In to the next year...

 

  Another year has passed, one more circle around the sun…  I didn't get nearly as many posts up as I wanted.  When I started this blog, my goal was one a month.  I fell well short of that this year.  Perhaps next year will be better.  I'm not one to make resolutions, so we'll see.

  I spent most of my creative time this year doing a drawing-a-day.  And exercise that I didn't think I would be able to stick to.  On Thursday, Jan 2nd, I will have met that goal…  365 drawings, sketches or doodles.  I plan to keep drawing in the next year, but may not post every night.  It's time to get back to the Comic.  That will be my primary drawing concern.  You can see the year's sketches on The Aery, our joint blog (http://the-aery.blogspot.com/search/label/sketches).

  I also hope to get back to the photography, which has also fallen behind a little.

  We shall see…

  I hope the New Year finds all of you happy, healthy, and safe from the crazy ones out there…

  From here it's in to the next year…   All the best.
 

We now interrupt our regularly scheduled program….

September 30, 2013.  

Congress, or at least some therein, has decided that it is more important to do what they feel is best for their party, than what is best for their country.  That it is more important to tow-the-line of the rabid wing of their party than compromise for the good of everyone.  That it is better to shut the whole government down rather than move one inch, give one iota, or bend one branch.

  Both sides claim they are being reasonable.  Both claim they have offered compromises.  Both sides are saying their opponents are being inflexible while their rabid wings nod in glassy-eyed agreement.  Neither side will budge.

  So here we are.  

  At midnight, the government officially shuts down.  780,000 to 800,000 of us will find ourselves out of work, through no fault of our own, save the careers we chose to pursue.  We work hard, as hard as anyone else.  We don't like seeing money wasted any more then the next guy because, you know what, it is our tax dollars we're spending, too.  I, just like you, want every penny's worth for my tax dollar.

   We Feds are Americans, too, though some would have you believe otherwise.  We have families and homes and bills to pay, just like everyone else.  We have hopes and dreams and desires.  We are no different from you.  Really.  But starting at midnight tonight, there will be one difference between you and me.  You will have a job to go to in the morning.  And I will not.  Honestly, how would you like to be considered non-essential?  That will be my status tomorrow.  

  What will this political theater accomplish?  Not a lot that anyone will notice day to day.  Essential services will continue.  Social Security will be paid, mail will be delivered, food will be inspected.  Most Americans will hardly even notice a difference.  Unless they know one of us.  They might notice if they wish to visit a National Park, or get a passport.  For most of them, it will be a minor inconvenience, at worse.  For some of my colleagues, they will be wondering if they will be able to pay their rent.  

  And therein lies the one lever we Feds might have in this puppet theater.  It is not a lever we wield from choice, but of necessity and we do not wield it out of spite.  With no certain end visible on the horizon, many of us will hunker down and conserve our resources.  We will spend less, as we don't know for certain when our next paycheck will arrive.  As this show drags on, the economy will begin to drag.  You simply can't layoff 800,000 people and not expect to see an impact.  In one swift lack of action, Congress could drag our slow, lumbering economy back down the slope it has so recently struggled to climb.  It doesn't seem worth the risk.  

  Tomorrow I am required to go to work for four hours, to help with the "orderly shutdown of the government".  That is not time I will be paid for until a continuing resolution is signed.  I have no illusion an actual budget will be approved. The money I would have earned during normal operations will not go back into the economy because I will not have it.  The money I have now will stay where it is as I must conserve it should this be a prolonged shutdown.  And with the Debt Ceiling fight looming in the next few weeks, even a quick resolution to this crisis will not necessarily free my purse strings.  We could be right back here all over again very, very quickly.   

  What have I done to deserve this?  Nothing, save that I have chosen to work for the Federal Government, doing a job that no one would do in the private sector, because there is no profit in researching coastal hazards.  My chosen field seeks to understand where we are most vulnerable along our coastlines.  I feel that what I do can help someone stay safe during a storm.  I feel I can help people, and there is value in what I do.

  My thanks for this?  Furlough.  Because our elected officials are too narrow minded to understand compromise, I will bear the brunt of their disagreements.  For doing the best job I can, I am being sent home, without pay, to ponder choices that are not my own.

  Tell me, where is the justice in that?

Rough Weather

  As I was driving home this evening I noticed a lot of cars coming at me with their lights on.  In Florida, if your wipers are going, you're supposed to have your headlights on.  Most people forget to turn their lights off until they turn off their cars.

  I scanned the horizon for a dark curtain of rain below the clouds, but instead noticed that one tall thunderhead was draped in a gauzy white, sunlit curtain of rain falling from its highest reach.  Ah, there is it.  Someone is getting a sun shower…  Nice.

  By the time I got home, the edge of that curtain of rain was dripping lightly, but steadily, on the house.  

  Then the fun began….

