An Afternoon in Clinton, New Jersey

It had been a long time since I had been in a barber shop. Actually, I thought they had all become styling salons, particularly after the big hair years of the 1980s. It had been over twenty years since a barber had put his scissors to my hair, when I got the text from Mark saying that he was making haircut appointments  for us at Front Row Barbers at Clinton, New Jersey, I had to agree, although I was quite fond of my well trimmed beard.  Mark, his brother Patrick, and Mark’s son, Nathan, were going to the barber shop and, of course, me. Although I hadn’t seen the inside of a barber shop for a long time did not mean my hair was shoulder length like Patrick’s. My wife, Claudette, had  kept  my  hair  cut  since  our  wedding  in  the  year  2000. Unfortunately, at the age of seventy-seven, I didn’t have much hair on top, but I did have a rather nice looking beard if I might say so myself. That would have to go. Nathan was bearded but Mark was not. The shop was exactly what you would expect in the small New Jersey town.  Small but cozy and clean as a pin. We were welcomed and asked if we wanted any refreshment. I was surprised to find out that the refreshment was bourbon. Mark and Patrick partook but I did not. Bourbon doesn’t mix well with the meds I take. Nathan missed out too—he was in the barber’s chair. 

And then it was my turn to get into the chair. The young barber was personable and quite efficient. He took note of my accent and I had the opportunity to extol the virtues of living in South Carolina. Then he got right down to business, draping me in the protective sheet and tucking paper around my neck. My instructions to him were to remove all the hair from my head except my eyebrows! He followed my instructions to the t. The next sound I heard was the high pitched buzz of an electric razor. He made quick work of removing any stubble left by the clippers. I thought he was finished.  But, I remembered Mark saying that it was to be an old fashioned haircut. The barber put hot lather around my ears and on my neck. He used a straight razor to remove any remaining stubble.  Memories were coming back as I was reclining in the chair.  The witch hazel was cold as ice as he massaged it on my face. I felt the skin on my face tighten up. Then he was gone for a minute or two. He covered my entire face with a hot towel. Not a warm towel but a very, very, hot wet towel. I’m sure it had steam rising from it and I was about to get third degree burns. After my face was properly steamed, he removed the towel and applied the hot lather. With a very sharp straight razor all the facial foliage was removed and another steaming towel removed all traces of lather. I thought I heard an aria from the Barber of Seville. Nah, not in New Jersey. I sat up, got out of the seat and he brushed me off.

Nathan, Patrick, Mark, Tony

It was one of the most pleasurable half hours I’ve ever had!

the Curse of Diego Rivera

When I saw this in the morning paper the title of this post popped in my mind.

TO MASK OR NOT TO MASK

To mask or not to mask? That is the question that permeates virtually every aspect of our society today. The advent of COVID-19, spawned in a Chinese laboratory, has brought this dilemma upon us.

The premise behind wearing a mask as a COVID deterrent is nebulous at best. No data exists to substantiate this claim. However, there is a certain psychological gratification in that you may feel that you are helping yourself avoid contracting the virus. This should be a simple choice for an individual who wishes to wear a mask or not. 

Oh, but if things could be so simple. Once the government gets involved, complications arise. Mask mandates abound. Nowhere is this more evident than in the public education system.The state of South Carolina has attached mask regulation to funds earmarked for public education. I consider this a strong-arm tactic. Individual school districts should decide whether to mask or not. After all, their ruling boards are elected by the people in their respective districts. The quarantine rules are at best ridiculous. If a student is exposed to a student who tested positive for the virus he is quarantined for two weeks regardless if he is vaccinated or not.  Is he being punished for being vaccinated? It would appear so. I feel that many of the seemingly mindless regulations are due to sometimes inept, inaccurate, and  untrue information spread by various governments and the ever-present news and social media.  

In my opinion school should be open as usual with certain precautions.

