Epitaphs

My wife's oldest sister died last week.  Janice had a stroke on Saturday and by Wednesday she was gone.  It was a shock.  She will be greatly missed by our family.

When my mom died in 1999, I decided to say some appropriate things at the graveside service.  For inspiration I visited the cemetery where she would be buried.  It was and is rather unkempt, weedy and overgrown--the kind of cemetery I prefer. Kind of a back-to-nature place.

While walking among the monuments I noticed the gravestone of a young boy. He had died in the 1880's at around 10 years old.  It didn't say how he lost his life, but many of the young were taken by disease in those days.

In my mind's eye I could see a line of carriages coming up the dusty road led by the horse-drawn hearse. I saw the mourners dressed in black gathered at the tomb saying their goodbyes. I could see it.  And then it was 1999 again.

Inscribed on the granite was the boy's name and his dates, and beneath them was inscribed the promise for which those of us who believe await:  "Safe in the Arms of Jesus".  

That child is over 125 years gone, but that hope and that promise remains to this day for those of us who know Christ.

Friends in Prison--Part One: The Power of the Judicial System

No one gives much thought to prisons--unless you're in one or know someone who is. People like you and me don't end up in prison. Prisons are where bad people go--society's rejects. Everyone inside deserves to be there, and that keeps the rest of us safe. The less heard or seen of the inmates the better.

Clear cut.

  That was me six years ago, but I've changed my mind. Now Mr. Middle Class has friends in prison, and all the 'clear-cut' in me is long gone. I now see things through different eyes--theirs.  Until Ron and his wife Tina  (pseudonyms) got caught up in the machine legal system, I always assumed that everyone was truly "presumed innocent until proven guilty."  If you went to trial and were found innocent, you went free. If not, you served your sentence and then you could rejoin society, get a job, and all was well.  If you were a repeat offender you went back inside.

Perryville Women's Prison, Goodyear Arizona

Logical.

About once a month I drive the 90 miles from my home to the Arizona State Prison Complex in Florence, Arizona to see my friend Ron. Ron and his wife Tina were members of our church. They got into some legal difficulties, and he is now serving a twelve-year prison sentence. She is serving seventeen years in the women's prison for women (Perryville) in Goodyear, Arizona. Fortunately, Goodyear is close to our home, which makes visiting easier for my wife. Neither of us can visit the other prisoner.  No one can visit two different prisoners.

Ron has an engineering degree from a prestigious west-coast university and held a responsible position in a nearby city. Tina was a full-time homemaker who home schooled their two natural children. Both were law-abiding citizens with no past history of crime. None.

They had two boys, but they wanted more children, so they decided to adopt four small sisters that were in the CPS system who came from a severely abusive, dysfunctional background.  The youngest was four years old and was very difficult, and although child protective services was kept informed of these difficulties, and the methods being used by Ron and Tina in trying to discipline her, there was an incident and they were arrested and accused of child abuse.  The rest reads like a horror story because it is a horror story: The state tried to persuade Ron to divorce Tina, and testify against her.  In turn they would grant him probation, and Tina would receive a five-year sentence.  In addition they would have to relinquish parental rights to their natural children.  Believing in their own innocence, they decided to take their case before a jury and risk a full-blown conviction.  At this point, child protective services asked for a hearing and tried to persuade the judge to sever their parental rights before their trial.  Had the judge agreed to sever their rights (he did not), they would have lost all rights to their children forever--even if at trial they were found innocent.  Such is the power of the government.  The mandate of child protective services is to look after and protect at risk children, as their title implies. But in my opinion, that mandate often devolves into their trying to look good when they screw up. To them, an accusation amounts to guilt. The only hope for someone accused in a CPS crossfire is to have an expensive and skillful attorney, which most people can't afford.

I now understand that "innocent until proven guilty" is a rather empty term.  Police don't arrest people they think are innocent, and the courts don't prosecute people unless they think they have a reasonable chance of conviction.  Their jobs are to convict suspects using all the power and resources of the state.

It's estimated that about six percent of prisoners are serving time for crimes they did not commit. Until recently I would have disputed this, but I've seen first hand the power the state possesses, and their willingness to ignore evidence and facts which might prove a person innocent, and additionally a willingness to embellish or ignore evidence where it advances their case.

