Diffle County Report: A PFAS Educational Lunch

 Township Supervisor “Big Don” was sitting in his usual spot, the Chairman seat at the center of the meeting table in the former fire hall, now the Grinold Town office- he was facing the front window and door.  A white Jeep Cherokee pulled into the small parking lot in front of the building and stopped.  There was a seal on the side of the car door that said in the round Circle Commonwealth of Pennsylvania Pennsylvania Department of Environmental Protection. In the center of the seal was  a modern illustration of a river flowing between two mountains.

“Uh no, the Woke nation has arrived.” Big Don  grinned as he spoke after four, somewhat unkempt-looking recent college graduates walked through the door.

“Hi, we’re from the DEP,” said the lead person as they walked single file to Dave’s favorite spot and stood in a single line opposite from Big Don at the meeting table.

“Well, I am glad that’s settled”, Big Don replied, “Otherwise you’d have to explain why you’re driving a vehicle with a DEP seal on the door.” He laughed. The DEP reps were so quiet you could hear the chickens  laying eggs in the coop on the property next door.

“What can I do for you fine gentlemen and ladies this afternoon?”, Don asked as he folded up the newspaper he had been reading, the headline clearly visible on the front page.  PFAS Contaminates All-Natural Farm”

“My name is Dr. Linda Prior and I am a Chemical Analyst with DEP.  You have an old town dump nearby? We want to test the monitoring wells for PFAS.”  Linda did not smile.

Big Don leaned back in his chair and pulled open the third drawer from the top of the filing cabinet behind him, reached in and retrieved a brown file folder. He dropped it onto the table in front of DEP’s Dr. Linda Prior.

“We closed that dump 45 years ago. My father was the elected Supervisor at the time. He obtained a closure permit from DEP and that dump was sealed as per your Department’s permit.  We received a clean bill of health”  Big Don frowned as he spoke, “My name is Don Rider and I am the Secretary/Treasurer of this township. You can call me Big Don if you’d like.” Then he smiled a good ol’ boy grin, “that’s what my friends call me.”

A few more chicken eggs were laid.

“We are investigating for the presence of PFAS in your town dump”, she paused a moment then smiled back,  “That is very impressive that you have readily available, information on your dump from 45 years ago. Did you know we were coming?”

“We’ve kept it handy for the past 45 years. My Daddy said you’d be back.” Big Don grinned broadly at the DEP quartet. “What is this PFAS you’re looking for?”

“Looks like you just read about it in the newspaper,”  Linda calmly replied.  She pointed to the headline still visible on the folded newspaper.

“Doctor Prior, if you knew me you’d already know I only read the Obituaries and Comics of this particular newspaper,” said Big Don. “Now why don’t you, a chemical analyst working with our DEP, explain to me,  what PFAS is, please.”

Dr. Linda Prior took in a deep breath and began, saying,

“Per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances are synthetic organofluorine chemical compounds that have multiple fluorine atoms attached to an alkyl chain. As such, they contain at least one perfluoroalkyl moiety...”

Big Don interrupted, “In Layman’s terms, please.” 

Dr. Prior smiled, her eyes twinkling with subtle delight, 

“They are chemicals that are used in the manufacture of every day products, from frying pans and waterproof jackets to foam used by firefighters. They do not degrade due to their chemical bond and there is a growing concern among scientists like myself, that they may have a harmful effect on the human body, on wild and domestic animals, and of course the environment.”

Big Don listened intently.  “Teflon” he replied. 

Dr. Prior, who recently received her PHD from Maine State University, nodded affirmatively, and with a nod of her head, tossed her short, cropped strawberry-blonde hair to the side, then offered her freckled hand, which Big Don shook respectively. 

“I am Dr. Linda Prior.  I am working with Pennsylvania DEP as part of a major study at Maine State, where I teach graduate studies in Chemical Engineering.”    She smiled,  “with me is John Stuart of DEP, Bryce Roberts of DEP, and Adam Wheeler, a  graduate student from Maine State whose thesis is the study of PFAS.”

Everyone shook hands with Big Don and after introductions were concluded John Stuart pulled a set of maps from a tube he was holding and opened them across the table. Big Don, John, and Dr. Prior leaned over a map of the old Town dump.

John Stuart pointed to three locations on the map.

“We will test the monitoring wells here, here, and here.”

It was at this point that Supervisor Larry Gates walked in from the side door to the town garage. He was taller than Big Don, balding with a dark brown comb over, clean shaven, his nose crooked from a bar fight too long ago to matter, and his teeth crooked from the pipe he kept firmly in place, except to speak and he had something to say that morning.

“I see we are having a PFAS party right here in the ‘Ol Grin.  I was listening on the other side of that door, “ said Larry, pointing back at the door he had just walked through, “I actually read that article, read a few more articles on-line, called a Professor friend and we had a nice chat. So if you all don’t mind, I have a few questions for Doctor Prior and our good DEP friends.”

Doctor Prior replied in her best professional voice,  “I will do my best to answer your questions.” 

“So will I.” replied John Stuart. 

 Larry Gates tapped his cherry pipe in his left hand.

“Just a few questions. What studies have been completed that confirmed PFAS is harmful to humans at the levels you are testing?”

