Buescher State Park

My porch faces northeast.  The storm is coming from southwest.  I hear it rumbling this way.

The sky opened up and framed the sun early in the afternoon.  During those hours, I ventured out.  I walked along the narrow asphalt that circles the park, enclosing picnic grounds, playgrounds, campgrounds, cabins, and the recreation hall, all set about the little central lake.  In the center, the lake is dry now, the bottom shaggy with rust-colored brambles.I am walking to the recreation hall, where I have enjoyed the company of family— reunions— time and again over the last forty years or more.  Of all the state parks we’ve gathered at, this has been the favorite.

The grand old recreation hall is a monument from the Civilian Conservation Corps, a gift from the New Deal.  Built of huge blocks cut from red stone, it sits at the edge of a slope.  The front meets the driveway with a rustic wall pierced by rows of windows.  The rough stone walls on either side rise from the falling slope, so that at the back a blank wall rises up eight feet to a concrete terrace with a view to the dry lake.

Inside, the hall is a polished cement floor roofed by heavy beams and rafters with cast-iron chandeliers.  The banks of windows let in the light.  It shines on the floor, but it can’t reach to the rafters.  I love the old smell in there.  Off to one side is the kitchen.  Off to the other side is a breezeway and bathrooms.

I pass out onto the terrace.  It is filled with the images of family members, younger, much younger, or now gone.  I linger among them.  Everywhere I look I see memories of people I loved, and some I just tolerated, busy with each other.  I look over the broad stone parapet down to the grass where kids play.  

It occurs to me that this terrace is a locus of power— not in the manner of the Hill of Tara, or of Stonehenge, but a monument to family.  I’ve been told that the foundation is sinking or sliding, and the building is cracking.  This a national treasure.  Cherish and preserve it.

Passing by the fishing pier, I meet Madalyn, a park ranger who is there to teach visitors to fish.  She talks to me about Mexican plums and mountain laurel and pine warblers, and beavers.

Back at my cabin I read a little and rest a little.  This cabin is sided with rough-sawn planks stained red.  It is also built on the edge of the slope down to the dry lake, with a suspended plank porch jutting out over the slope.  

It’s a tidy little place with a pitched ceiling and walls of stained plywood and a plank floor.  Two bunksets face each other at one end.  Two good banks of windows face each other at the other end with a door in the end wall.  The windows end high on one wall, with a featureless kitchen counter below.  They stretch low on the opposite wall, with a breakfast table inside and the porch outside and the lake view beyond.

Outside now there is no view.  The windows are all black.  The night is full dark.  The storm has passed by without passing over.  It grazed us with a little sprinkle.

The toads are singing.  Not the lamented Houston toads, but their cousins.  I knew Houston toads in Houston, long ago.  I’m told the rangers spread Houston toad eggs in ponds in the spring.  But they have not re-established themselves.  I hope they will.

ReConstituting America

Moving the glacier

Our Constitution no longer functions.  It must be amended.  The public will to amend it is rising.  But the difficulty of the amendment process has driven Americans to despair.  The solution is to amend the amendment process.

Every serious citizen grasps the importance of the questions that face the United States today.  They are not so different from the questions that faced the British Colonies.  Will the people be free?  Will they be the authors of their own lives?  Powers are arrayed against the people.  A royal empire weighed on the founders.  An autocratic oligarchy weighs on us.

The people were then, as now, divided.  Then, at least, there was an argument for civility and mutual respect, though the argument suggests the difficulty.  Today, people are hectored and beguiled by demanding distractions that rob them of their mental balance.  Some have fallen under the spell of manufactured illusions.

Rewriting Article 5, the amendment power, just could be the one amendment that could make it through the legacy process.  The country is grievously divided, but all agree that the system is not working.  Everyone would like to amend it.

The original process gives all power to the minority.  One third[1] of either House can prevent Congress from proposing amendments.  One third[2] of the legislatures can prevent conventions in the states from proposing amendments.  And if any amendment proposal makes it through that gauntlet, one fourth[3] of the states can prevent ratification.  It makes the Constitution a very inflexible and nonresponsive document.

