Why I cry for tomorrow's youth

In Novi, Michigan, a mother is so upset that her child is asked to write an essay on whether she'd rather be a slave or a factory worker during the Industrial Revolution that she storms into the school to confront the principal and then calls a press conference.

Parent Appalled Over Essay Asking 8th Graders If They’d Rather Be Slaves Or Factory Workers

NOVI (WWJ) – A Detroit-area mother is fuming over an essay question that asked middle school students if they would rather be slaves or factory workers.
Tina James, whose 13-year-old daughter attends Novi Middle School, told WWJ’s Vickie Thomas that she almost couldn’t believe an 8th grade American History assignment that asked students: “Which would you rather be: A slave or a factory worker during the Industrial Revolution?”
“The first thing I though was how can you even compare the two,” James said. “As far as I’m concerned, they are diametrically opposing circumstances.

So if there's no comparison, you'd think that Tina James--or her daughter, since it was the daughter's assignment--could simply articulate that belief as the basis for her essay. She could use the essay as a vehicle for honing and advancing her opinion and perhaps it might sway others to her point of view if it was persuasively written. In short, it was a great opportunity to practice debate skills and advocacy writing. But no, that can't be allowed, because somewhere out there, a mother is "offended". So, with her deck of race cards in her pocket, she rushes into the school to demand that THE QUESTION NOT EVEN BE ASKED. Students cannot even discuss the concept, according to Tina James, and by God, if the school even dares to have a discussion on race, there will be consequences, especially if the discussion suggests that others may have had it hard too and that just perhaps blacks in America were not the most aggrieved victims that ever lived. This sort of discussion must be censored and banned, and if anyone even dares think such things, well Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton will be having a fist-fight outside that school tomorrow to see which one will do the press conference and file the lawsuit.

In my day, we were exposed to diverse viewpoints specifically to learn to rationalize and to articulate opposing views. By so doing, we learned to think for ourselves and speak up if we disagreed, and we learned how to convince others with compelling arguments instead of threats. But Tina James blasted into that school and demanded an end to any such thing, and to their disgrace, the school knuckled under and changed the course curriculum. Heck, why debate and sway opinion when you can just scream "racism" and threaten to sue?

Somewhere out there, great orators such as Daniel Webster, Henry Clay, Abraham Lincoln, Stephen Douglas, Franklin Roosevelt and Ronald Reagan are turning over in their graves, and you can almost hear the kids in that school getting dumber thanks to Tina James.

Sigh...

Both dogs are shedding their winter coats to such a degree that my house appears to be carpeted. (It's hardwood.) Belle's tunnel under the dog pen fence was so nicely done that a van-load of Mexican drug smugglers just stopped by to ask her for some pointers, but that's filled in now and capped with a cinder block.

And then it was off to the West Virginia Department of Motor Vehicles.


Today's trip to the DMV only took me two hours and cost me...well we won't even go there. I really hate our stupid Personal Property Tax that we all get to pay each year on the value of each vehicle that we own. And as I walked in and was told that I had to take my coffee cup back outside (because we can't have food or drinks in our own buildings), I dumped the coffee on the curb outside and it dawned on me that it really should have been tea.

And is there some sort of West Virginia state law that says that in order to transact business at the DMV, you have to bring your entire extended family to stand in line with you and suck up all the chairs in the waiting area? It certainly seemed like I was the only one there today who didn't get that memo.

Oh, and to the mother of the little boy who was running amuck while you amused yourself with your iphone:


I'm SO done for the day.

Out and about on the bike

It was a nice day today. so I put the Iron Pony on the back of the SUV and carted it up to Harpers Ferry for a ride.

There's a little place in Brunswick, Maryland that does burritos just the way that I like them. The catch is, I only allow myself to have one if I make the six-mile ride there from Harpers Ferry on the bike. (And naturally, six more back. Calories? Ha!) I stopped by 7-11 and filled my Camelbak with icy cold water, then unlimbered the bike and rode through town to the bridge over the Potomac.

On the far side of this bridge is the C&O Canal towpath. It runs from Cumberland, MD 164 miles down to Washington, DC. One day, I'll do the whole thing, but today it's just my route to Brunswick and my burrito place.

I also has an iPhone now, so I can listen to my music while I ride. A bike and an iPhone--I'm all hip n' cool n' stuff now. I set the music selection to "random play" and ride off singing along with Sgt. Peppers.

It was twenty years ago today,
Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play
They've been going in and out of style
But they're guaranteed to raise a smile...

Along the way, I stopped to see some turtles on the logs in the canal.

It's a little-known fact, but the C&O Canal is actually one of America's Strategic Turtle Reserve repositories. There's a ka-jillion of them in there.

The night was clear and the moon was yellow
And the leaves came tumbling down
I was standing on the corner
When I heard my bulldog bark
He was barkin' at the two men
Who were gamblin' in the dark
It was Stagger Lee and Billy
Two men who gambled late
Stagger Lee threw seven
Billy swore that he threw eight...

