The Sound of Silence

For those of you with children and grandchildren, here's a blast from the past that has some relevance to what is taking place in that great city of enlightenment as we watch in disbelief. Freedom reigned supreme in this country for well over 200 years, but your grandchildren will only be able to read about it in those documents that the government does not destroy.

Read now the words of Thomas Jefferson before the great censors erase them forever:

"To preserve [the] independence [of the people,] we must not let our rulers load us with perpetual debt. We must make our election between economy and liberty, or profusion and servitude. If we run into such debts as that we must be taxed in our meat and in our drink, in our necessaries and our comforts, in our labors and our amusements, for our callings and our creeds, as the people of England are, our people, like them, must come to labor sixteen hours in the twenty-four, give the earnings of fifteen of these to the government for their debts and daily expenses, and the sixteenth being insufficient to afford us bread, we must live, as they do, on oatmeal and potatoes, have no time to think, no means of calling the mismanagers to account, but be glad to obtain subsistence by hiring ourselves to rivet their chains on the necks of our fellow-sufferers." Thomas Jefferson in a letter to Samuel Kercheval, 1816.

Amazing! We have ignored Jefferson's warning. Good-bye liberty, my old friend. I regret that our posterity will not be able to talk with you again.

Chasing Peacock Bass in Brazil

Mention an exotic excursion to Brazil—so I guess you are thinking Rio de Janeiro, right? Maybe your thoughts turn to the girl from Ipanema? Instead think the primitive wilderness of the Amazon jungle where the only mode of transportation in and out is by boat, because roads are practically non-existent.

The Amazon's finest riverboat, "The Otter."

The Otter's companion vessel towing the fishing boats.

Headed out to find the Peacock Bass.

There in the rivers lurks a multitude of colorful fish known as the “Peacock Bass.” They hide in the undergrowth just waiting to strike at colorful lures dropped in the water daring them to come out and play. Many of them weigh in excess of 20 pounds. I’m told that there may even be some that weigh in excess of thirty pounds. But, apparently, these always get away; I'm sure you've all heard that old fisherman's tale. It is a jewel in the crown of an accomplished sports fisherman to land one of these beauties, especially those in the 20 pound class.

Ron Speed Jr. touts his catch of the day.

The Brazilian guide is happy with this one!

The guide had to go underwater to untangle this one from the undergrowth.

So I went down to Brazil with Ron Speed, Jr, owner of Ron Speed’s Adventures (www.fishbrazilmexico.com), and 12 fanatic fishermen from across the United States to spend seven days chasing after a trophy catch. They did not go to sit on the beach or swim in the ocean—no, they went with one purpose in mind: to fish for the Peacock Bass in the rivers of the Amazon. These were some serious fishermen. They fished daylight to dark, taking time out only for a quick lunch each day. Me? I went along to take pictures. I will share some of them here with you.

Fly casting for the Peacock Bass.

Fine tuning the lure's propeller.

Casting in the early morning mist.

For those of you who would like more information on Ron Speed’s fishing expeditions, check out his website and then give him a call.

www.fishbrazilmexico.com

And now for some faces of the village people who live on the banks of the river. They are a very beautiful, primitive, and self-reliant people. They seem very happy and almost oblivious to the poverty in which they live. I will let the pictures speak for themselves. I may soon forget the fish and the men who caught them, but I will never forget these beautiful faces.

The Amazon

This could be my last GREAT adventure. My first great adventure was 36 years ago—it almost killed me. Sadly, there have been no great adventures in the interim—plenty of minor adventures, mind you—but this one is truly going to be GREAT!

I’ve got my passport and visa. I’ve been vaccinated for yellow fever, typhoid, and Hepatitis A. My malaria preventative medication is packed with my gear. I am headed to Brazil with Ron Speed, Jr., a former student of mine from the teaching years, who has invited me to go with him to take pictures on one of his highly touted fishing tours. I don’t know much about it, but he tells me it is the most beautiful place in the world. It will be my job to document that beauty and bring it back for use on his website, promotional brochures, and the like. For someone who has specialized in “people” photography for over 30 years, this will be my photographic adventure of a lifetime.

Shoot, this country boy (I’m still a boy at heart) has never even been out of the states, if you don’t count a few very short day visits to Juarez, Mexico. So this is big stuff for me. I’m like a kid waiting for Christmas. Ronny, you look a lot like Santa Claus.

