The Northwest Files

Sea Change

I’ve lately been thinking about how the Covid-19 pandemic will change us at a societal level. I’m sure that the changes will be in ways we can’t imagine. But the one thing of which I’m certain is that those changes will come, that they need to come.

How odd, and how incredibly dangerous, that the need arises in an election year, a year when so much is at stake.

Here in our house, we’re both elderly and retired. We trundle along on a fixed income. Thank the lord for the safety net of Social Security!

Those that are experiencing job loss as a result of Covid-19 don’t have that safety net.

Yet we’ve known that something like this was coming. In the face of potential heavy job loss at the mechanical hand of robotics, for instance, there has been a great deal of discussion about the need for a guaranteed annual income for everyone. How else will we keep people from becoming homeless and hungry?

What we’re seeing right now, right this minute, is that sort of heavy job loss, caused by plague rather than technology. People and businesses are going to be unable to pay rent, car payments, utility bills.

Suddenly, the fixed income provided by Social Security looks damned good, like a ray of sunlight through dark, foreboding clouds. Why should that sort of ray of financial hope not be extended to everyone? Wouldn’t something like that allow people, our friends and neighbors, to at least keep their heads above the financial waves?

In the face of potential medical disaster, huge numbers of people are going to require sophisticated medical care. How are they going to pay for that? How can people avoid being buried in medical bills?

But wait, there’s a better question. In the face of what is a public health disaster, a disaster that will affect us all, how are we going to pay for the preservation of public health?

For some of us, that potential will be ameliorated by the presence of Medicare. But what about the rest of us?

Medicare, or some form of public health care for all, has been part of the platforms of several political candidates as we’ve careened toward a presidential election. It’s been all but abandoned, except by Senator Bernie Sanders, one of two Democratic candidates.

But in the face of this unprecedented health and financial challenge, isn’t some form of public health care for all, a retreat from the selfishness and greed of for-profit medicine, exactly what we need?

In the face of these and other questions, it’s time for a sea change in the way we do things.

It’s time for us to hit the brakes on convention, on same-old, same-old.

It’s time to hit the gas on new, different, better.

That’s the sort of thing that will be top of consciousness for me as we go to the polls this year. Perhaps you will give it some thought too.

-JFT

For What It's Worth

“Something’s happenin’ here, what it is, ain’t exactly clear.”

That’s of course a line from “For What It’s Worth,” the iconic song performed decades ago by a band called Buffalo Springfield. You know, Neil Young, Stephen Stills, a couple of others.

Certainly, something is indeed goin’ down. Certainly, what it is, ain’t exactly clear.

As I wonder about that something, here are a few of the questions that I find interesting to ponder.

1 – It’s looking like hundreds of thousands of people, some perhaps without health insurance, could be about to rack up some medical debt. What, if any, impact will this crisis have on the debate for medical coverage for all?

2 – We know that medical care, for-profit or otherwise, is getting much more difficult for people who live in rural areas. What impact might this crisis have on that sad fact?

3 – What impact might it have on the hundreds of thousands of small businesses that are in jeopardy because their customers are locked down?

4 – What impact might it have on the millions of individuals who work on contract or in the gig economy? What will happen to bartenders, wait staff, musicians, and others who work in restaurants?

5 – What about those of us who are getting used to buying groceries on-line? Will any of us want to return to fighting our way through our local grocery stores when we can shop for our stuff on the Web and have it delivered to our homes?

6 – As a part of question number 5, with companies large and small hustling to build infrastructure to support home deliveries, when this mess is all over and done, will anyone want to shop person-to-person again, except when absolutely necessary? Will the result be an all-new level of the gig economy that we could never have seen coming?

7 – What will the level of unemployment be when we emerge from this mess? Will those laid off during this crisis be quickly rehired?

8 – Will the markets bounce back to their previous stratospheric highs?

9 – With nobody working and paying into their Social Security accounts, how soon, if a lockdown continues, will the Social Security Administration run out of money to send retirees every month?

10 – With people worldwide locked down, traffic is almost nonexistent, so air pollution is almost nonexistent. Are scientists in their labs measuring the differences between today’s air quality and air qualities worldwide a month, or two, or six, ago? Will anyone want to go back to what we had?

