I get depressed thinking about the new state budget cuts. It's not clinical depression. More like a short-term funk brought on by knucklehead legislators.
The Gov announced a new round of cuts Tuesday at the Joint Appropriations Committee meeting in Cheyenne. Appropriate for the hottest day in four years, one swaddled in smoke from a wildland fire burning on the Colorado/Wyoming border. All the tall grass and timber nurtured during a wet spring is drying out and set afire by careless humans. Might be a fitting analogy here. State Government budgets nurtured by rising mineral royalties during the past 10 years are now undergoing slash-and-burn tactics by the careless Republican-centric legislature. I think I will run with that, even though the comparison is a bit of a stretch. Maybe a hidden meaning lurks within, as in something embedded in a Flannery O'Connor short story.
First, a few words from Gov. Mead. He's the guy in charge. He's the guy who has been saying for the past year (go here) that across-the-board budget cuts are dangerous for Wyoming and cause the state to "lose talent and skill." They will lead us into a "death spiral." Fewer state services and fewer state employees cause losses in the private sector and will send us into a spin we may not recover from. You want state parks with campgrounds and boat docks and bathrooms that work and helpful staff? You want loans and grants to help attract tourists to a revived downtown? You want roads that aren't pock-marked with potholes/ You want a professional highway patrol that comes to your aid when your truck skids off an icy road in January? You want to care for our veterans and elderly and disabled? You want someone to come in and put out that wildland fire that threatens your little house in the forest?
It takes money. "Doh!" says Homer Simpson, surprised that he didn't think of that. Homer's not much of a money manager. When he has to have an RV to keep up with the Flanderses, his request for a loan sets off sirens and red blinking lights at the dealership. Thing is, the state has a rainy day fund of a couple billion dollars. If we dip into that, no sirens go off. We do get wailing and gnashing of teeth from the same legislators who hate Obama enough to scuttle Medicaid expansion that would prevent some of the layoffs in the health care industry that we now are experiencing in Casper and elsewhere. Those same legislators despise gubment and the same gubment workers who plow their roads and clean the toilets at Guernsey and Glendo. "DOH!"
The legislature has dipped into the rainy day fund. It is raining -- hard. Legislators are being conservative (surprise!) and are taking only $180 million from the fund, believing that the energy downturn will last 10-15 years instead of the 3-5 projected by most experts. Coal will never come back, due to global warming. But who knows? A good war may erupt, causing Dick Cheney to replace his usual scowl with something akin to a shit-eating grin. His daughter Liz will be elected to Congress and immediately make coal a mandatory snack at schools and senior centers from coast-to-coast. Laid-off coal workers can go back to work and legislators can do what they do best, socking away mineral royalties for a rainy day that they pray never will come.
In the interest of full disclosure: I was a Wyoming state employee, an arts worker, for 25 years. I now am a Wyoming state retiree.
Sunday, June 26, 2016
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
Happy Cheyenne Bike Week
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| Me and my Peugeot, back in the day. Bob Page photo. |
That's "bike" as in bicycle. Bike Week as in Harley Vroom Vroom is a totally different animal (see Sturgis or Daytona).
Bicycle Week celebrates two-wheeled people-powered transportation. Sometimes it can involve three wheels, as you see in recumbent bikes for us oldsters with bad and/or replaced knees. Kids sometimes navigate the greenway on their trikes or on training-wheel-assisted bikes. That actually makes four wheels. But you get my point.
I once was a knowledgeable cyclist, riding all the time and aware of all of the makes and models and gadgets.
No more. Arthritic knees did me in. Waited too long to get them replaced and the orthopedic doc had one heck of a time making me new again. My first new knee is not so new now, replaced in April of 2015. The second knee was replaced in February of this year. For that knee, I just finished rehab. I was supposed to be finished a monthly ago but my doc decided I needed more time with the good and caring people at rehab. Their motto: "It's supposed to hurt."
Enjoyed listening to NPR's "Here and Now" report on Monday on knee replacements. One thing brought up several times was the crucial nature of rehab. You are moving that knee before the anesthesia wears off. Actually, a continuous passive motion (CPM) machine is doing the bending for you. Up, down, up, down, up, down. Mesmerizing to watch. Teaming up with the machine are strolls around the hospital and then around your house, usually with the help of a walker or cane. A week after surgery, you are off to rehab. Someone else drives, as you can't use your right leg and your brain is scrambled with Percocet. Once there, the dedicated therapists get you to bend your knee in uncomfortable ways. You occasionally hear blood-curdling screams. Some of them are yours.
Back to bikes. Thee only bike you rise during your recovery is the recumbent bike in rehab. You may want to get back on the ten-speed or mountain bike and ride to Chugwater. But that would hurt too much. And you are still on drugs, which they don't cotton to in Chug.
I may never ride a bike to work again. First of all, I'm retired. Second, my bike needs some serious work, or I need to replace it with a 21st century super-bike that costs more than my monthly mortgage payment. One bike I looked at online today has the following attributes:
It is beginning to sound a bit like a $20,000 Harley, although the list of goodies would be much longer. Suffice to say, this $1,100 "Raleigh i8 Flat Bar Road Bike is the apex of the Cadent line of bikes." The apex of the Cadent? It must be good. And pretty typical of the type of bike I want.
But there's a third thing that may prevent my return to cycling. Fear. Ever had a bike wreck? I've had several. No broken bones but plenty of lacerations. In my later years, I wore a helmet now and ride mainly on the greenway. My new bike undoubtedly will be street legal and I will obey all laws, which is what retirees pledge to do when presented with their Medicare card. But a spill may wreck my knees and I am not ready to face that pain again. NPR's report said it straight -- the pain is substantial and takes time to heal. Interviewees said they knew people who took their new knees back to the jogging trail and tennis court. The producer they interviewed said it took him a year to get to the almost-pain-free stage. I am not there yet. When I reach that apex, I expect it to be all downhill from there. That used to be my favorite part, flying down hills and mountain passses. But dangers awaited around every bend. Gravel. Slick spots. Animals. Human motorists.
My bike adventures from now on will take place on stationary conveyances. I can still manage a great workout and, unless I get the vapors, probably will stay aboard until the timer goes off and I can move on to the weight machines. And then to the showers. And then to the brewpub. Ever tried an Apex IPA? Me neither, but I keep searching.
Wednesday, June 15, 2016
Old photo recalls 1970s-era campus hijinks
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| This photo by renowned photog and my college housemate Bob Page shows ritualistic behavior in collegians circa 1975. In the mid-70s, it was all the rage to put hats on dogs. The dogs thought the hats made them look smart so began to apply in droves to major American universities such as University of Florida. Soon, canines pushed not-so-bright humans (example at left in photo) out of popular classes in the English department, such as "Romantic Poets: Proto-Hippies Blake and Coleridge" or "No Man is an Island: John Donne Goes to Vietnam." Problems developed later when scores of Canis familiaris went wild during graduation's cap-tossing ceremony, mistaking the flying caps for frisbees. Chaos ensued, leading directly to Donald Trump. |
Saturday, June 11, 2016
Baby Boomers want to know: "Wazzup, Millennials?"
As a proud Baby Boomer parent of two Millennials, I am pleased to offer my services as a workplace consultant. According to a report last week on CBS This Morning, consultants can earn up to $20,000 an hour advising companies on what makes Millennials tick. I automatically believe anything on CBSTM because it features mind-blowing news items, most of which I've already seen on Facebook and Twitter: monster gator on golf course, rogue gorilla at Cincinnati Zoo, cats surprised by cucumbers, updates on Trump's hairdo. These breaking news updates are sandwiched between ads for Boomers' preferred meds: boner pills, blood thinners, joint-pain meds, and so on.
Here's my first tip as a consultant, which I offer freely as a good will gesture: Millennials do not watch CBSTM. They are on their way to work in Portland or Denver, or they are sleeping in after the night shift at a trendy urban bistro. Lest you think that all Millennials are slackers, Derek Thompson at the Atlantic Mag Online says that there are 50 million Millennials in the U.S. workforce. I'm just guessing here but I'd say that half of them are in Denver. Last week, while visiting a friend, we ate dinner at a Thai place in Denver's trendy Tennyson Street District. We were by far the oldest people in the place. As we left, Millennials were swarming Tennyson's brewpubs and shops, ogling the new studio apartment buildings that are rising along Tennyson at an alarming rate.
As you can tell, I'm observant despite my fading eyesight. I have other tips based on my years as a parent of Millennials and as someone who worked alongside them during my declining years.
1. Don't ask Millennials technical questions.
Nothing says "I am an old fart" like asking a Millennial co-worker for help with a web site, Facebook, smartphone, etc. Your best approach is to feign helplessness due to an infirmity. An example: "Greetings Millennial co-worker. I just broke my spectacles and can't see a thing. Can you help me Photoshop this photo for our web site?"
They will only be too happy to oblige, as 97 percent of Millennials said they would assist an old lady trying to cross the street. Except on Tennyson. That's our hood, bitches!
2. Don't use the term, "Millennial."
Nothing pegs you as an again BB like the use of this cliched term. Better to say, "Hey there, Mr. Young Person" or "What is happening, Ms. Youth?" And don't ever say "Wazzup?" or "What's the haps, peeps?" You may as well have BEWARE: BABY BOOMER tattooed on your forehead.
3. On the other hand, Millennials like to use ancient expressions.
Using words coined by people long dead can be endearing. Some good words to use in casual conversations are shenanigans, reprobate, canoodling or bindlestiff. The last one refers to a hobo. Most Millennials have never actually seen a real hobo, although some look the part. I caution you here to avoid using terms (old or new) that could be construed as suggestive or sexist. Most Millennials respect other ethnicities and gender identities. I have been told by someone not on Fox News that at some liberal bastions of learning, use of the pronoun "he" could be offensive if that person does not self-identify as a male. The same goes for "she." This may explain why the Webster's Dictionary folks recently decided that "they" and "their" can now be used in the singular form.
Here are some examples:
Incorrect way to use pronouns:
He: Miss Millie, would you like to accompany me to the barn dance this evening?
She: I would be delighted, kind sir. Will our chums, all traditional couples, be at the dance?
He: They will each be driving his or her own automobiles.
She: We shall meet the hims and hers there.
Correct way to use pronouns:
They: Millie, would you like to accompany me to the barn dance this evening?
They: I would be delighted, kind human. Will our friends of various ethnicities and genders be going?
They: They shall be carpooling or taking their preferred form of wind- or solar-powered public transportation.
They: We will meet them there.
4. Millennials are very keen to find meaningful work.
Nothing bores a Millennial like grunt work. Come to think of it, nothing bores a Baby Boomer like grunt work. If you are the supervisor in charge of doling out grunt work, call it "meaningful" work, a task destined to change the world. Text or IM the details to your younger colleague as you leave work for an afternoon on the golf course or volunteering at the homeless shelter, depending on your political affiliation.
5. Millennials will happily throw you a retirement party.
Nothing brings glee to Millennials such as the statement "I will be retiring Aug. 1." They will throw you a retirement party featuring delicious coffee and treats from Millie's Midtown Cupcakery and Su Yee's Sushi Barn. One of them will direct and product a multimedia show featuring embarrassing photos from when you were young and not-so-young. Most, but not all, of your Millennial co-workers will wait until you've left the building to pilfer items from your desk or to stake a claim on your cubicle space. Don't be offended. As you did when you were young, they are just trying to get a leg up in this dog-eat-dog world. It's the circle of life.
P.S.: That will be $20,000 please. I prefer cash.