• regular screening of the school population 

• masks mandate (although there is no verifiable evidence that masks actually work)

• ONLY students testing positive for COVID quarantined

The education process needs to continue. Most students are already a year behind. Although home instruction via computer is helpful, it doesn't adequately replace classroom instruction for all students. Home schooling options would be still available for those who would like to provide this type of instruction for their children.

The probability of a child contracting COVID is  0.0004%.

Should we punish our children for this small probability. I don’t think so.  They are currently a year behind in a less than sterling education system.

There Are No Commanders Anymore

As a boy and later as an adult I have always held men who led other men into battle with high regard. As we look back in history there was Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Napoleon Bonaparte, Horatio Nelson, George Washington, Ulysses S. Grant, Robert E. Lee, Blackjack Pershing, George Patton to name a few. These were the leaders that men fought and died for. The men on the ground may have hated them personally, but they would have died for them. Why? Because they were the commanders and they respected them. The believed their commanders made good decisions.  I know from my own experience as sailor and soldier. 

That is no longer the way it is and the U.S.  has not won a war since 1945*. It seems that now when a military man gets a star on his hat he loses his testicles. He changes from ass-kicker to ass-kisser. His oath of office is readily forgotten in exchange for personal gain. In recent years our commander-in-chiefs have been  men without any military experience. Yet, the admirals and generals reporting to them quickly answer with a hearty "yes sir" at any order from the inexperienced civilian. They lack the guts to argue for winning battle plans because they think that  bucking the tide will damage their careers. Nothing good happens when personal gain is placed before integrity. 

Witness the recent situation in Afghanistan. The United States of America, with the greatest military force in the would was beaten by a seventh century band of sheep herders.  How could this happen? Could you imagine what would have happened in Afghanistan if we could have resurrected one George S. Patton and  put him in charge of American forces. I assure you things would have been different. 

Check out this video concerning General Mark Milley, Chairman Joint Chiefs of Staff. This is the top military man reporting directly to the president of the United States.

https://youtu.be/IZ2KMwVg83Q

Does this man demand honor and respect? I think not  He is a traitor and should be court marshalled. There are no true commanders anymore.

* The Gulf War of 1991 was a win if you  accept the original promises of the war. I, therefore, stand corrected

HOW I OVERCAME MY FEAR OF HEIGHTS

 

I don't remember when I found it out.  My fear of heights. My first memory was being high in a chinaberry tree and afraid to come down. The six-year-old adventurer in me had persuaded me to reach those heights. My muscles were locked  and knuckles were white as I hung on awaiting my daddy to rescue me. Some fifty years later while in the US  Navy I had to climb the mast on the aircraft carrier, Intrepid. I froze at the top of the mast and had to have Donnie Robinson talk me down. When flying in planes  I always got an aisle seat and never looked out of the window. Now in my sixty fifth year I was going to be put to the real test. 

We were in Cappadocia, Turkey, at daybreak. My dear sweet wife had purchased tickets for us on a morning hot air balloon flight. We had only been married only about seven years and she was not aware of my fears. A guy just doesn't admit a lot of fears to his beloved. Right? And I wasn't going to confess anything then.

There was a lot of activity as the balloons were unloaded. But the silence of the morning was broken by the hum of gasoline engined blowers inflating the thirty-five balloons. The babble of Turkish aeronauts and their crewmen filled the air as the giant balloons slowly emerged from the barren rocky launch site.  Soon there was the sound of the propane burners and the landscape was alive with giant glowing multicolored orbs. 

I had always thought that those baskets, gondolas, that hand from the balloon were rather small, but these had bigger ones. We climbed into the gondola.  There were about a dozen. Some spoke English as their native tongue. The craft lifted off the ground, not straight up as I expected but in a forward motion. I held onto the side of the basket. The big burner made a lot of noise and the heat warmed us all in the basket. There may have been a chill on the ground but not in the basket.  I thought of taking my leather jacket off. But I would need both hands free. I preferred to keep my white knuckled hands on the side of the basket as we continued to ascend.

