It has been months since I have spent some time thinking about writing. To me that is what blogs are for--to satisfy the urge to write--and to take the time to think while doing it.
Why havn't I jumped on the blog lately? I used to be fairly consistant. On Friday of each week I usually made it a point to write a Friday 5 minute poem, or make a log entry of something that happened of interest during the week!
Perhaps I have not been in a mood to do poetry, or in a documentary frame of mind. I know that I have been out of sorts with the goings on around the world. I have been disappointed almost daily by what my country has become under the mis-guidance of the Bush presidency and the lack of sound thinking by the Republican congress. When our President has a news conference to brag about the fact that the budget deficit result is only going to be 300+ billion instead of over 400 billion this year, I wonder what might Bush think of as a failure for his administration. When he vetoes his first legislation in 6 years , a bi-partison bill allowing funding for limited stem cell research, mis-characterizing the process as saving lives of future children, I and everyone else with any common sense understands that his reason for doing so is strictly political to appease a small group of zealots at the expense of the rest of our society, and that his explanation for doing so is a lie, or at best a deception. Everyone knows that sooner or later this bill will get passed.
In the 6 years we have lived with the Bush administration and the lack of congressional oversight, we have made a big contribution to making the world a very dangerous place, and the reputation and influence of the United States in foreign affairs has plummeted. The credibility of our government has been shattered by the Bush administration's distortions, lies, and actions. To me and most of the rest of the world, based on experience, what our government says has no reliability and does not reflect reality. Action has often had no relation to the words expressing the intention.
It is depressing to think that we spend more on military might than the combined total of the rest of the world, and put people in power who think that the threat of force is the way to solutions of conflict in the world. Does anyone remember what it was like 6 years ago when Bush and the Neocon group that put him in power took over? There was a projected 400 billion budget surplus--with the possibility of continuing surpluses totaling a trillion over the next 10-15 years. That was going to be a positive to ensure the solvency of future baby boomer pay outs for social security and medicare, as well as paying down the national debt and controlling interest rates. Optimism was high for the future!
There was relative peace in the middle east with-on going negotiations making progress towards a settlement of the Arab-Israeli conflict. There was on-going negotiation with North Korea regarding their atomic weapons program. Deals were being made or worked on across tables.
When Bush became President, everything stopped! Anything and anybody associated with the Clinton administration was discarded or ignored. Diplomacy in the middle east stopped. Instead, at the first opportunity we invaded Iraq, and created an "axis of evil" which cemented us into a position of opposition and conflict with countries where patience and diplomacy had been showing progress. We have a self proclaimed War President who thinks that's "cool"! Yes, there was 9/11. There were 19 zealots with boxcutters who pulled off an audacious attack. It opened the door for the Neocon plan for the middle east. Our response to the 19 "nuts" was an army of well over 100,000, an invasion of a country that had nothing to do with the 19 "nuts", and a continuing cost of 10s of thousands of lives, and 100s of billions of dollars. Who are the real "nuts' in this scenario??
So here we are. We are bogged down in a war that Bush started on a lie, and there seems to be no reasonable solution that will be to our advantage. The Israeli's are attacking Lebanon and may invade that soverign country, which has moved to a democratic government, but is unfortunately not strong enough to oppose and purge the terrorist elements within its borders. Hundreds of innocent bystanders are being killed and people are fleeing from a pending invasion. We are now powerless to intervene, but Bush seems to prefer that Israel keep up the bombing in any case. This conflict between Israel and the Arabs has been on-going for 60 years with no solution. By now everyone with any common sense knows there is no military solution. Every innocent civilian who is killed on each side of this conflict just creates a bigger open wound in the conflict.
Where are the wise men and women in our country who can provide world leadership. We must find them and elect them to positions of leadership.
I was born in 1942. I have lived with war my entire life and I am tired of it. None of the wars really solved anything. Oh, WWII may have been necessary, but who is to say that the truth of Hitler would not have caused his own generals and the German people to end his excesses and killing, with less damage than was done by the war.
The wars that have occurred since have all been mistakes by leaders who lead with deception. The Korean War was just a waste of lives which tore a country apart. It is still unresolved today. Vietnam was a great mis-judgement and built on lies just as the Iraqi invasion has been.
I wonder what it is like in a world without war. I don't suppose I will ever find out during my lifetime! Maybe I have just ran out of the words to complain or comment any more. Maybe it just feels that whatever is said just falls on deaf ears. It seems so plain to see!
Friday, July 21, 2006
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
By Myself
I am by myself for a week. I helped her pack her old Volvo station wagon this morning and she took off for Santa Cruz to spend time baby sitting our daughter's rabbit "Pip" while our daughter is on a trip to the wilds of Wahington state.
She left me with a refridgerator filled with leftovers neatly done up in "plates" that I can pop in the microwave each evening for dinner. The rest I will scrounge for! As usual, she left me notes to ensure that the cat gets proper care, feeding times, litter box cleanup, and warnings about leaving the door open so she will not escape. (It would be a scar on my life if the cat somehow disappeared on my watch!)
There is direction for plant watering, both inside and out.
Her schedule will take her to some of her favorite coffee houses in Santa Cruz, with a stop in Santa Barbara coming and going for a shot at the Santa Barbara Brewing Company to fortify her on her journey.
Saturday she will visit our son at school in San Francisco and take him to lunch and shopping to stock his cupboard. We don't want any real "starving student" in the family! She has a family connection with San Francisco. Her great, great grandparents were there at the time of the great fire after the big One. The flames stopped just down the hill from their home which is still standing to this day. We tried to find it once!
My schedule will be the same as usual, work and the stuff I usually do. Only it will be done by myself.
She left me with a refridgerator filled with leftovers neatly done up in "plates" that I can pop in the microwave each evening for dinner. The rest I will scrounge for! As usual, she left me notes to ensure that the cat gets proper care, feeding times, litter box cleanup, and warnings about leaving the door open so she will not escape. (It would be a scar on my life if the cat somehow disappeared on my watch!)
There is direction for plant watering, both inside and out.
Her schedule will take her to some of her favorite coffee houses in Santa Cruz, with a stop in Santa Barbara coming and going for a shot at the Santa Barbara Brewing Company to fortify her on her journey.
Saturday she will visit our son at school in San Francisco and take him to lunch and shopping to stock his cupboard. We don't want any real "starving student" in the family! She has a family connection with San Francisco. Her great, great grandparents were there at the time of the great fire after the big One. The flames stopped just down the hill from their home which is still standing to this day. We tried to find it once!
My schedule will be the same as usual, work and the stuff I usually do. Only it will be done by myself.
Friday, January 20, 2006
AM/FM Dreaming
It's weird!
During the last couple of years I have taken to the habit of listening to the radio when I go to bed at night. I have earphones plugged in and generally listen to talk shows on AM radio, the late night news on PBS/BBC, sportstalk repeats, or now "Free" FM which is 24 hour talk during the week. I used to try to turn off the radio before I went to sleep, but it became the norm that I fell asleep with the headphones on with the talk show host murmuring in my ear about one of the hot topics of the day, with someone on the phone who had nothing better to do in the late evening. I think it was probably boring enough to have me just drift off!
