Jim Poling Sr.'s Blog, page 50

Road Tripping with Ozzie - 5

   It was enough to make me howl. I got to see Yellowstone’s Old Faithful geyser blow despite all the restrictions placed on us dogs. Long, Hard Day   Dogs are not allowed on the viewing walkways in the national park so I found a comfy spot along the edge of the trees and got to see the entire show over the heads of the hundreds of spectators lined up on the walkway.  Old Faithful blows every 40 to 70 minutes these days. The intervals are not exact so you have to sit around with your camera focused and ready to shoot.   Sitting back in the trees I didn’t get my usual attention from the crowd. However, later the Old Guy and I sat outside the Old Faithful store and snack bar and they lined up to pet and photograph me. The Old Guy seemed annoyed at having to answer all the same questions over and over again. What breed is he? How old is he? How much does he weigh? Is he friendly?  There was even a Japanese translator then for a while to help all the Japanese tourists who crowded in to get my picture. I heard the Old Guy grumbling later that if he had a dollar for every question asked he could pay for this trip.   We also visited other highlights of the geyser basin. But I wasn’t allowed to get close to the hot springs, hot mud pots, sulphur flats and other interesting sights.   But it was a major wildlife day. We saw bison and elk. The first bison was scratching his back against a pine tree, which is one of my favourite things to do. Feels really good and that bison had a smile a yard wide.   Then we saw two elk taking an afternoon time out in an old burn off the highway. Both were bulls with their racks in velvet.   Now the BIG ONE. We saw a grizzly bear!! Yes, a real live grizzly bear in the wild. The Old Guy started to run out of the RV to get a picture, then realized he could get his ass bit so anchored himself in his seat and rolled up the window tight.   The grizzly had emerged into a clearing, saw the RV and took off. Those babies can really run.   Just after that we started down the mountains into Cody, Wyoming. What a descent. The road followed the Shoshone River and the mountain views were spectacular. It was almost like being in an airplane.   Before the descent we crossed the Continental Divide and at altitude 8,300 feet we found some snow that I could play in. That stuff is in my blood!         Tomorrow we are going to head toward South Dakota and Mount Rushmore. I going to ask mom if we can talk to some of the stone carvers about getting to work on my image on the mountain. I mean four presidents and no dogs just doesn’t seem right. Most of the people who met me today would agree.
More on the trip at Mom’s blog: http://goodtogojewelry.blogspot.com/Ozzie
Bull Elk Resting
Grizzly on the Run
Old Faithful Blows


Playing in the Snow

Road Tripping with Ozzie - 4

We visited Rigby, Idaho where a local teenage boy had some Eureka moments roughly 100 years ago. On Sept. 7, 1927 Philo Taylor Farnsworth became the first person to successfully demonstrate the transmission of television signals. He was 21 at the time and had been working in his teenage years to invent an electronic scanning tube for television signals.   So Rigby, a town of 4,000, claims to be the birthplace of television.   I wasn’t impressed, because I’m not impressed with TV. Little to watch now that great dog stars such as Rin Tin Tin and Lassie are gone. I’ll probably catch some reruns of the Littlest Hobo when we get up to Canada.   Soon after Rigby we had our own Eureka moment: our first clear view of the magnificent Teton Mountain range along the Idaho-Wyoming border. Wow what a set of snow-capped peaks. No wonder the French-Canadian explorers here called them les trois tétons, the three breasts. (They had been away from home a long time).   Our view was over several miles of unbroken sagebrush, which has been a constant on this trip.   So much sagebrush that I started thinking about what someone could do with it. Then I thought of Stephen King who gets his book ideas by asking himself ‘What If?’   What if a mad chemist decided to be a recluse in the high desert? And he starts looking for uses for the millions of sagebrush plants that surround him. He experiments and comes up with a food additive that reverses craziness in people; the craziness that has infected the human world.   No so far fetched, eh? The Navajo used vapours from sage to treat headaches. The Zuni rubbed sage oil on their skin to ease body aches.    Who says dogs like me don’t possess great thinking skills? Wait til you read my novel on the mad scientist lost in the sagebrush.

Ozzie, your rock star Alaskan Malamute For more interest stuff on this trip check my Mom’s blog at: http://goodtogojewelry.blogspot.com/

(P.S. We are in a campground at Yellowstone. The people who checked us in said they had to put us on the edge of bear territory. I'm not concerned. If a bear shows up, I'll nudge the Old Guy out the RV door and he can manage it.)

