Time, Tides, and the Big 6-0

Copyright © 2015

by Ralph F. Couey

A few days ago, I passed a sort of a birthday milestone, number 60.  We spent the day driving through the Valley of Fire state park about an hour north of Las Vegas.  It was a useful retrospective, since while 60 years is a pretty good hike for a human, it's less than a flash of light to rocks whose ages are measured in tens of millions of years.

There was a time when I thought 60 was ancient; right up there with the rocks.  I couldn't imagine myself being that far along.  And as I over-ate my way through my 40's, there was a time when I frankly assumed I would have boarded the bus before that point. But there was an intervention, a massive weight loss, and here I still am.

One of my favorite original aphorisms is that while ageing is inevitable, being old is a choice.  My experience in life has brought me into conversation with two types of old men.  One is the type who reaches a certain point -- different for each man -- where the infirmities of age have filled the conscious mind, when mortality has become painfully apparent.  This is the man who sits around, groaning about his aches and pains and is simply waiting to die.  The other is the man who, while suffering from the same maladies, refuses to allow them to imprison him.  He stays active, both mentally and physically, and enthusiastically lives life, as they say, like there was no tomorrow.  I've wanted to be that second guy.  

Many of my friends tell me that I don't act my age.  I take that as a compliment.  I ride a motorcycle, I run 20 miles every week, and I hike at least one of those days.  I remain a voracious reader, and delve into crossword puzzles whenever I can.  I write, pursuing that dream of freelance writing.  I have promised myself that I will have a book published before I depart this life.  I do look forward to retiring in six years, but not because I'm that interested in not working, but because I want to have the free time to pursue all these interests.  And travel.

I do struggle.  I am neck-deep in the prostate years.  Arthritis affects my hands.  Every morning, it takes 10 to 15 minutes of dedicated exercise to loosen up the lumbar muscles so that I can stand fully upright.  There are times when my conversation halts in midstream while I search frantically for a word, or try to keep my train of thought from disappearing over the hill.  My intake of sugars and carbs has to be strictly monitored.  Appointments are sometimes hard to remember.  And then there are those 5 stents in my heart.  But I work through those because I don't want those things to control what I can and cannot do.  

Hiking, Parts 23, 24, and 25

Copyright © 2015

by Ralph F. Couey

Words and pictures

My wife and I make at least one trip to Las Vegas every year, sometimes more than one.  Usually those trips are co-scheduled with her family who fly in from Hawaii.  In case you ever wondered where people who live in paradise go on vacation, it's Vegas.  The clientele is so large that three of the local hotels, the California, the Main Street Station, and the Fremont have discovered a very fruitful revenue stream catering to vacationers from the Islands.

Normally, we engage in the usual Vegas-ish types of activities, gambling, entertainment, gambling, eating, gambling, sight-seeing, gambling... well, you get the picture.  Until I discovered hiking this past two years, it never entered my mind that there was anything else to do.  In preparation for this trip, which we coordinated with our middle daughter and her family, I searched for and found a book called "Hiking Las Vegas."  The author, Branch Whitney, researched, hiked, and described over 80 different hiking routes in three areas, Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area about 18 miles to the southwest, Mount Charleston about 40 miles due west, and Lake Mead about 35 miles due east.  The hikes range from easy one-milers suitable for young children, all the way to double-digit highly technical Class 5's which usually involve ropes and pitons.  

We arrived a day early and did the first hike by ourselves.  This 4-mile out-and-back is called "The Muffins," named for a group of conglomerate rocks that somehow ended up atop Blue Diamond Hill. Since conglomerates always form at the bottom of things, their placement there is something of a geological mystery.  To get to the trailhead, we drove out Charleston Road, which becomes Red Rock Canyon Road, past the Visitors Center to the Cowboy Trail Rides stables.  I should have parked in the dirt area just off the highway, but instead drove on up to another parking area near the corral.  This would later prove to be a mistake.

We got out of the car, geared up, and started out.  This particular area is criss-crossed with abundant mountain biking trails, which carry quaint names such as "Boneshaker" and "Bob Gnarly."  Hence, for the first-timer finding and staying on the correct path can be a bit difficult.  I missed a trail fork just past a dry wash and we ended up walking, not towards the clearly visible goal, but into a deep box canyon.  

 Looked pretty simple at this point.

Hiking, Part 22

Copyright © 2015

By Ralph F. Couey

Words and photos

This weeks sojourn took me back to one of my favorite places, the Appalachian Trail south of U.S. 50.  This hike, while containing some steep climbs, is one of the easier stretches of this great trail, leaving the hiker with energy and time to take in the wonder.  This route goes along the ridge part of Sky Meadows State Park and then into the Thompson Wildlife Preserve.  It varies from forest to meadow, and the path is well-marked and not nearly as rocky and rooty as other stretches. It is a pleasure to hike.

There is a small parking area at the foot of Liberty Hill Lane, all but invisible from the highway.  For hikers going north, there lies the dangerous crossing of US 50, a four-lane racetrack split by a grassy median, before tackling the infamous "Roller Coaster" heading towards Virginia Route 7.

My route south began with a steep climb out of the parking area, ascending to the top of the ridgeline.  As I climbed, I happily saw that the spring wildflowers were still in bloom, including this beauty...

