"The Button" (previously Bob The Elf)

This is the proposed cover of my upcoming Christmas book.  It's a story about a Christmas that almost wasn't.  You'll be caught up in an adventure of young Elf love, the foibles of faulty equipment, and a South Florida crow who just may have the key to turn it all around.

Coming (hopefully) before Christmas '13.

'Follow' my blog, and let me know what you think.

Thank you for your participation!

Don

Retirement Life As I Know It

I will admit to not being too attentive to what's going on around me.  It could stem from many things.  Possibly it comes from my living hypersensitive to my surroundings,for the decade I worked with criminals.  Always looking behind, and sideways.  Walking in the center of hallways while passing through intersects, was a good idea.

Maybe that's not it, at all.  Maybe, I've finally reached an age where I really don't give a healthy crap what's going on around me, unless it directly effects me.  I've had a couple of marriages, raised a few kids, and held responsible positions while employed for a few decades.

Maybe why I don't pay much attention to what's going on around me, is that it's finally time for me.  

I'm not well off, or even all that comfortable by some standards.  All I really have in my retirement is time.  

I now have time to play at being a radio guy on Internet radio.  Time to learn to muddle away at the guitar and make what halfway sounds like music.  Time to write all the stories at which I've made so many false starts, and time to go out with friends to enjoy a margarita or a Dos Equis, without guilt.

Guilt?  You ask why I'd feel guilty over doing such mundane, normal things like having a drink with friends?  If you'd been inside my head and body for the 25 years leading up to my retirement, you'd know what I mean by guilt.  

I couldn't sit still.  I couldn't enjoy normal relaxation outlets such as golf, jogging, tennis, sitting around the deck and chewing the rag with friends.  

Why?  Because those things nagged at my sub-conscious as being a waste of time.  None of those things, or the thousands of ways other people relax, felt productive.  Chatting wasn't getting the roof on the shed patched, or the trim on the house painted.  Golf stole hours away from my life I could never recover.  I could have spent that afternoon or morning, mowing the lawn, 'eating' weeds, or trimming the trivet hedge.  

Writing while sitting at the computer (or in previous decades, the typewriter, then the word processor) would have eaten up more precious hours.  Why, I could be re-finishing an antique bed-side stand, or servicing one of my motorcycles.

Motorcycle?  People wonder why I have three bikes.  I own a 1973 Yamaha RD-350, a 1979 Honda CX 500, and my new bike, a 1985 Honda V-65 Sabre.  It's easy to tell folks why I own the bikes.  It's true, each is unique, and has an historic place in motorcycling, or my life.  But, that's not the real answer.  The truth is, none of them have very many miles on their odometers.  Upgrading to a newer machine would be a total waste. 

I own them.  I love them.  Except for the RD-350.  I love the RD most.  That's why it's a garage queen.  It's covered and protected from age and elements.  I maintain and ride them.  Not much, though.  Do you realize that while I'm out pleasuring myself riding around enjoying the scenery on my bike, there's work I could be getting done?  As a result, even the intention of taking a nice long ride was nearly always squelched by my guilt.  A short ride?  Perhaps.  That is if I could get it over with really quick, and get back to whatever task my askew sub-conscious had designated as the days priority.

Enough of that!  That's all behind me now.  I'm retired.

Now, I can ride one of my bikes longer.  Now, I can sit here and write this blog.  Now I can devote two days a week to producing a one hour Trop Rock show for Internet radio.

Now, I can go to 'house concerts' in Philadelphia, or a John Prine concert in Williamsport, and actually stay overnight.  Until retirement, I would not have considered going to Philly to see a musician in someones home.  I may have gone to see Prine in Williamsport, but I'd have driven home right after the show. I'd need to wake up in my own bed and get right to the tasks of the day.  Three hours sooner than if I'd stayed overnight.

I still can't see wasting my time on golf.

But I can see doing things I consider to be fun.  Right below this blog entry, is an example of something I place in that category.  It only took a couple of hours to do it.  I didn't have to waste time travelling far.  That two hours of pleasure are digitally immortalized, bearing witness that I do know how to have fun.  

Now, I can thumb my nose at the world as I laugh and say, "see?  Don does know how to relax and have a good time."

Screw The "News Media" - Misinformation Is Screwing You!

The Zimmerman trial has been over for a week.  It's five days since the NOT GUILTY verdict was handed down, and yet it's still all over the television news.  The big questions are, "will there be riots?  Will the Feds try him for Civil Rights violations?  Will the Martin family ever heal?  Will someone hunt George down and do him in?"  All valid concerns, but the big concern that can be put to rest once and for all, is the question of his guilt.  Sure, NOT GUILTY doesn't mean he didn't kill the man.  George freely admits he used his small automatic pistol and killed his attacker.

We have no reason to doubt his word on the occurrences of that night, leading to, and culminating in, the death of Mr. Martin. Why?  Because Zimmerman's story is consistent.  Liars' stories change as they're told, in many substantial ways.  His story made enough sense to the police and County Prosecutor, that he was not originally charged. At trial, the jury found the same thing.

At this point, George is as much a victim as is the dead man. What?  How can you say that, Don?  It's true he made flawed and fatal decisions that night.  So did Travon Martin.  Neither man took the safe and sensible path, right from the start of the incident. As a result it ended up in the worst possible scenario. The death of one man, and a lifetime of shame and blame for the other.

"How is the news media at fault, for even more wrong being done?" Good question.  

Simply by not letting it go away.  It was newsworthy, but it came to a conclusion.  Lives are lost and forever damaged, but it's time to heal, and get on with life the best way everyone involved can. The television networks, cable and broadcast, are still stirring the racial pot.  The tension will die a lot slower, if it's shoved in everyone's face whenever they try to watch a newscast.  

I have a question of my own:  "What happened to Walter Cronkite type of news reporting?"  You know, tell the story.  What, when, where, how, and why, if it's known. The why is usually not available to news media, lawyers, courts, or the public.  We never really know the "why".  That's what news reporting should still be. Here's something to hang your hat on.  That "talking head" on the screen?  Their opinion and view is no more valid than yours.  You only need him/her to tell you what has happened.  You can form your own opinions.  Novel idea, eh?

If America wants this Martin  and Zimmerman thing to settle down peacefully, it's time for it to stop being the lead story on every news outlet.  Remove the publicity seekers platforms.  Once that's done, everyone, including the rabble-rousers, pot-stirrers, and disinterested, un-involved, protesters, will shut up and go the hell home.

