2015

"For last year's words 

belong to last year's language;

Next year's words 

await a different voice."

--T. S. Eliot

Copyright © 2014

by Ralph F. Couey

image and written content

except quoted and cited passages.

This day we call New Year's is at its essence an arbitrary point, a mere pixel in the vast expanse of time.  Yet, we have assigned this day as the first one in that annual road map we call the calendar.  And because we humans are all about fresh starts, we mark this day as a beginning; a clear slate, if you will.

Behind us lies 365 days of epic achievement and utter failure; of boundless joy and complete devastation.  Of dreams realized and dreams broken.  One of our unfortunate tendencies is to focus on what went wrong during that time and vow to fix them.  These promises, that which we call "resolutions," are usually anything but.  "Resolve" as we have discovered is ephemeral; that ship upon which we confidently set sail, only to find out that its full of holes and gravitates towards the rocks.  And rather than fix the holes and alter the course, we abandon the ship.

I"ve always felt that part of the problem is that we make these vows in the time of year when the cold, snow, and ice drive us indoors; the short days make doing anything extra or different difficult.  Let's face it; when the sun goes down, we get sleepy.  My resolutions don't get made until spring.  When the warm sun shines, and the earth springs forth in new life, I am touched by that spirit of rebirth and renewal.  I find my plans easier to fulfill, and my dreams far more likely to become reality.  The next two months I have come to call "The Long, Dark Tunnel" for a good reason.  In the winter, I don't feel like doing anything.  In the spring, I feel like doing everything.

Hiking: Part 16

Copyright © 2014

By Ralph F. Couey

Just before my wife left for her biennial trip to Hawaii to visit her family, she told me that she'd be interested in going hiking again when she got back, despite the cold.  This was a fairly significant revelation, since my impression of her trips with me this summer were something close to boredom.  I was hiking by myself until I had that bear encounter on the AT.  Since then, she has accompanied me.  I'm not sure if those two are related, but even if it wasn't as interesting to her as it was to me, I was happy to have her company.

She fractured her foot in October and since it took a distressingly long time to heal, she has been laid up, at least for hiking since then.  Now that she is showing interest again, I decided to take a practice cold weather hike today.

I went to a familiar place, the Manassas Battlefield, about 15 minutes south of home.  After checking in with the Ranger, I decided to take the long path, the 6.5-mile loop that hits mostly sites related to the second battle of the two that were fought on this same ground.

The temperatures would struggle to reach 40 (f) despite the brilliant sunshine.  I bundled up accordingly, layering a long-sleeve t-shirt under a thick hoodie topped with a lined jacket.  I had a knit stocking cap, the kind that covers cheeks and chin.  I wavered on the base layer, then decided that hiking would keep my legs warm.  I started out with gloves and liners, but the liners came off about an hour in, and the gloves alternately came off and on as conditions warranted.  Since it was so cold, I decided not to fill the Camelbak reservoir, but just take a few bottles of water.  

The longer of the two trails leaves the visitors center down the main driveway and then crosses Sudley road as you make your way up towards Chinn Ridge.  For the first mile, it's an asphalt roadway, which kinda doesn't really feel like hiking.  But eventually I got up to Chinn Ridge, make a left out of the parking area and headed into the woods.

A Season of Hope*

*Johnstown (PA) Tribune-Democrat December 20, 2007
as "This season of hope"

Copyright © 2007 by Ralph Couey

About 15 years ago, I received a phone call from a friend who owned an ad agency. It seemed that a local hospital board was in need of a Santa to hand out the Christmas bonuses at their meeting. I had nothing scheduled that night, and my friend had access to a Santa suit, so I accepted the offer. Since then, I’ve been privileged to wear that distinctive red and white outfit many times each season. The gigs have been many and diverse, parties, downtown festivals, meetings, conferences, and leading a motorcycle Toy Ride for the Salvation Army.

Over the years, I’ve talked to around a thousand children and adults around this time of year, basking in the glow of that special sense of joy which seems to permeate the Christmas season. In recent years, the increasingly diverse nature of our nation has led to a more secular cross-cultural kind of celebration of this “holiday” season. Whatever you choose to call it though, there is one element that is present in all celebrations: Hope.

On a cold, snowy December night, I was ensconced in the Santa chair at a local bank in Columbia, Missouri. The line of children and parents snaked across the expansive lobby and out onto the sidewalk. Mindful of how miserable it was for those waiting outside, I was doing my best to keep the line moving, trying to balance expediency against the need to make every child feel special in that brief time we had together. At one point, a man brought up his three children. Their eyes were lit with excitement and our conversations were animated as they related their wish lists. At one point, I glanced up at the father and was surprised to see on his face a look of sadness. While his kid’s eyes danced with joy, his eyes were haunted, dark orbs above gaunt cheeks. He obviously hadn’t slept well, if at all, and as I watched him, I could sense the pain of his burden.

Fourth Sunday of Advent: Peace!

From Delta College Global Peace Studies

University Center, Michigan

Copyright © 2014

By Ralph F. Couey

Written Content Only.

The word “Peace” has a multitude of meanings and contexts from the cessation of conflict to those rare golden hours at home when the kids have gone to sleep. It is a word that is used most widely during the Christmas season.

In Hebrew, the word is Shalom, which covers quite a bit of ground. Wholeness, joy, freedom, harmony – both physical and spiritual. It can also mean community, reconciliation, as well as truth, justice, and humanity.

Christians have always associated this word with this particular season, mainly because of the story as it is told in the scriptures. Nobody will ever forget that moment in “A Charlie Brown Christmas” when Linus stands on the stage and recites the passage from the second chapter of Luke…

“And there were in the same country shepherds, 

abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flocks by night.

And lo, the Angel of the Lord came upon them, 

and the Glory of the Lord shown round about them, 

and they were sore afraid.

But the Angel said unto them, “Fear not! 

For behold I bring you good tidings of great joy 

which shall be to all people. 

For unto you this day is born in the City of David, 

a Savior who is Christ the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you: 

Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes 

and lying in a manger.”

And suddenly there was with the Angel 

a multitude of the heavenly host, 

praising God and saying, 

“Glory to God in the highest! 

And on earth, Peace; good will toward men!”

…and his stunningly simple denouement, 

“That’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.”

And on earth, Peace.

Peace has so many meanings that it can be difficult to tie it down to one thing. I'm sure it means, at least in part, the end of war; conflict between nations.

As of this week, there are 43 armed conflicts occurring in the world. Some are familiar, thanks to the media coverage. Most though, are either unknown or ignored by most people. Whether known or unknown, acknowledged or ignored, these conflicts have resulted so far in 2014 in the deaths of nearly 120,000 humans.

Some of these conflicts, wars actually, are recent, starting just this year. Others have been raging for decades. The human toll is a staggering 6.8 million. That total only includes current ongoing conflicts, not the few hundred million or so who perished over the last 5,000 years.

