Tree Be Gone

My neighbor has a tree in his backyard. It’s not a fruit tree and it’s not an ornamental tree. It’s what I call a trash tree—something that most likely sprouted from a seed buried by a squirrel, and it’s getting bigger, year by year. Now its limbs and the myriad vines growing within them have encroached several feet into my yard. I was getting tired of mowing around the branches and not being able to mow up to the property line. It’s as if the growing tree is claiming an increasing amount of my yard for itself.

So after I mowed my yard this morning, I got out my electric hedge trimmer and started whacking all the limbs and vines that would fit between the trimmer’s teeth. In about a half hour, I whacked enough limbs and vines to completely fill my 45 gallon trash receptacle.

But this isn’t the end of it. Those limbs and vines will grow back. So I began thinking: what can I do to kill this tree? I searched Google for methods of killing trees. And indeed, there are a number of ways to kill a tree.

This tree is a goner; it’s living on borrowed time. It just doesn’t know it yet. If you’re a tree, you had better keep your branches on your side of my property line. If you don’t, then sooner or later you’re going to be having a very bad day.

A Tale of Two Hospitals

A friend of mine just underwent surgery at one of the two hospitals in her community. She emailed me to say she was okay, and in her email she gave a short review of her experience. I won’t name the hospital, but here is her review:

This is the first time I have ever used this facility -- all other surgeries were at [other hospital] and wow -- the difference (and adding Covid precautions) were shocking.  Check in was not impressive at all -- I don't even think I could describe it -- I actually felt like I was being wheeled in somebody’s old crockety basement and people were everywhere (some covered and some not).  The place was unclean.  When I got to the operating room it was like entering the side door of a garage -- I'm not really good at describing it. Still I held my resolve and wasn't nervous (just aware) ... the place did not give me the feeling it was sterile.

She and I live 180 miles apart, so when I had to go to a hospital, I obviously went to a different hospital—a large hospital that was local to me. It was ten years ago, but I still remember the experience well. The hospital was sparkling clean and the people there bent over backward to help me. They put me into a semi-private room (two beds) with another patient. His family members were visiting him and were talking loudly. I called a nurse and asked her if she could bring me some disposable ear plugs because of the noise. She didn’t; instead, she wheeled me down the hall to another room, a private room (single bed). Later, another nurse came to my room and asked if there was anything I needed. Lying in a hospital bed is boring and I jokingly answered that I’d like to have a computer. She replied that she had a laptop in her car and she offered to go to her car and bring her computer back to me. I told her that wasn’t necessary, but I was plenty impressed. After I was back at home, someone from the hospital phoned me to make sure I was okay and wanted me to comment on my experience at the hospital—what I thought they did well and what I thought they could have done better. I had no complaints at all.

What a difference there was between our two experiences! It comes down to people. Hospitals, like all institutions, develop a culture. The culture can usually be summed up in a few words: “Good enough to get by”, or “Excellence.” Is “Excellence” too expensive for other hospitals to emulate? Or is “good enough” the default position of staff who don’t want to go the extra mile because it’s a bother? And which hospital is more likely to succeed, and which is more likely to fail?

It should go without saying that this dichotomy exists across many institutions in our country. Of course, the managers and directors must strike a balance, but shouldn’t we err on the side of making the customer or patient feel that he or she is in a place run by competent people who care about them?

Shouldn’t we all try to do our best, especially when dealing with people who may be in a new and scary situation? Or is “Excellence” merely an old-fashioned concept that we don’t have time for in these modern days?

Hanover Tomatoes

In my previous post, Burger Bliss, I mentioned Hanover tomatoes. Just so you know, these are Hanover tomatoes. The medium-size fruit are a little over 4 inches across. I had been visiting with my friend Butch and as I was leaving I saw these on his dining room table. He urged me to take one home with me, as that is his way. I declined and told him I still had slices remaining of the previous tomato he had given me, which was true.

And that reminds me of the old joke about the 3-legged pig. A man passing by a farm saw a 3-legged pig in the farmer’s yard. The man asked the farmer why the pig had only 3 legs.

