Tuesday, December 31, 2013

She Died in December




I worked for Glenn and Charlotte Johnson a few years ago -- their organic farm on Fir Island. They were a loving couple. Charlotte complained about Glenn all the time, and right in front of him too. Charlotte was largely disappointed in all of us. We never worked hard enough -- not as hard as she did..... I just loved her, she was so warm and beautiful.... and her complaining -- it all fit together..... Glenn would have been in a mental hospital or in prison if he didn't have that farm and Charlotte to keep him balanced. He is or was the most manic individual on planet earth, but working 18 hour days on the farm used up most of his energy, and he was able to be peaceful.

One day Charlotte drove the step van to Anacortes for the market. The van broke down on Highway 20. She called Glenn to come and help her. He was not near his phone. So she called me and I drove out there. Meanwhile the tow truck driver came, but the van was too big and heavily loaded for the tow truck to handle. Charlotte was mad enough to spit. "I have to get to the market, there are people waiting for me, my farm depends on it," she said.

The tow truck operator heard her cries of anguish, and he said, "well, I can't tow you, but if you off load your produce to the back of my truck then I can bring you and the lettuce to the market."

Charlotte said wonderful and gave him a great big hug. Working really fast, we moved all the produce boxes from the broke-down van to the tow truck and off they went. Charlotte got to the market a little late, but she sold all her produce to her loyal customers.

That's how things worked on Charlotte's farm. Everything was always breaking down, but she never gave up, and that's what I tell young people when I talk about farming. I say, it's not like farmers know how to grow things better, it's more like they just never give up.

A good life for Charlotte, and I hope the best for Glenn.

This photo shows the Snow Geese flying on Fir Island near Glenn & Charlotte's farm.
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Career Choice -- Advertising or Short Stories

My Dad showed some promise as a short story writer when he was a young man. He could have pursued that as a career and ended up living in a shack with a bad drinking habit. But he avoided that calamity and went into advertising. From advertising he made a good living, and found a pretty wife and had a nice home and five children and he put them all through college.

Advertising or short stories -- what would you have done?

(Fred E. Owens, Sr., born 1904 in St. Louis. As a young man with ambition he moved to Chicago some time in the 1920s. That's when he wrote the short stories, and that's where he later found work in advertising, first at Grey Hound Bus Lines, and then as advertising sales manager for the Sporting News.)
Speaking of Short Stories

Raymond Carver was quite the best short story writer. Here is the opening sentence to each story in the collection titled Where I'm Calling From, 1989.

Read Them Aloud and Slowly.

I could hear them out in the kitchen.

He had been reading to her from Rilke, a poet he admired, when she fell asleep with her head on his pillow.

Earl Ober was between jobs as a salesman.

This has nothing to do with me.

I am sitting over coffee and cigarettes at my friend Rita’s and I am telling her about it.

Jack got off work at three.

Bill and Arlene Miller were a happy couple.

The telephone rang while he was running the vacuum cleaner.

I was out of work.

Fact is the car needs to be sold in a hurry, and Leo sends Toni out to do it.

That morning she pours Teacher’s over my belly and licks it off.

Early that day the weather turned and the snow was melting into dirty water.

Vera’s car was there, no others, and Burt gave thanks for that.

My friend Mel McGinnis was talking.

I’ll tell you what did my father in.

My husband eats with good appetite but he seems tired, edgy.

I was getting a haircut.

I had a job and Patti didn’t.

After a lot of talking—what his wife, Inez, called assessment—Lloyd moved out of the house and into his own place.

L.D.’s wife, Maxine, told him to get out the night she came home from work and found L. D. drunk again and being abusive to Rae, their fifteen-year-old.

It had been two days since Evan Hamilton had stopped smoking, and it seemed to him everything he’d said and thought for the two days somehow suggested cigarettes.

Carlyle was in a spot.

This friend of mine from work, Bud, he asked Fran and me to supper.

Saturday afternoon she drove to the bakery in the shopping center.

I was in the room one night when I heard something in the corridor.

My mother is packed and ready to move.

The call comes in the middle of the night, three in the morning, and it nearly scares us to death.

I have some business out west anyway, so I stop off in this little town where my former wife lives.

I knew it was a mistake to let my brother have the money.

This Collection of Opening Sentences. I did not copy and paste this selection from some source on the Internet. I had a copy of Raymond Carver's book and I typed in the first sentence of every story. It was an enjoyable exercise.

