lincoln...devo

We haven't visited Lincoln: The Constitution and the Civil War at MOHAI, but Brad's thinking of taking the kids to living history day this Saturday. And we've all been learning a bit more about the war between the states. Aslin's learned to pronounce "Ulysses" and Ukiah finds it ironic that it was the northern republicans who advocated emancipation. We've been reading about the underlying labor and class struggles, the proposal that Union draftees could opt out of service for a $300 fee, and the power of individual states.

Our day would have continued with readings of the Gettysburg Address, but the Devo dvd couldn't be renewed. And I just paid $34 to clear our library fines. So, we turned our attention to August 17, 1980, the Phoenix Theatre in Petaluma, CA for lessons in the genius that is DEVO. The republicans were an entirely different breed by then- frightening, angering and motivating art-school kids across the nation.

I sing just a little too loud and we pause Jocko Homo for philosophical discussion on the evolution/de-evolution of society, government, industry and culture.
And today, I love homeschooling.


Freedom of Choice
by Devo
A victim of collision on the open sea
Nobody ever said that life was free
Sank, swam, go down with the ship
But use your freedom of choice

Ill say it again in the land of the free
Use your freedom of choice
Your freedom of choice

In ancient rome there was a poem
About a dog who found two bones
He picked at one
He licked the other
He went in circles
He dropped dead

Freedom of choice
Is what you got
Freedom of choice!

Then if you got it you dont want it
Seems to be the rule of thumb
Dont be tricked by what you see
You got two ways to go

Ill say it again in the land of the free
Use your freedom of choice
Freedom of choice...

Freedom of choice
Is what you got
Freedom from choice
Is what you want

been there, done that, would do it all again

This incomplete list of trip favorites use to live in the side bar. She graciously moved to a post knowing that no matter how painful, it's time for the Owlhouse to move forward.

Cape Disappointment- Long Beach Peninsula, WA

Saturday Market- Eugene, OR

Crater Lake, Oregon

Barack Obama, 2008

Cowboy Poets- Elko, NV

Gilgal Sculpture Garden- SLC, Utah

Lazy Lizard- Moab, Utah

Mesa Verde, Colorado

Carver Brewing- Durango, CO

Taos Pueblo, NM

Georgia O'Keeffe Museum- Santa Fe, NM

White Sands, NM

Chiricahua Mts, AZ

Bisbee- Bisbee, AZ

Desert Museum - Tucson, AZ

Sonora Co-housing - Tucson, AZ

Sam's Family Spa -Desert Hot Springs, CA

Ghetty Museum - Los Angles, CA

Camp Ocean Pines - Cambria, CA

Pipestone Vineyards - Paso Robles, CA

Sacramento Valley School - Sacramento, CA

Guemes Island - Washington

Lake Okanagan - Kelowna, British Columbia

Lake Louise - Banff, British Columbia

Kaslo- Kaslo, British Columbia

Kamloops Farmer's Market - Kamloops, British Columbia

Touchstone Farm - Mayerthorpe, Alberta

Gaetz Lake Sanctuary- Red Deer, Alberta

Local Currancy - Calgary, Alberta

Tyrrell Dinosaur Museum - Drumheller (Badlands), Alberta

Glacier National Park - Montana

Coeur d'Alene Library - Idaho

Grand Coulee Dam -Coulee, WA

reasons to yodel

Sparkly. Glittering. Shadowed by low-cast clouds. The same clouds that convinced us to head west, skipping Antelope Island. Past the Morton Salt plant, the Bonneville Salt Flats show signs of aging. Cracks deep into the upper crust. Brad read of the concerns of decreasing salt levels. Not worry for the fly or pufferfish habitat, but fear the racing will suffer.

Before the visitor center, Nevada welcomes travelers with a pair of conjoined casinos. We took the highway under the skybridge and were advised that there were no accommodations in the area. Heart concert and some sort of centennial celebration have Wendover booked solid. Both sides.

If we'd known Elko was home to the Cowboy Poetry Gathering we might have headed here intentionally. Following last night's $10 gambling loss a hash-browns/four-cups-of-coffee breakfast in the casino coffee shop set us right for the day. We toured the library and laundromat. No slots machines at the former, a Maytag free corner dedicated to the sport in the latter.


