5/30/5 McCormick Park, St Helens

Around 10:45 this Monday, at McCormick Park by the VFW Memorial, St Helens veterans, blue/gold-star mothers, and citizens will all gather together to pay our respects and to recognize Memorial Day.
I feel no compunction in saying that it's indeed ironic it is also the one day of the year when President Bush and his administration must acknowledge our otherwise officially-invisible war dead in Iraq.
For the rest of us, recognizing our shared humanity brings home to us the size of the tragedy in every single life lost in war(s), and ideally teaches us that in a real "culture of life" the decision to go to war is never taken lightly.
We memorialize the names and faces of our dead to remind ourselves that each one of them was an individual just like us, who valued his or her life no less than we do, and whose death is a tragedy for those left behind no less than ours would be for our loved ones.
-Tom

5/22/5 - Home to Church to Bar to Home

What on earth are you doing God?
Is this some sort of joke you're playing?
Is it 'cause we didn't pray?
Well I can't see the point of the words without the action...
Are you just hot air breathing over us?
And overall, is it fun watching us all?

Where's your son? We want him again.
And the next time you send your boy down here,
Give him a wife and a sexy daughter - someone we can understand.
Someone who's got some ideas we can really relate to...

We've all read your rules - tried them.
Learned them in school, then tried them
They're impossible rules - you've made us look fools
Well done God...but now please, Don't hunt me down for heaven's sake!
You know that I'm only joking.
Right?

Pardon me - I'm very drunk, but I know what I'm trying to say
And It's nearly night time and we're still alone waiting...
For something unknown...
Still waiting...
So throw down a stone or something...
Give us a sign for Christ's sake.
(with apologies to Robert Wyatt)

5/18/5 - Clatskanie to St Helens

I wasn’t even in town and yet over the past few days, I heard two news items from Columbia County all the way up in my neck-o-the-woods of Washington: a black-bear was loose in Scappoose on Tuesday morning and that the County Sheriff’s Dept. was considering charging inmates $10 per day for daily jail-cell “rental”. Lorraine was outraged by that story until I informed her of the fact that the Columbia County Sheriff’s Dept. has the same number of officers on duty today as it did in 1958. After hearin’ this bit of information, she wondered how somethin’ like that was even possible. Being that we were watching FOX news, I’m not sure what ended up happening to the wanderin’ bear.
So as I was wolfin’ down hot-dogs at the Wayne’s truck yesterday, this was the first question on my mind: just who deals with roaming bears if they invade town? I found out the answer from Randy, the best hot-dog man this side of Chicago.
Apparently, a wounded coyote had crawled under a shed on his property out in Yankton and after clearin’ away his five swarming dogs, he quickly called Animal Control for help. They said “nothin’ doing” for any wild animals and advised him to call the State Police. The State Police told him that an officer would call him back as soon as they could (this was a few days ago and Randy still hadn’t heard back). Randy then phoned his family vet who could only advise a call to the Sheriff’s Dept. - as if that would do anything. They both even had a good laugh over the phone about it.
“Yeah Randy, me an’ Lorraine were just talkin’ the other night about the Sheriff’s Dept. and their lack of manpower,” I told him.
“It’s disgusting,” Randy editorialized before continuing on.
So, out Randy went with a shotgun in hand to finish off this poor coyote with its coyote-mate watchin’ from the far side of Randy’s pasture.
“Ever try an’ do that Tom?”
“What…Shoot a coyote?” I asked.
“Nah, I mean shoot a wounded anything; shoot some living-breathing creature looking straight into your eyes with its mate watching? I might as well have been tryin’ to kill myself. I just couldn’t seem to work-up the nerve to do it.”
Fortunately, things turned out that Randy didn’t have to pull the trigger, because as he was about to, a Columbia County Sheriff’s Car pulled up out of nowhere. Apparently, they had heard of Randy’s trouble over the State Police scanner.
“I’ll be damned,” I told him as he scurried about in the hotdog truck.
“Yeah, the last thing I would have ever predicted,” Randy sighed as he served up a steaming brat and sauerkraut to another hungry customer.
Possibly, the most amazing thing was that the Sheriff’s officers had a some sort of wildlife expert with them in the car as they were out on some other business.
“And these guys, headed straight out to my place to take care of my problem,” Randy said, still somewhat shocked. “I know Phil Derby and most of the guys who work their butts off in the Sheriff's Department and this was one of those times when they went above and beyond their call of duty…their busy call of duty.”
“Wow, that’s somethin’...and just what happened to the coyote?” I wondered.
“The wildlife officer put the coyote out of its misery and followed up by taking detailed notes for the report he wrote up. Turned out that somebody shot it for no apparent reason at all, other than being just another yelping coyote,” he said. “That’s just stupid. I really wonder about some people out here sometimes.”
That’s when another fella around the truck interjected with the fact of a Sheriff Levee due to be voted on this year.
“If we don’t pass it this time around, we really are idiots out here,” he said rather heatedly.
Maybe he was just hungry or maybe he has a point.
Take care of things around here.
-Tom

