Layabouting

Moved

2010-11-05T23:03:00.000-07:00

I decided to move Layabouting to a new location - http://layabouting.com/wordpress/. I hope you will change your link and move with me.

Murphy's Law

2009-09-02T05:55:00.000-07:00

Greg, Bob and I were measuring 300 foot intervals for mile posts along the railroad yesterday, and at one point we had to measure across the Reuben Thundercloud bridge.

The bridge is decked, and the decking has one-quarter inch gaps between the boards to allow for drainage.

The tape we were using slipped down between the cracks.

We couldn't get it out. No matter what we did, the tape would not go sideways enough to allow us to get it out, or it would catch into the wood below the deck.

We worked away at it, and finally, using a large crescent wrench we borrowed from Reed and his steam engine, managed to wedge the boards far enough apart to drop the end of the tape down the crack, intending to draw it up again.

Needless to say, the end of the tape opened up into a ninety degree angle, preventing us from pulling it up again.

Using a screw driver, we finally got the tape end snapped back and freed the tape.

All in all, we spent just under forty five minutes freeing the tape.

Not bad for a retired lawyer, a retired NASA engineer and a retired business manager.

Now, how long do you think it would take us to change a light bulb?

I shudder to think.

Sordid Lives

2009-09-01T08:34:00.000-07:00

A friend told me the other day that she believed that we have lived past lives.

When I mentioned this to Michael, and he asked "So what past lives did she lead?"

When I told him, he remarked that so often people's past lives seemed to be more interesting than their present lives.

I've noticed this, too, or at least something similar.

I've never heard a story about a past life in which the teller was a drunken wife-beater or a worthless ne'er-do-well whose long overdue death was greeted with a sigh of relief by their relatives.

"I'll take her through ..."

2009-09-01T04:47:00.000-07:00

My older brother occasionally reminds me of the time, years ago, when I drove a car right into a washout.

I was a new driver, with a lot more self-confidence than common sense. My brother and I were driving home in a fierce rain, and came to a spot where water was running over the road.

My brother, more experienced than I, told me to stop. I replied "Don't worry, I'll take her through ..."

And so I did, for a score of feet until we hit the washout and the front end of the car sunk into the water. Stuck we were, and I learned a bit more about caution.

I was reminded of this yesterday at the railroad. We were taking a new car, a beautiful open excursion car for fall color viewing, for a test run. The test run was sandwiched in between the noon and 1 pm trains.

I was driving the diesel, and a a bunch of volunteers -- Dale, Jane, Gary, Bruce, Bob -- were riding, listening to the trucks and looking out for any problems.

We made it out to Western Springs. The new car performed beautifully.

Bob and I turned the diesel at Western Springs, and I headed down along the siding past the switchback. The others, meanwhile, were going to push the new car through the switchback so we could hook up, let the passenger train pull into the Western Springs station, and return to Hyde Park station.

I got out of the diesel and walked back to help move the new car.

We've been having trouble with the east end switchback. The switch doesn't reliably open as it is supposed to do. John and I spent an hour a week or two ago trying to diagnose the problem, and everyone knew about the issue. Meanwhile, we've not been using the switchback.

We moved the new car to the problem switch. Caution, of course, would have dictated that we would manually open the switch to let the new car to the problem switch.

Not so. Dale said something like "We'll find out how the switch is working ..." It wasn't, and about ten seconds later, we'd derailed the front truck of the new car.

It didn't take but a few minutes to set things right, and I doubt that anyone on the passenger train even noticed we were doing anything odd.

I wish I could report that I'd played my brother's role and advised Dale to stop and manually turn the switch, just to be on the safe side, but I didn't.

I laughed like everyone else.

So I paid my dues, getting under the car and helping get the truck back on track.

The trip back was uneventful, and the new car will be put in service.

Midsummer's Night

2009-08-29T05:34:00.000-07:00

Summer is coming to an end, and with the end of summer comes Netflix.

Michael and I watched "Were the World Mine", a musical twist on A Midsummer's Night's Dream based on Tom Gustafson’s short film, Fairies, last night. The movie won a ton of awards at various at Sundance and other film festivals, and it was very good, if weird.

The film was adapted from a short film entitled "Fairies", which also won major awards.

Michael is off to the railroad this morning, and I've got nothing planned until noon. I was supposed to have been at Sky High resort filling a dunk tank all morning for a political fund raiser this afternoon, but the weather being cold and windy, the dunk tank has been canceled.

So we'll see.

Labor Day

2009-08-29T04:18:00.000-07:00

Labor Day is late this year and it looks like Fall might be early.

We've had a cooler than normal summer in the Dells, and that's been a good thing, for the most part. We've had few of the horrible hot, muggy days that sap the energy out of you, and lots of relatively cool, crisp sunny days.

We've had a good rain pattern, too. We didn't get the usual August dry spell that browns out the grass this year, for the first time in a long time.

The weather has encouraged the flowers, which is a bonus. We still have day lilies blooming, which is almost unheard of, and I noticed the other day that the last of the gladiolus are finally fading, several weeks after the normal schedule.

This summer has been something of a throwback to the summers I remember from the 1950's.

I'm glad for it. I planted a lot of new shrubs just in back of the house early in the summer, and they are thriving. The area in back of the house can get like a furnace, and I expected a summer's fight to keep them alive long enough to throw down a decent root system. It wasn't, as it turned out, much of a fight. The weather cooperated, and it looks like the shrubs are now established.

I realized this morning -- low 50's right now, a predicted high of 61, and dark still at 6:30 am -- that Labor Day, the traditional end of summer, is right around the corner.

