I love the I-95 corridor. It's the quickest way from Point A: Here. To Point B: There.
Here being on the southeast coast of the state of North Carolina. There being my hometown, Easthampton, Massachusetts.
I love that route. As long as I don't have to drive it. Or be a passenger in a car whose rubber is hitting that traffic snarled, dangerous road.
This time tomorrow I'll be on a train heading for Washington D.C. The first leg of my journey home will take me through Rocky Mount, NC, Richmond, Virginia. Arlington. I'll get to Union Station in D.C. around 9 p.m. There I'll change trains and be railroaded through Baltimore, Philadelphia, Trenton, Newark, NYC, Stamford, New Haven, Bridgeport, Hartford.
The train will leave Dillon, South Carolina around 1 p.m. tomorrow. I'll be where I'm going around 7 a.m. Wednesday. Having slept all night on the train.
Not a bad way to go. I-95 Lite
Much to do when I get my ass up there. Road Work Ahead. Life's road. Throwing me some curves lately. Once I get off that train, I'll be the one at the wheel. The car I drive can handle the curves. We've been here before.
THE WEB TOWN OBSERVER - TERRENCE MCCARTHY
Monday, May 13, 2013
Sunday, May 12, 2013
The Turtle
The turtle's shell was about the same size as a Frisbee. Not the biggest one we've seen down here on and off the pond dotted golf course we live next to. The turtle had cornered itself under one of our patio chairs. He needed help to get out of the trouble he was in.
Donna was doing some yard work. Back yard. She spotted the turtle.
" Terry, " she yelled. " Look at this."
It was the second time she had said that today. This morning, as we were working in the front yard, Donna said the same thing. The " this " is this case was a red, itchy rash, that seemed to be spreading from her left arm to her back.
" I think I'm having an allergic reaction to something, " she said.
Allergic reactions can manifest themselves in many ways. And these things should always be taken seriously.
" We're going to the emergency room, " I said.
A new urgent care facility recently opened less than a mile from where we live. We got in the Soul took us...
Long story short. The rash started to fade. The itches were less itchy. We had waited about 45 minutes to be seen. We decided not to wait any longer. It looked like things were improving. We left.
Donna is fine.
We have no idea what caused the red rash. But it's a back burner issue right now.
Life's stove has several pots boiling at once. As we were driving to the urgent care place, I thought. One more thing with which to deal this week. So it goes.
" Troubles come not as single spies, but in battalions..."
I've mentioned this Shakespeare quote before. A few days ago. When the news of my cousin Todd, and my aunt, and my mother was breaking.
The rash of troubles.
It's like life throwing a metaphor at you...
Donna's fine. But that turtle. When I was called into action, to deal with the beast, I thought:
Oh shit. I couldn't care less about some dumb ass turtle who had lost his way and found himself trapped under a chair on our patio. I don't need this. Now.
But the fact of the matter is: I did care. Donna and I did our best to get the turtle going. I finally picked the turtle up and walked it to the pond next to the 10th green.
I like turtles. They're slow. They get nowhere fast. as I do lately. My knee's been giving me trouble. And turtles have those thick shells. To protect them from harm.
But every now and then, those shells aren't enough. Even turtles need a support system. Today, Donna and I were it.
Donna was doing some yard work. Back yard. She spotted the turtle.
" Terry, " she yelled. " Look at this."
It was the second time she had said that today. This morning, as we were working in the front yard, Donna said the same thing. The " this " is this case was a red, itchy rash, that seemed to be spreading from her left arm to her back.
" I think I'm having an allergic reaction to something, " she said.
Allergic reactions can manifest themselves in many ways. And these things should always be taken seriously.
" We're going to the emergency room, " I said.
A new urgent care facility recently opened less than a mile from where we live. We got in the Soul took us...
Long story short. The rash started to fade. The itches were less itchy. We had waited about 45 minutes to be seen. We decided not to wait any longer. It looked like things were improving. We left.
Donna is fine.
We have no idea what caused the red rash. But it's a back burner issue right now.
Life's stove has several pots boiling at once. As we were driving to the urgent care place, I thought. One more thing with which to deal this week. So it goes.
" Troubles come not as single spies, but in battalions..."
I've mentioned this Shakespeare quote before. A few days ago. When the news of my cousin Todd, and my aunt, and my mother was breaking.
The rash of troubles.
It's like life throwing a metaphor at you...
Donna's fine. But that turtle. When I was called into action, to deal with the beast, I thought:
Oh shit. I couldn't care less about some dumb ass turtle who had lost his way and found himself trapped under a chair on our patio. I don't need this. Now.
But the fact of the matter is: I did care. Donna and I did our best to get the turtle going. I finally picked the turtle up and walked it to the pond next to the 10th green.
