Thunder and the Thrill*

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

*Johnstown, PA  Tribune-Democrat
May 15, 2011
as "Twisters: Frightening, yet fascinating"

I’ve always been fascinated by weather.  I grew up in the Midwest – “Tornado Alley”-- a million-cubic-mile severe weather laboratory.  During the spring and summer months, I watched, engrossed, as dark, ominous cloud masses boiled up from the southwest.  The winds gusted, bending trees and sending loose objects flying.  Thunder roared; lightning flashed.  Rain gushed from the sky like a waterfall, sometimes accompanied by the clattering of hail.  And in the middle of it all, the hair-raising sound of sirens spooling up.

Sure, it was scary.  But I couldn’t tear myself away.

A few years later, I was a Boy Scout on a 10-mile hike. As we emerged from a forest, we saw about a mile or so to the north a twister touch the ground, tear across some fields and then lift back into the clouds.  It was my first tornado, an awesome and frightening, yet exhilarating experience.

I wanted to be a meteorologist.  (I once thought that weathermen were called “meter-ologists” because of all the meters they had to read.)  But alas, my brain remained opaque to advanced mathematics.  Instead, I became a storm spotter, and for the last 18 years I’ve been a student of the sky.

There is a terrible beauty to a thunderstorm; symmetry and incredible power.  On the prairie, you can watch them from afar as they form, mature, and dissipate. I would watch them drift along the horizon, majestic to the eye, even knowing that beneath them, havoc is being wreaked.

The Terrors of Modern Dentistry**

Copyright © 2008 by Ralph Couey

*Chicago Tribune
May 6, 2011
as "In a manner of speaking"

*Somerset Daily American
May 7, 2011
 as "In a manner of speaking he followed the code"

Root Canal.

Nowhere in the extensive American lexicon can be found words that strike a deeper or colder terror in the heart and mind.  “IRS Audit” is a distant second place by comparison.  The expression has become so closely associated with excruciating pain that its use has leaked into common colloquial expression: 

(From the girlfriend) “My parents want to meet you.”
(From the boyfriend) “I’d rather have a root canal.”

(From the wife) “My mother’s coming to visit.”

(From the Husband) “I’m scheduling a root canal.”

As a class, orthodontic procedures of any kind are far from being anyone’s favored activity.  It can only be a break-even proposition.  You either walk out with clean teeth, or a mouth full of hardware and exotic polymers. 

One day, two years ago, I was having lunch.  I was deep into Tennyson and minding my own business, when I heard an audible crunch, which was immediately followed by a pain that lanced right through my eyeball.  I immediately grabbed water and flushed my mouth.  Big mistake.  The now-exposed nerve root shot back with a pain so intense that it actually caused my eyes to cross. 

Gas Goes Boom*

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

*Johnstown Tribune-Democrat
May 1, 2011
as "Putting pump prices in perspective"

Gasoline prices have boomed.

Duh.

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you don’t need me to tell you this.  And since everything else we buy is delivered by something burning either gas or diesel, those prices have gone up as well.

Up until now, watching this annual trampoline dance as gas prices bob up and down has been an annoyance.  But now, things are getting critical.  People are going to have to make hard choices in the coming months as household budgets stretch even tighter.  And if things don’t improve by winter, there’s going to be some very cold houses around here.

The only people who seem to be benefitting are those lucky individuals who went long on gas futures, and those who have oil company stocks prominently placed in their investment portfolios.  The rest of us got stuck with the bill.

I paid a visit to the Energy Information Agency website.  Part of the Energy Department, these are the folks who tabulate a wealth of statistical data about energy prices across the nation.  I pulled up the chart of retail gasoline prices (regular grade, reformulated), published April 25^th which shows the national average price for regular gas at $4.01 per gallon.  A year ago, April 26, 2010, regular was $2.92, and going back to April 27^th of 2009, the price was $2.11.

So, in two years, the price has gone from $2.11 to $4.01.  That’s a 90% increase.  To give you an idea of what that means, let’s say you bought a house in April 2009 and paid (purely for argument’s sake) $100,000.  If your home value tracked along with gasoline, it would be worth $190,000 today.  We’d all be saying “What foreclosure crisis?”

Go West, Old Man

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey 

I’ve always been cursed with the condition most people call “itchy feet.”  I can’t seem to want to settle in one place for very long.  “Putting down roots” is an idea foreign to my very nature; perhaps even repellent.   

In recent weeks circumstances in our nation’s capital have introduced a measure of uncertainty to my job.  The possibility exists that we may have to leave this place for another, as yet unknown. 

Somerset is where we’ve lived, but I’ve never been able to call it “home.”  This is not the fault of the town, or the wonderful people who live here.  In fact, when I search my heart, there really is no place that wears that sign. 

I spent most of my young life in Missouri; Independence to be exact.  We moved there from California when I was six, and it was there I lived until I joined the Navy 19 years later.  Sure, I had friends and that’s where I went to school.  But my parents have both passed, and I haven’t seen those friends for decades.  On those rare occasions when I visit my sister, I find the town to be full of memories, to be sure.  But now it is merely one stop I made along my journey. 

My father was an executive minister with our denomination.  His duties required him to travel far and often.  He was an enthusiastic photographer, and when he came home, we would gather in the living room with the lights off and he would show us the slides of the places he had been.  Japan, Africa, the Pacific Islands, Europe, Asia, Central and South America…it seemed that only China and Russia lay beyond his reach.  I remember those nights well.  As those pictures flashed upon the screen, I dreamed of also visiting distant lands.  Perhaps it was the example of his travels, and the knowledge he brought home of places wild and exotic that planted in me the seed of curiosity that has now bloomed into a full-grown tree of restlessness.   

Singing the Song of the Open Road*

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

*Johnstown, PA Tribune-Democrat
June 5, 2011
as "Road Trip Memories"

The sun is just rising into a clear sky, the day still fresh, new, and unspoiled.  After one last check of the loaded bike, I turn the key and punch the starter.  The engine roars, and with a final good-bye, the bike rolls down the driveway and onto the road.  My spirit soars; I have answered the call of the open road.

