Living

Today as I stopped in at Safeway for my snack lunch, Pretzel Crisps and hummus with horseradish, I saw a couple deciding on some item for their cart. She had obviously just undergone treatment for cancer or was still in the middle of it. While I applauded her commitment to LIVE by doing the normal things like shopping, I also couldn't help but think of all the immune suppressant effects that chemotherapy and radiation have. While a public place like a good sized grocery store is not as bad as a public place like a classroom, anyplace there are a number of people increase the chances that one of them might be a carrier. Safeway now provides a hand sanitizer for their cashiers and cart pushing customers in recognition of this. I haven't seen one customer use it though, including myself.

Cancer, its treatments, and its treatments' side effects have claimed too many lives and while doing so has claimed its victims' living.

With the American Cancer Society saying in 2008 that one in three women and two in three men will have cancer detected in their lifetimes, there are too many opportunities to stop living while waiting to die. I am fortunate that most of the people in my life who have had cancer, lived and are living to the very end, which for the ones still living I hope is still some distance in the future.

I still am amazed at the amount of laughter we shared during both our trips to Baja Nutri Care for the alternative treatment and training. Still, for most of the cancer patients, this was their last hope and for far too many of them, my wife included, the hope didn't last. But there, most of all, we all were LIVING.

Then I get back home from shopping and read that it is likely that the Public Option will be stripped from the final Health Care Reform bill. While I don't expect any Health Insurance, public option or not, to cover alternative treatments, it would be nice to reduce the costs of the treatments they do cover. The best way would be to go to a single payer system that doesn't allow profits. I'm not sure that a Public Option is the next best way, but it is far better than what now looks to be the eventual product. I think I would prefer strict regulation of health insurers, not only regulating their profits but also the expenses upon which they are allowed to claim profits.

Also, the hodgepodge of legal entities that disallow my son to have COBRA because his New York insurance company doesn't exist in California although the New York company's parent company owns a sister company in California in the same business and with the same name, except for the "of California," has to end.

Instead, we are likely to end up with a mandate to purchase health insurance with fines if we don't and without any controls on profits or expenses. I'm not holding my breath. My $8,000 per year health insurance probably doesn't cover that.

Wanting to write something

What to do when my wanting to write something conflicts with my desire only to write more significant things in this blog? It's not that I don't have significant things to write about, it's just that most of them aren't ready to write about.

For example: I am very much interested in changing careers to be a teacher, a math teacher, and have applied to EnCorps for their assistance in becoming one. (This is in spite of California's financial problems and the numerous pink slips already given to many teachers.) They have accepted my application and I have a scheduled five-minute "teach off," my term, and interview on December 11th. There will be other applicants and we are to be the "students" for each others "teach off." I don't know how many positions they have or how many applicants there are. If I make it through the next round, I will then better know what kind of schedule I will have for the rest of the year and next. If I don't, I will have to go to Plan B, not that I know what Plan B is.

Unplanned B: Since construction is frequently the last to recover after an economic downturn, my son has very limited prospects for finding a job in his field in the near term. As a result, I am trying to talk him into being a handyman. He has the ability. You should see the nursery he painted and put crown molding in. (You would if I could find my camera's USB cable.) He even textured one wall. There are a few other "handyman" type projects around the house. I could be his helper.

Unplanned B2: Contracting. I hadn't looked into this earlier in my unemployed status for a number of reasons, most of which were personal commitments. Then I realized that I don't have medical insurance concerns, except for the expense, $8,000 next year, and should check into this "opportunity."

Unplanned B too: At this level of "unplanning," the options are endless. Unfortunately, there are a lot of "ifs" that have to come together just right to allow them. If the group I'm in wins the lottery, then early retirement and travel becomes viable, including riding my motorcycle around the U.S. and Canada. If the economy recovers or my mortgage is taken care of some other way, then the Peace Corp is viable. If the worst happens, I may be moving back in with my parents.

