Ko-Ru-La Report #1

Is this report tardy?  Certainly!

Which excuse will I use?

a)  The seagull ate it.

b)  I was sick.

c)  I'm on vacation and didn't have to finish my report.

d)  Was the report due this week?

Hmmm.  I'm going to go with "b".

On the drive to the beach last Saturday I got sick, threw up on my computer and found the keyboard entirely too icky to touch.  Because it needed a good cleaning I took it to the beach for a dip in the world's wash basin.  It was there that I saw happy young people fairly skimming across the vast face of the ocean, darting before the crest of each wave.  Their glee, perhaps directed by Satan solely for this purpose, filled my being with a need to join them.  At that point I began using my aging Mac as a boogie board.*

With the conclusion of one splendid ride, my computer, by now vomit-free but soaking wet, was driven by the wave and my exceptional weight into the frothy sand at the ocean's margin.**  At that point, my fever much reduced by the cool salt water pushed southward under the effect Bertha's exhalations, I came to my senses.  I realized in a split second that not only my computer was most likely ruined in this foolish attempt to wash it in the sea, but the entire reason for washing it - a sticky, fetid keyboard - had been one imaginary product of the hallucinatory delirium accompanying my fever.

Yet all was not lost.  The silicon of the sand recognized the silicon of the computer's chips.  In something akin to a professional courtesy the sand bowed out, taking all its briny water and small organism associates with it, leaving my computer as dry and clean as it had always been.  More than could be expected, to be sure, and I am so grateful I won't even attempt to put words to my appreciation.

Naturally, I was not completely cured of the disease that set this whole chain of unlikely events in motion.  Barely had I enough sense to return to the rented villa to which my Hiroko and I had repaired from the muggy atmosphere of the Virginia summer.  Presently I will be released from the Currituck County Jail at which time I must post bond and blog, the latter with the continued explanation of its own tardiness.

I thank you in advance for the patience with which you, my dear readers, will receive the blog, once it becomes available.

*Advice to my readers: Do not wash your computer in the Atlantic when still suffering from fever.

**Physicians of note have commented that phrasing of a peculiarly archaic nature might be a lifelasting reminder of my recent illness.

24-Hour Theatre - Finished
Winchester Little Theater's experiment with 24-hour theatre ran successfully this past weekend: 5 playwrights each wrote a play, starting at about 8 pm on Friday night. Each of those plays was on stage just 24 hours later.

My sister, Ann, and I had a great time casting, writing and directing "My Job Went Where?" We are both so happy with our cast of three - Sylvia, Michael and Som (pronounced as if it were "Shome") - and all of the technical crew who helped get things set up. Playwriting was my assignment, which did take me through the night until about 6 am Saturday. Friday night was the first time I sat down with the intention of writing a play, a fact that would have been more obvious except for my sister. As the director, Ann did a wonderful job of finding and highlighting the good parts of my script and downplaying its faults. She is a darned good director, and a terrific sister.

The three actors in our group did justice to my words. Never have I heard so many of my words spoken by other people, and heard by about 100 people at the same time. Hearing the words spoken by people bringing them to life really made the sleepless night and long day of rehearsal worthwhile for me.

Pat Markland, the production coordinator of the program, couldn't have been more attentive to the needs of the performance teams. He deserves a lot of credit for the success of the evening.

I hope that the other playwrights, if they happened to see me in the audience Saturday evening, can excuse my occasional moments of sleep ~ I was, just like them, totally exhausted by that time.

And most of all, I want to express my appreciation to my dear Hiroko, whose enthusiasm for, and patience with my writing are boundless. I adore her.

Highway 51

Yesterday afternoon the clear sky and warm dry air amplified the call of the highway. Who could resist? The day was perfect for opening the windows and the throttle, enjoying gas while we can still afford it, to take a look at the West Virginia countryside.

Beautiful.

Until you give yourself license to spend a few seconds tuning the radio, lighting a cigarette, picking up a phone call.


Driving a car is not as easy as we have convinced ourselves it is.

Just ask the medical examiner ~ yes, she was needed because of this accident. Sure, three out of the four people in these two cars made it to the hospital. But I heard the EMS tech tell a young man's mother, "He didn't make it." Moments later, after the father arrived, mother and father sobbing in each other's embrace, two women - strangers until today - stroked the backs of grieving parents. The beautiful summer had lost its sun.

