When All Is Lost

“In a man’s life, there will be a time when he thinks all is lost. This is the time, used wisely, when it can all start again, and be new.”   Louis L’Amour

I learned the love of reading from my parents, both teachers. And I learned the love of reading Louie L’Amour from my Grandpa Archie and my friend / mentor John Zito.  By the time I’d graduated from high school, I imagine that I had read 90% of the books that L’Amour wrote. Since then I’ve read 98% of his books. I tried out the other 2%, but frankly, I can’t make it through his short stories.

In hindsight, I realize that I’ve looked at life in large part through the eyes of Louie L’Amour. I took his characters to heart, and patterned, to some degree, my life after them.

Bold. Brave. Quiet. Mild. Self-assured. Manly. Respectful of women. Bully-haters. Siding with the underdog. This is what I’ve become. Or at least my image of myself.

Looking around the world right now, we’d do well to read and pattern our lives after the characters in L’Amour’s novels.

How are we now? Bold, in a selfish way. Loud and boisterous. Follow the crowd, and yet screaming out to be different. And women – well, the men don’t respect women. And women don’t even respect themselves. Where they used to have a foot up on man in many ways, they’ve lowered themselves to want to be in the same position as man.  Such misunderstanding, about what a real man and a real woman ought to be.

And Bullies? We’ve all become this.  Those who preach diversity and tolerance are the first to try to ban those who don’t feel the same way. Not based upon any moral grounds, but based upon ‘They think, behave, feel different than I do.’

Just – chill out.  We all need to be quiet, go into our caves, figure out who we really are, and when we emerge, try as hard to get along with each other as we try now to shut others up.

 

This Is Water revisited

David Foster Wallace gave a commencement speech in 2005(?).  It is titled ‘This Is Water.’ I just barely heard about it, and listened to it (2019).  Really good thoughts, and it touched me.  I listened to it again.

And then, I googled David Foster Wallace.  I found out that he was dead. By suicide.

Shock!

Shock because it was unexpected.  I didn’t see that one coming.

Ten minutes and a few articles later, I found out that he struggled with depression, as per his father. This was a chronic issue.

On the way to Idaho this morning, I listened again to This is Water with my wife. I didn’t tell her the background of the speaker. She liked what he had to say, like I did. Minus some of the vulgar words, that is.

And then I told her that he was dead – by suicide.

Shock! to her as well.

But, as we talked about it, I came to realize that what he said was what touched me. Not who he was, but what he presented.

I wish he was here for me to Facebook Messenger him, and express to him that his prose spoke to my soul. But because he’s not, I’ll treasure up what he did say, and share it with him when we meet.

 

The Simple Spat-ula

This is an article I’ve written for an outdoor magazine.

 

