A Note from Siberia

 If cars cause global warming, I say, “Gentlemen. Start your engines.”

 

I get a lot of calls from friends wondering how things are here in Siberia, so I think I’ll include a few photos taken today and yesterday. The snow is expected to continue through the weekend, so I’m sure I’ll have even more snow to photograph later. Taking pictures of snow is easy. Even I can do it. It’s just a bunch of white stuff. It all looks the same.

I hired a snowplow to clean out my driveway so we could go to town for supplies and get the mail two days ago, but the next day we were buried again and even deeper in snow. The glorious day of the return of the snow plow was the only day in a couple of weeks that we’ve been able to get out of this *&^%$#@ house. This may be my last communication with the outside world. The snow is sneaking up to the door. I can feel it.

I expect that some day in the future, scientists will break through a huge glacier in Quincy, California, and find a well preserved wooly mammoth, some ancient Indian relics, primitive tools and a frozen well-preserved Cro-Magnon man holding a peanut butter sandwich in one hand and a dog named Dakota under his arm. He will appear to be staring through frozen eyes as though waiting for a snow plow that never came. 

So you want to write a book?

Oooops. I forgot that I have a blog. Man, I’m getting worse and worse on updating this thing.


It’s not that there aren’t things happening, but I’ve been buried in other writing projects. I’ve been writing and editing for a couple of internet companies and just completed a new book on growing up in the terrific decade of the ‘50s. The title is, “The Huckleberry Days of the ‘50s.” Subtitle, “Growing Up in Los Gatos.” The book is in production as I type this.

I’ve also re-written my novel, “Granite Veil” and cleaned out most of the heavy stuff, for example all the scientific analysis of the theory of evolution, which seemed to bog some people down. For those who enjoy that kind of thinking, it was very well received, but the new version moves faster with the focus on the murder mystery. The title of the new edition is, “Folsom Parallax.” I’ll remember to post a blog when it’s out.

I'll give you a quick lesson in publishing:

The Abdominal Snowman

For those who think they would like to live in the beautiful, white stuff called “snow,” I have a house to rent you for a winter.

I’ve enclosed a photo of my dog trying to figure out why his toilet is covered in snow. Earlier in the day, he turned into a “gopher dog” and disappeared by tunneling under the snow. He’s got far too much energy to be stuck in the house all day, but, while he loves to lay out in the stuff, he’s a mess when he comes in and I have to give him a shower. The snow hangs on him in grotesque white balls and I’ve found the shower is the best solution.



As for Gayle and me, you can see what’s involved in getting out of the garage to get the mail, go to the store or go sight-seeing. Consequently we don’t get the mail. In fact, we can’t go anywhere.



Power outages come and go, the TV dish fills with snow, taking the garbage out requires a sled (I use the lid. It works like a sled) My computer has gone off and on so many times that it now has a nervous condition. I’m hoping it’s not Parkinson’s.



Gayle and I spent last evening reading books by candlelight. We had no electricity, consequently no heat, no TV, no computer, nothing but candles.

                                                                                  

When we designed the house, I tried to avoid the 80# snow load requirement because of the addition cost, but the county wouldn’t okay it. Now I’m happy to have it. In fact, I’d be happier with a 100# roof.

Is Laughter the Best Medicine?

Years ago there was a story about a guy who had a terminal disease, but determined to cure himself through laughter. His name is Norman Cousins. He was the editor of Saturday Review for 30 years and wrote a book entitled, “Anatomy of an Illness.” Cousins spent his days watching Laurel and Hardy movies and other comedy films that made him laugh. The amazing thing is that he was healed and he credits his healing to laughter. Look up Norman Cousins on the internet.

Remember - we don’t see things as they are. We see things as we are. Cousins was evidently able to change the way things were, because of who he was and the mindset he brought to his unfortunate circumstances. Someone said that the opposite of humor is depression. I wonder then if the cure for depression may be humor.


The Maryland Medical Center found that laughing is almost as effective as exercise for improving arterial health, so there’s obviously a physiological benefit as well as a psychological benefit in laughter.

Laughter relaxes blood vessels and improves circulation to the heart and it lowers cortisol, a hormone related to stress. The reason it works is that it reduces stress and stress will compromise your immune system. There are other ways of reducing stress, including exercise, having a dog or cat, prayer, music and other things, but laughing is easy and cheap.

Life is full to the brim with pain, sadness, sickness, cruelty, disasters, and death. There are myriads of negative events that can bury you emotionally.


Mark Twain said, “The source of all humor is sorrow.” That may or may not be true, but I tend to think that there’s something to it. Cynicism is certainly a source of humor, but you can find humor in human behavior and a myriad of more superficial things. And it may be true that in a deeper sense sorrow does play a role. But one thing is certain, laughter is good for you, so do it whenever you can.


Yogi Berra said, “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.”

I say, “If you get a chance to laugh, take it.”

Don't let a crisis go to waste.

Another week of chaos and vitriol. Some paranoid schizophrenic, who, if he is political at all, is more to the left than the right, kills a child and several other innocent bystanders. The fact that he watches violent films, which Hollywood says have no affect on behavior, is into drugs and occult crap, has been a threat to teachers and others, is less of a concern than the fact that he ate a filet of fish sandwich at McDonald’s and Sarah Palin’s husband is a fisherman. So there’s the connection the loons need. It’s Palin’s fault. Or Limbaugh’s. Or George Bush’s. Or talk radio. Since the killer ate a fish sandwich, fishing should be outlawed. Who are these morons?



As Rahm Emanuel said, “Don’t let a crisis go to waste.” Are there still enough ignorant sheep left in America to buy into this manipulation? Unfortunately, I think the answer is “yes.”



When a democratic Congressman can look down from his perch at an Admiral during a congressional hearing, and express his serious concern that sending troops to an island base may add enough weight to cause the island to “tip over,” you know that those who voted him into office have IQ’s even lower than his. It seems inconceivable that anyone can be that dumb and still sign a ballot, but it must be true. If you missed that hearing, look it up on the internet. It happened.



Back to the murder in Arizona. This mass murder was a non-political event, perpetrated by a psychotic and deluded fool, who was influenced more by the skull he evidently worshipped, the drugs he took and the voices in his head than an article in Newsmax Magazine or Glenn Beck.



The trial will be scheduled in ten years or so, when the emotions subside and we learn how much potential the poor boy had, how he was kind to his mother and how much he loved his voodoo doll. And you and I will pay millions for his defense and incarceration.



Is this a great country or what?