Tourists

2009-08-28T16:40:00.000-07:00

Michael and I played tourists today.

We went over to the International Crane Foundation in the morning, and spent a couple of hours there, walking the trails and looking at the cranes.

Around noon, we headed into the Dells for lunch -- Famous Dave's -- and then wandered up and down Broadway poking into the tourist trap shops. Michael looked at this and that, and I spent my time passing the time of day with the shopkeepers.

The summer crowds are gone -- the schools in Illinois now start in the third week of August -- so the shopkeepers were happy to see us, and we them.

As always, I was a bit stunned by the amount of bric-a-brac on sale in the Dells. Two or three stores have nice stuff, but Broadway is mostly t-shirts and schlock. I remember a time when the whole town had a half dozen stores selling tourist items, and I never can quite believe what Broadway has turned into in recent years.

Two hours on Broadway was more than enough for this year. Way more than enough.

Never say never ...

2009-08-28T14:00:00.001-07:00

"Another popular theme are military service buckles -- Army, Navy, Air Force, Combat Veteran, veteran of this war or that, and so on. I looked at the "Airborne" and "Special Forces" buckles, but both are too sappy for me to actually want to wear." - August 23

I spoke too soon.

No sooner had I written the post about the sappiness of military buckles -- and most are beyond horrible, and devilish mix of false bravado and sentimental stupidity -- than I ran across this buckle from Northwest Brass Works in Washington State.

The buckle depicts the Special Forces crest, worn over the group flash on the beret.

The crest was authorized in 1960. The fighting knife, crossed arrows and collar are derived from the insignia of the 1st Special Service Force, a Canadian-American unit activated during World War II, the predecessor of Special Forces. The words "De Oppresso Liber" roughly translate as "liberate the oppressed" and were added when the crest was adapted for the US Army.

I ordered the buckle online from Northwest Brass Work's store, and it arrived today. It is, in a word, beautiful -- understated, well designed, high quality materials and construction. The best thing about it is that those who recognize the crest will know what it means, and those who don't, won't.

I'll be wearing it as my dress buckle. It isn't for play.

One shining hope ...

2009-08-28T06:20:00.000-07:00

Michael posted a lyrical version the theme score used in Band of Brothers, an HBO miniseries based on Stephen Ambrose's book, yesterday.

The score was written by Michael Kammen and weaved its way through the episodes; the lyrics were written after Band of Brothers was televised, by Frank Musker:

You never lived to see
What you gave to me:
One shining dream of hope and love,
Life and liberty.
With a host of brave unknown soldiers
For your company, you will live forever
Here in our memory.
In fields of sacrifice
Heroes paid the price,
Young men who died for old men's wars
Gone to paradise.
We are all one great band of brothers
And one day you'll see we can live together
When all the world is free.
I wish you'd lived to see
All you gave to me:
Your shining dream of hope and love,
Life and liberty.
We are all one great band of brothers,
And one day you'll see - we can live together,
When all the world is free.

As I listened to the lyrics posted on Michael's blog, which are quite beautiful, I was saddened.

I believe that the sacrifices of men and women who fought in World War II made a difference, and I believe, having grown up in the midst of veterans of World War II, that they believed it.

With few exceptions, my generation did not believe that about our war -- Vietnam. We experienced the pain and loss of war without a compensating sense of hope, and we look back, for the most part, with deep sadness.

If you have not seen Band of Brothers, by the way, I highly recommend it. The episodes are brilliant, and the interviews with aged members of Company E particularly moving.

Band of Brothers will be a difficult experience, I suspect, for those who are not acquainted with war because it portrays the suffering of war without a romantic filter, and a disappointing experience for those of you glorify the high drama of war because the episodes realistically portray the matter-of-fact business of soldiering.

In contrast to most war flicks, Band of Brothers reminds me of the exhortation on the pit wall at the Airborne School when I was there many years ago -- "Courage". Not heroics, not histrionics, not drama -- simple, quiet, unassuming, matter-of-fact courage.

Thanks, Teddy

2009-08-26T06:37:00.000-07:00

Teddy Kennedy, who died yesterday, was steadfast in his commitment to full civil rights and equality for all Americans.

Gays and lesbians owe a debt of gratitude to Teddy Kennedy. His was a vote that was always cast on the side of equal treatment for gays and lesbians, without hedging or equivocation, and without concern for the political consequences.

Gays and lesbians are not the only Americans who owe Teddy Kennedy a debt of gratitude, of course, and I am not foolish enough to believe that gay and lesbian equality was on the front burner for him, or even close. Nonetheless, his support for equal treatment of gays and lesbians was clear, constant and unequivocal, unlike the support of most liberals and progressives, which comes and goes with the election winds.

Thanks, Teddy. You were a mensch.

The Rabbit Hole

2009-08-26T05:00:00.000-07:00

It always amazes me how I can get sucked down the rabbit hole at the railroad.

I went over yesterday, innocently enough, to cut and paint a piece of metal for a project I'm working on. I didn't expect to spend more than an hour or so at the railroad.

I ended up spending the entire day.

I went over about nine in the morning, cut the metal and primed it.

While I was waiting for the paint to dry, I got talking to Dale, who asked if I would pump some used boiler treatment from a five gallon bucket into sealed gallon containers for disposal while I was waiting.

I did that, and then did the same for used hydraulic oil.

By then, the prime coat was dry enough for a finish coat.

While I was waiting for that to dry, I went into Dave's office to check a detail about our website, something I'd e-mailed him about and hadn't yet gotten an answer.

