“If we make it through March Thir-teenth…”

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Merle “made it though December” – and on to the 2010 Kennedy Center Honors…

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Welcome to the “Georgia Wasp…”

This blog is modeled on the Carolina Israelite. That was an old-time newspaper – more like a personal newsletter – written and published by Harry Golden. Back in the 1950s, people called Harry a  “voice of sanity amid the braying of jackals.” (For his work on the Israelite.)

That’s now my goal as well. To be a “voice of sanity amid the braying of jackals.”

For more on the blog-name connection, see the notes below.

In the meantime:

February 22, 2025 – Back in 1974 Merle Haggard released a new song, If We Make It Through December. It explored the feelings of an unemployed father struggling to make ends meet, and provide some kind of happy Christmas for his family. One observer conceded that the song was heartbreaking, but said that didn’t matter to the people who prefer honestly-rendered pain to “false merriment.” Still, the chorus repeats, “If we make it through December, everything’s gonna be alright I know… If we make it through December we’ll be fine.”

So what brought that song to my mind? Just that lately there are lots of Americans heartbroken over the direction they see the country taking. One example? Lots of posts noting Hitler Dismantled a Democracy in 53 Days. Specifically, on how on January 30, 1933, Hitler was appointed the 15th chancellor of the Weimar Republic, and how a mere 53 days later, in “one of the most astonishing political transformations in the history of democracy,” he destroyed a “constitutional republic through constitutional means.” And a cautionary note: The original story said he “set out” to destroy, which is way different than actually “dismantling democracy in 53 days.” (One example, a later post said “Hitler tore down a democracy in just 53 Days.”)

The implication was pretty obvious, that something similar will happen in our own country. Aside from the “tore down in 53 days” post, another said Trump told top aides he wanted the same kind of ‘totally loyal’ generals that Hitler had. Which sounded pretty bad, until I did some of that Lateral Reading stuff and saw what Snopes had to say: That lacking further detail or corroboration, “we have rated this claim as unproven.” (Trump has only been in office two days over a month now, meaning: “Boy are the next four years going to be interesting…”)

Getting back to the 53 days, I some calculating, and our 53 days – from Trump’s swearing-in on January 20 – comes out to March 13, 2025. As for Hitler, most sources indicate his countdown started on January 30, 1933, when – as noted – German President Paul von Hindenburg appointed him Chancellor of Germany. (One big difference between our political systems.) At any rate, assuming our countdown started last January 20, the fifty-third day would come on March 13, 2025. (Awfully close to the Ides of March, of Julius Caesar fame.)

So, like Merle’s Make It Through December, I figure if we can make it through to March 13th, “Everything’s gonna be all right I know.” Let’s hope so, but here’s the timeline, according to 1933 in Germany – Wikipedia, which can give us a heads up. The countdown started on January 30, as noted, and on February 27, “The Reichstag, Germany’s parliament building in Berlin, is set on fire under controversial circumstances.” With our countdown starting 10 days earlier, that means on February 17 there should have been a suspicious act of destruction, which Trump would say was caused by Democrats, liberals or other such scum of the earth*.

Next day, February 28, the German legislature – the Reichstag – passed the Reichstag Fire Decree in response, “nullifying many German civil liberties.” On our adjusted February 18 timetable, nothing like that happened. In Germany’s March 1, 1933, “Hundreds are arrested as the Nazis round up their political opponents.” Which should have happened for us on February 19. And finally, on Hitler’s March 5, a German federal election was held in which the Nazi party gained 43.9% of the votes. (We won’t have such an election. Hmmm.)

So, adjusting for Trump’s taking office on January 20, not January 30, the new “53 days” timeline would look like this. February 17 will feature some perceived emergency or disaster, “under controversial circumstances.” Next day, February 18, Congress will pass a decree in response, nullifying many American civil liberties. The day after that, February 19, hundreds of Americans should have been arrested as Trump had his political opponents rounded up.

On that note I just Googled “Trump political enemies jailed” and got nada, except threats he made before the election. Then Googled “has Trump had any political enemies jailed,” and got much the same list. (Along with this from three months ago, Trump has threatened to jail his critics. As one of them should I be worried?) Meaning we might want to keep those February 27, February 28, March 1 and March 5 timelines in mind. And we might even change Merle’s adjusted lyrics to “if we make it through March Twenty-third,” to err on the side of caution.

But are we in the same position as the Weimar Republic in 1933? Created a mere 15 years before, in 1918, after the devastating losses in World War One? Millions of service-members and civilians dead? Untold billions in war debt and reparations? For one point of view:

Our republic is far older than was Weimar; we are not a parliamentary system; the dates of our elections are, for better or worse, fixed; our courts wield greater power; the media environment and superconducting modes of information exchange are particular to our age; our economy, unlike 1933 Germany’s, is not mired in a punishing depression…

That’s from A Fourth Reich? It’s Not Just a Bad Dream. For a somewhat different point of view see Here’s what federal judges could do if they’re ignored by the Trump administration.

David Cole, a Georgetown Law professor who has repeatedly argued cases before the Supreme Court on behalf of the American Civil Liberties Union, predicted that the most likely penalty a president would face for defying a court order would be political – not legal.

“If the president were to defy an order, it would cause a political firestorm,” Cole said. “And he knows that, and he’s therefore very unlikely to do it.” Which remains to be seen of course…

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Now a couple thoughts to close out. First, every executive power that Trump expands can be used by every Democrat president from here on. Second, We the People hired Trump – temporarily – to do one thing: Fix the economy, period. Which means bringing down prices across the board, and bringing down inflation. Those two are what the Sovereign People want from Trump. Especially those younger People – and others feeling disadvantaged and left out – who want a better better chance of finally realizing the American Dream. In particular, being able to own a home, despite high mortgage rates and a scarcity of available houses.

Meanwhile, there are signs that Trump’s honeymoon is over. (See POLITICO‘s take: “New polls show a majority of Americans say he has overstepped his presidential authority — and hasn’t done enough to address high prices.”) But that’s thinking long term. For now let’s just see if we can “make it through March Thir-teenth.” And ponder whether we as a nation prefer the honestly-rendered pain needed to survive, or that “false merriment” of ignoring the problem.

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The upper image is courtesy of Merle Haggard – Wikipedia, which noted that he “accepted a Kennedy Center Honor on December 4, 2010, from the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in recognition of his lifetime achievement and ‘outstanding contribution to American culture.'” (Which seems rather ironic in light of certain recent events.)

Re: “Scum of the earth.” That’s how Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington, described the soldiers who made up the bulk of his armies. (Wikiquote, though by and through them he defeated Napoleon and saved the English way of life. And “not that there’s any connection to current events or anything.”) Another point: Famous leaders need such “scum” to win battles and stay in power.

Re: Owning a home. See The Cornerstone of the American Dream Is Still To Own a Home – and Many Think It’s Achievable. But see also Is the American Dream of Homeownership Still Within Reach?

Another sign of the end of the presidential honeymoon, Angry crowd confronts Republican in deep-red Georgia with ‘boos and catcalls’ over support for Trump’s agenda.

The lower image is courtesy We The People Image – Image Results. See also Preamble to the United States Constitution – Wikipedia and Constitution101: The Sovereignty of the People:

The federal government acts like it stands as sovereign in the American system, but that was never intended… In fact, the federal government was never meant to serve as anything more than an agent, exercising the specific powers delegated by the true sovereign… While many Americans assume the federal government sits at the top of the power pyramid, it actually belongs on the bottom. Under the intended constitutional system, “we the people” hold the top position of authority… The very first words of the Constitution make this clear… Have you ever wondered why these three words appear in large, ornate letters? When an 18th century British king issued a grant, his name always appeared at the top in the same fashion. The framers merely replaced the king’s name with “We the People,” signifying the sovereign authority from which the delegation of power flowed. 

A lengthy quote which may be explored further in some future post, if and as necessary.

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Re:  The Israelite.  Harry Golden grew up in the Jewish ghetto of New York City, but eventually moved to Charlotte, North Carolina.  Thus the “Carolina Israelite.”  I on the other hand am a “classic 73-year-old “WASP” – White Anglo-Saxon Protestant – and live in north Georgia.  Thus the “Georgia Wasp.”    

Anyway, in North Carolina Harry wrote and published the “israelite” from the 1940s through the 1960s.  He was a “cigar-smoking, bourbon-loving raconteur.”  (He told good stories.) That also means if he was around today, the “Israelite would be done as a blog.”  But what made Harry special was his positive outlook on life.  As he got older but didn’t turn sour, like many do today.  He still got a kick out of life.  For more on the blog-name connection, see “Wasp” and/or The blog.

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On “hoping for the best” – February ’25…

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A thought credited to Benjamin Disraeli, though I prefer “hope for the best, prepare for the worst…”

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February 11, 2025 – Back in August 26, 2023 (well before the results of our last election came in), I pondered what a Second Trump term might mean. (“Gasp!”) Ten days before that – August 16, 2023 – I did a draft, “On Liberty’s ‘FIRST Crisis.'” Later that day I did another draft, “More on Liberty’s ‘FIRST Crisis.'” They had to do with “one of my favorite go-back-to books, Liberty’s First Crisis: Adams, Jefferson, and the Misfits who saved Free Speech, by Charles Slack.” It described the effects of the 1798 Alien and Sedition Acts, when the party in power criminalized undue criticism of that party in power. (The Federalists.) And about how democracy survived.

I also mentioned that book – earlier – at the end of a May 24, 2018 post, On “Pirate’s Island,” Alabama. (About a kayaking adventure on Logan Martin Lake and seeing what I first took to be an American flag, but turned out to be a Jolly Roger, on a “little bitty island about a 100 yards offshore.” A bit of foreshadowing?) In this post I’ll try to tie up those long-ago loose ends.