Here's my first tip as a consultant, which I offer freely as a good will gesture: Millennials do not watch CBSTM. They are on their way to work in Portland or Denver, or they are sleeping in after the night shift at a trendy urban bistro. Lest you think that all Millennials are slackers, Derek Thompson at the Atlantic Mag Online says that there are 50 million Millennials in the U.S. workforce. I'm just guessing here but I'd say that half of them are in Denver. Last week, while visiting a friend, we ate dinner at a Thai place in Denver's trendy Tennyson Street District. We were by far the oldest people in the place. As we left, Millennials were swarming Tennyson's brewpubs and shops, ogling the new studio apartment buildings that are rising along Tennyson at an alarming rate.
As you can tell, I'm observant despite my fading eyesight. I have other tips based on my years as a parent of Millennials and as someone who worked alongside them during my declining years.
1. Don't ask Millennials technical questions.
Nothing says "I am an old fart" like asking a Millennial co-worker for help with a web site, Facebook, smartphone, etc. Your best approach is to feign helplessness due to an infirmity. An example: "Greetings Millennial co-worker. I just broke my spectacles and can't see a thing. Can you help me Photoshop this photo for our web site?"
They will only be too happy to oblige, as 97 percent of Millennials said they would assist an old lady trying to cross the street. Except on Tennyson. That's our hood, bitches!
2. Don't use the term, "Millennial."
Nothing pegs you as an again BB like the use of this cliched term. Better to say, "Hey there, Mr. Young Person" or "What is happening, Ms. Youth?" And don't ever say "Wazzup?" or "What's the haps, peeps?" You may as well have BEWARE: BABY BOOMER tattooed on your forehead.
3. On the other hand, Millennials like to use ancient expressions.
Using words coined by people long dead can be endearing. Some good words to use in casual conversations are shenanigans, reprobate, canoodling or bindlestiff. The last one refers to a hobo. Most Millennials have never actually seen a real hobo, although some look the part. I caution you here to avoid using terms (old or new) that could be construed as suggestive or sexist. Most Millennials respect other ethnicities and gender identities. I have been told by someone not on Fox News that at some liberal bastions of learning, use of the pronoun "he" could be offensive if that person does not self-identify as a male. The same goes for "she." This may explain why the Webster's Dictionary folks recently decided that "they" and "their" can now be used in the singular form.
Here are some examples:
Incorrect way to use pronouns:
He: Miss Millie, would you like to accompany me to the barn dance this evening?
She: I would be delighted, kind sir. Will our chums, all traditional couples, be at the dance?
He: They will each be driving his or her own automobiles.
She: We shall meet the hims and hers there.
Correct way to use pronouns:
They: Millie, would you like to accompany me to the barn dance this evening?
They: I would be delighted, kind human. Will our friends of various ethnicities and genders be going?
They: They shall be carpooling or taking their preferred form of wind- or solar-powered public transportation.
They: We will meet them there.
4. Millennials are very keen to find meaningful work.
Nothing bores a Millennial like grunt work. Come to think of it, nothing bores a Baby Boomer like grunt work. If you are the supervisor in charge of doling out grunt work, call it "meaningful" work, a task destined to change the world. Text or IM the details to your younger colleague as you leave work for an afternoon on the golf course or volunteering at the homeless shelter, depending on your political affiliation.
5. Millennials will happily throw you a retirement party.
Nothing brings glee to Millennials such as the statement "I will be retiring Aug. 1." They will throw you a retirement party featuring delicious coffee and treats from Millie's Midtown Cupcakery and Su Yee's Sushi Barn. One of them will direct and product a multimedia show featuring embarrassing photos from when you were young and not-so-young. Most, but not all, of your Millennial co-workers will wait until you've left the building to pilfer items from your desk or to stake a claim on your cubicle space. Don't be offended. As you did when you were young, they are just trying to get a leg up in this dog-eat-dog world. It's the circle of life.
P.S.: That will be $20,000 please. I prefer cash.
Monday, May 30, 2016
Record number of Wyoming Democrats toss hats in the ring for 2016 elections
62 out of 75.
Democrats are running in 62 of the 75 legislative races this year.
This may be the most Dems throwing their hats in the ring since the 1970s, when Democrats were not as rare around the state as they are in 2016. Unions were stronger. The state party was robust. We had a Dem from Sweetwater County in Congress! Republicans had not been driven insane by the existence of President Barack Obama. I heard one candidate say that he can't believe all of the bad blood directed at Dems in the many cozy corners of Wyo. I guess he hasn't been on Facebook much.
I spent Friday and Saturday volunteering for the Wyoming State Democratic Convention, held in our fair city for the first time in quite awhile. Some 300 delegates gathered at Little America on Saturday for the actual convention which went on and on and on... The Nellie Tayloe Ross annual dinner followed, along with the live and silent auctions. I helped haul and display the 307 auction items, which included outstanding works of art, many donated by Barry Mercer, and at least one Donald Trump pinata, this one donated by Jason Bloomberg. A good time was had by all, even though dinner was three hours late due to the lengthy business portion of the convention. We raised a lot of funds for the state party. Best of all, I got to hang out with the best bunch of volunteers in creation or, since evolution began, depending on your POV and/or prejudices. The Jane Robinette Quartet provided the music -- catch them this Saturday at the Suite Bistro, as you will be glad you did.
I can't speak about any of the convention proceedings. I was not a delegate this year. I was in 2004, 2008 and 2012. In 2004, I walked in as a newbie to the county convention, said I was a Dennis Kucinich delegate, and the volunteer at the desk said, "Congratulations -- you're a delegate to the state convention." I wandered up to Sheridan that May and had a great time although was pretty clueless as to the proceedings. I was an antiwar activist and kept pitching peacenik planks that were voted down. My fellow Kucinich supporters, all 20 of them, voted in the affirmative. But times were weird and Dems didn't want to look too peacenicky even though we would have an excellent candidate in John Kerry, a decorated Vietnam War veteran who got Swift-Boated into oblivion in the general election.
In 2008, I was an Obama delegate to the county and state convention and an embedded blogger at the DNC in Denver. In 2012, I attended the county convention but missed the state convention. In 2014, I attended the state convention in Rock Springs, gnoshed on pierogis and heard an excellent talk by activist Dolores Huerta -- that alone was worth the drive.
This time I donated my time to the cause. It's good to volunteer -- people on both sides of the aisle agree on that. I also helped assemble the opening reception at Cheyenne's Historic Depot. Several hundred people attended. The liquor held out but we ran out of food until a relief unit arrived with a supply of pizza. Chris and I supervised one of the fund-raising games that were scattered across the floor. Again, a good time was had by all. Clean-up was a breeze, but that's what you expect from Democrats -- a neat and tidy bunch. A few heated arguments broke out between Bernie and Hillary delegates. They were resolved with firearms, as is the Wyoming custom.
The Dems now have delegates to send to the DNC in Philadelphia. Also a platform. Some ill will too, I guess, although I'm pretty sure that will cool off the more we see of Republican Candidate Trump. Keep your fingers crossed.
Now it's time for the Grassroots organization to plan the next fund-raiser. It will be held on Sunday, June 12 at Joe's house -- I have that address somewhere (stay tuned). Candidates will make short yet pithy speeches and we shall eat red, white and blue desserts for Flag Day. Raise funds, too. See you then.
Democrats are running in 62 of the 75 legislative races this year.
This may be the most Dems throwing their hats in the ring since the 1970s, when Democrats were not as rare around the state as they are in 2016. Unions were stronger. The state party was robust. We had a Dem from Sweetwater County in Congress! Republicans had not been driven insane by the existence of President Barack Obama. I heard one candidate say that he can't believe all of the bad blood directed at Dems in the many cozy corners of Wyo. I guess he hasn't been on Facebook much.
I spent Friday and Saturday volunteering for the Wyoming State Democratic Convention, held in our fair city for the first time in quite awhile. Some 300 delegates gathered at Little America on Saturday for the actual convention which went on and on and on... The Nellie Tayloe Ross annual dinner followed, along with the live and silent auctions. I helped haul and display the 307 auction items, which included outstanding works of art, many donated by Barry Mercer, and at least one Donald Trump pinata, this one donated by Jason Bloomberg. A good time was had by all, even though dinner was three hours late due to the lengthy business portion of the convention. We raised a lot of funds for the state party. Best of all, I got to hang out with the best bunch of volunteers in creation or, since evolution began, depending on your POV and/or prejudices. The Jane Robinette Quartet provided the music -- catch them this Saturday at the Suite Bistro, as you will be glad you did.
I can't speak about any of the convention proceedings. I was not a delegate this year. I was in 2004, 2008 and 2012. In 2004, I walked in as a newbie to the county convention, said I was a Dennis Kucinich delegate, and the volunteer at the desk said, "Congratulations -- you're a delegate to the state convention." I wandered up to Sheridan that May and had a great time although was pretty clueless as to the proceedings. I was an antiwar activist and kept pitching peacenik planks that were voted down. My fellow Kucinich supporters, all 20 of them, voted in the affirmative. But times were weird and Dems didn't want to look too peacenicky even though we would have an excellent candidate in John Kerry, a decorated Vietnam War veteran who got Swift-Boated into oblivion in the general election.
In 2008, I was an Obama delegate to the county and state convention and an embedded blogger at the DNC in Denver. In 2012, I attended the county convention but missed the state convention. In 2014, I attended the state convention in Rock Springs, gnoshed on pierogis and heard an excellent talk by activist Dolores Huerta -- that alone was worth the drive.
This time I donated my time to the cause. It's good to volunteer -- people on both sides of the aisle agree on that. I also helped assemble the opening reception at Cheyenne's Historic Depot. Several hundred people attended. The liquor held out but we ran out of food until a relief unit arrived with a supply of pizza. Chris and I supervised one of the fund-raising games that were scattered across the floor. Again, a good time was had by all. Clean-up was a breeze, but that's what you expect from Democrats -- a neat and tidy bunch. A few heated arguments broke out between Bernie and Hillary delegates. They were resolved with firearms, as is the Wyoming custom.
The Dems now have delegates to send to the DNC in Philadelphia. Also a platform. Some ill will too, I guess, although I'm pretty sure that will cool off the more we see of Republican Candidate Trump. Keep your fingers crossed.
Now it's time for the Grassroots organization to plan the next fund-raiser. It will be held on Sunday, June 12 at Joe's house -- I have that address somewhere (stay tuned). Candidates will make short yet pithy speeches and we shall eat red, white and blue desserts for Flag Day. Raise funds, too. See you then.
Thursday, May 26, 2016
A competitive state convention is an interesting state convention
All Democratic Party gatherings tend to draw bigger crowds during presidential election years.
That is especially true when the race is a hot tamale, as it is this year.
Cheyenne expects a good turn-out for this weekend's Democratic State Convention at Little America. Bernie Sanders won April's Wyoming caucus but ended up with the same number of delegates as Hillary Clinton. And Clinton snagged the super-delegates, giving her an 11-7 edge while finishing with less than 50 percent of the caucus vote. You may have seen this mentioned during Saturday Night Live's opening skit over the weekend. It's also been a topic of conversation online and on CBS and ABC. Some commentators have posited that Wyoming's Democratic Convention may have the same uproar as experienced in Nevada. You may recall that Sanders' supporters disrupted the proceedings at that state's Dem convention.