Going Home*****

*Chicago Tribune
December 21, 2010
as "Time to go home"

KWGN TV/CW 2 Denver, CO
December 21, 2010
as "Time to go home"

*Somerset, PA Daily American 

as "Time to Go Home"
December 23, 2010

*Pittsburgh, PA Post-Gazette

December 23, 2010

as "Going Home for Christmas: 

Our Men and Women in Uniform are On Their Way"

*Waterbury, CT Republican-American
December 24, 2010
as "Wartime Songs Live on for the Holidays"

Copyright © 2010 by Ralph Couey

It was October 1943, and the United States was almost two years into World War II.  The immediate dangers of 1942 had passed and some significant victories had been won.  But everyone knew that a lot of hard slogging still lay ahead before victory could be declared. 

Every day, those dreaded yellow telegrams kept coming.  And in those windows, a blue star turned to gold.

The coming Christmas season would be bittersweet.  Families would gather, their celebrations muted by the gaping absence of a son who was far away in a strange place, facing danger.  Sons who were still home would be leaving soon to join the fight.  And as the holidays approached, hearts separated by 10,000 miles would all feel the same wistful ache.

The world of popular music has a way of articulating the latent emotions of a particular time and place.  That October, a crooner named Bing Crosby released a song that put words to those tender feelings and dark fears.  “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” was a wartime song, to be sure.  But the words have touched every generation since.

I am dreaming tonight of a place I love
Even more than I usually do
And although I know it's a long road back
I promise you

Third Sunday of Advent: Joy!

Copyright © 2014

by Ralph F. Couey

This time of the year is commonly referred to as “the season of joy.” There are so many things that shape that context. Nature has shed the riotous colors of autumn and gone into dormancy, covering the landscape in dreary browns and bare branches. Thus we await with great excitement the first snows of winter that return to the world a delightful artistry. The weather has turned colder, so we are not outside very often. So we make a special effort to spend time with friends under the guise of holiday parties. Mostly, though, we know we are approaching a time when our families will once again gather from across town, across the state, across the country, or across the oceans. For a precious few days, our houses will be crowded with laughter while the mists of memory drift among us.

A tree has been set up and decorated. As the days go by, brightly-colored packages begin to populate the once-empty space at the bottom. There is a happiness, yes. But there is also a growing sense of anticipation towards that early morning when children will race from their slumbers, impatiently urging grownups, still brushing sleep from their eyes and bravely understanding that today, at least, the coffee’s gonna have to wait.

To watch children opening presents on Christmas morning is to see joy. It can be a difficult thing to define, much like love. As Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “Occasionally in life there are those moments of unutterable fulfillment which cannot be completely explained by those symbols called words. Their meanings can only be articulated by the inaudible language of the heart.”

Second Sunday of Advent: Love

Copyright © 2014

by Ralph F.Couey

Why does love hurt?

How can it be that something so good, which feels so wonderful can become a knife to the heart?

Love is not a thing that begins suddenly. It is a journey, one that begins slowly and subtly, sometimes one doesn’t even realize that the journey has begun.

It is a journey less defined as an afternoon walk, and more like a long, sustained hike. Sometimes the way is easy, flat, level, the sun shining and the air comfortable. Other times, it becomes a steep climb, the trail strewn with large, sharp rocks. At times, the trail appears to split into multiple paths, forcing a choice which will define the remainder of the hike.

But whatever else it may seem, love means that whatever the conditions, the journey is never made alone.

We walk together, we climb together; together we ford the rapid streams. Together, we inch along precipitous cliffs, and persevere under storms, cold, or severe heat.

Always ahead is the destination. No one never knows exactly what or where that may be. This trail is not drawn clearly on any map. It must be made in faith.

Ian

Copyright © 2014

by Ralph F. Couey

Someone once described being a Grandparent as "all the joys of parenting with (almost) none of the responsibility."  That statement generally draws smiles, both from parents and grandparents alike.  Kidding aside, there is an indescribable joy about the relationship that grows and develops between grampas and grammas and those wonderful children.

My wife and I now can count 10 grandkids, a total which include one given up for adoption, and another, beset with multiple serious genetic problems, whom God decided was better off with Him.  Like many who share our situation, our adult children (why does that sound like such a oxymoron?) are scattered across the landscape, from Maryland to Colorado and California.  Still, we're better off than my parents were when I was in the Navy and my sister was teaching in Australia.  At least ours are all on the same continent.

Our son and his family are closest to us by distance, so by default we see more of his kids than the others.  And yes, we do feel badly about those whose distance means we only get to see them on Skype.  Still, retirement is almost upon us, and we intend to become road warriors.  Still it is a great joy to be able to have these three around quite often.  Diana, whom I've written of before, is, at age 8 growing into a lovely young lady.  She is smart (yeah, I know; nobody has a dumb grandchild) and lovely (all right, already!) and blessed with a heart full of sharing and love.  She makes friends easily and charms the socks off of everyone she meets.  Sophie, at 6 months,the newest model, is beginning to show off a delightful personality.  Ian is in the middle, three years old.  He is very much his father's son, his behaviors echoing that earlier edition to a degree that is kinda spooky.  He is lively and full of energy, not terribly unusual for a boy, but the thing that amazes and at times, stuns us is the remarkable things that come out of his mouth.

First Sunday of Advent: Hope

Copyright © 2014

by Ralph F. Couey

Written content only

The wind blows cold across a world torn in grief and weeping in sadness. Everywhere, the demons of anger and hate stalk among us, feeding the dark side within us all, urging us into conflict. Everywhere, the hungry, the homeless, and the hopeless lie in despair. From the huddled masses, the question drifts like a fog: “Is this the end?”

But, wait!

 Look! 

Do you see what I see?

In the east, a new star, dancing in the night! See how it lights up the sky? It beckons us to follow! Could this be the miracle we have all been waiting for?

The Case for Space*

Photo from Apollo 8, NASA

"The Case for Space"

A plea for freeing the human spirit

By Ralph F. Couey

Somerset, PA

*Johnstown Tribune-Democrat, March 30, 2010
as "Unshackle Human Spirit From Earthbound Cage"

Copyright © 2008 by Ralph Couey

For uncounted generations, humans have looked to the night sky, pondering what lies beyond our planetary cradle. That stubborn curiosity has forever marked the human species. Even today we remain fascinated by what lies Out There. Such contemplation is profound, especially when one considers that humanity is the only intelligent technological species known to exist within the 154 billion light years that defines the known universe.

And that Earth is the only known cradle of life.

The universe calls to the explorer inside all of us. That desire defines our natures; to explore; to touch the unknown and make it known.

During the 1960’s, the drive to the moon was undertaken in a blizzard of emotion and wartime urgency. However, that frenetic momentum faded after Project Apollo. We still launch shuttles and send robot probes to the planets with spectacular results.

But no one can ignore the fact that humans haven’t left earth orbit in 40 years.

