“Now the Allegan County Health Director is threatening to take parents to court if the department has “reasonable belief” that their child has been exposed to COVID-19 and they don’t follow her every order. This could include actions by the county to take that child away from the parents and into the government’s custody. Allegan’s County Commission needs to step up and fire this reckless and tyrannical health director for threatening to take away people’s kids for possibly coming in close contact with someone who had COVID. This absolutely should not be happening in Allegan County”
The message should be clear these days that the level of corruption in our current government can not be underestimated. The woman who said she was going to fix the roads instead, killed the economy, shut down schools, bankrupted businesses and individuals, and participated in the theft of an election. But enough about Whitmer. What do we know about the next person we need to sit in the office of Governor?
The people of Michigan, those who live above the liberal line of the southern quarter of the state, want one thing, to be left alone. They don’t want mask mandates, mandatory vaccines, businesses shut down because of a germ that might kill grandma, or a tax on their vehicle that gets them to work and back. The policies of the Whitmer/ Biden administration have been an on-going war against rural America that keeps this country running. It is not uncommon to drive down a country road and see a “don’t tread on me” flag flying next to the American flag.
Schools have one job, to teach reading, writing and arithmetic. If a school is caught teaching anything outside of the basic courses, then they lose funding and the teachers are to be fired. If needed the teacher’s union at this point needs to be busted. Critical Race Applied Practices or CRAP, needs to stay out of schools from kindergarten to college. If what the teacher is telling students has nothing to do with their future profession or living life, they are wasting tax payer dollars and need to be fired. Schools don’t tech kids how to balance check books or how credit cards work but they want to focus on boys can be girls and white privilege. Parents don’t want this. The parents, through their taxes pay these schools. At this point the property taxes collected through the county to pay these schools is an organized collection of extortion that is funding an agenda the tax payers did not agree to. Cut the funding or cut the CRAP, your choice.
Cut the pay of every elected and appoint position in the state. Many of the people who work under the governor have inflated pay rates of six figures in a state where the average citizen makes five figures. Cut the rates of political positions to hire the people who really want the job and are not just looking for a payout for doing nothing.
Get rid of the DMV. We already know this office can function without being open thanks to covid. Have people register their vehicles online or through the mail. Cut the rates of registration which is really a tax on a necessary purchase.
All citizens receive a voter registration card on their 18th birthday along with their registration for the draft. This should not be optional and should be automatic on the day they can legally vote. The option should come when they choose to voter or not.
First, no government office has the right to claim a business is “non-essential”. If a business is closed the business needs to be compensated for loses or not be forced to pay taxes for the time they were closed.
No government official has the right to force a landlord to house a person who has not paid rent for extended periods of time. If this is done the landlord can not be forced to pay taxes on said property and the loss of income needs to be paid by the government who caused the loss.
Fix the pipes in flint. All funds used to pay state officials shall be diverted to the cost of replacing pipes in flint until all pipes have been replaced. Snyder shall also be brought up on charges of recklessness and child abuse.
Hunting licenses shall not be needed for hunting on private land.
Any app on cell phones in the state of Michigan are not aloud to record the owner or collect information on the user.
Telemarketing shall be illegal in the state of Michigan for landline phones and cell phones.
More to come…
I took my daughter to the mall the other day. The family drove to Traverse city and while my wife shopped at the Target store, I decided our oldest daughter should see species that is going extinct, the mall. I wanted to see how many stores had closed and house soon the final death throws would be seen in this particular animal. Target was crowded, social distancing, optional.
In the mall, there was vast space to move and breathe. Shops had signs posted about the number limit on customers. Victoria’s Secret had a robe across their mall entrance telling customers to use the outside entrance to shop. The real kicker came when we reached the end of the mall where a small playground was set up. The entrance was closed off with a gate and signs were posted the entire 360 degrees around it saying it was closed due to Michigan orders from the Governor. My daughter climbed over the wall and started to make her way to the fiberglass tree with a slide. Two middle aged, beer gutted, old men watched from tables as my daughter defied orders like the rebel that she is. She was the only kid in eye sight, who was she harming? As I noticed more people watching I called her over and pulled her out to hear a wail and scream as she yelled that she wanted to play on the tree. I explained to her that the lady in charge was an asshole and that she couldn’t play on it because of that.
