of dying. I love to write because it allows me the freedom to vent those complex feelings that bounce restlessly off the walls of my mind and express the beauty that can only be found within the human heart.

Sunday, September 27, 2020

My Place of Peace and Healing

 

Image © 2020 by Ralph F. Couey

"Be Still.
Be Quiet.
Just...Be."
--Unknown

Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

I think for many of us, when life just gets too much, there is a place; a quiet place, of peace and beauty to which we can retreat and for a precious space of time, shut the world out.  We all need such a place, and such a time, especially in a time when angst seems to consume the world around us.  It is necessary to take time to put space between us and the rest of the world because the constant assault of negativity takes a toll on our minds, our emotions, and our spirit.  This place of refuge will be different for each person. I'd like to tell you a bit about mine.

On O'ahu, there are a lot of beaches.  Some, like Waikiki, Ala Moana, and Sunset are well known.  But there are others that aren't as well known, or populated.  On the north shore is a stretch of state beach park named for the nearby town, Hale'iwa.  I'm told that the translation means "House of the Frigate Bird."  It is a short stretch of beach between the road and the water, mainly because in 1964 when the state built Magic Island adjacent to Ala Moana beach, they took a lot of sand from the north shore beaches.  As a result, not only is it a narrow beach, but just a few feet into the water, rocks from an ancient lava flow cover the shallow sea floor, making it kinda iffy for swimming.  At one time, this was a wonderful beach, plenty of sand, and no rocks. Not now.

Anyway, it is an area of some historical note.  Just a bit up the coast is an abandoned airfield from which two pilots, Lieutenants Welch and Taylor, took to the air on December 7, 1941 and were two of the very few pilots who scored aerial victories against the Japanese Navy that day.  I've been there, not much to it, just a lonely strip of asphalt surrounded by trees.  

Hale'iwa is a place where Cheryl and I used to go to watch the sunset.  Not many people go there, so its always quiet and peaceful.  And in Hawai'i, there's never a bad sunset.

Tuesday, September 22, 2020

Poets, Love, and Death

Columbia Records, Inc.

Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

Like many of you, the gift of 21st century tech allows me to carry my music collection around on my phone.  It's more convenient than toting around an iPod or similar device.  One can only have so many pockets.  The collection is an eclectic mix of rock, religion, jazz, traditional Irish, classical, and even some country and western.  The music makes my long walks better by helping establish a good pace, and when I'm in the car and there's nothing worth listening to on the radio, I can fill the time with something that is worth listening to.  Some of the songs are relatively new, some are hundreds of years old.  And there is that music which was associated with the protest movements in the '60's.  Among these are songs by Dylan, Peter, Paul & Mary, and Simon and Garfunkel.  These songs were the soundtrack of my youth, and bring back some good memories.  Once in a while, I'll be listening to a particular song, a familiar one, that suddenly opens a door into new understanding; a context formed over the years.

In September 1966, Simon & Garfunkel debuted a new single from their third album, "Parsely, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme."  The tune, entitled "The Dangling Conversation" at first glance was the retelling of yet another gritty New York romance gone south.  The song didn't chart well, only climbing to number 25.  Simon later remarked that the lyrics were "above the kids."  But that day, for the first time, I listened -- really listened -- to the lyrics.

Paul Simon has a gift for creating images in his words that are deeply textured, creating not just a scene, but a piece of life itself, something not so much seen as felt.

"It's a still-life watercolor
of a now-late afternoon
As the sun shines through the curtain lace
And shadows wash the room" 

Sunday, September 20, 2020

Taking Shelter Within a Game

Tyreek Hill
from Kansascity.com

Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

I am thrilled to have the NFL back, even with all the atypical caveats that attach during these difficult times.  With the abbreviated MLB schedule, and the uncertainty regarding the other pro and college sports, it is for me an important touchstone towards that nebulous state we used to call "normal."

I am a Kansas City Chiefs fan.  Have been as long as there has been a Kansas City Chiefs.  I was eleven years old when the first Super Bowl occurred, and 14 when they won their first championship in 1970.  Between then and that scintillating victory last February, there lay 50 years of disastrous outcomes that at times could only have been crafted by Stephen King.  The victory in Miami was so much more than just a football game.  It was a moment when the past was finally buried.

Along with all the other members of Chiefs Nation, I awaited with great glee the approach of the new season.  Because of some brilliant wheeling and dealing by GM Brett Veach, the Chiefs returned almost the same roster for the new season, led by an inhumanly good quarterback and a brilliant head coach.  All the experts (a term to be used advisedly) predict that this team will repeat as Super Bowl victors, and we were all lined up and ready to watch the parade.

This NFL season is unlike any other in its history.  The Pandemic has hung on stubbornly, and effectively changed the paradigm of all our lives.  The protest movement growing out of the deaths of African-Americans at the hands of police officers has moved front and center.  

Thursday, September 10, 2020

9/11: What Have We Learned?

 
Flight 93 National Memorial
Image © 2011
by Ralph F. Couey


Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

I won't bore you by telling you where I was and what I was doing when the news came through.  I won't expend the words recounting the events of that dark day.  I won't even try to articulate how that day impacted that circle of friends and acquaintances that surrounded me at that time.  But as we are upon the 19th anniversary of September 11, 2001, there are some things that need to occupy our thoughts.

It's hard to believe the speed at which the intervening time has seemingly passed, and the miles we have traveled as a country since then.  Times have certainly changed.  The world is an entirely different place.  But we are still deeply, irredeemably divided, standing on either side of a political and social chasm that widens noticeably each day.  The lesson about unity which was so harshly taught that day has been swept aside by a seeming competition as to who can hate more intensely.  In 2011, it took an attack; a disaster unprecedented in our history to drop the walls of separation, at least for a time.  I think if an attack of that magnitude happened again today, we might come completely apart in the spasm of blame which would surely follow.

So, the question begs:  What have we learned?

The passage of years has largely healed the pain of the wound America suffered that day.  There will be ceremonies of remembrance and commemoration in Manhattan, Arlington, and outside of Shanksville.  There will be smaller events scattered across the country.  The media will cover the events locally, but I haven't heard if the Big Five will carry them nationally in their entirety.  I doubt that most Americans will consider it must-see TV.

In a sense, this reduced awareness is a sign that America is healing.  In another sense, it is a sign that what has been a painful memory to many is about to become history for all.

