Tskawahyah Is No Panther Island With Blind Alligators

This morning I flipped the page on my wall calendar and saw the image for August, which is that which you see here.

A sea lion on a beach in Olympic National Park, at Cape Alava, with Tskawahyah Island barely off shore, surrounded by the Pacific Ocean.

I saw this and realized I needed to add it to my ever growing series of actual island photos in my ongoing, multi-year effort to educate some landlocked landlubbers as to what an island actual is.

There is a small minded town in Texas where the locals are being conned into believing a cement lined ditch, dug possibly one day far in the future, dug around an industrial wasteland, then filled with polluted river water, somehow will make that industrial wasteland an island.

And even now, years before maybe, if ever, that cement lined ditch is ever dug and filled with water, that industrial wasteland is already referred to as Panther Island, with multiple events held at the imaginary island.

There have been no sea lions spotted at the Panther Island Rockin' the River Happy Hour Inner Tube Floats in polluted river water.

However, there was an incident with a blind alligator.

Sometimes I wonder if there is a demented plot by some demented Fort Worth local, who for some reason has a long range plan to turn the town into a national laughing stock.

If that is the goal, attaining it seems to be within reach...

Spencer Jack's Slotemaker Road Souvenir Seeking

When they were teenagers Spencer Jack's dad, Jason, and his Uncle Joey, in the dark of night, removed the Slotemaker Road signs from Slotemaker Road, and then installed the signs in their bedrooms.

I was appalled, at the time, that their parental units did not involve law enforcement.

For those who are not bilingual, Slotemaker is what Jones translates to from Dutch to English.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Way back in the late 1880s or early 1890s the Dutch Slotemakers had grown tired of the endless wars of Europe. The family debated whether to move to South Africa, or the United States.

Spencer Jack's great great great great grandpa Cornelis Slotemaker decided to see if moving to America was feasible. If I remember the family history correctly the eldest son, Jan (John) was sent to check America out. I could go look up the family history, which I do have on this computer, but it is more interesting to me to see how well I remember it after webpaging the history earlier this century.

So, after great great grandpa John returned from America it was decided to make the move. I believe it was through Ellis Island the Slotemakers entered America. I do not know if they were what are now demonized as illegal aliens. Upon reaching America the family, consisting of Cornelis, his wife, Angie, their two kids, John and Anna, and John's wife, my great grandma, Tillie, made the trek across America to one of those midwest states, like Iowa or Ohio or some such place.

At one point the family checked out a Dutch enclave near Denton, Texas. My relatives were not yet American enough to think Texas was a place anyone sane would want to live.

After a few years in America of struggling to get by the family heard of a Dutch town in the state of Washington, at the far northwest corner of America, a short distance from Canada.

My dad's dad's dad, John, was then sent out west, via train, to check out this Dutch town, and the area. He arrived in late spring to find a land which reminded him of Holland. But with giant trees, fruit, like blackberries, growing wild, apple trees, and the biggest mountains he had ever seen, including one looming volcano named Mount Baker. Along with rivers running clear filled with fish of the salmon sort.

My great great grandpa, John, then returned to the family, bringing with him samples of what he found in the Pacific Northwest, including thick bark from a fir tree. Along with some apples.

The family decided to move one more time. A large chunk of acreage was purchased a short distance east of that Dutch town, known as Lynden, and the Slotemaker farm was born, along with Slotemaker Road.

And now, in the 21st century, I am sure our Dutch relatives who farmed that land, long ago, would be proud to know their ancestors are carrying on the tradition of being scofflaws taking Slotemaker Road signs as souvenirs...

UPDATE: After the above was written Spencer Jack texted another photo of his day with his dad in Whatcom County, that being the county in which Lynden is located.

In this photo Spencer Jack's dad is kneeling next to his great-grandma Vera's headstone. This is located in a cemetery near the little village of Custer. I might be able to find that cemetery, but locating Grandma Vera's and Grandpa Porter's burial site, well, that I would have trouble with.

Grandma Vera's headstone says "VERA SUNDEAN PORTER DEC. 26, 1910 - SEPT. 23, 2003".

The headstone behind Jason says "DR. JAMES A. PORTER 1903 - 1966".

Grandma Vera's headstone should more accurately say "VERA SUNDEAN WILDER PORTER HUNTLEY".

Grandma Vera was born Vera Sundean, then married Laverne Wilder, with whom she had two children, including my mom, Shirley (also known as Miss Daisy). Yes, you read that right, my mom and her dad were Laverne and Shirley.