But first a look at that August 26 Second term post, which included this:

I must confess – I “do not deny, but confess” – to some sleepless nights about that [second term]. Sleepless nights at the thought of him winning the 2024 presidential election. To be sure, that seems far-fetched at this point.* Or maybe not. The point is, with a second Trump term America might start looking more like Arkady Renko’s Russia[:] Death threats, reporters disappearing, broken legs, riots. At least that’s what some think…

BTW, those Renko novels feature a fictional Moscow (as in, Russian) chief investigator in charge of homicide investigations, but somehow his friends and co-workers keep getting killed off and he keeps getting into deeper and deeper trouble. After the first one, Gorky Park, the sequels show him taking on roles “varying from a militiaman to a worker on a fish processing ship in the Arctic.” That fish-processing sequel was Polar Star, which I found most interesting “because in it, Renko’s world has been turned upside down. Like America will be if Trump gets re-elected in 2024.” In other words, the novels give a good idea what it’s like to live in a dictatorship.

For example, those death threats, “reporters disappearing, broken legs, riots,” as I said in that August 26, ’23 post. (You could Google “Trump dissent crack down” for more specific examples.) Which brings up what one lady reporter said in Tatiana, a later Renko novel:

The thugs who do such work are meticulous… We recruit them and train them and call them patriots. And when they find an honest journalist, they let the bear loose… Sooner or later, I will be poisoned or nudged off a cliff or shot by a stranger…

But there’s hope in Renko’s ongoing ability to survive such dangers in his world turned upside down. In Polar Star he finds himself “gutting fish on a factory ship in the Bering Sea, in part to hide from the KGB, who have tried to kill him.” (Wikipedia.) Or as I wrote in Second Trump, Renko is “among the onboard lowest of the low. He works on the slime line, in the lowest bowels of the ship. But survive he does, with tricks and techniques we might all need to learn, possibly starting on Election Day, 2024.” And that turned out to be a bit of foreshadowing.

In other words, things turn out fine in that novel, as in the other Renko adventures; he manages to survive dire circumstances. Applying that message of hope to a possible Trump2 I noted, “There may be a blood bath (hopefully metaphoric) if he gets re-elected. And lots of weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth. But in the end we’ve gotten through worse, and will again.”

Which brings us back to First Crisis, the story of the first big test of the First Amendment, when the Federalists in power passed an extreme piece of legislation that made criticizing the government or its leaders a crime punishable by heavy fines and jail time, and so “the country’s future hung in the balance.” (Sound familiar?) That “extreme piece of legislation” was the 1798 series of Alien and Sedition Acts, of which John Adams said, “Mankind will in time discover that unbridled majorities are as tyrannical and cruel as unlimited despots.”

The jury is still out on that last thought, but First Crisis does bring up some nuggets of wisdom from Charles Slack‘s book. Like its page 3, which said, “The greatest enemy of liberty is fear.  When people feel comfortable and well protected, they are naturally expansive and tolerant of one another’s opinions and rights.  When they feel threatened, their tolerance shrinks.” Which seems to have happened in the last four-to-eight years. But it raises the question: Are we willing to keep that tolerance and spirit of compromise? Or the noble idea on page 59, that free speech “belongs to each individual wrestling with his own conscience, and is meaningless unless the people one most hates can have heir say without fear of official reprisal?”

Then there’s the thought from page 73, that dealing with the 1798 Sedition Acts occurred “not among a nation of ignorant sheep in need of rulers, but of free people working things out, turning ideas over in their minds and having their say, state to state, town to town, brother to brother.” Which raises the question: Are we still a free people, capable of working things out, or have we become a nation of ignorant sheep, in need of a strong ruler?

On the other hand there is this one possible bright spot about those Alien and Sedition acts: In the 1800 U.S. presidential election voters booted Federalists out of office and the party pretty much faded from political view. It was never a viable political force after that.

In the meantime, on the topic of hoping for the best – or at least trying to keep a positive attitude – I’m getting ready to hike the Canterbury Trail (Pilgrims’ Way) in England this August ’25, from Winchester to the cathedral in Canterbury. (And maybe checking out the process for moving over there?) The next four years are going to be extremely interesting…

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John Henry Fuseli - The NightmareFXD.jpg
“To many Americans, the thought of a second Trump term [was] a true nightmare…“

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The upper image is courtesy of Hope For The Best Prepare For The Worst – Image Results. On a thought credited to Benjamin Disraeli. See Wikipedia.

Re: “Far-fetched at this point.” The Second-term post noted “the poll saying 53% of US voters say they wouldn’t vote for Trump. (Another poll puts that figure at a whopping 64% of Americans.” Meaning 53% of Americans said they “‘definitely’ would not support him and another 11% said they ‘probably’ would not support him.” (So much for the polls.)

The lower image is courtesy of The Nightmare – Wikipedia. “‘The Nightmare‘ is a 1781 oil painting by Swiss artist Henry Fuseli. It shows a woman in deep sleep with her arms thrown below her, and with a demonic and ape-like incubus crouched on her chest.” To which I added these thoughts:

A head’s up. The punchline for the [image] above would be, “At least it wouldn’t be as bad as living in Russia!” That’s the impression I got after starting to read my latest Arkady Renko novel. (Tatiana, one of a series of “life in Russia” novels by Martin Cruz Smith.) [And] a word about those Renko novels. They really make me appreciate living in the United States.

Which was true back then, but am I now starting to wonder? There’s Lincoln’s thought: “When it comes to this I should prefer emigrating to some country where they make no pretence of loving liberty – to Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocracy.” (Sic, from Lincoln on the Know Nothing Party – Lincoln Home National Historic Site.)

I guess we’ll have to wait and see, while “getting ready,” etc.

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For possible future reference here are some other notes from First Crisis. From page 3, on how Federalists saw themselves as “protectors of family, faith, education, and country…  [T]hey believed in liberty, yes, but liberty as informed and guided by a natural aristocracy consisting of themselves.” Then there’s page 49, which noted Freedom of the Press is the Bulwark of Liberty. Page 59 went on to talk about James Callender. Of whom Wikipedia noted that in the late 1790s, Thomas Jefferson sought him out to attack President Adams, which Callender did. (And Jefferson won.) But then after Jefferson won, Callender asked for a cushy federal postmaster job as a reward. Jefferson said no, after which Callender switched sides and “reported on President Jefferson’s alleged children by his slave concubine Sally Hemings.” (Which brought to mind the expression, “It all depends on whose ox is being gored.”)

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For more on the gored ox see King, Christie: Classic “Ox is Gored” Conservatives, on the idea that “Conservatives only like government intervention when those close to them or their immediate constituents personally need it.” In turn the expression “it all depends on whose ox is being gored” is from Exodus 21:28 and 29:

If a bull gores a man or woman to death, the bull is to be stoned to death, and its meat must not be eaten.  But the owner of the bull will not be held responsible.If, however, the bull has had the habit of goring and the owner has been warned but has not kept it penned up and it kills a man or woman, the bull is to be stoned and its owner also is to be put to death.

See also What is the meaning of the idiom It all depends on whose ox is being gored.

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Reckoning ahead four years – from 1/20/25…

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Welcome to the “Georgia Wasp…”

This blog is modeled on the Carolina Israelite. That was an old-time newspaper – more like a personal newsletter – written and published by Harry Golden. Back in the 1950s, people called Harry a  “voice of sanity amid the braying of jackals.” (For his work on the Israelite.)

That’s now my goal as well. To be a “voice of sanity amid the braying of jackals.”

For more on the blog-name connection, see the notes below.

In the meantime:

January 21,* 2025 – I’m trying to take the high road. Trying to think that maybe – just maybe – in their collective wisdom the Sovereign People made a good choice last November. In the alternative I’m just hoping the next four years won’t be as bad as lots of people think. I’m writing this so I can check back on January 20, 2029, and see whose prognostications proved correct. (And to the extent possible I’ll try to stay out of the crossfire.) But it’s tough.

Robert Reich for one doesn’t hold out much hope, as I discovered this past week when I ran across his video, Why Trump Won … YouTube. He said basically that Trump won by expressing the anger and frustration of the vast-majority of working class Americans, while at the same time planning fat-cat-friendly policies – like increasing corporate welfare – meaning most Trump voters will be in the same position (if not worse off) four years from now.

That led me to some lateral reading and these other posts: Economist Robert Reich ‘goes back 4 decades’ to explain why Trump ‘isn’t the cause’ of US dysfunction, and Robert B. Reich: Will Trump get credit for Biden’s successes? (I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.) Next – from a hot tip – I Googled “shove the presidency down trump’s throat,” and found these posts: Shove the Presidency Down Trump’s Throat – Yahoo News, and a review of that post, ‘Real job stress’: Democrats handed fresh advice. Finally I found this from Rolling Stone magazine, American Authoritarianism. How Bad Will It Get Under Trump?

One thing Rolling Stone said was that despite the Constitution’s two-term limit – the 22nd Amendment – Trump will try to stay in office “for life.” On the other hand (they said), America’s system of federalism offers hope: “Many things are going to be terrible. But controlling the federal government doesn’t mean you’re controlling everything.” Author Tim Dickinson exhorted Americans to support local institutions that uphold democratic norms and strengthen them.

Defending those institutions will give proponents of America’s democratic experiment their best shot at recovery, when the MAGA movement stumbles. Here, Trump’s age and lack of a clear successor offers some hope. “He’s old, so at some point, age is going to make a difference… There will be a power struggle. The next opportunity will be when he dies in office.”

Then too I recently started reading Stephanie Grisham’s book, I’ll Take Your Questions Now (“What I saw at the Trump White House”), for clues about what to expect coming up in “Trump 2.” (Page 7 talked about Trump’s appeal to voters, page 36 talked about the revolving-door chiefs of staff, and page 22 talked about Mitt Romney’s experience: “I don’t know how aware he was at that point about Trump’s slow, deliberate torture of him or if he was a particularly vengeful man. But in the years to come he would find ways to get back at Trump.” Hmmm…)

Meanwhile, I have a few thoughts of my own. Some I expressed in past posts, like April 2019’s On “why I don’t like Donald Trump.” Also, August 2019’s On “why it might be better…” (Gasp!) As in, why it might have been better if Trump had been reelected in 2020. (Legitimately that is. For one thing, he would have been leaving office on 1/20/25.) Then too, as things started looking more bleak (for many Americans), I posted this from August 2023, On a second Trump term.