Wednesday, September 09, 2020

Seasons

Autumn in the Shenandoah
Image © 2015 by Ralph F. Couey


Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

For as long as I can remember, I have looked forward to the coming of autumn.  Part of that arose from living in Missouri and after enduring the heat and humidity of summer, how wonderful was the arrival of much cooler and drier air.  But always the best experience was the turning of the leaves.

For about three weeks, the world became a bright cacophony of color as the trees turned from green to spectacular reds and golds.  As the leaves began to fall, there came that remarkable smell that arose from the ground as I walked through the forest, kicking up the leaves.  Fall was always a time when my spirits rose and joy returned.  One strong memory lives, a day when I took my motorcycle and rode along western Pennsylvania's twisty, windy roads dappled in sunlight and leaves.  Towards evening, the light from the setting sun slanted through the trees and made the already vivid colors even more spectacular.  I remember the cool, scented air flowing past as I negotiated the tight curves.  It was one of those singular moments when I felt amazingly intensively alive.

Along with the change of seasons came the change of wardrobe.  Shorts and t-shirts were packed away to be replaced by jeans and sweaters.  I loved wearing a sweater while being outside in autumn.  The nights grew chillier until the first frost.  Those mornings saw the early sunlight illuminating that silvery patina on the grass.  There was a snap to the air that pulled energy from deep inside and planted a smile on my face.  The best time was in late October when the leaves were at peak.  For about two glorious weeks, the world became beautiful and exciting.  Of course, that never lasted as long as I would have liked.  Once the leaves lost their colors and dropped to the ground, we had a few weeks where the world became shrouded in a kind of noir, consumed in brown and black.  Then came that interminable wait until the snow began to fly, covering the dead landscape with a blanket of white lit by jewel-like ice crystals by the sheer brilliance of the winter sunlight.

Monday, September 07, 2020

The Kansas City Chiefs and the Winds of Change

 

VectorStock #1462503

Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

The winds of change blow wildly these days, particularly where ethnic symbology exists.  Sports teams who have used Native American symbols and names, some for more than a century, are just now becoming sensitive to how those portrayals are perceived by those who hold that real life heritage.  The Washington DC football team has shed its controversial "Redskins" moniker, but as a replacement is still being debated, will be known this year as...the Washington Football Team.  Practical, if not particularly inspirational.  The Cleveland Indians have stated that they will be considering a change to another name as soon as one is nominated that everybody can agree upon.  Other teams are feeling the pressure as well.  

The Kansas City Chiefs were not named after Native Americans, but rather a former mayor H. Roe Bartle, whose nickname was "Chief."  But the symbology adopted by the team after their move from Dallas to KC has reflected the Indian motif.  The association went beyond the helmet symbol, the touchdown flag, and the stadium name to include a horse named "Warpaint," who galloped around the field after every touchdown, rode by a team employee wearing a ceremonial headdress.  Fans as well chose costumes such as the headdress, painted faces, and one Arrowhead legend known as "Arrow Man," who showed up at games wearing the opponent's jersey liberally perforated by arrows.  But as cultural awareness has started to mature, even this team is looking at alternatives.

One of the choices, the most popular, as I'm given to understand, would be the Kansas City Fire Chiefs.  Firefighters are some of the most universally loved public servants in America, but this new association dates back to a tragedy that happened almost 32 years ago.

Friday, September 04, 2020

"All I Wanted Was a Darn Refrigerator"

LG Industries

Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

We're all trading stories these days as to how life has changed with the Pandemic.  To this point, I've been focused on the obvious things, such as masks, distancing, large gatherings, and the daily drumbeat of statistics.  But there are other ways in which the influence has been felt.

A few days ago, the power went out in Pearl City about 2:30 in the morning.  I was awakened by the sudden silence from the grumbly air conditioner in our bedroom.  The power was down for about four hours.  Now, this happened back in January or February and the result was a fried thermostat in one of the refrigerators (the one in the rec room).  We lost a couple hundred dollars of food from that episode.  For some reason, I had allowed myself to forget that particular outcome.  It was two days later when I opened the freezer door, and realized what had happened.  In my defense, I had spent a good portion of those days trying to get all of the electronics back up and running, and interfacing with the cable company about a recalcitrant DVR.  (And let me tell you how much fun THAT was...)  This power outage was different than the last.  All our devices -- computers, modems, routers, external drives, the television, and those pesky microwave clocks -- had to be restarted, reset, and rebooted not once, but multiple times before they became fully functional.  Most modern electronics are supposed to be protected from events like this, but for whatever reason, it took extra effort this time.  Not to mention the aggravation.  

I called the appliance repair folks and was told that he couldn't come out for another three days.  I moved as much of the expensive food (is there any other kind?) into the kitchen freezer.  I managed to save a lot of it, but we still ended up trashing about $300 of defrosted food.   Thankfully, this happened the eve of trash day.

Fast forward to today.  Cheryl and I discussed the situation and decided that perhaps the best solution would be to purchase a new fridge, one that perhaps wouldn't be as susceptible to power outages.  The closest place is Home Depot, where we found a unit (pictured above) for a really good price that fit the hole in which the current one sits.  Since there are no water lines for either fridge, there was no reason to get one with an ice maker or water spigot.  A very basic, simple refrigerator.  Easy, right?

Now, the bad news.  

Saturday, August 29, 2020

The Toughest Task of Parenting

 


Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

So, after ranting about yardwork the other day, today we went out to the backyard and raked up a two-day accumulation of mango leaves.  Again, the trade winds were blowing, and at times we were forced to re-pile leaves, after chasing them across the property.  But in the midst of that effort, something interesting happened.

As I was raking, something gray flashed by my leg.  I looked down to see a baby bird sitting on the ground.  Above our heads, we became aware of a couple of birds, parents obviously, hovering above and chattering loudly and frantically.  Apparently, it was time for the baby bird to learn to fly, and the lesson was not going well.  We were concerned because our neighborhood is home to a large population of feral cats, and the last thing we wanted was for this cute little birdie to become dinner.  

Of course, we kept our distance.  We know that if you try to put a baby bird back into the tree, the parents will ignore it because of the human smell now on the bird.  Eventually, the bird gathered it's courage and flew a few feet to latch onto the window screen.  We moved in quickly to gather the leaves and then retreated.  

The parents were flitting about frantically, squawking what I hoped were encouraging messages to their baby.  We felt an instant kinship with them, as anyone who has raised children would.  Instinctively, we realized that the time had come for the baby to grow up.