More news media?  Here's another thing I recall from recent newscasts.  In March of this year, in Brunswick, GA, a white mother was pushing her white 13 month old baby boy in his stroller.  Only a few yards from their home, in a 73% black neighborhood, she was accosted by two black teens.  They demanded her money.  She told them she had none, because it was true.  They told her they'd shoot her baby is she didn't give them money.  She couldn't give up what she didn't have. So they proceeded to shoot the infant in the face, killing him on the spot. 

The mother suffered two gunshot wounds trying to protect her child.  National news agencies reported it in passing, as a "robbery attempt".  Two black teens, ages 13 and 15 have been arrested and charged with murder.  No media has mentioned the words "hate crime", or "civil rights violation".   No famous religious leaders or protest organizers have swooped down on Brunswick to publicize the wrong doing of the black teens.

While I'm addressing media issues, I also want to mention the Boston Marathon terrorist bomber.  His photo showed up on the cover of Rolling Stone, this week.  There's an outcry all across the nation, and maybe around the world, protesting the publication of his likeness on the magazine's cover. Many large chain retailers are refusing to sell the issue in their stores. 

Why?  Charles Manson was on RS's cover.  So was Patty Hearst after gaining fame as a terrorist. What outcry came from those covers?  The answer is, "not much!"  

Truthfully, Rolling Stone Magazine has a feature article detailing the life of the 'seemingly normal young man' who became notorious for blowing up the finish line at this year's Boston Marathon.  People were killed, and dozens injured.  That's news! Why shouldn't he be on the cover?  RS isn't saying he's a good guy. They're featuring him in their issue, to tell the wondering world more about this pariah.

I don't recall an outpouring of venom when his picture graced the cover of nearly every newspaper and scandal sheet in America, and several other countries, for a month after the bombing.  It's still a news story, just as it was then. If people don't want to read it, or wish to lodge a protest against Rolling Stone, they can keep their money in their pocket.  Leave this issue on the newsstand. That will cast their negative votes a hell of a lot more efficiently than a lot of huffing and puffing, and pulling the issue off the stands. 

I'm tired of the special interest groups, splinter factions, and self appointed 'political correctness police', making a lot of noise about nothing.  They seem inclined toward sitting back and shutting up about real, genuinely problematic, issues. I've given one example above, so don't hold your breath for more on that subject.

Notice how I didn't push my personal concern for starvation and poverty right here in the good old United States?

News happens, folks.  Get on with your lives.  More news and controversy will be right along.

Father's Day On the Road

     I just realized that I haven't blogged in a couple of months.  No need to go into the details of why, but it's a busy schedule, and I've always more to do than there is time.  For example, I haven't had time to search for someone to publish my children's Christmas book, going on 2 years.  Possibly it's self doubt or laziness that contributes     to that, but I'm almost sure it's because I'm so damn busy.         Whatever it is, something keeps me from hitting this space more often.  I'll definitely try to rectify that.
     It's Father's Day, 2013.  I celebrated yesterday, with my wife, Meg,  and my 2 lovely daughters.  Today Meg and I are embarking on a short-ish journey to Lansdale, PA.  About 150 miles from Binghamton, it's a suburb of Philly, and a truly beautiful place on Earth.  Major Trop Rock aficionado 'Conchy Joe' resides there, and today, he's hosting a House Concert to be performed by John Reno and Eric Ellis.  Their current tour is a "Jim Croce music" tour.  Many may not recall Croce, but he was a purveyor of Americana/story-telling/folk music, back in the 1960's and 70's.  His career was cut short by a single engine plane crash in Louisiana, in 1973.  He was just 30, and his career had only recently hit 'head-liner' status.  His songs "Operator", and "Bad Bad Leroy Brown" are possibly his most memorable contributions, but as a prolific singer/songwriter, he had a vast catalog of music.  An interesting side note:  Croce was born in Philadelphia, PA.  It's exciting to me, that this show is so close to his birthplace.
     The show is scheduled to start at 3:00 PM, and I'm about 2.5 hours away.  I suppose that means I better throw my cooler full of booze and snacks into the 'grocery getter', and prepare to hit the road.
    John Reno is one of my favorite Trop Rockers.   I confess I don't know much about guitarist Eric Ellis, but I'm looking forward to meeting them both and enjoying their show.  I can't wait to see how they interpret Jim Croce's music.  This is bound to be a Father's Day I won't soon forget.  It's a nice road trip with Meg, good music, and the company of the best people on earth...Trop Rock fans. 
     I'll write a short blog-note later, to tell you how it went.

               HAPPY FATHER'S DAY, EVERYONE!

Stupid Kills

Spring is approaching.  The real Spring...warm weather, sunny days, and the sound of motorcycles accelerating from the curve near my home.  Here's an opinion piece, reprinted from this blog.  It was originally published in 2010.

I estimate that 95% of the untimely deaths on this planet are from stupidity. Yep. If you don't die of one of the terminal illnesses that will eventually kill every species that has a pulse, as a human you're most likely to die of an act of stupidity.  It may be yours, but it could be someone else who's the cause. Old age gets credit for nearly all of the natural (non-stupid) deaths, even though the autopsy usually names a more specific cause. Face it. We get old, all our parts get old at the same time.  Sooner or later either enough of of those parts, or one of them that's really essential, Throws in the towel. But, 'natural causes' is not what this rant is about.  Unless, of course, stupidity has achieved 'natural cause' status.

 

Today, I went to the scene of an incredibly tragic act of stupidity. Wednesday, a relative of a man who belongs to an actual social organization that I am a member of, became a victim of blatant stupidity. A few minutes after noon, while most people and maybe even the victim, were either thinking of lunch or sitting down to eat, his life came to sudden violent end. 

 

This was a case of another person's stupid act tragically terminating this man's hopes and dreams. Stupidity altered the lives of his family, friends, and everyone who depended upon or loved him.

 

On an acceleration ramp of a major highway, some damned fool pulled the stupid stunt of stopping in the driving lane. The key to successfully negotiating an acceleration lane is to accelerate! Stopping is not an offered option. There's no stop sign there. I looked.