I’ll be checking and re-checking those sources in the months and years to come.

And I had other thoughts: Like, that Trump will have a Honeymoon Period, the “period of popularity enjoyed by a new leader,” but that period is getting shorter; recently down to seven months, “from an average of 26 months earlier in American history.” For another thing, there’s the Paradox of Leadership: Why We Build Up Only to Tear Down: As soon as Americans elevate a new leader to high office, “we seem equally driven to bring them down… The fall from grace, then, is almost inevitable.” Third, in my view the Sovereign People hired Trump to do one thing: Fix the economy. Bring prices down, make it easier – or even possible – for today’s young people to buy a home of their own, and pay reasonable prices for food, housing and gas.

To the extent he can do that, he’ll succeed. Otherwise, there will be a day of reckoning…

In the meantime, on to more pleasant things. Like, this August I’ll be hiking the Canterbury Trail in England, more formally known as the Pilgrims’ Way. My companions and I will start the 120-mile-or-so hike in Winchester. (And on to the shrine of Thomas Becket at Canterbury in Kent.) Along the way and while in London I’ll wear my Dodger hat with the prominent “LA.” But to ward off rude remarks and puzzled questions. I’ll also wear this button. (But hidden, maybe under a lapel, ready to flash, “just in case.”) It’ll pay to be careful in the upcoming months and years…

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May include: A round button features the text 'DON'T BLAME ME I VOTED FOR KAMALA' in red and blue lettering on a white background. The words 'DON'T BLAME ME' are in red, while 'I VOTED FOR KAMALA' is in blue. The button is a political campaign accessory expressing support for Kamala Harris.

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The upper image is courtesy of Fortune Teller Image – Image Results. See also Prediction, Forecasting, and Nostradamus, all from Wikipedia. Here’s another interesting post – maybe to review in four years – How Donald Trump Won the 2024 Election | TIME, for comparison purposes.

Re: “1/20/25.” I wanted to post this on Inauguration Day but couldn’t. (Intervening circumstances.) I actually posted it at 8:00 p.m. the following day, but because it was so “late” the way-bottom of the text says it was posted on January 22. Also, about that word in the title: The verb “reckoning” means the action or process of calculating or estimating something, as in something coming up in the future? See Collins English Dictionary for variable and countable nouns, and synonyms. Also Merriam-Webster, about a settling of accounts or calculating a ship’s position.

Re: “Crossfire.” The actual idiom is Caught in the crossfire – Idioms by The Free Dictionary. Literally it means to be caught “in the middle of an exchange of gunfire.” Or affected by or made to be involved in a conflict “one is not a part of,” but of course, as an American citizen and thus part of the Sovereign People, I’ll be very much involved in the upcoming events.

References to the Gresham book are from the 2021 Harper Collins hardcover. Here’s another tidbit, from page 60: “The Secret Service secretly dubbed [Melania Trump] ‘Rapunzel’ because she remained in her tower; never descending.” And that agents tried to get assigned to her detail, with “limited movements and travel,” because they could spend more time at home with their families. (I’ll try to add more such tidbits in future posts.)

Re: The economy. The Reich YouTube video included a graph showing the economy (80%) as second only to immigration (90%) as the top issues that mattered most to voters.

Re: Lateral reading. The link, Best media literacy tip to vet credible sources from the Poynter Institute.

Re: “Honeymoon.” I Googled “Biden’s honeymoon period” and got links like How Joe Biden’s approval ratings looked across four years, Biden Honeymoon Unlikely Despite Early Challenges – U.S. News, and The president’s “first 100 days” is a myth — Biden included | Vox. There’s some interesting reading there; I’ll be checking them too in the coming months and years.

Also re: Checking and re-checking. I’ll also do that for things like the Consumer Price Index, the rate of inflation and the prices of gas and a dozen eggs. See News Releases, from January 15, 2015 (CPI), AAA Fuel Prices, from 1/21/25 ($3.12 on average), Is there an egg shortage? Here’s why prices are up, from 1/9/25 (“up to $3.65 in November versus $3.37 in October and $2.14 in November 2023”), and What is the current inflation rate in the US? – USAFacts. (2.7 percent as of November 2024).

The lower image is courtesy of Dont Blame Me I Voted for Kamala 1.25 Button. ($2.25, plus shipping. There’s also one for $6.99, A stylized “Vote,” followed by “Don’t look at me. I didn’t vote for him.” See also Don’t Blame Me, I Voted For Harris | www.splicetoday.com.

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Re:  The Israelite.  Harry Golden grew up in the Jewish ghetto of New York City, but eventually moved to Charlotte, North Carolina.  Thus the “Carolina Israelite.”  I on the other hand am a “classic 73-year-old “WASP” – White Anglo-Saxon Protestant – and live in north Georgia.  Thus the “Georgia Wasp.”    

Anyway, in North Carolina Harry wrote and published the “israelite” from the 1940s through the 1960s.  He was a “cigar-smoking, bourbon-loving raconteur.”  (He told good stories.) That also means if he was around today, the “Israelite would be done as a blog.”  But what made Harry special was his positive outlook on life.  As he got older but didn’t turn sour, like many do today.  He still got a kick out of life.  For more on the blog-name connection, see “Wasp” and/or The blog.

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An Updated (2025) “Geezer Guide…”

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Holy Cow! I haven’t done a blog post here for 36 days! (Since November 30, 2024?)

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January 5, 2025 – So the last time I posted was November 30, 2024? “Holy cow!” (An allusion to the famous “Harry Caray” meme, or at least famous to devout baseball fans.)

But in the time since November 30 I’ve 1) taken a 10-day, 2,000 mile road trip up to Springfield MA (and back), 2) taken six hours of train rides (one long Sunday, 12/15) down to New York City and back, 3) seen the play Chicago at the Ambassador Theater just off Broadway, and 4) gone through a process of preparing for and enduring two family Christmases, one on the day itself and one three days later for the whole extended family. (Including out-of-towners.)

So yeah, I’ve been busy…

But seriously, this post will continue a series I started back in 2018, mostly on what dietary supplements will help me stay good and healthy in old age. (And that was before my December 2021 post, “Will I REALLY live to 120?”) But now it’s time for another update, mostly because my oldest brother – who turns 80 in February – just got diagnosed with prostate cancer. (For which he is now in the middle of radiation treatments.)

That news got my attention because another brother – who died in 2007 – had prostate cancer. My father had it too, but he died in 2012, at the ripe old age of 95. Meaning there is hope, but I’d rather not get to that age – or 120 for that matter – “sans prostate.” The point being that all this led me to do more research on supplements beyond the Boron and Selenium I’ve been taking since 2018. (Selenium in the form of two Brazil nuts daily; they’re a great natural source.) But as turns out, that ketchup I’ve been scarfing liberally for all these years – a version of “nectar of the gods” – has been a big help. (See the Notes for the results of my last PSA test.)

You see, ketchup comes from tomatoes, and tomatoes are a rich source of Lycopene. In turn, Lycopene helps keep prostate cancer at bay, but a lot depends of what tomato product you use. It turns out that the “fresh from the garden” version isn’t all that great, but tomato paste is one of the best sources. Thus my resolve to get two tablespoons of tomato paste each day.

Which solves that problem, but since 2021 I’ve made a troubling new discovery “harmful to health.” Microplastics and Nanoplastics. They’re a big problem even in those teabags I’ve used for years. (As a “healthy” alternative to coffee?) Which led to more assiduous research, by which I found that one of the best ways to get rid of the nasty little beasties is simple: Boil water and run it through a coffee filter. And no more plastic water bottles. I drink from either a glass bottle or a large stainless steel cup. (The latter means I can get my morning iced coffee at RaceTrac, as a refill, for either a dollar less or – many times – for free. “Go on, you’re good!”)

But glass bottles have downsides too, mostly having to do with difficulties in recycling. Aluminum cans are much easier to recycle, so these days I get a nightly beer from a can, chilled in the freezer 30 minutes, then poured into a chilled glass. “Ah, the things I do to keep the environment healthy!” (There are also those Splurge Days when I get a two-draft-beer buzz at whatever sports bar I find myself near, often on road trips like the one up to Springfield.)

So that’s the update for January 2025, but I’m sure I’ll be doing more research in the future. (Since those darn scientists keep finding more and more things that are bad for us.) In the meantime, here’s a look back at some of those other supplements I’ve been taken. First, about that Boron: Men with high boron levels are “65 percent less likely to develop prostate cancer,” but American men on average have one of the lowest boron intakes in the world. Then there are those Brazil nuts: “No other single nutrient appears to prevent cancer more effectively than Selenium…  It basically forces cancer cells to self-destruct.”

You can get more detail in that Updated ‘Geezer Guide,’ from March 2021, but here’s a short list: 1) Calcium, something most American men don’t get enough of but which helps keep away that pot belly (it helps with weight control and keeps bones strong); 2) Coenzyme Q10, for help against cancer, Parkinson’s disease, heart disease – and is “packed with free-radical-fighting antioxidants, which can slow the signs of aging.” And speaking of not aging, there’s the idea, “Eat a third less, extend your life by a third.” (For more detail see More on living a longer, healthier life, including information on Autophagy, a type of intermittent fasting, the “body’s way of cleaning out damaged cells, in order to regenerate newer, healthier cells.”) Fourth, I also take Glucosamine Chondroitin to protect my joints (especially ankles and knees):

You don’t have the same amount of cartilage in your joints that you had at 19. To reverse the damage and actually rebuild cartilage, take glucosamine, made from the shells of crabs and lobsters. How much? 1,500 mg a day. Brands that combine glucosamine with chondroitin are fine.