Thursday, August 27, 2020

Thorn Rage

The Vanquished

Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

I've never been a huge fan of yard work.  I know by that bold statement that I just alienated a whole bunch of guys for whom their grass is their life, but growing up in Missouri meant doing that kind of work when it was in the upper 90's with humidity levels north of 70%.  I mowed when I had to, watered and applied fertilizer when needed, but it was never a priority for me to have a yard that looked like the 18th green at Sawgrass.  I had four kids and a motorcycle, so my priorities were elsewhere.

I live on a tropical island now, so the lawn care -- and mango tree and coffee plant and banana tree -- season has no start or end.  It just is.  I remember how hard we had to work keeping rust off our ship in the Navy.  This is the closest thing to that endless task.

The big mango tree in the back yard drops leaves like there's no tomorrow.  In Pennsylvania, we had maples which, when they drop leaves in the fall, do it all over about three days.  After that, we were literally knee-deep in maple leaves.  Of course, once that was done, the branches were empty.  This mango tree drops leaves all year long but always has a never-ending supply on its branches.  I literally have to rake every day.  I can fill a 55-gallon trash barrel with leaves in five days flat, no problem.  There are times when I look up and swear its doing this just to annoy me.  The back yard is oriented so when the northeast trade winds are blowing  -- 20 to 25 mph -- the air just howls through the yard.  Not only does this add to the leaf droppage, but after many minutes of raking and gathering, the wind just spreads it all around again.  I have a device to put the leaves in the bin, but it seems just as I lift it up to the edge of the bin, the wind manages to empty it.  Grrr.

The banana tree doesn't drop leaves.  It does other things.  The tree is actually a collection of several trunks, each growing out of the ground by itself. When you harvest a bunch of bananas, the trunk dies, and either falls down, or has to be cut.  It's nasty work, as the trunk is sappy and sticky, which gums up the saw blade.  I guess that's the price to pay for fresh bananas.

Thursday, August 20, 2020

Robots and the Dark Future of Labor

"Flippie" at work on the grill

The future of food service?
 

In addition to doing our jobs at least as well as we do them, 
intelligent robots will be cheaper, faster, and far more reliable than humans. 
And they can work 168 hours a week, not just 40. 
No capitalist in her right mind would continue to employ humans.
--Kevin Drumm


Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey
except images and quote.

Robots have always held a fascination for people.  Not for just the physical and computational labor that is done, but as science fiction has shown, as companions as well.  But the actual appearance of robotic technology in our daily lives hasn't been looked upon a just around the corner.  Always it was decades, even centuries away.  But recent developments, and anticipated advancements in robotics and artificial intelligence have put us on the cusp of a paradigm shift in technology and the impact on human labor.

Robots, androids, etc. have been sci-fi staple for as long as the genre has existed.  There was Robbie from 1956's "Forbidden Planet."  Then "Robot" from the original "Lost in Space."  ("Danger, Will Robinson!)  Although with Bill Mumy, it always came out "Robut".)  C-3PO, R2-D2, and BB-8 from the Star Wars franchise.  The cute Wall-E and the nuke-wielding EVE from the eponymous Disney movie.  My personal favorite was Robin Williams' beautiful portrayal of the android Andrew in "Bicentennial Man."  And who could forget those Terminators?

These were created for entertainment purposes, for sure.  But in these portrayals we saw both the good and the horrifying sides of machine intelligence.  Robots have been active in industry for years.  I used to work with one making clutch disks for Caterpillar tractors.  It had to be monitored, in case it lost control and started flinging steel rims around the plant, but other than the set up required to move from one size disk to another, it pretty much ran by itself.  My biggest job was making sure it was resupplied with materials.  But even then, some 20 years ago, I could see a point where another intelligent machine could do that job.  The introduction of robots into the retail world has been slow, mainly in response to human sensitivities, but make no mistake, the day when robots will fit you with clothes, help you find things at Walmart, repair your car or home, take your order, cook your food, and deliver it to your table is closer than you think.

Saturday, August 15, 2020

A Badly-Needed Moment of Humor

 

Egret
Marine Life Photography

Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

This beautiful snow-white bird is very common in Hawai'i, often seen walking the emerald-green grass of area parks.  While they are very pretty, I'd just as soon not have them around me.

Why?

Because I want to live a life free of egrets.

Oh, come on!  That ain't half bad for a Pandemic!

The Waking Nightmare

From Pinterest

Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

Like most people, I have dreams.  In this context, not the goal-oriented life-focused kind of dream, but rather the gauzy ambiguous visitor that comes in the night.  Most times, I wake up with the images rapidly fading from my mind, never to be recalled.  But once in awhile, one arrives with enough impact to stay.

In my dream, I'm out walking, something I do while awake several times per week.  The sun is shining, but suddenly a shadow passes over me.  I look up to see a hawk circling, eyeing me in a disquietingly speculative manner.  I continue to walk, but suddenly there is a whoosh just over my head.  I look up again to see the raptor banking sharply for another pass.  In my dream, I cannot run or even dodge and as the bird swoops ever closer, I begin to feel afraid.  Somehow I know that eventually the hawk will strike home, its claws sinking into the back of my neck.

Yeah, I know.  Stephen King stuff.

Now, I rarely have nightmares, as I am generally speaking a happy and upbeat kinda guy.  But this was different.  Dreams and nightmares, according to the experts, are reflections of the subconscious, mirroring the unspoken and unrecognized fears that somehow never make it to the surface.  So, for the past few days, I've ruminated over those images, and I think I figured out what birthed the unwelcome nighttime visitor.  

Like everyone else on this planet, people in the U.S. in general, here in Hawai'i in particular are feeling for the first time, a very real sense of this Pandemic.  The feelings started with dismissiveness, and elevated to discomfort, then concern, worry, and now fear.  As with most events, it started as being something that was remote; happening far away.  But as time has passed, it has come ever closer and therefore, more personal.  The precise mode of transmission from person to person is still not fully known, as well as how long the virus particles can survived in the open air and on surfaces.  Sure, we engaged in mitigating activities -- masks, social distancing, staying away from large gatherings -- but the circle of infection seems to be closing in on all of us.  And as time passes, it seems almost inevitable that we will be infected.  

Hence, the dream.  The hawk is the virus, circling in the air around me.  Like a predator, it circles ever closer.  There doesn't seem to be any place to hide; no sanctuary, no wall of protection to stand between us and the virus.  With dread certitude, it seeks us out.