5/10/5 - North Bend to St Helens

I ran across “Weyerhaeuser Henry” yesterday in North Bend, Oregon.
I always enjoy catchin’ up with W.H. even though lately, he’s been nothin’ more than a self-righteous, bitter liberal. But, what-the-hell, I really can’t get on him too much for that, seeing how things have been going these days.
So, I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me that he hadn’t changed much, when after my introduction of, “Well, Godammit W.H., how ya holdin’ up?”, Henry let me have it.
“How d’ya think Tom? Bush and his crony-criminals have taken this country back 75 years, I hafta hear DeLay and Frist’s crap justabout every day, Robertson, Falwell and all of them religious-shysters are completely out-of-control and for-Christ-sake Tom, just what the hell’s going on in that town you’re always bloggin’ about?”
“Whaddya mean?” I asked, happy that he’d been keepin’ up with my blog.
“Well, I’ll tell ya just what I mean Tom: I’ll be up in Rainier, Columbia City and Scappoose next week with SOLV,” he angrily explained, “and I suppose St Helens is now in the league of a Paris or a New York or somethin’? Are they too good for us?”
Wow. I really didn’t know what to say to Henry who has been an active volunteer in SOLV for years. SOLV, for those who don’t know, is a non-profit organization that brings together government agencies, businesses and individual volunteers in programs and projects to enhance the livability of Oregon.
“We’ll be cleanin' up at Datis Park and Pixie Park in Columbia City on May 20th and the next day we’re in Rainer and Scappoose…and NOTHIN’ IN ST HELENS! So I guess we’ll just head down the Columbia River coast line and skip St Helens…I mean, are the citizens of Ranier and Columbia City and Scappoose more enlightened than people in St Helens?”
"Well, some people in St Helens make it as hard as possible to pick up trash and clean things up," I offered back, not botherin' to explain any further.
"It's a cryin' shame Tom, that's all I hafta say."
“Jeez W.H., I’ll hafta let ‘em all know,” was all I could muster back.
So...ahem...
SOLV’s annual Down by the Riverside event has thousands of volunteers build trails, plant trees, shrubs and seeds, create gardens, remove invasive species, and cleaning up litter, and a number of other projects that will enhance parks and greenspaces. If you’d like to help out, you can visit www.solv.org or call 1-800-333-SOLV (7658) for specific site information including project details and date and time listings.
Keep things clean and take care of business in this town y’all…ya hear?
-Tom

5/4/5 - Astoria to St Helens

Y’all know by now that I love talkin’ with just about anybody I meet on the road, and I really love conversations with those folks who leave me wondering what the hell I’d just heard. That being said, I’ll try to recapture just what the hell I heard from the sharp old timer I ran across at the St Helens Marina on Wednesday.
I was down there lookin’ for this Fish and Chips place that in fact, was no longer in business. While at the dock snoopin’ around, I ran into this old guy who was a dead ringer for any prototypical old sea character on that 60's TV-show SeaHunt: with his funny navy-blue sea-captain’s cap complete with a small gold anchor, his bushy white beard and leathery skin. He was quick to informally introduce himself to me with the fact that Fletcher’s Fish and Chips has been out of business for a year or so.
“Too bad too, they served up some good grub,” he said sadly while fiddlin’ around with some kind of nautical apparatus that I couldn’t recognize.
“What the hell is that?” I wondered.
“It’s an old sextant: A navigational instrument,” he patiently explained. “Ya see this graduated 60-degree arc? That’s used for measuring the altitudes of the stars and sky to determine latitude and longitude. Helps ya figure out where you're goin'.”
“Huh, and I just use the maps I buy at any Shell Station,” I joked.
Within two minutes we were like a pair of long lost army buddies, chattin’ away for a good hour. He was one sharp cookie, lemme tell ya, and not boastful at all.
After swappin' stories about gettin around at sea and gettin' by on land, I asked him: “So, what’s the biggest problem here in town?”
He scratched his beard lookin’ skyward and thought about my question awhile.
“It’s gotta be the Port of St Helens mess,” he concluded. “Ya got these local blowhards jockeyin’ for their new open seats, and they don’t give a damn about nothin’ but their own self-importance.”
I was all ears. “Hmmmm, I sure don’t know much about ‘em, or exactly what they do; so what’s the deal?”
“Well son,” he began, in a fatherly sort of way. “We’d be here all day, so I’ll just keep it simple and tell ya that they’re supposed to manage our ports and port-properties in the best ways that serve us citizens who use ‘em...NOW,” he suddenly emphasized, “I’m not sure that happens all of the time, especially when you get the type of people I just was tellin’ you about tryin’ to get in the position to run things.”
A sarcastic grin began to creep upon his old salty face as he continued.
“Now lessee...What is that fellas name…the chair of the Commission?” The old-timer was thinkin’ hard while scratchin’ his beard and looking skyward again. “Oh yeah, Avent! Mike Avent - Top-knotch, smart fella, but you see; he owns a lot of the land that he has to make his Port decisions around, ya follow me?”
“Yeah, I think I do.”
“Well, one of his pals is tryin’ to grab one of the open seats, I think his name is Pulliam…and along with the DeShazer gal, I’m a little worried we got a quorum of folks not necessarily interested in making decisions that are best for the rest of us…ya follow me?”
"It's not like there's a spare sextant layin' around to help navigate through this stuff either," I said dryly.
The old guy liked that joke of mine and let out a hearty belly-laugh.
Like my pal at the dock, keep an eye on things in this nice little town y’all got, ya hear?
-Tom

