Adam shares an apple with Eve
from the forbidden tree of life
everything changed for humanity
the world now boils with strife

theologians try to explain
yet the severity makes no sense
banishment pain and death
harsh judgments to dispense

on your children

Mankind rushes onward
the destination is unknown
the journey not important
want more and more to own

The example set so long ago
twisted through the ages
robbing lives of happiness
putting us in cages

New knobbie tires made to ride off-road do not perform well on roads, especially at high speed.
Knowing this, I gunned it anyway, on a dark empty straightaway.
10, 20, 30 and 40mph were fine, eaten quickly by that bike of mine.
50, 60, 70 came and went too, but from the front tire a headshake ensued.
Called a tankslapper by some when the handlebars act,
beating on the gas tank repeatedly, back and back.
Not a good situation to find myself in, especially after a few glasses of gin.
On past rides with a tankslapper starting, I'd tap the rear brake to stop the bike darting.
When under the influence reactions are not the same, slowed or gone completely, I fell
anticipating the pain.
My bikes a Suzuki, appropriate then, being thrown down hard hitting tarmac,
end over end.
Like a judo master to pupil it tossed me over, like a novice I landed on head and shoulder.
Fast across the road we skid, bike riding me instead.
Muffler burning broken leg, riding clothes shredding,
dreading a car may come just then, sensations worth forgetting.
A body lying in the road to 9 1 1 reported, medics tending injuries and after things got sorted,
I went home a broken man in mind, body and spirit, but maybe now the bottoms reached,
I will no longer fear it. http://images22.fotki.com/v838/photos/2/2012/1460937/Mybike-vi.jpg?1097629819

to be written

write it

1. Never tie a boat on rough water with a shackle connecting rope to anchor point.It WILL unscrew.Bad things happen to boats that drift.

2. When having a personal crisis,don't do stupid things and expect others to see you are actually screaming for help.They won't hear you.

3. Joys impregnate,sorrows bring forth.

4. You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.

5. Improvement makes straight roads.But the crooked roads without improvement are roads of genius.

6. Being too smart for your own good is a common ailment.

7. It is better to be happy for a moment and be burned up by the beauty of life than to live a long time,bored..

Carnation milk is the best in the land,
Here I sit with a can in my hand-
No tits to pull,no hay to pitch,
You just punch a hole in the son of a bitch.

They say I am at risk of dying
but I don't seem to care
all my life spent climbing
and hardly got nowhere

Steve met Ruth Ann by accident. Really, he was hanging with friends at the sun valley micki-d’s when Michele Meeks, an acquaintance from high school, drove into the back of Ruth Ann’s new car on the parking lot, causing very minor damage. Laughing over the dumb accident Steve called across the lot to Michele, “hit her again”. When two attractive teens (high school seniors) got out of the 1974 Toyota Corolla to survey the harm, he quickly changed his sarcastic tune and went to see if he could help the poor dear young ladies.
On first meeting Ruth Ann and her friend Elaine, Steve was immediately drawn to the personality of Ruth Ann. Although her new car had received its first scratch, she was easy going and pretty nice about it. A nice smile and unique laugh accented her natural good looks, and she had a style of speech Steve found sexy.

A little flirtation followed and soon Steve was dating Ruth Ann semi-regularly. They got on well together and it wasn’t long before Steve #1 (Ruth Ann was a prolific dater) became her favorite guy.
The years marched on and their relationship grew more serious. Vacations were taken together, and holidays were spent with each others families. When Steve’s folks moved from Pasadena to Grasonville, Ruth Ann helped him find an apartment in Severn, did the decorating, and shopped for the things needed to make a house a home. The girl was focused and moving in for the kill. The boy got scared and tried backing things up some, but couldn’t quite dodge the inevitable. Steve realized he was happier with her then without her, and so he asked Ruth Ann to be his wife. This was probably the smartest decision of his young life. Saying yes may have been her worst decision. Time would tell.