Hiking, Parts 19, 20, and 21

"With the coming of spring,

I am calm again."

--Gustav Mahler

Copyright © 2015

Words and images

by Ralph F. Couey

Once the holidays pass, winter is something I just endure.  Throughout those long, cold months, I yearn deeply for the days when the air turns warm, the world awakens, and color returns to the landscape.  It seems that the older I get, the more impatient I am, waiting for the return of the season of life.

I turned to hiking last year mainly for exercise and to reduce the pounding on my joints that comes with running.  But I found something unexpected.  The peace and solace of the woods.

I'm covering three hikes in this posting, mainly because Cheryl and I are in training after several months away from regular exercise.  Plus, she is breaking in a brand new set of boots.  Next month, we go to Las Vegas and will spend a day or two hiking in the mountains south and west of the city.  Looking at the trail guides, those treks will involve a completely different kind of terrain than what we have grown used to here in verdant Virginia.

The Bluebell Loop

This past Sunday, once we had discharged our responsibilities at church, we managed to squeeze a little more time out of the lengthening day for a short jaunt.  We drove down south to the Bull Run-Occoquan trailhead, an easy stretch for a couple of aging boomers.  Just off the main trail, their is a spur called the Bluebell Loop.  Aptly named, for the landscape in spring is liberally sprinkled with those bright blue beauties, as well as another lovely bloom called Wild Blue Phlox (photo at the top of this post).

America and the Bus Ride

From Travellerspoint.com

Copyright © 2015

By Ralph F. Couey

Except cited image

There is a road.  It doesn't seem to have a beginning or an end, even though logic and reason mandate such bookends.  No one can remember the history of the road, only that it's always been there.

It's not a terribly remarkable stretch of pavement, as roads go, in that it is in some places straight and wide, and narrow and twisty in others.  It climbs hills and descends into valleys.  It passes through verdant forests, empty deserts, along shorelines and coastlines.  It bisects endless acres of stolid corn and dancing wheat, and witnessed by grazing animals in vast meadows.

The road is heavily traveled because it is a vital artery; the only way to get from where we've been to where we're going; an endless ribbon connecting departure and destination.

On this road is a bus.  It is owned by a bus line, whose owners and operators superficially acknowledge that they're providing a service.  But they are obsessed with profit; they want to always have the newest, the fanciest buses not because of the passengers, but because it makes the other bus companies look bad.  They advertise for passengers, but when their motivations are revealed, they are simply searching for the perfect way to con people into allowing the company to take them for a ride.  

Like all the other vehicles, this bus is traveling along this eternal highway.  But in looking closer, it is apparent that the bus's course is far from straight.  Inside the bus are not one, but two drivers, both fighting desperately for sole control of the bus.  As a result of this dispute, the bus is veering all over the road, first lurching to the left, and then to the right.  It's a dangerous way to drive, one that endangers the bus, it's passengers, and the other vehicles on the road.  But that doesn't matter to either driver.  The only thing that matters to them is to be the only hands on the wheel.

Forgive Others, Because He Forgave Us

Image from kevinsandlin.com

Copyright © 2015

by Ralph F. Couey

except quoted and cited passages

and sourced images.

Jeremiah 31:34

And they shall teach no more every man his neighbor, 

and every man his brother, saying, 

"Know the Lord: for they shall all know me, 

from the least of them unto the greatest of them," saith the Lord: 

for I will forgive their iniquity, 

and I will remember their sin no more.

I’m going to ask you to do something that may cause some of you some pain, and for that I apologize in advance. If you don't want to participate, I'll understand.

Close your eyes. But stay awake! Look into the past, through the years of your life. Find an event in which someone really hurt you. Not a momentary or passing thing, but an act of hate or even betrayal that cut deep into your heart. For a moment, try to re-experience that hurt, that pain, and that anger. Whatever that person or people did to you, it changed your life. You could almost say that your life exists in two parts, before that incident, and afterwards.

Now. Take a deep breath. And forgive that person.

Now, put yourself on the other side of that line. Think about the absolute worst thing you've ever done or said to another person. Granted, it may have felt good in the heat and anger of the moment, but it has chewed at you ever since.

How badly do you want that person to forgive you?

Now, think about God. Think about the millions of times and billions of ways humans now and in the past have done things to him, or in his name that would have destroyed any of us. What would he say to us?

Ephesians 2:1-22

And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, 

following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, 

the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience

—among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, 

carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, 

and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind. 

 But God, because of the great love with which he loved us, 

 even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ. 

 For by grace you have been saved through faith. 

And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.

We take things personally. It’s part of our human nature. And we also transgress, also because we’re human. Being a husband, I am intimately familiar with that. One of my younger colleagues, recently married, asked me what the secret was to a successful marriage. I replied, “Liberal use of the words, “Honey, I’m sorry. You were right all along.” He asked, “But what if you are right?” I said, “Irrelevant and immaterial, counselor.”

A Dream, a Door, and a Decision

"Hold fast to dreams'

For if dreams die,

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly."

--Langston Hughes

Dedicated to Luke Mitchem
who answered the call of his dreams
and chose the open door.
 

Copyright © 2015

by Ralph F. Couey

except quoted and cited passages.

