Beyond Abortion, a New and Better Society--At the Stroke of a Pen

During this year's Super Bowl, a commercial depicted via ultrasound an unborn child reacting to his father eating Doritos as though it wanted some. A humorous attempt at selling a product.

But it took not even a day for NARAL (National Abortion Rights Action League) to protest that the ad humanized the unborn child by assigning to it human emotion.  How dare Doritos portray such  humanizing emotion to a mass of cells, even though done unintentionally.  The fact it took just hours for them to rip this commercial should help the reader understand how much they fear people will catch on that those innocent unborn children are truly human.

Incidentally, these comments are not aimed at women who now realize they have been victimized by abortion.  My deepest sympathies to them.

Think about NARAL's view of the unborn:  A fetus isn't human, must never be thought of as a living being, and having no value, is subject to summary execution.  Nothing new here:  Throughout history the strong have traditionally devalued the weak and made them slaves or murdered them outright, often by decree.  Examples?  In early America, Africans were considered to be uneducable, and by such reasoning they were kidnaped and enslaved--often executed.  Jews, during the reign of the Nazis, were declared by the state to be untermensch.  The able-bodied were placed in labor camps to work until they collapsed, then disposed of.  The weak and sickly were sent immediately to the gas chambers.  In North Korea, even today, it's important to toe the party line, lest you and your family end up in a "reeducation camp."  If you don't play by the rules, think right thoughts, you're an enemy of the state.  If you're lucky, you make it out.  Many don't.

Do you see a pattern here?  Life is for normal people--you know, like you and me, subject to change, of course, without notice. Anyone who gets in the way is subject to whatever fate the prevailing power deems suitable.  Welcome to America. Welcome to abortion. Welcome to whatever might come next.

So where do we go from here?  Since we now know there is a thriving trade in the body parts of the unborn (they're not totally useless, after all),   I propose the following for the morally adaptable crowd:  There are thousands of Down's Syndrome children who have perfectly good hearts and lungs, etc., which could better serve those of us who are normal but in need.  And by ridding society of them or appropriating that which is useful to us, think of how much better our lives might be.

Or how about the mentally deficient?  Those with an I.Q.  score of, say, 70-90 might be assigned permanent jobs of menial labor serving the 'normal' people. Those with scores under 80, well...after all, they are a drain on society aren't they?  Hey, a better life for the rest of us.

And it would be so easy.  After all, the abortion issue was settled by legislation. So, too, the Final Solution.  Josef Mengele,  Margaret Sanger you would be so proud!!

Does reading this make you uneasy?  Relax, you're normal.  Today.

What IS Truth?

I've been re-reading a book titled "Twisted Cross".  It was written about twenty years ago by Doris L. Bergen.  It's a rather scholarly examination of the "German Christian" movement in Nazi Germany, and how that movement subverted people from following Jesus Christ and the traditional teachings of the Bible.   Instead,  they sought to make the church an Aryan church, a "manly" militant church, which glorified and supported war as a means to German greatness.  Hymns were changed or deleted,  Jewish Christians were kicked out of the church, and those who stood against the incoming tide were ridiculed--or worse.

As a follower of Jesus, it's a hard book to read, because one sees how easily the perverse Nazi philosophies corrupted that church.  Though German Christians didn't influence the Nazis, the Nazis influenced the German Christians and used them for their own ends.  The result was a weak, un-nourished, ineffective church, which was view with contempt by the Nazi party.

If we are true followers of Christ, we need to be careful of who and what we listen to. There's a lot of diversity in the Christian community,  more than we are given credit for,  but it's disturbing when I see those who call themselves Christians buy into beliefs that clearly deviate from the Word of God.  If we aren't under the authority of Holy Scripture, then we must be under an authority other than God.

           "For the time will come when men will not put up with sound doctrine.  Instead,
             to suit their      own desires, they will gather around them a great number of
             teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear."  2 Timothy 4:3 (emphasis
             mine).

As a believer in Christ, I must not first be a Democrat or a Republican, a conservative or a liberal.  I  must first be a follower of Christ, and the Word of God.  Period.  Every thought, every action, each belief must first pass through these filters.  My faith is not to be defined by my politics, it is to be defined by Jesus and Holy Scripture.  When we modify our beliefs to fit any political persuasion--we are on dangerous ground.

The German Christians allowed the tail to wag the dog.  Their ethnicity and spurious beliefs were put ahead of their faith, and thus dictated the shape of their faith.   The applications may be somewhat different today in our nation, but the results are always the same: a move away from God.  It cannot be otherwise.