Dr. Prior looked directly into Supervisor Gate’s eyes,  “Scientists are still studying the health effects of PFAS on humans and in the environment.”

Larry continued tapping his pipe into his hand.

“ Are there any studies that have conclusively proven there is a health hazard? He sat down next to Big Don at the table.

Dr. Prior pulled up a chair across from Supervisor Gates and replied, “Preliminary studies suggest negative impacts on the nervous system, and other parts of the body.  They can be found in soil, water , and air.”

Larry Gates frowned slightly, “You didn’t answer my question, but I will answer it for you by quoting a verified source.”  

Larry pulled his phone out of his pocket and began typing. A few minutes passed. Big Don asked if they wanted to stay for lunch, it was hot dog Thursday and there was plenty to go around.  The DEP group politely declined.  

“Ah here it is, the website for the National Institute of Health, you know who I mean, the N.I.H.” Larry paused and then began reading from the website,

“Quote, more research is needed to fully understand all sources of exposure, and if and how they cause health problems, unquote.”   

“Yes, that’s true” replied Dr. Prior.

Larry glanced at the map, then raised his eyes to look at John Stuart.  “John, my name is Larry and I am an elected Supervisor.  What is EPA’s regulatory standard for PFAS in groundwater?”

Big Don began to grin.

John ran his fingers back through his curly hair and smiled,  “There is no EPA regulatory standard for PFAS. There may soon be regulatory standards for two of these forever chemicals , PFOA and PFOS”  said DEP’s John Stuart.

Larry replied without hesitation, “Is it true John that PFAS is a catch-all for thousands of chemicals of differing levels and toxicities and that the complicated nature of PFAS and its widespread presence in our environment makes it very difficult to evaluate?”

John looked at his shoes and replied, “yes, that’s true.”

Big Don excused himself to get the crockpot of hotdogs, sauerkraut, and a bag of rolls.  

Larry pulled out a pouch and began filling his pipe.

“I have a question about testing. When you test our well for total coliform. you teste in parts per million, correct?”

A town truck pulled into the front parking lot, followed by a Blake Township Ford 350 4-wheel drive pick up truck.  Five men and a woman, all dressed in work blues got out of the two vehicles, walked in,  surveyed the situation, then quickly exited through the side door into the town garage.

John Stuart replied, "Yes, the standard is 0 coliform per 100 ml. or parts per million.”

Larry nodded affirmatively.  “So if I were to purchase  nine hundred and ninety nine thousand pieces of white confetti paper of identical size and one piece of black confetti paper of identical size and filled this room with all of them could the black confetti piece would represent a failed coliform drinking water test?” 

John paused. A SAAB pulled into the parking lot, then a Lincoln and in walked the town attorney and Judge Walthers.  After a short wave, both walked into the garage. The conversations in the garage were beginning to increase in intensity and volume.

“Technically, that is a basic description, but yes.”  John Stuart replied.

More trucks and cars parked in the front lot, parking behind each other and blocking the two garage doors at the front of the building.  Big Don opened one of the two garage doors and waved people directly  into the garage.

Dr. Linda Prior stood up and leaned over the desk, directly across from Larry and said,

“ I know where this is going so please allow me to save you the time with an  explanation on the controversy, but first I have to ask, is there some sort of meeting here today?”,  Linda asked, raising her voice to compete with the loud laughter coming from the garage.

At that moment the side door to the garage opened and in walked ten men from four different fire companies. Each Man had a hot dog and bun in one hand and a  diet coke in the other hand.

Larry smiled.  “There is no meeting. It’s hot dog Thursday.  Kind of popular around here.  We usually serve lunch in the meeting room, but we are making some accommodation for your unannounced visit. However, you are welcome to join us if you like.  Food is on a card table in the garage, soda pop in the cooler on the floor.”

At that moment the side door burst open and Grinold Township Road worker Billy “the kid” Johnstone walked in carrying a crockpot stuffed with hot dogs and sauerkraut. He was followed by Judge Walthers carrying the hot dog buns, paper plates, napkins and two open bags of potato chips.

“Help yourselves to lunch,” said the kid.

The room filled up with the lunch crowd and who took seats and began to eat their lunch while watching the entertainment.

Larry smiled at Dr. Linda Prior and John Stuart.  “Looks like lunch has found you anyway.”  

Before long, everyone except Larry and Dr. Prior were enjoying their hot dog lunch.  Larry continued with his questions,

“Please Dr. Prior, don’t assume what my next question  will be. In the spirit of cooperation allow me to re-phrase my questions.”  Dr. Prior nodded in agreement.

“ Were you able to find these chemicals testing in parts per million?”

“No.” she replied.

“Parts per billion?”  Larry frowned.

She shook her head back and forth and stated, "No."

“Parts per trillion?” he asked.

“Yes.”  she replied,  “But let me explain how..

Larry interrupted her,  “Do you test any other substances in parts per trillion?  

“No, but there are over 2,000 chemicals that fall under the PFAS umbrella.” Dr. Rider leaned in closer, “you obviously know enough about PFAS to know that we have to move quickly to stop people from getting exposed.”

Larry leaned forward until they were both almost nose to nose,  “From what I understand 75% of us already are infected in parts per trillion.  Now I also understand Maine has set a regulatory standard, is that right?

