Recently, I slept Sunday night in a cabin at McKinney Falls State Park. I call it camping.
I like tent camping better. But the logistics are more involved. I didn’t have time for that.
I was there on Sunday night, because that was the only night with a vacancy. And all the cabins were vacant.
Sunday nights can be unpleasant in tent grounds, because all the buzzards descend to scavenge the leftovers from the weekend campers. That’s not a problem in the cabin area.
The weekend had been rainy and the ground was wet. Rain was a chance, but it didn’t fall.
I cooked a simple supper (leftovers from the fridge at home) then I sat outside to watch the light fade from the eastern sky behind the trees. I let my mind wander through memories of my many camping trips there. At dark I went inside to write in my journal for a while.
At dawn I started getting ready to hike. It took a little while. I knew just where to go.
Starting from the cabin grounds I crossed the style to the dining hall grounds, skirted by the little amphitheater, and followed the path through the trees and brush down to the shaded long-grass lawn lining the creek.
I walked down beside the creek. Tall trees edged the far side of the water. The water ran clear and deep. Far upstream, it flowed out of the limestone hills, then through the city, and now approached its escape.
At the downstream end of the lawn I stepped out onto the limestone shelf that drops the falls. Across the fall pool, a few herons woke up and started making their way downstream under cypresses, escaping around the bend. I watched the water fall and listened to the low roar.
Once, I thought I would escape this land. No, I didn’t. I didn’t want to escape. I just wanted to get away. And I did. But I came back. I always come back.
At Julian’s. I walked over in sunshine, but as I walked the sun dropped below the rooftops, casting the streets in shadow. I’ll walk home in the dark, and that’s fine, but not as good as the sunlight.
That’s the trade off. I could have walked in the broad daylight, but I would have had to go back to work. Now, I get the fading light, but I’m free.
All I can tell you is that I went through dislocations, international intrigue, misfortune, determination, friendship, relocation, and escape. Obstacles kept arising, and I kept stumbling over them, supported by loved ones.
When the surge of time became a flow again, I found myself here, in Rhode Island. I found some writers. We talk. We don’t really know each other yet, but I see possibilities.
These writers are putting on a public reading called Emergence. Local poets and other writers will read on the subject. I’ll be there. I’ll read.
As it happens, I have a poem that has been waiting quietly since 1979 for this moment. Forty years patient in the journal. Now it will emerge. I’ll have some printed folios for those who want one. Art added by Sean Haworth.
The reading will take place across the street from Blake’s Tavern, in front of a mural called Adventure Time. That’s Thursday, August 5, at 7 to 9 pm at Washington and Matthewson in Providence, Rhode Island.
This event is hosted by What Cheer Writers Club in partnership with The Avenue Concept and in collaboration with PVDFest. It was made possible by generous funding from the Providence Tourism Council.
Edited thanks to the Tilted Planet Editorial Board.
Last month I visited Providence, Rhode Island, getting to know the city. I plan to establish a summer home here next spring. I’ll keep my permanent residence in Austin, but I’ve had it with Texas summers.
I’m a climate crisis refugee. I was born and raised in Texas, and I’ve always been glad of my heat tolerance. I’m comfortable up to 95 degrees. But now we have two months of the year when the mercury shoots up past 100. I’m tired of hearing weather casters tell me not to go outside in the afternoon.
I’m not the first climate migrant. People fleeing drought and flood have been on the move for a generation. It’s global, but it has been mostly a third world movement. Now the first world is beginning to feel it.
It’s possible to ignore the rising heat if you live in air conditioned spaces. But you have to be content to give up summer afternoons. I’m not.
Ironically, that air conditioning that shelters us from the heat outside makes the heat outside worse. The air conditioners use power from plants that exhaust greenhouse gases. And the air conditioners themselves pump heat out to the air. It’s a positive feedback loop. The hotter the environment, the more we use the air conditioner. The more we use the air conditioner, the hotter the environment.
I’m moving away from that loop. Of course, there’s no real escape. There’s another effect. Providence is in the hurricane zone. And with the climate crisis, hurricanes are growing stronger and more numerous.