4/26/5 - Portland to St Helens

It was weird: Things were “different” in town today.
I had parked my rig down by The Klondike and was stretching my legs a bit before headin’ back home. Quietly and without warning, I saw a man wearin’ a long brown trench coat approaching me. He wasn’t making any eye-contact, instead he was looking down at the sidewalk. He also wore one of those old fedoras that men used to wear 50+ years ago in big cities, so I couldn’t quite make out his face. When he passed by me, he suddenly pulled his gaze up from the ground and gave me a crooked-smile and “the message”: It seems I need to watch my back and be careful not to name names.
What year was this…1953? Was I in a film-noir movie from the 50's?
I felt an abrupt pang of fear and became angry as I watched the stranger’s back make a slow getaway. I began thinking to myself that I was now this close to givin’ these Joe McCarthy bastards who are runnin’ things here in town a real piece of my mind.
Instead, I decided to secretly follow the man as he headed down towards the river. I was cautious to stay far enough back so I wouldn’t be detected. Like a spy, I tracked his plodding, slow movement. He headed left, walking so slow that I had to stop and pretend that I was window shopping, all-the-while tracking him in the window’s reflection.
A few minutes later, I watched the man suddenly stop and stand silently in front of the new amphitheater with both hands in his coat-pockets. As I drew nearer I noticed that the amphi-project had definitely progressed - “They” have planted grass on the steps, mowed and trimmed it and I must confess that it looked stunning.
I warily inched closer to the man who was staring straight-ahead in silence at the new stairs. Slowly, I approached his back. I was so good at this spy-game that I knew I could have plunged a knife in his back. Before I knew it, I was standing right beside him, not carin’ anymore that I had blown my cover. He didn’t flinch at all to see who was now suddenly next to him and it became clear to me that he must have known I had been following behind him the whole time.
For almost a minute, neither of us spoke as we gazed at the new stairs in silence. I was struck how stark the concrete stairs looked: completely out of place amidst the artistically designed rock work of Larry Buzbee’s Amphitheater. An unexpected gust of wind blew up from the river and broke the silence.
“You know that they neglected to place any of the buried electrical-conduits that Buzbee designed to be run beneath the concrete,” the man said straight ahead with out blinking.
“That’s unfortunate,” I began quietly, “because Larry certainly knew it would be necessary for any lighting and power-outlets for sound-amplification.” The man suddenly turned and looked at me. His eyes seemed sad.
“Why do you think that these people just didn't bother with it? Do they care about anything,” he said with a cold, emotionless tone and stare. “What we have now, is certainly something usable and somewhat appealing to the eye, but it also has the look of something thrown-together. It’s a piece of slapdash junk art!”
“Too bad, the people couldn’t have had a real work of art,” I empathetically offered back.”
“I guess the only thing artistic the City would have really considered was a giant dog statue constructed out of rebar and plaster,” he said sadly as he suddenly turned away from me and slowly headed back toward old-towne. He had resumed staring down at his feet. “Or maybe a mural of dogs playing poker,” he suddenly said to no one in particular.
“How about velvet pictures of Elvis.” I yelled back to him in my own sadness.
Keep watch and take care of things in this town, ya hear?
-Tom

4/20/5 - Mossy Rock to St Helens

One of the great things about St Helens is that you just never know what you’re going to run into over a plate of eggs. Or, on a particular Wednesday mornin’ at the St Helens Café, just who you’ll be sittin’ next to and what they’ll tell you.