Except for the obvious, no one will ever truly know the final thoughts and actions of the victim.  But, it's likely safe to say he was following a vehicle up the high speed acceleration lane. He was presumably accelerating to blend into the 65 mph plus Summer traffic heading north on Interstate 81. I would be looking in my mirrors, glancing over my shoulder to the left, and gauging the speed of approaching traffic. That's what you'd be doing, too. That's what you are supposed to be doing. It's the safe thing to do.

In the split second it takes to check traffic behind you, either in your mirror or with a sideways glance, a lot can go wrong. What went wrong this time was that the idiot right ahead of my friend's brother-in-law, stopped. He fucking stopped!

 

I didn't mention it, but the victim's mode of transportation was one that's invisible to too many motorists. He was riding his beloved Harley-Davidson motorcycle. When you stop dead in front of a motorcycle being driven by someone who assumes you're going to do the right thing on an on ramp, that's what your doing. You're stopping him dead. The motorcycle rider braked hard. The skid marks are still painting the highway at the accident scene. It looks like that's all he had time to do.

From my own experience, having ridden a motorcycle for several decades, many automobile drivers operate under a shroud of misinformation. Generally, they feel that motorcycles are dangerous, foolish contraptions, and only ridden by mouth breathers who's knuckles drag on the ground. That is, of course, if they think of them at all. Too large a percentage of the automobile driving public ignores motorcycles.  They offer them no common courtesy, and operate under the false impression that bikes can stop on a dime. That entire train of thought is flawed, and kills hundreds of motorcyclists every year.  

A motorcycle can't stop as quickly as a car.  The unforgiving laws of physics prohibit it. That said, they can sometimes swerve as nimbly around an obstacle as a car is able to. Don't count on that.

When you are in your car, be aware 360 degrees around you.  Just like the Driver's Ed instructor taught you. When you're out on your motorcycle, scooter, or even your old blue bicycle, be many times more careful and alert than you are in the relatively safe steel cocoon of your car. It's your life on the line.  Remember..Stupid kills. Don't be stupid.

Opinions stated here are mine alone:  Don Winfield

Americans' Rights and Perceptions

Americans Have No Idea How Few Gay People There Are

by Garance Franke-Ruta May 31 2012, 2:17 PM ET 

From The Atlantic Magazine's online edition:

 

“Surveys show a shockingly high fraction think a quarter of the country is gay or lesbian, when the reality is that it's probably less than 2 percent.”

Here's an excerpt from that article. We'll discuss below:

One in ten. It's the name of the group that puts on the Reel Affirmations gay and lesbian film festival in Washington, D.C., each year. It's the percent popularized by the Kinsey Report as the size of the gay male population. And it's among the most common figures pointed to in popular culture as an estimate of how many people are gay or lesbian.
But what percentage of the population is actually gay or lesbian? With the debate over same-sex marriage again an emerging fault line in American political life, the answer comes as a surprise: A lower number than you might think -- and a much, much, much lower one than most Americans believe.
In surveys conducted in 2002 and 2011, pollsters at Gallup found that members of the American public massively overestimated how many people are gay or lesbian. In 2002, a quarter of those surveyed guessed upwards of a quarter of Americans were gay or lesbian (or "homosexual," the third option given). By 2011, that misperception had only grown, with more than a third of those surveyed now guessing that more than 25 percent of Americans are gay or lesbian. Women and young adults were most likely to provide high estimates, approximating that 30 percent of the population is gay. Overall, "U.S. adults, on average, estimate that 25 percent of Americans are gay or lesbian," Gallup found. Only 4 percent of all those surveyed in 2011 and about 8 percent of those surveyed in 2002 correctly guessed that fewer than 5 percent of Americans identify as gay or lesbian.

Don's Comments: It's long been obvious to me, that the perceptions of many Americans are askew when the subject of gays, lesbians, gay marriage, gay adoption, etc., arises. I know hundreds of people. I know a select couple of dozen, intimately. It's true that some of these people may not share my heterosexual orientation. I don't know if any of those in my closest circles of friends, are gay, lesbian, or have those aspirations. There's no reason to know.

It's not that it's taboo or unspeakable in my circles. Quite the contrary, most of those closest to me are similar to me in candor, outspokenness, and willingness to share thoughts and ideology. The truth is, that everyone's individual sexual orientation is personal, and not generally hauled out for casual discussion. Nor does it need to be. It's simply a non-issue.

Considering that premise may make the wildly out of sync perceptions Americans seem to share, about the percentage of gay's in America, more understandable. Recent years have shown a reverse trend in the popularity and exposure of the presence of gay and lesbians in the media. What prime time sit-com would be complete without at least one gay individual in the storyline. Most have a gay couple, or the gay character's gay friend or friends, making appearances on a regular basis. While we're here, we might not overlook the other trends which seem popular on television shows at the current time. You must have an affable black male or outrageous black female character. A Hispanic or Asian character may be substituted, but always central to the storyline. An alien dropping from his spaceship, in 2013, having only prime time series as their grounds for deciding on how America works socially, would have a very skewed perception. In reality, many of us living in rural or suburban America, cannot relate to any of those situations, except to laugh at them on the TV screen.

It's not our reality. I recently left a club that has existed for eight years having had only one ethnic members, in that time. Jimmy Buffett fan clubs are not known for their large percentage of ethnic participants, much like a Jimmy Buffett concert. White middle and upper middle class faces as far ass the eye can see. That leads us further into our glimpse at skewed numbers.

We are all subject to the perceptions we arrive at from the clubs we belong to, the neighborhoods we live in, and the social sets we enjoy. The problem with that is, that it makes it hard to think outside of that restrictive box. We may not know any, or maybe only one or two, gay people. But, we see that all the television shows, the ads for gay rights, the marches we see on the 6:00 PM news from large cities, prove to us that there are gays literally everywhere. It's easy to understand that given the out of sync with reality exposure Middle America gets via the media, that so many people would think there are far more gay people in America, and the World, than there actually are. Interesting that most people surveyed on the street, believe that there are twice as many foreign born people and illegal aliens living in the U.S. than the true numbers prove. Again, these beliefs are based on media insights, not clear headed thought and a little research.

My bottom line is that there is no reason for Middle America to be concerned about the right of gay and lesbian Americans to marry, adopt, or inherit one an-others estates. With the percentage of gays in this country being under 5%, and most likely closer to 2%, does it really make any difference to the average citizen? The answer is no. The truth is, whatever your preference in cars, housing, occupation, or even your sexuality, has no bearing whatever on how good a person, neighbor, or citizen you are.