Dr. Prior smiled, walked over to the crockpot and pulled out the last hotdog,  “Yes, at 70 Parts per trillion.”

Larry nodded, looked down at the table. The room was quiet, not a soul dared speak, just the crunching sound of potato chips being eaten, and sodas being sipped.

“ Is that consistent with EPA regulatory requirements, oh wait forgive me, their recommended guidelines?  There is a difference, of course.” Larry and Big Don both chuckled and there were a few giggles from the audience.

“NO, it’s not. It’s more stringent but we feel it is necessary and proper to set a standard that best protects our citizens.”  Dr. Rider bit into the most delicious hot dog she had ever tasted.  “These are amazing”.  

Big Don nodded in response and said, “They’re homemade. I think if you ask the kid, we are eating what was left of Bessie the cow and Fluffy the pig.”

The kid then jumped in, “and some venison for flavoring.”

Dr. Prior gently paced the remains of her hot dog on her plate. Her four colleagues did the same.

Big Don smiled at the room,  “Well, those dogs were locally sourced, from the farm animals to the grain we fed them, and I’m betting there may be a few parts per trillion of that PFAS in them- that you are looking for."  The crowd tried to hold back their chuckles and giggles but a few slipped through.

Don looked over at Larry, then at Judge Walthers, “Your Honor, I hope we haven’t compromised your judicial impartiality should a PFAS lawsuit end up on your docket.”

Judge Walthers raised his 6 foot frame out of the folding chair, pushed back his silver hair, and began to walk to the door, waving back as he went, “Not a chance of that, Don. And I will see you same time next Thursday. Thanks for lunch.” 

Larry stood up, deep in thought, he looked down at the table, over that the half-eaten hot dog, then up at Dr. Prior as he began to speak slowly at first, and then faster, in a clear, unmistakable tone of  person who has had enough.

“Doctor, these folks have their own townships and jobs to get to, and I have a meeting with our township attorney who I can see is just now finishing his lunch.

You are welcome to test our monitoring wells, but if I read even one article about one of our farmers giving up their crops because they legally applied sludge on their farmland under a DEP permit for the past 20-years under State regulations for goodness sake, and you find PFAS on their farms, or you find PFAS in our monitoring wells and attempt to reopen the closure permit DEP issued and final approved 40 years ago, I promise you I will personally lead the charge statewide to fight any and all regulations you attempt to pass.  I sit on the Pennsylvania Regulatory Advisory Board and no regulation gets approved without our approval.”

Dr. Prior nodded her head and said,  “Well, sir, I’m glad you don’t live in Maine.”  She motioned to the DEP representatives that it was time to go.  “Thank you all for your assistance.  Have a great day”

Big Don walked the group to the door.  “Time to go.  Keep in touch.  Don't let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya!”

As the DEP contingent started up their engines, Larry stood up, scratched a mosquito bite on his left arm while grinning at Big Don.

“These damn tree-huggers never quit. They’ll test in parts per quadrillion if they can have something new they can regulate and ruin good people’s lives. And you can bet those new regulations will have a loophole for the corporate farms but not for the local farmers.”

Big Don grabbed cleaned up the lunch fixings and nodded to Larry Gates,  “you mean poorly regulate, don’t you?  But she did seem very serious, Larry. You sure there aren’t any conclusive studies on this?

Larry paused for a moment, “well, there is one.  PFAS has a tendency to stunt the growth in Caucasian males.”

Don laughed.  “Generally speaking, Caucasians are not the tallest of men”

Larry nodded, “Well, they can blame PFAS for that too.”

And with that, the Thursday locally-sourced hot dog lunch at the Grinold Township building was over.

Baby, I Was Wrong

Our Maine Experience

 

It will be a month today since we packed up the big truck in Bangor, Maine and pointed her nose for the Mojave Desert of California.  The trip from Bangor to Ridgecrest totaled 3,351 miles, took seven days, several hotels, Thanksgiving dinner at a Denny's in New Mexico, a few disagreements, a fender bender, $1500.00 in gasoline, $3,600 in truck rental costs, and a four-day hotel stay at our destination at $200.00 a day while we waited for the sale process to complete and we had keys to our new home.   It wasn't a pleasant experience but from the beginning we treated this move as a mission, not a pleasure drive.  It was a required journey. 

One thing I know for sure- while we miss the people we worked with and the friendships that we forged,  we do not miss everyone we met. Here is another truth, if it wasn't for Maine and Covid-19, and for a flooded walkway to our home last Spring that turned into a major landscaping project, we wouldn't be living in this lovely home we own in California. We are grateful for the bounty for it came from hard work with no thought of reward.

We fell in love with Maine through several vacation trips over ten years. The scenery is astonishing, diverse, and no trip was the same, each visit was an exploration  of another natural area within the State. The seafood was beyond delicious, it was culinary excellence. Some of the people were rather cranky, but we had been there several times and had only had a few unpleasant encounters,   So we moved there with every intention to spend the rest of our lives in Maine. Three years later?  Maine is no longer our home.

I won't linger long on our time in Maine. There won't be a Diffle County or some other fictional piece based upon our Maine experience. We explored, we ate delicious seafood, explored some more, and lived a quiet life in a quiet mobile home community.  We also nearly died from Covid-19, fought the  good fight trying to do our jobs against prejudice, resistance, unnecessary roadblocks, passive-aggressive obstructionists, threats of bodily harm, and even an offer of murder. After three years we both knew that it wasn't the Maine winters that we couldn't handle. As the saying goes, it only takes a few bad apples to spoil the whole barrel.  

