Ken Hulick... Words and Photos About Anything

Paw Prints

2012-01-23T13:17:00.000-08:00

Two paw prints in the wet sand from our hike yesterday. The right one is our 55-pound Border Collie. The left one is.... Probably a bobcat.

News from the Capital

2011-06-06T19:28:00.001-07:00

It seems kind of pitiful. We live in the capital of New Mexico – Santa Fe. Our skies have been obscured for days with smoke from the wildfires in nearby Arizona. Today, after several days of smoke, the local paper finally deigns to mention it.

Conversely, TWO DAYS AGO we saw an article on the BBC website (“British” Broadcasting Company) news about the fires. British. UK. Europe.

Our local paper is more interested in drug dealers being shot, in misdeeds in the Santa Fe police department, in local jack-off politics than in news that directly impacts the residents of this community.

For years I’ve been bemoaning the state of newspapers in this country. Even the big ones seem stuck in the 1970s. I’ve given up on the New York Times since they instituted a pay wall. For national news I now go to NPR and the BBC.

Sarah Palin should love it – the fewer people who read real news, the better for her shining example of idiocy.

Art or Security?

2011-06-01T15:28:00.000-07:00

Is it art...

...or is it security?

The original complete photo, below.

[From Art Knowledge News]

Lance Armstrong

2011-05-23T18:45:00.000-07:00

No matter how you feel about 7-time Tour de France winner Lance Armstrong, he has never tested positive for drugs. But now, a second admitted liar/cheater/whiner/doper is seeking a book deal, and is (again and again and again) accusing Lance of getting away with doping.

A few years back, Floyd Landis claimed Armstrong doped. The same Floyd who “won” the Tour but was stripped of his title for drugs. (And thus denied the rightful winner all the appropriate acclaim.) Floyd wrote a book (wonderfully titled “Positively False”) protesting his innocence. Then – finally – he admits he’s a doper, a cheat, and a liar. But he still accuses Lance.

Now Tyler Hamilton, too, claims Armstrong doped. The same Tyler who has twice tested positive and who received an 8-year ban from the sport. The same Tyler who “wins” an Olympic gold medal (and thus denies… oh, you get the idea), but now admits his cheating, lying, and doping.

I’ve never been a Lance “fan,” even during my (admittedly low-level) bike racing days. (And I have criticized Lance’s charity previously on this blog.) But I will continue to give the man the benefit of the doubt. Re-read the first sentence in this post. Lance has performed as no other cyclist ever has – and over a phenomenally long timeframe. Draw your own conclusions, but never forget the phrase, “fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.” Floyd and Tyler are proven liars and cheats. Who would you prefer to believe?

Here’s the BBC’s article about the controversy, reporting on Tyler’s accusation against the UCI (cycling’s governing body) for aiding and abetting Lance. Nothing would be better if Floyd and Tyler disappeared quickly and quietly.

Obama 1 Osama 0

2011-05-05T06:46:00.000-07:00

As would be expected, there’s a tremendous amount of CRAP being spewed about the killing of Osama bin Laden. It’s a conspiracy. It was an assassination/murder. The Muslims will deify bin Laden and make him a martyr. His grave will become a shrine. The U.S. simply screwed up and is issuing massively conflicting accounts of the operation.

So what?

A mass murderer has been eliminated. No matter how it occurred, the Muslims would whine, threaten, and protest. Maybe the ones who are congregating on the beaches of the Arabian Sea (which they’re already apparently calling the Martyr’s Sea) will just keep walking until their turbans float.

This operation was meant to be a find-and-kill mission. It’s a mystery why the U.S. administration didn’t come out and say so. (Oh, wait, that’s politics.) Who cares about offending Muslim sensibilities? When I was involved with wilderness search-and-rescue work, we always had a focus (of course, on saving lives) and a plan, and the Seals who performed this mission were supremely trained professionals with a specific focus. Kill bin Laden. I just wish our so-often wishy-washy government could have come out and said so. I doubt – despite administration PR hokum – that there was ever the slightest intent to “capture” bin Laden alive. None.

Nonetheless, one less Muslim terrorist is alive on this planet. My hope is that the word gets around – the word to the terrorists is that someday, somehow, somewhere, we’re (U.S. commandos) going to get you. We need to create a feeling among the radical Muslims that our zeal for vengeance will be unlimited. That it will match the Muslim zeal for killing innocent civilians in retaliation for drawing cartoons or burning a book. Maybe the Muslims won’t (at first) completely get it, but if a few more Muslims eventually start to believe that there is no quarter, no sorrow on our part – well, maybe we can eliminate even more terrorists. Maybe we can make our world a slightly safer place.

Every time we have another MGB (Mohammed Go Boom), we wring our hands and worry about Muslim sensibilities. We (western civilization) need to get over it. Until the Muslim world decides it’s somehow worthwhile to leave the 7th century and enter the 21st, there will be no solution. Until the Muslim world begins to treat women with respect (bravo to France for the law against the burqa), until that Muslim world itself begins to denounce suicide bombers and civilian murders and stoning women to death, our best response is “the bin Laden doctrine” – if you’re a terrorist and we find you, you’re dead. No fucking Guantanamo trials, no questions, no arrests. Just goodbye.

The Shed

2011-03-07T16:47:00.001-08:00

The Shed restaurant, Santa Fe, where everything on the menu looks and sounds great but is too hot to taste any real flavor. Nonetheless, a local's favorite. Makes a pretty picture at night, though. (Handheld at very low shutter speed, with a Nikon Vibration-Reducing lens.)

Stuff

2011-02-06T09:46:00.000-08:00

I’ve been addicted to stuff – toys, tools, gear – for most of my life. At one time, I had lists upon lists of stuff I wanted or thought I needed. Bikes, canoes, boots, clothing, tents, packs. I was an outdoor-gear junkie, sure, but a lot of that gear was actually essential for my lifestyle. If I was gonna race bikes, I needed good bikes. If I was heading out for a ski mountaineering expedition, I wanted quality gear to keep me comfortable and (hopefully) alive.

But although I still bike, ski, and hike, the intensity has become toned down, quieted. The adventures are shorter and less frequent. My desire to get back to a nice dinner and a glass of wine is just as important.

A few weeks ago, I was working in the garage, and then later sorting clothes and stuff in an overstuffed bedroom closet. Looking at the three bikes hanging from the rafters of the garage and my four pairs of downhill skis and three pairs of cross-country skis and the ski jackets and bike shorts and hiking socks in the closet, I realized that I probably will never need a new piece of outdoor gear again in my life. Which was a liberating and simultaneously depressing thought. Unless I break a ski (before I break my leg) or wear out a pair of hiking boots (more likely), my current gear will last me the rest of my outdoor life. The rest of my life.

Years ago, when I was about 40, I was driving to Moab, Utah, to go mountain biking for the weekend. My girlfriend and I were discussing where to camp, what to cook for dinner, and as we drove I began doing some mental calculations. I realized that between my late 20s and that drive to Moab, I’d probably spent nearly 400 nights sleeping outside. And I’d never been a professional guide or outfitter – just an everyday outdoor junkie. A year of my life (over a roughly 10-year span – 1 of every 10 nights) spent sleeping in the dirt. We stayed in a motel that night, and had a clean shower after our ride.

I know I’ve gotten soft. But I’ve also become OK with that. I had many great adventures in the wilderness of Colorado, Washington, Alaska, California, and many other places. Yet even as I’ve slowed down, I’ve still hiked the Vienna Woods of Austria (extremely tame), the Triglav Alps of Slovenia, the highlands and islands of Scotland, and the mogotes of Cuba. In various mountain ranges – even in these “civilized” United States – I’ve set foot on patches of this earth that may not have seen another footprint for decades, if ever.

For awhile I had a bit of a competitive streak, although I was never really exceptional at anything. I raced mountain bikes, whitewater canoes, running races. I sought out new climbing routes. (In the climbing world, “first ascents” are a big deal, even if it’s a short climb a few yards from another line up the same cliff.) But I could also be happily non-competitive. I spent many rewarding years on a Colorado Search-and-Rescue team helping hapless (or frequently, clueless) souls out of the wilderness. Sometimes we couldn’t help them – their time had come and gone.

And I guess that’s the horizon I’m seeing. Not just in an outdoor adventure sense, but I can see the horizon line of my life much more clearly. I don’t think I’m fatalistic, but I realize our time on earth is finite. I realize the sunset over the edge of the mountains is quite a bit closer for me. And I think I’m completely at peace with that.

If I can get out for a hike most days; get on my bike occasionally; spend half-a-dozen days (instead of five dozen) on the ski slopes each year (more likely in the warmer spring days now, though); and keep fit and healthy enough to drink good wine and eat fine meals with my friends and loved ones… that will be enough.

I’d be happy to garden (a surprisingly significant amount of exercise) year round; maybe I’ll take up golf again (after 40 years off). I’ll probably… no, I’ll NEVER… paddle a Class IV rapid again. I’ll never again ski two days into a backcountry campsite to climb a peak in winter. I’ll never rock climb 5.11 again.

And it’s all OK. Because for the things I still can and want to do, I have all the stuff I’ll ever need. And someday – someday – I’ll have one hell of a garage sale of vintage outdoor stuff.

Val d’Isere, France, 2006

Digital Black & White

2011-01-28T13:50:00.000-08:00

Birds in Flight

2011-01-14T12:58:00.001-08:00

Sandhill cranes and snow geese, Bosque del Apache, New Mexico

I'm Not Even Sure What to Title This

2011-01-12T13:33:00.000-08:00

When events such as the Tucson murders occur, the American media (on both sides of the political spectrum) start peeing on themselves to prove their (often dubious) points. In such times, we tend to turn to the international media (no, not the International Herald Tribune, which is just the New York Times in disguise). The Guardian UK is admittedly a liberal publication, yet still has some of the most insightful comments on many aspects of American politics.