Thursday, August 13, 2020

Spreading the Light of Joy In These Dark Days

 

From Pinterest


Sam:  "It's like in the great stories Mr. Frodo, the ones that really mattered.
Full of darkness and danger they were, and sometimes you didn't want to know the end.
Because how could the end be happy?
How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad happened?
But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow.  Even darkness must pass.
A new day will come.  And when the sun shines, it will shine out the clearer.
Those were the stories that stayed with you, that meant something.
But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now.
Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t,
they kept going because they were holding on to something."

Frodo : "What are we holding on to, Sam?"

Sam : "That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. 
And that's worth fighting for."
--J.R.R. Tolkien

Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

These days it is hard to look around and not see darkness.  The Pandemic, the spreading of that other virus, anger/hate/violence.  It becomes easy to give in to the negativity, to just lay back and wait for the pending disasters to overwhelm.  It is particularly difficult when it seems the whole world is collapsing and we feel there is nothing we can do to stop it.  I've had those moments in the past couple of weeks, but today something happened.

I was out walking in the area of O'ahu known as Ewa (pronounced EVUH) this morning after delivering my mother-in-law to her activity center.  Since I'm down there once a week, I use that place for my exercise walk.  It's a nice break because it's all flat, none of the steep and difficult hills around Pearl City.  And plenty of shade.

When you visit a particular place at roughly the same time often enough, you see the same people out doing the same thing as you.  In this case, exercising.  We don't know each other by name, but we wave, salute, or tip the hat just the same.  As outdoor exercisers are still exempt from the mask rule, smiles were visible on just about every face I encountered.  I began to reflect on how my spirit was lifted by these simple expressions.  I thought about other times when strangers spoke to me, wished me well, made me laugh.  I realized that in a dark world, light can come from such small, random moments, brightening the world even just a little.

No one person can change the world.  But we all occupy a small corner, and I think we owe it to each other to try to make that small space better for us all.  The great thing is that this doesn't require a ton of effort.  All that is needed is an awareness of others, and perhaps some concern as well.  Fear is nibbling at everybody's lives these days and I think we underestimate the tremendous good that can come from small acts of happy kindness.  Night is scary sometimes.  But kindnesses bring the dawn that can light up someone's life.  Light dispels fear, and in these times, that is so very important.

Monday, August 10, 2020

Mourning Normal


Times Square, New York City
CNN.com © 2020


Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

"What I've started, I must finish.
I've gone too far to turn back.
Regardless of what may happen,
I have to go forward."
--Michael Ende

It's late in the evening.  I'm at work and I've just finished reviewing the latest set of status reports on the Pandemic.  Globally, the case count is over 20 million, a quarter of those in this country.  739,000 people have died around the world, 163,000 in the United States.  The numbers are, by any measure or context, staggering. In the U.S. Civil War, the last round of historical reviews put the death toll, military and civilian, at over 700,000, and that out of a total population of 31 million.  I won't extrapolate that out to modern population numbers because 739,000 dead is a catastrophic number, regardless of why or when.

What makes such a number even more stunning is that this war, unlike the other one, isn't over.  In fact, it may never end.

We thought, back in May, that we had this thing nearly licked. But something -- and nobody knows exactly what at this point -- re-ignited the flame which has now turned into a global firestorm.  Some, perhaps most people are trying to do the right things, like social distancing, masks, staying home, becoming clean freaks. But there are others who aren't, who think that they can bring back "normal" by doing everything they used to do, regardless of the harm they are inflicting on others.  That selfishness, as much as any other cause, not only created the now, but has laid a grim path for the future.

We look around at a world completely changed.  We try to carry on, but the Pandemic has spun completely out of control, and we walk our streets fearing that moment, that random passing encounter when this virus' icy claws swoop in and clamp down.  It is a fearful time, one that has led to some highly contradictory decisions, like shuttering houses of worship while at the same time allowing protesters to swarm the streets, as if the First Amendment could be politically parsed.

Friday, August 07, 2020

The Cascadia Subduction Zone: The Very Real Threat

                                       

The "crumpled fender" zone marking the
location of the Cascadia Subduction Zone

Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

Within the past 35 years or so, a new seismological and oceanographic threat was first proposed, and finally proven. This sleeping giant is the Cascadia Subduction Zone which lies beneath thousands of feet of ocean 60 miles off the coast of northwestern North America. The scale of catastrophe that will result from this fault cannot be underestimated. But the process that led to this discovery is a detective tale that is hard to beat. 

In 1960, a massive earthquake tore the earth apart off the coast of Chile. It was measured at magnitude 9.5 on the Richter Scale, and still remains the most powerful temblor ever recorded. Four years later, another large quake occurred off southern Alaska, that wrecked not only the capitol city of Anchorage, but dozens of smaller villages and ports along the coast. The similarity of the two events helped lead to the movement of plate tectonics from theory to fact.

Basically, the Earth’s crust is a 40 to 60-mile-thick layer of rock which floats on the semi-liquid of the next layer down, called the mantle. The crust is broken up into massive pieces, called plates, which float upon the very hot mantle.  Within the mantle, huge convection currents are generated which propel the plates around.  

Looking at a world map, it seems obvious that South America and Africa fit together like puzzle pieces. Scientists for years had seen other continents and islands that also had common edges. When brought to acceptance, plate tectonics proved that the continents and the plates beneath them had been in motion for hundreds of millions of years. The current configuration is the result of the breakup of the last great supercontinent, Pangaea which began about 175 million years ago. Now, scientists know that the motion of these separate plates create seismic zones where they crash together. These collisions have been responsible for the creation of most mountain ranges on this planet. Those boundaries became the objects of intense research, which led to the identification of subduction zones.

A subduction zone, or convergent fault, is where an oceanic plate is diving, or subducting under a continental plate. They are located all throughout the Pacific ring of fire, and nearly all of them have been responsible for the largest seismic events in history. What scientists discovered was the disquieting fact that when subduction zones rupture, they only generate earthquakes north of magnitude 8. Recently, two events, the Indonesian Boxing Day Tsunami and the Tohoku Tsunami were both born of magnitude 9 earthquakes generated by subduction zones. 

Tuesday, August 04, 2020

Empty Nights and Irish Music

Another joyful night at the fiddle shop.