I like turtles. They're slow. They get nowhere fast. as I do lately. My knee's been giving me trouble. And turtles have those thick shells. To protect them from harm.
But every now and then, those shells aren't enough. Even turtles need a support system. Today, Donna and I were it.
Friday, May 10, 2013
It Was Easy In April
A week or so ago, the Boston Red Sox were 12 games over .500 and had a 2 1/2 game lead in the American League East. The team was the talk of the town.
Now the talk has turned ugly. Clay Bucholtz, at 6-0, has the best record in MLB. But there are rumors that he cheats. Watering the ball.
Designated Hitter David Ortiz was the Designated Target this week. The Boston Globe's Dan Shaunessey bravely confronted Big Papi and asked the impertinent question:
Is your incredible hitting since you came back explained by steroid use?
And oh by the way. The Sox have lost 7 games out of the last eight they have played. They are no longer in first place.
The bull pen is hurting. Phenom Jackie Bradley Jr., who hit .421 in spring training, and earned a starting role on Day One of the season is long gone to Pawtucket.
It's not easy being a Red Sox fan now. It was easy in April.
That's the way life is. One month you're up. One month it's April, which has a bad reputation for being the cruelest of months. Then comes May. A month in which things are supposed to get better.
It was April. So long April. Hello May. Bring it on. We can take it. We can take it. Our skins are thick from what our Aprils have given us. May? We can take you.
Now the talk has turned ugly. Clay Bucholtz, at 6-0, has the best record in MLB. But there are rumors that he cheats. Watering the ball.
Designated Hitter David Ortiz was the Designated Target this week. The Boston Globe's Dan Shaunessey bravely confronted Big Papi and asked the impertinent question:
Is your incredible hitting since you came back explained by steroid use?
And oh by the way. The Sox have lost 7 games out of the last eight they have played. They are no longer in first place.
The bull pen is hurting. Phenom Jackie Bradley Jr., who hit .421 in spring training, and earned a starting role on Day One of the season is long gone to Pawtucket.
It's not easy being a Red Sox fan now. It was easy in April.
That's the way life is. One month you're up. One month it's April, which has a bad reputation for being the cruelest of months. Then comes May. A month in which things are supposed to get better.
It was April. So long April. Hello May. Bring it on. We can take it. We can take it. Our skins are thick from what our Aprils have given us. May? We can take you.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Unusual Weather II
The temperatures have been averaging 15 to 20 degrees below normal down here in Dixie. Hard rain falls often. I haven't played golf in weeks. I'm thinking of switching sports. Water polo may be an option.
We went camping recently. One of the joys of camping is the campfire. This time of year, this far south, campfires aren't usually on our minds. But the weather has been unusual. What's usually on our minds this time of year isn't.
We woke up after spending a too cool night in the camper. In the middle of the long night, I threw an extra blanket over me. I was shivering. When we emerged from the camper we saw that a neighbor had had something delivered to his site.
A large pile of logs. About a half cord of wood. A reasonable, seasonable thing to do, order that much fuel for the fires. If you're living in Vermont and the seasons are changing. From Fall to Winter.
But this was South Carolina. In May. What was the wood for? Campfires? Bonfires? Or was this camper here for a while, looking forward to a summer in which heat is -usually- something meant to endure and from which to escape.
Unusual weather here. There. And everywhere.
We went camping recently. One of the joys of camping is the campfire. This time of year, this far south, campfires aren't usually on our minds. But the weather has been unusual. What's usually on our minds this time of year isn't.
We woke up after spending a too cool night in the camper. In the middle of the long night, I threw an extra blanket over me. I was shivering. When we emerged from the camper we saw that a neighbor had had something delivered to his site.
A large pile of logs. About a half cord of wood. A reasonable, seasonable thing to do, order that much fuel for the fires. If you're living in Vermont and the seasons are changing. From Fall to Winter.
But this was South Carolina. In May. What was the wood for? Campfires? Bonfires? Or was this camper here for a while, looking forward to a summer in which heat is -usually- something meant to endure and from which to escape.
Unusual weather here. There. And everywhere.
Unusual Weather
Unusual weather indeed. We're slipping into the second week in May down here in The Carolinas. Have we been opening doors and windows and turning on ceiling fans? Uh uh. We've been sitting in the living room staring at the flames as they tell their stories in the precursor to television: the fireplace. More on this later. I'm getting a message from the ghost in the machine...
" An error occurred... "
Later...
" An error occurred... "
Later...
Monday, May 6, 2013
Sons Of Guns
“ We tell ourselves stories in order to live….We look for the sermon in the suicide, for the moral or social lesson in the murder of five. We interpret what we see, select the most workable of the multiple choices… “
From “ The White Album “ by Joan Didion
A president is shot as his motorcade makes its way from Love Field in Dallas to the place where he is scheduled to speak.
