I’m Not Being Quiet On Purpose

In fact, if you ever head over to The Iconic Midwest you would see that I’ve not been “quiet” at all. The trouble is I’ve set myself a certain standard for my postings over here. Gaius has set the tone of this blog, and a good one it is. When I feel I have things to say in that mode there is no better place on the web to reach a classy readership than right here at the Crabitat.

The thing is, I’ve not been in that mode very often of late. The rigors of the campaign season and, especially, the tenor of the Obama campaign have not been conducive to calm reasoned discourse. I know, I know…I shouldn’t let them get to me, but when you add an “in the tank” media to the mix, a little vicious invective doesn’t seem so bad.

The upshot is I’m gonna try to add more of my two cents over here a little more often…at least the less screed like portions of it. Aren’t you lucky?

Brother

My brother turned 51 this year. While that isn’t a very noteworthy accomplishment in this day and age for most people, for him, it was a milestone for him. You see, not many years ago, someone like my brother did not have anything like the life expectancy of an “average American”.

My brother has Down (or Down’s or Downs) syndrome. In addition to the very visible characteristics of what was once called Mongolism, there are other invisible problems, health-wise. Most born with this had short life-expectancies, not so very long ago. That extra chromosome wreaks havoc with the body.

In a cognitive sense, my brother is about eight years old - and always will be. But he is sweet, affectionate, artistic and quite the ladies man. He will tell, with complete sincerity, any woman he meets that she is gorgeous. This is not a hollow compliment, he means everything he says; there is not one dishonest bone in his body. And he can draw some stunning pictures.

My children, all four of them, absolutely adore my brother. When they were growing up, he was right there with them in a cognitive sense. When they grew older - and he did not - they loved him all the more.

Is there a point to this post, you ask? Only this: If you think this world is a better place without my brother in it, you’re mistaken.

Badly.

Mementos

On my pilgrimage to Gettysburg, I did manage to procure a couple of mementos of the trip. One thing I brought back was a replica of a Confederate cavalry saber. My youngest boy had already prevailed upon me for a replica of a Union cavalry saber, so I thought I'd get something different than he had. The other thing I got was an intact, unfired round from a Spencer carbine, dug by a memorabilia hunter in an area north of Gettysburg. The .56-56 rimfire round is not a dud, just unfired. I hope whoever dropped it did not need it later.

Hallowed Ground

I rousted the family out early, ignoring their grumbling. The weather report promised highs in the upper 80s, but without too much humidity. Still, I thought it would be good to arrive early and beat both the crowds and the heat. So I prodded them along, fed them breakfast and arrived at the new Gettysburg Visitor Center shortly after it opened at 8am.

We had heard that hiring on of the tour guides available at the center was well worth the money. So, we made arrangements to book one. This turned out to be a good move, since he knew his way around the battlefield and its history. Even better, he drove so we were all free to look around.

We set out to tour the site in chronological order, starting with the stand by Buford’s cavalry northwest of the town of Gettysburg that precipitated the general battle that followed.

We traveled south along an access road and saw where Longstreet’s Corps had massed for the attacks of the second day. These are the North Carolina and Virginia markers.

We saw the Peach Orchard, all replanted recently with new trees. 

We saw the Wheat Field. Then we reached Plum Run and the Devil’s Den. Tourists scrambled over the boulders where men once fought and died. Up and into the woods to where the far left flank of Meade’s fishhook was anchored on Little Round Top by a few men from Maine.

We saw the spot where the 20th Maine stood, fought and finally charged into the men from the 15th Alabama, driving them back and holding the flank. On up the hill we saw where the 140th New York, from Rochester, New York plugged the hole when the Confederates breeched the lines. Their colonel, Patrick O’Rourke fell there, leading his men from the front.

We stood on the rocky little hill and saw the vast battlefield spread out all around us. The Devil’s Den was taken by the Confederates, but the little hill remained the anchor for Meade’s line.