Happy New Year !

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--
Fred Owens
cell: 360-739-0214

My gardening blog is Fred Owens

My writing blog is Frog Hospital

send mail to:

Fred Owens
35 West Main St Suite B #391
Ventura CA 93001

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Syrian Refugees in Our Midst

There is a community of Syrian immigrants in Santa Barbara where I live. I talked to one of them at the local convenience store where he works. He said he came from Syria on a tourist visa in January, 2011, before the war started. Now he says he can't go home. His wife and his small son are left behind in Syria. He can't get them a visa. I said, can you send them money? He said yes, but what is money? He is my son and I can't seem him, I can't go home...... I couldn't say much after that, I shook his hand and wished him the best and then I left.
The Best Defense Against Terrorism. Organic gardening and farming is the number one defense against international terrorism. Evidence? There has never been a successful terrorist attack against an organic farm or garden in the United States. And this has been done without SWAT teams in armored vehicles or surveillance cameras.

What is there about a garden, a farm, or a ranch that makes it peaceful? What is there about a shopping mall, a public school, or an airport, that makes it dangerous? I can't tell you in so many words what the difference is, but the facts speak for themselves.

I suggest spending more time in your garden, or go to work on a farm. It's a good place for you and your children. The farms and ranches and gardens in America make us a strong and free nation.

Message to Ronald Reagan: The government does some things very well. We sent Neil Armstrong to the moon in 1969 -- the federal government did that....... I mean, it does happen, now and then.
Message to the Democrats. The moon shot succeeded because it had broad bi-partisan support. What that means is that you need to gather widespread support before plunging ahead with a major initiative.

This is a Short Story ---- The Title is "Major Accomplishments."


Men are judged by their accomplishments, which is kind of tough for men who haven't accomplished much.

Like Larry. He said, There's nothing wrong with me, but I guess I really haven't done much. I tried out for the basketball team when I was a sophomore in high school. They said for a short guy I was pretty slow, so I didn't make the team. But it was the effort -- doesn't that count?

I don't know. I can't get a date. I try to impress women, you know, like I don't smell too bad. My personal hygiene is pretty good. But I haven't got a story or anything. Maybe I ought to make stuff up, like the time my car broke down in the desert, except it was only a ten minute walk back to the gas station and I got the guy to come and give me a tow, so it's not really a good story.

And I try new things. I'm actually not a boring guy. Like movies, I might go and see something different. Not Chinese food, I tried those noodles you can see through. I didn't like them -- but I might try other things … sky diving, something….

People say be yourself. That's me all right.

My mom says to be confident and have good manners. I like my mother. I mean, we don’t hang out, but when I’m back home for a visit, it’s okay. She doesn’t run my life. But you can’t talk about that. On a date, don’t talk about your mother. Which is weird. Because everybody has a mother, and if you like your mom, who is a woman, maybe some other woman would say you were all right. But that doesn’t work, so drop it.



When I go out on a date I don’t talk too much. I mean, I talk a lot, but then I stop and wait a little bit. Like if we’re eating, I go for the salad and keep quiet a bit, or I ask her a question so she can talk if she wants. I figure that’s good manners. Or what we’re going to do. They usually want you to say what you want – see a movie, or what movie you might like. So I say what I want, but in a way they can say no, and then we go and do it.

I don’t like it when they make me sweat. If she asks me a question like what kind of job I have, and then she asks my another question like she didn’t believe me the first time, like she’s checking up on me, and then I start to sweat -- who would like that?

I understand she wants to be sure, but I’m not some kind of hustle guy. I’m in no hurry. Maybe I am in a hurry. Maybe I want to find someone to love, if that’s not too corny. I just want someone to believe me. I don’t like it when they make me sweat. I’m not saying it’s her fault, but it doesn’t work.

I said I can’t get a date. I can. What I meant is I go out with one girl, maybe a second date, or even a third, but nothing happens. There’s no girl friend. I go back to the Internet and start again. I put on a smile. Hi, I’m Larry…. I’m getting tired of it.

I have a Mom and Dad, a brother, teachers, good friends, I read books, and I used to go to church. A lot of influences that I can think about. I can have a conversation with these people and they don’t even have to be there, I can just talk with them in my mind and figure things out.

