THE CAR WAS THE ONE

“The Car was the one.”

Mark Knopfler 

Take a moment and enjoy the story through song.

Bobby Brown Info.

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1956 Two Door Chevrolet

I started working when I was 12 and put most every penny into the bank so as to have enough to purchase my first car when I turned 16.

Finally, the day arrived and we drove to Portland, Oregon one Saturday morning with $800 cash in hand. Eight hundred dollars was the determining factor. Portland was the land of milk and honey for used car lots.

1955 two-door Chevrolet hardtop for sure, but over budget. 1957 Chevrolet for sure but even further over my budget. And then, this 1956 blue and white Chevrolet with 265 cu. in. motor, two-barrel carburetor, bench-seat and three on-the-column. A magnificent find and mom and dad helped with the extra $50. Signed, sealed and delivered.

We headed home and after crossing over into Washington State, we stopped to gas up and check the oil. The dip-stick was dry. No matter how many times, I checked, dry. Looked under the car and the oil leak was noticeable. She had lost her rear main seal and oil was escaping.

Dad said "We are taking her back". I pleaded because I knew not of worldly purchases of cars, mechanical fixes, warranties and who is responsible. I wanted to top the oil off, head home and "we could get her fixed there." Nope, we topped off the oil and headed back into the middle of Portland. All the way back, my heart was there on the bench-seat next to me.

Now, those were the days my friends! The lot stood by deal and sale. Pulled the Chevy into their garage, dropped the drive-line, the three-speed transmission, oil pan and replaced the rear seal. Took all of three or four hours. We went out for a drive and lunch. Then back to the lot and later that afternoon, the 56 Chev came out of the garage with a smile on her face and a song in her heart. She was repaired and good as new.

The same stop again coming home. Dip-stick showed full, clean oil. Heart back in my chest for the trip home and years of memories in that old Chevy. 

She was a sweetheart. She was there through those mid-teenage years. Street racing and Friday night/Saturday night cruising. She taught me about car ownership and mechanical things. She taught me about budgeting and prioritizing earned monies. She confirmed in so many ways that having my very own car at 16 years old was worth more than it was worth. And she was there to take me from the junior college campus to home on November 22, 1963 when JFK was assassinated. Driving down the hill from the college campus with numbed heart and mind. Much was learned with her and she offered the first reaches of individual freedom and individual responsibility.

 

I will not launch into more of the oldies but goodies I was fortunate to own and drive. Suffice it to say, they fed my wanton desire for connectivity to mother earth through four rolling tires and the need to grab gears. To this day, the want and need to drive for the fun of driving is still alive.

 

This brings me to the discussion of self-driving cars. We are in the technological curve now where all of this can become a reality. Commercial airplanes have the technological ability to take off, fly to a destination and land without the need of humans in the cockpit. You and I are not yet ready to board such a flight, but the technology exits and has for quite awhile. 

There exists, though, on the part of the new car designers and billionaires, the idea that we are ready to hop into a motor vehicle and turn our travel needs over to the machine. I might find such an experience like the thrill of a carnival ride coupled with the wonderment of technological achievement. BUT it will/would be just that, an entertainment ride.

It is the human factor adapting to this technology that the up-coming designers and builders may want to pay more attention to. Because the technology exists is not a mandate we all climb in. I have read that not having to worry about the driving coming and going will give the rider more time to check emails and work the net. Sheesh, ya gotta come up with more than that. After working all day, will folks want to continue head down and fanny up in screen world on their commutes? Maybe I am wrong.

Things mechanical break. Things mechanical/electrical/programmed/programmable fail. Having a self-driving car just up and stop in mid-traffic would/should scare the hell out of me. I am sure that the designers and builders will have foreseen a percentage of these occurrences thus designing an automatic lock in system so as to protect the human from making the mistake of getting out of the car in moving traffic. “The vehicle has stopped, please be patient. Push diagnostic mode button for more information”

At some point the human returns to fix the problem. Might we opt for better linking of human and machine through design? 

 

The human element will want to hack the owned vehicle to help improve the performance or, more likely, the freedom of movement. “Yep, I have doubled the battery life on Gertrude and improved momentary acceleration by 80%. I have also installed a Rube Goldberg joy stick for manual driving. You should see the faces on the car riders I speed by.”

Or, I hacked the a**hole gesturing to me on the by-way this morning. His car just slowed down and coasted to a stop on the off ramp.” A**Hole!!

