America: Written in 2025.  

A nation that lives in fear of its own government is not a nation but a symbol of all that is wrong in the human condition. For all our 2000 years of living in modern times, brutality and evil have haunted the rights of men and women, wishing to live in peace and prosperity. 250 years ago, a group of men knew this simple truth, humanity could never survive under the rules of dictatorship. Their ideals were as revolutionary as was Jesus’ teachings that proceeded nearly two centuries before.

The simple idea that men (and women) could govern themselves without the harness of their slave masters were as revolutionary as were, “Love thy brother as thyself.” Though the nation, known as America, whose land is stolen from the natives that lived here, survived through fits and starts, sometimes tottering on oblivion, have survived all this time only because of the bright lights of the people that inhabit it. Sure, there have been leaders that guided us through stormy times, but it’s always been the wherewithal, and the ingenuity of the citizens within that have constantly buoyed this experiment.

So, I find it hard to believe that one little man, with his despicable accomplices could topple such a nation. But here we are. Complacent, in that our silence and even our votes which have propelled a spoiled, rich toddler to lead our country into the bleakest of times. At war, its’ economy crashing, and a solid third of the population seemingly applauding this, it feels more like a Monty Python sketch than a reality show, complete with flags flying and YMCA playing and “peace prizes” seemingly being handed out to a man that has now bombed 8 countries in one year. MAGAs have found a way to separate the most mundane items and people….  It won’t be long before men must part their hair on the right, or be identified as the worst of the offenders, the “WOKE!” 

Case in point, Movies: Superman – WOKE. Melania – Must see. Music: Bad Bunny – WOKE.

So, my question to my fellow MAGAs is this: What will you have accomplished when the final Immigrant has been shown the door? And when all voters such as women, minorities, and the poor have been disenfranchised? Voters will only be rich, white landowners, the way it was in the first years of America? And when the poor, elderly and sick have been told “too bad, fight for yourselves.” When the homeless have been swept off the streets. When the addicted, the mentally ill, and the rest have been told “this is no longer your home.” What is it you have done? You’ve made yourselves stronger? You’ve followed the teaching of your own, re-written bible? Will you finally feel safe? Justified? Smug?

To what end? Will you, like all empires before it, fail? Or do you believe your version of reality will prevail? And what in the world will that look like? This “situation” (not a country, by any means) will never have a moments’ peace. It will never know advancement, or progress. It will be stuck in the mire of the past. Your people will never get beyond the vengeance of the last infliction wrought by the slights of those you rail against. Your elderly left to parish in the woods. Your poor put to work in labor camps. Looking more like what we think of science fiction dystopian movies… what will you have gained?

You know, you can still be a Republican, and still be for democracy. You can still maintain your values of self-sufficiency and still be kind to your neighbors. All good ideas do not die, just because a certain flag waves over your city, or your heart.

We can still be kind. There is still time to realize our mistakes, and to turn back. Send the despot in the white house and all his minions back to the pit from which they belong. This long decade of malaise must end!

 Raw 1st draft of chapter of "Aged Cheese: An old man's take on life."

Today is a true day of summer, sunny, clear blue sky, the municipal swimming pool is open, and the roads are stuffed with RV travel trailers. Gave me a nostalgic feeling, but then realized it was just gas and it passed quickly. I do miss the time we spent with the little trailer. It truly is an educational and learning experience. It was a 2021 Airstream Basecamp 16 (foot) trailer. We named her “shorty.”

Going back…..

So, right about the time I was considering retirement, I had to decide what my life would look like after "working." I had one bout of colon Cancer, and one heart attack (2 stents implanted, thank you) and my job was becoming well…. A bear. (See the chapter: Technology, what really happened).

My planned date of retirement moved up from 66 and 10 to 65, 64, and finally settling on the tender age of 63 (This was after a second heart attack, and one more stent implanted) as my departure date. I planned to leave with the high school band banging out “Tusk” as my walk-off song.