11 – As we all cut back on our driving, will our reliance on petroleum, the automobile industry, and the subservient industries, be so greatly diminished that many of them go bankrupt?

12- Is massive and lasting disruption happening right under our noses? Is it so big that we scarcely notice it? Or will things snap back to normal?

13 – Finally, do the American people want government that looks after business first? Or do we want government that looks after people first? Or is there middle ground that would allow both sets of values to be equitably served?

I doubt that any of us will be able to guess the answers to these questions. But it is indeed time for us to, “stop, people, what’s that sound, everybody look what’s goin’ down.”

It might be time to ask, “what it’s worth,” pertaining to our daily lives and the ways in which we conduct them; then find some answers that will help us all survive in whatever new reality awaits us.

-JFT

Quarantine

We’re approaching the end of our first week of almost total quarantine. I thought I’d list some of the ways in which we’re coping with this.

(Yes, we’re taking this seriously. I gather that some folks are not. Fine. They get sick, it’s on them. They make others sick, it’s on them. We’re not going to do that.)

I drove a car this morning for the first time since Monday, when I cruised into town for a haircut. It will be my last haircut while this is going on. By the time it’s over, I expect to resemble Sasquatch even more than I already do.

My drive this morning involved a trip to the recycle dump here where we live. I needed to get rid of four big bags of wine bottles. It’s an amazing thing. Either they reproduce out there in the recycle box on the deck or some dastardly neighbor is adding to our collection of empty bottles when we’re not looking.

I think it’s the latter. Why do I think that? I think that because the supply of full wine bottles in the rack down in the den seems never to grow.

That nearly unbearable situation will end Monday when we receive a mail-order shipment of wine that won't last long enough.

We just got a big mail-order box of food for Rio and Vivian, our two cats, who seem unperturbed by what’s going on. They’ll be happy as long as they are fed. Should we run out of food and die of starvation, they’ll be quite content, I’m sure, to take bites out of us. Starting, perhaps, with our lips. Revenge, I should think, for all the kisses they get from us.

I think that for now, at least, as long as the supply chains remain healthy, that we are not in danger of starving. We have discovered Instacart, which probably you know about. You shop online and your stuff is delivered to you in a matter of just a couple of hours. As long as you don’t ask for toilet paper.

We’ve discovered something else, too. The restaurant here where we live, which shall remain unnamed to protect the guilty, just announced that it will prepare meals for pickup or delivery.

To this news would we ordinarily exclaim, “Bah! Humbug.” The place has been that dreadful. None of the residents here use it. It stays in business because, I think, it has a captive audience in the form of those who come here for the three golf courses, the hotel, and the convention center.

But a few months ago, a new owner took over. The new owner seems to have hired a new chef and revamped the menu. We are going to give it a try tonight through the pickup-option. Laura and I are optimists, so we do not expect to be poisoned. If we are, I hope it’s not transferrable to the cats when they nibble on our remains.

Nothing at all going on in the world of music. No choir rehearsals, which along with performances, have been canceled. It’s the same everywhere here. Bend is a resort town that is filled with craft breweries and clubs that have live music. The clubs are all closed. The musicians are having a terrible time, as you might imagine. This makes me very sad, but also very happy that I did not major in music when I went to college. That’s what I set out to do. I was dissuaded. That seemed unfortunate at the time. Now I recognize it as an enormous boon, an escape from the jaws of financial death.

From financial death are we saved by the fact that we are old folks who live on a fixed income. That used to be not such a good thing. Now, with so many workplaces closed and so many people laid off, it looks like a very good thing indeed. Isn’t perspective interesting?

The snow nearly is gone from our golf courses, which means that Laura soon will resume one of her favorite pastimes – chasing a little white ball around a lawn. She’s looking forward to that, and to resuming gardening.

The lore here is that planting anything before the snow on Black Butte melts is fruitless. Literally. That will take a few more weeks. But she’ll be out on the course, celebrating golf and spring, soon.

Me, I will celebrate spring my own way. I will pick a little banjo.