Civil War: Events of January 1865

On January 12th, Francis P. Blair, the man who had unsuccessfully communicated President Lincoln's offer to Robert E. Lee to command all United States Forces, arrived in Richmond, Virginia to meet with Confederate leaders with a proposal for a peace conference.

From January 13-16, Union and Confederate forces battled over the strategically vital Fort Fisher, the guardian of the port of Wilmington, North Carolina.  Using a combined force of soldiers and Navy ships, the Union captured the fort, ending the Confederates use of the port for blockade runners which were supplying the embattled Army of Northern Virginia.

After a month regrouping in Savannah, William T. Sherman put his troops again on the advance, marching northwards into South Carolina.

On the 31st, Jefferson Davis appointed Robert E. Lee to the command of all remaining Confederate forces.  Also on that day, the U.S. House of Representatives passed the 13th amendment to the Constitution, outlawing slavery.

Civil War: Events of December 1864

On December 4th near Waynesboro, Georgia Union cavalry under Judson Kilpatrick set out to attack Joseph Wheeler's Confederate cavalry, after Wheeler had engaged the Bluecoats several times over the previous two weeks.  Kilpatrick attacked Wheeler.  The Confederates met the attacks, and fell back through three prepared positions leading into Waynesboro.  After a final desperate fight, Wheeler withdrew.  The Union victory helped open the road for Sherman to close on the vital port city of Savannah.

Salmon P. Chase was named Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court on December 6th.

On December 13th, Union forces under Sherman overwhelmed a small Confederate force defending Fort McAllister, a strategic redoubt on the Ogeechee River, a direct avenue from Savannah to the sea.  4,000 troops under William Hazen stormed the fort, defended by just 230 soldiers under George Anderson.  The fort fell in just 15 minutes.

Over December 15-16, Union forces under George Thomas met Confederates under John Bell Hood at Nashville, Tennessee.  Thomas combined a diversionary attack on the Confederate right with his main assault on the left.  Union troops overran two redoubts and very nearly routed the Confederates, the day saved by strong rear guard actions.  The next day, Thomas repeated his tactics, breaking and putting to flight the Confederates, who escaped eventually into Alabama.  The battle, however, destroyed Hood's force, losing some 20,000 of his 38,000 soldiers.  Hood later resigned his command and never held a post of major importance again.

On December 21st, Sherman occupied Savannah.

The Blessings of Autumn

Copyright © 2014 by Ralph F. Couey

Except quoted and cited portions.

"I'm so glad we live in a world where there are Octobers!"

--Lucy Maud Montgomery

"Anne of Green Gables"

October has always been, for me, the best of times.  There are a multitude of reasons, cool weather, football, the leaves, and that indefinable yet familiar snap in the air.  I think that I only endure the other eleven months just to get to that special one.  The worst part is that once it has arrived, it never stays around long enough.  October is that houseguest who will never outstay their welcome.

I try to spend as much time as I can outdoors in that month.  In the first days, there are subtle patches of color here and there.  As the days pass, those patches meld into a chorus of bright, vivid colors lit by the rays of the bright butter-colored sun, under a sky of spectacular cobalt blue.  True, the days are growing shorter, but the nights respond with their own kind of magic.  As the haze of summer vanishes, the stars appear, far more numerous even in the city.  Each one shines with a sharp light, giving a soft, silvery touch to the landscape.

October is when I feel most alive.  I wish I could better articulate what I mean by that statement.  Suffice it to say that fall in general and October in particular stirs the passions within that often as not lie dormant during the rest of the year.

Last week, Cheryl and I took a day and drove out to Shenandoah National Park.  We timed this visit perfectly, as the leaves were at or near-peak.  We entered the Park at Thornton Gap, where US 211 crosses Skyline Drive, the main road through the park.

The colors were pretty enough, but as we traveled north, the colors got even more intense.  The view from the overlooks were spectacular, the valley floor bright with reds and golds.

The Morning After

© 2014 KansasCity.com

Copyright © 2014 by Ralph F. Couey

Written Content Only

"Faith may be able to move mountains, but it can't by itself move a man 90 feet."

--Ralph Couey

I've always felt that the dawn, the bright herald of a new day, was the gift of a clean slate, with yesterday's sorrows completely erased.  Whatever the previous night brought, all was made good and right with the dawn.

I guess it depends on the event.

The Kansas City Royals finished the 2014 baseball season with a soul-crushing 3-2 loss to the newly-crowned repeat champion San Francisco Giants.  The game was close, and there was one toe-curling piece of hope and excitement right at the end.  But as Salvador Perez's foul pop settled into the glove of the Panda, I felt the light inside me dim and go dark.

The excitement, the impossible wins, the incredible realization of the impossible which had driven Royals' fans for the past six months all ended with all the traumatic shock of a car accident.  The season, with all its ups and downs, streaks and stops, wins and losses, was over.  The World Series was lost.

But out of the silence that enveloped Kaufman Stadium, a chant began to grow.

I Believe

Copyright © 2014 by Ralph F. Couey

Written content only

For every human, our view of life revolves around two perspectives. That which we know, and that which we believe. The difference is obvious. That which we know would be otherwise classified as “facts,” statements backed by irrefutable evidence. Belief, however, is different.

Belief is, I believe, based on either conditions we would desperately like to exist, or something we know, but lack the solid proof. Call it a gut feel, if you will

People who adhere to a particular religious tradition are familiar with the latter. A deity, in whatever form one happens to be drawn to, doesn’t exist in a form we can readily see, touch, or otherwise prove. But in the heart, however, the belief is more certainty than conjecture.

Segueing from the celestial to the terrestrial, here we find ourselves, as fans of the amazing Kansas City Royals, hanging with them on the brink of elimination after two losses in which the boys in blue were, quite simply, dominated. True, the series shifts to the friendly, if frenetic confines of the K for the final two tilts of this year’s Fall Classic, but will the familiar environment of “home” be enough to divert the momentum of the Giants?

Before we drown ourselves in doubt, let’s take a quick reality check.

Hiking, Part 15

Bull Run Occoquan Trail

Copyright © 2014 by Ralph F. Couey

Research yielded yet another surprise, this time very close to home.  The Bull Run-Occoquan Trail runs 18 miles along Bull Run Creek and the Occoquan River from southern Chantilly, Virginia to Fountainhead Regional Park near Fairfax Station,  The trail is a surprise because it winds through some of the most densely populated areas of Fairfax and Prince William counties.  

The area of this trail is rich in history, dating back to the time when the Taux and Doag tribes roamed the area, rich in wildlife.  During the early years of European exploration, the rivers served as a wilderness highway and surveying landmark.  During the Civil War, two major battles were fought over the same ground north of this area, and the streams formed part of the Confederate defensive line.  

The Bull Run-Occoquan park area encompasses some 5,000 acres adjacent to the streams.  Bull Run's headwaters are located in the Bull Run Mountains and is fed by various streams along its way.  From Bull Run Marina onwards, the stream is named the Occoquan, which translates to "End of Waters."