“G’mornin’ and how ya doin’ today?” the rather thin and plainly-dressed man began, smiling as he sat down at the table across from me.
“Real fine there my friend,” I knee-jerked rather innocuously, while being quick to add, “but lemme tell ya pal, there sure are some nuts out on the road this mornin’, it must have been a full moon or somethin’ last night.”

As innocent as that…it all began.

“Well ya know, Brigham Young revealed to us in 1870 that the Mormon moon-men were similar to earthlings, except that they are much taller and they dress like Quakers.”

“Come again?” I asked in disbelief, almost chokin’ on my slimy over-easy eggs.

Now, I suppose before going on any further, I should point out that I’ve got nothing against some of the Mormons I’ve met over the years: basically, some nice family-oriented people who, as far as their religion goes, seem well-organized but usually, a little over-the-top. However, on this certain Wednesday morning, I learned that Mormonism is an outer-space-oriented religion.

“Oh sure, Mormons believe that human beings inhabit the Moon,” he said as the waitress dropped off his cup of decaf-coffee while secretly rollin’ her eyes at me. “Our great Mormon apostle, the late Bruce McConkie, said that in Mormon theology, God created worlds without number and that Mormons believe that aliens live on other planets unknown to us, and that these planets are inhabited by male and female humanoids who are redeemed with immortality and offered eternal life through the power of Heavenly Father.”

”You’re shittin’ me,” I said, not really knowing what to say and somewhat embarrassed after-the-fact that I had cursed. It didn’t seem to bother him a bit.

“Yessir, Mormon theologians agree that God lives on a distant planet, the planet Kolob.”
“Kolob, huh?” I intellectually offered, in my obvious stunned state.
“Yes, Kolob is located in the constellation Cancer, sector 2813.”

Now, I ask you dear readers, exactly what can one possibly say to that?

“Kolob translates as, the first creation,” he continued on passionately, “which is nearest to the celestial, or the residence of God. Our scriptures say that God told Moses only about our planet Earth, but we're not worshiping a one-planet God."
“Well, glad to hear it friend,” I told him while puttin’ on my jacket in making my unplanned retreat despite not finishing my breakfast.
“Really, it’s all right here,” he said as he opened a dull-blue book titled, Book of Abraham: Translation by Prophet Joseph Smith, from hieroglyphics on papyrus (Facsimile 1)

I threw a ten on the table while curteously glancing at the passage his thumb directed me to read:
"And thus there shall be the reckoning of the time of one planet above another, until thou come nigh unto Kolob, which Kolob is after the reckoning of the Lord's time; which Kolob is set nigh unto the throne of God, to govern all those planets which belong to the same order as that upon which thou standest."
“Wow,” I grunted. “That really is somethin’ pal.”
“It sure is!” he replied as I left. “Keep safe on those roads out there today.”
There’s some real interestin’ people in this quirky little town y’all got here.
-Tom

4/12/5 - Longview to St Helens

The loading dock foreman was pissed. Now, I can’t tell you that it actually makes me happy to say that, but I do get a kick out of watchin’ him steam and squirm.
“Watch your step around him today Tom,” my friend Mitch advised as he climbed into his rig to head north on an Everett, WA run.
Nevertheless, I couldn’t resist.
“Now what seems to be your problem today?” I told him as soon as I entered his messy, small office.
“Fuck you T******n,” (he always calls me by my last name). “You’re my problem right now; you and this redhead up in accounting.”
I made a minimal gesture of reassurance, “I’m sure you’ll get all of the receipts together and it’ll all blow over.”
“Whatever,” he growled, and quickly threw some papers toward me to sign. “Now hit the road and call in after you’ve checked at Boise.”
Old Watson the janitor who was standing right behind him, was slyly smilin’ at me as he emptied the office waste-can and quickly followed me right out of the office as I left.
“Yeah, he’s got some trouble with that Emily up on the second floor,” he laughed as he lit a non filtered cigarette. “They’ve got some sort of amorous, extra marital thing goin’ on.” He laughed and spit out some tobacco from the end of his tongue.
“I don’t want to know about it Watson,” I told him throwin’ up my arms into the air as I turned around to walk away.
Watson laughed, “He-he...Yeah Tom, the poor bastard.”
“The poor woman,” I offered as I headed out.
Off across the bridge and into St Helens I went as quickly as I could.
As I grabbed some coffee at Bertucci's, I heard some locals talk of events at City Hall.
“I’m glad he’s in hot water. He’s always threatening and bullying people, you remember how he hassled those people protesting the Conference Center,” a tall fellow said. “Nice to see some karma roll his way.”
“Yep, that’s some torrid love-affair going on there; I’ll bet her husband is pissed,” said another man I've crossed paths with on occasion as he simultaneously turned and recognized me. “Hey Tom, how’s things?”
“I don’t want to know about it pal,” I told him throwin’ up my arms into the air.
Take care of things in this amourous little town here.
-Tom

