911 What Are You Reporting

A brief introduction. We have a large homeless camp that moves about every 3 months to a new location in the county. Usually they set up on the property of a local church. As you might expect this migration is not always looked upon favorably by the nearby residents. In an effort to alleviate their fears the camp attempts to police themselves to keep the Riff Raff out. To this end they will frequently call us with the name and birth date of a new arrival to the camp and ask to run a warrant check. I changed the last name of the warrant subject.

911, what are you reporting?
This is "Tent City 4", I'd like to run a warrant check.
OK, what is the name of the subject?
Jesus (he pronounced it like the Son of God) Hernandez, born mm/dd/yyyy
I ran the name and then told the caller that "Jesus is clear of warrants and free of sin. But, Jesus (Spanish pronunciation) Hernandez has 2 misdemeanor warrants with his name on them and we'll get someone over there as soon as we can to pick him up.

Yo Quiero Senor Moose!!!...The Perfect Day, Part 1

Every once in a while all of the forces of the universe come together to allow for a perfect day. They don't come around too often so they are to be savored. The trick is to recognize the perfect day before it gets by you undetected. I recently experienced such a day.

C.J. and I finally had a day off together and we decided to do something we hadn't done in several weeks. We were going into that urban environment known as the city of Seattle. We agreed to get up fairly early and get into the Ballard area to have breakfast. But where to go? To answer this question I got online and looked for a place that served "Seattle's best breakfast". As you might expect, several choices were quickly displayed but only a few were located in Ballard. After reading the descriptions and reviews we decided on a place called "Hattie's Hat" that was said to have pancakes to die for.

We got into Ballard and quickly found the object of our quest but it was soon clear that it was not going to be that easy. There was no place to park. We drove around for about 20 minutes looking for an empty space but there just was none. So, calling upon our sailor days, we commenced an expanding square search pattern for the elusive parking spot. We found one several blocks away, parked and headed out for Hattie's, both with hearty appetites in tow. About a block from where we parked we saw a place called "Senor Moose" and I remembered that it too was on the best of list. Ten minutes later found us standing in front of Hatie's. It was closed and would not open for a couple of hours. Remembering "Senor Moose" I asked C.J. how she felt about Mexican food for breakfast. She said sounded good to her so we retraced our steps and were soon standing outside "Senor Moose" looking at the menu posted in the window. One last look at each other and in we went.

We opted to sit at the counter instead of a booth. The booths were located in a separate room away from the kitchen. We both enjoy watching the grill action. After sitting down on my stool I took a look around. The window immediately above the front door was broken. The business license was hanging at an angle from a nail in the wall. There were 3 clocks on the same wall, only one of which was ticking. A large garish painting of the Madonna was placed on the wall to the right of the grill. A tee-shirt was hanging to the right of the Madonna. The shirt had a picture of 5 moose sitting at a cafe counter. The center moose had fallen off on his stool and was laying on his back on the floor. The caption read "moose dropping". This was definitely my kind of place.

We were immediately approached by an employee asking if we would like coffee. Si, cafe negra para mi e por mi esposa, cafe con leche por favor. That's what I said in my mind, but to the waiter, I said, yes please. We looked at the menu for a few minutes while continuing to take in the ambiance of the place. C.J. asked the only female employee (the supervisor I think) what she would recommend. Then I made my choice and as it turns out we choose the same thing. Divine intervention or just coincidence, you decide. The food was excellent and very much authentic Mexican, not Mexican-American. The coffee was hot, strong and flavorful. Plus we had great fun watching the 4 cooks, none of which could speak English. Two of them we think were brothers and it was clear that all of them enjoyed what they were doing. We lingered over coffee for quite awhile not really wanting to leave and have the experience end. But of course it did have to end and we left both looking forward to a return visit.

911, What Are You Reporting?

The following conversation was with a very elderly woman.

