Please tend my marigolds

This year is my first vegetable garden since 2020. In both 2021 and 2022, my wife’s failing health took priority over getting a garden planted and attended.

As usual, my mighty Irish wolfhound Hawken keeps a watchful eye on me and my garden.
As usual, my mighty Irish wolfhound Hawken keeps a watchful eye on me and my garden.

I’ve had a garden most years since I moved to Byng in 2004, and it is among my very favorite things to do. The best thing about it isn’t the produce, although it is fantastic, but the beauty of being outdoors in the evening sun, tending to and caring for live plants.

For the years I was married, I would come into the house with a basket or bag full of tomatoes, cucumbers, cantaloupe , onions, lettuce, strawberries, spinach, and bell peppers, with a huge, proud grin on my face, eager to show Abby what I had grown.

Despite her absence, I am still going to be grinning with pride when I start getting produce this year.

I also very regularly grab a camera, especially when the light is nice or when I see something unusual, like the large caterpillars I spotted recently.

I spotted two or three of these large caterpillars in the yard this week, eating their fill. I use an biological pesticide called thuricide to keep them out of the garden.
I spotted two or three of these large caterpillars in the yard this week, eating their fill. I use an biological pesticide called thuricide to keep them out of the garden.

Wednesday night I mowed the grass for a bit, then dug weeds in the garden. At some point, I stepped in some fire ants, but it took them a while to migrate past my shoes and socks to get to some of my leg to start biting me. And bite me they did. I know they are just doing what fire ants do, but they really do hurt. Fortunately, I am not allergic, so it’s more of a nuisance than anything else.

Tomato blossoms catch evening light in the garden. It's an optimistic sight, since I know that soon, these will become tomatoes.
Tomato blossoms catch evening light in the garden. It’s an optimistic sight, since I know that soon, these will become tomatoes.

In addition to the fruits and vegetables I cultivate, I have a small orchard with peach, plum, and cherry trees. Some years I have unlimited peaches and plums, and some years, like this year, I have none at all, due to a late frost.

These vines grow quickly in the spring, and while they are fun to photograph, if I don't cut them back, they'll take over the back yard.
These vines grow quickly in the spring, and while they are fun to photograph, if I don’t cut them back, they’ll take over the back yard.

I almost always plant marigolds in the garden, ostensibly because they attract beneficial insects, but mostly because I love the look and small of marigold flowers. When Abby was still with us, I often brought her marigolds from the garden, along with wildflowers from the pasture.

In the spring of 2020, with the Covid-19 pandemic brand new and remaining largely unknown, I wrote to a friend that, “if I get the Rona and die, please tend my marigolds.”

I caught the last rays of the sun making the evening extra beautiful, and photographed these walnut leaves at last light.
I caught the last rays of the sun making the evening extra beautiful, and photographed these walnut leaves at last light.

Bookstore Days

I recently came across a YouTube video about the demise of Borders Books, and it sent me down memory lane about my bookstore days in the 1990s.

I photographed one of my best friends, Jamie, at Hastings in the 1990s. We were all sorry to see the demise of Hastings.
I photographed one of my best friends, Jamie, at Hastings in the 1990s. We were all sorry to see the demise of Hastings.

My friends in Norman, Oklahoma, and I would often meet for lunch on Sunday, then pick something to do in the afternoon. Much of the time, we would make a grand tour of the bookstores in Norman: Hastings, Borders, Barnes and Noble, and, in the mall (remember the mall?), Waldenbooks.

We browsed for hours, almost like in a library, though we almost always bought something.

I don’t know if it sounds bombastic or pretentious, but my first stop was usually the philosophy section. I was absolutely entranced by the idea of reading the world views of brilliant minds, both contemporary and historical.

Once in a while a couple of my Norman friends and I would drive up to Full Circle Books in northwest Oklahoma City, often paired with a stop at Akins Natural Foods nearby. Full Circle is just the right combination of coziness, impressive selection, and employees who love reading.

I don’t want to leave Ada out, of course. Many of us loved going to Hastings in North Hills Center. One of my closest friends, Jamie, worked at Ada’s Hastings for years, and I was always glad to see her there.

Ay, there’s the rub. As with everything else in the 21st century, reading has been transformed by our electronic devices, and not always for the best. I don’t want this to sound like a post mortem for reading. Some of the best people I know love to read, and would rather grab any book one their shelf than watch or listen to anything on their smartphones.

Hastings and Borders are gone, swallowed up by e-readers and bad business practices, but somehow Barnes and Noble is still around.

Not too make people know this yet, but I am finally getting my book together about my life with Abby, so a final question might be: would you read it in print, or would you rather see it on your smart device?

I happen to think that reading, especially reading actual printed books, is one of the best ways to enrich ourselves and those around us.
I happen to think that reading, especially reading actual printed books, is one of the best ways to enrich ourselves and those around us.

The Persistence of Memory

I haven’t had a huge amount of time off in the last few weeks. Today is Monday, and while I often have Monday off at my newspaper, that’s the day I teach photography, so it’s not really a day off. I write this on a Monday, and as it happens, this was the only day my newspaper could arrange for a gym for our all-star basketball game, so I’ll be covering that this evening.

I try to fit projects into the gaps and cracks, but often enough I get inspired by something else, from the weather to sunsets to brilliant conversations, and today was no exception: as I was cleaning out and archiving files in my iCloud drive, I came across this photo:

This is a Google Maps screenshot of my first girlfriend's house.
This is a Google Maps screenshot of my first girlfriend’s house.

I’d been looking around Google Maps for this and that, and why I thought to navigate to my first girlfriend, Tina’s, house, I don’t know.

Still, it brought back a spitload of memories, mostly positive ones, about my time with her and this house. She and I dated from the middle of my junior year in high school until the end of my first year in college.

Of course, the rabbit hole of Google Maps lead to the rabbit hole of my own journal.

I first went to Tina’s house in November 1979 because Tina stopped showing up in class, and I found out she’d been in a car crash. I helped pick glass out of her hair.