Fifth, Vitamin E, which the Mayo Clinic says is “important to vision, reproduction, and the health of your blood, brain and skin.” Sources say Vitamin E is a potent antioxidant and “may help reduce the risk of certain eye diseases, heart disease, cancer, even Alzheimer’s.” Some studies show that “E” also reduces “muscle damage after exercise.” On the down side, most people get just a fraction of that Vitamin E from their diets.

One final note: I just read this bit of news: World’s oldest person, Japanese woman Tomiko Itooka, dies at 116. Needless to say, I hope to break that record – by at least four years…

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No Schwarzenegger body for me. I just want to stick around a while yet… 

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The upper image is courtesy of Holy Cow Harry Caray Images – Image Results. For more see also Harry Caray – Wikipedia, and Holy cow (expression) – Wikipedia.

An e-Bibliography for this post: An Updated ‘Geezer Guide to Supplements,’ from March 2021, and its predecessor posts, A Geezer’s guide to supplements and A Geezer’s guide to supplements – Part II (both from July 23, 2018), and More on living a longer, healthier life, from December 2022.

Re: “Sans.” According to Wiktionary, the free dictionary, as a preposition the word means “without” or “lacking.” The etymology: “From Middle English saunz, sans, borrowed from Old French sans, senz, sens, from Latin sine (‘without’) conflated with absēns (‘absent, remote’). Compare French sans, Italian senza, Portuguese sem, and Spanish sin.“

Re: Results of my last PSA test. (Probably boring to most people, except “men of a certain age,” along with their family and loved ones.) Taken November 1, 2024, it showed a level of “1.” (Actually 1.04, but some people mistook that as a a reading of “one hundred and four.”) According to PSA Levels By Age Chart: Normal, High Range & Scores, that’s pretty dang good. Despite the fact that the normal range of PSA levels tends to increase as a man ages – “with some minor variation between races” – my level is half the maximum for a 40 year old. (Zero to 2 or 2.5.) For a white male aged 70 to 79 the normal range goes from Zero up to 6.5. And by the way, I’m hoping to use all this data for the update I’m planning, for 2031, of Live to 120, and – Lord willing – 2041, 2051 and beyond?

Re: Benefits of tomato paste. See Potential inhibitory effect of lycopene on prostate cancer, How much in tomato paste? – Chef’s Resource, and Top 10 Foods Highest in Lycopene. Also:

Research studies focused on prostate health have established that consuming anywhere from  9 and 21 mg/day was associated with positive outcomes. [4] Other studies have also reported beneficial health effects and minimal side effects when supplementing with up to 45 mg of lycopene per day. 

According to Convert grams to ounces – Unit Converter, a six-ounce can of tomato paste yields 170 grams of Lycopene. (And boy did it take awhile to figure all that out.)

Re: Microplastics. See Scientists Discover Shocking Levels of Microplastics in Popular Tea Bags:

Plastic waste pollution poses a significant environmental challenge with serious implications for the health and well-being of future generations. A major source of human exposure to micro and nanoplastics (MNPLs) is food packaging, with ingestion and inhalation being the primary pathways of exposure… The tea bags analyzed were made from nylon-6, polypropylene, and cellulose.

And I thought they were made of paper. (Silly me.) Also, Microplastics in Bottled Water 10 Times Worse Than Thought | TIME, and Microplastics are everywhere: Is it possible to reduce our exposure? As to the boil-and-filter method, see Boiling tap water can remove 90 percent of microplastics, and There’s a Surprisingly Simple Way to Remove Microplastics.

Re: Glass bottles, see Glass recycling – Wikipedia. Also, Amid Recycling Rate Decline, Aluminum Beverage Can Remains Most Recycled Drinks Package.

The lower image is courtesy of Bodybuilding – Wikipedia.  Caption, “Arnold Schwarzenegger, one of the most notable figures in bodybuilding, in 1974.”  See also Arnold Schwarzenegger – Wikipedia.

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On Alice and her restaurant – 2024…

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The original Alice may be gone – but the song about her now-famous restaurant lives on….

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I have a Thanksgiving tradition that goes back – literally – a century ago. (To 1993, back in the 20th century?) Every Thanksgiving since then I do my best to listen to Alice’s Restaurant, the “musical monologue by singer-songwriter Arlo Guthrie,” released in 1967. (All 18 minutes and 34 seconds, at one sitting.*) But this year brought some troubling news:

Alice Brock, who helped inspire [the] classic ‘Alice’s Restaurant,’ dies at 83. (A ripe old age, but I hope to go well beyond that.) And this was shortly after I learned that Arlo himself suffered a stroke on Thanksgiving Day 2019, leading him to retire from touring and stage shows.

Those two bits of depressing news gave me the idea for yet another post on Alice, her restaurant, and maybe on how the movie – inspired by Guthrie’s musical monologue – proved yet again how Hollywood often distorts reality to sell tickets. (A topic I discussed in On Conclave – “Worth a $17 ticket?” As in my saying, watching that film, “Geez, that [bleeping] Hollywood!”)

Something else happened too. In November 2015 I posted Alice’s Restaurant – Revisited. Then just a year later, November 2016, I posted On Alice and her restaurant – yet again. I did that quick reprise mostly because in November 2016 Donald Trump got elected to his first term. (I didn’t believe it then and have trouble believing it now.) Anyway, in reviewing that 2016 post I came across some information that may help decipher what his next four years will be like.

This country has now embarked on what we might call “the Donald Experiment…” Which means the question to be decided in the next four years is whether Trump can deliver on the veritable plethora of promises made in his recent campaigns… Or whether those promises are merely “negotiable campaign devices.” 

That’s what I wrote about the first Trump term. (Then too, in August 2019 I wondered if it might have been better if Trump got re-elected in 2020, instead of giving us at least three years of angst. See On “why it might be better…” (Gasp!) For one thing, next January 20 we’d be watching him leave the White House for good, at least according to the 22nd Amendment.)

Another side note: For more on those “negotiable promises,” see Before taking office, Trump signals campaign promises are negotiable, All the Campaign Promises Donald Trump Has Broken in the Last 24 Hours, and/or Trump backs away from some of his strident campaign promises. They make for some interesting reading, but we may have to wait for future events to see what kind of Déjà Vu All Over Again his most-recent campaign promises may mean.

Then too the 2016 post described the term “massacree” – as Guthrie used it in his song – as a colloquialism describing “an event so wildly and improbably and baroquely messed up that the results are almost impossible to believe.” In 2016 I said it “perfectly describes the election we just went through,” but how about the reprise in 2024? (I still find it hard to believe.)

But for now, let’s move on to something more pleasant. (Keeping in mind that I’ll probably be reviewing both Yet again and (Gasp!) a few times in the upcoming years.) A pleasant topic like how Hollywood often distorts reality to sell tickets. Which brings us back to the film version of Alice’s Restaurant. Wikipedia includes a section on “Differences from real life,” and it’s pretty lengthy. The original song was, “for the most part, a true story,” but “most of the other events and characters in the film were fictional creations.” (What a surprise.)

For example, the beginning of the film showed Guthrie getting kicked out of a town in Montana – he was attending a college to avoid the draft – and thrown through a plate glass window. Pure fiction, and Guthrie later expressed regret “that Montana got a ‘bad rap’ in the film.” (And yes, we used to say things like that back then in the late ’60s and early ’70s.) 

Brock herself panned how the film showed her. “That wasn’t me. That was someone else’s idea of me.” The part I remember was the film showing Brock sleeping with “Shelley,” a heroin addict. (Among others, including Guthrie). Then too Richard Robbins – Guthrie’s “real” co-defendant in the Thanksgiving dump incident – later described most of the movie as “all fiction” and “complete bull.” (In the film he was replaced by an actor.)

Finally, Guthrie thought the film “frankly, garbage” and “a terrible movie.” Mostly because it was too nihilistic. (What started out as a fun film turned way too depressing by the end. Much like the 1972 film Fritz the Cat, which I also saw several times in my early 20s.)

He felt that rather than rejecting “fundamental aspects of human existence” – like knowledge, morality or meaning – his song and his generation (and mine) made a major difference. “Those values are not sixties values; they’re eternal values.” Some of those eternal values still live on, in cases like Ringo Starr Celebrating His [84rh] Birthday With Peace and Love.

And that’s a 1960’s value we could use a lot more of in the next four years…

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The upper image is courtesy of Alice Restaurant Draft Body Inspection … Image Results. (I was looking for a telling image from the Whitehall Street “draft” sequence in the film. In case Trump brings back the draft, like maybe for political opponents? And maybe including Short-arm inspections?

Re: “All 18 minutes and 34 seconds, at one sitting.” Technically that refers to one sitting while driving my car. (Like I did that first time in 1993, to get the best Karma result.) Note also that Guthrie’s word “massacree” in the title is a corruption of the word massacre, “but carries a much lighter and more sarcastic connotation, never being used to describe anything involving actual death.”

Re: “A ripe old age.” See my 2021 post, On “Will I REALLY live to 120?”

The lower image is courtesy of Ringo Starr Peace And Love – Image Results.

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On Conclave – “Worth a $17 ticket?”

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November 20, 2024 – It’s finally time for me to do a movie review. You know, of a recent film?

I last did one in April 2023, but that was on a movie released in 1941: About Swamp Water, the “film noir” directed by Jean Renoir starring Walter Brennan and Dana Andrews. That film – with its ghoulish image of a water moccasin biting Brennan on the cheek – really creeped me out. (Back in the early 1960s when I was about 10.) But it also fascinated me so much that I decided that some day I would paddle across the Okefenokee Swamp myself.

Which I finally did in February 2023, after three separate tries spanning the eight years from 2015. And there’s a connection: In reviewing “Swamp Water” I discussed the huge difference between the Okefenokee as it really was and how “deadly” it was portrayed by Hollywood. (After paddling serenely through it myself.) The result? In March 2023 I posted Okefenokee – “Haven of Serenity” or Deadly Swamp? My conclusion? Definitely a haven of serenity.