Every spring, I suffer the pangs of adventure.  I try to satisfy, or at least allay them with 200-mile Saturday rides, and taking the long way home from work.  But as the weather warms, and the day lengthens, I cannot help but open a road atlas and dream.

Dramatic landscapes float through my mind, much like a high plains thunderstorm gliding across the sky. In those visions is a voice, subtle and seductive.  It calls me to escape the box of my everyday life for the lure of the unknown and unexplored; the realm beyond the far horizons. 

I love maps.  A map is the canvas upon which my dreams are paintedv; a portrait of limitless plains, powerful mountains, shifting deserts, and shoreline highways. My eyes follow the multi-colored lines on the page, but in my mind, I feel the sun on my shoulders, the wind in my face, and the exultation of a questing and restless spirit.

My Lap-Band Life: Three Months In

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

Things have slowed considerably this month.  Over the past four weeks, I've only managed to lose an additional 4 pounds, but again, the Doctor said not to worry.  He's happy with my progress, so I guess I need to be less impatient.

Physically, I feel great.  No pain, no discomfort, in fact at times, I have to remind myself that I even had anything done.  I still struggle with eating too fast and taking too big mouthfuls.  That's the only time I get uncomfortable.  the food will sit in the pouch for a couple of minutes, and then drop on through.  This causes a bit of an ache, but nothing more than an annoyance, mainly at myself for forgetting.  I also at times find myself eating a little too much, which means I spend some time feeling like I'm about to throw up.  Again, proper punishment for my transgressions.

I'm walking more each day at a really good pace.  One day last week, I did three miles in 45 minutes, which equates to a 4-mph pace, which is really hoofin' it.  I'm amazed at how light on my feet I feel.  Once I get stretched out and warmed up, I can now really push myself to go as fast as I possibly can.  Oh yeah.  About P90X?  After the second day, I strained my back and was laid up for about a week.  Guess I'm not as young as I thought!

Criminal Stupidity: Legislating Against Folly

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

There are a host of laws on the books designed to protect people from each other, and sometimes, ourselves.  They run the gamut from drunk and disorderly, to murder.  In most cases they are perfectly adequate for that task.  However, in recent years we have seen an inordinate amount of human actions that defy logic or sanity.  There’s even a popular website called “The Darwin Awards” that celebrates “…those who assist natural selection by removing themselves from the gene pool.” 

The Internet brings the opportunity for immortality to everyone with a video camera, unfortunately, spurring some people to undertake acts of high, even fatal risk.  It’s bad enough when these things happen in isolation, and the only one affected is the risk-taker.  But it seems that increasingly such acts now occur in public places where innocent bystanders are affected.

I track reports of motorcycle accidents on one of my blogs, not out of any gothic fascination, but with the idea that all riders can learn from accidents.  Knowledge is not only power, it increases the likelihood of survivability.  Most involve other vehicles, drivers turning left or pulling out in front of an approaching motorcycle.  But recently, some accidents have occurred for which the blame has to be placed solely on the motorcyclists’ risky behavior.

Old Words, Old Parchment, New Hope*

*Johnstown, PA Tribune-Democrat
April 23, 2011
as "Founding Fathers' words still ring true"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

On a cold, gray day in Washington, DC, I stood in a line. I normally don’t do this voluntarily, an aversion acquired in countless trips to Disneyland.  But this line was different.  At the other end lay the opportunity to view the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and the Bill of rights; our nation’s foundational documents.  

The United States started out as a humble collection of settlements on the frontier of an unknown continent.  Over about a century and a half,  those stubbornly ornery bunch of raw colonials eventually threw off the heavy hand of King George III, and declared independence.

The decision to throw off the heavy hand of England was a courageous one.   Britain was then the most powerful nation on earth, its empire spread across almost every ocean and continent. For the erstwhile colonists to brazenly challenge that power was incredible enough. That they succeeded was miraculous.

Once inside, I ended up outside a huge rotunda.  Before me are two massive and ornate titanium gates. A guard appears, talking in a heavy accent, West African unless I miss my guess. There’s something very appropriate about that.   After a few brief instructions, we enter.

The lights are dim, the air is cool. Above me, the domed ceiling rises majestically.  I see two massive murals depicting the founding fathers. They flank two huge granite columns topped with eagles, at the base of which lie America’s most precious written documents.

A Portrait of Greatness********

Linoln's last photograph

From the National Archives, Washington, DC

*Chicago Tribune
April 22, 2011
as "Lincoln's Last Portrait"

*KWGN Television/CW 2 Denver, CO
April 22, 2011
as "Lincoln's Last Portrait"

*Allentown, PA  Morning Call
April 22, 2011
as "Lincoln's last portrait"

*Newport News, VA Daily Press
April 22, 2011
as "Lincoln's last portrait"

*Fort Lauderdale, FL South Florida Sun-Sentinel
4/22/2011
as "Lincoln's last portrait"

*WTKR Norfolk, VA
April 22, 2011
as "Lincoln's Last Portrait"

*Orlando, FL Sentinel

4/22/2011

as "Lincoln's last portrait"

*Somerset, PA Daily American

April 23, 2011

as "Lincoln's last portrait"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

Years ago in what seems to have been another life, I was a music major. I had always been around classical music since it was Dad’s favorite. But in performing those masterpieces, I gained a new appreciation for their beauty and majesty.

One piece in particular has always stirred my heart.

Aaron Copland was asked to write a musical portrait of a famous American. It was 1942; the country needed inspiration, and so Copland chose Abraham Lincoln.

It’s a remarkable story. From a simple frontiersman, Abraham Lincoln rose to the most powerful office in the land during our nation’s darkest hour.   His words are revered to this day, touchstones of strength and leadership, particularly in these times when great statesmen are needed, but are seemingly nowhere to be found.

Copland’s symphony “A Lincoln Portrait” wedded excerpts from the President’s speeches with a musical composition of gravity, dignity, and inspiration.

But the real power of “A Lincoln Portrait” is in the narration. Over the years, it has been performed by a long list of distinguished actors, citizens and politicians including Henry Fonda, James Earl Jones, President Obama, and Pirate great Willie Stargell.  At one performance in a South American country, the words spoken by a fiery Latino actress actually sparked a revolution.