Onward then to the place that marked the high water mark of the Confederacy on Cemetery Ridge. We stood on the spot where the few men from Pickett’s charge that survived the bloody advance across almost a mile of naked ground briefly broke the Union line.

Pickett’s men and the reserves Lee was able to muster charged into the artillery hell and rifle crossfire that the Union had waiting for them. It is a wonder any of them made it to the top of the hill. More than half of the 12,000 who made that advance did not return from it.

I would like to go back when I can spend more time.

Long Drive

We covered 2,867 miles on our trip and finished a final 22 hour drive just after 7am this morning. A couple of hours of sleep has done little to erase the sheer fatigue of a very long drive. I have pictures from Gettysburg but currently lack the energy to edit them. Hopefully, I will be a bit more energetic as the day progresses.

Pilgrimage

Despite growing up mostly in Rochester, New York only a fairly short trip from it, I had never visited Gettysburg. Well, that has been corrected now. I am writing this from a hotel right in the center of the town of Gettysburg. We rolled in here at around 4pm and have not had a chance to see much yet. My wife and I strolled a bit through the town and we've taken the kids to dinner. They just went out to take a "Ghost Tour" of the city, something I have no interest in whatsoever. Tomorrow, I plan to visit the places I have only read about. But places I know well from the words of others. The Peach Orchard. The Wheat Field. Devil's Den. Culp's Hill.

Little Round Top.

I'll have pictures.

Drunk On Disappointment

Or looking at the world through morose-colored glasses. Monica Hesse, writing at The Washington Post, examines the results of a new Pew study into the outlooks of Americans of various generations. The result?

Baby Boomers whine. A lot.

The baby boomers — that prominent group of middle-agers whose massive numbers invite never-ending dissection and speculation — have once again spoken. What they have said is, " Waaaaaahhh."

This is according to a social and demographic trends survey released recently by the Pew Research Center. The survey measured the pessimism, dissatisfaction and general curmudgeonliness of 2,413 adults in various generations.

The results validate any member of the Greatest Generation who ever looked at his or her offspring and sadly thought, "soft." Simply put, boomers are a bunch of . . . whiners.

More than older or younger generations, boomers — born from 1946 to 1964 — worry that their income won't keep up with rising costs of living. They say it's harder to get ahead today than it was 10 years ago. They are more likely to say that their standard of living is lower than their folks' but that things don't look too good for their kids either (67 percent of younger generations, meanwhile, feel they have it better than their parents).

Everything stinks, except for the things that stink even more, and it's not exactly clear why, considering that this is the population with the highest median income. Boomers also have fewer difficulties affording housing or medical care, the survey says, and they enjoyed greater job security last year than older or younger generations.

There are some very interesting points made in the article. Funny points, in many cases.

Personally, I took my kids through the old neighborhood I grew up in yesterday. It was an eye-opener for them. The streets were a little meaner than when I lived in that area and I'm sure it is more dangerous since there are gang problems these days that didn't really exist back when I was growing up. But the same hopelessness of a poor, crime-ridden neighborhood was there. The same dirty streets, the same rundown houses. My kids were stunned at where I had once lived. And I didn't show them the really bad places.

Maybe coming from that background saved me from the angst of the boomer generation. My mother raised five kids alone on a secretary's salary. We lived hand-to-mouth at best and we lived in very poor neighborhoods. But three of us managed to work our way through college. My youngest brother has a highly-skilled (and highly paid) job repairing boat engines. We worked our way out of poverty.

It's probably best that Pew didn't interview me. I would have been an outlier. I'd rather not spend my whole life drunk on disappointment like too many of my generation.

Vacation

I've posted some of the travel adventures we've been having. Today we head for Upstate New York to visit family. I'll try and post a few more things from there if I can. I am currently sitting in a hotel lobby in Niagara Falls, Ontario using the free WiFi they advertise. Unfortunately, the free WiFi is only available here, not in my room. Hence the bulk posting rather than a few retail ones.

