GENERAL STUFF | Boreal B[l]og

Archive for the ‘GENERAL STUFF’ Category

THE NEW WORLD

May 8, 2014

“640 K of memory ought to be enough for anybody.” Bill Gates (1990).

“I’m 55, I don’t need to learn about computers. I’m too old.” A friend, 2001

I remember Blockbuster, the blue and yellow signs, shopping for videos along the many aisles, the late fees we tried to avoid, the drop boxes. Blockbuster was sold to Viacom in 1994 for $8.3 billion. It was auctioned off not long ago for $254 million, a 97% decrease, and the last of its several thousand stores disappeared before this year. In the space of a quarter century, Blockbuster went from nothing to huge, to nothing. The building we went to for videos now houses “Beyond Bread,” a thriving, great restaurant.

Blockbuster had a good business plan, and only one thing went wrong: the world changed. It became possible to get videos streamed over the Internet. I watched probably my 2000th video in German today, for free. I can watch them in other languages, too, if I choose to. I haven’t used Netflix, although I could. Those who plan for the world’s changing will survive. They may not get super wealthy, unless they guess right, but to do well one needs only to see the changes and learn to adapt to them, not deny their occurrence.

The Haunted Bookshop was a lovely place in Tucson, with old and new books, a store where one could pick up a good hardcover, find a comfortable chair, read a few pages, and perhaps buy it. It has been gone for decades. Checkout, however, was slow, because the clerk painstakingly wrote down the book’s name and the price. Big chains, like Barnes and Noble and Borders, appeared, with tens of thousands of books; The Haunted Bookshop didn’t have a prayer. Then came the Kindle, which my 86 year-old neighbor uses every day. She doesn’t have to go to a bookstore. Borders, which began in 1971, had its last profit in 2006. It is long gone. Barnes and Noble countered with the Nook, but Amazon had the books and soon had almost everything else people wanted.

Last week, I literally ran to the local REI to buy a micro SD chip with topos for Oregon and Washington. REI was out of them. No surprise, many stores have slashed inventory so much that they are often out of stock of the item you want, promising to have it to you in “x business days.” I find that annoying.

I walked out of REI, leaned against its wall and with my smartphone ordered the microchip from Amazon in about 2 minutes, $15 less, sent to my house. That’s how good Amazon is. If I want something, I often look there first. The prices are good, I can get used books for a lot less, which is often all I need, and my information is saved, so it is easy to check out. I want to shop and buy locally, but if retailers are going to continue to use the B-school model of “just in time inventory,” which isn’t just in time, I will take my business elsewhere. I, like many, can be an impulse buyer. If I can’t find it quickly, I order it. Now, had REI had a different B-school approach, and ordered it overnight from Amazon, at higher cost to them, but not me, they would have gotten my purchase. Nobody tracked my disappointment, nobody learned, and that is a non-survivable model in the new world. Count on it.

The topos I got were for my Garmin GPS, a much nicer model than I had planned on, I bought that online through Cabela’s, because all I had to do for a 60% discount was show up at the store 5 days later, when it arrived. It takes me 35 minutes to walk to Cabela’s.

There is a lot of resistance to solar from some utility companies, blocking it wherever possible. The oil industry wants to do the same. I don’t know whether solar will be the new energy or something else. I can tell you this: the world will change, and what energy we will use will change. I’m not sure how much, only that it will. Movement by horse was once a given. Building better buggies was a huge industry. Then came the automobile. One would have to be foolish to think the automobile and gasoline will stay forever.

Last night, a man told me that tidal power was impossible to generate in Oregon, because of the coastal geography and the storms. I simply replied, “Perhaps not yet, but I wouldn’t count it out.” He countered by saying it would be prohibitively expensive. I’d be cautious about making those statements in the new world. For a few dollars, I can buy an 8 x10 mm piece of plastic that holds 8 GB of data, including every 1:24,000 topo map in Oregon and Washington. For a few hundred, we used to buy encyclopedias, which I haven’t seen in years.

While we have far more instantaneous information at our fingertips, we don’t have the ability to separate the wheat from the chaff, truth from conspiracy fiction. The new world will need critical thinkers and those who can teach the difference.

It is not yet clear to me whether online education will work. Through my work with one university, that had some class time, degrees were obtained with a lot less work and a lot less knowledge. I was motivated, I was smart, but I don’t think I could learned as well with home schooling or over the Internet. I needed somebody, a guide—a great teacher once told me—to personally explain things, give me assignments, so I could figure out the answer for myself.

Who will have trouble in the new world? Those who refuse to adapt to the changes, want to turn back the clock to “the good old days,” which weren’t so good. Back then, we lynched African-Americans, did nothing about child abuse (“blood was thicker than water” approach) thought getting drunk and smoking were cool and chic, woman and blacks need not apply, cars broke down, planes crashed monthly, In medicine, “The doctor” could do no wrong, except when he (and it was he) did, it was covered up. I remember those days.

Those who want to turn back the clock would force raped women to carry babies, have unwanted, malnourished, unvaccinated, children, teach them that the Bible (substitute any other Holy Book), is the only truth, when I need just one counterexample, and there are many, called contradictions. The clock cannot be turned back. The world is changing, and its climate is, too. What is scary to me is not the change, or even the fact that some don’t want the change and won’t believe in it.

No, what scares me is that those people have become so popular and are damn close to running the show. The world they want to bring back will fail, and it will take humanity with it.

Tags:Philosophy
Posted in GENERAL STUFF, MY WRITING | Leave a Comment »

ITALICS MINE

May 6, 2014

April 15, 1994, was a memorable day: The executives of tobacco companies stood before a congressional hearing, under oath (Italics mine), and said these words, among others:

“Cigarettes may cause lung cancer, heart disease and other health problems, but the evidence is not conclusive.”

At one point during the hearing, Rep. (now Sen.) Wyden presented data from medical groups and a 1989 Surgeon General’s report on the health consequences of smoking, asking each executive if he believed that cigarettes were addictive. Each answered no. I saw that on TV. (Italics mine.)

“What the anti-tobacco industry wants is prohibition,” said one. “We hear about the addiction and the threat. If cigarettes are too dangerous to be sold, then ban them. Some smokers will obey the law, but many will not. People will be selling cigarettes out of the trunks of cars, cigarettes made by who knows who, made of who knows what.”

I know what: carcinogenic and addictive substances, same as now.

Despite earlier denials, a Philip Morris study that suggested that animals could become addicted to nicotine was suppressed in 1983 and 1985.

Wow, if cigarettes are banned, only outlaws will have cigarettes, and as bad as firearm lack of regulation in our society is, the magnitude of deaths is at least 20-fold more in the case of cigarettes. (Italics mine.)

The executives stated that tobacco companies could control the amount of nicotine in cigarettes, using these blends for flavor.

Or to addict people. Turns out smoking is not a character flaw, but is an addiction, like high fructose corn syrup, but the latter is for another time.