When my mom was quite young Grandma Vera divorced the grandpa I never knew, and eventually married Grandpa Porter, who was the only grandpa I ever knew. I remember him fondly. He was a doctor and an influential citizen of Lynden. When we were kids grandpa was part of running the annual fishing derby on Lynden's Fishtrap Creek. He somehow always managed to make sure his grandkids got good prizes. I remember my all time favorite fishing pole was one of those prizes.

After Grandpa Porter died Grandma Vera eventually married Lee Huntley, who then was the only grandpa David, Theo and Ruby's mama Michele ever knew. I never quite adjusted to the idea of Mr. Huntley being my grandpa. He was a nice guy.

I never thought about it before, til reading Grandma Vera's headstone. Grandma Vera's eldest grandson is named Dean. He being the eldest son of Grandma Vera's eldest daughter. I wonder if Son Dean was some sort of clever play on that Sundean name? I suspect not.

I wonder where Spencer Jack and his dad will be taking me next?

Sister Jackie Fountain Hills Elsie Hotpepper Style Selfie

This afternoon an incoming text message, with photos, from Spencer Jack and his dad, with the photos documenting what looked to me to be a possible crime in progress, caused me to plug the phone into my computing device to extract the photos from the phone.

When I did that I saw another photo, taken last Friday, whilst I was still in Arizona, which I forgot about til now.

On that day I did blog about going to Fountain Hills and witnessing that town's famous fountain in spouting mode. Two previous visits to Fountain Hills missed the timing of the spouting, but navigator, Sister Jackie, knew when the eruptions took place.

Whilst there Sister Jackie thought it a good idea to take a selfie with her two brothers. That would make Brother Jake on the left and me in the middle.

As you can see, Sister Jackie has somehow managed to master the patented Elsie Hotpepper style of selfie taking, which is an art form I have not been able to master.

At one point in time the fountain in Fountain Hills was the tallest in the world, spouting, at times, almost as high as Seattle's Space Needle when it is at full spouting power.

From the Wikipedia article about Fountain Hills...

Fountain Hills has the world's fourth-tallest fountain. It was built in 1970, by Robert P. McCulloch, the year before the reconstruction of the London Bridge in Lake Havasu City, another of McCulloch's projects. The fountain sprays water for about 15 minutes every hour between 9am and 9pm. The plume rises from a concrete water-lily sculpture in the center of a large man-made lake. The fountain, driven by three 600 horsepower (450 kW) turbine pumps, sprays water at a rate of 7,000 US gallons (26,000 l; 5,800 imp gal) per minute through an 18-inch (460 mm) nozzle. With all three pumps under ideal conditions, the fountain reaches 560 feet (170 m) in height, though in normal operation only two of the pumps are used, with a fountain height of around 300 feet (91 m). When built it was the world's tallest fountain, a record it held for over a decade.

Spencer Jack drove his dad up north today, to a few miles south of the border with Canada, to go to lunch in Lynden, and then go swimming at Birch Bay, due to an extremely low tide making that an appealing thing to do.

And along with those activities, the boys have also been engaging in that aforementioned possible criminal activity, which I may get around to documenting later.

Fort Worth Mayor Betsy Price's Washington Panhandling Adventure

I think I was still in Arizona when I learned, via the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, and DFW locals emailing me, that Panther Island (is) back in line for federal funding after Betsy Price’s White House meeting.

I saw the headline and thought what fresh ridiculous propaganda is this going to be. I did not get around to reading the article until I was back in Texas.

Cutting through the baloney, the Star-Telegram thinks Fort Worth mayor, Betsy Price, somehow successfully convinced the White House acting chief of staff, Mick Mulvaney, to get Fort Worth's Boondoggle back on track, even though the Boondoggle has been Boondoggling along for most of this century, with little to show for the effort, even though this pseudo public works project is propagandized as a vitally needed flood control project, in an area of Fort Worth which has not flooded for well over a half century, due to levees already in place.

And recently we learned, after DFW locals reacted with the truth, to propaganda spewed in the half million buck Riveron Review of America's Biggest Boondoggle, that the Army Corps Of Engineer's Document Contradicts Controversial Riveron Review.

From the Star-Telegram article...

“We really wanted to talk to them about the bypass channel,” Price said. “That’s the flood control piece and our major concern.”

Does the Fort Worth mayor not realize that it is relatively easy for those who authorize federal funding to find out the bypass channel is not needed, that there is no legitimate flood control concern. And that the entire scheme has never had anything to do with flood control, but has all along been nothing but a disguised economic development scheme, conniving to secure federal funds to make some sort of water feature on which multiple developments would develop.