Dave, as Dave will do, proceeded to tell me how overwhelmed he was, having just made a checklist of 70 things that needed to be done, telling me in great detail all his worries about breakfast on September 26, when the railroad has its annual meeting.

Dave, like most of us when we think the world is falling down around us, tends to grab onto a minor detail, far enough into the future that nothing can be done about it, and obsess.

Listening to Dave's litany, I heard an item that I could do something about, taking the rotten decking off the trailer we will be using for Wo Zha Wha Festival in the middle of September. John and I had moved the trailer out from behind a building Sunday afternoon, so I knew where it was and had an idea about what would be needed to do the job.

I got the decking off in an hour or so, added a second coat of paint to the metal I was working on, and wandered over to visit with Dale, Gary and Bob, who were sitting at one of the picnic tables.

Bob asked if I could conduct the 1:00 train to give Bruce a break for lunch. I said I could, and when the train pulled in, relieved Bruce.

I was worried about the weather -- I could see dark clouds to our north and hear the rumble of thunder -- so I stopped by the Ticket Office to check the computer. We had a thin band of yellow and red about ten miles to the north, and it bore watching.

I looked at the sky about five minutes before the train was due to depart, and I didn't like what I saw. I checked with Michael, who told me that it looked like the storm would hit us in the next ten minutes, and talked to Dave, who took a look and decided that we should hold the train until the storm was past.

I told folks that we were going to delay the train, and why, and rescheduled the train for 1:30, adjusting the rest of the afternoon's schedule. I shepherded the passengers into the Iron Horse, where Bob and Kay gave them something to eat and kept them warm and dry.

Reed and I put the train in the Sandberg barn, and the storm came with a fury, dumping buckets of water on us.

I checked with Michael every so often, and he said that it looked like the storm would be past on schedule at 1:30, so Reed and I waited until it looked like it was clearing up and then moved the train back down to the station.

A bit too soon. As it turned out, the storm kept popping up little cells, right on top of us, as soon as the previous cell passed on.

At 1:50 I sent Bruce, dressed in an enormous Florida raincoat, out on the scooter to do the safety check. We always check the tracks after any kind of storm, just to make sure that nothing has come crashing down on the tracks.

Bruce reported in that the tracks were safe, and we finally left the station at 2:00, got to Western Springs dry enough, only to have the storm pop up yet another cell just as we arrived.

We huddled under the canopy at Western Springs, making jokes, until it passed and headed in.

Meanwhile, I talked with Gary and Reed, and we decided to run diesel the rest of the afternoon. Gary pulled the diesel out of the Sandberg barn and put in on the station siding.

After we got in, Reed put the steam engine away and, because Bruce was following us in on the scooter and had to put that away, I set up the 3:00 train. Bruce showed up at 2:55, and, because we both assumed that Reed would be busy with the steam engine, we agreed that he would drive and I would conduct the train.

Along the way, my hour or so turned into six, and I don't know whether Bruce ever got his lunch.

Right down the rabbit hole we all went.

On the other hand ...

2009-08-25T05:07:00.000-07:00

If oak wilt weren't enough, Sauk County now has potato blight.

As in the blight that caused the Irish Potato Famine of the 1840's.

The blight is affecting both tomatoes and potatoes in the county. The University of Wisconsin Extension believes the blight was brought into Wisconsin through seedlings grown in blight infected states.

Blight is destructive and tough to beat. The Extension recommends total destruction of plants in infected areas, and not planting tomatoes or potatoes in the area for a year or two.

Closer to home, I think one of my iris patches has borers. It isn't exactly potato blight, but it isn't a good thing, either.

On the other hand, weeds are doing well, everywhere.

At least he didn't get eaten ...

2009-08-25T03:18:00.000-07:00

The local paper reports this morning that Jeremy Heifner, an out of state visitor in the area for a friend's wedding, was having a few drinks with friends after the wedding at a local bar.

A few, as in a blood-alcohol concentration of 0.165, twice the legal limit. The old-fashioned word is "drunk", although probably not "drunk as a skunk".

Semantics aside, the paper reports:

"He doesn't know how he got there, but the next thing he knew he was alone in the dark and standing in a watery marsh, covered with mud, scared and disoriented, he reportedly told police.

Not sure if he'd find alligators or other dangerous creatures, Heifner headed toward the brightest lights he could see in the distance. He came to a building that was locked, found a pipe, and broke a glass window that allowed him to get inside, police said.

While inside the building, he picked up a phone - which allowed him to contact the control center at Columbia Correctional Institution. He said he needed help and prison guards responded, police said in the report.

The building Heifner reportedly broke into is a warehouse building belonging to CCI that sits outside the fence. Following his call, the guards took him into custody and called Portage police, who took him to jail, police said."

Heifner is charged with entry into a building and criminal damage to property, and is free on $400 bail.

Breaking into a prison. That's a first, even for Wisconsin. But at least Heifner didn't get eaten by alligators. That's a plus ...

Divine intervention ...

2009-08-24T18:30:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to figure out how to hang up belts with white trash buckles in recent days.

The technique I've been using since I outgrew the habit of just tossing them on the floor, hanging belts on the hook of a hanger, works with regular buckles but doesn't with white trash buckles. Looping the belts over the bottom of a hanger doesn't work, either, because any self-respecting white trash buckle weighs enough to pull the belt off the hanger.

I've got enough now that I need to do something about it. And, like a progressive disease, the situation will only get worse over time.

I checked closet and hanger web sites, to no avail. Apparently, most folks with white trash buckles continue to toss them on the floor, so there isn't enough demand to warrant a special hanger.

