DIY

My dad could just about fixed anything mechanical. I was always amazed at what he was able to do and how he did it. I have a couple brothers who could do the same however fixing things is not a trait that I have. It's taken me a long time to accept that thread of truth in my life but it's true. I don't know if I don't have the patience to stick with the project until it's done or the mere fact that I tend to exist in a constant form of advanced entropy may be part of the problem . I would love to be a fix it yourself kind of guy but alas… Poor me. My older brother Carl, like my dad can fix anything. I'm so fortunate to live in the same city as he so when I do need of repair one form or another I can usually get hold of him and he'll come over and help me out specially with my power chair type repairs.

Tomorrow is the first of the month and my cleaning person, Gail is coming over to do anything I like to spend some time actually clean up things a little bit before she gets here just so she doesn't have so much to do are not do if she wins out of time. I purchased two hours of time seems to be twice a month. To good deal for recharges me 15 bucks an hour which is cheaper than most. So yesterday I was trying to vacuum my floor in preparation but the machine was not picking up any of the dirt particle matter. I took the vacuum over and sure enough the brush is not spinning. I figured I'd broken the belt somewhere over the last week or so. I don't remember the belt being broken but I must have. Of course I did not have a replacement and that was one of the trips I made yesterday was finding a belt and I did find one Walmart finally. I try to get hold of my brother on Friday but I guess he's been busy. I put the belt aside and decided I would just wait until I can get a hold of him or someone else perhaps Mark Anthony would come over today. Anyway, the more I thought about the process of replacing the belt, I even checked YouTube and of course there's the number of YouTube or screws showing how to do this process. I looked easy enough and certainly gave me the motivation to try to fix the problem. After all all I had to do was undo 2 to 4 screws in the bottom of my vacuum.

The vacuum is heavy at least for me and not only is the vacuum heavy but very awkward to try to maneuver but I was able to pick the vacuum up and turned upside down and place it on a workbench I already had set up in the kitchen. I even found a screwdriver! I was pleased to see they were just 2 screws that need to be unfastened. And I was actually able to do the job. I was shocked when I pulled the plate off the bottom of the vacuum to see that in fact the belt was in place but the press was not spending like it was supposed to. Then I noticed on the upper side of the vacuum there is a sliding switch that engages the brush to the belt sort like a clutch and I pushed on that sliding switch and sure enough the belt engage the brush and start to spin. I had put the bolts or screws just so I'd seen my dad and brother do is say in times. This is really one of my weak spots where I lose keep pieces of a project. I figured I was safe with just two items to keep track . Of course I'm not even writing about the fact that I got the cord tangled in my back wheels once and spent 20 minutes trying to disengage myself even to the point of rolling out in the hall to see if I could get someone to help unlikely is able to free myself. Then of course I backed into the bench, on which the vacuum sat, sending the vacuum to the floor. When I plugged in the vacuum it would not pick any dirt up but then I realized when I dropped the vacuum it disengaged that clutch so I pushed it back in place and was able to do my floor. Rarely, am I able to do something like this – – I was even able to get both screw set back in place and twisted tight it was a good day for the rug and for me.

Shocking, Simply Shocking

As you know I was pretty much raised on a small farm outside of Boise Idaho. We ran about seven or eight head of milking cows and related steers. Little less than half of our property which was about 17 acres was taken up with pasture for the beasts. For the most part bovines, cows are docile beasts they pretty much stick to themselves and that they have grass, hey, water there fairly happy and content. Oddly enough will never thinks about it but cattle also have personalities. And there are good cows and mischievous cows. Crumple, was a bit of a mischievous beast. I don't think she meant to be this way. And see certainly was not mistreated while she was part of our heard and to be honest with you I don't know where my father got the beast but crumple was mischievous. You can surmise how she got her name. For one reason or another when she was de-horned whoever did the horn amputation did a poor job and what was left was a knob of the horn and looked quite crumpled ergo the name. Anyway, Crumple had to be watched—crumple was a kicker. Whether I was using the electric milker or I was milking Crumple by hand (as one does when stripping the cow which is gleaning whatever milk is left after the milker seems to be finished. There always seems to be a little milk left which needs to be stripped are milked by hand from the udders. Crumple would kick you if she could at this period of time. Counsel kick you on reflex if you hurt them for one reason or another and that's okay I can forgive something like that Crumple on the other hand what actually aim her kick and you had to watch out for her. Whenever I was that close to the beast I would My head in the flank if I was sitting at her side with the bucket between my legs stripping her udders.

Crumple was the same way out in the field as I said most cattle are content but Crumple was always trying to escape and encouraging her bovine companions to escape with her, which led my dad putting up an electric fence. The installation of the fence was a real job. My dad, brother and myself had to nail pieces of wood to each one of the fence posts around the pasture. Insulator was on the end of the wood and then we strung wire all the way around and of course everything was hooked to the fencer which lived in our barn, the milking barn. Something about electric shock which kind of freaks me out. I don't think I've ever really been hurt by an electric shock. I've never experienced the burn or anything like that that's sure but knocked down a couple times by either our electric fence or the electric fence one of our neighbors whose field we often crossed on our trek to the river. Even if you know you make it shocked, like when you're crawling under the fence are trying to avoid the wire when trying to crawl between the regular fence wires and for one reason or another you touch electric wire and you get that jolt! We did not run enough juice to our fencer to really jolt you down that there are a couple farmers who are running the fence is on high juice and that would literally knock you to the ground when you happen to touch the fence. It was not a pleasant experience.

Our cows weren't happy that first week or so after the fence was turned on. You could see them jump when they in a vertically rubbed against the fence or stretch their heads through the fence to try to get to the grass on the other side. They would literally jumped back and bellow at the fence and sometimes crumple would turn her head, if we were in sight, and I swear glare at us and I knew I need to be on guard at the evening milking it should be looking for revenge from the electric fence…

Summer 1968

By the summer of 1968 I been disabled two years and is getting really acclimated to my new place in the world. I had been through rehabilitation, got my new wheelchair, return to school and basically to my life in general. Looking back it's kind of weird because I wasn't cursing and swearing every day I woke and found myself disabled. I didn't sit and weep about having no legs to walk with. I was never going to be a contender for state wrestling championships and out slowly figuring out that life just goes on and perhaps that is one of the biggest lessons I was going to learn about disability and life in general.

