September 11, 2011: Drought in Texas, Clear Skies in Minnesota, Life Goes On

Sunday, September 11, 2011. School has started, so the regular mid-afternoon rush down South 9th to Ash is part of the daily schedule again. We've been having picture-postcard weather, which is great for taking photos: not necessarily good news for crops. Still, it could be worse: Folks in Texas are not having a good year.


U.S. Drought Monitor. (map adapted from The Drought Monitor, National Drought Mitigation Center, Lincoln, Nebraska, used w/o permission) Tuesday, September 6, 2011.

Folks took care of the worst of that July 10th storm's cleanup as soon as the wind and rain let up, or the day after. I've seen tarps over a few roofs: good enough, I trust, to get the homeowners through winter, giving them time to work out finances for a more permanent patch.

Jitters Java, downtown, is one of the business with storm-stressed signage. They've got a pretty good temporary fix set up: a sort of easel at the bottom of the sign's apparently-undamaged mast.


Jitters Java sign: 'some assembly required.. September 9, 2011.

Our Lady of Angels' Gospel Book hasn't been replaced. I don't know how long that'll take. The things can't be cheap: but of all the useless things to steal - - - who's going to buy the thing intact? The book's gold cover is real: but the gold was a thin layer of anodized gold, no more than a few microns thick. I doubt it'd be worth the trouble, trying to scrape the metal off.

Oh, well: we're getting by okay. This morning I learned that for the time being the church will be unlocked during weekday mornings and afternoons: nice for folks who'd been in the habit of stopping in.

Today's the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 attack. New York City's put on an event for the occasion. We're not New York City: Our observances have been more along the lines of flags at half-staff.


Our Lady of Angels, Labor Day Sunday. September 4, 2011.

That's what I've got for this week. See you next Sunday!

Earth Day, 1970-2010

Today is Earth Day.

I remember the first one, forty years ago.

Those were heady times. In several senses of the word. Being worked up about saving the environment was kinda now and kinda wow. You know: groovy.

I'm still concerned about maintaining clean air, water and soil. I live on Earth, after all: and it's nice to walk outside without my eyes watering.

I indulged in a trip down memory lane yesterday: wandering with nostalgic Pilot shades over my mind's eyes.



Ah, yes: I was there at the beginning, and remember the grand swell of emotion I experienced, seeing that big green theta flying over the campus. A Wikipedia article says the 'ecology flag' came after 1970, and the person who wrote that could be right. Like so many other memories of that groovy period, mine aren't entirely precise. I wasn't part of the drug scene: but that's another topic.

Well, that was then, and this is now. Like I said, I still care about clean air and not drinking industrial waste. But I think I've got a trifle better grip on reality now.

I've been celebrating Earth Day's 40th anniversary by writing about a misunderstood and often-neglected sustainable resource: lint.

No, really. The stuff's more useful than you might think. Here's a list of links to what I've written, and a sort introduction, on another blog:

• "Lemming Tracks: STOP THE WASTE!!! RECYCLE EARTH'S PRECIOUS LINT!!!!"
  Apathetic Lemming of the North

Nobody Wants a Rapist Next Door: and More, Mostly About Snow

Wednesday, February 24, 2010. First, the unpleasant news. I've got some nice photos, so stick around. Or skip over the next few paragraphs.

If Minnesota Department of Corrections (MN DOC) information is correct, Dustin Gene Ayres was released on Monday, and has probably moved into town by now. I can't say that I envy him. He's a Level 3 predatory offender: the sort of rapist who'd most likely to re-offend. He's also served his sentence, including whatever extra time he earned by violating parole the last time he was released.

Don't get me wrong. I think that second (third?) chances are a good idea. I also hope that nobody in town gives him a hard time because of what he's done in the past. It's possible that he'll change.

The Sauk Centre Herald had another couple of articles on Mr. Ayres, and related topics, this week. I wasn't pleased to learn that Stearns County is the #1 county for (relocated?) sex offenders, outside the metro area: but there's not much to do about that.

Something I read in the print edition of this week's Herald matches other information I've dug up. The recidivism rate for sex offenders is fairly low. On average. Mr. Ayres is in the category of people who are most likely to re-offend.