Pressed by the subcommittee’s chairman, Mr. Waxman, and Representatives Wyden and Synar, (all Democrats), the companies agreed to supply many private company papers, including all the research done by the Philip Morris researcher whose scientific paper on addiction was blocked from publication by company executives. (Italics mine.)

When one executive said that all products, from cola to Twinkies, had risks associated with them, Mr. Waxman replied, “Yes, but the difference between cigarettes and Twinkies is death.”

“How many smokers die each year from cancer?” Mr. Waxman then asked.

“I do not know how many,” was the reply, adding that estimates of death are “generated by computers and are only statistical.”

If computers are banned, then we won’t die, I guess. (Italics mine.)

Mr. Waxman asked, “Does smoking cause heart disease?”

“It may,” Mr. Johnston said.

“Does it cause lung cancer?”

“It may.”

“Emphysema?

“It may.”

Could the world be flat?

It may. (Italics mine).

The term “only statistical” underpins science. We stopped the study on the effectiveness of polio vaccination because of statistics proving the vaccine was effective. I am polio-free today because of that. I received the Salk vaccine when it was first available; I was in the first cohort who received the Sabin vaccine. We have confidence intervals stating with high (not complete) confidence that global climate change is occurring. I have never seen one CI saying that it isn’t. (Italics mine.)

We didn’t regulate tobacco enough, allowing “market forces” and “getting government out of business” to handle such issues. The result has been as many deaths from tobacco-related illnesses every year (Italics mine) as the number of Americans who died in World War II. Stalin said that “One death is a tragedy, one million a statistic.” Yes, it is a tragedy when it involves a death at 40, or 53, my father-in-law, or my brother. This should be a national outrage. Wow, I can make a case for anti-government being in line of Stalinist thinking. (Italics mine, but reasoning probably faulty.)

The incredibly rich tobacco company executives lied in front of Congress, suppressing evidence that went back decades.

That, Mr. Boehner, and Mr. Cantor, and Mr. Joe Tea Party, is why we need federal regulation. Without it, people DIE. (Italics mine.)

We regulate, because left to their own devices, people make a mess of the world. We learn that early in school when “today, on your break, you will stay quietly in your seats, because a few people abused the privilege by jumping on their desks and screaming.” You can use whatever you want for what you couldn’t do, but the first seven words in the subordinate clause stay the same throughout our lives. (Italics mine.)

I unsuccessfully tried to regulate medicine. With no regulations, doctors did piecework and expected to be paid for it. I remember a few of these doctors. Those were the “golden days” of medicine, when “Doctor” was “God,” surgeons threw instruments, people cowered, nurses and medical students abused. I was verbally abused to the point of tears by many doctors and had a retractor slammed on my thumb once. “The Giants” made mistakes, because they were human. Their mistakes were covered up, not investigated so we could learn from them. because to rat on a colleague would result in ostracism and no referrals.

My colleagues operated on carotid arteries, with frighteningly bad results, worse than the natural history of the untreated disease. I counted these and presented the statistics. I was screamed at and told I had no business to interfere. I was unpopular; however, I did notice that 12 physicians who became my patients never referred their patients to me. (Italics mine.) I thought that interesting. We allowed rods and fusion for low back pain, without adequate evidence that they did any good, which with few clear exceptions, they didn’t.

We failed to do what was proven effective to decrease post-operative infections: inject a specific antibiotic for clean case infections 30-120 minutes before incision. Easy, right? In my hospital, we did it 25% of the time, and physicians refused to change. We couldn’t even mandate the right antibiotic, promoting resistance to stronger antibiotics that some surgeons insisted upon using. (Italics mine.)

After many years, we finally mandated that only pulmonary physicians, not general internists, could manage ventilators, because the former had better results. That was strongly resisted, but it was one powerful group against another, not a dweeby neurologist (Italics and individual mine.) trying to change the profession through data and outcomes.

Politically powerful physicians who brought money into the hospital had special treatment. Facts, outcomes, right or wrong were too often subsidiary. It had to do with money. (Italics mine.)

My point is simple:. Every law, every regulation, came because of a reason. Maybe the law could have been better written, but the fact that there is a law speaks to a reason. Some person said, “There ought to be a law against…..”

Don’t like regulations? Neither do I. Then self-regulated your group, your peers, your city, your country. Want government out of your life? Then figure out how 310 million people can each do what he or she wants without upsetting somebody else. (Italics mine.) Hear that, Mr. Boehner and Mr. Cantor?

I don’t miss second hand smoke. Nor does my body.

(Italics mine.)

Tags:A different side of medicine, Philosophy
Posted in GENERAL STUFF, MY WRITING | Leave a Comment »

HISSY FIT…..DISSING AN ORGANIZATION IN WHICH I AM A LIFE MEMBER

April 26, 2014

“What sort of person reads SIERRA?” An editorial suggested four ads, “which would depict you in split screen”: Take a look; I wrote them verbatim, my comments in italics:

grinning like a loon while riding your folding bike to work and then giggling on the back of your girlfriend’s tandem as you cycle past wetlands that you helped save from bulldozers. [loons don’t grin; I’ve seen thousands. Why the back of the tandem? Isn’t that sexist? Women can be stronger than men. Besides, the best wetlands are nowhere near cycling routes.]

hoisting your sweaty self up a 5.10 granite face and then kicking back under a camp lantern reading The Botany of Desire. [I guess I don’t belong, since I don’t rock climb. I haven’t read the book, either. Shameful.]

giving a thumbs-up to the crew who put solar panels on your house in the morning and then battering your way through Class V rapids at sunset. [Oh wow, the average member can plunk down $10,000 for panels, more for a good Kayak and go through Class V rapids, which aren’t exactly everywhere, requiring a lot of training. Where does the money and the time to train come from? By the way, “the crew” probably spoke Spanish and don’t own Kayaks, let alone the means to get to Class V rivers, but hey, you are special.]

admiring a scarlet macaw in your binoculars and then admiring the way your flip-flops look on the sustainable flooring you installed to protect that rainforest. [Here, Spanish speakers have an advantage, because unless you live in Central or South America, you didn’t see the Macaw (the national bird of Honduras) and then admired your sustainable flooring. Additionally, the flooring, like most of ours, is probably on cement, the production of which is a major cause of CO2 emission.]

I’m not about to ditch the Club over this, only diss it. I wrote the editor “‘I’m obnoxious and outspoken when I read outlandish orations what I ought to be accomplishing every hour.” No worry, marketers aren’t interested in guys my age. These ads make the Club sound like it is for world class, superrich, world-saving Yuppies, who don’t have to work the hours most do, and weren’t required to serve in Uncle Sam’s fighting forces. School and the military took me through my 20s. I was well into my 30s before I had the chance to explore much of the world.