After much preparation, mostly done by Ruth Ann (Steve showed up where and when instructed, usually.) to pave the road to marriage, the young couple tied the knot on August 19th, 1978, at 11 am in St. Jane Francis church in Riviera Beach. It was a clear, hot day for a wedding.The reception, held at the Stoney Creek Democratic club, was full of dancing and good cheer.
The young couple settled into their new lives together, buying their first house in Pine Haven. In 1982 Sarah Beth, their first child was born.
In 1984 Ruth Ann got a new Toyota Corolla, Steve got a new pick-up truck. The next year they bought a brand new boat (19’ Wellcraft). Life kept getting better and better. In 1986, the Pine Haven house was sold, and they moved to the waterfront in Riviera Beach.

During early 1988, sadness intruded with the passing of Ruth Ann’s mom and two oldest brothers. Anticipation of a second child helped ease the sorrow of that year, and Stephanie Marie’s arrival January 17th, 1989 added much joy to their lives.



The 1990’s flew by and here they are in 2006, half a century old, and still happily together.

What follows are some memories that help explain why.

The day before the wedding was sunny and hot. We spent it on the creek in our little inflatable raft, holed up in the cove across from Pine Haven beach. Hearing someone calling, we peak across the creek and see my mom looking for us. That night was the rehearsal dinner.
The hot summer days we drifted on the bay together in our boat. Ruth Ann would ask me to tell if any other boats got close enough to see, so we could lay low until they passed. Of course I promised to tell, but sometimes I didn’t, because I didn’t want to stop what we were doing. Instead, I’d just wave at the intruding boat with a smile on my face a mile wide if they sounded their horn.

On our honeymoon, we had a white dodge diplomat rental car. While in Key West, Fanny ran out from the motel to not only the wrong model car, but a completely different color from what we had rented! The funny part of the episode was the look of confusion on her face when the key didn’t fit, and yet she kept trying, like, “this does not compute”.

Ruth Ann could water-ski, but wanted to be able to get up on only one ski (slalom). We spent a weekday afternoon on Stoney Creek practicing. After 50 some attempts, she caught on and succeeded. She has never slalomed since!

Skydiving together. I forgot the instructions, landed off course in the middle of a cornfield at the height of the growing season (It was a good year for corn). I remember looking up to see Fanny floating down from the sky and landing perfectly, exactly where she ought.

I remember being totally blown away by all the people she snuck into the house to surprise me on my 40th birthday.
Back in the 70’s when I worked the night shift, I’d go to bed 7:30 in the morning as Fanny would be getting ready to go to work at the bank. Once she switched a small spider plant for a much larger one while I slept, but denied it when I asked. She said they grow fast. I fell for it and was telling everyone about the amazing plant we had that grew 3 feet in 8 hours. She thought my gullibility was hilarious.
In 1975 Ruth Ann showed up at my parents house on Christmas dressed as an elf, and bringing gifts for all. My family fell for that little suck-up job, and have loved Ruth Ann ever since.

One night in early April 2006 Fanny made some burritos for dinner. They were very good and I told her so, adding that some onions would make them even better. The next night we had leftovers (the burritos) and sure enough, onions were included

She mows the lawn and rakes the leaves,
even trims small branches from the trees. The mulch she spreads, the food she cooks, she loves to read romance books.
The laundry and house are always clean, she’s always happy, seldom mean.
And all she asks for in return, is every penny that I earn.