"My feet always dance to Irish music."
--Ciaran Hinds

Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

A few years ago, I stopped in an Irish pub near downtown Denver for lunch.  I had heard that there would be live music in the afternoon, so I stuck around.  Along about 3 o'clock, folks started coming through the door carrying instrument cases of various shapes.  They sat around a long table in front of the windows and after some conversation, they burst into music.  I was instantly hooked.  I went back every Sunday that I could after that until time came for us to leave Colorado for good.  A knowledgeable guitar player put me in touch with a group that was meeting in Honolulu, our eventual destination. I started attending the sessions, first as strictly an observer, and eventually an occasional singer.  I felt drawn to participate, so I ordered a Bodhran, which is an  Irish frame drum, from a craftsman in Dublin, Ireland.  

Learning the drum proved to be a bit of a challenge.  I have a good sense of rhythm, but the technical aspects of playing the drum correctly kept me practicing at home in private until I felt competent enough to join in the session.  I still had a lot to learn about volume and the types of rhythms which supported the other players.  Fortunately, thankfully, they are a patient bunch and they brought me along with a lot of encouragement.

Monday, July 27, 2020

Hurricane Douglas and the Mysteries of Meteorological Miracles


Douglas pulling away.
National Weather Service

Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

It's been a day of tense anticipation, moments of dread, even fear, and finally a collective sigh of relief.  As I write this, Hurricane Douglas is passing Kaua'i, the northernmost main island headed for obscurity in the vast reaches of the North Pacific Ocean.

At noon today, the outlook was not good.  The storm had zigged to the south which put it's forecasted path across the center of all eight islands.  What happened is an excellent tutorial on the exigencies of Pacific cyclones.  

The Pacific is a vast laboratory of meteorology, ranging from the chill waters of the Gulf of Alaska, through the constant storms of the Inter-Tropical Comvergence Zone at the equator and all the way down to where its waters wash up against the ice of Antarctica.  It is the largest ocean on this planet, 63.8 million square miles.  For the past few days, Douglas had been steered by a ridge of high pressure a thousand miles north of Hawai'i.  The pressure from that ridge kept Douglas on a consistent WNW path (290 degrees, for you compass fans).  But starting yesterday, a weakness developed in that ridge.  As a result, the hurricane turned in a more northerly direction.  The difference was only five degrees, but it was enough.  The storm passed so far north of the Big Island, that they were taken completely out of the cone.  It continued to trend in that direction, dumping heavy rains on Maui and Lana'i -- but nowhere near the precipitation that had been anticipated.  

But once past Lana'i, Douglas zigged back to the west.  It looked for all the world like O'ahu was going to get nailed.

Saturday, July 25, 2020

Something Stormy This Way Comes


The Beast, poised to strike
National Weather Service

Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F, Couey

I've been a part of severe weather events throughout my life, growing up with thunderstorms, tornadoes, and floods in Missouri.  I've learned that nature can have its violent moments, perhaps delivering a come-comeuppance to these arrogant humans who actually think they're in charge.  

Today, the state of Hawai'i is preparing for the arrival of hurricane Douglas which has been churning its way across the Pacific for the last week or so.  The forecasted impacts have shifted back and forth, responding to the little wriggles in its path.  Two days ago, it looked grim.  The storm's path would deliver a head-on strike to the Big Island, Maui, Lana'i, and O'ahu.  Since then, the track has shifted northward, and as of this evening, the Big Island is completely out of the cone.  The other islands remain in the cone, but the impacts will be less than what they could have been.  Kaua'i remains the one island that will get a direct hit, but again, that could change.

The storm center will pass about 30 miles north of the far northern tip of O'ahu as a weak Cat 1 or a strong tropical storm, but this island will still be subject to powerful winds in the 50-70 mph range, and up to 10 inches of rain.  On an island consisting of knife-edged mountains and long, steep valleys, the flooding could be epic.

Emergency shelters are opening, businesses have boarded or taped their windows, sandbags are placed, and the Navy and Coast Guard are putting to sea as I write this.  Aircraft have either been chained to the concrete or moved into storm-proof hangers.  Flights out of the state have been put on hold, and the mad rush at Costco and Sam's Club, as well as Lowe's and Home Depot has started to ebb.  There is a sense of the sharply defined watchfulness of the prepared.

Sunday, July 12, 2020

This Moment of Mahomes


That walkin' talkin' pass-throwin' 
paradigm shiftin' and now
bank-breakin' QB
(Photo unattributed, but thought to be Kansas City Star)

Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

No Chiefs fan will ever forget the moment.  Super Bowl LIV, fourth quarter, about seven minutes left.  Chiefs down by 10, and 49ers fans full of gleeful anticipation.  Patrick Mahomes had thrown his second interception capping a distinctly underwhelming performance to that point.  Then, came the Jet Chip Wasp, that audacious play that changed the trajectory of the game, and of NFL history.  Seven minutes and 21 points later, a half-century of football misery was forever ended in Kansas City.

And yet, none of us were all that surprised, or even nervous.  We had already seen our quarterback lead this team from a 24-point deficit to a 51-7 run and a win in the divisional round.  In the AFC Championship game, he did it again, this time from being down 10 points twice and 17 points another time, a scintillating victory that opened the gates to Miami.  We had learned that with #15 behind center, no game was ever truly lost.  

Now, I am enough of a fan to know that this kind of thing doesn't happen in a vacuum.  In order to make those comebacks happen, the rest of the offense, and the defense and special teams had to step up and play heroically, which they did.  But it is impossible to overstate the impact that Patrick Mahomes II had on those events.  His renown goes beyond just football.  To find a similar kind of epic splash made by a young athlete, you have to go back to Babe Ruth or Joe DiMaggio, Michael Jordan, or Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.  These are athletes that changed the very nature of the games they played, and elevated the expectations forever.

Now, with just two full seasons as a starter under his belt, with a Super Bowl win and two MVP awards, this young man has been rewarded with the largest contract in sports history:  12 years, $503 million.

Thursday, July 09, 2020

A Cold Brush with Doom


CDC.gov

“In hard times, we learn something incredibly precious: 
The fist of the universe can hit us anywhere, anytime."
― Mehmet Murat ildan

Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

Monday was in all respects a normal kind of day.  Nothing out of the ordinary happened, and I certainly felt fine.  Well, ordinary anyway.  But when I awoke Tuesday morning, nothing was normal.  