Much as I don’t care for the NRA, “I’m the NRA” is a powerful ad. Calling guns “rifles” softens the name of the organization. The National Gun Association would be dead on arrival, and I am amazed nobody has said that. For people who are highly educated, Sierra Club folks and other liberal thinkers have lost almost every battle on language to those who don’t understand a lot of English grammar, but sure know how to string a few words together well. John Kerry looked elitist on a kite board; Dukakis may have lost the election when he rode a tank; George W. Bush was a guy you could have a beer with. Frankly, I want a president who is a hell of a lot smarter than I, but most people don’t think like me. Let’s see if I can figure out how they do think.

The Club is perceived by many as elitist that says NO to everything. The NGA, and you know whom I mean, also says no, but is not elitist. That is a huge difference. Most Americans are not elite, jealous of the elite, feel the elite have too much money, too much everything, and care more about the environment than jobs and people. They aren’t convinced we can have both jobs and protect the environment. And they vote.

The four ads portray members as wine sipping yuppies, doing things the average American doesn’t, and to quote my late father, think their shit don’t stink. I think the NGA stinks, but I’m among the first to admit that a lot more people relate to it than to the Sierra Club.

I’m old; neither pretty nor charismatic, but an ad featuring a guy like me might be understood by more people who want to know what the Club is about. Put me in split screen, driving into Kearney with a 3 on the floor rusty, old Ford F-150 with “8” or “9” on the Nebraska plates, waving the tip of a finger to oncoming vehicles (those are Hall and Buffalo counties, by the way; everybody in Nebraska knows they are rural), and saying, “I’m Mike Smith, and I’m a Sierra Club member, I have a Duck Stamp, and I’m helping out at one of the great migrations in America.” Trust me: Having a Duck Stamp matters. Hunters need one, and it’s a bone of contention to them that non-hunters don’t buy them. I don’t blame hunters for their anger. I continue, truck bouncing, “A lot of folks think we are anti-hunting. We aren’t. Hunting gets kids outside. I like that. America’s special outdoor places are under attack by those who haven’t seen a full Moon rise, mist on a lake full of waterfowl, heard rain on the roof of a tent, or felt the tug of a bass on a line.”

The migration of Sandhill Cranes, Nebraska.

Split screen: showing me by my old tent on a clear spot in the wilderness, wearing every bit of clothing I’ve brought. Then the next night I’m wearing a sweater and hiking boots–show the boots– presenting a small scholarship, in memory of two Minnesotans who died in Iraq, at the Vermilion Community College banquet, to a young woman from the Iron Range studying for a job in wilderness management. That happened.

Split screen: I’m paddling out of the Boundary Waters on Fall Lake, grubby, after a few days in the woods, and an hour later, eating a scone at a small town bakery in Ely and looking at a real fishing guide’s picture of a 32 1/2 inch walleye he caught and threw back. This is small town America. Yeah, that happened last September. I wrote about it.

Split screen: My wife lungeing a horse, and the next week, wearing a very different outfit portaging 45 pounds around Pipestone Falls and later hanging food away from bears up on Jackfish Bay on Basswood Lake.

Jackfish Bay, Basswood Lake

Yeah, it’s a bit corny, but it is better than sustainable flooring. I use fossil fuels; we all do. Let’s not kid ourselves.

If the Club wanted to be really green, it would hammer incessantly against overpopulation, which may cause our demise. Want to be green? Don’t have children. Nothing else comes close. Want to save American wilderness? Limit immigration, too, since we can’t take in the world, any more than we can defend it or save it. Wow, my hissy fit has just dissed the Club, pissed off every reader and kissed my reputation goodbye.

I won’t be missed.

Spring Creek, Boundary Waters Canoe Area, late April 2013. I camped within 50 yards of the right side of the photograph.

The outdoors must be protected for future generations, hunters and non-hunters. That is what the Club is about.

Tags:Canoe Trips, Outdoor writing, Philosophy, VERMILION COMMUNITY COLLEGE SCHOLARSHIPS
Posted in GENERAL STUFF, MY WRITING, UNPUBLISHED OUTDOOR WRITING | Leave a Comment »

THE PLAQUE ON THE BENCH

April 22, 2014

I walked along the west shore of Clear Lake on a beautiful spring day in the foothills of the Oregon Cascades, temperature in the mid-60s, few clouds, a wide open trail before me. I had a good hike ahead, in a boreal forest, circling Clear Lake, the headwaters of the McKenzie River. The water here eventually would join with the Willamette near Eugene, reaching the Columbia in Portland, on the way to the Pacific. This was big tree country, and not far to the east, I saw snow on the Cascades.

Near Clear Lake Lodge, still closed for the season, I stopped by a bench with a plaque remembering a man, “1920-1984”. I’ve seen many other memorials to those who made a difference to others. This man deeply touched somebody, probably many somebodies, never seeing his 65th birthday that I saw nearly five months ago. I felt very lucky….but very mortal, too.

I’ve seen memorials to 42 year-olds, 51 year-olds, and of course, the occasional 83 year-old. The first memorial I remember was one I helped create, to a 17 year-old high school classmate who died unexpectedly right after graduation, during thyroid surgery. At Rowe Sanctuary, there are two viewing blinds named for donors, people who loved the Sandhill Cranes and made a difference. The first trip of the year is a memorial to a man whom I met briefly when I was there in 2008. He died much too soon. There is a memorial trail at Rowe and a beautiful white rock commemorating a woman, “1945-2005,” too young, “She loved the Sandhill Cranes” is written on the rock.

I read the plaque on the bench and continued walking. Wow. I am 65, and can still hike, backpack, and canoe. I would later see mountain bikers, a deep blue spring that would help me understand Crater Lake’s color, and earlier visited two waterfalls. I was exploring Oregon, late in life, but not clear how late. Not being clear on how late makes me fortunate. When one knows how much time is left, there usually is a bad reason.

I hear many say age is a number; all are far younger than I. Many have never had their bodies betray them. They think 60 is the new 40; 80 is the new 60. I suspect eighty is eighty. I hiked the Brooks Range when I was 63, carrying 75 pounds. A 71 year-old hiked the Arrigetch Peaks with me in 2007. I’d like to backpack when I am 71, but I’ll be happy to do two more in Alaska, this year and next. Last year, I portaged a wooden canoe a mile. The guy with me, 10 years younger, carried it better, and I was in good shape. Ten years matters at my age, and it will matter more and more. My clock is ticking, and I am not so foolish as to think I have all the time I want. I don’t. I’ve had more than many, and I am grateful.

Arrigetch Peaks, Alaska. Gates of the Arctic National Park. The two are called “The Maidens”(1700 M), the one in the distant shot is “Elephant’s tooth” (1100 M)

Arrigetch Peaks from “The Knob,” about 5 miles and 2000 feet of climbing through thick brush, rock fields and no trail. This takes a full, difficult day to two. The 8 miles from the Alatna River takes a day and a half. At the time, it was the most difficult hike I had ever done in my life.