Seldom seen: Harquahala Summit, Arizona

Arizona is blessed with many great areas to explore, many of which are largely untouched by civilization, and the distance between the city and the frontier can be remarkably short.

One of my favorite off-road places to visit is Harquahala Summit, just 90 miles west of Phoenix.  At  5700 feet, it's no Mt. McKinley, but it is the highest point in the southwestern quadrant of the state, and as the Harquahala Mountains rise from the relatively flat Sonoran Desert, one quickly becomes aware of how high and isolated it is.  And as is often the case with these destinations, you'll likely see few or no people once you leave the interstate highway.

The summit of Harquahala Mountain was chosen as the site for an observatory sponsored by the Smithsonian Institute.  Dr. Samuel Pierpont Langley, a pioneer in the study and use of solar energy, advanced the theory in the late 1800's that solar activity might be responsible in determining our weather.  Later, his protoge, Dr. Charles G. Abbot, with the backing of the Smithsonian,  decided to establish an observatory at the top of the mountain in 1920.

The present day road to the summit isn't the one used when the observatory was established.  In fact, there was no road.  In the beginning, an hour's drive east from the village of Wenden brought you to a staging area, where everything going to the summit was transferred to burros.  From there it was a three hour trek on foot up the steep path to the top.  Building materials, instruments, food, everything went up the same way.  Even water had to be hauled, though fortunately a source was found just a thousand feet from the top.

A two-story structure was built and served a dual purpose.  The top floor was divided into small apartments, and housed the staff of eight. The laboratory with its various instruments occupied the ground floor.  The building was apparently slapped together rather hastily and quickly fell victim to the mountain top's extreme weather.  Soon after completion it had to be sheeted over with corrugated iron.

The Harquahala Observatory was a solar observatory and as such didn't make use of telescopes.  Instead, readings of solar energy were taken with instruments with such unlikely names as pyreheliometers, coelostats, and theodolites, as well as mercury thermometers, all used to take measurements of the sun's energy and radiation.  The staff took these readings, recorded  them and dispatched them to Washington D.C., where they were analyzed.

Besides transportation, communication with the outside world was difficult.  At first, a heliograph was used, but flashing messages to Wenden was slow,  and of course a heliograph could only be used on sunny days. Later a two-way radio was tried, but it also proved to be unreliable. Finally a telephone line was strung down the mountain to Wenden using large rocks and cactus to suspend the wire.

Weather was a problem.  High winds were frequent, and violent thunder and lightning storms often raked the mountain.  In the winter, freezing temperatures were the rule, and snow often dusted the summit.  In summer, the combination of high temperatures and high altitude could cause a quick and severe sunburn.

It wasn't all misery.  The staff made do, and at one point one of the men even brought his new bride to live on site.  The new husband wisely purchased a refrigerator and freighted it to the summit for her use. As well, the feminine touch was much appreciated in the living quarters.   Entertainment consisted of croquet and never-ending card games.  The radio, which had proven useless for  communication, did provide an ear to the outside world.

After just five years, the observatory was abandoned.  The remoteness,  the transportation issues, and the weather extremes all counted against a long-term facility, and a more suitable location was found in southern California. Today, only the main building survives, along with a cistern used to collect rain water, and a few random foundations.  But the mountain still has its uses.  An unmanned communication station was constructed by the Central Arizona Project in the 1980's to monitor and control the flow of water through their canals.   It is powered by a rather large solar array, as something of an unintended tribute to Drs. Langley and Abbot, who were early pioneers in the use of solar power.    The present-day road was in part graded to allow vehicles to the summit for this later project.

The observatory staff were by no means the first people to habit the area. The mountains are rich in minerals, and the area has been mined extensively since the 1800's.
There are a number mine sites to explore, including the Snowflake, the Linda, and my favorite, the Monterey mine.  To access the Monterey, you turn west off the main road about four miles from the staging area and through a wash, where there are remains of a stone cabin and an ore-loading area.  A steep and rocky shelf road continues up the mountain,  where you will find the remnants of a wooden ore bin and the mine entrance.  The shelf road is passable, but suitable only for modified high-clearance vehicles.  My stock Toyota 4x4 made it part way, but the rough, loose rock surface made me decide that I didn't really want to spend the big bucks fixing the undercarriage, so we chocked it out about a third of the way up, and continued on foot.