I can picture the inside of the house: the dark, seldom-used living room on the right side of the photo, the kitchen and dining room in the middle, and the den on the left side. Tina’s bedroom was at the back on the right, and it had bright red shag carpet, and she had a bright pink velour bed spread. A trio of shelves above it displayed her Smurf collection.

There were a lot of long goodbyes on that front porch, winter and summer.

Since I wrote in a journal, she gave me a copy of Jay’s Journal (since debunked as Mormon propaganda), which I read cover-to-cover in a couple of days.

We woke up February 9, 1980 to find a foot of snow on the ground. I walked to Tina’s (one mile in the snow) where her mom and siblings joined friends for pizza, then session after session of snowball fights.

“I never had so much fun in my whole life. We were rolling around on the grass when I saw an airplane fly over, so I yelled, ‘air raid,’ and we both ran and hid under George the bush,” I wrote later that year.

In October 1980, she had an operation on her elbow. My journal doesn’t say why, but her arm was in traction with a drain tube in it. I have no recollection of that at all.

On another occasion, we were horsing around and I dove out that front window, breaking one of the panes with my heels. I wasn’t hurt, and had to buy a new window pane, but I remember that moment perfectly clearly.

She considered Dan Fogelberg’s Longer as “our song,” though I did not. I took her to see Fogelberg in concert in Norman in early 1982.

She worked at a toy store in the mall.

She had an older brother and a younger sister. I don’t remember much about them. Her mom and dad were divorcing at the time, but she and I stayed in the margins of that as much as possible.

As far as I know, there are no photographs of us together.

Here is an image I made in September 1980 at my high school's "trike races" event. On the left is Jena Owrey, who was always sweet to me in school. I have lost track of her. In the back on the right is Jeff Glenn, my college roommate who killed himself a couple of years later.
Here is an image I made in September 1980 at my high school’s “trike races” event. On the left is Jena Owrey, who was always sweet to me in school. I have lost track of her. In the back on the right is Jeff Glenn, my college roommate who killed himself a couple of years later.

Sleep Well, Dauphine

It’s been a month since anyone heard a peep from this blog, and while there are some legitimate reasons, there are as many lame ones. The biggest blame falls to work, which, while it is the absolute dopest the bomb there is, the middle of April through the middle of May take it all.

The pasture is yielding much life, including Indian paintbrush, pictured, which was Abby's favorite flower. Throughout the summers of our marriage, I brought her vases full of wildflowers like these that I picked for her in the pasture.
The pasture is yielding much life, including Indian paintbrush, pictured, which was Abby’s favorite flower. Throughout the summers of our marriage, I brought her vases full of wildflowers like these that I picked for her in the pasture.

So here it is, my latest news and other stuff.

My sister Nicole and brother-in-law Tracey’s dog of nine years, Dauphine, died this week.

My brother-in-law Tracey sleeps with their new puppy Dauphine nine years ago.
My brother-in-law Tracey sleeps with their new puppy Dauphine nine years ago.

When I got home from covering baseball recently in Edmond, I found the house air conditioner had failed again. I know it’s old, but it sure would be nice to catch a break.

One result of this occurrence was my installation of a large window-unit air conditioner in the living room, which I had purchase for cheap from Amazon in early 2022, knowing I might soon need it.

I bought this large-capacity window-unit air conditioner about 18 months ago as a hedge against the central air going out in my home, and being too expensive to repair or replace.
I bought this large-capacity window-unit air conditioner about 15 months ago as a hedge against the central air going out in my home, and being too expensive to repair or replace.

The guy came the next day and fixed it, and for not as much money as I had feared.

My Nissan Juke is back in service after a month of negotiations about what needed to be fixed. It turned out to be fairly expensive, but, so far, worth it.
My Nissan Juke is back in service after a month of negotiations about what needed to be fixed. It turned out to be fairly expensive, but, so far, worth it.

The mass shooting in the greater Dallas area was just a few miles away from my step daughter and her family’s home. Chele said they recently shopped in the mall where it happened.

I found and photographed a mouse skeleton this week.
I found and photographed a mouse skeleton this week.

I can sort of see the light at the end of the tunnel of the big clean-out. This week I made giant strides in the house and in the office, but I think it’s ridiculous that … yeah, I know. When we get married, we are making a bargain with our spouse, and that includes, in our case, my making peace with her collectionism.

Part of the big clean-out involves customizing how I live as just me, which lets me bring hobbies to the center of my living space, such as these various amateur radio and public safety radios in the garage. I expect to do some serious realignment of them in a week or so to make them easier and more fun to use.
Part of the big clean-out involves customizing how I live as just me, which lets me bring hobbies to the center of my living space, such as these various amateur radio and public safety radios in the garage. I expect to do some serious realignment of them in a week or so to make them easier and more fun to use.

The garden is taking off like it should be. After a couple of seasons of very serious drought, both from the earth and from my ability to garden, April and May have been ideally rainy to bring the garden along.

I have entered the second period of a vegetable gardener's season: real growth after the transplant shock period.
I have entered the second period of a vegetable gardener’s season: real growth after the transplant shock period.

Movie Review: Purple Rain

I first saw Purple Rain in about 1987, during a period when girlfriend Kathy and I were renting movies about four times a week. She loved the movie at the time, but I think she would agree that it has aged poorly.

Purple Rain is an attempted fusion of a concert movie with a biopic. The concert part works great, but the plot? I wonder if the plot was needed at all. Maybe it was a studio formula that said, “you have to have a plot. It can’t just be a concert.”

The biggest flaw in the plot is when the manager and his ilk are talking about The Kid not having the sound any more and needs to be replaced. Truth: if you saw a show half as good as The Revolution’s show in this movie, you would simultaneously cum and shit your pants, then need hospitalization to have your smile removed.

Other thoughts…

The “girl show” Morris puts together with Apollonia 6 isn’t sexy it all. It’s clumsy and unmusical.

If it was Prince’s intention to spell out to us what a bastard and egomaniac he was in real life, well done.

The music, though not performed live for the film, was mic’d and mixed to have a concert sound to it.