The obvious solution is to hang the belts on nails, or pegs if you want to be fancy about it, and hang the belt by its holes. The problem with that, of course, is that the buckles end up at the bottom, where you can't see them without bending over.

It seems to me that the belts should hang with the buckle on top, and that is a problem with an obvious answer -- use the peg on the buckle to hang the belt -- without an obvious solution.

I considered building a strip of wood with holes for the pegs, metal dowels, wooden dowels and a half dozen other possibilities, none of which quite fit the bill for one reason or another.

And then, in what can only be described as divine intervention, the Good Lord cast my eyes upon an old, rusty fence post in the garage that I've been meaning to throw out for the last couple of years.

The light dawned. Positioned horizontally, a fence post has a strip just the right width to hang the buckle pegs, enough height to stabilize the buckle, holes to screw the fence post into the wall, can be turned into a project -- cutting to length, priming, painting and so on -- and just screams "white trash", creating a design synergy between buckle and hanger.

It is the perfect solution.

Oh, I wish I was an Oscar Meyer wiener ...

2009-08-23T04:51:00.001-07:00

I ran into this buckle at the Badger Steam and Gas flea market yesterday, and I couldn't resist it. It was made, for some odd reason or other, by the Oscar Meyer company in 1982, and it was so ridiculous I had to have it.

It shined up well with a little Brasso, and I put it on my the "Farmall" belt I bought a couple of years ago.

I never dreamed I'd end up being a belt-buckle affectionado, but I'm getting into it. I have three train buckles, and now a pig buckle.

I look at the internet every once in a while to look at other buckles.

Belt buckles, like t-shirts, come in hundreds of designs, but unlike t-shirts, a lot of belt buckles are downright belligerent, representing, I guess, the disaffected in our society. My view is that if you've seen one "God, Guns and Guts Made America Free" buckle, you've seen them all. No gentle whimsy here, to say the least.

Scores of belt buckles represent the trades -- everything from construction worker to machinist to trucker -- but not the professions. Try finding a belt buckle that hawks a lawyer or a doctor, for example, and see how far you get. Another popular theme are military service buckles -- Army, Navy, Air Force, Combat Veteran, veteran of this war or that, and so on. I looked at the "Airborne" and "Special Forces" buckles, but both are too sappy for me to actually want to wear. Others are just gross, bad pseudo-sexual jokes like "It won't lick itself ..." and "Oversized load ..." Not for me. And, of course, America being America, belt buckles advertising religious schmaltz abound. I think faith is too serious a matter to advertise on a belt buckle, at least in my case.

So I'll have trouble finding buckles I want. But I like buckles, and I'm sure I'll get more over time, as I spot buckles with a sense of humor at flea markets. I can see myself ending up with a dozen over the years.

I don't think I'll ever end up with a plate-sized "Everything's bigger in Texas" buckle, though. At least I hope not.

I am reverting to type, hobbling long and enjoying my belt buckles, just like half the old coots in Sauk County.

The Puppy and the Sandley Sandwich

2009-08-23T03:42:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was something of a Sandley Sandwich punctuated by a puppy.

I started the morning at the railroad, formerly the Sandley Light Railway Equipment Works, inspecting the two areas of track that we worked on during "track week".

The purpose of the inspection was to check the track after this week's rains and, if the track had settled in well enough, to lift the "slow zones" between MP 4-6 and MP 9-10.

The section between MP 9-10 was solid throughout, so I lifted the slow zone and removed the markers. I had issues with four ties in between MP 9-10, so I didn't lift the slow zone until John and I get a chance, which we will today, to go out and tamp those ties.

John showed up about an hour or so later, and I gave him a report.

We then headed from the railroad off to the Badger Steam and Gas show, where we spent the rest of the day.

And I do mean spent the rest of the day. John and I looked, I think, at every single tractor and steam device in the show, watched the grand parade, and poked our noses into every building and exhibit. I think I'm Badger Steam and Gassed out, although I'll probably go again next year, if for no other reason that to visit "Belt Guy" at the Flea Market.

John and I tracked down the Sandley Steam Wagon after the parade. John looked it over with his usual deliberateness, and talked with the current owner.

The wagon was built in 1972 at the Sandley works.

The wagon is the usual mix of Sandley engineering and ingenuity. The boiler was built on site by Reuben Thundercloud. It is certified for 250 psi, which is about double the pressure at which the Sandley locomotive boilers operate. The wheels, axles and steering mechanism are from a Model T Ford. The steam engine is a 1909 White, stepped down from its original 600 psi to 250 psi. The frame and body were built at the Sandley shop, and are, as are the Sandley locomotives, built to very high standards of detail.

After seeing everything to see at the show itself, John and I prowled the Flea Market. I looked for a belt buckle for the belt I bought on Friday, and John looked at everything else, except the flowers, which he passed up like they might be typhoid carriers.

We got separated at one point, and when we ran back into each other, John said: "Did you see the puppies?" When I told him that the puppies had somehow escaped my attention, John herded me over to a vendor that had Lab puppies for sale amongst the usual flea market bric-a-brac.

John's nickname is "Dawg", because he used to breed dogs when he was younger and still on the farm, going through a ton of dog food every month.

John was enamored of a little chocolate Lab puppy that was among the puppies for sale. I don't know what was so special about this particular puppy -- my idea of getting a dog is to head to the dog pound and pick one out -- but John called Judi about the puppy, which ended any hopes John might have had for actually buying it.

Or maybe not. John wanted a picture to show Judi, so I took a few. The puppy is cute, huh?

