Throwing In The Towel

Things have been going very badly here since mid-April, and Di and I have decided to put our condo in Corpus Christi for sale and move.

When we first moved into our condo development over a year ago, we were impressed by the homeowner association rules. They were (and are) written to encourage occupancy by owners and discourage renters; for example, the rules forbid rental occupancy of a unit by two adults who are not related by marriage or blood. The intent of this is to discourage rental to students at nearby Texas A&M-Corpus Christi, who tend to be party animals.

But in February a new slate of officers was elected, and since then things have fallen off a cliff in our development.

In mid-April, the unit adjacent to ours was rented to two young women who are not related to each other, a clear violation of condo association rules. But that was not what bothered us about our new neighbors. Instead, it was the loud crashing, thumping, and bumping sounds that we started to hear late at night from their unit. These sounds were not just annoyances. Instead, they were loud-----I compare them to dropping a boxload of books, or someone jumping off a bed and hitting the floor with both feet-----and would wake Di and I from deep sleep. And most of these sounds would happen from 11:00 pm to 2:00 am.

We complained to one of the board officers----a person for whom the term "feckless" would be high praise indeed----who spoke to our new neighbors. Their response was to amp up the noises and they made several false charges against my wife in response. What really pissed off Di and I was the eagerness with which that board officer believed their outrageous accusations.

And the thumps, crashes, and bumps continued. I'm dying of cancer, and I have enough trouble sleeping through the night as is. All In want is to be able to spend whatever time I have left in peace and quiet. Apparently this is too much to ask for our neighbors and certain board members.

However, there will soon be a resolution in our favor. Our neighbors made the big mistake of putting their libelous accusations in writing. That document was addressed to their leasing agent, the unit owner, and the condo board. We were not sent a copy. Not only was their document libelous, but it also contained several statements that could be easily shown to be false, including a real whopper where they lied about what a police officer supposedly told them about Di and I----I spoke to the officer about what he supposedly said, and the officer vehemently and angrily denied making the statement. (Unfortunately, the lie by our neighbors triggered an internal affairs investigation by the Corpus Christi police department; I expect the officer's denial to be fully upheld.)

Some people were involved in circulating our neighbors' document, and the highly libelous accusations in them, to third parties. Suffice it to say that lawsuits for libel and defamation of character will soon be filed against responsible parties. I'm sure some of the affected individuals think it's all a big joke and these are empty threats. They are about to learn a hard, painful lesson.

But the entire experience since mid-April has really soured us on remaining in this condo development and Corpus Christi. The strain on Di and me has been terrible; we're often cranky, short-tempered, and get into arguments with each other over silly things. As for me, it is pushing me toward a dark place where I feel like completely giving up and just dying. While we have met some outstanding people here (like our neighbors Sue and Tom), that is offset by an increasing disgust and contempt for other people who have refused to help us with our neighbor problems. We don't feel welcome, comfortable, or even safe here any longer-----and, to be honest, we are seeing signs of anti-Semitism being directed toward Di. (If true, that would explain certain things.) Regardless, when you can't help but see people each day who you genuinely hate, it's time to leave that place.

The condo is for sale and Di will be returning to Las Vegas. The move makes sense for a lot of reasons. Las Vegas real estate is an amazing bargain now, and Di has friends and professional connections there. It will be a perfect place for her to re-start her life after my death.

I will accompany Di to Las Vegas if at all possible. I'm not trying to sound melodramatic, but I am slipping fast and I don't know how much longer I'm going to be around. Las Vegas is where the the story of Di and me began, and it would be a perfect place for it to end. I hope it can.

I will be posting only rarely here in the future. I feel like I have said about all I feel like saying.