On my second watch-through this week, it dawned on me that much of the bad acting is due to the rotten script. “It’s all I dream about. What about you? What do you dream about?” It feels like it came out of my tenth grade journal.

In conclusion, I find this movie poorly-written and filmed, but the concert footage is as good as the album. When I watch again, I will fast-forward through all the dialog to get to the performances.

Purple Rain is an eye-catching, trendy, 1980s-era film that has aged poorly in many ways, but the music is as good as ever.
Purple Rain is an eye-catching, trendy, 1980s-era film that has aged poorly in many ways, but the music is as good as ever.

Back in the Left Seat

I think I'm going to fly over there.
I think I’m going to fly over there.

My social media circles might have noticed this week that I have returned to the aviation hobby after a 20-year hiatus.

I always wanted to be a pilot. I became a licensed private pilot May 1, 1993, just short of 30 years ago.

I flew a lot in the 1990s, when the hobby was less expensive. My wife (then, girlfriend) Abby and I flew together in the spring of 2003. By then, the local aviation community had become less active, and there weren’t really any airplanes to rent here. She and I rented airplanes at Shawnee.

One of the reasons I am flying again now is that thanks to Ada Wings, there are three aircraft that live here at Ada to rent.

There are some myths about flying as a private pilot that I should dispel. It’s very safe. We’re not test pilots or daredevils, and the airplanes we fly are airworthy. One thing that keeps us safe is our respect for the weather, which most non-pilots don’t really understand. We don’t have airliners. Most private pilots like me fly close to home because it’s fun. We can’t jet up to Nova Scotia in a couple of hours. We fly for fun, and for the challenge of becoming better pilots.

Monday I flew with Ada Wings’ flight instructor Zach Burkhead, who gave me my first flight review in 21 years. Everything came back to me pretty quickly, but I still feel like I should sharpen my skills. My landings were sloppy, but that’s to be expected with dormant muscle memory.

The two aircraft I flew Monday were a straight-tail Cessna 150, and a Cessna 172.

Burkhead signed me off for two years, and checked me out to rent their airplanes.

If you’ve ever dreamed you would like to learn to fly, make it happen. I did, and it was one of the best decisions I ever made.

Flight instructor Zach Burkhead and I smile for my camera Monday, April 10. It was great to get back up in the air.
Flight instructor Zach Burkhead and I smile for my camera Monday, April 10. It was great to get back up in the air.

 

Natural Born Tillers

My worn-out work gloves sit on my tiller recently. I ended up tiling the garden three times, hoping to dislodge some of the grass and weeds from a couple of years of neglect. I also tilled in some garden fertilizer.
My worn-out work gloves sit on my tiller recently. I ended up tiling the garden three times, hoping to dislodge some of the grass and weeds from a couple of years of neglect. I also tilled in some garden fertilizer.

I write this on Easter Sunday, April 9.

Friday I bought 18 Celebrity tomato plants, 6 Cherokee Purple heirloom tomato plants, 2 tomato plants of unknown type, 12 Yellow Giant pepper plants, and 24 slicing cucumber plants from the Byng FFA/Horticulture sale, the program at the high school near my home.

Tomato, bell pepper, and cucumber plants sit in the garage Friday afternoon.
Tomato, bell pepper, and cucumber plants sit in the garage Friday afternoon.

Yesterday I got all but the cucumbers planted.

One of my new tomato plants stands in waning sunlight after I planted Saturday.
One of my new tomato plants stands in waning sunlight after I planted Saturday.

I normally plant cucumbers from seeds, but since they had them at the sale, and they weren’t expensive, I thought it might give me a head start.

A teeny cucumber plant is visible after tonight's planting.
A teeny cucumber plant is visible after tonight’s planting.

Till, We Meet Again, or Tine After Tine

The early peach tree varieties on the patch are blooming now. We almost always have a late freeze, but even if we do, we might have peaches, plums, cherries, all three, or none at all. Even when I don't get fruit, tending my orchard is very satisfying.
The early peach tree varieties on the patch are blooming now. We almost always have a late freeze, but even if we do, we might have peaches, plums, cherries, all three, or none at all. Even when I don’t get fruit, tending my orchard is very satisfying.

My first tiller was named Tilly, of course. It was the smallest gasoline-powered tiller available.

Abby decided the new (2020) one’s name is Tyler.

I tilled a nice patch for the garden yesterday, which was tougher than before since I did not get a garden in last year.

I expect to till it at least two more times before I get anything planted, especially to dislodge all that stubborn Bermuda grass.

Choppa choppa dig dig.
Choppa choppa dig dig.

Limb Day

After a stressful but satisfying ten day stretch at work that found a bit of closure today when I put bed our newspaper’s contest entries, I got a bite of lunch, then looked at a forecast: clear and mild today, with a 100% chance of rain tonight.

I’ve been aiming to prune my peach and plum trees for weeks, but circumstance always had a say: too cold, too rainy, too busy at work, and so on.

So today, in the stretch of a couple of hours, I got all the pruning done.

It wasn’t an easy task, since I hadn’t really been able to do it the last two years, so there were lots of tall, thick branches that both kept fruit out of reach, and were about to reach to power line to the house.

Now it’s done, and my gripping muscles and my scissoring muscles are already complaining, since I seldom task those parts of me this strenuously. Will I even be able to make a fist tomorrow?

I pruned six peach trees and two plum trees. It was a nice day to be working outside.
I pruned six peach trees and two plum trees. It was a nice day to be working outside.

Words of Wisdom, Feb. 10, 2023

“Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”

― William Shakespeare, Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5

All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.
All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.

Words of Wisdom

One of the most appealing thing about being Ada Sunrise Rotary is the idea of having breakfast with friends at one of Ada's longest-established businesses, the Aldridge Hotel.
One of the most appealing thing about being Ada Sunrise Rotary is the idea of having breakfast with friends at one of Ada’s longest-established businesses, the Aldridge Hotel.

