Over the years and not necessarily in this order we did a bus tour in Scotland. Cruised in the Aegean Sea. Visited The Romantic Road in Germany in a car. Another time, in another car, checked out the Southwest. In 2017 we stumbled upon a very convenient way to tour. One of Peg’s sisters was in a couple’s wine club preparing to tour the Burgundy Region. One of the couples begged off. We took their spot. The tour guide was the youngest winner (14) of the French vintner’s award. He knew everyone and they knew him. We unpacked in Bonne, France and took day trips from there. Not having to pack up and move every couple of days was the key to having a better experience.

In Rome, our “Bonne” would be The Maison Tritone, a cozy little B&B within walking distance of the Spanish Steps, Borghese Museum, and Trevi Fountain. To be clear, there were days the concept of ‘walking distance’ served, more or less, as a euphemism as my left meniscus was, at times, an unwilling partner in the journey. That notwithstanding I motored on. The B&B kept my ice sleeve frozen.

Rome attracts a lot of people. Many of them were at our first tour, the Vatican Museum and St. Peters, an hour before it opened. The general admission line was ‘I camped out overnight’ long. There were mere hundreds in our ‘skip the line’ group. While we got in an hour earlier the ‘camping’ folks still caught up to us in the Sistine Chapel where we stood shoulder to shoulder to view the splendor of it all. Then, suddenly it seemed, we were in St. Peters. It was massive. There were markers on the floor showing how St. Patrick’s in New York or The Notre Dame in Paris, to name a couple, would’ve neatly fit inside. If it sounds like I’m giving the tour a lick and a prayer, then you’ve caught my drift. I saw so much beautiful art I couldn’t look at but for a glance. I felt let down.

The next day we toured the Colosseum. We began at 9am. There were crowds but there was space, a lot of space. Our guide was full of historical information, a plus for me, a history nerd. Construction began in the early 70s CE and was funded largely by the spoils from the First Jewish-Roman War in 70 CE. Spoils from war were how all empires were funded back in the day. Thousands of Jewish slaves worked on its construction. Opening in 80 CE the inaugural games saw 9,000 animals killed. These games could go on for up to 120 days, but admission was free. Wealthy individuals and politicians (the Khans and Scotts of their time) would underwrite the cost of the games and had the best seats. The next best group was behind them and so on till at the very top where women sat. Gravediggers, former gladiators, and actors were barred from attending. I found it all a thought-provoking cultural dichotomy…Bread and Circuses. Unlike the Hollywood spin, gladiators were valuable and popular. The good ones were kept alive. Most were slaves though successful combatants could gain their freedom. Some retired and became managers of gladiators.

The games went on for centuries. When the Roman Emperor Constantine ordered the conversion of the entire empire to Christianity and moved the Empirical Capitol to Constantinople around 330 CE, Rome began to empty and the Colosseum faded into the backwaters of history. The city’s population tanked. At one point there were less than 50,000 Romans in the city when, before, there were more than 1,000,000. Managing the basic everyday needs of the city became problematic. For instance, the natural tidal events of the Tiber River were not managed as they were when the city was fully occupied. Over the centuries the lowlands were covered by the ebb and flow. Locals eventually forgot the grandeur of empirical Rome. It was a great tour led by an engaging guide.

Next up Pompeii.

Thanks

The Missus is a consummate planner. Every day she’s in her “Command Center” planning for a host of events from grocery shopping to European vacations. Oh, it’s not like I’m clueless. When trip plans are afoot, we confab. Like our latest trip to Rome. I’ve wanted to go to Pompeii ever since I saw that issue of National Graphic with the petrified pup on the cover in 1964, it was hauntingly tragic. She wanted to go back to the Vatican and climb to the top of St. Peters just like she did over 50 years ago just to take a photo she could compare to the one she had.

We discussed these and other ideas and she planned it all: a tour of the Vatican, a day trip to Pompeii, a food crawl in the Trastevere neighborhood, a tour of the Borghese Gallery, another of the Colosseum, a cooking class, a day trip to Tivoli, and finally Sunday Mass…oh yes and prodigious consumption of Italian cuisine…and wine.

Finally, it was go time. We flew to Charlotte then to Rome. In an absolute first, I slept on the plane. I nodded off when the little plane on the screen was just south of Nova Scotia and woke up as it poked its little nose into southern France. So, I wasn’t quite the zombie I usually was. Peg always naps. She’s been flying since the early 70s. Customs was a breeze. We found our car service, and we were on our way to Maison Tritone, our home away from home for the next twelve days.

They upgraded us to a more spacious room. That it was directly off the breakfast area gave me pause but I quickly discovered it would not be a problem. Breakfast was included and quite good. We ate there every morning. Very European with a lot of choices, different coffees, fruits, breads, pastries, eggs, yogurts, and meats. The only hitch was the 68 steps leading to the room. I worried about the knee, though excepting those days that involved a lot of walking, I managed. I had my ice pack which they kept frozen for me every day. Consistent tipping helped. We unpacked, freshened up and then left for a walking tour Peg had arranged.

We discovered almost immediately crowds were ubiquitous. Even though this was the ‘off season’ getting around was a challenge. We arrived where we thought the meeting point would be but never connected. Ultimately, we had to move on. As we made our way back to the room, we paused to look at a menu. It looked good so we dove in. There were a lot of “It looked good, so we dove in..” moments. No matter where we went this was the gloriously consistent condition. The only variable was it was better the further from the crowds we got.

There was Carbonara here, a Bolognese there, an Amatriciana over there, and raviolis in a white sauce, a red sauce, or with a little garlic, lemon, and olive oil somewhere else. One place served a credible Salade Niçoise. All with great wines. There’s some links to some favorite places at the end of the piece.

These meals were the epitome of the saying “The fewer the words the better the prayer”. More about this later.

One such experience involved the Negresco. It was towards the end of our trip. We were at a grocery store near the Spanish Steps. Peg was shopping for gifts. I was exploring. I noticed a man, several years my senior, but a dapper dresser, wandering the store with his hands clasped behind him. He noticed me about the same time I noticed a tiny pin on his lapel, in the shape of the state of Alabama. It started a conversation. His name was Federico and he owned Negresco just up the street from the grocery store. In the 90s he met a man from Alabama at the restaurant and struck up a similar conversation. The man talked about his daughter’s upcoming wedding and, as many Southerners do, invited him. He went, surprising the man, who, much like Southerners do, welcomed him to the celebration. As the man was of substantial means (he flew his daughter and newly minted son-in-law to Miami for their honeymoon in a chartered helicopter) he made every effort to make Federico comfortable arranging him a stay at a condo in Destin for ten days. In any event Federico invited us to his place for lunch the next day. Our last full day.

The next morning, due to the fact that Peg was suffering through an allergic reaction she had to some medication she used earlier, had to go to the emergency room. We arrived at 9:50 am and departed 7:30 pm. Suffice it to say it was an arduous experience. Upon her release she still wanted to go. So, we did. (This woman is a real trooper). We took a cab to the place. He was there and happy to see us. When he heard what had happened, he took us under his wing. Of course, the staff took notice. He sat with us for a bit sharing a glass of wine before dinner which was made so much better due to the service which was sublime.

The next morning, we left for Philadelphia.

Next up, the activities.

GRAN DEROMA – DEROMA

Negresco Snapdragon

VIB Frattina – Italian Restaurant

Osteria del Corso | Osteria Historic Center Rome | Vicolo Doria, 7a, Rome, Metropolitan City of Rome Capital, Italy

Caffe Accademia - la miglior cucina di Roma

The President, several cabinet members, a number of legislators, and a host of talking heads have touted the war in Iran for myriad reasons one of which is a 47-year reign of terror the country has perpetrated across the globe. Some have even suggested that the 47^th President’s dealings with Iran might even be some sort of prophesy fulfilled. Numerology aside, it’s been 47 years since the Shah of Iran was deposed and an Islamic state was established. The key to understanding the vitriol the Iranians hold for the U. S. is to understand what led to the fall of the Shah in 1979.