By 1968 America had slid deep into the Vietnam War without me. I think if I missed anything it was not be in part that party. I knew enough and the my friends were all fairly pacifist and I really was but I think I had some sort of survivor's guilt. I of course, in 1968 got my selective service hard I can't remember but I think it really was 1-A. I knew they were going to change that as soon as I showed up to the selective service board so I never went. Nothing ever happened to me either later on 1970 1971 to remember for sure that I happened to be downtown rolling around and I dropped into the federal building and decided to update my selective service status. They were quite amused. I told them I want to go. Somehow in my mind I figure that was kind of stupid not having it place for people disabilities who want to serve a way to serve after all, a person in a wheelchair can answer phones, sort mail, or all manners of things the able-bodied folks do that folks with disabilities can also. They politely showed me to the door. I think more than anything else I just want to be part of something. The worst part of my disability I think was the exclusion from everything.

By the summer of 1968 my parents and found Easter Seals and more specifically Camp Easter Seals. I think I've written briefly about the camp before. The week long stay at an incredibly beautiful camp on the shores of Lake Coeur d'Alene in northern Idaho. Easter Seals would actually fly a group of us from around the state to this camp we thought for us—but looking back now as an adult this time was a respite for the families who had to live with their kids with disabilities. The place is gone of course now that's a shame there was a respite for everyone.

What I remember most of 1968 was one of my brother's army fatigue shirt. Olive drab garment that was much too big for me. The shirt at my brother's name are actually just last name so it could've been my name and could've been my shirt. I took the shirt at the sleeves off and begin wearing it with nothing underneath with the front open everywhere I went that I could get away with. I called my flak jacket. By the middle of the summer I was always super tan and I think I actually really good. If anyone ever asked about why were the jacket I'd sometimes make a story up about I was my jacket from Vietnam. I so much one to identify with the military. I wore that “flak jacket” all summer and the next summer to let totally wore out. By then I was involved in peace marches and rallies their in Boise. The FBI even have images taken of me during that time. The most important thing of that Was the fact that I had slid back into my regular life perhaps a bit more credible than the average 17-year-old. I was a minor celebrity – – the boy who survived spinal cord injury. I figured out just a regular Joe, I didn't think I was different from anybody else at least on the surface but deep down I think I was… Kind of special.

A T Council

Today was A T Council, (Assistive Technology) rehabilitation/independent living jargon for what I spent most of my professional life doing. I've worked in one form of A T or another. Again, long-term readers will remember that when I was employed for the state of Utah I actually hosted a webpage called the Sales Bank. Anyway A T Council has been a statewide coalition of Utah agencies and organizations that service people with disabilities with a focus on assistive technology. In the old days the Council was a big deal in many respects. We had representatives from all levels of state government it seemed as well as education systems and various private nonprofits. I represented people with disabilities who used assistive technology but I also represented the independent living center that I worked for. We had number of directors of state organizations specifically Utah State office of rehabilitation. I didn't realize it at the time but this is a fairly big deal. There was money around thanand all the meetings are catered (in fairness and honesty they still are in the still hot meals just with less finesse as the old days).

I preface this to explain why I had feelings of insecurity last night as I was trying to figure out what is going to wear. I don't know why all of a sudden I am plagued with the inadequacy but they certainly seem to be there. It seems I no longer wear pants, okay before he we get too excited, I wear shorts all the time. I actually was beginning to worry that I would look to weird if I were shorts. Luckily however I had my newest pair shorts which I call my good shorts which are reserved for anything that slightly formal. I put on a black shirt that was long in the back with long sleeves the fairly tight neck but I did feel good in the shirt I felt itchy—I knew the thing was washed this felt like it wasn't. After my first meeting of the day, the coffee group, went back to the room and changed into the mystery shirt I I received at Christmas. And I looked all right I believe.. The day was gloomy and overcast fairly warm but there were a few hints of rain possible so fairly new light weight sweatshirt which I put over my legs that gave me an illusion of modesty as well as a backup garment should things get cold. I guess I was a little weirded out because I was worried about looking Doty (I don't know if that's the right Doty are not). I think I'm beginning to look like a hobo. I guess I should, at least wear socks.

As I said earlier, we used to meet I think monthly then every two months than quarterly now twice a year. It was good to see everybody some folks of dropped off, retired or died. New people have come on and it's great to see the young ones and feel their vitality and feeling they can make a difference. There are a number of folks there from independent living side and they were as disruptive and odd as I had been when I represented the IL. In fact I made a point of wearing blue jeans/Levi's to these meetings just to challenge professional/institutionalization of the inside of the aisle. Then I feel good again I'm representing who I am the old parts of disabilities and really I'm probably right in the middle I at least look like I live somewhere and that I'm doing okay…

I Was Never Here

My buddy Ron is the executive secretary for the volunteer organization I belong to made up of scrappy folks with disabilities trying to change the system, the huge system which is primarily working against folks with disabilities living as independent and positive as possible. Ron actually called me last week to inform me that major changes are about ready to happen at this organization the most radical being the Executive Director was going to resign at the upcoming meeting as well as secretary/girl Friday of the organization has been let go (and I never really did find out why which is probably just as well I'm sure it'll eventually seep out our rise to the surface). Either way these two changes are going to have a significant impact on what happens to this organization in the next couple months.

It's really cute how I'm really hosting this post in anonymity like anything I write people are going to read. Still just to be on the safe side not going to identify this volunteer, cross disability, private nonprofit agency that loves to practice direct confrontation, nonviolent advocacy for the change of punitive, discriminatory and draconian programs and systems against folks with disabilities. We buried our long time leader a couple months ago is been quite a bit of a transition. The director is actually been over a different part of the organization, the one who resigned, has done really well in trying to take the lead but it's not going to work. We have some really interesting people now who I believe are strong and naïve to the point that they don't know how to be subservient and subjective and they have lived with disability in anger long enough to want to make a difference in their lives and other folks with disabilities. We have a chance, those of us who have worked in the nonviolent direct action field over the years the train up a “new Legion” and bring about a chance to enlarge our ranks with new blood that will guarantee the salvation of the group and increased benefits to people with disabilities of all kinds in the months and years to come. I don't know if we can pull this off. This is going to have to really use people who aren't used to working in that system to put on the yoke and help pull the plow. In all honesty I must confess I think I am one of those people who need to yoke up. I don't want to, but I think I may have to even if it's just for little while.

