Rough Roads

Sometimes the Road goes on forever, smooth as silk, taking you to your destination of fortune, fate, or dreams.  Sometimes it gets rough, the pavement broken, slowing you down or breaking you down.

If you are lucky, the road gets rough only for a little while, then it gets fixed or smooths out around the next bend and you are good to go.  When you are out of luck you can be out of Good Road for a very long time.

One of my favorite Motorcycling Roads serves as a case study here.  Whether it's a metaphor for other things and the canary-in-the-coal mine for the prospects of the 21st Century as we must live it here in Southern California; or just a local blip on the infrastructure lifeline, I can't say for sure.  But I take it seriously.

The Road in question is the Angeles Crest Highway (aka Highway 2), which runs from the foothills of northeastern Los Angeles over the San Bernardino Mountains to the desert beyond.  It's long been a weekend pathway to nature, silence, and relative seclusion from the maddening crowds of the Big City.  Camping, hiking, day-tripping, bicycling, and motorcycling are all part of the appeal.

The Road has been knocked around a lot in the past 10 years, being resurfaced beautifully once only to be damaged almost immediately by the Station Fire; fixed - again relatively nicely, only to be damaged once more by landslides after the Station Fire's deforestation.  In the last couple of years the road has deteriorated and been fixed by uncaring and uncareful applications of 'tar snakes' - drizzled seams of oozy tar drooled into the alligator cracks in the pavement. When new these babies are semi-dangerous to motorcycles, and they are ugly at any time.

But they were preferable to what's just been done:  in the past month or so, the entire Crest has been chip-sealed with large size aggregate from Wrightwood all the way to La Crescenta.  It's the cheapest way to 'fix' a deteriorating road surface, and in this time of tight budgets, the method appeals; however, it is not nice to two-wheeled traffic.  Not only is it rough and noisy (but there are only the bears and deer to bother, I hear you say), it makes for hard going and shaky steering for bicyclists, and tears up the tires of motorcycles while cutting back on braking stability and traction (counterintuitive though it may seem - it's true).  And- whether pedaling or twisting the throttle, falling on that stuff would be like sliding over a street paved with shark's teeth.

If there is enough car traffic to grind down the sharp gravel, or the surface breaks up and forces the roads department to cover it with hot mix, the Crest may live again for all its travelers; but for now its a Lost Road, a Rough Road, and I mourn it.

And here's where the metaphor gets exercised:

There are other Rough Roads we may be forced to take.  The economy- after a smooth(ish) run of some miles looks to be showing a few potholes ahead; maybe even a sinkhole or two.  The repaving job doesn't appear to be a long-term fix and we may all need to consider whatever strategy equates to the likes of a 1970s-era LandCruiser.

The Arab Spring seemed like a shining new road but that's turned into a pothole-strewn mess.  And our attempts (some say halfhearted) at a fix have given that road a dangerous new surface, abrasive and potentially deadly.

And, last I looked, the never really smooth but often passable roads that are our Legislative and Executive branches (that's Congress and the White House for those of you too long out of grade school government class) have become lined with the nastiest, most tire-eating aggregate imaginable.  Paving the Crest with the real road equivalent of that topping would be like sticking anti-backup spikes along the whole way.

So, while I consider my options on how best to still enjoy the Angeles Crest despite it's anti-social resurfacing, we must all ponder what to do with those other Rough Roads we must face.  Monster Trucks, anyone?

Oliver's Twist

Fans of the Daily Show are going through a strange and conflicting experience this summer of 2013.  We've lost our beloved host Jon Stewart for a few months, while we've gained greater exposure to one of our favorite supporting characters, John Oliver.

Both are funny men and their medium is satirical wordplay, but both bring us to laughter with different styles. Stewart is the devilish boy-in-a-man's-body wiseacre, while Oliver plays the disdainfully-witty intellectual with a bit of a chip on his shoulder (or maybe it's just the British accent).

While there hasn't been a noticeable lag in the funny business with Oliver at the helm, the change does emphasize what Stewart brings to the party.  His easy-going, casual, delivery works better in setting up the punch lines and getting the interview guests to relax and open up.  That Oliver's style is more acutely acerbic and therefore not quite as effective as a host doesn't count so much against him as it highlights why Stewart has been so successful at his job.