A key reason was he was placed in power by Western countries, namely Great Britain and The United States. Great Britain had built, with Iranian help, a massive oil infrastructure in the country, the largest of its kind at the time. The deal, as it turned out, was lopsided to the advantage of the British. In the early 50s an Iranian leader was democratically elected and began to agitate for a more appropriate agreement. When the Brits refused, the Iranian government nationalized the whole thing. The Brits tried to get satisfaction from the Iranians but were rebuffed. Britain then solicited help from the United States, and they ultimately deposed the duly elected leader and installed the Shah. If you want more details check out Tim Weiner’s “Legacy of Ashes: The History of the CIA” and read “CIA’s Greatest Single Triumph” page 92 through 105.

The Shah ruled for around 27 years. He… “became the centerpiece of American foreign policy in the Islamic world. For years to come, it would be the station chief, not the American ambassador, who spoke to the Shah for the United States. The CIA wove itself into Iran’s political culture…”. Thousands of military representatives moved to the country, along with thousand more ‘defense contractors’. They were there to sate the Shah’s appetite for all things military. American arms manufacturers made astronomical sums of money from the Shah of Iran. They even let him buy the latest jet fighter even though he had not the infrastructure nor pilots to support it.

The Shah also sought to “Westernize” the Iranian people, which did not sit well with many in the Muslim population. There was some buy in to this trend, but it really took hold in the urban centers while elsewhere in poorer sections of the cities and rural areas there was push back. As is usual with an autocratic regime, the poor suffered the most and the bulk of the country was poor.

There wasn’t much appetite for feedback.

The Shah, with the help of the CIA, created a secret police force that was always on the lookout for ‘communists’ and other ‘enemies’ of the state. This was a force of roughly 6,000 to 60,000 operatives depending on the source. In any event thousands were disappeared and tortured. Suffice it to say, the Shah was not endearing himself to his people. The important point to make is that every day of the 27 years the Shah was in power the typical Iranian knew that the United States backed him to the hilt. We were his protector. Interestingly, the United States had no real idea about this undercurrent of feelings in the country. Some were out and about taking the pulse of the people, but if they reported anything that sounded bad (whatever ‘bad’ meant at the time), they were sent back stateside and sidelined. It was a seismic event brewing. People talk about the carnage wrought on the Iranian people under the present regime. It wasn’t any better under the Shah. The difference is that the Shah was supported by our good old United States of America and we were clueless.

For a deeper understanding of the situation read “King of Kings” by Scott Anderson. Sometimes fact reads like fiction which is definitely the case with this book. But those of us of a certain age have heard this story before: the Philippines, Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan, and a host of central and south American countries. Iran’s so called “47 years of global terrorism” may not have happened had it not been for the 27 years of the Shah of Iran’s regime. Sadly, the Shah’s installation in 1953 was just the latest disingenuous act by Western governments in Iran. This parade of hubris began in the 19^th century. Wikipedia is a good start. They have a detailed article about the history of Iran and a respectable bibliography as well.

Dumping our immense stockpiles of ordinance on Iran, twice as they were literally at the table negotiating with us will do nothing to settle the issues surrounding our relationship with Iran, no matter who governs there. All we are doing is creating the next generation of those who will chant “Death to America”. And make note of our latest coalition or lack thereof. The globe is sending us a blatantly straightforward message.

Trumping up reasons for pointless aggression ultimately ends very badly. That’s what got us into all those other quagmires that came before.

Facts matter.

Late in World War II eighteen-year-old Henri Landwirth, an inmate in one of the many German concentration camps, was taken into the woods to be shot. Instead, the Nazi soldier charged with the task, fired his rifle in the air and told Henri to run for his life, and run he did. His father Max had been shot. His mother Fanny was loaded onto a crowded ship that was taken out to sea and purposely sunk. He had no idea if his twin sister Margot was alive. Beaten and emaciated Henri wandered the countryside of Central Europe. Were it not for a Czechoslovakian couple, who knows what would have happened to him.

“They treated me like family,” Landwirth said. “They showed me there was still good in the world, and they asked nothing from me in return.” This experience helped inform the rest of his life.

And what a life it was.

He made his fortune in the hotel business.

In 1949, he arrived in New York City unable to speak English, with only a sixth-grade education, and $20. After serving stateside during the Korean War, Landwirth studied hotel management on the G.I. Bill. In 1954, he was hired to run the President Madison Hotel in Miami Beach.

As hotel manager he was devoted to customer service. Once he loaned his tie to a man who needed it to eat in the restaurant. That man turned out to be B.G. McNabb of General Dynamics, who was responsible for developing the new space program at Cape Canaveral. With no appropriate lodging in the area for personnel, McNabb built a 100-room motel and hired Henri Landwirth to run it. Henri met the people who worked on Project Mercury, America’s first manned spaceflight program. One of them, John Glenn, became a close friend and partnered with him in a new Holiday Inn three miles from Walt Disney World. Henri became one of Florida’s most successful hoteliers.

With his wealth he offered free rooms to terminally ill children sponsored by the Make a Wish Foundation because most kids wanted to meet Mickey Mouse. Another life-changing event awaited him in 1986, when the manager of his Holiday Inn Main Gate hotel near Disney World in Orlando informed him that the parents of a critically ill 6-year-old girl had canceled their visit. Landwirth’s worst fears were confirmed. The little girl was dead. Her final wish, to meet Mickey Mouse at Disney World, had gone unfulfilled because various agencies had taken nearly two months to arrange her visit. This unfulfilled wish left Henri inspired to make a vow that no child in need would ever be failed again.

He partnered with Disney, other theme parks, and hotels to create Give Kids the World Village where these special children and their families could stay free, and perhaps more importantly, he created a more expeditious process to quickly get the children and their families to Walt Disney World. It opened in 1989 with 16 villas on 35 acres. Today it’s 166 villas on 89 acres. It has welcomed 160,000 children and their attending families from over 75 countries.

Believe me when I say no expense was spared. Henri gave me and Peg a tour of the village in the late 90s. It was amazing. Currently, attractions include the Enchanted Carousel, the Jurassic Junction (JJ’s) train experience, Kelly’s Sunny Swing and Lori’s Magical Flight, the Gingerbread House Restaurant, the Serendipity pirate-themed entertainment stage, two wheelchair accessible pools, Jack’s Wacky WaterWorks splash pad, horseback riding, a nature trail, gardens and koi pond, Henri’s Starlite Scoops, a space-themed accessible ice cream parlor, Jersey Jaxson’s Playroom, Julie’s Safari Theater, Matthew’s Boundless Playground featuring the world’s largest game of Candy Land, Amberville Train Station, Marc’s Dino Putt, the Happy Harbor Fishing Pond, a chapel, and the Castle of Miracles, where the stars of every child who has visited are displayed on the ceiling.

Don’t know whether or not it still exists but there is/was a big toy train room that was bonkers to watch! It was mounted about chest high and serviced by more than a few “engineers” that popped up from underneath like ‘whack-a-moles’ all across the landscape doing this, that, and another.

The last time I saw Henri was in 2004 in Bentonville, Arkansas. He was at the Wal-Mart campus to show his documentary “Borrowing Time”. The film follows Henri and his twin sister Margot as they retrace their steps through the war years. It was a powerful film. When it concluded the theater was silent. In the film Henri forgave his tormentors. Margot could not.

He passed in 2018.