The passengers were chatty. Someone asked the pilot what emergency procedures were.  He said he didn't know because it was his first flight. The pilot's walkie-talkie was alive with what sounded like excited chatter in a foreign language. I asked if something was wrong. With a smile on his dark face he said, "I don't know.  It's in Turkish, I'm an Egyptian!" That didn't boost my confidence in his piloting skills. I finally consoled myself in the fact that the situation was out of my control and what would happen, would happen. Apparently we had reached cruising altitude because the pilot cut the burner off and it was very quiet. I finally mustered up the courage to look below.

The landscape of Cappadocia was barren with those fairy castles everywhere. Fairy castles are what the locals call the cone shaped hardened mounds of compacted volcanic ash. The small mountains were of volcanic as, many of which have dwellings carved into them. Near here was an underground city carved from this compressed volcanic ash. 

Below are people waking up and starting their day. You can hear them talking from hundreds of feet overhead. The sky is filled with colorful balloons.  I was comfortable. I was actually enjoying being this high off the ground and without any control over my well being. Have I lost my fear of heights? 

Our balloon began to descend. Below a van pulling a trailer was racing to position the trailer under the gondola. The pilot gently landed the basket on the trailer and we immediately clamor out. We toasted each other with mimosas in champagne flutes.

Yes, I believe that all it took was a hot air balloon ride in the Turkish outback to cure me of my acrophobia.

I Learned Everything I needed To Know On Saturday Afternoon At The Carolina Theater

​

BREAK UP BIG TECH

According to Wikipedia, Big Tech is Amazon, Google, and Facebook. Forbes magazine says  these are the 3rd, 4th, and 6th largest companies in the world with a combined value of $2 trillion. These companies are monopolies and have no significant competition in their particular industries.

 

Big Tech affects our lives in many ways daily. We buy from Amazon, use Google’s email and search engine, and Facebook connects us with dozens of friends socially. These  are but a few ways we knowingly use their services.

Why should  they be broken up? In their particular businesses they are the biggest and most powerful and have little competition. Historically, in the early nineteenth century, railroad, oil and steel industries were the giant companies of that day. There was much concern over those big companies because of their power and monopolizing of business. The Federal government responded by enacting antitrust laws such as the Sherman Antitrust Act of 1890 which was used to break up these large companies into smaller companies. For over 100 years, according to the Federal Trade Commission, the antitrust laws have had the same basic objective: to protect the process of competition for the benefit of consumers, making sure there are strong incentives for businesses to operate efficiently, keep prices down, and keep quality up. It would appear that Big Tech is guilty of breaking at least some of these laws.

Currently we have Big Tech monopolizing certain industries. Amazon  has no serious competition in online retailing and its Amazon Web Services (AWS) offers infrastructure platforms in the cloud that powers hundreds of thousands of businesses in 190 countries around the world.  Google has no serious rival as a search engine and its YouTube provides a platform for thousands of videos and is the second largest search engine in the world.  Facebook as a social media platform has no significant competitor and since its purchase of Instagram has increased its monopolization of the social media market. These companies collect data on their users and in many cases sell this data or use collected data for targeted advertisements on the internet.  

However, there is another danger of the power of Big Tech, and that is its alliance with  the Federal government.   Big tech companies have long been in business with the federal government. Currently the Central Intelligence Agency uses the cloud services of AWS, a subsidiary of Amazon. The $600 million contract  allows all intelligence agencies to share data more efficiently as reported by the Atlantic.  Currently there is a $10 million  contract being bid on by Amazon from the Department of Defense. Big Tech and the US government could be considered  business partners. Hardly conducive to antitrust lawsuits. 