A bit of dissension is good for the health of the party. A lot off dissension say, the kind the GOP is experiencing this year, may not be so good for the Repubs (pause here for laughter). Some Sanders supporters are new to party politics. These newbies register high on the enthusiasm scale but very low on knowledge about how things work. You can't really call yourself a Democrat until you get involved in the party and attend years worth of boring meetings just to get your teeth kicked during every election. You also need to get out there and support Dems running for legislative seats, city council, school board, etc. I have yet to run for office but have worked for many worthy candidates, many of whom lost to not-so-worthy Repubs in the general election. Lee Filer lost his House seat in 2014 to right-wing kook Harlan Edmonds -- Lee is back to run again this year. Ken McCauley lost in my district in 2012, and you'd have to look high and low for someone more qualified. Same goes for Kathleen Petersen in 2014. I've also walked neighborhoods for Mary Throne and Jim Byrd and Ken Esquibel. They won, and continue to do so. Ken is running for the senate this year and has his work cut out for him.
Chris and I will spend our Friday night date night volunteering at Friday night's welcoming reception. Come to think of it, we'll be volunteering Saturday night as well. Yes, we lead boring lives. But it's great to be around people energized by the political system, no matter its flaws.
Come on out tomorrow night and see what's up with Democrats across the state. You may get to meet a Democrat from Niobrara County, where Dems are seldom seen and are in danger of becoming endangered species much like the sage grouse and the jackalope.
Here's the party invitation, filled with exclamation marks to show you how damn enthusiastic we all are:
Cheyenne expects a good turn-out for this weekend's Democratic State Convention at Little America. Bernie Sanders won April's Wyoming caucus but ended up with the same number of delegates as Hillary Clinton. And Clinton snagged the super-delegates, giving her an 11-7 edge while finishing with less than 50 percent of the caucus vote. You may have seen this mentioned during Saturday Night Live's opening skit over the weekend. It's also been a topic of conversation online and on CBS and ABC. Some commentators have posited that Wyoming's Democratic Convention may have the same uproar as experienced in Nevada. You may recall that Sanders' supporters disrupted the proceedings at that state's Dem convention.
A bit of dissension is good for the health of the party. A lot off dissension say, the kind the GOP is experiencing this year, may not be so good for the Repubs (pause here for laughter). Some Sanders supporters are new to party politics. These newbies register high on the enthusiasm scale but very low on knowledge about how things work. You can't really call yourself a Democrat until you get involved in the party and attend years worth of boring meetings just to get your teeth kicked during every election. You also need to get out there and support Dems running for legislative seats, city council, school board, etc. I have yet to run for office but have worked for many worthy candidates, many of whom lost to not-so-worthy Repubs in the general election. Lee Filer lost his House seat in 2014 to right-wing kook Harlan Edmonds -- Lee is back to run again this year. Ken McCauley lost in my district in 2012, and you'd have to look high and low for someone more qualified. Same goes for Kathleen Petersen in 2014. I've also walked neighborhoods for Mary Throne and Jim Byrd and Ken Esquibel. They won, and continue to do so. Ken is running for the senate this year and has his work cut out for him.
Chris and I will spend our Friday night date night volunteering at Friday night's welcoming reception. Come to think of it, we'll be volunteering Saturday night as well. Yes, we lead boring lives. But it's great to be around people energized by the political system, no matter its flaws.
Come on out tomorrow night and see what's up with Democrats across the state. You may get to meet a Democrat from Niobrara County, where Dems are seldom seen and are in danger of becoming endangered species much like the sage grouse and the jackalope.
Here's the party invitation, filled with exclamation marks to show you how damn enthusiastic we all are:
Laramie County Democrats are thrilled to welcome ALL Wyoming Democrats to the state capital as we host the Friday night welcome reception for our state convention! We are honored to host and we've got an amazing reception planned for your Friday night arrival! Join us at Cheyenne's Historic Depot Museum as we celebrate Wyoming Democratic values! The reception is from 6:30-10 p.m. Your $20 admission includes hors d'oeuvres, your first drink, music, unlimited fun, and so much more! You'll have a chance to meet elected officials, new candidates, national delegate hopefuls, and folks who are excited to turn Wyoming Blue! National Delegate Candidates, this is your opportunity to campaign! Come, bring your swag, mingle, network, meet Democrats from all over the state. This event is open to the public so please invite your friends! All proceeds benefit Democrats running for office!To get more info on the Laramie County Dems, go to our Facebook page. Go here for the Laramie County Democrats Grassroots Coalition, the FUN-draising arm of the county Dems. Also check out the Wyoming Dems web site.
Tuesday, May 24, 2016
A lesson in guest-posting
Funny things happen when you're asked to write about writing. You learn stuff about your own work.
Lynn Carlson at Writing Wyoming asked that I write a guest post about realistic dialogue. Sure, why not? Piece of cake. I dredged up an old quote from one of my writing profs at Colorado State U. Problem was, I couldn't find the original. I looked and looked.
I decided to use a swatch of dialogue from one of the stories in my as-yet-unpublished collection, "The Department of Noticing Things." Swatches of dialogue are not like swatches of fabric or paint chips. It's tough to lift a conversation that not only can stand on its own but represent the rest of the story. It's doubly hard not to revise it. In fact, writing about dialogue makes it almost mandatory to revise, especially when you quoting writers such as Alice Munro, Ernest Hemingway and Elmore Leonard.
So I spent about 110 percent more time on the piece that I thought. But I earned some revision along the way. Read some cool quotes about dialogue. Read three new stories. Reread Hemingway's "A Clean Well-Lighted Place" for the hundredth time.
Thanks to Lynn for the request. I'll do it again. I urge my readers to read Writing Wyoming. You don't have to be from WY, but it helps.
You can read the guest post at http://www.writingwyoming.com/2016/05/writing-realistic-dialogue.html. I appreciate comments.
Lynn Carlson at Writing Wyoming asked that I write a guest post about realistic dialogue. Sure, why not? Piece of cake. I dredged up an old quote from one of my writing profs at Colorado State U. Problem was, I couldn't find the original. I looked and looked.
I decided to use a swatch of dialogue from one of the stories in my as-yet-unpublished collection, "The Department of Noticing Things." Swatches of dialogue are not like swatches of fabric or paint chips. It's tough to lift a conversation that not only can stand on its own but represent the rest of the story. It's doubly hard not to revise it. In fact, writing about dialogue makes it almost mandatory to revise, especially when you quoting writers such as Alice Munro, Ernest Hemingway and Elmore Leonard.
So I spent about 110 percent more time on the piece that I thought. But I earned some revision along the way. Read some cool quotes about dialogue. Read three new stories. Reread Hemingway's "A Clean Well-Lighted Place" for the hundredth time.
Thanks to Lynn for the request. I'll do it again. I urge my readers to read Writing Wyoming. You don't have to be from WY, but it helps.
You can read the guest post at http://www.writingwyoming.com/2016/05/writing-realistic-dialogue.html. I appreciate comments.
Monday, May 16, 2016
Cheyenne Comic Con leads to jam-up at Little America parking lot
You'd think that the sprawling parking lot at the Little America Conference Center would be spacious enough for all of the comic book geeks and gamers and cosplayers in Cheyenne.
Think again.
About noon on a gray May Saturday, Little America's lots were overflowing. As Chris and I left for lunch, a Cheyenne traffic cop blocked the entrance, sending Comic Con fans to the overflow lot at the events center on Lincolnway. As we drove away, we saw people parking at the old pancake house on the east side of I-25. Ghostbusters and star troopers and anime girls trudged through the rain for their date with destiny or at least their date with stars in the sci-fi/fantasy universe.
I'm a newbie (noob) to comic cons of all stripes. So, when I use a term such as "cosplay" or "anime," I may not know what I'm talking about. My kids do, but they're away in their own universes. But one thing was clear to me -- the first Cheyenne Comic Con was off to a good start. And I had to wonder -- how come we've never had this kind of parking crush at a poetry reading?
Chris, a long-time Star Trek fan, bought tickets for Cheyenne Comic Con (hereafter known as C3) when news first broke about the event. In the ensuing months, I had retired, collected Social Security, used my Medicare card several times and went under the knife for knee replacement surgery. Not your usual geek pastimes. However, it gave me a leg up (so to speak) at a Comic Con as I was one of the few attendees who was part robot. Not only do I have bionic knees but also an implantable cardioverter device (ICD) that beams signals about my heart condition to a telemetry lab and can shock me back to life should I descend into a fatal arrhythmia. Fatal Arrhythmia -- sounds like a comic book character's name, a villain, I would think.
Fatal Arrhythmia: Die, Captain Cardiac!
Captain Cardiac: Fie on you, Fatal Arrhythmia. I live many lives thanks to modern medical marvels.
F.A.: But I am a super-villain.
C.C.: And I am on Medicare!
Look for more adventures coming soon from You Kids Get Off My Lawn Comics.
At the Comic Con vendor fair, I bought a number of comics. I was curious about this industry which is gobbling up shelf space at all of my local bookstores. We also have several comic book stores in downtown Cheyenne. One of them, The Loft, was the impetus behind C3.
It's no news that comics are big. But I usually read books, such as the kind you find at the library. They are printed (usually without illustrations), bound and finished off with a nice cover. Some of them are several hundred thousand words long, which seems big unless you've read War and Peace.
But writers still write the stories featured in comics and graphic novels. Bob Salley is a graduate of the University of Pittsburgh M.F.A. program and studied with a novelist I admire, Lewis "Buddy" Nordan. He was a fan of comic books and entered that world in an attempt to make a living as a creative person, much as other MFAers such as yours truly got into the world of arts administration, while others enter education, cab driving and the lucrative food service industry.
Salley writes a series called The Salvagers. His is a collaborative process, unlike the act of writing your average literary novel. Illustrator at his Think Alike Productions is George Acevedo, colourist is DeSike and HdE does the lettering. They even designed a special giveaway comic for C3 which features The Salvagers in "The Wreck Raiders." If you bought one of the press's graphic novels, you received a signed copy of the comic. So that's what I did after a lively conversation with Salley. He saw my composition book and pulled his notebook out of a backpack. It was filled with ideas for new stories. I showed him some pages from my journal. They included everything from rough drafts of stories to to-do lists to notes from meetings and events such as C3. This is the kind of geeky stuff that writers do.
Salley and I talked about trading stories and staying in touch. I am fascinated by graphic novels. To belittle them is to negate the life experiences of a big chunk of America. Million read comics. Millions more watch sci-fi/fantasy.superhero movies. Others like to dress and act like Sailor Moon or Iron Man. Creative writing. Filmmaking. Theatre. All creative pursuits being practiced by the people attending any comic con.
I bring this up because the arts funding world has been slow to recognize what's happening all around us. All of these creatives are selling their wares and attempting to make a living. To that end, they travel the Comic Con circuit like bands of gypsies. Do any of them make a living? Some vendor booths are more crowded than others. Some, such as Cheyenne's Warehouse 21 and Winged Brew ("We make tea cool") sell products and services. Others, such as actors on popular cable shows and films, get paid to hobnob with the hoi polloi and charge for autographs and photos. Chris and I paid $60 for an autograph and photo with Ernie Hudson, best known as Winston Zeddimore in the first two "Ghostbusters" movies. He's a nice guy. We like him in the Netflix series "Grace and Frankie" where he plays Frankie's (Lily Tomlin's) love interest. They may have to kill him off as he's slated to be in a new futuristic cop drama called "APB." Hudson let slip later in a Q&A that he attended Yale Drama School with Sigourney Weaver and played boxer Jack Johnson on stage in "The Great White Hope." I was impressed. I am also impressed that Hudson was a Ghostbuster and has a cameo in the upcoming "Ghostbusters" sequel.
What impressed me most at C3? The size of the crowds. "This is better than the Fort Collins Con," said one vendor. This is especially impressive because Cheytown has an inferiority complex when it comes to out neighbor FoCo across the border, where everything is bigger and better and hipper. Except for Comic Con, it seems -- lots of those cars parked higgledy-piggledy in the parking lot bore Colorado plates.