The day was hot, but the trail is shady, and the icy cool water in the Camelbak was always a delicious pick-me up. And the music kept playing, giving me a beat to keep pedaling to.

I'm sittin' in the railway station
Got a ticket for my destination
On a tour of one night stands
My suitcase and guitar in hand
And every stop is neatly planned
For a poet and a one man band...

Oh, and there were deer, too. Like this one.

She must have liked my singing.

Long as I remember the rain been comin' down
Clouds of mystery pourin' confusion on the ground.
Good men through the ages tryin' to find the sun.
And I wonder still I wonder who'll stop the rain...

There were more tunes, and then I got to Brunswick and rode up to El Sloppy Taco, a South American BBQ sort of joint. Great food, but the customer service is pretty much non-existent from the woman who work there. I've gotten kind of used to their indifferent service up until now, but when I went up to the register and asked the woman for change for a dollar AFTER I ORDERED A WHOLE MEAL and she acted like I was from ICE or something...

Me: "Can I have change for a dollar, please?"

Her (with a skeptical look): "You want me to give you change?"

Me: Yeah. For the newspaper box outside."

Her: "No, I can't."

Me (incredulous): "You can't make change for a dollar bill? Seriously?"

Her: "I only have like three dollars in quarters here, and I'm saving it for people who might want to play the video games."

I stepped back. I took a breath. I counted to ten and reminded myself that I'd just ridden six miles to get here and that it was about the only place in town worth eating at. I got to ten and I was still mad. But just before I could tell her what I thought, a woman sitting at a table by the window averted the crisis by piping up that she had change.

I was nice, and took the change from her and got my paper. And as I did so, in walked a couple more women with a pack of little kids. Great, this day just keeps getting better. And as I sat down, in walked another woman with yet another litter of kids. The women obviously knew each other, as they put all of the kids at a long table next to me (Gee, thanks!) and sat at another table by themselves.

Then my food came.

"Uh, excuse me," I said, before the lady could take off. "I asked for some ice water with this."

"We don't give free water," she said. "We sell it. You have to buy it."

OK. Scratch this place off my list of places ever to eat again. Ever. Piss on El Sloppy Taco.

Pity, because they do make fairly good food. But paying money and getting this kind of treatment? Screw 'em.

And making it even better, as I ate, the little kids started noticing my leg, staring and nudging each other to point it out, not being discrete in the least. (Hey, they're kids. I'm used to it from kids.) But then I noticed that the Single Moms' Club was aware of it and not doing a thing to check their little charges. I don't get offended, but now the gloves are off if one of the kids says something. And sure enough, just as I was getting up to leave, one precocious little boy finally asked the question that I'm sure was burning in all of their little minds: "Are you a robot?"

Eight or ten little faces all turned to listen, and I know that the SM's caught it, too. But I like kids, so I just smiled.
"No, little fella. I'm not a robot. I'm a super hero."

"You're a super hero?" a little girl asked.

"Yep. I fight the monsters that live under beds and in the back of closets around here and only come out at night when the lights are off. A few years ago, one of them snuck up behind me and bit my leg off."

You should have seen all those wide little eyes. Forecast for tonight: Nightmare city and not much sleep for a few moms, either. Hee. I'm so going to Hell for stuff like this.

"Gee, thanks!" one of the moms said.

"No problem," I said, giving her a big smile as I walked out. "It's the least that a monster-fighting super-hero can do."

Truth be told, I've done this with little kids before, but I stopped when I realized that a lot of them actually believed it. Today I just had to play that card again though. And it felt good.

As I mounted my bike for the ride back, two other people on bikes rode past. One asked me: "Was that you on the towpath singing "Aqualung" a while ago?"

"No," I replied with my best deadpan look. "That was probably the other one-legged guy in an orange shirt. There's a couple of us out here today."

"Oh, ok.." the woman said, as they rode on. I think that she was actually struggling with that idea. I'm guessing that her blonde hair was natural.

Back on the tow path.

Well, I used to wake the mornin' before the rooster crowed
Searchin' for soda bottles to get myself some dough
Brought 'em down to the corner, down to the country store
Cash 'em in and give my money to a man named Curtis Lowe...

I burned up the six miles back to and through Harpers Ferry in little time, and got home just before the day's thunderstorms hit. And naturally, I was greeted on the stairs by my faithful, loyal dog:

YOU SHALL NOT PASS!

Yeah, whatever. Get the hell out of my way, Gandalf. I need a shower and I'm tired.

Saturday Man Movie

How to teach a kid to swim, John Wayne style.



Movie: Hondo. 1953.

If today's kids are our future...

I'm cashing in my bonds.


Since I'm home today, and since it's nearly 100 degrees, I took Murphy to the river to cool him off. On the way, I stopped at the local 7-11 to get a cup of coffee.