I noticed it first when I tried to get out of bed.  I felt a little dizzy, but I wrote that off to allergies.  As is my custom, I fixed breakfast for my mother-in-law, then headed out the door to begin my regular walk.  As soon as I cleared the carport roof and I was hit by the strong tropical sunlight, it hit me.  A wave of weakness and fatigue, along with a fresh round of dizziness communicated that my regular 5-miler was not happening that day.  I went back inside and reclined on the couch.  I had a backlog of programs on the DVR, so I intended to amuse myself thus for awhile.  I thought that this was just a temporary thing that would pass in a short period of time, but I was wrong.  As the day went on, I felt ever worse.  I fell asleep several times, and except for getting Mom her lunch, stayed there for the balance of the day.  

Cheryl made some of her killer delicious chicken soup, and I felt a little better, but the process of showering completely wiped me out.

Wednesday morning was worse.  I had no energy for anything, and the dizziness began to upset my stomach.  I called my Doctor and he told me to go immediately to the lung clinic downtown.  We drove there and I went in.  The current pandemic protocols required Cheryl to wait outside, which made her a little angry.  Once inside, the process was the epitome of efficiency.  Inside of 30 minutes, I had my vitals taken, my H&P completed, and had a long and searching conversation with a pulmonologist.  Once he concluded that this wasn't cardiac-related (I have five stents in there), I was given a nasal swab for flu and COVID-19.  The flu swab came back negative, but I would have to wait until Thursday morning to get the other results.

So, we hung out downtown until the rush hour had cleared, getting some dinner in the process, before coming home.  Cheryl was sure I didn't have the virus.  At least that's what she said.  But I could tell she was worried, nonetheless.  

For the balance of the evening, I thought long and hard about what a diagnosis of COVID-19 would do to my life.  First of all, I was mostly worried about if I had given this thing to Cheryl.  She is the most important person in my universe, and getting her infected would have been devastating.  Also, she works in the OR at Tripler AMC and the revelation that she had been exposed would have created a logistical problem of nightmare proportions.  My mother-in-law is 93, and thus lies in the most vulnerable of demographics.  If I had inadvertently given her this thing, I would never forgive myself.   I work in a 24/7 watch center along with about 15 other people.  If they had been exposed, it would have meant quarantine for all.  The watch center, called the State Warning Point, would have been left completely vacated which would have been a catastrophic situation for the State Emergency Management Agency.  Then, all the people I had been in contact with would have been exposed, and required to be tested, including the elderly folks who attend my church.

Thursday, June 25, 2020

The Daunting Task of Faith in a Broken World

© whatchristianswanttoknow.com

Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

There is an image, and the story behind it, from World War II that had a profound influence on me and remains with me even today.

On November 20, 1943, the U.S. 5th Fleet and the 2nd Marine Division opened the campaign in the Central Pacific with an assault on Tarawa Atoll. The invasion had been planned down to the last detail, except one. Nobody had made a detailed study of the tides. When the craft carrying the Marines approached Betio Island, it was suddenly realized that the tide had not risen sufficiently for the craft to pass over the reef. For the first 18 hours of the attack, the Marines were forced to leave the landing craft and wade through chest-deep water for 500 yards. In the blurry frames from a portable camera, the young Marines could be seen moving slowly through the water and being mowed down by automatic weapons fire from the island. But the survivors did not stop or turn around. They kept on moving forward. Enough of them were able to get to the beach to establish a presence, but it wasn’t until noon the next day that the tide rose, and subsequent waves of men and supplies were able to reach the shore.

Those Marines were the product of boot camp, which at that time was a study in human psychology. The recruits, through the viciousness of their drill instructors and the extreme pressure and stress of the training itself were at first broken down, all the habits and attitudes of their previous civilian lives excised and replaced by the ethic of the Corps. Some have questioned the brutality and necessity of such training, but one has only to watch that brief few frames of young men pushing forward even though others were dying around them to understand why. In order to be reborn warriors, they first had to be broken.

In Akron, Ohio in 1935, two alcoholics spoke to one another about the nature of alcoholism and a possible solution. Born out of that conversation was Alcoholics Anonymous, which has helped hundreds of thousands of people. As part of the process, a person has to admit to themselves that they are addicted to alcohol and are thus powerless in its presence.

For many, this life-altering moment comes at a point in their lives when they have literally lost everything – jobs, marriage, relationships with family and friends. Alcohol has taken over their life, and they have hit rock bottom. Even when they begin to work themselves back to sobriety, they must admit to themselves and to other members at meetings that alcoholism cannot be cured, and thus they are alcoholics for the rest of their lives, even if they never take another drink. Part of the power of the organization is that everyone there, especially those who volunteer as sponsors for newer members, has been there; knows how alcohol abuse destroys lives, and will always be their shadow. There are no non-addicts; everyone has suffered.

People turn to AA when they are completely broken and realize that they no longer have any control.

Control, or the appearance of, is held in high esteem by humans. This expectation is manifested through academics in our youth and in the careers we choose. We are taught by the world that it is up to us to firmly grasp the reins of our lives and steer ourselves to achievement, notoriety, and wealth. One of the harshest lessons of life is realizing how little control we actually have over what happens to us. There are those of us who have chosen to place trust and faith in God at least in words. But do our actions reflect those words?

In both examples I described, the people involved had to reach a point of absolute desolation and defeat. They had to recognize that they had lost complete control over what was happening to them, and it was necessary to make that tough admission that they had failed. But in that moment of despair, they found in something or someone the power that they lacked. It is so with disciples.

In Proverbs 3:5-6, we are told, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways, submit to Him and He will make your paths straight.” A disciple of Christ is not a whole person; they have been broken and been reborn through the process of placing complete trust and faith in the Redeemer. God and Jesus cannot enter in until we make this choice. Nobody has or will ever be dragged kicking and screaming before the throne. It is a choice the we, and we alone can make.

In Psalms 139:23-24, we read: “Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me, and know my thoughts; And see if there be any wicked way in me and lead me in the way everlasting.” God knows us best: He is able to peer into our hearts and minds and see that which we are unable or unwilling to. But we have to invite Him in. And the only way to do that is through a daily, robust prayer life.