I’m not some kind of hard-up case or desperate guy, no way. I have friends, people like me. I’m on the softball team in the summer, kind of a utility player. I play position in the outfield. I mean it could be left, right or center field, but I come in close or go back toward the fence depending on the batter. I go by my instinct.

I don’t have such a strong throwing arm for an outfielder, but it’s just a game. Anyway, I’m not a loser.

I take business courses at the community college part-time. I have an aptitude for business, and I expect I will be a success some day. My intelligence is better than average.

I have some ambitions, only I don’t feel like I should talk about that -- because I don’t like a bull-shitter, you know, some guy with big plans, all talk, and the next day he has another plan. Not me.

I guess you got me talking about myself. You’re a good listener.

I want to tell you about Mona the next time we get together. She’s a girl I met last week.

Subscriptions. Your subscription money keeps the editor from getting cranky. Your dollars keep him on an even keel. He needs to maintain a sense of detachment and keep his sense of humor. Help him out. Send your check today or hit the PayPal button...... Just follow the instructions below.

Subscriptions. Thank you --- Subscriptions can be paid at PayPal on the Frog Hospital blog for $25. Or you can mail a check to the address below.



--
Fred Owens
cell: 360-739-0214

My gardening blog is Fred Owens

My writing blog is Frog Hospital

send mail to:

Fred Owens
35 West Main St Suite B #391
Ventura CA 93001

Thursday, December 05, 2013

The Minimum Wage



Mr. Obama said in a speech on the economy and the widening gap in national income that he will devote the rest of his presidency to the crucial issue of social mobility.

I agree that this is a serious problem. It is observable at many levels. The people who "earn" 100 times more than I do are not 100 times smarter and they do not work 100 times harder. It doesn't even make sense.

I put myself in one of the lower income tiers to offer as an example. So, I must quickly add that my life is not a living hell. I do not need the Food Bank, although I know it is there and recently they had so much food that they ran out of storage space. And during some times of low unemployment this summer, I put in extra volunteer hours at the community garden which donates its produce to the local Food Bank.

We are getting by, those many of us who are statistically broke.

Even so, I want to put the hammer down on those rich bastards..... and I soon as I typed those words I realize that I ought to manage such a harsh sentiment.

Anyway, President Obama has raised the issue of inequality. It is a problem. Government initiatives are dubious, but raising the minimum wage is a workable partial remedy.

If there is no solution, there is no problem.

Say it again. If there is no solution, there is no problem. I composed this sentence recently and I had a chance at a Thanksgiving dinner to launch it into the public sphere. I was sitting next to a planetary researcher from the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena -- a genuine rocket scientist.

We were talking about asteroids, large ones, hurtling toward us from outer space, on a collision course that will end all life on Planet Earth. He said it will happen, it's only a question of when.

This gave me an opening. I said, "If there is no solution, there is no problem."

The scientist paused for a moment and replied, "You're right."

The Frog Hospital assignment this week is for readers to come up with other unsolvable situations which, therefore, are not problems.

Why the Dutch Love Black Pete

Washington has the Redskins and the Dutch have their Black Petes. These are old-style ethnic monikers that may have served their time.

But I don't react one way or the other. Do you know what I really want? I think I would like to go to Amsterdam -- ....... Go there for a week, and then two or three weeks in France, and some time in Italy and then come back.

Actually, I could skip Amsterdam and just go to France and Italy -- that would be on my way to the Middle East. Of course, if I go to the Middle East, which country would I visit? Not sure about that just yet.

Anyway, here I am in Santa Barbara (can't complain) reading about an important social issue in the Netherlands, and realizing that I have such a poor understanding of Europe because I have NEVER been there -- except for three weeks in 1969 which was such a short trip and so long ago that it doesn't really count.

I hear people say Europe this, Europe that, and how can I respond? I need to get there and soon.

Subscriptions. Your subscription money keeps the editor from getting cranky. Your dollars keep him on an even keel. He needs to maintain a sense of detachment and keep his sense of humor. Help him out. Send your check today or hit the PayPal button...... Just follow the instructions below.

Subscriptions. Thank you --- Subscriptions can be paid at PayPal on the Frog Hospital blog for $25. Or you can mail a check to the address below.



--
Fred Owens
cell: 360-739-0214

My gardening blog is Fred Owens

My writing blog is Frog Hospital

send mail to:

Fred Owens
35 West Main St Suite B #391
Ventura CA 93001