While standing in line, I suddenly heard a crunching sound behind me. Then another. I turned and saw the 4-5 year old son of this huge woman in line. He was standing in front of a shelf filed with bags of potato chips and he was going down the row, punching each bag and breaking all of the chips inside. Instinctively, I yelled at him to knock that off. Surprised, he stopped and stared at me. His mom turned and saw what he was doing, too, but rather than scold him, she called him over to her, gave me a nasty look, then made faces at him while ordering him a hot dog. She made no offer to buy the 4 or 5 bags of chips that he'd obviously smashed, nor did she correct him. Had that been me with MY parents, I'd have gotten my butt lit up and been marched out of the store, and there certainly wouldn't have been a hot dog coming. The chips would have come too, and my allowance would have been deducted the full amount. Yeah, my folks were mean, but I learned to respect other people's stuff at a young age.

This kid? He apparently learned that he can do whatever he wants.

And I wasn't impressed at all with the clerk at the 7-11, who didn't say a thing to the woman even though she saw it all too. She also made no effort to take those ruined chip bags off the shelf after this brat and it's mom left. Note to self: don't ever buy chips there again.

I guess that discipline and respect are things from another age. I feel old now. I think that I'll have some tea and go take a nap until the Lawrence Welk Show comes on.

Yet another reason why I don't have kids

In New York State, a 4 year old rats out her dad and gets momma a court case to boot.

MASSENA - State police here found a wanted man with a little help from his 4-year-old daughter.

Police arrested John A. Colby, 30, of Massena, at about 7:30 a.m. Sunday and charged him with third-degree bail jumping, second-degree obstructing governmental administration and resisting arrest, according to a press release.

Troopers arrived at Colby's 12 Stearns St. home with bench warrants from Stockholm and Norfolk town courts. Initially, Colby's girlfriend - 27-year-old Jessica L. Smith of Massena - denied knowing his whereabouts. That's when Colby's daughter reportedly told police, "Daddy is scared and hiding in the attic."

Smith refused to comply with troopers, police said, and "actively resisted" when they tried to go into the attic and take Colby into custody. She was subsequently charged with second-degree obstructing governmental administration.

Colby was arraigned in Norfolk town court and remanded to St. Lawrence County Jail in lieu of $1,655 cash bail. He's due to reappear Wednesday morning. Smith was issued an appearance ticket returnable to Massena village court Jan. 31.

Sure, Murphy can be a pain at times, but I'm pretty confident that if and when Obama gets a second term and initiates a nationwide gun round-up, should they come knocking on my door and I deny having any guns, Murphy probably won't reveal where they're actually hidden.

Wednesday AM post

What do two-year-olds and roosters have in common? Well at least in the case of Tom and Misty's generally adorable two year old, they wake you up just before sun-up with loud, shrill noises that don't stop. So since I was planning on leaving this AM anyway, I'm taking it as a sign and rolling out in a few minutes, heading south towards Prince William Sound. Not sure where I'll be tonight, but I'm sure that it'll be interesting.

Yesterday, Tom, Misty and I went out to Chena Hot Springs and spent some time relaxing in the hot spring pool there. Two foreign tourist gals were the only other ones there (and they didn't stay long for some reason) and when I heard them speaking in their native language, I was overjoyed at getting to try out my long=dormant conversational German skills. Alas, they were just Swiss and spoke German about as poorly as I do. No score. Pity, because one was borderline cute.

I also got my first up-close glanced at the Alaskan state bird, the ptarmigan. This came about after Tom whacked one with his mini-van at about 80mph, causing it to become deeply embedded in the van's grill. Naturally we didn't know it was there but when we got back to their house, the kids who rushed out to meet us spotted it instantly and were duly traumatized and amused by the morbid hood ornament.

Last night, I went out with Tom and played Alaska State Trooper again. Other than spending most of the early hours responding to domestic violence calls that were always 20-30 miles from wherever we were and locking up a drunk native for stealing liquor from a store, it was pretty quiet. The Aurora Borealis was barely out but the star view was incredible once we got outside of town. Alaska definitely has the spectacular sunsets and night scenes. Pity that there's no actual crime to fight.

So now it's outward and onward, off towards the next adventure. (As if spending four days in a house with four pre-teen children hasn't been adventure enough...These are great kids, but to someone like me, that's like a mongoose saying that they're great snakes. I'm really not a kid person. But if one must be trapped with a batch of kids, these four would be the best choice by far. I've enjoyed my time around them as they're intelligent, exceptionally well-mannered, mature and engaging, and not obsessed in any way with the sort of TV, video games or pop culture that rots most kids' brains. And yes, they're home-schooled by two parents who make all of the time in the world for them.

So I'm off. Next post to follow when I find internet again. Until then, amuse yourselves by watching these two attractive twins play Led Zepplin on a matched pair of harps:

A community organizer and others object to police teaching kids about guns

And in California, what was supposed to be a nice friendly event where local kids met and interacted with police officers went sour when neighborhood loons protested the fact that the police officers had...wait for it...GUNS!