You know, the sort of economic development which occurs in other parts of America because developers see an opportunity to make big bucks, and thus they invest their own money to do so. Such as, for example, Point Ruston in Tacoma, where billions of dollars have been invested to develop a thriving development on the site of a EPA superfund cleanup, where paying for that cleanup was the only part of the development involving federal funding.

How can the people of Fort Worth not see how pitifully pathetic it is for their town's mayor to go begging to Washington for what the town should manage to finance itself, if the project filled a legitimate need, by going to the voters with an honest, well designed proposal, not some sham ballot measure of the sort which passed two May's ago, with fraudulent deceptive wording suggesting the measure was for flood control and drainage, when the funds were actually to be directed to the Panther Island debacle. That is til some responsible sorts put a halt to that, pending additional investigation.

And sadly, that additional investigation, you know, that hoped for forensic audit of the Trinity River Vision, turned into the Riveron Review, in which those doing the reviewing only interviewed those directly responsible for the mess, not those who might, you know, tell the truth, such as officials with the Army Corps of Engineers, who could address the actual flood issues, and actual bridge building facts.

Federal funding for the Trinity River Vision began to unravel after it was made known that the required Army Corps of Engineers cost-benefit analysis was not done. And the fact, as we already mentioned, that the Army Corps of Engineers can not be involved in economic development schemes, with is what the Trinity River Central City Uptown Panther Island District Vision actually is.

The fact that there has been no legitimate public vote in support of the Trinity River Vision, indicating the sort of support which maybe the federal government, and the rest of America might support getting behind. You know, ballot measures of the sort  I frequently experienced whilst living on the west coast, and recently saw underway in the Phoenix metro area. Or like I saw yesterday via the Seattle Times, a headline of the sort one does not see in the Fort Worth Star-Telegram about some voting measure in that town.

Now look at that, King County voters being asked to approve spending way more on park improvements than what Betsy Price went begging for in Washington.

Why should the rest of America help pay for an economic development scheme in Fort Worth? Legitimate flood control of the sort which saves lives, yes, that is in every one's interest. But not this ill conceived ineptly implemented Fort Worth Boondoggle.

This article about the Betsy Price panhandling episode has typical bits of Star-Telegram ridiculousness, such as this paragraph...

It also noted that the public views Panther Island as three projects in one — flood control, economic development and recreation.

The "IT" referred to is that aforementioned Riveron Review. The public views Panther Island as three projects in one? Really? And how was this conclusion reached? How many people were asked "How do you view Panther Island? Oh sure, I can see how over and over again it is believable people indicated they viewed Panther Island as being about flood control, economic development and recreation.

I suspect if that question were actually asked of the public the majority of the answers would indicate the public viewed  Panther Island as a Boondoggle.

Because that is what it is...

Spencer Jack's PNW Island Orcas Mystery Solved

Incoming email this morning from Spencer Jack and his favorite dad, my nephew Jason, with a subject line of...

"Beautiful PNW Day".

Text in the email asking...

"Do you recognize this PNW location Spencer and I visited today"

For those not familiar with the PNW abbreviation, PNW abbreviates Pacific Northwest.

The email included three photos, including the one you see above.

And the one below.

I was fairly sure I knew the location in question when I saw the photo at the top. The second photo confirmed that I knew the location I was looking at.

Behind Jason and Spencer Jack in that second photo you are looking at a structure constructed by the Civilian Conversation Corps back in 1936, modeled after a medieval watch tower.

The CCC was an evil socialist plot launched by FDR during the Great Depression. There are CCC structures in parks all over the Puget Sound zone.

This CCC structure is an observational tower atop the summit of Mount Constitution.

Mount Constitution is the most prominent feature, elevation-wise, of the San Juan Islands, which means Spencer Jack took his dad on a ferry ride to Orcas Island, which is where Mount Constitution is located in Moran State Park.

In addition to being the highest spot in the San Juan Islands, Mount Constitution is the second highest mountain on an island in a ocean location in the lower 48 American states.

For those reading this in Fort Worth, Texas, who do not know what an island is, what you see behind Spencer Jack, surrounded by water, are islands. Spencer Jack is standing on an island. These islands were not created by digging a ditch into which polluted river water was diverted. These are real islands. Lots of them, as in hundreds of islands of various sizes make up the San Juan Island archipelago.