So, why rail against something that doesn't harm you in any way? Why take issue with another American citizen's right to pursue life in his or her, own way? Instead of wasting your thoughts and energy on these trivial matters, why not use your time to help the poor, needy, handicapped, or mentally challenged citizens, who actually may live in your neighborhood. Or, maybe you should be watchful when in your social group, to pick out the abused wife/girlfriend/husband/boyfriend. It's likelier there is someone in that category in your group, than there is a gay person. Offer them understanding and any help you can provide, which may only be directing them to where help exists.

Instead of focusing on our differences, perceived or actual, lets focus on our sameness. We can all use a little compassion and latitude in the way we live our lives. Let's focus on that.

Don Winfield

Cinco de Mayo Party @ McGirk's

             

       Battle of Puebla, May 5, 1862


Cinco de Mayo
Important to Americans, but not what you may think.

Cinco de Mayo (Spanish for "Fifth of May") is a celebration held interestingly enough, on May 5th. It is celebrated in the United States and regionally in Mexico, primarily in the state of Puebla, where the holiday is called El Día de la Batalla de Puebla (English: The Day of the Battle of Puebla). The date is observed in the United States as a celebration of Mexican heritage and pride, and to commemorate the cause of freedom and democracy during the first years of the American Civil War. In the state of Puebla, the date is observed to commemorate the Mexican Army's unlikely victory over French forces at the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862, under the leadership of General Ignacio Zaragoza Seguin.  General Zaragosa, the leader at La Batalla de Puebla, was born in Texas while it was still part of México.  For this reason, he is considered by many to be the first Chicano hero.  Some scholars, including José Antonio Burciaga, believe that had the French defeated México at Puebla, France would have aided the South in the American Civil War in order to free Southern ports of the Union Blockade.  During this time, Confederate General Robert E. Lee was enjoying success, and French intervention could have had an impact on the Civil War.  It seems that even people not of Mexican descent may also have an indirect reason to celebrate Cinco de Mayo.  Whatever the case may be, people should realize that this holiday does have some historical and cultural significance to millions of people.  Cinco de Mayo is not Mexico's Independence Day—the most important national patriotic holiday in Mexico—which is celebrated on September 16.

Binghamton's 2013 Cinco de Mayo celebration starts at 2:00 PM, May 5^th, at McGirk's Irish Pub, 1 Kattelville Road (Chenango Bridge), Binghamton, NY.
Admission is free, and everyone is invited.  Bring the family, or your favorite senor or senorita, and enjoy the first big party of Spring 2013. 

Please bring a donation of non-perishable food or cash, for the Broome County Catholic Charities Food Pantry.
 
NOTE: This article is mostly stolen from Wikipedia and other sources.

 

Finding Nemo

     Finding Nemo?  More correctly, Nemo is finding us.  We in the Northeast are more or less, what you'd call 'battening down the hatches'.  Actually, there are no hatches to batten, but it's a good line.  We're loading up on ice melter, finding our snow shovels, and checking the batteries in our flashlights.
     The powers at the Weather Channel, have decided they need to name every storm, these days.  Therefore, it's Nemo that's coming to wreak havoc on the poor folks in the East, this time. 
     An incredible number of people are still either homeless, or nearly so from Super Storm Sandy, that hit the East Coast in October.  Jobs that evaporated, are still non-existent.  Homes where lives were lived, children were raised, and people grew old, are still vacant lots and piles of debris.  Now, those poor souls are once again challenged by the elements.
     We're only supposed to get a few inches of snow, and the blizzard wind is only supposed to 'gust' to 40 mph or so, here in central Upstate NY.  On the coast, in lower NY, and in New England, they're expecting feet of snow, and winds of 60 mph, plus.
     It's a helpless feeling, watching any storm coming at you.  Whether it's a hurricane, tsunami, blizzard, or one of those slow moving rain storms that deposit feet of water as they move overhead, it's grim.  There's nothing anyone can do.  The weather always wins.
     It may seem there is nothing to do now, but sit it out.  However, we can do something useful as we wait for it to pass.  No, I'm not advocating prayer as a solution.  I've never seen it turn away a storm, or rebuild a crushed roof.  People make the difference.  The people who weren't affected directly by the disaster, are the ones I'm talking about.
     Right now, it's time to be thinking about where you'll best be able to direct your resources.  Consider where your efforts, donation, or kindness will be put to the best use.  I'm not suggesting anything, or recommending any charitable organization, or community leader, you should seek out.  I know that they are out there.  I know that I'll be on my computer looking for the best place, for me, to do whatever I can.  It pays to be prepared, even if the storm passes less than dramatically.   Hopefully it won't be half the disaster the National Weather Service says it's going to be.  Maybe if we're all prepared, it won't be so bad after all.
     Let's be careful, and hope for the best.

Bareing Arms - A Right & A Privilege

I've been hearing a lot of chit chat, whining, blustering, and filibustering lately about guns and bearing arms.  Here's an interesting point I picked up from Reuters news agency: 
"U.S. citizens own 270 million of the world's 875 million known firearms, according to the Small Arms Survey 2007 by the Geneva-based Graduate Institute of International Studies.  About 4.5 million of the 8 million new guns manufactured worldwide each year are purchased in the United States, it said."

That was in 2007.

310 million = Total number of non military firearms in the United States as of 2009.  Project those numbers, and that means that there are now over 350 million firearms in American citizens' hands, right now, in January 2013.

In 2011 34% of adults in the United States personally owned a gun; 46% of adult men, and 23% of adult women. In 2011 47% of the adult U.S. population lived in households with guns.

Imagine those numbers, if you will. 

I don't have a gun in my house.  I've owned guns, including a handgun which I used for target shooting, only.  When it became a liability by virtue of it's presence in my home, I sold it to a collector and made money on it.  Hooray for me, eh?

I was in the US Army, during the Vietnam conflict.  Hell yes, I had a rifle.  The Army said "weapons are for shootin' and guns are for fun".  Well, having the right tool for each job, is important.  I was expected, like my son who followed me in the military, to kill or be killed.  Probably both, eventually.  Folks, that's war.  That's where firearms are really a necessity.

Nowadays, I don't hunt.  I'm not looking to kill anyone, or be killed by anyone.  I don't have a firearm, for those reasons.  I simply don't need it.