Oh, NOEZ!!! Who would ever have expected that?

Here were the police officers, trying to establish a good rapport with the kiddies. Who could ever object to that? Well crack dealers, perhaps. And local fruitbats who got so bent out of shape over the presence of firearms that they tried to kill this event and any future ones like it.

Photos of officers from the Santa Rosa Police Department letting kids handle the department’s SWAT team weaponry at a community event has sparked a debate over how much exposure to guns is healthy for kids.

Community organizer Attila Nagy, who took the photos, told FoxNews.com that he was concerned it might encourage kids to use guns in the future.

"My main concern is for kids who handle these things. They're fascinated by them, and it makes them familiar with guns," he said.

Yeah, let's make sure that kids never become familiar with firearms, except of course those on TV and in the movies or video games. Let's treat real guns as "forbidden fruit" and make kids even more curious about them. Geez. That's an idea so dumb that I really wasn't surprised to hear it come from a self-identified "community organizer".

But wait--there are more idiots in this tale...even an elected one.

One city councilwoman, Marsha Vas Dupre, told her local paper that she was “alarmed and devastated” by the photos.

Fortunately for the side of right, the police department is standing by their decision.

"The weapons are rendered safe and are unloaded. We ensure the safety of those weapons," Santa Rosa Police Capt. Gary Negri told FoxNews.com, adding that the police attend the event to build ties between the police and the community.

"Our goal is saying to people, ‘hey, don't be intimidated by the police.’ We want to break down that barrier… Once these events are over, people will be more comfortable having conversations with officers.”

Another goal, Negri said, was to educate kids about guns.

“Education and gun safety is a component of what we do… We teach kids the difference between a real gun and a Toys R' Us gun.”

But the crazies in the crwd weren't convinced.

One woman, Elaine Holtz, was so concerned by the SWAT team's weapons that she approached the police officer at the community event and asked what was going on.

"I would not want my child to be involved with something like that... Those guns, they should have been behind glass -- to teach the kids that you don't want to deal with this gun, because it kills." Holtz told FoxNews.com.

"I am coming from the heart of a woman, a mother, a grandmother," she added.

No, you're coming from the heart of a Dingbat. Police have guns for a reason--to protect themselves and other citizens from the bad guys that seek to prey on the community. But apparently Holz and the others would prefer that the criminals keep their monopoly on access to deadly weapons. And they'd obviously like to ensure that kids never learn how to safely handle guns--hell, that might actually prevent one or two of them from getting shot someday. We wouldn't want that now, would we?

Even the Justice Department says that giving kids supervised access to legal firearms helps cut down the delinquency rate.

"A U.S. Department of Justice study showed that children introduced to firearms by their fathers had a lower rate of delinquency than children who learned about guns on the street, or even children who had no experience with guns at all," Dr. Tim Wheeling, of the group Doctors for Responsible Gun Ownership, told FoxNews.com.

The 1994 Justice Department report concluded: "Boys who own legal firearms... are even slightly less delinquent than nonowners of guns." Specifically, 14 percent of kids with legal firearms committed street crimes, compared to 24 percent of kids with no guns at home.

Still, Holz isn't buying it.

"I did not see any education going on; it looked like it was just fun,"

God forbid that our kids should have fun with the police. Oh, the horror!

The scariest thing in the house...

So on Friday, I was over at the home of some friends and we were eating dinner in their living room. After looking at me for much of the day (I was wearing shorts), their adorable young daughter finally worked up the nerve to come over and ask me what happened to my leg.

I tried the old "When I was your age, the monster under my bed tore it off" line that works so well with young kids (Sorry, Misty) but she wasn't quite buying it. So I asked her if she'd ever seen anyone take a leg off before. She said no, so I pulled mine off. I held it out to her, but she backed away, although she remained totally fixated on it. I put it back on and then she asked: "Did that really come off?"
So I took it off again for her.

She turned to her mom and said: "I think that's the scariest thing in this house."

Kids...

Sometimes life does imitate art.

But was it a Triple Dog Dare?

WOODWARD, Oklahoma -- The Woodward Fire Department was called out at 7:24 Tuesday morning to rescue an 8-year-old boy whose tongue was frozen to a pole.

Firefighter Shane Pingry said firefighters arrived on the scene at 7:27 a.m. to find the boy standing on his tiptoes with his tongue frozen to the pole of a stop sign across the street from the Woodward Middle School.

A teacher saved the day with a bottle of drinking water. Firefighters poured it on the boy's tongue and it took about a minute before the boy was free.

Pingry estimated the boy had been stuck to the pole for about 10 minutes. He was taken to the hospital for treatment.

When asked why he'd stuck his tongue to the pole in such cold weather, the boy said it was because his older brother had dared him to do it.

The boy's name was not released.

Some people's kids...