According to some, Big Tech exerts muscle in the political arena as well.  Robert Epstein, a San Diego-based psychologist, believes bias built into Google’s processes could have cost Republicans three California congressional districts in the last election. “These are new forms of manipulation people can’t see,” he said in a LA Times article. “The technologies can have an enormous impact on voters who are undecided. … People have no awareness the influence is being exerted.”  However, Sundar Pichai, CEO of Alphabet Inc. and its subsidiary, Google, said at a House Judiciary Committee that Google had investigated Epstein’s findings and found his methodology flawed.  Later, in a Hillsdale College speech, Epstein said that he was confident that Google had influenced the 2020 Presidential Election.  According to his research, undecided Democrat voters were urged continuously to vote prior to election day. Such encouragement was not given by Google to undecided Republican voters. Epstein said that his data proves that Google influenced the election results.

Perhaps action against Big Tech would force Amazon to divest itself of Amazon Web Services,  Google to sell YouTube, and Facebook to rid itself of Instagram. The Federal government forced AT & T to divest itself of its subsidiaries in 1974 according to ivestopedia.com.  Such action against Big Tech would allow for more competition. However, according to Fortune, The US will probably not break up Big Tech because that would allow China to become the big tech leader in the world. This is based primarily on the loss of technical research due to a breakup. 

In October, 2020, according to the Associated Press, the House Judiciary Committee presented to Congress a 450 page report into Big Tech’s market dominance.  “Each platform serves as a gatekeeper over a key channel of information.” The report says that, “By controlling access to them these giants can pick winners and losers throughout the economy” This report could prompt some action leading to antitrust action against Big Tech.

 

Regardless, of whether you support breaking up the Big Tech companies or regulating it more, contact your legislators in Washington to advocate for your wishes. 

 

Want To Drive a Nuclear Submarine?

270K

Have you ever wanted to stand in the control center of a nuclear submarine? After such movies as The Hunt for Red October  and Crimson Tide  I know  I do. However, I can understand why the Navy doesn’t allow this. But there is a way, sort of…

Let’s check out the Naval Undersea Museum. 

The Naval Undersea Museum is located in Keyport, Washington. 

The modern building, built in 1995, houses the museum. By the entrance is the sail, off the nuclear submarine USS Sturgeon SSN 637. 

The first display area is dedicated to the world in which the submarine operates—the undersea world. Here, water temperature, tides, currents and the ocean floor are explained by way of graphics and objects on display. It is quite colorful and informative. Also aquatic animals are featured and the way man has used them to research the sea. This is the operating environment of the submarine, the sea.

Prior to the invention of the underwater boat or submarine, mines known as torpedoes were the undersea weapon of choice. By the way submariners refer to their craft as a boat. When Commodore David Farragut exclaimed, while sailing into Mobile Bay during the Civil War, “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!” The torpedo he was referring to is what we refer to as a mine today. Initially they were triggered when an object such as ship came in contact with the mine then known as a torpedo. this contact resulting to a flintlock like mechanism ignition the explosive powder.  

Interestingly enough, the motorized and controlled torpedo was invented before the practical submarine. The  Englishman, Robert Whitehead, invented the modern torpedo in 1866. Compressed air fueled the reciprocating engine to provide motivation through the water. The later switch to steam also drove a reciprocating engine prior to replacement by a steam turbine. Electric motors with battery packs were also used. The adaption of the gyroscope in the late 1800s greatly  improved maneuverability. These torpedoes, first used by the Austrian Navy in warfare, were launched from small ships. They would continue to be launched by surface vessels for years to come. 

Although submarines are known to have existed in the 18th century they did not become practical until the late nineteenth century. In 1775 the first military submarine was the Turtle, invented by David Bushnell. According to the museum, the first submarine to sink an enemy vessel, the CSS H.L. Hunley in 1864 was not a true submarine because it did not have apparatus for the crew to breathe underwater. The first mechanically powered submarine used compressed air and a reciprocating engine. Later  steam engines were used. When it became obvious that the submarine would need and internal combustion engine was well as an electric engine the diesel-electric hybrid combination was used. This allowed the submarine to operate on the surface with the diesel engine and charge the batteries for the electric motor simultaneously. With the advent of diesel electric power in the late nineteenth century submarine production increased rapidly.