hardly the end

Above is the cute little house Ruthann and I bought for $100,000 in March of 1986 in Riviera Beach on the Potapsco river where it flows into the Chesapeake bay. Built around 1920, it sits on the same waterfront as my moms folk's home where we spent many a summer learning to love living by the bay. With one child four years old and plans for more we wanted to enlarge with a two story addition full of windows and big, open rooms. After drawing up plans and hiring a contractor, our dreams of the perfect home were about to be realized. [ The construction started soon after, the additions block foundation set in place, and siding removed for connecting the new with the old. That was when the house fell in on us!
The 4"x6" wooden sill plate which lay between the crumbling concrete of the foundation and the house structure had over time been internally consumed by termites. Without effort a screwdriver could be pushed completely through it around 3/4 of the buildings perimeter! The poured concrete it sat upon was not in much better shape. No way would these "summer shack" underpinnings support the 2 story home we had planned!
What were we to do? Construction could not continue until the foundation was replaced around 3 complete sides. This would be a large and difficult operation. The house was kinda in the way and must be either moved (out of the question, where to put it?), torn completely down (the best solution as far as the final product was concerned, but far too expensive for our means). We settled on the only fix we could both afford and execute, lay on our sides in the crawl space underneath (very narrow and dank) and dig out enough dirt to brace the house. Then, one side at a time, remove the old foundation and put in a new one.
While all this was going on, we were fighting with the previous owners and the termite company (pied piper) they had contracted with for years. Investigation turned up the fact they knew of the damage done by termites to the wood frame of the building, and the owners had purposely covered the evident damage by installing aluminum siding all the way to the ground (An unusual way to side a house?! Pied piper, being under contract to yearly treat the premises, of course handled the pre-sale termite inspection required by real estate law. Knowing they had been yearly treating the place for termites (maybe?), a thorough inspection was not performed, the paper work was filled out to satisfy the law saying all was well, and happily pocketed the fee which WE payed (THE NERVE!). When we filed a complaint, asking fair treatment as would be expected from a reputable company, they blew us off, stonewalling our attempts at reconciliation. Essentially saying, "we are a big company, you cannot hurt us!"
Being penniless at this point, we received much appreciated help from my sister, Gail, a practicing attorney. This resulted in a visit from the OWNER of pied piper pest control, A curmudgeonly old dude who reminded me of the mean old guy on "the Andy Griffith show". With hardly a glance he pompously declared it was not termites, but "water damage", and they were NOT liable!
I'll admit, at this point I was a bit upset (Ruth Ann said she saw smoke come out my ears), but tried one last time to settle things amicably. Breaking off a random piece of the sill plate, I pointed out the honeycomb pattern indicative of how termites eat the softer wood and leave the harder, less appetizing fibers alone. He was not listening and sarcastically told me not to tell him his business.
Having been raised to respect my elders, I am ashamed to say I ran him off exactly as I would a dog caught using my yard for a toilet, by the scruff of the neck and my boot up his butt!
After much legal wrangling, the government agency which regulates termite companies and grants them a license to operate, sent an inspector to look at the situation and act as mediator. His findings supported ours and soon we started receiving monetary offers for settlement from pied piper pest control (Trying to get rid of a pest of their own, which I think was very humorous and appropriate.) The department of agriculture had informed pied piper they would either supply prompt restitution or lose their license to operate! They started with very low offers. We laughed and hung up on them. Almost daily the attorney representing their interests called with an offer a little higher then the previous. We, however, had rendered an amount (not unfair) we calculated to cover the cost to complete the repairs their negligence allowed to become necessary (Plus a few nice windows). As the deadline neared for a satisfactory agreement to be reached or shut down the business, "pied pooper" finally coughed up the full amount (most painfully). We finished our dream house and are living happily ever after "by the shores of the chesapeake bay".
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"How far that little candle throws its beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world." - William Shakespeare

While rebuilding my 1978 SR500 Yamaha thumper,I needed to make a run to the auto parts store for engine paint. Thinking it might be interestingly fun to try and get there without using the main road, I hopped on the yelladog and putted away, using back roads out of the beach. I cut through one parking lot, hopped a curb and used the grass going around a fence to the bowling alleys' parking lot. As I prepared to cross another grass plot a siren gave a loud short "WHOOP WHOOP" from behind. Drifting back beside his patrol car, I stopped and said, "hey, officer, what's up?" to the 20 something cop sitting inside looking somewhat peeved.

I explained my mission, emphasizing the gentle care I used when cutting across both private and public property. He heard me out, then did some explaining of his own about the numerous tickets he could, if so inclined, write pertaining to my path alongside the roadway.

Duly warned, I shut my trap and looked as sheepishly sorry as possible. I believe I saw a small twinkle in his eye as he instructed me to get the heck out of there and to use the road, but held my tongue and got gone while the gettin was good!
________________________________________________________
"The man who does not do his own thinking is a slave, and is a traitor to himself and to his fellow-men."