Every Friday morning, Ada Sunrise Rotary, my civic club, meets at the Aldridge Hotel Banquet Room starting at 7 a.m. Meetings start with a ringing the ceremonial brass bell, followed by the Pledge of Allegiance, a non-denominational prayer, introduction of guests, announcement, “Words of Wisdom,” a guest speaker, singing the “Friday Song,” an appeal to donate to Polio Plus, and, ending the meeting, “The Four-Way Test of the things we think, say or do” …

  1. Is it the truth?
  2. Is it fair to all concerned?
  3. Will it build goodwill and better friendships?
  4. Will it be beneficial to all concerned?

I didn’t join Rotary to change or reform it. When Robert and Jennifer Greenstreet, long-time friends, invited me, I thought it sounded like fun, that it would be a good source for community news for my newspaper, and an important way to represent our newspaper as a civic-minded product.

When I joined, two and a half years ago the “Words of Wisdom” segment of our meetings usually consisted of one of the buzz-cut set telling a slightly off-color joke that started with something like, “So this 80-year-old couple is about to make whoopee, but they’re both a little deaf…”

I decided that I might have something more erudite to contribute, so about a year ago, I started bringing in some of my brainier-sounding books on science, philosophy, sociology, writing, creativity, and so on. As I did so, everyone began to realize that I might be making a worthwhile contribution to the discourse, and that I was at least attempting to be well-read and creating an atmosphere of ideas and learning.

As the last six months or so, from July 1 when Ashley became president, has evolved, more and more when we get to “Words of Wisdom,” Ashley’s eyes, and everyone else’s, immediately turn to me.

Last Friday I read this from Albert Camus’ The Plague

“The evil that is in this world always comes from ignorance, and good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence, if they lack understanding. On the whole, men are more good than bad; that, however, isn’t the real point. But they are more-or-less ignorant, and it is this that we call vice or virtue, the most incorrigible vice being an ignorance that fancies it knows everything and therefore claims for it the right to kill. The soul of murderers is blind; and there can be no true goodness nor true love without the utmost clear-sightedness.”

I bring my journal to Rotary every week, and it gives me a chance to write, if I haven’t, for the week, as I wait for breakfast. Thus, I concluded that I should be more consistent about writing down my words of wisdom, and make it a regular feature here on this blog.

To find words of wisdom, click on the category by that name, or simply go to the search box and type “words of wisdom.”

Hopefully, I will be a wise man, and not a wise guy, as time goes by.

In a world of increasingly shallow content, I have often made an effort to read, and discuss, deeper topics.
In a world of increasingly shallow content, I have often made an effort to read, and discuss, deeper topics.

Our First Date; Better than We Expected

Abby and I had our first date January 17, 2003, 20 years ago today. Here is my account of it from my journal, plus a couple of notes from her journal.

Abby and I met at our office and had dinner at Papa Gjorgjo next door to our office in downtown Ada.

I made this image of Abby just a week after our first date. You can already see the love in her eyes, and my love in the way I made this photograph.
I made this image of Abby just a week after our first date. You can already see the love in her eyes, and my love in the way I made this photograph.

I invited her to see the house I am considering buying from Ann Kelley. When trying to get into my car, the door wouldn’t open – probably since it was very cold and I washed the car earlier in the day – so she climbed over the center console to get in.

We then drove to the house on 17th Street. We talked about fixing it up; she even pulled up a corner of carpet to see if it had wood floors. We held each other by the gas fireplace, mostly holding hands and talking.

Abby poses for me just three weeks into our relationship.
Abby poses for me just three weeks into our relationship.

Back at my apartment, we curled up on my futon, held each other close and talked more. She purred. I held her hands and touched her hair and nestled closer and closer. We traded back rubs. It turned into kissing, so much kissing.

Made a month after we started dating, this image really captures how beautiful Abby was, and how comfortable she was in front of my camera.
Made a month after we started dating, this image really captures how beautiful Abby was, and how comfortable she was in front of my camera.

We were happy to be together. She likes me. She likes my beard. She likes the way she feels when I hold her.

A few days later, Abby wrote, “I’ve started dating Richard Barron, and it’s so great it’s scary…. I could fall completely in love with Richard.”

The rest, of course, is history. We got married in October 2004, and after more than 17 amazing years of marriage, Abby died in March 2022.

It all started with that first date on that cold, clear night in January 2003.

Abby and I pose together in Ada's Wintersmith Park in March 2003, just two months after our first date. By this time, we both felt completely in love and were very comfortable as a couple with a great future together.
Abby and I pose together in Ada’s Wintersmith Park in March 2003, just two months after our first date. By this time, we both felt completely in love and were very comfortable as a couple with a great future together.

 

A Dog Emergency

Trigger warning: sight of blood and injured animals.

For a little less than a year, Hawken the Irish wolfhound has had a lump behind his left ear. A vet told me in the spring that it’s a skin tumor, and harmless, so if nothing happened, we’d just leave it alone.

Today, something happened. He spent last night inside because it was cold out. I put him outside at around 7 a.m. and fed him. At some point between then and 1:30 p.m., he must have cronked that tumor on something, because when I went out back to walk him, there was blood on the back porch, and when he came around the corner, I could see he was bleeding.

Hawken seemed to have no idea that he was injured. I think he thought the whole thing was a game.
Hawken seemed to have no idea that he was injured. I think he thought the whole thing was a game.

I put pressure on it, but it didn’t stop the bleeding, especially since every time he would shake, he would re-open it. I wrapped it with paper towels and an Ace bandage, which was enough to stop the bleeding while I drove him to the vet.

And of course, the back yard and the garage look like a crime scene.

They are sedating him now and will remove the offending tumor. I expect they will find it is benign, but I am aware there is a chance that isn’t the case. They expect to call me this evening to take him home.

Despite my best efforts to apply pressure, Hawken's ruptured skin tumor required immediate attention.
Despite my best efforts to apply pressure, Hawken’s ruptured skin tumor required immediate attention.

Update: I was right to be concerned that Hawken could have bled to death. The vet (who is a good friend of mine) got him right in and excised the mass, which was, as we suspected, a hemangioma. Due to the sedation, he was a handful to get into the back seat of the pickup, and still a little weak and confused when I got him home, so I piled him out of the truck into the front yard.