I took a riverboat tour on the Providence River. The captain told tales of hurricanes past, and he pointed to a gated flood barrier high enough to keep out the flood surge of the worst hurricane on record. But the storms are growing stronger. It’s only a matter of time until a storm surge overwhelms that sea wall. And then another. Then there will be a new wave of climate migrants. More people on the move.
But for now, Providence is a great little city.
(Photos by Robin Cravey unless otherwise noted).
Feature image above: Downtown Providence. Photo by Jeffee Palmer. The city seen from the river.
Venda Bar & Ristorante on Atwells St. in Federal Hill. The broad plaza next to the historic Italian eatery serves as an open-air meeting place and hangout. Their martinis are outstanding. Stretching away in either direction are blocks of old storefronts offering bars, restaurants, and Italian delis.
Jeffee Palmer was my intrepid guide during the first part of my stay in Providence. She had never been there before, but she had a guidebook, and she knew how to use it. We had great adventures. Here we are dining outside on Atwells on a weekend night when the street is closed to cars.
Martinis at Venda’s. Photo by Jeffee Palmer. The martinis are so big you can’t pick them up until you drink some out. They pack a wallop!
Julian’s is a comfortable restaurant on Broadway that runs from breakfast to late night, serving up good food, drinks, and friendliness.
Urban Greens is the food coop in Providence, with a modern store but about the size of the early Wheatsville location on 29th Street.
George M. Cohan was a native of Providence, and they’re proud of their yankee doodle dandy. His statue stands in the heart of Fox Point.
The Point Tavern takes its name from Fox Point, east and near the mouth of the Providence River.
Fox Point Hurricane Barrier was built to protect the city from hurricane storm surge. It looks pretty high, but then the Galveston Seawall looked high until the hurricanes started running over it. The bridge lies beyond it.
Trinity Brewhouse is one of several good pubs in downtown Providence. So many pubs, so little time!
Donald Trump, despicable demagogue, has been defeated. This is the victory of a lifetime for Joe Biden. But it’s a Pyrrhic victory for Democrats.
Trump is two steps down from Richard Nixon. William F. Buckley gave an apt defense of Nixon. When someone called Nixon a tenth-rate politician, Buckley retorted that Nixon may have been a tenth-rate man, but he was a first-rate politician. Trump is a tenth-rate man and a third-rate politician. His one talent is fulminating.
His talent for fulminating was enough to make him president of the United States, and that is a fearsome revelation of the state of the States. A substantial minority of citizens is ready to burn the country down. And they are waiting for a man with a torch.
Why? Who are they? They are poor, uneducated, and asocial. They live in the big empty spaces of our country, where they eke out a living and glare enviously at the wealth of city-dwellers. When I write that they are willing to burn the country down, I mean they are willing to burn the cities down. Trump’s fulminations are a cocktail for them.
Well, it’s not that simple. They live on a political spectrum of the right from fascists through reactionaries to conservatives.
Biden won by soothing the fears of the conservatives. That wasn’t the only way to win, but that’s the way he won. As the Democrats always do, Biden made the calculation that the left would support him because where else are they going to go? And as they always do, centrist Democrats are now busy demanding that the left shut up and not upset the right.
If the nihilism of the right is a harsh kind of insanity, the appeasement of the center is a soft kind. It’s the insanity of doing the same thing and expecting a different result. It’s Mike Dukakis thanking George Bush* for not using the “L” word.
The centrists achieved a tepid victory. Considering the mortal danger we are in, the Democrats made a pitiful showing. They won’t have the strength to do much. How is it that when the Republicans win power, they can do tremendous damage, but when the Democrats win, they can barely manage to do some deferred maintenance?
A more perfect union: step by step. Republicans worked for two generations to take control of the courts. Democrats can take control of the House and the presidency in just one generation. And we can rein in the Supreme Court.
First, expand the House. It hasn’t been done in four generations. Even setting aside the improved representation, this solves several problems. It reduces gerrymandering. It changes the balance of the electoral college. It changes the number of state delegations controlled by each party. It shifts representation toward the cities, where the people are.
Second, expand the Supreme Court. It hasn’t been done in six generations. Also, limit the jurisdiction of the Supreme Court. For example, take away the authority to invalidate acts of Congress. Also, rotate the membership on the Supreme Court among all the appellate judges.