Rin Tin Tin Toys

When I was five years old, it was easy to find me at 4:00 pm Monday through Friday. I was in front of our television, eagerly awaiting a new episode of The Adventures of Rin Tin Tin. The show starred Rin Tin Tin, the smartest, bravest German Shepherd in the known universe, and Rusty, a schlubby little kid who I had to envy because Rin Tin Tin was his dog. The show was set in the Wild West; Rusty and Rin Tin Tin lived at Fort Apache, a U. S. Army outpost in hostile Indian. . . . . . .er, I mean Native American territory. I always looked forward to those episodes in which Rusty was kidnapped by Apaches. Those episodes would end with a ne'er-do-well savage holding a knife over Rusty, getting ready to plunge it down, when suddenly Rin Tin Tin would leap into action, biting the savage's wrist and causing him to drop the knife. Rin Tin Tin would then lunge for the Native American's throat, and I would giggle hysterically at his death screams. It was perfect entertainment for a wholesome, innocent age in which everyone respected President Eisenhower.

Like many Baby Boomers in the 1990s, I became possessed with an urge to collect pieces of my childhood, and naturally Rin Tin Tin was at the top of my collectible list. One of my prize finds was this Fort Apache playset; it included Rusty and Rin Tin Tin figures, as you can see below:


I think Rin Tin Tin was one of the first kids' shows to derive more income from merchandising than from syndication fees. Among the items available back in the 1950s were stuffed Rin Tin Tin stuffed animals, jig saw puzzles, pennants, board games, "magic" writing slates, etc. Here are some examples I found:






As a kid, I owned the item below. The "pictures" were on plastic-coated paper and the "crayons" were soft and putty-like. When I colored the pictures, the colors were more smeared on the pictures instead of being drawn. The colors did wipe off quickly with a paper towel, but I remember getting quickly bored with this toy:


Numerous Rin Tin Tin books and comics were produced, as you can see below. Note the book in the upper left corner; it was from the 1920s and was published in conjunction with the movies of that era that starred the original Rin Tin Tin. I have videos of those 1920s silent films, and I have to admit the original Rin Tin Tin was a genuinely remarkable dog------many of his stunts are mindboggling, and he was incredibly athletic.


For my fifth birthday, I got a Rusty playsuit for a present. I put it on and spent several happy weeks pretending I was Rusty. It should be no surprise that I was thrilled to locate the mint Rusty playsuit below. It was still in its original factory wrapping and even had the same smell when I opened the box that I remember from my fifth birthday.


I have greatly downsized my Rin Tin Tin collection; I'm trying to leave Di without much to sort through after my death. It was fun to once again own this stuff, and I'm glad the items above now resides with other Rin Tin Tin fans.

Mother's Day 2009

This is the third Mother's Day for me since the death of my mother, and, as has been the case on her birthday each year since her death, I have this hollow, empty feeling inside me.

She taught me to read and write before I started school. I didn't get every toy I wanted, but if it was something to read-----a book, a magazine, etc.-----she always bought it for me. There is no doubt my writing and editing career was a direct result of her efforts.

And she loved me truly and unconditionally. I am glad that I was in remission-----which, to her, meant "cured"-----when she died and she never knew my cancer returned.

When I was a kid, my favorite meal was Mom's baked macaroni and cheese. She would use real cheese which would melt and flow through the macaroni; the top would harden into a crunchy crust that I loved to bite into. She would serve it with a green vegetable and some of her sweet yellow cornbread.

Years after I moved away, she would always make baked macaroni and cheese when I came to visit. I always knew it would be waiting for me when I arrived at the airport in Charlotte.

I would give everything I own to taste that meal again.

In a a world that is often dark and angry, mothers are beacons of light, hope, and love. I hope every mother out there today receives the love and honor they deserve.

The Ghost Town Of Lida, Nevada

You'll do some serious driving to visit Lida! From Las Vegas, take Highway 95 north for 180 miles until you reach the intersection with Route 266. You will turn left off Highway 95, and it's hard to miss where to turn------the Cottontail Ranch Brothel is at the intersection, and is the only business for several miles. The nearest gas, food, and other services are in Beatty, NV, about 40 miles south. I strongly suggest topping off your gas tank in Beatty. You'll travel about 30 miles on Route 266 to reach Lida. The road is paved, although it is narrow in places.

