Motor City

OK, so here I am in Detroit. Well, actually Romulus, Michigan. This is where the airport and all of the airport-related businesses are. I have been temporarily detailed to the Detroit-Wayne County airport station to help on the dock.

The dock at 5:00 PM is utter chaos. Somehow I can't imagine running it by myself for long but I think that is what these folks have in mind. The regular supervisor is preparing to go on vacation next week and that would leave me in charge. They don't have anyone else, so I am looking forward to this like another colonoscopy. They are insane, and a little desperate.

I have not actually been into Detroit and don't plan to go. It isn't really a travel destination. Sometime I would love to go upstate and see the lakes. I would like to go over the big bridge to the upper peninsula. But Detroit itself doesn't hold much. The population dropped here from 1.5 million 30 years ago to about 650,000 at the last estimate. The city is greatly uninhabited, compared to what it was and the tax base is correspondingly eroded. Like in Kansas City the folks who paid the taxes and earned the money moved to the suburbs, or off to California, so I can visit all the big-city blight and decay that I want at home.

But this remains a vital population center with the attendant airport, McDonalds, interstate highways, cell phone stores and other perks of urban life, so indirectly, here I am. More insanity.

Getting here isn't a breeze. There are only a few nonstop flights and they are packed. I connected thru Memphis on the way here, getting in with just enough time to walk the fifty miles from gate B41 to B12. I arrived in time to see not one but three very large women boarded into the first row of economy. They were dressed to kill, every one of them, but apparently unable to hoof it down the jetway. They were rolled in aboard wheelchairs, one right after the other, holding up boarding for all 9,000 economy passengers. Utter insanity.

I was in the window seat, with the fat guy in the middle seat crowding me and the fat lady in the aisle seat to his left. Either he or the fat lady had gas, which is a bad deal for several reasons:
1. other people may think it was me, not them;
2. you can't get up and walk away easily; and
3. the windows don't open.

Now going home, I get to experience delightful American Eagle's regional jets which have a stunning 50% on time rate. They are claustrophobic, smelly and route me through O'Hare the traditional worm hole of airline travel in the United States. Whole airplane loads of people disappear there. Yet even more insanity.

The alternative to all this is for me to tell the company to forget it, and cut my severance check.
I really don't want to travel like this but neither do I want to give up employment before I have to in the Obama economy. If I could start my retirement job (parking cars for Avis) then I would be gone in a New York minute, but I can't, so I won't.

Worst part of all this is that I forgot my work shoes and wrist watch, and I can't see from day to day how our tomatoes are progressing. But one good thing: It isn't hot and humid like in KC. These people think it's hot but I have seen and been in hot and this ain't it. Maybe Avis is hiring here. I could do that for a while, at least until November. Sound a little insane? It's catching.

Rocky Mountain High

Long's Peak, from downtown Estes Park -- Elev. 14255 ft.

ESTES PARK, Colo. -- This is a work in progress, to be completed upon return to the flatlands where the air is hot and heavy with only a gasp of wind trying to move it around. Here, near the mountains in Estes Valley, a hot day is maybe 81 and the humidity rarely gets above 15 per cent. The sun is warm and where we stay the pool is always heated just enough for a comfortable entry. The light breeze sails down from the peaks and keeps one fresh all day long. It whooshs through the pines and firs, often bringing a few clouds in the late morning that gather and provide some light rain in the mid afternoon.

Oh yes, it is pleasant in the mountains. However cold it may be here in the winter, it is picture perfect in the summer. Literally, in fact, picture perfect. God crafted the Rocky Mountains into something as colorful and picturesque as anywhere on earth. Green of the evergreens, pinks and grays of the mountains themselves, bluest of blue skies and white the white of snow caps or foaming water rushing downhill in an alpine river.

Enough of that; there are lots of nice places to vacation.

There are things to be aware of here, if you get out in the remote country: cougars, fast-moving storms with lightening, elk and bears. Cougars are seldom a threat in or near the town, but can wreak havoc if you head up a back-country trail. Elk are everywhere. You need not piss them off. They are large and have enormous antlers and sharp hooves. Now as to the bears, something has changed. I have been coming here for almost all my 59 years and--until last year--have not seen a bear. Now I have.