Henri Landwirth created other non-profits as well: Astronauts Scholarship Fund, The Fanny Landwirth Fund, Dignity U Wear, and Memories of Love. His children and grandchildren all work in some capacity in the non-profit world. Quite a legacy if you ask me. He was a grand example of what one man can do.

Mr. Coley’s comparison on the cost of gas v. battery machines is nowhere near accurate. Basically, he writes gas equipment is more cost effective than battery equipment. Consumer Reports posits that the costs, over time, are lower with battery power, simply because of the cost of fuel and maintenance associated with gas powered equipment. While Consumer Reports mentions there is a carbon footprint with gas driven machines, they don’t take the time to quantify it. The landscape industry contributes 4% of the carbon in the atmosphere annually. Mr. Coley says nothing about this. Also not addressed is the 17 million gallons of fuel that is spilled annually. The two-stroke engine is a prodigious producer of carbon dioxide and most of the equipment uses this engine.

He dismisses the noise aspect of gas-powered equipment: “Targeting one category of equipment does little to address broader issues and unfairly places the burden on landscape professionals.” All my life I’ve live near railroad tracks and the corresponding trains that ride on them. They’ve become a soothing sound that has helped me off to sleep in Florida, Arkansas, Illinois, and Massachusetts. In the late 70s, I had an apartment two blocks from the Fuller Warren Bridge toll plaza and was easily able to treat the braking of those tractor trailers stopping to pay tolls as waves crashing on the shore before crossing the St. Johns River on I-95. The sound those gas blowers make at The Shoppes of Avondale at 7AM have, to this very morning, made the sound of nails on a chalkboard sound positively sublime.

The two-stroke engine pumps about 90-110 dBs, 30dBs above safe levels. I’m at least 50 yards from them when I’m jolted out of bed. The leaf blower is probably the noisiest piece of equipment used. When operators use the backpack leaf blower that engine is around 12 inches from that operators’ ears. Sound is a hazard not associated with battery powered equipment.

Mr. Coley, discusses the fact that spent batteries create a waste stream and dependable recycle programs need to be developed. He also explains that “… [businesses] need expensive electrical upgrades and dedicated circuits to charge up equipment. A “Dependable recycle program” already exists. Lowes, Home Depot, and Tractor Supply all accept spent batteries. Additionally, most if not all counties in Florida have programs for recycling lithium-ion batteries. While adding conventional electrical infrastructure to landscaping businesses may be needed, Mr. Coley makes no mention at all regarding myriad methods using solar panels at the business address and also on the vehicles themselves that transport the equipment and personnel to and from the job site to facilitate recharging batteries existing outside the grid.

I agree with Tal’s statement: The decision to use gas-powered or electric equipment should…not be dictated by local mandates. The markets should decide. Last year over 6 billion dollars were spent just on electric personal and commercial lawn mowers alone and by 2035 that number comes close to doubling.

What I find, at least disingenuous, is the fact that it took me less than a half-hour to find the above facts regarding the efficacy, costs, solar viability, waste streams for batteries, and the climate change aspects of gas-powered lawn equipment, none of which appeared in Mr. Coley’s missive.

The fact is we haven’t experienced atmospheric carbon accumulation like we have presently in over 3 million years and it’s still accumulating. If all the land-based ice melts sea level rise could be 7 meters higher. If that happens there will not be a landscape left to maintain no matter how the equipment is powered here in Florida.

North America Electric Lawn Mower Market Size, Demand 2035

FLORIDA HOMEOWNER’S GUIDE TO BATTERY RECYCLING AND DISPOSAL

Gas vs. Electric Lawn Mower: Which Is Better? - Consumer Reports

Lawn Mower Pollution - Search

https://www.des.nh.gov/sites/g/files/ehbemt341/files/documents/2020-01/ard-22.pdf

Climate change: atmospheric carbon dioxide | NOAA Climate.gov

How would sea level change if all glaciers melted? | U.S. Geological Survey

You know what’s rarer than hen’s teeth in major league baseball? A franchise player or a pitcher that pitches three games in a single World Series.

My grandfather introduced me to baseball when I was a kid. We’d take the bus downtown then hop a transfer to the field. I did watch the games, but I watched Grandpa as much. They call baseball players “the boys of summer” because that’s when they play. In Florida, that means it gets pretty darn hot and steamy. Grandpa, and a significant number of the other fans, wore suits to the stadium, even in July and August. Gramps never shed a scintilla of perspiration. I, on the other hand, sweat prodigiously, in any climate.

I used to watch NBC’s Game of the Week as much for the banter between Vin Scully and Joe Garagiola that accompanied the match. Before them it was Peewee Reese and Dizzy Dean. I leaned for the National league in general, the Dodgers and Phillies in particular. I marveled at the statistics that were bandied about. In one of the “Major League” movies, Bob Uecker had a stat for a player that, “…batted .350 on Tuesdays in months with a Blue Moon” which captured eloquently, just how extravagantly inane statistics had become, and that was in 1989.

Cable got me interested in the Braves in the late ‘70s. They were on TBS…all the time. I got hooked on them. So much so that while waiting for the cable guy to come to my new home, either some time before noon or sometime after noon on a Tuesday in a month that had a blue moon. I was reduced to surreptitiously watching the games with my binoculars trained on the TV in the den of my neighbors’ home. Okay, okay so I’m not proud of that!

They were the hapless Braves then. There were pools at work betting on when they would choke. One year someone won with a date in May. I went to a few games at the Fulton County Stadium. You could buy field level seats in center field then, after the first inning, stroll over to seats behind the plate without having to go up to the concourse or saying “excuse me”. In ‘91 they had their “worst to first” season. It was a charge to see them in the World Series. Both teams won all their home games. The 90s were pretty much all about the Braves in almost every way except for the World Series. Always a bridesmaid, [mostly] never a bride.

The franchise player and complete game pitcher have slowly vanished. Instead, players are likely to play for three, four, or five teams. Pitchers seem to come in more flavors than HoJos: starter, set-up, dress down, middle, left edge, right edge, long, short, halfway, and TOMWBMs (Tuesday on months with blue moons). What about electronic balls and strikes? Strike three, Dave. You’re out, Dave. There’s no pod bay door and no way to express your dissatisfaction with the call, Dave. Well, there’s the instant replay…no…no, they’re already trying to shorten the game, Dave. That’s what the pitch clock is for, Dave, you’re just going to have to bottle all that frustration till you get back home to the wife and kids…

The year Carl Yasztremski and the “Impossible Dream Team” were in the ‘67 World Series the minimum annual salary for a full-time player was $6000.00. This year, the minimum is $780,000.00. I asked Siri what $6000.00 in 1967 would be worth today, she said $58,225.51. San Diego Stadium opened the year Bob Gibson won his three World Series games. It cost 27.75 million dollars. The Las Vegas Angels stadium is projected to come in at 1.75 billion dollars. Tickets, food, drink, and parking prices at these stadiums vary but, to say the least, they are far more expensive than a Jumbo Shrimp game, and they have fireworks on home games on most weekends. That’s just the sport of Baseball, pick your favorite sport, the pricing is the same.

Harry Caray would say, “Holy Cow!”

Given what I know about the Founding Fathers, I think they would say “Bread and Circuses.”

There was a discussion of the first two articles of the Constitution noting the first article, that created the legislative branch, was more detailed since the concept of a legislature was a far more familiar subject for the founders, so it was more detailed (10 sections 53 clauses). The second article, creating the Executive Branch, not so detailed (4 sections 15 clauses). The fact was the founders had little to no experience with an executive that was not a monarch. They knew they did not want one but there really wasn’t any template they could look to so, they gave it their best effort. It could be said that they “punted” but they also provided for a remedy when better ideas or functions became available. They allowed for amendments to the Constitution.