The Tucson madman is surely that – deranged. And whether or not he was influenced by conservative hate speech will be impossible to determine. Yet the fact is that such hate speech exists – and its existence is denied by the radical right. Sarah Palin and Glenn Beck, separated at birth.

Sarah Palin had the opportunity to lower the rhetoric and raise the bar of civility. Her statements (on Twitter and Facebook!) show her true identity. Here’s the best commentary about her inability to act as a humane and intelligent human being. From the Guardian UK.

Wikipedia Hacked

2011-01-11T13:53:00.000-08:00

This is great. Someone has hacked Wikipedia. Type in "GOP" and the entry for "Mental retardation" pops up. It will probably be gone by the time you read this, but....

Photo - December 31, 2010

2010-12-31T07:45:00.001-08:00

Shadows and light in the backyard this morning.

Photo - December 21, 2010

2010-12-21T16:44:00.001-08:00

Technology

2010-12-21T16:31:00.000-08:00

Whether I end up in heaven or hell (or wherever) when I die, I hope there are no computers there.

The Choices of Climate

2010-11-28T19:44:00.000-08:00

How many times have men (and women) begun a story or a joke with: “There are two kinds of people…”? Such a cliché, and so staggeringly simplistic. Yet like most clichés, most stereotypes, most generalizations, it contains a kernel of truth in its core. In many ways, there are “two kinds of people.”

I was thinking about climate. About our desires for warm or cold or humid or dry. About how most people tolerate the weather they’re born or blessed (or cursed) with; and about how another group of people try to live their lives in a manner to cater to their weather desires.

Of course, the wealthier or freer you are, the easier it is to go where the weather suits you the best. Or maybe not. Is the weather in Omaha the ultimate climate for Warren Buffett? Does Bill Gates really think Seattle has the best climate in the world?

A friend recently commented on our personal weather choices, while briefly discussing hers. And as with most things in life, it’s about choices – the choices we make, and the choices that we suffer in silence for our whole lives in a climate that we can manage to endure. For many people, career, family, history, social opportunities, or inertia drive their ability and desires to celebrate or endure the climate where they live.

Yet for a smaller (I would imagine) subset of humanity, the search for and the living in a “perfect” climate is, if not an obsession, at least an overriding element of their psyche and their core.

I like to believe I’ve lived in a reasonably wide variety of climates – north-central eastern seaboard of the U.S. (New Jersey); ocean-side Pacific Northwest; inland Pacific Northwest (both Washington); Colorado Mountains; Mediterranean southern California; hot Southwest desert (Arizona); high-altitude southwest mountains/desert (New Mexico); Pacific rim (Japan). And over those years, I’ve developed some distinct preferences. At this stage of my life, climate/weather is one of the most significant aspects of any list of places where I’d choose to live. Barring poverty, it trumps jobs, family, or social aspects.

Yet I still fantasize about the semi-Arctic (Scandinavia), the Alps (Switzerland), even the tropics (Cuba). But there is a core within me that needs – craves – a certain climatic mix. Four seasons. Snow (not too much, mind you) in winter. Not humid. Not too hot in summer. Fall colors.

The friend I mentioned says she needs clouds (again, not too many, mind you). Another friend lives where he lives out of ennui, out of habit, because he’s close to family and friends and a career. All in a place that (I think, from his comments) in his core he loathes from a climate standpoint. (We have another friend who always signs his notes to us with the phrase “a Dane stuck in Sweden.” There are many reasons for his line, but a part of me would love to be “stuck in Sweden.”)

We are creatures of our choices – and many of our choices are the ones we choose not to make. The women we decide not to live with. The good jobs we turn down. The family we don’t live near any more. The schooling we didn’t continue.

An ex (who claimed to be a recovering Catholic, or sometimes a Zen Catholic) used to say that there was a saying within the church to the effect that just because God doesn’t grant your prayers or wishes, it doesn’t mean that he/she isn’t listening – that maybe the not-granting of your prayer is God’s gift and answer. (Unfortunately, I think I’m too atheistic to believe in that. Fate or free will – I’m not sure I’ll ever understand the answer to that one.)

As societies, we’ve become numb to the world around us. Most of the world’s population now lives in cities – whether Beijing, Mumbai, New York, or London. Whether we can stand London’s gray weather or Mumbai’s stifling heat – we live where we are. We shuffle through life with our heads down, waiting for the ray of sunlight that can cause us to lift up our eyes and which can brighten an entire week. Or the mysterious cool breeze that can refresh us down to our core.

For me, a “bad” climate seems like getting close to death. I may not always thrive in a “good” climate, but I know that I stagnate and corrode in a bad one.

The Best Blog of All Time

2010-11-09T15:16:00.000-08:00

The best - and best written - blog out there today is simply The Hokumburg Goombah. There's no need to say anything else. Just read the damn thing every day.

Photo - November 8, 2010

2010-11-08T09:11:00.000-08:00

Yellow on yellow.

In Memory – Tom Grams

2010-08-10T09:13:00.000-07:00

Yesterday afternoon, I found out that an old biking and paddling acquaintance from Durango, Colorado – Tom Grams – was one of the 10 medical volunteers murdered in Afghanistan.

I’d seen the news when it happened, and I somehow felt... something different than the simple sadness and anger that such news would normally elicit in me. I would normally not have looked for the names of the victims, but something made me search for them. And of course, the media didn’t release those names at first. So I sort of forgot about it... for a day.

Tom wasn’t a close friend, rather he was one of the many casual acquaintances one has in a small town like Durango. We would run into each other at parties, on the bike trails, or on the river. Tom came across as one of those seemingly overly sincere men – yet one of those men who really are. He’d sold his dental practice and had been doing volunteer dental work around the world. He was 51.

I read some of the comments following the article in the Durango Herald about Tom’s death. Most posters were sad and supportive. A few railed against the Muslims (while some of the other posters shot back saying at them, saying to the effect: “let’s celebrate Tom and not condemn a whole religion”).

As much as I believe that Tom’s life was a good life and his death needless, I can’t help but feel even more angry at a culture (Islam) still stuck in the 13th century. A culture that still stones women to death for adultery. A culture that encourages suicide bombers to murder civilians. A culture that celebrates as a hero the release of the convicted Lockerbie terrorist. And on and on.

I certainly don’t know the answer, and I’m sure Tom and his fellow medical volunteers were doing their part to try and change... something... in that part of the world.

Wherever you are, Tom, I hope the rivers run swift and the trails are lined with wildflowers.

Uncharitable Charities

2010-08-07T09:10:00.000-07:00

The August 5, 2010 Wall St. Journal ran a front-page story about how charities are defending their names, logos, even colors against other charities that they deem to infringe on their branding or trademark. Examples, according to the WSJ:

The Susan G. Komen For the Cure has taken legal action against Kites for a Cure, Juggling for a Cure, Kayak for a Cure, and “dozens of others.” Not only does the Komen organization believe they own the “Cure,” they also believe their signature color pink should not be used by another organization.

Lance Armstrong’s LIVESTRONG association has taken legal issue with HEADstrong – with it’s name, logo design, and color. And not just the color yellow of Livestrong – they objected to the gold color of Headstrong’s logo, deeming it “appears to be very close to the color yellow.”

The Wounded Warrior Project (Florida) objected to the domain name of Wounded Warriors Inc. (Nebraska), as it claimed people wanting to contribute to WWP mistakenly went to the WWI site. [Trying to access the website in question, woundedwarriors.org, currently brings up a “network error” message.]

The Sunshine Kids Foundation in Texas sent legal notice to Sunshine Kids Club of California, claiming that one SKF donor mistakenly wrote checks to SKCC. The California group even offered the Texas organization to “reference the Sunshine Kids Foundation on its website to dispel confusion.” The SKF said they would not allow their name to be used even for that purpose of clarification.

So I guess this is just another example of the lawyers having taken over America. Have the big charities themselves become non-profit versions of corporate America? Is it really about money, money, money, rather than fostering a culture that cares about other people? In the article, trademark attorney Andrew Price (apparently not associated with any of the organizations mentioned) is quoted as saying: “The days are probably over when nonprofits just said, ‘We’ll just get along with anybody who’s a nonprofit because we’re all trying to do good here.’”

For me, this only reinforces my aversion to “big” charities – although I imagine in some cases they do excellent work. We remain committed to Kiva, with its direct funding to needy individuals and its extremely low overhead.

Sorry Lance, Susan, and the rest of you. You’ll need to become a lot more charitable to attract my contributions.

Photo July 21, 2010

2010-07-21T14:41:00.000-07:00

Wind farm and wheat fields, Columbia River plateau, Oregon

Photo - June 5, 2010

2010-06-05T09:47:00.000-07:00

Photo - June 3, 2010

2010-06-03T08:13:00.000-07:00

Lilacs and a threatening eastern sky.

Article/Blog Comments: The World’s Soapbox

2010-05-31T11:09:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, May 30, 2010, I was reading a Yahoo News article/update about the BP oil spill in the gulf of Mexico. As I scrolled to the bottom of the piece, I saw the comments section begin with the words “comments 1-10 of 77,083.”

Seventy-seven thousand comments (since May 1) about the article.