"Well," said the farmer, "that pig is very special. One time my wife was cooking something and she stepped out of the kitchen and it caught on fire. No one in the house knew about it but the pig, and he saved me, my wife, and my kids. If it weren’t for that pig we would all be dead." 

"That's amazing!" said the man, “but why does the pig only have three legs?"

"Well," said the farmer, "with a pig that special... you don’t eat 'em all at once."

And as with the pig, I still have slices of this special tomato in my fridge, slowly disappearing.

Maybe it’s just my blogging about special pigs and special tomatoes, but now I want a BLT.

Burger Bliss

Breakfast today. Also lunch.

Here’s how to make the tastiest burger you’ll ever bite into.

Get some decent size hamburger buns, not the kiddie size that stores like to stock. Get ground beef patties; frozen patties are fine. Just cook ‘em slow so they don’t get burnt crispy on either side.

Get white onion, yellow mustard, ketchup, and mayonnaise.

Now this part is important. You have to get great-tasting tomatoes, and I recommend you get Hanover tomatoes. They get the name because they’re grown in Hanover County, Virginia. And what’s special about Hanover County? It’s the soil. It’s a combination of soil and sand that makes Hanover tomatoes famous for their size and flavor. Another factor is the pH of the soil, which is lower than in many other places. A good place to start looking for these tomatoes is Pole Green Produce market in Mechanicsville, Va. If you aren’t going to use Hanover tomatoes then just stop now and drive to Mickey D’s.

Hanover tomatoes are usually large. Slice ‘em thick—you’ll get plenty of slices out of one tomato. But even so, don’t go there and buy one tomato!

The rest of the burger preparation is standard. Cook the patty to your desired degree of doneness. Ground beef should be well done. I’ve eaten medium and even medium-rare burgers and gotten away with it, but I don’t recommend it. You’re playing with fire. More specifically, you’re playing with salmonella and E. coli.

Put ample mayonnaise on the bottom bun—the oil in the mayo will help keep the bun from getting soggy. Put mustard and ketchup on the top bun. Put the cooked burger on the bottom bun and add salt and pepper. Place your slice of tomato on the burger and add a little more salt and pepper to the tomato. Put the slice of onion on the tomato. Put the top bun in place and enjoy.

There are probably a zillion hamburger recipes on the Web. What makes this one different is the Hanover tomato.

And when you eat your burger, don’t forget a tasty side salad. The one pictured here is made of Romaine lettuce, sliced grape tomatoes, garlic croutons, grated parmesan cheese, and parmesan dressing. Simple but good.

Crazy Day

It has been a crazy day. First I found a hat full of money on the street. I picked it up and went on my way. But then an angry man with a guitar started chasing me. So I had to run. And run. And run.

Later, around noon, I was driving down Broadway Street in Richmond. I stopped at a red light and saw a young man with his thumb out. He looked hot and sweaty, and indeed it was a hot day. Sitting in my air-conditioned car, I felt sorry for him, so I waved to him to come to my car. He did, and he got in the car and thanked me. He had a small brown paper bag with him. I asked him what was in the bag. He told me he had been released from prison just a half hour earlier and the bag contained his belongings that he had when he was arrested.

We drove a few more blocks down Broadway, and then he asked me if, when I gave him a lift, I had considered that he might be a serial killer. I told him, “No—what are the odds that there would be two serial killers in my car at the same time?” He asked me to let him out of the car. And I did.

I won’t lie—most of this is true.

Education

At age 8 I got a copy of the Amateur Radio Relay League Handbook. I studied it every day. Ohm’s Law. Kirchhoff’s Laws. Resistance. Impedance. And when I began to learn Resonance, my 8 year old brain hit a speed bump. Series resonance. Parallel resonance. Q factor. My brain sucked it in until it got to be over my head. But I learned.

When I was about 9 or 10, I was building electronic projects on a board. When I said board, I mean literally a piece of wood. I mounted Fahnestock clips on standoffs so I could change the circuitry as fast as I could build it.

When I was about 10 or 11, my grandmother’s sister (my great aunt) gave me an old Philco cathedral radio. It could tune AM and short-wave. It didn’t work. I fixed it. 