4/5/5 - Home

Now I can see where I'm going! With Google Maps I can see my route and destination from crystal clear Satellite photos!!
It's easy: you just type in any address and switch between Map and Satellite (towards the upper right-side.)
Really fantastic. Lorraine sure loved lookin' at the place where she grew up.
I'm so glad my computer works again...More soon,
-Tom

3/18/5 - Home

It’s sure good to be back in the Northwest. Nothing like a trip through the Midwest to reinforce why Lorraine & I make our home here. Every time I travel through Texas, it seems like nothin’ but an immeasurable crappy highway makin’ a straight line through ugly brush land, strewn with the repulsive American sprawl of endless fast-food chains and gas-stations. Not my first choice for a vacation spot. I had some time to kill in Austin, so I paid a visit to the Texas Capitol building there. Inside, there are paintings of every Texas governor since statehood circling around the magnificent rotunda. I laughed seeing Ann Richards’ portrait hung right next to Dubya. Unlikely neighbors to say the least. A good laugh I had.
So as you can probably figure out, I just couldn’t get home fast enough. And the first person I saw as I headed down my street for the first time in 10 days, was the neighbor who had predicted a coupla weeks back that, “Mt. St. Helens would blow anyday.” I had thought of him in my Hays, Kansas motel room as I watched the breaking!-CNN coverage.
“Ya gotta knack for knowin’ the mountain,” I told him with a tired smile.
“Eh, that whaddn’t nothin’ much,” he fired back impatiently, quickly resuming whatever he was doing before I pulled up.
The rest of the country thought it was Krakatoa or something because the media has a knack for doin’ that: makin’ a huge deal outta nothin’ and nothin’ out of huge deals.
I can’t wait to pick up my next load and head into town to catch up with what all has been goin’ on. I’ll be seein’ y’all soon.
-Tom

3/6/5 - Seattle to Arlington, TX

Ooh boy, Texas...sheesh.
Yessir, I'm off on a long one to Arlington, which is just north of Dallas/Ft. Worth.
As you can tell by now, I'm not too excited about this much neither, what with the NW rainy season bein' on SoCal and Arizona highways these past weeks, I've got that trucker's nervous-feelin' we sometimes can get once in a blue-moon. Lorraine sent me off with a kiss and a, "Everything's gonna be fine Tom, go-on-now and bring Momma home some real money." I love that woman.
Hey ShoeShine Boy, got any tips for dealin' with loud-mouth, red neck, dishonest Republicans? I figure you got some real experience with these types around the ShoeShine box. Man, I love that ShoeShine guy. He's great!
See y'all when I get back next week. Keep your eye out on things while I'm gone.
-Tom