 

Hector felt the need for speed in his 2011 “highly modified” Mustang. Hector was working the human element. Apparently 84 mph just wet his appetite. Hector broke the law, got caught and, thank goodness, no one was hurt and the Mustang was not destroyed in his need for speed.

 

Put Hector in a self-driving car and the young man will find ways to “improve” vehicle performance, independence, freedom and yes; fun! So will thousands other Hectors and Hectorettes.

To the young designers and doers. This is the car I would like you to design and build for me.

Four doors with fitted bucket seats.

Three-hundred-sixty degree visibility.

Pilot/Co-Pilot front driver seats.

Cyclic wrist control for each driver.

Four seat heads up display.

Direct link to the global satellite network.

Function buttons, panels and switches located for ease of access.

One thousand mile minimum endurance.

Voice command for all systems.

Intuitive vehicle interaction with driver.

Autopilot linked with manual driver options.

Full GPS functions and full cloaking capability.

Road to vertical take-off flight options using current technology.

Reverse hacking complete instant system kill mode.

Matte, gun metal grey and wheels with Baby Moons.

Will stop here before this becomes an impossible build.

Thank you young designers, for your help with my request.

YMATA 

What sticks in my craw as I watch some of this unfold is the idea that the human needs to be taken out of the driving equation. Here is another excellent example where you and I are the problem. We need to be removed as part of the design/build process. This article says that our safety is their prime motivation. "Save the children" too ought to be added. We are a humanity being seriously co-opted to think there is no avenue where we can make a decision or have any capacity to take care ourselves. Ought to scare the exhaust valves out us.

Other key concepts from these master minds: "Information overload." Yep, we are not as smart as they are!! "Passive fatigue." Sounds wonderful. "Car does all the work." Sign me up. Sounds like another opportunity to be a victim. Blame the damn car. Blame the doers!

Lets not forget all the new laws and funding needed for the letting the car do all the work. Regardless, the above article is worth browsing. 

A last moment down memory lane and I will move on.

 

1966--A couple weeks before completing flight school at Ft. Rucker, Alabama.

Twenty-year-old pilot to be.
 1963 Stingray Convertible; 350 HP, 4 speed.    $50 a month payments.
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Pre-Thanksgiving 2016 

It's the day before the day before and her is working the Thanksgiving Dinner. Kitchen is not a mess, but is an array of mission specific items arranged in ascending or descending order of application. I have completed the banana run for "mother's" fruit salad and all systems are a go. One more day of emergency shopping available, but pre-planning seems to have paid off early.

Our Thanksgivings have evolved over the past years to inviting "orphans" - older folks whose children are far, far away and who, too, are alone this day. Being alone is not a bad thing, but this holiday is best with company. And her always makes the biggest turkey she can find so sharing is in order on many levels. At this moment in time, I am looking forward to turkey dinner. 

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Dog's Just Want To Have Fun

 

Catching Tennis Balls

Catching Snow Balls

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 DAY AFTER THANKSGIVING----BLACK FRIDAY----WEEKEND

Was a very wonderful home Thanksgiving. Good company, a little politics, great meal by her and time afterwards to sit and visit about things other. Thanks for health, good family and friends, hope for a great nation to heal for the good of all and  down-time not infected by the media. 

Company left, we cleaned up, put the big stuff away and enjoyed watching the Cowboys and Indians play football. A good game, well played and Dax just might bring me back to winter football in baby steps.

Leftovers already with fried mashed potato pancakes and fruit salad for breakfast. Turkey boned and broken into bits. All set in a large soup pot, covered in water and on the simmer as we speak, for the weekend turkey soup romp. 

Her wants out of the house today so it is off on the back roads to back water towns for special gift shopping. Packing up the dog and a road trip.

We found some of the most beautiful country side here that we have ever seen. Old New England homes, farms, rock walls and picture perfect landscapes. A good reason for another road trip with camera. 

We found a fellow and long time business who makes pewter ornaments and who also practices the art of metal spinning dishes and bowls. Yes, I could have sat there all day watching him work. Take me to the engine room or to the work shop and I am as a happy as a man can be. Her bought ornaments and thanked me several times for getting all of us out of the house. 

And all was good!!   

 

 

THE LAST FLIGHT

It was the last day of the two-month contract flying for Temsco Helicopters.  The summer of 1986, I had been stationed in Eagle, Alaska flying sling loads and geologists around the area. The geologists were taking rock, soil and vegetation samples in hopes of locating another large oil field. Apparently, the earth leaves signs over the tops of these large oil deposits. Find the signs, drill a well and find out. Layman's understanding.