If that isn’t a foolproof key to social distancing, I don’t know what is.

Stay safe and well, my friends. Talk all this seriously. You can’t afford not to. I’ll see you all when this is over.

-JFT

My Carbon Footprint

OK, goddamn it, this has become personal!

Along with most of the rest of the world, I’ve been thinking about climate change and my role in it. As I understand it – and I certainly do not claim anything but a cursory understanding of this – a large part of one’s role comes down to the amount of carbon dioxide and other carbon compounds emitted during the consumption of fossil fuels during one’s activities.

Hey, I know it’s a good bit more complicated than that, but that’s the sort of simpleton’s explanation that dopes like me can understand.

What it comes down to is how much coal, gasoline, diesel, heating oil, kerosene, natural gas, etc., does your existence on the planet cause to be consumed?

Wanna see how it stacks up for you? Here’s a handy link to a calculator that will help you figure that out:

https://www.nature.org/en-us/get-involved/how-to-help/consider-your-impact/carbon-calculator/

On a day-to-day basis, it seems, it pretty comes down to travel by car, travel by airplane, and home cooking and heating.

Me and Laura, we look pretty good in those departments. Nothing to be proud of, but nothing to be ashamed of, either.

Travel by car? Both our cars are pretty darned thrifty. Laura’s has a lifetime MPG average of a bit over 27 mpg. My car’s lifetime average is a bit over 32 mpg. Not bad. Though we both stay pretty close to the mileage limits allowed by our leases thanks to shopping, doctors, etc., and our location outside a town center, there are days at a time when we’re happily ensconced here at home with neither of our cars leaving the garage.

I do burn gas to run our lawn equipment, like once every seven to 10 days during the summer but never during the winter.

Airplane rides? We don’t do that much, but we do take them. A couple of west-coast hops annually for Laura as she handles her almond business, usually an international trip every year for the two of us. And train rides? Cruises? Never. Cruises? Oh, god, please, no!

Home heating? We do pretty well there. Our home is fully electric. That electricity is generated by the Bonneville Power Administration, which operates an enormous hydroelectric facility in the Columbia River, the boundary between Oregon, where we live, and Washington. But during the winter, I do burn a little oak and lodgepole pine for heating. Not so good. But the fire is very nice indeed.

From there, it gets much more complicated. We’re not rampant, unfettered consumers, but we do buy groceries, shoes, clothes, fishing gear, books, magazines, newspapers, etc. How much carbon is emitted by the production of things like that? The calculator tries to figure that out.

Using the calculator listed above, it appears that we produce approximately 36 tons of CO-2 annually. That’s 40 percent better than average.

Part of that is because we’re both retired. We don’t commute and we live carefully. But another part of it is because our house is fully electric. I was dismayed by that when we first moved here because I adore gas cooktops, but now of course I’m thrilled. It just seems responsible.

It’s not like this for many other folks where we live. We’re in a rural area filled with lots of agricultural activity. In other words, lots of huge pickups and SUVs, all powered by the biggest V-8 engines their owners can get. Size matters. So does sound. Vroom!

Do they really need those huge engines? No, they absolutely do not, not unless they’re pulling huge trailers loaded with tons of hay or multiple heads of cattle or horses. But will they give them up? That gets political. And also, cultural.

I think it will take a while, along with a much deeper understanding and acceptance of the causes of climate change, before people make choices that will put the brakes on this mess. That’s time we don’t really have.

It also will take a significant change in the willingness of the electorate to accept demonstrable facts. We’re told that a large percentage of voters distrust science – indeed, distrust education.

That’s a political problem. We’ve been sold down-river by a right-wing elite that values economic returns over long-term species survival. Rich assholes fighting to maintain financial returns, damn the cost. Unacceptable. We have to find a way to turn that around.

Until we figure that out, we’ll do what we can do.

We’re at 3,000 feet of elevation, here where we live, so flooding from rising sea levels is not a threat. But forest fires and increased average temperatures? That sure as hell is threatening because we’re in the middle of the largest juniper forest in the country. Juniper loves to burn.

I’ve thought for a long time now that by 2050, humans will be on the verge of extinction. It’s happened before. The outcome? Stay tuned. And please, do your goddamned part!