The narration opens with the stirring words:

Types of Street Motorcycles

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

Scooters: Small to medium engines (80 to 650 cc), excellent mpg, comfortable to ride, step through frames, smaller wheels, some luggage space.  But, they are smaller in size, harder for other motorists to see.  The smaller scooters may not be powerful enough for the highway, particularly when carrying heavy loads.  Because of their small size and light weight, they are also prone to high crosswinds and gusts by passing semis and dump trucks.  Honda Elite, Suzuki Burgman.

Standards:  Also called “naked bikes” because they have no fairings or body panels.  Small to very large displacement (250 to 2300 cc), good to excellent mpg, mostly comfortable, no luggage space, although some may have cargo racks.  The smaller types of this class are good for all-around general duty.  They are relatively inexpensive and cheap to maintain.  The larger types are heavy, fast, and can be a real handful for the novice rider.  Honda Rebel and Nighthawk, Suzuki GS550, Ducati Monster, Suzuki SV650, Triumph Rocket III.

Cruisers:  The most popular class, characterized by V-twin engines, deep rumbly sounds, big tires, dished seats, lots of chrome, and a feet-forward seating position, and reasonable mpg.  Again, displacement can vary from 250 cc up to 2000 cc.  Some have fairings and small saddle bags, but not much else.  Cruisers can feel top-heavy in comparison to other bikes, but they have large frames, big head and tail lights, and are more visible.  They do tend to be heavier, but not prohibitively so.  They don’t handle as precise as others, but tend to be reliable commuter bikes.  Honda Shadow, most of the Harley line, Kawasaki Vulcan, Suzuki Boulevard, Yamaha Star, Victory.

Motorcycles: Choosing Wisely**

*Chicago Tribune
April 8, 2011
as "Word of caution to potential riders"

*Somerset, PA Daily American
April 9, 2011
as "Word of caution to potential riders"
Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

Gas prices have soared once again, and show no signs of abating.  This latest spike has driven cost of operating a car or truck for personal use high enough to be of real concern to household and business budgets.  As you search for ways to cut those costs, you may be considering a motorcycle or scooter.

But is it really that much cheaper?

For those of you considering two-wheel transportation, there are some things you need to seriously think about as you make this decision.

First of all, why are you buying the bike?

Odd question, but stay with me, here.  There are nine different types, or classes of street-legal motorcycles.  Scooters, standards, cruisers, dual sports, sport bikes, sport-tourers, tourers, trikes, and customs.  If you’re commuting a short distance and you don’t intend to ride to Glacier National Park this summer, you don’t need a $30,000 Harley full-dresser.  You can do just as well with a large scooter, or a medium-sized standard.  Also, while you’re in learning mode, those less-expensive bikes are cheaper to repair.

How will you use it?

Civil War: Events of April 1861

April 1861.  At Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor, the first shots are fired.  The Civil War begins.

On April 4, the first vote in the Virginia Secessionist Convention results in an almost 2-to-1 margin against leaving the Union.

Two days later, President Lincoln sent a message to the Governor of South Carolina saying that the U.S would provision the fort, and if that effort was resisted, reinforcements would be sent.  The next day, April 7^th, Confederate General Beauregard cut off all shipping traffic to the fort.  And on April 11^th, a formal demand of surrender was sent from Beauregard to the Fort’s commander.  At 4:30 the next morning, April 12^th, Confederate batteries opened fire on  Fort Sumter, a barrage that would continue until the morning of the 13^th.  On the 14^th, the Fort surrendered.  Union Private Daniel Hough, while loading his cannon for a 100-gun salute to the U.S. flag, was killed when his cannon exploded. He was the first man killed in the war.

On April 15^th, President Lincoln issued a call for 75,000 troops for a three-month term of service.  Tennessee Governor Isham Harris rejected the call, ordering a special session of the state legislature to consider secession.  On that same day, Confederate General Braxton Bragg, the commander of the Alabama and West Florida Department, arrested Union Lt. John Worden, making him the first POW.

The Confederate Congress passed a Conscription Act on April 16^th.  On the 17^th, the steamer Star of the West was seized by confederates off the coast of Indianola, Texas.

Pioneers, Voyagers, and the Question**

*Chicago Tribune
March 31, 2011
as "Pioneers, voyagers, and the question"

*Somerset, PA  Daily American
April 1, 2011
as "Pioneers and the question"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

The news lately has been very bad. There is another shooting war in the Middle East, Japan and the earthquake, tsunami, and leaking radiation, and the ongoing soap opera in Washington. But in outer space, far from the din of humanity’s crises, a remarkable story continues.

In the 1970s, the United States launched four space probes. Their mission was the exploration of the sun’s family of planets. All four fulfilled their intended tasks flawlessly, returning stunning pictures and gigabytes of valuable data about the planets and the space between them. At the end of those missions, they were put on trajectories that would take them out of the solar system entirely; the first messengers of mankind.

Pioneer 10 was launched in March of 1972. Pioneer 11 left earth in April of 1973. Voyager 1 departed in 1977 and its brother, Voyager 2 roared away in 1978.

All four spacecraft, along with the usual retinue of scientific sensors, carry messages.

Pioneer 10 and 11 carry plaques made of gold anodized aluminum. The plaques carry pictures and symbols intended to educate extraterrestrials on where the probes came from, as well as something about the creatures that launched them.

Cartoons*

*Johnstown, PA Tribune-Democrat
April 4, 2011
as "Saturday morning memories"

Copyright © 2010 by Ralph Couey

One of the warmest memories of my childhood was Saturday mornings. I could sleep as late as I wanted and I didn’t have school, so the day was full of possibilities. But before I ran out the door to whatever boyhood adventures awaited, there was the happy tradition of Saturday morning cartoons.