To the ends of “what will my life be like,” I knew several things for sure. One: no matter what those “travel commercials” tell you, retirement does not immediately move one to tour the world, as it is. Money, being one of the biggest impediments. With the meager amount of savings plus retirement income plus Social (not) security (not), would probably allow me to travel to the farthest reaches of….. Iowa. Nothing like corn, I always say.

The 2nd thing is that I was scared to death of a story one of the janitors relayed about their neighbors. Seems her husband spent some time working on their new shop visa-vie pole shed. He was getting annoyed at the small crowd overwatching his every move. The small crowd, the husband and wife next door that just retired. They were “bored” and brought their lawn chairs to watch. Hence the term, “watching paint dry.” Nope. I do not want to just sit and wait for death to overcome.

The last thing was I wanted the third act of my life to stand for something. I wanted to make a difference. Music, or writing or traveling. Towards that end, I’d been attending these RV shows every year (spring) in Madison. At the time, I was a confirmed and committed bachelor. I figured that would continue for me until the end. Did I miss having someone in my life… yes. Did I want to revisit the dating circus again…. Esp. the online dating life? UGH… NO! (No, I’m not 6 foot. No, I don’t own a Harley, or a boat. And no, I don’t command a 7-figure salary. Oh? Yes, nice to meet you too. Bye)

So, I got it into my head, instead of circumnavigating the globe via sailboat (which is what several men in my posture proposed), I would become the wandering minstrel. Allen o’ Dale, Roy Rodgers with his horse Trigger. I would use the RV as my home sweet home. In this way “Sticking it to the man” No more rent. No more utilities.

I read up on all the latest solar upgrades, mechanical advancements and travel tips and tricks on the latest RVs. I settled on a Class C motorhome. Class C is bigger than the Van-sized Class B, but much smaller than the gargantuan Class A (Greyhound Bus like). I wasn’t interested in the pull-behinds, as I was sporting a Mini Cooper as my daily driver. Class C felt like a “win” all around. At the time I began researching things, a class C Forest River ran about 60k. Just on the outside edge of what I could afford, sans rent, sans utilities, but including big power upgrades, gas, insurance, food, and fix-ups. (C’mon, even I knew that RVs required copious amounts of maintenance). Plus, I could pull the mini behind as my so-called get-away car, should I decide to rob a bank.

Well, two things changed the view in a big way. First was Covid. F&&king Covid. Seems like many of us had life divergences as Before and After Covid. Many people my age that were considering retirement, finally figured now was a good time to get out. Many of them were already laid off, or forced to work as “essential personnel.” About this time, many of those retirees were also thinking, as I, of living their final days on the roadways of America.

One last spin around the block, before the Chinese virus came for us all…. After all, the g’ment didn’t know what the hell they were doing (bleach and shoving blacklights up our bums, notwithstanding). After all, we all read The Stand.

The problem with capitalism; if a reduction in production, plus a big increase in demand equals a large increase in price. Suddenly, that 60k doubled within a year, and a full-sized Class C motorhome ran over 120k. That left me with going Class B and living a VAN LIFE.

Still do-able and heck, maybe even best to travel light.

The other life-changing event was one day when Linda the librarian said those 3 words that changed it all, “What about Judy?” Judy was the girlfriend I had been seeing, and was rather enamored with. Up until then, I had (sorry, Judy) not even considered her part of the equation. My plans were hatched when I was a bachelor. “Well,” says I with hands on hips, thinking it was 1950, “She’ll come with, of course. We’ll share the open road together. I as bandoleer and her as a serving wench.”

Then, Judy said the words that still ring true, “You’ll never be able to afford me!” This precipitated a terrible fight and with us nearly broke up. My manly pride thus scorched and pruned. After a while, I realized she was right. (And still is) So, RV living would not be life changing. Just another weekend hobby as we would need to continue living apartment style. Still paying rent. Still paying utilities.

I think I made the right choice. Right?

