Sad Day At The Ranch

Some times it’s difficult to avoid how reality can screw up a really fine day. I had intended to post a jovial and jocular update complete with a few pictures of Lovey Dovey and such (she’s back for a third go-around). It’s not happening this time.

 Most of you know that my brother, Steve, passed away Wednesday, July 3^rd. He had been seriously ill for years but is now at rest. Now, it’s a complete course change for my mother who, at age 85, will want to move to a smaller home with far less upkeep to worry about.

 May I blather for a bit? Thanks. I don’t often do that but just need to stroll down memory lane for a few minutes. I remember when my folks brought Steve home from the hospital like it was yesterday. He was born on December 6^th, 1953 so I suspect that they turned my mother loose with the new package three days later (which, as I recall, was about the norm for back in the old days). I see the house where we lived at the time (it was torn down to make room for a new one about 15 years or so ago). I see the small bedroom/living room and the small kitchen and even remember the landlord's name. The day was a dingy gray winter one typical of this area.

I was crowding my 5^th birthday so I suppose I was old enough to remember a few things. I recall a few dydees and such and, of all things, a breast pump. Reckon I thought it was some sort of a horn or something.

 Steve was a good kid and a reasonable baby brother. I didn’t get much guff from him since I was big enough to whack him if he tried anything. Unlike middle brother, David the Knothead, he never did give me any grief. He was just always a pleasant young boy who seemed to mind his P’s and Q’s.

 Dave, well….there’s another story altogether. Dave seemed to track down trouble with a magnifying glass and a pickaxe. He was as much a numbskull as he was troublesome. He gave me some grief one time when he was about 9 years old. He just wouldn’t give it up and hassled me until I just bopped him one. We were good buds for a long time after that.

 Then, his diagnosis of “numbskull” progressed to “brain dead”. If you know anything at all about medicine and life, you know that it takes a lot of determination to advance from one stage to another like that. “Determined Dave” would have been another good name to call him as it surely fit him like a glove.

 When he was about 16 years old, he chose me off one day. Now…..I was a pretty easy going fellow even back in my days of proving how big of a dork I could be. But, I didn’t take to being challenged like that. He swung at me with predictable results…..I bopped him a good one. It wasn't in my heart to hurt the kid since I was taller, bigger, and had about a 4” reach advantage on him and very easily could have just mopped the dance hall floor with him. I just wanted to get his attention and did. He didn’t feel like making up this time. He was a practiced thug and thought he was tough and getting his butt handed to him wasn't going to change him or his mind any time soon. In fact, he died a thug. So, we didn’t get along much at all after that. Must have pranged his pride or something. He came to stay with us for a few months in Rockford in the early '70's. He was still set on being an idiot so we had to have him leave. I was working for the city and didn't need my drug-using drug-dealing brother around to mess up my life.

 In '77, he attacked me in Fresno one evening when he came over to visit. Long story short: he jumped a coffee table and began to pummel me. I tried to stand but the couch slipped out from under me. I fell over…backwards and upside down…..behind the couch. He jumped me and started beating me up. I can't speak for anyone else but I don’t take to pummeling very well and took exception to his aggression. All that was necessary to end the losing streak was to regain my footing. When I did, I merely strapped a front choke hold on the kid and brought him to his knees. Funny to think that I just couldn’t hurt the boy and found no reason to do anything but control him and keep him still. In fact, I didn’t even strike him a single time though I could easily have made him eligible for a long stay in the hospital within a few seconds. As crazy as it sounds, I wasn’t even mad at him and took no offense in the fact that I took 16 stitches as the “loser” of the bout.

 A few months later, at 3AM, he grabbed my dad’s pistol and was going to kill us all. I had to wrestle him down and disarm him. The pistol discharged in the bedroom where my 3 kids were sleeping (long story) but I was able to overpower him and pull the cylinder pin. I still have the scar in the middle of my left hand that was inscribed by the iron sight (you lock the cylinder with your hand and place the web of your thumb and forefinger between the hammer and the firing pin). Wanna know something interesting? I was on the 9th day of a fast yet had more than enough strength to handle the exigency.

Guess I pumped more memories from the “thought well” than I anticipated. Funny how we humans work.

 Moving along.....when I left for Rockford, IL late in ’69, Steve was still a mid-teener boy growing up. I didn’t spend much time with him prior to the move since who would want their baby brother following them around, eh? By the time I returned to CA in ’74, Steve was a grown man with his own life to tend to and I just didn’t get to see much of him. I ran into him once in awhile up in Fresno when I lived there but he had moved to Turlock with his new wife and both of us were working full time (I was working 100 hours minimum per week at the time).

 He moved, I moved, I moved back, he moved back but a different town again, and he finally moved to P’ville after he and his second wife split while living in Grand Junction, CO. I had moved back to P’ville from Longview, WA shortly before that. Then, a few years later, we both were divorced and both were living at my mother’s place. It worked for everyone since she had plenty of protection from a couple of big boys (Steve’s 6’3” and I’m 6’2”) and a large house that the boys took care of.