1. The Simple Spat-ula

   When the weather is a bummer, the outdoorsman is always looking for some project to do at home.  And any project that keeps others in the family happy is a good project. I’ve found such a task — making a Simple Spat-ula.
   Now, the idea for this didn’t originate with me, but some of the unique characteristics for this spatula did.  On the Internet, one can find similar kitchen tools under the names of small spatula, saute  spatula, saute tool, and minimalist wood spatulas. My design, however, comes as a result of three really important characteristics: 1) Simple Design; 2) Access to wood; 3) Fast start-to-finish project.
   Simple Design: Look at it.  It’s a rectangle. Just a bit over an eighth of an inch thick. About 1.5 inches in width and 9ish inches long.  Easy peasy.
   Access to Wood:  I make American Longbows. Hickory flavor! Or at least a hickory backing. These backings, the one’s that are a bit ‘flawed’ for bows, are great for this project.  It’s easy to find 9 inches (up to 13 inches) for a Simple Spat-ula.  And in fact, what makes a good spatula is what makes a poor backing. Straight grain or wild grain, knot holes, and unique ‘character’ – any of it looks and works fine.
   Fast Start to Finish: Using my Grade ‘B’ backings, I can cut the spatula to length, do a little shaping (the angle at the end), and a wee bit of sanding (the edges), in 10 minutes or less. The most time-intensive task is putting a slope on the scraper end.
   So, in order, this is what I do.
   1 – Cut a piece of my bow backing off of the mother board. (The photograph of the bow backing leaning against my wall shows a 5′ board before it will be cut up). The backing is about 1/8 of an inch thick, sometimes a bit more.  I make the majority of my Simple Spat-ulas about 9 inches long, but with some I go shorter and with some, longer. It’s really not rocket science.
   2 – Next, I assure that there are no splinters in the wood.  I sand it on all four edges as well as the two sides. (See the photo of the cut up wood sitting on my belt sander.) I use my belt sander.  120 grit is what I like to use, though I’ve used this particular sandpaper enough that I would daresay that it is now about 240 grit.  But that’s just where I want it.
   3 – I then put a slight angle on the spatula; the edge that will contact the food.  It just seems to be more useful this way. (See the photo of the spatulas in the cast iron pan. The two pieces of wood are from the same board FYI. The darker wood has been treated with the wood preserver. The lighter colored wood has not yet been treated.)
   4 – I then round off the side edges, as well as the edge that rests against the palm when it is being used (IE the back of the spatula). Keeping sharp angles off of the tool make it easier to clean, and more comfortable to handle.
   5 – The edge that is used to contact the food, the angled edge, I put a taper on.  About 3/4 of an inch from the end I begin the taper.  It’s a slight taper until about 1/4 inch from the edge, when the taper really goes down.  I choose to taper both sides of my wood so that it rather resembles a convex grind on a knife.
   6 – After assuring that the wood has no splinters in it, and is properly shaped and sanded, I then apply a finish.  The finish I use is a custom made beeswax / linseed oil mix, made by Justin Swensen. This outdoorsman has worked in wilderness and residential treatment programs for youth, and spent time as an instructor at primitive skills retreats. To obtain some of this superb wood protectant, feel free to email him at swensenjustinc@gmail.com. I apply the wax / linseed oil mix liberally, and let it soak in at least overnight, and if it can work, I’ll let it sit longer. When I’m ready to put the spatula to work, or store it, I simply wipe off what is left of the protectant, and it’s ready to go!
   So, you see, it’s simple, fun, and easy.  And inexpensive.
   I tend to use hickory, but I rather suspect that any hardwood will work. Shape it, sand it, and then mark it with your own brand or logo if you’d like, then give it away as a gift, or even sell it.  A quick search online took me to websites that had similar spatulas as these from $13 to $35.
   Some of the tasks that this little implement has been used for include scraping pots and jars. Also, it can be used to flip burgers and eggs. And, of course, use it to saute foods.
   Now, have fun at home making these, on those days that you can’t get out in the dirt! And score some good points from the cook, as well! I’d enjoy seeing photographs of your final product. Please drop me a note and a photograph, and let me know about your experience. Email: dyehardsurvival@gmail.com.

Sunflowers

I made a friend this June.  He really enjoys sunflowers.  Because of the peace they bring him.  Inside.

I like them.  They’re pretty. And I like eating the seeds.

So, I like the big headed flowers. I think my friend, Scott, likes all of them.

He’s given me different eyes to look through when I see sunflowers.  Not just what they can do for me, but what they bring to the landscape, the insects, the birds, nature.

Thank you Scott.

I notice that, with my big headed sunflowers, they follow the sun. Until the heads get weighted with seeds.  Then they droop.

Older people are like this . Life is like this. We follow the sun, then we droop.

Dropping isn’t bad. It just – is.

But at all points in our life, we have something to offer.

The young have zeal, excitement, beauty.

The middle aged have stature (some of my sunflowers are over 10′ high), and are very impressive.

The old have seeds; something to share.

The dead give back to the Earth from whence they came.

The seeds give hope of a new life.

And so it begins again!

PAY ATTENTION, DAMN IT!

Get Your Attention???

This is not a message of inspiration, but rather one of desperation.

It comes from first-hand experience from a nurse with whom I work.

The stories of those who die are sad, from texting and driving.

The stories of those who live after an accident from distracted driving are just as sad.