We made our way to the food court where there was a different Covid-19 world happening. Electric cars that kids ride in were open. The type that rocks back and forth making a kid think they are driving, for a dollar a ride you could do that. The photo booths to take stupid pictures that you regret later, those were open. The carousel that you could ride for a dollar, turns out that was open as well. The carts that you could rent to haul your kid around it, parked right in front of the security office, for some reason that was shut down. A sign was posted over the paying system that they could not be used. However, before leaving, I spotted a woman pushing her kid through the mall with one of those carts. Either she could not read or did not give a crap. Actually, thinking about it now, good for you lady, you keep on with your bad self.
As I waited for my wife, Zoey climbed all over the cars pretending to drive. Other kids came over and they chatted from their cars like adults at the stop light. When I bought some food from the Chinese place, I had trouble finding a table that wasn’t covered in food and muck. The Carousel was open after our meal and Zoey was able to ride on a horse. Each horse was marked as used and wiped down afterwards. Beside American Eagle who took customer’s temperatures before entering, this was the only part of the mall following protocol. Zoey threw a fit when the ride was over and we waited in the entrance for my wife.
Not once did the cars get wiped down while we were in the food court. None of the photo booths were cleaned after they were used. Security walked past people not wearing mask and said nothing. The mall was a strange bizzarro world of backwards policy and lack of procedure that left my head hurting.
One of our first stops in the mall was the arcade. This was a little corner shop with two entrances. Both of them had signs asking people to scan their phones in before entering for contact tracing incase there was an outbreak. I ignored it and walked inside. Zoey rode on the small carousel that was in there, pretended to play Pacman and we walked out not seeing another person in the area.
My only regret upon leaving was not letting her play on that fiberglass tree. I have read the stories about dads being arrested for playing at a park with their kids. What was the worse that could happen? We get kicked out? If you asked me six months ago if covid-19 was a hoax I would have laughed and said those people are stupid. Now, with hearing the people in charge consistently say or do things that under mind everything they have been saying about the virus I have to consider, maybe all of this is just a hoax for an evil purpose.
Lately there has been talk about how the flu virus has somehow disappeared this season. I call complete BS on that. Hospitals have not been testing for it and anyone who has flu like symptoms are diagnosed with Covid-19 even without a test being done. Lab technicians have reported finding Strains A and B of the Flu in Covid-19 test but not the Coronavirus that had been confirmed before. Dr. Fauci has been pushing the idea of double masking not because of the science but because it is “common sense.” Political leaders hold large gathers at places like the French Laundry spending hundreds of thousands of tax payer dollars doing the same thing no one else has been allowed to do for the past year. Then we learn that the WHO discovered that the virus did not originate in China but they also never checked out the lab that some people question the virus might have escaped from. When it comes to Covid-19 none of the dots line up. We are looking at different puzzles from different books and no matter how you over lap them nothing connects. If this is a hoax it is the worse thought out, brainless attempt and changing society that they could have come up with. After all the back and forth, all the denial, lack of confirmation about anything I can only conclude that this whole ordeal is based on BS. It’s only common sense and if the doctor in charge can create policy using common sense over science why can’t the rest of us?
I had only been to northern Michigan a handful of times before moving up here. The city I grew up in, and spent most of my life, is an anomaly in the state, with three colleges a manufacturing and tech infostructure it is beyond how most of the state lives. There are the obvious advantages to a place like this, things come easily, jobs are not hard to come by, and whatever you want can be found in a short period of time. The cost of living in such a place, I am learning is high. Everything is regulated, the city sticks their nose into anything they can find. Anything you need to live you have to pay for. There is a water bill, electric, sewer, heat, and food, with little space and resources it is difficult to find any of these or make them yourself, the city holds a monopoly on water, you have to hook up to the system, and not having electricity is against local code, you can try to get by without a car but good luck on buying things like furniture. I remember as a kid buying groceries with my mom and hauling them home on the bus. This also limits how much you can buy and forces you to spend more time and money on more trips. The cost of housing is high as well, for a family to rent a two-bedroom house will set them back $800 a month and that doesn’t include the other expenses, plus that is in a bad neighborhood.