  When the thunderhead producing the rain was met by a gust front moving up from the south, it began to pour heavily.  Edward and I had started grilling chicken for dinner as the rain increased.  Our grill is on the porch, thankfully undercover, so the grill was dry.  As the rain picked up it started to slant to the south.   I turned to Edward, and gestured in the direction of the rain.  But when I turned back, the rain was no longer slanting to the south.  Literally, in a matter of seconds, the rain had shifted from slanting to the south, to slanting to the north. I blinked, Edward said "oh shit".  He'd seen this before, in April 2010.   

  The wind was picking up more and now the rain, which had initially been blowing the other way, was blowing onto the porch and onto the grill, which steamed as the rain now falling on it evaporated.  The trees and plants in the ditch swayed ominously.   

  In April of 2010, a front moved down from the northwest, with heavy rains and strong winds.  As the front made landfall we got a tornado warning.  Radar indicated tornadic activity offshore of Largo, moving east.  Toward the house.  I tried to call Edward from work, but what I didn't know was that lightening had struck the streetlight outside the house 15 minutes earlier.  Our phone line was fried and the power was out.  Edward, with nothing else to do, stood watching it rain out the back window.  First to the north, then to the south then from the east.  All in less than a minute.  Then the tree branches started falling.  A tornado had passed approximately a half mile north of the house.  The rapidly shifting winds were the only indicator Edward had as to what was going on.   

  Tonight, as Edward watched the shifting winds, I got out the computer.  The National Weather Service monitors storm clouds with doppler radar, generating a map called the radial velocity.  Clouds approaching the radar are colored red, while those moving away are colored green.   Usually, between the bright red and green areas, there are fainters colors.  When you see two bright opposing colors side-by-side that usually means bad things.  Tonight, that spot was right over us.   Strangely, there were no tornado warnings, not even a severe thunderstorm warning, only urban flood warnings.  That fit as 20 minutes after it started we had 1.25 inches of rain in our gauge.

  By the time the chicken had finished, the winds had shifted to the north again, and calmed down significantly.  The grill was no longer getting rained on.  The areas of red and green on the radial velocity map had started to separate and moved north and offshore.  It was still raining, but things were much quieter.  

  We finished dinner in peace and continued on with the rest of our evening.  I'm still surprised that not even a severe thunderstorm warning had been issued.  That's the problem with knowing how to read those maps.  They can scare scare the shit out of you.  But mostly, I'm glad there was no damage.  A small branch came down in the back yard, nothing of any significance.  I'll pick it up in the morning when I walk the yard before work.  In the meantime, both of us can't help but wonder about this year's weather.  It seems like this area has seen more then its fair share of tornados and waterspouts.  And we're not done yet.  Hurricane season has begun to stretch it's legs as we approach the peak of the season next week.  Only time will tell if we are in for more rough weather.

At The End Of The Day...

The sun slips slowly below the western horizon. The sky dims from a rich cerulean, toward indigo and then black. Wispy clouds paint it yellow and orange, before fading to gray. The moon is poised in the east, waiting for its moment to rise.

 The cicadas start up their nightly chorus. A low hum that rises and falls, punctuated by the challenges of the frogs.  Their peeps and croaks starting slowly at one end of the of the ditch, rising to a near deafening cacophony as more join in the skirmish, before quietly fading in the other direction, the sound marching off to other ponds and mudholes in the approaching dark.  

  A single whippoorwill calls out his territory way out in the park.  No one answers him this time.  They're almost done for the season.   They start calling in February and continue through July, though once I heard one in August.

  No sign of the owl or coyotes in the park this evening… so far. Perhaps they, too, are done for the season. There is a dog backing in the distance.  No one answer him either.

  It is humid, though there has been no rain today.   You don't need rain any day for it to feel like a sauna.  Not that we haven't had our share this month.  The lawn is actually greening up, in stead of browning while waiting for the summer storms to start.  This year they have started early.  There is water to spare.  At least here.  

  In the morning the process will reverse itself.  The sky will brighten, the frogs and cicadas will slowly quiet and the whippoorwill will settle down for his daily nap.  Perhaps we'll get rain.  Come sunset, it will begin again, as twilight passes and night falls across the land.

  Such is a late July evening in Florida at the end of the day. 

Seriously Annoyed

I'm grumpy.

Politicians (on both sides) seem to think that it's OK to screw with the budget to get their way. That we can somehow solve all the ills in this country by balancing the budget with radical spending cuts. That everything will work just fine if we cut spending haphazardly. Cut Taxes. Cut everything. And lastly, that somehow, because I'm a federal employee, I'm not as important as the next guy in the private sector. That this budget fiasco is the fault of myself and my federal colleagues. That I'm a lazy, no good, dishonest, layabout.

 So to you politicians out there. Guess what?!? I pay taxes, I work hard and I'm honest. Every day I give my best to make sure that the American citizens get their money's worth. You know why? Because I'm an American citizen too. Just like you, I don't want to see my money wasted. I've heard "I pay your salary." Guess what. I pay my salary, too. And I'll be damned if Im not going to do everything in my power to try to get my money's worth. Really, Ladies and Gentlemen, you should try doing it sometime.