9-1-1 what are you reporting?
What?
This is 9-1-1, what are you reporting?
Who is this?
This is 9-1-1 ma'am, do you have a police, fire or medical emergency?
What?
This is 9-1-1 ma'am, do you understand, 9-1-1?
Why did you call me?
I didn't call you ma'am, you called 9-1-1.
I did not!
Yes ma'am, you did, do you have an emergency? (Heavy Sigh)
I do not and if I did I would call the police myself!
O.K. ma'am, have a good day.

My Father's Eyes

No one has ever accused my father of being a soft man. No, he is not a soft man at all. Nor has he ever been soft, gentle or cuddly. Yet, the men who have worked with or for him have great admiration, respect and loyalty towards him. We're talking about linemen, saw mill men, construction workers and laborers from Honduras and Peru. These are all hard men themselves. One reason, he has never asked anyone to do anything he wouldn't do himself.

Probably has something to do with his dad. His family moved to a small town in New Mexico when he was in 8th grade. The first day of school his dad told him to find the biggest, strongest son of a bitch in the school and "whip his ass then you won't have any problems with anyone else! You have to earn their respect." This was not a novel idea to my father. He was forced to be a fighter since the minute he was born inside a two-room tent in West Texas. His mother always depended upon him. She used to pin cash money inside his shirt for him to take to the bank on his way to school and he was only 7 years old. Between helping his mom (his dad was on the road as a long haul trucker in the oil fields) and looking after his kid brother, my father wasn't allowed much of a childhood. He doesn't laugh much to this day and he is pushing 80.

Growing up under the grave scrutiny of his eyes was not always easy. Hell, it was never easy! I always felt I was being sized up when those eyes turned in my direction. Didn't matter if I was playing football or pounding post holes, I was always being tested. He was an early riser, still is, whereas I really enjoyed the comfort of a good bed. When I finally would get up and go downstairs, I would be greeted with a warm good morning from my mother while my father would turn his eyes on me with the clear message "It's about time you got up. There's work to be done." Then I would really piss him off by sitting down to a big bowl of Wheaties and a piece of toast. You see, after a while, I learned how to react to those eyes. I made a game of it. Of course, he never knew the rules of the game, hell, I didn't either, I made them up as I went along. When I did finally get dressed and pull on my Tony Lama's, he was already outside. Sometimes it was fence building, sometimes pulling stumps or whatever. Ask anyone who has property, there is always something that needs to be done. We would work the rest of the afternoon until our neighbor, Tom, would come over with a cold pitcher of beer and three frosty mugs and tell us we were working too hard and needed to take a break. I really liked Tom. My father would put on a show of being annoyed, but the beer was cold and he never said no.

Now I am a grown man with grown kids. My wife and I live in our backwoods cabin on our own piece of property and there are always chores in waiting. I recently looked out the window in the morning while having a steaming hot cup of coffee and saw a pile of fire wood that resembles Mt. Index beyond. The wood has been there for awhile, a long while, ok, a very long while. Over there is the old power lawn mower that went belly up last year and over there is the leaf catcher that goes with it. The stone path leading down to the creek is slowly being overtaken by moss and the driveway needs some work. I can't help but feel my father's piercing eyes, wondering what the hell am I waiting for. The chores ain't going to do themselves. And he lives in Alaska these days. Well, the chores really do need to get done, but then, they can wait till tomorrow, can't they?

911 What Are You Reporting?

Woman screaming "Help me, I am being stabbed, help me!"

Me with instant rush of adrenalin, "What is the address?"

More blood curdling screaming, "help me, help me!"

I go with the address on my computer screen.

Me "Who is stabbing you?"

Woman, now sobbing uncontrollably "It's a ghost, he won't stop stabbing me!"

Me after just a millisecond's pause, "A ghost?"

Woman, "Yes, he hurts me all the time."

Me, as I am changing my detail from a stabbing to a welfare check, "Help is on the way, an officer is driving to you as fast as he can."