 For reasons that I still don’t totally understand, Steve simply wasn’t familial. I don’t know what that was about. He was not at all interested in being a brother or anything else. Granted, we didn’t have a lot in common but….hey…..he could have invited me to go fishing with him in his boat.

 Holidays, for all intents and purposes, didn't exist with him. He didn’t attend family functions (few as there were) and didn’t attend the local music functions (though they were plentiful). I can sort of understand that since he had been a talented musician until he cut the fingers off of his left hand and could no longer play. In fact, he was a better bass guitar player than I am and I had a head start on him! But, you can’t just hole up and work on the world’s best moon tan and expect success.

 I don’t know…..I just don’t get it. I still don’t know my brother and still didn’t have much of a connection with him. There was just no way to get inside his corral…..just no avenues of communication available. I would have loved to have my brother back but it didn’t happen.

 I had him back for a short time, come to think about it. He had spent a couple of weeks in the hoosegow (an English version of a Spanish word. For years I thought it was ……Chinese!) for being a bad boy (he finally outgrew that). His time in "school" humbled him and was part of the family for awhile. The humility quickly wore off and he was back to being a disinterested sourpuss and curmudgeon in training.  His world never changed.

 Well….I suppose I’ve gotten that off my chest. Thanks for listening. I still wish that I could have said, “Good-bye” and let him know that I cared.

 It’s HOT here in the Valley. No big surprise there. We’ve racked up some blazing days in times past so we feel normal even at the 103 degree mark. We don’t like it….but we do accept the reality of the matter and add another ice cube to the fire and stay in front of a fan.

 That hot part isn’t the hard part; the hard part is the drought. We have plenty of water but the politicians and Enviro-Nazi’s refuse to pump water down from the Sacramento Delta to this area because…..are you ready for this?..........some of their precious Delta Smelt …..FISH …..will die (it’s supposedly on the endangered list)!! Now……watch the math on this: they could easily just set up a fish hatchery and breed millions of their stupid smelt….millions of them!! It wouldn’t cost all that much!! Instead….they’re withholding water from much of the Valley and it will cost BILLIONS of dollars and food prices are going to skyrocket!! It’s that simple!! Since it is that simple, then obviously, the drought is natural but the “water shortage” is man-made. It’s engineered and it’s so obvious as to be sickening. To hold us hostage because of a fish is nothing short of evil.

 Kalifornia now has so many tree huggers, fish huggers, homo-huggers, and insanity huggers (they love their nuts) that sane people (and their businesses) are leaving the state in droves. That would be people like dear friends of ours who are moving to Florence, OR and who had to call a moving company. Can you imagine their shock when they were advised that the move would take much longer than they thought because the moving company was struggling to catch up with demand?  

To make matters worse and to help destroy the trucking industry, the Dems now have a new law requiring older trucks to have emission control similar to that found on personal autos. Since the new equipment will cost about.....GULP.....$35,000 per tractor/truck, most guys are throwing in the towel and retiring or changing professions. Apparently, a large number of these trucks are part of the moving industry and the new laws are making a mess of things and killing a large part of the industry. This, just as engineered, is leaving ...another shortage and a huge .....rise in prices.....right when we don't need them (the shortages are stacking up...a real "ko-inky-dink", right?). Few states are as hostile to business as California. But, that's how socialists (anti-capitalist and therefore anti-business) deal with things. 

So many people are flooding out of the state that it’s frightening and has spurred the state legislature into considering some sort of “action”. What “action” am I talking about? Get this….they’re actually talking about a “moving penalty” (of course, it’s not a “tax”…uh-huh) to penalize business and people for leaving!! 

What’s their thinking? It's basically, “They are leaving to avoid….’paying their fair share’ (their openly published wording)…..so we will fine them for leaving”. 

California, it has been predicted by the those gentle folks, the demographers, will be Caucasian-free in fewer than 50 years. That will leave the state to those "southerners" who are dependent upon the government for everything and all will be well in the new socialist police state (my, my. Another coincidence). Those meddling white folks (you know; those who expect the government to obey the law and to protect them as is their oath of office) will be gone and there will be peace in the land. All of California will be a new "Tijuana by the Bay" (my....I can't wait).

These are, of course, Democrats, making all these rules and engineering our course to oblivion. The Republicans have had little power in the state for a long long time. It's not unlike Detroit or Chicago: you can't blame Republicans for anything since there aren't any. What few we have show up and keep their seats warm but are as about as noticed as a lesbian in downtown LA.  

Even Arnie wasn’t a real Republican (can you spell, "RINO"?). The fact that he was married to Maria “Shrew Girl” Shriver should have enlightened even the dimmest bulb. You would have thought that having to buy her a new broom every year to ride into town would have prompted him to dump her for a real wife.