No bridge connects the American mainland to any of the San Juan Islands. Access to these islands is via boat, small and large, with the large boats being the multiple ferry boats which take one from Fidalgo Island, and the town of Anacortes, to the islands.

Fidalgo Island is not one of the San Juan Islands. One does access Fidalgo Island via several bridge options, all of which were built over actual water in way less than four years, including that iconic PNW actual signature bridge connecting Fidalgo Island to Whidbey Island over the swift moving tidal waters of Deception Pass.

Meanwhile in that aforementioned Fort Worth town, we are almost to year six of trying to build three simple little bridges over dry land, to connect the Fort Worth mainland to an imaginary island.

I doubt ferry boats will ever be needed...

Back On Texas Circle Trail As The Fort Worth Boondoggle Turns

It seems like weeks, because it has been several weeks since my handlebars took me on a bike ride on the Wichita Falls Circle Trail.

But those handlebars took me on a ride today, to Sikes Lake, then MSU, then the Circle Trail back to my abode.

My return to Texas went much more smoothly than my exit to Arizona weeks prior.

It will be awhile, as in quite awhile, before I muster the stamina to put myself through that type travel ordeal again.

When I finally managed to land in Wichita Falls on Saturday, shortly before midnight, the temperature in the outer world was about as perfect as it can get.

Quite the contrast with what I had been enjoying sweltering in in Arizona.

If I remember right it was 112 when I lifted off the tarmac at Sky Harbor, 81 when I hit the tarmac at Wichita Falls Municipal Airport, also known, I think, as SPS.

I am still in recovery mode from the past couple weeks. I gained the usual ten pounds I gain during an Arizona visit. McDonald's was particularly tasty this time.

This morning I was fairly sure a drive to DFW was going to be required. But the need disappeared by mid-morning. I was sort of relieved. When I am in Arizona it seems like I do a few thousand miles of driving Miss Daisy around.

About the time I got back to Texas a new chapter in the ongoing soap opera known as America's Biggest Boondoggle, or the Trinity River Central City Uptown Panther Island District Vision, took a new pitiful embarrassing turn, with Fort Worth mayor turning panhandler begging for federal money like a stereotypical welfare queen, attempting to fund the lavish lifestyle she is unable to afford on her own.

I think I may have totally bungled that welfare queen metaphor.

Anyway, I have saved all the info about the latest episode of As The Boondoggle Turns and will have fun opining about it just as soon as my cerebral blood flow returns to normal.

Oh, and I have heard from Deep Moat for the first time since she attended the Fort Worth Wedding of the Year, thus confirming, for me for the first time, that those nuptials actually took place...

Fountain Hills Steel Drumming With Jamaican Jake & Jackie Duo

That is that Fountain Hills fountain you see here, in the background, out in the middle of the Fountain Hills Lake.

In the foreground you see the Brother/Sister Jake & Jackie Duo performing a Jamaica type steel drum rhythm song timed to the spoutings of the fountain.

Prior to this musical interlude Sister Jackie drove me and Brother Jake to Fiesta Burrito in Scottsdale.

I had my usual chile relleno enchilada platter, as did Sister Jackie. Brother Jake had habenero infused carrots because he is on a strict diet.

The drive northeast to Fountain Hills was via a different route than I took last March whilst driving Miss Daisy. This different route was significantly more scenic than the previous route Miss Daisy had directed me to drive.

Tomorrow Miss Daisy's regular driver drives me to Sky Harbor, from there I hope to successfully board a plane to fly away from modern America, back to Texas.

I am sort of looking forward to being back in Texas.

Modern America is exhausting...

Last Day In The Oasis Of Arizona

 Last night was my first night at the Oasis in Chandler. One more day of this level of serene peace and quiet and I may be ready to return to Texas to less serenity, peace and quiet.

Yesterday's delivery of me to the airport by Miss Daisy and her regular driver was perfectly timed.

As we drove into the Terminal 4 departure area upon entry we passed a Honda with Washington plates. Miss Daisy's driver pulled to the curb a short distance thereafter. I got out of Miss Daisy's chariot, said my goodbyes, entered the terminal, exited the terminal and then got into that Honda with Washington plates, driven by Spencer Jack and Hank Frank's Grandpa Jake.

Grandpa Jake then drove me to Scottsdale to a gallery with an incredible stock of various works of art, in various forms, including two displays of Grandpa Jake's Gems by Jake Apache Tear and Various other gems made into door knobs.

