Kyle Pratt's Blog: Musings & Rantings, page 3

Earn this Freedom

During the pandemic lockdown, I occasionally drive my wife to the store. While she shops, I stay in the car, listen to the radio, and watch people. It sounds boring and it can be, but my compromised immune system requires me to avoid people during the pandemic. So, I watch and listen.

On my most recent driving excursion, I heard the Democrat mayor of Los Angeles, Eric Garcetti, relax some of the COVID-19 restrictions he had imposed upon business and the movement of citizens in the city. With that, he said, “let's continue to earn this freedom.”

This started a rant to my wife as we drove home. My discomfort with the mayor’s declaration stems from the implicit statement that freedom is earned. If freedom is earned then who do we earn it from? The only authority that could grant such freedom is some level of government but, we as Americans have repeatedly fought against the idea that any level of government holds supreme political power or sovereignty. In the United States, citizens rule under the one and only sovereign authority.

Many might think of the constitution, and while it is the highest law in our nation, it is not sovereign. In the Declaration of Independence, the Founding Fathers stated that “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. – That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed ….”

So, to put that idea in modern, less formal, phrasing, God has given us rights that cannot be taken away. To ensure those rights are protected, the people create governments and those governments get their power from the people.

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The Hamilton sign in Napavine. (Click to enlarge.)

It’s both profound and that simple.

At this point, we passed the billboard shown here and I knew I would be writing about the topic.  

Under the American system, Eric Garcetti was elected neither to grant nor take away freedom, but only to administer and protect it. I can almost hear someone say, “But during this time of COVID-19, Garcetti and many other politicians have taken away freedoms and now they are giving it back.”

If a burglar breaks in and takes your television do you lose ownership of the device? No, of course not. You lose possession of it, not ownership. However, the governors of many states seem to believe they own the Bill of Rights. They do not. They have taken what they do not own and are no better than a thief in the night.

Click on the following links to read my author bio, or read more about my political views.

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Remembering the Eruptions

I live near Mount Saint Helens.

If it weren’t for all the trees I could probably see the peak from my house. On clear days I do see it as I drive into town.

Those of you who are old enough probably remember the eruption of Mount Saint Helens, forty years ago this week. I certainly do. I had just completed four years in the navy and returned home with my British wife, Lorraine, and infant son. I rented a house in town and got a job.

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Kyle eats a hotdog during an eruption later in the summer.

The major eruption happened on Sunday, May 18, 1980. Fifty-seven people died that day. Many of the bodies were never found. But I knew nothing of the tragedy that morning, only the great show provided for our little town. Lightning and thunder resounded as ash rose sixteen miles into the sky and flowed east with the jet stream across the country.

But, because of the winds, none of the ash fell in our area. A few days later Lorraine and I climbed into our Volkswagen bug and traveled toward the mountain to see what we could. Uprooted trees, mud, and gray ash clogged the Cowlitz River, but I wanted to turn east and head up along the Toutle River, closer to the volcano. That was not to be. When I turned off the interstate highway, the State Patrol had established roadblocks and waved all traffic back onto the highway.    

While the mountain remained technically active, I remember thinking that the eruption was over and our lives would return to normal. However, exactly one week after the first eruption the phone rang into the morning darkness of my bedroom. Lorraine picked up the receiver and offered a sleepy, “Hello?”

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Lorraine goes shopping

“Lorraine do you have the windows open?” I could hear my mother’s voice over the phone.

“Yes,” Lorraine answered. It had been a warm night and several windows were still open.

“Close them. The mountain erupted again and it’s covering our area.”

In her robe, Lorraine hurried to close windows as I jumped from the bed and pulled on jeans and a shirt. When dressed I headed straight for the front door and out onto the covered porch. I’ve forgotten the exact time, but I recall thinking that there should have been some hint of sunlight. I held my hand up. A dim light came from the house providing a shadowy image of my hand. Nothing else was visible. The power remained on, but why couldn’t I see streetlights?

With my unseen foot I searched for the porch steps and carefully moved forward into the front yard and a rain of ash so thick that I couldn’t see the street before me or my house behind me. I held out my arms and enjoyed the feeling of the unseen ash as it fell from the sky. I carefully moved forward, deeper into the darkness. Then, it occurred to me that I might get lost walking in my tiny yard. I turned around and, after several steps, found my house.

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The streetlights gradually reappeared.

For the next several hours I watched and waited as the ash cloud lessened and morning sunlight finally pushed through to the ground. Well into the day the streetlights helped illuminate a now gray world.  I ventured outside again. Like snow, the ash covered everything, but unlike snow this would not melt and disappear.

On the radio that morning, an official from the health department advised wearing masks to protect our lungs. Lorraine soon walked to a nearby store, but their limited supply had already been purchased. So, she folded cloth into bandanas and we used them for about a month.