The process should be redesigned to resolve stalemates, which means a majoritarian process.  Some might wish the process could be guided by elites.  But elites couldn’t make the system work.  Maybe they weren’t very motivated, since the system was working for them.

It should be an open process, one that is initiated by either Congress, state conventions, or petition by the people.  Congress would pass amendment resolutions.  The people could propose amendments by a Statistical Majority, that is the number of voters sufficient to represent a majority of citizens.  State amendment conventions elected by a Statistical Majority would propose or support amendments.  Citizens comprising a Statistical Majority would sign petitions to propose or support amendments.    Any of these proposals would be put on the next federal ballot.  

The people will vote.  An amendment approved by a majority of voters is adopted.  The House printing office will print copies of the amended Constitution sufficient to fill all requests.

Once this process is in place, a large pent-up glacier of amendments will begin to move.  Who can play the long game?  Start preparing.

[1] (plus one)

[2] (plus one)

[3] (plus one)

Hope for the future of America
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Texas Eagle:  Something new, something old

A couple of days after my wedding, my bride and I boarded the Texas Eagle to Chicago for our honeymoon.  Every ride on the Texas Eagle is a different experience.  The rolling stock changes, the crew changes, the service changes, and the season changes; all combine to make a trip comfortable, entertaining, friendly, or annoying.  My recent ride has showed a real decline in service.

The Texas Eagle is a short train, with two or three sleeper cars up front behind the engine, and three or four coach cars down back, divided by a dining car in the middle.  The sleeper cars are first class, with a hall down the length of the car lined by doors to private cabins.  The coaches contain row after row of recliner seats, two on each side of the aisle, and big windows to the outside.  On some trains, the order is reversed, with the coaches in front and the sleepers in back.

The cars are two-level, meaning you have to climb a spiral of stairs to get from the outside door to the main level.  Below with the entry door are luggage racks, bathrooms, showers, and special accommodations.  Above are the rooms in the sleeper cars or the reclining seats in the coach cars.

Dining/Café Car

The dining car, or café car, is the meeting place and the divider between sleeper and coach passengers.   The dining/café car serves double duty as a fast-food café for the coach passengers and a full meal diner for the sleeper passengers.  The dining room on the sleeper side, usually the front side, serves three sit-down meals daily to first class passengers.  The café on the back side of the car serves fast food over the counter to coach passengers for ten or twelve hours a day.  It’s a high-traffic café with a small dining room.

The dining/café car also served as the crew break room, and the crew would stake a few tables in one area or the other.  This could be a chance for friendly mingling with the passengers, but sometimes there could be uneasy friction.

Lounge Car

One improvement in the train came last year, when the lounge car was added.  The lounge car was pulled off for a while and loaned to the Illinois Central, so coach passengers had nowhere to go but their seats, and sleeper passengers had nowhere to go but their rooms.  Still better than flying, but confining.  They could go to the dining car, but on some trips the crew didn’t allow passengers to use the tables except at meal times.

The addition of the lounge car changed everything.  Most important, it provided a common living room where all passengers could go to relax.  The huge seat-to-ceiling windows give a panoramic view of the passing landscape.  The spacious floor plan, with seats facing the windows and a few booths with tables give ample space for sitting and reading, listening to headphones, entertaining kids, working on a computer, snacking, or just chatting with friends or strangers.

Also important, the lounge car has a café downstairs.  It’s open from six or seven until ten, with breaks during the day.  Now it serves as the café for the coach passengers.  Sleeper passengers can drop in, too, for a cocktail or a snack when the diner is closed.  There are a few booths for diners in the café, and there are tables upstairs in the lounge where diners can take their meals or drinks at leisure.

Dining Car

With the restoration of the Lounge Car, the Dining Car has become a much less busy place.  The café is closed.  The small dining room behind the galley, where coach passengers ate hurried meals, has become the crew lounge, where crew members have a little privacy for relaxing and chatting among themselves.  Passengers passing through can stop to chat with the crew.  