Behind a web of orange safety netting announcing the sidewalk closure, The Western Folklife Center pulled us in for LL Griffen's Something a Cowboy Knows. A series of portraits that invite faith in ranching life. Capturing the crows-feet of modern cowboys, she leads us to the past. Mad Jack Hanks and the others hold the history of the Bosque, Irish, Paiute and Mexican vaqueros. And the anglicized buckaroos they became.


We dedicated the afternoon to soaking in details of riding skirts and educating ourselves on the advantages of hemp reatas. (They doesn't stretch or rot.) An explanation accompanies a turn of the century photo I'd have taken for a water wheel. Beef wheels, a pre-refrigeration solution to keeping meat fresh for the ranch kitchen. Whole cows were prepared, wrapped in heavy cloth, wet, and raised high above ground. A leverage system allowing cooks, often Chinese, to lower the animal, cutting away the day's dinner supply. Who knew?

A video presentation, Why the Cowboy Sings, opens with cattle calls. Long and short notes, grunts. Calls across the octaves, direct the herds through the seasons. There's a rhythm, a rhyme to the commands, a distinct voice from everyone who "cowboys for a living." The narrator tells us city folks, "You can trust a horse more than a human... A horse will teach you preservation..."

We'd like to order beers and sasperilla, think it over. But the Pioneer Bar is closed. Except in for a week in January when the folklorists, singers, artists, poets, the cowboys, keep it open. 24 hours a day.

vortex cannon

Mahonri Young, 1877-1957, sculpted the likeness of Brigham Young based solely on his mother's description. Stories, not photographs or sketches, informed his vision of the grandfather who died the year he was born. A "social realist," Mahonri's art often depicted common laborers, the less noble characters of society. Breaking with such attachment to the value of realism, the BYU powers that be altered Mahonri's portrayal of Brigham Young. After years of advocating against beards and the hippie culture/ideals they represented, in 1969 BYU president Wilkinson moved toward strict dress and grooming codes as part of the university's Honor Code system. By 1971, failure to cut hair or shave could result in suspension with out notice. So, of course, the statue of Mr. Young had to be converted.
(note chisel marks under the chin)

Our chauffeured tour of the BYU campus also included drive-bys of the historic library and new fitness facility.




The Eyring science building has an indoor courtyard that doubles as a mini-science center, with hands-on activities from a number of fields. Light and prism experiments are difficult to see for the under 5-foot crowd, but the space density investigation is easily accessible. Except that it is impossible to lift the 4-inch round of neutron star. After reaching for a hologram dollar and toying with the movement of cat-tails in the wind, the kids discovered the vortex cannon. Angled just so, a well placed shot can reach an unsuspecting parent 100 yards away.

A quick trip through the BYU Museum of Art, where an exhibit of European ballet advertisements and portraits compared divas over generations, was followed by inspection of a reflection pond and eventually, a trip to the Creamery. University agriculture and food science programs team-up to produce a few signature flavors, including the carbonated "sparkle" ice cream.

Finally, the Bean Museum. Home to "Shasta" the liger born at Salt Lake's Hogle Zoo in 1948, a tiny two headed snake and a 22,000 specimen mammal collection. Donald Cox, proud member of the Safari Club, seems to be responsible for most of the wildlife collection , prompting the following conversation:

early 20's guy- "Nice, donated after illegal hunting, I'm sure."

early 20's girl- "Yeah, but a lot are just deer, they reproduce really often."

guy- "Rinos don't."

girl- "That's just what we think because we don't see them every day. But they're not endangered or anything. Africa's a pretty big country, I'm sure they're fine."

The Museum is free and open to the public. We didn't view many of the two-million insects on display, but were most taken with the long-neck Gerenuk of east-Africa, the dozens of tiny Asian and African deer, the long-haired Takin of China and the Alaskan Moose.

continental x4

Past the earthships, deep into the dry mesa lands, lies a different sort of "off the grid" community. The houses are built of old dryers, crates and partially buried cars. Scrap materials from who knows where. Inside information tells of a division "out there"- artists on one side and gun-toting, tattooed-face bikers on the other. If we go out, we might be invited to visit with someone. But we should be careful. And we probably shouldn't try to take the Volkswagon out, unless we have 4-wheel drive. We don't. That would require a Syncro and surely even more repairs than a standard Westy. So north we go, though Carson National Forest, a majestic back drop for our drive-time entertainment tale of witches, scholars and other worlds.

