I am having myself a melancholy day today. Not quite sure why. I have been known to have bouts of insomnia. The past couple weeks I've been having bouts of whatever the opposite of insomnia is. Definitely different for me.
I already mentioned on this blog and at least one of my other blogs, that today is the 30th Anniversary of the eruption of Mt. St. Helens.
That means it is also the 30th Anniversary of the Death of Harry Truman. Harry captured the imagination of the people of the Northwest with his stubborn refusual to leave his Lodge on Spirit Lake, way too close to the stewing Mt. St. Helens.
Harry Truman was born in 1896. Which would have made him 84 or 85 when his mountain blew up. I wonder if the same type event occurred today, if Mount Rainier or Mount Baker or any of the other Washington volcanoes decided to wake up, if the current powers that be would let a current day Harry Truman live out his life the way he wanted? Or would FEMA show up to haul him off?
I don't think FEMA existed back when Mt. St. Helens blew up. I don't recollect any huge federal help response, though the disaster was HUGE. I do recollect Jimmy Carter showing up.
Below is a video tribute to Harry Truman (I put this on my Washington Blog, liked it so much I decided to put it on my Texas blog, too), that hit me right on my melancholy mood, with the soundtrack being the #1 hit, way back when, titled "Your Spirit Lives On...."
I had not been to my regular Salubrious Sanatorium, the Tandy Hills, since last Thursday, due to Friday's rain, and followup rain, likely turning prairie dirt to mud.
Even though it did rain a little yesterday I figured the Tandy Hills would be dry enough, today, to be walked on without accumulating mud.
I was mostly correct in that assumption.
I parked at the top of Mount Tandy, near the tower known, by some, as the Fort Worth Needle. It was immediately clear to me, via the ruts you see in the picture, that a vehicle had accessed the Tandy Hills from this location. I figured it had to be the Fort Worth Water Boys.
When I reached the first fork in the trail I went north, then I took the newly graded Tandy Dirt Highway and headed south. This quickly became an obvious bad choice, due to mud. I slogged on through the mud. I did not gain too many height inches due to the sticking mud.
I came to the first of the dirt fill bridges that the Fort Worth Water Boys made across Tandy Hills Creeks about a month ago.
Applying my novice forensic ability it appeared that a heavy truck had crossed the dirt dam bridge you see in the picture and sunk down in the mud, tipping to the west.
I wondered if the heavy truck got stuck and that is why a vehicle came in from the top of Tandy Mountain, in order to yank a stuck truck out of the mud.
The second dirt bridge, this one with the culvert installed after initially being a solid dirt dam, was damaged too, with the top of the bridge squished almost down to the culvert.
It's a mess. And here I was almost not minding what the Fort Worth Water Boys had done to the sacred Tandy Hills Sanatorium Natural Area.
The current prediction is for SEVERE STORMS for tomorrow, with possible tornadoes. I am almost certain I will not be hiking the Tandy Hills tomorrow.
You are looking at Mount St. Helens in the State of Washington in October of 1998, about 2 months before I began my exile in the Great State of Texas.
Right now, at 10:36 am, Central Time, in Texas, it is almost precisely 30 years, to the minute, since I was peacefully soaking my aching back in a hot tub of water when I heard 5 successive loud booms. May 18, 1980.
About 15 minutes later I learned the loud booms were due to Mount Saint Helens, after weeks of having the Pacific Northwest on edge with incessant rumbling, exploding in one of the biggest volcanic explosions in history.
Trust me, it was an interesting time to live in the Northwest. Things like "ash masks" become a necessary accoutrement.
About 4 months after the Big Bang I made my first attempt to see Mt. St. Helens in its post blow-up mode. Access was very restricted. If I remember right you could not get closer than 50 miles. That attempt, it was cloudy. I did not see the mountain.
It would be years later, in 1990 or 91 that I finally saw Mt. St. Helens up close. A logging road, from the north, had been expanded into the blast zone, with rudimentary visitor services. I went with a small group of 4, loaded with a big picnic.
You exited the main highway, on to a logging road, which twisted and turned through an old growth forest of big trees. And then, suddenly, a turn in the road brought the BLAST ZONE into view. I'd never seen anything like it. Trees blown down like matchsticks. Utter devastation. At that point in time Mother Nature had yet to go, much, into recovery mode.
The access at that time ended at an overlook where you could see into the volcano and look down on the remnants of Spirit Lake, that being where Harry Truman was last seen.
That is the view of Spirit Lake we are looking at in the picture.
It would be about 8 more years before I saw Mt. St. Helens, again, up close. By then the area had been turned into a National Monument. A feat of highway engineering had built a road in from the west side. 5 very well done Visitor's Centers had been built, along with a lot of other amenities. Mt. St. Helens had become a major tourist attraction.
The final Visitor's Center is at the location where David Johnston radioed, "Vancouver, this is it," from his location on Coldwater Ridge. This is the best of the Visitor's Centers, designed to blend into the landscape. It is very close to the volcano.