In a similar way, near the end of the just-released Conclave – watching the dramatic plot’s denouement – I found myself blurting out, “Geez, that [bleeping] Hollywood!”

But other than that I liked it.

Wikipedia called Conclave a thriller directed by Edward Berger and starring Ralph Fiennes, Stanley Tucci, John Lithgow, Sergio Castellitto, and Isabella Rossellini. “In the film, Cardinal Thomas Lawrence (Fiennes) organizes a papal conclave to elect the next pope, and finds himself investigating secrets and scandals about each candidate.” There’s more below, but first some background on my saying this blog would focus mostly on film reviews:

Those reviews – when they happen – are a throwback to my time at the University of South Florida, in 1976. I reviewed movies for the student newspaper, The Oracle.  (Before it got all famous and well-known.) I liked films enough to make that my minor.

(From THAT “WASP” NAME, above.) In those college days I had a simple formula for reviews, based on the idea that no movie was all bad or all good. If I liked the movie, two-thirds of the review would be positive. (Then came a downside.) If I didn’t, the review would be two-thirds negative, but still – I figured – that much work had to offer some redeeming social value.

Since my poor-student college days I’ve added an another factor, the price of admission. (In this case, at the Tara Theatre near Woodland Hills in Atlanta.) The price of admission – that Thursday, October 31 – was $17.42 for the ticket, and “even at that high price (‘gasp!’) the film was worth seeing.” (On the plus side, I got a tall Miller Lite for $6.)

Which is really saying something. That’s the most I’ve paid to see a movie, ever, and even at $17.42 a ticket Conclave was worth the price of admission. But here I run into a problem. I saw the movie on Halloween night, October 31, and intended to review it while the film was still fresh in my mind. Then came the election, five days later, which threw me for a loop.

Which brings up one dramatic highlight, when a bomb exploded just outside the building where the conclave was meeting. Immediately Cardinal Tedesco, an “Italian traditionalist,” railed against the “foreigners” and “barbarians” who would do such a thing. (And boy did that sound familiar.) That is, “Tedesco attempts to use the attack to his political advantage by blaming Islamists and calling for the Church to fight a war against Islam.”

But then came the surprise dark-horse candidate, Cardinal Benitez, who had been working in Afghanistan. He responded calmly and reasonably, saying that “violence should not be met with violence,” and that he has seen the true cost of war during his time in the Congo, Baghdad, and Kabul. (You might even say his response smacked of true Christian love.) The cardinals end up moved so much that they elect Benitez as pope on the sixth ballot.

That and the surprise twist near the end struck me as possibly a Hollywood political plea for a similar calm, reasoned and loving outcome of the then-upcoming election, “five days hence.” Needless to say, Benitez’s message did not turn out to be prescient. (Showing knowledge of an event before it happens.) As for the surprise twist, that’s what led me to blurt out, “Geez, that [bleeping] Hollywood!” (So be prepared for that surprise.)

But enough about my reaction, tainted as it was by the passage of time and the intervening election results. (Where I’d say the “Tedescos” of America won.) But what have others said? The Wikipedia article includes a smorgasbord of reactions, so I’ll give you some samples. (Which by the way, I couldn’t do when I did reviews for the USF Oracle. There were no such sources of collateral information. You know, “a century ago?”) The Rotten Tomatoes website included the comment that “Conclave is a godsend for audiences who crave intelligent entertainment.”

Perhaps not surprisingly, one Catholic bishop said the movie “checks practically every woke box, I’m sure it will win a boatload of awards, but my advice is to run away from it as fast as you can.” In turn, an evangelical reviewer said that “though the film subtly advances progressive convictions, it gives cardinals of all ideological persuasions equal opportunity to fall short.”

As for me, I’d say it was – and still is – worth the price of admission. (“$17? Gasp!” I did find out later I could have gotten a $13 senior discount.) Either way, for me that’s high praise indeed.

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 Isabella Rossellini adds a touch of class and keeps a bribing candidate out of office…

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The upper and lower images are both courtesy of Conclave Movie … Image Results. BTW, Rossellini is the daughter of Swedish actress Ingrid Bergman and Italian director Roberto Rossellini, 

Re: Paddling across the Okefenokee. See the March 15 2023 post I paddled across the Okefenokee – finally! (And links therein.) Later that month I posted The Okefenokee – “Haven of Serenity” or Deadly Swamp? (My conclusion? The former.)

Re: Tara Theatre. The art house movie theater, located at 2345 Cheshire Bridge Road NE, that “specializes in the showing of independent films, the only theater in Atlanta to do so exclusively.” Wikipedia. See also Tara Theatre Movie Showtimes & Tickets | Atlanta | Fandango: “$17.42 for the Thursday night 8:15 show,” but only $13.88 for “Child/Senior/Military.” Being a Senior Citizen myself – at 73 – “I won’t make that mistake again.”

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Other random notes I found, not included in the main text, in no particular order:

Conclave Explained: How A New Pope Is Chosen – Screen Rant, with a section, “How a new pope is chosen in real life,”

a highly secretive process held behind closed doors at the Sistine Chapel, which is scanned for microphones and cameras before the procedure begins.

While being sequestered, cardinals aren’t allowed to speak about the ongoing election process with anyone outside, or else they’d be excommunicated.

A cardinal is required to receive a majority of two-thirds of all votes to become the new pope. If a new pope is selected, white smoke will come from the Vatican’s rooftop, revealing to the world that a decision has been made. However, if a decision isn’t made, ballots will be burnt with an additional chemical that makes the smoke black. In this case, the conclave resumes, with two to four more votes held per day. If, on the fifth day, a decision hasn’t been made, the cardinals will pause for prayer and discussion before continuing.

“Technically, Any Baptized Catholic Male Can Be Elected Pope”

How Accurate Conclave’s Pope Selection Process Is

Conclave Misses Some Details But Nails The Important Elements

The usage of O’Malley for outside information heightens the drama in Conclave and works to the film’s benefit, but the rules Lawrence breaks stretch the bounds of fiction. Isabella Rossellini’s role as Sister Agnes likely has more autonomy than she would in real life, supporting the film’s feminist themes. Lawrence is shown voting for himself toward the end of Conclave, and it’s implied that other cardinals have been doing the same throughout the film, which would technically not be allowed. The overall process is handled by the film with sophistication, though some details are obscured for cinematic drama.

Conclave Ending: The Chosen Pope’s Shocking Twist Explained:

This movie is about the oldest patriarchal institution in the world, representing many other patriarchal institutions in the world. And at the end of the movie, there’s a crack in that institution, a crack of perhaps femininity, ya? It’s a crack that a light can shine through, a guiding light for the future, perhaps. And the future is a world where maybe both can exist?

Once that conclave is over, the shutters open, and [Lawrence] opens the window, and lets the air and the sun and life back in. And he hears that feminine laughter of those three nuns. In a way, it’s the future and it evokes a smile on him. It’s the promise of a more egalitarian tomorrow with a Pope who might offer some understanding for all people, no matter their gender or sex.

Conclave Ending Explained: What The New Pope’s Secret Means:

Benitez’s Conclave twist is meant to surprise, especially since the cardinal would now be the first pope to not have been born a male. Benitez is an intersex person who believed he was male well into adulthood. His gender was never questioned, and he was sent to seminary very early on in life. However, it wasn’t until he was injured in a car bomb while in Afghanistan that a doctor’s examination revealed the truth — Benitez had a uterus. Believing this disqualified him from his position, he offered to resign, but the pope instead arranged for Benitez to have a hysterectomy.

Intersex – Wikipedia.

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On unintended consequences…

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If Nixon had gotten Lennon deported like he wanted – John might still be alive today…

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On March 23, 1973, U.S. Immigration ordered John Lennon to leave the U.S. within 60 days. The reason? His conviction in 1968 in England for possessing marijuana. But, “As we now know … it had more to do with President Richard Nixon administration’s general fear of Lennon, his political views and his influence.” Lennon fought the deportation and ultimately won. That included the right to stay, specifically, in New York City at the Dakota Apartments, 1 West 72nd Street. There, on the evening of December 8, 1980, he was gunned down by Mark David Chapman. The thing is, if he’d lost his deportation battle he might still be alive today. (As “Sir John.”)

That’s what you might call an unintended consequence, and that brings up why I’m not reviewing the movie Conclave as I planned for this post. It’s because the recently-decided election includes an unintended consequence from 2020. Specifically on why it might have been better if Trump had won the election back then. The main reason? Because he would have had to deal – probably ineffectively – with the war in the Ukraine, the war in and around Israel, and especially the runaway inflation that proved to be such a big factor in the election.

Thus my conclusion that it probably would have been better if he’d won back in 2020:

My main concern?  He’d still be eligible to run in 2024, and in the intervening four years – with a Democrat as president – he might just wreak more havoc to American democracy than he could as president… So wouldn’t it be better to get it over with?  To get rid of Trump once and for all, in 2024?  Then too, if he did get re-elected in 2020, he would immediately become a “lame duck.”

To clarify, it might have been better to get rid of Trump on January 20, 2025. That’s when he’d be leaving the White House for the final time, instead of coming back again. (Like some “Undead Revenant?”) On the other hand, my comment about him “wreaking more havoc” – lingering on at the sidelines since 2020 – certainly turned out to be prescient. (But not in the good way.)

And incidentally, the film Conclave had a not-too-subtle message on why the Sovereign People should not have voted as they did last Tuesday, but that’s a topic for a later post. (Hopefully.) But “the People” have decided and Trump will be back in office next January 20. Which means it’s time to review some other prognostications I made about such a second term.

First off, about that lame duck business. In one definition it means the time between Election Day and when the new president takes office, on January 20. (In this case, 76 days or roughly two and a half months.) Meaning Joe Biden using those 76 days for unfinished business and take some final steps to shaping his legacy. But in another definition it refers to the fact that “any U.S. president winning a second term ‘automatically becomes a lame duck.’” 