Robert Bowman,former lieutenant colonel usaf,pilot of over 100 combat missions in Vietnam,said,in 1998;" We are not hated because we practice democracy, value freedom,or uphold human rights.We are hated because our government denies these things to people in third world countries whose resources are coveted by our multinational corporations.That hatred we have sown has come back to haunt us in the form of terrorism... Instead of sending our sons and daughters around the world to kill arabs so we can have the oil under their sand,we should send them to rebuild their infrastructures,supply clean water,and feed starving children...In short,we should do good instead of evil.Who would try to stop us?Who would hate us?Who would want to bomb us?This is the truth the American people should hear.
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"Do what you can, with what you have, where you are."

The precautionary principle is based on the fact it is impossible to prove a false claim. Failure to prove a claim does not automatically make it false, but caution is called for, especially in the case of a world-changing event like the alleged terror attacks of September 11, 2001. The Bush administration has provided no public evidence to support its claim that the terror attacks were the work of Muslim extremists or even that the aircraft that struck their respective targets on September 11 were as advertised. As I will show below, it would be a simple matter to confirm that they were - if they were. Until such proof is forthcoming, the opposite claim must be kept in mind as a precaution against rushing to judgment: the 911 hijackings were part of a black operation carried out with the cooperation of elements in our government.

In July 1965 I had just been commissioned as a Second Lieutenant in the U. S. Air Force after taking a solemn oath that I would protect and defend the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic, and that I would bear true faith and allegiance to the same. I took that oath very seriously. It was my constant companion throughout a thirty-year military career in the field of aircraft maintenance.

As an additional duty, aircraft maintenance officers are occasionally tasked as members of aircraft accident investigation boards and my personal experience was no exception. In 1989 I graduated from the Aircraft Mishap Investigation Course at the Institute of Safety and Systems Management at the University of Southern California. In addition to my direct participation as an aircraft accident investigator, I reviewed countless aircraft accident investigation reports for thoroughness and comprehensive conclusions for the Inspector General, HQ Pacific Air Forces during the height of the Vietnam conflict.

In all my years of direct and indirect participation, I never witnessed nor even heard of an aircraft loss, where the wreckage was accessible, that prevented investigators from finding enough hard evidence to positively identify the make, model, and specific registration number of the aircraft -- and in most cases the precise cause of the accident. This is because every military and civilian passenger-carrying aircraft have many parts that are identified for safety of flight. That is, if any of the parts were to fail at any time during a flight, the failure would likely result in the catastrophic loss of aircraft and passengers. Consequently, these parts are individually controlled by a distinctive serial number and tracked by a records section of the maintenance operation and by another section called plans and scheduling.

Following a certain number of flying hours or, in the case of landing gears, a certain number of takeoff-and-landing cycles, these critical parts are required to be changed, overhauled or inspected by specialist mechanics. When these parts are installed, their serial numbers are married to the aircraft registration numbers in the aircraft records and the plans and scheduling section will notify maintenance specialists when the parts must be replaced. If the parts are not replaced within specified time or cycle limits, the airplane will normally be grounded until the maintenance action is completed. Most of these time-change parts, whether hydraulic flight surface actuators , pumps, landing gears, engines or engine components, are virtually indestructible. It would be impossible for an ordinary fire resulting from an airplane crash to destroy or obliterate all of those critical time-change parts or their serial numbers. I repeat, impossible.

Considering the catastrophic incidents of September 11 2001, certain troubling but irrefutable conclusions must be drawn from the known facts. I get no personal pleasure or satisfaction from reporting my own assessment of these facts.

United Airlines Flight 93

This flight was reported by the federal government to be a Boeing 757 aircraft, registration number N591UA, carrying 45 persons, including four Arab hijackers who had taken control of the aircraft, crashing the plane in a Pennsylvania farm field.

Aerial photos of the alleged crash site were made available to the general public. They show a significant hole in the ground, but private investigators were not allowed to come anywhere near the crash site. If an aircraft crash caused the hole in the ground, there would have literally hundreds of serially-controlled time-change parts within the hole that would have proved beyond any shadow of doubt the precise tail-number or identity of the aircraft. However, the government has not produced any hard evidence that would prove beyond a doubt that the specifically alleged aircraft crashed at that site. On the contrary, it has been reported that the aircraft, registry number N591UA, is still in operation.