The Monterey's main shaft is dug into hard rock, and is open, but there are of course hazards.  The first time I went with my son and my neighbor Jim, we ran into a rather angry rattlesnake about 100 feet in, so we decided it was time to leave. This last time we got about the same distance in and started smelling cat urine, so once again we backtracked.  I already know how tough I am (not very) and I don't need to corner a bobcat or mountain lion to prove it.  We did spot mine cart rails, and someday I hope to revisit and go further in, assuming all the tenants have decided to move on. A cool breeze blowing through the shaft made it clear there was a ventilation shaft somewhere ahead.

The road continues up the hillside far past the main shaft, in a series of sharp switchbacks.  What's beyond is for another day, but there's plenty more to explore.

Should you decide to go, be advised there are those who say any high clearance two-wheel-drive vehicle is capable of navigating it.  Not so.  Though the lower portions can be traversed by a carefully-driven passenger car, by the half-way point you would be unwise to proceed.  The road becomes very steep and rutted, and grades the last two miles are in the neighborhood of 20-25%, with plenty of sharp rocks.  Wheel placement for the sake of tire survival is critical (Some years ago I went with some friends, and one of our party lost two tires within 15 minutes).  The curves are sharp as well.  I recommend taking abundant water, extra water, and a little more water, both for you and your vehicle. Watch your temperature gauge.  Tell friends where you are going and when you expect to return.  Also, remember the weather was extreme in 1920 and it still is.  If a lightning storm develops, or it starts to rain, its time to get off the mountain.

Finally, except for a parking lot and a fire grate, there are no facilities at the summit, not even pit toilets, so take whatever supplies you might need if you go, and bring your trash back with you.  Camping is permitted if you are so inclined.  My son and I spent the night there recently, and it was great.  We had the whole place to ourselves.

Twenty Nine Spikes: When Terrorists Derailed Amtrak's Sunset Limited

October 9th 2015 marked twenty years since Amtrak's Sunset Limited was derailed by an unknown person or persons in the desert 70 miles southwest of Phoenix, Arizona.

Looking West Towards Montgomery Pass And Quail Springs Wash

It's a lonely spot. This is where the Middle Of  Nowhere got its name. The pavement ends and it's fifteen miles west through the empty desert before you arrive at the derailment site at Quail Springs Wash; beyond that, another  fifteen miles of barrenness before you arrive at the Hyder General Store, a lone and lonely outpost for a few local farm hands. After leaving pavement you will likely see no other humans.

This portion of the rail line, which runs between Phoenix and Wellton, AZ, came late to Arizona.  Since the late 1800's Phoenix was at the end of two branch lines. The Santa Fe built their line into Phoenix from the north, and the Southern Pacific did the same from the south, but all trains from either line had to return the way they came. For years the state pressured the SP to build a line west from Phoenix that would complete a through route, and in 1926, this line was the result. 

On the night of October 9, 1995, the Sunset Limited  left Phoenix just before midnight, running southwest through Buckeye, then west into the barren desert towards Montgomery Pass.  At approximately 1:05 a.m., as it banked into the curve ahead of Quail Springs Wash at fifty miles per hour, the Limited's locomotives lurched and pounded across the bridge on the wooden ties before coming to an abrupt stop on the other side.  The coaches and the passengers didn't fare as well: Six cars derailed,  two of which fell--hard--thirty feet into the bottom of the dry wash.

 The Sunset Limited Rounded This Curve, Moments From Disaster

Many passengers suffered  injuries, some serious.  Miraculously, considering the speed and the fall into the wash, only one person was killed, sleeping car attendant Mitchell Bates. The train crew immediately sent out a radio call for help, but owing to the remote area, forty-five minutes passed before the first rescue units could get there.

When help came it came in spades: Men and equipment were everywhere, some getting stuck in the many desert washes which had to be crossed to reach the site. It was a crime-scene nightmare. By the time FBI investigators arrived, most evidence had been obliterated by law-enforcement vehicles, ambulances, fire rescue vehicles, helicopters, passengers and rescue personnel.

The only tangible evidence--at least that which has been publicly acknowledged--were several identical notes left at the site, upon which were references to Ruby Ridge and other recent events which the writer(s) took issue with.  It was signed by the "Sons of the Gestapo", a group previously unknown to law enforcement.

The rails had been tampered with. Twenty-nine spikes had been pulled out of the railroad ties and the outside rail on the curve was pried out of alignment. Whoever did it knew their geography, as the spot was the only one on the line that had a curve leading onto a bridge, likely chosen to cause maximum damage. And they were sly: The bonding wires were left connected between the misaligned rails, which cause the trackside signals to show a clear indication--the head end crew never saw it coming.