As an organization and a group we are going to have to hammer out what it is that we do. Are we a service provider, which this group has gotten itself into over the last couple of years in a big way, or are we a direct confrontational advocacy group seeking to bring change both politically and in the service provision field to folks with disabilities. How we answer those questions is really how were going to go/grow if that's what we choose to do I personally think we need to get out of the money making, or trying to be a money making group. I think will lose credibility as the direct action organization in town. It's nice to have the money but I think we lose a lot of leverage and muscle.

I've learned not to volunteer in these kind of organizations over the years. I'm really holding myself back from volunteering now is one I don't want to make a major mistake this late in my life and two I don't want to be burned again as in days gone by. Nobody truly appreciates the volunteer. Stay tuned out keep you informed on how the transition goes…

Open The Gate

It was probably irresponsible and I should've made better use of my time but in a weak moment I pulled on my gear together and took off to the movies up the street. I sort of feeling I need to celebrate because the building manager stop by the apartment this morning and handed me the new gate operator which opens the side gate behind my apartment complex which opens directly onto Redwood Road and my bus stop.this was the gate that I complain so much about this winter during the snowfalls when the snow is not cleaned and I couldn't use the bus stop. Earlier this year something happened in the machine that reads my remote control system failed so not only my remote control but many others in the apartments controls wouldn't work either. Manager worked diligently to replace the items but it took a long time and finally today I have my controls and I figure what the heck I'll used remote to escape the apartments and head south to the movies.

I kind of went crazy, maybe it was the spring weather today the temperatures were in the upper 60s but it didn't feel that good just because we had a light cloud cover and lost the radiant energy/heat. Whatever the cause and not only purchased a popcorn and a Coke but I also purchased a box of movie milk duds! And I am not even counting the Apple I purchased apartments along with a Baby Ruth bar. The Apple was the one of the item I took in with me to the movie was the one healthy item I took home from the movie. The movie I wanted to see it already started by the time I got to the theater which is a problem with their computer software because I had defaulted to Capt. Marvel because the movie that I really wanted to see the computer when I checked movies for the day showed that is no longer showing. Kind of tick me off but I'm okay. I enjoyed the movie as well as the splurges of calories. I justified the movie attendance because it's cheap seat Tuesday and the gate.

During the snow season I learned to use the entrance to the back of the apartment complex for the cars parked for that side and of course they bulldoze the snow away very well there. Then when the gate malfunctioned I had to use the same route to get back onto the sidewalk to the bus stop. And I got used to using this route and it wasn't so bad is just nicer having the gate I can open with my remote especially when I get off the bus coming back from bookclub or a day on the town of meetings without having to go around the building coming through the back driveway gate but they also close it at 9 PM. It's just better this way. Using the back gate just makes me feel clandestine and that's kind of fun plus I don't run the risk of having to run into any of my neighbors not that running into the neighbors is a bad thing it's just the thing.

Looking For A Muse

Cast of Travelers

Cannot believe how much Netflix am watching these days. And it's just not Netflix I have Amazon prime video and I even have the CBS stuff, CBS All Access, come on how much access to is one need to the world of streaming? Seriously, I held off for so long the first year or so that I was here at the apartments. And then a little bit at the house on Utahna drive but I didn't do much TV last couple years at the house because I couldn't get to a working television. So maybe what I'm watching is situational and work itself out in a couple of months. But, something in the back of my mind kind of doesn't think so.

I am so impressed at the quality of media available. I mean it's not like I'm some major media critic but I do know what I like and there seems to be a lot of what I like available . I really enjoy alternative reality type offerings in this is be a lot of shows about time travel (which I really like) alternate realities and run-of-the-mill science-fiction. There are movies which I totally enjoy and then there are series which I really like that really takes up a lot of time especially when you've got a series that may have two or three seasons before the series finally died out for one reason or another. But really bums me out is you go through a whole series, two seasons are marked to find out dwindled out and never finished the series. It just stops you never get any real feeling of closure. Boy, is the third real problem or what? I feel like a kid in a candy shop. Those series that were once on network television that were pretty good but you always got the feeling the creators are being held back for one reason or another will now, the same creators are showing up on the streaming series and it looks like they been able to do whatever they want to do without censorship in some cases taste but it's all good. I'm currently involved with a multi-season series called Travelers The series is by J Abrams our JJ Abrams is dense really interesting stuff I'm quite enjoying these guys.

It's not that I'm just a science-fiction/time travel head. I don't really do romantic comedy series but I will do the romantic comedy movies still a sucker for romance now there is real fiction borderline science-fiction you ask me. Like to watch these movies with the belief that they could really happen but not for me. Boy do I sound pathetic good thing I don't have any access to alcohol. Hopefully, this is a write off post, Monday blocked the kick off my week with the hopes of better blogs to come I haven't been getting a lot of revelations of the mornings of late in fact this morning I slept past my usual wake-up time by 15 minutes! I cannot believe it. It would be nice to have access to a muse any muse would to do

Yesterday's Fields

I have really gotten involved with this Boise-based historical group. Just a bunch of guys from the Boise area, older guys like me, that run this website with lots and lots of images of historical Boise Idaho.if your reader of this blog and from Idaho I would say check it out a lot of great images and comments by the moderators of this blog who really know the history of Boise.

I sort of painted myself as someone who doesn't really like organized sports I think that's really true to a degree but I have to really confess that I certainly attended quite a few sporting events in my day and this is particularly true when I was a kid. Again, in transparency, I would go to these events not to watch the sporting events themselves as much as it was to run around and mess around while at these events. My two favorite venues was the old ballfield where the Boise Braves used to play and the giant old wood Stadium at Boise State University which in those days was BJC are Boise junior-college. I cannot even remember when we first started going to the ballgames at what I thought was the Boise Braves Field. I must've gone with the Cantrell boys because that's basically how I got exposed to everything or anything. Ross would go with me we seem to go everywhere together in those days. The field was in South Boise just by the Boise River. I must've gone to a couple a day games that seems like they're mostly night games I can still remember the smell of summer, hotdogs and the huge lights as the game went into the night. The picture shown here is a bit basic the field and I remember seem to have many more trees and much more foliage. I think this image is around 1939 and I was attending the ballgames in the late 50s early 60s.