The trail itself is a real pleasure.  I started at the northwestern trail head, part of Bull Run Regional Park, located south of US 29 and Bull Run Post Office Road.  

The Sacred Trust and the Poison of Paranoia

A Sacred Trust

Copyright © 2014 by 

Ralph F. Couey

It was early in the school year, and the young lady decided to go out and meet some friends at a local beer bistro.  After imbibing, she apparently tried to walk back to campus but got lost, not unusual for a student new to the area.  On footage from a security camera, she was seen walking through a downtown shopping mall, apparently befriended by a man.  It would be the last time anyone saw Heather Graham.

On  a fall day, an 11-year-old got on his bike and started the familiar ride to his friend's house.  He never made it.  Four agonizing years later, he was found with his abductor when the man tried to kidnap another young boy, who police were able to find four days after his abduction.

A mother went into the department store with her 6-year-old in tow.  Passing a video game, he begged her to play it.  Since she was only going to be a few aisles away, she consented.  The boy disappeared.  His severed head was later found in a ditch.

At a large amusement park, a young mother suddenly lost track of her 5-year-old, as he had wandered off as they will do.  Frantically she searched and notified park security.  Armed with a photo, a sharp-eyed guard caught the child as he was leaving the park with his kidnapper -- after the criminal had cut the boy's hair and changed his clothes.

A parent's worst nightmare.  Your child has vanished, and you have no idea where they are.  No matter how careful, or cautious, or paranoid, it will happen at least once.

Hiking, Part...um..."14"

Copyright © 2014

by Ralph F. Couey

I regularly search hiking-oriented websites in my quest to uncover places to trek.  This past week, I found one I hadn't seen before.  It's called the Blue Ridge Center for Environmental Stewardship, and they control about 900 acres of Loudoun Valley into which they have established some 10 miles of hiking trails, as well as a vibrant program of  natural and environmental awareness.

The center is located off Harper's Ferry Road near Purcellville, Virginia, pretty easy to find compared to some of the parking access areas adjacent to the AT.

The day was supposed to be sunny and cool, but the clouds which brought overnight showers refused to yield.  But the temperature, in the low 60's, was pleasant enough.  We arrived about noon, stopping at the education center to tend to some pre-hiking necessities.  The trailhead was down the road about 50 yards, fronted by a barred gate.

The Falls in Fall

Copyright © 2014

by Ralph F. Couey

Images and written content

I have been fortunate in my lifetime to have been widely traveled, 49 states and 28 countries.  In that process it has been my privilege to lay an eyeball on some of the more wondrous natural sites on this planet.  But one place I had yet to go was that iconic precipice on the Niagara River, Niagara Falls.

We had a few days with nothing scheduled, a rare thing for both of us, and true to form, we decided pretty much at the last minute to make the trip.  Cheryl had visited the American Falls before, but this would be my first time for both.

We had to teach at a church retreat on Saturday, which ended about mid-afternoon.  Having packed already, we left from the retreat site, a wondrously peaceful spot along the Potomac River called Algonkian Park.

The drive north was really nice.  We took a couple of detours off the main highway, while still heading generally north, which took us through many of the quaint towns and villages that populate the rolling landscape of northern Pennsylvania and upstate New York.  The leaves were beginning to turn and it was a real treat to spot those patches of brilliant color among the trees.  We stopped for the night in Corning, New York, arriving in time to watch the Mizzou Tigers put up three touchdowns in the fourth quarter to stun South Carolina, and were back on the road early the next day.  We took another detour to Palmyra, New York where we visited a site important to our faith.  The site was mostly forested with several trails leading through the trees.  A very peaceful stop.

Jack Bauer Jokes

The television show "24" was enormously popular during its run and made a star out of Kiefer Sutherland, playing the lead character Jack Bauer. The character's iron-like toughness and utter ruthlessness has spawned hundreds of jokes. These are some of my favorites:

If Jack Bauer was a Spartan, the movie "300" would have been called "1."

If everyone had listened to Jack Bauer the first time, the show would be called "12."

Jack Bauer sleeps with a night light because the dark is afraid of Jack Bauer.

Jack Bauer is the only reason why Waldo is hiding.

When Jack Bauer goes to a blood drive, he doesn't use a needle. He asks for a gun and a bucket.

There was no best man at Jack Bauer's wedding. Jack Bauer is always the best man.

If Jack Bauer took a gun and two bullets into a room with Hitler, Stalin, and Nina Myers, he'd shoot Nina twice.

1.6 billion Chinese and 146 million Russians are mad at Jack Bauer. Sounds like a fair fight.

Don't even ask what Jack Bauer would do for a Kondike bar.

The only reason you're conscious right now is because Jack Bauer doesn't want to carry you.

The Boogie man checks his closet for Jack Bauer.

The Four Horseman of the Apocolypse weren't alone. Jack Bauer drove.

Jack Bauer doesn't sleep with a gun under his pillow. He doesn't need to. He can kill you with the pillow.

When Jack Bauer runs out of ammo in a gunfight, he steps into the line of fire, takes three rounds to the chest, then digs out the bullets and reloads.

Jack Bauer doesn't eat honey. He chews bees.

Superman has Jack Bauer pajamas.

If Jack Bauer and MacGyver were locked in a room, Jack Bauer would make a bomb out of MacGyver.

Jack Bauer can talk about fight club.

Jack Bauer was never addicted to heroin. Heroin was addicted to Jack Bauer.

Jack Bauer wears sunglasses as a courtesy so the Sun doesn't have to look him in the eye.

Jack Bauer doesn't follow protocol. Protocol follows Jack Bauer.

When Jack Bauer looks at a mirror, his reflection has to turn away.

If you ever tried to tell Jack Bauer to "go to Hell," Satan would silence you before you finished the sentence.

Jack Bauer doesn't have nightmares. Nightmares have Jack Bauers.

When Jack Bauer cuts onions, the onions cry.

Jack Bauer can unscramble an egg just by staring at it.

Popeye eats spinach and throws away the can. Jack Bauer just eats the can.

James Bond has a collection of Jack Bauer posters in his room.

Influenza has to get a Jack Bauer shot.

When Jack Bauer does a pushup, the earth is forced out of its orbit.

Jason Bourne fears nothing.  Except Jack Bauer.

Bullet-proof vests wear Jack Bauer for protection.

Jack Bauer delivered himself via C-section.

Jack Bauer is not scared of death. Death is scared of Jack Bauer.

And finally, a little something for a motivational poster:

In 120 hours, Jack Bauer survived exposure to radiation, a weaponized virus, and nerve gas, took down two corrupt U.S. Presidents, killed 309 terrorists and saved the world eight times.

What will you accomplish this week?