I’ve mentioned in other writing that I very seldom read blog or article comments. And I decided some time ago to not have a comments section on any of my blogs. Far too many comments show a certain lack of, shall we say, knowledge (OK, I’ll be politically incorrect: they’re written by idiots); are “comment spam” (folks trying to get in a free web plug); are abusive; devolve into comments about other comments (and the folks who wrote those other comments); or are a soapbox for preaching one’s personal political/religious/philosophical/business agenda.

But 77,000?

Of course, the gulf spill is a major event, and people are heartbroken and mad and confused. Some of the outpouring of comments are a way for people without any other outlets to have their voices heard and to exorcise their personal fears and frustrations. And scanning a few of the comments (that’s all I could take), it seems that many really are wanting and needing to say something. Unfortunately, it’s seldom something substantive, or even something interesting – in the sense that someone else might be interested in reading it; that someone else would want to read those words.

Nonetheless, I especially enjoy reading ...

The armchair engineers who have the solution
The slams against politicians (Palin and Obama seem to be the favorites)
The spellings – my god, the misspellings and the utter lack of grammar
The “conspiracy thearies” that the spill was intentional to promote green energy, or it was terrorism, or that Halliburton is delaying cleanup so they can “harness the oil and then to retreeve it to sell on the open market”
The comments in CAPITAL LETTERS
The 100-word-long comments with no punctuation or capitalization
500-word diatribes about politics

And my favorite, today, when the comment count was up to 82,553...
“82,500 comments? LMAO. This is sooooooooooo pointless! LOL...”
As, of course, was that comment.

Is it that we’ve become so isolated looking at our laptop screens that we don’t have anyone real to talk with anymore? Have we become so wrapped up in our culture of “Hey Look at Me” that we take any opportunity to wave our own little flags? Is this our three seconds of fame?

I don’t really know, nor do I really understand it.
Eighty. Thousand. Comments.

Color Series - Grey

2010-05-25T15:08:00.000-07:00

Grey (or is it Gray?)

Beach, Olympic Peninsula, Washington

The Banks Think I'm Immortal

2010-05-11T08:12:00.000-07:00

Lucky me! I can either save $2.4 million, or live for 2,550 years!

We always pay off our credit cards each month. But some time ago (back before the “credit crisis”) we had a 1% cash-advance offer, good for the life of the balance. Sort of like nearly free money until we decided to pay it off. Even in this stupid, scary, weird financial market, I figured I could make more in interest or appreciation on that loan.

So now, with the new credit-disclosure laws, card companies have to include certain wording on their statements. We all know how humorous banks can be, but this is by far the funniest I’ve seen.

April 29, 2010 Photo

2010-04-29T12:56:00.001-07:00

April 7, 2010 Photo

2010-04-07T21:15:00.000-07:00

My skills with photo manipulation are abysmal, but I like this old image from Amsterdam.

April 2, 2010 Photo

2010-04-02T15:54:00.000-07:00

Today's spring snowstorm.

Photo March 11, 2010

2010-03-11T16:59:00.000-08:00

Fort Flagler State Park, Marrowstone Island, Washington
(Yea, we were shocked to see blue skies, too.)

Photo March 7, 2010

2010-03-07T08:49:00.000-08:00

Star trails, Orion in center.

Photo March 3, 2010

2010-03-03T16:30:00.000-08:00

Isle of Skye, Scotland

Photo February 27, 2010

2010-02-27T14:29:00.001-08:00

The BBC On the Healthcare Summit

2010-02-26T10:06:00.000-08:00

I just read a rather long (for the web) BBC (UK) news article about yesterday’s healthcare summit. Their final sentence says it all. “The US is the world’s richest nation and the only industrialised democracy that does not provide healthcare coverage to all its citizens.”

Another Chapter - The Cooking School of Life

2010-02-25T14:35:00.000-08:00

A Ride to the Beach in Cuba
by Ken Hulick © 2009

Sweat droplets make little splotches on the pavement, then slowly dry in the hot, humid air. Beer helps a bit, and it’s only a buck a can. One walks slowly, on the shady side of the street. We pause to appreciate – admire is too strong a word in this car’s case – a blue 1959 Chevrolet Impala. Scott asks the two men seated nearby if the car is theirs and if he can take pictures. The owner is quiet, almost shy, but nods his head OK.

“Do you want to go to the beach?” asks the other man. The car owner doesn’t seem to speak any English, but his agent speaks passably well. Scott speaks some Spanish but doesn’t always understand the usually rapid responses; while I understand quite a bit but my speaking is so rusty that I’m not good at stringing sentences together. Most of the time, if we’re together, Scott talks and I listen and translate. It’s kinda funny, in a way, until much later in the trip when a beautiful woman in Mexico mistakenly thinks Scott and I are a gay couple.

So for five dollars each, they’ll drive us to the beach about 10 kilometers away. We think it might just be a tiny bit cooler, plus we can swim and maybe get a little breeze.

The car isn’t particularly pristine, either on the inside or the outside. And very, very far from original. The bright red dash looks good, but seats, floorboards, headliner, and maybe even the steering wheel have been replaced sometime over the previous 40-some years. The glove compartment door opens into empty space. The sky blue exterior appears to have been painted with house paint. And, from the sounds coming from the engine, wheels, and drivetrain, the mechanical parts aren’t in any better shape.

Within a few minutes we’re out of Trinidad’s town limits. A few minutes later we’re on the side of the road. Sputtering, stalling sounds, then a dead engine, and we coast to a stop. There’s not much need to pull very far over, as there’s little traffic.

“Out of gas,” the agent explains. We all get out of the car to assist – isn’t that what males do everywhere in the world? Even two Americans and two Cubans in a ’59 Chevy? If we’ve guessed right about the car’s age and heritage, it would be one of the last American road warriors imported before the revolution.

The driver goes to the back, opens the trunk, and takes out a gallon plastic milk carton of gasoline. He walks to the front, opens the hood, and pours the gas into a small tank inside the engine compartment. We’re witnessing another example of no-spare-parts innovation.

All the Cubans who own classic old American cars think that when relations between America and their country normalize, that wealthy American car collectors will be flocking to the island to purchase their relics and make them rich. We really didn’t have the heart to tell any of them that American car collectors want cars in pristine, original condition. We silently wonder if even the engine in our taxi is from Detroit, or instead was pulled out of a Russian Lada and grafted onto this big, blue Chevy.

Back in the car, we go no more than five minutes, and we have to pull over again. “Engine oil light is on.”

This time the driver reappears from the bowels of the trunk with a quart plastic bottle of motor oil that looks like it’s already been used several times. Again, we wonder. Did he drain it from a dead Lada’s engine? Is the oil something semi-bootleg, like the cigar seconds that workers bring home from the cigar factories? Those questions and their answers are beyond the language skills of any of us.

Back on the road, almost beginning to smell the sea breezes, we hear rattling from the back. Outside the car. First it was low gas, then low oil, now it’s low lug nuts. The three lug nuts on the left rear tire are all loose (there should be five). They’re tightened quickly, but Scott gives me a look that clearly says: “Will we be walking back?”

A stretch of Caribbean white sand begins just steps from the car. On the north shore of the island, the coast bears the brunt of the powerful Atlantic. Here, on the southern Caribbean side, we could have been in Cozumel. “We’ll wait for you.” Not a question, but a statement. We said we didn’t know how long we’d be. We silently thought that maybe we really didn’t want to get back in the Chevy. “That OK. We wait.”

Scott hauled his pale body to the water, while I spread my pale body on the beach and read, and later walked down the beach a ways. A young family was sitting in the shade of a palm tree, their car parked right on the beach. The car was in much better condition than our taxi, and I stopped to admire it. “Es tu coche?” “Si. Would you like a drink?” as he handed me a bottle of Havana Club rum.

Havana Club is rum in Cuba – not brown but clear, and about $3 a bottle, although we guessed the locals didn’t pay even that tourist price. You can’t make a decent Mojito in Cuba without Havana Club, and every bar and restaurant claims the best Mojito on the island, some willing to guarantee that they do. We just drank them, not worrying how we’d make good on the “guarantee” if we didn’t like their mix. Although Daiquiris are allegedly as traditional as Mojitos (especially in the mystique of Hemingway’s Havana), the latter were consumed 10 to 1 by everyone we encountered – Cubans and tourists alike.

Scott walked up and mildly berated me for drinking out of a stranger’s bottle. Yet never an adverse thought crossed my mind as I enjoyed a smooth mouthful of my new friend’s gift. Scott, always working, took several photos of the car for possible use in his planned book.

The guys were waiting for us back by the car. We bought everyone Cristal beers and chatted with several of their friends who’d joined the table. The agent appeared to be quite a lady’s man, and had a good-looking chica on each arm. We returned to Trinidad with one girl in the front seat with our driver and agent, and another two girls comfortably close to us in the backseat. It appeared to be just a ride back to town for the girls, not a set-up for us. Anyway, Scott claimed to have given up on women after a recent bad relationship, and our host at the Casa Particular where we were staying made it very clear that “guests” weren’t acceptable in his establishment. Besides, the whole phenomena of Cuban-women-and-foreign-men seemed a little too much like prostitution to me, so we said farewell to all our new friends as we left the car.

A British friend of Scott’s who we ran into in Trinidad has been visiting the island for several months a year over the course of many years. Keith was always dreaming of dating Cuban women, but despite many visits he could barely speak a dozen words of Spanish. Keith was the perfect example of the peripatetic travelling Brit who just doesn’t assimilate but always stays a “tourist,” even though he had spent years in China, Thailand, Africa, and other far-flung destinations.

Keith told us a story about being in Havana on one of his first trips, and trying to understand “the women thing” on the island. He asked his taxi driver, “How do you tell which ones are the prostitutes?” The Cuban driver, calm and worldly, replied, “They’re all prostitutes.”

