A Continuing, Monthly Journal
of People and Places
Along Bay County, Michigan's Rail Trail System

Enhance your health, stretch your mind, embrace your community; hit the Trail. 

by Dave Goss
1-15-08

Dear friends,

It's a new year. I thought it might be symbolic of stepping into the new year, by showing you some photos that were taken in the fog. As I drove down M-13 one morning, on the way to work, I moved through a very heavy and frosty, fog. I slowed my little Volkswagen Golf to 35 miles per hour.

There was a metaphor here. Moving through the heavy fog was like entering the year: 2008. I have to take it slow and easy, not being sure what was ahead. In back of the heavy fog, was the sun; making the air luminescent. That thought made this metaphoric look into the future more optimistic.

More photos of the Hoar Frost

The scene was beautiful. Lacey frost covered everything. I stopped at a roadside park along the Saginaw River and took some pictures. It is times like these that can be some of the most rewarding. This situation; where the lacy frost clings to everything, would only last a short time. The ice crystals would be melting as the sun burned through the fog. I needed to take advantage of this window of opportunity. I would be later than usual for work.

It was as surreal as it gets. There was no sound except for some occasional traffic on M-13, and no wind. The air was heavy and frosty. The density of the air made it feel as if you were contained, inside an enormous, well-lighted building. There were fresh deer tracks, and tracks that looked to be from a coyote, with their ambling, sure-footed prance. I had to leave before I ran out of things to photograph. It was a special time.

I'll share with you, some of the pictures taken along the Saginaw River on our walks with Brutus on the Rail Trail the last few weeks.

There were some young men fishing on the second channel, near the rowing facility. I questioned there judgment over being on the ice, when there was open ice. I yelled from the river walk bridge; asking how thick the ice was. One of them yelled back that it was two to three inches. I assume now that the young men didn't fall through the ice. I remember the naive bravado that I exhibited when I was younger. It is amazing: I'm still here.

The wind and snow on the surface of the river made interesting patterns.

The Detroit Institute of Art is Even Better

We took a ride down to Detroit, on the 10th of January to see the newly refurbished Detroit Institute of Art. Our youngest son; Luke, went with us. Those of you that have been to DIA in the past, will need to get a guide to find your way around; things have changed. The refurbishing is wonderful. The old court, where the cafeteria once was, is now more of a cafe'. The main cafeteria is all new. and a wee bit pricey. But, the food was very good. The gift shop has some incredible things that range from expensive to very expensive. But, when you are offering the best there is, you have to pay the fiddler. I found myself saying “wow,” several times. We have been there many times. It is always a great day-trip.

If you wish to get the latest DIA, calender of events call: 1- 313-833-7900.

I wrote the following story in 2002. It seems to be even more pertinent than it was 6 years ago.

by Dave Goss

In a far-away place, in another time, there lived a colony of birds. The birds lived on a sphere- very much like the planet Earth, except that this planet was suspended by a single, woven vine of crimson thread.

It was a beautiful world, with abundant water, beautiful plants and trees, and all of the food that a bird could ever need, or want. The climate was always temperate. There were no predators, and the birds all lived to a ripe, old age.

Obie and Casia were beautiful bluebirds, as were their children, and all of the birds on the sphere. Life was so good here, that it became quite predictable, and quite boring.

One typically fine day, Obie was out stretching his wings. He flew far from his nest- much farther than he had ever flown before. It had never been necessary to fly any great distance. Everything that he and his family needed was in abundance around his nest. His flight brought him to a remote area, where he discovered the woven vine that held his world suspended in space. The material that made up the vine was a brilliant, red, thread-like substance, and was different from any thing else on the sphere.

Obie pulled one of the threads loose and examined it closely. It was of the deepest red crimson color. How beautiful, he thought. He knew just how he could put the lovely thread to good use. He pulled several more long threads loose, then flew home and made the brilliant threads a part of his nest.