On our way towards Pagosa Springs, the town claiming the largest, deepest, hottest spring in world, we took Buttercup across the Continental Divide for a fourth time. Unfortunately the renowned spring is fenced against trespassers, preserving the source for an expanding resort community. If there are undeveloped pools up in the hills, the town isn't telling. Centuries ago, the Spanish battled the Natives for control of the spring's healing waters. We made space for a man with a 7-11 cup, collecting water from a tiny river-side spring. If I hadn't been watching the rafters while explaining to Aslin that we were not going to the theater across the street and watch Shrek, I might have asked if he planned to drink the sulfer-smelling water.


Past the archaeological site at Chimney Rocks we toured the privileged town of Durango. Set below the mountains along a river with a historic rail line running though, Durango's well aware of it's position in the western-town hierarchy. Historic buildings, successful mining, an art community, wind-powered brewery, the bed and breakfasts here might out number the residents. Just outside town, we camped at Lightner Creek where a 24 acre camp ground is for sale. Priced just under three million.





Three cheers for the 1,100 residents of Mancos! Residents of this mainly dirt road community sponsor an annual Renaissance festival and a fantastic bakery. Vegetarian, wheat-free and organic meals and treats are available at The Absolute Bakery and Cafe, across the street from the river.


Outside the charming river-rail town of Dolores, where the single grocery store stocks bulk grains and local produce, we've camped out with another great family. We really appreciate the wisdom of their ranger years and lessons they've shared of the Anasazi people, lands and ruins. We're currently praying that we have not passed on Ecoli or cryptosporidium or any other contaminated well water germs we may have picked up. (We were fine when we arrived, and three of us still are... fingers crossed.)

I'm feeling better at the moment. All most well enough to write the sad story of Cortez. Legend has it a well drilled in the center of town found no water. And a century ago town officials opted to pass on the rail option for fear of introducing "liberal elements" to the area. Eventually, The McPhee Dam and Reservoir Project, aimed at bringing more water to town, sparked a 7-year archeology project, uncovering 1600 sites in the immediate area. At the Anasazi Heritage Center, we visited two.

Vices

I'm not sure what the Virgin Mary has to say the topic; didn't ask when we visited the Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi and the oldest representation of the Madonna in the US. The statue came to Santa Fe from Spain in 1625, was saved during a Pueblo revolt against the mission in the 1680's, and over the years has been called the Queen and Patroness of the ancient kingdom of New Mexico, Our Lady of the Rosary and La Conquistadora. (So now we've seen the oldest Marian shrine and that with the highest number of representations of Mary.)

After hours exploring the city- church and grounds, plaza and antique car show, library and countless gallery windows, we began a quest for the refreshments that would see us through the evening- ice cream and coffee. A little deli advertised both- Haagan Dazs and espresso but disappointed with their selection and clientele. Another tour round the city center and we found a well-pulled, single, iced americano at the Father Sky-Mother Earth Gallery where we shared an enlightening political/history conversation with a guy who recommended a gelato shop back across the plaza. We passed on the black sesame and strawberry-habenero in favor of lemon-basil, raspberry and the classic vanilla. Thumbs up for the shop I can't name. It's across the street from the library, several blocks from Georgia O'Keeffe's Grey Blue and Black- Pink Circle. Still processing O'Keeffe's blue sky as seen through pelvic bones, we would have bypassed the Museum of Fine Arts if it we're for the busker. "It's free and we have snacks. Let me say it again, it's free and we have snacks." She pointed the way to the cheese and grapes and we did an abriviated tour of the How the West is One exhibit.

"I'm not sure I can handle a hostel," Ukiah warned us. After camping a few nights in the hard wind, the comfort of a hostle, if it's anything like the horrid Eugene hostle, is nothing to look forward to. To our relief, the Mercedes shrine/SF hostel surpassed our expectation. Three meals culled from Whole Foods and Trader Joe's rejects, a gift of Channel sun glasses for Aslin, directions to hot springs and an multiple cups of J Garcia cherry tea made for an entertaining stay.

It's no small miracle to find a brewery that does root beer. Eske brewpub in Taos isn't concerned with sugar ruining their lines for future beer production. It's not quite as spicy as the kids would like and we found the chili beer a bit muted too. The vegetarian green-chili stew carried the flavor of the afternoon, a recipe we'd like to recreate. A second mixed review, Cafe Tazza serves a fine short americano with an unfortunate double shot of attitude. And since I left my brand-spanking new sun hat, I have to go back. At least they serve Cafe Vita, helping me feel at home!