Dreams.

We all have them.  Some arrive with birth, born within as we enter this life.  Others we pick up as we traverse the pathway that defines our journey.  Some dreams are small; transient thoughts about what could be made better.  Others are big; transformational, yet seemingly unattainable.

They are with us every day, it seems; sitting on our shoulders, whispering in our ears.  Beckoning, seductive, causing an itch we can never quite reach to scratch.  

Most of us brush off or even ignore the dream and the accompanying temptation.  We'd rather live a safe life, one with security and predictability, and a regular paycheck to fund the car payment, the mortgage, and groceries.

But even within that bubble, we still yearn for something different, a life with some adventure, some risk, something that doesn't involve a commute, a cubicle, and a computer.  In those random, ephemeral moments, we realize that even the most opulent and comfortable cage...is still a cage.

Then one day, out of the clear blue, something happens.  Perhaps a job eliminated, a salary cut, an intolerable change in circumstances.  The path of predictability has veered.  We feel a gust of air, spin around and see that a door has magically appeared before us.  And it stands open.

Hiking, Part 18

Copyright 2015

By Ralph F. Couey

Words and pictures

Today we were lured to Lake Accotink Park by the rumor of nesting eagles in the area.  Alas, we were disappointed by the absence of the great raptors, but had a great hike anyway.

Lake Accotink is a reservoir surrounded by a 500-acre piece of paradise plunked down amidst the urban bee hive of Fairfax County.  The park lies less than 2 miles (as the eagle flies) from one of the busiest freeway interchanges in the entire Washington DC area, I-495 and I-66.  Stitched through the hills and around the lake are a multitude of trails that branch off the main path which widely circles the lake itself.  Accotink Creek was dammed to create the lake and the area has been a government facility, a camp during World War I, an Army officers' retreat, and finally a county park.  The main trail follows parts of the old railbed for the Orange and Alexandria railroad, an important Union rail line.  Today, a massive concrete and steel Norfolk Southern bridge crosses the creek in the place where a log trestle stood during the Civil War, at least until Jeb Stuart and his cavalry burned it down.

This trail shares space with the Fairfax Cross-County Trail, a conglomeration of interconnected trails which runs some 40 miles from Occoquan Regional Park in the south all the way to Great Falls Park, where it joins with the Potomac Heritage Trail

The weather started out cool, but warmed pretty quickly, although the wind retained a bit of a bite.  This would be Cheryl's first time out on the trail, so I thought this might be a good way to start the season for her, especially as she's breaking in a new pair of Merrill hiking boots.

There are several ways to approach the park.  We chose the route through the Ravensworth Farm neighborhood off Braddock Road.  We parked in the first lot we came to and after gearing up, went down an asphalt path to the marina.  Here was a beach, a carousel, a couple of snack bars and several picnic shelters, from the looks of things a very busy place after Memorial Day.

The path leaving the marina was wide and in excellent shape.  It undulated a bit as we walked along, but nothing like the steep climbs we had experienced in other places.  

Marketing and the Octane Myth

Copyright © 2015

by Ralph F. Couey

I admit it.  I fell for it.  I believed it, that myth that was promulgated by gasoline retailers about octane.  I thought that the higher the octane rating, the more power I'd get out of the engine, and when you're a teen-aged boy with a brain bathed in testosterone, power is everything.

Even as an adult, I persisted in my ignorance.  Now, age doesn't always make you smarter, but in my case the facts finally caught up with me.

In the 1950's and 1960's, gasoline retailers used to duel with each other in advertisements about the octane rating of their product.  The way the adverts were worded, it was easy for the consumer to misinterpret the meaning.  Also, since high octane gas was more costly, it did handsome things to the company's bottom line.  In the '70's, (especially after the oil embargo) smaller cars with smaller, less powerful engines began to hit the roads.  Now, the tune changed to miles per gallon, and eventually the value of detergent additives.  Even to this day, however, if you were to ask the average Joe/Josephine on the street what octane is for, you'd likely get the wrong answer 9 out of 10 times.

Octane is a chemical which is added to gasoline for specific reasons.  It's sole purpose is to raise the compression ratio, and therefore the ignition point (when it catches fire), of the fuel.  Car and truck engines are not the same.  The game little 4-banger in a Dodge Neon, for example, is vastly different than the 12-cylinder monster that Lamborghini drops into their cars.  One of the most basic differences is in compression.

Civil War: Events of May 1865

On May 3rd, Georgia Governor Joseph Brown called a meeting of the state legislature when word came through that Confederate General Joe Johnston had surrendered.

The next day, Confederate General Richard Taylor surrendered the remaining troops in Alabama and Mississippi.

A man named Phillip Henry Mulkey was arrested in Eugene, Oregon on May 6th after he publicly shouted "Hurrah for Jeff Davis!".  A pro-union mob stormed the jail, but Mulkey escaped.

After nearly a month of eluding U.S. soldiers, Jefferson Davis is captured near Irwinville, Georgia on May 10th.

Also on the 10th, the Confederate vessel CSS Imogene became the last known ship to successfully run the Union blockade.

Confederate Vice-President Alexander Stephens was arrested at his estate, Liberty Hall, in Crawfordville, Georgia by the 4th Iowa Cavalry.