Mt. St. Helens was the deadliest, most economically destructive volcanic event in American history. 57 people were killed, 47 bridges, 250 homes, 185 miles of highway and 15 miles of railway were destroyed.
A couple days ago I blogged on my Washington Blog about how it seemed impossible that it could be 30 years since Mt. St. Helens blew her top. On that day had you told me that 30 years later I would be doing this thing called blogging about that day, and doing so from Texas, I would not have been able to imagine what could cause such a scenario.
Below is a YouTube video of Dan Rather and CBS news covering the Mt. St. Helens disaster a few days after the eruption. Looking at how dated this video is, it makes 30 years easier to believe....
The past couple days I've been a little tired of feeling tired. Maybe I should not get up so early.
At the current time, coming up on 5 in the afternoon, I have been hearing thunder rolling in the distance for an hour, or so. The view out my window is a bit dark and foreboding. I hear birds chirping, but they don't sound happy. It sounds more as if they are sounding an urgent alarm.
It was in the 80s by noon. Extremely humid. I decided I wanted to take a walk with the Spirit World, so I went to Village Creek Natural Historic Area at noon.
This Area should be called Keechi Village Natural Historic Area. But it's not. I don't know how many Indians were murdered in this location, with this location being, at its heyday, the biggest Indian Village in America.
Nearby there was battle between the Native Americans, who owned this land, and the Illegal Aliens, who had invaded. Among those in the battle were two noteworthy Illegal Aliens, one being General Edward H. Tarrant, the other being Captain John B. Denton, both of whom would see their names used to name counties in Texas, well, in the case of Denton, a county and a town. Captain Denton died in the attack on what was called Keechi Village. I believe General Tarrant was wounded, not fatally, in the 1841 attack on Keechi Village People, known as the Battle of Village Creek.
Today I sat on a bench and looked out at what I call the Indian Village Bayou. That's the view in the picture at the top. It can be an eerie spot. I have seen more snakes at this location than any other in Texas.
Above, on the right is a picture of a plaque installed near the western entry to Village Creek Natural Historic Area. If you click it you will see a big version that does a good job of telling the story of the significance of this location.
I think I may have accidentally brought an Indian Spirit home with me today. They are attracted to melancholy souls. Or so my Spirit Guide told me.
You are on the observation deck of the Oil Derrick Tower at Six Flags Over Texas in Arlington, in the picture, looking down at the Texas Giant wooden roller coaster.
The Texas Giant is currently out of commission while it gets renovated. I do not know if this means it loses, by default, its position as the World's #1 Wooden Roller Coaster.
I have ridden the Texas Giant one time only. The same day John F. Kennedy Jr. died. After the Texas Giant is rebuilt it is supposedly going to be a smoother ride. I would not get on it again in if it remained as it was the day JFK Jr. died. It was the most bone-jarring, back wrenching, uncomfortable carnival type ride in my memory.
Til about an hour later when I got on Six Flags Roaring Rapids Ride. It being a raft ride through rapids and waterfalls that had been deadly for at least one person, if I remember right. I did not care for the Six Flags Roaring Rapids Ride because it got me soaking wet.
And then once you are soaking wet there are signs warning you not to take off your shirt. I did not obey, instead choosing to try and dry out and risk the shirt police throwing me out of the park.
Six Flags Over Texas in Arlington went into daily operation this past Friday, May 14, now open every day until August 22. Six Flags is only a few miles from my abode. On a quiet night I can hear screams in the distance. I assume these are screams from roller coaster riders. But it is Texas, you never know from whence a scream might be coming.
Of course, fun loving boy that I am, I got my Six Flags Season Pass. It was a choice between the regular Season Pass or the new Play Pass. The Season Pass is $59.99 and gets you into Six Flags and Hurricane Harbor, plus you get free friend passes. The Play Pass is $49.99 and gets you unlimited visits to all Six Flags Parks all over the country, but does not include waterparks or friend passes. Since I do not see any non-Arlington Six Flags in my future you can likely guess which was my Six Flags Pass choice.
I can't tell you how much I am anticipating checking out the new Robots from Mars attraction, where you get to help a Mad Doctor and Sparky the Robot save the Universe from the evil Bad Man who runs Mars.
From what I understand, the designers of the evil Bad Man who runs Mars used the visage of Fort Worth's Mayor Mike Moncrief as inspiration.
So, obviously, Robots from Mars is a very scary attraction.
As soon as I drove into Oakland Lake Park today I noticed green barrels with yellow signs stuck on them.
I'd not been to Oakland Lake Park for several weeks. The last time I was there the grass was being mowed. It'd not been mowed since and now almost looks like it's ready to be harvested for hay.
I've seen green litter cans in Oakland Lake Park, previously. They seemed to have reproduced. As in there were a lot of litter cans.
It struck me as ironic that green litter cans were, well, littering up the park. And further ironic that the unbeautiful green litter cans had a sign stuck on them admonishing park goers to Keep Fort Worth Beautiful.