Being a member of an age group that wakes in the middle of the night due to bladder pressure, and not being able to immediately fall back asleep, I became introduced to the middle of the night callers on the radio and found them to be a small but dedicated group of insomniacs, truck drivers, late night shift workers, and and a whole bunch of people who seem to be just too worried about the state of the world to get any sleep.
Larry King was once the real "King" of late night talk. I remember hearing his show on occasion perhaps 20 years ago. He seemed to know a little about everything and always had an answer for any question posed by a caller. As I moved up and down the dial, he seemed to be syndicated on every major station which had 50000 watts to boom out over the airwaves. What a great radio voice. He smoked alot which kept his voice deeeeep and mellow. It also gave him a triple by-pass. When he left for CNN it created a void, and after some shuffling about with a number of potential new "Kings of latenight", Art Bell changed late night radio into the world of the surreal with his guests posing the probability of lost civilizations on Mars, Bigfoot sightings, and aliens in UFOs snatching people for experiments, and then returning them to Earth with nothing except vague feelings and memories of their experience. Art Bell made his broadcast from his home in Parumph (sp?)in the high desert near Las Vegas, not too far from Area 51. Area 51 is best known as the place where aliens supposedly landed and were captured back in the early 1950's. It a super secret Air Force base where supposedly all the UFO's and mummified aliens are secreted by the government. It is an appropriate spot for Art to send out his radio waves. He was a star of the night that people who slept all night never knew. He created his own world populated by people who believed in weird ideas and beings who could not be proven to exist. But on the other hand no one could prove that they didn't exist either! That seemed to keep fantasy and superstition alive in the night! And what a great radio voice! It's a match for Larry.
I was fascinated with Art Bell for a while simply because of the novelty of listening to people who took seriously subjects which were completely outside reality. His show, Coast to Coast, is still on every night, but he hosts only on the weekend. George ?? is the host the rest of the week.
George carries on with the same subject matter, and with many of the same "expert" guests, but it is not the same without Art. I sometimes tune in on the weekend to hear Art's voice. His sound on the radio never failed to cause me to drift off to sleep quickly. I slept plugged into his show for most of the night. I have felt no unusual effects from it, as far as I know. But then all those callers who were whisked away for lab tests by aliens had nothing but vague feelings about their experiences either! Who knows what has been planted in my Psyche as I slept.
Now when I tune in I have problems staying with the topics. Somtimes there is a "real" topic being discussed, but most often the topic is absurd, and I wonder how anyone could seriously discuss it. I consider both George and Art as actors on the radio. I can't believe that they really believe the people they have on their show, and have to think that their support for the caller's claims and topics is just part of "show business". I wonder?
Last night my bedside radio went on the fritz. I think I wore out the AM/FM switch, and as much as I jiggled the switch, it failed to consistantly hold the volume and the frequency. It was just not an acceptable situation that I could live with for another night! I went to Fry's today and bought a new radio. It's digital and has presets for six AM and six PM stations. It has a special antenna that tunes into the AM frequency that broadcasts the atomic clock time from somewhere in Colorado. I plugged it in, and lo and behold, it picked up the frequency and set the time all by itself right to the second! I am on ATOMIC time! I set all the presets to the stations I usually shuffle between during the night. I plugged in the earphones and tested it all out. It seems a great improvement! Tonight's inauguration of my new radio will be exciting! I wonder if I will get any sleep!
I will start the evening as usual with KGO AM, then maybe pop over to KABC and see what Mr. KABC is up to, Then spend a few minutes to see what George's subject is on Coast to Coast on KFI or KOGO, and maybe end up back on KGO with my favorite lefty Bernie to see if his political rant of the night is palatable. Failing to find anything soothing at any of those spots, I may go to FM and 103.7 and check in on "free" FM talk, which at night is generally about sex and personal problems. That ought to get me to sleep. If the sandman is successful on that station, I will probably wake up to Adam Carrola (sp?) who took over for Howard Stern on the west coast this month. He is mildly amusing. Howard used to come on at 3 am here since his show started at 6 am in the Eastern time zone. The local station would run the first 3 hours live, then start it over at 6 am and run the full 4 hours to 10 am. If I woke up around 3 am, I usually tuned in. Howard had some interesting shows, but also was pretty good at drifting me off for another couple hours sleep too! I could catch some of what I missed on theway to work at 7-8 am. Adam's new show is out of LA and doesn't start live until 6 am. It comes on at 5 am with a repeat of the last hour of the show from the day before.
Talk radio has changed alot since Larry was the King. His show was sports, show business, or something about the news of the day. It was kind of like his show on CNN. He could have a Democrat on one night, and a Republican the next. Frank Sinatra could drop in. Most of late night now is either far to the right or way out on the left. There is alot of ranting going on! Listeners and callers tend to listen to the ranters they agree with. If someone calls in and disagrees with the rant, they usually get insulted and called names by the "Host". Most of the "Host's" are not polite to those who disagree with them. While I might be more prone to find the left side more palatable, I still look for a more moderate voice. There are also alot of sports talk stations I could listen to, but how many times can one rehash the last football game, or complain about some coach's inability to call the right play. I just can't get into it! I change stations alot before I fall asleep!
I think a digital tuner should last longer!
Weird, Huh!
During the last couple of years I have taken to the habit of listening to the radio when I go to bed at night. I have earphones plugged in and generally listen to talk shows on AM radio, the late night news on PBS/BBC, sportstalk repeats, or now "Free" FM which is 24 hour talk during the week. I used to try to turn off the radio before I went to sleep, but it became the norm that I fell asleep with the headphones on with the talk show host murmuring in my ear about one of the hot topics of the day, with someone on the phone who had nothing better to do in the late evening. I think it was probably boring enough to have me just drift off!
Being a member of an age group that wakes in the middle of the night due to bladder pressure, and not being able to immediately fall back asleep, I became introduced to the middle of the night callers on the radio and found them to be a small but dedicated group of insomniacs, truck drivers, late night shift workers, and and a whole bunch of people who seem to be just too worried about the state of the world to get any sleep.
Larry King was once the real "King" of late night talk. I remember hearing his show on occasion perhaps 20 years ago. He seemed to know a little about everything and always had an answer for any question posed by a caller. As I moved up and down the dial, he seemed to be syndicated on every major station which had 50000 watts to boom out over the airwaves. What a great radio voice. He smoked alot which kept his voice deeeeep and mellow. It also gave him a triple by-pass. When he left for CNN it created a void, and after some shuffling about with a number of potential new "Kings of latenight", Art Bell changed late night radio into the world of the surreal with his guests posing the probability of lost civilizations on Mars, Bigfoot sightings, and aliens in UFOs snatching people for experiments, and then returning them to Earth with nothing except vague feelings and memories of their experience. Art Bell made his broadcast from his home in Parumph (sp?)in the high desert near Las Vegas, not too far from Area 51. Area 51 is best known as the place where aliens supposedly landed and were captured back in the early 1950's. It a super secret Air Force base where supposedly all the UFO's and mummified aliens are secreted by the government. It is an appropriate spot for Art to send out his radio waves. He was a star of the night that people who slept all night never knew. He created his own world populated by people who believed in weird ideas and beings who could not be proven to exist. But on the other hand no one could prove that they didn't exist either! That seemed to keep fantasy and superstition alive in the night! And what a great radio voice! It's a match for Larry.