After that we ventured to the north side of Camelback Mountain where I soon found myself on the grounds of an over the top example of why the 1% need their marginal tax rate returned to 90%.

Ending that tour of excessive consumption we headed to Grandpa Jake's Scottsdale abode where he had made a big pot of seafood chowder which was just about the best of this type vittle I have had this century.

My suite in the Chandler Oasis was at a comfort level much more comfortable than I had been enjoying the previous 14 days. A HUGE bed with giant pillows elevated so far above the floor I felt in need of some sort of mechanized assist to get to ground level, and then I mastered going from horizontal to vertical.

By the time I exited my luxury suite all the other inhabitants of the Chandler Oasis had exited to other activities, such as playing pickle ball.

I opted to take my blogging device to the pool patio, which is what you see photo documented at the top, and then go for a salubrious solo skinny dip.

The Chandler Oasis pool was at a cooler temperature than I had been experiencing whilst swimming with the Sun Lakes ladies in their pool. Quite refreshing. I swam for an hour or two, taking libation breaks periodically.

I forgot to mention, I once again tried to take one of those patented Elsie Hotpepper style selfie photos, to no success, with the result being what you see above. I can not see the phone's screen in the bright sunlight.

It is now an hour later. Sister Jackie has returned from pickle balling. We are soon going to be heading north to Scottsdale to Brother Jake's and then on to Fiesta Burrito for a chile relleno.

And then tomorrow I fly back to Texas....

Chandler Peace & Quiet Oasis Before Maricopa McDonald's

For the first time in what seems weeks I am in a totally private, totally quiet, totally serene location.

An Oasis.

Also known as Sister Jackie's pool in Chandler.

Sister Jackie is currently driving Miss Daisy to a doctor appointment, after which my short peaceful period will come to an end, and then we will be heading south to Maricopa to Penny's McDonald's, where I am hoping to have myself a Canada burger, and a Dutch dessert.

Tomorrow morning Sister Jackie will drive Miss Daisy to Sky Harbor Airport to drop me off, after which I will get in my brother's vehicle. I am not quite sure where I am going when my brother drives me out of Sky Harbor Airport.

Sun Lakes Kids Chase Me To An Oasis Before Haboob Monsoon

My days of pooling in Arizona during this current visit are drawing to a close.

Due to an 8 in the morning breakfast date with Bruno and Mary, Miss Daisy sent me to the pool well before 7 this morning. That pooling is at the location I call the Big Pool at Miss Daisy's Community Club. The Big Pool is actually multiple pools, not just one Big Pool.

Then later, following that early morning breakfast I decided to go swimming again. But, when I returned to the Big Pool it was full of little kids. Not the usual Sun Lake Ladies. Little kids. Where could so many little kids come from in this elderly desert?

With the Big Pool over crowded I opted to go to the pool closest to Miss Daisy's. That pool is known as the Oasis Pool. It is a small, rectangle shaped pool. I had the pool all to myself, which you can clearly see via the photo documentation above.

There is no deep end to the Oasis Pool. It is only 5 feet deep at its deepest. Due to the time being near the noon hour I did not last long once I was out of the pool, what with the temperature being somewhere north of 100, with some clouds somewhat mitigating the direct sun misery.

Out of the pool I tried to take what is known in Texas as an Elsie Hotpepper style selfie, but I could not see the phone screen in the bright sun, with the result being the photo you see here where everything in the photo appears crooked and it does not even remotely resemble an Elsie Hotpepper style selfie.

Last night nephew Jeremy arrived right on time for his regularly scheduled dinner date with his Grandma. This involves driving to a fast food joint then returning to Grandma's TV viewing room where Jeremy and Grandma have their weekly Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy competition.

Soon after the visiting Uncle's latest correct answering of the Final Jeopardy question Jeremy headed east to Chandler to his current home location.

Jeremy was gone less than a minute when my phone alarm suddenly became alarmingly loud.

MONSOON!

HABOOB!

The phone warning from the National Weather Service said something like "SEVERE DUST STORM IMMINENT AT YOUR LOCATION. STRONG WIND, RAIN, ZERO VISIBILITY EXPECTED."

The phone warning had barely shut up when the wind hit like a slap. With thick dust which made for a thick haze dimming outdoor lights. I tried to make it to the road to drag the recycle bin back under cover. But I was unable to make it to the street due to being slammed by dust which felt like sandpaper.

Soon rain began to downpour. The Monsoon Haboob lasted about a half hour.

And then peace and quiet returned. Except for Miss Daisy asking a few more times what day it was...