Be careful, please. Let the phone ring. Listen to that ad one more time. Let the CD changer do its job. You've got your own job to do.

You are driving a car - and you could ruin a beautiful sunny day.

WINC - 1400 AM
This morning, along with Jerry Tracy, I had the privilege of sitting in with Mike Hamon as he ran his Winchester Morning Magazine from the studios at AM 1400 WINC. Mike was kind enough to let Jerry and me talk about the upcoming Train Wreck at the Winchester Little Theatre.

Mike is a very cordial host - for both his listeners and the guests in his compact studio on North Pleasant Valley Road. He helped this first-time radio guest feel quite comfortable, and he gave Jerry and me a wonderful opportunity to plug the Train Wreck.

Train Wreck, the brainchild of Pat Markland, will be WLT's first foray into the adventurous world of 24-hour theatre. The goal is to create five plays within 24 hours. We will hold auditions, write plays, rehearse, and then perform the plays 24 hours after we started.

Jerry and I are among the five playwrights willing to write through the night of May 30th - each of us attempting to create, before rehearsal starts at 8 am on the 31st, a play that runs ten to twenty minutes . Of course, Friday night I don't expect to get any sleep, but already I've spent a few nights tossing and turning, unsettled by what I've gotten myself into.

One thing gives me confidence: On Saturday morning I'll be handing off my script to my sister Ann, who is coming to Winchester from Brooklyn to direct my play. I can be reasonably sure that the relative superiority of her theatrical training (hers: extensive; mine: zero) will save my bacon come Saturday night when the lights come up on our part of the Train Wreck.

But just in case, I hope that some EMTs will be standing by.

Ouch!
As brief as this clip it, it shows the entire duration of my friend Mike's career as a cowboy.



After this event Mike was able to walk around in a reasonable way for about an hour before requiring an ambulance ride to the emergency room. Fortunately, he got to play out his Cowboy dream without destroying anything too serious.

Obama, the Preacher, and the Man

Okay, enough is enough.

I've had it up to here (the top of my head – for those of you not watching me) with this tempest in a teapot about Barack Obama and his church. Basically what people are shouting is that a preacher said something stupid, perhaps more than once, and his parishioner is thereafter not to be trusted. Talk about saying stupid things!

Let's get this part straight: America is basically run by rich white men. That's just the way it has been. And disputing that is foolish. So, if this is what the preacher said then it's not really so stupid after all. Of course what the predominantly conservative people creating this fuss don't like is that the preacher wasn't a nice calm white man like myself making the observation. No, this preacher was damned angry and black when he said it.

Of course he was angry. He's been putting up with the hypocrisy of our rich white male dominated culture for all his life. A black man near the end of his life must be feed up with it, and rightly so. I can afford to be calm about my observation because I'm so close to the rich white male power structure I can barely wash off the stink of it.

Do you think that Bush's preacher has ever said something stupid? I bet he has. I'll even bet that from time to time he's been angry in the pulpit.

I do not trust Bush.

But it has nothing to do with any stupid or angry statements from his pastor.

How Sweet It Is




A few months ago Hiroko and I were invited, along with just about anyone in Round Hill, to tap our maple trees and have the sap converted to syrup.

On the next to last day of January we tapped (with assistance from Carter, the person responsible for getting the whole maple syrup program started) two of our maple trees. To our delight, as soon as the holes were drilled sap started running from the holes and into our buckets.

By the morning of Super Bowl Sunday we had collected about two gallons of sap. We toted our sap to home of the syrupy ringleader where he was preparing for a big boil. Carter told us that he expected a total of about twenty gallons of sap from the various people participating in the syrup making. A few hours later we stopped by again to see how things were going. The patio was crowded with neighbors talking about the upcoming game of course, but mostly about maple trees, our collective thirty gallons of sap, our neighborhood and the promise of syrup to come. A very congenial gathering on a chilly February afternoon.

When we returned from work the next day we found a jar of syrup on our front porch. How wonderful it was to have in our hands some food that came from the aged maple trees in and around Round Hill.

Now we know that maple trees produce more than the leaves we rake on autumn afternoons.

"Impotent Economic Stimulus"

Sometime soon an itsy-bitsy sliver of economic stimulus will appear in your mailbox. Like most economic stimulus packages this serves one main purpose, and it isn't economic stimulus.