A number of nations had built practical military submarines by the time of the First World War. Germany was very effective in its use of submarines in warfare. In WWII Germany’s U-Boats wreaked havoc on shipping in the North Atlantic. Between the wars submarine technology increased the speed and range of the underwater boats. Germany depended on its submarine fleet to rule the Atlantic and Mediterranean. The brass headed German G7e torpedo is responsible for sending thousands of tons of ships and ship’s cargo to Dave’s Jones locker. And that’s the US Navy’s Mark 18 torpedo used by the Americans during WWII. Submarine commanders distrusted it due to design flaws. It would frequently circle the target rather than hitting it. However, after the design flaws were addressed the American submarines ruled the Pacific against the Japanese. 

Although technical advances continued in torpedo development, torpedoes were overshadowed by the guided missile as a submarine weapon. Shortly after the nuclear powered submarine was introduced in 1955  the intercontinental ballistic missile was added to the arsenal of the nuclear powered submarine. It followed the deck launched winged missiles such as the Rugulus.The submarine launched missile reached perfection in the SLBM, Submarine Launched Ballistic  Missile. The MIRV, the Multiple Independently targeted Reentry Vehicle, is the ultimate ballistic missile. These large missiles with as many as 14 targetable warheads delivered to high altitude by a missile are dispersed and guided to targets below.  These large missile carrying submarines have the ability to deliver unbelievable destruction, and are called s“boomers”. 

Not all nuclear submarines are this big and powerful. Some such as the USS Greenling  SSN 614, a fast attack submarine,  were smaller with a crew of 12 officers and 95 men. The museum has a command center of a nuclear powered submarine on display  Actually all electronic monitoring, communication and ancillary equipment are from the USS Greenling SSN 614, decommissioned in 1996. And that includes the periscope. The decisions for the submarine’s operation were made here. Notice the lack of chairs which would have been normally in front of the instruments and controls.

Unfortunately, due to COVID-19 restrictions, I was unable to enter the space and stand in the control room of a nuclear powered attack submarine. 

There are other displays of underwater research and rescue vehicles in the museum but pale in comparison to the undersea warfare section. When in Keyport on Puget sound check out the Naval Undersea Museum

From My Childhood

It was a hot day like most August days. But this day is stuck in my memory. A day midway through the twentieth century. It’s funny how some events stick in your mind and others don’t. On that day I was walking with my Dad on Main Street, Greenwood, South Carolina. My mother was shopping at JCPenney.  A Charleston & Western Carolina freight train had just gone through town. I loved to watch the trains. They were loud, with a clanging bell, a whistle, and black smoke pouring from their smoke stack. Daddy said the train was carrying coal from West Virginia to Savannah, Georgia. Momma wanted the city to get rid of the train in the middle of town. 

We hadn’t gone very far when Daddy pulled on my arm and said, “Son, there’s somebody I want you to meet.”

There was a man leaning against the wall beside the barber pole at Henry Scott’s barbershop where I got my hair cut. He had on faded bib overalls and an old chambray shirt. As we approached, he tipped his hat and said, “Howdy, Cap’n!”  The smile on his face revealed a missing front tooth. 

Daddy shook the man’s hand and said, “It’s been a long time, Mose.” 

“Yessiree. It sho has.  Who dat wid cha?” the man said. 

“This is my son, Tony,” Daddy said as he turned to me and added, “ Son, shake hands with Mose. We played together when we were boys. His mama would spank my behind when I was bad too!” 

I did not want to do it. I knew what Frankie said about people like him. But Daddy talked like that I knew I had to do what he said. He pulled me toward the man. Disobeying my daddy meant I would get a whipping. I did not like getting punished. It hurt. 

I looked around to see if anyone was watching and shook his hand. It was big, strong and calloused. I shook it. As we walked away I stole a glance at my hand. It was not black. Frankie was wrong. 

Many years later I was selling art in Washington Park with fellow artist, Vincent Bobo. I shared this story with my friend, an African-American, and  fellow native South Carolinian. He thought it was one of the funniest stories he had ever heard.