I was fascinated with Art Bell for a while simply because of the novelty of listening to people who took seriously subjects which were completely outside reality. His show, Coast to Coast, is still on every night, but he hosts only on the weekend. George ?? is the host the rest of the week.
George carries on with the same subject matter, and with many of the same "expert" guests, but it is not the same without Art. I sometimes tune in on the weekend to hear Art's voice. His sound on the radio never failed to cause me to drift off to sleep quickly. I slept plugged into his show for most of the night. I have felt no unusual effects from it, as far as I know. But then all those callers who were whisked away for lab tests by aliens had nothing but vague feelings about their experiences either! Who knows what has been planted in my Psyche as I slept.
Now when I tune in I have problems staying with the topics. Somtimes there is a "real" topic being discussed, but most often the topic is absurd, and I wonder how anyone could seriously discuss it. I consider both George and Art as actors on the radio. I can't believe that they really believe the people they have on their show, and have to think that their support for the caller's claims and topics is just part of "show business". I wonder?
Last night my bedside radio went on the fritz. I think I wore out the AM/FM switch, and as much as I jiggled the switch, it failed to consistantly hold the volume and the frequency. It was just not an acceptable situation that I could live with for another night! I went to Fry's today and bought a new radio. It's digital and has presets for six AM and six PM stations. It has a special antenna that tunes into the AM frequency that broadcasts the atomic clock time from somewhere in Colorado. I plugged it in, and lo and behold, it picked up the frequency and set the time all by itself right to the second! I am on ATOMIC time! I set all the presets to the stations I usually shuffle between during the night. I plugged in the earphones and tested it all out. It seems a great improvement! Tonight's inauguration of my new radio will be exciting! I wonder if I will get any sleep!
I will start the evening as usual with KGO AM, then maybe pop over to KABC and see what Mr. KABC is up to, Then spend a few minutes to see what George's subject is on Coast to Coast on KFI or KOGO, and maybe end up back on KGO with my favorite lefty Bernie to see if his political rant of the night is palatable. Failing to find anything soothing at any of those spots, I may go to FM and 103.7 and check in on "free" FM talk, which at night is generally about sex and personal problems. That ought to get me to sleep. If the sandman is successful on that station, I will probably wake up to Adam Carrola (sp?) who took over for Howard Stern on the west coast this month. He is mildly amusing. Howard used to come on at 3 am here since his show started at 6 am in the Eastern time zone. The local station would run the first 3 hours live, then start it over at 6 am and run the full 4 hours to 10 am. If I woke up around 3 am, I usually tuned in. Howard had some interesting shows, but also was pretty good at drifting me off for another couple hours sleep too! I could catch some of what I missed on theway to work at 7-8 am. Adam's new show is out of LA and doesn't start live until 6 am. It comes on at 5 am with a repeat of the last hour of the show from the day before.
Talk radio has changed alot since Larry was the King. His show was sports, show business, or something about the news of the day. It was kind of like his show on CNN. He could have a Democrat on one night, and a Republican the next. Frank Sinatra could drop in. Most of late night now is either far to the right or way out on the left. There is alot of ranting going on! Listeners and callers tend to listen to the ranters they agree with. If someone calls in and disagrees with the rant, they usually get insulted and called names by the "Host". Most of the "Host's" are not polite to those who disagree with them. While I might be more prone to find the left side more palatable, I still look for a more moderate voice. There are also alot of sports talk stations I could listen to, but how many times can one rehash the last football game, or complain about some coach's inability to call the right play. I just can't get into it! I change stations alot before I fall asleep!
I think a digital tuner should last longer!
Weird, Huh!
Friday, December 16, 2005
A Christmas Wish From Mark and Nancy Worden
Our Christmas Wish
A time of year for joy and giving,
For festive parties, mistletoe,
for poems expressing thankfulness,
Read by a fireplace's glow.
For coziness and snuggling,
While winter's snowflakes fall,
And warm mugs filled with spicy wine,
By Christmas trees so tall.
For those of faith, reflection time,
With hymns sung with conviction,
Of thoughts of goodness towards all men,
The blessed benediction.
Each Christmas day that comes to pass,
Is respite from one's strife,
With childhood memmories envisioned,
So long ago, a simpler life.
A Merry Christmas from our hearts,
Another in a happy year,
Best wishes from us all, and joy,
To those you hold so dear.
Mark Worden
12/15/05
A time of year for joy and giving,
For festive parties, mistletoe,
for poems expressing thankfulness,
Read by a fireplace's glow.
For coziness and snuggling,
While winter's snowflakes fall,
And warm mugs filled with spicy wine,
By Christmas trees so tall.
For those of faith, reflection time,
With hymns sung with conviction,
Of thoughts of goodness towards all men,
The blessed benediction.
Each Christmas day that comes to pass,
Is respite from one's strife,
With childhood memmories envisioned,
So long ago, a simpler life.
A Merry Christmas from our hearts,
Another in a happy year,
Best wishes from us all, and joy,
To those you hold so dear.
Mark Worden
12/15/05
Friday, November 11, 2005
Veteran's Day--A Personal Essay
Veteran's Day
"Thoughts"
My father was part of the "Greatest Generation" and fought in WWII. Based on his scrapbook, which he left me, he fought throughout Europe and in the "Battle of the Bulge, was wounded twice, and decorated with a Bronze Star for bravery on the battlefield. I also have his medals.
He never shared any stories of the war with me. I guess like others who had similar experiences, perhaps their stories were best pushed to the back of their memory so they could try to get on with a normal life. I have a void in my understanding of who he was because of that war, and the fact that he could not share the full story of his life experience with me.
I was born in 1942 when my dad was 19 and just entering the army. I have only vague memories of those early war years, and no memory of my father who was not there for the first 3-4 years of my life. I am now always saddened when I think of him as a 19 year old teenager being transported from a Minnesota farm by train to a ship and then to Europe to be thrust into such a violent and horrific experience at the beginning of his young adult life.
But, that is how he became a "veteran".
He got back from the war and I was no longer a baby, but a small boy! My understanding of the war remained limited as I grew up. My father was active with the local American Legion Chapter, and in a small town, it was the main social club for men. Most all the men of my father's age group were members, so it seemed to me that all the men in town were "veterans"!
I remember going to the club with my dad on Saturday sometimes, and listening to the Milwaukee Braves baseball game on the radio. I still remember some of the names, Lou Burdette, Eddie Matthews, and I think, Sal "The Barber" Maglie. In those days the Braves were in the world series on occasion. The Braves were "cool" and to a young boy, it was also cool to be a "veteran".
I remember when I was in high school, I played "American Legion" baseball in the summer. The American Legion was big on baseball and had a national baseball program for youth.
Because my dad was so active, I was also selected by the local chapter to attend "Boy's State". That was a national program to help teach youth about government. I remember that I got to go to a college and stay in a dorm, and participate in a week's activity of elections learning about our democratic system of government.