When I was 13, I attended electronics night school with my dad. I was too young to enroll but the teacher allowed me to audit the class. I did the homework and took the exams. Made good grades, too, but it was all unofficial. I took the class but according to official documents, I didn’t take the class. That’s ok. I learned.

I got my first real job at 13, so I earned money to afford an amateur radio station. When I was 14, I built my ham station. (The word “ham” is short for “ham-fisted,” a derogatory term for some early radio operators that lacked some of the skills they needed.) I had a rig (transmitter) I had built, a receiver, a quarter-wave vertical dipole antenna in the back yard, with copper wire ground plane. The antenna was connected to my rig by RG-8U coax, almost half an inch in diameter. It went through a T/R (Transmit/Receive) switch so that the transmitter would not blow out the front end of the receiver. The T/R switch would only connect one at a time to the antenna. The T/R switch didn’t work. I took it apart and made an adjustment and presto! It worked.

When I graduated high school my intent was go to Virginia Tech (VT) and become an electrical engineer. But I couldn’t afford to do that. Back then the tuition was a fraction of what it is today, but still way too much for me. So my first year I attended a local community college called Richard Bland College. It was a two year school. My first-year math class was Integral Calculus. I thought I would fail because I didn’t “get it.” It seemed to be over my head. But I stuck to it and I discovered it was hard because my professor was a poor teacher. I passed.

Now here is something important: Richard Bland used the semester system. I took four hours of Calculus a week for two semesters. Virginia Tech used the quarter system, and they taught the same course for 3 hours a week for 3 quarters. This meant that I earned 8 credit hours in Calculus (4 hours multiplied by 2 semesters) whereas the students taking Calculus at VT earned 9 credit hours (3 hours multiplied by 3 quarters.) This completely ignores the the fact that a semester (half of nine moths) is 1.5 times as long as a quarter (3 months). I was robbed!

I could not convince VT that 4 hours per week for 9 months is longer than 3 hours per week for 9 months, so I had to repeat part of my Calculus course.

The next year I went to another college called Richmond Professional Institute (RPI). It’s not called that any longer. There was a well-known medical college in Richmond called Medical College of Virginia (MCV). RPI and MCV merged to create a new university called Virginia Commonwealth University (VCU). The former MCV is called VCU Health Systems. But RPI is where I re-studied the last quarter of Integral Calculus. It threw me one quarter behind all the way through college because of a thing called “Prerequisites.” You have to complete and pass certain courses before you can move on to other courses. So after repeating the third quarter of Integral Calculus, I was allowed to proceed to my next math class, which was Differential Calculus.

At this point, as I became familiar with Differential Calculus, I had a realization. The two courses were being taught in the wrong order. I should have taken Differential Calculus first, and then Integral Calculus. By switching the order of how the courses were taught, it was like teaching someone how to build a helicopter and after that, only then do you tell them what a helicopter does.

So I went to Virginia Tech as a junior, still one quarter behind my classmates. I had good professors and a few that I considered not-so-good. When my graduation was approaching, I asked my course adviser what courses I should take to graduate in December (summer vacation plus I was still a quarter behind.) He advised me what to take and I got on with my education, expecting to graduate in December. Then I got hit by another stumbling block.

My course adviser told me I couldn’t graduate because I didn’t take Freshman Algebra. And that was true, I had skipped algebra and had taken two years of Calculus, a much more difficult subject. If you don’t know algebra, you’re not going to pass Calculus.

So the conversation went more or less like this:

Me: So I have to come back for another three months just to take Freshman Algebra?

VT: I’m afraid it’s not that simple. The University no longer teaches Freshman Algebra.

Me: Why not?

VT: We decided it was unnecessary.

Me: Wait. I can’t graduate because I didn’t take a course that the faculty has decided is unnecessary?

VT: Yes. But it was necessary at the date you enrolled. So you’re still required to take it. You can return for another quarter and take another course.

Me: I have to pay tuition, and buy a meal ticket, and pay for laundry service, just to take this unnecessary course?

VT: Yes.

Me: So what course should I take?

VT: We don’t care. Just pick something with the same number of credit hours as Freshman Algebra.

And so it was. I call it bureaucracy run amok. A more cynical person might say the University was gouging me for more money just because they could.