 

Football and the First Amendment

Praising Allah

Copyright 2014 ABC News

Copyright © 2014 by Ralph F. Couey

The Monday Night Football game between the New England Patriots and Kansas City Chiefs on September 29th ended up as a 41-14 blowout in favor of the Chiefs.  It was for me and evening of deep satisfaction since I've been a Chiefs fan as long as there has been a Kansas City Chiefs.  

The next morning, the press coverage was, predictably all about how the Pats had lost the game rather than how Kansas City had won.  Not surprising since Tom Brady has long been that All-American media darling.  Who has also been to four Super Bowls.  Amongst the reporting was speculation that perhaps Brady's spectacular career was coming to an end.

But something else happened that night.  

In the 4th quarter, Chiefs safety Husain Abdullah, a devout practicing Muslim, dropped into zone coverage, locked on Brady's eyes.  He broke hard, jumped the route and intercepted the pass, galloping 39 yards to the endzone.  What happened then has folks in a bit of a dither, and may just be a 1st Amendment issue.

Learning How to Wait

Copyright © 2014 by Ralph F. Couey

I'm sitting here this evening with my eyes on the computer, but my ears pegged to the broadcast of a baseball game.

Baseball has had a huge influence on my life, in ways both substantial and subtle.  While I've always been a fan of "the game," my loyalties have been tied like heartstrings to the fate of the Kansas City Royals. 

Tonight, hopefully, will be special.  If the Royals can hang on to their 3-0 lead over the Chicago White Sox for nine more outs, they will gain entry to that post-season tournament we call "the playoffs."  Before you sigh and intone "so what?", let me explain.

In 1985, the Royals made the playoffs.  No real surprise, since they had been there in 1976, 1977, 1978, and 1980.  But this time, they survived all the way to the World Series, a memorable seven-game dogfight against their cross-state rivals, the St. Louis Cardinals.  After a controversial play in game 6 gave the Royals one more desperate breath, they absolutely destroyed the Redbirds in game 7 to bring home the World's Championship of Major League Baseball.

The Royals were a dominant team, combining airtight defense, superior pitching and enough offense to do the job.  They remained competitive through the rest of the '80's, but beginning in the '90's and on into the first decade of the 21st century, the team sank as far as a team can go.  There were several 100-loss seasons in that time, and the tight-fisted owners pedaled away star players in favor of keeping the salaries under control.  Fans grew disillusioned and began staying away in droves.

A change in leadership and a re-invigoration of the farm system (including a heavy investment in culling talent from the Dominican Republic) began to show dividends.  This year was the year everyone talked about as the season when their impressive talent would mature into championship material.  And that has finally been the case.

Hiking, Part 12

Copyright © 2014 by Ralph F. Couey

Today we went back to the Potomac River, a place I haven't hiked since spring.  I remember how enchanting it was, the paths lined with bluebells, and those wonderful sunny days after a winter that just wouldn't go away.  I decided to start a bit upstream from Great Falls Park, another park called Riverbend.  Using the GPS, we located the visitors center, a modernish-looking structure set on a low rise overlooking the river.  We picked up the trail and headed north.  

This particular stretch is part of the Potomac Heritage Trail, a system of trails that stretch from Stafford County, Virginia, south of Washington DC, all the way to the Conemaugh Gorge near Johnstown, PA.  Added together, the primary and secondary trails add up to a whopping 830 miles.  If you were to stay on the main trail itself, you would pile up some 425 miles, if I've done the math right.  The section we were on today is actually two trails, one on each side of the Potomac.  The trail on the east side is called the C&O Towpath, which provided mule power to haul flat boats up and down the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal.

You would think that walking along a river might be a pretty easy, flat path.  In truth, the trail does have it's easy portions, but then it meanders inland and you end up climbing and descending the bluffs, some of which are pretty doggone steep.  So it ends up being a mixed bag, which is a good thing especially if you have a new hiker along with you.

The first mile or so was flat and in some places, pretty sandy, deposits from frequent flooding.  This is a section easy on the eyes, with the forest to your left, and to your right the waters of the Potomac River, today a vivid blue under flawless early autumn skies.

Questions, Answers...and Patience

"We are often confronted by questions

which we cannot answer

because the time for answering them

has not yet come."

-- Thomas Merton

Copyright © 2014 by Ralph F. Couey

Recently, a friend lost his dear wife to cancer.  My friend is a man of science and is thus a pragmatist by nature.  There are many others like him who look at the world as a technical problem awaiting a technical solution.  Within them, there is a gnawing frustration that science could develop the technology to travel to other planets and map the human genome, but has yet to find a solution to cancer.  The knowledge that evidence is mounting towards an eventual cure is cold comfort to someone who is dealing with the acute pain of  the loss of the most important person in their life.

Scientific knowledge is a progression of sorts.  Each discovery is added to and enhanced by succeeding generations gifted with much better technology and improved processes, and in some cases, better brains.  Leonardo Da Vinci was a brilliant scientist.  Unfortunately, he was trapped in the 15th century.  It is reasonably stunning to project what his accomplishments might be if he were brought forward in time and equipped with even your average desktop computer and CAD software.  If any of the physicians who struggled against the Black Plague of the 14th century knew as much as the average Mom today about infectious bacteria, the plague might have been slowed or even halted.

There are about a hundred thousand questions we ask today that future generations will look back upon, shake their heads, and say sadly, "If only they knew..."  We have to have patience, dedication, and a firm belief in the premise that there are no unanswerable questions, given enough time.

The Star-Spangled Banner, and the People Who Still Make it Wave

Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming? 

 

Whose broad stripes and bright stars thru the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming? 

 

And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there. 

 

Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

--Francis Scott Key

Copyright © 2014 by Ralph F. Couey

The words are familiar to every American, a song we’ve sung countless times and listened to even more often.  Most people don’t know that, even though the words were penned on a British ship in Baltimore Harbor in September of 1814, the song did not become the anthem of our nation until a congressional resolution was passed on March 3, 1931, and signed by President Hoover.

That’s an interesting tale in itself, as it wasn’t until Robert Ripley (Ripley’s Believe It or Not) pointed out that the United States as yet had no national anthem.  The tune came from John Stafford Smith, who originally composed it as “To Anacreon in Heaven” for the Anacreontic Society, a men’s social club in London.

It is a difficult song to sing, covering a musical span of one note over an octave and a half, as countless singers can attest.  But it is the history behind the words themselves that give the song it’s powerful meaning, and subsequent national status.

Of late, the anthem has come under fire from some, saying that the song glorifies war.  Maybe its time to take a closer look.

By 1814, Britain had defeated Napoleon in Europe, and was now free to send the bulk of her now-veteran troops across the Atlantic to deal with those pesky former colonials. 

Hiking, Part 11

Bull Run Mountain

Copyright © 2014 by Ralph F. Couey

Photos and written content

It couldn't have been a more perfect day.  Clear sky, low humidity, temperatures in the low 70's, and a day off to boot.  If Amazon sold days like this, their site would crash and burn.  The first hint of fall weather has arrived after summer threw one last high hard one at us last week.