Also, people had fun. Think about that next time you're at an arts event or a poetry reading or even one of my prose readings. Are you enjoying yourself? If the answer is "no," you may want to plan for C3 Part Deux set for May 2017. Or you can check out a con near you. Find out what floats your boat (or steers your starship) and get after it.
Think again.
About noon on a gray May Saturday, Little America's lots were overflowing. As Chris and I left for lunch, a Cheyenne traffic cop blocked the entrance, sending Comic Con fans to the overflow lot at the events center on Lincolnway. As we drove away, we saw people parking at the old pancake house on the east side of I-25. Ghostbusters and star troopers and anime girls trudged through the rain for their date with destiny or at least their date with stars in the sci-fi/fantasy universe.
I'm a newbie (noob) to comic cons of all stripes. So, when I use a term such as "cosplay" or "anime," I may not know what I'm talking about. My kids do, but they're away in their own universes. But one thing was clear to me -- the first Cheyenne Comic Con was off to a good start. And I had to wonder -- how come we've never had this kind of parking crush at a poetry reading?
Chris, a long-time Star Trek fan, bought tickets for Cheyenne Comic Con (hereafter known as C3) when news first broke about the event. In the ensuing months, I had retired, collected Social Security, used my Medicare card several times and went under the knife for knee replacement surgery. Not your usual geek pastimes. However, it gave me a leg up (so to speak) at a Comic Con as I was one of the few attendees who was part robot. Not only do I have bionic knees but also an implantable cardioverter device (ICD) that beams signals about my heart condition to a telemetry lab and can shock me back to life should I descend into a fatal arrhythmia. Fatal Arrhythmia -- sounds like a comic book character's name, a villain, I would think.
Fatal Arrhythmia: Die, Captain Cardiac!
Captain Cardiac: Fie on you, Fatal Arrhythmia. I live many lives thanks to modern medical marvels.
F.A.: But I am a super-villain.
C.C.: And I am on Medicare!
Look for more adventures coming soon from You Kids Get Off My Lawn Comics.
At the Comic Con vendor fair, I bought a number of comics. I was curious about this industry which is gobbling up shelf space at all of my local bookstores. We also have several comic book stores in downtown Cheyenne. One of them, The Loft, was the impetus behind C3.
It's no news that comics are big. But I usually read books, such as the kind you find at the library. They are printed (usually without illustrations), bound and finished off with a nice cover. Some of them are several hundred thousand words long, which seems big unless you've read War and Peace.
But writers still write the stories featured in comics and graphic novels. Bob Salley is a graduate of the University of Pittsburgh M.F.A. program and studied with a novelist I admire, Lewis "Buddy" Nordan. He was a fan of comic books and entered that world in an attempt to make a living as a creative person, much as other MFAers such as yours truly got into the world of arts administration, while others enter education, cab driving and the lucrative food service industry.
Salley writes a series called The Salvagers. His is a collaborative process, unlike the act of writing your average literary novel. Illustrator at his Think Alike Productions is George Acevedo, colourist is DeSike and HdE does the lettering. They even designed a special giveaway comic for C3 which features The Salvagers in "The Wreck Raiders." If you bought one of the press's graphic novels, you received a signed copy of the comic. So that's what I did after a lively conversation with Salley. He saw my composition book and pulled his notebook out of a backpack. It was filled with ideas for new stories. I showed him some pages from my journal. They included everything from rough drafts of stories to to-do lists to notes from meetings and events such as C3. This is the kind of geeky stuff that writers do.
Salley and I talked about trading stories and staying in touch. I am fascinated by graphic novels. To belittle them is to negate the life experiences of a big chunk of America. Million read comics. Millions more watch sci-fi/fantasy.superhero movies. Others like to dress and act like Sailor Moon or Iron Man. Creative writing. Filmmaking. Theatre. All creative pursuits being practiced by the people attending any comic con.
I bring this up because the arts funding world has been slow to recognize what's happening all around us. All of these creatives are selling their wares and attempting to make a living. To that end, they travel the Comic Con circuit like bands of gypsies. Do any of them make a living? Some vendor booths are more crowded than others. Some, such as Cheyenne's Warehouse 21 and Winged Brew ("We make tea cool") sell products and services. Others, such as actors on popular cable shows and films, get paid to hobnob with the hoi polloi and charge for autographs and photos. Chris and I paid $60 for an autograph and photo with Ernie Hudson, best known as Winston Zeddimore in the first two "Ghostbusters" movies. He's a nice guy. We like him in the Netflix series "Grace and Frankie" where he plays Frankie's (Lily Tomlin's) love interest. They may have to kill him off as he's slated to be in a new futuristic cop drama called "APB." Hudson let slip later in a Q&A that he attended Yale Drama School with Sigourney Weaver and played boxer Jack Johnson on stage in "The Great White Hope." I was impressed. I am also impressed that Hudson was a Ghostbuster and has a cameo in the upcoming "Ghostbusters" sequel.
 |
| Mike and Chris at Cheyenne Comic Con with Ernie Hudson. |
Also, people had fun. Think about that next time you're at an arts event or a poetry reading or even one of my prose readings. Are you enjoying yourself? If the answer is "no," you may want to plan for C3 Part Deux set for May 2017. Or you can check out a con near you. Find out what floats your boat (or steers your starship) and get after it.
Sunday, May 01, 2016
Sunday morning round-up: Unforgettable cancer stories, Gonzo Derby Day, and snow, lots and lots of snow
Happy May Day!
While many of you bask in May sunshine, we are buried in snow. A moisture-laden three-day snowstorm covered my lawn and garden. It would look like March 1 but for the daffodils and blades of grass poking out of the white blanket. It's not that winter is too long, but spring is too cold and snowy. But without it we get the wildland fires of August.
Since my Jan. 18 retirement, I write every morning. I write journal entries, short stories, and a novel. I write what matters to me. I haven't been blogging as often as I find myself preoccupied by imaginary stories and memoir. It's not as if there is a lack of blogging topics, especially in this wacky election year. I so miss the gonzo journalism of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson. If this isn't a "fear and loathing" year, I don't know what is. As is true with most writers of my generation, Thompson influenced me. I don't/can't write like him, but his style infected all of us.
Fellow blogger Ronny Allan featured my sister Mary's cancer journey last week. Mary works at Big Bend Hospice in Tallahassee and, a few years back, was selected as a bone marrow donor for my brother Dan, struggling with leukemia at MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. Mary was undergoing pre-op tests when the doctors discovered a spot on her lung which turned out to be a carcinoid tumor. She was successfully operated on. That also ruled her out as a bone marrow donor. My sister Molly was the eventual donor, leaving her nursing job in Italy for several months to come back to the states. How did this family drama turn out? Click here to find out.
On Saturday, May 7, 2-5 p.m., the Laramie County Democrats Grassroots Coalition (LCDGC) holds its annual Derby Day and Wild Hat party/fund-raiser in Cheyenne. Admission is $15 and you can buy one of the Derby horses as well as bet on side races managed by your fellow Democrats. Prizes also given to the wildest hat. The Kentucky Derby is known for swanky attire and wild hats. Swanky attire in Cheyenne usually is rodeo duds. Wild hats are usually not big and floppy as the incessant wind will send them off to Nebraska. Cowboy hats? Well, if you get one that fits right, it should stymie most wind gusts. You can probably "wild up" any cowboy hat, although you may get some weird looks at Frontier Days. For all the details of the event, click here.
BTW, DYKT Hunter Thompson's magazine article on the 1970 Kentucky Derby became the first of his pieces to be labeled gonzo as in "gonzo journalism?" 'Tis true. You can read "The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved" in Thompson's 1979 collection, The Great Shark Hunt. Will Cheyenne's Derby Day be decadent and depraved? One must attend to find out.
While many of you bask in May sunshine, we are buried in snow. A moisture-laden three-day snowstorm covered my lawn and garden. It would look like March 1 but for the daffodils and blades of grass poking out of the white blanket. It's not that winter is too long, but spring is too cold and snowy. But without it we get the wildland fires of August.
Since my Jan. 18 retirement, I write every morning. I write journal entries, short stories, and a novel. I write what matters to me. I haven't been blogging as often as I find myself preoccupied by imaginary stories and memoir. It's not as if there is a lack of blogging topics, especially in this wacky election year. I so miss the gonzo journalism of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson. If this isn't a "fear and loathing" year, I don't know what is. As is true with most writers of my generation, Thompson influenced me. I don't/can't write like him, but his style infected all of us.
Fellow blogger Ronny Allan featured my sister Mary's cancer journey last week. Mary works at Big Bend Hospice in Tallahassee and, a few years back, was selected as a bone marrow donor for my brother Dan, struggling with leukemia at MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. Mary was undergoing pre-op tests when the doctors discovered a spot on her lung which turned out to be a carcinoid tumor. She was successfully operated on. That also ruled her out as a bone marrow donor. My sister Molly was the eventual donor, leaving her nursing job in Italy for several months to come back to the states. How did this family drama turn out? Click here to find out.
On Saturday, May 7, 2-5 p.m., the Laramie County Democrats Grassroots Coalition (LCDGC) holds its annual Derby Day and Wild Hat party/fund-raiser in Cheyenne. Admission is $15 and you can buy one of the Derby horses as well as bet on side races managed by your fellow Democrats. Prizes also given to the wildest hat. The Kentucky Derby is known for swanky attire and wild hats. Swanky attire in Cheyenne usually is rodeo duds. Wild hats are usually not big and floppy as the incessant wind will send them off to Nebraska. Cowboy hats? Well, if you get one that fits right, it should stymie most wind gusts. You can probably "wild up" any cowboy hat, although you may get some weird looks at Frontier Days. For all the details of the event, click here.
BTW, DYKT Hunter Thompson's magazine article on the 1970 Kentucky Derby became the first of his pieces to be labeled gonzo as in "gonzo journalism?" 'Tis true. You can read "The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved" in Thompson's 1979 collection, The Great Shark Hunt. Will Cheyenne's Derby Day be decadent and depraved? One must attend to find out.
Sunday, April 24, 2016
Wish we were memorializing Prince in 2036 instead of 2016
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| Symbol for the opioid formerly known as Oxycodone. |
The videos have moved to the web. And Prince is gone. The most disturbing aspect of the tragedy are the allegations that he was hooked on opioids for pain. Prince spent his adult life dancing across stages. He jumped from platforms and did the splits, all while wearing his trademark high-heel shoes. When you get to be 57, no matter your physical prowess, gravity takes a toll. Prince had hip replacement surgery and back problems. What does a performer do about chronic pain? Painkillers. And Percocet offers some wonderful painkilling properties. Better living through chemistry, eh? Problem is, that opioid high is addicting and ya wanna keep poppin' those pills.
In the past year, I've undergone two knee replacement surgeries. Both times, my orthopedic doctor prescribed Percocet (Oxycodone + Acetaminophen) for pain. As the weeks passed, the doc weaned me from a higher dose to a smaller one and finally to none at all. A wise man, one who has written many prescriptions for opioids -- and has undoubtedly heard many pleas for more, sir, please, more. Pain sufferers can be a pain -- and very persuasive. No wonder the pills are handed out like candy.
Patient: Doc, I'm in terrible pain.
Doc: You are a terrible pain.
Patient: Trouble right here in Magic City, Doc. I need opioids and it rhymes with hemorrhoids and it stands for pool and...
Doc: Are you high?
Patient: High on life.