Some people are in prison because they are technically guilty. Ron tells me of one inmate who was living with his 17 year old girlfriend--with her parent's consent. While they were together she became pregnant and had a child. Eventually the relationship withered, and they went their separate ways. Eventually she married someone else, and years later brought charges of statutory rape against him. He was convicted and sent to prison. I'm not defending the relationship, but one can see that in such cases there can be mitigating cirucumstances.

Perryville Women's Prison: Chain Link and Concrete Gray

 Ron and Tina are better off than most.  A number of friends from their church family have stepped up and they both have visitors monthly, often weekly . When they are released, they will have some modest resources, and Ron's education will make his ability to find a job easier than most who are released. Their natural children are being cared for by a responsible family. Most inmates don't enjoy such security.

The system does well at bringing people to court, and prisons do a good job of locking people up, but  they do a poor job of rehabilitation.  Prisons are the most dehumanizing institutions on the planet.  They are, simply stated, people warehouses. But that's a story for a future article.

Requiem for Robin Williams

With great sadness I heard the news of Robin Williams' death.  Like so many comedians he used his humor as a barrier to fend off the demons that milled about outside his door--perhaps as an unsuccessful cry for help.  I didn't actually care for his humor, but there was something of a connection through my daughter and son-in-law who were acquainted with him in Marin County, California.

I remember a snippet of an interview on, I believe, 60 Minutes some years ago when he was asked why he was the way he was, why he was so frenetic.  His answer went something like "It's more fun to pretend than to live in the real world."

John Lennon once said "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans".  Perhaps the saying might be changed a bit to "Life is what happens while you're busy trying to keep the demons away from the door."

We all have our means of coping with diversions: Toys, drugs, sex, travel.  Others through work. Some dodges work better than others, but the demons are always at the door.  For some they tap gently; for others they beat with hammers.  Robin heard hammers.

Robin had family, friends, wealth,everything that we are told makes life worth living, but everything wasn't enough: "For what shall it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses his soul?"

I shall miss him.

The Franklin Auto Museum

We recently took a trip from our home in Phoenix to Tucson, Arizona to spend couple nights at the Ventana Canyon Inn, to relax and do some shopping and some tourist kinds of things. I've always wanted to tour the Franklin Automobile Museum, but for one reason or another I've missed going.  This year I made the connection. Actually, we made the connection, as my vivacious wife accompanied me, but then of course I had to go shopping with her. It's a marriage thing, you know, and it works. 

The museum is small and relatively unknown, and it's tucked away in--of all places--a residential area. Even some of the neighbors don't know they're neighbors to a museum. The website said they were closed in the summer, but it also noted that one might call "for other arrangements". So using that as my cue I called and left my phone number on the answering machine.  I didn't expect a reply, but early the next day (Saturday) the curator called and said he was going to be on the property, and "Would we like to take a tour?" provided we didn't mind the air conditioning being off in the summer.  And so off we went.

An Early Franklin with a
Renault-Style Hood

Outside of antique and classic car fans, few people are aware there was a car produced called the Franklin.  My earliest encounter with the make was as a kid in the 1950's.  Just north of  our little town in Washington State was a gravel pit, and therein was the bullet-riddled corpse of a Franklin sedan along with its engine. My dad told me that that engine was what made the Franklin unique, because instead of a water-cooled engine, which most manufacturers used, Franklin used a system of forced-air which kept the motor from reaching critical mass. Air-cooling was relatively rare in cars (and still is), but Franklin engineers figured out how to make it work, even with a relatively large engine.

The Franklin was produced in Syracuse, NY between 1902 and 1934.  They were quite technologically advanced, and besides their unique air-cooled engines, they introduced a number of other firsts, including the use of aluminum engine components, aluminum bodies (most builders used steel) and the utilization of fully-elliptical springs for suspension, which gave them a better ride than most cars of the day.  If you're wondering if  Franklins were expensive, you wonder correctly.  A deluxe 1930 Ford cost maybe $500; a big Franklin could run as high as $3500.

Like many upscale cars of the 1920's and early '30's, Franklins relied on outside body manufacturers for many of their vehicles. They had standard designs of course, but many of the bodies were made by custom body builders and were one-offs.  The metal bodies were internally braced with hardwood frames (a common practice in those days), and that accounts for the relatively low number of survivors. The effects of wind, rain, snow, and summer heat as well as normal wear and tear from driving on the rough roads of the '20's and '30's, took their toll on the hardwood. Unless babied, most car bodies got pretty limber after a few years.

