The Inside and Outside. (PART 1)

Some time ago, I posted on my blog an item I called “The Big and Small of it all.” In it, I examined the ideas of distance. The further from an object, or a feeling, or a belief, the more we regard it only on the simplest of terms. This is something that some called, “Looking at the big picture.”

But, the closer we came to an object, a feeling, a belief the more complicated and human it became. Close up, our convictions about things became more entangled, less trustworthy.

As an example, I used the issue of immigration, a big hot political potato right now and honestly, since our country was founded. How does one keep our borders safe from being overrun with illegals, sometimes undesirables, from other countries? Well, the big picture paints a series of simple, easy-to-follow answers: Build a great, big beautiful 30 foot wall. Or round up those without proper identification and simply bus them back to the other side of the border. Or perhaps line the Rio Grande River with razor wire. There, fixed it.

But then, closer up you see the build-a-big-wall would require billions, if not trillions of dollars to complete. And, if you look into history walls have a tendency to be foiled and eventually torn down. Razor wire in the river rips up bodies, young and old and animals with equal aplomb. And rounding up citizens, stuffing them into – oh – railcars dredges up images of Nazi Germany during WWII.

Well. Then. What is the answer? Easy. It’s not an easy answer. In fact, it’s complicated. It’s expensive. It’s a lot more than the big picture suggests. It’s next to impossible. It’s possible, but requires finesse. Something most politicians know nothing about.

So, now I have been considering the self, and how it relates to life we lead now on earth. As I realize my years here are greater behind that ahead, and that time – that precious commodity of the aged – gives one the ability to look at things with (I hope) greater insight than younger days. Therefore, I present the idea of the inside and the outside, or perhaps “The Thick and Thin of it all.” (Nah, sounds like a diet program). The idea of the self on the inside, and what we present on the outside.

Well, we all have a face, That we hide away forever, And we take them out and show ourselves, When everyone has gone… (Billy Joel)

 When a baby is born, he / she is blank slate. That’s not completely true. Already a baby born into the world is endowed with their parent’s DNA and combination of mom and dad. And by, familiar, grandma and gramps, and all those before. On our first day, we are pre-dispositioned for certain types of disease. In my case, both my mom and dad had heart issues. This resulted in two heart attacks for me thus far. As a result, my son exercises regularly, and lifts weights. God, bless him.

Are we pre-disposed for certain personality traits as well? Oh boy. That brings us into that age-old argument “Nature vs. Nurture.” We won’t dwell too much into this, other than to say that I believe in many cases, our children are positioned into having certain personality’s traits by way of their families, and that begins on day one.

Though there is scant scientific proof, all one needs to do is look into the musicians and their progenies in many cases. Hank Williams / Hank Williams Jr.  

Inside equals The Soul?

The inside of self is what I like to think of as the soul. The sticky stuff that institutes all we are, the important parts, anyway.

The inside is: Is this person forward, and outgoing? How they treat other people, regardless of differences. Do they believe in something bigger in the universe (God, or some other force that guides us)? Do they like animals? Are they quick to anger? Do they manage conflict well? Are they easily lead astray by others? Are they moved by small things? And a million other pieces that fit together to form our humanity.

I use the example of my compulsion to fix stuff. From what I understand, I am a third-generation “fixer.” My dad was a fixer. He was mostly into electronics; televisions, radios and record players. But, he also worked on cars, roofs, and boats. He built things; dog house, a-frame playhouse, tree house, basketball hoop. As a result, I became interested in electronics too. This neatly dovetailed into both my lives in computers and music production.

But, it’s music. Music is the thing that drives my inner person, more than anything else. Where this came from, I do not know. Neither my parents, nor known grandparents were musicians. It’s possible that drive came from other places outside. Whatever it came from, music is the center.

 "You make Saturday Afternoons so much more.... Un-Fun."  

That is all...  

 

A history lesson for y’all…

P.T. Barnum (The man attributed with the saying, “A sucker born every minute”) also accurately said “There is no such thing as bad publicity.” Mick Jagger once said, “As long as my face is on page one, I don’t care about what they say about me on page 17.” Well, with the big dust-up over a Jason Aldean song, I would say he got himself a number-one hit, with a bullet (Bad pun, sorry).

