With the exception of eighteen months in Florida and two years in South Africa, well and 4 months in California, and six weeks in Mississippi, I have lived my entire life in Utah. Its interesting living here, and on a regular basis entertaining or exasperating, depending on your point of view.
I have watched my fair state twist itself into a pretzel through the years as it worked to maintain a very states rights, conservative Republican approach to governance. Add to that the very strong LDS church presence here and you have to potential for missteps, over reaches and sometimes comedic, to the point of farcical, attempts at legislating.
Some years ago it was discovered that the State Board of Education was allowing history credit to be awarded for taking church history in LDS seminary. Even though the Supreme court had ruled many years prior that seminary was released time and not in any way connected to the state school system. At the same time it was discovered that seminary attendance was being calculated as school attendance. The ACLU intervened and both practices were stopped.
When cable TV came to Utah it was seen as an influence for bad and money and time was expended trying to prevent it making its way into Utah cities. Another lawsuit and another loss for Utahan's.
Some Utah cities have tried to ban free speech on city sidewalks. More lawsuits and more losses for state and city governments. We have also found out that you cannot place memorial crosses for fallen highway patrol troopers along public highways. And the highway patrol has been restrained from crossing into Wyoming to try and apprehend cars with trunks full of bootleg alcohol.
I do want to note that my home town of Pleasant Grove prevailed in their suit and the ten commandments monument has been allowed to be placed on public property. That set a precedent for the entire country.
Utah and alcohol are like oil and water. That has led to a set of laws that defy logic. Some have started to realize that our quirky laws are impacting the conference and tourism business in Utah. Both of which we spend tax dollars to promote. So attempts have been made to modernize our alcohol laws. However each time a law is updated there is also a new restrictive law passed. So we go forward and back at the same time. We for years forced clubs to sell memberships to alcohol consuming guests to our state, we then started scanning drivers licenses. Next came making restaurants ask you if you intended to eat in their establishment before you could be served alcohol. Why else do you go to restaurants? And finally we have forced restaurants that have opened since 2010 to have a seven foot wall for the bartender to mix drinks behind, lest we corrupt young minds. So we have two classes of restaurants in Utah now, some with the so called seven foot "Zions Curtain" and those without.
Utah continually faults the Federal government for owning approx. 70 percent of Utah, making it impossible for us to make roads and develop the land for......private use. On closer examination we find that in spite of Utah disliking the Federal government and its funds, our state budget is about 40% federal dollars.
One of the states loudest complaints about federal dollars is having them spent for abortions. Utah has done its best to completely outlaw them, but has not succeeded.
This past December was an especially trying month for Utah as more of its laws came under judicial review and Utah lost. First of all it was ruled that our anti polygamy laws are invalid because they prevent non marital cohabitation. Next judge, santa claus, Shelby ruled that our constitutional amendment defining marriage as between a man and a woman was unconstitutional. The usual hue and cry of activist judges interfering with states rights was heard, as was the argument that a majority of the people voted for the amendment. Based on the logic of both those arguments the poll taxes, literacy tests, and all segregationist laws, should have been allowed to stand. Voting for something unconstitutional or illegal will not make that thing legal in a state. That supremacy clause in the constitution is so troublesome.
These December decisions came on the heels of many in Utah still in mourning for Romney's loss to President Obama in the November election. The populace just tried to will Romney to victory, despite the fact that no valid poll ever showed him coming out the winner and certainly no examination of any pre election projections of the electoral college vote showed him ever having a chance at winning.
In the states wish to be an all Republican state, the legislature on two different occasions tried to redistrict Jim Matheson out of congress. Much to my glee they didn't succeed either time. Score: Mathesons successful elections to congress: 7. Utah legislatures attempts to unseat him: 0.
I know people who have left Utah because they could not deal with the politics here. Me I'm staying. We have 5 more weeks left in our legislative session. 5 weeks of angst and laughter.
The comment the other day by one of our legislators that he was opposed to upgrading the penalty for destroying formations in Goblin Valley State Park is a good example of the mindset there. He is opposed he said "because a rock is a rock". Other legislators are suggesting we give complete immunity to police involved in high speed chases should things go awry and there is injury/death, or destruction.
One more item about our legislature. In spite of all their shenanigan's, such as ending the investigation into wrongdoing in the AG's office because he resigned, or saying no new liquor laws this session, they do keep our state fiscally sound. We are ranked number one often in surveys of fiscally well managed states. We are not deeply in debt and don't have mandates we cannot pay. That means tough decisions have to be made some years, but they get made. That is worth applauding.
Utah a pretty great state.
Monday, February 10, 2014
Thursday, November 14, 2013
BARCELONA PHOTOS WITH MY NEW D600
Barcelona is a colorful, vibrant city. Many, many sites to visit and enjoy, as well as good food to eat.
Crowd on Las Ramblas after indepedence rally
Church courtyard with bomb damage from civil ward
Walkway in Park Guell
Pattern on house in Park Guell
Fountain in Park Guell
Cathedral of Barcelona
Stone chair at Park Guell
Curved bench at Park Guell
Stones at Park Guell
Entrance to Park Guell
Park Guell tower
Park Guell columns
Colonnaded walkway Park Guell
Antoni Gaudi building
Saturday, October 5, 2013
Running, medals, and Julie
When I was thirty years old a group of my neighborhood friends, and I, decided we should get in shape for the upcoming deer hunt. The first night we started out and ran to the first telephone pole and then walked to the next one until we had completed a mile. The process went on for a few weeks and gradually we were running an entire block before having to walk. By the time deer season arrived some of us could run the entire mile. The running did help us hike better, but it didn't help our aim at all.
After deer season I kept up my running, and one day decided to add more distance. I took off on a course I had driven that was 3 miles. I got home, barely, feeling like I had run a marathon. I was exhausted, but happy, and committed myself to more running. I ran regularly, and my knees began to hurt. I spent some money to get better shoes and that solved my knee problem to this day.
After we moved to North Ogden I lengthened my course to 4 miles and eventually 5 and that became my standard for many years. I ran in all seasons, in all weather. I started entering races and found out that I was one of the middle of the pack runners. Nevertheless I kept it up. I ran alone. It was my quiet time. I collected shirts and certificates of completion, never placing high enough to medal. I knew I never would and it didn't really matter. My times got better from year to year. That mattered. Decades went by and I kept running. There were times when I was less committed than others but whenever I wanted to get in better shape I picked up my running.