American Airlines Flight 11

This flight was reported by the government to be a Boeing 767, registration number N334AA, carrying 92 people, including five Arabs who had hijacked the plane. This plane was reported to have crashed into the north tower of the WTC complex of buildings.

Again, the government would have no trouble proving its case if only a few of the hundreds of serially controlled parts had been collected to positively identify the aircraft. A Boeing 767 landing gear or just one engine would have been easy to find and identify.

United Airlines Flight 175

This flight was reported to be a Boeing 767, registration number N612UA, carrying 65 people, including the crew and five hijackers. It reportedly flew into the south tower of the WTC.

Once more, the government has yet to produce one serially controlled part from the crash site that would have dispelled any questions as to the identity of the specific airplane.

American Airlines Flight 77

This was reported to be a Boeing 757, registration number N644AA, carrying 64 people, including the flight crew and five hijackers. This aircraft, with a 125-foot wingspan, was reported to have crashed into the Pentagon, leaving an entry hole no more than 65 feet wide.

Following cool-down of the resulting fire, this crash site would have been very easy to collect enough time-change equipment within 15 minutes to positively identify the aircraft registry. There was apparently some aerospace type of equipment found at the site but no attempt was made to produce serial numbers or to identify the specific parts found. Some of the equipment removed from the building was actually hidden from public view.

Conclusion

The government alleges that four wide-body airliners crashed on the morning of September 11 2001, resulting in the deaths of more than 3,000 human beings, yet not one piece of hard aircraft evidence has been produced in an attempt to positively identify any of the four aircraft. On the contrary, it seems only that all potential evidence was deliberately kept hidden from public view. The hard evidence would have included hundreds of critical time-change aircraft items, plus security videotapes that were confiscated by the FBI immediately following each tragic episode.

With all the evidence readily available at the Pentagon crash site, any unbiased rational investigator could only conclude that a Boeing 757 did not fly into the Pentagon as alleged. Similarly, with all the evidence available at the Pennsylvania crash site, it was most doubtful that a passenger airliner caused the obvious hole in the ground and certainly not the Boeing 757 as alleged. Regarding the planes that allegedly flew into the WTC towers, it is only just possible that heavy aircraft were involved in each incident, but no evidence has been produced that would add credence to the government's theoretical version of what actually caused the total destruction of the buildings, let alone proving the identity of the aircraft. That is the problem with the government's 911 story. It is time to apply the precautionary principle.

As painful and heartbreaking as was the loss of innocent lives and the lingering health problems of thousands more, a most troublesome and nightmarish probability remains that so many Americans appear to be involved in the most heinous conspiracy in our country's history.
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"Beware the leader who bangs the drums of war in order to whip the citizenry into a patriotic fervor, for patriotism is indeed a double-edged sword. It both emboldens the blood, just as it narrows the mind. And when the drums of war have reached a fever pitch and the blood boils with hate and the mind has closed, the leader will have no need in seizing the rights of the citizenry. Rather, the citizenry, infused with fear and blinded by patriotism, will offer up all of their rights unto the leader and gladly so." How do I know? For this is what I have done. And I am Caesar - Julius Caesar

Down in Louisiana one day a good ole boy sheriff responded to an accident out on the boulevard between an automobile and a motorcycle.It was a nasty high speed head on crash that left the car driver shaken,but unhurt.The biker was a goner,in pieces scattered about the area.The sheriff,making out his report,writes,"mangled motorcycle laying 20 yards down north side in ditch,D.I.T.C.H ditch". He walks another 20 feet and writes,"headless body found 20 feet away,south side in the ditch,D.I.T.C.H ditch". He looks around and sees the head lying in the middle of the boulevard and writes,"head found 40 feet south,lying in the middle of the B.O.O.L."he scratches that spelling out,tries again, "B.U.L.E.V.",and scratches that out also. Looking around to see if anyone is watching,he kicks the head off the boulevard.He finishes his report, "head found 40 feet south,lying in ditch, D.I.T.C.H. ditch!!