Arroyo Seco is home to Taos Cow, maker of a remarkable version of a standard flavor. Strawberry. Aslin opted for a berry-malt-oreo cone and Brad and I recommend the cafe ole- with a touch of cinnamon and chocolate. Sitting by the river, we ate, played and considered how similar this little town feels to Makawao, Maui.

The Rio Grande doesn't serve coffee, beer or frozen treats. We love it all the same.

Driving through the earthship community, we saw all too many Range Rovers parked next to the tire and earth walls. And then there was the stretch Hummer. Really. Passive solar, water harvesting, grey-water reclaiming and it we found ourselves in the midst of an upper-class subdivision. Word from the inside tells a story of concerns with tires leaching energy and potential toxins while the developer borrowed against homes with out informing buyers. If you'd like to learn more for yourself, a half-hour consultation is available for $100. The bubble was burst but reblown in meeting a home owner/builder who took 8 years to build a hybrid-ship. A spectacular kitchen that I'm sure could brew fine coffee.

Javelina are not pigs

Even with no sleeping bags to pack away and a dishwasher for breakfast dishes, we struggle to get out the door early. Today we managed to make our way to the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum shortly after their 8:30 opening. On the road, we've bypassed a dozen zoos and a series of museums highlighted in our travel books, budgeting instead for the essentials- food, Disneyland, a transmission... Having hiked, camped, driven and played in the desert, we'd have skipped the museum, satisfied with our Sonora experience. If it weren't for the insistence of EVERYONE we've talked to in Tucson, "Oh, you really have to go..." we'd have missed the javelinas.

In the gift shop at Joshua Tree, Aslin took a seat on the floor, getting comfortable in front of the book shelf. From the counter, the staff watched. We left before the binding broke and before she finished the story. Today, after meeting a couple javelina families, she finished Don't Call Me Pig.

"Javelina aren't pigs. They're more closely related to rodents. They are herbivores and can eat prickly-pear without scraping off the thorns. If anything threatens them they make a loud noise and show their sharp teeth. They stick together and stand their ground. The grown-ups weigh 30-40 pounds. Today they were sleeping in the shade. When they woke up, they made sounds like donkeys." -Aslin

The humming birds, maybe 15 types, were amazing but too fast for our little camera. (A Blue Throat's heart beats 1260/minute!) The barn own in the raptor flight exhibit was trained to model. Or bribed by the dead mouse the trainer held by the tail.



The fox rests while the coyotes pace and studies the horizon. (The people rubberneck and make kissy sounds to call them either way.) Their habitats are not nearly as smelly as the bob cat's. Should we need to reestablish our campaign to drive the squirrels from the attic, I'll be in touch with the museum for a donation of used soil.


Models of volcanic activity, fossil replicas, the age of shallow seas. Time capsules of every era are displayed. A very english docent talked us through the early human inhabitants of the area including a hands on lesson of their tools for the hunt. A good-size reproduction of the desert caves opens to a mock mine. Splinters of raw malachite, azurite and pyrite are among the treasures we're encouraged to sift from the "mine-dump" site.


Down the road from the museum, the service at Benny's was lousy. The grilled cheese and onions rings not bad. The new friends who invited us over for travel stories and tether ball, great.

Some People Love LA...

the rest of us pray we don't hit traffic, then curse when we do.


From Anaheim to the Getty Museum, I-5, I-10 and 405 were bad. The horendous 2 1/2 hour return trip required the use of hazard lights and a little time-out on the side of the freeway. A situation made all the more uncomfortable by my raging case of poison oak.


Thanks to the father/son team we followed from a strip mall parking lot at Trinity and Washington, to Ukiah and Aslin for knowing when to avoid sibling disputes and to Buttercup for not overheating- we made it back to the Disney neighborhood.

The park opens at 9:00 tomorrow. We've placed our bets on the small-crowd potential of SuperBowl Sunday; could go either way. If we're lucky, "It's a Small World" will have resumed uniting all the peoples of the planet. We're also crossing our fingers for a meeting with Eeyore.

Culture Clash

Leonid Brezhnev and Nikita Khrushchev have made themselves quite comfortable here in SoCal. We met up with them at the Nixon Presidential Library, where we quickly realized that Disneyland isn't the only attraction requiring a multi-day pass. After a couple hours on The Enemy Within, a special exhibit put together by the Spy Museum, we didn't really have the stamina to fully appreciate all the Nixon-propaganda. We had conserve our energy and imagination for Disneyland.