At some point in time Amy started doing some running and Julie started running cross country. I traveled to Colorado so see her run, and ran with Amy a time or two. They were both faster than me since I was more than thirty years older than both of them. Amy and Julie ended up living near one another and were able to run together on a regular basis. Over time they convinced Keicha to start running. She did and they planned a race to run together. They ran it, and had a wonderful time being three running sisters. I was proud to be the father of three running daughters.
I was told sometime that one of the reasons Julie took up running was to connect more with me. That connection changed with Julie's suicide. I didn't run for awhile after that. I don't think Amy did either. But then one of Julies friends decided that they should run a race to honor Julie. In August of 2010, friends and family gathered in Colorado Springs to participate in a Suicide prevention run/walk. We were team 808 for Jules. Our team was the top fundraiser for the event. After the event, and awards ceremony, where Sheridan was awarded a second place medal in her age group, we started to all go our separate ways. Some one called to me to go to the awards table. I went and was given the second place medal for my age group. My first medal at a race, one run in memory of my daughter. I had cried and looked heaven ward as I crossed the finish line knowing Julie was there with us that day, keeping our running connection intact. She had been with Jon and Sam in Bangladesh as they ran a course they had mapped out in their apartment. Something like 287 laps to make 3 miles.
As time has passed my two running daughters have less enthusiasm for it now. Jon and Sam have continued their exercise habit. Julies friends have run each year. This year I decided to go to Colorado to be with those who ran and walked in the Suicide Prevention event. I had stayed in Ogden and Salt Lake City the past two years doing the walk with Keicha and others.
The race started and I shuffled my way along the course. I thought about why we were all there that day and wished Julie was not just there in spirit. As I ran I became aware I was probably the oldest runner on the course and I considered what that could mean about a medal. We all stood around as the medals were awarded and I kept thinking. Eventually they read off the last category, 65 and over, and announced my name. I wasn't surprised. I gathered my medal, this time 1st place. There were no other placers, and I don't think there was a 3rd place finisher the year I was second.
Those two medals hang on the frame of a collage of Julie. I look at them, and her, everyday. They are inconsequential but they remind me of Julie's consequential act, and that I would give the medals and so much more, for a nice run along a quiet trail with her.
After deer season I kept up my running, and one day decided to add more distance. I took off on a course I had driven that was 3 miles. I got home, barely, feeling like I had run a marathon. I was exhausted, but happy, and committed myself to more running. I ran regularly, and my knees began to hurt. I spent some money to get better shoes and that solved my knee problem to this day.
At some point in time Amy started doing some running and Julie started running cross country. I traveled to Colorado so see her run, and ran with Amy a time or two. They were both faster than me since I was more than thirty years older than both of them. Amy and Julie ended up living near one another and were able to run together on a regular basis. Over time they convinced Keicha to start running. She did and they planned a race to run together. They ran it, and had a wonderful time being three running sisters. I was proud to be the father of three running daughters.
I was told sometime that one of the reasons Julie took up running was to connect more with me. That connection changed with Julie's suicide. I didn't run for awhile after that. I don't think Amy did either. But then one of Julies friends decided that they should run a race to honor Julie. In August of 2010, friends and family gathered in Colorado Springs to participate in a Suicide prevention run/walk. We were team 808 for Jules. Our team was the top fundraiser for the event. After the event, and awards ceremony, where Sheridan was awarded a second place medal in her age group, we started to all go our separate ways. Some one called to me to go to the awards table. I went and was given the second place medal for my age group. My first medal at a race, one run in memory of my daughter. I had cried and looked heaven ward as I crossed the finish line knowing Julie was there with us that day, keeping our running connection intact. She had been with Jon and Sam in Bangladesh as they ran a course they had mapped out in their apartment. Something like 287 laps to make 3 miles.
As time has passed my two running daughters have less enthusiasm for it now. Jon and Sam have continued their exercise habit. Julies friends have run each year. This year I decided to go to Colorado to be with those who ran and walked in the Suicide Prevention event. I had stayed in Ogden and Salt Lake City the past two years doing the walk with Keicha and others.
The race started and I shuffled my way along the course. I thought about why we were all there that day and wished Julie was not just there in spirit. As I ran I became aware I was probably the oldest runner on the course and I considered what that could mean about a medal. We all stood around as the medals were awarded and I kept thinking. Eventually they read off the last category, 65 and over, and announced my name. I wasn't surprised. I gathered my medal, this time 1st place. There were no other placers, and I don't think there was a 3rd place finisher the year I was second.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
ADVENTURES IN MOVING
My daughter-in-law, Samantha, completed her doctoral studies at Northeastern University this spring. She and her husband had worked and sacrificed to help Samantha get her PhD. We were all excited and so proud of her. She methodically started pursuing job openings. Everything Sam does is methodical. She was offered a position at Marywood Univeristy in Scranton, Pennsylvania, which she accepted. Again we were all very glad for her. In the back of my mind was the nagging thought, moving means another adventure with a rental truck.
It wasn't long and my son Jonathan, Samantha's husband, called and asked me if I would mind helping them move. I told him I would come and help. This didn't please my wife. She has been telling me its too hard on me to help with moves now that I'm so old. I brought her response on myself. A few years ago I helped my daughter Julie move from Eagle Colorado to Broomfield Colorado. I admit, by the time we got her moved into her second story apartment I was completely exhausted, and even told Julie and Amy that I was retiring from helping with moves. I'm pretty sure it was just the altitude that made me so tired on that move.
I, like many parents have helped our children move through the years. Its one of those parental responsibilities, but it is good bonding time too. When I helped Julie move it was her, and her sister Amy, helping me. They are both good movers. I remember Amy saying, as we grunted a heavy piece to the truck, "its a good thing you don't have wimps for daughters." I don't, they have all been willing to get their hands dirty and break a big sweat on moving days. As has Samantha. This move turned out to be the last one I got to help Julie with, and I will always be glad for the two days we had working close and just enjoying being Dad and daughter.