A car driver didn't see me coming and started to turn across my path on their way to dunkin donuts.Too close to stop I swung left to go around their rear,when they noticed me and swerve back.We are now head-on,ten feet apart.(uh oh).I punch the back brake and throw yelladogs rear into a skid to the left to quickly change direction toward the right.Downshifting 2 gears,throttle wide open,I let off the brake powered around the drivers side of the car,missing it by six inches.My practice of slides off-road payed off today.
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"Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you."

I worked snow removal super bowl Sunday 2004 till 6pm, just before game time. Relaxing with the game was not gonna happen, though, because the toilets would not flush. Normally this is due to someone trying to flush to big a wad of toilet paper with one try, causing a blockage in the toilet. A plunger easily handles this situation. This time was different. The plug was in the drainline outside and underground at a 45 degree turn in the 4"cast iron pipe. The original drainlines here were installed during the mid 1960's, when city water and sewage came to our community. Forty years later tenacious roots had found ways into the connections and grew fat and happy inside the pipe until the sewage and waste could pass no more.

So here I am running out into the freezing snow covered night during super bowl commercials (Often the best part of the game) and halftime trying to break through the plug with no success.

The next day I called a plumber friend for help. Don came right over with his plumping snakes and gave that drainline hell shoving the steel snakes in and out, in and out hundreds of time. Don's got sweat pouring down his face from the exertion, while I stand there watching and shivering in the freezing temperatures, unable to help.

Still no luck. "We'll have to dig",says Don. The next day while I'm at work, Don gets a buddy with a backhoe to dig up the 20 foot of plugged line, and replaces it with pvc.

Problem solved,$750 well spent(Most plumbers would charge in the thousands and take a week to finish), and back(sides)in business. Great to have handy friends.
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"How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world."

September 20th dawned cloudy and breezy as Jack+Bonne, RuthAnn and myself caught a boat out of Crisfield bound for Plymouth Virginia, 72 miles southeast. At 18 knots the Steven something, a 100 foot long steel hulled ship cruised comfortably down the Chesapeake bay past Tangier island and into the Elizabeth river to our destination. As we passed the Norfolk naval base, many ships were in port. Carriers, flat topped and gigantic dwarfed the nearby submarines, while half a dozen lean destroyers were spread about, their business being the protection of the more valuable ships.

Portsmouth seemed a quiet, small city with a colorful history brought alive by our tour guide, an outgoing rascal, in the dress and character of a 16th century landed gentleman. Facinating stories poured forth one following the other for the entire hour long trolley ride around the city. for instance:

Everyone knows the nursery rymn "Ring around the rosy", but not many know the meaning behind those innocent lines.
"Ring around the rosy" > Red circles, a sign of the plaque!
"Pocket full of posey" > A pungeant flower to mask the smell of death! "Ashes, ashes" > What your left after burning plaque infected bodies! "All fall down" What happens when a pile of something burns.

An interesting attraction was the movie theatre, where you could sit in very comfy chairs at a table and eat dinner with the movie. When you wanted food or popcorn or a drink (even beer by the pitcher!), pick up the phone at your table and order. A waiter would bring it to table!

A little shopping along the streets, then onto the boat and retrace our route back to Crisfield. The crab capital of the world they say. Not anymore, I say. The boat got in around 6pm, dinner time, so naturally we chose a local restaurant for crab cakes and soft crabs. The crab cakes were very average, and the soft crabs had been stored frozen, which changes their flavor dramatically for the worse. Sad times are here when you can't get fresh crabmeat in Crisfield Maryland in September.

But, the trip was great, the company was good, and the house was still standing when we arrived home (teenager home alone). A fine outing.
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"The strongest bulwark of authority is uniformity."

Early 2005 I noticed a small pimplish thing on the back of my right arm.Tried popping it like a pimple but it would not go away.I'm a little old for pimples,so I asked my doctor to check it out during a scheduled check-up."We'll keep an eye on that",was his prognosis.

Being on the back of my arm where I couldn't readily see it I forgot about it for a while.It grew.By summer it had become an ugly,eye catching nuisance an inch in diameter and 1/2 an inch high.And it hurt,too(waa)! My daughter said it looked like a fish eye and was totally gross(teenagers can be cruel)!