Overall, it was a crisis, but my vet and I handled it well.

Hawken rests after I got him home tonight. He was coordinated enough to stumble up the stairs of the front deck, but it's nice outside, so he is in the front yard, where I am keeping a careful watch.
Hawken rests after I got him home tonight. He was coordinated enough to stumble up the stairs of the front deck, but it’s nice outside, so he is in the front yard, where I am keeping a careful watch.

 

Thoughts about Top Gun: Maverick

The hottest movie topic in 2022 was Top Gun: Maverick.  I am sorry, my friends who loved this movie, but…

The biggest problem I have with this film is the same problem I have with the final three Star Wars films in the saga: rehash.

  • The same title card and Faltermeyer/Loggins intro music.
  • The same fighter jet porn in the intro.
  • Goose’s son wears Goose’s exact same mustache.
  • The fighter pilots are approached from behind in an ambush-introduction.
  • The motorcycle scene with his girlfriend (even riding in the same direction as the original scene). Same jacket, same motorcycle.
  • The stupid sunglasses they all wore in the first movie and in this movie; they were on-point stylish in 1969.
  • The mission is almost identical to the mission the rebels undertook in Star Wars: A New Hope… a very small force is tasked with skimming a narrow canyon to hit a small opening in the enemy base, and the mission is saved at the last minute by an arrogant pilot who was not part of the original plan.

Also…

  • He steals an F/A-18?
  • The ultra-sonic test jet flying over North America? Never happen. Supersonic flight of any kind is done over the sea.
  • The task group fires a spitload of Tomahawk cruise missiles at one runway. Each one of those costs about two million dollars, and just one of them would be adequate to take that airfield out of the fight.
  • Or, you could use the Tomahawks to actually do the mission.
  • No one with bitter feelings about the instructor would even be assigned to the mission, no matter how skilled he or she is. Direct conflict of interest.

Also, this job doesn’t really seem like a job for the Navy and carrier-based warplanes, but an Air Force task with something like the B-2 Spirit long-range stealth bomber. And why are these jets attacking anything without air superiority?

By the way, Iran is the only nation in the world to have any F-14 Tomcats in service, so duh, it’s Iran. But of course, the presence of the F-14 was shoehorned in to get Tom Cruise back into one for the final scene, and, of course, with Goose’s son in the back seat.

A note about G-forces: this happens when an aircraft is experiencing a lift vector that changes the attitude of the aircraft. The instant an aircraft stops that vector by leveling off, regardless of the direction it’s nose it pointed, the G-force falls back to normal. We see these F/A-18s pull out of the attack, and the pull-up maneuver is what creates the Gs. An aircraft climbing straight up or diving straight down is not experiencing high G-forces.

The bottom line is, for me, that Top Gun: Maverick is easily the most over-rated, over-anticipated movie in the last five years. I didn’t really enjoy it.

Top Gun: Maverick
Top Gun: Maverick

Movie Prop Mistakes

Updated December 2022 to include a note about the movie Die Hard.

Often when watching movies, I will simultaneously look up the background of them on Internet Movie Data Base (IMDB), or, if the film has guns, the Internet Movie Firearms Data Base (IMFDB).

I did so recently when I was rewatching the 1995’s excellent Heat, starring Robert De Niro and Al Pacino. It has a lot of interesting firearms in it, and I wanted to learn about them.

This shot shows a combination of an accurate depiction and a glaring mistake. I actually owed both of these radios and one time or another. I love how they have been temporarily mounted in the vehicle with clear packing tape.
This shot shows a combination of an accurate depiction and a glaring mistake. I actually owed both of these radios and one time or another. I love how they have been temporarily mounted in the vehicle with clear packing tape.

What I found, however, was an interesting mistake, and one that I see over and over in movies about crimes and cops: a shot showing us a signature rifle muzzle device also happens to show us two police scanners. One of them, the top one, is a Radio Shack Pro-2030. The display on it reads 000.0000, meaning it was never programmed, or it was reset at some point and never reprogrammed. Either way, it isn’t working.

The lower scanner, a Radio Shack clone of a Uniden 500 UBC9000XLT (Probably the
Realistic Pro-2036.), displays 470.5375, which is the correct frequency for Los Angeles Countywide police dispatch.

In the movie Die Hard (IMDB), (IMFDB), on the other hand, the TV reporter, a one-dimensional character played by William Atherton, is on the phone when he hears a panicked police call from an LAPD sergeant played by Reginald VelJohnson. I assume this scene takes place in the fictional TV studio, since there do seem to be at least a couple of reel-to-reel audio tape decks in the background, but the scanners supposedly picking up the call are junk fished out of the back of the props department.

Two of the radios appear to possibly be Radio Shack / Realistic Comp-100s or maybe similar Bearcats. Both are early 1970s tech, and use crystals to set each frequency. Neither of the radios in the scene appear to be receiving anything, though, since the red LEDs on the front panel continue to track and don’t stop on a channel. The other radio is hard to make out, but might be a higher-end communications receiver or all-mode amateur radio transceiver. It appears to display something like 145.890 Mhz, which is an amateur radio frequency, not a police frequency.

Some movies try harder than others, while some, like the big-budget, action-packed Die Hard, don't. The scanners in this shot look like the first thing the props department came across the had flashing lights on them. I guess we're lucky they weren't CB radios.
Some movies try harder than others, while some, like the big-budget, action-packed Die Hard, don’t. The scanners in this shot look like the first thing the props department came across the had flashing lights on them. I guess we’re lucky they weren’t CB radios.

Also, the characters repeatedly interrupt each other while talking on two-way radios, which we all know is impossible since you can either receive or transmit, not both at the same time.

For what it’s worth, the movie with the most accurate and believable radio communications that I’ve seen is End of Watch. Jake Gyllenhaal clearly studied and practices with real police and how they use radios for this film. Props.

 

Get Well Soon

My social media fans might have seen that I was sick the past week. I was pretty sick with what was probably influenza, or “flu.”