Three of my children ended up in Colorado, and they seem to have moved a lot more than Ryan and Keicha, who live here in the Ogden area, close to me. I have gone to Colorado to help Amy move, but lately she has been finding others to help, sparing my old body.
When Jon and Sam left Colorado for Boston I got to help them move. I met them at the Denver airport, Jon and I got into the truck and started out on our 4 day cross country journey. We were followed close behind by Sam, young Atticus, and the cat. It was great bonding time with Jon, who I saw regularly as he grew up but not regularly enough. We had walkie talkies and we got updates from Sam about Atticus and the cat. The cat was so well behaved, I was astounded. One walkie talkie report from Sam reported that Atticus had told her cats like grapes too. He was feeding grapes to the cat.
On about the third day of our trip, Atticus, who is is not an effusive child around me, decided he would ride in the truck with me. I had bought some red licorice bits to munch on while I drove and I offered some to Atticus as he rode shotgun looking out at the world through the big high truck window. He eventually fell asleep, a five year old needs his rest. Later in the trip Sam reported to me that Atticus told her I bought the red licorice bits just for him. I smile everytime I see red licorice bits now. As I said, our trip was three nights on the road. Long days of driving, talking, refueling, lunching, and looking at the changing scenery as we drove eastward. The last night we spent in Albany, New York. It was May 31st, Sam's birthday. We got in late and tried to find a place for a birthday dinner. Finally we found a place and had a quiet late dinner. The next day we arrived at the apartment in Braintree, a suburb of Boston, famous for the Sacco and Vanzetti shooting. We arrived around noon and proceeded to unload the truck. To this day Jon says we set a record for unloading a truck that size. I know we were all sweating like we were in a sauna when we finished. I stayed a day and looked around a bit, seeing the Northeastern University campus, and the Boston College campus, where Jon would earn his Masters degree. The next day I flew home, one more move done.
The move from Boston to Scranton would be a walk in the park compared to the one from Colorado to Boston. We loaded up the truck, with some help from a couple of Jon and Sam's friends. We slept at the apartment and the next morning we departed.
We had a new set of radios and Atticus was much older and rode with me the entire way in the truck. He had his book and the radio. He kept his Mom busy with reports about 5 minutes apart at the beginning of the trip. I could hear the exasperation in Sam's voice as she replied kindly to his constant reports and queries, it was very entertaining to me. We arrived in Scranton. Their 3 story Victorian style house was on a one way street with no garages. It was Sunday and everyone was home so the street, on both sides, was full of cars. Luckily there was some space right in front of their house. Jon got the truck maneuvered into position and began unloading, Jon reminding me I was older and there was no hurry. Two hours later we were done. the same time it took us when we unloaded in Braintree 5 years earlier. We would have made it in one and a half hours but the struggle with mattresses in the narrow stairwell and finally roping them up the back of the house to the second story porch, slowed us down.
We were all soaked again, and all very tired, but I had pulled my own weight, which is considerable. We went and had a good dinner and came home and began leisurely unpacking. I stayed for a couple of days to help get the heavy stuff placed and to tour Scranton. Finally it was time to head to Binghamton, New York for the flight home.
I worked hard, had a great time getting close to Jon, Sam, and Atticus again. Ive spent time getting close to them on two big moves, and two weeks in Bangladesh, I've loved every minute of it.
The next time any of the kids move, I will probably be in just a supervisory position, or just the truck driver. I'll gladly take the assignment and the bonding time it brings The time Ive spent helping all of my children move has been some of the best time I've had with them. Sometimes in a quiet moment I find myself wishing they had moved more often..... then I come to my senses.
It wasn't long and my son Jonathan, Samantha's husband, called and asked me if I would mind helping them move. I told him I would come and help. This didn't please my wife. She has been telling me its too hard on me to help with moves now that I'm so old. I brought her response on myself. A few years ago I helped my daughter Julie move from Eagle Colorado to Broomfield Colorado. I admit, by the time we got her moved into her second story apartment I was completely exhausted, and even told Julie and Amy that I was retiring from helping with moves. I'm pretty sure it was just the altitude that made me so tired on that move.
I, like many parents have helped our children move through the years. Its one of those parental responsibilities, but it is good bonding time too. When I helped Julie move it was her, and her sister Amy, helping me. They are both good movers. I remember Amy saying, as we grunted a heavy piece to the truck, "its a good thing you don't have wimps for daughters." I don't, they have all been willing to get their hands dirty and break a big sweat on moving days. As has Samantha. This move turned out to be the last one I got to help Julie with, and I will always be glad for the two days we had working close and just enjoying being Dad and daughter.
Three of my children ended up in Colorado, and they seem to have moved a lot more than Ryan and Keicha, who live here in the Ogden area, close to me. I have gone to Colorado to help Amy move, but lately she has been finding others to help, sparing my old body.
When Jon and Sam left Colorado for Boston I got to help them move. I met them at the Denver airport, Jon and I got into the truck and started out on our 4 day cross country journey. We were followed close behind by Sam, young Atticus, and the cat. It was great bonding time with Jon, who I saw regularly as he grew up but not regularly enough. We had walkie talkies and we got updates from Sam about Atticus and the cat. The cat was so well behaved, I was astounded. One walkie talkie report from Sam reported that Atticus had told her cats like grapes too. He was feeding grapes to the cat.
On about the third day of our trip, Atticus, who is is not an effusive child around me, decided he would ride in the truck with me. I had bought some red licorice bits to munch on while I drove and I offered some to Atticus as he rode shotgun looking out at the world through the big high truck window. He eventually fell asleep, a five year old needs his rest. Later in the trip Sam reported to me that Atticus told her I bought the red licorice bits just for him. I smile everytime I see red licorice bits now. As I said, our trip was three nights on the road. Long days of driving, talking, refueling, lunching, and looking at the changing scenery as we drove eastward. The last night we spent in Albany, New York. It was May 31st, Sam's birthday. We got in late and tried to find a place for a birthday dinner. Finally we found a place and had a quiet late dinner. The next day we arrived at the apartment in Braintree, a suburb of Boston, famous for the Sacco and Vanzetti shooting. We arrived around noon and proceeded to unload the truck. To this day Jon says we set a record for unloading a truck that size. I know we were all sweating like we were in a sauna when we finished. I stayed a day and looked around a bit, seeing the Northeastern University campus, and the Boston College campus, where Jon would earn his Masters degree. The next day I flew home, one more move done.