But there isn't much, given the way the law works today, that can be done. Apart from what MN DOC is doing: keeping a rather close eye on Mr. Ayres for the next decade, and limiting what he can do. Unless he breaks parole again, he won't just be wandering around town. As I said, I can't say that I envy him.

And - what I think is a very important point - we're allowed to know about him now. I can remember when that wouldn't have been the case. The American judicial system has started to realize that protecting people who don't break the law is important, too: and I think that's a good thing.

More, in "Level 3 Predatory Offender Coming: Photos and Links," Sauk Centre Journal Blog (February 19, 2010).


That Haiti fundraiser's banner is a little dated. It's about something that was scheduled Monday. And yes, that's a snowmobiler. February 24, 2010.

The chain link fence on the Lake Wobegon Trail bridge over Main Street ("Original Main Street" the signs say) is a sort of community bulletin board. Quite a few events get announced there.

Snow. We've had snow this winter. Lots of snow. A drift in my back yard just about covers two lawn chairs - and even after excavations, I have to bend over to reach the grill when I'm fixing burgers on the weekend. I figure I'm standing on at least a half-foot of compacted snow and ice.


The band shell by Sauk Lake. February 24, 2010.

Finding a place to put snow from the driveway and sidewalk wasn't a problem for us. We've got more yard than pavement, so it's just a matter of throwing - or blowing - it onto something that can stay covered until spring.


Snow piled behind Jitters Java, downtown. And two guys on the other side of the street, probably discussing the utility system. February 24, 2010.

The city street department, and many (most?) businesses aren't in that position. There's been a whole lot of snow cleared off streets and parking lots this year: and it all has to go somewhere. In residential areas, at least some of it goes onto that rampart that grows at the edge of the street. Some parking lots have a few spaces piled high with snow. And, since nobody's using the band shell this time of year, a little is piled up on the edge of the parking lot there.

Finding a place to put snow from the driveway and sidewalk wasn't a problem for us. We've got more yard than pavement, so it's just a matter of throwing - or blowing - it onto something that can stay covered until spring.


A Christmas angel, half-buried in snow. This photo is almost crying for a caption, but I can't think of one. February 24, 2010.

I've heard people say that we're always talking about the weather, here in Minnesota. I don't want to disappoint out-of-staters, so: It's been a beautiful day today. Clear blue sky, sunlight sparkling on the snow, and not much wind. A little nippy: 11° below this morning. Fahrenheit. But hey: this is Minnesota!

What Can I Say? I'm Half-Irish: and You Know What They're Like

"Trail rapist pleads guilty" was the lead story in this week's paper, and in this blog's Wednesday post. It's the sort of thing that just doesn't happen in the Mayberry RFD/Green Acres version of small town America.

What's a bit awkward is that the fellow who ran into a cornfield, was caught, confessed, and pleaded guilty, seems to be from Guatemala.

In the more 'relevant' portrayals, a situation like this, where someone who is neither Irish nor German was accused and convicted, you'd expect to see a mob with torches and pitchforks. And a few of the townsfolk, inexplicably speaking with a southern-redneck drawl, would utter vile racist comments.

I'm pretty sure that a few people in town made catty remarks about those people. I've lived in cities and in small towns - and there are jerks everywhere.

On the other hand, not all folks in the cities I've lived in were jerks - and the same is true for the boonies.

Typhoid Mary and the Trail Rapist - Yeah, There's a Connection

I ran across an account of Typhoid Mary in today's online Wired magazine. Mary Mallon was born in 1869, was an Irish immigrant, a fine cook, and a healthy carrier of typhoid fever. She was ordered to not work as a cook - but ignored the court's demand.

Unreasonable? Maybe. But look at it this way: She felt fine; she didn't show any symptoms of typhoid fever; she'd been tested - and found to be disease free; and she was Irish.

This was in the "good old days." As the article put it:

"...Mallon felt persecuted, and she may have had good reason considering the class prejudice that existed then, which fueled the prevailing attitude that 'dirty immigrants' were responsible for most epidemics...."
(Wired)

Odds are pretty good that the chemist who found Mary Mallon disease-free was right, as far as tests available at the time went - and that she was in remission at the time.

That was then, this is now. America has had an Irish president - and survived - and that quintessentially Irish holiday, St. Patrick's Day, has become a time when just about everybody claims to be part Irish.