My roommate at Boy's state was the son of a TV personality who introduced afternoon matinee movies on a Minneapolis TV station. I was somewhat impressed, but I remember that he was messy, and never made his bed in the morning. Upon reflection, He probably thought it was weird that I made mine!
So my understanding of what being a veteran was all about was my connection through my father to his buddies in the American Legion. I tagged along, got a pat on the head, and some teasing, played baseball, went to Boy's State, and that was the level of appreciation I had for veterans.
Vietnam exploded when I was in college, and when I graduated, it was get drafted and be a G.I. army grunt or take all the tests for officer training and hope for the best. I was fortunate and got into Navy OCS in Newport R.I.. I did not make it to Vietnam. My toughest duty was in Kodiak, Alaska, and best duty was in Naples, Italy. I had it easy!
So, I am considered a "Veteran of the Vietnam Era". (As compared to a Vietnam War Combat Veteran" who actually got shot at). I am aware of who the "real" veterans are.
Regardless, I think my father was proud of my service as a Navy Officer. (He was a SSgt), although he never said so. All I remember was that he said he couldn't understand why I was getting out after four years, when I had such a great career opportunity as an officer. I guess there was always a gap of understanding between his generation with the great depression in his youth and WWII experience as a young adult, and mine which came to adulthood out of the 60's and Vietnam.
I got out of the Navy in 1969. I had spent three years away from the U.S. before there was the "www" and CNN and MTV. When I got back there were new expansion pro football teams I had never heard of! One of my college friends was the starting fullback for the L.A. Rams. What had I missed? When I stepped off the plane at JFK, I walked down the stairs and actually kissed the ground! My absence made me realize that there was no better place to be in the world than the good ole USA!
I remember visiting an American Legion Club after I had returned to Minnesota. I had a drink at the bar. But somehow, it wasn't the same. I didn't feel that I belonged there. It was my dad's place and I felt that it was rooted in WWII.
With the experience of military service, maturity, and reflection on history, I am very serious about honoring our country's flag as it passes in parade, and singing the national anthem with feeling and sometimes teary eyes. Veteran's Day, to me, is a day for thought. It is a day above all others, when I think of my dad and all his buddies who fought bloody battles in the middle of a fierce European winter, and put themselves in peril of loss of life and limb. It shaped their generation.
It is my dad's day of remembrance.
Mark Worden
Encinitas
Veteran's day
11/11/2005
"Thoughts"
My father was part of the "Greatest Generation" and fought in WWII. Based on his scrapbook, which he left me, he fought throughout Europe and in the "Battle of the Bulge, was wounded twice, and decorated with a Bronze Star for bravery on the battlefield. I also have his medals.
He never shared any stories of the war with me. I guess like others who had similar experiences, perhaps their stories were best pushed to the back of their memory so they could try to get on with a normal life. I have a void in my understanding of who he was because of that war, and the fact that he could not share the full story of his life experience with me.
I was born in 1942 when my dad was 19 and just entering the army. I have only vague memories of those early war years, and no memory of my father who was not there for the first 3-4 years of my life. I am now always saddened when I think of him as a 19 year old teenager being transported from a Minnesota farm by train to a ship and then to Europe to be thrust into such a violent and horrific experience at the beginning of his young adult life.
But, that is how he became a "veteran".
He got back from the war and I was no longer a baby, but a small boy! My understanding of the war remained limited as I grew up. My father was active with the local American Legion Chapter, and in a small town, it was the main social club for men. Most all the men of my father's age group were members, so it seemed to me that all the men in town were "veterans"!
I remember going to the club with my dad on Saturday sometimes, and listening to the Milwaukee Braves baseball game on the radio. I still remember some of the names, Lou Burdette, Eddie Matthews, and I think, Sal "The Barber" Maglie. In those days the Braves were in the world series on occasion. The Braves were "cool" and to a young boy, it was also cool to be a "veteran".
I remember when I was in high school, I played "American Legion" baseball in the summer. The American Legion was big on baseball and had a national baseball program for youth.
Because my dad was so active, I was also selected by the local chapter to attend "Boy's State". That was a national program to help teach youth about government. I remember that I got to go to a college and stay in a dorm, and participate in a week's activity of elections learning about our democratic system of government.
My roommate at Boy's state was the son of a TV personality who introduced afternoon matinee movies on a Minneapolis TV station. I was somewhat impressed, but I remember that he was messy, and never made his bed in the morning. Upon reflection, He probably thought it was weird that I made mine!
So my understanding of what being a veteran was all about was my connection through my father to his buddies in the American Legion. I tagged along, got a pat on the head, and some teasing, played baseball, went to Boy's State, and that was the level of appreciation I had for veterans.
Vietnam exploded when I was in college, and when I graduated, it was get drafted and be a G.I. army grunt or take all the tests for officer training and hope for the best. I was fortunate and got into Navy OCS in Newport R.I.. I did not make it to Vietnam. My toughest duty was in Kodiak, Alaska, and best duty was in Naples, Italy. I had it easy!
So, I am considered a "Veteran of the Vietnam Era". (As compared to a Vietnam War Combat Veteran" who actually got shot at). I am aware of who the "real" veterans are.
Regardless, I think my father was proud of my service as a Navy Officer. (He was a SSgt), although he never said so. All I remember was that he said he couldn't understand why I was getting out after four years, when I had such a great career opportunity as an officer. I guess there was always a gap of understanding between his generation with the great depression in his youth and WWII experience as a young adult, and mine which came to adulthood out of the 60's and Vietnam.
I got out of the Navy in 1969. I had spent three years away from the U.S. before there was the "www" and CNN and MTV. When I got back there were new expansion pro football teams I had never heard of! One of my college friends was the starting fullback for the L.A. Rams. What had I missed? When I stepped off the plane at JFK, I walked down the stairs and actually kissed the ground! My absence made me realize that there was no better place to be in the world than the good ole USA!
I remember visiting an American Legion Club after I had returned to Minnesota. I had a drink at the bar. But somehow, it wasn't the same. I didn't feel that I belonged there. It was my dad's place and I felt that it was rooted in WWII.
With the experience of military service, maturity, and reflection on history, I am very serious about honoring our country's flag as it passes in parade, and singing the national anthem with feeling and sometimes teary eyes. Veteran's Day, to me, is a day for thought. It is a day above all others, when I think of my dad and all his buddies who fought bloody battles in the middle of a fierce European winter, and put themselves in peril of loss of life and limb. It shaped their generation.
It is my dad's day of remembrance.
Mark Worden
Encinitas
Veteran's day
11/11/2005
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Slumber--a poem
Slumber
The Sun sails,
Into the night.
Shoulders slump.
Eyes cloud over, droop.
A head nods,
and jerks upright.
Stairs cause stumbles,
When ascended.
Clothes strewn,
On the floor.
A trail from bed,
to door.
Comforter to comfort.
Pillows piled,
And fluffed,
To receive a roll,
Into bed,
Under covers.
Too hot?
Too... cold?
Too.......late.
Too..........tired.
Too..............decide.
Too...................asleep.
Mark Worden
Encinitas
10.24.05
The Sun sails,
Into the night.
Shoulders slump.
Eyes cloud over, droop.
A head nods,
and jerks upright.