Yellowstone Campfire
Unintelligent Animals Met Along the Way Marcus and John Enter Montana
Sagebrush and Tetons

Road Tripping with Ozzie - 3

    We were glad to give a goodbye wag of the tail to Nevada, the most arid of the United States. We are beyond that desolation now and on the edge of the real mountains: The Rockies.
    We headed east from Winnemucca towards Salt Lake City then before we reached the Utah border took a sharp left onto U.S. 93 and headed north to Idaho.    The day’s highlight was watching the desert become high desert, then foothills. Then we hit the Craters of the Moon. What a weird sight.    Craters of the Moon is a lava field covering more than 600 square miles. It is a fascinating jumble of broken black lava rock strewn along the eastern edge of the mountains. It got there through eight major eruption periods between 15,000 and 2,000 years ago.    The dark lava field was almost devoid of vegetation. It was so strange looking it stirred local legends and growing public interest. In 1923, geologist Harold T. Sterns described the area as “The surface of the moon as seen through a telescope.”   President Calvin Coolidge, noting the wide public interest, had it declared a national monument in 1924.   You can find out more about this strange place at: http://www.nps.gov/crmo/naturescience/geologicactivity.htm   After the lava field we headed into a campground where many folks were starting to gather for the weekend. I had to make myself available for pictures of course. Sometimes I get a bit tired of all the attention, but I guess I really have a duty to my public.   That’s why I keep a lot of stuff about myself secret. Can you imagine the crowds if people discovered I am an educated dog who can write?   Tomorrow we head for Yellowstone in Wyoming.
Oz Strolling at Salmon Creek, ID
Marcus, Me and John

   

Road Tripping with Ozzie - 2

Writing is Tiring Work   Sagebrush and salt flats. No wonder the pioneers were in a hurry to get to the mountains and down into California. This is the farthest east I’ve ever been and so far I am underwhelmed. Nevada is drier than dog kibble.   The gate was ajar this morning so we slipped out and started padding east. This motor home is the real deal. Lots of places to flop when the scenery outside the window gets tiresome. The floor is laminate and cool, which is all an Alaskan Malamute  can ask.   The first part of the day was old hat for scenery. We rolled though Sacramento and up the Sierras. We travel that route often to Lake Tahoe and skiing in winter. I got a bit excited today when I got to stare across a valley and see the mountainside where I was born.    After that, the road was all downhill. The freeway dividers near Sacramento were bursting with colour from the oleanders and other flowering bushes. They were replaced by the mountain pines, but then on the Sierra downside we saw scraggly trees blending into browned out mountains pocked by craggy outcroppings that looked like huge chunks of broken chocolate.   Then at Reno the sprawling desert. Miles and miles of it, interrupted only by tired mountains worn down like the teeth of aged bison.   We parked for the night in an RV campground in Winnemucca, which is named for a Paiute chief who was wearing only one moccasin when he met some prospectors looking for gold. The prospectors began calling him wannamucha, which means one moccasin and the name stuck.   Chief Winnemucca and his daughter Sarah travelled widely in the 1870s and early 1880s bringing attention to the plight of their people. Sarah became a lecturer and author of two books: Life Among the Paiutes (1882) and Solution to the Indian Problem.   This area also is known as the chukkar partridge capital of America. We haven’t seen any because any bird out today would be blown east faster than a four-engine jet. Big winds raising dust here as the sun sets.   Monday high winds raised a huge dust storm near this RV park. They caused a 27-vehicle pileup and one person was killed. Ready to Roll East Checking Out the Driver Relaxing in Winnemucca(P.S. I didn't want to mention this, however . . . It was really upsetting when we stopped at Donner Lake. This is where a group of pioneers perished in the snows en route to California. They starved to death. During the ordeal, they ate Cash, the family dog. I really hate that story).
OZ