There are about thirty cars in the museum, including a smattering of non-Franklin makes. Most of them are restored, but there are a number of  unrestored, running survivors. In fact, almost all of the cars in the museum are operating vehicles. Our guide Sparky was very knowledgeable and even started one of them for us.  I expected it to sound like a jet because of that large cooling blower moving all that air, but I was surprised at how smooth and quiet it was.  Those Franklin boys knew their stuff.

This '32 Open Sedan Was Striking with its Teal Green Fenders and
Second Windscreen at the Rear Seat

My favorite Franklin was a beautifully restored 1932 teal green open car which was a true eye-catcher complete with wire wheels and whitewall tires--and a windshield for the rear passengers.  Next to it was the town car limo in which H.H. Franklin himself was carried.  H.H. must have loved this particular car because it was reportedly modified three times and subsequently had the serial number updated from a 1929 to a '30, and finally a '31 model.  Why?  Who knows...

ThisV-12 Dual-Cowl Touring Sedan is the Only Franklin in the Museum
that Wasn't Manufactured by Franklin

In another room is a pretentious 1932 dual-cowl touring car with Franklin's massive air-cooled V-12 engine, and lots of brightwork.   But this car is especially unique in that it is the only Franklin in the place--that wasn't manufactured by Franklin!   About the time the V-12 was introduced, the depression happened and the company went into receivership.  This one-of-a-kind vehicle was built after the fact as a "what if" car out of Franklin pieces and parts, and then had a handbuilt body applied many years after Franklin dissolved.

The Franklin Museum was instituted by the late Thomas Hubbard, whose foundation perpetuates the Museum.  Mr. Hubbard was from Massachusetts and came west to work for the Magma Copper Company.  After leaving there he restored his first car in the early 1950's and did a number of restorations over the years, including some for the Bill Harrah collection. The Franklin collection continued to grow, and after Mr. Hubbard passed away in 1993, the foundation took over the reins.

The museum collection numbers approximately thirty cars of all body types, from coupes to roadsters to the limo. The museum is well laid out and the cars, though they are somewhat confined by limited space, are well displayed.  Unlike many museums where the cars are cordoned off, you can get up close and really look them over--although it is understandably a "don't touch" proposition. The grounds are also the home of a Franklin research library for restorers.

 Thanks to Sparky who Took Us on a Personal Tour
Through the Museum 

 If you're lucky enough to get in during the summer expect warm to hot buildings. Best time to visit is during the normally open months, mid-October to Memorial Day.The website for the museum is easy:
franklinmuseum.org, and the phone number is (520) 326-8038.  Take a few hours next time you make it to Tucson and get a look at a very nice collection of elegant American Iron.  For $10 a head--or less--you can't go wrong.

Why We Need the Second Amendment

                    "A well-regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right                                                of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed."

The possession of arms by the private citizen is not only for defense against aggresive acts by criminals, but also as a hedge against unwarranted and/or unconstitutional acts by their own government.  Some have argued that since the government (or, the "state") is so powerful, any opposition to it would be suicidal. I don't agree.

(I am somewhat reluctant to post this.  I've worked long on this article, trying my best to keep it rational and moderate.  There may be some on both sides of this debate who will try to misconstrue what I am trying to say.  I hope my comments are not taken "unadvisedly or lightly...[but rather] advisedly and soberly...").

 The citizen should retain the ability to make the government carefully consider its actions.  If the difference between being armed and not being armed persuades the government to be prudent and judicious, then we as citizens must not cede that power to the government.

I once believed our nation would benefit if private ownership of guns was outlawed or severely restricted.  My rationale: If the kids can't play nice with their toys, the toys must be put away.  But over time I  realized I was not only wrong--I was dangerously wrong. That line of reasoning presupposes that every armed citizen is a potential criminal, and that the state always acts lawfully and virtuously. Both suppositions are wrong, and therefore I am unwilling to cede such power to the government.

Now, don't misread what I'm saying.  I am not an anti-law, anti-government type. I am not a survivalist. The citizen must also tread lightly and carefully consider his actions.  Possession of firearms must not be used as an excuse for lawlessness.