This is a great shot of the Boise Junior College Stadium. It's very basic and now of course Stadium has been rebuilt twice I think, a beautiful edifice to sports and the University athletic program. But when I was going to the games it was all would even the fence would have to jump over to get “free” admission. Much like the baseball field the smell of hotdogs permeated the air mixed with that wonderful smell fried hamburgers. Once again, for me, the purpose for me being at that facility was not for the athletic event as much as to be seen and see what was going on with all of my friends. It seemed like it was perpetual running up and down the bleachers and every once in a while turning to watch the game when the crowded erupt for one reason or another. I would give anything for that Time Machine which could drag me back to a summertime baseball game or not him football contest in one of these primitive but beautiful footnotes of my history…

I must've gone with the

Cantrell boys because that's basically how I got exposed to everything or anything. Ross would go with me we seem to go everywhere together in those days. The field was in South Boise just by the Boise River. I must've gone to a couple a day games that seems like they're mostly night games I can still remember the smell of summer, hotdogs and the huge lights as the game went into the night. The picture shown here is a bit basic the field and I remember seem to have many more trees and much more foliage. I think this image is around 1939 and I was attending the ballgames in the late 50s early 60s.

This is a great shout of the Boise Junior College Stadium. It's very basic and now of course Stadium has been rebuilt twice I think, a beautiful edifice to sports and the University athletic program. But when I was going to the games it was all would even the fence would have to jump over to get “free” admission. Much like the baseball field the smell of hotdogs permeated the air mixed with that wonderful smell fried hamburgers. Once again, for me, the purpose for me being at that facility was not for the athletic event as much as to be seen and see what was going on with all of my friends. It seemed like it was perpetual running up and down the bleachers and every once in a while turning to watch the game when the crowded erupt for one reason or another. I would give anything for that Time Machine which could drag me back to a summertime baseball game or not him football contest in one of these primitive but beautiful footnotes of my history…

On My Own

I spent the last hour going through my blog trying to find an entry, which I know that I wrote, in fact I found it but it was not exactly what I was looking for and now I'm trying to go back to find out exactly what the date posting was selected link it to tonight's post but I can't find it anywhere now. So, dear reader,, if you have slogged through these nearly 3000 blog postings you will get a little bit of redundancy.

My parents were amazing at least I thought so. I think that more now than ever. They were highly religious and had great amounts of faith either that or they were just totally irresponsible but I doubt that they were irresponsible. Having my accident in 1966 when I was 15 did little for my social life. However, after a few months of rehabilitation and social adjustment of going to a high school I was taught to hate I was trying to get on with my life. In those days if he has spinal cord injury you're just lucky to survive forget the fact there was no handbooks or guides on how to survive when she did survive. I think to some degree this is my biggest blessing was that no one told me how to be a crip. I don't think anyone told my parents either.

Living on a farm in southeast Boise was a significant challenge to a adolescent with a disability in the middle of his teenage years. We left about a quarter-mile off the main street going into Boise. The two streets/Roads going to that Main Street were not paved. Like all teenagers if you really had to get somewhere he pretty much had to rely on your parents if he did not have a bike or other forms of transit. My mom was pretty much stuck home during the day and she either cut or wouldn't drive whenever I want to go somewhere. Therefore I figured what the heck I'll get there myself and off I would go on a Saturday. I'd roll up the dirt roads up to the main road and then actually start rolling towards the city. The community was still fairly rural and everyone knew each other. As I roll towards the city sooner or later one of the neighbors are one of my friends would stop asking for need a ride and then we would figure out how to get me in the vehicle and off I go.in the upper left-hand corner of this blog you'll see a search box, if you type the word “Gene” into that box it will give you more than enough references about my friend Gene who lived a care facility in Boise that I often going to visit. Often this is where I would end up in traveling and Boise. Same is true for coming home but often it was late at night. During the winter and during the week my dad would stop at the care facility to see if I was there and then picked me up but on the weekends and during the summer I would end up rolling home and usually getting a ride. The point I'm making is that my parents let me do this. They would go to bed around 10 PM say at prayer for my safety and hit the sack. More than once I was out all night only to roll in the next morning and everyone acted like nothing happened. Even has able-bodied I can't imagine the parents letting me get away with something like that. Anyway if you can find the other reference to 201 Jefferson St., the home of my friend Cindy Larson, they had a hitching post out front of their home similar to what I have at the front of the blog. I spent the night across the street from our house one summer evening. All I had was cutoffs and sleepless Army fatigue shirt. It was a cold night finally at some point Cindy brought down blankets. It is one of the best nights of my life and nothing happened…!

Friday Night Reveries

My dad worked all the time it seemed like to me I know because a lot of the time I was working with him as much as a little kid can do that kind of stuff. So, my dad was always working at the shop where he is a sheet-metal worker which I guess is the term used for people who work on furnaces and air-conditioning systems. My dad and mom never really went out together on their own. Not that I was aware of much. All we went out as a group and family days like Mother's Day, but that was about it. My dad didn't watch football or baseball or basketball. If he had enough time to sit down to watch televised sports it be asleep. And we would never spend money to go out to a function like that is a family. Of course, being Mormon we tended to affiliate with various word functions. I guess the it's like if you're active in the Mormon church your expected to attend these kinds of things. Actually, as he got older I guess dad and mom would attend high priest functions which are social functions for the specific level of religious attainment. These functions are most likely dinners and other type social functions wrapped up with Mormon trappings.

However, my dad had acquaintances which I can comfortably identify is friends, many friends with quotation marks but still he would go out of his way and periodically spend an hour two sometimes even longer just talking is old guys do. I've already written about Ivan D., Who is one of the fellows my father worked with at the shop. There is also an old guy (my dad's age) named Mr. Saxton. My dad was Mr. Saxton's home teacher so time spent with Mr. Saxton could be counted as religious time but when they got together they talked more than religious stuff. They talked genuine friendship stuff and sometimes going on for hours to the point where mom could get a bit upset. Usually, if they had whether visitation sessions would be on a Sunday afternoon. One of my dad's friends that I thought was the most interesting of all I knew was a guy named Shorty Longenecker I am not sure that spelling is all but it was something like that. Shorty was an old guy who lived in the trailer just off Apple Street in Boise Idaho. I don't even know why but I remember one time going with my dad and brother, Ross and we actually went into Shortys trailer. This had been around 1958 or 59 long before the advent of man caves but s Shorty's trailer was definitely such a place. The place is a mess it seems like in my memory all I can remember was an oversized cigar on some sort of trophy case over his table. In fact the whole trailer smelled of cigar smoke. We hung out for about an hour and I don't remember what they talked about but there's a lot of talk, old guy talk about the old days and do you remember when type of stuff. I'm sure Ross and I were bored out of our minds but I think my dad was fulfilled when the few times I can really remember him being happy.