Television back then was predictable. Cable wasn’t even a distant dream and we were all limited to three channels or four if your town had one of those maverick independent UHF stations. It was the 60s and animation ruled the day. Disney was King, but his products were rarely seen on network TV. So my attention was captured by Mighty Mouse, Popeye, Space Ranger, Magilla Gorilla, Yogi Bear, Quick Draw McGraw, Deputy Dawg, Huckleberry Hound and others.  They flitted across the small black-and-white television screen as I watched engrossed while my bowl of Cheerios or Alphabets grew soggy. Wile E. Coyote pursued the Roadrunner, aided by a remarkable collection of mechanical marvels, courtesy of the ACME Corporation. Adam Ant and Secret Squirrel fought the bad guys, along with Rocky and Bullwinkle who took on the evil Boris Badinov and his slinky partner Natasha.

Hybrids and the Future of Motorcycles*

*Johnstown, PA Tribune-Democrat
April 17, 2011
 as "Raise a cheer for big electric bikes"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

The concept by which your car’s engine works has been around, at least as an idea, for over 800 years.  The first concept of an internal combustion engine was done by a Mesopotamian named Al-Jazari in 1206.  The Chinese, Mongols, and Arabs developed a working model in the 13^th century.  Da Vinci produced a design in 1509.  In fact, there doesn’t seem to be a single inventor, but a long roster of contributing inventors and engineers.  But even with all the improvements, it’s still the same basic principal.

But now, in the 21^st century, the internal combustion engine is living on borrowed time.  Gas and diesel fuel are proving too vulnerable to political and environmental pressures that make its supply and price unstable.  There is also a question of how long the current reserves will last in the face of ever-rising demand.  In response to these conditions, electric vehicles are attempting to move to the mainstream. But high cost, limited range and the fact that electricity still flows mostly from coal-fired power plants still, in the minds of most consumers, make them novelty items.

Hybrids have been a good compromise, combining the emission-less value of electric motors with the range of a traditional engine.  This development is encouraging, although no one has yet given me a satisfactory answer to the question of what happens to the toxic battery packs after they wear out. 

True Human Diversity

Copyright © 1997 by Ralph Couey
except for quoted and cited passages.

Mark 13:36

Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself;

Matthew 26:36-41

 

And the King shall say unto them,

"Verily I say unto you,

inasmuch as ye have done it

unto one of the least of these my brethren,

ye have done it unto me.”

The duty of Christ’s disciples throughout history has never been an easy one. The challenges have been many and daunting. Even today, we, as disciples, face tremendous challenges in our efforts to minister to others. But it is the task that we have been assigned. We live in a world that is writhing in agony and pain. And just as a surgeon finds it difficult to perform an operation without a tray of specialized instruments, so does the Lord rely on us as his instruments for the healing of tortured lives. And it is incumbent upon us that we do not back away from that challenge.

I have heard that the simplest commands are often the most difficult to follow. Having been on both the giving and receiving end of orders in the Navy, I can attest to the truth of such a statement. God has given us a wealth of wisdom and instruction in scripture clearly stated without any interpretational confusion. The Ten Commandments are a good example. They’re all plainly stated. And yet, when we analyze the ills of humankind and the attendant misery brought upon all people, we see pretty much the same laundry list of sins and errors at the root of these problems.

Speech: "A People of Freedom and Destiny"

Copyright © 2003 by Ralph Couey

This is a very special night. We have all gathered here as one to welcome home America’s truest heroes. As special as this moment is for us, I know this moment is even more precious and priceless for you who have returned from the theater of war. For tonight, the stars shine in friendly skies; the wind blows gently down familiar streets; the sun has cast a familiar shadow upon the doorstep; and tonight, we who have stood safely behind the protective wall of your courageous service hold you in a warm, affectionate, and mutual embrace. Tonight we as a family, we as a community, we as a nation say to you: Welcome Home.

Tonight we also remember the fallen. For far too many families, there will be no joyous homecoming; only the memories of the loved and the lost. There are no possible words, no magic phrases that could possibly ease the pain they feel. For the husband or wife looking at a wedding ring through a veil of tears; for the parents who stand in the doorway of a silent, empty bedroom; for the child who struggles to understand why Daddy or Mommy aren’t coming home; for the friends, the co-workers, the neighbors who now feel that aching void in their lives; for all of them, we as a nation share this grief. In time, hopefully, understanding will come. Meaning will be revealed.

Never have the words of Abraham Lincoln been more poignant:

“That from these honored dead, we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion. That we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain.”

The Hardest Farewell**

Samantha

Copyright © 2007, 2011 by Ralph Couey
*Chicago Tribune
March 26, 2011
as "Loss of a true friend"

*Somerset, PA  Daily American
March 26, 2011
as "Loss of a true friend"

Ten years ago, we said goodbye to Samantha. 
It was a time of great sorrow for us,
as anyone who has ever loved and lost a pet can attest. 
This week, two friends had to say goodbye to their beloved pets,
and in sharing their sorrow, the memories of that day long ago came back. 
This is for all those who have everhad to say that hardest farewell.

The morning was bright and clear, but the sun mocked me as I finished my walk. This was a day heavy with decision; celebration had left for the next county. Opening the door, I heard you struggle to your feet to greet me like you always had. All those years, you met me with shining eyes, a happy tail, and a joyful bark. Now I saw the pain in your eyes as you tried to make arthritic bones obey the commands of your heart.

I took your beautiful head in my hands and buried my face in the softness of your fur. I sensed you contentment, but all last night I had heard whimpers of pain as you tried to sleep.

I took your brush out and one last time you stood patiently while I arranged every hair. At last, I finished my work.  For a moment, you looked as you once did; powerful, graceful, and heart-breakingly beautiful. Then with a quivering sigh your legs settled to the floor and you rested your head on my leg, exhausted by the effort.

I was flooded by sweet memories. Long walks, playing ball in the park, the drives through the country, watching you destroy my leaf piles in the fall while I collapse in helpless laughter. The simple companionship of a long winter’s eve.

It was time.

Motorcycles and the Statistics of Death**

*Chicago Tribune
April 15, 2011
as "Motorcycles and statistics"

*Somerset, PA  Daily American
April 16, 2011
as "Motorcycles and statistics"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

Since my accident two years ago, my colleagues have taken a sincere interest in my safety. This past week, out of that concern, they deposited the latest edition of the Journal of Forensic Science on my desk. One might characterize this publication as the pinup magazine for Coroners.