I'm in favor of hunters, sportsmen, and hobbyists, target shooters, etc., having the right tools to ply their trade.  Our Constitution guarantees us, as American citizens, to have this right.  It should not be taken away, but not for the reasons that the NRA would have you to believe.

We don't have to have them in the house to protect ourselves from anyone.  First of all, the chance of anyone reading this article has of being assaulted, his house burgled while he's home, or attacked by a rabid murdering bastard, are nil.  It's not going to happen.  There were 114,825,428 households in the US as of the 2010 Census. There were 2,159,878 burglaries  Only 75 % of those were residential. = (approx) 1.5 million homes were burgled.  Realistically, your home has about 1:100 chance of getting broken into. 

Let's just say your house does get broken into at some point.  Most likely, you are not at home.  90% of burglaries happen when nobody is home.  Can you defend that with your gun, from work or vacation?

Another scenario:  It's the middle of the night.  The druggie down the block knows you have prescription drugs in your home.  Like every criminal does, he considers them his.  He walks in at 2:45 AM, catching you in deep REM sleep.  You are quickly taken out by a baseball bat to the noggin, and he removes your stash.  You get home from the hospital, and check your gun safe.  Yep, ole' "Bessie" is still in there, all safe and sound.  What did you expect?  You sleep upstairs, and the gun safe is in the basement, where the floor is strong enough to carry it's weight.

Here's some scenarios I love.  I know where I'd be with a gun under my pillow, protecting my middle-class abode and empty nest, from intruders.  Which one would fit you best?
 
Some 26 year old in need of cash to buy his next fix, breaks silently into my home in the middle of the night.  My faithful Labrador retriever wanders downstairs and scares the bejesus out of him with a wet lick to a dangling hand, as he traverses the dining room.  I realize the dog has left the room, because he left the door open on his way out, and go see what's up.  I hear the invader whisper "sit", to my faithful companion, and go back to my pillow for my trusty 357 Magnum, long barreled handgun.  It's six round cylinder is filled with heavy load, armor piercing bullets.  I creep down the stairs, but they creak.  Scenario 1, (A):  The burglar hears me coming, and heads for the door to make good his escape.  He gets away, and I round up the Lab who has followed him to his bicycle parked at the curb. Scenario 1, (B):  The burglar hears me coming.  As I hit the light switch, he greets me with a punch in the nose.  I fall, down and out for the count.  He spots my prize revolver, and takes it with him to sell for his next supply of drugs.  Another gun in the hands of criminals.  Scenario 2, (A):  The burglar hears me creaking down the stairs.  He is straight enough to remain calm and wait around the corner for me to appear.  As I enter the dining room, he grabs for the gun, illuminated by the flashlight in his left hand.  Decades younger and 30 pounds heavier, he takes the gun, pushes me down, and runs away.  I'm out a perfectly good weapon, and some crook has a reliable firearm all his own.  Scenario 2, (B):  He hears me coming.  He waits for me to hit the dining room, where he grabs me and we tussle.  I'm getting the upper hand, and suddenly he gets the gun pointed at my chest.  He squeezes the trigger, and 'game over' for Mr. Model Citizen.   Scenario 3:  this is the one you all dream about.  I come down the stairs undetected by the intruder.  I suddenly hit the light switch, catching him red handed, with my lap top in hand.  I tell him to drop it.  He throws it in my face, instead.  Now, I make one of two stupid life choices.  I shoot him, and call the cops  They praise my bravery and quick witted ability to take charge of my domicile and protect it to the limit.  The media makes me out to be a hero, and I'm on the CBS Morning News, chatting with Charlie and Nora.  Or:  Same scenario except I wing the bad guy.  He wheels and heads outside.  In the heat of the moment, adrenaline pumping, scared as I've ever been, I squeeze off another round as he runs down my steps.  He falls to the ground, dead, with a giant hole in his chest where the powerful projectile exited from the back shot.  The cops come.  I'm arrested for criminally negligent homicide, found guilty, and spend the rest of my life in a crowbar hotel.

You have a right to bear arms.  Are you really the best person to be bearing it?  Is it really necessary?  Not only is it unlikely that you'd ever have to, you can't defend your home with a gun.  Could you pull the trigger?  It's harder and a whole lot messier than you think, citizen.  Then, you have to live with it forever.  You don't want to go there.  Believe me.

We'll never see a time in the USA, where citizens are forbidden to bear arms.  It's simply responsible, to see that only those who are appropriate to have them, have them.  Gun control doesn't mean swooping down and taking honest, upright citizens' guns away.  That will never happen.  (For one reason, more citizens have more guns than the authorities will ever have, and you outnumber the authorities, by many thousands to one.)  But, if we can keep a small percentage of firearm mayhem from happening, "gun control" is worth it.

Trust the military and cops to protect you.  That's what your tax dollar is buying in the security department.  That's a "dead bang fact."

Happy New Year!

     As I write this, it's the first week of a shining new year.  There are 51 weeks of 2013 left.  It's a blank page!  We stand at the brink.  No matter who we are, or where we're coming from, we have a chance to write our own story.  We have the golden opportunity of making the best of the coming year that we are able to, within our individual limitations.

      I want to urge one and all, to join me in putting 100% of 2012, behind.  Whatever your successes or failures last year, it doesn't matter.  Don't gloat or dwell.  This is a chance to start fresh.  If  your past year was filled with triumph and successes, congratulations.  Think of the even bigger possibilities that are now available.  Success and achievement has given you the confidence and experience to really get out there and kick some ass!  Do it!

     If your life really sucked in 2012, take heart.  You're facing the same blank page as those who had a great year.  You too, have been given the opportunity to learn from your experiences.  Even if you consider them to have been failures.  Think about that a minute.  Do you really want to make those same old mistakes all over again?  Remember, one of the looser definitions of insanity is 'repeating an action over and over, and expecting a different outcome'.  So, I'll ask you:  Are you friggin' crazy?  Get it together.  Suck it up, and make use of this fresh start.  It's the same one everyone gets, and there's no charge!

     To all my friends, fellow bloggers, Trop Rockers, "The Shore" listeners, and even those who wish I'd just crawl off and croak.....  HAPPY NEW YEAR, Y'ALL!  HERE'S TO EVERY SUCCESS YOU HAVE THE WILES TO BEG, BORROW, OR STEAL!  