The town council told residents to clear the sidewalks of ash so I used a snow shovel to pile it up. Cars on the road created gray clouds of ash and fine grit that seemed to get everywhere. I used old pantyhose on the air intake of our car to help keep it out. I’m not sure it worked. Lorraine seemed to be constantly sweeping and washing but the residue remained, even between the sheets of the bed.

There were more eruptions that summer, but they were all minor. Gradually, the grit and gray did disappear and the grass, shrubs, and trees grew emerald green. Even on the mountain, life returned and continued on. 

If you have a memory of the Mount Saint Helens eruption, please share it in the comments section below.

Click on the following links to read my author bio, about life in Lewis County, and Washington State.

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Living the Sci-Fi Novel

I’m just a character in a sci-fi novel.

Such moments of clarity often stem from my good fortune. I work from home. On a practical level that means I sit in a corner in front of two computer screens, two high definition cameras, a microphone, and two printers. With all that and a couple of phones, I run my publishing business. Some days it feels like a techno-thriller, other days it’s a futuristic action-adventure. Rarely is it dull.

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COVID-19

Recently, I sat before this cluster of technology and talked with a friend via Skype. Talking with someone via my computer always seems weirdly futuristic to me. When I was a kid, video phones were the thing of movies, now that tech comes with the computer. That we were discussing the COVID pandemic just made it weirder for me. Worldwide pandemics are the stuff of novels—or at least they were.

As we were wrapping up the call he mentioned, “Have you seen the Space Force recruiting commercial.”

“No, I haven’t.” The link popped up on my screen as several near-future movies flowed through my mind. “I’ll check it out,” I said with a final goodbye.

Spaceships and technology filled my screen as I watched the video moments later. It ended by suggesting that perhaps my purpose on this planet might not be on this planet. 

I smiled. I’m not going to the moon or Mars anytime soon, but in many ways, I’m living a science fiction story.

Click on the following links to read my author bio, or read more about current writing projects.

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Buying Dirt

Did you get the $1200 stimulus check?

Lorraine and I are fortunate that our incomes have not been significantly affected by the pandemic. So, since the government sent us stimulus money, Lorraine wanted to use some of it to buy dirt.

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Lorraine with her dirt.

I pointed out that we live in the country and actually own a lot of dirt.

She grinned and shook her head. “You heard me. I said topsoil, not dirt.”

I’ve been growing trees and vegetables long enough that I know the difference, but I like to kid her about it.

Most years she buys top soil and then uses it in the orchard, raised beds, or gardens around the house. Yesterday the dump truck arrived and poured the soil out on the spot she directed. I’m not certain where this pile will be used, but I am sure it will soon be gone and she will be thinking about buying more.

Click on the following links to read my author bio, or read more about my life on the farm.

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Backyard Barber

My last haircut was in January. I know that because I talked about the shop and my long relationship with the barbers here, in this blog. None of us knew at that time how swiftly the world would change.

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Lorraine cuts my hair. (Click to enlarge.)

Having only thin hair and a bald top of the head, I don’t need to see a barber often, but occasionally, I do require such services. However, the pandemic has closed their shop.

Don’t laugh, but yesterday I was staring into a mirror and grumbling about my unruly mop of hair. From across the room, my wife said, “I could try and cut it for you.”

Considering the pandemic lockdown, her offer seemed to be the best I would get so, out to the back porch we went and she snipped away. A few chickens strolled by wondering if there was any food involved, but they were disappointed.

She finished in minutes and I liked the results. I then offered to cut her hair.

With a polite smile, she said, “No, thank you.”

Click on the following links to read my author bio, or read more about my life on the farm.

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I should stay home

I empathize with the millions of people in this country who are facing financial difficulties, bankruptcy, and ruin because of the pandemic. I’m going to be sixty-five this year and because of my recent illness, I have a compromised immune system. People like me need to stay home. The vast majority of younger, healthier Americans should be allowed to return to work.

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Speaker Nancy Pelosi with Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao during a trip to China in 2009

There are growing lines at food banks, but in a recent interview with Chris Wallace of Fox News, House Speaker Nancy Pelosi was asked “People are taking to the streets, pushing back against some of the more stringent restrictions in some states. Can you understand why they're doing that?”

“No, not, not really,” Pelosi admitted. She called the protesters a “distraction,” and what they were doing as “unfortunate.”

As I write this, congress is only in symbolic session, with most members sheltering at home. Speaker Pelosi is in California. Recently, from her home in San Francisco, she did another interview, this one with comedian James Corden. During the interview, she showed off her collection of ice cream and chocolate. (Click on the video.)