A Conversation

I had a discussion tonight with a friend on a text/video platform. It lasted for a while before we moved to another video platform. But while it was on the first chat platform, this was our conversation. I copied it here because tonight I am too lazy to come up with something original, and besides, it may give some of my friends and acquaintances something to think about.

The segments that start with Q are my friend’s chats. The segments that start with VW are my chats.

VW: All of us are here for a reason.

We are here to experience and to learn.

We are also here to help one another and to be kind to one another. That is a very important lesson to learn.

Q: So don’t feel pity for yourself. Life is short. Let me ask you, are you happy? With your Life, with what you do?

VW: I don't feel pity for myself ... none at all. I did not mean to give that impression. Yes, I feel happy most of the time. I do what you do, except less house cleaning and more writing.

Q: You don't know what you have not seen.

VW: I eat, I sleep, I visit friends (mostly online). And you don't know what you have not seen. So what? No one has seen everything, but you don't have to travel anywhere to learn many things.

Q: ?

VW: There are people who are blind and cannot "see" at all, but they still learn and live their lives.

Q: But they believe they are happy.

VW: Each of us is here for a purpose and it is not the same purpose. Each of us has lessons to learn, not the same lesson.

Are you happy?

Do you feel content?

Q: Not completely. I’m very grateful for who I am, what I do, what I have. But something is missing. And I bet that happens to you also.

VW: I practiced transcendental meditation for a year, morning and evening. I wanted to experience it. I took LSD because I wanted to experience it. I drove all over America in a camper van with my dog because I wanted to experience it. So I've experienced a lot and I feel I have an understanding of my life and why I am here. When you die you will meet the Angel and you might think it is Jesus or God, but it is the Angel. The Angel will make you review your life and then will ask you, "What have you done that is sufficient?"

I want to have a good answer. I know many places that I have failed, but by failing I learned something.

I think perhaps because my mother and father fought like cats and dogs every day of my childhood and even my adulthood, I never wanted to be married. And because of my panic attacks, it was very difficult to date anyone, so that was cut out of my life, and who can say that God didn't do it. I believe He did cut that out of my life and I believe He had a reason.

And so my life went in a different direction and I met different people and traveled to different places and had different experiences, but I was happy. My life could have been so much worse. I was born lucky. I was born to decent people, in a good country, and made good friends, and had some experiences with women. I'm happy. I have regrets, I've done things that hurt people and I was too immature to understand that, but now I understand and I've learned.

Q: You have done that because you have free wheeled.

VW: I don't know why you say I have "free wheeled". Much of my life has been tough. I was working at age 13. I struggled financially to get through school. No sooner did I get a good job than this agoraphobia hit me and it was crippling. (Agoraphobia is the medical name for what causes my panic attacks.) My life has not been easy, but it has probably been easier than I deserve. I wish I could undo many things I have done. I was foolish when I was young and did not take advantage of opportunities I had. I was often anxious. I think I inherited that from my mother, who was often anxious and easily frightened. My dad was an alcoholic but he was also a hard worker and taught me many things, and many of my values, which were good, honest values. He had his failings. My mother had hers. I've had mine. We aren't heavenly angels, we are just people who struggle to survive. Some of us give up the struggle, it is too much, and we read about their suicide. As I wrote (on this blog), sometimes I feel my life was like a train on a track and couldn't have gone any other way, and maybe that is exactly how our lives work. Maybe they are planned for us so that we can learn the things we need to learn. Soul-learning.

I think we have "guardian angels" who are always with us and guiding us through our feelings, and sometimes protecting us and others. I think perhaps they plan our life experiences to give us (our souls) an opportunity to grow to make us better through soul-work. We are here to learn and grow. But that does not happen sometimes and we have to repeat our lessons until we learn them. We will eventually learn, some of us are just slower than others.

When you see someone who was born disabled, it may be that he or she took on that disability to learn a very valuable lesson. That person may be an "old soul" who is learning very hard lessons now. Or that person may be a "young soul" who is learning what the effects of their actions are on others. Do not be too quick to pity or judge. They may have chosen a lesson and perhaps you are in their life to help them learn that lesson.

And at this point the conversation moved to another video chat platform.