3/1/5 - Longview to St Helens

The ol' mountain is shrouded today in a creepy, murky cloud-bank, hiding what lurks behind it.
It immediately reminded me of my neighbor down the street who is still tellin' me that, "she's gonna blow anyday Tom." Though he's quite a character and all-around nice guy, he's also a bit of a cranky "old-coot", I believe the term is.
And speakin' of deceptive cloud banks, I figured today would be a perfect day to warn y'all about a certain speed trap that lies in wait on Highway-30 just this side of the Longview bridge in Rainier, OR.
Yes, I said: speed-trap.
And it's even more devious because it comes disguised as a school-crossing.
Yes, I said: school-crossing.
I know this stretch of highway as you can well imagine; I'm on it several times a week and even though I'm a professional driver, familiar with Ranier and all the rest, a couple weeks back...they got me. You see, when makin' one's way through Ranier, you'll be downshiftin' from 55 mph to 40, and then to 30 and suddenly, for one block, to 20. Yes, 20 mph on Highway 30 between 5th and 6th Street. It's a bit annoying to say the least.
"But what about the kids Tom!" you may be asking yourselves.
Here is the deal: In some "research" that I did before going to court for this traffic ticket, I discovered that the school--which is a couple of blocks away--was shut down a couple of years ago. (The building was purchased by a church.) So Mon-Sat, there is no school crossing in effect. And believe me, they know this fact my friends: It is NOT a school crossing, yet the signs remain. I've also heard some people say that even when the school was in operation, kids hardly ever used it to get to school.
These days, there is nothing to cross to, and certainly there is no reason to have a school crossing at this particular place, save a speed-trap. And here is where the trap comes into play: The regular road speed before this point is 30 mph. If 'said person' is traveling a few mph over the speed-limit, let's say - 35mph through town, 'said person' will be cited for speeding as if it were 15 mph over the speed limit in a "school zone". You're cooked. Oh yeah: and did I mention that all fines in a school zone are double?
On top of all this, a recent change in Oregon law mandates that school zone speeding infractions can now be enforced 24 hours a day, regardless of any children being present. So what do you think they're up to? I know I had to pay a hefty fine in court, that's all I'm sayin' here.
A cloudy, deceiving mist on the higway through Ranier. I'm just tryin' to keep an eye out on things.
I'll see y'all next time.
-Tom

2/22/5 - Lost somewhere in Idaho

Just when can I have a fancy GPS system like this one that Finnish timbertruck-drivers use? (Article below)
You read it right - Finnish timbertruck-drivers. I guess it means Finland is a more technologically developed and civilized country than we are these days. Well, they ain't spendin' billions in Iraq neither.
Boy, I sure could have used one of these today...I was as lost as the Washington DC boys and our City Hall boys seem to be.
Anyhow, I'll see y'all next time I'm in town and be sure and keep an eye out on things while I'm gone.
-Tom

The Information System in Timber Trucks
There is also an information system in timber trucks, which receive wireless haulage instructions from Metsähallitus. The haulage instructions clarify where to get the timber, which grades, how much and where to deliver to, and what time the timber should reach the customer. Deliveries are made according to a detailed schedule provided by the customer. Thanks to quick and wireless information transmission, a truck’s arrival time at a mill can be flexibly changed to suit the customer’s request.Timber trucks are also equipped with GPS technology, which helps drivers locate storage areas marked on the map. The smooth flow of information also helps in managing the work. Procurement managers and timber truck drivers communicate regularly via email.

2/16/5 - Longview to Portland

"What a beautiful day", was the consensus around Wayne's HotDog truck on Wednesday. We were all happy, upbeat and grateful to be livin' in the Northwest, in Oregon, in Washington, in St Helens. We all agreed that these kinds of days are upliftin' and we all basked in our happiness with lots of humor.
One old-timer said, "Now a couple of Wednesdays past, was both Groundhog Day and the day the State of the Union Address was given. It was ironic: One involves a meaningless ritual in which we look to a creature of little intelligence for prognostication, and the other involves a groundhog." We all roared, despite the real meaning of the joke. Other than that, I didn't hear anyone complain about anything, though there certainly could be lots to complain about. I was sure sad to hear about two young St Helens kids killed on their motorcycles on Tuesday.
We all hoped that the St Helens city-hall boys would take their lunch in one of the parks today and think about things. Think about our parks. Think about days like today. Think about St Helens people in parks on days like today.
Ahhhh...then, it was off down the road towards Portland.
Take care of things in this beautiful town ya got, ya hear?
-Tom
PS: My thoughts and condolences to the family and friends of the two St Helens High School boys killed in the motorcycle(s) accident yesterday.

2/8/5 - Longview to St Helens

Had some time to kill, so I headed over to the St Helens Library. Nice buildin', I thought to myself as I pulled up. I went inside, turned right...Uhmmm...What library? Now, my Grandmother always told me, "If you can't say somethin' nice about somebody or something, then don't say anything at all." Ok...thanks Grandma.
To the left of the library is the Columbia Center where some computer people were frettin' and worryin' and shufflin' about like a bunch of angry bees in a traumatized hive. Turns out the main server was down. The real trouble is that the City of St. Helens and the Spotlight newspaper and a whole lot of other folks rely on this server for e-mail and internet and all. And just now, as I tried most of the city links on the sthelensupdate page, none of them seemed to be workin'. A tough day at 18th and Plymouth.
ok Grandma...ok.
I'm just keepin' an eye on things in this nice little town y'all got here.