The move from Boston to Scranton would be a walk in the park compared to the one from Colorado to Boston. We loaded up the truck, with some help from a couple of Jon and Sam's friends. We slept at the apartment and the next morning we departed.
We had a new set of radios and Atticus was much older and rode with me the entire way in the truck. He had his book and the radio. He kept his Mom busy with reports about 5 minutes apart at the beginning of the trip. I could hear the exasperation in Sam's voice as she replied kindly to his constant reports and queries, it was very entertaining to me. We arrived in Scranton. Their 3 story Victorian style house was on a one way street with no garages. It was Sunday and everyone was home so the street, on both sides, was full of cars. Luckily there was some space right in front of their house. Jon got the truck maneuvered into position and began unloading, Jon reminding me I was older and there was no hurry. Two hours later we were done. the same time it took us when we unloaded in Braintree 5 years earlier. We would have made it in one and a half hours but the struggle with mattresses in the narrow stairwell and finally roping them up the back of the house to the second story porch, slowed us down.
We were all soaked again, and all very tired, but I had pulled my own weight, which is considerable. We went and had a good dinner and came home and began leisurely unpacking. I stayed for a couple of days to help get the heavy stuff placed and to tour Scranton. Finally it was time to head to Binghamton, New York for the flight home.
I worked hard, had a great time getting close to Jon, Sam, and Atticus again. Ive spent time getting close to them on two big moves, and two weeks in Bangladesh, I've loved every minute of it.
The next time any of the kids move, I will probably be in just a supervisory position, or just the truck driver. I'll gladly take the assignment and the bonding time it brings The time Ive spent helping all of my children move has been some of the best time I've had with them. Sometimes in a quiet moment I find myself wishing they had moved more often..... then I come to my senses.
Monday, June 10, 2013
TIME FOR MORE RESTRAINT
Recently a man called 911 and told dispatch he was going to kill himself. Police were dispatched, and within a few minutes the officer had shot the suicidal man. Adding one more to the number of suicidal people killed by the police. Whatever training our officers have received, it would seem axiomatic that sending an armed officer to confront an armed suicidal person is going to lead to shots being fired and a death.
There have been a number of shootings in my area over the past year. Two of them have been ruled unjustified. Yet no punishment has been meted out to the officers who did the shooting. If an officer commits a sexual offense they are processed through the judicial system very quickly, losing their job and being sent to jail or prison. It would seem that taking a life deserves even more judicial attention and consequences.
There has been a continuing trend since 9-11 to make police, or any kind of security forces, more robust and to allow them more leeway in the use of force, in some cases, overwhelming deadly force. This increasing militarization of police forces has led to police using tank like vehicles on occasion to try to stop criminals. We were treated to one such chase on the interstate system last year. The man was stopped, and apparently wielded a gun at an officer and he was shot by officers. Another man was pursued along the interstate, when he was finally stopped, he got out of his vehicle and police shot him. They stated they thought he was armed. Eighteen months ago, police raided a house to serve a warrant. One officer was killed and several wounded. The accused eventually hanged himself in jail. The fourth hanging at the jail in the last several months. The suspect in this case has been vilified in the press, even after he died, the county attorney continued to release information about the shooting that told the officers side of the story. There is no doubt in many peoples minds the police did not handle the service of the warrant very well, resulting in a massive shootout in a quiet neighborhood.
3 years ago a man was tasered while having a medical event and died. One of several deadly tasering incidents. We have had one police force have over one hundred drug cases thrown out because of police misconduct on the cases. One of their cases involved the shooting, and killing, of an unarmed woman.
Since 9-11 most police forces across the country have used homeland security grants to beef up their supply, and types of weapons, vests, and other tactical gear. So now it is a common sight to see SWAT type forces responding to situations.
At the national level we now know more about the kind of data gathering that goes on, as the government surveils blameless citizens. The FBI, under J. Edgar Hoover, became a very corrupt organization that was incredibly adept at spying on innocent citizens and has never been completely cleaned up. We have also added Homeland Security to the mix, and the CIA has always been allowed wide leeway in their information gathering. All these organizations get massive funding to help protect us from terrorist threats and attacks. With most of what they do hidden from public knowledge and scrutiny. This secretiveness and willingness to look at individuals electronic lives is at work at state and local levels too. Our former police chief wanted to have a small blimp to help spy on the most crime prone part of our city. Our local newspapers online edition, prints mugshots of people who have been cited for low level misdemeanors. Ensnaring the person in a financial tangle to get the photos removed from sites that put them up and won't remove them without being paid. Police drive through parking lots and along streets photographing license plates indiscriminately. The information gathering in the name of keeping us safe has grown exponentially since 9-11, along with a more robust use of police power.
Utah is a small state, population wise, yet we have more and more heavy police use in what used to be very low threat situations. There was a real rush to pass legislation at every level after 9-11. Much of it being passed without proper study and thought. Some has been reviewed and fixed, much has not.
The pendulum has swung too far to the side of overly zealous police presence, enforcement, and information gathering. Much of it is being given a pass by the legal system. The time has come for the nations citizens to begin to ask for, and receive, more thoughtful and restrained policing at every level.
There have been a number of shootings in my area over the past year. Two of them have been ruled unjustified. Yet no punishment has been meted out to the officers who did the shooting. If an officer commits a sexual offense they are processed through the judicial system very quickly, losing their job and being sent to jail or prison. It would seem that taking a life deserves even more judicial attention and consequences.
There has been a continuing trend since 9-11 to make police, or any kind of security forces, more robust and to allow them more leeway in the use of force, in some cases, overwhelming deadly force. This increasing militarization of police forces has led to police using tank like vehicles on occasion to try to stop criminals. We were treated to one such chase on the interstate system last year. The man was stopped, and apparently wielded a gun at an officer and he was shot by officers. Another man was pursued along the interstate, when he was finally stopped, he got out of his vehicle and police shot him. They stated they thought he was armed. Eighteen months ago, police raided a house to serve a warrant. One officer was killed and several wounded. The accused eventually hanged himself in jail. The fourth hanging at the jail in the last several months. The suspect in this case has been vilified in the press, even after he died, the county attorney continued to release information about the shooting that told the officers side of the story. There is no doubt in many peoples minds the police did not handle the service of the warrant very well, resulting in a massive shootout in a quiet neighborhood.