As far as outrage goes, in 1966 John Lennon said of the Beatles, “We’re more popular than Jesus now.” Outrage ensued, and there were “Burn Beatle albums” parties in the streets of America. And, wasn’t it just recently, a certain section of America was outraged at a certain lite beer spokesperson representing a certain (not particularly great to start with) beer? Oh, yeah. I remember now.

While I do not agree with the small town assessment in his song, after all I grew up in a small town and anyone taking the law into their own hands were, well…. Jailed, I really honestly don’t care about your controversy. In a few months from now, seems like we’ll all be mad about something else.

How about we worry about things like….oh, I don’t know…. The environment (another heat wave on the way), China, Russia, North Korea, Schooling kids, or rising rents and the status of our crappy roads here?

 

So, here’s another thing about relationships. When you’re with a partner, you actually buy into the faery tale that you are more than just yourself. You face the world together. As a team. As a duo. Like that song “Fast car” implores: “I-ah-eye- had a feeling like I belonged. I-ah-eye had a feeling like I could be someone. Be someone.”

You do. Another very hackneyed saying: You complete me. As corny as that sounds, it is true. At least, we believe this to be true. As a couple, you feel as if your partner, your ally, your kin, your family, your better half not only sees and understands you, but in every instance, has your back. Any obstacles you face, any decisions, any forks in the road, you face together.

It’s only after a short while, you find out this not to be true at all. You’re not a team. You are not together. You are not even advancing the same goals. Why, in some cases, you find yourselves competitors, enemies, and in the worst of situations, actual impediments to your true self.

“The incense burned away, and the stench began to rise. Lovers now estranged, avoided catching each other’s eyes.” (Slit Skirts) 

It may be a modern invention, though I doubt that. Though, it’s much easier to go to distractions these days. She stares at her phone, hoping her new love interest might notice her post on social media. Perhaps she seeks others out and curious, asks for a meeting, and perhaps a more. She can escape her unwanted live for a little private pleasure with an old friend, or a newly found stranger with all the right words.

In the end, it’s all the same result. The couple that started out so promising, and so fresh and new, finding out about the world together, and going on many adventures, finds itself at opposite ends of the structure. This one pulls away, and in revenge, that one does too.

He finds his own solace in strangers too. An old friend, or a newly-found online stranger with all the correct words. She swoons him, and swells him. He wishes for more.

Then, the jealousy. The accusations. Eventually, even the most secretive indiscretions come to light. After all, few lies are ever completely exposed, but is not necessary for a breakdown. At this point, even the hint of indiscretion is enough for suspicions and accusations. The die has been set. The couple distrust.

Distrust only sends each into their private rooms even further. Eventually, one partner or the other will decide it’s no longer feasible to maintain this broken relationship. (Honestly, it’s usually the woman)  They decide they can no longer abide by their agreements to a partnership, and asks for a dissolution, and end.

He, (usually, it’s he) is hurt beyond all words, of all deeds. He decides he must agree to her terms of surrender. He agrees. But, before they part, he tries his best to change her mind. No, sir. She is resolute and will no longer listen to his pathetic pleas.

In the end, he gives up. She gives up, and moves on. They both decide it’s for the best. 

She moves to the next one. He finds his comfort in drink.

Separate, they start their lonely dance all over again with the next one. 

Stages keep on changing... Stages keep on re-arranging, love

It’s never the things you think it’s going to be. Well, rarely never. But, the things that will get ya, never happen the way you expect. I guess life is made that way for a reason. Though I’m sure I have no idea why. 

Almost every plane that faces turbulence lands without incident. The chances you will be involved in a mass shooting are Infinitesimal, though growing by moment. Kidnapping, same. Car accident? Well, a bit better than mass shootings, but still small.

The chances the lump you feel is probably NOT cancer. Your wife is PROBABLY not cheating on you. And the raw hamburger you ate probably will not make you sick. But, you know. There is always that possibility. Always a possibility….