I wonder if it would be funny today?

The Devil's Road

We had left Phoenix a bit after lunch and traveled east on Interstate 10 past Tucson  before leaving the four-lane. We didn’t know where we would spend the night because unlike our usual travel arrangements we did not make a reservation for the night's lodging. Claudette wanted to visit San Xavier del Bac Mission. We had visited it many years before and were anxious to visit this prime example of a Spanish mission in the southwest again. The mission was much as we remembered. I felt the same ambiance there as in St. Peter’s or St. Paul’s. But at this visit there were no Indians (Native Americans) selling fry bread on the grounds. 

Back on the interstate we traveled a bit further east  before turning south on a state road. Our destination was Tombstone, Arizona. It was my idea to visit the southwestern city so well known in western folklore and history. It was mid afternoon when we parked in the public parking lot to explore Tombstone afoot. It was good to stretch our legs after being confined to the SUV for several hours. Tombstone is a city of about 1200 people and no doubt survives on tourism. Founded in 1879, its greatest claim to fame occurred two years later. The shootout at the OK Corral was that event. The Earp brothers met the Clinton brothers there and engaged in gunplay on a Wednesday afternoon October 26, 1881. This was the culmination of a long standing feud. The gunfight actually lasted only about 30 seconds. When it was over three men were dead and others wounded. The battle is re-enacted today. We did not see the show. In our travels we’ve seen a number of western shootouts, including one in southern Spain on the former movie sets of the spaghetti westerns. I did manage to get us  disoriented (not lost) and find a number of places not on the tourist maps. Claudette had queried the internet earlier and found that Big Nose Kate’s Saloon served some vegan dishes. The saloon was big, busy and loud behind the swinging doors. A man with a white beard and black cowboy hat was singing some familiar western songs -  old and new. Old photographs and western memorabilia covered the walls. There was even a cigar store Indian! The food was good and the price was right. Service could have been faster but the waiter girl was very busy. One of the most memorable displays in Big Nose Kate’s was in the hallway to the restrooms. On a twenty-five foot wall was modern military memorabilia. Flags, shoulder patches, and photographs were too numerous to count. They called it "The Hall of Fame". It made us feel good to see our fighting men and women honored this way. 

The sun was getting low in the western sky when we saw Tombstone in the rear view mirror as we began our journey north, northeast. We would be on the blue highways as they were referred to by William Least Heat Moon in his book by the same name. As darkness fell we found ourselves in Morenci, Arizona. We were driving through or rather across the largest copper mine in Arizona if not the country. It was dark and we could only see the road ahead. But we were surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of lights. Had they been in straight lines I would have thought we were in the middle of a city. But the view was not unlike that seen from an airplane flying over a city at night. I believe we were on a bridge over part of the open pit mine.  As we left civilization there was a roadside sign stating “next services 90 miles”. I asked Claudette what that meant and she said she thought it meant it was 90 miles to a restroom. We were on Highway 191 which reaches the Canadian border after its origin in Mexico.