To understand Mainers you only need to know this - they would rather vacation in their own State than anywhere else.  Maine is not your vacationland, it's their vacationland.  Mainers know tourism is important for their State and it is the perfect place for tourism to thrive,  but then when the tourist season is over they would like you to leave, thank you very much. They have sheds on sleds at their camps and as soon as the lakes freeze, those sheds slide out onto the ice. Let the ice fishing commence.  That's not all.

When the snow flies they are on the trails with their snowmobiles and ATV's,  enjoying the land their Great Grand Daddies fought to keep against the weather, the bears, the wolves, the bobcats, the weasels and fishers, the chiggers and ticks,  against the British, the Bostonians, and sometimes the French, and against those folks "from away" who did not sacrifice as their families had, and then against the weather again and again and again.  Maine mud is real and if you get stuck chances are the tow truck will get stuck trying to get to you.  Put on your big-boy pants, Maine is not a resort, it is hard living and its inhabitants are rough and ready for anything that gets thrown at them.

Sadly, there are the provincial Mainers who don't want outsiders to tell them how to improve their community, they don't want advice, they're insulted when you provide guidance, and because of that they will tear down anyone "from away"  who actually may want to improve their town.  In the end, the outsiders usually leave and isolationists win- and Maine takes another step backwards in time. Just like my bosses told me when they hired me, "We don't want anything to change."  I wish they understood that's impossible. Change will come, it always does.

But let's stop with the negatives right there. There were so many kind, caring people I met and worked with that I do not want to twist this into something it is not.   I loved every member my staff, my road crew, and almost every firefighter.  (That last sentence was for Char-lin.)  I loved my elected bosses, except the newest one (who lacks a moral compass to rise above her own self-interest.)  She's an exception. I've already developed a fictional character based loosely on her actions-  named La Meer, she will be a very large Maine Coon Cat, and will be featured in a future novel. She will not be the heroine.

 I truly love these good people, of solid Maine stock, who care about their community and serve it so well. They are my friends and I am honored to be their friend also. 

We will miss the Western Mountains, the Lakes Region, the Mid-Coast, the Bold Coast, the Northern Wilderness, the cities of Bangor and Portland, the Central Highlands, and Baxter State Park, We will miss Acadia, Blue Hill, Camden, Rockport, Rockland, Belfast, Brewer, Greenville, Dexter, St. Albans, and Moosehead Lake, possibly the most beautiful lake I have ever seen.

I deeply miss my St. Albans family, in spite of all the harrassment from the unsullied,  I will always love Maine and my Mainer friends have a place forever in my heart.  I'm sure we will be back sometime soon, probably after the spring thaw.  

Even though they can't make a cheesesteak to save their lives, and their pizza is a travesty,  they are some of the finest people I have ever met. 

Rick

  

 

Reality Defeats Wanderlust in Final Round

Would You Buy a Dead Cactus?

 Wanderlust started strong, with several right jabs and a good uppercut. Reality was stunned, bloodied, and ineffective with its counter punches.  But Reality prefers the fifteen round fight and has an unbeaten record.  But we fought on, scoring punches with trips to Maine from Pennsylvania, and then actually moving there - nearly a 7th round knock out - and then exploring all the natural sights that Maine has to offer.  We mapped our trips on a large map of Maine that was tacked to our door,  and we even started a website "We Explore Maine" but reality had a great counter punch to that - Covid-19.  Who was going to explore Maine under those conditions?  

Reality, sensing victory,  added more hard blows to the body and then to the head. Our dear Uncle Jim died after a short bout with cancer.  My father passed away. Our niece lost her baby in child birth.  My Great Nephew was murdered in cold blood on a sunny Sunday in the parking lot of a Target Superstore.   My wife's brother died suddenly due to alcohol poisoning, an addiction he couldn't beat.   Then our dog Sonnet became seriously ill and had to be put down.

Wanderlust tried vainly with some clever moves, floating like a monarch butterfly, stinging like a small bee with weekend trips to the coast.  Wanderlust was getting beat, and a knockout was likely.   Dinner at Masons Brewery on the Penobscot River- nothing more than a glancing jab.

Finally,  Maine got in the corner with reality and after a flurry of punches that hit hard, we saw the victory ahead for reality and Wanderlust threw in the towel.  We packed up, retired from boxing, and moved to California to be closer to family.

Wanderlust lost the fight because it needed to lose the fight, and to lose every fight. Reality wins because for all its harshness, it also brings clarity, responsibility, and love into union.  Our health improves, and our view of the world improves as well, because it is based upon the undefeated, the reality of our own lives.

The Call of the Sea

Tall Ship Hawaiian Chieftain in Salmon Bay

I have always wanted to live at the ocean. When I was a child, every summertime Wednesday we would pack the station wagon with beach gear and my father and mother would drive us (Robby, Randy, Ricky, and Rusty) to Ship Bottom, New Jersey.  This is where I discovered body-surfing and Yoo Hoo chocolate drink.