I was sitting at idle warming up the helicopter and checking "all green" instruments. Extra fuel was strapped onto the backseat. My personal belongings and other gear were neatly tucked and arranged for the return flight to Temsco, Juneau. I completed a last minute check and brought the power up for take-off. This was it, my last flight.  I doubted I would ever fly helicopters commercially again. Family and other life responsibilities. But flying had always been a mistress to me and I knew this was our last fling.

I picked up to a hover and took off to say goodbye at the Riverside Cafe. I told the gals and folks there I would fly in front of the restaurant and pause to say goodbye. I would then follow the Yukon River to Dawson City on the first leg of my return flight to Juneau.

I circled over the island in the picture above and pulled to a 50' hover over the shore line and directly in front of the restaurant. The folks and friends whom I had come to know as family came out with cameras, snapping pictures and waving. I was close enough to see their faces for the last time. I wanted to hover there for the longest time. With a lump in my throat, a last wave, I  dipped the nose and peddle turned left down the river towards Dawson City.

I worked sixty days straight that summer, flying in one of most beautiful places on earth. I have always said that there was never another job I would do sixty days straight with out a day off. I would have extended my tour there in a heartbeat, no questions asked. But family and other responsibilities were my chosen route.

As I continued a climb towards Dawson, I settled down and worked on putting emotions behind me. Should have been a man's man, thumped my chest in the good bye and flew off. But the folks of Eagle and the folks I flew with had became very good friends. The flying, the people and Alaska set hooks deep in me that summer. I doubted I would ever return and I never have. Not because I did not make plans or not wanted to. It just did not work out the way I had hoped. The parting that day was a final tear in a most wonderful summer experience.

I have likened Montana, Idaho and Washington State to God's country. The beauty is beyond my ability to put into words and I have said that God took a few extra hours as he painted that land. In the same sense, God also took a few extra hours painting the lands of Alaska. I can still feel this deep inside of me today, thirty years later. If I have several lives to live, I would choose one of those lives living in Alaska and flying if I get to fine-tune the choice.

Take a moment here and look at The Riverside Hotel and Cafe today. Arrow down and look at the photos. The second picture (with red truck) is looking down the Yukon River towards Dawson city. Take a few moments and look at all the pictures here. Beautiful area. 

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The opportunity to fly that summer in Alaska came about through a series of events, needs and a yearning to fly again. I took a week's training and transition flying during the month of April with Temsco in Ketchican. Signed on to fly a two-month contract with them, an ARCO oil contract, out of Eagle, Alaska. Another pilot and I were to take two helicopters and fly to Eagle and fulfill the contract doing sling work and daily flying of geologists in and out of remote areas.

Our flight of two hugged the western shore of Lynn Channel to Skagway. My first taste that summer of the enormity and beauty of the lands we were to fly. We refueled at Skagway and picked up the Klondike Highway (Route 2) running NNE into the Yukon Territory. The clouds lowered as we climbed along with the highway. We stayed over the road with cloud cover keeping us low. One thing I always enjoyed about flying helicopters was moments like this. I would never venture into a low, slow flight in an airplane in "iffy" mountain weather. The abilities of a helicopter allowed us to run the highway and or land if we had to. At the top, we broke clear onto flat lands and low ceilings. Visibility under the lifting cloud layer was more than adequate to fly the highway north. 

We transferred to Alaska Highway 1 and landed at Whitehorse to refuel.  If memory serves me right, we continued on Highway 1, stopped and refueled from on board Jerry cans along the highway to make our next refueling point. Memory of specifics of all of that place fails me now.

We landed next to the highway when we crossed back into Alaska to clear customs. I will admit that two helicopters landing next to the customs building, adjacent the Alaska Highway was a cool moment. We idled down, set frictions and walked our paper work a few hundred feet into customs building. Cleared in just a few minutes, walked back to the helicopters and took off.

For all that I am trying to remember here and re-visit Alaska maps, I cannot remember if this was a two-day trip to Eagle. I think it was and twinges of an overnight stop somewhere along the Alasakan Highway tug at me. A refueling stop and overnight stay. Memories, some so clear like they were yesterday, others foggy. We did arrive near midnight at Eagle.

We quickly settled into a daily flying routine and learning the local area like the backs of our hands. If I landed in one far-off remote area, I must have landed in several hundred that summer. The helicopter is a wonderful machine for jobs like this. This was a dream job and flying contract for me.