The discussion continued with the historical expansion of presidential powers, the role of the courts in dealing with the current number of executive orders, and the apparent abdication of the legislative branch’s responsibilities that should be acting as a governor on the overreach of the executive branch. Though it was noted that there seemed to be movement in the legislature in the direction of assuming that stance. This latter development may be with an eye on recent polling that shows a growing disfavor with the direction the President is heading in multiple areas, chief among them the economy.

All in all, it was a very academic dialogue conducted by very capable people who knew what they were talking about.

Sad to say the powers that be are anything but academic, especially the President, Vice President, the head of the OMB, Homeland Security, Attorney General, and many more. These people are guided by those folks over at the Heritage Foundation, the creator of Project 2025, the blue print that seeks to move the United States back to the antebellum period extant in the early nineteenth century.

The folks at the Heritage Foundation along with those that fund them didn’t consider the fact that drastic change, which is absolutely happening right now, has consequences. Especially on the scale these changes are trying to reach which is the entire United States. Remove a couple or three million people from the workforce, disregard whole segments of the population, raise tariffs, scuttle the alternative energy industry, dump historic allies, and dismiss the very people that make this country run, then get ready for the blow back. Crops won’t get to markets, countries retaliate to tariffs with their own, lose the support of those who voted for you, energy prices skyrocket, allies turn their backs on us, and basic functions of government cease to operate.

Folks, the history of the world is rife with the rise and fall of global powers. It wasn’t so long ago that the international language of diplomacy was French, and the English pound was the international financial standard. The United States was thrust into this role in the 50s and hasn’t done very well with it. But here we are with the leadership we have.

Make note that James Madison, the father of our Constitution, realized that there were no examples of a democratic society that lasted very long yet, he worked tirelessly to forge one here in our United States. But even he didn’t include everyone in the process, just white landed gentry. But again, he included a process to, sometime later, make changes to the Constitution that enabled inclusion of those others that have attained their rightful place, equality.

It’s hard work but many hands make light work. But not doing the work will ultimately lead to major shifts in global power structures. It’s not outside the realm of possibilities that the yuan becomes the international standard of exchange.

At least the Chinese are taking Climate Change seriously.

Mark passed away on New Year’s Eve last year. He will always be my big brother. I idolized him. Five years my senior, Mark seemed bigger than life. We shared a bedroom for years until he went off to college. It was a small house, three bedrooms, one bath. It was home to me, my brother and sister, my parents, and mom’s as well.

He was the epitome of cool in his Bass Weejuns, Farrah slacks, Gant shirt, and Gold Cup socks. He even had a Dickie, which I tried on when he wasn’t around. In high school Mark excelled. He learned Latin and French, studied literature, wrote poetry, and excelled in math. Took up boxing in PE, tried out for the cheer-leading squad and made it. He fiddled around with the guitar. He learned a few bars of “Malagueña” and played it incessantly until the Beatles White Album came out. Then he played a few bars of “Blackbird” just as incessantly. I never got used to seeing him play. He was a Southpaw.

The week after Hurricane Dora blew through in 1964, he and I saw the Beatles at the Gator Bowl. We couldn’t hear much but for the screaming. In 1967, we saw Jimi Hendrix who was warming up the crowd for the Monkees. The dichotomy was striking. The boos were overwhelming.

During college Mark had a summer job delivering prescriptions for Low’s drugs in San Marco. The irony was stark since Mark’s hair flowed down to the middle of his back. He kept it in a ponytail. The long hair was anathema to Dad. It slowed but did not stop Mark’s determination to blaze new trails. Such is the lot of the first born. That same determination cleared the way for me to make my way freer to express myself.

Along the way Mark taught himself photography. He began with the Brownie Automatic. I fondly remember in February of 1964 the lone TV was in our bedroom and the whole family, grandparents included were back there to watch the Beatles on Ed Sullivan. There was Mark, Brownie in hand, shooting away one flash bulb after another. He looked, for all the world, like a journalist at a press conference. Sadly, all the shots looked like the TV was not even on. The flash had washed out the picture. Lesson learned! By the time I graduated from high school Mark was able to find a position at the University Hospital as a photographer. He never looked back. It became his livelihood. He had a very successful side hustle photographing kids. He never made them pose, shooting them in their natural habitat.

Mark and I were roommates right after my graduation. We found a place right on the river at the corner of River Blvd. and Goodwin St. My bedroom was on the riverfront in what was onetime the porch of the grand old mansion known as the Riverhouse. Mary Todd Lincoln was briefly a tenant. I was supposed to go to college but, this was Riverside in the early 70s, a far cry from the Southside, and I was easily distracted. I moved out and sowed more than my fair share of wild oats. In the late 70s we became reacquainted.

We both began our “training” marriages around the same time. I moved back to the southside, he remained on the westside, but we spent much time together, having kids, traveling, and making the best of it. Until it stopped working. In the early 90s we both ended our marriages. It was much harder on him.

He began to withdraw from friends and family alike. We both remarried, but it would never be like it was. In 2003 I began a 15-year sojourn that led me through Arkansas, Illinois, then Massachusetts. Throughout this time, I visited Mom who had moved to a nursing home in 2005. He retired and moved to Melrose just east of Gainesville, continuing to become more distant with everyone, including his children.

Shortly before mom passed in 2013 Mark and his wife moved to Kentucky. He did not attend her funeral. A little later I received his note severing his relationship with me as well. I’ll miss my brother. He was a kind soul. In the note he wrote, “Trying to find a successful working model of life is a project that never quite ends until one is worm fodder.” Brother, I hope you got there.

When Pearl Harbor was bombed Dad was 22. He joined the tsunami wave of humanity that flooded into recruitment offices across the nation. He applied to the Army Airforce. He wanted to be a gunner on a B-17, but because he was deaf in one ear (though he had no trouble hearing Led Zeplin on my stereo with the volume set at “one”) he was turned down. That notwithstanding, he qualified for service in an Aviation Engineer Battalion that was tasked with renovating German airfields recently captured and constructing emergency airstrips as needed. He went to England where he helped in the effort to create a ghost army in the southern part of the island to confound the Nazis. Later his unit was assigned to the Ninth Air Force that would fly in support over General George Patton’s 3^rd Army that landed in Normandy in August of 1944.

While not on the front lines of the fast-moving army, he and his crew were right behind them working furiously to repair and build strips which kept the P-47s and P-51s close to the front where they needed to be. I remember playing with a piece of glass as a kid. It was a prism from a German tank periscope that surprised Dad’s unit. It had hidden in a hangar. Only to show itself as the unit arrived to go to work. Fortunately, they were able to radio an appropriate response to the uninvited “guest.” The prism was Dad’s souvenir.

General Patton’s army spread out in a wide swath of central and southern France. Don’t know where Dad was in all that carnage, but it did inspire a quote from Dad when he wished to help me gain a perspective on how to handle difficult times. I’ll paraphrase:

“You’re with the infantry hunkered down in the Ardennes Forest. It’s 1944 and Christmas is near. You’re in a fox hole in the snow. You’re cold, wet, feverish, hungry, exhausted, and your back aches…but you console yourself…because it’s almost Christmas and the Nazis are reeling. So, it’s almost over, then…the ground quakes with the artillery barrage that signaled the major German counteroffensive that became known as the Battle of the Bulge…are you doing better or worse than that guy?”

I’ve always done better than that guy.

Dad mustered out of the army in early 1946 at Fort Dix. I joined the family in 1952. As I grew older, I began to notice that among the myriad detective novels by Raymond Chandler, Ed McBain and John D. McDonald Mom and Dad checked out of the Southside Library in San Marco there were always one or two books about the war and how it came to happen. They were getting their heads around the causes of the carnage. Neither of them talked about it very much but I could tell they were deeply affected.