Keith and Scott would sit on the patio of our casa, smoking cigars and exchanging photographer war stories. Tobacco smoke in the states would cause me to cough and cringe, but Cuban tobacco smelled sweet and natural, as natural as mangoes or papaya or a bowl of limes and oranges.

Julio, our casa host, was also a photographer, and he organizes photo workshops in Trinidad. He loved showing his work, and I was happy to see his collection. Julio had two guest rooms, and the other was occupied by a Canadian man and his stunning South African girlfriend. They were sweet people, interested in Julio’s work, but somehow just didn’t seem to fit into the fabric of Cuba. The Canadian always wore a Guayabera, the prototypical Cuban man’s shirt. Scott hated Guayaberas, saying, “Why would I want to go around looking like a dentist?”

Finally, it was time to move on to another destination on our trip, so we found a driver who would take us back to Havana – cheaper, hotter, and much more Cuban than the sterile, air-conditioned Viazul tourist bus we’d arrived on. Keith, Scott, and I crammed into a middle-aged Russian Lada which never so much as hiccupped on the entire five-hour drive. The driver spoke no English; Scott asked questions; I translated; and Keith kept talking about the women at the Casa de la Trova (music venue) the night before who he should have asked to dance.

Chapter from The Cooking School of Life

2010-02-25T14:27:00.000-08:00

A Pig Leg in Prague
by Ken Hulick © 2009

I still actually like meat, although I very seldom eat it and we never cook it at home. We recently came close with Escargot (snails), and sometimes our thick, rare tuna steaks are almost meat-like, but I just don’t miss meat or poultry. Much.

Our honeymoon was the first big international trip we took together – about a year after we married. (That’s how it happens when you marry later in life.) Francesca had previously done the hippie-trail travel to New Zealand and Ecuador, and of course the just-out-of-college Western Europe tour too many years ago for her to remember much of any place. I’d been to Europe only once, and really wanted to see Eastern Europe.

We learned about how we travel with each other (we take turns being pissy); about who does the planning (Francesca arranges lodging, I do transportation); and all about our sleep/jet lag/eat/rest schedules (simply too much information).

In Prague, we stayed in a very odd, but nice, “Botel.” This was a floating hotel (a Boat and a Hotel, get it?) built from scratch to look like a large canal boat – porthole windows, dark wood, lots of brass. The Botel Admiral is permanently anchored on the Vltava river, about a 15-minute walk from central Prague across the Charles bridge. We strolled into the city center for sightseeing and dinner several times.

We were dining at an outside table, drinking real Czech Budvar (Budweiser). Francesca had a light Bud (not a "Bud Light"), and I had a dark Budvar (even being a homebrewer, I’d never heard of dark pilsner before). Francesca ordered some oh-so-exciting-looking grilled zucchini and cheese course (yawn), and I decided upon a roast pork dish. I figured, when in Prague, drinking a Czech Bud, well ....

Francesca’s meal came out first, and I was just about to get annoyed about us not being served together. Then I understood – the waiter needed both hands for my dinner. The pig shank arrived, looking like nothing so much as a miniature suckling pig. Yes it was just a leg, about 12 inches long, but was suspended upon a contraption that looked like a medieval torture device. The meat was nearly falling off the bone, the pork was so tender. I think I was actually drooling. And then I took my gaze from the pig leg to look at Francesca.

Although she’s been (mostly) a vegetarian for years, she is not the squeamish type – rare red meat on a plate for the diner next to her; an ex who lived for barbecued meat – these things do not bother her. She has been an EMT, veterinary assistant, and ambulance driver – not jobs for the squeamish. But the look on her face as she watched me watch the pig leg.... We both started to laugh – we probably looked and sounded like really loud and immature Americans.

Only a few months ago, we were reminiscing about The Pig Leg In Prague, and Francesca asked me if there were any “meats” that I really missed. I considered the question for awhile, not wanting to make a flippant response and also to give myself time to really think about my answer and my reasoning. What it came down to was pork. I think pork chops would be the only thing I could really have any interest in cooking in our home again. I enjoy duck in restaurants, and I never, ever pass up a traditional Thanksgiving turkey dinner. But otherwise, I don’t think I’ll ever really miss beef or poultry (chicken) again.

The pork industry some years ago had an ad campaign about “The Other White Meat.” And I guess that’s why I preferred pork to beef or chicken – I think it’s the most versatile meat, able to be used in myriad ways, with many different sauces, and can be paired with more different side dishes than either beef or poultry.

Pork with a Zinfandel blueberry sauce and a side of red cabbage and apples? Yes with pork, but not, I think, with beef or poultry. Pork baked with tomatoes and onions, and paired with a side of steamed potatoes? Pork talks; beef and chicken walk. Conversely, take most beef recipes – barbecue, shredded in tacos, meatloaf, beef Wellington – and I can probably adapt most of them to work well with pork. Similarly, I’d easily be able to convert a Chicken Cordon Bleu recipe (with cheese and ham) to work with pork. And wine? Pork can go well with a monster Zinfandel, an elegant Pinot Noir, a creamy Chardonnay, or a crisp Sauvignon Blanc. Although the rules of wine and food pairing were thrown out years ago, it is harder to match beef or chicken with “any” wine.

Eating In Europe

Europeans sometimes make fun of Americans for switching hands while eating. We start with our fork in our left hand and cut with the knife in our right (if we’re right-handed), then we set the knife down, switch the fork to our other hand, and eat. Europeans never put down either utensil, and don’t switch hands. The knife is constantly used for cutting and pushing (when it’s not being waved in the air to make a conversational point), and the fork (mostly with tines down) is the stabbing and eating implement.

Of course, most food rules are made to be broken. Who cares how you use a fork and knife? Or whether you scoop soup from the bowl with your soup spoon from back to front (as most of us do), from front to back (as many Europeans do), or drink it from the bowl using both hands (as the Japanese do). I found it pretty funny the first time I saw a Chinese soup spoon offered at a Japanese restaurant in the U.S. No sense bucking tradition and making it harder to enjoy your meal.

Old Article - Ski Industry Marketing

2010-02-25T14:01:00.000-08:00

(Previously published in Ski Area Management)

An Opinionated Inside/Outside View of Ski Industry Marketing
by Ken Hulick

I admit it. I was a short-timer in the industry. I worked as Communications Director for a medium-sized ski resort – Purgatory Resort in Durango, Colorado – for only two winter seasons. But I’ve been in the marketing business my entire professional life. And in skiing I see an industry sorely lacking in hard-core marketing muscle.

The ski industry wrings its hands over flat skier numbers; over pricing; over competition from other travel and tourism options. Yet these dilemmas are primarily (but not solely) the symptoms of its underachieving marketing.

Most of the marketing I’ve witnessed coming from the ski industry is either woefully behind the times or consists of jumping on the flash-and-dash bandwagon. The industry seems to not be very aware of the marketing, advertising, and psychological research which has been in existence for decades (David Ogilvy’s books from 40 years ago are excellent examples). Either unaware or unbelieving.

A professional marketer of my acquaintance (who also holds an MBA) once said to me, “most of the marketing I’ve seen in the ski industry lacks the marketing ‘mental horsepower’ that nearly every other industry uses.” Is this because a lot of ski resorts have marketing guys who have risen through the ranks from ski instructor to ski school director to marketing director but who have never been out of Dodge?

My take on the prime reason the ski industry’s marketing seems so limited is – please sit down now – the “we’re so cool” factor. In my short stint in the industry, I was constantly amazed by the attitude expressed within the industry – overtly as well as subtly – that people should be skiing because it’s such a bitchin’ thing to do. That people should be skiing because we’re in such a cool sport that they should be having fun just being associated with us. Every industry event I attended was full of (with exceptions, of course) folks so cocksure of their coolness just because they were in the ski industry.

Folks, wake up. How we think of ourselves has very little to do with how our potential customers view us. This is an insidious trap similar to “marketing to yourself.” In marketing to yourself, we believe that an ad (or web site, promotion program, whatever) works because we like it – “we” being the CEO, ski area marketing director, retail director, sales guy at the consumer ski show. The same goes for our inner coolness. If we expect customers to come skiing because it’s cool (because we think it’s cool and we’ve told them it’s cool), we’ll continue to see flat numbers and flatter profits.

Putting butts on chairlifts is – on many levels – exactly the same as putting butts in airline seats, selling beer and burgers at a NASCAR race, getting new customers to your bank, hawking the latest laptop computer, or selling an extra three cases of Doritos from the grocery store shelves. The recent price wars are illustrative. Bogus Basin in Idaho reduced their season pass prices dramatically and saw a great response. Many Colorado resorts came up with a buddy pass or discounted pricing options. Yet I’d like to ask how many of those resorts actually applied proven pricing strategies and principles when deciding on their pricing structure. Mike Shirley from Bogus Basin said, at the NSAA conference in Snowbird this past January, that they came up with their season-pass price of $199 because (I paraphrase), “it had to be a significant reduction and we thought under 200 was a magic price point.” In their case it’s worked (in the short term), but if you sold motorcycles or cereal would you set your retail price that way?

In a recent Rocky Mountain News article, Sergio Zyman, former chief marketing officer for the Coca-Cola Company, chided the ski industry “as an example of old-style marketing that is no longer effective. It’s no longer good enough to simply make someone feel good about your product. You must give consumers a reason for spending money on it.”

Sponsorships are yet another example. The mountain bike industry, while small compared to skiing, seems much more sophisticated in regard to outside-the-industry sponsorships. (Although the mountain-bike industry’s advertising seems just as clueless.) The ski industry seems to be leaving a lot of marketing power on the table in regards to its outside sponsorships. Our sponsorships should become significant fusion marketing efforts that multiply our reach far beyond what’s currently being achieved.