Stairs cause stumbles,
When ascended.
Clothes strewn,
On the floor.
A trail from bed,
to door.
Comforter to comfort.
Pillows piled,
And fluffed,
To receive a roll,
Into bed,
Under covers.
Too hot?
Too... cold?
Too.......late.
Too..........tired.
Too..............decide.
Too...................asleep.
Mark Worden
Encinitas
10.24.05
Friday, October 14, 2005
Columbus Day---a poem
Columbus day
I went to the post office on Monday.
It was closed!
I was puzzled!
I bought a stamp out of the machine!
I looked at the opening time on the door!
I looked at my watch!
The postal workers were late!
I wondered why!
Imagination took over,
and I thought perhaps
I had missed some calamity!
There was no sign on the door.
The world appeared normal.
Stores were open.
The barbarshop was open.
But traffic was light!
At work,
The office receptionist was at her desk.
I asked,
Why was the post office closed today?
It's Columbus Day, She said!
I thought,
That means that there's no mail today!
And the banks are closed!
It's kind of a holiday,
Easily forgotten.
But I goofed off some,
Anyway!
Mark Worden
Del Mar
10/14/05
I went to the post office on Monday.
It was closed!
I was puzzled!
I bought a stamp out of the machine!
I looked at the opening time on the door!
I looked at my watch!
The postal workers were late!
I wondered why!
Imagination took over,
and I thought perhaps
I had missed some calamity!
There was no sign on the door.
The world appeared normal.
Stores were open.
The barbarshop was open.
But traffic was light!
At work,
The office receptionist was at her desk.
I asked,
Why was the post office closed today?
It's Columbus Day, She said!
I thought,
That means that there's no mail today!
And the banks are closed!
It's kind of a holiday,
Easily forgotten.
But I goofed off some,
Anyway!
Mark Worden
Del Mar
10/14/05
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Ode to a Buyer Unfulfilled--a poem
Ode to a Buyer Unfulfilled
Real estate is so much fun,
No game of mystery!
Why, everyone's an expert,
at least they seem to be!
They all express opinions,
And seem so very sure,
They know the true direction,
Of housing trends d'jour!
The times the market's hot to touch,
And realtors all say "Buy!",
The experts all just tend to grouch,
"The prices are to high!"
"The market's going down!" they cry,
"Just wait and see", they say.
"If now's the time you want to buy,
You'll surely rue the day!"
So buyers watch the prices grow,
While waiting for the fall.
Keep paying rent with all their dough,
Their experts on the ball!
The years go by and prices rise,
So far it makes one spin!
The housing experts still advise,
"Just wait! You're sure to win!"
Then, when the market tends to slow,
They smirk and look so wise,
And chime right out, "I told you so!"
Just as the buyer dies!
Mark Worden
10/29/05
Real estate is so much fun,
No game of mystery!
Why, everyone's an expert,
at least they seem to be!
They all express opinions,
And seem so very sure,
They know the true direction,
Of housing trends d'jour!
The times the market's hot to touch,
And realtors all say "Buy!",
The experts all just tend to grouch,
"The prices are to high!"
"The market's going down!" they cry,
"Just wait and see", they say.
"If now's the time you want to buy,
You'll surely rue the day!"
So buyers watch the prices grow,
While waiting for the fall.
Keep paying rent with all their dough,
Their experts on the ball!
The years go by and prices rise,
So far it makes one spin!
The housing experts still advise,
"Just wait! You're sure to win!"
Then, when the market tends to slow,
They smirk and look so wise,
And chime right out, "I told you so!"
Just as the buyer dies!
Mark Worden
10/29/05
Monday, September 19, 2005
Golfing--a poem
Golfing
Oh, to split a fairway in the middle,
with a ball hit like a rope!
Alas, for me it's but a riddle,
with no answer, with no hope!
I took heed of all the lessons,
and read up on all the books,
with expectation of golf's blessings,
elimination of my hooks!
But, despite my efforts to succeed,
my balls just don't take flight,
unless to areas well treed,
and into darkness as the night!
I'm told to keep my elbow straight,
and swing so very slow,
but then it seems the club is late,
and makes a glancing blow!
So, then I deign to speed my pace,
and make a mighty slash,
a grimace set upon my face,
my ball sails left, and splash!
The game of golf seems just like life,
a challenge to the will,
an occupation filled with strife,
where every drive's uphill!
Each round seems like a painful birth,
of some new found disaster!
One wonders if it's ever worth,
returning to the pasture!
But here I am, up on the tee,
with great anticipation!
Perhaps today will be for me,
a game of exclamation!
Mark Worden
Encinitas
9/15/05
Oh, to split a fairway in the middle,
with a ball hit like a rope!
Alas, for me it's but a riddle,
with no answer, with no hope!
I took heed of all the lessons,
and read up on all the books,
with expectation of golf's blessings,
elimination of my hooks!
But, despite my efforts to succeed,
my balls just don't take flight,
unless to areas well treed,
and into darkness as the night!
I'm told to keep my elbow straight,
and swing so very slow,
but then it seems the club is late,
and makes a glancing blow!
So, then I deign to speed my pace,
and make a mighty slash,
a grimace set upon my face,
my ball sails left, and splash!
The game of golf seems just like life,
a challenge to the will,
an occupation filled with strife,
where every drive's uphill!
Each round seems like a painful birth,
of some new found disaster!
One wonders if it's ever worth,
returning to the pasture!
But here I am, up on the tee,
with great anticipation!
Perhaps today will be for me,
a game of exclamation!
Mark Worden
Encinitas
9/15/05
Friday, September 09, 2005
Ants--a poem
Ants
A long black line,
Determined!,
Meanders across a counter,
In my Kitchen!
I am attacked!,
By multitudes,
Of tiny beings,
with attitude!
Their destination,
A cat's crumb,
Smothered in a swirl,
Of gluttony!
Minute beings,
In peril of ultimate,
Destruction,
By WMDs!
Unknowingly,
Pursuing life,
In conflict with,
A higher intelligence!
Windex spray,
With ammonia,
Breaks their ranks,
The movement stops!
The long black line,
Is wiped away,
As easily as,
Dust!
A skirmish,
In a continuing war,
Against a foe,
Without end!
Mark Worden
Encinitas
9/9/05
A long black line,
Determined!,
Meanders across a counter,
In my Kitchen!
I am attacked!,
By multitudes,
Of tiny beings,
with attitude!
Their destination,
A cat's crumb,
Smothered in a swirl,
Of gluttony!
Minute beings,
In peril of ultimate,
Destruction,
By WMDs!
Unknowingly,
Pursuing life,
In conflict with,
A higher intelligence!
Windex spray,
With ammonia,
Breaks their ranks,
The movement stops!
The long black line,
Is wiped away,
As easily as,
Dust!
A skirmish,
In a continuing war,
Against a foe,
Without end!
Mark Worden
Encinitas
9/9/05
Friday, September 02, 2005
Katrina--A poem
Katrina
It's breezy today!
The sun shines,
In the hazy sky,
Not quite warm,
But trying!
I'm unsettled!
Awakened at three am,
Drawn to CNN images,
Of the aftermath,
Of Katrina!