Then maybe we wouldn't be in the mess we're in right now.

Yeah, I'm pissed.

P.S.  I vote, too.


It's only Political Theater... until it's your job and livelihood they're talking about furloughing.

Eighteen Years...

 Eighteen years is a long time.  It's the time that most children grow from infants to independent adults.  Eighteen years is one Saros, that's the time it takes for the earth, moon and sun to return to their same relative positions in their orbital dance.   And it's the number of years I worked for my boss.

Asbury "Abby" Sallenger - 1997    USGS Photo

  Abby was the kind of guy you wanted to work for.  When I started at the USGS, he was the office chief.  At my first interview he talked to me in a t-shirt, shorts and Tevas, because he'd been in the field that morning.   I learned after that he always wore a slacks and tie, just not on that day.  As he transitioned from chief back to researcher, he picked up hurricane research.  And that was how I came to work for him.  He told me once this would be a project that you could spend your whole career working on.  I gladly would, too, and I told him so.  And so far, I have.

  And that tie?  I saw it maybe once or twice a year after that.

  Abby was a piece de resistance.  He had clout in the office and in the Survey.  What Abby wanted, Abby got.  But he never abused that privilege.  He was one of the most respected scientists in the community of coastal research, as well as climate change.  And yet he never lost sight of what was real.  He always had time for you.  Well, except those few times when there was a storm bearing down on the coast and, well, we were all too busy to think about anything but what was going to happen in the next few days.  If you needed a new computer, you got it.  When it came to safety, he never skimped.  If there was anything that we needed, we got it.  No questions asked.  Period.

  When I was diagnosed with breast cancer he bent over backwards to accomodate me.  Got me what I needed to keep going and come through the other side.   He never flinched or wavered, and let me work at my own pace.  His mom was a survivor.  He understood.

  And when my cat was dying, he let me work at home to be with her, because he was that kind of guy.

  In the last few years, he'd had some health issues.   He never shared what was going on.  But the man who once played offensive tackle in college had grown noticeably thin.  I worried about him, but never asked.  It was not my place to do so.  He would have shared if he wanted to.

  Of the group here at work, I think I'm the one who worked for him the longest, though in no way can I say I've known him the longest.  But people have been stopping by all day, offering their condolences, as if I were the one who had lost a family member.  I don't know, maybe I have.  I'd like to say he was a friend as well as my boss.  I could joke with him about work or people, and whenever he needed to buy something or pay for a conference registration, he'd come to me.  "Mom..." he'd say.   He didn't have purchase authority on his credit card.  He didn't want it.  He was the kind of guy you'd stay late for, if he needed something.  I have no illusion about what he did for me, and for my career.  I can't fathom that loss right now.  Perhaps I never will.  Perhaps in those 18 years he had seen me grow, from a green young fed to a task lead, ready to fly on my own.  Literally and figuratively.   I hope I don't let him down.

  As we scramble in our daze to notify people of his passing, it somehow doesn't seem like enough.  His office seems hollow, devoid of spark, and life.  I imagine it will remain that way for sometime.  It seems like one such as he should get more note than an article in Times.  Words seem as inadequate as a plaque on the wall right now.  The pictures I took of him never seemed to quite capture the man.  I tried a number of times over the years to get one that captured Abby at work or in the field, at his passion, to show his soul.  I'm not a portrait photographer.  I never quite caught it.  I never will.

  He always offered to buy people a beer after we were done working, then tell us to go out an get some, feigning not to have the money to pay for them.  It was a standing joke.  One we always laughed at.  He looked out for the people under him in a way that I've never seen anywhere else.   You knew he cared about you.  I don't know if I'll ever see his like again.  People like him are hard to find.  He will be sorely missed.

  So, Abby, I'll get those figures done for you right away. And next time I see you I tell you what.  I'll buy you a beer....

  Rest in peace, my friend, rest in peace.

Four Years Ago

Four years ago I took the day off work to watch history unfold.  The man taking the oath of office was something our lauded founding fathers likely never imagined when they wrote and endorsed the words "all men are created equal".  There with one hand raised and the other on a bible, stood a man who was proof of that concept.   All men are created equal.

I didn't have to take the day off today.   Today, when that same man once again stood on the steps of the capital with his right hand raised to take the oath for a second term, I already had the day off.  Today was the official celebration of another man who place in history is equally as great.  Martin Luther King, jr.

King may have dreamed of that day four years ago.   I wonder if he thought that he would ever see that day.   He didn't.  But his son did.  And so did I.

I don't know if I'll live to see another black man elected to our highest office.  Or a Latino.  Or if I will live long enough to see a woman elected to the highest office in this land.

Dare I hope that we, as a nation, can evolve that far?

So I will sit on this day and ponder the possibilities as I sat on that day four years ago and hope that we can move on from our petty differences and see the dreams and hopes and potential we all share realized.

For all men and women.

For life.

For freedom.

For peace.

Yes, we can.