Debate

A couple of years back when Evan was 13 he was given an assignment by his school.  He had to take a position on abortion, and debate that position.  He had to take a side which was "Life," and he had to research the subject.  Now I'm no prude, but isn't this a little premature for a very young teenager?

Surely we gain nothing from teaching children the complexities of adult life before their time.  And it was at a Catholic school too.

We talked about the outcome and he told me that he ended up saying; "When you go home tonight, kiss your mother as she chose life!"  I thought that was quite good.

Bearing in mind the flavor of the school, I would have chosen a different tack: "So if you believe in abortion at all, you will go straight to hell and burn for eternity!"  I wonder what they would have said to that? 
Having lived in a society where abortion was illegal, no matter the protests they'll never get the genie back in the bottle, the alternatives are just to awful to consider.

I certainly believe a discussion on the subject is good for older kids, but I think 13 is just a bit too soon, don't you?

Sunday's Column - Skating

Sunday's column was about a roller skating rink in Fontana - Roller City +.  It was an interesting place to visit on the second occasion.  The first time I went there the place was empty apart from the proprietors who were nonetheless very helpful.

I used to be pretty good on skates when I was about 10, and when we arrived in the US, we found ourselves living next to Venice Beach where nearly everyone seemed to be whizzing along on little wheels.

I naturally assumed that the skill, like bike riding, would live permanently in the muscles and so shrugging off the suggestion of renting, I charged head long into a major purchase of equipment.

At the first occasions we donned our skates and also all the necessary padding and pushed off.  Oh the horrors!  In the intervening 30-odd years the muscles had definitely forgotten their early lessons.  We were a couple of stumbling old fools staggering from one vertical  handhold to the next. 

At the first opportunity we sat down and tore off the boots and on returning home consigned them to a box in the deepest recesses of the garage, never to be worn again.  It was with this bitter memory that I declined the opportunity to join the skaters on my visit; but I did envy them though. It really looked like fun.  You can read the entire article at http://www.sbsun.com/trevorstravels/ci_17239087

Music Track - Abba

Now I've been very good, you must admit it, as I've only put ABBA on here once - one of the earliest posts in fact.  But back in the 70's they were huge in Europe.  This is one you don't hear too often http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BWI2bTckbgc  Now I know that it's not fashionable to admit to enjoying ABBA, particularly in the US, but I've never used music as a fashion accessory.  It has to have three elements - Melody, Rhythm and Harmony.  This group never turned out a piece of music that lacked one of these, which is probably why they regularly used to post more annual sales than their Swedish business rivals - Volvo!

Trees

When I was a boy we always seemed to be climbing trees.  It was so prevalent that you couldn't pass a tree of any size without spotting a boy somewhere in it.  I use the term boy as I can't for the life of me remember that any girls ever went in for the activity.

As a consequence of this, I had an intimate knowledge of the tree structure of every climbable tree in the neighborhood.  Branches and boughs like these were implanted deep in my psyche.  If we could get up high enough to grasp a handhold we would be up in a matter of seconds.  Passing adults would pay no heed as it was such a common pastime.

As far as I can remember, no-one ever fell out of a tree and we didn't damage them - we were fond of the great beasts and considered them to be part of our environment.  On returning to an area I knew as I child some years ago, all the buildings had gone, but I recognized some of the trees I had climbed.  They were like old friends.

I don't think I've seen a boy in a tree in several decades, and that's a shame.  Maybe the trees are glad but it speaks of how our society has changed.  For instance, any injury incurred would result in some lawsuit against the owner, be it park, city or private.  So any likely looking boy would be chased off.

But then they're all sitting down playing Nintendo, or searching Facebook.  Somehow I think my childhood was better.

Dressing Up

My local is having a '70's night this week.  I shall not attend.  I don't like dressing up much and even though I'm sure I've got a bit of clothing that old in the recesses of my wardrobe, I don't think I want to drag it out and parade it around.  So it could be said I'm not a fancy dress kind of guy.

Now if I had access to the sort of outfit this fellow is wearing, maybe I could be reasonably happy, but it's not likely to be available up here.  I think he's some sort of Russian by the look of him - I particularly like the medals he's wearing too.

We have a number of people here who regularly dress up in cowboy garb, we even have Old Miner's Days which last throughout August.  It allows the more exhibitionist of our population to express themselves.  Later on there is a Renaissance Faire (note the extra "e!")  Here, people really go to town in what they believe the residents of England used to stroll around in during the 16th century.

I have not mentioned to them that at the time most people were actually wearing rags and didn't take baths very often.  There was also an almost total absence of sewers and teeth, which I'm sure added to an atmosphere of some challenge.