Lida came into being in 1873 when a post office opened there. Numerous small gold and silver mining claims were being worked in the surrounding countryside, and Lida served those miners with supplies, services (like assaying), and recreation (like gambling and drinking). By 1905, Lida's population reached 300. But that was the peak of mining activity in the region, and the town began to slowly decline. By 1918, the post office closed and Lida was almost totally abandoned a few years later. However, there are still a few people living in the area who conduct ranching operations, so Lida is not totally deserted.

Much of the ruins of Lida is on private property and is fenced off to visitors, so you have to be content with looking instead of touching:


However, a few standing buildings are not fenced off and can be visited:




The state of Nevada erected the sign below to mark the site of Lida. And I got a couple of friendly waves from working ranchhands as I drove through Lida. Maybe you'll be lucky enough to get a similar reception if you visit.

The Ghost Town Of Kelso, California

Kelso, California was a stop on the Union Pacific railroad running from Los Angeles to Salt Lake City. The site was chosen because of abundant springs in the area for water. Kelso boomed about a century ago because of gold and silver deposits in the surrounding mountains. By 1940, the population was about 2000, but began to drop rapidly after World War II. In the early 1980s, there were only a few people left and Union Pacific wanted to close down all buildings and raze them. Fortunately, a preservation effort was launched and Union Pacific agreed to turn the townsite over to the state of California. Today, Kelso is part of the Mojave National Preserve and is administered by the National Park Service.

Kelso is reached by taking Interstate 15 from Los Angeles or Las Vegas; Baker is almost midway between the two on I-15. From Baker, take Kelbaker Road south 37 miles to the site of Kelso. The road is paved the entire way and suitable for all vehicles.

The most impressive structure in Kelso is the old Union Pacific station shown below. When I visited back in 2001 and took these photos, it was closed. Happily, the National Park Service has restored the building and it now serves as a visitor center and has the only restaurant for quite a few miles:


Another well-preserved building in Kelso is the post office below. This was the last building to close in Kelso back in the 1970s:


Most of the remaining structures in Kelso are behind fencing, meaning you can look but not touch:




The only buildings not protected by fencing are falling apart:


Near Kelso are some impressive sand dunes called, appropriately enough, the Kelso Dunes. David Carradine walked across them in the opening sequences of the 1970s TV program Kung Fu, and you can retrace those historic steps after visiting Kelso.

Updates On Buck and Dub

Kimberly Critz is the daughter of Ward and Sue Critz, the new owners of Buck and Dub, the horses Di and I previously owned. She sent along some more photos of the boys in their new home, and all photos were taken over Easter weekend.

Here's a photo of Buck (on the right) and his new herdmate Peso, a beautiful young Palomino. Buck looks so regal in this photo; he has a classic "Arabian look" to him:


Another herdmate of Buck's is Henry, an older horse in his twenties. In the photo below, Buck strikes a noble pose while Henry lurks in the background:


Dub gave a 17-year old girl named Kelsey her first horse ride, and, according to Kimberly, took her on a gentle ride around the pasture. The saddle and riding tack shown below are my old saddle and tack, and I'm glad it's still being used:


The last photo shows Kimberly's niece, Caroline, getting to know Dub. This photo captures what I loved so much about Dub: a gentle, loving heart inside a large, powerful body. I still remember how Dub would spot me when I entered the horse pasture, how he would give a little "whinny!" and start galloping toward me at full speed. I would stand my ground as Dub charged. At about 15 feet away, he would start to put on the brakes. At about five feet away, he would seem to glide to a stop. He would then creep slowly forward until he about a foot away; his head would lower, he would sigh, and I would gently stroke his head with my hands. Our eyes would meet, and we would be connected in a way that is beyond words or logic:


Knowing that Buck and Dub are in such a loving, supportive home takes a load off my mind. I am grateful to Ward and Sue Critz for taking in "our boys," and I thank Kimberly Critz for sharing these photos.