Wild Ride

On the tour we took of Niagara Falls, one of the stops was at an overlook where you could see the Niagara Whirlpool. While we were there, a jet boat entered the whirlpool – intentionally, mind you. The boats take people for a ride through this whirlpool.

After we finished our tour, we had about an hour to relax. Then we had to drive back up to Niagara on the Lake for a jet boat tour of the lower Niagara. My wife had booked the tour after seeing the jet boat in the whirlpool.

We were warned that we needed a change of clothes – we would get wet on the ride. I chose, wisely, to wear a bathing suit. So did everyone except my youngest son (more on that later). We arrived about an hour before the boat was to leave and had to fill out waivers that promised we wouldn’t sue the boat operators if they happened to kill us. This did not give me a warm, fuzzy feeling about the ride.

After a brief safety lecture, the herd of tourists was prodded down to the boat landing. They gave us life jackets and swim shoes, allowing us to leave our own shoes back at the dock, should we return to claim them. If we didn’t, I’m sure that there was a clause in the waiver form giving the operators the shoes. Only a very few people availed themselves of the offer of a heavy, yellow raincoat since the perky tour guide had warned that it really wouldn’t help.

Off we went, traveling south into the Niagara river. At first, it was just a leisurely cruise in a not very comfortable boat. We were packed in rows on hard plastic seats with a chromed handrail in front of us. The perky tour guide pointed out a few sights then explained that we were in a “no wake” zone. Hence the slow speed. Then she explained how the jet boat could be made to spin in a 360 degree circle. We were clear of the no wake zone now, so the captain proceeded to demonstrate.

The engines revved, the boat accelerated and began turning to the left, then suddenly lurched hard to the right and spun around in its own length. Each lunge was accompanied by large sheets of water being thrown into the boat, thoroughly drenching the rows of tourists. This, it turns out, was only the beginning.

As we approached the Devil’s Hole rapids, the perky tour guide explained that she hated cold water and left for the back of the boat. We were instructed to put and sunglasses or hats into the net bag suspended from the chrome hand rails in front of us. This turned out to be good advice.

The captain then demonstrated what the guide called the “Pop, Drop and Slide”, As we headed into the rapids, the hull of the boat was slapped by a wave, making a popping sound. Then the boat dropped about 12 feet into a trough, leaving many tourist stomachs behind, then the boat began climbing out of the trough, engines screaming and you could feel the boat slide to the left as it climbed.

All of this part was relatively dry. But the captain spun the boat and went back into the rapids from the other side. This time, there was only a drop then solid sheets of water roared over the boat and onto the cargo of tourists. And I mean sheets of water. When we came out of rapids again, we were ankle deep in water.

I wanted to point out that we appeared to be sinking, but the engines were howling now as we turned back to do another pop, drop and slide. The captain appeared to  be unhappy with our degree of wetness and aimed to correct that deficiency. He spun the boat again and drove back into the rapids, this time finding the perfect wave – from his standpoint.

We lurched downward into a massive trough and the captain proceeded to drive the boat under the rapids. If we had been hit with sheets of water on the previous run, this time we got the sheets and the blankets. Water pounded down onto our heads and we came back out of the rapids with water nearly up to the seats. Then the captain spun the boat and headed back into the rapids. This time he took us further south and we entered the whirlpool itself.

The captain did not do any tourist-drenching in this area, however. Here the fury of the Niagara was such that any attempt would have been fatal. So the crew just told us about how awful or fate would be if they even tried anything funny up there. This isn’t quite as much fun as the controlled drowning of tourists, but it amused the crew.

Then we headed back to the rapids. The captain made three more passes into the rapids, each one getting the occupants of the boat even wetter – if that is possible. But on the very last of the three, the captain had a treat for us. He had everyone slide over and crowd to the right of the boat. Then he kicked up the engines and drove straight back into the boiling rapids.