Doc: Here's a prescription for a gazillion Percocet.
Patient (kisses Doc's feet, backs slowly out the door): You won't regret this Doc!
Doc: Yes I will.
Since I began my personal experience with opioids, I have heard scores of blood-curdling stories about opioid abuse. Fatal overdoses, lost jobs, ruined marriages, etc. Addicts will do anything (and have) to get their hands on Oxy. When they can't, some turn to heroin. Thus the heroin epidemic in the hinterland.
What are our other options when pain haunts us? It would be nice to just say no, but it's not that easy when your body and your brain are working against you. Pain screams for relief. If you are lucky, the pain in only temporary. Knee and hip replacements heal over time and you feel almost as good as new, a return to the days when you only had a bit of knee pain. Aleve can soothe the ache after a Snowy Range hike. Sure, the commercials are annoying but that's a small price to pay for 24-hour pain relief! Caution: Aleve may cause nausea, light-headednesss, heartburn, dizziness, abdominal pain. But still better than Heroin P.M.
Medical marijuana is a hot issue in many states including Wyoming. Marijuana won't kill you. It may lead to harder stuff. But what if you are already taking the harder stuff in the form of opioids? Wouldn't pot be a welcome change from the fever dreams of opioids and the threat of addiction?
We don't yet know Prince's autopsy results.He may have died from a heart attack or an aneurysm. Both can kill quickly, especially if you are alone in an elevator and have no phone to call 911. In those circumstances, you can't always think straight -- or have enough time to dial for help.
Meanwhile, let the tributes roll on. Prince deserves it. I just wish we were giving him a posthumous send-off 20 years in the future.
Friday, April 15, 2016
Grant Farms store in Cheyenne reinvents itself
Yes, it's supposed to snow buckets this weekend. Winter storm Vexo may prove to be vexing here in Cheyenne and all along the Front Range.
However, gardening season is still on the horizon -- just delayed by a weekend or two.
In the midst of winter -- not to be confused with the winter that visits in springtime -- I attended the topping off ceremony of the new building at the Cheyenne Botanic Gardens. So cool to watch the building's progress on my walks around the lake. Check it out at the Cheyenne Botanic Gardens web site.
Another boost to gardening in the area is news from Grant Farms on Lincolnway to reopen and reinvent itself. This comes from the Botanic Gardens:
Long-time Cheyenne garden center Grant Farms is set to reopen on April 23 selling plants, seeds and supplies for your garden.
On May 1, it is becoming a source for local fresh food like eggs, fruits and vegetables (mostly organically grown). In addition, they will provide fresh-baked bread, pastries, Jackie’s Java fresh coffee, local cheeses and milk.
On Memorial Day weekend, Grant Farms will open a new Garden Patio Bistro where you can sit and enjoy a fresh coffee drinks, ice cream and fresh smoothies. In addition, they will have live music on Friday, Saturday and Sunday afternoons.
Show your Botanic Gardens membership card prior to them ringing up your sale and get 10% off!
Looking forward to sitting around sipping an iced latte while inhaling the fresh scents of growing things -- and enjoying live music. Grant Farms is based outside Wellington in Larimer County, Colorado. We consider Wellington a suburb of Cheyenne, although Fort Collins usually claims it. Some people prefer the more accommodating attitudes of CO to WY where crazy people run our legislature.
Find more info for the Grant Farms store in Cheyenne.
Saturday, April 02, 2016
What I learned in graduate school, part one
It seems as if I've read hundreds of critiques about M.F.A. writing programs over the years. They usually fall into two camps.
No. 1: I spent three years and tens of thousands of dollars on an M.F.A. program and all I got was this lousy diploma.
No. 2: Grad school was worth it -- I learned more than I thought I would.
At 37, I had met a lot of people not like me. Gang-bangers, corporate CEOs, jocks, cabbies, political activists, druggies, yuppies, loonies, etc. I had held tons of jobs, some temporary gigs as hospital orderly and warehouse worker, to full-time jobs as corporate editor and newspaper reporter. When I began to look around for creative writing programs, I had one goal in mind: become a better writer. I had written articles on teen-age swimming phenoms to automotive fan belts. I'd written a novel, which earned me an agent but not a publisher. My agent advised me to quit my job, go down to my basement and write full-time. I knew that hunkering down in my basement with my typewriter was a bad idea. I could see myself typing, the clatter of the keys clanging off of the basement walls. But I could also see myself wandering the basement rooms, haunted look on my face. Not good for an introvert depressive to be alone all day in his basement. Visions of Emily Dickinson, tormented in her attic. Ernest Hemingway and shotgun at his writing desk in remote Idaho.
I also wanted to meet interesting people. I guess you can do that anywhere. But writers, even in academia, should be interesting, right?
Thee first interesting person I met was writer and faculty member John Clark Pratt. My wife, son and I were in Fort Collins looking for a rental. I decided to drop into the CSU English Department. Dr. Pratt (I could call him John but he'll always be Dr. Pratt to me) was the lone M.F.A. faculty member hanging out in the Eddy Building on a July afternoon. He welcomed me, told me a bit about the program, which only began the year before. Only later did I learn that Dr. Pratt was the author of "The Laotian Fragments," a pilot in Vietnam, and one of the country's experts on the literature of the Vietnam War. He helped establish the CSU library's special collection on Vietnam. In the late 1980s, it featured unpublished manuscripts by veterans, published works by some well-known writers and an assortment of notes and research and ephemera. You can visit it still. Might even be online now.
When school began in late August, I met the rest of the faculty and my fellow students. For the most part, the faculty was closer in age to me than the students, but I had expected that. John Calderazzo was the creative non-fiction guru, A world traveler, he wrote mostly on environmental issues and wrote an excellent book on volcanoes. He'd been a free-lance writer for years, writing articles for corporate, real estate and automotive mags to make extra cash. We free-lanced a real estate piece together, since I also was on the lookout for extra cash.
David Milofsky was a novelist and short-story writer. He'd just left a position with Denver University to take the job at CSU, and commuted from Denver. Milofsky had been an investigative reporter in Milwaukee and still had that hard-bitten city reporter attitude. He was my adviser as I liked his fiction and he liked the fact that I was a bit older than the other students and not so naive and wide-eyed. Poet Bill Tremblay was from Jack Keroauc's hometown and played football before turning to poetry. He was more coach than academic. Mentor to many poets and the faculty member that you knew would turn up for every student reading. I worked for him as student editor of the campus literary magazine, the Colorado Review.
Mary Crow was the other poetry prof. She may have been the most academic of the bunch. She traveled widely, was bilingual and made sure that students got a taste of writers from all over the world through the visiting writers program. Receptions were always held at her house, potlucks where us budding writers got a chance to gnosh and chat with writers such as Paul Monette, Linda Hogan, Tomaz Salamun, and Gwendolyn Brooks. Mary talked me into being the M.F.A. student rep to the university's Fine Arts Program, which led to my career in arts administration -- more about that later. Leslee Becker was a fine short story writer and quirky human. She mentored us short story writers and also LGBT students in the English department.
One of my four semester-long workshops was with short story writer Steve Schwartz. I learned a lot in the workshop, but possibly the best info I got from Steve was about the Colorado Council on the Arts' Arts Education program. I applied, was accepted, and next thing I know, I'm signed up to spent a month in Peetz on the prairie as a paid visiting writer. The goal was to mentor high school students for half the day and write the other half. I never made it to Peetz as a writer/teacher, The students never knew what they missed, and neither did I. My job in Wyoming would place me in charge of a visiting writers program called Tumblewords, brainchild of the Western States Arts Federation (WESTAF), then located in Santa Fe, now in Denver.
Most of these writers who also were teachers are now retired, as I am. A new crew took over, which is the way of things. I learned so much from them, and I was able to work with them in new and interesting ways when I found my calling.
In my next installment, I'll talk about all the good stuff I learned during my three years in the M.F.A. program. Stay tuned...
No. 1: I spent three years and tens of thousands of dollars on an M.F.A. program and all I got was this lousy diploma.
No. 2: Grad school was worth it -- I learned more than I thought I would.
Alas, I've read more of the former than the latter. They usually are written by young people who have joined the system without much life experience which, of course, is what it means to be young. Does this 65-year-old retiree remember how it was to be 19 or 21 and flummoxed by a university system -- any university system? I was an overachiever, a scholarship student, who crashed and burned after two years at a major American university. The fault was my own, although I spent many years blaming the university and the government and my parents and the phases of the moon. I am an ex-newspaper reporter and satirist who loves it when people take on any system. Doesn't mean the writer is correct in his/her critique. It's fun to be pissed off in print and get attention.
I'm going to say some nice things about my M.F.A. program. Stop here if you prefer to read the negative over the positive. You may learn something but no guarantee, just as there is no guarantee that an M.F.A. program will make you a stellar writer and a denizen of the Literary World.
Before I begin, let me thank writer Marian Palaia who wrote a recent essay, "The Real World vs. the M.F.A." for Literary Hub at http://lithub.com/the-real-world-vs-the-mfa/. If fact, you can skip this blog and go read Palaia's piece, as it covers most of the same ground that I do. She's close to my age (pushing 60) and earned her M.F.A. as an older student, older even than I was at 41. Such a wonderful essay that I'm ordering her novel and reading it. The least I can do for a fellow writer.
I liked these lines from her essay:
I do not advise waiting as long as I did to get an MFA, if you are sure that what you want to do is to write. What I do advise is gaining some awareness of the world, and of the people in it who are not like you, before you go into a program.
I also wanted to meet interesting people. I guess you can do that anywhere. But writers, even in academia, should be interesting, right?
Thee first interesting person I met was writer and faculty member John Clark Pratt. My wife, son and I were in Fort Collins looking for a rental. I decided to drop into the CSU English Department. Dr. Pratt (I could call him John but he'll always be Dr. Pratt to me) was the lone M.F.A. faculty member hanging out in the Eddy Building on a July afternoon. He welcomed me, told me a bit about the program, which only began the year before. Only later did I learn that Dr. Pratt was the author of "The Laotian Fragments," a pilot in Vietnam, and one of the country's experts on the literature of the Vietnam War. He helped establish the CSU library's special collection on Vietnam. In the late 1980s, it featured unpublished manuscripts by veterans, published works by some well-known writers and an assortment of notes and research and ephemera. You can visit it still. Might even be online now.
When school began in late August, I met the rest of the faculty and my fellow students. For the most part, the faculty was closer in age to me than the students, but I had expected that. John Calderazzo was the creative non-fiction guru, A world traveler, he wrote mostly on environmental issues and wrote an excellent book on volcanoes. He'd been a free-lance writer for years, writing articles for corporate, real estate and automotive mags to make extra cash. We free-lanced a real estate piece together, since I also was on the lookout for extra cash.
David Milofsky was a novelist and short-story writer. He'd just left a position with Denver University to take the job at CSU, and commuted from Denver. Milofsky had been an investigative reporter in Milwaukee and still had that hard-bitten city reporter attitude. He was my adviser as I liked his fiction and he liked the fact that I was a bit older than the other students and not so naive and wide-eyed. Poet Bill Tremblay was from Jack Keroauc's hometown and played football before turning to poetry. He was more coach than academic. Mentor to many poets and the faculty member that you knew would turn up for every student reading. I worked for him as student editor of the campus literary magazine, the Colorado Review.