The president’s younger brother is gunned down in the kitchen of a hotel in Los Angeles.
A civil rights leader, an American Ghandi, who preaches against violence, comes to a violent end as he walks to his room in a motel in Memphis.
John Fitzgerald Kennedy. Robert Kennedy. Martin Luther King. All shot and killed by men armed with guns.
These murders have sparked chapters in hundreds of history books. The biggest history story is the one written in Dallas.
Texas. Where guns are the rule, not the exception. The wild, wild west, represented best by the Lone Star State. Texas.
You hear the name Tex - You know Tex isn’t armed with a pen or a book. Tex packs not a ballpoint. He isn’t being busy reading To Kill A Mockingbird as he waits for the 3:10 to Yuma.
Texas is a big state. It has a thick skin, burned and wrinkled. Sun damaged. Thick. I’m messing with Texas. Texas can take it.
One of the things Texas decided to take was the National Rifle Association Annual Conference, held in Houston this past weekend.
The annual conference was expected to be the organization’s biggest and mots watched gathering ever.
NRA Spokesman Andrew Arulanandam said of the Houston event, “ I don’t think there’s anything this year’s that’s business as usual. We’re at a very unique point in time as far as The Second amendment is concerned. “
Greg Ortale, president and CEO of the Greater Houston Convention and Vistors Bureau said most of the attendees will be day trippers.
“ It’s a convention that a lot of families come to, “ Ortale said.”
Over the hills and through the woods used to be the way to grandmothers house was described. Now it paints a picture of how a lot of Texans got to Houston. This year’s Mecca for folks who worship The Gun. There have been stories in the news lately of small children getting their tiny hands on guns. Shots fired accidently. People shot dead. The stories provide anecdotal evidence; I don’t know how often these kinds of shootings happen in the land of the free and the homes of the brave. But what I do know is one kid killing another kid with a gun matters. One victim is too many. One five year old shooter is too many.
I spent five months in Texas. Endured basic training in San Antonio for six weeks Then spent three months in Wichita Falls. Tech School. Part of my basic and technical training were basic lessons in the handling of weapons.
To wit. M-16s.
The M-16 wasn’t the first weapon I held in my hands. I was given a rifle as a present when I was a kid in New England. A Daisy BB air rifle…It was with that weapon I learned I had a knack for accurate shooting. I was nine years old when I got the gun. When I was nine I also was into archery. Every Sunday morning I went with my father to archery ranges in towns in western Massachusetts. I won lots of trophies. My aim was true with the rifle as well. One day I took aim at a bird perched on a branch. I took aim, not at the bird, but at the branch. I took the shot as I stood on our back porch. I missed the branch. I hit the bird. I watched in horror as the bird dropped from the tree. I ran into the apartment in which we lived. My mother was on the phone.
“ I just killed a bird! “ I said, interrupting her call. I was crying.
The bird is the only thing I’ve ever shot. I’ve never taken aim at another.
When I was 12 I went to a boy scout camp in Chesterfield, Massachusetts. One day we were marched over to the rifle range. I was handed a .22 caliber rifle. Was told I had five shots to hit the target set up about 50 yards away. I took the five shots. Hit the bullseye all five shots.
I didn’t make a big deal of this. I never asked my parents to buy me a rifle. This was unusual for me. If I tried something new and was good at it, I tended to get into the sport. That’s how I got into archery. Baseball. Basketball. Golf. Soccer. I was good with a gun, but I wanted nothing to do with the things.
The first college I went to was Norwich University in Northfield, Vermont. Norwich is the nation’s oldest private military college. Among the skills they tried to teach me was taking apart an M-1 rifle and putting it back together again. I had no trouble taking the weapon apart. Putting it back together again was another story. None of the other cadets had a problem. I could not, for the life of me, even get the reconstruction process started. Some kind of learning disability? Or did some part of me want not to have the weapon together. In pieces in wasn’t a weapon. It was just a pile of metal parts. Dangerous only if thrown in someone’s direction.
That, in a gunshell, is my history with guns. Call it my background check if you will. I understand that some families are part of what some call a gun culture. Boys and girls grow up in houses with rifles on the walls. Caches of guns in closets and safes. You won’t find any rifles hung on the walls of this house. I tend to collect things. I have lots of books. Lots of music. Too many watches. And way too many baseball caps.
Guns? They’re not part of my culture. And the National Rifle Association doesn’t represent me. Nor does it represent those families that went to that convention in Houston. The NRA’s reason for being is to represent the businesses that sell guns. You’re just a small part of that organization’s target market. If you’re thinking they’re aiming to support you, your aim isn’t true. Your’re wrong. Maybe not dead wrong. But wrong just the same.
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