The basic principals of marketing are the same no matter what your product. Chocolates or chairlifts. Airline seats or snow. Yet how many of you reading this know the five steps the customer goes through in the buying process? How many of you can cite the research about the effectiveness of left-hand vs. right-hand ad pages (don’t assume now!), black-and-white vs. color, frequency vs. size? Who out there knows why the direct marketing industry sends you half-a-dozen separate sheets of paper with little peel-off stickers when it asks you to join the CD club? Who among the marketers in this industry knows what “cognitive dissonance” means and how it applies to advertising?

Take this test. Grab a copy of Ski or Skiing, find some ads which have run several issues, and tape over or crayon out the name of the product, resort, etc. Then ask 10 readers (not the guys on your sales staff or anyone at your resort – ask real customers and folks who read Ski and Skiing) to glance at the ads and tell you who the advertiser is. Or poll the marketing guys in the industry and see how many actually have degrees in marketing; which ones have come from large agencies; or who have managed successful marketing campaigns outside the ski industry.

Marketing by trial-and-error was done decades ago in many industries. Do we in the ski industry really have a clue as to what the customer wants in the way of pass prices, window prices, freebies, specials, deals, packages, snow reports, events? Do we understand how to present and differentiate our USP (unique selling proposition) and do we know what benefit statements connect most deeply with our consumer? Are we packaging lifts, lodging, rentals in the most compelling manner for the consumer, or are we creating our packages by copying what everyone else does? Has anyone asked the customer lately what type of package they want?

At the same NSAA conference cited above, several outside-the-industry presenters (including Nolan Rosall from RRC Assoc. and Rob Smith from Focal Point/Z-Sport) noted that the ski industry is very low on the scale of marketing research; of understanding customers; and of pricing to customers’ desires. These outside experts were surprised that the industry was “shocked” that ski school revenues increased at Northstar after the resort began offering free lessons. Shocked? Has anyone out there been to the grocery store lately? Do sales of Ritz crackers go down when the nice little ladies give away free samples of Ritz in the aisles? Maybe we should give away free ski lessons with every shaped ski rental, and free shaped ski rentals with every lesson. (Actually, we shouldn’t. That would be how ski-industry marketing has been done in the past. What needs to be done first is research into the customer’s wants and needs. Only then should we offer free lessons or rentals or whatever.)

I don’t mean to say there aren’t smart, professional, successful marketers in the industry. Yet I do know that when I chatted with many marketing people in this industry that few seemed to have the basic marketing foundation skills and knowledge usually taken for granted in other fields. Maybe if the ski industry was run by folks more interested in databases than in spreadsheets; by people with backgrounds in direct mail rather than in real estate; then we might see a lot more research-based, targeted, creative, and effective marketing.

The snowsports industry has done some wonderful things. And the industry is moving in some good directions (year-round resorts and activities, selling the overall mountain “experience”), but from this outsider’s view the industry is still treading water, talking to itself, stuck in the past, and too busy being cool. This is a fantastic sport and industry. It still has tremendous untapped potential.

Photo February 23, 2010

2010-02-23T13:38:00.001-08:00

Town of Telluride from the gondola between town and Mountain Village.

Photo February 9, 2010

2010-02-09T10:37:00.001-08:00

Starfish at low tide.

Capitalism

2010-02-06T22:08:00.000-08:00

It’s hard to believe that I’ve never seen this quote before. Now, I don’t know if it’s prescient, scary, crazy, or makes me want to live in Uruguay.

“Capitalism is the extraordinary belief that the nastiest of men, for the nastiest of reasons, will somehow work for the benefit of us all.” – John Maynard Keynes

Photo Manipulation

2010-01-30T14:52:00.001-08:00

I always insisted I was a “purist” with film photography. I never wanted to do any photo manipulation, enhancing, or even cropping in most cases. Whatever Kodak or Fuji delivered was what I accepted. Yet with digital, I’m slowly beginning to experiment with image modifications.

For example, the color of light is very blue in open shade – is it wrong to remove some of that blue with a computer to make the scene look as I “saw” it? Likewise, in deep shadows, I want an image that looks like it’s in deep shadow – is it OK to darken/modify an image to convey that impression?

I sure don’t have an answer. Here are two examples from the last couple of days. The top image of each pair is the original; the lower image shows my modifications. I'm definitely a babe-in-the-woods so far with image modification.

* * * * *

Haiti, Charity, Aid, Life

2010-01-28T15:26:00.000-08:00

A few days ago, travel guru Rick Steves posted a blog entry titled “No Aid for Haiti.” He has since taken down the post, saying the removal wasn’t over any sense of political correctness, but rather that the piece was going to be published in a newspaper and he didn’t want to usurp their readers.

I’ve read the original post (it’s still available online by searching for the title phrase), and it really isn’t at all inflammatory. Nor are most of the comments reactionary (in either direction). His post is actually about the culture of “helping,” especially from a Big Brother attitude (my phrase, not Rick’s) so prevalent with governments around the world.

On some levels, I totally agree. Jumping on the Disaster Relief bandwagon every time something goes awry in the world makes us feel good as individuals, yet as individuals our efforts are generally so diluted as to be nearly meaningless (except to our sense of doing good), lost among the vast sums coming from governments and large, established charity organizations. (Many journalists and other observers have felt that all the aid that has been poured into Africa – as an example – simply helps the corrupt governments stay in power and makes the aid organizations feel good about driving around in brand-new white SUVs.)

I’ve contributed to charitable causes throughout my life. I’ve also supported many other types of non-profits with time and contributions. And I’ve settled into a stage in life where I’m not really “cynical” (a word Rick uses in the first paragraph of his piece; saying he’s not cynical, but...), but rather that I’ve come to believe in the “teach-a-man-to-fish” philosophy of help for those less fortunate.

Where this all is going is that while my wife and I have made a few specific contributions toward the relief efforts in Haiti (buying bread from our local baker who was holding a fund-raiser; donating artwork for a Haiti charity auction), we’ve primarily simply added more funding to our Kiva account. Kiva makes loans to people attempting to better their lives. Nearly all of Kiva’s loan recipients repay the loans in full. Then, when our Kiva account balance is refilled, we can designate another loan to another individual. (Kiva’s website – kiva.org – doesn’t even have Haiti information on its front page. It does note that this week alone, the organization made more than $1.2 million in new loans, funding 3,400 new individuals, and that their to-date repayment rate was above 98%. To me this represents sustainable support for the needy.)

This is the kind of ongoing help for others that makes the most sense to me as a form of individual giving. In the past we also supported Heifer International, which purchases farm animals, seed, plants, etc. so people can raise more and better food. Yet to us, while commendable, Heifer still “gives” to others – a subtle difference from “supporting” others. It’s not quite the same as Kiva, which tries to create an environment where the recipients want to succeed and repay their loan and become self-sufficient and self-supporting.

There is no wrong or right way to help other people in need, but for me it’s about making my contributions count. And about helping others obtain a better life – no matter how they define that “better life” nor where in the world they live.

(An aside: I very briefly visited Haiti in the mid 1970s, when Baby Doc was in power. Many homes and businesses had two photos hanging on their walls – weirdly, of Papa Doc and of JFK. The country was a study in contrasts: Ancient women selling coal from donkeys below windows whose shutters displayed posters of blond American models advertising Clairol hair products and Colgate toothpaste. Yes, the poverty was pervasive.)

Malawi Africa, 2007. Photo © Francesca Campbell Hulick

Photo January 27, 2010

2010-01-27T09:25:00.001-08:00

Green.

Photo January 24, 2010

2010-01-24T17:00:00.000-08:00

When you really can't decide what you want. Discovery Bay, Olympic Peninsula, Washington.

Photo January 20, 2010

2010-01-20T10:31:00.000-08:00

Shapes of the snow.

Photography Again

2010-01-18T17:40:00.000-08:00

Many years ago – far, far too many, actually – I was a photo nerd. Obsessed. For fun; for profit; for... I don’t know what. I loved photography. (I remember an old line: When photographers get together, they talk about lenses and film and cameras. When writers get together, they don't talk about pencils or typewriter ribbons or computer programs.)

Then, film died. Kodachrome was my middle name, and when film started to evaporate I grew despondent. I was probably the last person to actually buy two APS cameras (look it up on Wikipedia).

Nonetheless, in the “old days” I sold quite a few photos as a minor-league, semi-pro photographer. To small- and medium-sized magazines such as Chevy Outdoors, Explore, Westways, Mountain Biking UK, Climbing, Mountain, and quite a few others. Back then, editors of smaller magazines actually appreciated a writer who could take photos. It made their lives easier. Besides, who else even had photos of the Agua Tibia Wilderness to go with my article?

Anyway, it seems like I’m revisiting my youth (or at least my young-middle-age). I finally got a fairly good digital SLR, and am having so much fun with it. Of course, my greedy side is trying to figure out how to make some money from photography again, but....

Despite the fact that I bought my wife a nice Nikon DSLR and several lenses a couple of years ago before her trip to Africa, for myself I still only had a couple of cheap (but decent) “point-and-shoot” digital cameras. But with the new camera, I’ve set myself a challenge. Over the course of a year, I want to take at least one photo a day with the new camera that might be good enough for publication – or good enough for someone to maybe, maybe, maybe want to buy a print.

I’m going to post these photos the day they were taken – maybe not every day, maybe not all of them; but no old stock pix; no images from previous trips (or a previous life) that might have produced some good shots. Just a (maybe) daily photo from the new camera.