Read, weep, and commit.

You guys- I have made a vow today to NOT drive distracted anymore!! Tonight I went to a patients house that has forever changed me- a 45 year old woman who was in a horrific car crash almost 2 years ago and has left her completely dependent for EVERYTHING! She can’t walk, can’t speak, can’t move her arms, has a trach, her husband has to change her brief, and has a feeding tube…..the most horrific part is she is completely aware of everything around her but has no way to communicate except squeezing her left hand for yes or no ALL because of distracted driving! As I left I pondered how very fragile life is, in an instant it can change (the poor family of the recent teacher that died in a car wreck) is way too fresh! I pulled up to a red light and literally both cars to my right and left were looking at their phones…….this has got to stop!!! I am definitely guilty of this but NO more!!! Breaks my heart the people that are affected by nonsense and neglect!’ Rant over but I urge you all to do the same- PLEASE!!!!!!

This is my teenage mom!

Yup, that’s her, on a horse at the Carousel in Missoula, Montana.

She’s a good sport.

I was visiting her, with two of my children, and she consented to go on the carousel.  She went round and round just like the 13 and 9 year old did.

I love my mom.  She’s a great sport.

Do you know, she’ll even sleep on the trampoline with her grandchildren.  Her devotion to them goes deeper than her back pains do.

Someday, when I grow up, I hope to be like her.

She’s a teacher – she’s a volunteer – she’s a Mormon – she’s a wife – she’s a mother.

When I was first married to Christine, I tried to describe my mom to her.  I fell short but for one word – Angel.

And mom – she’s still an Angel.

 

They say that the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.

I believe it.

My mother was the first big female influencer in my life.  My wife and daughters are, along with my mother, the biggest female influencers in my life.

But for a period of time, Laura Lee was the female influencer in my life.

I’m not sure if she’ll wish that I hadn’t written this, or not.  I don’t know if she’s happy of how I’ve turned out, or not.  I don’t know if she wants to take any credit or blame for me, or not.

But during my crucial high school years, she wielded a significant amount of influence in my life.  I lived with her and John, her husband.  They had a small-ish ranch in the foothills of western Montana.  I absolutely loved living with them.

At nights during lambing season, John, Laura Lee, and I would take turns getting up and going out into the fields to check for lambs that were newly born.  It was cold and snowy, and if they were left outside, they would freeze to death.

Or the coyotes would come for them.  We’d take a rifle along with us, and if a coyote was close, we’d fire the gun into the air.  This would hold the Canis latrans, or ‘barking dog,’ off until the next go-round.

There weren’t any excuses for not making the rounds, and doing a thorough job.  It had to be done, and it had to be done right.  Some nights the sky was clear as can be.  The stars twinkled down on us.  On these nights, I would often just stand and stare at the sky until my breathe would freeze to my nose.  Clear nights are the most cold, you know.  The warmest nights were those when the snow was falling.  The clouds would hold the heat to the earth, and not allow it to escape.  Don’t get me wrong.  It was still cold.  But 25 degrees is a lot warmer than zero degrees!

Laura Lee would work her fair share, and more.

The thing that I remember about her as well, is that she would always have games to play.  I was older than her oldest child, but was always included as part of the family.  We would have a blast with cards, board games, Risk, and popcorn.

After I was married, and moved two states away, I became self-absorbed, and lost contact with John and Laura Lee, as well as some others who really meant a lot to me.  I regret this.

Just recently I traveled up to eastern Montana (they’ve moved), and took two of my children with me.  We visited John and Laura Lee.  Simply seeing them again, after years and years, brought back so many good memories.  And regret that I had let so many years slip past without really expressing to Laura Lee how much her involvement with me, during my teen years, meant to this self-doubting teen.

So, if you read this, thank you Laura Lee.  I love and appreciate you.

PS  She makes (or used to make) bandana coolers.  This is her with hundreds of them, it looks like.  www.drycreekdesign.com

 

My posts may be changing.

I may post less often.  I’m not sure.

These posts are a way for me to find (or create) myself.