That’s because the Twenty-second Amendment keeps a president from serving a third term. Thus he “doesn’t have to worry about getting re-elected.” In Trump’s case, that means he no longer has to “worry about throwing raw meat at his wacko base.” Then too he might start appreciating that he is “much closer to the end than to the beginning,” and that he’ll soon meet His Maker. Then too, being much closer to the end than the beginning, he might seriously start thinking about his legacy. (At 78 he is the oldest president ever elected.) Then too, while in office he might have a mini-stroke like the Apostle Paul’s, and have a Conversion Damascus Road experience. (Or a Mini Heart Attack? President Eisenhower was 65 when he had his first.)

For one example from history about a second-term president doing an about-face: “Ronald Reagan signed an arms control treaty with Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev,” despite his opposition to arms control during his first term. Might Trump also change some of his attitudes and rhetoric at some time during his second term?

Unfortunately, that second lame-duck definition can be a two-edged sword. It can liberate a president like Reagan to work for the common good, or it can make that second-term president dangerous. Either way we’re in for some interesting times coming up. (Like that ancient Chinese curse that says, may your children live in interesting times?)

Either way, “that which does not kill us will make us stronger,” and Trump won’t kill American democracy, try as he might. We love to complain about whoever is in power, we hate being told what to do, and we have a habit of building a leader up, then tearing down. Besides that we’re too damn ornery. Meanwhile, thinking ahead to next January 20, 2025, it will be 1,461 days until Trump leaves the White House, “at the latest,” for the final time. Let the countdown begin…

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We may face “tough surfingl” the next few years, but we’ll come out stronger…

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The upper image is courtesy of John Lennon Deportation Case Image – Image Results. See also When John Lennon Was Ordered to Leave U.S. by Authorities, You May Say He’s a DREAMer: John Lennon’s Immigration Case, and The U.S. vs. John Lennon – Wikipedia (on the 2026 documentary about the case). On his death, see Murder of John Lennon – Wikipedia.

Re: Unintended consequences, see Wikipedia: “In the social sciences, unintended consequences (sometimes unanticipated consequences or unforeseen consequences, more colloquially called knock-on effects) are outcomes of a purposeful action that are not intended or foreseen.

I borrowed from two prior Trump posts, from August 2019, On “why it might be better…” (Gasp!), and On a second Trump term, from August 2023. In a future post I may review in greater length that 2021 Donald Trump – the newest “Undead Revenant?”

Re: “Lame duck.” Some sources define the term as – in this case – the time available to Joe Biden between now and January 20, 2025 when Trump takes office. See e.g. What lame duck president Joe Biden can still do, and Biden uses lame-duck presidency to shape legacy. As to the second definition see Lame Duck: Definition, President, Amendment, Session – ThoughtCo.

Re: DDE’s heart attack. See Eisenhower’s 1955 heart attack. See also President Dwight Eisenhower: Health and Medical History, saying he had four such heart attacks.

Re: Chinese curse. I heard it first as “may your children ilve in interesting times.” But Wikipedia has it as, “may you live in interesting times.” Also that no actual Chinese source has ever been produced, and that the “expression is ironic: ‘interesting’ times are usually times of trouble.”

The lower image is courtesy of Nietzsche Quotes That Which Does Not Kill Us – Image Results. The link in the caption is to Tough sledding – Idioms by The Free Dictionary, meaning a “difficult, turbulent, or troublesome period of time.” (Call it artistic license.)

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On to Paris, “Pere Lachaise” and home…

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I finally got to visit the famous Père Lachaise Cemetery – on my (2023) return visit to Paris…

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October 20, 2024 – I last posted on September 1, 2024. That post talked about our last day hiking on the Robert Louis Stevenson Trail in France, back in September 2023. (A last-day hike with “a bit of drama.”) In the meantime I just got home from another hike, in Spain, hiking the Camino Finisterre and Camino Ingles. (From September 7 to October 7, 2024, which hikes also included some unexpected drama.) I’ll discuss those hikes in a future post, but here I’ll close out the 2023 hike with our leaving Saint-Jean-du-Gard and heading back up to Paris.

As noted, on October 3, 2023 – having finished our 150 miles – we had a quiet relaxing evening, then hit the sack, “weary but with a feeling of accomplishment.” Wednesday, October 4, we slept in and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast. (Not at all like the usual hectic morning preparation for a long day’s hike.) Then visited the Cevennes museum, the Musée des vallées cévenoles.

Very impressive. “Rugged” is a good word to describe this countryside. Highly suitable for the guerrilla war waged by the Protestant Camisards, the killings, torture and pillaging [that] Stevenson described at length in his book about hiking through here with his donkey, Modestine. (“Thank God WE don’t have to worry about stuff like that!”)

Which brings up why I haven’t quoted Stevenson’s book lately. In the last part he talked mostly about that “spiritual” but violent warfare between Protestants and Catholics in the area. (An “off on a tangent” not relevant here.) One relevant thing I did learn at the museum? The locals don’t just let all those chestnuts we saw on the last days of the hike rot on the ground. Harvesting chestnuts is big business in the Cevennes. Also, the day of rest worked wonders. “My left-ankle tweak is pretty much healed up.” (The one I got falling twice on that last day of hiking.)

Thursday we took a bus to Alès. “For the first time since September 17, we traveled a good long distance – but without walking it, without hauling a 20-pound pack (too far), and without crawling around and over a bunch of (bleeping) rock-infested paths!” We waited at a cafe right near the St. Jean bus station. Sipping on a cafe creme I noticed “three antsy rug rats, waiting as mom got them some lunch. It struck me as odd: ‘Even these little guys can speak French!'”

Once we got to Ales we learned that the innkeeper was “caught up in the Paris bedbug panic. We each got a large plastic bag to put our packs in, with instructions to tie the bag up tight – when not getting stuff out of it.” (I’m not sure how effective that method was. I saw this summer that Paris had another infestation for the 2024 Olympics.)

Finally, on Friday October 6 we caught the train to Paris. On the ride up I checked Facebook and saw a friend’s quote from John Muir, on how he hated the word “hiking,” and preferred the term “sauntering.” Which brings up the fact that I too prefer to saunter.

My natural walking speed is a mile in 24 minutes, which makes it easier to string together Magic Moments, Zen Moments where you just ARE. (“I AM THAT I AM!”) Especially when you’re “sauntering” up a steep Mont in the Cevennes, having to stop every few minutes and look out at another majestic mountain view…

Finally we got to Paris and a day later I got to see that Père Lachaise Cemetery. The one I missed by 10 minutes on my second day in Paris? Back on Tuesday, September 12, 2023? I got there at 6:10 p.m. only to find that it closed at 6:00. But first, a bit about our lodging.

We ended up staying two nights at a posh apartment, supposedly on “76 rue Aristide Briand.” But type that address into Google Maps and you’ll invariably get a different place in Paris. Way down by the Seine, near the Assemblée nationale – Palais Bourbon. Meaning there are apparently two “76 rue Aristide Briands” in Paris. They’re both on rue Aristide Briand, but where we stayed was right across from “this big palace-looking place,” Mairie de Levallois-Perret, shown at the bottom of the page. And speaking of we three tired Americans being confused at the end of a long travel day, that brings the reputation of Parisians being so rude.

Remember that young French guy, back on my first day in Paris? When I got shunted onto Boulevard Richard-Lenoir instead of staying on Boulevard Voltaire? The one who said I’d just passed Rue Sedaine, but from the wrong side? It happened again on the late Friday afternoon, only two different Frenchmen helped we lost Americans find our way to the apartment.

We were in the vicinity, close, but somehow couldn’t see the apartment-building number.

We got into the apartment late Friday afternoon, and for one thing admired the great view. (Saturday afternoon we saw a bunch of big-group couples get married “en masse” at Mairie De Levallois-Perret across the way. “At least three such big-group weddings. And remarkably choreographed. All the people ‘whooping’ on cue by the cameraman. Boy those French sure know how to throw a party.”) Saturday morning Tom and I rode the Metro down to Pere Lachaise cemetery. “Where famous people like Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde are buried. I found Oscar’s tomb, sealed off against privy-part vandalism, but not Jim Morrison’s. It’s a huge place.”

That was a pleasant hour and a half, ambling around the beautiful, well-laid-out cemetery grounds, even if the place was filled with tourists and even though I couldn’t find Jim Morrison’s spot. There were plenty of people at Oscar Wilde’s tomb though, with an intriguing history of its own and a glass barrier to make the monument both “kiss-proof” and protect against vandalism. (The statue’s larger-than-life testicles were “removed in an act of vandalism in 1961.”)

A less-intriguing side note. In Paris I’ve always shied away from the Metro. But in those two days I took at least eight such trips, and fortunately had nary a problem with “les pickpockets.”

My last two rides on the Metro came on Sunday, October 8. Tom and Carol were flying out of de Gaulle Airport at 12:30, and my flight was at 3:30, so we hugged and parted ways at Gare du Nord. After that I hiked up and about a bit, then ended up at a cafe across Place Napoleon III from the station. (Right after the street-name changes from “Rue de Dunkerque.”) So there I was, “almost at the same place I was two years ago in 2021,” gathering my thoughts at a sidewalk cafe, scribbling in a pocket notebook “a la Hemingway,” sipping on one last cafe creme.

Now all I have to do is figure out how to explain why any 72-year-old in his right mind would want to hike 150 miles in a strange country where everyone talks funny, and when such “hiking” means crawling over and around a bunch of rock-strewn paths. I guess you had to be there.

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Our view of the Mairie De Levallois-Perret, site of those “multiple weddings…”

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The upper image is courtesy of Père Lachaise Cemetery – Wikipedia.

Re: “From September 7 to October 7.” I flew over to Madrid on September 6, arrived the next morning, and flew back home from Lisbon on October 7. 