Now, for me. I’ve been a very lucky bugger. Even considering where I am at. I’ve survived lots of problems in my life: Health, heart, financial, and family. Without trying to brag too much; I’ve managed to put myself through school (twice), eke out a 23 year career doing the thing I love to do (fix stuff), loved many and been loved by many, been a lead singer / lead guitar player in a rock n’ roll band (how many of you can say that, huh?), traveled to many distant places including Paris, New York, Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Canada and Mexico. Raised a very good man and someone I can be proud of, as a son. And most of all, been able to dodge many of the miseries people of my age now face. Somehow. It’s more than anything, by luck. Certainly not because I knew what the fuck I was doing.

Of course, there was the challenges too. Divorce. Both my parents’ death. Bankruptcy. Big heart aches. Incarceration. Fired from a job. Friends turning their backs on me. Friends using me for their own evil gains. Homelessness. Loneliness. Desperate loneliness.

Now retired, I have been enjoying the perks that can come with my new-found life: peace, serenity, slower pace, enjoyment of the little-er things. I can now take the time to enjoy the little things I missed so much, the birds in the trees… the grass… the neighbor saying hi as he walks out to the garbage dumpster. I can (if I so desire) wake up at the crack of daylight and watch the dark blues turn to purples and oranges, then reds, eventually to reveal the sun itself. The start of a new day. I can choose to sleep in, as a luxurious rich person might do on their every day.

It’s been an education. But also one fraught with problems. I think my biggest issue, and possibly one of yours too, is the fact that being in a “relationship” is downright nearly impossible these days. Not just for married peoples, but for those of us late comers. The tight ropes and egg-shells and impossible expectations placed upon a duo is, in itself, exhausting.

I know it’s old hat, but I really blame much of today’s media for much of the problems. At least the ones I’ve been facing. The idea that one’s dance card must be completely filled with “bucket list” items, I think, is asking too much. I know. I know… live for today and bother not the cost. Still, there is a cost. There must be a cost.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to live the fullest life you can. But, must every moment be filled with spectacle, with wonderment? Okay, maybe that’s the wrong question. If all is filled with wonder, then what is wonderful? When does wonderful become tiresome? When is much, too much? Is there no room for rest, relaxation, and breathing?

In any case, my awaking came on a Monday around noon. I’ll not disclose the particulars of the issue, but just to say that it led to a full-on blow out.

I happen to think very highly of her family. When her father passed, it struck me nearly just as hard as my own pops. As such, maybe as a late-comer, I’d like to think I was a part, or at least a small part of her family. That’s what apparently happens when you live together for some time.

Well, as the disagreement swelled between us, I realized that we... somehow… do not belong together at all. After all this time, we are diametrically different from each other. I, attaining Yoda-like substance, and she, like that of a bee… wanting to sample all the pollens possible from life. I, grounded. She, of the air.

No way that we can find an agreement on even the simplest of things anymore. It’s always more a battle or a negotiation. As a retired fella…and one that is tired of the fight…. I’m tired of negotiation. Can’t things just be? I guess not.

So, now I find myself at a familiar crossroads… what comes next? Are we going to continue to try and work it out and find a way to forge through the next years, together? Or, am I going to have to re-fire my life at my age and try to find the life I need by myself?

 

 

2022- Saying goodbye to year that felt as if it barely started.

 

Sigh. On average, I would day 2022 was a pretty good year for me. Of course, like all the others that proceeded it, ups and downs. My yearend (rear end) review:

I retired after serving on the same job for (almost) 23 years. With all of the feels that go with leaving my career, I think I miss the people I worked with (believe it or not) the most. An I.T. guy for nearly as long as the personal computer, I have seen both the good and bad of technology. Recently, it feels “more bad.” Part of my parting with my job has to do with the fact I believe we humans have mismanaged the real benefits of technology. Parents appear to be more concerned with CRT (A concept more a politician’s boondoggle than a real worry), than the fact their little darlings are dancing naked on tiktoc in front of the whole world.

Still, I miss the pretty teachers and their entire “oooh-ahhh” approach to seeing me fix something. And the kids that actually applauded me (at the teacher’s behest). “Isn’t mister Glaudell amazing, children? Let’s give him a round of applause!”  That part felt rewarding as hell. Also, their ever-so-innocent flirting and baking cookies (et cetera) to get me to look into their issue first. It was a good gig, and I’m glad I spent my time there.