The first full day with The Spud

Saturday was another shooting day. A couple of months ago I'd volunteered to take a group of novice shooters out to the local range. This bunch was from a local Tea Party chapter and none had much shooting experience but they wanted to get together and try it so one of the organizers, a former student of mine, called me up and asked me to take them. For the record, I'm not a Tea Party member myself, but as any reader of this blog well knows, we share the same views on most things. I'm just not a joiner. As luck would have it, the selected day fell on Spud's first full day here, so I took him along.

Here's the Spud, posing with the Ruger 10-22 that I entrusted him with. He did a great job of aiming every shot and demonstrating good muzzle awareness. The boy's learning to be a good shooter and we'll make a rifleman of him yet.









After we shot, a couple of the shooters offered to treat Spud and I to lunch. So we stopped at the Golden Corral, an excellent buffet-style restaurant. It was here that I learned a lesson about letting kids--or at least The Spud--work a buffet line without supervision.
On his first foray, he bypassed all of the quality meats and vegetables and returned with a plate just heaping with macaroni and cheese, pasta in tomato sauce, and that crappy all-dough pizza that places like this put out. I just sighed, because I'd told him up front that he was going to east healthy here and that we were going to try to get him off of his regular all-carb diet that his mom and grandmother seem to keep him on. So after he'd finished that mess, I accompanied him back up for the second round. After stopping him from heaping his plate with a massive scoop of mashed potatoes, I "suggested" a few healthy alternatives--broccoli, roast, shrimp and some catfish. (This place had some excellent lightly-breaded catfish.) He kind of screwed up his face a bit because he'd never had catfish (yes...he's a yankee boy all the way) but as soon as he sat down and tried a piece, he announced that he LOVES catfish.

Hey...it's a start.

So after eating that balanced, sensibly-portioned plate, he said that he wanted some more catfish. So I goofed again and let him return to the buffet counter for plate #3, figuring that just he'd get a couple more pieces and call it a day.

He returned with about 15 fillets on his plate...and more pasta. Cue the face-palm.

The rest of the day was spent swimming--I took him and Lagniappe down to the river--reading (I've started him on my old Hardy Boys books and he's loving the first one) and watching a movie. Do you believe that he's never seen Smokey and the Bandit and had no idea who Burt Reynolds, Jackie Gleason and Jerry Reed were? I will give this boy a sense of culture yet.

He loved it. Now I gotta find another movie that instills positive "guy values" for tonight. Anyone think that eleven is too young for Full Metal Jacket? Any other recommendations?

Oh, and just as an aside, to anyone with kids...do they all have this programming that makes them turn on every light in a house--even lights in rooms that they are just passing through in broad daylight--and then leaving them on? I mean, WTF?

Uh-oh...

I am blogging from an undisclosed secure location today.

Word is, a fatwa has been issued against me by Natasha, wife of Aaron, owner of The Shekel.

Apparently this has something to do with my teaching Abby and Leah, their two young girls, how to make blowguns from soda straws and spitballs from pieces of napkins when we were at a McDonald's the other day. (NOT one of the ones on the Ohio Turnpike.)

I thought that it was cute, and a good way to bond with the girls. They definitely thought it was great fun and the older one became quite proficient at shooting spitballs before we left.

For some reason, however, Natasha is not amused.

I even tried to point out that Aaron sat right there without objecting, a tacit co-conspirator, but no joy--she's still blaming me.

I had even hoped that I might count on my valiant ex-police dog for protection from her wrath, but as soon as I told Lagniappe that Tash was reported to be on her way down and in an angry state, he skootched under the bed and now he won't come out.

So was it really so wrong to teach these kids something that they almost certainly would have learned eventually anyway? I'm thinking not, and if you agree with me, can I stay with you for a few weeks?

I mean, come on--it's not like I told them more stories about monsters under the bed that chew little kids' legs off at night. (And for the record, I honestly had no idea that little kids actually believe that sort of stuff--and I said I was sorry...)

You can take the dog out of policework, but you can't take the policework out of the dog.

Lagniappe is enjoying a pig ear tonight. Pig ears are one of his favorite treats and he gets them on special occasions.

Today he earned one.

I was working around the house earlier today, pretty much lost in what I was doing, when the little neighbor boy across the street somehow got himself stuck in one of those predicaments that little boys always seem to get into. The boy began crying loudly for help.

Initially it seems, no one heard him. I certainly didn't. But Lagniappe, out on the deck, did hear him. And with that special sense that good dogs have, he knew that there was a problem this time, and that the little boy wasn't just shouting and carrying on like he normally does. Lagniappe ran back into the house and began whining to get my attention, like he always does whenever he wants anything. I ignored him for a bit, but then he barked at me and I knew that he really wanted something. So I got up, and he ran back outside onto the deck, then turned to make sure that I was coming. Curious, I went out there, and when I did, I heard the little boy crying for help, too. I was on my way over there when his father also heard him and came outside to get him unstuck from whatever he was caught up in. Crisis solved and I returned to the Lair. And when I got back, Lagniappe got his reward.