Abortion

Many years ago, I was the moderator of a panel discussion about abortion. I think the topic was ‘should abortion be legal?’ How did that happen? It was part of my engineering training.

Engineers are taught skills in addition to technical and mathematical skills. I was taught to stand in front of a room full of people and give a speech on a particular topic. I was taught how to moderate a debate panel. Sadly, the debates I see on today’s TV often show moderators with no skills in moderating a debate, or at least no willingness to follow the rules of moderating. As moderator, I had to make sure everyone on the panel spoke. I had to prevent the more talkative types from dominating the debate, and I had to ask questions of the less talkative debaters to draw out their views. I’ve long forgotten most of what I was taught, but I remember that debate. The topic of abortion is still debated and has adherents on both sides.

Should abortion be legal? It seems to be a thorny question, with passionate advocates on both sides. But I’m an engineer. Passion isn’t part of the equation. Only logic is.

We are repulsed at killing a small fetus that cannot survive outside its mother. But we are not similarly repulsed at removing a kidney from a human. The kidney, like the fetus, has human DNA. But the kidney is not a person, nor is it a potential person, whereas the fetus is. But then, why is this lump of fetal tissue called a person, while another lump of human tissue is not?

It goes to the concept of a soul. We presume the fetus has a soul and is therefore human, while the kidney does not have a soul—it is merely part of the body’s machinery.

But even if we believe that humans have a soul, which is purely theoretical, what makes us think a fetus has a soul? There is nothing to support such a concept, and there is reason to doubt it.

Assuming there is an all-powerful, all-knowing God, this God would know that a particular fetus is going to be aborted. Why would God implant a soul into a fetus that is due to be killed? Planting a soul into a fetus that is about to be destroyed is pointless. Why would God do that? Logic says God would not.

So, logically, an aborted fetus never had a soul. We can’t see the future, but an all-knowing God can.

If there is no God, then there are probably no souls, and on some level humans are no different from any other animal. We’re not “special”. We’re not “above” all the other animals. We’re simply another species.

And if there is an all-knowing God, such a Being knows what the future will bring and what will happen to every fetus created. Such a God would act accordingly, meaning an aborted fetus never had a soul and never was a person.

To sum my argument so far: if there is no Supreme Being, then the argument about the “specialness” of human life falls apart, and removing a fetus is as immoral as removing a kidney. But, if there is a Supreme Being, such a Being would know a particular fetus would not grow to be a baby and therefore that Supreme Being would not implant it with a soul and, again, removing a fetus is as immoral as removing a kidney.

Many years ago I saw a woman in a motel room. She was naked, kneeling, with her head on the floor. A dark stain spread over the carpet beneath her pelvis. The dark stain was her blood draining out her body. She was dead, murdered by a “back-alley” abortionist who did not know what they were doing. I did not know the woman, but I felt a great wrong had been done to her. It’s an image that, after decades, I still cannot get out of my head. But that was reality; that was the way it used to be. Making abortion illegal never ended abortions, but it often ended the mother’s life and the life of the fetus.

I don’t like the idea of abortions, but I would never presume to tell a woman what to do. It is her body and her decision and she will bear the consequences. I imagine many women who get abortions hate what they are doing but feel they have no choice.

Logic tells us abortions don’t kill human babies; abortions remove lumps of human-looking tissue that will never have a soul. But the entire anti-abortion/pro-choice debate is based on things we can never know for certain, and we make decisions based on opinions and feelings rather than facts. But before you blame a woman for getting an abortion, you might recall the words of Jesus in John 8:7. “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.”

July 4th

Today is July 4th, also called Independence Day in the United States. July 4th is considered the founding date of the American Republic. America’s first president, as every American should know, was George Washington. Washington’s vice president was John Adams. Both men were Founding Fathers. John Adams became America’s second president. America’s third president was Thomas Jefferson, another Founding Father.

Thomas Jefferson died at 83. John Adams died at 90. Both men died on the same date: July 4, 1826 — the 50th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence.

Another Founding Father also became president. He was James Monroe, America’s fifth president. He died on July 4, 1831.

Coincidence? If so, the deaths of three American presidents and Founding Fathers on America’s Independence Day were remarkably unlikely. But if not coincidence, then what?