-JFT

Of Bees

You know about bees, right? Pretty little yellow-and-black insects that harvest pollen from flowers, pollinating plants as they go, then use the pollen they gather to make honey? Mostly benign? But you kinda don’t want to piss them off, onaccounta they will sting the crap out of you, dying as a result of that process?

They are of course absolutely essential. Without pollination, plants will not produce. They fail to produce, we have no fruits, veg or nuts to eat. Neither will our pets and other animals. We all pretty much starve. Other insects perform pollination, but bees are the workhorses.

So you’re rightfully concerned that bees are in deep trouble. Or at least you should be.

Don’t believe that? Here, read this:

https://environmentcalifornia.org/programs/cae/no-bees-no-food

The fact that bees are in decline, particularly in California, means many things, not least of which is that the produce and nuts that you buy are getting more expensive.

Why? I just learned this from Laura, who was going over the accounts for the family ranch, which she co-owns with her sister, a ranch that contains 100 acres of almond trees.

Almond trees require pollination. To achieve that, the farmers deploy bee hives in their orchards every spring. My understanding is that the traditional usage is two hives per acre.

In the past, Laura told me, say up to 10 or maybe 15 years ago, the cost was  $40 per hive. This year, the cost is $190 a hive.

So precipitous is the increase in the cost of bees that many almond growers are cutting back the number of hives they bring in. The figure now is maybe 1.5 hives per acre.

What effect will this reduction have on production? Whatever it is, it won’t be good.

So you wonder why vegetables, fruits and nuts are more expensive than ever? Bees are one of the reasons.

I just thought you might like to know.

-JFT

Slipping and Sliding

Interesting winter-driving experiment here today.

Both of our cars feature all-wheel drive. In this case, BMW’s X-Drive. So the systems are either exactly the same, or very similar.

What’s different are the tires on the two cars. Laura’s X3 (my cousin Paul informs me that it’s a terrific “lady car”), wears a set of Bridgestone Blizzak winter tires. My red 330i sedan wears Continental ContiProContact all-season tires.

Last night, we got snow. This morning when I took Laura to the airport, the roads were very slippery with not just snow, but also ice. We took the X3. Things got interesting.

A few hours later when I drove back into town to get what I needed for tonight’s chili, I drove my car, the 330i. The roads were still very slippery. Things got very entertaining indeed.

On ice, which we had here this morning, the Blizzaks were not terribly happy. Great care was required. But we mostly had traction.

On ice, the Continental all-season tires were just crazy. It was later in the morning, temps had risen, the ice had mitigated somewhat. But traction had pretty much taken a vacation.

Result? Seems clear to me that all-season tires are very much not the answer in winter conditions. Some drivers here believe otherwise. In fact, every winter, this is an ongoing debate. My take? Those drivers who believe that all-season tires are sufficient for winter driving here are wrong.

Now: Last winter and the winter before that, we had Michelin X-Ice tires on my car. God, they worked well! But by the end of last winter, they were worn out. Winter tires by definition use really soft rubber, as well as specialized tread designs. So they wear quickly. 

I may have made a mistake by not putting Michelin X-Ice tires on Laura’s car. But I think the Blizzaks, rated above the Michelins by a little, will be fine. I hope.

Oh, what about studded tires? They work really well on ice. But they work less well elsewhere. Plus they tear the hell out of the paved driving surface. So, no.

Bottom line? Lack of traction can be very entertaining! But it is not the way to stay healthy, not the way to keep your vehicle on the roadway. There is no way I would do winter travel around here without winter tires.

-JFT

 

The Marijuana Train

We’ve had visitors this past week, our final batch of a very busy summer. These folks, very old friends, date all the way back to boarding school. So we were thrilled to see them.

They expressed a desire to visit a pot shop. This is not on our usual itinerary when showing guests around, but OK, cool.

As you most likely know, pot is legal here in Oregon, so there are state-controlled pot shops everywhere. The one we visited yesterday, Oregrown, in downtown Bend, is like others I’ve been in: It is clean, neat, well-organized, well-lighted, professional.