I also need to touch others in some way, too, difficult, because I like to be alone. Indeed, when I posted my hike’s pictures on Facebook to the few who follow me, I made the comment, “No, Facebook, I didn’t have anybody with me. I went alone, and that was the idea.” I go into the woods because I periodically must.

Perhaps my need to touch others is why next weekend I will volunteer cleaning up trash in Alton Baker Park, well downstream from the McKenzie, along the Willamette. I need to give back in some way that works for me and helps others. I’ve been blessed. I made it to 42, 53, and yes, 64. I haven’t done what many great people have done, but I have seen many lovely parts of the world…..and years that too many never had the opportunity. Perhaps as a doctor I helped some see a few more years, or to see the years they had better. I don’t know; mostly, I helped people spend their last days in dignity, not doing anything for them that they or their family didn’t want. I certainly succeeded in that regard with my parents.

I occasionally think of whether I would want a memorial, and I don’t know. My father-in-law had part of a hospital named for him while he was alive to appreciate it. I liked that. I do know that I need to leave the world behind better, even if only a little better, than it was when I arrived. My wife and I named a scholarship at Vermilion Community College after ourselves. A student will receive that scholarship April 24, the 9th year we’ve had it. We lived to see the joy on a student’s face; some day, the scholarship will be a memorial.

The man for whom the bench was a memorial likely stood where I did today. In a way, the forest cathedral there is hallowed ground, memorializing him, who loved this special area and was loved by others. A trail, a rock, a viewing blind, where people come to see a half million Sandhill Cranes is a good way. The Bob Marshall Wilderness is, too.

Where I first hiked in Tucson, and did so for three decades, I did from what is now the Richard McKee Trailhead, named for an attorney who cared deeply about the environment, and whose last words were “What a beautiful world,” as he died in 1999 from leukemia. He was 43.

Finger Rock Trail is one of the most challenging and beautiful hikes in southern Arizona.

Sahalie Falls

Koosah Falls

The scale on the map, regarding the tree’s height is 1:480.

Clear Lake

Big Spring

Tags:Outdoor writing, Philosophy, VERMILION COMMUNITY COLLEGE SCHOLARSHIPS
Posted in GENERAL STUFF, MY WRITING, UNPUBLISHED OUTDOOR WRITING | Leave a Comment »

THIS LAND IS YOUR LAND, THIS LAND IS MY LAND

April 16, 2014

AZ 83 is one of the “people’s roads;” the east side public land. For a decade, I cleaned litter on 2 miles of it, every piece a violation of state law, cigarette butts causing many wildland fires. When beer cans were thrown at me by passing drivers, that was frank assault. I was cleaning public land, not running cattle on it, but no “militia” protected MY rights with guns and threats. Why? Perhaps it was because I’m not an outspoken, charismatic, handsome cattle rancher, miner, or farmer. I was an old, white, male veteran, Irish to boot, out trying to clean up part of my state. Throwing litter is illegal; if you don’t like a law, change it by electing those who will try. Non-violent illegal acts are punishable by a fine and time. Force against the State is treason, a word I don’t use lightly, but as a veteran, I know damn well what it means.

I was deeply disturbed by the recent fiasco in Nevada, where many said “Give the land back to the people,” and a supporting Congressman, who represents the “hated” government people wanted to fight, used a graph to show how much land in the American West is owned by the government.

Let me be clear: if land is owned by the government, it is owned by you, me, and ALL of US, for we ARE the government. I’m not a great fan of the BLM, but if a guy is grazing cattle where he shouldn’t, not paying for it, he is trespassing on MY LAND. I’m vegetarian, and I don’t want cows ON MY LAND.

That is the fundamental reason we need government and laws: we have to adjudicate differences among people with different viewpoints. We ARE the government, and we govern by laws. I am willing to allow those to graze cattle on public land if they pay for the privilege and follow all laws. Those who choose to violate laws must be prepared to take the consequences. It happened to war protestors during the Vietnam era. It did NOT happen to the southern whites who willfully violated federal desegregation laws, called those who came to their states “outside agitators,” and said “the laws are wrong.” I didn’t hear “outside agitators” used during the Nevada crisis. Nor did I hear “law and order,” which George Wallace spoke, except when he found a law he didn’t like.

I think some laws are dead wrong. But I write letters, blog, and work to get people elected to change those laws, not take a gun and threaten enforcers, be they local or federal. I have to wonder how many of the treasonous “militia” ever served in the military. Only 7% of us have. Words matter; these people were NOT a militia. They were rabble rousers, outside agitators, troublemakers, and terrorists with no uniforms, spoiling for a fight and martyrdom (preferably somebody else).

Interestingly, the Congressman didn’t show how many people lived in states with the most public land. Let’s look at facts: starting from the most densely populated state to the least, California is the highest ranking state west of the Mississippi, 11th. One has to go to 25th to find the next state–Washington. Of 15 at the bottom of the list, only one–Maine–is east of the Mississippi.

Why does this matter? Eighty per cent of all national parks–our crown jewels–are in the sparsely populated West. Few live there, but they don’t own the land any more than a guy in New Jersey. If the “people” take over this land, three times as much should go to New Jersey residents than to Nevada ones. Do I get equal say? Will we protect the parks, forests, places with beauty that has no price tag, or allow them to be used for mining, timber, and grazing that do have a dollar value? Who gets a say? The corporations? ORV people? Hunters? Cattlemen? Farmers? Mineral extractors? Who pays for the upkeep of these lands? People in the East. When many of our parks were formed, those who lived in the West had practically sole access to land that was paid for and often never seen by those whose taxes paid for it.

I think I have the right to go into wilderness without seeing mines, cattle, cowpies, off road vehicles, loud noises from drilling, beer drinking yahoos who shoot off guns, guns in general, and test myself–without leaving trace of my passage–and my skills in the outdoors. Where am I going to do this, if the “people” own the land?

It is ironic is that the “people’s land” sounds a lot like the rallying cry of my generation protesting Vietnam. I remember my brother’s saying the land should be given to the people. My late mother replied, “Who gets Wyoming?”, when Wyoming was known only for two national parks and an awful lot of tumbleweed.

Public land? Who gets the Mexican border? Who gets the Great Basin, with water shortages, exacerbated by Las Vegas’ tapping into the aquifer? Who gets the Sandhills in Nebraska, the Badlands in South Dakota, pretty to be sure, but difficult to reach and to eke out a living? Who gets the land near I-40 in San Bernardino County? Who gets the land near US 95 in California, south of Needles? I’ve seen these places. I don’t want to live there. If it were easy to, people would.