Following Cheryl's instructions, I picked a place we hadn't gone yet.  About 15 minutes west of Manassas right off I-66 is a real treasure.  The Bull Run Mountains are a 15-mile stretch of peaks which form the easternmost range of the Blue Ridge.  The two are separated by the beautiful Loudoun Valley, an Eden of streams, hills, forests, and fields that stretch gently across the landscape.  The mountains connect with the Catoctin range in Maryland (home of Camp David) and the Pond Mountains south of I-66.  

Like many similar areas of Virginia, there is a great deal of interest in preserving it as much as possible in it's natural state.  To that end, the Bull Run Mountain Conservancy was formed in 1995, and took custodial care of a 15,000 acre tract starting just north of I-66 in Thoroughfare Gap and running north along and either side of the three parallel ridges.  Today, the "headquarters" sits at the end of Beverly Mill Road which is where the trail head is located. The area was an important part of local history, starting with the establishment of a mill along Broad Run in 1750.  The mill operated, under several families, until 1951.  The shell of the original mill building still stands, an impressive 7-story structure with walls made of native stone.  This was a remarkable feat of engineering, since rock walls tended to fall over if built too high.  

The location of the mill, sitting in a convenient gap in the mountain range, became an important location during the Civil War.  The South used the mill as a place to store beef for the Army of Northern Virginia.  In August 1862, opposing forces were gathering for the Second Battle of Manassas.  The Union sent  two brigades to block the gap and keep Southern General James Longstreet's corps on the west side of the mountains.  Longstreet eventually came up with a plan to take possession of the heights on either side of the gap and forced the Union forces to retreat.  This opened up the way for Longstreet to march for Manassas where he was able to land the crucial blow that gave the South the victory.  Later on, when it became apparent that the North would take possession of Thoroughfare Gap, the Confederates burned the mill and the enormous supply of beef before departing.

Justice, Mercy, and Grace: Defining Discipleship

Louis Zamperini, Olympic Champion

and Disciple of Jesus

Copyright © 2014 

by Ralph F. Couey

Then came Peter to him and said, "Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him?  Seven times?

Jesus saith unto him, "I say not unto thee until seven times, but until seventy times seven.  Therefore is the kingdom of Heaven likened unto a certain king, which would take account of his servants. And when he had begun to reckon, one was brought before him which owed him ten thousand talents.  But forasmuch as he had not to pay, his lord commanded him to be sold, and his wife and children, and all that he had, and payment to be made.

The servant therefore fell down and worshipped him, saying, "Lord, have patience with me, and I will pay thee all!"

The lord of that servant was moved with compassion, and loosed him, and forgave him the debt.  But the same servant went out, and found one of his fellow servants which owed him a hundred pence, and he laid hands on him and took him by the throat, saying, "Pay me that thou owest!"

His fellow servant fell down at his feet and besought him, saying, "Have patience with me and I will pay thee all!"  But he would not and when and cast him into prison till he should pay the debt.

His fellow servants saw what was done, they were very sorry anc came and told their king all that was done.  Then his lord, after he called him, said, "Oh, thou wicked servant!  I forgave thee all that debt because you desired my mercy.  Shouldst thou not also have had compassion on they fellow servant, even as I had pity on thee?"

"The king had the servant delivered to the tormentors until he could pay all that was due unto him.  So likewise shall my Heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one their trespasses."

--Matthew 18:21-35

This scripture tells an interesting story.  A servant had somehow encumbered himself with a debt of 10,000 talents.  This was a sum of currency that would require at least a lifetime to repay, and actually may have been the kind of debt that was never meant to be paid back, only as a way to bind a servant to master. The modern equivalent might be called a student loan.  But the king called in the debt.  The servant, realizing he was facing an impossible burden, went to the king and begged for relief.  The King was moved by his plea and forgave the entire debt.

But this was not the only debt of this story.  As it happens, the servant held the debt of another servant, in the sum of 100 Denari, a much more humble sum, although it still represented about three months wages.  The forgiven servant then did something that qualified him to be on the list of the dumbest people in the Bible. He went to the servant, grabbed him by the throat and demanded full payment of the debt.  Of course, the second servant could not pay, so the forgiven servant had him thrown in prison.

But this was a secret that would not be kept.  Other servants who witnessed the incident, went to the King and told him what happened.  Angry, he summoned the servant.  When the man appeared in his presence, the King thundered, "Should not you have shown the same mercy to this man as I showed to you?"  The King turned the wicked servant over to be tortured until his debt was repayed.

Some might call this  by that familiar phrase, "poetic justice."  But there are two other concepts in play here:  Mercy and Grace.

In my day job, I work for the Department of Justice, the symbol of which is a set of scales.  In order for justice to be served, the scales must be balanced.  As long as one side hangs lower than the other, justice cannot exist.  The scales can only be balanced when force is applied.  In the literal sense, that means add weight to the higher side until the force of gravity evens the scales.  In practice, it means that when someone commits a crime, justice means they are arrested, arraigned, indicted, tried, convicted and either imprisoned or in the case of capitol crimes, put to death.  If someone has been wrongly accused and found not guilty, they are set free.  These days, the use of DNA evidence has helped to free people who were wrongly convicted.  More prosaically, when on the freeway we are victimized by a speeder weaving in and out of traffic, and we later see that same driver parked on the shoulder with a State Trooper behind, we like to say that justice was done.

Hiking, Part 10

Copyright © 2014

by Ralph F. Couey

Pictures and written content

In 1936 during the worst years of the Great Depression, President Roosevelt ordered that land be set aside for the purpose of giving inner city children and their families a place to go where they could discover nature outside the grim habitat of the city.  This area, originally called Chopawamsic Recreational Demonstration Area, was established as a summer camp, with the buildings and infrastructure constructed by the Civilian Conservation Corps, part of the Works Progress Administration as a way of providing employment as well as teaching valuable skills to young men.  Using locally harvested materials, the CCC built camping cabins, trails, and bridges.  People started coming to the area in 1936, spending as many as 5 weeks in the woods.  When World War II broke out, public access was halted and the area turned over to the Office of Strategic Services, the forerunner of the CIA, as an area for training covert operatives for the war effort.  After the war, the land reverted to public use.  Today, the original area was split, with Quantico Marine Corps Base on the south and the now-named Prince William Forest Park on the north.  The park, operated by the National Park Service, occupies some 19,000 acres, the largest preserved forest tract in the DC area.  It is considered to be the finest example of Eastern Piedmont Forest existing.  It contains some 37 miles of hiking trails and tantalizing bits of history.  The park has the most original CCC building inventory in the U.S., some 153 buildings, all of which are still in use.  The park is located south of DC near the intersection of VA-234 and I-95.

This area had been on my "oughta-visit-there-sometime" list for awhile, but in planning my hiking ventures, I stayed to the west, thinking that anything closer to DC would be too urbanized for my taste.