I don't anticipate a day that government forces will come to my house, and kick in the door, but the line between a free state and a police state is thin and fragile, and disarming law-abiding citizens moves the former a large step closer to the latter.

 The founding fathers were wise to write and include the second amendment to the constitution.  They were certainly aware of the difficulties and injustices presented by an overreaching government, because they were dealing with an overreaching government--that of England. They recognized that threats to freedom can come not only from outside our borders, but also from within.  So far, on this planet--in this nation--the ability to defend ourselves with arms is guaranteed not just by a document, but also by an armed citizenry with the potential to give weight to that document.

Remote Car Keys

Life used to be so simple.  Now it isn't.  For instance, when I was a kid, and you wanted a Coke, you went to the store and you bought a Coke. There was no Diet Coke, no Coke Zero, no Cherry Coke, no Cherry Coke Zero, etc., etc.  And Coke came in a proper glass bottle, as mandated from the beginning of the universe.

So it was with car keys.  You own a Chevy?  You get a Chevy key, and there was just one kind.

But not no more. 

  A couple months ago I took my car to the local car wash.  They ran it through, and when they had dried it they called me out with a big smile, and said good bye. Gave the guy a tip! All well and good, except when I went to start the car I realized someone had broken the plastic head off  the key, the plastic part with the remote door and trunk buttons on it. It was just dangling there.

Me: "Hey, my key is broken. You guys broke my key".

Car wash guy: "No, it was already broken"

Me: "No, you broke it. Where's the manager?"

Guy: "Who?"

Well, I finally corralled the manager and then this:

Me: "Your guys broke my key."

Him: "No they didn't."

Me: "OK then why didn't they tell me it was broken when they got in to run the car through the wash?"

Him:  "It's a bad design. They break easily."

Me:  "It's a good design, your guys broke it."

Him: "I think you can glue it."

Me: "Not interested. I want a new key."

Him:  "I can't authorize a new key."

Me: "Then I want to talk to the general manager."

Him: "Who?"

Which is what I did.  The general manager (who is clear across town), after making 'tear your hair out' sounds on the phone, said to find out how much it costs, and then we'll see.  So I went to Toyota, and that key is $200 just for the key blank and the little shell that holds the electronic gizmo that makes the door open.  Made me wish I was in the car key business.

So I sent the general manager a letter with all the information and the estimate paper, but I guess he wasn't all that excited about replacing a $200 key, because a couple weeks went by, and no word.  I called again and left a message which he didn't return. I sent another letter asking when this would be resolved, and still no answer. Finally I sent a registered letter and gave him a deadline, and--nothing.  So as a last resort I sent all my information over to the Better Business Bureau and the general manager finally sent me a check for $200.

Didn't end there.  After some looking on the internet I found an aftermarket key was available online for about fifteen bucks. Now, that's more like it! Sent for it, and took it to a locksmith to be cut. They cut it for a buck, and I walked out to the car, happy as a kid with a bag of Skittles, and pushed the unlock button. Worked fine, got in, stuck it in the ignition.  Turned in the ignition without any hesitation.  Did everything it was supposed to except: Start the motor.  Opened the doors, opened the trunk, turned in the ignition, and cranked the motor.

But no start.

So I took the damn thing apart (the key, not the motor) and discovered a tiny little compartment inside the new shell I hadn't noticed before. The space was empty, but in the old one, there was something glued in it. And if I held the old key shell next to the new key shell, the engine would start.  Had to be some sort of chip to make the car start.  So after about 20 minutes of cutting, grinding, shaving, and peeling the old key shell, I managed to dig that little demon chip out and install it in the new key shell. Worked fine--and it was so easy!! Gaaaah!

As a reward to myself for navigating this purgatory, I went to the store and bought myself a Diet Coke.

Vacationing In a Lighthouse, Part II

Late last year (2013) I wrote that we were planning to go to Washington State in April to vacation as lighthouse keepers at the New Dungeness Lighthouse. Now I write to tell you of our experience.

The New Dungeness Lighthouse

The friends we had planned to go with had conflicts and couldn't make the trip, so it ended up being just my wife and myself.   Because of the logistics involved in flying to Seattle from Phoenix, then renting a car and driving from the airport to the Olympic Peninsula, we decided to drive the 1700 miles to Washington. We have relatives all along the Pacific Coast, so we were able to freeload off them the whole way, and we were also able to see our grandson.