Tuesday, January 30, cloudy, slight showers. Apparently the perfect day to brave the "happiest place on earth." The lines we'd prepared ourselves for, weren't there! And not just because we had Ukiah and his sprained ankle in a wheelchair. We were in the door and on Space Mt twice before the park had been open a half hour. It's a Small World and Splash Mt were closed, but we made up for it with multiple trips on Thunder Mt and Indiana Jones.

I'd share the details, but am distracted. Who knew poison oak could have a delayed-reaction of sorts?

Confessions of an agnostic

We left the Meditation Center yesterday and headed right into a parallel universe- Arden Faire Mall in downtown Sacramento. 10:30 Monday morning and already, no parking. Through Macy’s cosmetics department, past the Disney store and just before the Cinnabon/Orange Julius, we found the Apple store. It’s a three-hour wait to ask the guys at the genius bar about the random shutdown syndrome our laptop has developed.

Four stairs seems like an appropriate buffer zone between the women and packages ahead of us on the escalator. Ukiah whispered, “Sometimes I wonder if all these people are real. If they can be real.” We descended into the crowd; hundreds of purple and turquoise ribbons pinch the enormous fir tree behind Santa’s village. Back at the Meditation Center, I had plenty of questions about their teaching of the “illusion” of this “material world” and considerable reservations about the “demonic” people who don’t “know” or care. Inhaling mall air under artificial light, it starts to make sense. I miss the chanting.


Santa Cruz brings redemption. The Surfer’s Museum is closed, but a handfull of guys in wetsuits paddle into the morning waves. Santa Cruz Roasting Company brews organic, fair trade coffee. There’s an independent bookstore down the block from a music store we can’t recognize by logo. There’s no fee to park and walk along the beach. The taco stand offers vegetarian and vegan burritos. The sun is shining and not everyone walking, biking and skating downtown is weighted with shopping bags.

Dinosaurs

We're taking a poll.
Dinosaurs, lived thousands OR millions of years ago?

After a week on the farm, we headed for Red Deer. On a day hike at Gaetz Lakes Sanctuary, a migratory bird refuge, we met an older couple. He was using a pocket knife to cut rings of birch bark, she enjoyed the sun and lake view. Within 2 minutes, the man had introduced himself. "Did you ever see 'Dances with Wolves?' I made all those costumes." Except the wedding dresses, they brought in some girls to make those. How old are we? Where are we from. He has socks older than the kids, older than me. He was Ralph Kline's camera man, built his reputation. Apparently before Kline left Canadian Government, disgraced.

We tried to share Alberta enthusiasm, wanted the couple to know how mush we'd enjoyed the dinosaur museum at Drumheller. Amazing, to think of dinosaurs here, to watch their bird ancestors.

Humph. Not a one of those dinosaurs lived more than 4,500 years ago. Died in the big flood they did, Noah's flood. Of course the Canadian government won't give money to the thousands of scientists who recognize the facts. He gave us his web address so we can look into ordering his book.

Outside the Royal Tyrrel Museum, trails through Alberta's badlands trace the paths of legendary paleontologist, marking some of the largest/most diverse fossil beds ever found. Motorized vehicles are prohibited. Unless you want to race your screaming, oil leaking dirt bike a mile or so away from the museum.

Our tour began in the gift shop. Dinosaur claw salad servers, anyone? Books, stuffed toys, sweat shirts and recordings of Canada's own Bryan Adams .

We walked through the Precambrian Era all the way to the Cenozoic, concentrating mainly on the Mesozoic. Moroccan trilobites give way to jawless fish and eventually reptiles. In the Cretaceous garden, ferns, cycads and conifers inspire thoughts of their 70 million year-old cousins. The Koi in the ponds are not as hearty as their armored ancestors. Signs warn against throwing coins in the pond. Dead fish with X-eyes at every pond.

Camarasaura, allosaurs, Stegosaurus... everyone was there. Nests, eggs, ancient coral beds and my favorite, the hadrosaurs. The museum is beautiful, impressive with an onsite lab, and offers a version of history different than the man's. The Palaeoene Epoch and the rise of mammals began some 65 million years ago. The ice age brought polar bears from Asia to North America,. They met camels traveling the opposite direction. And here we are.