I think it helped that after Irishmen got haircuts, dropped the accent and our zesty taste in attire, and learned to walk stiffly - we could pass as Anglos. I also think that times have changed - by now, too many people in responsible positions have a family history of being 'those people.'

In my case, about half my ancestors came from Éire, and some were more proud of the fact than others. As one of them said of that smooth-talking Irishman who was sniffing around her daughter, "he doesn't have family: he's Irish." (Through One Dad's Eye, March 17, 2008)

Yep. Those were the 'good old days.'

Background:

• "Sept. 23, 1869: Here Comes Typhoid Mary"
  This Day in Tech, Wired (September 23, 2009)

Thucydides, Al Tingley, Myth and Me

I live in a small town in America, but I wasn't born in one.

I grew up in a college town with a population of a hundred thousand and climbing when I left. I've lived in a number of places, from Dunseith, North Dakota, to San Francisco: and found something attractive about all of them.

I've lived here in Sauk Centre, a town with about 4,000 people, since early 1986. I like it here, too.

Town Historian? Well, Sort of

Not too long ago, someone called me the town historian.

That wasn't quite accurate, the way the word is used these days. A historian is generally thought of as someone who looks for documents about dead people and past events; reads them carefully; then writes a report on who they were, what happened, and why.

That's not what I do. I've been a historian of sorts, but that's another story.

On the other hand, I'm a historian now, in the way that Al Tingley and Thucydides are: Someone who actually experienced the events that he or she is describing, while making an effort to be sure of the facts; but having a point of view.

'Things that really happened' is history. Or, "the aggregate of past events", as Princeton's WordNet puts it.

Quite a few people think that myth is 'things that didn't really happen.' They're right - sort of.

Mayberry RFD, Peyton Place, and Myth

Say "Small Town America," and people who don't live in one - and some who do - are likely to recall Mayberry RFD; Lake Wobegon; Harper Valley and their PTA; or Peyton Place.

There's only one problem with those examples: none of them is real. Like Brigadoon, they're settings for a story. Or, in the case of Harper Valley, a song that told a story.

They are, arguably, mythical Small Town America: the contemporary equivalent of the 'kingdom far away' where Cinderella and Jack the Giant-Killer lived.

Mythical settings are fine for story-telling. An unnamed petty kingdom somewhere 'out there' lets a storyteller enhance elements of reality, making the story more entertaining and memorable. And, highlight selected ideas and beliefs.

Note: "mythical" doesn't necessarily mean "not real." One definition of a myth is "a traditional story accepted as history; serves to explain the world view of a people" (Princeton's WordNet)

The first part of that definition is what's behind the widely-accepted meaning of 'myth' as something that's 'not real.' The second part, myth as a story "to explain the world view of a people" is what I have in mind, when I call Mayberry RFD and Harper Valley 'mythical' places.

Ah, the Simple Bliss and Tranquility of Small Town America

Or maybe it's the ignorance and squalor of of small towns, those havens of hypocritical bigots. Depends on who's telling the story.

I don't think that people in small towns are particularly gifted when it comes to ruining their lives, and the lives of others. No more so than people who live in places like San Francisco or Chicago.

But then, I don't see big cities as dens of iniquity, set to trap youths with vain promises of fame and pleasure.

On the other hand, I've been around enough to know that big cities offer opportunities for self-destruction that aren't quite so available in small towns. Still, we're not all that isolated from what's now and wow.

Small Town America's No Brigadoon

For example, police found a meth lab a few blocks from my home in 2003.

December of 2005 was a bit more eventful than most. The month started out with about $20,000 of shot-up windows - including one of ours - and drug-related arrest across the street.

That arrest across the street was the end of an incident that started with a domestic assault and gunshot in a town down the road. What I called Version 3.0 of the story came out in local papers in early January. A 'resolution' of sorts for the incident where kids decided to spend time shooting at windows came in September of 2006.

Small Town America, Twice a Week

At least, that's the idea. The Sauk Centre Journal has a new entry late every Wednesday and Sunday - circumstances allowing.

Those biweekly posts will be copies of what appears on the Sauk Centre Journal, with the occasional additional comment.

Now, it's high time I start working on today's entry.

Related post:

• "Sauk Centre Journal: The Blog"
  (September 2, 2009)