The steps outlined above can be taken with simple acts of Congress. Of course, that requires that Democrats have full control of both the House and the Senate as well as the Presidency. What if we don’t win the two Georgia Senate seats? Below are two steps that might get through a divided Congress.
Third, develop the Dakotas. Three generations ago FDR flew over the South and saw its backwardness. He took the initiative to develop it. Now, three generations later, that investment is paying off. Developing the Dakotas would be the same investment, and because those states are basically empty, the investment required would be smaller and would pay off sooner.
Several developments can draw educated and diverse citizens to the Dakotas. First, establish a major city of at least half a million residents in each state. Make some land grants. Locate a substantial Federal government center there. Also, create an industrial center that would attract major employers like Amazon or Google or Apple. This would bring in educated residents who could have a major impact on the culture of the state. A large center for environmental stewardship of public lands could be a liberalizing influence. These moves would immediately pay dividends by providing employment and hope to the region.
Fourth, expand federalism. Renovate interstate compacts and floor pre-emption. Provide for a comprehensive system of interstate compacts that can handle issues on a regional level that don’t command a majority on the national level. With floor preemption, the federal government sets minimum standards, and the states, or the interstate compacts, set higher standards. This is already done in a hodgepodge fashion. Rationalize it.
Beware of nullification. Nullification is the theory that a state doesn’t have to follow an act of Congress that it believes is unconstitutional. It was favored by Jefferson until he was elected president. Then it was disgraced by John C. Calhoun, who used it to protect slavery. The right has used nullification to restrict abortion. The current very successful movement to legalize marijuana is basically an exercise of nullification. Regardless of federal law, the states are legalizing it. This is dynamite. Handle with care.
Finally, expand the Senate. This one requires an amendment to the Constitution. This is the long game. It can be incubated in the interstate compacts. Provide that every state will receive one senator for every two (or three) members of the House. Sure, keep the minimum of two senators per state. This will complete the democratization of our government.
Trump will leave fulminating against our democracy. It is up to us to choose whether we will simply stand pat on eroding ground or fix the foundation.
Democrat at the breakfast table.
The Helsinki Syndrome
I had to correct this, after I remembered that Dukakis did not run against Reagan. So, was it Mondale who said it to Reagan, or Dukakis who said it to Bush?
These days, everybody who’s nobody wants to go viral. Going viral is one way a nobody can become a somebody. Then you can tell your name the livelong day to your admiring blog.
So, you want your viral moment. But then, you want another. You don’t want to be a one- hit wonder. And then, people will ask, How big is your blog?
How big is your blog? A thousand hits (not viral). A million hits? (yes, viral) A billion hits? (pandemic!)
So, if you want to go viral, I’ll tell you how I do it. Just email this blog to everyone in your address book. Also, post it on Facebook and tag all your friends. Check back next month to see if I’m viral. If yes, try this. If no, thanks for playing.
See, there’s a validation mechanism built into this con. Way better than a chain letter. How can you lose?
On a day when there’s water in Barton Creek, it’s a running oasis refreshing visitors. It’s a source of joy and a scene of friendship. And Barton Springs is our city’s main attraction in the world. But the creek and the springs have many facets. No savage clans ever fought harder over a source of water than the people of Austin have fought outsiders and each other over Barton Creek and Barton Springs. And preserving those waters has been a labor of love for many.
So the creek and the springs have touched many lives in many ways. They have left sweet dreams and memories, but also scars and bitterness. It’s a big story. And Karen Kocher has done much to tell that story, or those stories.
Karen’s latest work, the Barton Creek Time Stream, is a great attraction that you won’t see at Barton Springs this summer, thanks to the pandemic. But, you can see it in a virtual tour on September 10 at 6:30 pm.
Early this year, Karen invited folks to write something for the exhibit. I wrote about some of my experiences with the creek and the springs, and she whipped me through several rewrites until she was happy with it. She gave me permission to post it here.
My essay comes in three parts. First is a short history of my involvement with the springs. It’s not so short. Second is a short paean to the dynamic geology of the aquifer, the creek, and the springs. Third is a tutorial in how, when the creekflow is good, you can climb the creekbed horizontally.