My nightmare,
Unreal in the night,
It could not happen,
In that wonderful place,
A flickering glare on TV!
Islands of humanity,
Marooned by the sea,
Pushed by a breeze,
On steroids, circulating,
Causing havoc!
Dots wading in water,
Waist deep, towing boxes,
Like barges,
Filled with what's left,
Of life!
Hands reaching skyward,
From a mass of hunger,
Seeking manna,
From those above,
Unable to respond!
Lives lost,
Among those weakest,
Now flotsom,
In the flow,
Of rivers newly formed,
Katrina! A name,
No longer romantic,
A song,
Never to be written,
Unless in sorrow!
Mark Worden
9/2/05
It's breezy today!
The sun shines,
In the hazy sky,
Not quite warm,
But trying!
I'm unsettled!
Awakened at three am,
Drawn to CNN images,
Of the aftermath,
Of Katrina!
My nightmare,
Unreal in the night,
It could not happen,
In that wonderful place,
A flickering glare on TV!
Islands of humanity,
Marooned by the sea,
Pushed by a breeze,
On steroids, circulating,
Causing havoc!
Dots wading in water,
Waist deep, towing boxes,
Like barges,
Filled with what's left,
Of life!
Hands reaching skyward,
From a mass of hunger,
Seeking manna,
From those above,
Unable to respond!
Lives lost,
Among those weakest,
Now flotsom,
In the flow,
Of rivers newly formed,
Katrina! A name,
No longer romantic,
A song,
Never to be written,
Unless in sorrow!
Mark Worden
9/2/05
Friday, August 26, 2005
Beachcombing--a poem
Beachcombing
by Mark Worden
Gentle breezes riffle the sea,
Wafting the warmth of the sun,
Caressing my bared skin,
As my feet leave a toed trail,
At water's edge.
The shade of a hat protects eyes,
Which scan the surf and tidal flow,
For spiral shells and what nots,
From depths and distances,
Of unknown origin.
It matters not to me,
That treasures I might seek,
Appear, then wash away,
Returned back to the deep,
Before I find them on the shore.
The quest I'm on, a search for things,
More meaningful than shells or stuff,
The flotsom of humanity,
My beachcombing is as a dream,
That brings me great serenity.
Encinitas
8/26/05
by Mark Worden
Gentle breezes riffle the sea,
Wafting the warmth of the sun,
Caressing my bared skin,
As my feet leave a toed trail,
At water's edge.
The shade of a hat protects eyes,
Which scan the surf and tidal flow,
For spiral shells and what nots,
From depths and distances,
Of unknown origin.
It matters not to me,
That treasures I might seek,
Appear, then wash away,
Returned back to the deep,
Before I find them on the shore.
The quest I'm on, a search for things,
More meaningful than shells or stuff,
The flotsom of humanity,
My beachcombing is as a dream,
That brings me great serenity.
Encinitas
8/26/05
Friday, July 08, 2005
Friday's 5 minute poem--7/8/05--"July"
July
July, July, July, July,
rolls off the tongue with glee.
it puckers lips, it's very sly,
the month the mouth goes whee!
It works for both a boy or girl,
July, July, July.
Anticipation of a thrill,
like rockets in the sky!
There's not another month the same,
when said forms quite the bliss.
An invitation to the game,
to flirt and then to kiss.
M. Worden
7/8/05
July, July, July, July,
rolls off the tongue with glee.
it puckers lips, it's very sly,
the month the mouth goes whee!
It works for both a boy or girl,
July, July, July.
Anticipation of a thrill,
like rockets in the sky!
There's not another month the same,
when said forms quite the bliss.
An invitation to the game,
to flirt and then to kiss.
M. Worden
7/8/05
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
The Marine Biologist
My daughter graduated this last year from UC Santa Cruz as a marine biologist, and is currently working for the Long Marine Lab in Santa Cruz studying various near shore sites along the California coast. The tide sets the schedule for her field work and often she is up very early in the morning or works late into the dusk of the day observing life in the tidal zone. Her wierd hours of work recently inspired me with a poetic vision of her activity:
"The Marine Biologist"
"The rythmn of the sea controls the ebb and flow of your life.
At the tidal low, in-shore marine life is exposed to your prying mind,
as you wade the shallow pools to solve the mysteries of tiny creatures of the sea.
You are forced from the field as powerful waves wash back to the shore,
covering the algae laden rocks and crannies, and flushing the shoreline with fresh nutrients.
The natural cycle of your internal clock adjusts to the shifting rythmn,
and you are one with the surging sea,
as the wonder of discovery turns to enlightenment!"
M. Worden
6/13/05
"The Marine Biologist"
"The rythmn of the sea controls the ebb and flow of your life.
At the tidal low, in-shore marine life is exposed to your prying mind,
as you wade the shallow pools to solve the mysteries of tiny creatures of the sea.
You are forced from the field as powerful waves wash back to the shore,
covering the algae laden rocks and crannies, and flushing the shoreline with fresh nutrients.
The natural cycle of your internal clock adjusts to the shifting rythmn,
and you are one with the surging sea,
as the wonder of discovery turns to enlightenment!"
M. Worden
6/13/05
Monday, June 13, 2005
Friday, June 10, 2005
Pol Porn--a poem
Porn is a always a great target for the politicians. Someone is always at the pulpit attacking dirty pictures, Howard Stern, Paris Hilton's commercials, etc., etc. . Sometimes the ones talking the loudest turn out to be not what they seem.
For example, there was recently a pol up in the state of Wash who was publically anti-gay rights, yet was himself outed as gay because of his "man seeking man" activity on the internet.
Watch out for the person who is the loudest in opposition. He probably has skeletons in his closet.
"Pol Porn"
Porn is so political,
a target to be scorned,
why, everyone is critical,
altho' we all have "porned"!
We all with lust look at the girls,
and some go for the boys,
but all have given it a whirl,
some even buy the toys!
There's something there for everyone,
way out in cyberspace,
and none of the politicos,
control that "dirty" place!
So porn it seems is here to stay,
a business just as big,
as all the bosums on the broads,
and manhood's biggest rig!
The politicians go "Tsk Tsk!",
and all have sermonized,
to show that they above all else,
are pure and sanitized.
But we all know the truth to be,
that underneath the bluster,
they too will try to sneak a peek,
whenever they can muster!
M. Worden
6/10/05
For example, there was recently a pol up in the state of Wash who was publically anti-gay rights, yet was himself outed as gay because of his "man seeking man" activity on the internet.
Watch out for the person who is the loudest in opposition. He probably has skeletons in his closet.
"Pol Porn"
Porn is so political,
a target to be scorned,
why, everyone is critical,
altho' we all have "porned"!
We all with lust look at the girls,
and some go for the boys,
but all have given it a whirl,
some even buy the toys!
There's something there for everyone,
way out in cyberspace,
and none of the politicos,
control that "dirty" place!
So porn it seems is here to stay,
a business just as big,
as all the bosums on the broads,
and manhood's biggest rig!
The politicians go "Tsk Tsk!",
and all have sermonized,
to show that they above all else,
are pure and sanitized.
But we all know the truth to be,
that underneath the bluster,
they too will try to sneak a peek,
whenever they can muster!