I don't know if sticking dozens of green cans across the landscape of a park is really the route to go to help Keep Fort Worth Beautiful. Something a tad more discreet and not quite so proliferate might be the way to go.
I am the Duck Whisperer. The quackers are drawn to me for some reason. I think they think I'm a fellow waddling quacker.
I decided, just this morning, that I do not eat enough contaminated seafood. So, it seemed like a good idea to brave the extreme Sunday humidity and do some fishing in Fosdic Lake in Oakland Lake Park.
A guy on the opposite side of the lake was operating one of those big barrel Texas BBQs, putting off a lot of wood smoke that smelled really good.
When I tired of not catching any seafood I walked to the BBQ side of the lake and saw the vast array of meat products being BBQed.
This made me hungry, so I soon headed away from the lake and towards lunch. Sadly, there was no seafood in my lunch. Just Brown Rice, Stir-Fry Turkey & Vegetables with Duck Sauce. And Vietnamese Spring Rolls.
I wonder if the Fosdic Ducks are edible? They'd likely be good with Duck Sauce.
Yesterday was an interesting Saturday, pretty much from the time I got out of bed.
Soon after swimming I was perplexed, on Facebook, to read of the vexations one of my Facebook Friends was having due to being confused about how she felt about the Peculiar boys, Joe and Moe.
Soon after being confounded by the Peculiar conundrum my sister called with the news about my Uncle Mel.
Awhile after that I was to learn that one of my Texas friends is in the throes of marital misery, to the extent that the one in marital misery is thinking of escaping by leaving the country. That is a pretty dire dose of misery.
And then I called another Texas friend, a sweet ol' good Texas girl. Or so I thought. Imagine my shock, when she told me that she is a Vixen. I was not quite certain what a Vixen was, but it sounded like it must be something shocking. I was driving at the time and thus unable to Google "Vixen."
Later, when I was back with Google access, I was to learn that a Vixen is a female fox. I have trouble remembering details. I am not quite certain why I was informed about the Vixen thing. I do remember that somehow, in the context, this information was shocking.
Shocking may be too strong a word. My vocabulary is lacking, so shocking is the best I can come up with.
I don't blog, usually, about what goes on after 5. Suffice to say that last night I had a penguin encounter, after hours, at the Fort Worth Zoo, among other encounters. I got back here, exhausted, around midnight. I've not stayed up that late since December 5 of 2008.
I'm hoping for a nice, peaceful, sedate Sunday. Though, Miss Puerto Rico did call me, really early, wanting to know why I'd not let her know Puerto Rico had had an earthquake. What am I? A personal news service?
I'm likely going over to Miss Puerto Rico's, later. That always turns into something. Latinas are such Drama Vixens.
According to a research business called Policom, which I never heard of til today, the Seattle area has the strongest economy in the United States in 2010. Metropolitan areas were ranked based on 2 dozen economic factors, including positive things like per-capita earnings and wages. And negative factors like welfare and Medicaid costs.
My current location, that being the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex, ranks #10. Houston ranks #4. Austin #12.
I will have to think about it, for awhile, to see if this might be the latest omen that it is time to move back to the Pacific Northwest.
Yesterday morning I learned of the passing of my Uncle Mel. This morning I checked in on the Bellingham Herald obituary section, looking for Uncle Mel.
And what do I see at the top of the list?
Willard Wilder.
Who is Wilder Wilder? He is my uncle. My mom's older brother.
I saw the picture and thought, okay, I've not seen Willard in awhile, that looks like him with a few extra pounds.
I started to read the obituary, thinking to myself, I'm going to have to call my mom, due to me thinking, no one else would have seen this who might call her.
Then, I started reading the obit. It said Willard lived in Blaine. I thought, well, they must have moved from Custer. Then it said Willard was born to Willard and Marieta Wilder. I thought, that ain't right, it should say LaVerne and Vera Wilder. Then it said Willard married Kathryn Wilson, in Custer.
So, I'm thinking, well, that makes since, married in Custer, that's where they lived. But Kathryn? I know Willard's wife as Aunt Shotty? Is her real name Kathryn?
And then I read Willard was preceded in death by his sister, Shirley Rozelle? Huh? My mom's name is Shirley. From that point on none of the info was right and I knew this was a different Willard Wilder.
How bizarre. That there would be two Willard Wilder's in Whatcom County, both with a sister named Shirley.
So, I called my mom and asked her if she knew there was another Willard Wilder in Whatcom County. Mom was aware of this. But she did not know that Willard #2 also had a sister named Shirley.
Did you catch that my mom's dad's name was LaVerne. That means he and my mom were LaVerne & Shirley. Years before they became a hit sit-com.
I am having myself a melancholy day today. Not quite sure why. I have been known to have bouts of insomnia. The past couple weeks I've been having bouts of whatever the opposite of insomnia is. Definitely different for me.