I'm Feeling Cranky And Churlish Today. . . .

. . . . . . . . but I think I have good reason to feel that way.

One annoyance is that the Blue Angels are in Corpus Christi this weekend for shows at the Corpus Christi Naval Air Station. They have been rehearsing today, and as a result our condo has been repeatedly rattled by low flying jets screaming in off the Gulf of Mexico. Even car alarms are being set off by the jets' shock waves. And for what purpose? If these were training exercises for an anti-terrorist mission, that would be one thing. But instead the Blue Angels are training for a series of stunts, all performed at low altitudes over heavily populated areas. As I asked before, for what purpose??

Attention President Obama: if you want to save on defense spending, ground the Blue Angels. And when you're finished with that, start showing more respect for civil liberties and privacy than George W. Bush did. Your somewhat. . . . . . shall we say, overenthusiastic embrace of warrantless wiretaps is one reason why people like me------people who voted for you and donated to your campaign----are experiencing severe buyer's remorse these days.

I'm also pissed off at an event being held tonight at a local high school running track. The event is a fundraiser for the American Cancer Society. People will be walking the track all night, and sponsors will be donating a certain amount of money for each mile walked.

So why does that piss me off?

Because the American Cancer Society, like almost all other cancer groups (such as the Jimmy V Foundation that Dick Vitale slobbers over each basketball season) focus their efforts almost exclusively on research into "finding a cure for cancer." But that approach has two big shortcomings: 1) as you can read here (and here), all of those billions spent on research have brought very little improvement in cancer survival and no further to a "cure," and 2) all that money spent on research leaves very little money left over for support and aid to existing cancer patients and for making diagnostic tests for early detection more widely available to more people.

One of the things that shocked me when I began chemotherapy was how many fellow patients had no reliable way to travel to and from their treatments. Make no mistake-----you are in absolutely no shape to drive after a chemo infusion, and you remain physically impaired for days afterward (I was typically bedridden for five days following each of my infusions). I was fortunate to have Di to drive me to and from the hospital in Austin, but many people, especially the elderly, had to search for a ride each treatment session. And sometimes they had to cancel their treatments if a ride wasn't available.

Some of that money being spent in futile searches for "cures" needs to be redirected toward services and support for people who need rides to their chemo treatments, who need people to check on them after treatments to see how they're doing, who need psychological counseling, etc.

Those sorts of tasks aren't glamorous enough for the American Cancer Society. Yet those tasks make life far more bearable for those dealing with cancer.

Some have asked if I would like a donation made in my name to the American Cancer Society after my death. And my answer to that is. . . . . . . hell no!! Lance Armstrong's LiveStrong Foundation does an infinitely better job of supporting and aiding cancer patients, especially in Central Texas, and deserves your support far more than the American Cancer Society does.

See? I may be falling apart, but I'm still the same irascible son of a bitch I've always been!

Miscellaneous Musings

• We have several ducks living in the pond that fronts our condo unit, and on Friday one of them hatched four ducklings. Here's a photo I took a few hours ago showing Mama Duck and one of her kids. The maintenance people at our complex have fenced off her nest, and there is water and food for her and her ducklings. I suspect I'll be posting a lot of cute ducky photos in the weeks ahead!

• Today marks the 48th anniversary of the first manned spaceflight by Yuri Gagarin. By any measure, this was one of the great accomplishments in human history, yet this anniversary has been, as far as I can tell, almost entirely ignored by the mainstream American press. Why is this? Are we living in such an ahistorical, cynical, heroism-denying age that such monumental acomplishments are now considered of less importance than, say, Lindsay Lohan's new hairstyle? I note the Chinese are enthusiastic about space exploration, embrace heroic enterprises, and I suppose that's why China will be the dominant world power in less than a quarter century. Do your kids a favor; teach them to say "Sure thing, boss!" in Mandarin. They will thank you for it.