That day, a neighbor, named Titus, flew by and noticed the brightly-colored material. He took a loop around the tree that held Obie's nest, then landed on the branch next to Obie.

“Where did you get that beautiful material in your nest?” asked the bird.

“I found it buried in the ground,” Obie lied.

“It's quite attractive. Could you get me some?”

“If you are willing to work for it, I might be able to get you a small amount. I get tired gathering food for our family. Now, we have three more eggs that are ready to hatch. We need to make an addition to our nest. I will get you a small amount of the material if you promise to work for me.”

The other bird agreed, then flew off.

Very soon, other birds noticed the wonderful threads in Obie's nest, and became envious.

Day after day, Obie flew in secret, back to the vine to gather threads. His nest became the envy of the entire sphere.

There was a frenzy of activity as the word spread of the beautiful, red thread. Birds from all over the sphere came to Obie's neighborhood and began to dig for the threads. But, of course, none of them found what they were looking for. The lush and beautiful ferns that grew on the forest floor we pulled out, so that the ground could be excavated. Holes and mounds of dirt were everywhere.

Obie obtained more threads and sold them to other birds, in returned for work.

One day Obie, who had now become quite proud of his new-found status as a wealthy bird, was followed in secret, as he flew to the vine and began to collect more of the precious threads.

“I've caught you,” his neighbor, Titus said, as he flew from the cover of foliage in a near-by tree. “What you are doing is very dangerous, the intruder said. “If you continue to take threads from the vine, the vine will weaken and break, and our whole world will fall into the great abyss. There will be nothing to hold our world in place.”

“There is plenty of vine left to hold up our world. I've only used just a bit of the thread, and now I have the most beautiful nest on the entire sphere. I will share the precious red threads with you, if you promise not to tell anyone where you got them. We will be the most powerful birds in our world if we share our secret with no one,” Obie said. Titus readily agreed to keep the secret.

And so it was. The two birds became the envy of all birds on the sphere. They gave small pieces of the thread in return for the labor of other birds. Soon, with the help of hundreds of birds, their nests became bigger, and bigger, until Obie's nest took up the entire oak tree that he lived in. Other families had to move to make room for the expansion. The trees all around Obie and Titus became very exclusive places to build a nest. Only birds that owned a large quantity of the threads were allowed to live there.

It became a symbol of great status to have as much red thread on display as possible. Casia made a fashion statement by wearing a braided necklace made of the brilliant thread. She would sit at the edge of her nest, in full view of the passing throngs of birds who came from far off, just to see the display of crimson finery.

A red-thread economy developed. Those who did not possess large quantities of the thread were considered inferior or common. The thread was woven into beautiful, extravagant tapestries that were suspended conspicuously from the finer nests.

The demand for the red currency became more than Obie and Titus could have possibly imagined. Casia insisted that Obie increase the amount of thread that he was harvesting so that a bigger, multi-level, multi-tree nest be built. Obie and Titus would meet in passing as they both flew back and forth from the great vine.

The situation became critical when the vine that held the sphere suspended above the great abyss had dwindled to one, thin thread.

Obie, Titus, and their growing families were practically worshiped by the other birds for their fabulous wealth. The throngs of birds that came by just to view the palatial nests grew daily.

It was on typical, sunlit morning that Casia first noticed that there were threads missing from the front of their beautiful nest. She reported this finding to her mate. Obie wasted no time. He hired four birds to stand guard over his nest, twenty four hours a day.

Just to days later, he caught one of the guards stealing the threads. He fired all of the guards and began a constant vigil himself. He stayed awake all night, then slept briefly while Casia kept watch for an hour each day.

It wasn't long before Obie's personality began to change. He became suspicious of his partner, Titus. He accused his neighbors of thievery and cut off relationships with everyone. His life had turned into constant vigilance and worry, just trying to hold on to his vast wealth.

One afternoon, Obie returned to the vine to replace some of the threads that had been stolen. He was exhausted by the constant vigilance and worry that came with his fortune. He looked at the one, thin thread that was left, holding his world in suspension.