"Wow",said the doc,"It sure is ugly,never seen anything like that before".These were not encouraging words to hear, and we arranged for me to see a dermatologist. Two weeks go by waiting for the appointment,and my fish eye has grown into a little volcano,trying to erupt.

Dr. D.,the dermatologist,is a pleasant woman not quite five foot tall.She shares a thriving practice in Annapolis doing mostly cosmetic improvement for women trying to keep a youthful appearance.I was the only guy there!

When my turn comes,she agrees it should come off and proceeds to stick me with xylocaine needles at least half a dozen times to numb the area to be excised.Out comes a razor blade(medical quality,of course)and she deftly slices that thing off my arm.I don't feel a thing.We share a laugh when I point out the song,"the first cut is the deepest"is playing on the office muzak system.

A week later I go back for some additional skin removal and quite a few stitches to hold the skin together during the initial healing process.The biopsy indicated a localized, fast growing skin cancer of a non-spreading type,and no residual cancerous cells could be found,so I'm good to go.

Seems to me,now-a-days in America,it's not 'if' someone will get cancer,but when and what type.
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"The world is a dangerous place. Not because of the people who are evil; but because of the people who don't do anything about it."

Jacquelin, my sister from the eastern shore of Maryland, gave me a Boston Whaler she no longer wanted this past spring. I am very happy she did. This 1978 15 footer is so much fun it oughta be illegal, and come to think of it, some things I do with it may well be.

For example, being a tri-hull style of boat, she does not cut the water cleanly at speed in the choppy conditions so often found on the Chesapeake bay. Rather she skips from wave to wave, slapping each with enthusiasm (bam bam bam) like a flat rock thrown hard across the water. The thinly cushioned flat cedar boards that serve for seats punish the backside.

Standing, I've found, alleviates this pain in the butt, and can be fun to boot. Being small and lite, with only a foot of freeboard and 70hp hanging off the transom, she feels like a powered surfboard and reacts controllably to the shifts in weight as I move with the rythmn of the waves.

When the wifes aboard, the tempo slows to an idle as we trace the meandering shoreline of the many coves off the many creeks of the many rivers that feed into the bay, looking at the houses. I enjoy it myself, and often times we will dock at the pier of some waterfront restaraunt and have a bite to eat.

So thank you very, very much, Jacki.
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"Never Explain - your Friends do not need it and your Enemies will not believe you anyway."

My father, an independent man with a strong work ethic and intolerant of the unfairness he found in the work place, started his own business making custom covers for recreational boats. My brother and myself would help where we could (We may not have been good, hard workers, but we worked cheap, and lived close at hand).

Science tells us our bodies are about 96% water, give or take a squirt. Surely I am on the plus side of that average, and am glad to have grown up on and around the Chesapeake bay. I'm familiar with many types of boats, soggy, slow rowboats, motor boats big and small, fast and slow, and sailboats small to middlin. I like them all! So when I ran into an old high school buddy at a local waterfront watering hole recently, and he invited me for a ride in his boat tied up outside, I naturally accepted without a second thought.

The old saying "the more things change, the more they stay the same" was never more true then that night. Bill was a wild child as a teen, always entertaining (Introducing me to the fine art of lighting farts, for instance.), and usually in trouble. Often times I went along for the ride. I believed that in the intervening 30+ years, I had matured and become a more thoughtful, less reckless man. I was wrong. And my old friend Bill? The wild child has become a prosperous, self-employed, always hustling wild man. And he is just as entertaining as ever.

After a few hours of shooting pool and elbow bending, Bill is finally ready to roll. So out we go, along with two younger guys that work for him, to his boat tied to the pier outside the bar.

Billys' boat is . a 33 foot center console (A fishing type, although no fish ever lays on its immaculate deck.), bright red hull and blinding white interior. An obscure brand, but sturdily built. Twenty four degrees of v-hull with an eight foot beam and twin 300hp merc outboards on fiberglass gil-brackets add up to some serious speed potential, rough water or calm. This evening a twenty knot breeze was blowing from the north, and we headed straight into the three foot chop, throttle wide open.