After a few day's travel we arrived at the assembly station just outside of the town of Sequim, Washington where we met our fellow keepers for the first time: Dean and his daughter Krystal from eastern Washington, and Dean's older brother David, from Vancouver. Dean--who bears a striking resemblance to Jack Nicholson--is the unofficial historian of the lighthouse, so we spent the week well informed.

We were driven from the assembly station to the base of the Dungeness Spit and then along the steep, rocky beach in the association's four-wheel-drive vehicles. The spit itself is an oddity of nature. It's a narrow strip of sand and logs and rocks created by tidal action which extends out into the Straits of Juan de Fuca for over five miles. The lighthouse is at the far end of this finger The drive must be made at low tide; otherwise it's impassable. If you're not a keeper--you walk.

The lighthouse looks like a tiny chess piece in the distance when you start out, but it slowly grows as you get closer, and after a drive of about 20 minutes, you're there.

A View Towards the Mainland From the Lantern Room

The lighthouse has a long history. It was built in 1857, and originally all the keepers and their families were housed in the main building. A residence house was built in 1904 to facilitate additional keepers and their families, and this is where present day keepers stay.  The tower was originally over 90 feet tall, but cracks were discovered in the structure in the 1930's, so it was reduced to about 65 feet tall. Over the years a number of other structures have come and gone, like the fog horn building, a dock for ships to land provisions, and an observation tower built during World War II. The foundations for these and other structures remain, although the buildings themselves are long gone.

The keepers in the earliest days led a lifestyle divided somewhere between ho-hum routine and once-in-a-while terror, what with days of relative calm giving way to violent storms and the like. In the 1860's they were unwilling witnesses to a bloody battle on the spit between rival Indian tribes, which left the losing tribe massacred, save for one woman who was able to make her way to the lighthouse.

Storms occasionally wash over the spit, leaving the lighthouse on a temporary island.  And of course, every so often somebody runs a boat or a ship aground.

About twenty years ago the Coast Guard decided to board up the buildings and mechanize the light. Fortunately, an agreement was reached with the newly-formed New Dungeness Lighthouse Association to operate the light and maintain the grounds, and so it has been to this day. It has been a good arrangement which has kept the facility free from vandalism.

This was our first turn as lighthouse keepers, but not our first visit.  We hiked out in 1997 on an anniversary trip, and I made the trek with friends in 1961 as a twelve-year-old, my signature in the Coast Guard log book bearing witness.

The Author Holding the Lighthouse Log Book Which He
Signed in 1961 on His First Visit

Our time there in April was rather chilly for us Arizonans, but we did fine.  We got a lot of reading done, as well as walking and talking. The comfortable and nicely-furnished house has one bedroom on the ground floor, two upstairs and yet another in the basement.  A small library and  reading room upstairs is well stocked with books of all kinds--including not a few about lighthouses. There are puzzles and games for those so inclined, and the basement has a pool table. The kitchen is spacious and modern, with all sorts of gadgets and utensils.  If you go hungry, it's only because you're on a diet, or you didn't bring enough food.

Our stay passed quickly, and I don't say that lightly, as I am easily bored.  But there's so much to take in and to do.  In the span of seven short days we observed seals and whales and a variety of birds, including bald eagles.  Ships large and small pass day and night, and identifying them is interesting pastime. The whole spit is a wildlife refuge and bald eagles are very common, as are many varieties of shorebirds. We spotted a whale one day, as well as seals and although we didn't observe any, skunks, foxes and otters are occasionally seen.

 Magical and timeless--that's the best description I can give.   The property is well documented in photographs, and it's a joy to gaze at a century-plus of  photos of the keepers and their families, as well as handprints and initials and dates pressed into the cement in various places on the grounds. Now we're a part of that lineage.

Our duties included giving tours of the lighthouse, and maintaining the building and grounds.  There was some brass to polish, a rather large lawn to mow, and a bit of housekeeping, but nothing too strenuous or time consuming.

One of Many Ships Which Make their Way Through
The Straits of Juan de Fuca

There's a signpost near the beach which greets visitors as they come onto the property.  One sign points back to the mainland, and says 'reality'.  the other points towards the lighthouse, and it is marked 'serenity'. I suppose that sums up the essence of the place.  But I came close to finding a hammer and making both signs point towards the light; and that about sums it up.


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