What if I took the very last thread on the vine? I would completely control the only remaining red thread. The vine would eventually be discovered by others, he reasoned. It will be plucked away by someone. If anyone deserved to take the very last thread, certainly he did. He was the one that discovered the thread to begin with. No one really knew for sure what would happen if the last thread were plucked; possibly nothing at all.

In the distance, he saw a flock of birds approaching. Titus must have told other birds where Obie had gotten the thread. Now they were only a short way off.

He needed to make a decision fast. He thought for a moment longer. Then, with a loud twang, plucked the thread.

From the Galley

Tortilla Soup
Source: www.epicurious.com

This is a good one. Betty and I both really liked it. Adjust the jalapeño pepper to suit taste.

Ingredients:
1 whole chicken breast (about 1 ¼ pounds)
4 cups chicken broth
1 onion, sliced
3 garlic cloves
2 tablespoons vegetable oil, plus additional oil for frying tortillas
1 14 to 16-ounce can of tomatoes
1/3 cup fresh or pickled jalapeño chiles, or to taste, seeded and minced. Wear rubber gloves
6-7-inch tortillas, halved and cut crosswise into ¼ inch-wide strips
Chopped fresh coriander for garnish if desired

Method:
In a large saucepan, combine the chicken breast, the broth, and three cups water, bring the liquid to a boil, and simmer chicken, covered, for 20 minutes, or until it is cooked through. Let the chicken cool in the broth, discard the skin and bones, shred the meat. In a heavy skillet, cook the onions and garlic in 2 tablespoons of oil over moderate heat, stirring, until the onion is golden brown. In a blender or food processor, puree the mixture with the tomatoes. Stir the puree into the reserved broth with the lime juice and the chiles and simmer the soup for 5 minutes.

While soup is simmering, heat ¼ inch of additional oil over moderately high heat until hot, but not smoking. Fry the tortilla strips in batches for 30 to 45 seconds, or until they are crisp. Transfer them with a slotted spoon to paper towels to drain. Add the shredded chicken and tortilla chips to the soup and simmer for 1 to 2 minutes, or until heated through. Ladle the soup into heated bowls and garnish with coriander.

Makes about 8 cups, or 6 servings

Notable Quotables

Fear is the main source of superstition, and one of the main sources of cruelty. To conquer fear is the beginning of wisdom. Bertrand Russell

I think it's time to change the American Dream. It's antiquated. It is no longer feasible that a person should consume as much as possible in a lifetime. There are far too many people, and not enough resources. Consumerism cannot work on a global scale. It would ennoble human kind and preserve our Earth, if we could learn from other living things, to just take what we need. D.A. Boggdweller

The man who never alters his opinion is like standing water, and breeds reptiles of the mind. William Blake

Some praise at Morning what they blame at Night; But always think the last Opinion right. Alexander Pope

Those who do not feel pain, seldom think that it is felt. Samuel Johnson

No man can be a patriot on an empty stomach. William Cowper Brann

For all of our advances in science and technology, we have not evolved past the stage of being pigs at a trough- consuming all that we can, as fast as we can. D.A. Boggdweller

When you defile the pleasant streams And the wild bird's aboding place,
You massacre a million dreams And cast your spittle in God's face. John Drinkwater (1882-1937)

How would you describe the difference between modern war and modern industry- between, say, bombing and strip mining, or between chemical warfare and chemical manufacturing? The difference seems to be only that in war the victimization is directly intentional and in industry it is “accepted” as a “trade off.”  Wendell Berry

I like being older. I don't strut around like a rooster in a hen yard anymore. I don't even need to be in a hurry about things. After you've lived for awhile, you look where you've been, and where you are going, and you see how everything fits together in the grand scheme of things. The quiet times have become more important. The urgency is gone. D.A. Boggdweller

See you next month.

If you have any comments, or ideas for Life Along the Trail, please contact me at: boggdweller@yahoo.com.