I know this wasn't something much but whether or not it is worth reading, it was worth writing. My plans may not be any better formed but writing this may allow me to write more and better in other venues, including getting back to my Memories of Marilyn, which I write in an MS Word document before I post in the blog of the same name. I also have several other things to write, one of which is a more serious entry into this blog on my thoughts on sustainable economics.

Until next time, whenever that may be, I promise better reading...

Motorcycle Riding in Cold Weather

I didn't think it would be that cold and for the most part, on the way down, I was right. Then the sun set just as I was approaching the highest elevation of my P to P ride, Pacifica to Pasadena. Yes, it was "shiver me timbers" cold over the Grapevine where at least one elevation sign says 4,000 feet. After 300 miles I was committed to complete the last 90 or so. Since it was already dark, I didn't even think about turning around. Besides, I think my range of motion was limited due to the cold.

Thank goodness, once I got down in the LA Basin, it was psychologically warmer. (I couldn't really tell that it was but I convinced myself that it had to be. I also promised myself that I would look up the temperature differential for every 1,000 feet of elevation. I haven't yet.) Part of it was also that I got a haircut just before I left. Not only did this deprive me of my long neck hair, but I specifically asked for it to be cut shorter--for motorcycle riding. Helmut hair isn't very pretty. What's worse, the person who cut my hair had just returned from Disneyland and was telling me that the temperature over the Grapevine just the day before was 49 degrees.

Then Saturday, my walking tour tour guide daughter hikes me all over downtown LA. It really was something to see and the walking allowed us to see more of it. (While that last sentence was really a reference to the details that can only be noticed when one is taking things in a little more slowly, it is also true that there wasn't anyone standing in our way. LA really isn't a hotbed of hikers.) What's more, it was warmer than the cooler I had dressed for. Since I was dehydrated, at least I didn't sweat up my cloths.

A metro day pass allowed us to skip over to Hollywood and walk up and down a few of those streets. I can't say I remember ever getting to Hollywood and Vine but we did get to a Costume store and Amoeba's. We didn't get an outlandish costume, although there were several to choose from but my tour guide and her husband bought several, as in at least ten, CDs from Amoeba.

This made the day just long enough to stop back in Union Station, since we had to to change trains anyway, and eat at Traxx. After the large lunch we had at the Grand Central Market, where each of us went to a different venue for food of our choice, most of us were too full to eat much at Traxx--but we did anyway. I convinced myself that I had eaten such healthy foods with lots of vegetables that I could afford to go overboard for dessert. I don't know what lies my table companions told themselves. The problem was, it was worth it.

After another good nights sleep, we had special griddle cakes with a fruit compote and ginger maple syrup, courtesy of my daughter the chef and former tour guide. After a quick trip to the grocery store, I made sweet sticky rice to go with the mango I had taken down with me for that purpose, packed up and left. I don't know whether or not they tried the sweet sticky rice for lunch or at all today.

My packing was a little more compact than it was on the way down. Not only did I deliver a jar and left it there, but better distribution of what was packed allowed me to put my tennis shoes inside my "sissy bar bag." Plus, I wore more. In addition to my t-shirt, long sleeves shirt, and motorcycle jacket with its liner, I also wore my fleece vest fully zipped up. This combination work for at least 2/3 of the ride back. Once again, when it got dark it got cold. It was so cold that I actually slowed down to 70. It got so cold that I just had to check the outdoor temperature when I got home. It was a balmy 42.3. I turned up the thermostat.

While some parts were colder than others, the only part that wasn't cold at all was the part right over the engine, the part I sat on. Well, my new motorcycle boots also kept my feet and most of my calfs warm. Since I burned the knuckle of the pinkie finger of my left hand on the ride down from turning my heated gloves up too high over the Grapevine, I kept their temperature down on my ride back. My hands may not have been as warm, but blisters aren't so hot.

All in all, it was a really cool trip in more ways than one.

Why do I do it?

I like riding my motorcycle! Let me tell you why.

I first thought about riding a motorcycle when I was headed off to college and was looking for cheap transportation. I ended up not getting one because I was going to school in Ohio and wouldn’t have been able to ride it for most of the school year. Brr. Besides, I had just ridden behind my cousin on one and that was enough to make me question whether or not I was truly ready, or, in point of fact, would ever be ready.