We weren’t looking to get high. Rather, we were interested in pot’s healing properties. When it comes to this, there are unbelievers. But one of us, an RN, possesses an open mind. She wanted information. We went to Oregrown to get some.

We came away with information provided by staffers there who were so young that automatically I, a very cranky and professionally skeptical old man, just did not trust.

Never mind. After talking with our disgustingly youthful sales person, I bought a jar of Dragon’s Blend balm, made by a firm called Medicine Farm Botanicals.

Hey, this stuff is not cheap: 2 ounces, 60 bucks. Annie bought some too, different stuff and in a smaller jar. I don’t know precisely what she bought. What I bought is composed of 260 mg of THC and just 15 mg of CBD.

That seemed wrong because THC is the component of marijuana that gets you high, which is not what I wanted; and CBD is the component that has, we are told, healing properties, which is what I wanted. So the percentages, for the result I hoped for, were reversed. I went ahead with the deal, repeating my usual refrain, “I’ll try anything twice.”

We came back home, had dinner, sat around and chatted, then we all retired to our respective lairs, promising to apply our balms and compare notes in the morning.

My area of interest involves my lower back. Several years ago, I had surgery on my lumbar region. The surgery solved the most pressing problem, but left me stiff and sore, unable to stand upright without being very uncomfortable. I’ve been walking around bent over, like the old man that I am, as a result.

So last night before crawling into bed I applied some of my Dragon’s Blend to the skin covering my lower spine. I rubbed in just a small amount and went to sleep, hoping that the listed activation time of 15 minutes was correct.

This morning, to my considerable surprise, I easily walked upright, rather than bent over like the great apes to which I have been so appropriately compared. I had no discomfort from my lower back. None at all.

My co-conspirator also used a bit of the balm she bought. She reported similar salubrious results.

I have lived a very active life, having backpacked hundreds of miles, fallen from motorcycles several times, worked hard bucking hay bales and sacks of poultry feed, so by this point in my life, 75 years having passed, pretty much everything hurts.

But not, for the first time in years, my lower back.

This evening, not quite 24 hours after the first application of my Dragon’s Blend balm, the effect has pretty much dissipated.

But no worries, I have more of the stuff. I plan to use it.

I have little interest in using pot to get high. But if it mitigates the effects of a long, active life that has featured, among other things, broken bones, replaced knees and strained, worn-out joints, I certainly am on board the marijuana train.

–JFT

Snakebite!

Almost nobody likes snakes. And we especially dislike rattlesnakes. With good reason. The bastards will hurt you, maybe even kill you.

This topic arose recently between my pal Stew Crane and me. We got to talking about this and he suggested I scribble a little something. So here goes.

Where we live, this is the season when rattlers become active. Worse, the babies are hatching and they are mean little sonsabitches, freshly hatched and looking for trouble. They are much worse than the adults because when they bite, they always deliver the full jolt of venom. Adults do not always do that.

But wait, let’s back up.

I got onto this topic in two waves. The first wave was during my time with my kids in a Boy Scout backpacking troop. We were doing lengthy trips in the Sierras. I thought it would be good if I took a few first-aid courses. One of them involved dealing with snakebites, since California has more than its fair share of rattlers.

The second wave came later, when I was working as a reporter for the San Gabriel Valley Tribune, covering, among other beats, health and medicine. We had a couple of bites in our circulation area so I did several stories about the risk and interviewed physicians who specialized in treating snakebites. These folks worked at L.A. County/USC Medical Center, in Los Angeles, which is where snakebite patients usually were taken, so they knew their stuff. Also I talked to herpetologists at the L.A. County Zoo. I got some good information.

But wait, let's back up even further.

I was raised on a ranch in California’s Mojave Desert called Rancho Cascabel. Translation: Rattlesnake Ranch. We saw them frequently. And we killed them whenever we could. We shot them, hammered them with jack handles (stupid and dangerous, this), assaulted them with hoes and shovels, ran them over with tractors, and just generally dispatched them in any way we could with whatever tools were handy.

Scared of them? You bet your ass. A more reasoned assessment tells us that if we don’t bother them, they probably won’t bother us. But you never know.