When I was in my mid-twenties I worked for a ship reporting service in Philadelphia as a dispatcher and later held a similar job with a tugboat company. As nearly every sailor will tell you, there is something about the sea that draws you in and never releases you.  You are as hooked as a marlin on the end of a fishing line. 

Tall Ship Lady Washington

 

 The magnificent beauty of the Puget Sound is a tonic for a damaged soul, a vibrant combination of sight, sounds, and smells that will stay strong in your memory for many years. I fell in love with the sweet Pacific Ocean breezes that poured in through open windows. 

In the photographs above and the the right,  the steamship paddle boat Queen of Seattle was turning around in Salmon Bay near the Ballard locks.  Suddenly out of the locks appeared two tall ships.  Lady Washington arrived first. She starred  in the first Pirates of Caribbean movie. Following her out of the locks was the tall ship Hawaiian Chieftain.  The Lady Washington actually circled our ship and our Captain jokingly exclaimed  "We're surrounded by pirates!"

From July through October of 2012, I  spent most of my working days on the steamship paddle boat "Queen of Seattle".  Once owned by Alaska Travel Adventures, a company that lost its way with this purchase,  she was built in a Sacramento  backyard by a wealthy Californian obsessed with steam engines.

The Queen of Seattle is a 149 foot long steam-powered paddle boat- the largest such vessel west of the Mississippi River. Her capacity is 243 people.  She was built to reflect an earlier time in history. She is a combination of old and new construction.

She is a lovely ship, built from decommissioned World War 2 Navy ships that were struck from the Navy register and sold for scrap. She may be haunted by the ghost of her builder, or of the men who fought and died on the decks of the ships she was built from....

According to public records, some of the Queen's windows are from the USS Calvert (APA-32),  a Crescent City- Class Attack Transport  whose superior service to the U.S. Navy won her ten battle stars and a Navy Unit Commendation.  In Word War II, the USS Calvert landed troops in North Africa, Sicily, Philippine Islands, Gilbert Islands, Kwajalein, Marianas, Saipan, and the occupation of Japan. She was commissioned again for the Korean war and for a final service in the Vietnam war.  The builder of the Queen was transported home from the Pacific theater on the USS Calvert.

I washed those windows every week and often thought about our passengers looking through at the city of Seattle, not knowing that our soldiers and sailors once looked through those same windows on a journey a very different, and often deadly reality.  I owed it to those soldiers, many who never  returned, to keep that glass clean for the folks who rode the Queen in leisure in the summer of 2012.

Her controls were from the USS Interpreter, a radar picket ship that was part of our early warning defense system and would sail for weeks at a time on the Pacific Ocean.  Originally a private freighter, the USS Interpreter was purchased by the US Navy and outfitted for her mission at the Philadelphia Naval Yard- on the same Delaware River where I dispatched tugboats, including a few times to the navy yard itself.

I stood at the helm several times that summer and piloted the Queen of Seattle using the controls from the USS Interpreter.  "Keep her mid-ship  Mr. Fisher" the Captain would growl in that salty Captain voice after we passed under the Fremont bridge and entered "The Cut", a man-made canal that joins Lake Union to the Puget Sound.

Naval Personnel aboard the USS Calvert

The Queen of Seattle was originally christened the Elizabeth Louise. She was built over a ten-year span between 1975 and 1985 on a vacant scrapyard lot by 63-year old crane operator Hal Wilmunder.

Her paddle engines were built in 1884 and were installed on at least 5 different ships, finally ending up on the tugboat Detroiter, which worked on the Ohio River. The engines were later sold for scrap.  Capt. Wilmunder found them and then built a boat to fit them.  He launched the Elizabeth Louise on the Sacramento River in September of 1985.

USS Interpreter

Hal Wilmunder died tragically after he fell off the stern of the paddle boat and drowned in the Sacramento River on Easter Sunday, April 20, 2003.  That isn't something that was mentioned on the tour narration and probably for good reason.  According to published reports, the ship's door alarm had gone off and Hal went to investigate. At that time Alaska Travel Adventures (ATA) had offered Hal Wilmunder 1-million dollars for the Queen but he refused, his seller price at 3-million.  After his death, his widow sold the ship to ATA...for one million dollars.  They took it to Alaska and renamed it Alaskan Queen.  The venture failed and they moved her to Seattle and renamed her Seattle Queen but didn't bother to change the large AQ they installed between the steam stacks above the wheelhouse.

On the day he disappeared, Hal had placed his a wallet and watch on the upstairs bar of the Queen. Then he took his final swim.  His body was recovered 3 days later, a few miles downriver from the ship.  There were questions about how someone who built and knew every square inch of that ship could fall and hit his head on the paddle wheel. What does the paddle wheel have to do with the door alarm?  After a short investigation his death was ruled accidental.  But he was known to have enemies and there were rumors he may have caught a thief, or his death was arranged- that it was no accident- but if that were true, the  evidence died with Mr. Wilmunder,   Some say his ghost haunts the vessel and many of the mechanical issues that ultimately ended the Queen's daily cruises were of suspicious nature.

For some, questions remain:  Why was Hal Wilmunder on board the Elizabeth Louise on Easter Sunday?  Why do some of us believe his spirit may still be aboard the Queen?  Why did the ship constantly have major mechanical problems?  