Road Tripping with Ozzie - 1

   Yo, my name is Ozzie and I’m commandeering On Shaman’s Rockblog. Kick it up a couple notches; give it some vim and vigour. Make it howl.   Dogs can’t write? Yeah, OK. Dogs can’t do a lot of things, according to humans. Well, the fact is dogs only act dumb. We don’t usually show our real intelligence. If we did, humans wouldn’t want us as their best friends. Humans are odd that way: they won’t get warm and fuzzy with anyone or anything smarter than themselves. Who Says Dogs Can't Write     So, let’s get the background done. I’m an Alaskan Malamute, but California bred and born in the mountains at Truckee, near Lake Tahoe. Cool place. Pine scent in the air, wild critters and, of course, tons of snow to get under your paws.    My dad was Above the Clouds ‘Logan’ an American Kennel Club champ. Mother was Betty the Yeti, a Working Team Dog. That heritage and my AKC registration make me precious. But it’s not just breeding. I’ve had a lot of higher education. Recently I got my AKC Canine Good Citizen certification.    I was born July 3, 2010 and it was soon decided that my role in life would be to donate my leadership, talents and love to a family in Orinda, just outside San Francisco. Marcella, who I now call Mom, brought me down from the mountains in August and I began looking after her, husband Steve and the boys John and Marcus.    Up in the mountains my birth name was Riley but down here they called me Ozzie. Cool because I have a rock star aura, sort of like Ozzy Osbourne.    So about this road trip. Every year the family goes way north to Shaman’s Rock, a place on a lake in Ontario. They visit Diane and the Old Guy, who calls me the Granddog, but I never get to go. This year Mom decided that she and the boys would take me there in an RV. The Old Guy came down to help with the trip because Steve’s work is very busy at this time of year.   There’s much fussing over this, although I’m not sure why. My idea of hitting the road is just sneaking out the gate and following my nose.    I’ll let you all know when the gate opens and we start down the road.

Time to Put Apples in Their Mouths?

   The pigfest probes into the Canadian Senate, the grandest of Ottawa’s many swineries, have created storms of reporting and comment, but two critical questions remain.    First, ask yourself what the Senate has done to improve your life, and the lives of your fellow Canadians. If you find that the Senate did do something to improve your life, was it worth the estimated $100 million a year it costs to operate this chamber of “somber second thought”?   If you conclude that the Senate simply is another costly and useless layer of bureaucracy (sort of like Ontario’s super bureaucratic Local Health Integration Networks), then the next question is: How long will it take to chase it from our lives?   The Harper government has sent the question of Senate reform, which might include abolishment, to the Supreme Court of Canada to ponder. Some members of the politico-bureaucracy say the Senate cannot be abolished, presumably because of the Constitution.   This is both disturbing and amusing. Why would we leave the question of the Senate to nine lawyers and the bureaucrats?
   In a democracy the people are supposed to decide what they want and what they don’t want. And roughly 24 million minds are better than nine. Put the Senate to a vote of the people. That’s the way it should be done.
_____SPECIAL NOTE Oz and the boys at Golden GateSometime in the next week or two this blog will be turned over to Ozzie, my rockstar granddog who lives in California. Ozzie, me, my daughter and two grandsons will be travelling from California to Shaman's Rock in an RV. I'll be helping with the driving, and Ozzie will be doing the writing. He has a different take on many things. So watch for it as On Shaman's Rock makes room for The Ozzie Dog's Blog. It promises to be a howl.

The Spring Blooming of Inspiration

Inspiration is one of the many blooms of spring and early summer. No where are the blooms more abundant and spectacular than at commencement ceremonies now taking place across the continent.

Some of the best commencement speeches with their notable quotes can be found at graduationwisdom.com. The co-ordinates for the best 2013 speeches are: http://www.graduationwisdom.com/speeches/best-commencement-graduation-speeches-with-inspirational-quotes-2013.htm

That page also links to the best speeches of other years.
Maria Shriver
A 2012 speech that attracted much attention was given at the University of California Annenberg by Maria Shriver of the Kennedy clan and former First Lady of California through her marriage to Arnold Schwarzenegger. The speech was entitled The Power of the Pause and urged students to change the state of our communication, which she believes is out of control.

An excerpt: "Change it from criticism and fault-finding to understanding and compassion. Change it from nay-saying and name-calling to acceptance and appreciation. Change it from dissembling and dishonesty to openness and explanation. Change from screaming to speaking."