The large dining room in front of the galley has become the domain of the sleeper passengers.

Curiously, these innovations have brought a severe reduction in meal services for the sleeper passengers.  Previously, sleeper passengers were served three sit-down meals per day.  The chef always had at least one helper to put the food on the table.  Depending on the chef, table service could be just adequate or approaching elegant.  Now the chef has no helper, and two meals a day are bagged and handed out over the counter for the passengers to carry to their tables.  There is still table service at supper, and it is just barely adequate.

I’ve seen this service before, on the Crescent.  https://robincravey.com/2024/09/16/on-board-the-crescent/.  Now, I’m told that management has ordered this second-class service on these two trains.

Sleeper

On long-distance trips, I always take a sleeper for the night.  Generally, I’m in a roomette, which is a tiny cabin with two facing seats during the day and two bunks at night.  On this trip, I have my bride, and we’re taking a room.

The room is tight but comfortable.  A couch along the back wall faces forward to the sink next the door and the small conversation space next the windows.  In the conversation space a jump seat sits next the window.  Opposite, a door opens on the combination toilet and shower.  

Unfortunately, this is one of the inferior cars.  The ceiling is low, not far overhead, with no upper shelves for storage, and a cramped upper bunk.

The couch pulls out into a bed, but it’s cranky.  The porter makes it work.  When bedtime comes, there is barely enough room for my bride and me.  I could go to the upper bunk, but I think not.

Onward

Since Amtrak Joe pumped a slug of money into the system, improvements have been lurching forward very slowly.  This train shows it.  The crews show it.  A few years ago the crews on this train seemed optimistic, imbued with a team spirit.  Now they seem disappointed, embarrassed, cynical.  For their sakes as much as for the traveling public, I hope management does their duty and gets on with the improvements.

Young lovers ready for railroad adventures.
Robin and Jeffee prepare to board the Texas Eagle outside the lounge car.
Railroading
Railroading
Booths and benches in the lounge car.
The lounge car is the living room of the train.
Booths and benches in the lounge car.
The lounge car is the living room of the train.

Neptune Hotel, Providence

It’s a funky old downtown hotel, several steps up from the sidewalk.  The esthetic seems to be artsy threadbare.  Several good bars are just around the corner.  The train station is about a mile away.

A friendly clerk handles check in at the desk and explains that there is hotel bar, but only open on certain nights, and a coffee shop only open in the mornings.  She finds the bellman, who then carries my bags up with cheerful solicitude.  The main hotel is another half dozen steps up.  

The lobby is small, with black couches and bad lighting.  Neon signs decorate here and there, and a generous expanse of mirrors improves the sense of space.  The floors are tile or planking with occasional rugs.

From the main floor, you go up in a “Lift” that has a door on hinges that opens on a steel cage.  The cage travels slowly up and down in a concrete shaft that you could reach out and touch as it slides past, if you were so foolish.  The concrete is raw between floors, with a painted red door at each floor.  I’m told the hotel was once a brothel.

The lights are garish, I can say that.  None meant for reading.  All dim and glaring at the same time.  The halls are shadowy.

The room is dark with spots of illumination at key points.  When the sun comes in the western windows, the light is good.  There is a vintage half-couch that molds you into a laid-back posture almost like a hammock.  Hm.  The bathroom is black tile, gloomy, and there is no hot water.  

The television is easy to operate, unlike in most hotels.  A tiny desk allows work at a laptop.  There are plenty of electrical outlets.

The bed is big and comfortable, with adequate covers and good pillows.  I slept well and made it to the train station by 5 am.