The biggest benefit to come from any economic stimulus package from the federal government is that it gives a whiff of validity to claims by the White House and legislators that they have been doing good things for the voters. Beyond the whiff there will be no validity to such claims.

The myth behind this package (backed, apparently, by both Democrats and Republicans in Congress) is that by putting another $800 in the pockets of taxpayers the resulting spending will pull our economy from the brink of recession. Fine and dandy. But what are we going to do with those extra $800 which the government is going to borrow for each of us?

I'd say that the vast majority of it will be rushed over to Wal-Mart, Target and Best Buy for the next pile of junk made in China. Won't the Chinese businessmen be glad to see that money coming? They will be so glad to get their hands on the money that they'll even lend our government the 150 billion dollars needed for us to buy more clothes, shoes, game boxes, televisions, telephones, computers, and MP3 players from them.

Ironically, it is borrowing, both as a government and as individuals, that has brought us to the brink of this recession to begin with. Somehow, the so-called leaders in Washington figure that borrowing yet another 150 billion is just what the doctor ordered.

What we need to do right now, as a government, is to collect more taxes and payoff some of the debt that our last seven years of reckless spending has made so much worse. We need to say to the rich people of this country that we who are not so rich are taking back some of the money that we have been giving them in the form of our labor. The rich have manipulated our taxes for so long that they are able to make money from the borrowing that has been costing the majority of Americans our jobs and our level of living.

Taxing the rich, for a change, would be a real economic stimulus.

The other thing we can do to stimulate the economy is bring our troops back from Iraq today. The billions of dollars we squander in Iraq produce absolutely nothing – except heartache and ill will. The time is well past for putting an end to the folly that will be President Bush's legacy. This is President Bush's failure. America's failure is that we allowed him to do this. We will be paying for this failure for several generations to come.

What Price Honesty?

Last night I tried to put a dollar value on honesty. This issue came to mind not because of New Hampshire's extravaganza of presidential politics in which it is much easier to find dollars than honesty, but because of a situation at lunch yesterday.

After a pleasant discussion that included lip service, at least, to the importance of honesty, my companion paid for his lunch with a twenty dollar bill. The cashier returned to him about twenty-three dollars, having mistakenly handing over a twenty dollar bill instead of a ten. My friend immediately saw the mistake and said, "As much as I'd like to walk out of here with this [the twenty] I think you meant to give me a ten." The cashier gratefully made the correction. As we walked to the car my friend commented that most people are honest, at least for ten dollars.

I hope that at this stage in my life and under similar circumstances I would have behaved the same way for ten dollars. But what if the amount was different?

What if in purchasing a house I realized that the washer and dryer included were an unrequested upgrade for which I was not being charged the difference, let's say $200? Should I point this out at closing or save myself the money and save the builder the embarrassment of having the mistake make public?

If an insider told you that due to a programming glitch in a large city's parking fine payment system any fine would be wiped clean for a payment of one dollar, would you take advantage of the information? I learned about this from the programmer who created the glitch, someone I trusted, oddly enough, to be telling the truth. I never shared this with anyone who could have benefited, nor did I ever put myself to the test: after learning about this glitch I made sure never to get a parking ticket in that city. I guess I didn't trust myself.

One evening while buying gas in New Jersey about twenty-five years ago a pump jockey in a hurry gave me an extra dollar with my change then dashed off to take care of another customer. Already on my motorcycle and ready to go I took the windfall and zipped out of the station in a hurry, hoping to be gone by the time the mistake was discovered. For One Dollar! I still recall both the ecstasy at the gain and the dread of being discovered. For One Dollar!

On another occasion, years before that, I found fifty dollars on the sidewalk after a date. I did nothing to find the person who had lost the money. Merrily I blew the money on movies and popcorn – a lot of movies and popcorn back in the era of $4.50 tickets.

Then there was that late late night driving along University Boulevard in College Park when I noticed a little gym bag sitting in the middle of the right lane. "This might be interesting," I thought as I pulled to the side of the road. I retrieved the bag and motored on home.

Once home I discovered that the bag contained some loose marijuana and a couple of joints in a Baggie™, along with about thirty-five dollars in cash and some form of ID card. Now here was an interesting dilemma. Should I have called the person so that I could return the controlled substance and money? Should I have dropped the whole bag on the steps of the police station a couple of blocks from my apartment? This time I don't remember what I blew the cash on, and surely the statute of limitations has by now expired on the disposition of the dope.