The full speech can be found at Shriver's website: 
http://mariashriver.com/blog/2012/05/power-of-the-pause-maria-shriver-commencement-address

Reflections from a Campfire

Thoughts on the May 24 holiday weekend. Excerpted from the newest book Bears in the Bird Feeders: Cottage Life on Shaman's Rock.
   The cottage campfire is a magical thing, especially in a society driven half-mad by cell phones, texting, Facebook, Twitter, and all the other quick hits of less-than-thoughtful communication.   Slip out of the darkness and take a seat on the log where a dozen people are gathered, staring pensively into the flames dancing inside the circle of granite stones. The first thing you will notice is the silence. People are in no hurry to talk. When someone does speak, it is not in the short, sharp pings so common in today’s wired society. It is often slow, measured, and even thoughtful.    A campfire’s magic slows people’s heartbeats, thought processes, and their tongues. The flames are speed bumps along the path between grey matter and lips. It is hard to imagine hearing around the campfire the tactless snippets of comment that zip daily across omnipresent blogs. The campfire draws people into itself and absorbs the heat from over-spinning minds, redistributing it as reflection, focus, and warm good feelings.   As complicated as the world has become, the campfire has remained the same over the millenniums since fire was discovered. It is the same at St. Nora Lake as the campfires that flicker along the coast of the Great Australian Bight, the Congo jungle, or somewhere in the mountains of Afghanistan.
Bears in the Bird Feeders link: http://www.dundurn.com/books/bears_bird_feeders

Saviours of the News Business

   I’m sitting in the banquet room, enjoying my coffee and waiting for the Ontario Newspaper Awards ceremony to start when I gaze around the room and say to myself: “So these are the people who are killing the newspaper business?”
   That is what some desperate publishers of dying newspapers believe. They are hacking and slashing the people who produce their news because they cost money and apparently possess skills not needed anymore.
   Toronto’s Globe and Mail is hoping to drop 60 of its 770 staff through buyouts but it’s a good guess that there will be layoffs. The Toronto Star also is hoping to cut 55 jobs, many in editorial. The Vancouver Sun and the Province cite unprecedented revenue declines as the reason for staff buyouts that almost certainly will be followed by layoffs.    It has been roughly two decades since newspapers began their steepest decline in profitability, power and influence. Newspaper owners and publishers have had all those years to invent ways of saving their businesses but have failed miserably. Their response to newspapers in crisis always has been to cut the staff that produces the news that customers value. 
   Corporatization of the newspaper world brought in many run-of-the-mill executive ‘geniuses’ who have come and gone, leaving behind much wreckage and broken dreams. None of them left poor.   Most remarkable in the decline-of newspapers story is how the journalists have adapted to trying to produce, under increasingly miserable conditions, the only thing that matters in newspapering: news that explains who we are and how we live our lives.   You can’t help but admire these people as you watch them walk to the front of the room to collect their awards, now sponsored mainly by organizations not part of the newspaper business. Many of the recipients are young and here on their own dollars because some newspaper operators won’t even pay the tiny awards entry fee, let alone the costs of getting to the awards ceremony.   These are the people who will achieve what the millionaire owners and operators failed to do: restore the news business as a vital part of society, in whatever new forms or formats that replace the traditional newspaper.

On the Trail of Stupid People

   The splitting ax is feeling heavy, so I set it down and decide to stroll out to the highway. It is still chilly for this late into April but the sun is bright and I might get to see the first signs of new life poking through soil just freed of the winter snows.
   At the highway, a glint catches my eye. It’s a juice bottle tossed from a car window. Then another glint. This one a beer can similarly pitched from a vehicle travelling Ontario Highway 35. There are more, lots more, bottles, cans and cartons.    In 696 steps along one side of the highway I record 37 items thrown from passing vehicles. That’s one piece of garbage for every 18.8 steps. The tally breakdown: 17 pop or juice bottles, 7 paper coffee cups, 6 plastic water bottles, 4 beer cans, and 3 cigarette packages. That does not include other garbage such as pieces of paper, plastic bags, miscellaneous pieces of plastic and metal and other garbage.
   696 steps, roughly  one-quarter of a mile. Imagine the tons of thoughtlessly discarded items along the hundreds of thousands of miles of North America’s highways.    Littering is against the law in most jurisdictions. However, the cans and bottles along those 696 steps are more proof that you can’t legislate a stop to stupidity. Stupid people stop doing stupid things only when the rest of us work to make doing stupid things socially unacceptable.