For over a decade I wanted something different for my life. For a few years I grew my own food. Even in the city I became very good at it. I grew enough tomatoes to fill the 50+ canning jars I bought at the local second-hand stores. The surplus I could not eat or store I gave away at work. I had this gardening thing down. Financially I was doing alright being out of debt except for a house but still what I could do to better my situation was limited. To go hunting at a decent spot meant a forty-minute drive to another city with public hunting land that I had to share with idiot hunters that almost shot me several times while covered in orange.
In the last few years my wife and I traveled to northern Michigan including the UP and I finally saw for myself the Michigan that everyone else saw. Pine trees as tall as buildings, lakes with fish the size of small dogs, wildlife besides feral cats, and birds that I had read about in books out never saw with my own eyes. At the age of 37 I finally saw bald eagles on the Kalamazoo River, something that had almost gone extinct in our area because of the pollution in the water. Why did I have to hunt for these things in a place that was supposed to be, by the local definition, a perfect place?
It took a disease and a lock down to make me question things even more. If I was going to be forced to stay in a place for extended periods of time with little to do shouldn’t I enjoy where I was living? Why should I rely on a place and a system that appeared to be falling apart?
It took an internet search for a cabin to bring us here. While we wanted a small place to get away for our northern adventures we found instead a house that continued to pop up in our searches, The land was what we wanted, the house was larger than what we currently owned, and It came with the cabin I am writing in now. The town is called Tustin and we had never heard of it. With a population of 230 it was close to what we were looking for with two decent sized cities within a short drive. To find anything like this in the city would have cost us more than we could ever hope to make, or save, in our lifetime. To live in Tustin is to slow down. In the fall the locals take to their deer blinds to fill their freezers,beds of trucks are filled with the cut pieces of tree trunks to be later split and dried for winter heat. Discussions at the gas station regard the trials and tribulations of fishing gone wrong, every shop is filled with taxidermy of prizes taken in years past with space leftover for what is to come. During my drives through the countryside the roads are slowed down by the large tractors hauling liquid manure that is sprayed over empty fields keeping the land fertile.
If you come to the top of a hill you can see windmills in the distance and I often wonder if any of the locals had gone off on a Don Quixote adventure hopes of reliving a grander time than now. In a way everyone here is Don Quixote, decorating their lawns with the farming and mining tools of a century ago while satellite dishes sit next to their houses
Horses and cows are not an uncommon sight here and while some stick to older ways modern life is creeping in slowly changing the landscape into what we are all trying to stay away from,
Maybe I am a fool who thinks he can somehow turn back the clock grasping at something that might have only existed in my imagination, but maybe in this adventure I can find some peace for myself and my family during a time that leaves many people questioning how we have been living our lives.
This year, like previous years, I have failed to drag a deer home during hunting season. I thought things would change having bought my own land and seeing deer non-stop since the move. While I could come up with a list of excuses as to why this is the case there is one thing I have to admit, I am not good at this. I could go squirrel, quail, or turkey hunting and bring something home without question, and some would say these things are harder to do. I could say this is similar to fishing, I can catch blue gill, crappie, and sun fish until the sun goes down, but you won’t see me pulling a bass out of the water any time soon.
This year, like most years, not only have the deer eluded me but they have come to taunt me as well. A few years ago, I was fed up after a week of spending hours out I the woods with squirrel barking their insults at me and decided it was time to teach them a lesson. I went out with my shotgun bringing small game loads and filled my bag in an hour. I ran through the woods taking our every barking offender that dared to show their furry face. Walking back to the car I came over a hill to see two large does starring at me from thirty feet away. A clear and open side shot perfectly positioned and me without a slug in my shotgun. They looked at me for over a minute before turning away and running into the woods. In the end that bag of squirrels had the last laugh.
This year the mocking is even worse than before. On opening day, I went out to the spot I had decided on and brought one of my trusted Mosin-Nagant 7.62x54r bolt action rifles. This one had the smaller scope that was easier to use. The cold windy rain didn’t discourage me from marching out and claiming my prize. As I reached the back of the property, I set up next to an abandoned outhouse in the middle of a small field and waited a minute until a large doe walked out of the woods and looked at me. I raised my rifle and looked into the scope to see nothing but fog. Both sides of the scope were completely fogged over and sine it was mounted on the rear sight I couldn’t use iron sights to make the shot. On opening day, the deer got the better of me.