However, while Oliver may not be the equal of Stewart as a host, if you are a fan of the British style of comic delivery, a la Norman Wisdom by way of Monty Python, you can't help but be pleased by John Oliver's performance.  A little more support from the recurring cast and a few more shots-in-the-arm from Lewis Black won't hurt, but Oliver is capably steering the ship while Stewart is out finding himself.

The Quality Of Justice Is Not Free

As I write this, many Americans are reconsidering their idea of what 'Justice' means as a result of the Zimmerman verdict.

Depending on your point of view with regard to the facts of the case, 'Justice' might mean sustaining the use of deadly force whenever someone feels threatened, no matter the circumstances; while for others it might be that 'Justice' means revenge for a particular and egregious wrong, or of righting the larger societies' wrongs in a single verdict.

We all have our expectations of what 'Justice' means, and they are usually very personal and specific.  Our expectations are based very much on what we 'feel' in our deepest being is 'right' and fair, and these feelings are based on our life experiences and those of others we trust and admire.

But the cold truth is 'Justice' is not a feeling or an ideal; it is a formal process of civil and criminal law that often results in verdicts that don't meet our expectations - and that often don't seen fair or 'Just' at all.

Call it the price of freedom, because that is exactly what it is.

So, if the outcome of the Zimmerman case has left you feeling like there is no Justice, let me assure you that you are experiencing a common feeling when dealing with laws and courts and human frailty.  It's a feeling that will always be with us, since Perfect Justice is known only to the minds of individuals and is unknown to a society as a whole.  And it is society as a whole that our 'Justice' system serves.

Time Keeps On Slippin'

Whether it's from the Steve Miller song, or the Futurama episode, we keep on hearing that time is slippin', slippin', slippin', into the future.

We've also heard that 'Time Waits For No Man' (although it might be more patient with Women.)

Then again, we've heard that 'Time Is On My Side', and also on 'Your Side', so maybe we aren't in such dire temporal straights. Only Time Will Tell.

Whether Time isn't Waiting or is On Our Side, we can all agree that it is slipping away, although exactly what is meant by 'away' is debatable by some scientists and all Freshman Physics majors.

For me personally, Time has sped up to the point I am constantly surprised by where I am NOW as opposed to where I just was WHEN.  My NOWs are becoming extremely short-lived, to the point I feel I'm in that scene in Mel Brook's 'Spaceballs' (watch it for yourself, I'm not telling ...). I barely have any time to savor my SOONs before they become NOWs and then WHENs.  Sheesh!

But perhaps that is a function of age.  Maybe all you kids out there think your NOWs are plenty long enough to savor and your SOONs over the horizon far enough to enjoy the anticipation.  Time may not be slippin' for you as much as, well, unfolding.  Time may indeed be On Your Side.

If so, I am here to remind you that this is just an illusion.  Time is passing, no matter the apparent speed, and with it we see crucial actions not taken, critical needs unmet, and opportunities ignored and lost.  Maybe with us 'elder generationals' the faster perceived slippage of Time makes us more acutely sensitive to its wastage.

High Time, then,  for everyone to take Time and its passing more seriously - and I'm speaking to YOU Mr. President and Your Congressional Sparring Partners.  You are all old enough to sense that Time truly is slippin', slippin', slippin' ...

Independence Day - Waiting For A Miracle

Today we are celebrating our country's independence from the colonial empire which spawned it; and from the taxation without representation that personified that rule.  That, and the goodness of an excellent barbecue with family and friends.

If, between bites of that barbecue, some of us reflect a moment on recent independence movements and their less-than-stellar outcomes, we might wonder why ours caught on.

Were we just lucky?  After all, we had the same elements back then that we suspect are causing problems today: religious extremism, big money politics, foreign intervention.  One thing we didn't have were the communications that could allow disparate factions to unite in protest almost instantly.  Horseback messengers and signal lanterns don't quite equate with cell phones, the internet, and Twitter.  But great communication might have helped as well as hurt.