John and I eventually got to the point where we could barely walk anymore, so we took off, using the tractor shuttle to get back to the truck.

We got back to the railroad just in time to get drafted, truck and all, into returning a large outdoor grill to Dave's house. The railroad's grill pooped out on us during "track week", so we borrowed Dave's to cook for the track crew, and now it was time to haul it home.

A lot of Sandley for one day, no?

Badger Steam and Gas Show

2009-08-21T19:07:00.000-07:00

Sandley Steam Wagon, circa 1972

The Badger Steam and Gas Show is on this weekend.

Michael, Peter and I went to take a look this afternoon.

Michael is working tomorrow, so I poked around with him today at the flea market, which is a five acre show in itself. I bought my annual tooled leather belt from a vendor I like -- his belts are about 25% thicker than the ordinary, hold their shape better and last longer -- but didn't find a buckle I liked, so I'll look around online or at other flea markets later in the year.

I'll probably go again tomorrow with John, and perhaps Judi and Matthew. John will be interested in the steam engines and tractors, so I'll get more of that tomorrow.

I didn't see the Sandley Steam Wagon today, but I'm hoping to see it tomorrow.

The wagon was built at the railroad in 1972, and is, as far as I know, the only non-railroad steamer built by the Sandley Light Railway Equipment Works. It is now in private hands.

Cleanup

2009-08-20T03:52:00.000-07:00

I've spent the week doing cleanup.

At the railroad, cleanup consisted of actually cleaning up after track week -- putting away the track tools and picking up and stacking the 400 or so ties we replaced during track week.

We'll haul the ties in eventually -- we dry out the old oak ties and use them for heating our shops in the winter -- but that is going to take some time.

We haul them in with a couple of small flat cars, each safely holding about 20 ties, and park the flats at a point in the yard where we can get at them with the Bobcat. As we have time, we unload the flats of old ties and store them in the yard, and then go back for more.

What is not yet decided is what we are going to do with the 200 or so new ties laid out along the track, ties we didn't get to during track week. We won't have another track week until late October, and we should probably stack them to keep them dry, too. I'm waiting on John to make that decision before I go forward.

I've been doing cleanup of another sort around the house -- catching up on all the jobs that I put off while I was setting up for track week and during track week. The lawn kept growing despite my preoccupation, as did the weeds and underbrush. I spent and hour or two yesterday getting started on catching up, and I'll get back to it after the rain stops and things dry out a bit.

Good to go ...

2009-08-18T04:04:00.000-07:00

I went to Baraboo this morning to get my driver's license renewed, and now have a bright, shiny new driver's license good until my birthday in 2017.

Me being me, I worried about the renewal, wondering whether the cataract in my right eye would somehow screw things up, but as it turns out, the vision test for driving in Wisconsin tests both eyes at once -- the question is how well you can see, not the particulars of each eye -- and because my left eye is 20-20, it wasn't an issue.

I don't know if this is true for women, but for most men a driver's license has significance beyond having the state's permission to drive. A driver's license represents, in a very real sense, freedom.

I vividly remember getting my driver's license on my sixteenth birthday.

I was born in the fall, just before the cutoff on "too young for this grade", so I was one of the youngest kids in my grade at school. As a result, I was one of the last of my friends to get a driver's license, and I don't think that there was a kid on the planet who wanted one more than I did.

For me, as was the case with most boys, a driver's license was a rite of passage, the first state-sanctioned sign that I was coming of age, getting out from under the the shackles of childhood, on my way to adulthood.

No matter that boys haven't the sense that God gave grasshoppers at that age, or that in two short years I'd face the draft, my driver's license was freedom itself.

I got to chatting with the man who was handling my license renewal, a man a few years younger but with plenty of grey hair, and we got to talking about the importance of a driver's license for men. I told him that I still got a thrill, a shadow of revisiting that golden moment so many years ago when I got my first license, when he handed me my renewal license. He said that he did, too.

My license is good, now, until I'm 69. At that point, I'll be at the cusp of the reverse slope of my driving life, the age when I'll have to start taking into consideration the limitations of physical aging, and, perhaps, accepting limitations on my driving. I don't look forward to it, at all.

I'm hearing the quiet whispers of that time even now.

My neck injuries, which are beginning to limit my ability to pretend I'm an owl, mean that I'm relying on mirrors more and more, unable as I am to make a quick swivel of my head. The cataract in my right eye means that night glare is more evident, although I hope that will be fixed before Wisconsin's winter tosses us into more or less permanent darkness.

My body is whispering to me that in eight years I'll be able to see the day, approaching quickly or slowly, that I'll be too old to drive safely. When that day comes, I'll have to move off the farm and into town.

I hope that I'll be able to accept that day, when it comes, with grace.

Yeah, right.

Weekend

2009-08-16T19:46:00.001-07:00

I took the day off after track week, loafing around, doing nothing much. I don't even remember what I did, other than take a long afternoon nap.

Michael cooked an elaborate dinner for John and Judi. He doesn't cook often, but when he does, he does a good job.

Matthew was spending a few days with Dave and Mary and their grandson, Nathan, a boy of Matthew's age, so we had a pleasant, adult dinner Friday night.

John and I spent Saturday cleaning up after track week, sorting out the track tools and moving them to Camp Siding, counting the ties we have on hand (533) for the rest of the year, and preparing an updated track report for Saturday night's board meeting.