More importantly, how do we decide? Do we take to guns and anarchy to deal with the issue? Is this the new America? We get ours, and we will fight anybody to the death over it? Who gives anybody the right to graze cattle on MY public land (it is as much mine as it is theirs) for a pittance? WE DO, also allowing mineral extraction, polluting the water, an outdated mining law that helped kill thousands of birds in Montana (but they are only birds), poisoning the groundwater near Barstow with defense-industry perchlorate use. By the way, the “people’s defense” means that everybody has to serve. Who organizes the “people’s militia”? Is anybody honestly thinking about this?

I am calling out everybody who is against and wants to fight “the government.” We ARE the government. We are a government OF the PEOPLE, BY the PEOPLE, and FOR the PEOPLE. The problem is not government; it is the people who vote in people whose decisions are ruining the environment and the country. I won’t delve into the incipient destruction of public education, vaccination, infrastructure and safety nets. “People” like me don’t matter. Have I written “people” too many times? Yes. That is the fundamental problem: we have too many people with too many opinions, unwilling to yield on anything. We need fewer people in this country, meaning easily accessible family planning and no tax breaks for large families. Sadly, the “people” apparently don’t want this, because if they did, we wouldn’t be so overpopulated, acting like animals when their populations reach critical mass.

Is this land made for you and me?

(Woody Guthrie)

This land is your land. This land is my land
From California to the New York island;
From the redwood forest to the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and Me.

As I was walking that ribbon of highway,
I saw above me that endless skyway:
I saw below me that golden valley:
This land was made for you and me.

I’ve roamed and rambled and I followed my footsteps
To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts;
And all around me a voice was sounding:
This land was made for you and me.

When the sun came shining, and I was strolling,
And the wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling,
As the fog was lifting a voice was chanting:
This land was made for you and me.

As I went walking I saw a sign there
And on the sign it said “No Trespassing.”
But on the other side it didn’t say nothing,
That side was made for you and me.

In the shadow of the steeple I saw my people,
By the relief office I seen my people;
As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking
Is this land made for you and me?

Nobody living can ever stop me,
As I go walking that freedom highway;
Nobody living can ever make me turn back
This land was made for you and me.

Tags:Outdoor writing, Philosophy
Posted in GENERAL STUFF, UNPUBLISHED OUTDOOR WRITING | 1 Comment »

CALIFORNIA: YOU HAVE A COMMON SENSE PROBLEM, NOT A WATER PROBLEM

April 14, 2014

I drove through drought parched Kern County on my way through California, stopping north of Bakersfield to have dinner at a Denny’s. There had been little snow in the mountains, it hadn’t rained much this year, and last year was the driest on record.

I walked into Denny’s, sat at the counter, and asked only for “a little water.” I was served a pint of ice cold water. That wasted 400 cc. Multiply that by every person who eats at Denny’s in California, and you are dealing with a significant problem. How many Denny’s are there in California? About 400. This is one chain. How many wasted pints in an acre foot? About 2.6 million. How many restaurant visitors get served unnecessary water in California every day? Multiply that by 365, divide by 2.6 million, and you have the number of acre feet wasted. No, the quotient isn’t a million that California needs, but it is a good start. Damn, I like math. It helps me understand the world better.

I next went to the men’s room, where during my two minutes there, I saw a faucet on full, the basin full and draining, while a man brushed his teeth. Wow, people still do that in the 21st century. He easily used 4 gallons to brush his teeth, faucet still on full as I left. I wonder how often that happens in California. I use about 1/4 pint a day, and most with a Water-Pik. I muttered “what a waste of water” as I walked out, because much as I wanted to shut off the water and lecture the guy about droughts and water, I didn’t want to get slugged….or shot. This is America, where people have rights, including the right to waste water and shoot others. People also have responsibilities, which include paying for resources they use, not wasting them, and not selling weapons to those who can’t prove they can handle them safely. I’ve given up on guns. The NRA won. I’m not yet giving up on water.

After dinner, I drove by signs along CA 99 saying “Pray for Rain”, “Food grows where Water Flows,” and others by the Family Water Alliance. I was annoyed. Yes, these people get their livelihood from growing crops that feed America. Have any of them been to a Denny’s lately? How long do their showers last? Are all the leaks in their houses fixed? Do they know that for a fact? What do they pay for this resource? And do they harvest rainwater, like they do pecans?

Pray for rain? What will that do? How about doing something useful, like educating people? Here are my suggestions, so that those who disagree, may, for this is America. However, I challenge those who disagree to state workable, specific solutions. “Get big government out of the way” is not specific. Indeed, in California, the myriad of different entities dealing with water suggests perhaps it might be handled best by one entity. Here, I am going to be that one. Wow, fun. I get to tell the state where I was born what to do.

Immediate state-wide cessation of automatic water serving in restaurants. This is simple and has been done in other places.
TV ads, at no cost, telling people how to conserve water: first, fix leaks. If you have a meter, (see 5 below) turn off all water, and if the dial moves in an hour, you have a leak. No brushing teeth or shaving with the faucet on. Shorter showers, too, and low flow toilets. I take Navy showers: water on, get wet, water off, soap up, water on to rinse, soap off. Learned that in California waters.
These ads must be in restaurants, hotels and all public places. Options for hand sanitizer and not water should be present.
In hotels, low flow toilets and for people who stay more than one night, no sheet washing, only bed make ups. You have no choice. You don’t wash your sheets or towels at home every day; you don’t need them washed in a hotel, either. Some hotels have given this option for decades. I didn’t see it in California.
Requiring every house owner in Sacramento and state-wide to buy and have a water meter installed. Suck it up. Everybody should pay for long showers, brushing of teeth with a faucet’s running, and violation of “if yellow, be mellow, if brown, flush it down.” Live in the desert, as I have, and this stuff is easy. We meter gasoline; water is 21st century oil.
Stop irrigating bare ground that has no crops, and give one warning before fining somebody who does. I saw this in Kern County last fall (date, place on request). I wonder how much more I missed seeing.
Non-essential water use (golf courses) must pay a high premium. If you can afford golf, you can pay for water use. The money goes to build rainwater harvesting barrels, education, or low flow toilets.
A statewide campaign to have plumbers fix leaks and have people look for water wasting. Are we going to be water cops? I prefer not, but if a guy is watering his lawn and flooding the street, I think he has given up his right not to be bothered.
Require cities over 100,000 (California has 69) to rainwater harvest a minimum of a square mile of roofs. A foot of rain a year would generate 44,000 acre feet. This requires 16,000 houses or fewer houses with large buildings. I would offer tax credits. Imagine the savings, if this were state-wide.
Basic water prices for normal use should be cheap, rising rapidly for larger families and larger usage. In case people haven’t noticed, we have a population problem in California, the country, and the world as a whole.

I’d have the media come out monthly with how much has been accomplished, so that people could see the progress made. That is important.

A pipeline from the Willamette River, where I live, to Lake Shasta would provide jobs, and spills wouldn’t exactly be toxic. Two months‘ flow at high levels would be a million acre feet. But I’m damned if I will support a pipeline if people are going to brush their teeth with the faucet running, grow crops where they shouldn’t be grown, and act like there is no tomorrow.