M. Worden
6/10/05
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Fairest of the Fair--Friday's 5 minute poem
Fridays 5 minute poem
Fairest of the Fair
Some say that June is gloomy,
the coastal clouds stay late,
until the morning's almost gone,
three hours after eight.
But I'm all bright and sunny,
cause I anticipate,
the Del Mar Fair that's coming,
and I can hardly wait.
I check the paper,
for all that's new this year,
who's here to play or sing a song,
and food that goes with beer.
This year it's ZZ Top that's hot,
The Village People too!
And Hall and Oates are on the stage,
a "Fairable" who's who!
There's pigs that race and monster trucks,
guys junping motorbikes.
Why, something for most everyone,
to fit just what one likes.
It all ends up with fireworks,
a concert by the band.
We all stand up, salute the flag,
and give the troops a hand.
The "Fairest of the Fair" presides,
a pretty, local girl,
so June seems not so gloomy,
just give the Fair a whirl!
M. Worden 6/9/05
Fairest of the Fair
Some say that June is gloomy,
the coastal clouds stay late,
until the morning's almost gone,
three hours after eight.
But I'm all bright and sunny,
cause I anticipate,
the Del Mar Fair that's coming,
and I can hardly wait.
I check the paper,
for all that's new this year,
who's here to play or sing a song,
and food that goes with beer.
This year it's ZZ Top that's hot,
The Village People too!
And Hall and Oates are on the stage,
a "Fairable" who's who!
There's pigs that race and monster trucks,
guys junping motorbikes.
Why, something for most everyone,
to fit just what one likes.
It all ends up with fireworks,
a concert by the band.
We all stand up, salute the flag,
and give the troops a hand.
The "Fairest of the Fair" presides,
a pretty, local girl,
so June seems not so gloomy,
just give the Fair a whirl!
M. Worden 6/9/05
Spring in Borrego--2 haiku
winters clouds give way
sharp thorns soften in sunlight
desert cacti bloom
sands shimmer with heat
lizards seek shaded crannies
noontime siestas
sharp thorns soften in sunlight
desert cacti bloom
sands shimmer with heat
lizards seek shaded crannies
noontime siestas
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Borrego in Bloom
April 5, 2005
It was our 31st anniversary. With all the rain we received over the winter months the desert was in bloom. We had not been to Julian or Cuyamuca State Park since the big fire of a year ago had almost burned through the town, and in fact, had burned through 80% of Cuyamuca State Park and even destroyed the old ranch house which had served as park headquarters. Was there a better way to spend the day together than hopping in the old Mercedes and cruising up to Julian for some apple pie, stopping at Cuyamuca to see how the park was doing, stopping in at the lake to check out the trout bite, and then heading over the mountains to see the desert flowers in bloom at Borrego Springs State Park Nature Center. Nancy agreed with my suggestion, so we packed a picnic lunch and headed east towards Ramona and the mountains. Ramona has a certain romance to it. It is still a very rural area in east county, but tract homes are starting to pop up here and there in the area. There are still lots of ranches in the valley raising everything from thoroughbred racing horses to turkeys.
About 10 miles east of Ramona is a junction in the road and the small village of Santa Isabel. There are a few houses, a gas station, a couple of antique stores, and, of course, Dudley's bakery. We always stop there for fresh bread and pastries, but unfortunately the sign on the door said it was closed on Monday's. Bummer. They must have had Monday off to recover from the weekend crowds who line up to buy all those fresh baked goods right out of the oven.
We pressed on to Julian and in about 30 minutes had climbed up the mountain and were at about 4500 ft. It was a sunny and bright day and could not have been more beautiful in Julian. Since the fire last year, tourism had dropped off considerably and many of the merchants had been faced with a big drop off in business. Since it was a Monday, the main street was relatively quiet, but there were some obvious visitors like ourselves walking the street and wandering in and out of the shops looking for that special deal on locally crafted doo-dads.
We walked up and down the street, and as we walked the north end noticed the old cemetary. We wondered why we had not walked among the old tombstones on one of our many prior visits. While sunny, it was kind of a windy day, and as we walked up the hill to the cemetary I had to hold onto my cap. It seemed that the spirits were afoot and howling as they rode the winds around the hill. We tried to find the oldest marker, and found some from the late 1800's, and traced the dates all the way to a recently dug hole waiting to be filled. It wasn't a very big cemetary for its age. But then, I suppose that not many people chose to be buried there. Most of the population is seasonal and I would expect that only permanent long time residents end up on that windy hill. As we left the cemetary, a group of pre-teens from the local school was being led onto the hill by their teacher for a local historical tour. As we passed I told them to hold onto their caps and watch for the howling ghosts whirling around the hill. Nancy said I didn't used to be so talkative, and wondered about my aging brain!
We hopped back into the car and headed south towards Cuyamuca. We came to the lake and were amazed at how much water had accumulated. We had not seen the lake so full for at least 12-15 years. we stopped at the cafe and ranger station and asked the ranger how the fishing was going, and like every good fisherman he gave a positive picture of our prospects if we were to come up fishing.
We pressed on towards the park and Paso Pacacho Campground.
Every time we have gone to the park in the past, we have spotted some deer, and as we came around a curve we spotted 3 deer in a meadow near some willows. That was a good sign. The park was rapidly recovering from the fire. While there were alot of pine trees which were burnt and black, most of the underbrush and grasses had recovered and the forest floor was lush with greenery. We reached the campground and drove through and found that alot of pines were burnt, but the Oaks seemed to be recovering, and other plants had recovered and provided a green carpet to the forest floor. The campground buildings had escaped the fire, and all the damage to the rest of the facilities had been repaired--it almost looked as we remembered it.
I thought that we needed to come up for a weekend and go fishing.
It was a relief to see Cuyamuca on the rebound, so we turned up the road to head over the mountain to Borrego. We had never really been to Borrego during a year when there was a big bloom of desert flowers. A big bloom depends on the amount of rain that gets over the mountain in the fall and winter months, and this year was the second most rainfall in the area's recorded history. The bloom was even a bit early. As we climbed the mountain and neared the crest we saw large swaths of yellow blooms on the mountain plateau. We headed down into the desert and looked out across the valley and saw patches of color here and there on the desert floor. We knew that in a month or so everything would again be brown, but for now, the desert was alive with life and color. We rolled into the small town of Borrego Springs around noon. In the summer it would have been about 110 degrees, but on this day in April it was still in the low to mid 80's. Nancy said something about an ice cream, so we stopped and she got a big scoop in a cup, which lasted her the two miles we drove out of town to the State Park Nature Center.
When the desert is in bloom, there are always lots of visitors. Tour buses come from all over, and everyone looking for a fun destination takes a drive out to see the cacti flower. Even during the week the parking lot at the Nature Center was almost full. Most of the visitors during the week are an older crowd. I thought we were among the youngest couples! We took the hiking trail around the desert garden, sat on a bench while Nancy finished her ice cream, went shopping in the nature center "store", and then broke out our lunch of cheese and fruit and ate at a picnic table under a canopy of palm fronds. There was a family with younger children at a table near us that reminded me of the times we had camped at the campground with Matthew and Sara when they were younger. As a family we had visited the Nature Center and saw the fossilized bones in the nature lab, hiked the Palm Canyon trail to the "oasis" up in the canyon, and all slept squeezed together in one tent with the wind blowing the side of the tent over Nancy, who always seemed to get the worst location when it came to sleeping arrangements. Borrego was always our winter camping spot because the weather in winter was so mild.