Sure, he didn't actually do anything, but he recognized that something needed to be done, and he brought it to my attention, making sure that I responded even after I tried to blow him off because he knew somehow that whatever was going on was important.

As much as I pick on this dog and make jokes about him, I have to credit him for being perceptive and intuitive when it counts. He knew that something wasn't right and he knew enough to come find me and work on me until I took action. And even though I wasn't needed this time, I could have been. However I would not have been aware of it but for this still keen ex-police dog.

Good job, buddy.

My week with the Spud

Sorry the blogging's been light this week, but I've had a ten year old boy to entertain this week. He's never really had a chance to do "guy stuff" or "outdoor stuff" (or much of anything that doesn't involve sitting in front of a TV set) so there were a lot of new experiences for him this week. And on my side of the coin, I've never had a little kid around for more than a few hours, so it was an experience for me, too.

And let me state for the record right now that back in my day, little kids were not like they are today. When I was ten, ten year olds were always quiet, polite, neat, quick to do what they were told, infallibly respectful of adults and always eager to assume any responsibilities given them. Remember that "Beaver" kid on the old "Leave it to Beaver" show? Well that's how kids where back when I was one.

I blame television and the liberal culture for the changes that have obviously taken place.

But we had fun.
We played baseball. He's actually not a bad hitter.


We hiked.


OK, this hike up Maryland Heights didn't go so well. The climb was a bit much for him, and he suddenly came down with a "stomach ache" that caused us to abort the climb. (It went away just as soon as we started back down, strangely enough.) He later told me that it was because he got "seasick" from walking across the bridge over the Potomac River to get to the trailhead.


There was swimming too. Lots of swimming in the rivers with his guardian, Lagniappe. Spud enjoyed playing "fetch" in the water with sticks, even despite learning the hard way that when you tease a German Shepherd and try to keep a stick away from him, he will get the stick...and you'll typically get some nice new claw marks out of the deal.

I also took him out for his first-ever canoe trip. And he was surprisingly good at it, paddling well and following instructions. Of course to him, every ripple in the water was "whitewater rapids" that he found extremely exciting.And after a few hours of the river, he was pretty proud of his accomplishment.

We camped for a night at Antietam Creek NPS campsite, and he got to try his hand at marshmallows over a fire that he helped build...after we grilled some steaks, of course. Then he got to sleep in a tent with Lagniappe and wake up to real roosters crowing on an adjacent farm.

We rounded the week out with some shooting (of course...) and a flight from Winchester up the Shenandoah River up to Harpers Ferry.
He even got to try his hand at piloting when I let him take the yoke for a few seconds.
Here's the budding pilot, posing post-flight.

And when not out doing stuff, we spent time together running basic errands, eating healthy food in modest proportions (for a change), watching a couple of movies before bed(otherwise, the TV stayed off completely), and doing some Bible reading and discussion. He got to watch my yard deer come down to eat every day, he saw woodpeckers pecking on my trees, and he saw his first wild turkeys. And last night, he told my mother who came to pick him up that he wanted to stay here because it's so much more fun.

I think that it was a good week for both of us, showing him what it's like to actually do real activities that normal little kids should be doing in lieu of non-stop TV-watching, and it gave me a brief glimpse of what parenting's like. ("I thought I told you to go take a shower...Well then go back and take another one, and this time get your head wet and use soap and shampoo!")
It was fun, but if I ever decide to have a kid, I'm just going to adopt a college graduate with a good job--someone who is independent and just waiting for the time when they can assume responsibility for supporting their old man in his later years.

I'm back

Sorry for the absence--had to head up to Lake Huron for a week-end of wreck diving and shooting with Aaron of The Shekel. I had a good drive up, and we got in plenty of great diving and some shooting. Now I'm back, and I'm blessed (or cursed...I haven't decided yet) with the presence of my ten year old nephew whom I shall call "Spud".

Now this will be the first time that I have had a kid around for a whole week with no other adults around to foist him off on. We'll see how this goes. I have one week to turn him into a man and/or make him into a little "Mini-me", and I'm not really sure how to go about it. I have been looking to R. Lee Ermey for some pointers on how best to motivate him, but I'm not 100% convinced that it's the right way to go about it.

On the way down, we stopped in Cleveland for a few hours.


I took the boy on a tour of the USS Cod, a World War two Gato class fleet submarine. It's moored off E. 9th Street just east of the Science Center, and of all of the surviving museum subs I've seen--and I've seen most of them--this one's probably in about the best shape.



Here's the Spud climbing down the ladder into the forward torpedo room. He was totally in awe of being able to do this. He had to touch and see everything--he was so fascinated. Seeing him have an actual interest in something that's actually real and not a video game was terrific.

And here's the Spud in the crew's mess. He looks like a natural, doesn't he? FOOD!!!

After seeing the whole interior from bow to stern--and seeing what happens when his uncle flips the switch to activate the still-functional "Dive" alarm (a staff member comes forward from the engine room and demands to know who is monkeying with the alarms when you do this, just so you know when you visit.)--we went topside and he got to spin the cranks and traverse and elevate the deck gun.