We will never have the answers but here is my truth - Hal Wilmunder built a paddle boat masterpiece out of scrap iron from decommissioned naval vessels.  The Elizabeth Louise is a beautiful ship deserving better than the junk tours she barely endured.

I will never forget the  Queen of Seattle. I loved those few short months I rode her, and she will forever hold a special place in my heart.

Crazy Billy & Rafter Kat (Waiting for You)

Time to Write New Stories

I have decided to place music on the back burner. Let it simmer.  Stir occasionally.  Add a few seasonings from time to time.   While I am passionate about creating new songs, there comes a point where it feels rather absurd, self-centric, and maybe childish too.  It can be very cathartic and relaxing. There is fun in the creation, but there is also so much work to perfect it and that takes time.   I don't have an endless supply of time.  

Stories from Diffle County, The Adventures of Nikolast, and The Ice Bridge will be my focus for the next year.  The click click click of the keyboard will be my music.  There will be no political commentary of any kind, at least not in a real world setting- I can't guarantee that my stories won't reflect the changing political playground we call a Democracy.

I also am aware that some people believe that all the birds on the planet have been replaced by bird-like drones and they are watching us.  That explains why my bird feeder isn't that popular.  Drones don't need to eat. 

Also, would someone tell the U.S. Bird Drone Replacement Agency to move the mockingbird away from my bedroom window.  He/she is talented and also very obnoxious at 4:30 a.m., so please re-station him/her to another street, closer to the guy in my neighborhood who hates squirrels. 

Have squirrels been replaced by drones as well?

A quick shout out to my 4 loyal followers.   Wow.  Are you also drones?   

RDF

The Failure of Our Home Healthcare System

There are clear choices that have to be made in a pandemic on who gets a hospital bed and who gets an IV and sent home to work on recovery from there.  

Then there is the support system for both choices. The first is following an established regimen for treatment of a virus that has already killed hundreds of thousands of people around the world.  The support for this is strong and effective.

But what about the latter of the two?  If a person is sent home, the follow up with a home health care professional would be a critical component to maintaining bed space in the hospital while also treating patients just below that level of care, but needing an elevated care as well.  This level of care doesn't exist

The health service companies and most assuredly the insurance companies would like you to believe that a system of aftercare does exist and there is an after care available- weeks afterwards where the crisis is over and you don't need one more retired nurse to remind you to take your meds. 

What is missing in this pandemic is clear, multi tiered approach to fight the virus at all levels in in every patient in an immediate manner.

Why is it missing ?  I don't know because there could have been community outreach training, identification and allocation of required essential equipment personnel just for this purpose.

When the Secretary of the Treasury takes back 500 billion in COVID 19 because it went unspent, then one can only conclude it was never designed to be spent.

I don't place the blame on our elected officials who failed us and yes, they did fail us in dramatic and deadly ways.   I blame us.  This is our country and we have allowed fringe players with conspiracy theories to join in our national conversations, we have chosen popularity over passion, power over prudence, and our own beliefs over the beliefs of others. 

We supported banks making money off college loans and dragging down our brilliant students into a service economy geared for corporate profit. Binding them like serfs to an unfair, monetary system that rewards the top one percent at the expense of the 99 percent is a disgraceful act.  So the banks and quasi govt. Lending organizations can make a little side money  as well on interest and penalties.

I blame us for giving selfish and greedy false prophets  the power over us, to lie to us, to encourage our baser instincts, and to divide and conquer our shared American experience. 

Problems require solutions from level headed people. We don't need to fly flags on  our trucks as if we are the American Isis or to wear our prejudices on our sleeves as if that gives them a value they do not deserve and will never be worthy of. 

We have a constitution that protects our Right to bear arms so why do we argue on known facts?  We also know that mentally ill people shouldn't be able to purchase  automatic rifles. Front line workers in health care need PPE and  our support and there is no legitimate reason we cannot support that request.  There are solutions to these types of problems.

There needs to be a new area of health care where professionals and patients have a third choice, not just Doctor office or the emergency room. In one newspaper article after another we read of an elderly couple who waited too long to get treatment because one did not want to leave the other behind.  They both get too sick and die within minutes of each other and we think how romantic that they had one last kiss. I'm betting they would have wanted more than that if they had a choice, if our nationwide healthcare system had a treatment regimen for them.  They get the kiss of death from a broken system, designed to work in sunny weather and to the benefit of the insurance adjustors who want everything just perfect for their bottom line. 

 It's woeful and it forces older couples to stay home together for fear of leaving the other partner home alone with Covid19.  It's not sweet, it's cold, heartless, and terribly inhuman and cruel and we must demand that a third tier of treatment be established  and bring permanent change to this wholly inadequate pandemic threatened health care system.

Richard Fisher. COVID PATIENT , ICU , EMMC, BANGOR, ME

 

The Amazing Adventures of Nikolast the Cat - Chapter 2

 The Amazing Adventures of Nikolast the Cat - Chapter 2  - The Ladybug Compact

By Richard Dean Fisher

The dying embers of the fire cracked and crackled as Nikolast slept.  The air cooled and a cold draft blew from under the Thomas Cottage front door. Nikolast woke up, stood on all fours and shook and ruffled his short fur.  A ladybug who had been sleeping on his tail catapulted into the air and only due to a furious beating of her wings did she avoid the hot fireplace.  The Ladybug landed on the tip of  Nikolast's ear. He took a white paw swipe at her and missed as she floated above him, then landed again in a tuft of fur just inside Niko's ear.