If there is a downside to these kind of flying jobs it is that the jobs take pilots away from the family life. Hard to impossible to serve both unless the pilot lives where the helicopter operations are based. Jobs will take pilots away all over the world and these flying opportunities are always exciting and sights always to behold. But family and support awaits back at home base. If not this way, then the pilot will be gone months at a time, living out of a suitcase and home becomes a few weeks vacation. One half of the equation over time, suffers more than the other. 

  Breakfasts were early morning and the girls working the cafe would pack us a sandwich lunch and dinner was early evening when the days work was done. It did not take long to get to know many of the locals, the comings and goings of the small community and the surrounding landscape.

We met the geologists and they took to us as we took to them. Family in just a few days of working close together.

On the first days of flying, we were to sling-load parts for a drill rig just a few miles out of town.

We flew sling-line drill parts and set them in place at the drill site. Later that first day of flying, a fellow rode up on a bicycle to the other pilot across the runway. I noticed a “heated conversation” from the point of view of the bicyclist. He left and the other pilot came over and explained that the fellow said the next time we few over his house, he was going to shoot us down. We took his request to heart and mentioned it at dinner that night. Folks sitting around the dinner table new the man and confirmed he would shoot us down. We were "not in Kansas anymore" and many a day in that area reminded me of that. We gave that homestead a wide wide birth if we headed out of town in that direction. Two years of flying combat missions in Vietnam only to get shot down in Eagle Alaska ran through my mind.

My fondest memories are of the flying. The country around Eagle is hard, unforgiving and breathtakingly beautiful. Full of wildlife that supports the folks who live off the land. Transportation is by air to and from larger cities. But the hard work, beauty of the land and freedom are worth it. The lifestyle is for the young, the young at heart and the physically fit. 

 

When the two helicopters took to the same mission of working geologists in and out of an area, the end of the day would find us flying the Yukon River back to Eagle. We would hook up in loose trail formation and wind the same turns as the river to home base. Alaska then was a free place to fly like this. Not sure about today with all that has changed in the aviation community. But in 1986, rivers were free of power lines and obstacles. The freedom of flight still existed and we hooked into that when possible. The smiles on the faces of the geologists, as we weaved our way back, were smiles of young kids on a one-of-a-kind ride. They would often ask for flights like these to home base when we left the final area of exploration at days end. No arm-twisting needed!!

During the few weeks of forest fires in that area, those flights home had imprinted and paid-off as we had to fly low and under a smoke layer along a few of those rivers to get to a job site, personnel or back to Eagle.

Wildlife was also another feather in our caps on flights back to Eagle. Sheep on steep mountainsides were quite often a treat. We always gave wildlife a wide birth. Enjoyed them in their natural habitat at a distance. 

One day, we were weaving our way back at altitude, through green grass fields and mountains. Coming around a smaller mountain we entered lush acreage of tall grass. Off in the distance, a half mile to mile or so, a grizzly bear with a cub could be seen. I slowed down as we circled past. I can still see that Grizzly Bear here now as I write. This most beautiful bear, fur rippling as she stood on her hind legs, watched us pass by. One of the most memorable moments of the season. Lasted but a few moments, but forever imprinted.

The photo above is of a Piper bush plane that flew out of the small landing strip we operated out of. The pilot flew hunters and adventure seekers in and out the back country. We got to know him and quite often would see him flying in and out of near by areas during the day. After watching him hang that airplane on the propeller as he landed, I knew I would ride back seat with him anywhere, anytime.This plane is the Gold Standard of Alaska Bush flying. 

A final story.

We had a few shotguns available to us to have and carry. The geologists resisted for the most part, saying and believing that making noise as they went through the woods and underbrush was sufficient to keep bears moving and away. I latched onto one of the guns and would not let it go. Nope, this was my gun and do not ask to borrow it. It worked. Whenever I was alone with the helicopter, awaiting a call to come fetch the crew, I would take that shot gun with me as I wondered the landing site. I was surprised at how accurate a shotgun with slugs was. Did some practice shooting I did.

The other pilot brought a .44 Magnum revolver, long barrel in a western rig.  He always had it rolled up and tucked under the back seat. He too took that with him when alone with helicopter in the back country. I never gave him and that pistol much thought until the day he was attacked by a black bear. 

He had landed on a stream bed, shut down, picked up his fishing pole and wondered some yards down stream to fish the bend in the creek. He had forgotten his cigarettes and walked back to the helicopter to get them. He also picked up his gun (also forgotten) and headed back to the fishing hole.

He had noticed a stench in the air when he landed and learned later that he had landed in a river bed where the bear had a nearby kill.