He loved this submarine and wouldn't stop talking about it and telling me how "cool" it was...at least until we got to the next thing to see...the Great Lakes ore carrier William G. Mather.













This beautiful ship worked the Great Lakes as part of the Cleveland Cliffs fleet from 1925 until 1980, when she was retired. Now moored at the Cleveland Science Center, it's a fantastic example of what shipping on the lakes used to be like.

Here's the Spud, trying his hand as a wheelsman.














And here's a shot of the engine room, showing the massive diesel that the Mather finished her career with. The engine room is larger than a typical house and is four stories tall. And when a volunteer asked the Spud if he had any questions about it all, Spud just pointed to a nearby drinking fountain and asked "Does that still work?"

Kids...




But apparently I tired him out, because he slept much of the way back after that.











And Lagniappe? He was just happy to be rescued--Uh, I mean "retrieved"--from Nicki's house and brought back to the Lair.

So now that I've got a kid for the rest of the week, what am I supposed to do with him? Any ideas?

Lunch with Russell

So yesterday I had a pretty heavy workout in the gym, in large part because The Magnificent Seven was on the gym TV so I had to run and ride the bike longer just to watch more of it. I wound up running six miles and I forgot to see how long I rode, but it was a good workout.

So as a treat to myself, I went down to Mario's Pizza in Berryville, VA to have a nice lunch. And it would have been nice too, except for Russell and his family who were also in there.

Now Russell is a little boy in a Cub Scout shirt who is probably ten years old or so. His parents brought him there along with four other little boys about the same age. They stuck Russell and the others at one table and sat by themselves at another, and then proceeded to ignore the brats as they all loudly tried to talk over one another, obviously oblivious to the concept of "indoor voices" v. "outdoor voices". And I got to know Russell on a first-name basis because his mom addressed him by name several times, scolding him for practically everything except of course shouting inside a restaurant.

And shout Russell did. It was impossible to tune out that shrill soprano voice of his, and his four peers weren't much better as they all tried to be heard over each other. They jabbered about video games, and cartoons and a movie or two, and all this time, the two adults who had inflicted these kids on the rest of the diners just sat there and ignored this maelstrom.

Now to be fair, I probably should have said something, but I was really feeling my workout and wasn't all that up to engaging two obviously thoughtless and insensitive people, and I pretty much figured that if I asked the parents to either crank their kids' volume down or take their food to go, there'd be an argument. Normally I'd be all over that, since such arguments are fun for me, particularly when it's clear that I'm right and I could expect at least a bit of support from the other diners, but I passed on the chance, naively hoping that the restaurant staff would say something, or fate would intervene and Russell would choke to death on a piece of his pizza. (He has six slices. His mom was counting and intercepted him when he tried to grab a seventh. And we all heard her explain how he'd reached his limit.)

Fortunately they finished their meal/shouting session and left just about the time that my food came. And as they were walking out, a little girl who'd been sitting at another nearby table walked towards me on her way back from the restroom. So I took the opportunity to rather loudly address her as she approached. "Well hello! Aren't you just the quietest, most well-behaved child?" I then turned to her parents and said just as loudly: "I never even saw her there, she's so quiet."

Russell's mom stopped in her tracks and turned to give me a nasty glare. And I found myself hoping that she'd say something as I returned her stare, because NOW I suddenly felt like playing. But alas, she just turned and followed her flock of screaming monkeys and her milquetoast husband out the door as the mother of the well-behaved girl grinned and whispered "Thank you for saying that."Now I wish that I'd said something earlier. People like Russell's mom really need to be told that they need to either control their kids in public or just keep them home and call Domino's. I'd like to think that she caught the hint but I doubt it. People like that are proud of their obliviousness to others around them. They won't do their part as responsible parents so the rest of us will have to publicly suffer Russell and the other little louts until they mature enough to catch the clue that their parents should have caught at least ten years ago. I could easily see this woman a few years prior, bringing an infant Russell to the movie theater and refusing to take him out when he started crying because she wants to see the movie. In a just world, the rest of us should be empowered to walk up and slap parents like that on the back of the head with no fear of legal consequences. But this is not a just world and parents like that don't feel required to keep their litters of caterwauling spawn in check any more.

Oh--and as much as I generally like Mario's, the wait staff or the owner (who was right there) really needed to step up and suggest to Russell's parents that they simmer their brood down. They might have made one family embarrassed or mad, but I suspect that they'd have gained a lot more support from the rest of us in the dining room.

EDITED TO ADD: This is gratingly reminiscent of my encounter with another band of urchins a couple years ago, notably the infamous "Mitchell".

Sunday out with Lagniappe

Since it was Sunday and a beautiful day in addition, I decided to put other topics on hiatus for the day and I took Lagniappe to Harpers Ferry to climb the Maryland Heights trail to the overlook above the town.