When we weren't goofing off, we were goofing around, pestering "Vern", one of the volunteers. Vern's real name is Carl, and he is a twenty something who weighs all of 120 pounds. John, for some reason or other, tagged Carl "Vern", and the name stuck. John also likes to kid Vern about eating his "taters", it being John's theory that Vern didn't get fed enough taters to put on the pounds when he was a boy, hence the 120 pounds as a young man.

An odd place, that railroad.

Today was another day off. Michael and I went to Baraboo for breakfast, and then hung out, doing nothing. We had planned to go to Madison for Capitol Pride, but the morning brought a steady rain, and we decided against it.

We poked around Farm and Fleet -- Michael thought he needed something from Farm and Fleet, but couldn't remember what it was -- and then went to Menards to pick up sunflower seed and suet for our feathery friends.

I spent the afternoon napping in front of the television and reading. I'm not sure what Michael did, but I'm sure that it was productive.

So much for days off.

Tomorrow it is back to work. I'm going to try to stack the 400 ties we pulled last week so that we can move them back for firewood over the winter. The museum uses the old ties in the wood stoves during the winter.

We'll probably have about a thousand to burn this winter, so the shops will be warm. Good for us.

Passing

2009-08-13T17:26:00.000-07:00

Our friends Rick and Steve (no, it is not a joke) are getting married in November in Iowa.

I've attended a number of religious same-sex weddings over the years -- Reform Judaism, the predominant union in the United States, recognizes the validity of same-sex marriage under Jewish law -- but the November nuptials, performed by an Iowa judge at the Figge Art Museum in Davenport, will be the first same-sex civil law marriage I've witnessed.

In honor of the occasion, I decided it is time to start thinking about getting ready.

I bought a dress shirt and tie tonight. Next month I'll get my suit out of basement storage and dust it off for the occasion. The month after, I'll find my black shoes and polish them up.

Between it all, I'll pass for properly dressed if the lights are dimmed.

Track Week

2009-08-13T14:45:00.000-07:00

I'm just home from track week, a four day tie replacement marathon.

John and I supervised ten WDOC workers who joined our track crew for the four days.

My day started at 6:30 am, when I took the scooter out on track inspection.

When the track was certified for the day's run, I took the track tools out to the area of track we were working on that day, and laid them out in sets, one set for each team.

Each track tool set consists of a garden weasel to loosen the ballast, a spike extractor, a tie extractor guide, a tie extractor bar, two track gauges to hold the rail in place while the new tie is spiked, a "Bruce Bar" to level the tie, a 12 lb sledge, a four pound sledge, a three pound sledge, a round spade, a square spade, a square shovel, a level, two tamping bars and a metal-bristle broom, spikes and lots of water.

We also have various jacks, clamps and other equipment available for areas needing specialized tools.

The track crew showed up with John and Bruce about 8 am. John briefed the crew on the area we would be working in that day, and then John and I each took a five-man team out to our work areas. Bruce stayed at Camp Siding with the scooter and a flat car, supporting the track crew as needed.

Laying track isn't difficult -- pull the spikes, remove the tie, insert the new tie, gauge, spike, level and ballast -- but it is hard physical work.

I didn't, at my age, even try to keep up with the workers, who were in their thirties, for the most part, and a lot stronger. But I worked with them all day long, and came home beat.

At the end of "track week", we had laid 385 ties, plus or minus one or two. That's a lot of ties. The railroad has about 5,500 ties all told, yards excluded, and we need to get 1,200 replaced this year if we can.

Needless to say, the WDOC crews will be back this Fall and this Spring.

I'm looking forward to it.

Thunderish

2009-08-08T06:11:00.000-07:00

It is thunderish this morning.

I went outside about five, and the weather was still, muggy and oppressive. I could see flashes of light every thirty seconds or so, but nothing distinct, and no noise.

By six, when I headed off to see Miss Molly, the rain was coming down in sheets, and the sky was rumbling, but no cloud to earth lightning that I could see.

Its calmed down now, at eight, with only an occasional, distant, rumble.

Thunderish.

The Library Sale

2009-08-08T05:24:00.000-07:00

Michael tells me that the library is collecting books for its September sale. I usually contribute a box or two, so I'll start looking through and sorting.

I like books, but I decided, when I moved into this house, that I was not going to end up inundated with books, so I built just over fifty linear feet of bookshelves, and made a rule: If I add a book, I'll give away a book.

What it comes down to in practice is that I clear out the books I don't want to keep long term, store them in book boxes in the garage, and then give them away to the library book sale a couple of times a year.

I keep an odd collection of books, I find.

Some, like Churchill's history of World War II and de Tocqueville's Democracy in America, are books with sufficient depth that I want to read them every few years just to savor them. A few are modern literature of similar depth -- Larry Woiwode, Cormac McCarthy, Felice Picane and Annie Proulx come to mind. About a third, though, are, in a word, "comfort books" -- Michael Thomas Ford, Tony Hillerman and so forth -- that I keep around to read over and over again like a favorite snack.

But most of what I read eventually finds its way to the library book sales.

Most, that is, of the books I buy. I buy less than fifty books a year now, and most of them at Half Price Books in Madison.

The reason I don't buy as much these days is that I've rediscovered the joys of taking books out of the library since I've retired. It is not something I had the leisure or the inclination to do when I was working sixty hours a week and had to hassle with the Chicago Public Library.

Our library system is huge -- five counties are linked together with a collection of hundreds of thousands of books -- and no hassle.

I keep a list on the library's LINKcat system -- 47 are currently on the list -- and order four books every other weekend. Michael picks them up when he volunteers at the library on Thursdays, I read them, and they go back with him on a subsequent Thursday.