Steve Guest from the Trump campaign noted that she is “eating $13 dollar a pint ice cream out of her $24,000 fridge.” She did this while food banks are recording record requests for help. Perhaps the Speaker was attempting to be funny; Corden is a comedian after all. However, to me, it came across as a very Marie Antoinette, “Let them eat cake,” moment.

While I’m not endorsing revolution or the guillotine, I think Pelosi’s chocolate display shows just how out of touch she is with the workers of this country. Perhaps because I’ve been poor, I understand and support Americans as they protest this extended lockdown. I understand the worry of so many as they slip closer to and fall into, the financial abyss.

I implore Nancy Pelosi to put the ice cream down, return to Washington D.C., and call congress back into a full session. Our representatives should remain there, working, until they have reopened the economy and returned healthy Americans to work.

Click on the following links to read my author bio, or read more about my political views.

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Strange Days

These are strange days we are living through. While I worry about the worldwide pandemic, my chickens have been enjoying the longer days and more sunshine. They’re happy and producing an abundance of eggs. Stuck at home, I continue to work, read, and write, but I’ve been trying not to obsess on the news.

As I tapped away at my latest post-apocalyptic story, my wife walked into the office. “We have more eggs than I can use. Let’s give some to our neighbors.”

I thought it was a great idea to combine a walk with giving away a few dozen eggs, while connecting with our neighbors, at an appropriate social distance.

At the first house, our friend welcomed the eggs, but she asked, “Do you have enough toilet paper? I can trade you that for the eggs if you want.”

These are indeed strange days.

Click on the following links to read my author bio, or read more about my life on the farm.

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Are We Preppers?

I write post-apocalyptic novels so, sure, I stock up on food and other supplies. But that’s not the only reason. On the farm where I live with my wife, there are times we can’t get to a store. I mean that literally. There have been floods and snowstorms that have kept us from traveling. Also, we occasionally lose power. Usually, it is just for a few hours, but once we lost electricity for four days.

Kyle with his toilet paper fortune. (Click to enlarge)

With disaster on my mind and living in a rural area, it seems prudent to have supplies stockpiled. We use a simple system. During normal times, if we need one, we often buy two. Over time we build our stockpile. 

I don’t usually think of us as preppers, just people well prepared for country living. That is until the recent run on toilet paper and other items. After watching a news story about the bare shelves in various stores, I turned to my wife and asked, “Do we have enough toilet paper?”

She turned to me with an incredulous look, “Of course.”

Later that day I checked our pantry and storeroom. Looking at the supplies of toilet paper and more, I relaxed. I guess we are preppers.

Click on the following links to read my author bio, or read more about my life on the farm.

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Spring Time is Engine Maintenance Time

Some chores come with each change of the season.

I’m an author, but I live on a small farm. As autumn deepens I usually prepare the equipment we use on our farm for the long, idle, winter months. This includes a pickup truck, chainsaw, tillers, and other machines that are seldom used during the winter. Because of my illness, that didn’t get finished last fall.

Kyle with some of the equipment he worked on that day. (Click to enlarge)

But the spring preparations still had to be completed. So, earlier this week I bought quarts of oil, gallons of gas, oil and air filters, and then the next morning started cleaning and changing.

I’m no mechanic so I’m thrilled when I put in new filters, oil, and gas and the engines start. The farm truck had clean oil but little gas so, I added more and it started right up. Yes!

After adding oil and gas the riding mower started, but the push one didn’t. I pulled and cleaned the sparkplug and, after a few chugs, it rumbled back to life.

I replaced the chain on the chainsaw and added its special mix of gasoline and oil. After a few pulls of recoil line, it roared, but a tiller just choked and gasped. This routine continued for several hours until every engine had started.

Each year when I’m done I smell like gasoline and oil and I need a long shower, but I’m happy. This early spring task is done and our little farm is step closer to being ready for the activity of spring and summer.

Click on the following links to read my author bio, or read more about my life on the farm.

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Night Out with Friends

Good food and great fellowship

I wondered how many would show up. In Seattle, schools are closing and events are being canceled, but despite the threat from Coronavirus fifteen people from my church gathered together for a couple’s night out at a local restaurant. Our group had a room to ourselves, but others filled the remainder of the restaurant.

Kyle Pratt, first on the right. Click to enlarge.

Bethel, our church, puts an emphasis on getting to know fellow church members outside of the sanctuary walls. The couples night out is one of the gatherings where they do that. While I believe getting together with fellow Christians is a great idea, I like eating good food and getting to know new people nearly as much.

I asked many of the people there if they were concerned about the virus. Most were watchful, but not worried. Conversation then moved on to more important things, family, friends, and faith.

I think everyone had a fun, carefree, evening.

Click on the following links to read my author bio, or to read more about my faith.

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