Three articles were bookmarked. One was entitled, “Massive Lesions Owing to Motorcyclist Impact Against Guardrail Posts.” Another article was “Traumatic Testicular Displacement in Motorcycle Drivers.”

Ouch.

The third one, however, was the most interesting. “Death by Motorcycle: Background, Behavioral, and Situational Correlates of Fatal Motorcycle Collisions.” This was an impressive statistical study done by Dr. Samuel Nunn, Professor of the School of Public and Environmental Affairs and Director of the Center for Criminal Justice Research, part of the Indiana University-Purdue University of Indianapolis.

Like many professional journal articles, this one needed to be read with a dictionary and thesaurus close at hand. And while the science of statistics is still a bit of a mystery to me, there were enough plain-language findings in the paper to get my attention.

Fear Not!

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

Do not be afraid.

The Lord will fight for you;

You need only to be still. (Exodus 14:13a,14)

I’m a worrier.  I come by it honestly because my Dad was one as well.  I worry about the usual things, family, money, taxes, debt, job security…all shared by most, I would imagine.  But I also find myself at times in deep concern about things over which I have absolutely no control or influence.  The weather, for instance; or the political situation in Mexico.   Lately, I’ve been very worried about my job, even though the decisions made on that issue are well beyond my paygrade.  There’s absolutely nothing I can do to influence that process.  Yet, I still worry. 

Luckily, I’m married to a very practical person who files her concerns into two slots:  those she can control and those she can’t.  She works on the things she can, and ignores the rest.  When she spots me carrying some burden around, she immediately morphs into her best Gandalf imitation, thundering, “Where is your faith?”

And she’s right.

General Ulysses S. Grant had a similar issue when he took command of the Army of the Potomac.  Robert E. Lee had acquired a reputation of invincibility.  Despite the southern Army of Northern Virginia being outnumbered in almost every battle, Lee’s tactical genius produced stunning victories. 

One night, after listening to his staff voice their fears, Grant roared, “I’m getting tired of hearing about all the possible things Lee could do to this Army.  From now on, we’re only going to focus on what this Army is going to do to General Lee.”

"C'mon, Spring!"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

This is a tough time of year for a motorcyclist.  Winter has been long and unrelenting.  Even today, approaching mid-March, as I look outside, the hill a half-mile away has gone opaque, shrouded in yet one more snowstorm.  Below my window, the Little Conemaugh River runs deep and rapid, fed by the almost constant rainfall and melting snow.  I am anxiously, even impatiently waiting for the wintry mess to give way to clear skies and relatively warmer temperatures.  Out in the garage, my bike sits.  I sense Wyatt is also feeling frustrated.  I can almost hear him whisper an exasperated “C’mon, man!”

But these are feelings grown familiar.  They happen every year about this time, especially since I moved from Missouri to the Laurel Highlands of Pennsylvania almost seven years ago.  In my memory, I remember March as the start of the riding season.  Temperatures were still on the cool side, but snow and ice had become a forgotten memory.  Here in the mountains, however, climate plots against me.  Every year, the last time snow fell from the sky was as late as mid-May.  The riding season is short, but tempered by the almost complete lack of uncomfortably hot days. 

Over the winter, I bought a new tire, a new crash bar, a new luggage rack, a new stator, and had my seat sent out to be re-done.  The Kawasaki VN900 is a marvelous machine.  It is a mid-size bike that comes off looking much bigger than it actually is.  Obviously, some skilled and experienced engineers were involved in its concept and design. 

I just wish they hadn’t given the seat design to the intern.

History's Harsh Lessons*

*Pittsburgh, PA Post-Gazette
April 3, 2011
as "Lessons from the depression"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

On March 8^th, Pennsylvania’s newly-minted Governor stood in front of the State Assembly to present his proposal for a state budget.  Like many states, Pennsylvania has spent itself almost to the brink of insolvency.  And like so many of us in this recession, it became time for cuts and reductions.  The Governor said something that, as a Pennsylvanian, I found compelling:

“A nation that once produced wealth beyond calculation

has now produced debt beyond reckoning.

The day of reckoning has come.”

In listening to the rhetoric of the past few months, an interesting dichotomy has emerged.  It seems that while everyone realizes that sacrifices must be made, we all seem to think that someone else should bear that burden.

This is the myopia of hard times.  The boil on our own back is the largest one in existence; nobody’s pain is worse than our own.  There’s always someone else who can afford to do with less.

Many of us grew up during the wildly materialistic 1980s and 1990s.  Due to that cultural conditioning, we find it hard now to separate true need from want.  Cable/satellite TV, broadband Internet, Smart Phones, and other expensive electronics are just a few of those things that not too long ago would have been considered luxury items.  Now, we have a lot of trouble even imagining life without them.  We felt that even if we weren’t rich, we could at least acquire some of those trappings, thereby building insulating barriers between the life we wanted, and the one we actually had.  This act of reaching beyond our means has left many of us in serious credit trouble, a hole it may take years to climb from.

82 years ago, the country was plunged into the depths of what became known as The Great Depression.  Wall Street collapsed, in part because people were trading with credit instead of hard currency.  Businesses closed, banks failed and almost overnight a quarter of the workforce was unemployed. 

My Lap-Band Life: Two Months In

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

This past month has been a revelation for me, in terms of understanding what my relationship to food has been over my lifetime.

First things first, however.  I feel fine.  There have been no incidents of pain or discomfort.  I’m perfectly happy with the small ration of food I consume, and I feel better than I have for years.

My weight loss has slowed, in fact I’ve been stuck at 258 for two weeks.  The Doctor’s office tells me that this is not unusual and not to get discouraged.  I have to remember how far I’ve come since January.  Before my pre-op diet, I had ballooned to 298, so I’ve lost 40 pounds in a little over two months.  Meanwhile, I’ve picked up my exercise considerably.  I walk for 30 minutes at lunch (1.8 miles) and then do some calisthenics and 50 minutes on a treadmill at 5% grade and 3.7 to 4.0 miles per hour after work.  I have my semi-annual cardiac stress test in April, so I guess you could say I’m studying for that test.  I got a little too ambitious, borrowing my son’s P90X DVD set.  This is a fitness regimen that makes Marine Corps boot camp look easy.  Anyway, three nights into it, I did some damage to my left shoulder.  At some point when I work up the courage (and the pain becomes too much to ignore) I’ll confess to the Doctor.  Hopefully, it’s something that time will heal.  I’ve cut back on the P90X stuff, doing only those things that don’t involve my left shoulder.

