LOST

Over the years of my producing this blog I’ve written about my love of guitars. I’m not real sure if it’s a love of guitars or a love of buying and selling guitars. After some consideration I’m guessing that it’s the latter. This proves beyond a reasonable doubt that the act of losing money is addictive. 

The past two weeks have involved my selling three Fender Strats, all of which I have sworn that I would never sell. The wife has learned to interpret that phrase as “I will never sell this guitar in the next 3 days.” 

As is common in my marathon selling sessions, the minute I sell off unwanted instruments, my fingers magically drift to Craigslist to look for castaway guitars that have lost favor with their owners. Craigslist is a guitar freak’s godsend - eager sellers, reasonable prices and cash only.

Now, to the subject at hand.

Let’s rewind the clock to the mid-1960’s. One of my first guitars was a model called a “Texan” made by the Epiphone Company of Kalamazoo, Michigan. I was very taken by the sound of this guitar when I tried it out in a music store. In fact, I passed over more notable brands such as Gibson and Martin in favor of buying the Epi Texan.

I kept that guitar through my years in the military and during college. This is where things get a bit weird. For the life of me I cannot remember what happened to my Epi Texan. Did I sell it, give it away, pawn it, lose it in a bet? 

No matter - it’s gone.

To make things worse, I have learned that 1964 Epiphone Texans are very valuable collectors items. This is due to the fact that a Beatles song was produced using the very same model of guitar that I used to own, thus sending its value through the roof.

The final miserable chapter to this story is the fact that I can’t recall the name of the Beatles song in question.

All I know is that this experience has left me with some terrible emotional scars. Ultimately my feelings are that:

I’m not half the man I used to be and that there’s a shadow hanging over me.

Readers, enjoy your day.

PERSPECTIVE

Some years ago on Veterans Day I was filling up my car at a gas station in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I went inside the store to pay for the fill up and the young man behind the counter asked me if I was a veteran. I told him that I was and he applied a Veterans Day discount to my purchase, for which I was very grateful. He asked me when I had served and I told him “during the Vietnam War”. Incredulously, he had a befuddled look on his face which told me that he was not aware of the war. I then took the liberty of giving him a twenty second synopsis of what the war was about, finishing with “and there were about 58,000 Americans killed over there”. To which he replied:

“Yeah, whatever.”

This apparent dismissiveness bothered me terribly and still haunts me to this very day. To think that the loss of that many human lives over the years 1961-1975 should be disrespected is, in my opinion, unconscionable. 

In a related matter I read a headline in the newspaper a few days ago that, during the month of December, 2020, there have been over 63,000 COVID19 deaths in our country, thus exceeding the total U. S. Vietnam War deaths. 

The unspoken response from many of our elected politicians:

“Yeah, whatever.”

Readers, take care and stay healthy. 

MISSOULA PADDLEHEADS

What? 

You mean you’ve never heard of the Paddleheads?

Truthfully, until I read this morning’s Seattle Times, I was similarly ignorant. The Paddleheads are a Montana baseball team that is part of the Pioneer League which consists of eight teams in Montana, Utah and Idaho. The Pioneer League, unlike some other leagues scattered about the U.S., is not affiliated with any specific major league ball club. 

In short, this is raw baseball. Don’t expect to see a Paddleheads game being announced by Joe Buck or other well-known announcers. Nor will you be able to turn to the New York Times sports section to catch up on the standings of the Pioneer League. 

Despite the lack of awareness of the Paddleheads, they do have a corner on the enjoyment of the game of baseball. Just take a look at one of their merchandising items:

I mean, what says fun more than a moose paddling an inflatable raft? Furthermore, I’ll bet that you can buy a 16 ounce beer at a Paddleheads game for less than one at Wrigley Field. Do they have a nickel beer night? Probably not but we can all be hopeful.

So, let’s all get to the Missoula Paddleheads Ballpark (Ogren Park at Allegiance Field) next summer and support these guys. Keep in mind that the play probably won’t be on the caliber of the New York Yankees. But it will be very enjoyable.

Readers enjoy your day.

MISUNDERSTANDING

 I was doing not much of anything today when the wife approached me and said very clearly:

“I want a Cowboy!”

This statement caused many images to rush through my head. I could picture her wanting to run away with her cowboy heartthrob Sheriff Walt Longmire, headed for a life in a 200 square foot cabin in Wyoming, eating venison, moose and black bear and drinking 16 ounce Rainier beer for the rest of their lives. 

I quickly dismissed this crazy idea because Walt doesn't have cable TV and a life without “Days of Our Lives” just won’t cut it. 

Sensing my complete confusion about the matter, the wife cleared up the confusion:

“It’s Tuesday and Cowboy pizzas at Papa Murphy’s are only $12”.

So, readers, it looks like the wife is going to stick around for a while, hopefully until our 36th wedding anniversary on the 22nd. That is, unless she decides to run off with Walt Longmire before then.