As he was walking towards the fishing hole, he noticed movement on a small knoll along side the helicopter. He watched a black bear run down the knoll, jump onto the gravel river bed and head directly for him at a steady run. It became immediately evident to him what was coming. He pulled his single action pistol cocked it and fired a warning shot at the bear.

This story is being told for the first time at dinner that night with many a local sitting at the table. “You fired a warning shot at a charging bear”, one of them said and sideward glances between locals to including the laughs paused his story telling. Ya see, Dorthy, you do not fire a warning shot at a charging bear.
 

Six-shooter, five shots remaining. Bear still charging. Other pilot takes aim now and fires a stopping shot. Misses. Fours shots left. Aims, fires, misses, bear on the run. Three shots left. Keep in mind this is all happening in real time, not the time I have here to tell the story.

Shot four hits the bear in the shoulder. Pilot says he sees the dust fly from the hit. The bear is close now. Pilot cocks round five and takes aim. The bear slows down from the hit, turns and runs into the underbrush. To this day a great story. But the better story was the locals at the dinner table “bear-shaming” the poor guy to death. Folks living and working in Eagle, Alaska call it as they see it when they see it and where they see it. As it should be!!

We shut down operations the next day and were tasked with flying the area of the bear attack and shooting. Things like this are not taken lightly by locals. The bear needed to be found, good, bad or indifferent. We both flew hours with observers in the area, but never found the bear.

Geologists were armed to the hilt for the next few weeks, walking the Alaskan underbrush. And no, they never ever got to borrow “my shotgun.”

Somewhere in Eagle Alaska, they tell the story of the pilot who took a warning shot at a charging bear. Probably now in some early age school curriculum.

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I cleared customs in Dawson, climbed to altitude heading towards the Alaskan Highway. Maps on my lap, correct orientation for basic VFR (Visual Flight Rules) navigation. Airspeed, if memory serves me correctly, meant an hour to an hour and a half flight to The Alaskan Highway to again clear customs next to the highway and then to follow that highway home to Juneau, Alaska.

A fuel stop next to the highway when needed and one other fuel stop location, the specifics of which eludes me now. 

I never really enjoyed flying helicopters at high altitudes. The scenery from Eagle to Dawson City to Juneau was all postcard worthy. But the majority of all of my helicopter flying was low to the ground and very little time at altitude. I've always felt most comfortable flying just a couple hundred feet off the ground. Something to do with freedom of flight and route determined by geology. 

I landed at Juneau, turned in the helicopter, final paper work and a rough two month pay check was handed to me with finals to be mailed out within a few weeks. I boarded a commercial flight to Sea Tac, Seattle the next day, and the story ends.

The folks at Temsco were grand people to teach me, to know, to work with and to work for. 

Eagle Alaska, Dawson City, The Yukon River, the people, the wild life, the crews and The Riverside Cafe. A grand summer 30 years ago.

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A FEW THINGS FROM THE NET THIS WEEK

What A Difference A Day Makes----Angelina Jordan.
 

Just discovered this young Norwegian singer. Winner of Norway's Got Talent. The voice! Where does this eight year old find that? If you miss Amy Winehouse, look at some of the other songs this young lady performs. 

Amy Whinehouse   Back to Black. Not edited for language. Adult

Angelina Jordan    Back to Black.  Re-written with age appropriate language. 

Enjoy

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Sometimes I Talk To Myself

Keep the vehicles gassed up!!

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Could Be The Largest Deposit of Untapped Oil Ever Discovered.

Good news for jobs and our economy.

DONE

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Farmer's Almanac has been off the mark so far this month of November. Predicted to be nasty with rain, flakes of snow mixed, blizzard like, miserable and worse. Sounded like a nasty start to our winter here, but all in all this month has been pleasant. Nights are chilly, wood stove going now to keep the chill out of the house. The being outside, coming, going and getting last minute chores done have been accompanied by nice fall weather. Satellite wood pile barely dented going into December.

Snow storms to the west and north west this weekend. It appears that we are but a few days away here from rain and snow mix. Colder day and night temperatures forecasted too. Thanksgiving Day a wintery mix. 

Wishing you and yours wonderful down time with family, friends and another Thanksgiving dinner with all the fixens. Hopefully politics will be set aside for more important things. 

YMATA 

EMOTILONAL HEMOPHILIAC(S)

The title here is something I wish I had come up with. But a H/T goes to Tony Schinella.