Woman, still sobbing, "I don't know why he keeps picking on me? I'm a nice person."

Me, "I'm showing that the officer is there, go to your door and let him in."

As soon as she is talking to the officer I disconnect from the call. Later, I check the detail to see what happened, "The officer waved his arms and told the ghost to go away" which satisfied the woman's fears. He told her that if the ghost persisted to bother her she should contact the spirit police because they have jurisdiction in the other world.

Gun Control

Here we go again. The right for a citizen of the United States to keep and bear arms guaranteed by the Second Amendment is heading back to the supreme court. This time the plaintiff is suing for the right to bear arms which is nice. Yes, I am a one of those that believe gun control is being able to hit your target consistently. I own several guns, rifles and pistols, and have a concealed weapons permit allowing me to carry a concealed side arm. I do not take this responsibility lightly. I commute a long distance each day and live deep in the woods so I carry a hand gun mostly in case I hit a deer and need to put it out of its misery quickly. However, thanks to information provided by my local sheriff's department, I am aware that a lot of unsavory types live in the vicinity, some suspected of being involved in illegal drug activity. Therefore I carry my gun for my personal protection too. I am well versed in gun safety and have been handling guns of all types since I was 8 years old. I received a .22 caliber rifle for my 10th birthday and still have it. I have been hunting since I can remember and thoroughly enjoy it but have never taken killing anything lightly. I eat what I kill or I don't kill it.

I am no different than millions of other Americans that believe in the right to keep and bear arms. All of the gun owners I know are very aware of the risks and responsibilities of gun ownership and willingly accept both. I am sick to death of people who continue to blame guns for the death of people. I will loudly repeat "GUNS DON'T KILL PEOPLE, PEOPLE KILL PEOPLE". Stop trying to blame gun manufacturers and law abiding gun owners for the acts of violence committed by scumbags. Victims get stabbed to death in this country every day but no one blames the blade makers. Nor should they. It is the hand that wields the weapon that does the killing and that is where the responsibility should rest.

911, What Are You Reporting?

"911, what are you reporting" says the 911 operator?
"I'm reporting an injured animal on the road" says the woman.
"Is the animal blocking traffic" asks the operator?
"Yes, please hurry, I'm afraid it will get hit by a car!" the caller says.
"What kind of animal is it ma'am" inquires the operator?
"It is a duck" says the woman.
"A duck" asks the operator?
"Yes, a duck" the woman confirms.
"What is the problem with the duck" asks the operator cautiously?
"It is having a seizure" said the woman.
"OK, ma am, the police do not handle wild fowl, I'm going to give you the phone number to an agency that may be able to help you.........." says the operator.

It is absolutely amazing what people call 911 for, absolutely amazing!

B-Dub's view on the Presidential Candidates

It never ceases to amaze me how silly Americans can be in general, but spectacularly so when it comes to politics. Since humans first crawled out of the briny oceans it seems we have been willing to listen whomever talked the best line. Truth, integrity, honor and courage are attributes that have taken second place to the ability to orate. He who is the best orator it seems, must be the best person for political office. It does not seem to matter if there is any substance to what is being said, but rather, how it is said. The image of the stereotypical "Snake Oil" salesman comes to mind. Whether the product works is irrelevant, if the salesman has enough charisma and can talk a good line, the product will sell with great enthusiasm.