But I guess I could turn out if I had decent outfit, but certainly not a renaissance one.  Maybe a Russian soldier/sailor/airman would do nicely.

Tattoos

It seems that tattoos are a part of modern life and if I were young today, I wonder if peer pressure would mean I too would have one?  It's not a happy thought. I can't think of any design that I would want to have on me for life.  Then there is the etiquette of dealing with tattoos in a new relationship.  Suppose you were confronted with this on disrobing. What are you supposed to

say?  One could hardly ignore it, but it could somewhat upset the proceedings a little.  Then there is the problem of how much applause you should pour on.  Too little and you come off like a boor; too much and the entire episode is turning into an art show which maybe nobody wanted.  All very confusing, but I do hope the wearer gives a warning.

I remember once visiting a female executive in a bank in Bahrain.  It was a Wednesday and although very Arabic, she was dressed in basic business style - very western.  I returned on the Sunday - the Muslim weekend having occurred in between.  She was as she appeared earlier.  However her hands were heavily tattooed. Naturally my eyes were drawn to the sight but I didn't say anything.

The friend I was staying with told  me that the tattoos were in fact henna and would wash off eventually in about a week.  But they were there as she no doubt had been to a big party in the desert.  It was a strange business though, and led me to recall the old saying or one slightly changed: You can take the girl out of  the desert.... well, you know the rest.

Being a rather shallow person the sight of the tattoos did somewhat alter my feelings towards the exec.

Just Answer

I am still amazed at what the Internet can do.  The other day one of our Poodles developed a small problem.  It was not so bad that we wanted to visit the vet, sit in the waiting room for ages even though we might make an appointment, then go through the usual mundanity to be presented with a bill for $40 plus maybe some sort of quack medication for another $30.  Not that I have any real problem with the vet himself as he's very good.

So I thought I'd try going on-line, and Hey Presto, immediately I found this site, Just answer,
 http://www.justanswer.com/   The idea is that there are vets on line all the time waiting for questions.  My chap was called Peter, and he had 15 years of internal medical experience.  I outlined the problem and then after I had deposited the $16 fee, he came back with some questions, and after I answered those, he gave me his diagnosis.  Wonderful service.  Oh, by the way although there is some convoluted system for earning money for recommending products and sites on a blog, I don't do it.  So this is purely my experience.

Skiing

Although we live in a ski resort, I have to say that neither of us ski.  Unfortunately we took to it too late in life - about 52 - and the prospect of injury was a little too real.  Nonetheless we did try a few times.  S.W.M.B.O. was not very polite with her instructor and he had to be changed, but that's another story.

This isn't me but it might well have been

I never got the turns right and I was somewhat annoyed that practice didn't seem to make me any better.

I did have one wonderful experience before I gave it all up however.  It had snowed about six inches during the night but the storm had gone off rapidly to the east.  We were left with beautiful fresh snow and bright blue skies.

I was first on the lift as they started up at 8:30 and launched myself down a green slope called Clementine.  My skis were the first to mark the virgin snow.  After the first few curves which I negotiated in my normal "pizza slice" manner there was a long straight run before we reached the bottom.  I shall never forget it.  My only regret was that I just couldn't make it a grade up to the blue slopes.

I did give it a try, but after failing badly I was forced to remove the planks and walk down the slope in full view of the Ski Haus at the bottom where several yuppies were enjoying their morning fortified lattes.  It was not a happy moment.  However I do have that one memory of the skiing experience to carry with me.

Sunday's Column - Wignall

We lost a very valuable contemporary art museum when the Claremont Museum closed its doors.  However a great alternative if you're looking to stretch your artistic interest is the Wignall Museum located on the Chaffey University Campus.

This is Rebecca Trawick the curator for the last three years.  She's knowlegable, and helpful; she's also very pretty.

I was chastised by a reader some time ago for mixing up the terms "modern" and "contemporary." So let me explain that "modern" art resides in the time period of the 1860's through the 1970's, and "contemporary" is art produced by living artists today.

The Wignall Museum is opening a new exhibition on Monday January 24th which will run through March.  It's a small but very interesting place to visit.  For all the information click on this link http://www.chaffey.edu/wignall/exhibitions.shtml

Music Track - Stones

I'd almost completely forgotten this piece by The Stones; until I heard it playing in the background of a movie called The Darjeeling Express - it was the best thing about the movie!!!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OZ-W_sZbehU
This track is a rehearsal with footage - quite violent - from some films I don't know, but I like the music.  Let me know what you think.

Ballet

I went to see Black Swan the other day.  OK, I know this is not the first movie that perhaps a Harley rider should attend.  But what the heck!  It was a dark and disturbing, but incredibly magnetic movie.  So much so that I had to keep postponing a trip to the bathroom as I didn't want to miss anything.  In the end I was wriggling like a two-year old and had to be sent off by S.W.M.B.O.