May 12th and 13th was the last significant battle of the Civil War at Palmito Ranch along the Rio Grande river east of Brownsville, Texas.  Union Colonel Theodore Brown, perhaps grasping for one last shot at glory, attacked a Confederate camp near Fort Brown, despite the unofficial truce that had been observed between the two sides.  Confederate Colonel John Ford successfully resisted the attack and the battle is generally considered a Confederate victory.  Perhaps the most significant event to come of this battle was the recording of the death of Private John J. Williams of the 34th Indiana Regiment.  He was the last combat death of the war.

Civil War: Events of April 1865

On April 1st, a Union combined force under General Phil Sheridan met and defeated Confederate General George Pickett's combined force at the strategic Five Forks.  The Southern withdrawal left in jeopardy the Southside Railroad, one of the few remaining lifelines for the Army of Northern Virginia.

From April 2nd through the 9th, Union General Edward Canby led a successful attack on Fort Blakely in Baldwin County, Alabama.  The defeat opened the doors for the occupation of the vital port of Mobile on the 12th.

General Grant finally achieved his breakthrough at Petersburg on April 2nd.  The Confederate lines crumbled as Lee frantically sent the remnants of his Army of Northern Virginia in the direction of Appomattox.  Upon receiving word that Lee was abandoning his positions, President Jefferson Davis ordered the evacuation of the Confederate government.

Also on the 2nd, Selma, Alabama fell to Union forces under James H. Wilson, defeating Confederate legend Nathan Bedford Forrest.

Union troops occupied Petersburg and Richmond on April 3rd.  The next day, Union President Lincoln arrived in Richmond to the sounds of cheers from hundreds of freed slaves.  Lincoln went to the Southern White House and sat at the desk that had belonged to Jefferson Davis.

The Union army now in full pursuit of Lee's Army fought a series of engagements between the 4th and the 7th.  In the Battle of Saylor's Creek, 8,000 Confederate troops surrendered.

Hiking, Part 17

Copyright © 2015

by Ralph F. Couey

Pictures and written content.

The forecast called for sun and 70 degrees.  Of course, they lied.  Or guessed wrong.  At any rate, I squeezed a few hours out of my other duties to make my first official hike of the season.  I decided to jump in with both feet and tackle a section of the Appalachian Trail which runs between Virginia Route 7 on the north to US Route 50 to the south.  This section is familiarly known to local hikers as "The Roller Coaster."  For good reason, as the trail continually climbs and descends.  Rather than start at US 50, I decided to get on at a different place.  

I headed out about mid-morning bound for Ashby's Gap rolling down my window to luxuriate in air that seemed actually warm.  But about halfway out, the wind appeared with a vengeance.  I frowned, thinking I had not seen that in the forecast. I got to my turnoff, Blue Ridge Mountain Road, one of my favorite motorcycle rides, and headed north.

About halfway up Blue Ridge Mountain Road, their lies the infamous Mt. Weather FEMA facility, ensconced behind chain link, barbed wire, and an assumed host of sensors.  Directly across from the front gate is a dirt path carrying the grandiose name of Virginia Route 605.  About a mile or so down (and I do mean down) that road is where the AT crosses.  There is a shallow pullout on one side of the road, and on the other side an elevated sort of grassy road meant to service the power lines that snake alongside the road.  

The Godfather and the Secret Life of Men*

The Don and his sons.

(Paramount Pictures publicity still)

*Somerset, PA Daily American

May 29, 2010

as "A Great Man Movie"

Copyright © 2010 by Ralph Couey

Written content only

In 1972, a movie hit American theaters that had a defining effect on our culture. “The Godfather” chronicled the story of a Sicilian-American organized crime “family,” the Corleones.

The story captivated the public to be sure, but men especially were riveted by the story. The characters were larger than life, and in a twisted sort of way, became role models. Suddenly, the Mafia had become cool. And in the decades since, the Godfather Saga has become irretrievably etched into our lives, to the unending exasperation of Italian-Americans across the nation.

Women are almost universally repulsed by the movies, due mainly to the violence and the portrayal of the female role in that that culture. My wife bought me for my birthday, the latest DVD incarnation of all three movies with the proviso that I could only watch them when she was out of the house.

Men, on the other hand, embrace Godfather, as Tom Hanks put it in the movie “You’ve Got Mail,” “the I Ching of life.” He was referring to the ancient Chinese “Book of Changes,” that helped people deal with life changes by providing solutions and a measure of solace. The aphorisms that the film created have found their way into the daily lexicon from the Boardroom to the ballfield:

“I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

“Go to the mattresses.”

“It’s not personal; it’s business.”

“Luca Brazi sleeps with the fishes.”

“I want you to see what he’s got under his fingernails.”

“I heard you were a serious man; to be treated with respect.”

“You have to answer for Santino, Carlo.”

“Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”

“Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.”

They’re great phrases, adaptable to any number of situations and because they’re so well known, the intended meaning is instantly clear.

As to why males find the story so fascinating, the answer to that question I believe lies in the culture of manhood.

Opportunity: Waste Not, Want Not

Winter.  Ugh.