Public Health Care

To the best of my recollection, it was 1971. We were a newlywed couple stationed at Ft. Benjamin Harrison, Indiana. I was there for training. My new bride was experiencing severely painful abdominal cramps. I sent her to the post infirmary to get checked out. They told her to take off all her clothes, put on this flimsy paper gown, and go to the public waiting area. Upon her arrival at the waiting room, she discovered a room crammed full of people, all attired in flimsy paper gowns. This is what happens when there are not enough doctors and the medical care is free. She, being somewhat timid, said "No, thank you," and went home to suffer alone.

The painful attacks continued on a monthly basis. We moved on for duty at Ft. Hood, Texas. I sent her to the post hospital. Again, too many patients and not enough doctors. There was a screening process in which a very young (Shall we say inexperienced?)Private First Class or Specialist Fourth Class would take your temperature and blood pressure. If he deemed you were sick enough to see someone else, you could move up the ladder. In my wife's case, he determined that it was simply "her time of the month" and sent her home with some aspirin. I forget exactly how many times this happened. I do remember the last time was like 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning with her almost delirious with pain, with the same result, never getting to see a doctor.

It was at this point that I told her to go see a civilian doctor. He discovered that she would need immediate major surgery. We are living happily ever after, but this experience with public health care still scares us to this day. What would have happened in her case if we did not have other options to turn to? What if we could not have afforded anything except the public health option? While not exactly grammatically correct, there is an old saying: Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.

Understanding "Cash for Clunkers"

For those of you who took advantage of "Cash for Clunkers," let me explain my understanding of that government spread the wealth scheme.

I, and many other Americans, have been buying energy efficient vehicles since the Carter fuel shortages some 40 years ago. We did it not so much out of patriotism, but more so due to the fact that we couldn't afford to buy the gas guzzlers and in turn feed their voracious appetites for fuel.

Millions of others, better able to afford high priced transportation, better able to shell out the extra bucks for fuel, chose to continue buying and driving the gas guzzlers. Our government says that you have been grossly irresponsible in your decisions, while those like me have been exercising responsibility for decades with regard to energy conservation.

So how does our government reward those of us who have been doing the "right" thing since Uncle Jimmy told us to make sacrifices? By taking money out of our pockets to reward those of you who have been driving gas guzzlers and wasting fuel while we have been conserving. You know, ignore responsible behavior while rewarding irresponsible behavior. Sounds fair, doesn't it? That's change you can believe in.

Now I Mostly Drink Alone

It started as a social thing in college. I really didn’t like it that much, but—you know—all my friends were doing it so I played along. It continued into the Army and then through 12 years of teaching school. At first I would just sneak a little between classes, but toward the end I was openly drinking in class in front of my students. I was hitting the juice all day long—drinking more and enjoying it less. It had ceased being a social thing and had become a nasty habit.

I was probably well into my forties before I became a heavy drinker. It was not until then that I discovered how to enjoy coffee for its flavor more than just the caffeine jolt. I stumbled into a tiny coffee shop where they ground the beans and brewed your cup of joe on the spot. That first sip was pure heaven. Each sip after that just got better. It was strong; it was flavorful; it was real coffee, the likes of which I had never experienced before.

I’ve been hooked since that moment. Now I only drink the hard stuff. Fresh ground beans, brewed one cup at a time—never let it sit—no sugar, no cream, just perfectly black, thank you.

Unfortunately, what started as a social thing now confines me pretty much to solitude. Contrary to what they may say, most people do not like strong coffee. Likewise, most coffee shops do not serve strong coffee, at least not coffee that meets my standard of “strong.” The truth is that when it comes to drinking coffee, most men are boys and most women are girls. They like the caffeine jolt. But they never mature to an appreciation of the actual flavor of coffee which only reveals itself in a very strong brew. Strong coffee is one of life’s secret little joys that I have embraced, but I mostly drink alone.

The Lord's Prayer: A Slightly Irreverant Update

Here's my updated version of the Lord's Prayer which I offer to those of you who put your faith in government. You can commit this to memory and recite it to yourself during one of those long public "moments of silence."

Our sugardaddy, which art in Washington,
Big brother be thy name.
Thy gov'ment come, thy corruption be done
in Texas as it is in Illinois.

Give us this day our daily handout.
And forgive us our debts
as we fail to pay our bankers.
Lead us not into responsibility,
but deliver us from all bankruptcy.

For thine is the power
of the socialist states of America,
and big brotherism forever.
Right on!

Disclaimer: All hail the wisdom of our great sugardaddies
and sugarmamas, who taketh away all our debts and obligations!
Woe be unto our unborn grandchildren when the debt collector
comes knocking on their doors. This debt will be passed on, because we do not have enough taxpayers left standing to bear the burden. But it should be fun watching as the wealth of this great nation gets spread around and then goes swirling down a giant toilet drain.