As I write this I realize that all of my adventures in keeping other people's money have occurred after sundown. Had these events happened at lunch time, would I have behaved more like my friend did yesterday?

After dark, what would he have done with the ten spot?

Ooops!

Oh, boy. Here's a darned good reason for being late to the office.

The icy road got the better of my good intentions this morning. Fortunately the oncoming traffic on this little two lane road was far enough away to avoid any problem. The tree that creased the bumper, grill, radiator and hood will live to kill again.

Fully half of the people who drove past slowed down - some even stopped - to see if I needed help.

Then there were others who just walked over to take a look. These critters apparently live across the street from the accident site and are frequently treated to the sight of cars or trucks sliding into the woods. They seem very familiar with, and not at all timid about, accident victims.

As kind and gentle as the llamas were, they provided no real assistance. I was sort of hoping that they'd scamper back to the stable or manger or where ever they spend the night to fetch a thermos of coffee. No such luck.

Don't they look nice and warm in their Andes-capable furs? Not so well prepared, myself, I had started thinking about how to unzip one of these beasts from its coat.

Before too long Hiroko came along and chatted with the llamas. I don't know what they were saying, but I bet it had something to do with "man drivers." Eventually their little gabfest ended and Hiroko took me home.

Insurance Related Update: On the day after the crash the insurance claim adjuster called, telling me that the car was officially totaled. This was not surprising news.

There was no significant damage to the tree, nor was there any to me. So one less Explorer on the road is the only lasting outcome of this bit of off-roading.

Note to Impressionable Readers: If you read my profile all the way to the end you will see my tribute to the high-speed work of Mario Andretti. I truely respect his work on the track. And I understand that driving with Andretti-like speed is meant only for the track, not for snowy two-lane roads. Rather than excessive speed, a snow covered stretch of ice did me in this morning. No matter how fast you might wish you could drive, always keep road conditions (surface, weather, traffic, pedestrians, deer, and llamas) on your mind. In other words, don't speed on the public roads.

"Expelled" for a good reason

I just saw the "supertrailer" for "Expelled" (Ben Stein's soon-to-be-released documentary) and a followup presentation by Todd Norquist.  I did not find this impressive in the least.  Mr Norquist was a very engaging, entertaining speaker, but not convincing at all.  That he garnered applause as his presentation ended was a function of the bias and fundamentalist leaning of the audience rather than of the quality of his comments.

In his comments and the slide presentation (each slide was labeled "Discovery Institute", which is Mr. Norquist's employer) there was an implication that scientists who accept the general notions underlying evolutionary theory are related in some sympathetic way with German National Socialism and the Stalinist purges in Russia and the Ukraine.  As a Christian with a scientific approach to studying the natural world I find such innuendoes very insulting.

They're At It Again

The politics of fear has once again taken center stage in Loudoun and Prince William counties. Prince William's board's recent vote to withhold as many services as possible from those who cannot prove they are "legal" residents of the county reflects a growing willingness to put a mean face on Uncle Sam. However, a scared and cowering face would be more appropriate.

As our nation staggers across the world stage in a rampage of fury we claim the right to change governments and plant democracy where ever we wish. We assert that as the last superpower (an assertion I will dispute at a later time) it is our responsibility to lead the world into battle for the sake of making the world safe for the United States ~ and as an afterthought, for the rest of the freedom loving people of the world. We're a superpower that is afraid of littler countries.

Here at home, the biggest economic engine in the world - willing to squander 12 Billion dollars per month on the twin wars in Iraq and Afghanistan according to Bush's most recent request - is frightened of the economic drain caused by about 12 million people who are here illegally (a distinction that I will dispute at a later time.) No one knows how many of this supposed 12 million are in Prince William County, but you'd think from the words of the politicians they are accountable for most of the problems in the county.

Here in Loudoun County one of the candidates for Sheriff in the upcoming election claims that illegal immigration is the biggest problem we face. Mr. Ahlermann, a former Loudoun County deputy, runs largely on an anti-immigrant platform. Ahlermann might protest that he is not against immigration as long as it is legal immigration. But can we really believe that if a sheriff runs on a platform of combatting illegal immigrants and all the problems they bring (poorly substantiated at best) his duputies will not treat anyone they encounter who has that south-of-the-border look as a potential illegal immigrant?