We did have some things going for us, and those were ironically the British system of laws, courts, and  the colonial governments that had all been in operation for a century before Independence was declared.  So we had a framework backed by expectations based on long experience to help order our post-revolution society.

But those institutions could also have been used against us by unscrupulous power seekers.  We had a few of those, but they always seemed to be defeated at just the right moments.

And some of those parts of the world now experiencing a revolutionary desire for independence also have long civil traditions. Why aren't they working for them?

My best guess is that we were indeed lucky.  So much could have gone wrong that would have derailed our revolution and independence, that we have to consider ourselves the recipients of a Miracle of sorts.

We need to hope that a similar miracle happens in Egypt before civil war begins, and that something miraculous happens in Syria, Afghanistan, and Iraq as well.  Money isn't the miracle; and neither is foreign military intervention.  What miracle or miracles happen must come from within the people, and we must all hope they find some.

Father's Day

An imperative here to all Fathers, currently active or past duty: Seize The Day!

It's true that Mother's Day gets most of the Love, since who really doesn't love and cherish their Mother, but Father's Day should be a prime date on the family calendar too.

This is especially important to those of you still in the hectic years of your child's grade schooling, athletics, and general around-the-house antics.  You need this Day as a break.

For the rest of us whose active Fathering have resolved to giving sage advice and money as needed, this Day should be one of recognition, and if there is any justice, a little Thanks too.

And if you have completed your Fathering successfully and your kids have flown the coop and moved so far away you rarely see them; or they are the ones sending you sage advice and money, use today to pat yourself on the back for a fine job done.

If you are not a Father yet, then spend today appreciating your Dad (those Dad's whose kids are also Fathers should cut them a little slack).

Dads are a little harder than Moms for their kids to love so unreservedly, at least over the short term.  That may because we are still often the 'enforcers' in the family. Even if it may be us telling the kid's 'What Until Your Mother Gets Home', we end up meeting out most of the bad news, anyway.  Biological inertia of the species, I assume.

What you do with your time today isn't really important, except that it should be absolutely, positively free of required chores.  Even the slightest hint of a honey-do or daddy-please should be ignored like the breach of etiquette that it is.

As I write this, it is just after 1pm on the West Coast of the US.  Wherever you are, if you haven't seized this day yet, Get Cracking!

Memorial Winds

When we think of our yearly Day of Memorial, any winds that come to mind are the Winds of War.  After all, the veterans of wars and fallen warriors are who we are meant to remember.

This Memorial Day, and forever after, I will also remember other Winds and those taken by them.

Living as I do in California, which shakes and quakes and lights afire from time to time but rarely sees a thunderstorm, I don't know much about living with tornados.  So it was with a little trepidation that I traveled to Kansas - the dark heart of Tornado Alley, just one day after the tragic events in Moore, Oklahoma.  Driving away from the airport in Wichita and heading west, I missed the 'large funnel' that dropped out of the clouds near the airfield that evening, which luckily failed to touch ground and go off on a brutal tear.

Kansas - at least the central part of it I was in, is flat. Nothing is there to block the path of storms; no obstacle to break them up or sap their strength.  If a big wind comes rolling at you down out of the Northwest, you are stuck like pins on a bowling alley, with nowhere to hide.

Just 30 miles or so from where I was staying is Greensburg, which was wiped off the map in May 2007 by an EF5 - the same monster size as the Moore twister, and is famously being rebuilt around a green energy plan.  I can only imagine what the good citizens of Greensburg thought when that storm hit Moore; perhaps a brief moment of relief that the spinning wheel of fate stopped somewhere else in Tornado Alley this time around, but more likely a profound sense of the camaraderie of shared misfortune.  The folks in Greensburg know what the folks in Moore dealt with that day, and what they will continue to deal with for some time to come.

In practical fact, everyone living in Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, and most of the midwest, know all about living with Tornados.  And they don't spend their days nervously glancing at the latest doppler radar updates on their iPhones, like I did.  Good, solid, people not easily scared by something that would send the bravest, most earthquake-savvy Californian into whimpering fits.

Brave folks persevering stoically in the path of God's Reaping Wind; much like those soldiers who walked and flew and sailed into the Winds of War.  Memorial Day, for me, will now be a time to remember them all.