Okay.  I admit it.  I was wrong.

Age and the Shifting of Circadian Rhythms

Copyright © 2014 by Ralph F. Couey

As long as I can remember, I've been a nightowl.  My perfect day was defined by a mid-morning wakeup and a bedtime that lay beyond the boundary between yesterday and tomorrow.  Of course, life has a way of not bending to one's druthers, hence every job I've had up to this one has forced me out of bed as early as 4 a.m. (still the middle of the night by any measure).   

A decade ago, the bosses at the factory where I was gainfully employed insisted on rotating us to an off-shift once a month. Usually because of staffing levels, that meant working third shift.  Having children at home, that was for me the shift from hell.  Circadian rhythms mandate that when it's dark outside, humans should sleep.  Daylight was a time to be up and active.  Our children were of the active type (if you hear silence, better go investigate) so it was nearly impossible for me to be able to sleep during the day.  So when I returned to work that night, I was already tired and ended up fighting sleep all night long.  When you're working around machinery, that's a dangerous state to be in.  As the week wore on, I got even more fatigued.  The last night I worked that schedule, I actually fell asleep driving a forklift with a one-ton load of steel.  I remember entering the drive lane at one end of the plant, and then suddenly I was at the other end.  I was  danger to myself, my co-workers, and the plant's equipment.  I parked the truck, shut down and cleaned the presses I was running and went home, leaving a note for the day supervisor.  Back on day shift the next week, I had a long talk with the leadership who agreed that it would be best for me to rotate to 2nd shift, which they were willing to do.

The Changing Seasons

Copyright © 2014 by Ralph F. Couey

Pictures and written content

It's been an odd summer, at least here in Virginia.  While there have been some hot miserable days, most of the season has been comparatively temperate.  Not that anybody is complaining.  After the awful summer of 2012, this year was positively wonderful.  Two weeks ago, I read that in Western Pennsylvania that the summer has been so cool that leaves were beginning to turn in mid-August, the earliest anyone can remember that happening.

I enjoy the changing seasons.  Every three months, the world changes in so many remarkable ways.  As they cycle through their assigned three month span, they drive the clock of my life.

Each season has its charms, and we fill that time with the events that give them meaning for us.  But everyone has a favorite time of the year, and we are approaching the season that makes my year.

Hiking, Part 9

Copyright © 2014 by Ralph F. Couey

I had been looking forward to this day, since circumstance and responsibility kept me off the hiking trails for the last two weeks.  It has been a stressful period and I needed some time in the woods.

After perusing the maps, I chose an AT access along US 522 southeast of Front Royal.  A check of Google Maps Streetview confirmed the presence of a pullout there large enough to park a few cars.  As I left home early in the morning, I noted with satisfaction that it would be a spectacular late-summer day for Virginia.  Temps would stay in the low 80's with low humidity, a great day for hiking.

I found the pullout and after parking and gearing up, I headed south.  There was a lot of up- and down-hill to this section, but I had picked it because 4.2 miles in I would meet Skyline Drive in Shenandoah National Park.  During the initial ascent, I saw to my right a really nice overlook off a beautiful meadow, the view somewhat restricted by a tall chain link fence, which would accompany me for nearly the whole way.  I'm not sure who owns that property, but they sure wanted it protected.

Civil War: Events of November 1864

On November 4th and 5th, Rebel cavalry under Nathan Bedford Forrest along with two captured Union boats attacked the Union supply depot at Johnsonville, Tennessee, causing major damage.

Abraham Lincoln defeated his former commanding general of the Army of the Potomac and was awarded his second term as President of the United States.

William T. Sherman began his march to the sea on November 10th. Two days later, he sends a message to General Thomas at Nashville.  It would be the last communication from Sherman until December 13th.

On the 14th, Sherman divided his army into two columns of 30,000 men each, providing a left and right wing to his march.  By the 16th, he had marched almost 100 miles, destroying the cities of Rome, Cartersville, and Marietta.

At Griswoldville on the 22nd, a cavalry action took place, after which Sherman's troops pushed back two regiments of Georgia militia, continuing the Union march.

Another action took place at Buckhead Creek on the 28th when Federal cavalry defeated a Confederate attempt to halt Sherman's advance.

On November 30th, Confederate forces under General Hood attempted to assault the fixed fortifications at Franklin, Tennessee.  He had a brief success penetrating the center of the Federal line, but a heroic counterattack pushed his forces back.  Hood sent his army into the stout defenses repeatedly, essentially destroying his men in the effort.  The Union Commander, John Schofield, was able to extricate his soldiers and pull back to Nashville where he joined up with George Thomas.  Hood lost 14 of his generals either killed, wounded or captured in this battle.

Civil War: Events of October 1864

On the 2nd, Jefferson Davis gives P. G. T. Beauregard command of the Department of Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi.

On the 4th, Confederate General Hood moved north along the Western and Atlantic Railroad, attempting to sever Sherman's supply line, attacking blockhouses and encampments at Acworth and Moon's Station.

Confederate forces under Samuel French attacked Union troops in entrenched positions protecting the W & A Railroad in the Allatoona Pass on the 5th.  Despite fierce fighting, the Federals under John Corse held their ground.

In the Battle of Tom's Brook on October 9th, Sheridan ordered his cavalry to attack Fitzhugh Lee's cavalry which had been harassing his rear.  The Union troopers chased the Southerners for 10 miles, capturing 300 Confederates.  The battle was nicknamed "The Woodstock Races" for the speed of the Confederate withdrawal.  Having burned everything of value in the Valley all the way to Staunton, Virginia, Sheridan withdrew.

On October 13, Maryland voters ratified a new constitution abolishing slavery.

In what was undoubtedly delightful news for General Lee, his old warhorse General Longstreet returned to action after recovering from a friendly fire wound at The Wilderness.

Civil War: Events of September, 1864

On the 1st, Confederates, in the face of Sherman's advancing army, began evacuating the key city of Atlanta.  The next day, the city was surrendered by Mayor James Calhoun.

John Hunt Morgan, the Confederate General who in 1863 undertaken a highly successful raid into Indiana and Southern Ohio, was surprised and killed by Union cavalry on September 4th.

The state of Louisiana took a big step towards re-admittance to the Union when, on September 5th, voters who had taken the oath of loyalty to the United States, voted to ratify a new state constitution which abolished slavery.  On that same day, Unionists in Tennessee met in Nashville with the aim of re-starting the state government, as well as participating in the national elections in the fall.

On the 7th, the USS Wachusett captured the Confederate warship CSS Florida at Bahia, Brazil.

Confederate General Joe Wheeler completed his raid into North Georgia, returning to Southern lines on the 10th.

Has Enough Been Given?