Desk clerk at the entrance
Desk clerk at the entrance
Steps from the entrance to the lobby
Steps from the entrance to the lobby
Gloomy lobby with neon
Gloomy lobby with neon
Door to the list
Door to the lift
The lift is thirties vintage
The lift is thirties vintage
Windows to the west
Windows to the west
Semi couch and coat rack
Semi couch and coat rack
Tiny desk in the room
Tiny desk in the room
Organizing on the bed
Organizing on the bed

End of another iPad experiment

I’m trying to remember when I started my latest experiment with the iPad.  My first experiment began in 2010, when the first iPad was released.  I wanted a real electric tablet!  That lasted a few years. 

Eventually I realized what it couldn’t do and lost interest in it.  I took an interest again when Tim Cook introduced the Pencil, but it was reserved for the high end users, and I waited.  Then the Pencil was broadened to all users.  I made my move.  I bought.

Immediately I came up against two hard facts.  The operating system was clumsy, and the Pencil wasn’t made for handwriting.  But, I didn’t give up.  I set my mind to give it a good effort.  Well, that effort is over now, and I’m relieved.

The operating system was nothing but a constant bother.  Every action took at least four steps.  The iPad didn’t know how to organize files.  It didn’t know how to move files to or from other devices.  And it didn’t know how to receive input from the user.  Using it was like trying to build cabinetry with mittens on.

Let me just point out that I am experienced in using the most mature and sophisticated operating system in the world: Mac OS.  It is the operating system that taught the world how to use computers.  

What do I mean?  For information organization and presentation, the Mac wisely drew on the file system that Western society had been developing for centuries:  the hierarchical file system. Looking at the Mac screen, any office worker would see a representation of the same files and folders they saw in cabinets against the wall.  They understood it.  I’d like to say more, but not now.

There was really only one viable way to get information into an iPad, and that was through a keyboard.  But the iPad didn’t have one, it only had a cartoon of one.  So, you have to add a keyboard, and then you were back to an imitation laptop computer with a clumsy operating system.  You want to copy some files from a hard drive?  The iPad was surprised by that.  Sure, the iPad would figure out a way, but you were going to have to help it.

What about the Pencil?  For years, Apple barely acknowledged the concept that pencils are used for handwriting.  Then, they began to admit, that yes, a pencil is not just for drawing.  Expectations rose.  They announced that the user could now use the Pencil to write in Pages, their word processor, and in many other places!  Amazing.

The problem was in the execution.  My handwriting on the iPad produced text more erratic than a seventh-grader’s typing.  It proceeded between frequent scratch-outs and rewrites.

Then the system errors began.   I had bought a refurbished iPad Pro.  The screen started dimming and brightening randomly.  I like my screen bright, so I kept going to the Settings and setting it to bright.  Apple has created an annoying ability for the operating system to decide when to change brightness, supposedly based on ambient light, and I turned that off.  But another version of that control was hidden in some collection of automatic controls that must have been designed by the marketing department.  So I went there and turned it off.  The random brightness changes continued.

Through all this troubleshooting, I was assisted by some great technicians at Apple Support.  In the late stages I took the iPad to the Apple Store Genius Bar a couple of times, leaving it overnight or for a few days.  Finally, the Support team decided I should send it to an Apple repair center.  They turned it around pretty fast, but the repair did not fix the problem.  Finally, they decided to replace the defective tablet with a brand new top-of-the-line iPad Pro.  They were going all out for me.

Unfortunately, iPad pros now use FaceID, which I spurn, so I sold the iPad Pro and bought a great iPad Air with TouchID.  I felt a little sheepish, because I was rejecting the Support team’s ultimate gift for something less, and in a way that implied criticism of the iPad Pro.  But, I got the Air, along with a new Apple Pencil 2, and it was great.  The handwriting recognition improved a little, but then regressed.

I’d been using the iPad Air for almost a year when the new problem began.  The iPad stopped opening pdfs.  I frequently used the iPad and pencil to sign documents for work, so this was a mission critical problem.

Back to Apple Support I went, and they began to work with me over a couple of weeks.  Finally, the engineers were stumped.  They said to wait until the next OS update to see if that happened to fix it.  While waiting, I decided to run some tests of my own.  I deleted a couple of apps, and the iPad began opening pdfs again!