Only once did Dad say anything to me about his experiences beyond where the prism came from. We were having drinks on the back porch. I was living in Riverside at the time and was visiting them in Lakewood. He spoke about the time he and his unit stumbled upon a sprawling camp of emaciated human beings, barely alive among hundreds that were already dead. He said there were thousands of people there. Allied personnel were trying to help. He’d said he had heard about the camps but had never seen one. He’d known about the very first encounters resulting in mass deaths because the soldiers tried to feed them the food, they had on them and that it was killing the prisoners. He and his mates offered to help but were told that things were “okay.” So, they left. The stench and its memory were still very much with him.

Then there was the shoe box full of the “V” mail on a shelf in the hall closet. They had kept all their correspondence from the war. My degree was in History. I begged Mom to let me look at them.

“After I pass,” she said one day.

Later she admitted throwing them out. Her and Martha Washington… I was crushed. Still later she gave me a couple of his journals penned during the war in England but before he shipped over to France. They were full of that youthful exuberance we all have at the beginning of the race, you know, before we become tempered by the heat of the course.

Dad passed in April of 1982, and Mom passed in June of 2013. I’m very happy they are not here to see what’s unfolding in this country today. Dad would probably say something to the effect of, “Grab a shovel son. We need to dig some foxholes.”

Setting aside the fact that we are a nation of immigrants, other countries are emptying their asylums and prisons at the Mexican border, ICE agents may be trampling on due process, and myriad other issues I intend to just show the costs if the current administration succeeds in its endeavor which is to show a million people the door before the end of the year.

In 2022 the American Immigration Council (AIC) reported that undocumented labor’s after-tax earnings totaled 256.8 billion dollars after they paid 46.8 billion in Federal taxes, 29.3 billion in state and local taxes, 22.6 billion to Social Security, and 5.7 billion to Medicare. Fun fact, undocumented people whether they work or not will never see a dime of Social Security or Medicare. However, there is a federal law signed by President Reagan mandating that no one can be turned away from receiving emergency care in local hospitals.

Removing one, ten, or a million undocumented workers reduces those dollars that go into the economy, tax rolls, and those government services they are largely barred from receiving. Additionally, AIC estimated there are 157,000 entrepreneurs who are undocumented. Deporting one of these people could quite possibly shut their business down leaving any other employees undocumented or not without a job further reducing revenue on both the federal and state level. Add it all up and you have this. For each undocumented person deported the country loses 32,836 dollars.

But wait. There’s more.

Let’s say ICE raids a construction site and detains 10 suspected undocumented workers. The general contractor (hopefully a citizen) will have to slow down the construction process. The event will reduce his productivity. The knock-on effect of the loss effects sub-contractors who mostly purchase their supplies when they intend to start the job. Over time the big box stores will slow down their purchases. Manufacturers will reduce their production as well. Ultimately this causes layoffs across all sectors including American workers. The lost revenue of the ten deported workers comes to 328,360 dollars that disappear from the economy. Those left behind, the American workers who get laid off aren’t making any money either. Unlike the undocumented workers, the American workers can apply for unemployment and other critical services they will need until, hopefully, they find work somewhere else. Credible evidence suggests a one-to-one ratio of attrition meaning for every deportation a citizen loses a job as well but unlike the deportee the citizen remains behind, humiliated and traumatized, scrambling to put a life back together.

Think I’m nuts?

In May of 2023, Florida Governor Ron DeSantis signed Senate Bill 1718 into law. [It] requires private businesses with 25 or more employees to use the federal E-Verify database to screen new workers; makes it a felony to transport an undocumented immigrant into the state or for an undocumented immigrant to use a false ID to obtain work; and prohibits undocumented immigrants from driving with an out-of-state license, among other provisions.

Even before the law went into effect that July, undocumented immigrants began moving out of state, afraid and unable to work. Within months, farmers, builders, restaurants, hotels, and other businesses in the state complained of worker shortages. Even people with legal work authorization moved, worried for their undocumented family members. Construction projects stalled, fruit rotted in the fields, hotels and restaurants fired staff and put up “Help Wanted” signs. Rental units were left empty, and businesses lost customers. Walt Disney World had trouble finding cast members. State representatives who had themselves supported the legislation publicly appealed to immigrants not to leave.

Georgia did the same in 2011 and the ensuing labor shortage cost them 140,000,000 dollars in lost produce in the first year alone. And that is just the produce. No mention of disappearing revenue and taxes. No mention of knock-on layoffs of American workers. No mention of increased unemployment or SNAP benefits.

But wait! There’s more.

To deport an undocumented person is expensive. The Administration is striving to deport one million a year. They will need to build hundreds if not, thousands of new detention facilities, to arrest, detain, process, and finally send them away. That notwithstanding, the annual cost of all steps in this process is 87.7 billion dollars. So, if ICE successfully removes one million people this year 86.25 billion dollars, rather than flowing into the economy and the coffers of federal and local governments, leaves with the deportees causing around a million American workers to lose their jobs as well. They will need untold billions in emergency services to keep afloat until they find other work.

But wait! There’s more!

I’m off to toss the ball with the pup. I think I’ve said enough for now.

What’s in the Senate’s sweeping $118 billion immigration and foreign aid bill? | PBS News

https://www.facebook.com/reel/1300932134911924

The labor market impact of deportations | Brookings

Mass Deportation - American Immigration Council

Education in Arkansas was forging ahead until the state legislature passed a law that put the kibosh on net metering. Net metering is when you generate more solar power than you consume. The excess is returned to local power suppliers who issue credits valued at their retail cost. Not very many utility providers think very much of that. It can put a dent in their profit margins. Utility lobbyists were able to convince Arkansas lawmakers that those with roof-top solar power had an unfair advantage over those who didn’t. They were paying the roof-top folks so much they had to hike rates.

On the face of it they sounded sensible.

Here’s the thing. People in the fossil fuel business really don’t want to consider the knock-on effects of their work, particularly the societal costs of producing energy with fossil fuels. These people know more than you or I do about these effects, and they’ve known for decades. Even so they are, by virtue of their massive profits, formidable practitioners of misleading people whenever they can or simply spending those profits to create the environment they wish to operate in. Arkansas legislators ended 1 to 1 (credits at the retail cost) net metering in their state.

Here in Florida there’s a lot of solar panels going in. After all, it is the “Sunshine State”. We’ve lapped California in new solar power production. Oddly, Florida law mandates that state government (and local governments as well) not to take climate change into consideration when planning energy policy. The law also repeals grant programs encouraging renewable energy projects because “…renewable power is too expensive and unreliable.” The law also gets rid of a requirement that state-purchased vehicles should favor fuel efficiency, most likely meant for purchasing electric vehicles. Just to further expand on the absurd dichotomy, Florida is all in for expanding its natural gas infrastructure. The “natural” in natural gas is a misnomer created by the fossil fuel industry. Methane, the actual name, is a gas that contains significantly more carbon than carbon dioxide.

Meanwhile in the City of Seven Bridges the Jacksonville Electric Authority has promised to generate 35% of its power with renewable energy by 2030. They have partnered with Florida Renewable Partners to construct three solar farms locally with a combined output of 200 megawatts. Additionally, the JEA has installed 35 solar PV systems, totaling 222 kW, on public high schools in Duval County, as well as many of JEA’s facilities and the Jacksonville International Airport. Though their net metering program leaves much to be desired. It only credits back half the retail price. The Jaguars stadium renovation will compete for LEED Platinum, the highest tier on the green-building rating system created by the U.S. Green Building Council. LEED certification considers choices about energy and water use, environmental quality, and materials in construction. The new practice field has a solar array already.

More needs to be done. Credible research suggests higher sea levels than was once forecast. Professor Harold Wanless at the University of Miami believes the sea could rise by as much as 20 feet before the end of the century. This doesn’t bode well for Jacksonville.