I set up a pop-up blind near that spot knowing that the deer move through that area. It’s not uncommon to see anywhere from two to seven deer moving through into the swampy woods behind the property. The first day I had the blind up a doe came out of the opposite end of the woods. A tree blocking my shot as its head looked around, then turning around to only give me the ass end before disappearing. The next morning, I opened the windows of he blind to see a set of tracks walking up to the blind and a pile of fresh doe scat sitting in front of it. At this point the score might be deer 3, Fudd 0.
Other odd things have happened since then. I went out to my car and found tracks and doe scat next to the drive and passenger side doors, no joke. Later in the morning when I go out to feed the chickens a doe and yearling will march through the small field behind our house in full view not giving me the time of day. It wasn’t long before I moved my pop-up blind again and realized I had to do something differently.
I spent an evening following the deer trails on the property and found four scrapes, a place where a buck marks a tree and clears the ground to pee on it. Its like a truck stop bathroom way of telling does, for a good time meet me here at this time. This buck was wanting to get some and I was willing to meet him at one of his spots. The next morning, I went out early, an hour before day break only to hear the snort and rustle of hoof prints as the buck ran off leaving me rejected and disappointed. Before heading back to the house, I unzipped my pants and left my own, for a good time call, on his clear patch of dirt next to the scraped-up trunk of a young tree. He has yet to call me.
For the last week and a half, I have heard the distance rings of shots across the land as my neighbors thin the herd and fill their freezers. At the local hardware store, I hear a young man talking about his brother getting two does in the first week and how his brother was disappointed about not getting a buck. The old man behind the counter says “how come? It only got antlers. They don’t taste any different.” My neighbor tells me today about our over neighbor bagging a big buck for the first time in a few years, likely my romantic rejection. Then he goes on to tell me that he usually bags three to four deer a year. Meanwhile, in Matt land, I can not bag one. There is always some detail I miss. I don’t go out early enough. I don’t stay out late enough. I brought the wrong gun for the weather. I put my blind in the wrong spot. I use a blind where I shouldn’t. Granted, I didn’t start hunting until I was 32. I didn’t start deer hunting until I was 34. After six years you would think I would have learned something. This is one sport/ hobby/ pastime that has a lot of trials and even more errors. I am worse that buckless Yooper in Escanaba in Da Moonlight. There are a few days left. I might be able to pull something off, but my hopes of filling the freezer or using any of my ammo for something other than target shooting are low. The deer mock me, they taunt me, and at this rate they know that my place is one of the safest in the area. Right now, they are going around telling their friends to go hang out at the fudge suckers house, while you’re at it crap next to his car. I’m guessing this is the deer equivalent to egging a house.
It was 2016 when I was half way through Jim Harrison’s collection of fiction. One night, while working second shift in a government job, I read the news on my phone, Jim Harrison was dead. I should have seen it coming. At his age it wasn’t to be unexpected that he would pass away. The River Swimmer was added to my list of read books on Goodreads the week before and I was then reading The Big Seven. With a pen in hand Jim was added to the long list of American writers we would no longer reap the benefits of.
Last year, 2018, my wife and I took a trip to Grand Marais where we quickly learned Jim owned a cabin for a good portion of his life. I sat at the bar of the Dune Saloon and noticed a picture on the wall. Jim was laughing or smiling and I pointed at the picturing asking the bartender, “is that Jim Harrison?” I was the only idiot in the room that didn’t know Jim lived in the area. This was common knowledge and to my dismay I had to acknowledge that although I had read a good portion of his work, unlike most of the people in the room that had known him personally, I didn’t know much about the man.
The few things I did know about where from his own books and things that I suspected were his own traits coming through in his characters. He enjoyed red wine, women, fishing, solitude, and dogs. Cigarettes were a must in life. A man of Michigan, the state that I grew up in and still live, was the setting for many of his tales. There appear to be several Michigans that one can know. There is the state in the southern region where poverty and crime are normal and we don’t have much pride in where we come from. Then there is the southern Michigan that has money and good jobs, that is able to enjoy the better things in life. There is country Michigan, where hunting and factory life is normal, Jesus is thanked every Sunday and you better own a truck. Then there is northern Michigan that is still a mystery to me. This is a place where English changes, time slows down, the weather is quick to winter and slow to spring, troubles are forgotten, and sleep is guaranteed.