  "Hello?"  said a very tiny voice. Nikolast froze.  "Hello, can you hear me?"  said the very tiny voice in Niko's ear. Niko nodded.

"Who are you?" the minuscule voice asked.

"I'm Nikolast or Niko. Who are you?  I can't see you. I can barely hear you." Niko replied as he slowly turned his head to look around the room.    

Ladybug giggled and tickled Niko's ear.  "I'm in here. Miss Tennelope Ladybug at your service and pleased to meet you.  Nikolast walked over rubbed along side the couch, making certain to turn his head to try to stop that tiny itch in his ear.  Tennelope flew out of his ear and landed on his nose.  "Can you see me now, Nikolast?   You haven't answered my question who are you?" Tennelope Ladybug shouted as loud as she could,  "I wasn't asking your name, I was asking WHO are you that  crows would place you under their protection?  They only do that by prophecy."

Nikolast  tilted his head slightly.   "First, Miss Ladybug, I don't know anything about a crow prophecy or that I am under their protection.  I spoke with a crow today and we became friends."  Niko shook his head but the ladybug was faster and floated above and then gently landed on top of Niko's head.  She landed so lightly Niko didn't even know she landed at all! 

" That is a problem for you indoor animals.  You spend all your time with humans inside their homes and get no outside education at all.  I will let the crows explain their customs to you but I am going to  be tagging along.   You probably don't know this but ladybugs are good luck and it is very bad luck to kill a ladybug.  Once the crows placed you under their protection, the ladybug nation, in accordance with the agreement forged at the Great Circle join in the protection. We provide a good luck shield for you. And so I am here."   She busily fussed with her dotted wings.  "I just don't understand how an indoor cat can be this important,."  

Nikolast shook his head several times to ride himself of this insulting little bug, but every time she was faster and landed on him again.  "Are you going you be in my fur the entire time?  He was exasperated.

"Not all the time,  I have ladybug business to attend to. I will tell you when I am leaving and when I will return."  shouted the tiny voice from on top of Niko's head.

Niko shrugged, " Miss Tennelope I am not certain how this is necessary or how one ladybug will protect a cat 50,000 times her size, but you are welcome to 'tag along'."  

"Nikolast, I am not the only ladybug here." As she spoke thousands of ladybugs emerged from every crack and corner in the walls, flying up to cover the entire ceiling of the room. Miss Tennelope Ladybug then flew three circles above Niko's head and just as quickly as they had arrived, they disappeared back into their hiding places. Then she landed on Niko's nose and smiled at him.

Nikolast was impressed but also curious, "Miss Ladybug, that was something to see. But how will that protect me?"

Ladybug smiled.  "We can create a screen that repels bat radar and blocks the keenest of night vision, say from owls or nighthawks. There are other uses too, but those are highly secret.  It is not a good day for you should we have to use our advanced skills to protect you."

" I don't know why I would need protection,"  Nikolast replied,  frustrated with all this nonsense, he jumped up onto the sofa and curled up on top of a decorative pillow of hand-stitched daisies and ladybugs.

Outside the window, the Watcher's Net had expanded one hundred miles to the North, into The County, as it is referred to by humans, and the great last wilderness in the Eastern United States.   Red Winged  blackbirds had now joined in to cover the farmland areas, to avoid confrontations with humans who love red-winged blackbirds but would shoot Crows sitting on cornstalks without hesitation.

Soon reports were carried back through the net to Johnny Crow.   Hawks in the North had begun flying in crossing patterns above the net,  canvassing the land from above.  Johnny Crow, King of the Eastern  Sunrise Nation, was stunned,  This was told and retold for generations that a great  war of the wild animals would arrive soon after the birth of a kitten named Niko, last of its litter.   Johnny Crow sent a message back through the net- send in the sparrows to disrupt the hawks and chase them off.

~end Chapter 2 

 

 

  

The Amazing Adventures of Nikolast the Cat - Chapter 1 - An Introduction to Friendship

 

Chapter 1 - An Introduction to Friendship

By Richard Dean Fisher

Nikolast is a cat.  He started out in life  (like all cats do)  as a kitten.   And he wasn't an extraordinary kitten either.. He was the runt of the litter,  a  calico kitten with flecks of tabby orange around his face and a thin, black stripe on each ear, from base to tip, right up the center.  He looked like a baby bobcat.  Basically, Nikolast was very much a normal kitten with a few unusual markings.  I forgot to mention his paws.  One was completely white. The other three were black as a crow's feather.

Johnny is a crow.  Big and black, with a black beak, and marble-black eyes, and dark gray claws. He enjoys talking to humans and following them around with his cousins, brothers and sisters.  'Hey Jim, you're 5 minutes late for work."  "Hey Jeanie, did you forget your phone again?"  "Travis, Travis, you better hurry and get out of there, you'll be late to your wedding."   "Kevin, drop the french fries, you know you can't eat them all.  Hurry before those pesky sparrows show up."  

 Johnny Crow and Nikolast had never met before Sunday, March 7th in the 1300th year of the crow revival or the Year of the Cat, No. 2225.  Yet they had something in common that is rare in the animal world.  They both had deciphered the verbal  English language. No, they weren't bit by a radioactive spider. This isn't a super hero story.