Revolution and the Beard*

*Johnstown, PA Tribune-Democrat
March 21, 2011
as "Life without wife soon grows into hairy experience"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

For most of a man’s married life, he exists in a happy state of domestication.  He may at times wax nostalgic about those early years when was led around by his hormones and a nose for mischief, and there might be one or two attempts to re-enact those years.  But for the most part, men willingly accept the structures and limits of matrimony because we realize that the “other” reason we get married is that we need someone around to keep us out of trouble.

There are times, however when we might stage a minor revolution, for no other reason than impulse.  One of those revolts involves facial hair.

Two things spawned my little insurrection.  My wife was out of town on a job search expedition and I had entertained the idea going shaveless.  But the decision point was reached when I stood in the shaving aisle at the store and saw that my blades would cost over $30.  I could have just bought disposables but I have a bad combination of sensitive skin and tough whiskers.  The wrong blade can leave me looking like the scarred victim of a shattered window in the morning or a swarthy underworld thug by 3 in the afternoon.

So squeezed by economics and lacking anyone to say “no,” I decided to grow a beard.

My wife was not thrilled by this decision, but as she put it, “As long as I don’t have to look at it, I guess it’s okay.”

Growing a beard is a gradual process.  You simply can’t go from bare-faced to Santa Claus overnight.  The first few days, it looks like you were too lazy to shave.  It’s not uniform and the bristles stick out at weird angles.  After about a week, you don’t look lazy anymore.  Something’s definitely happening.  Unfortunately it’s during this phase that people at work start with the snide comments, like, “How long were you lost up in the mountains?” 

Vaya con Dios, Zoe

On April 2, 2010, our precious granddaughter, Zoe Arianny Villon, passed from this life at the tender age of 5 months.  In her brief time with us, she had been burdened with some serious health problems, the worst of which was Cri du Chat syndrome.  I performed the funeral service, simply the most difficult thing I have ever done as a minister. 

In the months since, I have come to know many who also lost children.  We have shared the pain of loss and the tears of healing.  I offer this, the funeral sermon I prepared and delivered that day, as an offering of healing peace and solace to those are similarly suffering.


During the past few days as each of us considered the tragic and untimely death of baby Zoe, our hearts have been full of questions – chief amongst them being the simplest one, “Why?” Even if we knew the answers to those questions, there still would be no adequate explanation for this loss. Our hearts are grieved beyond measure.

We are not here today to answer those questions, even if we could. Rather, we are here to mourn and to commend the spirit of Zoe into God’s loving embrace. And also to ask God to help us heal.

Those of us who tend gardens are familiar with the occasional rose that may bud but never bloom. The flower isn’t any different than the others, but for some reason we can never fathom, rather than bursting forth in beauty and color, it simply fades away.

In the garden that is humanity, this also happens. A baby comes into the world, full of life and beauty, but never unfolds into the life that was supposed to be. We mourn those times, but at the same time we know that the baby’s soul has been gathered back into the arms of Jesus, where love, joy, justice, and perfection awaits.

Today, we mourn the loss of a child. We weep, just as Jesus wept. And yet, I have seen already the work of God’s healing spirit. In one of our many conversations, Nikki said to me of Zoe’s passing, “Jesus came in the middle of the night when she was at peace and took her home.” It was the most courageous, most faithful statement I have ever heard.

Three Important Quotes

Three quotes upon which anyone could build the best kind of life.

The life that conquers is the life that moves
with a steady resolution and persistence

toward a predetermined goal.

Those who succeed are those who have thoroughly learned

the immense importance of plan in life, and the tragic brevity of time.

- W.J. Davison

So, then, to every man his chance --
to every man, regardless of his birth,

his shining golden opportunity
-- to every man his right to live, to work, to be himself,

to become whatever his manhood
and his vision can combine to make him

-- this is the promise of America.

- Thomas Wolfe

When one door of happiness closes, another opens;

but often we look so long at the closed door

that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.

- Helen Keller

The Civil War: March 1861

A new government takes shape in the south.  In Washington, a new President assumes office over a decidedly less-than-United States of America

On March 1, 1861 P. G. T. Beauregard appointed Brigadier General in the Confederate States Army and was sent immediately to Charleston, SC.  General Beauregard would eventually carry the attack on Ft. Sumter in April, starting the Civil War.

On that same day, 1861 Texas was accepted as a state by the provisional government of the Confederate States of America.  The next day, the Texas Secessionist Convention reconvened, where on March 5^th, the Convention accepted Confederate Statehood.  Also on March 1st, the U.S. Congress would reject the proposals put forth by the Washington Peace Convention.

The next day, March 2, the U. S. Congress passes a proposed 13th Amendment stating that the Congress will not abolish or interfere with slavery where it exists. The amendment would never be ratified. 

General P. G. T. Beauregard arrives at Charleston on March 3rd and assumed command of Confederate troops South Carolina

On March 4, 1861 Confederate Convention in Montgomery adopted the "Stars and Bars" as the new nation's flag. The flag was introduced to the public the next day. 

Under heavy security on March 4, 1861 Abraham Lincoln is inaugurated President of the United States, already smaller by seven seceded states.  In his inaugural address, he says…

The Bell That Tolls for Us*

*Johnstown, PA Tribune-Democrat
March 6, 2011
as "Disaster at our doorstep"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

(Except the Dunne quotes)

“No man is an island, entire of itself;

every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less.

Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind,

and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls;

it tolls for thee.”

--John Dunne, from “Contemplation XVII”

We live in a world filled with troubles, great and small. It is a measure of this world’s difficulties that even the great tragedies, ones that use to be insulated from us by distance or borders, now reach out to each and every one of us. 