I'm not sure what I'm thinking about my dad tonight I must left the door open and he just snuck in…

Community Attic Spring Sale

It is the Community Attic Spring sale, the Community Attic is the little secondhand store across the street and the senior center. It's a cute little facility management cranky old ladies were also nice but very protective over there little operation. They have your basic items like mismatched silverware, dishes, cups and saucers all manners of clothing and various odds and ends similar to what you'd find at a garage sale. I did not realize at first but the Community Attic is the home of items left in apartments here at the complex when the renter dies and the family or whoever doesn't want to clean the apartment out. All the stuff that sellable ends up in the attic.

I love a sale and even though I've been at this facility for now going on three years I'm still looking for things for my kitchen and bathroom are whatever treasures might pop up at a place like the Community Attic. Normally, the attic is comprised of two very small rooms that may have been closets at one time an enlarged to one room for the shop but on Spring sale a lot of the material that's been stored off premise is brought in and set up in the area next to the shop which is also the lunchroom, community area. Wandering around the aisles of discarded items is creepily like hanging out at a estate sale. You can only deny the reality of what you're doing so long before you must accept the fact that you're going through the remains of somebody's life. I wonder what conversations that coffee cup had or how many Christmas dinners that find China's Disher plate served. Same with the close hanging up on the long racks. Faded skirts, trousers I don't even want to think about strange pieces of undergarments and even a table of weird stuff children's toys the kind you often see attached the grandmas wheelchairs, beds are on their dressers. Then there's even a section of electronic and quasi-devices, equipment and resources. Scores of movies: videocassettes, DVDs and even CD-ROMs. As far as I'm concerned this is where the real treasures are found in a joint like this. The trouble is for me these items are always stacked on top of each other on tables or around corners right can't get to in my big power chair and limited hand function. But I'm forced to look anyway. I don't know I got depressed the second I started looking and realizing there is really nothing there I want to see that was and tell I happen to see the DVD Patton, that great soldier from World War II. I don't know why I felt that I needed to have this film, and I really liked the film the first time I saw it every time sense. I love George C Scott, do such a great job with that role or any other role I've seen them in. I grabbed the film and wandered around the gym a little longer just play like I was interested in checked out. I was pleased to find the film cost one dollar. One dollar for Patton! Such a deal. I brought a home and the movie is laying on my desk and I haven't watched the DVD yet. I'm going to wait probably until bad weather moves in and I'm forced to stay inside and have nothing else better to do than to once again watch this depiction of an old war horse and marble at how these people, those that did, survive the giant meatgrinder of World War II…

Spring In The Light Of Other Days

The perennial rat Fink by big daddy Roth

In about six hours spring will officially begin in this hemisphere but that's not what this blog is about today. Again this morning as I lay in bed pondering because I couldn't get back to sleep (around 4:15 AM) my mind fastened on a spring day I remember from the mid-60s in southeast Boise. The time had to be around 1962 or 63 are even 64 because I was a teenager and I was at East junior high school. I was able bodied so is before my accident which is in 1966. I lived in southeast Idaho as I've written about in the past and does actively writing the little Yamaha that I had access to the time.

It's not like I was this massive motorhead I was not. I wish that I was but I was beginning to hang around with the crew that were definitely more motorhead oriented than athletic. Of course was listening to the Beatles at the time, music wise, but I also was listing to Jan and Dean, the Beach boys and other rock music centered around automotive/motorcycle/motorbike living. I was beginning to hang out with friends that actually were motorhead's, Larry Crouch, John Messmer, Ed Seeman and a few others. They always had copies of Hot Rod Magazine and were semi-artists cartooning different auto motive tropes like I think, big daddy Roth and of course the perennial Rat Fink character. I think in my own way I was looking for some sort or group to identify with as my “tribe”.

One of my best memories of that period was a quarter-mile drag strip which been measured off out on Gekeler Lane. Gekeler letter was a straight Street probably well over a mile in length. It's main claim to fame was the home address of Triangle Dairy major enterprise in Southeast Boise. A major Holstein heard not twice a day with milk trucks running all over Boise in the old days when milk was delivered to your door and half-gallon bottles, actually any way that you wanted, and you still had to remove the cream that seeped to the top of the bottle before one really use the milk. I can actually say I raced a vehicle on the street once maybe twice. One time I think I actually fired up the family Studebaker truck which was a far cry from a hot rod but still a combustible engine and begin above 30, prerequisites for the quarter-mile strip. Also I think I remember either running or riding with Larry Greenas we raced his Crown Vic (Victoria). Larry's crown was beautiful two-tone, two-door blue-and-white ragtop. I never did witness a large groups of kids at the quarter-mile but they tended to drag race often on. The cops didn't bother them much and was sure a lot of fun. It seems like I float back to that period every time I hear Monday Monday by the mamas and the Poppas or Paperback Writer of course by the Beatles .I think I only did the truck once by that period of time my dad was smart enough to start writing down the mileage on the odometer. But motorcycles and other people's vehicles were certainly open game.

On days like today when the sun's out and for the first time the thermometers is inching toward 60°, this year I feel the pull of some invisible rope trying to drag me back to Gekeler Lane and hot rods and hooligans.