When I was a kid, the local lore had them as deadly even when they were long past their sell-by date. One story claimed that a man died of snakebite after getting a flat tire. Supposedly he’d run over a rattler, a fang had pierced a tire, and he ran his fingers around the inside of the dismounted tire while trying to find the leak. He pricked a finger on that fang and he was history.

Nonsense, obviously. But that was the deal. You didn’t mess with them or take any chances with them.

They are complex and interesting creatures. According to what I remember about all this, rattlesnakes can have at least two kinds of venom. Most of them have venom that dissolves muscle tissue. This is because they have poor digestive systems. The venom starts breaking down the prey’s tissue even before the prey is swallowed.

It will break down the tissue in your hand or foot, if you are bitten there – sometimes, depending on the bite and how soon you get aid, nearly destroying the hand or foot. If you’re unlucky enough to get bitten in a vein, you’re in even worse trouble.

The second kind of venom is even worse. It doesn’t just break down muscle tissue. It also contains a neurotoxin, like that of a cobra, which attacks the central nervous system and is capable of paralyzing the victim.

There are a couple of kinds of pit vipers, rattlesnakes, that have this. The one that’s most common where I’m from is the Mojave green. One of these things bites you, you’re in real trouble.

What to do? The first thing is, don’t get bit. Be wary out on the trail, avoid brush where snakes might be hiding, and most importantly, do not, ever, put a foot or a hand someplace where you can’t see, someplace you're not sure is safe. Never ever reach up to a rock ledge that’s above eye level. You never know who might be hiding there. And yes, people have been bit on the face and head doing exactly this.

Oh, you’ve found one coiled up on a trail? Or you can't see the snake but you can hear the telltale buzz of its rattle? Give it a wide berth. Whatever you do, do not tease it. When coiled, they can strike out to about a third of their total length. Some of them get to lengths of five feet and more so their potential reach is prodigious.

What to do if you do get bit? Over the years we’ve been advised to cut an “X” over each bite mark and then try to suck the venom out of the wound. We used to carry little kits that did just that. That no longer is advised, as far as I know.

Then we were told to tie a light restriction around the affected limb above the bite – not to stop blood circulation, but to slow it. I think that now also is not recommended.

These days, what you’re supposed to do is get the hell away from the snake, remember its marking and coloration, then get to a hospital, fast! But first, remove shoes, jewelry, etc. That’s because the affected area is going to swell something awful. Also, and this is important, keep the bite location at or below the level of your heart. And no caffeine or alcohol – they will just make things worse.

But don’t take my word for any of this, please! This piece is intended to be informational, not authoritative. I am not giving medical advice here. For good information about snakebite, please do go here:

https://www.mayoclinic.org/first-aid/first-aid-snake-bites/basics/art-20056681

Bottom line? Mostly, rattlers – snattlerakes, buzz worms, and all they other names they’ve accumulated, aren’t interested in humans. They are mostly interested in small rodents. Leave them alone, chances are they’ll leave you alone. Annoy them or threaten them, however, and you risk putting yourself in a world of hurt.

Now I’m going to go open a beer to try to shake off the willies writing this has given me, and hope that I don’t have nightmares about this tonight. Yep, I’m still that scared of the damned things.

-JFT

Aftermarket Parts

Lately I’ve been feeling a lot like a vintage car. You know, an old thing that you shouldn’t have bought but you’ve always wanted one and it looked good at the time?

You get it home and find out that it needs lots of work, lots of improving, lots of new parts? That would be me.

Here’s a list of my personal replacement parts:

• Knee replacement, steel (2)
• Hearing aids (2)
• Interocular lens (2)

The knees are 5 and 10 years old, right and left, respectively. They work almost as well as the original-equipment items did. Almost.

These last items are the most recent. The hearing aids are 5 years old but just underwent a major adjustment, so they now work as new, so for a change, I hear pretty well.

The interocular lenses ­– well, these are plastic doohickeys that replace the original-equipment lenses in one’s eyes. They were installed over the course of the last two weeks because of a condition called “cataracts.” Cataracts are common with us older folks. They occur when the water and protein in one’s eyes becomes cloudy. If it gets cloudy enough, one cannot see through it.