Mary Crow was the other poetry prof. She may have been the most academic of the bunch. She traveled widely, was bilingual and made sure that students got a taste of writers from all over the world through the visiting writers program. Receptions were always held at her house, potlucks where us budding writers got a chance to gnosh and chat with writers such as Paul Monette, Linda Hogan, Tomaz Salamun, and Gwendolyn Brooks. Mary talked me into being the M.F.A. student rep to the university's Fine Arts Program, which led to my career in arts administration -- more about that later. Leslee Becker was a fine short story writer and quirky human. She mentored us short story writers and also LGBT students in the English department.
One of my four semester-long workshops was with short story writer Steve Schwartz. I learned a lot in the workshop, but possibly the best info I got from Steve was about the Colorado Council on the Arts' Arts Education program. I applied, was accepted, and next thing I know, I'm signed up to spent a month in Peetz on the prairie as a paid visiting writer. The goal was to mentor high school students for half the day and write the other half. I never made it to Peetz as a writer/teacher, The students never knew what they missed, and neither did I. My job in Wyoming would place me in charge of a visiting writers program called Tumblewords, brainchild of the Western States Arts Federation (WESTAF), then located in Santa Fe, now in Denver.
Most of these writers who also were teachers are now retired, as I am. A new crew took over, which is the way of things. I learned so much from them, and I was able to work with them in new and interesting ways when I found my calling.
In my next installment, I'll talk about all the good stuff I learned during my three years in the M.F.A. program. Stay tuned...
Sunday, March 27, 2016
Meet some quirky North Koreans in Adam Jonson's fiction
Know anyone from North Korea?
I don't. But I feel that I do now, after reading Adam Johnson';s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, "The Orphan Master's Son."
Johnson is not from either Korea, as evidenced by his name. Nothing in his book jacket bio mentions that he lived in Korea or taught there or even briefly sojourned there. I am sure I can find more info on the Internet. But right now I am content to let a fiction writer weave his magic spell.
Johnson acquaints me with North Koreans, those benighted folks who live in the most backward and isolated country on the planet. Jun Do is the orphan master's son who, at the orphanage, is given the toughest jobs in the place by his father and, in turn, assigns the actual orphans even grimmer tasks. As a teen, Jun Do is spirited away by the government and learns how to be a night fighter in North Korea's many tunnels. Because he has an orphan name, others refer to him that way. His usual response, "I'm not an orphan." Nobody seems to believe him. His response becomes predictable and funny. In fact, This novel is filled with humor, a pleasant surprise since Westerners are supposed to feel nothing but sorrow and pity about North Korea.
I'm only a third of the way through the book. It's one of those that you read late into the night, forgetting that the witching hour has come and gone.
One other aspect of Johnson -- he writes terrific short stories. I first read his work in the short fiction collection, "Fortune Smiles." The title story features two North Koreans who have defected to the South. Such magnificent creations. Only one is fitting in to this new land, the other has all the anti-establishment swagger of Kesey's R.P. McMurphy. This is odd and endearing, since he comes from super-authoritarian North Korea. How did he survive there -- and why does he want to go back?
While you're absorbing Johnson's short stories, read "Hurricanes Anonymous." I was dubious about reading yet another story set in post-Katrina New Orleans. As always, the drama and humor is in the characters and how they face up to the situation. We humans are a strange bunch. It's masterful writer who can help us see a small band of them in new and unusual ways.
I don't. But I feel that I do now, after reading Adam Johnson';s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, "The Orphan Master's Son."
Johnson is not from either Korea, as evidenced by his name. Nothing in his book jacket bio mentions that he lived in Korea or taught there or even briefly sojourned there. I am sure I can find more info on the Internet. But right now I am content to let a fiction writer weave his magic spell.
Johnson acquaints me with North Koreans, those benighted folks who live in the most backward and isolated country on the planet. Jun Do is the orphan master's son who, at the orphanage, is given the toughest jobs in the place by his father and, in turn, assigns the actual orphans even grimmer tasks. As a teen, Jun Do is spirited away by the government and learns how to be a night fighter in North Korea's many tunnels. Because he has an orphan name, others refer to him that way. His usual response, "I'm not an orphan." Nobody seems to believe him. His response becomes predictable and funny. In fact, This novel is filled with humor, a pleasant surprise since Westerners are supposed to feel nothing but sorrow and pity about North Korea.
I'm only a third of the way through the book. It's one of those that you read late into the night, forgetting that the witching hour has come and gone.
One other aspect of Johnson -- he writes terrific short stories. I first read his work in the short fiction collection, "Fortune Smiles." The title story features two North Koreans who have defected to the South. Such magnificent creations. Only one is fitting in to this new land, the other has all the anti-establishment swagger of Kesey's R.P. McMurphy. This is odd and endearing, since he comes from super-authoritarian North Korea. How did he survive there -- and why does he want to go back?
While you're absorbing Johnson's short stories, read "Hurricanes Anonymous." I was dubious about reading yet another story set in post-Katrina New Orleans. As always, the drama and humor is in the characters and how they face up to the situation. We humans are a strange bunch. It's masterful writer who can help us see a small band of them in new and unusual ways.
Friday, March 25, 2016
History comes looking for you.
The Rolling Stones rock Havana today. The Western World's Capitalist Songsters in one of the last bastions of international communism. Unthinkable a year ago. The Leader of the Free World attends a baseball game in Havana. President Obama, the first black president in U.S. history, sits next to Raul Castro; they trade quips about on-base percentages and ERAs. The day before, they were debating Americanism vs. Cubano Communism. That was a course we had in high school in Florida -- Americanism vs. Communism. That usually meant the Soviet variety, but we were only too aware that Red Cuba was a threat just 90 miles from Florida. Mr. Muir taught eighth grade at Our Lady of Lourdes and we played basketball with his son. Mr. Muir, a respected teacher at a private school in Havana, fled Castro in 1959 and now teaching snotty-nosed Catholic Anglos in the same town that his honored former dictator Fulgencio Batista owned a house along the river. My father, who stashed supplies in our Wichita basement for the Apocalypse during the Cuban Missile Crisis three years before, now pointed out Batista's house whenever we drove by in the station wagon overloaded with his Catholic brood.
And a NROTC midshipman, 1970, I spent three weeks in Cuba. Gitmo, now the U.S. terror prison, a confused 19-year-old. We tried to pick up the teen daughters of Gitmo officers at the base pool. Barbed wire barriers threaded the border, guard towers manned by soldiers the only Reds we could actually see. Soviet spies followed in our ship's wake, Russian fishing trawlers the big joke, antennae crowding out the fishing nets on deck. At night at the officer's club, we heard pilots' stories about night raids against the commies of North Vietnam, of buddies lost to SAMs. "You'll be there soon enough," they said, "that war not ending anytime soon."
My vas pokhoronim! -- "We will bury you!" said Nikita Khrushchev in Moscow during the height of the Cold War. Fall 1956 -- I was five. My father buried nuclear missiles deep beneath the Colorado prairie.
Said Obama to the Cubans: “I have come here to bury the last remnant of the Cold War in the Americas.”
History comes looking for you.
And a NROTC midshipman, 1970, I spent three weeks in Cuba. Gitmo, now the U.S. terror prison, a confused 19-year-old. We tried to pick up the teen daughters of Gitmo officers at the base pool. Barbed wire barriers threaded the border, guard towers manned by soldiers the only Reds we could actually see. Soviet spies followed in our ship's wake, Russian fishing trawlers the big joke, antennae crowding out the fishing nets on deck. At night at the officer's club, we heard pilots' stories about night raids against the commies of North Vietnam, of buddies lost to SAMs. "You'll be there soon enough," they said, "that war not ending anytime soon."
My vas pokhoronim! -- "We will bury you!" said Nikita Khrushchev in Moscow during the height of the Cold War. Fall 1956 -- I was five. My father buried nuclear missiles deep beneath the Colorado prairie.
Said Obama to the Cubans: “I have come here to bury the last remnant of the Cold War in the Americas.”
History comes looking for you.
Sunday, March 20, 2016
Flashback: Will 2016 Wyoming Democratic Party caucus crowds be as large as they were in 2008?
I have a decade-long history on Blogger. This can be a bad thing, as I can still see some of my more embarrassing writing and photographic moments. It's also a good thing, as I can trace my political happenings going all the way back to 2006.
The Wyoming Democratic Party held its 2008 caucus on March 8. Sen. Obama and Sen. and former Pres. Clinton both visited the state in the days before the caucus. People were excited. People were motivated. More than 1,500 Laramie County Democrats came out to caucus at the Civic Center in Cheyenne. That's approximately 1,300 more than came out to caucus in 2004. It was a banner year for Democrats, and it got attention outside the state. I'm a party member and I was on-hand to cast my vote, lobby for a spot at the state convention and volunteer to assist the madding crowds. Youi can read my report on the day at http://hummingbirdminds.blogspot.com/2008/03/historic-day-for-wyoming-democrats.html.
Turnout for the 2012 caucuses was anemic. This year, Dems again expect big crowds, one of the reasons that the caucus venue has been changed from downtown's Historic Plains Hotel to the gym at Central High School. Local Bernie Sanders supporters have been very active for about six months thanks to efforts by my neighbor Ed Waddell and his fellow Berniecrats. I expect many Sanders supporters will turn up to vote. Hillary Clinton supporters are equally active, canvassing and calling and talking up the former Secretary of State and First Lady.
Here are the details for the upcoming April 9 caucus:
The Wyoming Democratic Party held its 2008 caucus on March 8. Sen. Obama and Sen. and former Pres. Clinton both visited the state in the days before the caucus. People were excited. People were motivated. More than 1,500 Laramie County Democrats came out to caucus at the Civic Center in Cheyenne. That's approximately 1,300 more than came out to caucus in 2004. It was a banner year for Democrats, and it got attention outside the state. I'm a party member and I was on-hand to cast my vote, lobby for a spot at the state convention and volunteer to assist the madding crowds. Youi can read my report on the day at http://hummingbirdminds.blogspot.com/2008/03/historic-day-for-wyoming-democrats.html.
Turnout for the 2012 caucuses was anemic. This year, Dems again expect big crowds, one of the reasons that the caucus venue has been changed from downtown's Historic Plains Hotel to the gym at Central High School. Local Bernie Sanders supporters have been very active for about six months thanks to efforts by my neighbor Ed Waddell and his fellow Berniecrats. I expect many Sanders supporters will turn up to vote. Hillary Clinton supporters are equally active, canvassing and calling and talking up the former Secretary of State and First Lady.
Here are the details for the upcoming April 9 caucus:
The caucus and presidential preference vote will be held at the Cheyenne Central High School Field House Gymnasium, 5500 Education Drive on April 9, 11 a.m. Immediately following the morning’s caucus, convention activities will resume at the Plains Hotel, 1600 Central Avenue. We will be discussing the changes and volunteer opportunities for the convention. Check out the Laramie County Democratic Party’s frequently asked caucus questions at http://www.wyodems.org/frequently-asked-questionsGet more info by attending the LCD’s monthly meeting on Monday, March 21, 6:30 p.m., at the IBEW Hall, 810 Fremont Ave., Cheyenne.
If 2008 provides any lessons for 2016, I urge you to
arrive early. In 2008, I arrived at 7:30 a.m. and 100 voters already were in
line. Some 1,400 folks lined up behind me, with the line snaking around the Civic Center. Great to see so many Wyoming Democrats all in one place. Let's do it again!
Friday, March 18, 2016
The Great 2016 American Political Spectacle is running at full throttle
Some of you may be wondering what hummingbirdminds thinks of the current election cycle.
OK, maybe you don't, but hummingbirdminds is going to tell you anyway.
I'm here in Wyoming watching the primary season and wondering how Hillary Clinton won all five states on the most recent Super Tuesday. Bernie Sanders came close in Missouri but, still, Clinton edged him out. Clinton claimed a wipe-out in Florida. Trump too. I ask my family and friends in Florida: Wazzup with that?