Today, a shot from our house on the east side of the Cascade Mountains, Washington.

Haiti Earthquake Relief

2010-01-14T09:17:00.000-08:00

If you’re concerned for the people of Haiti, you’re also probably wondering how best to help. Organizations world-wide will be pouring money and resources into the country. Our suggestion is to support Kiva.org, which helps people all over the world become more self-sufficient with micro loans. See Kiva’s comments about the Haiti earthquake relief here. A loan (much more valuable than just a donation) through Kiva can be made in amounts as small as $25.

I Rather Hope Julia Child Would Be Appalled

2009-12-13T15:29:00.000-08:00

It saddens me that so many talented writers are overlooked, while someone like Julie Powell receives so much ill-deserved glory. Her first book, Julie & Julia, was based on an interesting concept – making every recipe in Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Unfortunately, Powell’s writing was so full of Me-Me-Me! as to make her book unreadable. Notwithstanding the fact that there was very little cooking and very little Julia in it.

Now Powell has come out with Cleaving, a book about her apprenticeship at a butcher and about her having an affair.

Please do all the good writers out there a favor and ignore both of Powell’s books. Many more worthy authors deserve your attention.

My One-Word Summation of the Tiger Woods Story

2009-12-13T08:43:00.001-08:00

Scumbag.

Now, can we please move on to some substantive news, and stop celebrating (and rewarding) bad behavior.

Writing, Writers, Ethics

2009-11-22T10:50:00.000-08:00

(I was recently looking at some of my old words, and re-visited a piece I wrote some time ago on one of our travel sites. Since this blog is about writing, I thought I’d share those words here, too.)

Questioning Travel Blogger Ethics: Painting With Too Broad a Brush?

Nicholas Kralev, in his blog On The Fly (published by The Washington Times), revisits an ongoing discussion about the ethics of travel blogs (and, by extension, all blogs) that aren’t written by “professional” journalists. While fairly objective, in my view the article perpetrates some myths about travel writing – on blogs or in traditional media. I wish Kralev had taken this nascent discussion and expanded it a lot.

Kralev writes that, “the blogosphere has no editorial rules; authors are free to write anything they want, and they don’t answer to editors.” Generally true. He adds: “The absence of an ethics code hasn’t been lost on travel companies, which have been offering bloggers free or discounted flights, hotel stays and meals. Most mainstream media organizations are almost certain to decline such gifts.” I guess also technically true, but....

Having been in the “mainstream media” as a writer, editor, and publisher, I agree that any outward appearance of favoritism in the industry is kept pretty well in check. And generally freebies are frowned upon. But I also know that there are myriad subtle shadings of favoritism. Big advertisers may be more likely to have their products reviewed in the publication. Publishers can design special editorial sections to appeal to an industry or group of advertisers. And writers who successfully pitch a destination story idea will be paid (by the magazine) for their words and insight into that place – maybe not getting directly “paid” to travel there, but they will be recompensated for their travels by the article sale.

Mainstream Media are businesses – they’re in it to maximize profits. Travel publications want readers to desire to visit a place, and to buy the next issue of the magazine; purchase airfare from advertisers; and shop with other travel suppliers – negative destination articles don’t sell magazines. Conversely, few, if any, bloggers make enough money to pay even their minimal web hosting costs.

The world is full of self promotion. Lodging properties game the system on TripAdvisor and other travel review sites by recruiting folks to post glowing reviews; small book publishers have been known to round up friends to write great reviews on Amazon; and many of your “followers” on Twitter are out to sell you porn or cameras or airline tickets or their product/service of the moment.

I believe that most travel bloggers are in it for the joy of writing and sharing their thoughts. To me, they are the least offensive self-promotional folks out there. As long as a travel (or other) blogger indicates that his or her trip was paid for, a review can be taken in its proper context. And even if the writer doesn’t explicitly state that a trip was a freebie, well, Sunset Magazine doesn’t always say in the opening of an article on North Wonderfulstan that there’s an ad for the same destination in the back of the book.

The common complaint is that when freebies are given, the travel blogger seldom writes anything negative. Yet so it is with Mainstream Media. Negative articles (covering any topic) usually come from deep “investigative” research. Seldom does a Mainstream Media travel writer say anything bad about any destination (look no further than the Sunday travel section of any newspaper). If anything, I believe that travel blog writers might be more likely to be objective or write a critical piece simply because they don’t have a Mainstream Media advertising director sitting in the next office. Bloggers are known for being opinionated, and revel in voicing those opinions.

A consumer is probably more likely to be fooled by a slick color brochure for Tropical Holiday Paradise than by any blogger’s write-up of the property – no matter how glowing the words. Another check-and-balance is that most bloggers offer their readers a way to comment directly and immediately on their postings. Blog readers are quick to slam anything they disagree with or perceive as inaccurate.

There have been too many Mainstream Media articles painting bloggers as not being “real” writers. I’ve seen some terrible writing on travel (and other) blogs, but I’ve also seen third-grade writing (and research and editing) in the Wall St. Journal and National Geographic Traveler and a host of other publications. And I’ve also seen – especially in the travel realm – many instances where it’s obvious that the writer of the mainstream-publication article does not know the subject; has not even traveled to the destination; or has been edited (supposedly by professional editors) so that a great deal of the story is missing or inaccurate.

Lastly, I even dislike the word “blogger.” We are writers. Some of us are good, some are crappy, most fall in the middle. But that’s true everywhere. There’s a class-distinction feeling to having a different name for folks who write about travel and other topics on “non-professional” websites or blogs. We don’t call newspaper writers “newsies” nor magazine writers “maggies.” Let’s get away from the somewhat pejorative term “blogger” and just all be writers.

Awards, America, the World, Politics

2009-10-10T10:15:00.001-07:00

I intentionally haven’t read any of the reactions to the surprise announcement yesterday by the Nobel Prize committee, awarding the Nobel Peace Prize to President Obama. I thought I’d voice a few thoughts first, unaffected by others’ opinions.

My first though is that it’s an award, freely given and freely received. The Nobel committee is (presumably) an independent body that can do whatever it wishes. Colleges give honorary degrees to folks; Hollywood selects the Oscar awards in secret; dozens, hundreds of real, humorous, serious, fun awards are doled out every day.

Secondly, I hope the opposition party of the U.S. government doesn’t use this to drive a wedge even deeper into the heart of our political system. If I were a Republican member of Congress, I would view this as an award for America. I hope that the politicians on both sides of the aisle can rise above petty politics regarding President Obama’s Nobel Peace Prize.

Finally, it seems like the Nobel committee is doing the same thing – giving an award to America. How incredible would it be to believe that America is actually “joining” the rest of the world, and that the rest of the world is welcoming America.

Let us read the headlines and listen to the talking heads and pundits over the next few weeks to see if I’m justified in my hopes, or if things remain with the same adversarial negativity.

My Life (So Far; More or Less; the Short Version)

2009-10-05T11:01:00.000-07:00

[I’ve realized that all of a sudden I’m reconnecting with old friends I haven’t had contact with in decades. I’ve also met some great new people recently (frequently on our travels), yet don’t want to bore anyone with my story. So here it is for those who care to read and know more. For a reader, that’s the great thing about writing – it’s an optional medium; no one has to read the words I write.]

I was born within 20 miles of New York City, on the Jersey (“Joisey”) side of the Hudson river. In 1955, at the age of five, I had no choice but to move to California with my parents. You’d think they would have given me a vote. Except for a year each (in the early 1960s) in Spokane, Washington; Tucson, Arizona; and Tokyo, Japan, I lived in SoCal until 1988.

After graduating high school in 1968 (“The Year That Changed Everything,” according to Newsweek in November 2007), I married (and divorced) a couple of times, never had any kids, and had jobs (in generally the same chronological sequence and level of interest) of newspaper printing/distribution center; industrial plumbing warehouse and then outside sales; advertising agency; magazine advertising sales; magazine editing. In the mid 1970s, I began technical rock climbing and mountaineering, a passion that stayed with me for a decade, and that led to my interest in other outdoor sports.

I went to Junior College (“high school with ash trays”) right after high school, but didn’t have the discipline to stay with it. Nonetheless, even without a student deferment, I avoided the Vietnam war. But in 1980 I had a bad climbing accident; I was in a dead-end job; and I’d just been dumped by my girlfriend (over the phone, no less). It was time for a big change, so I went back to college and graduated in 1984 (yes, “that” year) with a degree in Communications.

When I left California in 1988, I was doing quite a bit of freelance magazine writing and photography, and upon getting to Durango, Colorado, I was able to connect with the organizers of the first-ever Mountain Bike World Championships. I wrote nearly a dozen articles about the event, for local, regional, national, and even international magazines (Canada and the UK). I continued to make my living from freelance writing for several years.

Durango was an incredible mountain town. When I arrived it was a true community – with a vibe, an attitude (in a good sense), and an outdoor spirit that sucked me into downhill and backcountry skiing, trail running, whitewater paddling, mountain biking, hiking. I eventually even raced mountain bikes a bit – in the “slow-old-fat-guy’s division” – and did fairly well. I also became very involved with the local Search & Rescue team. I loved being in the mountains, and S&R was a way to give back to the community. I also regained my marketing roots, and spent most of my years in Durango as a marketing/advertising/branding/PR consultant.

