The Circus

In the spring of '09 I was contracted to bring the Big Top AC units to Miami FL from Houston TX for the Circo Hermanos Vazquez. The tent was set up in Bicentennial Park next to the American Airlines Arena where the Miami Heat NBA team plays. I was told by one of the circus managers that H. Vazquez was the 3rd largest circus in America. Click here for the circus website.

Seeing the big top lowered at 2 in the morning of the day I was loaded in Houston was a sight I will not forget. To me what looked like chaos was truly a well orchestrated dance. Every member of the crew had a part to play and in a specific time to do it. All done in a cacophony of Spanish that sounded more like a song than anything else. By the time my trailer was loaded and it was properly lashed down for the trip it was near 4:30. I decided to leave and get a few miles under the truck before I stopped to rest.

The trip across country was quite uneventful. That is a good thing for a trucker.

Upon arrival in Miami I found myself to be the first of the big loads to arrive. That surprised me since I expected the other trucks to go by me somewhere along the trip as I was well out of travel sync with them. I was hoping for someone to be there before me so that if I got into trouble then they would only be a CB call away. Luckily, the GPS was dead on, the roads in downtown Miami are fairly wide, and the traffic was light. It could be because the Port of Miami entrance is the major intersection at the American Airlines Arena.

Soon the rest of the trucks arrived with various equipment, props for the shows, concessionaire trailers and the animals. The first thing to be unloaded was the big top itself and the AC units off my trailer. Again, the crew went about their business quickly and proficiently. Now I had plenty of time to explore downtown Miami because by law I had to rest for the next 34 hours. Reset the clock.

Across the street was a building that a local told me was called the Freedom Tower. The beauty of the building is undeniable. It has a rich history. I did not take the time to explore it. My loss. Next time in Miami it will be on my itinerary.

The Bayside Marketplace was also nearby. Featuring many unique stores and places to eat. In the courtyard a one-man band played for change and dollars. Squirrels and small birds ate the leftovers at Forest Gump. Tourists gladly stood in front of the largest mangrove tree in Florida to have portraits taken. Along the boardwalk one could take a ride in the fastest tourist boat around,
The Thriller power boat. Of course the people watching was just outstanding! ;-)

I had a grand time in Miami but it wasn't making me money. Back on the computer in the Pete I was fortunate to find a great paying load to Minneapolis MN. Talk about a contrast!

And that's the goodness of being a long haul trucker. I've seen all of the lower 48. This is a magnificent country. Hopefully, you too will get a chance to explore it.

(all photos were taken by me)

O Glorious Pond Scum!

Time. Time in a bottle. Tick Tock. When did time start? When will it end? Is it energy? If it is energy does it follow the Laws of Thermodynamics? Or is it just the natural flow of measurement that only humans can determine? I bet your pet can tell time. Just forget to put out their meal. You'll hear about it.

The reason for all this time discussion is because I've been reading up on the Theory of Evolution. That theory of science, a fact some will say, postulates that humans are direct descendants of the apes. Not one in particular I suppose. Just apes. I can look at some folks in my family and I know some are from Orangutans. How some are even a part of my clan I ain't gotta clue. Naturally if everything evolved from blue-green algae then nothing should be surprising.

The fanatical evolutionists, and they be teaching our childrens in the schools, mostly public schools, are just so close minded. It is the way they say it is, no matter the obvious flaws in the theory. No more discussion on this issue. Kinda reminds me of the no more talk about man-made global warming. These fanatics certainly don't believe in intelligent design. God? Are you kidding me? they might ask. Just repeat after their mantra: O glorious pond scum! Well, ya's gotta believe in something, why not blue-green algae pond scum?

Energy can not be created or destroyed. Or something along those lines. You can't create something from nothing. Heck, we humans can't create a simple grain of sand. The universe is all energy in one form or another. So, how did it create itself? Where did all this energy come from? Something had to create it. Was it pond scum that created it? An intelligent designer maybe? God.

There are many chicken-egg questions that evolutionists can not answer. One of my favs is this one from an introduction to Darwin's book recently re-issued by Bridge-Logos in Alachua FL:

Can you explain which came first—the blood
or the heart—and why? Did the heart in all these different
species of fish, reptiles, birds, and mammals evolve before
there were blood vessels throughout their bodies? When did
the blood evolve? Was it before the vessels evolved or after
they evolved?