Bill Clinton is an example of this phenomenon in recent history. Give the man his due, he had great charisma and was an orator extraordinaire. I remember listening to him in the early debates. What applause and murmurs of approval he could generate from the masses, but what was he really saying? It seemed to me he said nothing specific or concrete. I was not alone in this view, several political analysts agreed and said so openly, but their insight fell on deaf ears. He wooed the citizens of this country all the way to the White House, TWICE! This in spite of the allegations of infidelities both in the Arkansas Governors residence (that were said to be set up by State Patrol officers) and in the White House itself. An absolute abuse of power and a warning signal that apparently was lost on the general public. Then there was the White Water scandal in which his wife and current (2008) presidential candidate Hillary were both implicated followed by the suicide of a close friend and adviser who was thought to have intimate knowledge of White Water. The Monica Lewinski scandal occurred not only in the White House, but in the Oval Office itself! Again, abuse of power and total disregard for what the Oval Office represents to America. And let us not forget the perjury charge for lying to Congress. Yet, he was somehow re-elected to a second term? Democrats will tell you to this day that he was a great president, I think a better description would be adulterer, liar and scam artist.


Now we are in the midst of the 2008 Presidential election race. Who do we have to choose from? On the democratic side there is Hillary Clinton versus Barack Obama. Hillary I have already touched on a bit, but there is more. Her husband let her loose to reform the medical industry and was abruptly brought up short by the AMA. She did not have a clue what the hell she was doing. In the Monica scandal Hillary's political ambitions evidently outweighed her own sense of right and wrong or was it that she just did not care. I do not understand how the women of this country let her off the hook on that one?


Then there is Obama. A one term senator who thinks he has the wisdom and experience to lead this country. I'm sorry, but he has neither. He is running on a platform of "change"? Electing him would be no change, it would be the same as the last democrat in the White House. He is touted as the first American of African descent to run for president but he is half black, half white. His black father left this mother and him when he was young and was not in the picture as he grew up. He was raised by his white mother in her white parents house in Hawaii. How black can he be?


I have an idea, how about if we change the way we have been doing things and actually elect the candidate that is most qualified, John McCain. He is by all accounts a man of honor, integrity and family values. He is known as a senator that can work with both sides of the aisle, and work effectively. Wow, work together, what a concept! He is a man who knows the pros and cons of the military intimately. He is a man who has a great deal of experience in both US and International politics.

Winter's End.........NOT!

I grudgingly climbed out of bed at the command of my cell phone alarm and immediately headed for the coffee pot. I knew CJ, my wife of 26 years, usually made fresh coffee when she got up at O-dark-thirty. She had and it was still steaming hot and delicious. After stirring in a wee bit o Saint Brendan's Irish creme I walked over and raised the window blinds. A fresh dusting of snow met my startled gaze. CJ and I had just been talking the day before about how the winter was over and it was time to get the studded tires off and the road tires on both of our vehicles. As usual, Old Man Winter will have things his own way regardless of mere human wants or demands. It is only left for us to adapt.

Once I got over the initial shock of seeing fresh snow on the ground I sat down at our large oak table to drink my coffee. A heavy mist was hanging inside the forest caressing the alder, hemlock and cedar trees like a long absent lover. It was a beautiful, delicate, picture of pure natural harmony. We only have one full time neighbor and she was not at home so the only artificial sounds were coming from the heater and refrigerator inside our cabin. I stepped outside to escape those sounds and was greeted by absolute silence save for the water dripping from the roof. It was cold, but not despairingly so, and the porcelain coffee cup felt warm in my hands. I love drinking coffee outside on cold days.

After finishing my coffee I went back inside the warm sanctuary of the cabin. I knew I had to leave early for work so I decided not to get involved in any of the myriad of chores awaiting my attention, but, rather to sit down a read another mystery from the "Complete Sherlock Holmes" book that I received for Christmas last.

Too soon it was time to pack my dinner and get ready to leave the tranquility of the mountains and head into the teeth of humanity. I don't do this willingly mind you. I work because I have to, because it is necessary to make the money that is required to live our simple lives.

Mornings like this one serve as a visual reminder just why CJ and I moved into our backwoods cabin in the first place. We tell folks that we live in our vacation cabin and it is true enough, though sometimes I forget that and it takes Mother Nature to put on a display to bring me back to my senses. I can hardly wait to get home tonight.

Whiskey's pleasures

I'll have to get back to you, I need to get another drink.