I've only been to the ballet three times; once to see a very controversial ballet called the Broken Date when I was about 17; I was taken to see some modern ballet in New York, and I was urged by S.W.M.B.O. to go with my foster daughter to see a performance of Swan Lake all done by blokes - for heaven's sake, what was that all about?

Obviously I'm aware of much of the music for ballet, but the little details in the film also perked my intererst.  I was fascinated in the scene where the dancers literally tore all the insides out of their ballet shoes to make them "right."  Also when I went to the ballet in New York I had never realized that the dancers' feet made little clicking noises as they went across the stage.  I suppose when you think about it they would, as the toes are blocked with wood.  I never knew either that often you can buy the shoes the dancers wore for that performance.  I didn't find that too interesting for the blokes' dance.

Oh yes, I did see a performance once of Australians dancing in boots.  Their used footware was not available for purchase either.

This is a link to the Chinese Ballet - an unbelievable 4 minutes sent to me by a friend recently. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4sMc-p19FIk&feature=player_embedded  The maneuver she performs at 2:00 is incredible.  Also watch for the little man in the white suit to appear at 2:57.  He's there to ensure she doesn't fall - rather well done the way he disappears again.

J.F.K.

I think Oswald's window is the third up

The other evening I watched yet another conspiracy enthusiast explaining how it was some group of people and not Lee Harvey Oswald who killed Kennedy back in November 1963.  He had all sorts of documents and films and computer models to substantiate his claim.  Like most of those who were around back then I can still recall the horror of hearing that this icon, who was so revered, had been shot.  Kennedy was felt to be a truly special President, although over the years his image has become a little tarnished.

I was taken to the Texas School Book Depository in Dallas many years ago by a good friend, and I think it helped to put the entire episode in some sort of context for me.  I also read Norman Mailer's 800 page tome, Oswald's Tale, and although I was no fan of the author's political stripe he was no dunce.  He was also extremely thorough in acquiring all the facts.

The truth is that like Princess Diana, there are only a few really bright stars in our world, and to have them snuffed out by either a shabby little man, like Oswald, or killed in a stupid traffic accident is somehow so unbelievable that many just can't accept the reality.

In the case of JFK, so many years have passed and knowing the human need to confess, there has never been a serious alternative to Oswald sticking his Italian rifle out of the corner window and firing off the necessary shots.  The world changed that day however, and those who were aware of it will never forget.

Etiwanda

One of the odd names that one passes on the Ten Freeway near Ontario, CA is Etiwanda.  I've had to visit the small village of Etiwanda a few times to do pieces on the Chaffey Garcia house and so I found out about the name.  Firstly, the entire area was developed in 1877 by George Chaffey Senior.  He had come out of Ontario, Canada to spend time with an aging relative.  It was Chaffey who gave Ontario, CA its name.

He bought a house for his son in the small village of Etiwanda and it was the first in S/Bernardino to have electric light - you could see the bulb all the way from Redlands where some relatives lived.

It was Chaffey who also gave Etiwanda its name.  It belonged to a distant relative who happened to be an Indian chief in his old home in Canada.  How exotic!

I'm sure this picture does not represent the original in any way but it was the best I could find in the Morgue File, whose library I regularly visit for illustrations

So the next time you travel east or west on the 10 Freeway and you see the name Etiwanda come up, you'll know what it means.  Now I wonder what Miliken means as that's the next turning?

Wine - particularly red wine

I haven't drunk red wine in a long time.  Sadly it was one of the first casualties of old age creeping up on me.  Something about the sulfates, I think.  Frankly if I drink the stuff in the evening I can guarantee an early morning call about 2 a.m. and that's it for the rest of the night.  So it had to go.

Sad really, but I have happy memories of the drink, and particularly some to do with a hotel in Spain.

I used to stay regularly at the Wellington Hotel in Madrid in the mid-seventies and one evening dining alone, I looked more closely at the wine menu than usual.  I noticed that they had a Rioja dated some time in the 1890's.  I asked the wine waiter if this was correct as the price didn't seem too much.

He explained that it was a fact, but he couldn't guarantee the quality of the wine and also that it was in half bottles.  Such small quantities had gone out of style, or the capacity of the average Spaniard had increased during Franco's time perhaps.  Well, he pulled the cork and tried it himself; no good, he tried another; still no good, but the third as they say was a charm.

I have to confess that there is not a single bottle of red wine available in the Wellington Hotel in Madrid older than 1950.  I drank the lot!  I couldn't pass up the opportunity to work my way through such a collection over the following six months.  The staff quite enjoyed my performance too, I think.  Happy memories!