-Tom

1/31/5 - St Helens to Mossy Rock

.
An hour or so before leavin' town, I found out that the same guy who ripped off the Barlow Brothers for a pile of dirt, will be constructing the stairway for Columbia View Park. And even more troublesome is that it will not be the stairway that Larry Buzbee originally conceived and designed. No, I guess that would be too nice for St Helens, Oregon.
The City Hall Boys sure seem to think so. And the City Hall Boys also seem to like hangin' out with this dirt-sellin', project stealin', bmx-track destroyin' fella.
A few bits of advice for y'all on the "new" Columbia View designin' committee: here's some basic lessons on stair-buildin' that you could probably learn on any Saturday Afternoon at Home Depot:

Here is the Columbia View Amphitheater (9/04)

Note Mr. Buzbee's artistic design. Imagine his original vision that included a beautiful rock-laid stairway. Imagine, and ONLY imagine, because it aint gonna happen. Instead they will throw together in HACK-like fashion, something that will merely function as stairs. Now, I suppose that's alright if your skimmin' some money or whatever, but really you guys, take some time to think about how you're gonna throw it together; think about how it could look for future generations. For example:

Here are some fancy stone steps, and they look pretty nice.

These are also fairly simple and classy

These are very boring stairs.
Not much imagination at all and very cost-effective.

Now, the questions you have to ask yourselves: Which kind of stairs will you, as St Helens citizens, be walking on for the next 50 years?
Will they be fancy, or classy or artisitically considered?
Or will they just be thrown together to save a buck. Or to skim a buck?
Do you deserve better?
I kinda think you do. So did Larry Buzbee.
Take care of things in this nice little town y'all got here.
-Tom

1/25/5 - Longview to St Helens

Before getting’ started, here's a big shout-out for the Mt. St Helens Cam on this here sthelensupdate site. I sure like takin’ a gander at it once or twice a day when I’m online. Old-man McMillin down the street says the mountain is gonna blow within the next two weeks. Thing is, he’s usually dead-right. We’ll see.
So, when I got to work in Longview on Tuesday mornin’, I found out from the yard-boys that the loadin’-dock foreman had been real busy the past coupla days. He was lobbyin’ and doing his level-best to get my good-buddy Darrell thrown off a nice little run between Longview Fibre, the Newark Converting Plant and ShinHo in Tukwila. Without going into a bunch of details, Darrell knows (and lives) the ins-and-outs of this particular run, and helps connect a lot of the incidental info between these companies. The loadin’-dock forman just wanted to give the (lucrative) run to his nephew—who we all also can’t stand—in return for some kind of big debt or favor he owed. One yard-guy says he owed his nephew from a drunken night of Texas-Hold’em-poker this past weekend. Man, I just hate that guy sometimes.
And wouldn’t ya know it, when I stopped into the St Helens Café for some coffee and eggs an hour later, I heard about Margaret Magruder getting the shaft as well. (Ya might remember my post about her a while back.)
Boy, that pissed me off; this news on top of Darrell & the loadin'-dock foreman's nephew.
As I understand it: Joe Corsiglia and the Clatsop County Commissioners voted for Margaret, while Rita Bernhard & the Multnomah County Commissioners voted for Brad Witt. This left it up to Tony Hyde to cast the deciding vote, (for Witt) saying something to the effect of "promising Witt his support before Margaret entered the race". I guess Mr. Hyde has a lot of “integrity and loyalty”, sorta like the loadin’dock forman’s integrity and loyalty to his damn nephew. But, in sportsmanship, I’ll give congratulations to Brad Witt, who apparently went on the record about the problematic “Japanese Knot Wood”. Witt might want to bone up a bit on the very environmental concerns that Magruder intuitively knows and understands. He probably meant to say Japanese knot-weed and not, “knot-wood”. (sigh)
Like my friend Darrell compared to a nephew, I still believe Margaret would have been more intuitively informed and responsive to local issues, people and problems than Witt, but what do I know?
Anyhow, it sure was nice to be back in St Helens and catchin’ up with things. I’ll be sure to keep my eye out in this nice little town y’all got here.
-Tom

1/18/5 - Longview to Brainerd, MN

I'm off on another run east, to Potlatch in Brainerd, Minnesota.
Since we officially found out this past week that our WMD-reasons for waging war in Iraq were unfounded, I decided to post this interesting excerpt from Mark Twain's "The Mysterious Stranger", which Lorraine has been reading.
-Tom