The bleeding and gushing of emotions have run amuck. I'll bet that you and I have had our emotions bitch-slapped from time to time. It happens deliberately or as a sideline to other goings-on. But it happens. I will also bet that you and I have a few things in our lives that we do not like and that have left an unforgettable taste in our mouths. There are odors that lift our heads and immediately turn us to another compass heading. Not everything in our land is coated with gravy, whipping cream, chocolate sauce or Jack Daniels. Not many things go according to our grand plan. Not everything that happens, we understand. "Adapt, improvise and overcome." Clint Eastwood;  (HeartBreak Ridge)

I'll admit that I am happy the way the elections turned out.  Like with BHO, I will give The Donald his chance. He turned the media, Hollywood, the elites and GOP upside down and I do not think most of them fully understand why and how. I do not believe that The Donald hates America, hates any citizen of age, color nor creed or is hell bent to take down the whole country. So if I can give BHO a chance to prove himself, I can do the same with The Donald. He was fairly elected by the people. That counts, folks. Who was it that said? "Elections have consequences and at the end of the day, I won." Who was that now? Who thought that it was necessary to look down upon the people and throw that in their faces? "What goes around....."

In the past 8 years, I have not been in accordance with much that has been going on inside the Belt Way. BUT, I have not felt compelled to burn an American Flag, move to Canada or Mars, wanted to hurt someone, destroy a business or home, sucker punch a bystander, shoot a fellow man, get on a knee in downtown middle New England in protest or join a large bused in crowd and head to physical confrontation with law enforcement. I have not felt compelled to knock down an old lady, kick a homeless person, toss a puppy or kick a dog. Nor have I crawled inside a closet, put my hands over my face and cried tears. None of these behaviors or like behaviors have entered my mind. Ever!! When thing go bad, suck it up and figure out how to improve on "it." When things go well, do a little dance, a few whoop-whoops and enjoy the victory. God knows middle America could use a victory after an eight-year losing season.

I started this blog to allow me to vent some and learn more. I have shaken my head from side to side so many times that her comes to my aid with a hot cup of tea with honey and lemon and a gentle neck rub.  But I have been doing a little dancing these past few days and damn if I am not getting a hitch in my get-along.

I have tried to get it. I have tried to understand and get it, but, in all honesty, I do not. But I am an old white man and understand that I am part of the problem. I am a veteran and I am part of the problem. I am old (reminded of that from our plumber recently) and part of the problem. I am happy and I know that is part of the problem. I laugh from time to time, love a good joke and laugh out loud and that is part of the problem. Any sense of humor these days is a negative micro statement. 

Timing: Her just saw posts for demonstrations in our little corner of the world this weekend. She responded by asking anyone to please pick her up a large LED wide screen TV while they were at it. 

I get that if I can blame someone else, then I am an instant victim, can justify my outcry and in no way be held accountable for my actions. I get this. Don't like it, but get it. 

The Donald has a fight on his hands. Good, bad or indifferent, the man has a fight on his hands. He is willing to step into the ring, take a stand, take the heat and calls to assassinate him, take the beatings and continue to work the problems. This is my point of view. BHO stood before this nation and said that he was going to fundamentally change this country through his presidency. That man has succeeded on all accounts. Give him credit for that. 

You have peeked your head around and into this blog again. We made it through the election week. We have come out the other side here in The After, elections 2016. A good friend on the left coast keeps asking when all of this craziness will end. No photos of Hillary the past three days!! That is a start.

Last thought on all of this today. Years ago, someone explained and showed this to me. "Let it go." "Just let it go." This is a physical process. 

So, work with me here. Take a chance. Give it a try.

What are you carrying today? What is stuck in your craw that continues to eat at you? Not a life changing event out of your hands, but a little thing. Let's say the doctor just told you that you can never smoke a cigarette again. If you do, it will soon kill you. My Dad received this very message. Smoked all his life and was told to quit or die. Dad quit. Never ever smoked again, but kept spending the money he would have spent on cigarettes. Put the money away and then used the savings to buy a new car. Dad was a smart guy. Took on a problem with a twisted solution. He always said he would give a thousand dollars for a cigarette, but would not smoke it for a million. 

Face what it is that is eating you. State it to yourself in simple terms. 

Walk outside, go into the hallway; go somewhere different from where you are now. Maybe outside, in front of God and everyone else. Raise a clenched fist to the sky and then, holding your arm and hand out stretched, slowly release and fully open your hand. Let it go. This a moment you must fully take to heart. Standing there now, a small sigh, a breath and get on with living. If anyone asks, tell them you are "letting it go."