This year I played some music. All by myself. I found myself on a couple of big stages this year. On my musical bucket list has always been the allusive “Brat Fest,” held annually on Willow Island in the heart of Madison. All the best local bands have graced the stages there. A last minute hole in the schedule, and a call from Natalie from The Crystal Grand (bless her!) and I was suddenly up on the program. I began the day’s music at 11am, and had a short, 40 minute set. During my set, the seats were mostly empty. However, some of my followers actually made it and said hello to me after the set.

Then, in October (thanks again to Natalie and all the folks at the Crystal Grand) I found myself on the big stage, actually opening for Tommy James and the Shondells. Again, a short 40 minute set of (mostly) original material. I was honored and humbled by the crowd, as they actually applauded much and laughed at the right places. (with me, not at me). Wow, what a ride that was.

I performed on several other outside shows during the summer, and all were well received. At one point, a winery owner saying, “Well, we had a pretty good day. And we can attribute most of that to you.” (I answered him in my usual smart-asse-ery): “Gee. I didn’t know I drank that much.

It was all good. No rainouts. Only a couple of small mix-ups. And all the rest went well. I appreciate the folks that came to see me. Thank you!

I purchased an RV. As per my “evil” plan, the idea was to walk away from work on that last day, middle fingers flyin’ high (to the “man”), board the SS RV DALEGOESAWAY, and sail off into the sunset. Well, it didn’t quite happen that way. But, I did get an RV. Big waste of money or gateway to a better life? You decide.

As the RV I could best afford was a gently used Airstream Basecamp 16-foot pull-behind. Small in comparison to most on the roadway. Still, from what I was able to glean from all my reading and comparing, this Airstream Basecamp 16x was a very road-worthy and worthwhile towable. Even my son remarked, “Gee, dad. You normally don’t go in for the top of the line stuff. I was expecting something else.” (I’ll bet. I’m not as “Uncle Eddie” as you think, son.)

The trailer (Christened “Shorty”) had nearly everything a camper might want: Wet bath. Shower. Full Kitchen with Propane stove, microwave and good sized refrigerator. It also has solar on the roof, off-road capabilities. A TV with antenna. Hot water and duel electric/propane heat. The people I bought it from also included a full-sized mattress kit (for the back), very comfy. All packed into a small-towable package. Good stuff. However, now it’s winter in Wisconsin and she’s in storage until April. Not quite the life-changing experience I wanted. Still we did get some good usage from her.  

Adventures: Judy and I managed to take some trips. In the spring (before we got the trailer) to Kohler- Andre state park, east Wisconsin shoreline. Nice area. Highly recommended.

We picked up the trailer from a nice couple that lived in Indiana. (Small town not far from Indianapolis). It was windy on the way back and as it was my first time hauling anything, it was quite a challenge. Thanks to Judy, we made it there and back in just a day.

We took Shorty out for her inaugural “camp” nearby at Skillet Creek just down the street. Nice campground. Though the weather (rainy and cold) had much to be desired. Finally figured out how to operate the furnace in the trailer, and having an alternative heat source (Hello, Mr. Heater portable heater) also really helped.

We drove it all the way to Door County, where we spent the weekend at the Wagon Wheel Campground in Rowley’s Bay at the far north east tip on the peninsula. I like Rowley’s Bay, partially because the history of Mr. Rowley, himself. (from the Rowley Bay resort web site:  is named after Peter Rowley, a curmudgeon of a man who searched for solitude on a scale hard to imagine in today’s world. If another settler pitched camp a few miles away, it was enough to send Rowley packing and searching for a new homestead. Making his way up the Door Peninsula in the late 1830’s, his last stop was Rowleys Bay.)

A man after my own heart! 

The weekend went well, save for a big storm that rolled through. But, we discovered the little cove acted as a hedge against bad weather from the West. We managed in the little trailer, with electric and watched movies while the winds and rains blew around us.