     One final thought.  Stolen successes are the sweetest!

Holiday Cheer

Merry Christmas, everybody!

It's that time of year when our heads are filled with mixed emotions.  We love to see the relatives bringing tons of gifts through the door.  That's a good thing.  The kiddies will be ecstatic for a few minutes, and occupied for a few minutes longer.  It's great to see Uncle Harry...it's been a year.  On the other hand that drum for the four year old, is getting old fast.  Uncle Harry is half loaded again.  How many times do you really need to see his belly-button sing the same filthy song it was singing last year?

It's okay, though.  No real harm is done, and they'll all be gone in a day or so.  The thing to keep your eye on, just may be that they cared enough to come and spend some time with you.  That six hour drive from DC, or Richmond, was way above what they could have done.  In a few more days junior will have trashed the drum, and peace and quiet will again settle over the homestead.  Uncle Harry will have taken Aunt Judy back home, and you'll be looking forward to next year.

So, deck the halls, don your gay apparel, roast up a turkey stuffed with giblets and bread crumbs, and fire up the electric fireplace.  Celebrate the love and companionship of those close to your hearts, and be of good cheer.  It's only once a year, and if it wasn't happening, you'd be one depressed, unhappy camper.

Keep the good thought.  Have a wonderful Christmas Time, and an Amazing New Year! 

JOY TO THE WORLD (Not just part of it)

"Merry Christmas" from Kona

There has started, on Facebook and other social media sites, the annual "bashing of Holiday Greetings" ritual. I believe in 'live and let live', including tolerating & accepting the prejudice and small-mindedness of others. They are who they are, and as long as they don't interfere with my life, I usually offer no opinion. If you're wondering where this is going, please read on.

I don't usually weigh in on social issues, but this is the one time of the year when I believe people should try to get a grip on their pettiness, narrow-mindedness, and prejudices. The truth is, that this IS the Holiday Season. Always has been, and hopefully, always will be. It is the SEASON of brotherhood, understanding, and sharing our bountiful gifts with others. ALL OTHERS. Not just those who look like us, or believe what we believe. Of all times of year, now is the time to exchange wishes, of good will and joy with all mankind. It's not about YOU. It's about mankind. Please bury your prejudices and give/accept ANY Holiday greeting offered. Putting aside our differences is the common thread of every holiday being celebrated during this all inclusive holiday season. HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO EVERYONE! Whatever your faith or nationality happens to call this blessed time of year.

If you see me on line, in line, or walking through the Worm Gear Mall, greet me any way you please.  I'll smile and return your greeting with a genuine Holiday Greeting of my own.  I'll try to tailor it to your preferences, but If I say "Happy Holidays", I hope you'll understand that a genuine expression of good will and friendship, are being extended to you and your loved ones.  

From me and my family,

Enjoy the best Holiday Season of your life!

The Pirate Who Sails On Land

by: Don “Da Pyrate” Winfield

© Pyrate Music, 2009

Sure, I wear an eye patch and a three cornered hat

Yer lookin' at 'em funny, but hey I'm not like that.

Yer lookin' at me plumage and me ruffled shirt

Be careful now matey, a sailor could get hurt.

When I come a-shore in yer little town

I'm plunderin' and pillagin', and bringin' yer house down.

I'm holdin' out me hand and brandishin' me sword

Carryin' on like a Pirate, and dancin' on the boards.

I'm grabbin' all yer booty, and chasin' all yer wenches

I ain't just watchin' you, I got some bad intentions.

I'm a Susquehanna Pirate, oh yes I arrrrrr!

I've never sailed the open seas

I came here in a car.

Come on, Give it up! GIVE IT UP!

I'm comin' for yer gold

Come on, Give it up! GIVE IT UP!

Before we all get old!

Sure! I wear an eye patch and a tri-corn hat,

Yer lookin' at 'em funny, but HEY, I'm not like THAT!

I'll whisk ye off to sea on a par-tee-ful night,

We'll feast 'til we drop, then have another pint

Yer grinnin' at me feathered hat and me ruffled shirt

Go easy on that matey, they're me pirate perks!

I'm here for yer booty, or press you into service

I'm a river Pirate, who's gonna make ye nervous

Grabbin' all yer booty, and chasin' all yer wenches

I ain't just watchin' you, I got some bad intentions.

I'm Susquehanna pirate, oh yes I arrrrrr.

I've never sailed the open sea,

I came here in me car

Come on, GIVE IT UP! GIVE IT UP!

I've come here for yer gold.

Come on, GIVE IT UP! GIVE IT UP!

Before we all get old.

Come on! GIVE IT UP! GIVE IT UP!

I'm commin’ for yer gold.

Come on! GIVE IT UP! GIVE IT UP!

Before we all get old.

NOTE:  This started out as a theme song for a club.  Rejected by that group, it evolved into a song about one person's care-free spirit, and penchant for piratical good times.  You can request the guitar chords, by using the 'comment' feature of this blog.  

For your viewing pleasure, two arrangements of the original song are available on YouTube: 

Rum Runners:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TYKhp-Z2NLw

Outer Reef:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lP-iYNXUHpI

I hope you enjoy it!  Arrrrrgh! 

DOMESTIC ABUSE AWARENESS MONTH

October is a month of awareness for many important health and societal issues. This month, as always, I am supporting Breast Cancer Research, and Domestic Violence Awareness. Domestic violence may not always be preventable, but can usually be stopped. Click on the link below, and see how you can be part of a solution to this tragic problem.  Join with concerned people everywhere, and make a difference for abused children and adults.

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence

www.ncadv.org

1.800.799.SAFE (7233)1.800.787.3224 (TTY)Memorial DonationsAlberta 

FACEBOOK PAGE
http://www.facebook.com/SupportNCADV

Summer Encore Music Fest

          THE ROAD TO 'SUMMER ENCORE'

                 AND BEYOND                       

     The road turned out to be long, and varied in pavement texture.  The past two years' ride, has been a wild, frightening, exciting, fun, and often bumpy one.   I'm talking horse drawn buckboard, bumpy.

     Part I:  Turn the key.