Immigration issues facing the Unites States cannot be solved by preventing non-citizens without visas from using our libraries. The issues are complex and largely the result of our generally selfish foreign and economic policies. When we citizens decide to look for true solutions instead of political slight of hand we will have to confront the degree to which this is a situation of our own making.

The only scary thing about solving our immigration issues is that manditory look in the mirror.

Two Plays

This weekend I saw two plays, each a mystery.

• Aurora Studio Theatre put on Agatha Christie's "The Mousetrap".

• Wayside Theatre presented the world premier of "Shadow of the Raven".

Reviews should be coming out in the Purcellville Gazette on October 19.

Lee Deal
Today I learned that an acquaintance, a collaborator from long ago, died in May.

I met Lee Deal when we were both in a production of "Murder Among Friends" twenty-five years ago. At that time Lee was a young red haired exuberant. He would have been a difficult man to hide - large of body and loud of laugh. Perhaps if he didn't laugh so much you could have hidden him, but he probably would have found the idea laughable. He was not to be hidden. He belonged on stage.

Lee had been on stage many times before that production. It was my first. People in Huntsville knew him, and would come to see him in a play. No one knew me. Yet Lee helped me feel welcome on his stage, helped me feel that my lines were as important as his, helped me feel that the people sitting in the dark wanted to hear my voice as much as his.

In the twenty-five years since that show closed Lee has done many more turns on stage. I have done none. Lee became a fixture in the theatre life of Huntsville, and I have wandered widely. From time to time during my travels I have met others who have, like Lee, allowed me to feel welcome, important, and wanted.

To all of those, and especially to Lee, I tender my gratitude for the generous way in which you have shared your stage with a stranger.

Perhaps there is yet another stage we may share. Until then, Goodbye, Lee.

Missed Opportunity At Virginia Tech

I cannot fathom how news delivery is any more meaningful when the overpaid anchor of a network news program leaves the well equipped studio in New York to do a remote broadcast. I know for a fact that there are lots of able field reporters already mobile, ready to cover any story anywhere in the world.

Our only hope is that a great number of the news people would register for a journalism refresher course while they are on campus. Those hopes will be dashed, I'm sure.

Quick and to the Point

A lot of people were killed at Virginia Tech today. They weren't killed with pornography. They weren't killed by the Quran. They weren't killed with condoms. They weren't killed by an open and free exchange of ideas. They were not killed by hearing a dissenting voice. They weren't killed by hiphop music.

They were killed by guns.

When will we learn that freedom and guns do not play well together?

On a Warmer Day
Because it is so darned cold out today I was wandering through my scrapbook of warmer days and found this scene from along life's highway.
It was one of those days when you don't get a chance to open up the old V-8.
But at least it was warmer.

Whooeeee! It's Super-Bowl Sunday!

In truth I don't get quite that excited about Super-Bowl Sunday. I like watching the game, even when it is not a good game. The commercials almost always have my attention.

But the all-day hoopla is way over the top. Does anyone have any real need to know how the players slept? Or where they slept? I don't think so.

We have a lot of things going on in the world besides football. There is a lot of healing and cleaning up that we need to get busy with where the big storms hit Friday just a short distance from where the Super-Bowl players either slept or didn't sleep. We still have lots of trouble to straighten out in the mid-east.

And I still have to figure out how to review "Gem of the Ocean."

More Web Wackiness

How can I thank the people at Blogger.com, or Google - whichever outfit runs this thing now - for giving me another way to compose and publish my Round Hill View posts.
This particular post, for instance, will get to the Round Hill View by way of email.
The brevity of the post derives from the fact that I'm about to leave the computer to join Hiroko in the enjoyment of a late snack.
Ciao!

A Bit of Relief

Our friend, His Excellency William Clarke, has been in hospitals or treatment facilities of one sort or another for almost one continuous month. He was home for about five days a week or so after having back surgery. For most of this time he has been looking pretty sick - pale, listless, drowsy.

When we visited him today at the Kerner Orthopeadic Hospital he looked much better and had much more energy than previously. To our untrained eyes it seems as though he has turned a corner and will be recovering swiftly now.

Allah be praised.