Economic and business news, what once seemed so incredibly boring, now has a primacy that captures our attention and drives our worries as much as if it was a storm and we were in a small boat far out to sea. The vagaries of politics and the complexities of policy debate we now follow with rapt attention. 

Perhaps this is the most telling influence of the information age. No longer will there be a comfortable delay between event and effect. As things happen in countries far away, we will feel the results locally with a rapidity that will take our breath away. Unfortunately, this is not a passing phenomenon, but a new template, one that will define our future as individuals, and as the human species. 

In recent weeks, a number of countries in the Middle East have been experiencing unrest that in some cases may be the onset of revolution. In the not-too-distant past, that would have been interesting news, but not something that would have caused most of us any worry. We actually might have privately cheered for people who were attempting to throw off the yoke of tyranny.  

How things have changed. 

Speech: "Today, We Remember"

Copyright © 2009 by Ralph Couey

“Today, We Remember”

Ten years ago today, the world was changed; our nation was changed; we were changed.  We were ripped from a world of the safe and familiar and plunged into another; a world of dark uncertainty; a world of shock, pain, horror…and fear.  

But out of the darkness of that tragic day, a great light emerged, illuminating this nation from border to border and sea to sea.  We, the people of the United States found our unity.  We stood together; shoulder to shoulder; arm in arm.  We spoke with one voice. 

We felt with one heart. 

And the world stood back in awe.

Today, we remember. 

We remember the shock, the sorrow, and yes, the anger we felt that morning.

But we also remember how we reached out to each other and found comfort, discovering that in the face of shared tragedy, there is no such word as “stranger.”  On 9/11, we Americans proved that we were still “family.”

Today we gather upon this field of honor. 

Red-Light Purgatory**

*Chicago Tribune
March 4, 2011
as "Purgatory and the dead red light"

*Somerset, PA Daily American
March 5, 2011
as "Purgatory and the dead red light"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

When one reads about “Dead Red” laws, the image conjured up is of some draconian McCarthy-esque measure from the 1950’s. Actually, it has nothing to do with politics.

Every motorcyclist and bicyclist is familiar with the frustration of pulling up to and intersection and watching the lights go through 2 or 3 cycles without getting the green. This problem has been the subject of increasingly vociferous lobbying from riders.

Some intersections don’t have automatically sequenced lights. They’re triggered by sensors buried in the roadway. These sensors don’t rely on weight, but mass. As a large metal object, like a car or truck, rolls up, the steel creates a “bubble” in the ambient magnetic field. This bubble is detected by the sensors which then trigger the lights. The Navy uses this method, called "Magnetic Anomaly Detection," to locate submerged submarines. These devices have to be calibrated, but the vehicle used is usually the 10-ton truck the road crews work out of. In terms of magnetic mass, that’s a far cry from even the largest motorcycle. Consequently, the rider sits at the intersection…and sits…and sits…and sits…well, you get the idea.

Some states have laws that permit the rider to run the red light after a reasonable amount of time, provided the traffic is clear. I know that Missouri has such a law, and the Kansas House has passed and sent to the Senate a similar bill. The Georgia legislature is about to consider such a law.  Pennsylvania, however, does not.

Last fall, I came afoul of that lack in Somerset.

Bless Them All

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

Flags lined the streets, some posted on flagpoles, others held by people.  After the flag-draped casket left the church, it passed between double lines of what seemed to be most of the population of Ebensburg, Pennsylvania.  Two ranks of men from the Veterans of Foreign Wars escorted the hearse through the streets.  County officials, police officers, volunteers from the Patriot Guard, and a U.S. Congressman watched as a patriot came home for the last time.

Derek Kozorosky died in uniform at the tender age of 22, a Senior Airman in the U.S. Air Force.  No, he hadn’t lost his life in Afghanistan or Iraq, but he had made the choice to serve his country and the cause of freedom.  And in my book, that’s still a hero.

The Thaw Ride**

*Chicago Tribune
March 18, 2011
as "Start out slow this spring"

*Somerset Daily American
March 19, 2011
as "Start out slow this spring"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

As February turns into March, warmer weather will begin to spread northward.  Eventually even in the arctic-like north and northeast, the snow will melt, the roads will clear, and motorcyclists will take to the road in glee to start another riding season.

But in some parts of the nation, winter still grimly hangs on.  In those areas, however, riders will be teased by the appearance of a day or two of relatively warm weather and sun.  On those days, it is hard to resist the temptation to take the bike out for a spin. 

But there are still dangers out there.

Roads are still covered with salt, sand, and whatever else the DOT uses when the snow falls.  For a motorcycle, a road surface like that can be similar to riding on a bed of ball bearings.  Traction and control is decidedly iffy, not helped by the water left by melting snow.  Also, there are still shaded places where patches of ice remain.

A February Gift

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

Winter is the longest season. At least it feels that way. The cold temperatures drive us indoors. The long hours of darkness saps our energy. The deep snow turns a simple trip to the grocery store into a major undertaking. Towards mid-February, we are worn down, and frustrated.
But once in awhile, nature seems to sense our dark mood and sends us a gift. The winds shift to the south, the clouds break, and the thermometer rises to its highest point in months. It’s not a surprise; after all, Jim, Tim, and Tony have been talking about it for at least a week. But after endless cold and incessant snow, cynicism dies hard.

We wake up, instantly aware that the house seems warmer. As we eat breakfast, the sky is lighter. Actually, the days have been getting longer since December 21st, but somehow it’s evaded our notice.

The first moment of hope arrives when we step outside. The air, while still cold lacks its usual bite. Maybe we even go back inside and swap out the arctic gear for something lighter.

At work, everyone’s mood seems unaccountably brighter. Smiles bloom unbidden. The brittle acrimony seems to have been shelved, at least for now. Even customers seem to bring a little sunshine in with them.

All morning long, the sunlight beckons through the windows, teasing and seducing. When lunch time comes, we grab our brown bag and head for the park. Stepping outside, we feel it immediately. The air is soft, and for the first time in months, we feel on our shoulders the healing warmth of the sun.

That Bull Moose in the White House

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

Theodore Roosevelt was born in 1858, a sickly child, suffering from asthma and other ailments.  But rather than give in to his condition, he embarked on a life of vigorous robustness.