If it was before, what was it that carried the blood to the
heart, if there were no vessels? Did the heart beat before the
blood evolved? Why was it beating if there was no blood to
pump? If it wasn’t beating, why did it start when it didn’t
know anything about blood?

If the blood vessels evolved before there was blood, why
did they evolve if there was no such thing as blood? And if the
blood evolved before the heart evolved, what was it that kept
it circulating around the body?

Looks like another well crafted job by our intelligent designer; God.

Now, when someone tells you that there is no need for further discussion, don't take no for an answer. Don't let the evolutionist Luddite cow you into a corner. They don't have all the answers. Heck they ain't even got most of the answers. Our intelligent designer has all the answers. God.

The Fire

California is diverse if nothing else. Northern has the quiet overlay of fog. Southern has the outrageous whine of the Santa Ana winds. North has the genteel and giant Redwoods. South has the hot and blinding sand. All of California has abundant sun and surf and snow, and mountains, don't forget the mountains.

One other perennial that California has that seems not to plague other States is wildfire, that is, a set your clock annual event on a massive scale. They can be set naturally, as this year of 2009 in Northern California, by lightning. Over 2000 fires were set that way this Spring. In Southern California the fires are mostly set by arsonists. These people, and they can be teens or criminals hiding other crimes or even firemen looking for hero worship, time their destruction by the Santa Ana winds. Sometimes a careless act at a BBQ will set off a conflagration.

All of this about fires and California the Red-Tailed Hawk could care less. She had a brood to feed. The morning sun had not peeked over the east mountains of the Los Angeles Basin as yet. The colors were quickly progressing through the midnight purples to the royal blues to the lighter columbian blues to reach through the early red oranges and bright pinks to arrive finally at the yellow brilliance of morning. To finish the canvas before the hawk's eyes were the clouds adding even more beauty by reflecting the light so all who saw it could only OOO and AHH. It was truly becoming a Rembrandt entrance to a most powerful day. The keen eyed hawk ignored the beauty. She was looking for breakfast.

The hawk serenely scanned the brush clinging to the hillsides and down into the ravines around her high perch upon the tower supporting the high tension lines feeding the San Fernando Valley communities. She was looking for vermin, field mice and rabbits in particular. Something easy to catch and not likely to put up much of a fight and thus injure her. If a wandering Western Diamond Back rattlesnake should appear it was fair game as well. The hawk took note of the rising wind only briefly. She spies a cotton-tailed rabbit amongst the brushes 50 yards and downwind of her. The rabbit won't know what hit him. The hawk spreads her wings for flight.

The Post

Uhh. Huhh. Uhhh. Catch your breath. Uhh. Huhh. Uhh. Doggone it breath in through the nose, deep now. Blow slowly through the mouth, silently. Again. Again. There now it is working. Heart beat down. More shallow breathing. Again.

I'm in the shadows of a building at 1st and Main. The shadows are deep because the night is without starlight or moonbeams and the street lamps have been dead for some time. I slide down the wall to rest. Drawing my knees to my chest I wrap my arms around them to rest my head on the cushioning lower arms. I close my eyes. Breathing almost normal now. I am completely invisable.

After a few more minutes in this position I raise my head. Opening my eyes I find it is still dark. I decide to take a peak around the corner of the building. Let's see now, should I stand? No No. I think in CSI or was it NCIS, no not them, it was Bruce Willis in one of those Die Hard movies. Stay low. Then peek as fast as you can taking in as much as your eyes can gather. I do and see nothing. Good.

It's a good night so far. I was able to get a few items on the list. Reaching into a very large pocket in my pants I withdraw the night's haul. Wrapped in newspaper I hold 2 uncooked weiners. A great find them. Reaching again into the pocket my hand falls onto an apple. An apple! Woo Hoo. But the greatest find of all, by far, is what comes out next, a bottle of ASPIRIN!

Suddenly a most intense pain above my right eye, a blinding flash, and then blackness.