The libary list is as eclectic as my other reading -- right now Keith McDermott's "Acqua Calda", Peter Temple's "Black Tide", Andrew Holleran's "Dancer from the Dance", Michael Jensen's "Firelands", Caro Soles' "The Tangled Boy", Damian McNichol's "A Son Called Gabriel" are on the list, for example -- and, as you can see, I'm experimenting with reading novels, something I didn't do before I retired.

I added the entire "Horatio Hornblower" series to the list last night. I remember reading one of the books -- I don't remember which -- years ago and liking it, so I decided I'd read through the whole thing this winter. We'll see how that goes.

Anyway, the library sale means I'll buy another half dozen books, so one of these days I'll get to sorting and boxing books to contribute the library sale.

Fifty linear feet is fifty linear feet.

Tomatoes

2009-08-07T05:30:00.000-07:00

The tomatoes are ripening, and I'm eating a BLT made with the first of the crop. I guess that the tomatoes taste better than store bought, although you'd not know it from me.

I grow a few things just to grow them, but I'm not fond of it. I spent too many hot and miserable summer hours weeding the large family garden as a kid to want anything to do with gardens as a grown up.

Ah, Progress not Perfection

2009-08-07T04:57:00.000-07:00

Blogspot has been nagging me to switch over to the new template for a couple of years now, and I finally got around to doing it this morning.

The new template is designed to allow folks who don't know how to write style sheets to change the look and feel of their blog, add and remove page elements, and so on.

The switch was relatively painless, although, as promised, all the customization I had done to the style sheet disappeared, so I spent about fifteen minutes setting things right.

The good news was that I can still directly edit the style sheet using html editing. The good lord knows how long the process of re-customizing the template might have taken if I used the layout tools.

Facts

2009-08-06T17:13:00.000-07:00

When I told Dave, the railroad's general manager, that I planned to start moving track tools and supplies to the Camp Siding shed last week, he cautioned me that there was a large wasps' nest in the shed, and that I should wait until after he got an exterminator out to rid ourselves of the wasps.

So I waited. I told our track manager about the change in plans over the weekend, and he told me that he'd been bit when the crew cleared rails out of the shed a few weeks earlier.

I was busy today with cutting the lawn and other things, and I left my cell phone in the house. After dinner, when I decided to use it, I saw that I had three "missed" calls, two from Dave and one from Dale, midafternoon.

I called Dale back first, and he told me to call Dave. Apparently, Dave had the exterminators out this afternoon and they couldn't find the nest. So Dave called me to find out where it was ...

When I told him that he had told me about the nest, not the other way around, he said "Well, somebody told me ... Are you sure it wasn't you?"

Yup, Dave, I'm sure.

Such are facts in our too much information age.

Anyway, Dave is calling off the exterminators, since I was, in his head, the source of the information, and I don't have a clue.

We'll see what the wasps think of that next week when we are working out there ...

Bruce

2009-08-04T13:19:00.000-07:00

I spent much of the morning with Bruce, chasing down the last things we'll need to sustain the WDOC work crew coming next week.

Bruce is a retired shop teacher, about seventy, from Florida. Bruce and his wife Cheryl come up to the railroad for a month or so every summer to help out.

We did the circuit of the big box stores in the area, chasing down the best prices on cases of water, work gloves and the rest of the things we need, and we had lots of time to talk when we were driving.

A young man who is related to Bruce came out earlier in the summer, and we began talking about how tough it remains to grow up gay in our culture.

Along the way, Bruce told me about his efforts to keep high school students perceived to be gay from being harassed by other students when he was teaching. His stories were both heartening and horrifying.

Harassment of kids perceived to be gay and lesbian remains a serious problem in our schools, and I'm honored to know teachers like Bruce, who refuse to turn a deaf ear and do what they can to keep the lid on.

Miss Molly

2009-08-03T06:47:00.000-07:00

I have been taking care of a friend's cat, Miss Molly, while they are out of town.

After a break-in period, Miss Molly has decided that I'm learned enough to meet her high standards, and we've settled into a routine.

Miss Molly likes to spend the night outdoors, so I go over every morning at six, let her in, feed her, check her water, and settle in to watch the morning news.

After Miss Molly has finished off her tuna, she comes over and settles into my lap for a petting session. When she's had enough, she gets up and heads over to the windowsill by the bird feeder, and I head home.

I go over in the evening and we watch Rachael Maddow together. Miss Molly sits in my lap for the hour, and when she's seen enough of Rachael, she goes over to the door, rings the bell hanging from the door knob, and I get up and let her out for the night.

I usually give her five minutes, and then go home myself.

Despite myself, I'm getting fond of Miss Molly. She is a queenly sort of cat, in marked contrast to our two ruffians, appropriately named after bandits.

Hours

2009-08-02T20:05:00.000-07:00

I flipped another sheet in the volunteer book today, and I'm now over 900 hours for the volunteer year, which runs from September 1 to August 31. Depending on when my cataract surgery is scheduled, I'll probably come in just over a thousand hours, which is about right for me.

We track volunteer hours at the railroad because corporations who give in-kind and monetary donations take the number of volunteer hours into account. Last year, the railroad logged about 24,000 volunteer hours, and that is, I'm led to understand, pretty good for a non-profit our size.

The IRS "values" volunteer hours at about $18, so I've contributed, according to them, about $18,000 worth of time to the railroad this year. I suppose that's a good thing, but for me, volunteering is fun.

John and I delivered ties to next week's work zones this morning and early afternoon, and then I headed home.

John and family showed up for pizza on their way back to the Twin Cities, and afterward we went into the Dells for custard at Culver's. We walked the girls around for a few blocks, letting them oogle the pretties in the store windows.