Arnie was a “Fiscal Conservative” (and not a really good one, at that); after that, he was purely Democrat. He openly stated his views on politics and none of it was concurrent with conservatives or Republicans (which is exactly why he got elected in a state afloat with Marxists). Not being from this country, he told us to our faces that he found no reasoning or way that would lead him to save California from the tsunami of illegal aliens and did nothing to save us from utter defeat. Thanks, Governator, but I don't like stiff cheese.

 Can you imagine: trying to legislate people’s movements and strong arming them for changing locations?! That’s how the Communists in Russia and China do things!! That’s so far from Constitutional that even the very thought of such a thing should earn you a few days in jail! Yet…that’s the norm from the White House down to the local level. 

In that same true Marxist fashion, Obama is, yet again, circumventing "we the people" and "taking care" of the immigration reform matter by executive order and bypassing Congress altogether. We the people have spoken....we don't want his immigration reform which will allow ten million illegals to be here legally and givie them full access to our country (including voting so that the Democrats will never again lose an election) and the equivalent of full citizenship without having to be naturalized!!!!

 Long-time Torrance, CA business, Toyota USA, is moving to Texas where sanity is closer to being normal.  They’re taking their tax dollars and jobs with them. No one is filling their shoes so far, either. Sheese….this rant is starting to sound like I should have posted it on “Randy’s Rant Roost”. I used to post my stuff there but have left it unattended for too long.

 Speaking of Torrance, We had the grandkiddies up for a few days. That was nice. It’s not often that we have 5 youngins overlowing the house. They had a blast! I taught the two eldest kids to drive my Ford 8N tractor. The eldest boy, 11, is a natural at just about anything he does. His sister, almost 10, is the same. She’s absolutely fearless when it comes to doing new things. She will not allow her big brother to overshadow here in the slightest!! Being fearless is also the best way to stay alive on a tractor. She owned that tractor and broke it like a bronco.

 I wanted them to drive the lawn tractor too but it recently suffered a mechanical issue with its starter. I just ordered another one online. By checking around a bit, I was able to save more than 50% on the price (and that including shipping!). One of these days, we’ll hook up the boat and take them all boating and fishing.

 We’ve had the boat for a couple of years now and haven’t even gotten it wet. I don’t recall what it costs to register the boat but it isn’t all that much. A fishing license, on the other hand, is dreadfully expensive! If you include a “second rod” endorsement/ticket, the cost for two licenses is 126.00! That’s ugly. Crazy!

 Add to that the fact that we have more than 100 rods and reels and tons of tackle and you have to scratch your head in wonderment as to what Ol’ Ran is thinking. In fact, I’m scratching my head in wonderment as well! I just picked up another 4 beautiful rods and reels that have hardly been use and they’re the nice expensive ones too! How could I pass up almost 100 dollars worth of fishing gear for ten bucks?

 The “tons” of tackle is hardly an exaggeration. I’ve purchased much tackle online. However, the real deals come from yard sales. At one particular yard sale, there were two tackle boxes loaded with good stuff. Next to it was a coffee can full of extraneous lures, hooks, swivels, and the like. The guy wanted 25 dollars each for the boxes and whatever for the coffee can. I asked him if he would take 40 bucks for both boxes and, after a bit of hemming and hawing, he said, “Yes”. Then I asked if he would toss in the can full of stuff and he said, “Yes”. He couldn’t believe that he said, “Yes” to both proposals and was shaking his head as to why he took the deal! But, he took the money and I took the tackle.

 At one sale, I saw a milk pail full of reels. There were ten level winds, and three closed face reels. All had mud on them but Ol’ Ran knows that a bit of soapy water will take that right off. The reels were the “real deal” and included Abu Garcia Ambassadors, a Shakespeare, a Diawa, and even Shimanos! I asked the nice lady how much she wanted for the entire bucket full of stuff. She mentioned that she really needed to get rid of those things and said, “How about a dollar for the lot of them?”. I almost broke a finger getting to my wallet! She threw in the pail, too!

 For now, we’re storing the rods and reels in the rafters upstairs in the barn. There seems to be sufficient space up there to do that. Otherwise, they are certainly in the way. I’ve overhauled a few of them and have them ready to go fishing ……some day.

 One problem is that, due to the drought, there’s no water in the river. The Tule is at “zero flow” again this year and things are not looking good at all for the trout. I like baked trout but not when the cooking is done on the river rocks and the sun is providing the heat! We'll go fishing in the lake since it's only a few miles from here.

Speaking of “heat”, it’s supposed to be up to 106 in a few days. So far, we’ve managed to get by in the 80’s and 90’s and even some of that had a bit of breeze added to it. That meant that we’ve only had to use “Ol’ Swampy” the evaporative cooler and not the watt-guzzling A/C units. We’re OK with the swamp cooler until the temp hits 100 or so. Things get ugly really quickly then and we turn on the A/C. I refuse to melt when I have options.

 Anyway…..that’s what’s happening at Rancho Relaxo. Thanks for everyone’s thoughts and prayers. More when I can.