3 years ago a man was tasered while having a medical event and died. One of several deadly tasering incidents. We have had one police force have over one hundred drug cases thrown out because of police misconduct on the cases. One of their cases involved the shooting, and killing, of an unarmed woman.
Since 9-11 most police forces across the country have used homeland security grants to beef up their supply, and types of weapons, vests, and other tactical gear. So now it is a common sight to see SWAT type forces responding to situations.
At the national level we now know more about the kind of data gathering that goes on, as the government surveils blameless citizens. The FBI, under J. Edgar Hoover, became a very corrupt organization that was incredibly adept at spying on innocent citizens and has never been completely cleaned up. We have also added Homeland Security to the mix, and the CIA has always been allowed wide leeway in their information gathering. All these organizations get massive funding to help protect us from terrorist threats and attacks. With most of what they do hidden from public knowledge and scrutiny. This secretiveness and willingness to look at individuals electronic lives is at work at state and local levels too. Our former police chief wanted to have a small blimp to help spy on the most crime prone part of our city. Our local newspapers online edition, prints mugshots of people who have been cited for low level misdemeanors. Ensnaring the person in a financial tangle to get the photos removed from sites that put them up and won't remove them without being paid. Police drive through parking lots and along streets photographing license plates indiscriminately. The information gathering in the name of keeping us safe has grown exponentially since 9-11, along with a more robust use of police power.
Utah is a small state, population wise, yet we have more and more heavy police use in what used to be very low threat situations. There was a real rush to pass legislation at every level after 9-11. Much of it being passed without proper study and thought. Some has been reviewed and fixed, much has not.
The pendulum has swung too far to the side of overly zealous police presence, enforcement, and information gathering. Much of it is being given a pass by the legal system. The time has come for the nations citizens to begin to ask for, and receive, more thoughtful and restrained policing at every level.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Traveling I-80
It was 1 AM, on a June morning in 1966, as I got into my 1965 Corvair. The car Ralph Nadar loved to hate. I had just finished my swing shift at DDO, and now I was going to drive all night to Colorado Springs. My route was through Wyoming, along what was becoming interstate 80.
After driving for nearly 12 hours I arrived in Colorado Springs. The purpose of this drive was to talk to my girl friends parents about our desire to get married. That's a story for another blog. After our one night visit we headed back to Ogden. We came home using a route other than I-80, and arrived back in Ogden a couple of very sleep deprived people
This trip to Colorado and back was the start of my 47 year saga of driving I-80 through Wyoming. For the next few years my trips along I-80 were to go visit my wife's parents and family. Yes, my girl friend had become my wife. Those trips were so long in my non air conditioned cars, and on some pretty bad stretches of road. Even though Wyoming has some spectacular places to visit, none of them are along I-80. So it meant just getting behind the wheel and forging on to your destination.
When you look at a map, it appears you can take several routes to Colorado Springs that are shorter than using I-80. You can't. Having tried them all through the years, Wyoming is the quickest.
It wasn't long and children were added to the thrill of the drive. That meant more stops, and less peaceful time in the car. No electronic entertainment gadgets in the late 60's. My in laws moved to Grand Junction at some point, but I was in the Army Reserves and we went to Ft. Carson for training every other year. So I was still making the drive to Colorado Springs. The trips I made while in the reserves meant that there were several adults in the car. It was nice to have company and to be able to change drivers. One year we decided to go as far as Rock Springs and spend the night. We drove up and down motel row checking rates, finally settling into a room with a couple of us on the floor to save money.
Through the years the road got better and the cars did too, so the trip became less tiring, still not scenic, but not as wearing on you. I-80 started bypassing some cities so the time of the drive started decreasing. That was good because one year I had to drive home quickly to attend my graduation when I received my masters degree.
Winter drives across Wyoming have there own set of adventures. The wind always blows so you always find sections of the highway with blowing snow, even with the proliferation of snow fences at strategic locations. I drove back from Colorado alone one winter, having left the family there for a Christmas visit. At Little America the road was closed. I went to get a room, but decided I could stay in my car. I had all the gear I needed, so I prepared to spend the night snuggled into my sleeping bag in the back seat. After a few hours I could tell vehicles were moving around. I got up and drove to the gate blocking the highway and waited. They opened the gate and we all lined up behind the snowplows and headed west at 35 mph. At Evanston the plows left us, the road was better so we all took off on our own, I got home only a few hours later than originally planned.
On another trip back from Colorado, this time with the family, the car started acting up as we drove in a heavy snowstorm. The car finally stopped a few miles west of Evanston. Soon a highway patrol trooper pulled up and said he would push me into the cafe in Echo, a few miles down the road. So we enjoyed the ride in the increasingly colder car until we reached the cafe and I could call my Dad to come and tow us home.
About the time I left the Army Reserves, my three youngest children relocated to Colorado Springs with their Mother. So now my trips were to visit my children. They were quiet, thoughtful trips as I drove over, visited, and then back home alone. As a Father to a split family there was a lot to think about on the long drive. Sometimes I drove over and brought the children back for the summer. These trips were adventures. One time the air conditioning was broke on my car, we all sweltered across Wyoming. Another time one of my daughters was sick and just laid in the back seat miserable all the way to Utah. Also it was raining heavily along I-25 at times on that same trip, and the car was not running right. We got as far as Ft. Collins and the car just wouldn't go anymore. We had to be towed to a shop and get the car repaired. Luckily there was a shop open on Saturday. The part to repair the car was three dollars. My bill for towing and repairs came to fifty dollars. I paid it and drove away fast before they changed their mind and decided I had been under charged.
I tried to find stops for breaks that would help cheer the kids up. We found a place we liked to stop for breakfast and we would stop at Little America for an ice cream cone. The times I took them back to Colorado in the summer were very emotionally draining for me and I think for the kids too, especially my youngest daughter Julie.