Someone asked me recently why I thought toilet paper got scarce at the start of the pandemic, and upon giving it more thought, I sort of settled on the idea that most people don’t really understand terms like influenza, flu, virus, and infection.

Anyway, I am almost entirely recovered from whatever it was, and returned to work this morning, just in time for the temperature to drop into single-digits. Zing!

You can picture me like this, your humble host, or you could picture me like I was earlier this week, which was pretty much the same, only not as dressed up, and with a fever.
You can picture me like this, your humble host, or you could picture me like I was earlier this week, which was pretty much the same, only not as dressed up, and with a fever.

Why Would This Be Fun?

Should I cut the red wire or the blue wire?
Should I cut the red wire or the blue wire?

I did some man-caving in the garage tonight. After walking the dogs and taking trash to the curb, I set out to see if an old 23-channel citizen’s band (CB) radio was working. When I discovered it was not, I decided, quite organically, to take it apart. Part of me says I was scavenging for parts, but the other part was just having fun learning about how radios were put together in the 1970s.

As an aside: one thing I explored on my recent drive to Kansas City for Thanksgiving: where is the CB radio scene these days? I deployed a magnetic-mount antenna connected to my Uniden Pro501HH. I didn’t really expect to hear anything, but was surprised that the chatter was almost continuous through my whole drive, and I discovered that CB radio is mostly populated by noisy, inarticulate, lonely people who are on the verge of mental illness. How much of this parallels the real world and/or the comments section of pretty much any hot internet topic I don’t know, but it was unsettling to say the least.

Most two-way radios, including CB radios, can be modified or programmed to transmit a “key up” tone, which is sent at the beginning of a transmission. At the beginning of this clip, you can hear the “key up” tone is a screaming child…

 

But back to tonight: one oddly satisfying thing in my disassembly is trying to unscrew stubborn screws. When they don’t budge, I lean into the handle of the screwdriver, push and turn. When I finally get that little “pop,” as the screw unseats, it’s like a tiny victory.

In the end, I have little to show for my effort except the fun of piddling and a pile of parts.

This is the fruit of my labor: a proud pile of junk.
This is the fruit of my labor: a proud pile of junk.

Thanksgiving 2022

My cousin Lori Wade and her husband Bill Wade invited my sister Nicole Hammill, her husband Tracey Hammill, and me to join them for Thanksgiving at Lori’s home in rural Platt City, Missouri. We were joined by Lori’s father Wes on Thanksgiving Day.

My cousin Lori, my sisters Nicole, and I pose for a photo in Lori's living room.
My cousin Lori, my sisters Nicole, and I pose for a photo in Lori’s living room.

The last time we joined Lori and her husband was when Abby and I drove there in 2010.

Lori, Nicole and Tracey take their turn in front of my camera.
Lori, Nicole and Tracey take their turn in front of my camera.

I made the six-hour drive on Wednesday before the holiday, with my Chihuahua, Summer, in the back seat.

Summer was nervous and sat in my lap early in the trip, but settled into the back seat for most of the drive to and from the Kansas City area.
Summer was nervous and sat in my lap early in the trip, but settled into the back seat for most of the drive to and from the Kansas City area.

I asked Bill, an avid hunter and gun enthusiast, if he owned an AR-15, and he did, so we took it down to his range and did some target practice, which was very fun.

Tracey and Bill's brother Kyle reload a magazine for Bill's AR-15. The weapon is chambered in .224 Valkyrie.
Tracey and Bill’s brother Kyle reload a magazine for Bill’s AR-15. The weapon is chambered in .224 Valkyrie.

At my urging, Lori brought out a box containing her father Wes’ Canon FTb, a popular single-lens-reflex (SLR) camera from the 1970s. I have a very clear memory of seeing Wes about to photograph the Thanksgiving table at Grandma Barron’s house in Independence, Missouri when I was in junior high, and thinking it was the coolest thing I’d even seen. I asked him if I could look through the viewfinder, which he let me, and I was smitten with the idea of one day owning such a camera.

This is my Uncle Wes' Canon FTb camera from the early 1970s. Big, heavy, and solid, it was made at a time when cameras were meant to last a lifetime.
This is my Uncle Wes’ Canon FTb camera from the early 1970s. Big, heavy, and solid, it was made at a time when cameras were meant to last a lifetime.

I gave the camera a quick look, and it appeared to be in pristine condition, and everything still worked fine.

Your host holds his uncle's Canon FTb. Wes is still alive, and joined us for Thanksgiving dinner, but he hasn't made any photos with this camera in at least a decade.
Your host holds his uncle’s Canon FTb. Wes is still alive, and joined us for Thanksgiving dinner, but he hasn’t made any photos with this camera in at least a decade.

Lori seemed genuinely happy to be our host. She looked great and was so glad to see us. She cooked for us, and it was all delicious.

Between eating, conversation, and taking care of five dogs (Lori and Bill’s two Newfoundlands Sailor and Scarlet and their old retriever Riley, Tracy and Nicole’s Labrador retriever Dauphine, and Summer the Chihuahua), none of us every turned on a television, and only sparingly looked at our smartphones.

One rare occasion for using my smartphone was to show a photo of my wife Abby, Nicole and Lori in the same spot 12 years ago.
One rare occasion for using my smartphone was to show a photo of my wife Abby, Nicole and Lori in the same spot 12 years ago.
Lori and Nicole proudly pose in the kitchen on Thanksgiving Day.
Lori and Nicole proudly pose in the kitchen on Thanksgiving Day.
Uncle Wes and Tracey, Nicole's husband, sit for a few minutes with Summer, my Chihuahua. I was proud that this little dog got along with all the bigger dogs so well.
Uncle Wes and Tracey, Nicole’s husband, sit for a few minutes with Summer, my Chihuahua. I was proud that this little dog got along with all the bigger dogs so well.
Nicole and Tracey show off their retriever Dauphine's manners for Uncle Wes.
Nicole and Tracey show off their retriever Dauphine’s manners for Uncle Wes.

Lori seemed to have a great time being the gracious hostess, and put very amazing meals in front of us the whole time.