Our next camping adventure was just that. I was warned that when you reach a certain age, it’s probably not incumbent to tent camp, unless you’re really “that type.” We discovered with some dispatch, we were not “that type.” Judy wanted to continue a family tradition, and to honor her dad which passed away earlier in the year. So, I got to meet her cousins. In the rain. In the pouring, frickin’ rain! It’s like the stupid Wild Cat Mountain State Park instinctively knew we were going to tent camp.

From the moment we set up the footings of the tent, it rained. And not just a little. It came down in sheets. Probably the most rain that area has seen in some time, all at once. Judy fell on her ankle (twisted and bruised, but thankfully no break), and I was left to setup tent in the mud in the cold, in the wilderness. It was awful, and I was grumpy all weekend.

Still, the canoe trip (my first) down the Kickapoo was much fun and her cousins all were great people. The top of the end of the trip was watching the majestic sun set in the west from “Lookout Point.” The views were breathtaking. Then later, we popped over the star observatory where they were giving a talk about the stars. The rain clouds gave way to a velvet sky filled with a thousand points of light. Made the whole crappy weekend so much better.

The next camping weekend we went to Turtle Island County park just South of La Crosse. We endured the mosquitoes and skunk and beer-seeking raccoon. It rained. The best thing, was getting to see and chat with Mike (from Checkered Past) for a few minutes. He talked mostly politics, but it’s still good to see him looking svelte and hale.  

When we returned, it was only a few days away from my retirement day. A day I never really expected would come. It was (appropriately) a Wednesday afternoon, August 31^st, when I shook the hand of my co-worker (friend) Dan. The next week was the start of a brand new school year, and the hallways were spotless and the rooms all finished, awaiting the new charges. The place smelled clean.

My office was located in the Spring Hill Elementary school, which, besides the new high school was a newer building. For the last time I locked the door, and shut out my office lights. I just had to end my day at Central Office to turn in my master keys, FOB and work phone. I was extremely proud of the fact in the near 23 years of work, I never lost my keys…. Well, I miss-placed them a time or two, but never lost them.

I never got a chance to say goodbye to the District administrator, whom I was grateful that he made a good deal with me to stay on through the summer, to help the district ready for the next year, at least technology-wise. He wasn’t in his office when I dropped off the keys… Lee and set myself free.

He also didn’t make it to the retirement party a few weeks after that. I guess I know now which side of the “please, Dale, don’t go” he stood on. Oh, well. Life is way too short to hold any grudges. And I don’t. After all I was hired on from “before.” Before he was the district admin, and even before his predecessor. So, I’m sure I was viewed as a bit of stale air, blowing through the district.

And he would be right about that, too. To be honest, I had long-ago ran out of forward-thinking ideas and resorted to giving “history lessons” to Dan, and started too many sentences with “Now, when I first came here…”

Part of it was that damned COVID. Part of it was my not-terrific boss. Part of it was I was tired of technology. I fell in love with computers in the 90’s. I fell out of love with computers when kids started TIKTOK-ing, and other awful so-called “social media” BS which is now on our screens every blasted day. Technology (and the Internet, specifically) was meant for us to mass-communicate, and collaborate. Not to instigate.

Well, much was made about a speech I made at the goodbye retirees lunch before the summer. I did it pretty much off the cuff. Made a joke (some got it) and then told a couple of stories. Lots of folk seemed to enjoy it, especially that for the past 23 years I had been fooling everyone into thinking I knew what I was doing, when essentially… all I did was unplug it, waited a few seconds and then plugged it back in. By the way, this is mostly true. Of course, it took me 2 degrees, about 40k and a lot of work to get to that point.

In any case, I did what I could in the waning days of my employment. Tried to say goodbye to folks and generally kept my head in the game. But, frankly… and for some odd reason…I don’t seem to miss it at all (yet). Still, that last day was a big lump in my throat.

We move on smartly.

In August, I finally broke down (literally) and traded in the little mini Cooper for a big azz truck. I still miss the little car. But, the truck (Chevy Silverado) pick up will safely haul “Shorty” and anything else I need.