© 2015 

By Ralph F. Couey

The hardest part -- okay, ONE of the hardest parts of winter is how the cold keeps a person from being able to enjoy outside activities. I really don't like being forced inside for my entertainment and exercise.  I have written extensively of my absolute detestation for treadmills, comparing them to an earthbound form of purgatory.  I can (and do) run or hike outside on days when the temps range into the upper 30's, but those gems are few and far between this year.  

Let me hasten to extend my sincerest condolences for the poor folks in Boston and New England who are, at this moment, watching another round of the snowiest year on record.  We here in the DMV (D.C., Maryland, and Virginia -- this is Washington, so acronyms are required) have amassed only around five inches total for the entire season.  Last week, Boston saw that in just one hour.  You-all have my sympathy and respect.  First the Red Sox, and now, snow.

But the persistent cold has been frustrating.  So earlier this week, we had a day when the thermometer soared into the upper 50's, almost spring by comparison.  I could have (should have) gone running, but standing in the garage, my attention was drawn to my other passion, my motorcycle.  Since late November, the bike has sat quietly, the battery percolating on the tender.  I've started and run it at least once a week, but the cold weather and the overly enthusiastic application of sand and salt by VDOT has kept me from riding.  But that day was an opportunity which, judging by the latest long-range forecast, would not come again for several weeks.  So I dug through the pile of stuff in the garage and managed to find all the parts to my riding gear, including the liners.  I cleared the accumulation of flotsam that had piled up around the bike, backed it out, fired up the engine, and for the first time in three months, I took a ride.

The Hunger Games, The Reaping, and Vietnamnesia

The Fictional Reaping...

(© Lionsgate Entertainment)

...And the Real One.

(© UPI 1969)

Copyright © 2015

By Ralph F. Couey

Written Content Only

In recent years, I have become increasingly aware of the disconnect between what young people today call "history" and what I clearly retain as memories.  Sometimes the difference is identifiable as a deliberate attempt to scrub the past.  Listening to how the Japanese teach their children about World War II leaves most westerners scratching their head and wondering if they're talking about the same war.  Other times, the passage of time, the loss of vital documents, and the death of participants make the reconstruction of past events something of a guessing game.  The intertwining tales of the Knights Templar, the Holy Grail, and the Ark of the Covenant have become a gaping collective hole that hundreds of years worth of investigation still haven't solved. 

I have a lot of DVD's and Blu-Rays, as I'm sure the same is true for many of you.  Most movies on disc now include the special features section that usually contain edited scenes and short documentaries about how that particular film was made.  I don't always take the time to watch those, but when I do there's always something interesting to discover that more often than not, improves the viewing experience of the movie itself.

I've had on my shelf for some time a standard DVD of the first Hunger Games film.   When it first came out, I initially dismissed it as a JATM (Just Another Teen Movie).  But one evening when we were imprisoned by an epic snowstorm, my son, who was visiting us in Pennsylvania, slipped the movie into the player.  Thus, I became a reluctant captive.  But as the story unfolded, I was able to find some themes that tickled the part of my brain where the knowledge gained during my quest for my Political Science degree is stored.  I actually went to the theater to see the second and third ones, and then ordered the trilogy of Ms. Collins' books for my Kindle.  The books were every bit as fascinating.  I basically read through all three of them in the space of about four days.   

By all accounts, I'm far from alone in the fascination for these tales.  The books are all best-sellers and the movies have been wildly successful.  And everyone is waiting with baited breath for the denouement when it hits theaters next year.

On this particular evening, however, I skipped the movie and went to the special features.  It was interesting to hear how the stories were transitioned from print to film, and how unselfish Ms. Collins' was with the inevitable compromises that must be made.  But as the interviews unwound, I heard one of the book's editors talk about how the story reminded him "...of the Bush years..." when mothers had to watch their children go off to fight.

That got my attention.  I backed up the disc and listened to his repeated comments.  Again I felt the slight disorientation that goes with the statement, "But that's not how I remember it."

An Airliner's Eye in the Sky: A Serious Proposal

Picking up the Pieces

From ZeeNewsIndia.com

Copyright © 2015

by Ralph F. Couey

written content only

Aircraft, both civilian and military, vanishing over the "trackless ocean" is not a new occurrence.  Vessels of the atmosphere ranging from balloons to jet bombers have a long history of failing to return from overwater flights.  The latest instance, Malaysia Airlines Flight 370, remains missing as of this writing, and has become the most intriguing air mystery since Amelia Earhart and Fred Noonan.  What made MH370 so hard to comprehend was the sudden realization that beyond a certain radius from land, radar is nonexistent.  Since it's invention by the British during World War II, it has provided a sense of security for airline passengers as well as nations seeking to guard their airspace against hostile intrusion.  As senses of security go, this one proved to be false.

Radar, an acronym for radio detection and ranging, works by sending out an electronic signal.  If there is an object within it's range, the signal "bounces" or more properly, reflects off the objects solid surface and is gathered in by the receiving antenna.  The difference in time between when the signal was sent and when the reflection was received provides data on distance.  There are literally hundreds of different types using different frequency ranges depending on the application.