There’s a quote from a 18^th century English play, “Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.”

People of a certain age will remember the margarine add in which Mother Nature, standing in a lush forest, was fooled into thinking it was butter. She scowled and hissed “It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature! Then she turned the forest into a desert.

It was cute then. Today it has become prescient.

Solar power is thriving in Arkansas schools — but a new state law may end the growth - Arkansas Times

Batesville School District | Entegrity Energy Partners

Rooftop solar: Net metering is a net benefit | Brookings

Net metering causes less than one dollar cost shift to most ratepayers, study says – pv magazine USA

States Should Follow Florida’s Example in Energy Policy - IER

‘Too late to turn back’ – a professor at the University of Miami details the severity of sea-level rise  | The Invading Sea

JEA Finalizes 35-Year Contracts for Three Solar Energy Sites in Jacksonville - Florida Municipal Electric Association

#AskJAXTDY l Will a remodeled stadium be climate-friendly? | Jacksonville Today

Miller Electric Center taking shape, adding rooftop solar | Jax Daily Record

JEA - Revised.pdf

Reaching peak Carbon…sounds like there’s a host of numbers and anachronyms around that term. And there are…oh boy howdy there are. I’ll do my best to steer around them. Simply defined, reaching peak carbon means the planet is emitting less carbon than the year before. In fact, we as a planet, have reached that point. This year the planet is poised to emit .04% less carbon than last year.  Not a very big number but when you consider the trends it’s a pretty big deal.
Then there’s this from the “Carbon Brief” website:

Total global CO2 emissions have notably flattened in the past decade (2014-25), growing at only 0.3% per year compared to the 1.9% rate of growth during the prior decade (2004-13).

For the purposes of perspective and context carbon emissions are measured in metric tons. A metric ton weighs almost 2205 lbs.  In 1940 the world emitted 4.86 billion metric tons of carbon. This year that number will be 38.11 billion metric tons. Currently, 903 billion metric tons of carbon are in Earth’s atmosphere. The last time there was 900 billion metric tons in the atmosphere was The Pliocene Epoch around 2.5 million years ago. 

What does this portend for us today? Could it be our future? Maybe. The Pliocene lasted a couple or so million years, plenty of time to mimic almost anything. The fact is, the reason for the similarities regarding the carbon numbers has one glaring difference, there weren’t any people in the Pliocene Epoch. All the carbon in the air came from natural causes like volcanic activity and a lot of it. Many great mountain ranges like the Andes in South America had their beginnings in the Pliocene. Now carbon has accumulated in the atmosphere because of human activity. The activities of those who live in industrialized countries in particular, have caused most of the carbon build up on the planet. 

.04%, I’ll take it. China is involved. Early on they held us back. But over the last decade they retooled. At one time China had been responsible for 90% of global growth in carbon emissions. In 2024, after spending $625 billion on alternative energy, China has been able to cover all new internal demand for energy for the first half of the year and possibly for the second half as well. They will spend at least that much next year. 
China, as of 2024 had over 887 gigawatts of installed solar capacity and is expected to pass 1100 gigawatts this year. The country is the largest producer of solar energy and dominates the global supply chain, with eight of the world’s nine largest manufacturers based in China. Just for context the United States has 255 gigawatts of installed solar power.  China has spent money on EVs too. They sell over 1.5 million EVs a month. China dominates the world market for EVs as well.  The U. S. sells about 100,000 EVs a month. 

Politics notwithstanding all this is good for the planet. Even though the current administration has thrown roadblocks in the way of alternative energy production it’s still increasing. The United States is projected to have 33 gigawatts of new solar energy installed by years end. Add wind, hydro, nuclear, geothermal, and battery storage and this year the U. S. will produce 338.4 gigawatts of new alternative energy. That means more coal, oil, and gas will lay fallow in the ground.

Across the planet more alternative energy is replacing fossil fuels. Sure, personal EVs with their huge batteries will present problems down the road as more and more hit the market and the elements that make up the battery become harder to find. People are already planning for that with more and more communities looking to mass transit. The United States, in spite of the politics, is surging ahead with sustainable power production and mass transit. But it’s clear we are falling behind. The current administration calls climate change a hoax choosing to back fossil fuels. Even the fossil fuel industry, ultimately, sees the problems with that. Giving up even attempting to take a leading position in the transition to sustainable energy will cause an overall decline in the status of the United States in the world. The dollar became the global currency in 1944. Will it still be the global currency in 2044?

The answer lies with who is running our country.

https://ember-energy.org/latest-insights/

https://www.science.org/content/article/global-carbon-emissions-will-soon-flatten-or-decline

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:Pliocene_volcanoes

https://www.eia.gov/todayinenergy/detail.php?id=64586

https://www.thetransportpolitic.com/2025/01/12/transit-project-openings-in-2025-a-global-review/

I’ve been getting busy lately. Big changes in the vegetable garden. Furniture orders from my very best customer are rolling in. Maintenance is calling to me from the front yard. I’m a freshly minted Master Gardener and that comes with time commitments as well. For these reasons and others I’m going to a bi-weekly publishing schedule.

I’ll be in touch soon.

Last Tuesday I listened to the mayor’s monthly visit on WJCT’s First Coast Connect in which, among other topics, she spoke about JTA’s autonomous vehicle program. She’s a big fan of the project, especially the fact that an international company is planning to make Jacksonville its Noth American headquarters. That will bring hundreds of millions in investment dollars and hundreds of high paying jobs as well. I’m a big fan too. Light rail was brought up and she’s all for that as well, stating to the effect that both can happen simultaneously. I like that idea. The fact is that we did it before. 

At the end of the 19th and into the early 20th century around 300 cities established streetcar networks in the United States. The largest, Chicago, had north of 1,000 miles of track, covering 172 routes, with over 3,000 cars, and serving 3.4 million daily. The smallest, Fort Collins, Colorado, boasted 7 cars on three lines, so considerably less than 1,000 miles of track. Our own Jacksonville had nearly 60 miles of tracks that ran everywhere you needed to go back in the day. Ever wonder why the old Acosta bridge had three lanes? The middle lane was a streetcar track that took people over to San Marco.

So, of what, other than a possible question in a Trivial Pursuit game, significance are these facts?

Most significant is the lack of a carbon foot print. These systems ran on electricity so there was almost no carbon emissions. The cars typically had the capacity to hold between 50-60 passengers. Had Jacksonville’s system been allowed to blossom as much as Chicago’s there’s no telling how many autos would have not been on the road contributing to climate change. There’s no telling how many thousands of dollars people would’ve saved not owning a car. Also significant was, for the most part, streetcar systems were privately held by electric utility holding companies, real estate developers, and entrepreneurs. The streetcar companies made money.  Finally, they moved people efficiently. 

So, what happened?

In 1988 Amblin Entertainment, Touchstone Pictures, and Silver Screen Partners produced “Who Framed Roger Rabit?”  It was a story of an evil doctor trying to buy up a streetcar company so he could close it and build a freeway. The film won seven academy awards. But sadly, the premise had a basis in fact and that was the Great American Streetcar Scandal. PBS aired a documentary about it in 1996, “Taken for a Ride.”