A steaming turkey sits on a cutting board.
A steaming turkey sits on a cutting board.
Bill places the turkey on the table.
Bill places the turkey on the table.
You either love Brussels sprouts or you don't. We all do, especially roasted like this.
You either love Brussels sprouts or you don’t. We all do, especially roasted like this.
Our uncle Wes is seated. Behind him are Kyle Wade and Bill Wade, our cousin Lori, my sister Nicole, and her husband Tracey.
Our uncle Wes is seated. Behind him are Kyle Wade and Bill Wade, our cousin Lori, my sister Nicole, and her husband Tracey.

The Nature of Irrational Fears

I have a friend who is very afraid of heights.  He gets nervous, then panicked, then actually shuts down in the face of any kind of perceived open exposure to unprotected high places.

I don’t share his fear at all. I am known as the photojournalist who will climb on, or fly in, anything without any hesitation, to get a picture, or, sometimes, just to be doing it.

This isn’t fair, because neither my friend nor I are in any real danger. The fear for him is instinctive, and irrational.

But consider this: spiders freak me out. I feel a very visceral, very instinctive, revulsion to them, and I always have. I am especially freaked out by spiders that are rubbery or have no logical means of locomotion. It is so irrational.

This irrationality makes even less sense when you consider this: I am completely unafraid of crickets. Lately, there have been an unusual number of crickets – I learned only tonight that they are called camel crickets – in the house. Here’s why it is so irrational: this insect is very similar in size, color, and markings to a wolf spider. But I am fine with them. Tonight, in fact, I picked one up (the one in the photo) and posed it next to a penny for scale. Then I picked it up again and tossed it into the front yard.

I could no more make myself do that with a wolf spider than I could a coiled viper or attacking bear. Wolf spiders are actually doing good work in my house by hunting and eating unwelcome insects, and they are absolutely as harmless as the cricket, but any that I see are terminated with extreme prejudice.

Please, dear reader, explain this paradox.

A camel cricket was nice enough to pause for a picture with a penny for scale. It is similar to a wolf spider is most respects, but because of subtle differences, it elicits a completely different response in my brain.
A camel cricket was nice enough to pause for a picture with a penny for scale. It is similar to a wolf spider is most respects, but because of subtle differences, it elicits a completely different response in my brain.

Keyword: Vulnerability

Lately I'm not really trusting mirrors. I wonder if they've always been lying to us.
Lately I’m not really trusting mirrors. I wonder if they’ve always been lying to us.

I sometimes wish I were less transparent. I sometimes wish I were more of a mystery. It seems like my feelings are so obvious, and that the vulnerability from it could be dangerous.

I was at a store recently. My former photography student Devon was behind the counter.

“You look sad,” she said.
“I am sad,” I replied.
She’d held me up to the light, and could see right through me.
“Why?” she asked.
“I miss my wife.”

A recent poem from my journal:

that pose that we all have when we look in the mirror
is why we are surprised when we come across a mirror we we weren’t expecting
who is that in the mirror?
I no longer have that pose
who is that in the mirror?
stop being me in the mirror

“I am not the body you seen before you. Nor am I the soul inside. I am all the things I have said and done, and all the things I failed to say and do. I have said too much and done too little.” ~Journal, November 1990

I went to see a long-ago friend recently. We sat on the couch in her living room and talked. I told her about my feelings about Abby and the last year of her life. I asked her to hold my hand, and to hold me in her arms for a few minutes, which she did.

“It was intimate,” I told another long-time friend later.
“You had sex with her???”
No, no I didn’t. Intimacy isn’t a synonym for sex.

It made me wonder why so many people only perceive intimacy as sexual intimacy, and how that might even make sex non-intimate.

So, then, Richard, what do you mean by “intimate”?

Caring for a child is intimate. Caring for a dying person is intimate. Respecting someone is intimate.

One aspect of intimacy I learned in the past couple of years is the very real intimacy of caring for someone who cannot care for themselves. They are wearing an involuntary vulnerability.

Another friend of mine is at the start of a very intense relationship, and she expressed to me that she wants to say, “I love you,” but is afraid it might be burdened with consequences. I felt that same way when I was much younger, but “I love you” comes easy to me now, from the all-day, every-day “I love you” my wife and I expressed so easily, to the more casual “I love you” for my friends that are simple, welcome, and can make a difference.

Don’t be afraid of “I love you.” But yes, it is vulnerable.

Maybe I finally found that one mirror that isn't lying to me.
Maybe I finally found that one mirror that isn’t lying to me.

I Don’t Need Surgery

I thought for a bit about how to illustrate this entry, but as I was doing it, I also needed to illustrate my column for tomorrow about COVID-19 vaccination, and had some interesting outtakes, including these two tiny water droplets clinging to the tips of two injection needles.
I thought for a bit about how to illustrate this entry, but as I was doing it, I also needed to illustrate my column for tomorrow about COVID-19 vaccination, and had some interesting outtakes, including these two tiny water droplets clinging to the tips of two injection needles.

Why is not needing surgery news? In succinct terms, I was grimly beginning to think that my achy breaky left shoulder was going to need work.

I already had a minor piece of surgery this summer, and while it was easy and painless, part of me says that I don’t want to be the guy whose health falls to pieces rapidly after his wife dies.

As a matter of fact, I have no recollection of injuring it, but am very sure it started bothering me on the very day Abby died.

Today I saw the same shoulder guy that looked after Abby’s shoulder (the left one, of course), and after an examination and a couple of radiographs (okay, fine, x-rays, which they actually aren’t), he told me I probably did not have a torn labrum like my sister did last year, but some osteoarthritis in the joint, and inflammation in the  surrounding tissue. He prescribed a course of oral steroids, and physical therapy.

Despite this and the fact that I am less than a year away from turning 60, I feel I am in top physical shape.

After my needles illustration was done, I fiddled around a little with water droplets from the needles. If you've ever had an influenza or COVID-19 vaccination, or injected yourself with insulin, this is the size of needle they use.
After my needles illustration was done, I fiddled around a little with water droplets from the needles. If you’ve ever had an influenza or COVID-19 vaccination, or injected yourself with insulin, this is the size of needle they use.