"Monarchies, aristocracies, and religions are all based upon that large defect in your race -- the individual's distrust of his neighbor, and his desire, for safety's or comfort's sake, to stand well in his neighbor's eye. These institutions will always remain, and always flourish, and always oppress you, affront you, and degrade you, because you will always be and remain slaves of minorities. There was never a country where the majority of the people were in their secret hearts loyal to any of these institutions."
I did not like to hear our race called sheep, and said, I did not think they were.
"Still, it is true, lamb," said Satan. "Look at you in war -- what mutton you are, and how ridiculous!"
"In war? How?"
"There has never been a just one, never an honorable one -- on the part of the instigator of the war. I can see a million years ahead, and this rule will never change in so many as half a dozen instances. The loud little handful -- as usual -- will shout for the war. The pulpit will -- warily and cautiously -- object -- at first; the great, big, dull bulk of the nation will rub its sleepy eyes and try to make out why there should be a war, and will say, earnestly and indignantly, "It is unjust and dishonorable, and there is no necessity for it." Then the handful will shout louder. A few fair men on the other side will argue and reason against the war with speech and pen, and at first will have a hearing and be applauded; but it will not last long; those others will outshout them, and presently the anti-war audiences will thin out and lose popularity. Before long you will see this curious thing: the speakers stoned from the platform, and free speech strangled by hordes of furious men who in their secret hearts are still at one with those stoned speakers -- as earlier -- but do not dare to say so. And now the whole nation -- pulpit and all -- will take up the war-cry, and shout itself hoarse, and mob any honest man who ventures to open his mouth; and presently such mouths will cease to open. Next the statesmen will invent cheap lies, putting the blame upon the nation that is attacked, and every man will be glad of those conscience-soothing falsities, and will diligently study them, and refuse to examine any refutations of them; and thus he will by and by convince himself that the war is just, and will thank God for the better sleep he enjoys after this process of grotesque self-deception."

1/13/5 - Home

Can't tell y'all how great it is to be back home in the NW and relaxing. Lorraine fixed us up her pot-roast last night, I don't know what more a man can ask for.

Not much to say this week. I've been outta-the-loop, though it looks like I'll be headin' into town over the weekend on a Boise run, so I'll check in and see what's going on then.
Meantime, enjoy some pics from the road.
-Tom

Couldn't buy gas here, but it's a beautiful shot anyway


I'm still tryin' to figure this one out!


Obviously, an amateur

The Gorge in winter


A sure sign of being back home in the NW

1/4/05 - Elk City, OK to Home

There's no place like home.
I'm in a depressing (but warm) motel in Elk City, Oklahoma which is located nearby my constant companion of this past week: I-40.
Happy damn New Year.
Actually, there is total depression all around me. This is because of a certain, widely-watched TV program, which is almost over now, better known as the National Championship of college football. This television-broadcast is showing the much beloved local-team getting the total beJesus kicked out of it.
There's not much to do here, that's for sure. I can't wait to get home. I miss Lorraine and have already called her three or four times today. I've also gone over the TravelLodge-edition tourist-pamphlet a couple of times, which informs me of my fantastic opportunity to visit The Washita Battlefield Site where Custer massacred a bunch of Cheyenne Indians 130+ years ago. Great...Elk City rules. I figured I'd kill some time and get some bounty out of their fabulous snack-machine instead.
And, the mood was not good by the Snack/Ice-Machines either: A couple of Okie-truckers (now there's a "team" for ya) were going on and on about the game while their wives (or a couple prostitutes, I couldn't tell which) filled their ice-buckets proudly displaying the Elk City TravelLodge logo. These guys were clearly not happy about their Sooners losing to "a bunch of L.A. pretty boys."
"It's not like a tsunami or anything fellas," I politely offered.
The tall one spit. "Yeah it is pardner, it's like one big soo-nam-ee, (nam spoken like Sam) and I'll tell ya what: them soo-nam-ee people over there... (I loved that) ...once again is dependin' on the long-generous-arm of America." They all snickered like a bunch of idiots.
"Wait a minute," I said, "they're only gettin' 35-million-bucks from us, and that's a whole lotta nothin' if you ask me."
"Try three-hunert-fiddy million buddy," the shorter one sneered as my bag of Funyuns dropped with a thud into the vending-payoff-bin. "Yeah, ya betta add a zee-ro to that fig-yur a yours," the tall guy cracked. The wives/prostitutes laughed as they all left. It all kinda reminded me of sick high-school stuff.
I went back in and did a little internet-research and calculating: turns out our "generous" $350 million offering to help save the rest of the unfortunate world equals what it costs us to to wage war in Iraq for 42.27 hours. Ok...I'll round it up - the same amount of money we pay for two-days worth of war in Iraq. Welcome world saviors.
I'll sleep and then drive.
Besides, what good are red-states if they can't even play football?
See y'all soon.
-Tom