In a nutshell, between the years of 1938 and 1950 National City Lines, a bus company funded by GM, Firestone, Standard Oil, Mack Trucks, and others began buying up streetcar companies. Once purchased the lines were dismantled and replaced with busses, all built by GM. In 1946 Edwin Quinby, described as “…brilliant, eccentric, and very likely a crank…” wrote a 32-page document detailing what was happening to the streetcar systems. The GM consortium was…” buying up streetcar companies, scrapping their electric trolleys, and then locking the cities into contracts that required them to buy buses, parts, and fuel from themselves.” Quinby distributed copies of the document to a host of national, state, and local politicians. There was a federal trial and in 1949, the involved companies were found guilty of conspiracy to monopolize interstate commerce in the sale of buses, fuel, and supplies to NCL subsidiaries. Each of the guilty parties were fined $5000. This was a rare case in which Mr. Quinby was actually mostly brilliant. That notwithstanding, the erosion of the streetcar lines continued apace.  It was by design that the buses were, on many levels, a poor replacement for the streetcars. This was a key part of the plan to create a bigger market for the car and the “need” for more roads. 

In 1932 Alfred Sloane, GM CEO created the “National Highway User’s Conference.”  Any company involved in any aspect of the car were members. Suffice it to say it became the largest lobby in the country. 

In 1935 Congress passed the Public Utility Holding Company Act. It was a multifaceted bill that did a lot of things but for the sake of brevity, it ultimately forced these holding companies to divest themselves of their streetcar lines. Arguably making it less difficult for National Transit Lines to accomplish its plans. 

In 1953 Charles Wilson, former CEO of General Motors became Secretary of Defense. That same year Francis DuPont, whose family had the largest steak in GM stock, became Chief Administrator of Highways. Not surprisingly there was a big push to construct and maintain an interstate highway system. The Federal-Aid Highway Act was passed in 1956. It established the Interstate Highway System and funded construction with the Highway Trust Fund. A gas tax was used to fund the trust, and the funds were to be used specifically for highway construction and maintenance. 

Not exactly your “Self-Made-Man-Pulls-Himself-Up-With-His-Own-Bootstraps” story.  Be that what it may, Jacksonville’s system, along with the vast majority of the nations systems were replaced by buses that were, by design, never able to meet the needs of the population, a tsunami of automobiles, a highway system that can’t keep up with the demand, and tragically, slashed through the heart of many non-white communities, most of them were thriving until the road came. It was the road of least resistance for the largely white commissions that planned the routes.  

Another key part of the plan was the ubiquitous and beguiling promotional campaign conducted by the auto industry that has moved the public away from mass transit and into the automobile. There was the “See the USA in Your Chevrolet” jingle tickling auditory nerves in the early 50s. Cars were always advertised on TV in places you’d love to vacation, all alone on scenic highways. 

“America’s Love Affair with the Automobile” a quote first heard in 1961 on NBC in a program hosted by Groucho Marx titled “Merrily We Roll Along” when he cast cars as “the new girl in town.” To make this love work, he explained, Americans were willing to overcome intrusive regulations, endure awful traffic jams, and if necessary, redesign entire cities. “We don’t always know how to get along with her, but you certainly can’t get along without her,” said Marx. “And if that isn’t marriage, I don’t know what is.” Nowadays, these are considered crude and unpolished attempts to keep us doe-eyed at dealership windows. Marketing like everything else, has evolved. 

Thus, the stage was set for the country to eventually lead the planet in carbon emissions. A dubious distinction at best.

I’m a native so I heartily agree with the mayor’s description of a “if we start it, it can’t be good” attitude in Jacksonville she spoke about on First Coast Connect recently. We were an international vacation destination for people of means. We were a big part of a nascent film industry. We were chock-a-block full of national and regional headquarters for insurance and financial companies. Well, the train took the vacationers to Miami. The film industry headed to Hollywood. Deregulation and consolidation happened. So, I can see why people would feel apprehensive. Those chapters turned out not to be for us. The fact is these chapters closed because they weren’t meant to be. As I think Groucho might say “it was a bad marriage.”

The automated vehicle system currently under way here can and should proceed but make note, it has issues yet to be uncovered. That is what comes with a first-of-its-kind system. That’s exciting! It’s the future and we are on the tip of the spear. With the initial level of investment secured along with the long-term funding from other sources it would be a shame not to jump in and make it happen. The mayor is spot on when she talks about the NAVI system not getting a fair test. It is way too soon to judge.

 Where the NAVI system wouldn’t make sense do light rail (formally streetcars). These systems are already in more than 50 cities with others thinking or planning more. Might make sense as a way to get in and out of the area housing VyStar Field, EverBank Stadium, and Veterans Memorial Coliseum. Maybe a line to the airport and St. Johns Center. Another to Town Center and the beaches.  If it all works it will put us on the map and might just make Jacksonville a vacation destination. Maybe someone will want to make another movie here. Companies are already setting up headquarters. What else can we do? A lot if we want to.

jahttps://www.thejaxsonmag.com/article/lost-jacksonville-streetcarscksonville-traction-co https://www.metrojacksonville.com/article/2007-apr-floridas-largest-trolley-system-jacksonville-traction-co https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Public_Utility_Holding_Company_Act_of_1935 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Federal-Aid_Highway_Act_of_1956 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/General_Motors_streetcar_conspiracy https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Who_Framed_Roger_Rabbit https://www.historyisaweapon.com/defcon2/quinbyswarning/ https://macsmotorcitygarage.com/saturday-morning-cartune-see-the-usa-in-your-chevrolet/ https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2015-01-29/the-invention-of-america-s-love-affair-with-the-automobile https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Public_Utility_Holding_Company_Act_of_1935 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fort_Collins_Municipal_Railway https://www.wbez.org/culture/2012/10/03/the-great-years-of-chicago-streetcars https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Light_rail_in_North_America

Taking some time. Be back next week.

“Why do we have 400 pieces of candy?”

“That’s what you told me to buy.”

The plan was to order pizza from Ale Pie House, eat at 5, and be ready for munchkins by twilight. They were out by 4:30, Ale Pie House phones were down, so we were dead in the water. The Wife ordered on line on her way back from Winn Dixie and I hid in the back with the pup, who, to this day, doesn’t do well with costumes, especially Sponge Bob Square Pants.   

We saw plenty of Sponge Bobs plus dozens of Frankensteins, Draculas, Ironmans, Spidermans, Beetlejuices, Supermen, dogs, cats, a couple of Stay Puft Marshmallow men, some Barbies, Kens, a number of Power Rangers, a kid in a tailored three-piece suit, a Mary Poppins replete with all her accoutrements sans the parasol, a smattering of Hulks, Batmans, and every Disney character you want to name. That was the kids. The parents, who largely remained on the street, were as gone as their kids. Many of them did their pets up as well. 

That said the Halloween gig in this neighborhood beats my fondest recollection of my kids or even my own experiences. In the 60s, Lakewood on the Southside was truncated by University Blvd. so it was hard to get to a lot of doors. Lots of us headed down to the Lakewood Shopping Center as Dipper Dan’s Ice Cream Parlor was handing out free ice cream. At some point Halloween at Dipper Dan’s became volleys of eggs…flying through the air at assembled masses of kids facing off against each other. So much so that one year someone called the Police. When a cruiser showed up it was quickly transformed into a rolling pile of scrambled eggs. Other patrol cars arrived along with a bus ostensibly to incarcerate the eggers who had all, with the exception of the Dillman brothers, evaporated.
  
In the 70s and early 80s I was either in 5 Points or beginning my 40+ year adventure in the elysian fields of marriage. I liked it so much I did it twice.

In the first chapter: The 80s
My children had the benefit of being in a large community in Mandarin, 150 homes. We managed to get to almost all of them.  My son, who impersonated at least six TV wrestlers in his Halloween career, was old enough to hang with his buds. My daughter, too young to, was attached to my hip in her ubiquitous tutu, tiara, and “magic wand” as we went door to door. She whined in between driveways, scrambled up to the door got her candy, and whined back down. In the end I had to ‘steal’ a few plastic newspaper bags to handle her haul. 