But after 19 years, the greed and growth of Durango finally took its toll on me. In 2004, in my mid fifties, I finally met and married a mentally healthy woman (maybe it took that long for me to realize my part in the equation). We moved to north-central Washington state in 2007, looking for someplace small, quiet, and very rural. It took us about a year to realize that we had gone too much to the extreme, so now we’re trying to come back to center and relocate near a lively small town (there’s no town where we are now, and even the small town somewhat nearby has services but isn’t a community). So hopefully by Thanksgiving we’ll be living in Port Townsend, Washington, over on the Olympic Peninsula. It’s a small community that reminds me of Durango 20 years ago, but with a much older demographic (which is good, as we’re older, too). We’ll initially be sampling the area as part-timers, as our house here on the east side of the Cascades hasn’t sold yet. It’s a beautiful, unique piece of property, but it will take the right buyer.

We’ve been trying to be semi-retired here on our 11 acres on the edge of the National Forest, and not really liking it (the retired part). We spent quite a bit of time attempting to create a web travel publishing enterprise, but it just never grew wings. Currently, I’m writing a couple of books: one is a thriller/mystery that’s about half finished, and the other is a food/cooking book tentatively called “The Cooking School of Life.” When we get relocated to Port Townsend we have plans to open a gourmet food/cheese store or an art gallery – too many diverse interests in life.

Along the course of my journey, I’ve traveled a bit, including everywhere in the U.S. (except for the South); skiing in the French alps; hiking in Scotland; the castle-museum-city-overload trips through London, Amsterdam, Prague, Paris, Vienna; hiking in Austria, Slovenia, and the Czech Republic; skiing in Canada; and seeing a few places in the Caribbean (including an incredible trip to Cuba for three weeks in 2002).

I’ve finally gotten to the point in my life where I don’t think I have any “regrets” – we make our choices and live with them. So while there aren’t many “things” on my bucket list, there are a couple of world destinations I refer to as “When-I’m-90-I’ll-wish-I’d-seen-them” places. Thus, my bucket list is about travel, and currently the specific places on that list are: 1) China – especially the Great Wall and the Terracotta Warriors. 2) Ancient Greece – the birthplace of Western civilization. 3) Africa. My wife, Francesca, was lucky enough to go on a three-week art safari (she’s an oil painter) two years ago. I’d love to see the Serengeti and the sands of Namibia, and meet the friends she made in Malawi. 4) The northern lights from Scandinavia. 5) The Swiss alps – both summer hiking and winter skiing.

This story will continue to change, as will I.

URLs, Wine, Globalization

2009-10-03T20:43:00.000-07:00

I found an article in the Wall St. Journal (yes, I admit I read that conservative, Republican-propaganda rag) and came upon an article about summer wine festivals. One entry caught my eye, as it’s in Paris (wine in Paris?) in Montmartre – my absolute favorite part of the city (as it is for many people).

What was intriguing, and frustrating, was typing in the website URL. I tried three or four times, but always seemed to have a misspelling. I finally Googled “harvest festival montmartre paris” and got to the website.

OK, so you try typing (don’t cut and paste!) this URL correctly the first time. fetedesvendangesdemontmartre.com

Yes, I know that the “longest URL” is... hold your breath...

http://thelongestlistofthelongeststuffatthelongestdomainnameatlonglast.com/wearejustdoingthistobestupidnowsincethiscangoonforeverandeverandeverbutitstilllookskindaneatinthebrowsereventhoughitsabigwasteoftimeandenergyandhasnorealpointbutwehadtodoitanyways.html

...but that’s a gimmick. The Montmartre Harvest Festival is trying to advertise a real, interesting, authentic event. An event I’d like to attend someday.

But the site is all in French (of which I speak not much more than my hundred words of restaurant French), and every web translation service I tried (Google, Yahoo, InterTran, Transparent, Applied Language, and the translate buttons on the site itself) either hangs or renders such gibberish English that it’s worse than laughable.

The harvest festival sure needs a web marketing consultant. (FdVdM.com – Fete des Vendanges de Montmartre – is available; as is MontmartreWineFestival.com, for the English-speaking crowd. Jump on that last URL – put up a cheapo website and slam some Google ads in there to make your fortune.)

We sure have a lot of work to do to create the global village.

Universal Healthcare - Part II

2009-09-09T14:05:00.000-07:00

I have never been so disgruntled with a political party – and a president – I once believed in. Congress now wants to penalize (fine) Americans up to $3800 for not having health insurance.

I can barely afford the health insurance I have now. The insurance companies are evil incarnate – raising premiums without any corresponding increase in benefits. They seed the so-called town hall meetings with (biased) insurance-company employees who shout down folks with real concerns about quality of care. Nothing would make me happier than if every health insurance company in America went out of business tomorrow.

The cost of health care skyrockets every year. A physician neighbor estimates that only 25% of healthcare spending actually goes to treating patients – the rest is overhead, insurance company profits (and lobbyists), drug company profits, and Congressional salaries.

So now, if one day soon I really can’t afford health insurance any more, the government will fine (tax) me for not being able to afford it!? I feel so sorry for the folks who truly have no choice – those who don’t have jobs, who really have no money for insurance, and who are now getting squeezed by government/corporate greed.

I’ve long felt that the disparity of wealth in this country is our single greatest problem. The “financial crisis” has illustrated this to the extreme, with million-dollar, non-performance bonuses, executive-salary greed, and politicians in the pockets of industry.

I used to believe – I tried to believe – that the Republicans were the evil ones and Democrats the party of the everyday people. But with many Democrats abandoning the “public option” of healthcare reform they have shown their true colors. They are absolutely no different than any other rich, greed-loving, self-serving politicians.

Every citizen deserves a few things from government (whether that’s local, state, or national). Infrastructure (water, sewer, electricity, road repairs). Compassion when in need (food stamps, Medicaid). Healthcare. Nearly every other civilized country (and even many developing countries) offers universal healthcare, often with a private option for the (rich) folks who desire it and can afford it. But basic healthcare for citizens should be a given.

Now this president of hope has caved to political pressure – from his own party and from the opposition – to abandon any hope of real healthcare reform. No matter what Obama says to congress in today’s speech, this is what really needs to happen:

Institute a national healthcare system – Medicare for all.
Let the rich buy additional health insurance if they want to keep the insurance companies in business. For when they really need botox.
Eliminate restrictions on pre-existing conditions (which may actually happen).
Set some upper-limit guidelines for payment for various medical services.
Remove all lawyers from the healthcare system. Mistakes happen, folks; your doctor isn’t a god. Doctors really do their best. But people die. It doesn’t require a multi-million-dollar malpractice judgment.

What’s on display in Washington today should make every American ashamed. It should make any thinking American want to move to France or England or Cuba, where healthcare is cheaper (or free), universal, and high quality.

Trash

2009-08-27T14:03:00.000-07:00

It’s beyond obvious that America (and much of the rest of the world, too) is a throw-away society. Witness the “Cash for Clunkers” program. Looking at some of the so-called Clunkers that were turned in, many seemed like great vehicles to me. Alas, more scrap in our scrap yards.

I just got back from the recycling center – an adventure we perform two or three times a year. We just build up a huge load of stuff and do it all at once. We had 5 bins (action packers) of glass (a lot of wine bottles), 2 bins of glossy magazines and catalogs, 1 bin of cans (mostly dog food), and 2 bins of recyclable (#1 and #2) plastic bottles. We save newspapers for fire-starter in the winter. We don’t use many other cans. We’ll do a big cardboard load once a year. We compost our vegetable scraps. And our local recycling doesn’t take a few items, so those go into our small weekly trash pickup.

Nonetheless, we actually feel we might be a little more conservative in our packaging usage than most folks. We try to use cloth grocery bags (except when I go to the store by myself and often forget them); we seldom eat packaged (canned, frozen) veggies or other products; we don’t eat take-out (so don’t have those types of trash).

A few weeks ago we stayed in a rental cabin, and the owners had a thick book of “rules” for everything: trash (compost everything possible), water (only biodegradable soap), and energy savings. Yet they said that they didn’t recycle because they “have to pay for it.” Huh?

I just put a 10-spot in the glass-recycling donation jar today as the service doesn’t support itself (all my other recycles were “free”). Just about everything in our lives costs something to consume and to dispose of. We pay for trash collection whether we take it to the dump ourselves or have curbside pickup. Why should we expect recycling to be free?

Of course, it’s impossible to expect that we’ll ever really reduce our impact on the waste stream, although a few people and businesses are trying. But this “we have to pay for recycling” comment was just an amazing example of short-sighted self-interest that totally baffled me.

Life, Death, Universal Healthcare

2009-08-05T21:13:00.000-07:00

Today was a day for thinking about how ephemeral and transient life is. I found a pile of Flicker feathers on the ground – Flicker feathers are supposed to be good luck, but not for this Flicker. Probably lunch for a Coopers Hawk. Yesterday, we found one (of two) baby robins from a nest in our barn dead on the ground. It’s said that only 1 out of 9 baby birds survive to adulthood (and for birds, that’s the first couple of months of their life, tops).

On the bird theme, a few weeks ago we found a Solitary Vireo nest with two totally different eggs inside – Cowbirds are “parasitic nesters” and will lay eggs in other birds’ nests, frequently the nests of Vireos. The Vireo feeds both young, but the Cowbird being so much larger forces the Vireo young aside. We never saw the outcome, preferring to not disturb the nest any further. Did either bird have more of a right to life?

On the other side of the coin, last summer we found a baby Cedar Waxwing on our lawn. There was no parent bird anywhere around; it had obviously fallen from a nest; and we know enough about birds to know that it would not have survived the night. We fed it mashed-up berries for 2 weeks until it could fly and (hopefully) survive on its own. We would have been derelict if we had not tried to save its life. (And, we think, we succeeded, as it returned to our porch for a couple of weeks following.)