It was about 2:30 and time to head home, so we decided to start climbing the mountain. We took a different route back up the mountain that climbed rapidly by switchback right up to elevation within about 15 minutes. We were soon over the crest and the Borrego Valley was behind us. We stopped at a viewpoint on the top where we could view the expanse of the Salton sea about 60 miles to the east. We cruised down the mountain and through the windy canyons lined with California Oaks until we reached a junction with the road leading back to Santa Isabel. Dudley's was still closed as we turned towards Ramona and headed west to the ocean and home.
Anniversaries should always celebrate wonderful shared memories. Our 31st anniversaary trip to Julian, Cuyamuca, and Borrego was a reminder of all the other great family times we spent together in our prior camping visits as a couple and with Matt and Sara.
M. Worden
It was our 31st anniversary. With all the rain we received over the winter months the desert was in bloom. We had not been to Julian or Cuyamuca State Park since the big fire of a year ago had almost burned through the town, and in fact, had burned through 80% of Cuyamuca State Park and even destroyed the old ranch house which had served as park headquarters. Was there a better way to spend the day together than hopping in the old Mercedes and cruising up to Julian for some apple pie, stopping at Cuyamuca to see how the park was doing, stopping in at the lake to check out the trout bite, and then heading over the mountains to see the desert flowers in bloom at Borrego Springs State Park Nature Center. Nancy agreed with my suggestion, so we packed a picnic lunch and headed east towards Ramona and the mountains. Ramona has a certain romance to it. It is still a very rural area in east county, but tract homes are starting to pop up here and there in the area. There are still lots of ranches in the valley raising everything from thoroughbred racing horses to turkeys.
About 10 miles east of Ramona is a junction in the road and the small village of Santa Isabel. There are a few houses, a gas station, a couple of antique stores, and, of course, Dudley's bakery. We always stop there for fresh bread and pastries, but unfortunately the sign on the door said it was closed on Monday's. Bummer. They must have had Monday off to recover from the weekend crowds who line up to buy all those fresh baked goods right out of the oven.
We pressed on to Julian and in about 30 minutes had climbed up the mountain and were at about 4500 ft. It was a sunny and bright day and could not have been more beautiful in Julian. Since the fire last year, tourism had dropped off considerably and many of the merchants had been faced with a big drop off in business. Since it was a Monday, the main street was relatively quiet, but there were some obvious visitors like ourselves walking the street and wandering in and out of the shops looking for that special deal on locally crafted doo-dads.
We walked up and down the street, and as we walked the north end noticed the old cemetary. We wondered why we had not walked among the old tombstones on one of our many prior visits. While sunny, it was kind of a windy day, and as we walked up the hill to the cemetary I had to hold onto my cap. It seemed that the spirits were afoot and howling as they rode the winds around the hill. We tried to find the oldest marker, and found some from the late 1800's, and traced the dates all the way to a recently dug hole waiting to be filled. It wasn't a very big cemetary for its age. But then, I suppose that not many people chose to be buried there. Most of the population is seasonal and I would expect that only permanent long time residents end up on that windy hill. As we left the cemetary, a group of pre-teens from the local school was being led onto the hill by their teacher for a local historical tour. As we passed I told them to hold onto their caps and watch for the howling ghosts whirling around the hill. Nancy said I didn't used to be so talkative, and wondered about my aging brain!
We hopped back into the car and headed south towards Cuyamuca. We came to the lake and were amazed at how much water had accumulated. We had not seen the lake so full for at least 12-15 years. we stopped at the cafe and ranger station and asked the ranger how the fishing was going, and like every good fisherman he gave a positive picture of our prospects if we were to come up fishing.
We pressed on towards the park and Paso Pacacho Campground.
Every time we have gone to the park in the past, we have spotted some deer, and as we came around a curve we spotted 3 deer in a meadow near some willows. That was a good sign. The park was rapidly recovering from the fire. While there were alot of pine trees which were burnt and black, most of the underbrush and grasses had recovered and the forest floor was lush with greenery. We reached the campground and drove through and found that alot of pines were burnt, but the Oaks seemed to be recovering, and other plants had recovered and provided a green carpet to the forest floor. The campground buildings had escaped the fire, and all the damage to the rest of the facilities had been repaired--it almost looked as we remembered it.
I thought that we needed to come up for a weekend and go fishing.
It was a relief to see Cuyamuca on the rebound, so we turned up the road to head over the mountain to Borrego. We had never really been to Borrego during a year when there was a big bloom of desert flowers. A big bloom depends on the amount of rain that gets over the mountain in the fall and winter months, and this year was the second most rainfall in the area's recorded history. The bloom was even a bit early. As we climbed the mountain and neared the crest we saw large swaths of yellow blooms on the mountain plateau. We headed down into the desert and looked out across the valley and saw patches of color here and there on the desert floor. We knew that in a month or so everything would again be brown, but for now, the desert was alive with life and color. We rolled into the small town of Borrego Springs around noon. In the summer it would have been about 110 degrees, but on this day in April it was still in the low to mid 80's. Nancy said something about an ice cream, so we stopped and she got a big scoop in a cup, which lasted her the two miles we drove out of town to the State Park Nature Center.
When the desert is in bloom, there are always lots of visitors. Tour buses come from all over, and everyone looking for a fun destination takes a drive out to see the cacti flower. Even during the week the parking lot at the Nature Center was almost full. Most of the visitors during the week are an older crowd. I thought we were among the youngest couples! We took the hiking trail around the desert garden, sat on a bench while Nancy finished her ice cream, went shopping in the nature center "store", and then broke out our lunch of cheese and fruit and ate at a picnic table under a canopy of palm fronds. There was a family with younger children at a table near us that reminded me of the times we had camped at the campground with Matthew and Sara when they were younger. As a family we had visited the Nature Center and saw the fossilized bones in the nature lab, hiked the Palm Canyon trail to the "oasis" up in the canyon, and all slept squeezed together in one tent with the wind blowing the side of the tent over Nancy, who always seemed to get the worst location when it came to sleeping arrangements. Borrego was always our winter camping spot because the weather in winter was so mild.
It was about 2:30 and time to head home, so we decided to start climbing the mountain. We took a different route back up the mountain that climbed rapidly by switchback right up to elevation within about 15 minutes. We were soon over the crest and the Borrego Valley was behind us. We stopped at a viewpoint on the top where we could view the expanse of the Salton sea about 60 miles to the east. We cruised down the mountain and through the windy canyons lined with California Oaks until we reached a junction with the road leading back to Santa Isabel. Dudley's was still closed as we turned towards Ramona and headed west to the ocean and home.
Anniversaries should always celebrate wonderful shared memories. Our 31st anniversaary trip to Julian, Cuyamuca, and Borrego was a reminder of all the other great family times we spent together in our prior camping visits as a couple and with Matt and Sara.
M. Worden
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