No Oil. No War

Tomasito photo, 2009

Peak oil?

I have to admit I laughed when I read in the newspaper that one of our generals complained that if there was no more oil--"We couldn't wage war."

I guess that is the up-side of the end of oil!

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Peak Oil

Highway to Nowhere. (Tomasito photo 2009)

I feel it is a safe prediction to say that the above photo of a bit of defunct highway is just a forerunner of many such images in the near future.

The sea of oil burned daily in commuting and running errands cannot continue forever.

Be as prepared as we can be for the Big Change coming.

Best wishes.


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Right to Work

Downtown LA. (Thomas photo 2009)

The Right to Work

We live in a country which celebrates several "rights" and "freedoms"--and that is good.

There is another item which I would also like to add to our list of "inalienable" rights: the right to work.

President Roosevelt was in favor of this idea long ago--but it is a notion that has not found a champion in many years.

It seems to me that a good government in the "world of today" would recognize that if a person has no paid work--that person cannot survive.

This is the simplest and most obvious economic fact.

And since there is no other entity to provide this stabilizing cash flow--our political system should make sure that everyone who wants to work could have a job which would pay well enough to live with some comfort.

In my opinion, the Right to Work is more basic to a composed, healthy and honest society than the right to medical care which is being argued today with such heat.

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Job Security

Cogs in the Big Machine. (Thomas photo 2009)

It seems to me that job security is as important as medical care.

I would like to see it argued with as much enthusiasm as is the current debate on medical care.

I think it should be possible for the government to offer paid work available for all Americans-- some simple, non technological and easy to learn work--with a wage high enough to allow for a comfortable, secure life.

This would take care of the homeless people and much of the stress and crime we experience now.

All solutions are temporary, of course, but the problems are too--and the problem of "no work" is one problem which has been around too long.

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Grand Evening

Evening on Grand Avenue, Escondido, CA (Tanya photo, 2009)

We were down on Grand Avenue last week to take in the opening of the Art Riot exhibition at the Municipal Gallery.

Though there are many empty storefronts on old Grand Avenue, the area is clean and neat as you can see--the weather now (mid-September) is perfect and the strolling is very fine.

The photo was taken about ten blocks from our hilltop apartment.

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Cousin Joe Departs

Mount Lassen. (Tanya photo 2008)

Cousin Joe Calvin Clayton Junior made his departure from his body recently.

If I remember the family history right--cousin Joe Calvin Junior, as we called him, was just about my age which is always a thought provoking coincidence--I think.

Our paths hadn't crossed in years, but I remember him vividly as a ten-year old kid living in easy walking distance of the tidal flats of mythical San Diego which, both flats and town, have vanished so very completely that even in my memory's imagination I can hardly recall them.

But ten-year-old Joe is always easy to remember.

He was loaded with charm-- with bushy blond hair and a pug nose and a sort of suntanned ten-year-old athletic build which I admired--and a very California Beach Kid grown up style--for example he called girl's breasts "Knockers" which I thought was VERY fast!

I was just an Albuquerque, New Mexico boy--years behind California Cousin Joe!

We spent some very good times together during summer vacations in those days!

Grandpa Clayton, Mom's dad, with some other adults, took Cousin Joe and my brother Joe and I with him on a great adventure to Northern California--we planned to spend a week at a real gold mine owned by a friend of Grandpa's somewhere in the northern mountains but that turned out to be a pretty dry and dusty place so we went on to Emerald Bay on Lake Tahoe and camped out there for a week.

Kid bliss!

Early one morning Brother Joe said we three kids could probably hike to the snow, which we had seen on the mountaintops as we arrived, and get back to the campground by lunch--so off we went.

There was a sort of a trail part of the way and when it ran out we continued cross country and uphill for a long time. Me, the least heroic of the three musketeers, started complaining that I was hungry and that we had walked quite enough, but brother Joe insisted that the snow couldn't be much further and cousin Joe agreed that it couldn't be much farther--and on and on we hiked.

We came to a beautiful little lake of delicious cold water and from there we could see the snow on a rocky slope on the far side of the lake and on up the mountain.

To go back after seeing the tantalizing snow patch far above us would simply not do--so we scrambled around the lake and struggled up the sharp rocks of the mountainside. Brother Joe (the young naturalist of the group) found some dark stones which contained garnet crystals, he said, which was a big thrill for him--and he explained to us how rare they were and how lucky we were to actually find them!

And we reached the snow--dirty and much the worst for wear late in the summer as it was--but it WAS real frozen snow in the middle of summer!

But it was long past lunch time--in fact evening was drawing on--and even Brother Joe started thinking that we might be missed back at Grandpa's camp--so we began hurrying back down the mountain.

There was a subtle noise in the bushes above us and we suddenly remembered that there were bears in these mountains--and we began to run--first easily and then as fear prodded us--to run for our lives!

When we came panting and gasping back into camp, Grandpa and the adults of our party were so happy to see us that they didn't scold us much--but just told us to "always tell them first where we were going before we started out".

And besides, a park ranger had told the adults that just the week before, a fisherman HAD been attacked by a bear in the same area where we took our hike.

The next morning, Grandpa had us lead him back to the little alpine lake-- where he tried his luck with the trout--and I think I even remember him catching one or two--at least that's the way I would like the story to end...

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Well remembered, Cousin Joe!

Oh, so well remembered.

You will be missed--but you will live in our happy memories until we too are dust in the fields.

Cousin Tom

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Training Kills Pigs

(Tomasito photo. 2009)

There is something happening near here--Escondido, California,where we live-- which I am almost ashamed to write about, but which needs more light, perhaps.

There is a village--just a wide spot in the road really--maybe eight miles northeast of here called "Valley Center".

Nothing much there as I said--a gas station and maybe a bar and a little market and some farm land.

There are a few orchards and in one of them there is a grisly training exercise being conducted on live animals--pigs according to the newspaper--which I feel very bad about.

There is a huge Marine base also near here and the training has to do with them.

Pigs are being tranquilized and grievously wounded amid chaotic sounds of battle so medical personnel will have the opportunity to literally experience the carnage, the spilled blood and guts caused by war and receive hands-on and real training with real blood being spilled and real bodies being counted--though the bodies and the blood are not human.

Nearby farmers have complained about the noise. That's why the information was in the paper.

The people conducting the training have promised to turn the volume down but the slaughter will continue because "they are breaking no county laws".

War is a terrible thing--"no picnic" as they say--and military training is necessary--and the pigs will be slaughtered and eaten anyway, so why not get some more mileage out of their inevitable death?

I don't know, friends, but it doesn't seem right to me.

Life is so... well, what word should I use? Life is all there is. No life, no nothing.

Pigs are NOT humans, but cruelty is cruelty and meanness is meanness and the more we are trained to be thoughtless about the consequences of casual killing the worse for us.

These marines will return to civilian life some day not so far in the future and the line between pigs in an orchard in California and the enemy and us ordinary people might be just a little bit more blurred for them.

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