There is a lot of traffic on I-80 in Wyoming, much of it trucks. But its a good stretch of road to try and find a license plate from every state in the United States and to play the alphabet game. Along with the games we could always count on a thunder shower on the western end of Wyoming when we were coming to Utah, and one on the Eastern end going to Colorado.
Eventually the trips I made were for high school graduations, watching cross country meets, to help grown kids move, to see new grandchildren, and to attend college graduations. One trip I made with my parents so we could bring a piano back to Ogden, We spent the night in Rawlins on that trip. Eventually I didn't have to be the one making all the trips. The kids were older and would drive to Utah on occasion.
By now I-80 was long since completed, and it became my habit to count construction zones on my trips to Colorado. For the record, there is usually and average of eight each summer as they work to keep the road repaired and updated. With the advent of the higher speed limit and the interstate bypassing all cities, the trip has been shortened considerably.
I had become comfortable with the 5 hours of I-80 I drove through Wyoming on my trips. Ive even found some stark beauty in parts of the drive. One spring the median had wildflowers blooming in it. You can always spot antelope along the way and a couple of years as I was coming home I saw all the NASCAR haulers heading east after a race out west. A fun sight for me.
The serenity I had come to enjoy driving through Wyoming was shattered in May of 2010. My youngest daughter, Julie, had committed suicide while living in Broomfield Colorado. Me, my wife and daughter made the very sad, tearful drive across I-80 one more time. No drive will ever equate to that one that late May day. We made it, I'm not really sure how, to my other daughters house, which was the saddest place on earth that day. We stayed a week planning and having a memorial service for Julie.
The day after the service I knew I had to get back to Ogden and begin to process what had happened. It was just me and my wife on the way home, a very sad and quiet couple. I made the trip across I-80 regularly that summer and fall. The tears falling each time. The pain got less as time and each trip went by.
The past three years has found me still driving I-80 through Wyoming. Ive found it to be a time to contemplate my life, to look at Wyoming more, and of late, to listen to my play list for nearly the entire trip. The trip from Ogden to my daughters house in Erie is about eight and a half hours total. On occasion I take one of the alternate routes just for a change of pace. When I get ready to come home I always come back on I-80.
Now that I am older I have to make more stops along the way, but my goal is to still make the trip in eight and a half hours. A couple of times, to help pass the time, I have counted trucks going the opposite direction for a hundred mile stretch. I have my gas stops and food stops and know every hill and dale on the road. How many trips have I made? as numerous as the sands in the sea.
My trips along I-80 now are so different from that first one so many years ago. I have an air conditioned car, with a great stereo system, comfortable seats, a very quiet, smooth ride, and all sorts of digital data for me to interpret along the way. I have a wife who is willing to share the driving with me, when she goes with. My concession to her is that we stop and sit in a restaurant for lunch.
I'm not sure how many more trips I will be making to Colorado, but as long as I have a daughter and grand kids living there, I will occasionally be spending 5 hours with my four lane friend, I-80 through Wyoming.
After driving for nearly 12 hours I arrived in Colorado Springs. The purpose of this drive was to talk to my girl friends parents about our desire to get married. That's a story for another blog. After our one night visit we headed back to Ogden. We came home using a route other than I-80, and arrived back in Ogden a couple of very sleep deprived people
This trip to Colorado and back was the start of my 47 year saga of driving I-80 through Wyoming. For the next few years my trips along I-80 were to go visit my wife's parents and family. Yes, my girl friend had become my wife. Those trips were so long in my non air conditioned cars, and on some pretty bad stretches of road. Even though Wyoming has some spectacular places to visit, none of them are along I-80. So it meant just getting behind the wheel and forging on to your destination.
When you look at a map, it appears you can take several routes to Colorado Springs that are shorter than using I-80. You can't. Having tried them all through the years, Wyoming is the quickest.
It wasn't long and children were added to the thrill of the drive. That meant more stops, and less peaceful time in the car. No electronic entertainment gadgets in the late 60's. My in laws moved to Grand Junction at some point, but I was in the Army Reserves and we went to Ft. Carson for training every other year. So I was still making the drive to Colorado Springs. The trips I made while in the reserves meant that there were several adults in the car. It was nice to have company and to be able to change drivers. One year we decided to go as far as Rock Springs and spend the night. We drove up and down motel row checking rates, finally settling into a room with a couple of us on the floor to save money.
Through the years the road got better and the cars did too, so the trip became less tiring, still not scenic, but not as wearing on you. I-80 started bypassing some cities so the time of the drive started decreasing. That was good because one year I had to drive home quickly to attend my graduation when I received my masters degree.
Winter drives across Wyoming have there own set of adventures. The wind always blows so you always find sections of the highway with blowing snow, even with the proliferation of snow fences at strategic locations. I drove back from Colorado alone one winter, having left the family there for a Christmas visit. At Little America the road was closed. I went to get a room, but decided I could stay in my car. I had all the gear I needed, so I prepared to spend the night snuggled into my sleeping bag in the back seat. After a few hours I could tell vehicles were moving around. I got up and drove to the gate blocking the highway and waited. They opened the gate and we all lined up behind the snowplows and headed west at 35 mph. At Evanston the plows left us, the road was better so we all took off on our own, I got home only a few hours later than originally planned.
On another trip back from Colorado, this time with the family, the car started acting up as we drove in a heavy snowstorm. The car finally stopped a few miles west of Evanston. Soon a highway patrol trooper pulled up and said he would push me into the cafe in Echo, a few miles down the road. So we enjoyed the ride in the increasingly colder car until we reached the cafe and I could call my Dad to come and tow us home.
About the time I left the Army Reserves, my three youngest children relocated to Colorado Springs with their Mother. So now my trips were to visit my children. They were quiet, thoughtful trips as I drove over, visited, and then back home alone. As a Father to a split family there was a lot to think about on the long drive. Sometimes I drove over and brought the children back for the summer. These trips were adventures. One time the air conditioning was broke on my car, we all sweltered across Wyoming. Another time one of my daughters was sick and just laid in the back seat miserable all the way to Utah. Also it was raining heavily along I-25 at times on that same trip, and the car was not running right. We got as far as Ft. Collins and the car just wouldn't go anymore. We had to be towed to a shop and get the car repaired. Luckily there was a shop open on Saturday. The part to repair the car was three dollars. My bill for towing and repairs came to fifty dollars. I paid it and drove away fast before they changed their mind and decided I had been under charged.