• In the past week I have received several unexpected but very welcome e-mails, and I want to acknowledge them. My old high school buddy Donald Mack located me and sent me an update on him and his family; he's doing well and I'm happy for him. Cindy Ballard-Guminski was the first employee of Hightext/LLH back when she was Cindy Ballard; she left us to join the Peace Corps and work in Botswana (my going away present to her was a Grundig shortwave radio!). She had some very warm words for me which I really, really appreciated. I also received an e-mail from someone who had found this blog by accident, Shirley Bovshow. I appreciate her kind remarks about my cancer entries. Shirley has a very interesting gardening blog that is worth checking out. Finally, I also received phone calls from Jason Gardner and Jon Erickson, two buddies from the publishing industry. I can't describe how much such e-mails and calls mean to me, especially from people I have been out of touch with for a while. From the very bottom of my heart, thank you!!

• Today is the third anniversary of my cancer diagnosis and also marks the end of blogging about my cancer. Why? For one thing, I feel as if I have said just about everything I can about the subject; I'm bored with having cancer and how it now dominates my life. I no longer decide when I will go to bed, when I will wake up, what (or if) I will eat today, or what, if anything, I will do on a given day------cancer decides all that for me. And there's very little I can say new or insightful about having cancer. Cancer sucks. That's the summation of everything I have learned over the past three years, and I doubt I'm going to learn anything new in the time I have left. So no more cancer posts; instead, I'll write about ghost towns, mountain climbs, the Big Island, Death Valley, etc. Those are positive memories and cheer me up, while writing about cancer is depressing. I don't want to spend my remaining time in mopey self-pity, so the "My Cancer" label is now officially retired.

North Carolina 89, Michigan State 72

Last night was the last time I will ever get to see Carolina play. I watched it quietly while lying in bed, my calm the result of a painkiller I had to take earlier in the evening. There was none of the celebration that accompanied the 2005 title, but in the last few minutes of the game I was both giggling and crying tears of joy. . . . . . . the last time I will ever see Carolina play, and they win the national championship. That, my friends, is what you call a "perfect ending."

Yes, to some it was a silly ballgame. For me, last night was an escape from my decline and pain, and some welcome joy and happiness. I felt good and happy, and for that I am grateful.

My thanks and love to my alma mater. As the Carolina fight song says, "I'm a Tar Heel born. I'm a Tar Heel bred. And when I die I'll be a Tar Heel dead."

More Scenes From The Big Island Of Hawaii

I don't think I'll have time to post individually about all the places on the Big Island that interest me, so here's a quick look at sites I've enjoyed visiting.

One cool place is the small town of Na'alehu, which has the distinction of being the southernmost incorporated town in the United States. The local post office provides the full data:


Na'alehu has a neat restored movie theater that's now a museum. It was closed when I took the photo below, but the exterior was worth a look:



A few miles from Na'alehu is South Point, the southernmost point in the United States. There is a heiau there, which was used for human sacrifices. South Point is very isolated; there is a navigation light there but not much else.


Kalapana was a town on the southeast corner of the Big Island. It was destroyed in 1990 by lava flows from Kilauea. However, lava doesn't flow in a continuous stream; instead, it sometimes flows around areas, resulting in islands of untouched greenery amid a sea of black, cooled lava. And a few houses are spared this way, as you can see below. But this homeowner, and others like him/her, wasn't exactly lucky. If lava destroys a home, the insurance paid the value of the home. But homes like the one below were cut off from roads, electricity, water, sewer services, telephone service, etc.------in other words, those homes were back in the nineteenth century. And since the homes themselves are undamaged, the insurance companies pay nothing, the owners can't sell, and they're stuck:


Visible from the site of Kalapana is the gas cloud emitted from the Pu'u O'o vent of Kilauea. The photo below doesn't do justice to how impressive the cloud was; it was churning like boiling water:


There are several additional places I'll blog about in the future.