What were the apps?  They were two handwriting recognition apps.  I had downloaded them in my never-ending quest to use the iPad as a real electronic tablet.  That was the last straw.

I decided to end my iPad struggles.  I got rid of the iPad.  I bought a 2017 MacBook 12” from Other World Computing.  I’ve given up on handwriting recognition again, and the iPad, for a long while to come.  But I have have a sleek little laptop for my mobile computing, and it uses the best operating system in the world.  I love it.

New birth of freedom

I’ve been working on a rewrite of the Constitution.  Several writers have plowed the ground, outlining the issues and some paths forward.  I had to think the problem through.

We are at the point with our Constitution that the Founders were at as the Articles of Confederation were breaking down.  Our Constitution is breaking down.  Those brilliant men in convention in Philadelphia put together a solution that held for over 200 years (with the assist of the savior of the union).  Where are we going to find brilliant men- and women- like that?

I’ve been reading the Federalist Papers.  Three of the conventioneers– Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay– wrote a series of articles explaining the defects of the confederation and urging the benefits of a federal republic.  Their arguments still ring true.  And now we have almost two and a half centuries of experience to inform our understanding of the situation we are in.

We know the defects of our Constitution on a very practical level.  But we also know the sound foundation on which the defects have wreaked their havoc.   We don’t have to start over completely.  It’s an interesting challenge.

I can’t resist.  I want to give it a try.  I want to design a structure to function without the defects.  That’s what I’m trying to do- write a first draft of the new constitution.  I’m already on draft five, but when I let it out, that will be the first draft.  Ideas welcome.

Robin Cravey

Sunset Valley to Lake LadyBird

Mostly sunny sky.  Heat forecast.

Stopped at La Madeleine for some orange juice.  Sat at the table and studied the map.  I wanted to cycle from Madeleine to the river without going down a major street—Lamar, Menchaca, S. 1st, S. Congress.

Found two.  I chose one:

Jones Road to Packsaddle Pass.

At Packsaddle Pass, turn left and then to Redd.

At Redd, turn right and to Banister.

At Banister, turn left, after several blocks 

Dogleg right and to Garden Villa.

At Cardinal, turn left and to S. 5th.

At S. 5th, turn left.  Home free.

It would be helpful if Cumberland would connect with Bridgeway.

I had to cross a few major streets, but I never had to ride on one.  All easy neighborhood streets.  On S. 5th, new apartment complexes joined old ones and crowded out more houses.

I crossed the river on Pflugerville Bridge, and on the north side I discovered Mañana, an airy cafe with as much outdoors as in, with a long shelter for shade.  The tables are full.  Half the people are chatting with each other, the other half are gazing at their phones.  Families with kids occupy several tables.  One daydreams while her father looks at his phone.

Decline and Fall

There is a specter stalking America.  It is the specter of Totalitarianism. This specter inhabits the body of a demonic demagogue.  But it is supported by mobs of the unthinking, the amoral, the ambitious, and the avaricious.  It is opposed by a quavering line of political time servers wondering how much they must risk to stop the destruction.

The destruction continues apace.  The demagogue and his henchmen unilaterally disarm the nation’s intelligence services, stand down our defenses against foreign influence, discontinue our efforts to root out the manufactured lies and myths infecting our discourse, give a green light to corruption.  The demagogue cavorts across the globe, bullying our friends, befriending bullies, betraying the free people fighting a menacing dictator overseas. He exploits every weakness and buried flaw in our constitutional system to seize power. 

What is an alarmed citizenry to do? The long game is to rethink our political organization and governmental structures. Even our philosophy of society. But the immediate crisis requires us to go to the barricades. Will we fight as hard for our freedom as the embattled peoples in Ukraine? As hard as American soldiers once fought in the trenches of a burning Europe?

The first order is to choose the real leaders among our political classes. Who will stand and fight? Who will advance? Rally behind them.

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