I tried to find stops for breaks that would help cheer the kids up. We found a place we liked to stop for breakfast and we would stop at Little America for an ice cream cone. The times I took them back to Colorado in the summer were very emotionally draining for me and I think for the kids too, especially my youngest daughter Julie.
There is a lot of traffic on I-80 in Wyoming, much of it trucks. But its a good stretch of road to try and find a license plate from every state in the United States and to play the alphabet game. Along with the games we could always count on a thunder shower on the western end of Wyoming when we were coming to Utah, and one on the Eastern end going to Colorado.
Eventually the trips I made were for high school graduations, watching cross country meets, to help grown kids move, to see new grandchildren, and to attend college graduations. One trip I made with my parents so we could bring a piano back to Ogden, We spent the night in Rawlins on that trip. Eventually I didn't have to be the one making all the trips. The kids were older and would drive to Utah on occasion.
By now I-80 was long since completed, and it became my habit to count construction zones on my trips to Colorado. For the record, there is usually and average of eight each summer as they work to keep the road repaired and updated. With the advent of the higher speed limit and the interstate bypassing all cities, the trip has been shortened considerably.
I had become comfortable with the 5 hours of I-80 I drove through Wyoming on my trips. Ive even found some stark beauty in parts of the drive. One spring the median had wildflowers blooming in it. You can always spot antelope along the way and a couple of years as I was coming home I saw all the NASCAR haulers heading east after a race out west. A fun sight for me.
The serenity I had come to enjoy driving through Wyoming was shattered in May of 2010. My youngest daughter, Julie, had committed suicide while living in Broomfield Colorado. Me, my wife and daughter made the very sad, tearful drive across I-80 one more time. No drive will ever equate to that one that late May day. We made it, I'm not really sure how, to my other daughters house, which was the saddest place on earth that day. We stayed a week planning and having a memorial service for Julie.
The day after the service I knew I had to get back to Ogden and begin to process what had happened. It was just me and my wife on the way home, a very sad and quiet couple. I made the trip across I-80 regularly that summer and fall. The tears falling each time. The pain got less as time and each trip went by.
The past three years has found me still driving I-80 through Wyoming. Ive found it to be a time to contemplate my life, to look at Wyoming more, and of late, to listen to my play list for nearly the entire trip. The trip from Ogden to my daughters house in Erie is about eight and a half hours total. On occasion I take one of the alternate routes just for a change of pace. When I get ready to come home I always come back on I-80.
Now that I am older I have to make more stops along the way, but my goal is to still make the trip in eight and a half hours. A couple of times, to help pass the time, I have counted trucks going the opposite direction for a hundred mile stretch. I have my gas stops and food stops and know every hill and dale on the road. How many trips have I made? as numerous as the sands in the sea.
My trips along I-80 now are so different from that first one so many years ago. I have an air conditioned car, with a great stereo system, comfortable seats, a very quiet, smooth ride, and all sorts of digital data for me to interpret along the way. I have a wife who is willing to share the driving with me, when she goes with. My concession to her is that we stop and sit in a restaurant for lunch.
I'm not sure how many more trips I will be making to Colorado, but as long as I have a daughter and grand kids living there, I will occasionally be spending 5 hours with my four lane friend, I-80 through Wyoming.
Saturday, March 30, 2013
My friend Dick
Dick came bustling into the office, found me, and said "I don't know what happened, I just left for a minute and when I came back my yearbooks were gone". I glared at him, trying not to explode. He had lost the yearbooks for half his class. That was my first real encounter with Dick.
One thing about starting out that way with someone there is really only one way for things to go between the two of you. Over time things got much better between us. I was the teachers association representative at the high school and that meant I had contact with Dick during the year, as he was a member of the association.
I learned some about Dicks background as we got better acquainted. He had been the building representative in his school in California, decided to become a Mormon and move to Utah. He had, as one of our co-workers said, a hair trigger ready to go off any minute. I saw that in Dick several times.
I sat in some computer training with Dick and others one day early in the computer era at our school. He and one of his friends said they were not coming back after lunch, since the training wasn't teaching them anything. I told them to come back after lunch, they would like what we were going to do. We were going to learn how to get on, and use, the Internet. They came back and they stayed all afternoon. When I was able to show them how to get onto the Kelly Blue book site, and check out car values, Dick and his friend were convinced the Internet had merit.
More time passed and Dicks marriage fell apart. He was lonely and heartbroken. He came to my office on many days after school and we talked until we were the last ones in the building. It gave us a chance to learn more about each other and we sometimes talked financial matters, and I started doing tax work for Dick. We also talked about computers a lot. Dick was fascinated by them and their abilities. I bought a laptop one year and soon Dick had to have one. A month later he asked me to help him with it. He brought it to school and it was still in the unopened box. We got it up and going for him and he just kept being so delighted by what it could do. Whenever I went to see him in his room after school he was on the computer.
Dick and I worked the down markers for the Thursday afternoon football games for several years together and continued our after school chats. He told me in of those conversations that he and his wife were going to get back together after 9 years of separation. He seemed very happy, but unfortunately, he wasn't happy for long and in 3 years he was separated again. This time they both knew it wasn't workable and got divorced. I was glad they did. I had listened to too much unhappy talk from Dick to think he could ever be happy in that marriage. He found a condo he liked and started his life alone again. He didn't like it, and he tried online dating sites with some success.
By this time I had retired and so had Dick. We started going to lunch on occasion and would always talk for two hours. I watched his hair trigger disappear after he finally got divorced and retired. He started looking inward often. He admitted he had been a real piece of work in his first marriage, and didn't know why his wife had stayed as long as she did before taking their young son and leaving town.
We got to be incredibly close friends. Dick shared his feelings about life every time we met. He talked about his son Matt and how accomplished he was. Dick wanted more contact with him and his family. He loved his grand kids and talked about them at our every meeting.
He couldn't stand being alone and got feeling blue when he was without a female companion. I think he fell for each lady he met very fast and that made the breakups hard. But he started being more philosophical about them over time.