A few years ago I finally convinced myself that it really was the weather that had stopped me from getting one. My wife claimed it was a mid-life crisis that brought me to this decision. At the time I was hoping that she was right. Well, actually I was hoping that it was more like a pre- mid-life crisis. Whatever it was, I got my motorcycle license the easy way through California’s Motorcycle Safety Training Class, bought a motorcycle, and started riding.

It didn’t take long to ride over all of the closer “good” riding roads and after getting stung by a rather large stinging insect on a particularly hot day I became a perfect weather rider. The day had to be cold enough to allow me to keep my jacket zipped up to keep those pesky bugs out from inside it but not too cold. After a few attempts to commute into San Francisco from Fremont on the I-880 corridor I realized that I really liked BART even if the weather was perfect. Riding during commute hours, with the morning generally dark as well, let’s just say that it was too exciting.

I bought my current bike in 2005. Due to a host of reasons, I really didn’t ride it all that much before this year but for some reason, I decided to ride across country. My longest previous ride had been to a couple Indian Casinos in the Sierra’s and back. (The joy of the ride was somewhat muted by my luck at the casinos, all of it bad.)

For practice, I rode down to visit my daughter and son-in-law in Pasadena, twice, 400 miles each way. Now, how I became a Twit is another story but it was on one of those rides that I got the idea that saying anything meaningful in 140 characters requires information density very much like poetry. (In fact my first composition was: “Tumbleweeds along the fence: Did they blow there Or did they grow there?” My son-in-law didn’t like my name for them and suggested “twoetry” or “twoems.” He also said something about Elmer Fudd. I don’t think he was referring to me.) The point is that riding for a long time with no phone, radio, or music only allows thinking.

On the cross-country trip I did ride for a long time. One morning I started late to let the rain pass and found myself riding late and composing my first, and so far last, limerick:

Riding late into the night,
With bugs who fought the good fight.
‘Though my visor is hurtin’,
Their salvation is certain.
Because they all saw the light.

Yes, except when it's too cold to ride, bugs are bad. I was glad that I had to get gas every two hours or so because that let me wash and squeegee my visor.

Then there are the smells. You know the good smells are few and far between when “l’odeur du skunk” is one of the more pleasant smells. Other than diesel exhaust, which makes my eyes water and my nose itch, the worst smell on my cross-country trip was when I was trapped behind a hog hauler in St. Louis. At least I didn’t notice any diesel exhaust but then I was trying not to breath.

My longest mileage day, 750 miles, was cut short when it started to hail. Even though I desperately wanted to get out of Kansas the most boring state for motorcycles, I stopped. At least there wasn’t a lot of rain because with a lot of rain my chaps act a lot like downspouts and my blue jeans act a lot like a sponge.

I also found out that there is no speed that makes 103 degrees feel anything cooler than HOT.

If you’ve ever ridden a motorcycle you know that taking your right hand off of the throttle slows the motorcycle down quickly. (Two wheeling friends, and all motorcyclists are friends, greet each other as they pass with a hand wave that is generally two fingers pointed down.) I was barely a quarter of the way across the country and already feeling the strain on my right arm and shoulder when a motorcyclist waved at me with his “right hand.” I immediately jumped to the obvious conclusion: He had cruise control. Two thousand miles later I got one of my own and quickly discovered that a constant throttle is nothing like a constant speed. If there were hills, downhill would be 15 miles above the speed I set and uphill would be slow enough to lug the engine. I did get to use it for about 50 miles in Kansas until a truck tried to pass me. The truck provided enough of a windbreak that my constant throttle sped me up to keep me right beside it. After a couple of miles I took my cruise control off and let him pass. I don’t think it was the same truck that ran me off the road when I got to California.

Heat, rain, hail, bugs, smells, traffic, why am I riding a motorcycle? It’s fun. Besides, how else can you get a helmut hair look half this attractive? So far I’ve ridden over 9,000 miles this year.