Sitting Preety All Charged Up

Last night I took advantage of a program offered by the University of Utah at the senior center next door to our apartment complex– – I wrote about it in last night's blog. Interestingly one of the participants at the senior exercise class mentioned are asked what kind of mileage I got with my batteries on my power chair. I wish I could just stop and give a succinct answer but I always end up overthinking the response. The lady went on to explain that she had been the mother of a daughter with cerebral palsy who used a power chair and this is really's quite some time ago back in the early days of powered mobility. The ladies questions really got me thinking. I really do enjoy my power chair and all the independents my power chair affords me. I think about this a lot. I don't know if I could live independently, in my own apartment, on my own as I do without the power chair. I shudder to think what would happen if I was forced to try to live out of my manual chair for one reason or another. I kind of think I could do it but it would be very difficult but I think I've regained enough strength that I could. Still though, I pour out of my bed into my chair in the morning shuttle into the kitchen to and on the coffee and NPR back to the kitchen as the coffee perks are drains or whatever coffee does these days and shave and get ready for the day. I dress sitting in my power chair getting my shorts on then allowing the chair to lean back to the point where my leg spasm and push me up and I'm able to polo shirts on. With the use of my sticks and up play my feet up onto my lap one of the time and putting my shoes on the Nepal on my shirt and I'm done. Then like today I'm off to catch the bus first going to the Buffmire center then over to Assist, Inc. from a Tuesday meeting. All this I'm doing zooming around in my chair never even thinking that my chair will fail.

I told the lady yes the batteries cost a lot but they're worth every penny and I'm constantly out on the road with my power chair. She was suitably impressed when I told her that I was closing in on 3000 miles on this chair. I think her child was using when the first power chairs which were kind of iffy at best. My first exposure to power chairs really was with my buddy Eugene Diffendaffer (I love writing that name) who I met in Rehab at the Elks rehab center in Boise in 1966. His neck break was higher than mine so he was more severely affected. He did not get a power chair until a few years after his trauma in pushing for him was very difficult. But when he got is power chair I marveled how cool it would be to have such device but was always counseled against it for fear that it would rob me of what must what already had. This chair is pretty delicate file and I know what this lady meant. I range all over the city. My chairs filled the only minimally. I do charge the chair every night even when I don't need to. These batteries now are wearing out and significantly have lost their ability to hold a charge but I still can count on them for 5 to 7 miles per charge which is a great distance using public transit to get right need to go. Today has been a fairly high intensity day as far as mileage goes with trips to the end of Redwood Road then onto downtown Salt Lake and back again. And I'm only at 2.7 miles distance on my odometer. If I felt better today being Tuesday—cheap seat Tuesday at the movies—I would've taken the bus up to the movies. However, I felt to fragile after being in the elements all morning. I didn't take a jacket with me which I wish I had and I think I got too cold. Maybe I am just being a wuss. I'm just thinking of my power chair and how thankful I am…

Stretch 123

I think I've mentioned there is a senior center adjacent to the building here where I live. I believe I have also complained about how the senior center is really not fully accessible to seniors with significant disabilities. I don't know if that's by plan or just oversight. However, be that as it may I still want to utilize the facility and I'm going to squeeze myself into that facility whether the management likes it or not.

I workout everyday of the week except Sunday. By working out I mean I crank my arm bike 30 minutes. I use what is called a Saratoga Silver it's pretty old technology now but still works well for me and my needs. There is a computer program that runs the resistance of the arm crank and I really like this piece of equipment and I'm thankful to have access to this in my own apartment. I at one time was involved in the University's program of disability weight training type stuff. I think it cost like 35 bucks a month and was the bad program but I had to access their equipment in a facility quite a ways away from my apartment which would mean a lot of public transit every day except the weekends. Still I may have to resort to going through the University program again since they are the only folks in town, more or less, which serves folks with severe disabilities in any kind of a workout program.

There's a bulletin board in the mailroom here at the apartment complex which of course posts all kinds of ads and bulletins of one sort or another. Housekeepers looking for work, senior programs earn a few bucks on the side and of course take the last cruise of your life. I was interested a few weeks ago are now months ago that the University of Utah athletic department has a program here at the apartment complex or actually over at the senior center where students post a workout session twice a week Mondays Wednesdays from 545 to 6:45 PM. Sad, I must admit I was interested but by 5:45 PM I am about done for the day. I want to watch the news, have some dinner right my blog and zone out on some TV before I go to bed. I have forgotten the program every week until today. The weather is beautiful today upper 50s I don't need a coat and of course we are now into daylight savings which means much light at the end of the day. I actually went over to talk to the folks about their program. Tonight the program was facilitated with four very athletic looking women for the University. There was also for seniors five counting me. I worked out with the crew tonight and it was an okay work out especially for being next-door and being with other people. Of course everything which was done was primarily done for folks that were able-bodied but old. However they did have some weights that I can put on my arms and get some upper body workout going more so than just what I do with the arm bike. I tried to work out as best as I could with the group. There was actually an a multiple block walk before we started class which probably didn't do me any good doing the walk in my chair but you know what else could I do? There were stretches, there were exercises where I had to move my arms at the same time one direction than the next direction then back again. I must admit it was really a workout I was getting kind of tired towards the end. Of course I cannot do the deep knee bends, squats are running in place but that's cool. I think I got a fairly decent workout plus there's the advantage of talking to one of these little trainers and them giving me some insights on what I can do at home on my own to stretch and works of muscles that I'm not doing now.

It wasn't the best workout in the world but felt like I was doing something good for myself and it was something I could do right across the street from my apartment complex. I don't know how long I will do this and I'm sure the program will dissolve and school lets out for summer break but until then I have a place to mingle on Monday nights and possibly Wednesdays as well. All this, socialization and workout music life doesn't get better…

Red meat And Green Cabbage

I think we've established that I'm not a big believer in St. Patrick's Day nor have I ever been a big celebrant of that day either but I like to have a reason to celebrate anything actually these days particularly if celebrating the event involves cooking. Today involved cooking. I have to admit I was a little intimidated about the concept of cooking brisket but it seemed like it would be much easier just plopping the whole thing into the slow cooker and then ignored for half a day. Which is basically what I did. I actually slept until about 7:30 AM which I hardly ever do. But I did get up and eventually pulled the brisket, three pounder, out of the fridge but still off and put the brisket in the slow cooker. When did they start calling a crockpot slow cooker? I know that's what the crockpot does but really “slow cooker” spare me. The brisket was a bit awkward-squarely might be a better term. I was a little overwhelmed by the amount of blood the brisket was swimming in and figured I had to drain and rinse off the beef before I placed it in the crockpot/slow cooker. I don't know why I did not see it coming, actually I did, but once I had cut the end off the plastic the meat slipped right out into the sink, handling the meat was little slimy—not a bad slimy just a slippery slimy like something dead and slippery—but I finally corralled the piece of meat, rinsed the meat off and plopped it in the crock added a little bit of water and covered and put the cooker on high. The one recipe I read called for slow cooking the product 11 hours that really seem like overkill in the did want a sitting down to eat at 8 o'clock in the evening. I figured I'd be cool by five 6 o'clock.