People sometimes don’t understand the nature of prayer. They feel that a prayer must be loaded with $50 words, expressed in Shakespearean prose, spoken in stentorian oratory, and accompanied by a display of great authority. Not so. Prayer, put simply, is just a conversation between you and God. Speak respectfully, but plainly, colloquially, honestly. Speak from the heart, in the same way you would with your most trusted friend, which in reality, is who God is. It doesn’t have to be flawlessly edited or polished. You see, God knows our hearts and minds, so He knows what we are trying to say, and has complete understanding of the issue we face. That we hear ourselves so poorly articulate things makes no difference to Him. He understands completely. Our daily visits with Him reflect the love we feel, and our commitment to His infinite wisdom. And the more often we do this, the more readily we will see the answers and solutions we seek.

A few years ago, I undertook to teach a class on the Book of Matthew. I used a variety of sources and resources to plan, organize, and craft the individual lessons. But foremost in that preparation was the study of the book itself. Every week, as I prepared the lesson, I spent a lot of time studying those scriptures. (As one salty old preacher told me once, “We can READ a book; but we must STUDY the Bible.”) I did this so I would be prepared not only to teach, but to field the inevitable questions from the students. As the weeks passed though, something surprising happened.

The world we live in is complex, impossible to understand, and rife with conflict, anger, and hate. But during this period, I found that as I looked at the world, I was seeing things with a clarity and understanding I had never before experienced. I began to understand that there was something greater going on. One night as I lay drifting off to sleep, a door opened. For a brief, exhilarating (and scary) moment, I caught a glimpse of God’s plan. Not the details mind you, but just the reassuring knowledge that His hand was on the wheel of events, and that I was not to waste time worrying. It was a moment I’ll never forget.

Of course, being human, once the course was finished, I drifted away from my daily study, for which I feel more that a little shame. But please let my experience be a guide for you. If you cultivate in your life daily prayer and scripture study, windows of understanding will be opened to you as well. These are not the kind of tips that help your 401k, but will give you a sense of peace as you contemplate the apparent chaos of a world gone mad.

The world is more than a little crazy right now, and of course, we are concerned. But remember what it was like in Jesus' time. Groups within the Jewish community were fighting with each other, and above all was the suffocating presence of the Romans. Jesus started His ministry, giving hope to a world that had been bereft of hope. Then, He was arrested, tried, and crucified. His followers were devastated. Surely, this was the end. But as we see through the long lens of history, the crucifixion of Christ was not an end, but a beginning of something that has circled the world. The people in that time could not see or anticipate the global spread of Christianity. We, at this time, cannot see how this current unhappiness will end up. But know that, as we saw in the past, regardless of how bad the world looks to us, events are in the hands of the divine. And we need to have faith in a result we can't now understand, and may not be around to witness.

At some point, God will task us with a job to do, not large or famous or important, but more often than not, seemingly small and disconnected. But God seeks to save souls, and we are His tools in that task. When someone in need crosses our path, we will feel a quickening of the Spirit, and we must respond. The more intimate our relationship with God and Jesus is, the more aware of those moments we will be.

In this country, we are sinking deeper into a political war, one dominated by hate, anger, and violence. Some of us are compelled to take part, either as a protester or an activist. While I understand the passion and the need to be involved (Woodstock generation, here), I think we need to remember that Jesus joined no political party. He did not choose to join and dominate the Sanhedrin, although it was something He could easily have done. Jesus didn’t take part in any of the movements, like the Zealots. Instead, He had only one agenda, and that was the establishment of God’s Kingdom on earth. This placed him above the conflicts of the time, effectively rendering them irrelevant.

I wonder sometimes if we need to be in the world in the same way, not joining parties or movements, but being good disciples to the individual souls we meet. When the multitudes of people came to Jesus to be healed, our Savior was presented with a daunting task. He could have simply raised His hands over the crowd and pronounced, “You are all healed,” and they would have been. But He didn’t. Jesus took the time and the immense effort to touch and heal each and every individual who was there. This is the lesson we need to remember. Jesus’ ministry was never about numbers – large crowds. He ministered to individuals. He saved souls, one by one.

Now that seems difficult, if not impossible. We have been indoctrinated to think that if we aren’t helping millions at a time, we simply aren’t accomplishing anything. But we must put aside our human instincts and instead trust God to lead us; teach us; show us where He wants us to minister. We may think that we only helped one or two people last month. But remember that we are not alone. There are millions of us out here, and we must trust God that our individual mission will unfold as He directs.

The hardest thing for any human to do is let go of the wheel. The best disciple is one whose trust is in God and Jesus, and not in their own driving skills. But if we are willing to cede control to Our Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son, then we will find that we will be on the path He has designed for us. This is our test. We are broken people in a broken world. Do we have the faith? Can we let go? We must allow God to take the wheel.

And there, we will find peace.

Monday, June 22, 2020

A Crater, the Moon, and a Moment



Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey
Image and written content

I work inside a volcano.  An extinct one, to be sure, but still awe inspiring.  Diamond Head rises above the southeast coast of O'ahu, it's familiar shape a landmark as long as people have lived here.  Le'ahi, as it is known by the Hawai'ians, is one of several cones left over from an eruptive period that lasted about 200,000 years about a half-million years ago.  Beyond the obvious, it's a fascinating place.  The state park takes up a good portion of the crater and includes a rather daunting climb up to the summit off the tuff cone which provides a spectacular view.  During a normal (non-pandemic) day, hundreds of tourists arriving by car, bus, tram, and foot make the climb.  When the park is open, it's a busy, noisy place.

But around 6 p.m., the gates across the Kahala tunnel are closed and locked.  Awhile later, the park employees, National Guard, and day workers from the Emergency Management Agency leave for home, and things quiet down.  Those of us who are left are standing watch, monitoring a multitude of websites, radios, and other interesting pieces of technology, prepared to sound the alarm if the worst happens.  

The crater is a very quiet place as the sun goes down.  The thick, high walls keep the noise of the city outside.  They also screen out most of the skyglow, which means it gets dark.  Very dark.  Like, inside a black hole dark.  You can see stars overhead, better than outside.  As the light fades, the slightly rolling plain becomes faded and indistinct.  And then all you hear is the restless wind in the trees.  But what is most striking is the sense of peace.