     I started this journey with an idea that seemed reasonable at the time.  I love the music genre' known as Trop Rock, and I love raising funds for my favorite charities.  It seemed reasonable (there's that word again) that I could blend the two into a cohesive unit, and do some good on both fronts.
     That's the last you'll hear of reason.  It turned out it never was part of the equation. 
     Adding up the above mentioned parts, I decided that holding a musical event for charity was the way to go.  I'd get a lot of Trop Rock musicians together, in Binghamton, NY, and raise a lot of money and awareness for my favorite charities.  The charities closest to my family's interests, and beliefs are:  *Wounded Warrior Project, **Humane Society, and ***Magic Paint Brush Project.  You'll find the urls for these great causes, at the end of this blog.
     The trip began when I finally decided it was something that could be done.  I mean, I was convinced that I could jump right into the mix, and make something happen.  Then, I had a shocking realization.  I knew nothing about either holding a Trop Rock event, or being a fund raiser, independent of a larger entity.  Alright, I'd participated in a few fund raising efforts, helping area sports teams, and the leaders of other charities, have events to benefit their causes.  How to go about raising funds as an independent effort?  No clue. 
     For many years, my wife and I have attended a lot of Trop Rock concerts and festivals for charity, and I decided that these events would be a good place for me to learn something useful.  I did, too.  I learned that the artists are wonderful people who want to help as many causes as they can, within their limited time constraints.  I learned that charity and musical events, take a lot of cooperation, among a focused group of people, to be successfully staged.  I also learned that a lot of what you "learn" on the surface, turns out to be less than accurate.
     For several months, my lovely, and patient, wife, traveled with me to Massachusetts, New Jersey, Connecticut, and Pennsylvania.  We enjoyed and, participated in, many Trop Rock fund raising events.  At each one, we talked with the organizers, artists, attendees, and bartenders/wait staff.  We wanted to gather all the information that may be helpful to my plan, that we could.  
     By Spring 2011, I thought I had all the information I needed to set the  event preparation gears, in motion.  I was a founding member, and a member in good standing, of the local Parrot Head Club.  They were Trop Rock lovers, one and all.  Who would be better suited than this group of phriends, to help stage the event. I'd partied, traveled, shared hotel rooms, and been friends, with this phlock, for several years.  But, there were hidden factors, within this group, I was unaware of.  More about that later.
     The proposal was made to the club, a meeting was scheduled, and a group was formed, to make my dream come true.  Well, friends.  It's possible, I've learned, that your dreams may not be as contagious as you think.  Maybe your ideas sound great to others, and they are enthusiastic as long as you are willing to make those ideas a reality, before their eyes.  They'll even give you plenty of room to work, and not get in your way.  I had twelve volunteers.  I soon found that there were only six of us who had the dedication, desire, and time, to make the concert/fund raiser come to fruition.  A couple of the other original committee members, had the desire to help, but little time to spare.  After delaying the change over way too many months, I decided that the six of us would soldier on alone, and way too late, left the others out of the loop.   I am now convinced that an earlier switch to the streamlined group, may have made a ton of difference in the outcome.  Trying to get that many people on the same page, was beyond my organizational skills.  It was not their fault, but mine for not knowing my own limitations.
     First we needed a date.  Then we needed an all-weather venue, which could host a two day show, and provide on site lodging for the artists and guests.  We found one locally.  The Binghamton Riverwalk Hotel & Conference Center was perfect.  It has a large ball room with a spacious and well equipped stage, for any musical act I may wish to present.  Once we contracted with them, we needed only to fill that stage for the now established, two day show.
     Very quickly, a combination of solo artists and bands, sixteen in all, were hired to play the event.  All were enthusiastic and looking forward to coming to Binghamton to play for the charities and adoring fans.
     Right from the start, we fielded an elaborate web presence.  Our web expert provided a beautiful website, with new information added, eventually.  We set up a facebook page, to promote the event to all the loyal fans who frequent that social media.  We had a dozen or so excellent sponsors, and a lot of generous businesses, signed up for our event brochure.  We were off and creeping.  
     We thought our journey was half over.

     Part II:  The downhill run.
  
     Long story short:  Here are some facts of life.  Most of the artists we'd hired, pushed "Trop Starz & Tiki Barz", on their web sites, and newsletters.  My hat is off to Loren Davidson, Dani Hoy, John Friday, Chris Sacks, David McKenney, Tropical Soul, Pirate Dreams, Frank Vieria, Mike Cadden, Harbour Knights, and Jimmy & the Parrots.  All mentioned us numerous times, and brought us to their fans' attention.  Possibly due to oversight, the other acts didn't.  
     Frustratingly, a local Parrot Head Club member continually countered our facebook posts, and Parrot Head emails, with ads, promos, and personal recommendations, for Trop Rock events elsewhere in the region.  I don't know if it hurt, but I'm sure it didn't help.
     Maybe July 6th and 7th in beautiful upstate New York are a bad time.  Maybe the economy is too depressed.  Maybe $75.00 tickets were too steep, for a 2 day show.  Maybe we just didn't strike a chord with the fan base.  For whatever reason, ticket sales stayed parked at the curb. 
     With thirty-one days to go before the event, we had to cancel.  We felt that was as fair as we could be to the acts, the ticket holders, and the sponsors.  We refunded all the tickets, returned the sponsorship money, and didn't get any of our deposits back from the acts who'd required one.  One act which hadn't required a deposit, because of our association with the local Parrot Head Club, demanded compensation for the scheduling change.  We gave them what we could, which wasn't all they'd asked.  All the money in the event account, had already been paid out in refunds.  No problem.  They deserved something for their kindness.  I dug into my pocket.

     Part III:  The rebirth.