I have more than once regaled myself for cooking this St. Patrick's Day dinner. 3 pounds of brisket for one person. This brisket is on top of at least a 2 pound meatloaf I couldn't last night which by the way was very tasty. Either way I need to each a small quantities of either product over the next couple weeks or I'm way over my weight. I can't gain any more weight what goes on must come off and that is truly grueling. Just for the record I am continuing my ingestion of vinegar water, specifically Bragg Apple vinegar water . 3 tablespoons and 8 ounces of water every morning chug it down. I've come to the realization that the concoction doesn't do anything except maybe fill you up a few moments after you drink all that water at one shot and maybe if you go without breakfast it may have an impact on the overall weight gain. I kind of doubt it perhaps just focusing on the drinking as a weight reduction intervention that might have an impact as well but is not a magic bullet that I can tell. But I must agree with my buddy to turn me on to this process just drinking the concoction once or twice a day so makes you feel better give you a bit of a left then again it might all be in my head. I think going to have to drink a lot of Brag apple vinegar to work past this protein weekend.

I called the brisket done about 6 o'clock just a 60 minutes was starting. I cut half full head of cabbage through it in a pot of hot water in tenderized six wedges. I pulled the brisket out cut off a few pieces the taste. I may have cooked the brisket too long. I don't know why they said 11 hours. I like the sample end that I had. I fished out the carrots the potatoes and put them together on my plate fished out the cabbage put on the plate as well and took a picture. It was a real St. Patrick's Day dinner. I feasted enjoy as I watched 60 minutes and patted myself on the back another meal well cooked.

Saturday Night Meatloaf

I just did a blog search or a search of my blog to be more specific for the term “meatloaf” because I'm writing again about meatloaf tonight and I was afraid I was becoming a bit redundant and you know what I must have 10 to 15 references, at least, to meatloaf. References to either making a meatloaf, thinking about making a meatloaf, receiving a meatloaf is a gift are other possibilities of meatloaf. I'm just blown away at my seemingly preoccupation to meatloaf. With that in mind I know I should probably pass up this, once again salutation to meatloaf but you know what? It's my blog and I'm writing about meatloaf specifically Saturday night meatloaf.

I'm not going to try to fool myself, or you, that Saturday night meatloaf is different then Sunday afternoon meatloaf are Wednesday meatloaf. It's all meatloaf and it's all good. Meatloaf was the last thing on my mind today as I really enjoyed the first full day of sunlight that we've had for some time with even a little bit of springlike temperatures. It's a Saturday and things are always a bit more relaxed on the Saturday. I know a lot of retirees say that all the days of the same to them. I was even thinking back on my buddy Albert, next door Albert who died when his Mercury Cougar was tapped by another vehicle causing the steering wheel air bag to deploy bashing him in the head causing an aneurysm or brain bleed or whatever happens when the head gets traumaed. Al commented more than once especially on national holidays how each day felt the same there's no difference. Anyway it feels like a weekend to me, regular staff is not here, there are visitors who show up to see family that you don't see during the week there's definitely a a weekend feel to the joint. The only task I really gave myself today was to get over to the market and purchase ahead of cabbage for tomorrow's St. Patrick's Day dinner. I thought I had a couple of heads of cabbage rolling around my refrigerator but when I checked on them indeed they were cabbage but pretty much in the past tense. The leaves, when I started peeling them back trying to find usable produce, had a really bizarre papery texture almost like toilet tissue but tougher. I execute a couple pieces of cabbage leaf and I had a distant flavor but was definitely not viable for the celebration of an Irish holiday.

It's Saturday and I washed clothes yesterday and folded the clothes. I decided to go over to the food bank and get my weekly stash (I go over every week, as the readers know, but I read the information bulletin on food bank today – – really for the first time and it says that I'm only eligible to go three times a month. I guess they like me) I really love this exercise today scored big-time with a filet mignon, frozen shrimp and high-end meatloaf! I decided to cook the meatloaf today that way I will have the meatloaf for next week even though I'm going to have a huge sucking brisket of corned beef. I'll freeze what I don't want to eat.

I totally enjoyed having this meatloaf, it's a two pounder all set to go in its little pan an everything. I shoved it in the oven at 375 and cooked it for 45 minutes. The meatloaf is okay it's not the meatloaf that my mom would've made and it certainly is not the meatloaf that I would've made. Doesn't seem to have onions and definitely not the green peppers I would use its even light on the garlic. However cooked up nice and has enough tomato sauce/catch up on the top to let it pass is delicious the best part I didn't have to destroy my kitchen putting the thing together. I almost dropped it trying to get out of the oven but decided just let it cool down naturally I did slice off a couple of the end pieces just to do the taste test and I was more than pleased. It will be cold by the time I go to bed and now drag it out of the oven than quickly throw it in the refrigerator for this coming week…

Hypochondriacal

I have been trying something new the past week or so and that is to generate ideas for blog entries from the early morning just before I rise. I typically get up around 6 AM. On days that my home health person, Dana comes I am for sure up at 6 AM other days Tuesdays Thursdays Saturdays and Sundays I may sleep in till seven if I'm really really lucky that you rarely the case. Many times on the 6 AM days I actually wake up around five and those on and off till 6 o'clock. This is one I've noticed I will be focused on a particular idea or thought and often stretch it in the 500 words or more for the days blog. I really appreciate this because sometimes I get spooked them not to be able to come up with anything. This new method is been so productive actually gotten a couple ideas backed out so I'm no longer stressing, worried that I'll be a blank slate with nothing to write.