I’m old and can waste water, but I don’t. Nor should California.

Tags:Philosophy
Posted in GENERAL STUFF, MY WRITING | Leave a Comment »

IRISH LUCK

April 4, 2014

A couple showed up at Rowe Sanctuary to view the cranes as the evening crowd arrived. They were passing through and thought it might be a good idea. Smart people. The migration is a splendid sight.

Unfortunately, all the viewing blinds were booked in advance, as they are in late March, but the couple asked if they could wait to see if anybody didn’t show up. Greg, who was checking visitors in, decided that while we didn’t have waiting lists, maybe this once he would allow them. He made what I call a “command decision.” I liked that, and I like Greg.

“My Irish luck may work,” said the woman to her husband.

I overheard the conversation. I was going to North Blind, the smallest, requiring a drive through backroads, across the river, followed by a 600 yard walk through an open field. North was taking 8 per tour this year, and I had 8 booked. Ten minutes before departure, six had shown up, and I was waiting for the last car. I wanted to get over to North early, because the cranes often come from more distant fields near the Platte and have a “secondary staging site” in the fields near the river right by North Blind. Last year, we had ten thousand there one night, and when they took off over us, it was really fun.

From these secondary roosting sites, the cranes will go to the river around dark, although the time varies. They are cranes, and they don’t tell me their plans. I observe what happens, noting the various possibilities, and see how the evening will play out .

I happened to tell the Greg I was waiting for two more people, so if they didn’t show up, the other two might be able go. He thought for a moment, and he said on the spot “this is right, this works, this will help, and the heck with the rules.”

Mind you, command decisions are not reasons to violate rules of safety, hurt individuals, destroy natural scenery, and things like that. Sometimes, however, there is a sense of justice, rightness, and timing that makes these decisions sensible. I was on a time schedule, and I could not afford to delay. The secondary roost for the cranes could be in the field where I was going to be walking. I have seen it before, and I disturbed a few hundred cranes then, which bothered me, because they were expending calories they might need further north, when they nested in Fairbanks the first week of May, in snow, no food, and living off the fat they were putting on.

Five minutes before I wanted to depart, I looked down the long dirt road that is called Elm Island, and I saw no cars coming. If somebody were coming to my group, they would be at least five minutes getting here and getting checked in. This was going to delay me.

“What do you think?” I asked Greg. He had decision authority. I was just asking.

“Do you want to take this couple?” He replied.

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

I told the couple the good news, heard the woman nudge her husband and say something about “Irish luck,” and told them to pay inside, get right back out and where to meet me for the drive. They were out in a minute, we left on time, and we drove over to North Blind, where there were no cranes in the fields. That was lucky. Had there been a few thousand, I would not have gone to the blind.

We walked into North, got settled, waited for the show. A little while later, the birds staged behind us in a nearby field where we had just been. We made it in time. There had to have been a few thousand cranes there.

The Sun set in a glorious blaze of light, the cranes came off the field and landed on the river. They were out in the middle, where they belonged, and all was right with the world.

Irish luck.

Cranes leaving the field behind us, North Blind

Tags:Outdoor writing
Posted in GENERAL STUFF, UNPUBLISHED OUTDOOR WRITING | Leave a Comment »

RESPITE

March 31, 2014

When I volunteer at the crane migration in March, I guide morning and evening. I like seeing cranes, I’ve learned a lot, and I especially enjoy watching people get as excited as I, at seeing a few, a score, a hundred, or … twenty thousand simultaneously in the air.

PART OF 20,000 CRANES SEEN OVERHEAD. ROWE SANCTUARY, 2011

CRANES LANDING AT EVENING, ROWE SANCTUARY, 2014

When I talk about the birds before we leave for the viewing blinds, I have everybody’s attention. I am enthusiastic describing the migration, the distances the cranes travel, why they come to the Platte, and that it is one of the great sights of nature. I am careful not to tell them what to expect, except they will see “cranes, plural.” I tell them that we are not in control of the view; the cranes are. I tell them that I’m going to learn something in the blinds: I will learn about cranes, people, or myself, sometimes one, sometimes all three.

The last night I guide for a season is bittersweet. I enjoy the trips, but I am physically exhausted. I get up at 0440, make coffee, spend a little quiet time eating breakfast, for in 30 minutes, all the morning staff at the visitor’s center will be there. Within an hour, there will be more than 100 people present, 85 of them tourists. After the morning trip, I may be a roving naturalist, talking to people, I may be cleaning toilets, picking up people who went to the photo blinds, using an ATV, or running errands in Kearney. I will get lunch and a 10 minute nap, answer questions. Before I know it, the evening group is there.

My last evening, I was groggy from a longer than usual nap, a sign I was very tired. When my group appeared for the short drive to Tower Blind, I told each of the 6 cars where we were going, and where we would park. It is a short drive and a short walk, but I didn’t say much else other than to introduce myself.

When we parked, I let my co-guide talk. She is a sharp Nebraskan who knows her stuff. She quickly laid out what the birds were doing, completely in sync with me about what was and was not allowed. I was beginning to get less groggy, and the evening air, full of the haunting sound of cranes, was starting to energize me: last tour of the year, my 101st time in the blinds. I spent the first four with my father and wife, others alone, in pre-season, when I have been alone with a hundred thousand birds in the vicinity, shivering with the cold and wind that the Nebraska plains throws at one, but also with excitement, too.

ONE OF MY TRIPS ALONE IN THE BLINDS, FEBRUARY 2010. “CRANE MOON”

We parked and walked 500 yards through a field and woods to 2-story Tower Blind, overlooking the Platte, back from the river, affording a panoramic view the other blinds didn’t. I had been there three times that week; the other two OK, but spotty for cranes. I was hopeful, however, for the previous night I was at East Blind, a mile upstream, no cranes landed there, but down near Tower, because of nearby eagles, which spook cranes. I’m not responsible for the quality of the show, but I want my clients happy. In any case, I will spend time by the river, see cranes, and I be outside. That isn’t bad.

DANCING CRANE. THEY DO THIS TO RELEASE HORMONES. CRANES HAVE THE SAME NEUROTRANSMITTERS WE HAVE. LEARNING HAS BEEN PROVEN.

I had time to point out the flight of the cranes flying in, the group learning the asymmetry, a slow downbeat with a faster upbeat of the wings, so distinctive to these aerodynamically marvelous creatures, who may fly a quarter of a million miles in their lifetime and can, in 4 months, make a nest, lay eggs, incubate them for a month, and have the chicks flying several thousand miles south. I found myself poetic that night, calling cranes “other nations, with senses, abilities, and feelings we will never have, experiences we will never share, and a language we can only begin to understand.” I was getting people interested, and with cranes flying overhead, I am in my element. I was getting energized.