But radar has it's limitations.  Some types are severely degraded by weather, since water in the form of cloud droplets and raindrops is largely opaque to radio signals.  Also, radar beams don't follow the curve of the earth.  Past a certain point, the beams continue out into space.  Range of a particular radar depends on a host of factors, both technological and meteorological, which would take too long to discuss here.  To make things easier to understand, think of a radar as a flashlight.  

When you turn on a flashlight, you send a beam out in front of you.  If the object you're trying to locate is there, the light reflects off its surface and is returned to your eyes.  But if the object is too far away, even if the beam hits it, there's not enough power remaining to reflect the light back to you. 

So even the most powerful shore-based radars can only reach out so far.  Elevating the transmitting antenna can "lower the horizon" enough to pick up objects much further away.

So, when an aircraft flies out over the ocean and leaves the umbrella of land-based radar coverage, it is essentially on it's own.  Normally this is not a problem, since modern navigational technology does a great job of keeping the aircraft on course and on time.

But as recent events have shown, that may not be enough to ensure the safety of the plane, crew, and passengers.

An Exercise in Gullibility*

*Johnstown, PA Tribune-Democrat

July 11, 2010
as "Humorous Lesson in Identity Theft Education"

One of the most effective of the email scams is the so-called "Nigerian Scam."  In it, the sender spins a tale of revolution and chaos, resulting in the need to relocate the subject nation's material wealth off-shore to keep it from being seized by whomever the enemy is.  This was a tactic primarily used by Nigerian criminal groups and has proven to be shockingly effective, as Americans, always eager for the quick buck, pass their vital information.  Of course, the criminals then drain acounts, flatten credit card accounts, as well as apply for other loans in that person's name.


As a joke, I posted a version of this on a website I belong to, and was amazed at how many took it seriously, despite the oh-so-obvious names in the "letter."  So here for your humorous enjoyment...

Dear Friend,

My name is Umaylme I. Robyu and I am the Undersecretary of the Treasury for the sovereign nation of Udumtu Antzer. Recently, our government has come under immense pressure from militant rebels led by the renegade General Yullbe Sahri, and a coup is imminent. Social order has broken down and our people are fleeing the capitol city, Baibai Cache, in hopes of finding refuge in the Yurpornow Mountains.

I have been directed by our President, Ushuda DeLeetthis, to disperse our governments assets to safe holding accounts in the United States, in order to keep our national wealth from falling into rebel hands.

Due to some unfortunate political decisions regarding support of recent American elections by our esteemed Ambassador, Wedrayne Akowntz, we find ourselves without official friends in the current U.S. administration. Since they have refused to assist us, I am making this personal appeal to you.

My Chief of Staff, Mr. DeNyle Ovzervyce and I have formulated a foolproof scenario. We have made arrangements with a local gemstone dealer in Chicago to receive our liquid funds which will be used to purchase quantities of Deesarfayke diamonds, our national gemstone. The dealer has given us a very good price and has assured us that subsequent re-sell should net the agent around 40% profit.

The Ultimate Action Flick: Bauer v. Bourne

Jason and Jack

The Knights of the 9mm

Picture credits -- 

Universal for Jason and Fox for Jack

Copyright © 2015

by Ralph F. Couey

Except quoted and cited portions

"I regret every decision or mistake that I might have made 

which resulted in the loss of a single innocent life.  

But do you know what I regret the most?  

That this world needs people like me."

--Jack Bauer.

"Do you even know why you're supposed to kill me?

Look at us.  Look at what they make you give."

--Jason Bourne

I've long been a fan of the action adventure movie, especially those that involved in some form the dark shadowy world of covert action.  Being a guy, I guess that preference is kinda written into my DNA.  From "Man From U.N.C.L.E." and Mission: Impossible in the '60's through the library of Jack Ryan movies, and Tom Cruise's re-invention of the MI story, those releases have consistently drawn me like a magnet.

In the last 10 years, two series, one of movies, the other of television, have captured my imagination.

In November of 2001, Fox Television launched a novel new programming concept.  Called "24", it followed the work of a federal counter-terrorism agent named Jack Bauer, played by Kiefer Sutherland.  Instead of the usual format, the series would follow in real time the minute-by-minute travails of Bauer through a single 24-hour day.  The tension was magnified by the ticking of the clock, a constant reminder of the passage of irretrievable time.  Although burdened with a certain amount of filler, and that Jack seemed to never be more than 15 minutes away from anyplace in the vast expanse of Southern California, the show was nevertheless an instant hit.  Although not intended to, it circumstantially fell into those dark, angry days following 9/11 when America at some level seethed with vengeance against the terrorists who had so brazenly attacked us and killed our people.  Americans saw in Bauer someone who would doggedly pursue and bring to justice, usually by death, of those who had sworn to do us harm.  "24" gave us a hero, albeit a fictional one, when we needed it the most.  

The series lasted nine seasons, each time with Bauer seemingly vanishing from sight only to reappear for the next "day."  The show not only glorified the agents of the Counter Terrorist Unit, but also made heroes out of some of the most unlikely of characters, particularly the very geeky Chloe O'Brien, underscoring that in the modern version of that secret world, a computer and a good operator can be every bit as dangerous as bombs and bullets.