It's kind of funny that sometimes you actually have an idea that would be a good blog entry and not even realize it as golden. And I have to be sharp. At first I thought I'll remember these, but invariably if I don't write it down one where the other immediately the idea evaporates and no matter what I do I cannot find the gem that I had. Sometimes may be I might get close but I can tell just not as perfect as the initial idea and sometimes, just sometimes I come up with the exact same thought I love those moments. Dana's great! I really enjoy having her as a home health professional. One of the best parts about Dana is that she is a professional but she's not so caught up being a professional that she cannot be human I guess that makes her human professional which I truly appreciate. Dana is really good for me. She thinks I'm a bit hypochondriacal and she's right. I always think I'm sick I'm getting sick. I don't think I'm is bad is the roommate on the odd couple (Jack Lemmon in the TV series) but Dana spends a lot of time refocusing me. One of things I really like about Dana is that she is so counterculture. In another day she'd been a great hippie she still is kind of a hippie. See spiritual and not spiritual at the same time she sees things that other people find disturbing, shocking frightening and weaves the experience into the flow of her daily life. Take for example this morning she was moved me from my power chair over to the shower in my electric left. It's pretty cumbersome I'm cradled in my electric left in being pushed into the bathroom to be placed on the toilet. In the midst of this Dana is talking and suddenly stops she is seeing “the cat”. I of course do not know what she's talking about I do not have a cat and I do not want a cat. I am not a cat person but Dana then informs me that it's a spiritual cat. A spiritual cat? Is she replies “yes” this is not the first She is seen she tells me. One or two other cats she's noticed while she's working with me. For some reason my apartment is a focal point for spiritual cats most likely felines that of lived here or died here over the period at the apartment. It's not a big deal the beast just sits there and watches us in the way cats do. If I wanted to I could let this kind of freaked me out but it doesn't. I'm happy to have the cats I just don't want the Masters showing up anytime soon…

The General My Ass

I just got notification from my insurance coverage that my insurance is been renewed for another month. I go month-to-month on my insurance. I believe I've mentioned this once or twice in the past when writing about giving up driving, which I did a couple years ago long before the divorce. Well, it wasn't long before but at least a year before the divorce. I was essentially wearing my butt out dragging myself from my power chair onto the drivers seat of the van. I had a close call one day when getting some videos from the now defunct Blockbuster video way back in May 2013 it was enough for me to give up my driving privileges. This was okay I thought because Dianne would be around if I needed to get somewhere that I cannot access with public transit like after hours or on weekends. I stopped driving and then let my license lapse that was a mistake.

Fast-forward to now (about six space years) figure in to stenosis operations, major loss of mobility/independence, one divorce and getting my white van is part of the settlement of that divorce. I really didn't want the van the Dianne did not want it either “it's a truck I don't want to drive truck” I've had the van ever sense. And dedicated reader will note that I didn't even use the van for about a year and a half until last summer when we decided to get the vehicle registered for the family reunion. Again if one would research the blog with the little search square search for family reunion you be able to read more about that event and what it took to get the vehicle functional unlicensed. I have chosen to keep the vehicle license now but I have probably driven only three times since the reunion!I found out that when I went to purchase insurance for the vehicle that because I let the vehicle set for more than a couple of months my old insurance company either would or could not ensure me through their company and have to go to a high risk agency. So technically I'm still going through American Family Insurance but but I'm paying the money to The General! I'm paying about $103 a month! And fortunately, or unfortunately, I have it set up the payment comes directly out of my bank account. I got dinged a couple months because I was late with my insurance payment the penalty was significantly. Hundred dollars a month! That is $1200 a year!! I can ride a lot taxicabs for $1200 a year. Still, I like having the vehicle there if and when I needed even if I would need to charge the battery because I do not drive the vehicle enough to keep the battery charged. Seems to me I should be able to get a lower insurance rates. I need to start checking around. I like the Geico people especially the little lizard guy. I also like the Liberty commercial.. I think I'm going to explore what they have to offer and get out of this high risk insurance writing to screwing me over big time.

Eight Grade English

In 1961 Harold Robbins published Carpetbaggers a salacious paperback novel loosely patterned after the life of Howard Hughes nor did not know that until just now when I was searching for one paragraph out of the whole volume. I of course knew nothing about the volume in 1961 I was 10. I would actually not interface with the book and tell 1964 when I was in the eighth grade, probably around 245 in the afternoon as I sat in Mrs. Sowers eighth-grade English class, at East junior high (another of my historical landmarks which has been raised).

I don't know where the book came from but for some reason that afternoon the questionable piece of literature is making the rounds in eighth-grade English. We sat in alphabetical order of course Mrs. Sower was anything but pragmatic. All I remember from that afternoon was that Rena Rodwell sat in front of me (my last name being Smith and Pam Turner sat behind me. There had been a rumble all morning and afternoon about The Carpetbaggers. The Carpetbaggers was hot and the must-read part was the scene where there's a naked girl drinking orange soda, orange Nehi soda in the soda runs out of her mouth down her throat between her boobs and out of the sheets of the bed. This is all witnessed by the protagonist of the book as he happened to walk past a room on a hot and sultry southern afternoon. The passage was marked by dogeared fold over of the page. It was quietly being passed around from one person to the next all through the school. I doubt that I was supposed to love read the passage after all I really wasn't part of the in crowd, so to speak. However Rena Rodwell and Pam Turner were and I was sandwiched in between the two. I remember Monday my own business probably trying to desperately follow along to either a play which is being read our discussion that Mrs. Sowers was leading when I was nudged on the back by Pam Turner and as I turned around to see what she wanted she thrust the volume into my hands. I have to admit I was impressed. Someone had taken one of those contact glue book covers that you can adhere to the book you want to protect and applied it to the front and back of the volume The Carpetbaggers. Someone had gone through a lot of work to cut the book cover down from its large size the size to fit the paperback book. I can still see the volume the school colors were orange and black. The book cover was orange with the letters EJ H on the front, actually just a portion of the letters because the tops of been trimmed off in order to fit onto the book cover.

I knew the book had to go to Rena but since I had access I thought I would read the passage and it was hot almost too hot a 13 year old to handle. Hands shaking I touched Rena on the back to get her attention. I love Rena but sometimes she was a little slow on the uptake. I thrust the book and her hands, I now want to get rid of it as quickly as possible. She fumbled the book at the floor and Mrs. Sower stopped her lecture and I the camouflaged paperback lying on the floor facedown page open to scandalous words. She asked Rena to please bring the book forward. I think Rena took the bullet for the piece of pureient literature. I don't think I've ever thanked her. I doubt she'd even remember me these days. But I know I'll never forget the hot hand off of The Carpetbaggers in Mrs. Sowers, eighth grade English in 1964