CRANES OVERHEAD. THIS IS LIMITED ONLY BY THE CAMERA’S VIEWFINDER

“Mike, turn down your voice. They’re on the river.” My co-guide, more observant than her talkative partner, had noted the first birds landing at 7:25, 30 minutes earlier than I had seen all week, I shut up and let nature put on the show.

CRANES LANDING, FROM TOWER BLIND, 2014

The birds arrived in enormous numbers, clumped in gray islands on the river, each with thousands of cranes, from the Gibbon Bridge to well upstream of us. Twice, they flew off, perhaps spooked by an eagle. That’s common morning behavior; to see it at night is special. There were cranes everywhere, the noise, echoing across 9 million years cranes have graced the Earth, was essential to the visual show. Like the loon, the call of the crane is every bit as important to the experience.

ENORMOUS NUMBERS. I HAVE SEEN FAR MORE, BUT I NEVER TELL THE CLIENTS THAT. THIS IS WHAT I CONSIDER “A GOOD NIGHT”.

When dark, we quietly left the blind, walking to the vehicles. I was in the rear with a couple my age, discussing the show. They were thrilled, asking me what I once did. I told them I once practiced neurology, and they discussed their aging parents, 90 and 87, the same age as mine, when they died. Their parents were demented; when I mentioned how I hoped might volunteer, not just to show people the beauty of life, but to give others help for the decision making how to die, the man said, “You’re preaching to the choir.” We were almost back to the vehicles, when his wife said they were here for a respite from their caregiving. Their gratitude for both the show and what came after on the walk was palpable.

The couple has a long road ahead of them, like the cranes. The road will not be easy for both; one in twelve cranes will not return in 2015. But the couple had seen something remarkable, life and hope, saw it together, glad they came, knowing they had a special memory to fall back upon during the hard times ahead.

I don’t usually say that a blind is “The best I’ve ever seen it,” to clients. But I said it about Tower that night. Paul Johnsgard’s “special conjunction of spring, the river, and a bird” mirrored my conjunction of learning about myself, others, and Sandhill cranes.

Godspeed to the cranes, on their way north, far from the Platte Valley, for it is time they must go. Godspeed to the parents of the couple, on their way out of a long life, for it is time they, too, must go. In the past, I helped many leave life with dignity; today, I helped others see the cranes on their way north to create new life.

I couldn’t have asked for a better ending to my guiding season.

NEBRASKA SUNSET AND CRANES. ROWE SANCTUARY.

Tags:Outdoor writing, Philosophy
Posted in GENERAL STUFF, MY WRITING, UNPUBLISHED OUTDOOR WRITING | Leave a Comment »

BREAKING SOME OF THE RULES

March 31, 2014

I guide visitors to see the Sandhill Cranes in Nebraska, where in March evenings, they come to the Platte River in extraordinary numbers, leaving for the fields the following morning. The birds are unable to perch, so they live on the ground, in the air, or in the water. The latter acts as an alarm system, so no predator may get close to them. The Platte, one of the most maligned rivers in US history, is perfect habitat, because it is shallow, with many channels, a braided river.

Cranes in the air. This is a common sight in the morning or evening.

I’ve guided for 5 years, and the rules for taking people to the blinds are strict. Noise must be kept to a minimum. I tell people if they can’t whisper, that is fine, just don’t talk. Camera flashes are taped down in spite of “it’s turned off.” That phrase is like “he never did that before,” when a person’s dog bites you. The difference is whereas biting bothers me, a flash can spook ten thousand cranes into the sky, some injuring themselves fatally. We also tape over the laser sensor, since that emits light, and at infinity focus, it isn’t necessary. Nearly all are pleasantly compliant. We put post-its over the display screen, to limit light reflection off one’s face out to the river. We have strict rules about camera equipment. We don’t allow automatic multiple exposures, for the sound detracts from the experience of hearing tens of thousands of cranes closeby.

Platte Sunset. The river and sky are a mass of cranes.

Yes, we are paranoid. We walk out in groups with one guide’s leading and the other’s trailing. We limit noise in the blind. I tell client medical emergencies and their safety are my top priority, but when it comes to inconvenience, such as being cold, hungry, or bored (crane viewing isn’t for everybody), we stay put until such time as we may safely leave. People may not leave when they choose.

Viewing Jamalee Blind from Stevie. These are memorials to Dr. Jamalee Fenimore and Stephne (Stevie) Staples. There are 38 people in Jamalee, which is much larger than seen here.

We accommodate those with disabilities. I took a man with significant Parkinson’s by golf cart to a viewing blind. The carts are quiet, and the man had a set of photography equipment as advanced as anybody’s I’ve seen. I helped him carry his equipment into the blind, and when the light was right, he set it up himself, quietly. He took his pictures and told me later, on the way back, it took him 26 years to finally get a sequence of crane dancing correct. It hangs in the visitor’s center at Rowe.

We allow golf carts to two of the five blinds; the third one, East, does NOT allow for golf cart transport. It is too exposed in the morning and the path too bumpy to make golf cart transport easy. The other two blinds are near each other, so we can do multiple trips if necessary.

I sleep on the floor in the visitor’s center, awake at 4:40 seeing to what blind I am assigned. I found I was going to East but we had two people needing a golf cart. This was a mistake and a problem. I discussed the matter with one staff member at 5:15. She was concerned, too, and we thought about moving people from one blind to another. That wasn’t going to work. Another staff member made what I call a “command decision.” I would take one man in a golf cart to East, parking it some distance from the blind. This was breaking a rule, but we felt the situation called for it. I thought the solution good; I would quietly lead the group out in the cart, my co-guide keeping everybody behind me together.

East often didn’t have “good cranes,” as we guides call it, because some left very early in the morning, not allowing for pictures. Indeed, the prior day, the guides got there too late for the “blow off,” which occurs if all cranes leave at once, such as being spooked by an eagle, a coyote, a dog, or some loud noise. I heard that story, so I kept my morning briefing in the center…..brief. It gets light in Nebraska early by late March, and I was in a hurry. As my group entered, I taped all the cameras appropriately, explaining my reasons. I told them this was the proper time to use the toilets in the center, so they would be ready to leave when I was.

Cranes at Sunset, North Blind, across the River. They often secondarily stage (land) in the field here, coming in from several miles away from the river, where they fed on waste corn during the day.

I told the group what the birds were, where they were coming from, migrating up to 7000 miles (one way). They were feeding and putting on fat for the trip north, where they would build nests near Great Slave Lake; Bettles, Alaska; Siberia; the Hudson Bay watershed. I’ve seen cranes north of the Arctic Circle. I told the 30 there it was one of the great sights in nature, one of Jane Goodall’s top ten, one of my top four. I told them I was a volunteer, and I wanted them to have a wonderful time.

Then I told them the “don’t”s, including keeping body and camera parts inside the blind.