O man, I hurt. Feels like someone tranplanted a grapefruit behind my right eye. I reach with my right hand to feel the swelling. It's tied! I try my left hand. It's tied as well! Wait a minute, I'm sitting in a chair. What the hay is this? I slowly open my left eye, the right is swollen almost shut. I don't like what I see.

Before me, dressed in the black patent leather some cronies wife thought cute, sat a big man behind a folding table. He is talking to me. I better try to make out what he is saying through my pain.

"You have been caught red handed with stolen contraband. The food items would have gotten only few years in the prison. The aspirin however brings a more onerous penalty. Death."

What! You can't! I was also gagged. He could not hear my protests.

"By the powers invested in me by our great and benevolent leader, you are to be shot at dawn."

The smiling face of President Barack Hussein Obama beams over the right shoulder of the big man.

"Take the prisoner away."

The next morning before sunrise I'm given bread and water. No need to waste a good meal on one not long for this world. Two guards come later and take me to the yard outside the building. I'm led to the post, the killing post in the middle of the courtyard. I kneel at the base. The two guards tie my hands behind the post at my back. They offer me a blindfold. I refuse.

Before me are four men, one to give commands and the others to fire the rifles. It is a few more minutes to go now, the sun not ready to peek above the roof of the courthouse, the signal to commence. A cigarette is offered to me. Where in the heck did they get that in this world of do's and don'ts? I don't.

The sun peeks above the roofline. The command is given; Ready! The second command is given; Aim! I don't hear the third command. I see a flash from the gun barrels. Then . . . Blackness . . . eternal blackness.

The Tree

The old man's hands rested comfortably on the kitchen table. At 86, these hands had done a great deal of living. The age spots, which started appearing 40 years before and looked like tiny islands dotting the South Seas, have grown to continent size and portended the nearing end of life. Swollen now with arthritis and good food and the ancient scars from battles with car engines only added to their patina of life lived large. If only these hands could talk.

They would tell the tale of caressing and holding the old man's spouse. She died quietly in the night just over a year before. The hands missed her. They missed touching the silky smooth skin and luxurious hair. Holding her face between them. Lord she was so beautiful. Sixty five years of a shared life held many memories.

The hands would tell of the wonder of holding the tiny hands of the first born son newly out of the incubator in the hospital. The devastation of holding someone's pet rabbit that had escaped the cage but not the teeth of a dog or possibly a coyote and it went through the death throes prior to breathing its last breath. The thrill of feeling the wind fill the sails of the sailboat as it began the race to the Channel Islands off the coast of Santa Barbara CA. The weariness at the end of chaining, strapping and tarping a load in the wintry chill of St. Charles MO. So much life felt.

The old man finally stirred himself out of his reverie. He picked up his coffee cup and drained the dark coffee. He was so tired. His breathing labored. The time is near now for his departure from this life, a life that was not always kind. He stood up carefully, his hips and knees almost useless now with age, and pushed the chair away as he left the table for the last time. No one was there to help him and he wanted it that way. He headed out the back door of his small house onto the porch. No dog greeted him. No cat rushed to trip him. All was gone now. He was alone.

The trip across the yard and into the trees beyond would be the last hard scrabble work to do. It took him over an hour to get to the spot, the spot of his choosing, because of his slow and deliberate movements. The old man did not want to fall short of his goal. He brought neither food nor drink for this journey. No medicines to ease his pain. This would be the final journey of his long life.

The old man found the tree. He slowly lowered his old body down to the ground at the base of the tree and rested his back against the rough bark. His breathing was hard from the labor but it finally calmed down to a shallow repetition. He closed his eyes.

Sometime later, much later because the sunlight was weak in the trees, the old man noticed a presence. He opened his eyes. Before him was a large brown buck. Looked like he was sporting a 10 point antler. The deer began sniffing the old man at his feet and slowly worked the black nose up the body till it reached the bulbous nose of the old face. The eyelids popped wide open and he stepped back smartly as if the old man had hit him in the nose. The deer lowered his head to look the old man square in the face as if to insure of what he had just sniffed. The old man had no more strength left to move.

The muscular buck raised his head high, all the while keeping a wary eye on the old man. The buck stood there for some time. Then he quickly thrust an antler through the heart of the old man.

Bambi never forgot.