In the summer of 2002, another action adventure franchise debuted with the "Bourne Identity," an adaptation of the Robert Ludlum novels.  I say "adaptation" with a certain irony because the movies resembled the books in the same way that a zebra resembles a parking meter.  That opener was followed by "Bourne Supremacy" in 2004 and "Bourne Ultimatum" in 2007.  All three movies follow Jason Bourne, a brain-trained CIA assassin, really a human killing machine, as he recovers from a bout of amnesia while trying to grasp the meaning and purpose behind his life and what he has been turned into.  Bourne and those who pursue him literally span the globe from New York to Tangiers, giving the films a rich locational canvas on which the action unfolds.

There are similarities in the two characters, beyond their common initials.  Both have done some difficult and dangerous things for the U.S. government, and both have been damaged because of that. Both find themselves largely on the outside looking in as their sponsors and supporters continually find new ways to betray and abandon them.  The question begs, is there enough of a link to join the two stories?

Opening the Gate: Measles and The Irrational Fear of Vaccines

The Measles Virus

From Science.com

An infected patient.

From Healthnet.com

People do not believe lies because they have to, 

but because they want to.

--Malcom Muggeridge

A delusion is something that people believe in 

despite a total lack of evidence.

 –Richard Dawkins.

Copyright © 2015

by Ralph F. Couey

except quoted and cited portions

In the year 165 AD an epidemic broke out in Rome.  Called the Antonine Plague, it claimed nearly 5 million lives.  Modern research suggests that the cause of this plague was a virus that would eventually come to be called Measles.  Highly contagious, the disease has touched nearly all of humanity at some point in time, killing over 200 million since 1855.

However, in 1963, Dr. Thomas Peebles and Dr. John Enders, who also pioneered the polio vaccine, produced the first Measles vaccine.  In 1971, the Measles vaccine was combined with other specifics for Mumps and Rubella, and since 2005 the shot included specifics for Varicella.  Once the vaccines were put into use, Measles cases fell from the hundreds of thousands per year until 2005 when the illness was judged no longer endemic to the United States.

Late in 2014, however, an outbreak of Measles occurred in Southern California, tied to exposures to infected people at two Disney theme parks.  As of this writing, the total number of victims has risen to 100 and will continue to grow.

How could this happen?

Part of the reason is the large influx of people into the United States from countries which still struggle with Measles, among other serious diseases.  Vaccinations are not widely used in many of these countries, allowing diseases to gain a foothold among the human population.  It doesn't help that Measles is a tough little bugger, as viruses go.  An infected person could sneeze a cloud of virus into the open air, and the virus would continue to live for up to two hours.  Most viruses don’t survive for any length of time outside the body.

But the real villain in this piece is a con man with a PhD by the name of Andrew Wakefield.

Civil War: Events of March 1865

On February 28th, Brigadier General George A. Custer, after crossing the north fork of the Shenandoah River, encountered 300 Confederate cavalry under Thomas Rosser guarding the Middle River near the village of Mount Crawford.  Rosser set fire to a long covered bridge in an attempt to delay Custer's advance, but Custer ordered two of his regiments to swim the river while other units stormed the burning bridge.  Rosser's force was driven off and Custer advanced to Staunton and joined Phil Sheridan's force the next day.  Originally, it was Sheridan's intent to join Sherman in South Carolina, but decided to turn east instead to eliminate the remnants of Jubal Early's Army of the Valley.  On March 2nd, Sheridan encountered Early's forces at Waynesboro.  Early had a good defensive position, but had left his left flank exposed abutting some dense woods.  A determined Federal attack turned, and then rolled up Early's flank.  More than 1,500 southerners surrendered, although Early and his staff evaded capture.

The U.S. government established the Freedman's Bureau on March 3rd.

Also on the 3rd, President Lincoln issued surrender instructions to General Grant.  Grant was given wide-ranging powers concerning Army matters, but reserved political issues to himself.

On March 4th, Lincoln gave his inaugural address, speaking directly to the Confederate people, saying, "...with malice toward none; with charity for all."

Also on March 4th, Tennessee elects its first post-war Governor Parson Brownlow.

On March 10, Sherman's army continues its march through North Carolina, although slowed by spring rains.  He captures Fayetteville on the 11th.

On March 13th, the Confederacy enlisted its first black soldiers with the tacit understanding that those who fought would be freed.

On the 16th, Sherman, advancing towards Goldsboro was attacked by Confederate General William Hardee's corps, assaulting the left wing under General Slocum near Averasborough, attempting to slow Sherman's advance.  The Union XX Corps was driven back by the assault.  Reinforcements arrived and the Union counterattacked, driving back two of the Confederate lines, but repulsed by the third.  The XIV Corps arrived, forcing Hardee's forces to withdraw.  Three days later, Hardee, along with D. H. Hill and A. P. Stewart combined to attack Slocum's column again near Bentonville. Over the two-day battle, Hardee made early gains, but was repulsed.  Sherman reinforced Slocum on the 20th, and on the 21st, Hardee's force made a harrowing escape, as they barely escaped envelopment by Slocum.

Union General James Wilson began a raid on Selma, AL on the 22nd.

On the 23rd, Lincoln left Washington for Grant's Headquarters at City Point.