This time, we got the sheets, the blankets, the down comforter and several nightstands. Those who managed to keep their eyes open got a lovely view of the Niagara River from the underside. It was not a good idea to gasp in wonder. I did make the acquaintance of several trout, however. Well, ok, I didn’t really. I don’t think the trout are crazy enough to go up there. They just swim around downriver and watch the stupid tourists.

Then it was a quick trip back to the dock. Our Niagara River adventure was over.

I want to go again.

Touring

Day two dawned clear and warm. I was the only one of the family to see that portion of the day. The rest of the tribe slept in a bit. When I started waking them, there was a lot of complaining. But eventually the tribe assembled and trooped off for breakfast. We had to be ready for the tour we had scheduled.

We were the last to be picked up, the bus was almost full. Several of the people who had boarded before us were in large family groups. When we tried to all sit, we came up one seat short. The driver had to go through his list and found that one family group had booked four kids as “lap” rather than buying the oldest kid a seat. They would have gotten away with it on a less full bus. They had an uncomfortable tour with a 70 pound “toddler” sitting on their laps.

The highlight of the tour was the trip on the Maid of the Mist. It is an awe-inspiring trip. The sheer power of 50% of the falls is amazing. Yes, only 50%. The rest is diverted to the power plants. Those awe-inspiring falls are only half the volume they were originally. They must have been truly frightening before they were diverted. (Actually, at night they are only 25%. Another 25% of the water is sent through the tunnels instead of over the falls at night.)

I have not checked these figures but am writing this based on tour signs posted in various places. The signs stated that 1/5 of the earth’s supply of fresh water flowed over Niagara Falls. The total electrical output of the Niagara River power plants is under 5,000 megawatts. Assuming the output is averaged; diverting the entire Niagara into the plants would generate something like 10,000 megawatts.

That should give even non-engineering types a rough idea of how much energy is required to create electricity.

Road Trip

A long, long drive and we are finally in Canada. The trip has been smooth, despite its length and the mind-numbing monotony of long periods of night driving on the interstates. I tried to stop every two hours or so, just to let this clown car of seven people crammed into a putatively seven-passenger vehicle discharge its disgruntled and cramped occupants. A few moments of shaking out cramps or walking off stiffness and off we went, back to the darkened road.

There were no problems this trip. No breakdowns, no accidents, no suicidal deer trying their luck on the sheet metal; no, this has been smooth sailing. That isn’t strictly true, actually. My wife’s perennial road trip curse has raised its head. She came down with a case of conjunctivitis on the morning we were to leave. This is not bad by previous standards. She didn’t throw her back out, requiring me to fly out to rescue her. (That time  ended up with me needing rescue. That’s another story, though.)

When we got here, it was far, far too early to check into the hotel in Niagara Falls, so I decided we should try to find Niagara on the Lake and Fort George. This would not normally be an especially difficult task; the Niagara region is not really all that big. However, when seven groggy, sleep deprived people – or rather six groggy, sleep deprived begin to give helpful advice at odds with the navigator’s judgment, it can get a bit more difficult.

We did finally track down the Fort, which I am sure was doing its best to hide from us. Had our positions been reversed, I would have tried to avoid contact with a clown car full of grumpy, stiff, sleep-deprived people. When we pulled into the parking area, we encountered The Confused Scot.

The Confused Scot was desperately trying to feed $6 (Canadian) into a device that spits out a ticket good for parking at the fort. He was, and I am not making this up, using nickels. This can be a tedious thing to watch, or even to remember having watched. Especially since said machine would also take plastic. This is what I used when The Confused Scot finally won his ticket in his bizarre reverse slot machine game and let me get to the machine. We never saw The Confused Scot again – a good thing, since my hands had begun itching to throttle him after the first dollar went in. I do not even want to know why he had six dollars worth of nickels with him (although I suspect he won them in a slot machine and was confused about the process of cashing out.)