Quail Springs Wash And The Wrecked Sunset Limited

After twenty-plus years of investigation there is little evidence available as to who was responsible. But the authorities have by no means forgotten about it. The Unsolved Mysteries television program  broadcasted a segment on the incident some years back, and it was subsequently posted online at unsolved.com.  A few years back, I found the article and left my name and email address for any new information that might come to light.  Within a few days I was contacted by an FBI agent who told me he would "like to meet with me," and I did several times afterwards, talking theories and conjectures.  The FBI has subsequently announced the reward for information leading to arrests had been bumped to $310,000.

As mentioned, there are several things that stand out about this incident.  First, the perpetrator(s) had to be familiar with the area, and the location was chosen to cause a maximum amount of damage in a derailment.  They also had to have at least a rudimentary knowledge of  railroad signalling systems, enough to know the bonding wires had to be left attached between the rails, ensuring the engineer would see only a green signal in front of him.  Third, though rambling, there's that note left behind by the so-called "Sons of the Gestapo". Though no group using such a name has ever been publicly identified, it was plainly the work of someone who had strong opinions regarding some of the controversial steps used by the government in dealing with domestic issues.

Old-Style Semaphore Signals Like This Guarded The
Rail Line At The Time Of The Crash

The rails southwest of  Phoenix are quiet now, except for grain deliveries to a local egg ranch, and an occasional run to the Palo Verde Nuclear Power Plant to deliver equipment.  Beyond that, the line has been out of service since the Sunset Limited was rerouted in 1996 to a more direct route between Tucson and Yuma.  Rumors of reopening the line have been floating about for years, and there's also been talk of turning it into a high-speed rail route between Los Angeles and Phoenix, but only time will tell if any of this will become a reality. And maybe in time the perpetrators of this act of domestic terrorism will also be brought to justice.

See also this video footage from the derailment:

https://youtu.be/uVdhvwyWUpw

Sunset Over Palo Verde

Gay Marriage and Believers in Christ

Let's get everything out on the table.  Although I expected the Supreme Court to rule as it did on gay marriage, it was surprisingly upsetting to me.  I am a Christian and I understand that marriage is "...instituted of God..." and is between a man and a woman.  I don't agree with gay marriage, and I never will.  But at the same time, I  understand why gay people want to be included: They want acceptance, just like you and me.
So although I don't agree with gay marriage, I can understand their logic behind it, their desire to be included. I may not like the decision, but gay people understandably think of this as monumental.

I have a measure of respect for sincere liberals and homosexuals who see this as a civil right issue. I have greater respect for them than I do for the politicians or those who are "leaders" in the Christian culture who have crawled onto that bandwagon for political or social expedience--some at the very last moment.  I don't see them as having become 'enlightened', I see them as willows in the wind, bending with every prevailing political and moral breeze.  "Will this buy some votes?  Can I increase my popularity?  Count me in!!" There is ample scriptural evidence to support the premise that marriage is reserved for male and female pairing, and on that rock is where we should stand.

That's one side of the coin.  The other is the position taken by certain 'christians' who are hell-bent (literally, it seems) on wiping homosexuals from the face of the earth, like the Fred Phelps mob out of Kansas, or closer to home, "Pastor" Steven Anderson in Arizona who has stated he believes all homosexuals are pedophiles, and that they should all be killed.

How outrageous:  God doesn't hate gay people.  If  God hated gay people for homosexual sin, then he would also hate the Fred Phelps types for arrogance and pride ("For all have sinned..."), and he would hate Steven Anderson ("...and fall short of the glory of God.") for advocating murder. And he would also hate the person writing and those reading this blog. Thankfully, we live in the age of grace, brought to you by Jesus Christ.

So, where do we go from here?  Believers in Christ have to remember that though we are saved by grace, we are no different from homosexuals when it comes to sin.  Period.  And though we must abide by Biblical teachings about homosexuality, and oppose what we know is wrong, we must do so not as moral superiors, but as sinners ourselves.

You know, the whole thing is so simple, and I like others get so wrapped up in the "headline of the day" that I forget that Job One is to represent Christ.  It's not our job to "fix" gay people.

Gay people are much like you and me. They live on Elm Street, USA; they drive Toyotas or F150 pickups to work; they like to go to restaurants for a good dinner.  A gay man in California with whom I have had a long-standing friendship often converse via facebook on a number of subjects, including homosexual issues.  My wife had lunch with a lesbian coworker who had concerns about her mother's health. Sure, they look at some areas of life from a different viewpoint, but let's not let the divide grow by finger pointing or rejecting them.  Like everyone else, including you and me, they need the light of Jesus Christ in their life. There will always be a point of tension between who we are and who they are, but If we minister sincerely, as real friends, everyone will win.