September, we took Shorty to the little hamlet of Blair for Judy to see her daughter and grandkids. They let us park in their back yard. Very good and very bad. Turns out, Blair in late September is big on Cheese Fest. Light on the cheese, heavy on the tractor pulls. Tractor pulls. Tractors. And more tractors. Son, you ain’t never seen tractors until you’ve been in Blair for “Cheese Fest!”

In all seriousness, it really wouldn’t have been all that bad, except where her daughter lives in right on the main drag and the Tractor pulls go nearly all night long. Main Street is where the tractor vs. heavy weight machine takes place. Hours upon hours of smoke, gasoline, diesel, burning rubber and destroyed transmissions. And we inhaled it all.

Then, just to add to the cacophony of the noise, just one block over bands were busy serenading the locals with the latest rock and country songs at ear-ringing volumes (God, I miss those days!). Judy spent the first night ogling the lead singer (or bass player, not sure which one) and dancing, whilst I went back to the camper to try (try, try) to lower my blood pressure by reading and napping in between pulls.

The best parts of course, was that she got to see her kid and her grandkids and doggie and kitties and….did I mention tractors? Why, I even got my son to come out of his cave of solace to travel down from cosmopolitan Eau Clare and join us for a meal. I tried to apologize to him for the “red-neck-ness of it all” and I think he took offence to that… he told me he had a great time. I was glad. But, if I taught him anything, it was to be polite.

After three days and two night of tractors, seems like the town finally ran out of ammo and had a parade instead.  In true Blair style, the tractors came from across the land for one more showing, along with marching bands (her granddaughter played in one of them). Ignoring latest convention, candies were tossed from the floats, as some gave out Busch beer to the (probably) hung over adults lodged in their lawn chairs.

“Son, run and grab me a beer and run it over to back to me…. “

I managed. We dislodged from our parking spot and headed home. It was nearly dark by the time we got home. It took only two days for the noise of those tractors to get out of my head…

Visited my brother, Nobel in late October and it was so good to see him. My one niece (her very cool teen daughter) and nephew were also there. We all went out for lunch in Glen Ellyn at a nice restaurant. It was a nice family visit. I have a cool family.

Finally, I closed out the year in a fine form as the NYE entertainment at a small wine bar in Baraboo. I only played until a bit after 9pm, and then we headed over to Michael’s Italian Restaurant for a delicious meal. We decided to stop down at Gem City and catch Baraboo favorites “Blacker Brothers” for a few numbers. We made it home just in time to catch the NYE Rockin’ eve on TV.

So long 2022. Moving onward.

 

 Excerpt from "The Kiss at the End of the World"  

Chapter 40 - Mars Base Freedom

Commander William Tahoe had taken his chief engineer aside

“Okay, you’ve been grousing around for the several days here. Now, I’d like to know what your problem is, Grief. Out with it.”

“Sir, I cannot until I am sure of my data,” Grief wiped his nose with his ever-present hanky, and back into the back pocket it goes.

“Come on, out with it. Damn it man, I’ve known you for thirty-five years. I know when something is up in that little engineer head of yours. Now, spill it.”

“Sir, I cannot be sure…”

“Grief, this is an order.”

 “Okay, then. Sir, it is this report I’ve been checking over from logistics.”

“Yes, so? We went over that. We seem to be sitting pretty, as far as resources go.”

“That’s the problem, sir. The numbers…”

William looked back down at his tablet, as another message flashed across the screen. This one about pressure fronts from the Martian weather. Bored, he said, “Yes. The numbers. They can’t be too far off, right?”

Grief grabbed his arm and said, “Sir, from what I can tell they are way off.”

This stopped the Commander cold, “What? We went over all logistics several times already. Everything looks good. Food reserves; water; air recirculation, all look good for as long as we have to remain here. We can stay here forever, right?”

“Commander, what were the original compliment of settlers here at Freedom base?”

“You know as well as I do. You were with us. Four hundred of the heartiest souls to ever live.”

“And how many joined us in the next waves of ships?”

“You know all this too. Three waves of ships delivered two hundred more souls.”

“Any more?”

“Yes, we’ve had fourteen engineers join us. Regrettably, three accidental deaths. One dozen that have been, shipped back to earth, also regrettably. Oh, and one new, healthy baby boy born just a few days ago.”