The fort is a reconstructed one, built in the late 1930s. The only original part is the old powder magazine. But they have reenactors dressed in the period costumes to tell you about the fort and its history. (The original fort was flattened by American artillery during the War of 1812. British forces retook the fort a short while later.)

After wandering about the fort for a couple of hours, watching a demonstration of the “Brown Bess” musket and a fife and drum corps performance and examining the various displays in the buildings, we trudged back to the car, more awake and alert than we had been when we arrived. The rejuvenated occupants of the clown car all agreed that their earlier questioning of the navigator’s sanity had been premature. Then I unlocked the car and let them into the car.

We followed the Niagara Turnpike down to Niagara Falls after grabbing a surprisingly good quick lunch in Niagara on the Lake. The turnpike is a rather narrow, twisting, two-lane road with a nice wide bike path next to it. So naturally, the first thing we encountered was a guy on a bike wanting to share the meager pavement with the horde of cars rather than use the nice, paved blacktop bike path – which actually looked wider than the turnpike. I decided against adding a new hood ornament to the rental van – I cannot guarantee other drivers were so inclined.

We arrived at our hotel and found that one of the two rooms was ready. The other one took about another hour to get ready. By now, the toll of the trip was again showing on the occupants of the clown car. So, I sent the worst looking of the bunch (my youngest boy) to bed, which determined the rest of the sleeping arrangements. My wife, daughter and I waited for the unready room to be readied. By the end of that hour, we were looking an awful lot like extras in a zombie movie.

We finally got into the room and collapsed for a few hours of sleep. When I rousted the brood, they emerged looking less like zombie extras. More like apocalypse survivor movie extras. It was an improvement. We wandered down Clifton Hill to make the obligatory viewing of the falls – after doing the obligatory dodging of the traffic to get there. Crosswalks are a real rarity for some reason.  After some picture taking, we waded through the sea of humanity (there were a LOT of people) back toward the hill in search of a restaurant. We had coupons for a fairly decent discount at a fairly nice restaurant, so the kids announced that they wanted to eat at the Hard Rock Café. Sans said discount.

After we ate, I sent the kids off in various directions while my wife and I went in search of a pharmacy. We were able to get an eyewash kit that helped her eye when we got back to the room. We still needed to get her some antibiotic ointment, but this at least relieved the discomfort. None of us stayed up late, we were all back in our rooms by around 10pm. We needed the sleep.

Of Computers And Compressors

It has been very quiet here at the Crabitat for a couple of days. Even lighter than the fairly low posting rate of recent months. There is a reason for that. I've been busy with computers and air compressors.

My son has been badgering for a more powerful computer to play games on for a while now. Tomorrow is his birthday and my wife suggested that I should find a good barebones system that he and I could build together. This kind of suggestion, being the equivalent of a royal command, is one I acted on with alacrity.

So yesterday and today was spent with two very important missions: putting together a computer and securing the perfect gift for my perfect wife. It being Mother's Day and all. My son is now the proud owner of a more powerful computer and my wife has her dream gift.

The computer is not, by any means, a bleeding edge one, just a bit beefier than the one he was using. As for building it together, he mostly watched and handed me various parts and tools. But it was the thought that counts. I think. Most of the time today was getting Windows set up, frankly. Once all the updates were loaded and the various software transferred from his older machine to the new one, he started using it. I can hear him raging at the computer game he is playing right now, as a matter of fact. His frustrated utterances are coming more rapidly than they used to, so the new machine must be faster.

As to the perfect gift for my perfect wife, that is where the air compressor comes in. She (really) wanted an air compressor. So I went out and got her one. It is just a small one from Sears, but exactly what she wanted - heck, she sent me the link to the item in an email as a hint. My wife likes power tools and ones powered by compressed air are a new horizon.

I told you she was perfect.