So, in order to still enjoy the RV life, we both searched for a used travel trailer RV. Something in Budget. She found it… a slightly used, lovingly taken care of Airstream Basecamp trailer for sale. A nice couple from Indiana owner her. He was an engineer and added a whole ton of stuff to the original trailer. Things like a 19v. 23” flat screen TV, carpeting throughout, and a tiki floor mat in the wet bath. Well, I said okay. Only problem, I did not have a truck.

Judy provided the locomotion, as she bought a 2010 Ford F150, more than enough horsepower to pull the little trailer. We drove down to pick her up, and a few papers signed later, I was a true RV owner. The basecamp towed like a dream, even in high winds.

The mini cooper Putted his last put, and I was wanting to buy a truck. Something I could use to haul the trailer. Of course, by this time finding one used and cheap enough was difficult. We found one at a local dealership. It was a 2014 Chevy Silverado. Two issues, it had almost 200k miles on her and since it was an actual “FARM TRUCK,” it smelled and looked a bit like it. Still, the price was small enough to nearly fit in my wallet. Jump in, I said… and now, though it seemed as if I flipped over backwards, I had my RV and hauler.

Not exactly what I wanted, but not a bad thing either.

We towed that trailer north, south, east and out West. We drove her through the mountains and black hills of South Dakota, saw Mount Rushmore. But last year, luck ran out on the Chevy, as “Glitch” started Glitching somewhere in Central Oklahoma. Fearing we would be stranded in the desert; we decided to cut bait and cut our loses to head home. Well, the ol’ truck finally gave up her ghost months later, and I knew the jig was up. My time as an RV man was coming to a close.

I unceremoniously listed “Shorty” (the trailer) on FB for sale, and a really cool couple from up nort’ bought her. And just like that, I saw my RV dream pass me by. Still. It was a true education. I learned about plumbing, electrical, trucking, towing, emergency repair, heating/cooling, air conditioning, duct tape, engine repair, exhaust repair, computer science, storm watching, cooking, cleaning in small spaces, time management, animal identification, forestry, fire making, grilling, and learning about other people.

It was a good experience, and I do miss the little trailer. But, honestly. I feel sorry all those RV travelers shoulder to shoulder with their fellow man (women, dogs, and screaming kids) trying their best to get away from it all.

From Summer 2025 Camping: Germania

 

Longbranch Saloon, Germania, WI

Tucked in the triangular pocket of central Wisconsin, between the towns of Montello, Princeton and Wautoma, is a pristine marshland area named Germania and Comstock bogs. In the middle of this triangle is the unincorporated town of Germania, population 343 (2020). The town proper is just houses along a straight stretch of road, a converted church, (now the historical society) and the Longbranch Saloon. As a Harvest Host, we decided to try parking our small camper (“Shorty”) for the night.

I’d like to report that at first, the folks were friendly, but when we first entered the bar/restaurant it felt like we were back in the old West, just stepping into the original Longbranch saloon shaking the dust off our boots and were met with suspicious looks and glares like “Year not fr’m around here, are ya?” But then when we told the owners we were the Harvest Host people we’d be spending the night, and order food and drinks, they warmed up considerable-like.

The parking stalls were across the street at two angled spots. One must be adept at backing your rig, and the low-hanging branches might make you a bit squeamish about backing in too far. We opted for the back parking area, as we were small enough to turn about and back into a small area.

The Bar was packed with patrons and I know why. What can you say about the food? It was truly amazing… tasty, delicious, and not expensive in the least! The waitress did a great job, delivering our food fast and hot. The drinks were cold, and the food was great and cheap!

We learned a lot of the history of Germania, including the first (very German) settlers (after the Native Americans were cleared out, of course) in 184

After our meal, we retreated to the little camper, and it was quiet and peaceful, with only the summer wind blowing through the nearby trees. If you’re looking to get away to a real serene area, try the Longbranch Saloon.

 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.