We started trying to meet for breakfast every week. I would show Dick my travel pictures, and he was so effusive in his praise. When I showed him the photos I took at the Custer battlefield he looked at each one talked in detail about it and what had happened in the picture. He had visited there and was enthralled with the battlefield. He had been to Gettysburg and when I finally visited there and showed him my pictures it was another chance for him to retell the story of the battle there. I loved talking about history with Dick. He had such an inquisitive mind about it, as he did with computers. He had a childlike awe with electronics. I was lucky enough to be called his tax, investment, and computer guru. At times a mixed blessing.
By the time Dicks body was discovered in his condo, one day in June of last year, we had forged a bond I have never had with another friend. Dick was so appreciative of everything I did for him, he had become a much more calm, understanding person, he was the most honest person I have ever known, and cared deeply about those less fortunate than him. He lived in a very compact condo, did not live a fancy lifestyle, and yet every time I saw him or talked to him he was always so thankful for what he had, for the comfortable life he lived. He always compared it to what his parents had.
I miss Dick, his quick wit, his appreciation of the world, his just childlike awe of the workings of God. He was struggling with staying active as a Mormon or reverting to his Catholicism. We talked of that at great length, and he always encouraged my church activity.
Everyone deserves a friend like Dick. He was the most receptive to differing points of view on political issues than anyone I have ever met. And that was part of the transformation I saw in him over the last half dozen years. From a fire breathing ex football player, who was, as he put it ready to kick your ass, to a very thoughtful older man who understood the need for compassion and understanding between human beings. He especially came to want to be closer to his son, daughter-in-law, and his grand kids.
Dick taught me much about how to see and appreciate the world. His loyalty, insights, his light heartedness with waitresses, his passion for baseball. As I turned his TV off the day he was found, I was sure he had been watching baseball. All of these were part of the guy I looked forward to meeting each week. For Dicks incredible friendship I will always be grateful.
One thing about starting out that way with someone there is really only one way for things to go between the two of you. Over time things got much better between us. I was the teachers association representative at the high school and that meant I had contact with Dick during the year, as he was a member of the association.
I learned some about Dicks background as we got better acquainted. He had been the building representative in his school in California, decided to become a Mormon and move to Utah. He had, as one of our co-workers said, a hair trigger ready to go off any minute. I saw that in Dick several times.
I sat in some computer training with Dick and others one day early in the computer era at our school. He and one of his friends said they were not coming back after lunch, since the training wasn't teaching them anything. I told them to come back after lunch, they would like what we were going to do. We were going to learn how to get on, and use, the Internet. They came back and they stayed all afternoon. When I was able to show them how to get onto the Kelly Blue book site, and check out car values, Dick and his friend were convinced the Internet had merit.
More time passed and Dicks marriage fell apart. He was lonely and heartbroken. He came to my office on many days after school and we talked until we were the last ones in the building. It gave us a chance to learn more about each other and we sometimes talked financial matters, and I started doing tax work for Dick. We also talked about computers a lot. Dick was fascinated by them and their abilities. I bought a laptop one year and soon Dick had to have one. A month later he asked me to help him with it. He brought it to school and it was still in the unopened box. We got it up and going for him and he just kept being so delighted by what it could do. Whenever I went to see him in his room after school he was on the computer.
Dick and I worked the down markers for the Thursday afternoon football games for several years together and continued our after school chats. He told me in of those conversations that he and his wife were going to get back together after 9 years of separation. He seemed very happy, but unfortunately, he wasn't happy for long and in 3 years he was separated again. This time they both knew it wasn't workable and got divorced. I was glad they did. I had listened to too much unhappy talk from Dick to think he could ever be happy in that marriage. He found a condo he liked and started his life alone again. He didn't like it, and he tried online dating sites with some success.
By this time I had retired and so had Dick. We started going to lunch on occasion and would always talk for two hours. I watched his hair trigger disappear after he finally got divorced and retired. He started looking inward often. He admitted he had been a real piece of work in his first marriage, and didn't know why his wife had stayed as long as she did before taking their young son and leaving town.
We got to be incredibly close friends. Dick shared his feelings about life every time we met. He talked about his son Matt and how accomplished he was. Dick wanted more contact with him and his family. He loved his grand kids and talked about them at our every meeting.
He couldn't stand being alone and got feeling blue when he was without a female companion. I think he fell for each lady he met very fast and that made the breakups hard. But he started being more philosophical about them over time.
We started trying to meet for breakfast every week. I would show Dick my travel pictures, and he was so effusive in his praise. When I showed him the photos I took at the Custer battlefield he looked at each one talked in detail about it and what had happened in the picture. He had visited there and was enthralled with the battlefield. He had been to Gettysburg and when I finally visited there and showed him my pictures it was another chance for him to retell the story of the battle there. I loved talking about history with Dick. He had such an inquisitive mind about it, as he did with computers. He had a childlike awe with electronics. I was lucky enough to be called his tax, investment, and computer guru. At times a mixed blessing.
By the time Dicks body was discovered in his condo, one day in June of last year, we had forged a bond I have never had with another friend. Dick was so appreciative of everything I did for him, he had become a much more calm, understanding person, he was the most honest person I have ever known, and cared deeply about those less fortunate than him. He lived in a very compact condo, did not live a fancy lifestyle, and yet every time I saw him or talked to him he was always so thankful for what he had, for the comfortable life he lived. He always compared it to what his parents had.
I miss Dick, his quick wit, his appreciation of the world, his just childlike awe of the workings of God. He was struggling with staying active as a Mormon or reverting to his Catholicism. We talked of that at great length, and he always encouraged my church activity.
Everyone deserves a friend like Dick. He was the most receptive to differing points of view on political issues than anyone I have ever met. And that was part of the transformation I saw in him over the last half dozen years. From a fire breathing ex football player, who was, as he put it ready to kick your ass, to a very thoughtful older man who understood the need for compassion and understanding between human beings. He especially came to want to be closer to his son, daughter-in-law, and his grand kids.
Dick taught me much about how to see and appreciate the world. His loyalty, insights, his light heartedness with waitresses, his passion for baseball. As I turned his TV off the day he was found, I was sure he had been watching baseball. All of these were part of the guy I looked forward to meeting each week. For Dicks incredible friendship I will always be grateful.
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