This is not the first one; that was last year. A shaggy cinnamon bear walked the streets of Estes Park unmolested, and nearly unnoticed, save for my wife who saw it trot by on the sidewalk right in front of her. Faithful readers will recall the bear and his countrymen tried to raid the trash outside our cabin in several noisy episodes.

No, this bear simply stayed a safe distance, presumably with her cubs who popped up occasionally. They made no effort to cross the road and menace us or our refuse.

We surmised the economy has been as hard on the bears as it has on the rest of us, forcing the Park Service to lay some of them off. Thus they come down into the edges of the city, like the Okies of the 1930's heading to California, looking for food and employment. That also is probably why the elk drift into town and graze on peoples' lawns. It is not recorded that either elk or bear has filed for unemployment benefits.

Far and away the most dangerous thing we encountered on the trip was our granddaughter. Annie is a cute, lovely 2-year-old with the disposition of Tyrannosaurus Rex. To add to her resume, she can go without sleep seemingly for a week, which is probably why the bears didn't come near us. A bit of a princess, that girl, but when rested and well fed she is as sweet as can be. Unfortunately on the trip out she ran afoul of the law and spent a few hours in jail.

One of the other wild creatures lives on the mini-golf course which we frequent while in Estes Park. Often mistaken for his smaller cousin the chipmunk, the Golden-mantled Ground Squirrel is ubiquitous, charming and usually hungry. This fellow has taken up summer quarters in a buckent of sunflower seeds, which is about as good a way to vacation as any, I suppose.

Usually we take up residence in Hayley's ice cream and fudge shop, also a good way. Katie and Rob here are working hard to keep Colorado green by causing money to be left there. I know this place is good because the vanilla malts are good. If those are good, everything else will follow in line. I know way too much about this for my own good.

But all good things must come to an end. Seven nights at 7522 feet is fleeting. We have to trade in the 47 degree mornings for Missouri's 80 degree mornings, during which one does not want to work the crossword puzzle out on the deck--no matter how charming the sunlight looks. So we load up the car again and journey back down into the high plains, watching the mountains fade into the haze as we get further east of Denver. After the shock is worn off we can enjoy the trip. Everyone -- well, almost everyone -- helps drive back to KC.

Now we are home and back to cutting grass and other mundane chores that do not involve daily trips to an ice cream shop. There is no anticipation on the trip back, only a little dread of the vacation having ended and the imminent return to work. But there is always the opportunity to be thankful we got to go in the first place, and came home intact: the car undented, the riders healthy and without bear injuries, and actually a few pounds lighter!

And Kansas may not have the majestic mountain peaks which it ceded to Colorado in 1861, but it has a summer vitality all its own, with lots of blue sky too. Hey, if it weren't for Kansas, Nebraska, Iowa and Missouri, who would go to Colorado anyway?

Goodbye old friend

So we are on our last day at work, six of us left out of the thousands who had worked there over the years; some for a day, some for a lifetime. I brought my camera in to take a few pictures to document that we cleaned up the trash collection areas, but more so to take a few pictures of the last people I worked with in the aviation industry. They were a little like family. Two of them I have worked with for twenty and twenty-five years.

This camera wasn't state of the art. I bought it eight years ago. It was a 2-meg Canon Powershot which took terrific pictures. The files it made were easily sent as attachments and took little room if posted to a blog. A really great camera for me, serving me well for all this time.

I set it down and haven't seen it since.

Someone threw it away or stole it, I don't know which. As an item to fence, it wouldn't bring much. I had four rechargeable batteries inside and four spares in the case, all of which were worth more than the camera itself. I guess most wouldn't know that but camera technology changes so fast it's insane. Eight years is a lifetime in that business.

That was Wednesday. Friday night I bought a new one, another Canon. This one has been out for nine or ten months, the SX120 IS. It is inexpensive and has about the same features the other one did, just with a better lens. I don't need a lot of extras, but I do appreiate the improved zoom and larger screen.

It just gnaws at me that someone may be holding my pictures from family events, my depot trip last fall to the Ozarks, and the photos I took on the last day with my work family. If it was a theft, it is going to disappoint him/her greatly when he is offered squat.

The new one is smaller and lighter, but last Wednesday I lost my work friends, all five of them, and my camera who was kind of a friend as well. We have been lots of places together, places even Adorable Wife has declined to travel.

That's enough loss for one week. I hope everyone else is healthy and happy right here.
The new camera takes good pictures too, like this one of the salvia in the back yard. We just don't have a history with each other yet.