All this might start you thinking about getting involved with the creek and the springs yourself. You ought to. It’s fun, and there’s a lot to do.
I made my biggest commitment to Barton Springs in 2006. Along with others, I formed a new volunteer organization we called Friends of Barton Springs Pool.
The creek is the beautiful juice of a dynamic geology.
Horizontal creekbed climbing is the spontaneous engagement with a current of the right force.
Today, I’m going to replace the hard drive in my new Macintosh LC III. It’s new because I just bought it, but it was made in about 1993. That was a time when you could get under the hood of the Mac and install upgrades, make repairs, or just tinker.
I don’t keep old Macs as museum pieces. I keep them as working machines. I bought my first Mac in 1985, and I like to have a chain linking me back to that first Mac Plus. I find that if I have on hand a Mac released about every ten years, I can access all the files in my archives and pass documents forward and backward in time.
Somehow, I let a gap open up between the 80s and the 00s. I’ve owned and used at least a hundred Macs over time, but I let go of all the ones from the 90s. That left my Mac Plus stranded back there in the 80s with no link to the 00s.
What are the important links between generations of Macs? Operating systems are probably the most important links. They change drastically over 20 years. So, a file created on a computer from 20 years ago is probably not going to be readable on a new computer today. Ports are also important links. These are the sockets on the back where you plug in keyboards and other input devices, external hard drives, network connections. Nothing on the market today can plug into my old Mac Plus.
I’m pretty excited about this LC III. It’s sort of flat and square, and in it’s time it was nicknamed the pizza box. As I’ve accumulated computers, I’ve come to appreciate a shape easily stored. The Mac mini is the epitome of that value.
Speaking of ports, it requires an adapter, but this LC III can display on an LCD monitor that can also display from a new Mac. So display technology has been pretty stable for about 30 years. In fact, I have the LC III plugged into the same monitor that my 2007 Mac mini is plugged into.
As I said, back in the early days, it was possible to open up the Mac, take a look around, and do things. So let’s get started. Unplug all the cables. Don’t forget to wear your groundwire.
At the back of the topcase are two big tabs. Lift them up and tilt the lid forward. As it pivots forward, just remove it and set it aside. What a dream!
Right up at the front, on the left, is the hard drive. It’s an 80 megabyte drive. Yes, you read that right. I’m replacing it with a 125 MB drive— a real monster!
At the back of the drive is a ribbon cable and a four-wire connector. Carefully pull those out. Little plastic tabs hold the drive in place. Gently pull those away from the drive and lift it up. You’re halfway there! Set aside the old drive.
You’re not quite done with the old drive, because you need the drive bracket. That’s the little cage of sheet metal that clips into the plastic tabs so snugly. Unscrew the bracket from the old drive and screw it onto the new drive.
Now you have the new drive securely in its bracket. Go ahead and push in the long head of the ribbon cable and the plastic plug of the four-wire connector.
You can just slide the drive and its bracket down between the tabs until it clicks into place. It’s installed.
Put the lid back on. Tilt it toward you and carefully slide the front facade up against the front of the computer. Now tilt it down until the two tabs at the back snap into place at the back of the computer. Plug in all the cables.
Now for the moment of truth. Switch on the Mac and wait to see if it boots up. There’s the startup ding. There’s the Welcome to Macintosh splash screen. Success!
We have almost doubled the storage capacity of our Mac in only a few minutes and with no cussin at all.
The left thumb tab on the back of the lid of the Mac LC III.
The right thumb tab on the back of the lid of the Mac LC III
Don’t forget to wear your ground wire. It protects the components inside the computer from static electricity from your hands.
The hard drive sits snugly in the front left corner of the computer.
The plastic hook tabs sticking up on the left are what hold the hard drive in place.
The ends of the four-wire connector and the ribbon cable rest in the drive bay. Unplug them by pulling the connectors, not the wires.
Lay the drive on the table upside down and unscrew the drive bracket from the old drive. Screw it onto the new drive.
The new drive is now securely installed in the drive bay in the computer.
The monitor shows the “Welcome to Macintosh” splash screen, showing that the drive is booting up.
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