Chapter 2: The 90s and beyond.
There were my two and her two. The youngest was 5 the oldest 13. We divided and conquered. One would stay home to handle traffic; the other marshaled the troops through the neighborhood. It worked well, except for the dogs. One standard Poodle, Harpo, one maniacal Benjie, Zippy. Harpo, prim and proper, eschewed sweets. Zippy a rescue with food issues and a tenacious forager. As was customary, the candy was dumped onto the floor after trick or treating and, Zippy was right in there…’guns a blazin’…so to speak. He had to be extracted from the candy dumping from that time on and I needed a couple or so band aids. 

The kids aged up and in 2003 we moved out of state to Arkansas, Illinois, and Massachusetts. In each case it was not a good place for trick or treaters. In 2018 we came back and settled in Avondale. We have not been disappointed. The neighbors are stellar, there’s always something going on in the shopping center, and dining is…well right now the aroma from the Casbah is thoroughly tantalizing and it’s Sunday after 9pm, their live jazz program is on till midnight. That’s definitely on my bucket list. 

The Riverside Avondale Preservation people seemingly have something planned year-round: garden and home tours, musical events, and a wonderful Christmas event they call Luminaries which includes a bike ride through the neighborhood that usually includes several hundred seasonally decorated bicycles complete with lighting. 
But it is the kids in costumes by the hundreds that I look forward to the most. Okay the bicycles are pretty cool. I did one of those in Baltimore with my stepson. It was a total gas. But it doesn’t hold a candle to the hundreds of smiles I see on Halloween.   

What’s up with those folks at Publix? Welcoming their shoppers to go right ahead and proudly pack their pieces on their hips for God and country to see, stating that if anything goes wrong, they’ll get right on the phone with local law enforcement. Who will be right over. 

Jean Francis wrote a great letter to the editor in the Florida Times Union Sunday. Here’s a salient quote:

 “Well, law enforcement was called and responded expeditiously to these events: Dollar Store shooting in Jacksonville (three dead), Buffalo Tops shooting (10 dead including the security guard), El Paso Walmart shooting (23 dead, 22 wounded).”  

What makes the folks at Publix think their policy makes sense, especially when none of the above incidents occurred in places that publicly allowed open carry? Far as I’m concerned this policy is a recipe for disaster. So, there’s an incident in Dairy. The manager calls the police. They come. But the guy in Dairy is just one of four other people with a Glock on the hip: two white men, a white woman, and a non-white teenaged boy. How does that end?

Then there's this: 

“A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.” – 2nd Amendment to the U. S. Constitution. The complete version, it's often truncated.

This was part of a document added to the Constitution during the ratification process to answer concerns registered by the various states. Back then people were in genuine danger. As the European population moved west the native population resisted. Based on past experiences with governments people were concerned about the power of a central government. At that time local militias were the check against these dangers.
	
There was no standing army. The local militias mustered on the green when needed. Towns maintained armories where weapons and ammunition were stored. By the end of the 18th century there were around 6,000 permanent soldiers nationally.  Policing lagged even further behind. The first municipal police force was established in Boston 1838. In 1905 Pennsylvania became the first state to establish a statewide police force. Again, if there was a problem, volunteers filled the gaps. 

Remember Paul Revere’s Midnight ride warning the countryside of the approaching British troops? He was a Silversmith but that night he volunteered to serve. What were the Brits after? The guns and ammo in the armories of Lexington and Concord. Concord’s armory still exists though it’s being repurposed into a museum. It was a community center when I lived in Natick a few years back. Lexington’s does not exist.  Volunteers mustered onto the greens in both villages. When it was over 88 volunteers died.

So…back to the “incident in Dairy.”

The police arrive. Can’t begin to imagine what they are confronted with. A certain level of chaos for sure. How many of our open carry folks have their gats out and at the ready? Maybe people are rushing out of the store. Others may be hiding. But usually, and sadly, if someone has proffered a weapon in a store or some other public facility someone gets shot. 

Police have to jump through hoops to wear a badge. They probably have to continue all that jumping after they get that badge too. Handling weapons is certainly an integral part of their training. Even with all that there have been deaths that could have been avoided. The manager of that Publix didn’t just walk on to that job either. Wonder what he/she has been trained to do in the event of an “incident in Dairy?” What about the four Glock owners? Do they have to jump through the same hoops that police have to? 
 
A man goes to a doctor beating himself with a hammer. He tells the doc “Every time I hit my head it hurts…”

By the way guys, not shopping at Publix the gun thing is the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

We bid farewell to Santa Fe around 2:30 in the afternoon on Friday and took back roads south towards Albuquerque, our penultimate stop before the trip to Chaco Canyon the next day. After more than my fair share of rolling hills (Peg had still only logged an hour of driving) we got on I-40 for the last few miles to the, wait for it, Hotel Chaco. I kid you not. We arrived around 4PM, checked in, dumped the car at the airport, came back, showered, and went to the rooftop Level 5 Restaurant. We had drinks, a martini for me and an “Ancient Fashion” for Peg in which the bourbon was “smoked” and served under a small glass domed dish. I had pork for the entrée, and The Wife ordered Trout. We had after dinner drinks and took in the great views of the city and the surrounding mountains. I believe I was asleep the instant my head hit the pillow.

Finally, it was The Day! 

7AM and we were in the lobby looking for the group. There would be 12 counting the docent. We found them and chatted while the guide did some administrative work, talked about a few other items and then we made our way to the van. My contact told me it was a fifteen-person van…that was a stretch, but it didn’t really matter.

It was going to Chaco Canyon, and I was on it!

We crammed into the vehicle and in no time, we were out of the city of 500,000. It was a three-hour drive. We were on a highway, then a gravel road, then clay, and then a lesser maintained stretch. The wash-boarding caused the van to slow to a crawl. Took a dip in the road and rose up over the hill and there it was, the Ranger’s station.  
I think the nearest shopping, you know, for essential stuff like food, was a couple of hours away in Cuba where we stopped for a restroom break. Peg would be out of luck. TJMax was nowhere around. 

I was finally there! 

My attraction began in 2005 after reading about the culture in “Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed,” by Jared Diamond. He wrote a chapter devoted to the ancient Anasazi culture. By the way Anasazi is the Navajo word for “ancient ones.” It’s also important to understand that when I say canyon, don’t think Grand Canyon. The walls of Chaco Canyon are many miles apart and the bottom has no Colorado River running through it. 

He writes about their arrival in the fifth century and that they were part of a greater area also inhabited by Hohokam, Mimbres, Mogollon, and Kayenta people that all inhabited and area about 400,000 sq. mi. that include parts of Colorado, Utah, Arizona, Texas, and Mexico. The Anasazi built massive community buildings that were the largest in North America until the 1880s. They laid out miles of roads, irrigation lines, and many dams. All in the effort to produce more food for their growing communities. But as the centuries rolled on, increased shortages due to the paltry rainfall and increase populations began to create cracks in the societal fabric. By the end of the 11th century, they had “suddenly” dispersed, leaving behind these massive structures extant today. 

The Pueblo Bonita and other massive buildings are all built with their fronts facing exactly east and the sides facing north. Everywhere there are ways to notice the winter and summer solstices. All done over 600 years without a written language or math. The walls are filled with dirt and detritus and sheathed in flat stone with no mortar. A couple of the buildings were five stories high. The roofs were made with logs in the beginning relatively nearby but, as the community grew, they used up the trees and had to access others from over 40 miles away. There were no beasts of burden and no wheel.

Overall? I’m fulfilled. It was truly a wonderful experience.

But there’s icing on this cake. We got back to the hotel, grabbed a bite to eat, went back to the room, turned on the TV, and found the Jumbo Shrimp v Las Vegas International League Championship game. And for the first time since 1968, the Shrimp won…with all the trappings including a come-from-behind two run homer in the bottom of the ninth inning. 

I shoulda bought a lotto ticket.