I have seen very little of the northern part of my state. At the Dune Saloon, I was introduced to the 1970’s and 80 in a time capsule that had been locked away for forty years. A jukebox sat against the wall with music that had not been changed since 1986 and a pool table was waiting for a game to be played. The bathroom walls were covered in decades of people carving their names into the dried bone colored wood. Old barrels were being used as table tops and the brass bar running along the bottom of the bar was kept polished by the feet that rested on it every night. Jim came here often and I could imagine what things might have been like when he stopped in. as a writer, I know that very few people that I am close to will actually read anything that I write. No, the conversations would have been about other topics, the weather, best places for fly fishing, how to cook a perfect tenderloin, where is the best red wine from, or the legs of the Menonite girl that had walked by outside earlier that day. Jim was a normal guy and he wrote about normal guys.
The cabin that I had heard about was purchased and while I still drove out to see it that final hundred yards of the trail, I could not pass because of the no trespassing sign posted on a tree. I had to respect that while Jim once lived there it was no longer his place, and hell, he might not appreciate me stopping by if he still was there.
I should have trusted Jim’s taste on that trip. While my wife and I ventured around trying out different places to eat and drink, with crummy pasties polluting our pallets, the best food was found at the Dune Saloon on the last night we were in town. The view of Lake Superior was something that has to be experienced for oneself. The large polished rocks on the beach that is combed every morning by collectors and those who make money selling them to tourist, are something that I have never seen elsewhere. The sandy beaches of lake Michigan are littered with beach bunnies and over developed kids in bikinis leaving their trash for others to pick up long after they are gone. Lake Superior with the cool breeze blowing in from the north and the freighter ships dropping off ore in the distance was the complete opposite of its southern neighbor.
While I enjoyed Munising, the painted rocks national park, the breweries in the U.P. the quiet nights, and the laid back days, there was one thing that stuck with me. Who was Jim? What was the Michigan that he knew? Who was I as a writer and what could he teach me along the way? What the hell was this state that I was living in and why didn’t I know about it?
I learned about Jim’s house in Leland Michigan, how he had two daughters like me, and all the crazy friends he had. There was much more to see and experience from his world that still exist today. Those final years that he spent in Arizona he longed to be back in Michigan. His final books were set in the state and even he admitted that he was too old to enjoy the winters again or cross the trails that kept him whole. Now I am in Traverse City, following him again to learn what it was he enjoyed in life. I have a week and a list of places to go. Unless the gods roll their dice against me I should learn something along the way.
Every morning started out the same, I would awake early having not adjusted to the new time schedule, make coffee and wait for Nick to wake up. For a man in his late sixties, he was always on the go and busy trying to make some deal happen. Breakfast was always at Gilbert’s on Main in downtown Bellevue. Nick and the owner had a history, a story I never heard. The owner was a raging alcoholic who would down a pint of Vodka in a day and couldn’t function in society. Now sober, he owned Gilbert’s, a deli with fresh bread and breakfast meals served inside or on the sidewalk patio. People lined up behind us as we stood in line waiting to see what the specials of the day were.
Ferraris and Lamborghini drove up and down the street with their loud exhaust, older men trying to attract younger women. You could smell the ocean in the air and if you were on the right street one could see the water in the distance. Gilbert’s reminded me of a few delis from my home town, with murals on the wall and young girls working behind the counter. In the back, near the restrooms, there was a wall lined with posters advertising events that would be coming up in the area. On the wall was a shelf of books and one of them stood out. I had never seen a hard cover copy of Kitchen Confidential Even though the book was a best seller on the NY times list it quickly went to soft cover and has continued to sell since. I pulled the book out and discovered it was a first edition. I couldn’t find a price on it and took it back to the table.
“what did you find?” Nick asked as I flipped through the book.
“A first edition of Kitchen Confidential was sitting on the shelf. I have never seen one before.”