Sunday, June 21, 2020

Taking My Hands Off the Controls

“Sometimes you have to stop worrying, wondering and doubting. 
Have faith that things will work out, maybe not how you planned 
but just how its meant to be.” 
--Anonymous

Copyright © 2020
By Ralph F. Couey

My wife tells me I'm a worrier.  Guilty as charged.  It kinda runs in the family, as my Dad was always one to dwell on the welfare of his family, especially in his later years.  In a sense, Yoda would likely say the same thing about me that he said about Luke:  "All his life has he looked away…to the future, to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was; What he was doing.”  As I look back over the years, I can remember that the things that might happen got more of my attention then what was going on at any particular moment.  A big part of that was the sense that in whatever moment that was, I and my life, was in a hot mess. Naturally, it was more attractive to obsess about a future that had yet to be written.

That's been an albatross around my neck for as long as I can remember.  What I failed to understand then, and even recently, is how little control any of us have over the future.  

Most people when they think about the future, the focus is on matters of money, or things related to financial health like one's career.  Now, we can plan, we can read what all the experts think, do all the prudent things.  But as the last three months have shown, things happen, things that cannot be predicted, and certainly things completely beyond our ability to control or influence.  I once had a co-worker that, upon leaving Friday afternoon, said, "See you Monday, unless the big asteroid falls." Big rocks falling out of the sky tend to make a hash out of people's schedules.

Friday, June 12, 2020

A Song, A Moment, A Light



Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

I've been in a kind of dark place, as regular readers of this blog may have noted.  The reasons for this are perhaps no different than the burdens many of you have borne in recent months.  Yes, the long isolation of this pandemic along with everything else that has been on the news has taken its toll.  But along with that is that for the first time, when I look to the future, I don't see a path.  Lately, that view has become like a tunnel, one without the reassuring light at the other end.

Our situation here is fluid, governed by considerations far beyond anyone's ability to influence or alter.  I've never liked living on an island, and while Hawai'i may seem to be paradise to others, to me it is feeling more and more like a prison.

I have always had that itchy foot, the desire to explore; to see what lay beyond the next hill. Or the far horizon.  In my past are a lot of journeys beyond the horizon, and while I still am not sure what exactly I was searching for, I nevertheless found the quest deeply satisfying.  But here, every journey ends at a rocky shore, beyond which stretches the endless blue ocean and a horizon that lies tantalizingly, frustratingly out of reach.

Today though, in the midst of this funk, I heard a song.

Saturday, June 06, 2020

The Dark Side of the Looking Glass




Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

There was a time when that thing we called "the future" was a bright and shiny thing, full of hope and optimism.  It was a place where all problems had been solved and there were no new ones to confound and confuse.  In the future, everything would only get better.  It was a wondrous place, this future.

When I was very young, my father subscribed to several magazines, two of which always fascinated me.  Popular Science and Popular Mechanics were publications where the marvels of that time were written about.  New inventions, examples of the most advanced technology in everyday use.  I remember one article about a house that was designed aerodynamically and could swing around a pivot, thus always facing the wind.  Intended for life where hurricanes were frequent, this was a dwelling that would survive even the most powerful gusts.  There were articles about experimental cars, designs that echoed the national obsession of the space race, things guaranteed to fire the imagination of a pre-teen boy.  

Several times a year, there would be a article, previewed on the cover, that described the future -- not the far distant future, but one far nearer, tantalizingly close.  One article predicted that by 1975, we would all be flying helicopters from our homes to wherever we needed to go.  Another one suggested that by 1980, people would be living on the moon.  One article talked about the homes in colonies that would be built on Mars, certainly by 1995.  I read where at some point in time, we would all be wearing computers on our wrists, machines of incredible power and almost magical properties that would allow us to access any information we needed.  And by the way, a device with which we could communicate with each other.  With video.  

Most predictions were quaintly fanciful, some startlingly prescient.  But for me, it was a moment when the veil was drawn aside and I was allowed to dream.

Sunday, May 31, 2020

Respecting Our Journeys



"People take different roads.
Just because they're not on your road
doesn't mean they've gotten lost."
--H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey

The pursuit of knowledge in defining the speed of light was primarily to try to define, in a universe where everything is in motion, an absolute standard for distance and velocity.  What was discovered was that light always travels at the same velocity, regardless if the object emitting or reflecting that light was closing, receding, or at a constant distance.  

There was also another search for a standard at that time, as to which society or culture would be held as the standard by which to measure others.  In a time of exploration and collision of cultures, this was deemed to be important.

That regrettable urge remains with us today.  Not only do we compare large-scale social, political, religious, or economic systems, we are always using the smaller picture of our own lives as a yardstick for measuring others.  The impulse for this lies in the often-fragile structure of the human ego.

Pride can be a valuable trait.  It is essential for our self respect that we should find value in who and what we are.  It is what gives us confidence to tackle difficult tasks, or willingly place ourselves in less than comfortable circumstances when we know we can do some good.  But like so many other things, the key to pride is in moderation.  None of us are as smart as we think (or wish) we are.  None of us are as skilled as we would like to be.  None of us have all the answers to the unanswerable questions.  Even though there are times when we can and should pitch into a situation, there are other times when it is wiser and better to stand back.  As Harry Callaghan once said, "A good (person) knows their limitations."

There is a part of us who always wants to the the source of wisdom, the "wise old sage" to whose door people will tramp to for lessons and wisdom.  All too often, however, the answer we have is irrelevant, ill-informed, or just plain wrong.  And thus advised, those who took our advice end up in an even deeper hole.  

Friday, May 22, 2020

The 65-Year Roller Coaster

Wayfair, Inc.

In the past I've always seen birthdays as a positive thing, particularly after a serious round of heart problems in the early 2000's.  After that, every year was a gift, always knowing what might have been.  But this year is a milestone. Or, perhaps, a millstone. 

Number 65.

It's always been a benchmark of sorts.  Once upon a time, it was the retirement age.  Now, thanks to the improved health of codgers like me, it's just one step forward to what is now the understood retirement age of 70.  But I'm old school.  And 65 just seems old.

I've thought about this over the past couple of weeks, and I think I've achieved a kind of rationalization in my attitude.  Actually, I'm healthier now than I've ever been.  I've shed the excess tonnage that did me so much harm over the years.  I exercise regularly, walking 15 to 20 miles per week.  My blood pressure is actually chronically low; my diabetes is under control without any use of insulin.  My heart is in such good shape that my cardiologist has given up on stress testing.  On the negative side of the ledger, my memory is slipping, muscles are stiff, and my balance is not good.  I won't bore you with the other, more personal issues, but when I look at my Dad when he was this age, I'm in way better condition.  And looking around at other men my age, I can see ways in that I'm better off than they.  No competitiveness here.