I didn’t ask for questions. I said we would talk in the blind later. Some guides go into great depth. I do, too, in the evening, when we have time. In the morning, I want to reach the blinds early. So do the clients, too.

Then we left, and I took the man needing the golf cart, the rest of the group in tow. On the way out, the man told me he had leukemia and had just finished chemotherapy. He wanted to see the cranes this year, even a few. He hoped he would be back again. I did, too, but leukemia is leukemia. Then again, at my age, I start talking in terms of “if I am still around.” This man may not be, and we both knew it.

East Blind was great. Cranes were on the river right out in front of it. Ten minutes later, they all blew off into the orange sky of a Nebraska sunrise. The man saw it.

In order to take a man with leukemia to East blind, I’ll bend the rules. Had he asked to use a flash, I would have said no.

I hope he’s back again and again. We’ll just be sure if he needs a cart, he goes to the other two blinds.

Crane sunset.

Sky dark with cranes

Tags:Outdoor writing, Philosophy
Posted in GENERAL STUFF, MY WRITING | Leave a Comment »

PAGE 107

March 31, 2014

Despite difficulties with the Affordable Health Care Act, I have had no problem with Medicare, “big government” medicine. I have, however, had problems with one private insurance company. I will call it “X,” to avoid any semblance of libel, although I am not telling an untruth. Part D was enacted by the Bush administration, and while a step forward, I expected perfection, since Bush was a Republican. I did not expect a “doughnut hole,” cost overruns, and failure to negotiate with pharmaceutical companies.

Anyway, I signed up online with X and a local pharmacy for my two prescription medications. I used my Arizona address, because at the time I lived there. I soon discovered that I got what I paid for.

I take Drug “A,” 2 mg, 2 pills twice a day, 240 mg monthly. Drug A has 3 sizes: 2, 5, and 10 mg. Representatives from company X told me that Medicare regulations limited the number of pills per month to 90, in order to prevent falls, a potential side effect. This restriction was not true, I later learned. Rather than to ask my physician for an emergency authorization to take my usual dosage, I procured a prescription for 5 mg, 60 a month, although I needed to take my daily dosage in a different fashion. It wasn’t ideal, but I could live with it. Notice that I could take 300 mg a month. That was a tipoff that Medicare restrictions were not the issue, private business restrictions were.

I called a special number to X and had a 3-way conversation with their clinical pharmacist and their sales representative. I had no problem with Medicare’s restriction; I did have an issue with the monthly allowed dose, which made no sense. Knowing the answer, I asked my next question: How many 10 mg pills may I take a month? They both answered: “120”.

I continued: “So, I can’t take 120 pills of the 2 mg dosage a month, or a total monthly dosage of 240 mg, right?” They agreed.

“But,” I continued, “I can take 120 pills of the 10 mg dosage a month, 1200 mg total, 6 2/3 times the allowed 2 mg dosage, right?” I teach high school math; I knew this stuff when I was about 6.

There was sudden silence on the line, then, “we need to talk to our supervisors.” In other words, apparently somebody at X realized the restriction of dosage for the smaller amount did not obviate the issue of prescribing a larger number of pills for the larger dosage.

That is Part 1. On 7 March, I went to the pharmacy to get my prescription, only to be told I had been “disenrolled” from X on 28 February. No reason was given. Nobody at X answered the telephone on the weekend, so now I was without Part D coverage. Suppose I were 75, on chemotherapy, needed a key anti-arrhythmic, didn’t have money, and had moderate dementia? These things occur, even to elderly Republicans.

Becoming concerned about coverage, I called AARP-recommended United Health Care, spoke to a person, and enrolled, effective 1 April. I will have no coverage during March. Fortunately, I have enough medication. If I didn’t, and the medication were expensive, I would be in trouble.

One may change address for coverage of drugs under Part D, and I planned in March to inform X that starting in April, I would be living in Eugene, not Tucson. I don’t know how X got my Eugene address, except private information is easy to find nowadays. Amazon, most of West Africa, and every medical organization worldwide appears to have mine.

On 14 March, I received a letter from X, dated 7 March, saying “Your Prescription drug coverage ends soon” . In fact, when I got the letter, I was already two weeks without coverage; when the letter was written, I was already a week without coverage. Given the letter was written in the future tense, I wonder how X treats the past.

I quote part of the letter, my comments in bold:

“Thank you for letting us know about your change of permanent address” (I didn’t. I would have in March, had I not been disenrolled.)

“You now live outside X Prescription Drug Plan service area. To be a member of our plan, you must live in X’s service area, although you may be out of the service area temporarily for up to 12 months. How did you know the address wasn’t temporary? For that reason, we’ll disenroll you from X’s Prescription Drug Plan on 02/28/14. “Because” is a better word than “for” in this instance. The tense was wrong, they waited several days to send the letter, it was dated a week after the fact and took 7 days to travel 2000 miles.

X did nothing illegal. On page 107 of my coverage document, the wording was quite clear. It wasn’t in fine print, but I wonder how many people go through these documents word by word, especially elderly folks, who may not understand a lot of these terms. The individuals involved at X did not appear to know the English language, judging by the tenses; further, they did not mail the letter in a timely fashion, I had no chance to appeal, and without warning, I lost my coverage. That was not mentioned on page 107.

While the Affordable Health Care Act has become a whipping boy for all that is wrong with medicine, this is an insurance company issue. The one organization that has worked is Medicare. I suggested two decades ago that we would do well to expand Medicare to cover everybody: It would be a one page bill, solving many problems. Costly? Sure. What cost can one place on not having insurance and being ill? A lot of people pay that cost, especially the ill person. Is that what America is about?

Perhaps X is a good company. In my experience, however, they drop people suddenly, then later use the future tense. I teach English online to people in 90 different countries and know the difference between the past perfect and future. Their letter was signed: “The X Enrollment Team.” I am old enough to remember the jokes about “the 20 Mule Team.” This would be funny, if it weren’t so potentially dangerous to the elderly.

I must be careful; “scorn or ridicule” are part of the definition of libel.

Tags:A different side of medicine, Philosophy
Posted in GENERAL STUFF, MY WRITING | Leave a Comment »

Boreal B[l]og

Archive for the ‘GENERAL STUFF’ Category

THE NEW WORLD

ITALICS MINE

HISSY FIT…..DISSING AN ORGANIZATION IN WHICH I AM A LIFE MEMBER

THE PLAQUE ON THE BENCH

THIS LAND IS YOUR LAND, THIS LAND IS MY LAND

CALIFORNIA: YOU HAVE A COMMON SENSE PROBLEM, NOT A WATER PROBLEM

IRISH LUCK

RESPITE

BREAKING SOME OF THE RULES

PAGE 107

WHAT’S HERE?

Blog Stats

Blogroll

Recent Posts

Top Posts

Follow Blog via Email

Top Clicks