Nick waved his friend over. The man looked at us through his glasses that made him look like the mole from A Wind in the Willows. Ni ck asked how much the book was. “Ahhh, it’s free. Keep it. I find stuff and put it over there for the customers to read. They take them home half the time. That’s the point.”
“Are you sure? I have cash.” I said ready to pull out my wallet.
“Nick doesn’t pay here. I tell him that all the time and he still tries to pay regardless. Take the book.” The man turned around and disappeared talking to other customers.
For breakfast I order the Smoked Salmon Scramble and it might have been one of the best breakfast meals I ever had. Fluffy eggs mixed with cream cheese and thin slices of salmon on top was complimented with grilled potatoes. The portions were huge, something you would serve the mountain on Game of Thrones.
After breakfast, we went around town for my supplies stopping at a local market. I picked out shampoo, soap, tooth brush and paste, coffee, post it notes and pens would be needed. Nick purchased the items and we went back to Walden.
“I have a history with Michigan,” Nick said as we drove down the highway. “I was seeing this Jewish girl, her family had more money than you could have imagined. We were supposed to get married and then I met this girl from Michigan. Ever been to Warren?” I shook my head knowing I had never intentionally visited there. “well, I don’t know what you guys are doing up there but I threw away a life time of security to be with her. She was amazing. You should have seen her.” His eyes drifted off longing for the pleasures of long ago. “but if I hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t have my daughter. She is absolutely beautiful. Have I told you about my daughter?”
“No.” she had never come up before.
“I’ll show you a picture when we get back. She is gorgeous, takes after her mother. She moved out to New York and with in the first month she was on a billboard in Manhattan. I tell you she’s going places. Has a few jobs lined up. Maybe you’ll meet her one day.”
Nick only talked about his daughter. I learned over a year later that he had a son from a different marriage but he never talked about him. It was obvious who his favorite was.
His car was starting to act up. Once we pulled into the driveway, I took a look, being the amateur backyard mechanic that I am, and found a puddle under the motor. The red fluid on the ground said it all. “Your transmission has a leak,” I said showing him the pink tint on my finger.
“That son of a bitch. I’ve already had it in. they were supposed to fix that. He’s picking this up and fixing it today. I’m tired of this shit.” This was the first time I had seen Nick lose his temper. It wouldn’t be the last.
Inside Nick had called the garage and the guy was coming out to get the car. We would be driving in Sam’s car for the rest of the day if we went out. That day we didn’t. staying in and getting things ready for that night.
Behind the cabin was a small shack. “I picture that as Walden. I want to clean it out and turning it into a writing retreat. I want the whole cabin to be a retreat for writers like yourself. If you come out here, you’ll have a place to stay with like minded people.” Nick was being honest about his intentions.
I went back and forth about moving never truly thinking about it being a possibility. I had a house with an upside-down mortgage thanks to the 2008 financial crisis. There was all of my stuff and of course finding a job if I did. The $300 a month Nick was paying wasn’t going to cover my bills.
The shack was tiny and I could see there being a small desk and a typewriter inside. It would be something I would inspire to.
Nick took me on a hike that day. We went down the street and found the entrance to the trail. A tiny stream went through, something that flooded when it rained. He said that sometimes lost salmon would find their way up the pitiful stream. Seattle had been experiencing a drought for over a year and wild fires had even become an issue. I remembered reading about the fungus that was killing large numbers of salmon because of the high heat and the lack of water. This was the sixty acres of land that the cabin was built on, a public park.
We found large dead tree trunks from pine trees larger than anything I had seen in Michigan. The bridges appeared new and the trail was kept clean. You could tell that the area was taken care of by either the city or the locals. We emerged from the other side of the trail and Nick said it was the first time he had ever gone the whole way. I find that it is the people who are surrounded by great things who never appreciate them.
Back at Walden I made a pot of coffee, cracked open one of the 20oz beers and started my laptop. It was going to be a long night.
I feel like I have been here before. Looking at the news and thinking we are next. The last male white rhino died earlier this week and I find myself thinking about it over and over again. What does it take for the planet to wake up to what we are doing?
I went on a walk with my daughter today. We climbed Westnedge hill and looked over the city. I thought about the flood that happened a few weeks earlier. Places like the north east and Denmark are seeing record lows as the arctic tries to figure out what to do without any ice to hold the cold polar vortex at bay. The jet stream has shifted, no longer assisting jets on their travels. This is a lot to take in.