Readers, enjoy your (Cowboy pizza) (Tues)day.

COVID-19

I’ve promised myself that I would avoid this topic, normally focusing on lighter fare in this blog. 

But occasionally some things hit you between the eyes, begging a serious response. 

The poem “A Clattering Train” was one of Winston Churchill’s favorite poems. It was written in the late 1800’s following a train wreck blamed on a sleeping crewman. 

It poses the metaphorical question throughout its text: Where is the leadership in the face of this ever-emerging crisis?

______________________________________

Who is in charge of the clattering train?
The axles creak, and the couplings strain.
Ten minutes behind at the Junction. Yes!
And we’re twenty now to the bad—no less!
At every mile we a minute must gain!
Who is in charge of the clattering train?

Why, flesh and blood, as a matter of course!
You may talk of iron, and prate of force;
But, after all, and do what you can….
Man is in charge of the thundering train!

Man, in the shape of a modest chap
In fustian trousers and greasy cap;
A trifle stolid, and something gruff,
Yet, though unpolished, of sturdy stuff….

Only a Man, but away at his back,
In a dozen cars, on the steely track,
A hundred passengers place their trust
In this fellow of fustian, grease, and dust….

The hiss of steam-spurts athwart the dark.
Lull them to confident drowsiness. Hark!
What is that sound? ‘Tis the stertorous breath
Of a slumbering man—and it smacks of death!
Full sixteen hours of continuous toil
Midst the fume of sulphur, the reek of oil,
Have told their tale on the man’s tired brain,
And Death is in charge of the clattering train!

Those poppy-fingers his head incline
Lower, lower, in slumber’s trance;
The shadows fleet, and the gas-gleams dance
Faster, faster in mazy flight,
As the engine flashes across the night.
Mortal muscle and human nerve
Cheap to purchase, and stout to serve.
Strained too fiercely will faint and swerve.
Over-weighted, and underpaid,
This human tool of exploiting Trade,
Though tougher than leather, tenser than steel.
Fails at last, for his senses reel,
His nerves collapse, and, with sleep-sealed eyes,
Prone and helpless a log he lies!
A hundred hearts beat placidly on,
Unwitting they that their warder’s gone;
A hundred lips are babbling blithe,
Some seconds hence they in pain may writhe.
For the pace is hot, and the points are near,
And Sleep hath deadened the driver’s ear;
And signals flash through the night in vain.
Death is in charge of the clattering train!

Readers, please stay safe and enjoy your day. 

CUP HOLDERS

Until a few months ago I owned a very simple and fun 1995 Honda automobile whose main claim to fame was that it was equipped with two cup holders and not much else, unless you want to count the stereo cassette player.

In 1995, cup holders were a pretty nifty addition to a car; one gets to drive through the Grand Canyon while sipping on a 7-11 quart-size Slurpy. What better way to enjoy a driving experience? I’ll give Honda some flak, though. They placed the cup holders in a place that was impossible to reach thus making them irrelevant. Our other car (a 2004) is also pretty spartan in terms of accessories, having cup holders and not much else.

A few weeks ago the 2004 car had to be rescued by a tow truck from the clutches of a Safeway parking lot due to a massive automobile electrical failure. [As an aside, if you wish to place a curse on someone you dislike, use the phrase "may your car have a massive electrical failure". It's a fate worse than death]. In the end, the process of tracing the electronics of our 17 year-old automobile was time consuming and, at $125 per hour, exceedingly costly. So costly, in fact, that it led me to believe that we should replace the car with a new or newer model. 

To that end, in my calls to Honda, Toyota, Subaru, Hyundai and Mazda dealers, I asked the following question: "I'm looking for a minimally-equipped car...one that has cup holders as the only add-on feature." This simple question was met with total silence on the other end of the phone line.

What I discovered was that it is next to impossible to find a late model automobile that is minimally equipped. Thus, along with the requisite cup holders, car buyers have to invest in backup cameras, lane warnings, Alexa compatibility, Bluetooth such and such, MP3 hookups, digital thermometer controls, rear seat DVD players, etc., etc.

Given the fact that buying a new car requires an investment into a vast array of unwanted technical gizmos, I've decided to put the money into repairing the old car with the cup holders.

The $125 per hour repair cost is not so bad after all.

Readers, enjoy your day.

MOLES

If both of my readers may recall, some time ago I wrote a blog about the moles who were terrorizing my yard.  In order to make sense about the rest of today’s article please take a few minutes and read my “mole blog” from February, 2018. Here is a link:

http://westofdenver.blogspot.com/2018/02/patent-application.html?m=1

OK, now that you have read or re-read this entry from yesteryear, welcome back. I’d like to now take you to a YouTube video that I recently found. It gives credence to my belief that I’m not the only crazy person in this world. Enjoy the video, here’s a link:

https://youtu.be/wPYxP-XQHeA

Readers, enjoy your day.