In an event similar to the World War II Battle of the Bulge, Confederate General John B. Gordon attacked and captured Fort Stedman, a Union outpost on the Petersburg siege line..  Gordon's forces managed to punch a hole 3/4 of a mile wide in the Union lines, making a desperate thrust towards the Union supply base and headquarters at City Point, VA.  But the Union had numbers on their side and managed to stop and then turn back the Confederate advance, eventually recapturing Fort Stedman.  The defeat, although unrealized at the time, essentially sealed the eventual fate of the Army of Northern Virginia.  Weakened by irreplaceable losses of men and material, this was their last offensive effort of the war.

On March 27th, Union forces under Edward Canby lay siege to the heavily fortified Spanish Fort, the eastern defense of Mobile, AL, and the vital port of Mobile Bay.  On that same day, Lincoln held an important council of war at City Point with Grant and Admiral David Porter.

General Grant continued to extend his lines around the besieged city of Petersburg, VA, forcing Lee to thin out his lines in order to face the deployments.  On March 30th, Sheridan's cavalry attacked the Confederate right flank at Dinwiddie Court House, VA.   Grant had ordered a major offensive against the remaining Confederate supply lines along the Boydton Plank Road, the Richmond and Danville Railroad, and the Southside Railroad.  Grant wanted the Southerners to be forced out of their fortifications.  On the morning of the 29th, Warren and Humphrey's corps' moved south and west towards the Confederate right.  Up the Quaker Road came Warren's Corps, led by the brigade of Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, a hero of Gettysburg.  Chamberlain's brigade took on three brigades of Johnson's division.  The Union force eventually forced the Confederates back, Chamberlain collecting another of his 6 wounds suffered in the war, and was nearly captured.  The bullet that struck Chamberlain had passed through the neck of his horse, spraying blood onto Chamberlain's face.  The round was deflected by a picture of his wife which he kept in his coat pocket, but still traveled just under the skin around his ribs and exited out the back.  To all observers on both sides, Chamberlain had apparently suffered a fatal wound.  Indeed, General Griffin, seeing his subordinate, declared, "Chamberlain,you are dead!"  Chamberlain instead rose to his feet, grabbed another horse and rallied his fading troops.  Atop the horse, covered in blood and waving his sword, Chamberlain inspired not only his troops, but the Confederates as well.  At the end of the day, Warren's corps captured and held a portion of the Boydton Plank Road at Quaker Road.  Later, Sheridan occupied Dinwiddie Courthouse, completely severing the road.  The Union forces then prepared to attack the Confederates at the important road junction of Five Forks.

On March 31st, Confederate General George Pickett attacked and drove back Sheridan's cavalry.  It was merely a tactical victory, as the Union advance was unhindered.

Civil War: Events of February 1865

William T. Sherman entered South Carolina on February 1st.

On February 3rd, President Lincoln along with Secretary of State William Seward met on the steamboat River Queen with Confederate Vice President Alexander Stephens, accompanied bu John Campbell and RMT Hunter to discuss possible peace terms.  The conference failed.

On February 4th, Robert E. Lee was named General in Chief of all Confederate forces.

From February 5th through the 7th one of a series of Union offensives during the Siege of Petersburg occurred at Hatcher's Run.  These actions were intended to cut off Confederate supply traffic on two vital roads west of Petersburg.  General Gregg's cavalry was sent to the Boydton Plank Road looking to locate and destroy Confederate supply wagons.  The Union V Corps under the command of General Gouverneur Warren marched southwest towards Dinwiddie Courthouse, taking up a blocking position on the Vaughn Road to protect Gregg's right flank.  The II Corps under Andrew Humphreys marched to Armstrong's Mill to cover Warren's right flank.  Late on the 5th, Confederate General John B. Gordon attacked II Corps from the north but was repulsed.  Overnight, II Corps was reinforced by elements of V Corps and Gregg's cavalry, having returned after not finding any of the supply train.
On the 6th, Confederate General John Pegram sent his division against the V Corps lines. The Southerners were driven back until General Clement Evans' soldiers piled in and halted the Northern advance.  Later on the 6th, Pegram and William Mahone's divisions attacked the center of the Union position near Dabney's Mill.  The Union line collapsed and fell back to reform north of the mill.  The next day, Warren sent his Union soldiers against the Confederate lines, recapturing the areas around Dabney's Mill which had been lost on the 6th.  The Union advance was halted, but at the same time extended their siegeworks to the Vaughn Road.  The Confederates were able to keep the Boydton Plank Road open, but with the extension of the Union lines, were forced to spread their already thin lines even further.

John C. Breckinridge became Confederate Secretary of War on the 6th.

The Union army appointed the first black Major, Martin Robison Delany, on the 8th.  Four days later, Henry Highland Garnet became the first black to speak in the U.S. House of Representatives.

William T. Sherman captured Columbia, SC on the 17th.  The city was burned, although the exact cause of the blaze remains to this day disputed.

The vital port of Charleston, SC was evacuated on the 17th, and surrendered to the Union Army the next day.  Fort Sumter, where the Civil War started, once again flew the stars and stripes.

On February 22nd, Robert E. Lee, exercising his new authority as Commanding General of all Confederate forces, appointed Joe Johnston as the commander of the only other effective fighting army of the CSA in North Carolina.

On that same day, voters in Tennessee approved a new constitution which included the abolition of slavery.

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