Order of the Purple Heart

Photo from the United States Marine Corps

Copyright © 2014 by Ralph F. Couey

Written content only

In recent months, yet another Middle Eastern crisis erupted when a band of Sunni militants calling themselves the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria -- ISIS -- formed themselves an army and began taking back the nation of Iraq.  For a stateless group, they have been shockingly successful.  But they have proven themselves to be singularly sadistic conquerors.  So intractably brutal are they that even al-Qa'ida cut ties with them in February of this year.  ISIS is a hard-line jihadist group with the aim of establishing an Islamic Caliphate in Iraq and Syria, rigidly enforcing Sharia Law.  In the cities they have conquered, civilians have been brutally executed for no other reason than being Shia Muslims or Christians.  This murder has included the beheading of children, according to the United Nations.  What is just as shocking has been their treatment of women, kidnapping, torturing, raping, and killing them.

The United States expended the lives of over 4,000 soldiers removing a dictator from power and turning the country over to it's people.  Included in that effort was the training and equipping of some 65,000 Iraqi soldiers to defend their country, allowing US combat troops to be withdrawn by December 2011.  

ISIS, consisting of an estimated 4,000 to 6,000 soldiers should have been overwhelmed by the Iraqis armor, artillery, and soldiers.  But in what anyone in the west would consider an act of cowardly betrayal, the Iraqi Army melted away, the individual soldiers whispering "Insha'Allah", literally, "If Allah wills it" as they ran.

My 500th Post

Copyright © 2014 By Ralph F. Couey

November 3, 2006.  That was the day I went to the Blogger website and officially opened "Race the Sunset" with a post about Ben Rothlesberger's motorcycle accident.  Tonight, some 7 years and 9 months later, I am penning the 500th post on this blog.

Writing was, in my youth, something I avoided with every trick of deception I could muster.  But as I grew older, I realized that in my life's experiences I had acquired a voice, and something to say.  We were living in Somerset, Pennsylvania at the time, a place where winter generally begins in mid-October and doesn't relinquish it's grip until mid-May, with an average of 100 inches of snow hitting the ground in between.  That leaves a lot of long winter evenings in which to explore the inner reaches of the mind and soul.  I began to write in fits and starts, learning a lot about content and how to construct a sentence along the way.  And how to self-edit.  Eventually, I acquired enough confidence to submit some pieces to the local newspaper.  The first thing published was an entire page devoted to the beginning of motorcycle season.  I still have the aluminum print plate, although it's faded quite a bit.  

My foray into becoming a columnist began with a strict ration of one piece per month.  Eventually that increased to once per week.  I remember with great joy and pride the day when the Johnstown Tribune-Democrat editor told me, "You were just too good to keep out of the paper."

A few months later, I began to submit to the other local paper in Somerset.  I was told that due to the close proximity of the two papers that I would have to write separate columns for each.  Now I had gone from writing one piece per month to writing two per week.  In addition, I picked up an occasional column in the Pittsburgh Post Gazette and a few other smaller papers in the northeast.  I was having the time of my life. I was an honest-to-God newspaper columnist with a loyal following.  

But the only consistent thing in life is change. My day job, a small federal agency, was shut down, my co-workers scattered to the four winds.  I ended up in Virginia, after cutting my ties to the two Pennsylvania papers.  After all, I reasoned, how could I be a "local columnist" from 200 miles away?  I had, by this time also acquired a bit of an ego with regards to my writing and blithely assumed that I could pick up another columnist slot there.  Things however came crashing down to reality.  My submissions to the many local papers were completely ignored.  In a short period of time, I went from being a columnist to just another free lancer with a dream.

Hiking, Part 8

Copyright © 2014 by Ralph F. Couey

Words and pictures

Watching the weather forecasts approaching my hiking day gave me some cause for concern.  After a couple of weeks of delightful October-in-July, summer came back.  It was going to sunny and H3 (Hot, Humid, and Hazy) with temps reaching into the low 90's.  I normally don't do well in this kind of weather, but I sucked it up and went ahead.

Today's target was a stretch of the AT (Appalachian Trail) from US 50 southward into two really interesting areas, Sky Meadows State Park and the and the G.R. Thompson Wildlife Management Area.  The designated place to park when tackling this stretch is a parking area which can be accessed via a kinda scary driveway off Blue Ridge Mountain Road.  I touched on this in an earlier post, remarking that the driveway drops off so suddenly that when you first pull off the road, you literally can't see where you're going.  Pulling back out is an adventure because you can't see the traffic coming south until your front end is well out onto the roadway.  Looking for an alternative, I spied, via Google Maps, Liberty Hill Lane, a gravel road that leads off into the woods.  There appeared to be room for one or two cars to park there, and it was in close proximity to where the trail picks up on the south side of the highway.  Arriving there, I found a sufficient space to park my vehicle (in the shade, no less) and was pleased to discover and access path leading to the AT.  I geared up and headed south.

Hiking, Part 7

Jagged edges

Copyright © 2014 by Ralph F. Couey

I've been saving this one for one of those rare days off when I actually had nearly the whole day available to me.  So after I dropped my granddaughter off at day camp, I turned northward and made the 90-minute drive to Gathland State Park near Burkittsville, Maryland.  

The park is named for George Alfred Townsend who was a Civil War press correspondent, one of the youngest to report on the war from the front lines.  He also covered the assassination of President Lincoln, and the subsequent pursuit of the killer, actor John Wilkes Booth.  He was a well-known and prodigious writer, at one point penning some 18,000 words per day.  In a time when inkpens had to be dipped in ink and written on foolscap, this was an amazing level of output.  After the war, he remained one of the most popular of Washington correspondents, having gathered a huge audience.  

When he was 47, he began building an estate on land he purchased in Crampton's Gap, a wind gap cutting through the otherwise contiguous South Mountain.  This land was also the site where the Battle of South Mountain was fought in September 1862.  Among the structures that he had built out the abundant native stone was an arch dedicated to war correspondents who were killed while covering wars.

The Memorial Arch.

What remains of his mansion.

After his death, the land was given to the state for a park, which is known not by Townsend's name, but his pen name, "Gath."

The AT (Appalachian Trail) passes right through this property, descending from the northern part of South Mountain, across the gap, and back up onto the southern ridge.  Last week, I hiked the southern ridge, part of it anyway, from Weverton, north of Harper's Ferry.  It was a brutal climb, and looking at the topo map I saw that the part starting from Gathland was a much gentler ascent, so I decided to give this one a try.

Traffic being what it is, it took me almost two hours to get there.  But upon arrival, I saw the beautiful property, and two parking lots.  I pulled in, geared up, and headed south.

There are two access points for the trail, one being a path that begins right off the upper driveway.  But if you want a bit of a ceremony (and don't mind the rocks) you can pass through an arch that was meant to be part of Townsend's mausoleum, although he didn't use it.   Once on the trail, the climbout is much gentler than it's southern counterpart.  Part of that is because the elevation at the gap is 400 feet higher that the point just off the Potomac River.  But the path is still strewn with rocks.