I like speed. I like bouncing across big waves. But this ride was unlike any I've ever taken. I'm standing in this boat because there is only one seat, right behind the controls. It's for the driver and his lookout(You do NOT want to hit anything when your travelling this fast). Passengers must hold on to whatever they can grasp. So, we're going eighty plus mph, bouncing across fair sized waves directly into a twenty knot breeze. What fun!

Imagine you are standing up in your yard during a category 2 hurricane(winds around 100mph), and the ground beneath your feet is bucking and bouncing like a major earthquake was striking at the same time. This boat ride was kinda like that. My shorts were blowing down my legs, but I was afraid to let go of the boat and pull em up. Thank goodness speed gets you places fast. We slowed to about one quarter throttle upon entering Curtis creek and I could pull up the shorts that were down by my knees. We docked at another waterfront bar, and the fun moved onshore.

Being a gregarious fella, Bill was soon wheelin and dealin with folks I didn't know, leaving me to my own devices. I started a conversation with a biker shooting pool alone and we soon were playing (I thought) a friendly game of 8-ball, the loser pays for and racks the next game. "Biker dude" starts telling me about his girlfriend and what a hot number she is. I win game #1 easily. "Biker dude" racks and points out his girl entering the bar. I say hello to her and that it's good she came because "biker dude" needed a little help with his pool game. I win game #2. "Biker dude and his "hot number" are huddled up together, so I step to the bar and buy a beer.

Soon, B-dude approaches and bets me $100 I can't win again. I decline the bet, and suddenly things change. The friendly game ain't so friendly any longer. B-dude says I gotta play because I told Hot # he can't shoot for sh*t! This makes him look bad, which is evidently not allowed. I offer to shoot a game, best man wins, but I don't gamble on pool. B-dude becomes beligerent and threatening, so I turn to leave (No sense in arguing with someone looking for trouble, right?).

Turning your back to someone threatening you, even just to get away from them, is not smart. My peripheral vision caught the motion of the fat end of a pool stick coming, I ducked. Hot #,standing behind me, did not. Smack in the side of her head goes the pool stick. Hot # dropped to the floor like there were no bones in her body. B-dude stood stunned, mouth hanging wide, staring down at her. Someone snatched the stick from his hand and I bent to check Hot #'s condition, ready to perform cpr if called for. Fortunately she was breathing with a steady heartbeat. B-dude was now kneeling alongside his soon to be ex-girlfriend, trying to wake her. I told him not to move her, then stood and asked the bartender to call 911. About this time Billy appeared (the entire bar was watching by now), grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the door saying, "Time to leave".

We wasted no time getting to the boat and heading back the way we came, into the now fully dark night. Leaving the running lights off seemed wise, but when a Coast Guard patrol boat with 3 armed sailors crossed our bow a few minutes later, emergency lights flashing, requesting that we stop and be boarded, we naturally thought the worst, and Bill wanted to gun it and go. "No way their boat could catch mine", Billy said.

Luckily we convinced him that would be a mistake, and we stopped. The coasties boarded and proceeded to do a typical boat safety inspection. The reason they stopped us was "our running lights were off"! Imagine our relief when everything was declared ship shape, and were free to go. Bill told them we had only just left the pier back down the creek, and had simply forgotten to switch on the lights. The coasties left and away we go back out to the bay where we headed home at a sedate 50-60mph.

I told Bill, "Thanks for the ride, love your boat, I'll see you later". What I didn't say is if I see him first, I'm going the other way!
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"Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does."

Finally, yelladog picked up a nail and I had my opportunity to get decent rubber on the bike. The Bridgestone trailwings, which were a 50/50 type tire(dirt/street) and very slippery off-road, are gone. Dunlop 606's, with an aggressive orientation of 90% dirt/10% street now give yelladog a whole different attitude, and demand major alterations to my riding style. With less contact on-road because of the large knobbie tread design, extra care in turns is now required. At the same time, grip off-road has improved tremendously and the wet stuff is no longer slip and slide time. Yelladog now tracks like it was on rails! The steep,rutted and muddy hills the old tires would slip on, often resulting in falling back down the hill when forward momentum was lost and gravity took over, are now much easier to handle.