First I sent Lagniappe down into the C&O Canal to drink some water, since I knew that it was going to be a long climb with nothing for him to drink once we got started. However he pretty much just wanted to play with sticks instead of drink. You can lead a dog to water...



Then we started up the trail. The first part's actually the old road that Federal troops initially carved out of the side of the mountain to allow their oxen to drag heavy guns and other supplies up to the forts and batteries that once overlooked Harpers Ferry.

We got to a junction in the trail and while I was reading a sign, Lagniappe asked this snake for directions. I heard Lagniappe bark and saw him skitter backwards as this snake--whatever is was--raised up, puffed it's head and neck, and hissed loudly. I snatched Lagniappe back and managed to get a couple shots of the snake before it left. No idea what kind it is, but I don't think it was poisonous. Still, there was no call for a dog v. snake match and one was definitely brewing for a few seconds.


We moved on and reached the overlook. When we got there, there was no one else there and the view was, as usual, fantastic. The sun was warm and there was just enough of a breeze to keep the bugs down. Definitely worth the hike out of town and the climb up the mountain.


I sat there with Lagniappe for a fair bit of time, enjoying the view, talking on the phone to my father, who happened to call just as I sat down ("Just calling to see if you went to church today..."), then reading a bit of Uncle Tom's Cabin, a story which seemed somehow appropriate for Harpers Ferry when I was perusing the bookshelf for a pocket-sized book before coming up here.


Then sadly the tranquility was shattered by high-pitched screaming voices as a cub scout pack appeared, shouting and screwing around and doing practically everything except quietly enjoying the view. I tried to tune them out for a while but it didn't work--in large part due to a particular kid named "Mitchel" who obviously has some sort of disorder that causes him to shout every time that he wants to say something. And there was no place up there to get away from Mitchel's loud, shrill,piercing voice. It would have been nice for all if one of the adults had pulled him aside and told him to talk normally instead of screaming, but none did and Mitchel continued to scream about how fast he can ride his bike, and how fat some girl in his class is, and many other things which apparently only interested Mitchel.

So I got up to leave, and began walking back out. Another of the urchins saw Lagniappe and began waving his walking stick in front of Lagniappe's face, saying "Here boy...get it!" Lagniappe backed off for a second as if unsure about what I'm sure that he saw as a gift offering, then he lunged and grabbed the stick, yanking it out of the boy's hands and scampering off with it. The caused the kid to yell to me. "Mister, your dog took my walking staff!" I looked to see where Lagniappe had gone and he was half way up the hill, doing his best to bite the stick in half before I could take it away from him.
"Yeah, I guess he did. Next time you might want to think twice about poking at strange dogs with a stick." I called Lagniappe and he came back, but typically, he left the stick where he'd dropped it. I leashed him back up and we headed up the trail. Darn the bad luck, but the scouts also began coming up the trail shortly after us and they began to overtake us, making enough noise to drown out a brass band as they did.

As Lagniappe and I neared the top of the trail up from the overlook, Lagniappe froze and alerted on something in the woods. I stopped and looked and saw four deer a bit off the trail. But before I could get my camera out, I heard footsteps and another cub scout came running up the rail towards us. I held up a hand to stop him, put a finger over my lips to tell him to be quiet, and pointed the deer out to him. I mean, this is what nature's all about and why these kids are presumably here, right?
But as soon as the kid saw the deer, he screamed at the top of his lungs: "Hey Trevor! Come here! There's DEER!" The deer were gone in a flash. Yet another reason why I hate kids.

When Lagniappe and I got to the trail junction above the lookout, about half the scouts where there, with a couple of their adult leaders. They were looking up the steep trail that ultimately leads over the ridge and back down to the C&O Canal, and in the other direction, down an inviting trail that descended, one would think, right back towards the bridge across the Potomac and into Harpers Ferry. One of the adults looked at me and asked: "Does this trail go back by the bridge?"

Now I knew that it didn't. I'd explored it last year and I know that it leads about a quarter of a mile down a steep incline to a field, and then it dies out. I also knew that I was probably going to be stuck with these scouts for the whole return trip if they went the correct way.

Shame on me, but I heard this voice that sounded a lot like mine say "Yep, sure does," and the leader thanked me and began to lead the scouts down the path to nowhere. Yeah, I may go to Hell for that, but at least my hike was finished in peace and I was able to enjoy the quiet of the forest and see a bit more wildlife. By the time that the scouts got to the bottom, realized that it was a dead-end, and trudged back up that hill, Lagniappe and I were undoubtedly almost back to the C&O path leading back into town. If nothing else, it helped burn some of those kids' excess energy off, and it should drive home a lesson that I learned back when I was in scouts--"Be Prepared". If even one of those adult leaders had bothered to pick up even the simplest Park Service trail map, they'd have known that I was giving them a bum-steer.

So we returned to Harpers Ferry.Lagniappe got his usual ice cream cone at the Swiss Miss shop, and we came home and had a nice dinner of baked catfish.