Re: Chestnuts. I wrote of those last few days, “Hiking along the Trail we saw TONS of the tree-droppings, with their green and sharp spikes. It turns out they’re chestnuts.”

Re: Bedbugs in Paris. For 2023, The Bedbugs in Paris: Here’s What We Know So Far. Then Paris Bedbugs Infestation & 2024 Olympics: The Latest Info. We didn’t have a problem.

Re: “Sauntering.” The site saunter – Wiktionary, the free dictionary noted, “Competing theories exist” as to the origin of the meaning. As to Muir or Thoreau on sauntering versus walking, etc. The Facebook post quoted Muir as saying the word came from “a la saint terre,” or “to the Holy Land,” but Henry David Thoreau wrote about that in 1861. See The Spirit of Sauntering: Thoreau on the Art of Walking. Published in 1861, when Muir would have been 23. See also John Muir: A Parable of Sauntering – Stillness Speaks, based on a work published in 1911. For the full quote from Thoreau see last June’s post, “Acadia” – and a hike up Cadillac Mountain.

Re: “I AM THAT I AM!” A reference to Exodus 3:14.

Re: Parisians being rude. See The Myth of French Rudeness: A Parisian Perspective – MSN, on the “recurring narrative in travel guides, movies, and anecdotes.” Also Rude or Simply French? Debunking the Cultural Clichés: “several years ago, France’s Foreign Minister launched a campaign to improve the reputation of French people .They encouraged local people to be warmer to tourists in daily interactions. It was to be a ‘national priority’ with initiatives to improve communication in hotels, restaurants, and kiosks, and to provide multi-lingual directions to airports.” I certainly saw the difference…

“Remember that young French guy?” See “The last time I saw Paris?” – Just this past September. “Then I asked a young Frenchman, sitting on a bench at what turned out to be the ‘Marche Bastille…’ He was polite, and set me straight. So much for the city’s reputation for being so rude.”

Also, re: Confusion about our lodging in Paris. I wrote: “I could have sworn the address was 76 rue Aristide ‘Bruant,’ named for the guy made famous by the Toulouse-Latrec Poster. He [Bruant] was a famous French cabaret singer, comedian, and nightclub owner. Aristide BRIAND served 11 terms as French prime minister, from 1910 to 1929. And was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1926. Quite the statesman, but he never got immortalized by a colorful Toulouse-Latrec poster.”

Re: Pickpockets. See e.g. Pickpockets in Paris: How to Avoid, or Google “pickpockets paris.”

The lower image is courtesy of Mairie De Levallois-Perret Paris – Image Results.

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Here’s a note I cut out in the interest of “UCC, that Unity and Coherence Crap.” At the end of last year’s hike on the GR-70 I suggested that we hike the Canterbury Trail (Pilgrims’ Way) in England. I wrote: “That’s it for this year. Next year hiking in England, where we can understand what the locals are saying. (Mostly.) It’s been fun, but I can’t wait to get home.” But as it turned out, the prices – especially for lodging – were far too high in England. “That’s why for 2024 we’re heading back to Spain and the Camino Finisterre. But that’s a story for another time.”

Last day hiking – and a bit of drama…

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A portion of the Col St. Pierre – like what we climbed over on our last day on the GR 70. …

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September 1, 2024 – The last post saw us spend a night in a Middle Age castle, Château de Cambiaire, Saint-Étienne-Vallée-Française. That was our last night on the Trail, so this post will cover our last day actually hiking the GR 70, ending on a happy note, after some drama:

Well, we made it! But to say I limped into St. Jean du Gard would not be much of an exaggeration. Part of it was climbing up and over Col St. Pierre, with [lots of] rocks… You always think today’s ordeal was the worst so far, but in this case I’d say that’s true. A big part of that was that for the first time I had a slip and fall. In fact, two of them!

Now to backtrack a bit. First off, I noted that early that morning – when it’s always most pleasant on such a hike – we looked back, walking along that paved D984 highway, and could still see the tower of Chateau Cambriaire, “last night’s digs,” miles south of St. Etienne. But this turned out to be a “moist, misty morning,” which wasn’t too bad as long as we stayed on the pavement. But in due course we had to turn off, onto the dirt path heading up to Col St. Pierre. Meaning that after leaving our lovely medieval chateau we had One More [Steep] Mountain to Climb before the end. And way too soon we found ourselves hiking over “shaley, slippery rock.”

To put things in perspective, this Col St. Pierre – a part of which is shown at the top of the page – is 3.4 miles south of the Chateau and 4.4 miles from St. Jean du Gard. And this is a different “Col” than Col de la Pierre Plantée, the one I mentioned back in From a Cottage to a Castle (and a beer). And yes, all this is confusing, but that guidebook from Le Puy showed the col “Pierre Plantee” as being between Cassagnas and St.-Germaine-de-Calberte. But this shortened version of a “col” – it can mean either a collar or a pass (as in a pass through mountains) – juts up between St. Etienne Vallee-Francaise and St. Jean.

So anyway, the trail on this day – down to St. Jean, after up and over Col St. Pierre – was indeed covered with “shaley, slippery rocks,” followed by slick granite-like boulders. And this time I took plenty of pictures of the rocky, twisting path, mostly because we took way more than our usual number of Standing Stops. (Which we usually do while climbing uphill, but on this day the downhill hike was equally treacherous, if not more so.)

But back to leaving that nice smooth pavement and turning onto the dirt path. And heading up Col St. Pierre and coming to “shaley, slippery rocks.” We first followed a river – Le Gardon de Saint Martin – for a bit, then headed west and then back east across a branch of the river, “Gardon de Saint-Croix,” through thick-forest hills. At first the trail was covered over with smallish rocks, like we’d seen before. Then came thick tree roots snaking their way across our path, along with more ferns to the side like we’d also seen before. Then we hit the shaley, slippery rocks; tougher going, which is why we stopped quite often, ostensibly to take pictures of the view to the west. We kept following the horizontal-striped trail markers into thicker woods and bigger boulders strewn across the path. Soon the trail became pretty much all rock, with here and there a bit of soil and pine straw nestled in various nooks and crannies. It was slow going – “Careful where you plant your feet!” – and that long wooden staff I found came in handy.

Unfortunately the day stayed damp into the afternoon, and climbing up onto one of those slick granite-like rocks the “moist and misty” did its job. Which brought back thoughts from all those earlier 14 days of hiking. When I constantly reminded myself, “If you fall, fall backwards. The pack will cushion you.” But because of the moist misty morning and the granite-like rock being so slick, I ended up falling down to the left instead of backwards. I broke the fall – kind of – with my left hand, “which was okay, but I tweaked my left ankle… I could just hear the old high school football coach in my brain, telling me to ‘Walk it off! Rub some dirt on it.’ So I stepped very gingerly with that left ankle the rest of the day.”

And speaking of new things on the trail. (Aside from the “moist misty” and “shaley, slippery rocks.”) As we got closer to St. Jean we started seeing “TONS of the tree-droppings:”

Hiking along the Trail we saw TONS of the tree-droppings, with their green and sharp spikes. It turns out they’re chestnuts. I wondered if the locals just let them all rot on the ground, but no, they’re actually big business…

That’s what I wrote the following day, when I also learned that a “place of honor is given to the omnipresent chestnut tree, the so-called ‘bread tree’ which has been an important food source in the Cévennes for more than a thousand years.” In other words these seemingly wild-growing chestnuts are big business in this part of the Cevennes, but on the Trail they were mostly a pain. They lay all over the place and many times cover the path and make for even more tricky footing. Then came more of the new-ish parts of the Trail like I’d noticed in the last few days.

“Quite a bit of this part of the Stevenson Trail looks like tropical jungle, with lots of ferns and even some bamboo.” Then, still heading mostly downhill toward St. Jean, “plus it being the last day, and me wanting to get there, and passing through a ferny, close, overgrown area, with lots of (bleep)ing rocks to clamber over gingerly, I slipped and fell again,” but backward:

This time Carol called out, “Are you hurt?” I answered, “Only my pride!” Meaning this time I did fall backward, just like I had planned if just such an incident happened. And this thought:

A lot of sounds and fury, but signifying nothing. (Thank you “Macbeth.”) Meaning no damage done, except to my pride. Musta been that PLF (parachute landing fall) training I got for my seventh and last skydive…

That was all during the last stage of our heading into Saint-Jean-du-Gard – a glimpse of which you can see in the photo below – and yes, I guess I was in a bit of a hurry, but we finally got into town. There we stopped for a break and a libation at a sidewalk cafe – and collectively breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Well done, thou good and faithful servant!”

In other words, despite my slipping and falling twice we made it to the lodging shortly after 4:00, at what our spreadsheet called La Castanhs aux Fumades, 195 route de Luc. (A “5-minute walk from the village, it is ideally located on the path taken by writer Robert Louis Stevenson.”) Tom had heard – via some kind of internet magic – that the landlady would be working until 5:00, but this day she took off early. (“Thank you!”) To cut to the chase, we got checked in and shortly after I wrote, “Climbing Col St. Pierre seemed the most rugged [hike], more rocks. 1st slip moist misty rock.” But fortunately I had some “pretty good and quick powers of recuperation.” (Or so I thought. Next morning I added, “Feet and legs are still sore, left ankle tender.”)

That night we had a nice, quiet relaxing home-cooked dinner of burgers and salad, plus for me “a couple quick-freezer beers and I’m good to go.” To bed that is, weary but with a feeling of accomplishment. Next day – Wednesday, October 4 – we planned to sleep in, have a leisurely breakfast and visit the Cevennes museum. (Maison Rouge – Musée des … Cévennes Valley). There we learned a whole lot more about those hordes of chestnut-tree “droppings” that littered the Trail and indeed covered the whole driveway area of our quaint apartment.