At Harvard, he was active in rowing and boxing. Upon graduating, he was given a physical exam, revealing a serious heart condition.  The doctor recommended he find a desk job.  Instead, he entered Columbia Law School.  A year later, he dropped out to run for New York Assemblyman.  His first book, a study of the Naval war of 1812, was published soon after his graduation and became a standard text throughout the Navy.

By 1884, he was already a major player in New York Republican circles.  But disillusioned by the exigencies of politics, he “retired” to a ranch he had built in Dakota Territory.  He hunted and raised cattle, writing about his activities for eastern newspapers.  As the deputy sheriff, he once escorted a group of thieves through the wilderness, going without sleep for almost two days.  Returning to New York after losing his cattle in the harsh winter of 1886-87, he ran for mayor of New York City, coming in third.  Roosevelt was appointed to the U.S. Civil Service Commission where he successfully fought the entrenched spoils system, forcing compliance with the Civil Service laws. 

In 1895, he took on another tough task.  As New York City’s Police Commissioner, he cleaned up the NYPD, reputed to be the most corrupt in America.  He was appointed Assistant Secretary of the Navy in the McKinley administration, taking de facto control due to the inactivity of the Secretary.  He was instrumental in preparing the Navy for the Spanish-American War and also laid the groundwork for the globe-circling “Great White Fleet” of his own administration.

Natalie Munroe and the Larger Question

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

Three days ago, nobody knew Natalie Munroe.  Now to many, she’s famous – or infamous.  For those who may have been living beneath the sea, Natalie is a teacher.  At one point in her life, she, like so many of us, felt the urge to write and authored a blog. 

Now, a blog can be many things, depending on one’s interests.  For many, it’s a living bulletin board.  Others, the chaotic canvas of random thoughts.  Some people blog about their interests, be it music, books, geology, or whatever they find interesting.  A lot of people, like me, blog about life and the musings thereof.

A blog is a contradiction.  It’s a private space for private thoughts that is also exposed to the universe. While we value our privacy, we love to see that visit counter go up. 

Natalie, responding to some of the utter ridiculousness of the education bureaucracy, wrote a post about grade cards.  In it, she complained about the “canned comments” that the administration urged teachers to use in describing the characteristics of a particular student.  These comments are familiar to anyone who has survived public school, things like “participates in class,” and “needs to work towards potential,” and other statements that achieve the lofty goal of saying absolutely nothing of value.

My Lap Band Life - One Month In

Copyright © 2011 words only by Ralph Couey

A month ago today, I was wheeled into an operating room at Windber Medical Center in Pennsylvania.  About 40 minutes later, I came out, my life changed forever. 

I have always struggled with my weight, essentially since the age of 8.  This is something that seems to run in the family, since I’ve seen pictures of my ancestors from the depression, a solid working class clan, who wore bellies even in the midst of the worst economic disaster in our history. 

Over the years, I began to suffer from the inevitable physical consequences of obesity, including diabetes, bad joints, and heart problems.  I didn’t take retirement seriously because, frankly, I didn’t think I’d live that long.  Finally, after two heart incidents within 10 months, my wife and I decided it was time for some drastic alternatives.

In January 2010, after experiencing chest pain on the way to work, I was taken to the hospital where I received my third cardiac stent (the first two in 2003).  In March, my wife, a Registered Nurse with 30 years surgical experience, brought home some literature on a procedure called a lap band.  I was skeptical, but the stent thing had scared me pretty badly and I was ready to listen.  We went to a seminar for prospective patients put on by Dr. Kim Marley. 

The information provided was a revelation.  In 2002, I almost had a full gastric bypass done.  The operation was derailed when the insurance company pulled the authorization literally as we were on our way to the hospital.  But this was different.  A gastric bypass is a permanent thing, routing the intestine from the bottom of the stomach to a new pouch created at the bottom of the esophagus.  The lap band, conversely, is an adjustable and reversible  device, the size of which is controlled by injecting or withdrawing saline through a port attached to the inside of the patient’s skin.  Being far less complex, recovery time was relatively fast.

The program is structured such that a period of 6 months passes between the time you agree to the procedure and when it is actually done.  This is to allow time for testing and evaluation, dietetic, physical, as well as psychological counseling, giving the patient plenty of time to think.

I was still on the fence, but a second heart incident in October suddenly made the decision a no-brainer.

"Riders in the Storm"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

Motorcyclists of all stripes look forward with great anticipation to the end of winter and the return of sunshine, warm weather, and clear roads.  Spring can be a glorious time to ride, but changing weather patterns can develop dangerous conditions.

Spring in the Midwest and high plains is a time when war breaks out between warm, moist air surging up from the Gulf of Mexico and cold, dry air making its stubborn retreat into Canada. The resulting battleground can generate strong to severe thunderstorms, some of which may spawn tornadoes.

There are different types of thunderstorms, and it’s important to know the difference.  There are isolated storms, the ones meteorologists like to call “garden variety” or “pop-up” that develop, rain themselves out and dissipate over a couple of hours or less.  The hazards of these storms are torrential rainfall, extremely limited visibility, strong wind gusts, and lightning. Most riders are familiar with these, a regular encounter on afternoon rides.  Probably the biggest danger is the heavy rain, which can induce hydroplaning, a wave of water that builds up at the front of your tires that can actually lift the bike off the road’s surface, sending the machine skidding across the asphalt.  Don’t think for one moment that rubber tires protect you from lightning strikes.  It has happened, last year in Kentucky for example.  Also, the heavy raid restricts visibility for drivers as well.  We know how hard it is for them to see us on a good day.  In a downpour, trying to peer through a windshield and wipers, it’s even more difficult.  Since these storms are isolated, i.e. fairly small in footprint, the best thing is simply to pull off and wait for them to pass, or change your route to go around them. 

A severe thunderstorm is characterized by the National Weather Service as one with 58-mph wind gusts and at least 3/4-inch hail.  I’ve been caught in two hailstorms in my riding career, and I wore those bruises for a long time.  But hail in these storms can range up to the size of golf balls or larger.  These are life-threatening, and no place for a motorcycle.