     At first, a huge letdown, after all those months of intense planning and preparation.  Once we wrapped our heads around the disappointment of failure, the road ahead looked a lot smoother.
     A chance to breathe, for the first time in over eighteen months.  No artists to cheer up, and no sponsors to worry about giving good value for their investment.  No angry ticket holders to placate.  Life was easy for a change...I thought.  
     My confidant, and partner in foolish endeavors, Rick DeBacker, pointed out that The Riverwalk didn't/wouldn't refund our deposit!  Crap!  Just when life was good.  Rick had put up the deposit, which meant it was a total loss to him.  I offered to split his loss down the middle.  I'd already given money to the insistent, hold out band, "so what's a few hundred more?" I thought.
     "No," he said.  "I want them to earn that money." 
     "What's your idea," I asked.
     "What if we have another show?  A smaller one, and use that deposit up, in food?" he asked.
     "OK, let's do it.  We ought to be able to get some players to come.  Let me ask a few artists." I said.  Trinity Logistics, our biggest sponsor, and a generous fan/benefactor, had informed us that they would stick with us.  With those lucky breaks, just a small crowd would be enough to make it successful.
     The date was decided, and I asked Dani Hoy, David McKenney, and Jim Jowsey, my three top picks, to come.  All three said they would.  Then, all I had to do was line up the local Trop Rockers, to round out the show.  David Shoudy, of The Outer Reef Band, and the entire Susquehanna Rum Runners band, agreed to play.  We figured that five acts, over a seven hour period, would be a nice day of entertainment. "Summer Encore" was born.
     All the same arrangements as for "TSTB" were made.  We set up a Website, facebook event page, sent letters to the Parrot Head Clubs in the region, posted lots of bulletins on the appropriate facebook pages, Trop Rock sites, and blogs.
     Then, I took a wrong turn.  "What if we have a song writers forum after the 'Summer Encore' show?" I asked Rick. 
     The very generous Scott, from Mad Moose, agreed to host the after party at his Mad Moose House of BBQ & Wood Fire Pizza.  The wrong turn I made was into a dead end.
     It didn't occur to me that people would be too whipped after seven hours of Trop Rock, & Americana music, to go to a nine to one event, too.  
     The 'Summer Encore' crew and two loyal fans were all that turned up at the Mad Moose.  The artists didn't want to take up space in the restaurant, for such a small group.  They decided to play in the hospitality room we'd set up at the Riverwalk Hotel.  After a delicious meal at The Moose, we repaired to Room # 612.
     The acoustic music was fabulous, and the camaraderie was palpable.  The birthday cake for our two birthday celebrants, capped the night off, perfectly.
     
     Part IV:  The bottom line.

     The the 'Summer Encore' show was a success.  Funds were raised for Wounded Warrior Project, and the Binghamton Humane Society.  Trop Rock fans filled the Carlton Room with laughter and singing along to the music they love so well, and the cheer flowed all day.
     We were disappointed that we couldn't have the after party we wished for, and we know we let the Mad Moose down badly.  We hope Scott will let us make that up to him.  We will do our best to do so.  We were also sad that we had to drop the Magic Paint Brush Project from our beneficiary list.  A three way split, with such a downsized show would not have done justice to any of the charities.

     Epilogue:

     Headache, heartache, riotously humorous mishaps, downsizing to make the show fit the budget, all the amazing people who attended, and our super talented performers, made 'Summer Encore' a hell of a trip.
     Will Rick, I, and our astute money manger, Mike, ever stick the keys in the ignition for another wild Trop Rock ride?  As our Trop Rock guru, Jimmy Buffett, says, "only time will tell."


*Wounded Warrior Project - http://www.woundedwarriorproject.org
**Binghamton Humane Society- www.bchumaesoc.com
***Magic Paint Brush Project - www.magicpaintbrushproject.org

Even if you didn't make it to 'Summer Encore', please consider donating to any or all of these very worthwhile charities.  You will find donation information on their websites.  Thank you.

    

    
     
    

A FAMILY LOSS

I don't have a picture to put at the top of this blog.  I don't have words of wisdom, passed along by him, to help me deal with the things in life, a younger sibling follows the elder through.  What I have is a mental image of a 39 year old giant, with a serious look on his face.  In my mental image, he's packing up his life, three small children, and a dour wife, and flying off to Germany.  A career Enlisted man, he's taking the family to Europe, for a long deployment with the US Army.

Fast forward about thirty-five years.  The phone rings.  From the handset, I hear another brothers' voice.  I know it's bad news.  This brother never calls unless he has bad news to pass along.  When he says he's in El Paso, I know what that news is.  

I was a pre-schooler when my third oldest brother, the veteran mentioned above, became an adult and no longer lived in our family home.  He would occasionally stop by, but not for long, so I don't have fond memories of an older brother, that you'd expect a kid to have.  He's been dying of cancer, in El Paso, for the last couple of years.  Now, before the brother on the phone spoke, I knew the Texan had died.

This is not the time to air the strange relationship a couple of my brothers have had with we family members who've remained residents of upstate New York.  I will say, that the soldier, and the brother who follows him, chronologically,  on the branches of the family tree, decided decades ago, to separate themselves geographically, and emotionally, from the New York crowd.

I haven't seen him in over thirty-five years.  His choice.  Once, many years ago, I, my wife, and children, tried to visit him.  We were a few blocks away from his home, with an evening to kill in Washington, DC.  At that time, I hadn't seen him in nearly ten years.  I called him.  After a brief conversation, he said goodbye and gave me permission to call him again, if I was ever back in the area.

The brother calling with the bad news, and his wife, had taken a quickly arranged flight to Texas, the night before. He had been notified by one of the retired GI's children, that their dad had gone to the hospital. They thought that this would be his last trip.

I surmised, from events that subsequently unfolded, that my moribund sibling's progeny got quite a surprise, when they called their uncle to tell him their dad had died.  Surprise!  He was in El Paso, and was sorry he'd missed saying goodbye to his brother.

The reason I say that they were probably surprised by the news of his arrival, is that it seems that they didn't welcome his presence.  My brother's voice was thick with disappointment that he was not being welcomed by my late brother's family.  They wanted him to know that they had a grip on everything, and "the family" didn't need to do anything.  It was soon learned that  meant, even a family gesture of flowers for his funeral, would not be "necessary".

If I ever had any doubt, this set of circumstances drives home, that you truly do "reap what you sow".  My brother is dead.  I will never see him again.  What he sowed was the seemingly uncaring attitude of his children.  He most likely passed that, perhaps inadvertently, down to them.  They will probably never realize, even if they read this, that a gesture made upon someone's death, is not for the dead person, and possibly not even their children.  These postmortem gestures, are often to help the mourner deal with the loss, in their own way.  

I have decided, that I'm going to deal with it my way.  I'm going out and, buying a card of condolence.  I'm mailing it this morning, and it will be received by my brother's children.  His widow, I've just learned, is suffering extreme Alzheimer's Disease, so the children will be opening the mail.  Then, I'm going to follow the obituaries from El Paso, and send flowers, if not to a funeral parlor, to my brother's home.  

I feel no guilt, and the loss of my brother happened decades ago.  My gestures will simply make me feel like I've said "goodbye", in some small way, to a brother whom I never really knew.