On Tuesday in Florida, GOP voter turnout was up but Democratic Party turnout was down. Sanders knew he would have to get lots of voters out to even get close to Clinton. In Missouri, voter turnout out paced 2008 turnout 39 to 36 percent. Less than 1,600 votes separated Sanders and Clinton. If several thousand of those college-age Sanders' supporters ("Feel the Bern!") had voted, well, the results would be different.
Whom do I support? My politics are more aligned with Democratic Socialist Sanders than with Democratic Moderate Clinton. But in November I just want to win, baby. Trump is dangerous, Cruz is creepy, and Kasich is a moderate but he keeps saying crazy stuff to get attention amongst all the Trump hoopla. What about the new effort to draft Paul Ryan should the Repub convention deadlock in Cleveland? Sounds far-fetched to me. Trump contends that there will be riots in Cleveland if that happens. Local police are stockpiling riot gear just in case. Interesting that the Repubs are going to the hometown of Democrat Dennis Kucinich, the anti-war liberal I supported in 2004 and 2008. He's the reason I got involved in local Democratic Party politics in 2004. The Iraq War was the issue then. And the Bush/Cheney axis of evil. Wonder what Mr. Kucinich thinks of all of this? I went to my first state party convention in 2004. Kucinich called in to our gathering although John Kerry was already the candidate-in-waiting. I didn't realize then that most of the decisions happen well before the ballots are cast. I think that we came out of that convention with one delegate pledged to Kucinich when the national convention got underway in Boston. I have some empathy for those Sanders supporters who haven't been involved in party politics. They have to be prepped for the April 9 caucus and for the state convention on May 28. Do your homework, Berniecrats! I stand ready to answer your questions.
So I'm an old hand. I've been to local caucuses and state and national conventions. I'm not jaded -- I still go to meetings and raise funds for Democratic candidates. I always vote, as do all the codgers in my district. But I no longer wonder why people are disappointed in the two political parties. If I had a chance to join and vote for the Democratic Socialists, I would do so. My neighbor Tea Party Slim would gather with the Tea Party Party or the Libertarians or the Guns for Everyone Party. My wife might be part of the Feminist Party. I could see my daughter Annie in the Green Party. My son? He's a candidate for the Transcendentalists or possibly the Gamer Party.
But now, two sizes fit all, which is ridiculous. Our choices are limited now by choices made when most of us were not paying attention. Will people start paying attention now that we're in the Age of Trump?
I have no answers. But, to us writers and bloggers, the Great 2016 American Political Spectacle is amazing.
OK, maybe you don't, but hummingbirdminds is going to tell you anyway.
I'm here in Wyoming watching the primary season and wondering how Hillary Clinton won all five states on the most recent Super Tuesday. Bernie Sanders came close in Missouri but, still, Clinton edged him out. Clinton claimed a wipe-out in Florida. Trump too. I ask my family and friends in Florida: Wazzup with that?
On Tuesday in Florida, GOP voter turnout was up but Democratic Party turnout was down. Sanders knew he would have to get lots of voters out to even get close to Clinton. In Missouri, voter turnout out paced 2008 turnout 39 to 36 percent. Less than 1,600 votes separated Sanders and Clinton. If several thousand of those college-age Sanders' supporters ("Feel the Bern!") had voted, well, the results would be different.
Whom do I support? My politics are more aligned with Democratic Socialist Sanders than with Democratic Moderate Clinton. But in November I just want to win, baby. Trump is dangerous, Cruz is creepy, and Kasich is a moderate but he keeps saying crazy stuff to get attention amongst all the Trump hoopla. What about the new effort to draft Paul Ryan should the Repub convention deadlock in Cleveland? Sounds far-fetched to me. Trump contends that there will be riots in Cleveland if that happens. Local police are stockpiling riot gear just in case. Interesting that the Repubs are going to the hometown of Democrat Dennis Kucinich, the anti-war liberal I supported in 2004 and 2008. He's the reason I got involved in local Democratic Party politics in 2004. The Iraq War was the issue then. And the Bush/Cheney axis of evil. Wonder what Mr. Kucinich thinks of all of this? I went to my first state party convention in 2004. Kucinich called in to our gathering although John Kerry was already the candidate-in-waiting. I didn't realize then that most of the decisions happen well before the ballots are cast. I think that we came out of that convention with one delegate pledged to Kucinich when the national convention got underway in Boston. I have some empathy for those Sanders supporters who haven't been involved in party politics. They have to be prepped for the April 9 caucus and for the state convention on May 28. Do your homework, Berniecrats! I stand ready to answer your questions.
So I'm an old hand. I've been to local caucuses and state and national conventions. I'm not jaded -- I still go to meetings and raise funds for Democratic candidates. I always vote, as do all the codgers in my district. But I no longer wonder why people are disappointed in the two political parties. If I had a chance to join and vote for the Democratic Socialists, I would do so. My neighbor Tea Party Slim would gather with the Tea Party Party or the Libertarians or the Guns for Everyone Party. My wife might be part of the Feminist Party. I could see my daughter Annie in the Green Party. My son? He's a candidate for the Transcendentalists or possibly the Gamer Party.
But now, two sizes fit all, which is ridiculous. Our choices are limited now by choices made when most of us were not paying attention. Will people start paying attention now that we're in the Age of Trump?
I have no answers. But, to us writers and bloggers, the Great 2016 American Political Spectacle is amazing.
Monday, March 14, 2016
Election season heats up -- and goes green -- in Laramie County
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| House Minority Leader Mary Throne addresses the "Get Your Green On" Democrats about some of the Republican craziness that transpired during the most recent legislative session. |
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| Pat Lauber leads the food line as committee member Ken Trowbridge points out the goodies. |
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| Ryan Greene's campaign express from Rock Springs stopped at the Laramie County event to do some politicking. and eating. Greene, center, is the only Democrat running for Wyoming's lone U.S. House seat. |
The big treat last night was seeing so
many new faces ready to sign up and defeat these whackadoodle Republicans
embarrassing the state in every legislative session. We also heard from the
lone Democrat running for Wyoming’s lone U.S. Houser seat. Ryan Greene is a
Rock Springs native and he brought his entourage with him to promote his
23-county get-acquainted tour around the state. Next stop after Cheyenne – a
meeting in Lusk with Niobrara County’s flour Democrats. Plenty of room for
growth! Greene works in the state’s energy industry and concerned, as we all
are, about the downturn in the coal and natural gas industries. Greene is a
father of two and a certified pipe welder and promoter of unions, which is
fitting for someone from Wyoming’s union stronghold of Sweetwater County. As
the candidate notes in his flyer, it’s been 40 years since Wyoming sent a Democrat
to Washington, D.C. That was another Sweetwater County favorite son – Tino Roncalio.
I met Rep. Roncalio while working on an oral history of the state’s World War
II veterans. I also interviewed the very colorful politician for a 30th
anniversary booklet for the Wyoming Arts Council. Get more info about Ryan Greene’s
campaign at www.ryaangreene16.com.
A few words about the plight of Democrats
in Wyoming. As union jobs have been driven from this “Right to Work” state, Democratic
Party numbers have dropped precipitously and so has our ability to elect Dems
to the legislature. Gerrymandering hasn’t helped either. Our 11 Dems in the
legislature are a feisty bunch. Notable is minority leader Rep. Mary Throne.
The Gillette native (now Cheyenne resident) brings the same kind of fight to
law-making as she did with her recent breast cancer battle. Such passion! She
has to run again this year, as our reps have to mix it up on the campaign trail
every two years. I’ll be writing more about the campaigns as the political
scene begins to heat up this spring and summer.
The Laramie County Democrats Grassroots
Coalition does some amazing work. Our six-member fund-raising committee has put
together some great events this past year. This group raised $10,000 for county
candidates in 2012. Our goal this year is $15,000. We are two-thirds of the way
there. If you wish to be part of the effort without the bother of eating
cupcakes, donate at http://www.laramiecountydemocrats.org/.
If you want to do your bit by eating and making merry at a FUNdraiser, pencil
in May 7 on your calendar. This is Dem Derby Day in Wyoming. We expect a big
crowd of concerned citizens to gamble and drink mint juleps for a good cause.
We also hope for nice weather, but a little bit of spring snow and wind has
never stopped us before. To keep up to date, read this blog and visit the keen Laramie
County Democrats web site. The site is maintained by Hawai'i native Shayna
Lonoaea Alexander. She brought her
considerable skills to Cheyenne when she heard that the surf in Cheyenne is
bitchin’ and there are more Democrats in Laramie County than on Maui. OK, so she was misinformed.
But we love it that she made it to the Equality State.
And start getting your outfit ready for
Derby Day. Big, floppy hats! Fancy dresses! Warm and fuzzy feelings all over!
Sunday, March 13, 2016
When AFib comes to town
The Cheyenne Regional Medical Center Telemetry Lab staffer called me Friday. She wanted to know how I was doing. I said "fine" but knew that this wasn't a courtesy call. The Telemetry Lab monitors my Implantable Cardioverter Defibrillator (ICD) remotely. I have a home transmitter at the side of my bed. It picks up my heart signals and transmits them to the lab, which then takes a look to see if I am in sinus rhythm, which is what we want, or in atrial fibrillation (AFib), which we don't want.
The lab said I was in AFib on Thursday morning. "Did you feel anything?"
"Yes," I said. "I was light-headed all morning."
"Anything else?"
I had to think about it. "I just felt weird all morning. Had a hard time at physical therapy, was tired and out of sorts all afternoon."
The Telemetry Lab person (sorry I don't remember her name -- blame it on the irregular heartbeats and lack of oxygen to the brain) told me that I needed to be aware of these symptoms as a long-duration AFib is dangerous. "Next time you're feeling that way, please send me a manual reading from your monitor."
"OK," I said, feeling a bit scared. I tend to ignore my heart difficulties most of the time. I exercise, take my meds, maintain a good attitude, am kind to animals, etc.
She made me an appointment with my cardiologist. She is able to access my MyChart files at CRMC which shows a calendar of my appointments. She puts me down for a March 15 appointment with Dr. Nienaber. As long as I'm dealing with a CRMC physician or group, my records are online and we can carry on these types of conversations. It's a bit spooky, all this electronic data-keeping and accessibility. My fiction-writer self thinks of all the ways that this system can be abused. Let's say a U.S. politician has an ICD with a bedside monitor and someone, say, an ISIS terrorist, wants to murder that politician. He hijacks the signal and causes the ICD to shut down. Even scarier, he causes that ICD to activate its defibrillator. Bam! -- a big shock to the heart to get it back into rhythm even when it doesn't need it. And another shock and another and pretty soon, the heart gives up. Remote-control assassination. Because I am postulating this as sci-fi means that the possibility already exists and the U.S. or the Russians or even ISIS may be preparing an attack.
For me, though, right now, the threat is more from AFib than it is from some shadowy hacker. AFib can cause strokes, blood clots, heart failure. My heart attack of three years ago created the cardiac scar tissue that sometimes misfires as AFib. My pacemaker activates to get me back into rhythm. If catastrophic heart failure threatens, the defibrillator will kick in with a debilitating jolt. This has never happened to me, and I hope it never does. I could be driving down I-80 at the time. Or I could be napping. Anything is possible.
A big thank you to the CRMC Telemetry Lab. A big shout-out to the researchers and engineers and technicians who put these gizmos together. I freakin' love science.