It was a foggy March  morning in Fortune Oaks, Maine.  Nikolast was outside Thomas family cottage, laying low, silently watching blue-jays at the feeder.  He was 12 weeks old and had learned to walk between Bert Basset's paws to get  through the doggy- door, although the rubber door smacked him back several times before he found his balance and timing. To Niko's benefit, Bert Basset is an old hound dog, with a slow gait and the door does stay open a long time.  Sill, Nikolast was proud of his accomplishment, now for a nice plump blue-jay.

Johnny landed on a thick pine branch near the feeder, behind the cottage.  The taunting was about to begin.  

   "Hey big blue, how many of those seeds you need to eat to fill that big blue belly?"   Hey, big blue, the sky called. He wants his color back. Hey, how come ya'll have the same last name? That's all kind of seedy. "   

Johnny flew down to the wooden lighthouse feeder and landed on top.  The Blue Jays scattered.  Nearby the cawing of several crows could be heard as the flock of blue jays flew through the  neighborhood.  Then he flew down to the ground, looking for a french fry or piece of cheese.

Nikolast pounced and it was a good pounce, but perhaps a tad too high and maybe a second too fast, which he realized as he flew over the back of the black-feathered bird and tumbled across the lawn.  Johnny Crow noticed the breeze as Nikolast flew past.  

   "Do you want to try that again?  It was an elegant attempt.  I feel bad you missed. Of course, grabbing you in my talons and dropping you thirty feet will not result in an elegant landing at all."

Nikolast, looking suddenly disinterested, sat and groomed his paws before replying,

   "I wasn't trying to catch YOU for dinner, I was after a big, plump blue-jay.  YOU are all skin and bones," said Nikolast in a dismissive tone.  Besides, I'm too heavy for a bird to carry."  

 Johnny found a piece of old bread and poked at it with his beak, while keeping one eye on Nikolast.

   "You're a cute kitten, ya look like a baby bobcat, and I could fly with my talons dug into your soft, furry back.  I might just do that too and drop you off outside a Chinese restaurant, then dumpster dive tomorrow for  kitty-cat lo-mein.  Yum.  I'm getting hungry thinking of it."

Nikolast laid down facing Johnny Crow.  A lady bug landed on his ear.  

   "My name is Nikolast Octavio Leggier, 8th of my litter, born on the first moon of the Year of the Cat, No. 2225.  I am owned and cared for by humans named Thomas.  They kept me because I was the runt of the litter, I have very few friends.   Would you like to be my friend?"  

 The words burst out of Niko's mouth in a series of tiny meows.  Johnny tilted his head and observed Nikolast very carefully.  

   "You talk more than I do and that is saying a lot," said the young crow, "How do you know the name of your owners?  Is this a trick?   Do not pounce me again, you won't like the result.  OK, we can be friends on one or more conditions.  I do not accept fair weather friends, friends of convenience, or transactional friends.  I am free, un-owned and living dangerously in the outside world."   Johnny ruffled his feathers, stuck out his chest, and crowed or cawed but of crowing variety.

Nikolast replied with short laugh, 

  "Wow, you're kind of random, I don't know all those big words you spoke, we can just be friends.   Oh, and I know their name because they speak it all the time.  Nikolast stood up on his rear hind legs and bowed,  

'Hello Mr. Thomas, dinner is almost ready. Has your day gone well?" Nikolast pecked the air imaginatively, "Mrs. Thomas you are so good to me.  Leftovers are fine,  now where's our son Maxwell hiding today? And where's that playful kitten Nikolast hiding?"   Nikolast sat back down and smiled at Johnny Crow.

Johnny looked up into the trees.  He heard a hawk screech high in the blue-jay colored sky.

 "Buddy, there are only a few of us who can understand their words. That is a rare gift.  Now did you hear that screech?  A hawk is up in the sky circling.  He sees lunch and that's you.  He is twice my size and he doesn't like chit chat, just a dive bomb with talons first for his prey.  Get inside right away.  We'll talk again later."    Johnny waved his wings as he spoke, shooing the kitten onto the back porch where an old basset hound was patiently waiting (sleeping) to help Nikolast get back inside the house.

Johnny flew up into the higher branches of  the pine tree, one eye on the Thomas Cottage and one eye on the sky. Johnny thought ' I had better not be wrong but I think I need to establish a watch. Nikolast is completely unaware of the danger that is near this house.  The hawk screeched again.   Johnny began to call out to his cousins, sisters, and brothers.

"Set up a watcher's net, set up a watcher's net for a five long-flight radius, five long-flight radius," cried the crow over and over. Within minutes the call was  repeated and within a few hours  hundreds upon hundreds of crows took up positions in trees and rooftops, on poles and wires, extended for several miles. The crows repeatedly called out back and forth, standing as sentries into and throughout the day and long into nightfall.  

Nikolast was curled up asleep by the fireplace, the red flames of the fire licking at the seasoned red oak wood. Outside the Thomas cottage, for the first time since year 698 in the crow calendar, a watcher's net was in full force, and growing wider by the hour.

 End Chapter 1

 

 

 

 

New Song- Walk Along Your Jagged Line