And so we began our drive through the Green Mountains and White Mountains of southeastern Arizona. Ninety miles did not seem very far, probably a two or three hour drive, or so we thought. After the lights of Morenci had faded behind us, Highway 191 became one of switchbacks and sharp curves. Speed was limited to thirty-five miles-per-hour. The road was either descending or ascending. It reaches the altitude of 9000 feet but my ears never did pop. There was no moon light, the darkness was so thick that our headlights penetrated the darkness only slightly. I could hear stones falling to the valleys below as our wheels pushed them out of the way. It reminded me of a road we had been on near Lake Tahoe where the white lines on the sides in the road fell away in chunks of asphalt as we drove down the road. The thick forest grew to the edges of the road and occasionally a jackrabbit would scamper across the road. We were in Apache territory, the San Carlos Reservation, which is a well known area for elk hunting. We saw no hunters but saw their quarry. Elk, the largest member of the deer family, would appear almost as mirages out of the night.  Approaching eight hundred pounds, they were animals to be avoided. Around midnight we were driving along the valley floor and spied a lodge. It was a log structure with several big motorcycles parked in front. I bounded up the front steps of the lodge as fast as an old man could and pounded on the entrance but without success. I tried another door with similar results. Frustrated we jumped back in the car and were on the road again and I might add that the need to relieve myself was becoming a dire necessity. Shortly after one o’clock in the morning we found civilization in the form of the town of Alpine, Arizona, population 146 at the intersection of Highways 180 and 191. On the other side of the intersection with the gas station was the Sportsman's Lodge. This little motel on the Coronado Trail appeared to be straight out of the 1950s. I knocked on the office door and to my relief it opened. There in front of me was a little old lady in flannel pajamas and a stocking cap. I blurted out that I needed a room and she said that number fifteen was available. Registration and payment was expedited quickly and soon we were in a cozy little room. It had cable TV and wifi too but was just a bit smaller than a Marriott room. Actually, a lot smaller. 

We had a good night’s sleep at the Sportsman’s Lodge in Alpine and I would recommend it to anyone. One day I would like to see the Coronado Trail in daylight. 

Highway 191 was first given the number 666. Since this number is considered the mark of the beast (the devil) and is a bad omen the number was changed. 

Cacti and then some...

An hour's drive out of Phoenix, Arizona, is the Boyce Thompson Arboretum. It was my first visit to such a place. Normally, I visit collections of inanimate objects or biological specimens. Collections of animals or sea creatures, musical instruments or aeroplanes are usually the food to satisfy my curiosity. Never plants.  But Kim was insistent.

The Boyce Thompson Arboretum fulfilled a desire I was not aware of. There are almost 400 acres of desert plants in the collection. But not of the southwestern United States only, but of the South American and Australian deserts as well. Here in the Sonoran Desert are over 3900 different desert plants. Succulents of myriad shapes and colors are here. The topography is that of the desert with an elevation increasing to

over one hundred feet beneath the shadow of Picketpost Mountain. Surprising to me were the large shaded areas created by tall trees. The trails were well marked along with the plants, and for the most part were conducive for a leisurely walk. Near Queen Creek the path narrowed as it overlooked the slowly flowing water. As you gained elevation the landscape became stark but allowed vistas of the acreage below.  The trail is 1.5 miles long but shorter segments can be enjoyed. There are wild animals in the arboretum but they are seldom seen. The crowds of people keep the bobcats and javelinas at bay, but you must be cautious of the rattlesnakes and gila monsters. I marveled at the diversity and hardiness of the desert plants. They seemed to live right on the edge of botanical life. 

Desert plants present an interesting way in which they adapt to their environment. By definition they are succulents. According to the botanists, plants that are engorged, thickened, and fleshy usually to retain water in arid conditions are succulents . Actually the name succulent comes from the Latin word succus, meaning juice or sap. Succulents can store as much as 90% of their weight as water. Probably the most recognizable succulent is the saguaro cactus. The cactus swells when absorbing water and its ribs disappear.

The arboretum was created by a mining engineer. It seems to me ironic that a person committed to removing the wealth of the earth would create a place to honor it.   Arizona is well known for mining and William Boyce Thompson operated two of the largest. In 1924 Thompson exhibited his love of desert plants by creating the arboretum. Not only is it a botanical park but also a place for botanists to do research. Their green houses are replete with plants, some of which are sold by the gift shop. 

   

At the Boyce Thompson Arboretum all kinds of succulents are there to observe and enjoy. It was a very enjoyable and educational visit. I thought the entry fee was reasonable and the arboretum was well designed for visitors. There was an interesting maze of stone for children or like minded adults to enjoy.  However, it would behoove one to visit before  the heat of the day. Arizona heat can be brutal. But I would visit it again - the garden in the desert - the Boyce Thompson Arboretum. 