A few weeks ago we had dinner with neighbors who’d just returned from Scotland and Ireland. We were discussing the “Clearances Villages” of Scotland (which we’d seen on a recent trip ourselves) and the Irish potato famine. We noted how life had very little value until maybe just a hundred years ago. Our neighbor is a physician, and even he concurred. (The Clearances Villages were towns on, mostly, the Isle of Skye, where the landlords decided in the mid 1800s that sheep were more valuable than people, and forcibly evicted all the residents. Many moved to Nova Scotia – “new Scotland” – but many also died.)

On the public consciousness now is the whole healthcare debate. How can any modern culture NOT believe in universal healthcare. Yes, socialized medicine, a la Cuba, France, Canada, England, and, oh, just about every other country in the world. Conversely, American healthcare tries to treat everything, in a vain effort to extract a few more days, weeks, months of life. But at what quality? My wife’s stepfather passed away a couple of years ago, suffering hospitalization, strokes, and other indignities in his final years. To what benefit? Might he have died with a bit more dignity if he’d had less “save-a-life” care and more preventive (and educational) care earlier in life?

Over dinner that night, our physician neighbor said that only 25% of all healthcare dollars actually go to treating patients. I was surprised it was that high. Is there any reason any health insurance company in America should even be in existence? As a society, we owe universal care – and, as I said, universal prevention – to every citizen.

An Online Life Examined

2009-07-26T09:16:00.000-07:00

At the dinner table last night, my wife and I were discussing computers, social media, and related topics. I joked that we spent 30 minutes talking about Twitter.

It’s no surprise to anyone – even my 83-year-old mother-in-law, who doesn’t understand it – that the world is digital, online, and impersonal. We communicate through email, tweets, posts, blogs. Sure, most of us still know how to actually talk to other people, and interactions are inevitable when we want to have our car’s oil changed or buy a pastry.

Even phone communication is diminishing with more online chatter. Most of the time I don’t want to talk to some idiotic Bank of America credit card representative – especially after going through a 2-minute voicemail tree; being on hold for 10 minutes; and transferred 3 times. Just let me send an email or have an online customer service chat. And I can actually be in touch more frequently with friends via email.

I have a staggering 16 email addresses (but only 2 that I commonly check). My passwords for financial sites, shopping sites, online news services, weather sites, travel-alert sites, and more are frequently very different (security, you know). Thus, I certainly can’t remember more than the most commonly used dozen or so. My list of account numbers and passwords is 8 pages long.

Most days, I look at a couple of weather sites, 2 local news sites, another 4 international news sites, 4 or 5 financial sites, about 8 travel blogs, another 6 wine/food blogs, a couple of travel news sites, 2 social networks, and probably another half dozen random sites. Nearly all my bill paying and banking is now done online. I actually complain when a bill arrives that I can’t pay by electronic transfer from my online checking account.

Sure, being a home-based writer gives me more time to fart around online than most people. But even I’m beginning to get tired of many things online. Of course, I could ditch all the “discretionary” online time – I could probably do everything really necessary online in about 30 minutes a day. Which is probably no more time than my dad spent most evenings paying bills, reading the newspaper headlines, and balancing checkbooks.

But I’m trying to wean myself a bit. I’ve taken many of the blogs I used to read daily off my toolbar – I may now just scan them every few days. I certainly have a lot less interest in the social network sites – their newness wore off pretty fast. I do have to stay on top of things a bit, as it’s important to my writing. But I’d really like to spend more time typing decent words in a row than clicking a mouse button.

“The unexamined life is not worth living.” – Socrates

The Modern World?

2009-07-24T14:18:00.000-07:00

There’s been a passel of weird wine news coming across my computer screen the last few days. We’ve found a “new” wine group, the New World Wine Alliance, that doesn’t even have a website. We’ve then stumbled upon an older wine association, the World Wine Trade Group, whose website hasn’t been updated in at least two years. Then, we read the news that the progressive, modern state of Alabama has deemed a wine label with an 1895 painting to be pornographic.

Am I, too, so stuck in the “new and improved” mode that I’m shocked at an international trade organization that doesn’t have a website? Am I so out of touch with “old values” America that I’m appalled that an artistic representation of a nude woman flying through the air is found offensive by some?

Hey, I’m the one who wants to get back to nature, eat local, have a real sense of old-time community in my life again. The world sometimes just gets too odd for me.

Why Do Realtors Put Their Pictures on Business Cards?

2009-07-18T09:28:00.000-07:00

We’re in the process of selling our house, and I got to thinking (often a dangerous thing). Why do Realtors put their pictures on business cards? (And on ads, brochures, shopping carts, signs, etc.) I’ve heard many explanations, but none are really convincing. “It’s a relationship business.” “It’s recognition.” “It’s vanity in a vain industry.” “It’s expected, since everyone else does it.” (This one makes a little sense – kind of like a negative feedback loop.)

Maybe all are a little true, maybe none. But from a sales and marketing perspective it doesn’t really make sense. A model or actor might put their photo on their card, but their face is their product; they are their brand. A Realtor’s product is a house, it’s not themselves. And a Realtor’s brand is more related to the company they work for than to themselves.

From a sales standpoint, it’s wasted real estate (sorry about that very bad pun) on the card/ad/brochure. The space that is used for an agent’s photo could be better used for another photo of the property, or a testimonial from a satisfied past customer, maybe a throw-away feel-good tag line (“An Agent Who Really Cares”), or even a special offer. (“10% off my commission in July” – Ha!)

Nonetheless, although I’ve read postings on blogs from folks claiming to be (usually ex-) Realtors who didn’t have a photo on their card, I’ve never seen one myself (sort of an urban legend, like the alligators in the sewers of New York). And I’ve never chosen a Realtor by their look or their picture.

Guess it’s just another mystery of the universe, such as: Where do missing socks from the laundry really go? Why do you feel colder when it’s cold and humid, but when it’s hot and humid you feel hotter?

A Few Short Thoughts on Niche Marketing, Targeted Marketing, Branding

2009-07-17T10:19:00.000-07:00

Very few industries understand the power of niche marketing. It’s often viewed as too expensive per prospect – not realizing that the quality of the lead is usually so much higher. American Airlines tried it a year or two back with their “women’s” website, but that is/was too broad of a niche. Niche marketing is usually seen as something that niche businesses do (manufacturers of fishing rods, motorcycles, etc.), rather than as a viable tool for general marketers.

Niche marketing differs from Targeted marketing in that Niche aims to appeal to a group differentiated by interests (“the pet-friendly airline”); while Targeted sends a specific offer (a “20% off” email to folks who haven’t flown in the past 6 months) to a distinct but undifferentiated audience.

And Branding shouldn’t enter into this at all. Again, few businesses understand what a brand really is. A brand is the message that a business presents to its customers. It is not just a tag line, not an ad headline, not a slogan. It is everything about the business/product – color, packaging, pricing, and, yes, sometimes the tag line or positioning statement.

Think of Spam (the canned food product, not email crime). Even if you’ve never tasted the product, you can probably picture the can in your mind – its size, shape, color. You probably know sort of what it is, and maybe what it might taste like. Thus, Spam’s Brand is one of the strongest possible.

Spam doesn’t even have a cute slogan – “The Breakfast of Champions,” “The Pause that Refreshes,” “Don’t Leave Home Without It.” Wikipedia shows a 1945 ad for Spam, and except for the recipe in the ad (Spam Upside Down Pie) the product pictured could be on the shelves of your local Safeway.

I've Always Thought of Myself as the Most Apolitical Person

2009-07-16T20:36:00.000-07:00

Nothing is simple anymore, especially in politics and international relations.

I read several Cuba news websites and blogs. One says another is totally corrupt (meaning a mouthpiece of the Cuban government). Yet at times that “corrupt” site seems the most unbiased and newsworthy. Everyone has an agenda about Cuba. The Miami Cubans hate anything about Castro, even if it might be good. The reincarnations of Che at Berkeley (or wherever nowadays) believe anything anti Cuban is U.S. government propaganda. Is there no middle ground left?

In Iran, we have an obviously corrupt theocracy (is that redundant?) bent on obliterating freedom of choice, Israel, and the U.S. Most other nations have their panties in a wedge over the treatment of the demonstrators by the regime, but no country is willing to step up to the plate to say the so-called election was totally fixed. (But hey, Bush fixed the 2000 U.S. election.)

In Honduras, it’s a toss-up. Support a coup by the judiciary and army, or support an obviously megalomaniac president who was “democratically” elected.

Where’s my hole to crawl into?

Feed Up With Technology

2009-07-16T13:42:00.000-07:00

We are more than just a little annoyed at Alaska Visa/Bank of America. They have reinstated a couple of fraudulent charges that we disputed (and obviously did not make). Still working on a resolution, but we don’t expect to use that credit card ever again.

The credit/identity theft/fraud world is getting to be a scary place. We read so many stories of rip-off this, rip-off that. Are there enough honest people in the world left to make a difference? Or are the scumbags who rip off grandmothers and send spam from eastern Europe going to win? And the Wall St. bankers raking in million-dollar bonuses for getting the entire world into the current financial mess?

It really does make one want to own a home with no mortgage; pay for everything with cash; drive a paid-off car; ditch the damn internet; and just be home in the evenings playing games with the family or watching movies. Guess I’m just fed up with humanity, and I need a good experience with someone to improve my mood.

Quiet

2009-07-15T08:21:00.000-07:00

When there isn't much to say, mindful silence far surpasses mindless noise.

Beginnings

2009-07-13T15:58:00.001-07:00

There are no words yet, because there are no readers. Pretty soon, though....