Since i finished the Self Authoring program I have seen some changes in myself that i thought I should share. In the past 3 weeks i have had 1 beer. for those that know me that will come as a shock. also, while i have been debating on when to enjoy my pipe, I came to the conclusion that the pipe and my tobacco cellar should be retired until a moment comes my way when I can relax and enjoy the hobby again. So what the hell do I do for fun? I guess I will have to figure it out.
I pulled an old Remington portable model 1 typewriter from my basement, a project I picked up a few months back but set aside due to time restraints. The black body and well preserved case caught my eye when i first saw it. Usually i prefer the Royal desktops but I thought having the portable would encourage me to write in public again. I had to sand down some of the rubber rollers that had flattened out and was keeping the paper from working over the platen. There are several books I would like to write, adventures and characters that are becoming impatient as they run around in my head.
The more I listen to the news the harder it is to comprehend everything that is happening. I looked up climate change podcast and found myself disappointed in what i found. One in particular that was recorded in Michigan ended up being a denial show where the host spit out free market rhetoric and how renewable energy was a fraud that would hurt poor people. Having said all of that, I am seriously considering bring back my old podcast. It won’t be the same podcast exactly, but a revised version that I get to run. the last podcast I ran was on American Prepper Radio and as far as I know you can still find the show and episodes on there, but I don’t recommend it since it is outdated by a few years and the content no longer applies. I was thinking of doing a shorter show, three days a week, 15-20 minutes covering the latest in climate change, economics, and societal collapse. i don’t know when it will start but the idea is there and I already know how to start and record a podcast having do that two years ago. i can’t be the only one needing to talk about this. There has to be others out there hearing what I’m hearing and wondering what the hell is going on? The collapse experiment was a nice test run, I liked the idea, maybe it’s time to improve it now and create something worth sharing.
For the second day in a row I was outside cleaning my yard. Racking leaves, cleaning out the garden, this was February 14 and it was almost 50 degrees in Michigan. This kind of thing has been a re-occurring trend in my state. Granted, the state is known for having all four seasons in a week, or sometimes a single day depending on its mood. For most of my adult life I cannot recall the last time we had a real winter, the type of season where kids could build snow forts and have snow ball fights while hiding behind snowmen. The last time we had an accumulation of snow and it stuck around all winter was 1999/ 2000. That was 17 years ago, in the early 2000s we had a snowless Christmas with 70-degree weather and I was outside wearing a t-shirt and shorts.
Again this year, the weather bureau stated this was the hottest summer on record and the warmest winter ever recorded. Last week the arctic was 50 degrees warmer than normal and was the highest temperature ever while humans have been on the planet. The arctic, for another year, never froze over.
I know that things change, the childhood that I had was not the world my parents had, and the world I grew up in was my version of normal. Every generation goes through that transition. When I was growing up war was a televised spectator sport, celebrities had live trials, and the president’s sex life was broadcast on television. That wasn’t my parent’s world. The one that we are moving into isn’t the world I grew up in either. Normal for my kid could look like snowless winters in Michigan. Animals I saw alive at zoos will no longer exist. If some people have their way, the National Parks might not be around either for them to enjoy. A think called privacy will become an odd habit for prudes. The world I grew up in, the one that currently exist will be gone and what comes next will be the new normal, the only one my child will ever know. The fast-changing world is a challenge for parents, seeing their kids with things they themselves do not understand and are too busy working several jobs to have the time to keep up with the times. It’s no wonder there is a disconnect between the generations.
The times they are a changin, and what the world will look like I can only guess. Winter has become a short one month event with bits of fall and spring dotting the calendar here and there. The bits of warm weather at the beginning of the year has caused havoc with the fruit trees, causing blooms too early for bees to pollinate and catching the flowers in early season frost to dry off, killing the chances of growing fruit. Hunting season has been thrown off as well with the rut taking place earlier in the fall so that it is done before gun season opens. The earth is changing and the rest of the planet is trying to catch up in its own way, but nobody knows how to do that. In a world that we depend on to remain normal I find myself questioning what exactly is normal?