A way for me to figure out my passion(s).  And I have way too many.  My problem is not finding something to be interested in, but trying to narrow my interests down.

Time is a problem with this, and so is money.

Plus, I’ve made other commitments that I cannot (nor do I wish) give up.

So, as a disclaimer – my posts may change, or they may not.

I am narrowing down my interests, and coming to find out what I choose to be passionate about.  At 51, it’s about time!

So, I’m grateful for writing.

I’m grateful for the feedback that some of you have given.

I’ve purposely left the comment section off of this blog.  Like Seth Godin says, I can’t get involved in a tennis match of wits with anyone.  I don’t have the time (like him), nor do I have the mental makeup for this (unlike him).

I hope that someday my children will feel an interest to come to this blog and read the posts.  They are messages to them, albeit veiled at times.

Life is great.

 

I want reincarnation to be real

So, I do love life.  Not always LOVE life, but  nearly always Love life.  And admittedly, I’ve hated life too, but not for decades.

But anyway, I just don’t have enough time to do everything I want to do.

I’m not talking about 24 hours in a day.  I’m talking about years in a lifetime.

I would love to make wooden plates and mugs, wander Scotland and Ireland and research how they lived hundreds of years ago, and grow everything that I eat.

I’d like to be able to drive truck with my daughter.

I want to be a river guide in the Grand Canyon.

I’d love to be an author like Louis L’Amour, and wander through the American West.

I’d like to write novels like one of my ‘mentors’ John Flanagan does in Ranger’s Apprentice.

My children ALL seem to have an artistic ability.  I would like to be able to find mine!  I can’t believe that I gave all of it to them, and kept none for myself.

I’d like to live in the middle of Australia and roam with the bushmen.

Going to space sounds like a blast.  I’d do it at the end of my life, so that if I didn’t come back, I would know that I was on my way out anyway.

Part of me would like to learn how to pick locks, and be the best darned magician around.

I’d like to build a car from scratch.

I’d like to live forever with each of my children, and see how they raise their children, and what sort of parents they will be.

I’d like to have the powers to somehow be present with someone when they are in the depths of depression, and about to kill themselves, and be able to help them see the potential that they don’t see.

I was a newspaper reporter at one time.  I’d like to do it again.

To be a world-class long distance runner sounds like a real thrill.  Going for a hundred miles….

You can see, some of what I want is fantasy.  Some could happen.

But when it comes right down to it, I’m living the one life that I choose, and that I want.

Three children are all that I wanted when I was first married.  I have many more than this now.  And I wouldn’t trade any of them for anything.

Given what I know of myself, I think that I would be a millionaire, and living a much more cushy lifestyle than I am now living.  One of my children asked me about this a few days ago.

But at the same time, what would I need to give up in order to achieve this?  Most of my children.  So, so not worth it!  Those who are parents understand.

So, I go on in my life.

Actually, writing this post is the longest time I’ve spent thinking about this for a long time.  Because even though I’m a dreamer, I’m also a realist, and I know that my life is my choice.  What I do or don’t do is up to me.  Who I become or don’t become is up to me.

And I’m grateful for this.

Do my children understand this?  I pray that they do.

 

What is your Plan B?

Life – the every day stuff we do – that’s Plan A.

We live Plan A.

Plan B is what happens when Plan A doesn’t go off like it ought to.

I don’t know if it’s Karma, or what, but EVERY time (I rarely use superlatives) we get another vehicle, something happens where that vehicle is needed.

Now, to understand this, you need to know that I’m a planner.  As much as possible, I like to foresee what may happen and prepare for this. For me, this decreases my stress.

So, I could foresee that we would need a truck for some of our farm and personal tasks.  So, keeping my eyes open, I found a truck that will suit our needs.

Within 48 hours of buying the truck, one of our daughter’s came into a need for a vehicle.  We lent to her our purple Honda we call Barney (it’s an old car, and reminds us of a dinosaur).  It’s not putting us out any.  Well, maybe her teenage sister who commuted to work in it, but there are other vehicles available at home for her to use.

It feels good to help.  It feels good to be a part of someone else’s Plan B.