On Thursday we’d take a bus to Alès, and from there a train to Paris on Friday. We’d have a day off to enjoy Paris – in which I finally got to see that Père Lachaise Cemetery I missed by 10 minutes back on Tuesday, September 12 – then fly back home on Sunday, October 8. And I finished this series of 2023 hiking posts just in time. In a few days I’ll be flying over to Madrid, this time to hike the Camino Finisterre. And all that I’ll cover in future posts, but in the meantime:

We made it hiking 150 miles to Saint-Jean-du-Gard!

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“Is this what we’ll see, hiking into Saint-Jean … after 15 days on the GR 70 in France?“

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The upper image is courtesy of Col St. Pierre France Stevenson Trail – Image Results.

Incidentally, for this section of the hike I mentioned that following the Trail you look for special markers. (Not like the ones on the Camino.) Usually three horizontal red and white bars, to let you know you’re still on the Trail. But when it comes time to make a turn you’ll see some bars in an L-shape, indicating which way you should turn. An “X” means “Don’t go this way!” The signs are usually pretty helpful, but sometimes you get mixed signals. Or no signals, which can mean backtracking.

The middle image is courtesy of Chestnuts On The Ground France – Image Results. According to Wikipedia, the term applies both to the deciduous trees and the edible nuts they produce. (But first you have to get through that spiny outer shell that feels like a cactus – “he said, from not-pleasant experience.”) For more on the subject see The history of the chestnut – Cévennes Tourism and The history of the chestnut tree in the Cevennes | History.

Re: “Parachute landing fall.” I most-recently did a second tandem parachute jump on October 1, 2020. The first one – at Skydive Spaceland Atlanta – happened the previous summer, in July 2019. But those were actually the sixth and seventh times I’ve jumped out of a perfectly good airplane. My first jump happened on May 30, 1971, at Zephyrhills (FL) municipal airport. The fifth jump happened on April 29, 1990, at Keystone Heights Airport, nine miles south of Starke, Florida. (My wife at the time – who died in 2006 – watched the jump, then said “You’re never doing that again!” Which led to a 19-year hiatus.) “Anyway, with that second tandem jump I’m now qualified to jump ‘solo’ at Skydive Spaceland. But I’m not sure that’ll happen any time soon. After all, I am turning 70 in a few months.” (From a February 2021 post in my companion blog From two years ago – “Will I live to 141?”)

The lower image is courtesy of St Jean Du Gard France – Image Results. I used the image and caption in An update – Stevenson Trail “REST of the Way.” An interesting “go back and read,” first posted on September 10, 2023 – the day I flew over to Paris – but with an update from October 12, after arriving “back home in God’s Country, safe and sound.”

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The castle – “Another good time had by all…”

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Gallery image of this property
Le Château de Cambiaire, where we got to spend the night of Monday, October 2, 2023…

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In the last post we hiked down to Saint-Germain-de-Calberte, on October 1, “What turned out to be a really eventful and awe-inspiring day.” That left only two more days hiking on the Chemin de Stevenson; first, “an easy 5.5 miles to Saint-Étienne-Vallée-Française, then another 8.1 miles to the end, Saint-Jean-du-Gard.” If all went according to plan we’d get to St. Jean on Tuesday, October 3, “145 years to the day after Stevenson ended his journey.” (Though his journey ended in Alès, some 34 miles east of St. Jean. We’d be taking a bus to Alès on October 5.)

I started that October 2 with a note back home on Facebook, with a picture: “Good morning, ‘Sunrise over the Cevennes!'” I added that we were supposed to have a short hike, and that hopefully it would be “nice and boring, smooth level path all the way.” Later I added that it was a fairly smooth hike, and that we “ended up at basically an old castle, high atop a hill in St. Etienne Vallee Francaise. Built entirely of rock. You’d think there wouldn’t be any rocks left over for the Stevenson Trail, BUT THERE WERE! And rocks o’ plenty. But seriously, a spectacular place to stay. Medieval, and definitely not your Motel 6.”

Getting there we saw more locals along the way, out hunting for the mushrooms that seem to be a favorite pastime. (Like back in my college days?) Also, strangely, we hiked through a lot of what seemed to be tropical rain forest, complete with stands of bamboo and “ferns aplenty.”

Our goal was Le Château de Cambiaire, Saint-Étienne-Vallée-Française, and you can see it from miles away. But how to get there? A river – Le Gardon de Saint Martin – runs along the main drag, “D984,” leading into town. But to get to the chateau you have to get off the main road and on to a side road, “Le Meyran,” with a turn that comes way before you get into town. From there it weaves back and forth up a steep hill to where that road splits, and there you have to get on a side-lane, “St.-Etienne Val Franc Bourg.” Then hike up another hill to the chateau

Still, we got there in good time, by 2:00 in fact, then faced a slight problem. You can’t check in until 3:00, which led to “Lots of waiting around.” Fortunately the place had a bar, in a side building, and after waiting patiently a while, sitting at an outside picnic table and being observant, I saw a man who seemed to be part of the staff coming in and out. After a bit he went in again and I followed, then managed to persuade him – with sign language and some pointing-of-fingers – to pour me a draft. From there I was happy and went on to “wax poetic.”

Sitting at a picnic table, looking out over the light-speckled green valley below, I got out my pocket notebook and started scribbling, a la Hemingway. I first noted the hike was a “milk run of sorts. Left the apartment at 10:10″ and from there a “veggie store” in  Saint-Germain at 10:21. We ended up officially checking in at the chateau at 3:35, because of a delay of sorts. Of the setting I later wrote: “Neat old place. Medieval, dark-paneled wood. The guys’ room (BR) in the turret of this old towered place.” I wrote that part of my ode to the place while “sitting with a Stevenson blonde beer, looking out over the valley, three mountains on the horizon.” Then this:

Tomorrow, last day hiking. Thoughts of home? 8.1 miles to go… What have I learned? Have I developed? I think there’s a book in this. Too! Like the other adventures. Zen moment here, “Tasting the breeze!” – Grazing horse down below. Soft Cevennes sunlight. Soft breeze. Moments like this make the plodding, plugging along for hours, sore feet and all, all worthwhile.

So much for stream of consciousness, but in time I got a little antsy. And as it turned out, dinner wasn’t until much later. (We weren’t exactly sure.) So at 6:30, needing a break, I hiked back down the hill and along the river, of which I wrote later. “Going down I heard kids. They were down by the water tossing rocks in. I could hear them way up, leaving the chateau.” A pleasant enough interlude, watching them do what I used to do as a kid, but then came some drama.

“Right by the city-enter sign, two heavy-armed gendarmes. Impressive, dark blue trousers light blue shirts. Like bad-ass Air Force dudes. I tried my hardest not to look suspicious. Like a doofy harmless American tourist? I dreaded the chilling ‘May I see your papers please?'” The thing was, they didn’t seem to have any reason to be there. Just standing around. Which brought to mind something I’d read in Travels with Charley. John Steinbeck described coming back into the US from Canada, being stopped at the border and asked, “Please step into the office.”

This request had the effect on me a Gestapo knock on the door might have. It raises panic, anger, and guilty feelings whether or not i have done wrong. My voice took on the strident tone of virtuous outrage which automatically arouses suspicion.

I certainly didn’t want that to happen. (And I had had those two beers.) But nothing happened. I made good and sure to walk up the road far enough not to look like I was turning and heading back just because I saw them. (Talk about raising suspicion.) Then made it back to the chateau, where I sat at a picnic table and started jotting again. And this: “At 6:50 p.m. the bar guy just came by. Nice guy! Very attentive! Brought a Stevenson out to my picnic table with a little Petri dish kind of thing with pretzels.” Later still I added, “I love sitting here, or in a Paris sidewalk cafe, scribbling away, like I’m Hemingway or something. Tom just came out of the room. I directed him to how to get a beer. And we reminisced.” Of old times, back when we were kids.

And finally, to dinner, in the ancient wall-of-stone dining room seen below. (But you know, packed with pilgrims?) Along with the usual complimentary big bottles of shared wine, a full three-course meal. For some reason I didn’t write about the first course, but the second was a “combination salad, veggie bowl, lots of rice and two local-made sausage links. (‘Erp!’) But good.” Then came the dessert, “A very rich dessert, with whipped cream and like a graham cracker crust on the bottom.” (And another good time was had by all.) Which led me to observe:

These three and four course dinners late at night are killing me! (Plus wine of course.) At home I usually don’t eat after 6:00, and then only a salad. I dread that first weigh-in Monday morning, October 9.

But all that would come later. Meanwhile, tomorrow is our last hiking day, to St. Jean du Gard. Then a day or two later we head back to Paris, where apparently they were having a plague of bed bugs. (“Oh thank you, France!”) But hopefully that’s not on our future agenda.

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 “Another good time was had by all” – you know, with people here?

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The upper image is courtesy of Le Château de Cambiaire, Saint-Étienne-Vallée-Française, our goal that October 2. And to those who might say this place did not fit the term, see Castle – Wikipedia:

A castle is a type of fortified structure built during the Middle Ages predominantly by the nobility or royalty and by military orders. Scholars usually consider a castle to be the private fortified residence of a lord or noble.

Re: Milk run. According to Wikipedia it has multiple meanings, including that during World War Two especially, for United States Army Air Corps and Royal Air Force crews, a milk run was a “military air mission posing little danger.”

Re: “Tasting the breeze!” A phrase from my nephew-by-marriage, describing his son – my great-nephew – in a swing, going back and forth, eyes closed, thoroughly enjoying himself.

The Steinbeck quote is at page 86 of my Penguin Paperback version. He tried an end-run, to “creep along the neck of Ontario,” thus bypassing heavy traffic in Cleveland and Toledo.

Re: Bed bugs in Paris. See 2023 Paris bedbug infestation – Wikipedia. And apparently the city is having another this year, Bedbug panic sweeps Paris as infestations soar before 2024 Olympics. Which means this is a good year to go to Spain.

The lower image is courtesy of CHÂTEAU DE CAMBIAIRE – Prices & B&B Reviews (Tripadvisor).

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