A Tale of Two Ships

I will start this post with the ship not mentioned, the USS Intrepid. This American warship was my home for a number of years. The ships are ships upon which I took pleasure cruises. My cruises on the Intrepid were not for pleasure.

My first cruise aboard a cruise ship was from Ketchikan, Alaska to Vancouver, Canada. It was one of the ships advertised as a “fun ship”. Our cruise was on tje Carnival Spirit.  I think that term was used because of the shipboard entertainment. And, of course, because of the nightclubs and casinos . Neither of the latter appeal to me. But the ports of call were interesting. Especially the one where the salmon cook-out was raided by a bear and her cub. The ship’s cook, a true hero, chased the hungry bears away. Unfortunately he overcooked the fish!  I used most of my shipboard time filling my sketchbook and journal. There was the opportunity to witness a glacier calving. I’m not sure where that term comes from. The awesome power of nature is overwhelming. The purpose of this cruise was to transport passengers to ports of interest. Seeing a marvel of nature was purely incidental. 

The largest of these cruise ships carry over four thousand passengers. Passenger is probably the wrong term since these ships usually begin and end their cruise in the same port. Indeed these passengers are vacationers, not persons enroute to a foreign port. But in our particular case we were enroute from AK to Canada. The Carnival line calls their ships the “fun ships”. And it is one of  the least expensive of the cruise lines. Once you’re on board you receive your personal ship's identification card. Not only does the card identify you as a passenger but you can use it to charge purchases of goods and services. In many ports it is even used as your passport. These less expensive cruise lines promote their casinos quite a bit.  Another thing they promote a lot is photographers. It seems they are always on hand to snap your photo for a price. But the inconvenience does not come with a price unless you buy the photographs. There are various activities abound while at sea as prescribed by the cruise director; from  hairy chest contests beside the pool to talent contests in the theater. The big theater in the bow of the ship held about four hundred of us to view a musical show with singers and dancing girls. A bearded fellow in a John Deere baseball cap nudged me and said, “ Would you look at the buttocks on those girls!” There was sort of a leer on his face. I verified what he meant.

Cruise ships have a different organizational structure than a military ship. The hotel manager takes care of everything concerning the passengers. The Captain’s crew takes care of the operation of the ship 

One of my greatest joys have been the places seen from the deck of a ship. Nothing quite compares to the view of a Caribbean sunset with the wind in your hair and the taste of salt on your lips.    And, as I noted earlier, glacier calving. The Fantasy Line ships simply have too many people aboard for my liking. But they give a lot of bang for the buck.

Our most recent cruise was on the Viking ship ”Sea” sailing out of Stockholm. It was a relatively small cruise ship of about 900 passengers. It was a seven nation cruise. The ship had no casinos and I don’t believe food and drink were available around the clock. Fewer people made movement around the ship more conducive to relaxing. Everything was an improvement over the “fun ship”. Of course that is a matter of preference. I have no problems with dancing girls but prefer a bit of variety in entertainment. There were daily lectures about the ports of call and other interesting subjects.  One lecture I remember was by a former member of the British diplomatic corps stationed in Moscow.  He regaled us with his stories of dealing with constant surveillance by the KGB.  Afternoon tea was usually accompanied by a string trio or jazz quartet.  On another night the shipboard performers entertained with a musical salute to the Swedish rock band, ABBA.  Staterooms were a bit bigger and since it was a smaller ship the amenities were more convenient.  My favorite place aboard the ship was the bar at the bow. Large comfortable chairs and sofas with reindeer rugs near the library fit my fancy well.  We had a lot of interesting tours ashore as well. St. Petersburg, Russia, and Gdansk, Poland, were most interesting. There seems to be a more relaxed atmosphere aboard the smaller ships as well as a different type  of passenger, perhaps  of a higher intellectual or income group. 

I must say the smaller ship better suited me. But, if your lifestyle moves at a faster clip than mine, and you like spending your time on board in a bar, gambling or lounging by the pool, then maybe a  “fun ship” is for you.