The City on the Edge: San Francisco, April 1906

Nothing fires the imagination like the thought of time travel.  If we could only go forward; if we could only go back. But no machine yet invented can send us; no machine ever will.  But we can travel back, if only in a sense, through the magic of video. True, it's like viewing the world through a keyhole, but it's all we have and all we ever will have, and no piece of film does it better than the Miles Brothers film,  A Trip Down Market Street, which was shot just days before the great earthquake which destroyed San Francisco in April of 1906.  I invite you to view it at

                                    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pEvB_ZIWtAg

Get past the commercial and begin your journey.

There's a dreamlike quality, almost a modern-day familiarity in watching these scenes.  It's 1906 and it's life as usual: Traffic is chaotic. A cop walking his beat casts a wary eye at the camera; businessmen in boiled shirts and bowler hats are everywhere; a paperboy peddles the day's news; a trolley full of sightseers crosses Market Street at an oblique angle; brass-era cars rattle past, dodging horses and wagons; the few women evident are dressed in dark, ankle-length dresses some in ostrich-plumed hats.  In the distance at the foot of Market Street is the Ferry Building--an earthquake survivor which stand majestically to this day. I could go on.

I've watched this film a hundred times, and each time I try to see more and I do see more.  It's almost like being there--you feel so close.

Near the end of the film at the Ferry Building, the cable car is turned around. Young boys jump into view and wave at the camera. They're all gone now of course, everyone is gone, lost to the earthquake, or to their years.  But they wave at us as though it is today--more than a century later.

Addendum: The last known survivor of the San Francisco Earthquake of 1906 earthquake has passed away: http://www.marinij.com/obituaries/20160111/marin-resident-bill-del-monte-last-known-survivor-of-1906-quake-dies-at-109

The World and High School(s)

I was at our church for a meeting the other Sunday evening, and the guy next to me mentioned that he had lived in Cheyenne, Wyoming.  I once lived there and told him I had graduated from East High School, class of 1966.  Turns out both he and his wife were alumni. He was a couple years ahead of me, she a year behind. Hadn't known either one of them, but it was a nice contact.

Of course it sent me to the garage to haul down that extra-heavy box of annuals I keep for no good reason. Found her in the 1966 Wahina.

My high school journey was an odd one, since, owing to my dad's working for a defense contractor, I went to four of  'em in three years. Sophomore year was a split between San Lorenzo Valley, California and Andress HS, in Texas, junior was Knob Noster, Missouri, and senior year was another split, Knob Noster/Cheyenne East.  It made me stronger to do four schools, but it also stunk.  I don't even show up in the East annual, but at least my name is in the back. I think of it as a lemon/lemonade experience.

You can't appreciate how much things (read: people) change until you get out your old high school annual.   I've been privileged to find a few people from my schools with whom I was friends, but most of the people I knew in the past haven't given me a thought since the day I graduated--49 years ago today (May 20).  Even the gals I thought of as rather plain, well, they look a lot better through the lens of time.  I take that as an indicator as my being less arrogant or fearful as I was then.  I hope.  I should have been kinder, less  fearful.

When you don't stay in the town that you graduated in, and also owing to my curious streak, you give more thought to those you did know well, and are more diligent in searching out those you knew.  My good friend Berri lives in Tennessee, and in retirement shows up as an extra on the television series Memphis. Don, who was also my college roomate became an electrical engineer and now lives in a missile silo in Nebraska. A former girlfriend Susie resides in New Jersey, and there's gal in Texas I occasionally correspond with.   I could go on.

Like I said, I went to four schools in four states.  It wasn't a great way to do school, but it sure helped me to relate to people.  It was not so good because I was always the guy leaving, and when you're a teenager, being connected is very important. I'm also a "man without a country" in a school sense. There are few who remember me.  If I were to show up at a reunion at any one of those schools, it would be as a stranger among strangers.  Ah, well.

I remember when my dad went to his 50th high school reunion.  He graduated from Roosevelt High in Seattle in 1932. I remember hoping (as a guy in my mid-30's) that the old fossil would survive it.  He did, and now as I see my 50th year looming, it doesn't seem quite so daunting now as I perceived it was then.

Doubtless my kids think of me that way, though.