To watch AFib in action, go to the American Heart Association web site. You can compare an AFib animation to one of a normal heartbeat. My heartbeat was normal for 62 years. Cholesterol and inflammation and stupidity led to my heart attack, which almost killed me. I was pulled back from oblivion by EMTs, cardiologists, surgeons, and nurses. I'm 65 now, retired, someone who knows how blessed he is every day. Or almost every day.
The lab said I was in AFib on Thursday morning. "Did you feel anything?"
"Yes," I said. "I was light-headed all morning."
"Anything else?"
I had to think about it. "I just felt weird all morning. Had a hard time at physical therapy, was tired and out of sorts all afternoon."
The Telemetry Lab person (sorry I don't remember her name -- blame it on the irregular heartbeats and lack of oxygen to the brain) told me that I needed to be aware of these symptoms as a long-duration AFib is dangerous. "Next time you're feeling that way, please send me a manual reading from your monitor."
"OK," I said, feeling a bit scared. I tend to ignore my heart difficulties most of the time. I exercise, take my meds, maintain a good attitude, am kind to animals, etc.
She made me an appointment with my cardiologist. She is able to access my MyChart files at CRMC which shows a calendar of my appointments. She puts me down for a March 15 appointment with Dr. Nienaber. As long as I'm dealing with a CRMC physician or group, my records are online and we can carry on these types of conversations. It's a bit spooky, all this electronic data-keeping and accessibility. My fiction-writer self thinks of all the ways that this system can be abused. Let's say a U.S. politician has an ICD with a bedside monitor and someone, say, an ISIS terrorist, wants to murder that politician. He hijacks the signal and causes the ICD to shut down. Even scarier, he causes that ICD to activate its defibrillator. Bam! -- a big shock to the heart to get it back into rhythm even when it doesn't need it. And another shock and another and pretty soon, the heart gives up. Remote-control assassination. Because I am postulating this as sci-fi means that the possibility already exists and the U.S. or the Russians or even ISIS may be preparing an attack.
For me, though, right now, the threat is more from AFib than it is from some shadowy hacker. AFib can cause strokes, blood clots, heart failure. My heart attack of three years ago created the cardiac scar tissue that sometimes misfires as AFib. My pacemaker activates to get me back into rhythm. If catastrophic heart failure threatens, the defibrillator will kick in with a debilitating jolt. This has never happened to me, and I hope it never does. I could be driving down I-80 at the time. Or I could be napping. Anything is possible.
A big thank you to the CRMC Telemetry Lab. A big shout-out to the researchers and engineers and technicians who put these gizmos together. I freakin' love science.
To watch AFib in action, go to the American Heart Association web site. You can compare an AFib animation to one of a normal heartbeat. My heartbeat was normal for 62 years. Cholesterol and inflammation and stupidity led to my heart attack, which almost killed me. I was pulled back from oblivion by EMTs, cardiologists, surgeons, and nurses. I'm 65 now, retired, someone who knows how blessed he is every day. Or almost every day.
Monday, March 07, 2016
Democrats hold a "Get Your Green On" bash just in time for St. Patrick's Day
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| A typical St. Patrick's Day celebration in Cheyenne |
Toasting your friends with green beer. Wearing green. Toasting your family with a shot of Irish whiskey. Eating corned beef and cabbage. Substituting Irish Coffee for your latte in the a.m. Singing when "Irish Eyes are Crying" and/or "Danny Boy" at the local pub after a few beers and a few shots. Attending a St. Patrick's Day Parade, such as the one in downtown Denver this Saturday.
If you even do a few of these things on St. Patrick's Day, it can be called a success. That's how Americans celebrate the holiday that honors the patron saint of Ireland. I guess you could also take some time out to drive the snakes out of your town or county, as legend tells us that St. Patrick did for all of Ireland. The tale is a metaphor. Substitute pagans for snakes and you get the idea. St. Patrick, a Christian, drove the pagans out of Ireland. It hasn't been the same since.
Before I get too far along, I want to let my readers know about this:
So, wear green if you are Irish. Wear green if you aren't Irish. Green can also stand in for the greenies among us, and I'm not stalking about those people from Colorado, although you too are welcome. We have amongst us those who are going green in a big way, replacing coal with solar, wind, and geothermal. Some of us are trading in our gas guzzlers for electric vehicles that we plug in and recharge overnight. So, your costume may be a wind turbine, or possibly a Nissan Leaf auto body. Earth Day is right around the corner and it's the Democrats who are showing the way to clean energy. Green also can stand for those "Mr. Greenjeans" gardeners we have in Cheyenne. If you can grow a garden at 6,200 feet in Cheyenne or 7,200 feet in Laramie, you can grow a garden anywhere. Hats off to all of you, who may come dressed as a broccoli, green bean, zucchini or any other green growing thing.The Laramie Coiunty Democrats Grassroots Coalition (LCDGC) is holding a "Get Your Green On" celebration on Sunday, March 13, 5-8 p.m., in the community room at the Cheyenne Family YMCA. The Grassroots Coalition will provide corned beef and cabbage with soda bread. Gourmet cupcakes will be available for purchase with a chance to win a "Pot of Gold." Enjoy the entertainment, which may consist of local legend Michael O'Shea playing ditties on his Irish flute. Hear horror stories about the recently completed Wyoming Legislature, as witnessed by some of our local representatives (Charles Scott: "We don't need no stinkin' Medicaid expansion!"). Be sure to wear green. Prizes awarded for the best costumes. Bring a friend and your greenbacks. Suggested donation $15. Proceeds go to Democrats in Laramie County running for office in 2016.
BTW, the Laramie County Democratic Grassroots Coalition is the FUNdraising arm of the Laramie County Democrats. We had a blast, and raised more than $1,000 at the January POTluck FUNdraiser at Joe's house in Cheyenne. We hope to keep the money rolling in for Democrats, as we have seen the damage that can be done by a veto-proof Republican legislature. It ain't pretty. Our Dem friends in the House and Senate need some allies.
See you on March 13. Get your green on!
Directions to the YMCA: The YMCA is not accessible via Lincolnway. To reach the Y's parking lot, you have to approach from Logan Avenue via 18th Street -- it's on your left. Or you can come via 19th Street (one-way) and take a right on Alexander or via 20th Street (one-way) and take a left on Alexander. The Community Room is at the south end of the Y parking lot. If you have a GPS, use it.
Writer Pat Conroy delved deep into his own life for some unforgettable books
My mother loved Pat Conroy's novel "The Great Santini."
"Why can't you write like that?" she asked, a challenge more than a taunt.
"I'm not Pat Conroy," I said.
She patted me on the hand. "I know dear. You have your own books to write."
What my mother didn't know -- and I didn't tell her -- is that I had already read "The Great Santini." A marvelous novel, funny and horrific. A family story from Beaufort, S.C., a town not unlike Daytona Beach, Fla., where I grew up. At the time, I was a college grad working two part-time jobs and looking for something a bit more permanent.
I suspect that many of you have seen "The Great Santini" the movie but have not read the book. Not a sin, especially now that we have movies on our smartphones. Books, too, but they take time, you know, and it's more likely that I can free up two hours to see a movie rather than the 40 hours it takes to read a book. Imagine spending 40 hours reading rather than going to work? That's what I'm doing now in retirement. Reading, and writing a second book based on incidents, real or imagined, from Wyoming and Colorado.
I envied Conroy for his dynamic writing style. And his ability to delve into the intimate dynamics of a family and portray it for all the world to see. He paid a price for that. Family members, pissed off at Conroy's fictional counterparts,shunned him and said bad things about him in the press. They still bought the books. Wouldn't you, faced with the fact that your brother or cousin had written something salacious about you? Conroy had a big Southern family, too -- those book sales add numbers to the best-seller stats.
Pat Conroy died this week from a fast-moving case of pancreatic cancer. He was 70. Lived the life of a best-selling author and, judging from recent Facebook quotes, was a good friend and father. His family gathered around him as he passed. He was a writer who captured family life in a new way. And he was a writer who never let readers forget where they were. Usually that was coastal Carolina (S.C. -- not the northern neighbor). Sometimers his characters were at the beach or on the inland waterway or walking the storied streets of Charleston or were college students in Columbia, as I was from 1969-71.
Several unforgettable chapters in "The Prince of Tides" were set in New York City where Conroy's main character, Tom Wingo, went to assist his sister after yet another suicide attempt. Tom and psychiatrist Susan Lowenstein had some memorable encounters during the course of the book. OK, they carried on a steamy affair. On the screen, Nick Nolte and Barbara Streisand lit things up. The movie, I'm afraid, is not very good. The book? Amazing.
Most recently, I read Conroy's memoir "My Losing Season" about his senior year playing basketball for the Citadel Military Academy. As you can infer from the title, the Citadel team didn't make it to The Final Four -- not even close. The book, however, recounts a group of young men who played on even while being trounced by every team in the South. It's a wonderful book, one that also served to repair the Conroy-Citadel rift that followed Conroy's best-seller about a school like the Citadel, "The Lords of Discipline."
Farewell, Pat Conroy. You will live on in your books.
"Why can't you write like that?" she asked, a challenge more than a taunt.
"I'm not Pat Conroy," I said.
She patted me on the hand. "I know dear. You have your own books to write."
What my mother didn't know -- and I didn't tell her -- is that I had already read "The Great Santini." A marvelous novel, funny and horrific. A family story from Beaufort, S.C., a town not unlike Daytona Beach, Fla., where I grew up. At the time, I was a college grad working two part-time jobs and looking for something a bit more permanent.
I suspect that many of you have seen "The Great Santini" the movie but have not read the book. Not a sin, especially now that we have movies on our smartphones. Books, too, but they take time, you know, and it's more likely that I can free up two hours to see a movie rather than the 40 hours it takes to read a book. Imagine spending 40 hours reading rather than going to work? That's what I'm doing now in retirement. Reading, and writing a second book based on incidents, real or imagined, from Wyoming and Colorado.
I envied Conroy for his dynamic writing style. And his ability to delve into the intimate dynamics of a family and portray it for all the world to see. He paid a price for that. Family members, pissed off at Conroy's fictional counterparts,shunned him and said bad things about him in the press. They still bought the books. Wouldn't you, faced with the fact that your brother or cousin had written something salacious about you? Conroy had a big Southern family, too -- those book sales add numbers to the best-seller stats.
Pat Conroy died this week from a fast-moving case of pancreatic cancer. He was 70. Lived the life of a best-selling author and, judging from recent Facebook quotes, was a good friend and father. His family gathered around him as he passed. He was a writer who captured family life in a new way. And he was a writer who never let readers forget where they were. Usually that was coastal Carolina (S.C. -- not the northern neighbor). Sometimers his characters were at the beach or on the inland waterway or walking the storied streets of Charleston or were college students in Columbia, as I was from 1969-71.
Several unforgettable chapters in "The Prince of Tides" were set in New York City where Conroy's main character, Tom Wingo, went to assist his sister after yet another suicide attempt. Tom and psychiatrist Susan Lowenstein had some memorable encounters during the course of the book. OK, they carried on a steamy affair. On the screen, Nick Nolte and Barbara Streisand lit things up. The movie, I'm afraid, is not very good. The book? Amazing.
Most recently, I read Conroy's memoir "My Losing Season" about his senior year playing basketball for the Citadel Military Academy. As you can infer from the title, the Citadel team didn't make it to The Final Four -- not even close. The book, however, recounts a group of young men who played on even while being trounced by every team in the South. It's a wonderful book, one that also served to repair the Conroy-Citadel rift that followed Conroy's best-seller about a school like the Citadel, "The Lords of Discipline."
Farewell, Pat Conroy. You will live on in your books.
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