I wasn’t quite to that point but was getting there. Now that’s in the past. The surgery takes about 15 minutes per eye and the difference is profound. At least it is for me.

This past year spent singing with the Central Oregon Mastersingers was difficult for me because of these two problems. It was bad enough that I’d been away from choral singing for 15 years and my skills had faded. What was worse was that at times, during rehearsal, I could not hear the conductor’s comments and instructions. And what was even worse than that was that I had a very difficult time reading the sheet music. The smaller the type on the music, the more difficult it was. And some of the type was very small.

Those problems should be gone now. I’m eagerly awaiting the start, in the fall, of the choir’s new season. Just hoping that I don’t have to fish around for new excuses.

Catastrophe aside, I think that I’m done with aftermarket parts. At least for now. Unless another crappy old car finds its way into our garage.

-JFT

The Eclipse Experience

Yesterday was the most amazing day I've seen in a very long time. At about 10:20 am, darkness settled over our area and the temperature here in Oregon's high desert fell to levels more usually seen here in November.

It was, you see, the 2017 eclipse, an event in which Old Sol rendezvoused with his occasional lover, the Moon, kissed her to the accompaniment of a diamond ring and then a thin ring of fire, and then, slowly, returned to brilliant prominence.

Do I have photos? No, I do not. I chose to experience, rather than fiddle with hardware and technicalities. But of memories and impressions, I have many.

For us, this was a day that followed a year of planning. For it was a year ago that our pals John and Ann Scoggins asked us for lodging for themselves and for Gail, John's sister, during this event. Not much later, Paul Thompson, my cousin, asked for the same for himself and his wife, Elaine. Cool!

That set into motion Preparation. Yes. With a capital P. Planning for food, for beverage, for bedding, for activities, for fellowship. And for the event itself.

The big question? Where to park ourselves for optimal viewing that would provide the longest totality experience with the least hassle with traffic, with people? We don't like people!

Our section of Oregon, smack under the path of totality here in the center of the state, contains about 100,000 residents. Estimates indicated that we could expect up to 200,000 visitors. So while the longest totality was maybe 20 miles north of us, we decided that in order to retain our sanity and to avoid inducing in this reporter the state of hopeless grumpiness that is natural to him, we would stay close to home. Very close to home.

We – most of us, anyway – viewed the event from a soccer field maybe a quarter-mile north of our home. This was cut so finely as this: Stay at home, not see totality. Travel north through a few hundred yards of grass and junipers, experience 25 seconds of full totality. This was an easy decision.

So we arrived, greeted the maybe 50 people who had the same notion about this that we did, and set up our lawn chairs for an amazing show.

First, there appeared a bite out of the upper-right quadrant of the sun. This evolved until the Sun resembled PacMan. Then, totality.

The temperature, which had been maybe 80, plummeted. Stars became visible. The horizons were lighted by color, helped, I'm afraid, by smoke from the Milli fire threatening nearby Sisters, which has, as I write this, consumed 10,000 acres.

I think always of Laura. But for this brief spasm of time, I thought only of the wonder of the event, the once-in-a-lifetime aspect of the thing. The diamond ring came and went, the ring of fire came and went, and then, slowly, as the Moon progressed toward the lower-left quadrant of the sun, PacMan appeared again. Through it all the people around us gasped, cheered, laughed, cried, and expressed amazement.

And as with the snap of one's fingers, the event was complete. We folded up our camp chairs, stashed them in the trunk of our car, and toddled on home.

But we were, I think, changed. Perhaps a bit more reflective, bit more introspective, a bit more respectful of our physical world. One cannot witness an event of this magnitude and not be changed, I think.

And now Laura and I are deep in post-event let-down. We've laundered the sheets and towels from our guest rooms, regarded the leftovers in the fridge as we ponder tonight's dinner. We've also achieved, I think, a needed bit of recovery from the stress that always seems to accompany a houseful of company.

We would not change a thing. We were deeply gratified to have witnessed this magnificent celestial event and to have shared it with people we love and admire. But that said, at the end of the day, we certainly are happy to be alone here again tonight.

-JFT