“Right. I read that as a total of five hundred and ninety nine people in which live upon our little island here.”

“Okay, go on.”

“The numbers that we have been crunching have been derived from the original four hundred original settlers. Not the nearly six hundred here now. And certainly not including those that will hopefully join us from the ISSB.”

“Oh? Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not commander. That’s what I said. But this is what I can gather from these numbers I’ve been crunching the past several days.”

“Well, that is bad. We’ll have to figure out a way to get by with less, I guess,” he started to turn away.

“But this is not the worst problem, commander.”

“Damn it, man. There’s more?”

“I’m afraid it’s much worse than that, sir.”

Blarney now had the commander’s full attention, as he stared at him with absolute dread, “Go ahead.”

“As you know, Commander, the Mars atmosphere is very unforgiving. On earth, there is the atmosphere which protects us from the worst radiation. Here on Mars, we are not only shielded, but also underground, so our water and food resources are protected.”

“Yes. Years of research was done on this and it was determined that we could reside here with no injurious affects from the radiation topside.”

“Yes. Yes. And for how long?”

“What in the hell are you getting at, Grief?”

“I’ve been running these numbers too, and they don’t look good.”

“Okay. Which numbers?”

“Well, sir, I have been using the Sieverts sliding Scale for long-term low-level radiation exposure. You see, a modern CT scan would probably expose you to less than 10 Millisieverts. Our daily input here, even under the ground with full shielding gives us about half that. The worst exposure is in the one thousand range.”

“Okay, I see what you’re saying.”

“Over time, that scale slides upwards. 5 Millisieverts per year for, well, say a hundred years has a cumulative effect of around half of the worst. So, in one generation of living here, we could all die of radiation sickness and cancers.”

“We, or our progeny may be stuck here for hundreds of years, Grief. How the hell does that configure?”

“It doesn’t, sir.”

“Is there anything we can do to now to mitigate this?”

“Probably not. Of course, if you could create a massive electromagnetic atmosphere to completely surround us, or the planet, we could probably adapt to stay here forever.”

 “Anything else sunshine? What do you suggest, then?”

“Pray, sir. Pray the Earth is not burnt beyond redemption and we may be able to visit her in a few decades, or less.”

“Okay, Grief. You are hereby ordered to take two days off. Keep off from any sort of networking until I tell you, it’s okay.”

“What, sir?”

“Is there anything we can reasonably do right now to change this?”

“Not really, sir.”

“Exactly! Grief, we are now living in extraordinary circumstances. We’ve all lost loved ones, family and friends. Hell, everything we ever knew is now taken from us. So, Chief Blarney I order you to relax and take two days off. I will keep you informed if there are any crucial and immediate developments.”
“But…”

“No buts, Grief. Forty eight hours. And if I see you anywhere near engineering, I’ll personally throw you in the brig. Understand?”

The big guy got a saddened look on his face, like he just lost his best friend.

The Commander repeated, “Understand?”

Blarney reached to his back pocket, pulled out his hanky and blew his nose, as an acknowledgement. Then, suddenly his face brightened considerably. He looked up at the Commander and said, “Well, okay then. There is a whole set of engineering manuals that I’ve been aching to get to but have been too busy. I’ll see you in a couple, Commander.”

William shook his head, as his head engineer hurried off to his quarters. He started to walk the other way down the corridor, when an engineer’s assistant passed him, and he grabbed the young man by the arm, “What’s your name, ensign?”

“Woodruff, Sir.”

“Well, Woodruff. Please do me a great favor; in my cabin behind the book cabinet there are two bottles of Bourbon Whiskey. Please take these, and send one to Head Engineer, Grief Blarney in his room. The other one you may enjoy with your mates. Please do not drink on the job. Got that Woodruff?”

“Yes, sir. But, sir? I do not drink.”

“Well, good for you. You’ll live longer. And, I predict you will be very popular with your friends for the evening. Now, scat.”

“Yes, sir!” The ensign scurries off the same direction that Grief headed.

The Commander shook his head and though he felt good, he knew that his friend and Engineer was probably right. They were absolutely doomed.