Green Day

Wake me up when September ends

An unexpected rain yesterday dropped about three quarters of an inch on us. This is a morning image of the crepe myrtle in the front yard.
An unexpected rain yesterday dropped about three quarters of an inch on us. This is a morning image of the crepe myrtle in the front yard.
  • After a summer that got browner and hotter from the end of June through most of August, our patch of green got some unexpected – and sometimes unforecast – rain.
  • The Shoffner family reunion was this weekend, and I went Saturday.
The Shoffner family trades stories and secrets Saturday afternoon in Sterling, Oklahoma.
The Shoffner family trades stories and secrets Saturday afternoon in Sterling, Oklahoma.
On the way home from the reunion Saturday, I stopped to photograph this gorgeous Catholic Church in Sterling, Oklahoma.
On the way home from the reunion Saturday, I stopped to photograph this gorgeous Catholic Church in Sterling, Oklahoma.
  • Our hosts Troy and Rachel had portobello mushrooms on hand to make as veggie patties, but I had a longish drive home so I didn’t stay for dinner, so they sent them with me, which I made for my last two meals, and which were delicious.
Portobello mushroom caps sizzle as I sauté them for lunch today.
Portobello mushroom caps sizzle as I sauté them for lunch today.
  • I washed my wallet. It was probably time to replace it, but I was super annoyed with myself for throwing those jeans in the washer without checking the pockets first.
After washing my wallet, I decided to replace it, the first time in maybe 15 years.
After washing my wallet, I decided to replace it, the first time in maybe 15 years.
  • I traded a pistol I didn’t like for one I think I will like, the Ruger LCP-II in .22lr. It didn’t do well the first time out; I think I have a bad magazine, since rounds kind of pop up and strike above the feed ramp and won’t feed. I ordered two more magazines, so we’ll see.
I heard good things about the Ruger LCP II in .22lr. Except for a flawed magazine creating a couple of issues, it seems like it will be a very fun pistol to shoot.
I heard good things about the Ruger LCP II in .22lr. Except for a flawed magazine creating a couple of issues, it seems like it will be a very fun pistol to shoot.
  • I just finished teaching a really fun photography class. We made lots of great photos and had tons of “aha” moments.
Classmates Stephanie and Cara share images as we shoot at the Pontotoc Technology Center two Mondays ago. I think I gave them the tools they need to be better photographers, and we all had a great time.
Classmates Stephanie and Cara share images as we shoot at the Pontotoc Technology Center two Mondays ago. I think I gave them the tools they need to be better photographers, and we all had a great time.
  • The fall sports season has started, and it’s kept me busy, including a super-fun evening covering the Ada Cougars at Ardmore Friday. The drive down there was brimming with rainbows, which I chased a bit.
I took several stabs at photographing this rainbow Friday night on my way to Ardmore to cover a football game. This is nice, but I feel like I should finesse it more. I'll work on it.
I took several stabs at photographing this rainbow Friday night on my way to Ardmore to cover a football game. This is nice, but I feel like I should finesse it more. I’ll work on it.
It has become a bit of a tradition to have my picture made with my good friend and partner in crime Courtney Morehead.
It has become a bit of a tradition to have my picture made with my good friend and partner in crime Courtney Morehead.

Today is also the 44th anniversary of my journal.

My students and I had beautiful light for classes in August.
My students and I had beautiful light for classes in August.

Keyword: Inclusion

An issue came up at one of my civic clubs (the name of which I am withholding) recently. At a meeting in June, the Board voted to change the weekly meeting to include a moment of silence instead of a prayer, which historically was always a Christian prayer that included Jesus.

Some of the members claimed they objected to this change because the board made it without consulting the membership, though most of us knew this wasn’t their real objection.

On July 1, a new Board took office, which included me. We considered this action, and decided that yes, we would put it to a vote of the membership. The president emailed ballots, and at our meeting last week, we voted. The choices were 1. prayer only 2. moment of silence only 3. prayer followed by a moment of silence and 4. a “Faith Moment.”

“Faith Moment was presented by one of our own, Richard Barron,” the president said in her email. “He proposed that the (our club) create an itinerary item called the Faith Moment, in which the president or other member conducting the meeting could call upon any members wishing to express their faith. That member could express their faith in the form of prayer, religious thought, or reading from scripture. This segment of the meeting would be open to and include expressions from any faith or belief system, as long as that expression did not deliberately exclude the faith of other members, or contain hate speech or other inflammatory content, as determined by the President. This segment would be limited to 2 minutes.”

I thought this suggestion hit all the right notes for 2022: diversity, equality and inclusion. Surely we would adopt this, and everyone would be happy. I was ready to accept my Nobel Peace Prize.

Sadly, despite my notion that this compromise would work, it was not to be. Though the vote was close, “moment of silence only” was the verdict. My own piece of brilliance received the fewest votes.

As that was announced, four members immediately claimed they would resign, including one who barked, “how can you have (this club) without god.”

So, sure, I have some ideas about this, so let’s start with the most basic: people who are genuinely afraid of the real world.

The urgent, angry, frightened need to control all functions of society like church doesn’t speak of faith, confidence, or trust, but of insecurity, especially insecurity about the fragile house of cards you truly know is your faith.

That faith isn’t constructed by god, by the way, but for centuries by kings and lords and presidents who want your obedience, and, most importantly, your money.

“Why wasn’t God there that day at Columbine? Because God isn’t allowed in the schools.” ~Actual letter to the editor (Sidebar: just this week I wrote a news story about “Rachel’s Challenge,” a program started in memorial of Rachel Scott, the first victim killed at Columbine.)

I love quotes like this because they are such a blunt admission that god is powerless to stand up to school boards.

So really, the small people were the ones who objected. They have small ideas. They have a small world view. They are the people who are afraid of other beliefs, and especially to have other beliefs in their midst.

The idea that all our institutions have to be your church is a very toxic idea.

Pondering important ideas might best be done over coffee.
Pondering important ideas might best be done over coffee.