An Era Ending

The paddlewheel steamboat Delta Queen is about to be scuttled, in a figurative sense, by government regulations and a Democratic party chairman of a House committee. The Delta Queen is the last operational steamboat with a wooden superstructure. It has been exempted by act of Congress from regulations banning wooden superstructures for some 42 years - but  the chairman of the House Committee on Transportation, Rep. James Oberstar Democrat from Minnesota, has blocked every attempt at renewing the exemption. 

The effort to save the Delta Queen steamboat is getting a boost from Congressman Steve Chabot of Ohio, who plans some legislative hijinks next week on the boat's behalf.

Chabot plans to introduce a "Save the Delta Queen" amendment to a Coast Guard Reauthorization Bill coming to the floor of the U.S. House of Representatives. The amendment will call for the continuation of the historic steamboat's long-standing exemption from fire safety rules. The exemption expires in November, and without it, the boat will have to stop sailing.

Congress has granted the Delta Queen an exemption from the 42-year-old safety rules nine times in the past, nearly always by close-to-unanimous margins. But the chairman of the House Committee on Transportation, Rep. James Oberstar of Minnesota, has been blocking a further exemption, calling the boat a fire hazard.

Built in 1926, the 174-passenger Delta Queen is the last operational river steam paddlewheeler with overnight accommodations in the United States, and it has a strong following among riverboat lovers. The four-deck, white-washed confection, which resembles a giant wedding cake, harkens back to a bygone era with its stately wooden cabins; cozy, hardwood-paneled public rooms; and rare Siamese ironwood floors. But it is precisely these historic charms that are causing the downfall of the paddlewheeler, since they do not meet modern fire safety standards that forbid wooden superstructures on boats that carry more than 50 passengers on overnight trips.

Last October, Congressman Chabot introduced a stand-alone bill, H.R. 3852, that would extend the Delta Queen's exemption from the fire safety rules until 2018. But that bill remains stuck in the House Committee on Transportation because Oberstar refuses to release it for a vote by the full House.

Some years ago, before my wife's father died, we sent my in-laws on a cruise on the Delta Queen. I just went and looked at the copy of their boarding photo that they sent us after the trip. I can almost hear Jack's voice raving about the fabulous time they had on the cruise as I write this. It was not all that long after the trip that fulfilled a lifelong dream for him that he died.

I'm glad we sent them. And sorry that others will not be able to do the same unless something changes. 

Deerly Departed

The day started badly for my wife today. Only about two miles from home, she had just gotten her car up to highway speed when Bambi's mother decided to cross the road. This turned out to be a fatally bad decision for the deer and was more than a bit hard on my wife's new car. Thankfully, the only injury was to Bambi's mother. My wife limped the badly damaged car home, took the car my daughter normally drives and went to work. I got on the phone to the insurance people, got the car towed to the shop and had a rental car delivered. I was pleasantly surprised to find that Hertz will deliver a rental car, by the way. I was unpleasantly surprised to find out that we did not have a rental rider on our policy (since corrected now that the horse has left the barn, so to speak.)

I'm beginning to suspect that the deer are after my family, though. Just doing a rough count in my head, this is something like the sixth or seventh deer that has departed this vale of tears on the sheet metal of my wife's or my oldest son's cars through the years. It really is getting worse, too. We have deer running all over the place out where we live. A large herd is often visible down the road, not far from where my wife had her accident today, in fact. A couple were wandering through the backyard a few weeks ago. (Probably casing the joint.)

Anyway, a word to the wise. Check your coverage. A towing and rental rider for three cars only adds about $100 a year to a policy. It's cheap enough and it will lessen your out of pocket damages when Bambi finally catches up to you. And he will. My wife can't get them all, you know.

Happy Birthday To Me

I should probably pay more attention to things like this - as Jim Lynch does. Today is the Crabitat's second anniversary. Yes, I know that for some of you it seems like much, much longer. But yes, Blue Crab Boulevard turned two today. Thanks to everyone who stops by to visit my little slice of the blogosphere. Thanks for all the tips and encouragement. Thanks for helping make all this worthwhile.

I thought it appropriate to set the flaming penguins out.