John and family are will be coming over for breakfast tomorrow morning, and head back to the Twin Cities.

John is looking a little frayed around the edges, after four days with the kids. Traveling with little ones isn't easy, because they are thrust out of their routine and tend to get a bit frantic. Travel hours with little kids count about 3 to 1, in my opinion.

But the girls will be home tomorrow, and John can rest up at work starting Tuesday.

Land Office

2009-08-01T05:39:00.000-07:00

The height of the tourist season is upon us, and we did a land office business today at the railroad.

The scheduled conductor for #82 called into say that he couldn't make it, so Dave asked me to turn around and go home, get dressed in my "public" outfit, and substitute. We had full trains all day, and I was too busy to think.

The bonus of the day was that I got to work with Jack, the railroad's other senior conductor. Jack and I enjoy working together because we can make the railroad run like a clock. We don't usually work together, because we are both senior conductors and the railroad usually teams a senior conductor with a less experienced conductor.

The downside of the day was that I didn't get out with John and Judi on the track.

Michael and I did have dinner with them, though, at the Mexican restaurant in Reedsburg. The restaurant is owned and operated by a family of Mexicans, unlike the restaurants in the Dells, and I like the food. It isn't close to the Mexican restaurants on 18th Street in Chicago, but it isn't Dells ersatz food, either.

John and Judi didn't know it existed, despite the fact that they've driven by it a thousand times. John's ears perked up when I suggested we head over there, because he likes Mexican food. Now he's got a spot.

The food in the Dells is pretty grim.

There are a few bright spots -- Firehouse Pizza on County H, R'Place for homemade Italian in Lake Delton, the High Rock Cafe for a good lunch, downtown Monk's for a really good hamburger, House of Embers for fancy sit-down meals -- but food in the Dells, for the most part, consists of fast food joints, the same-old-same-old places like Perkins, Denny's and the like, and imitation ethnic food of one sort and another, dumbed down for suburban Chicago taste buds.

So most of us go out of town when we want to eat.

We go out of town when we want to shop, too, because the Dells no longer has shops supporting real life. It is too bad, in one sense, I suppose, but that's life.

Social Security

2009-07-31T20:18:00.000-07:00

I went to the Social Security office in Portage today to get a replacement social security card. I need one to show the County Clerk when Michael and I register for domestic partner status in a few weeks.

I can't remember the last time I saw the one I was originally issued, but it has been at least thirty years.

The Portage office is small, and was crowded. The area has a lot of foreign workers in the summer, and they all need social security cards.

I arrived just after a car full of Romanian twenty-somethings, each cuter than the next, so I was about tenth in line. I took my number and settled in for the wait.

Listening in, I was surprised by the courtesy with which the social security staffers treated the Romanians, and their patience in shepherding them through the bureaucratic maze.

My encounter was similarly pleasant, if brief. I handed in my application for a replacement card, showed by driver's license, watched the staffer click on the computer for a half minute, and got a receipt and was told my card would arrive in the mail within a couple of weeks. The whole thing took less than two minutes.

I've never been to a social security office before, as far as I know, and my visit reassures me about future encounters a few years down the road -- three years from now I enter the Medicare system and four years from now I start drawing social security benefits. It is good to know that the social security staff treats people well.

Visit

2009-07-31T15:25:00.000-07:00

John, his mother Marlene, and two of the kids -- Katya and Elena -- showed up this morning, stopping through on the way from the Twin Cities to Chicago.

They showed up around eight, already having done the pool at their motel.

We made breakfast, ate it and headed for the train. The girls were full of questions, of course, as bright young girls will be, but the ride was fun. I took along my radio, so that everyone could listen in on the operations, and Jack, who was conducting, was entertaining at Western Springs.

We beat it out of the railroad in time to get back for a conference call John had to be on, and while he was on the phone, Marlene and I took the girls for a walk in the woods. We found some ripe blackberries and enjoyed them -- Lena loved them and Katya didn't want anything to do with them.

Marlene said she hadn't had a blackberry off the bush since she was a teenager. Funny, because I walk down an eat a dozen or two every day during the season.

Katya was very interested in the round reflectors I screwed into the trees years ago, when John and his friends would come up camping on the ridge. The purpose of the reflectors was to allow us to find the road -- a path through the woods, barely wide enough for a car -- in the dark.

The girls wanted reflectors, so I took a yellow and a red one down for each of them. I haven't a clue what they'll do with them, but kids seem to like "found" objects, so I imagine that they'll be the bane of John and Liz's existence for a week or two, anyway, until they get lost.

The gang headed on to Chicago after lunch, and Michael and I took naps. John, of course, had no such luxury.

The visit brought back memories of traveling with the kids when they were that age. It is a lot of work, and everything takes about ten minutes longer than you'd think.

I've gotten away from it, to the point where I wonder, when I see an SUV unloading with two parents and three small kids, what in the world they are doing all that time. It seems to take about five minutes just to get out of the car.

Today, I relearned.

Flat and Level

2009-07-31T14:40:00.000-07:00

I got a call from the railroad yesterday about four in the afternoon. A stretch of track needed attention, and I went over to the railroad with Peter to take a look.

We'd had a tremendous, albeit short, rain earlier in the afternoon, the kind of rain that Texans call "gullywashers". Peter and I were driving back from Portage when we got caught up in it, and it was coming down so hard that it made it almost impossible to drive, even at 25 mph on a township road.

The rain shifted a few ties in a short segment of track in one of the cuts, between milepost 14 and milepost 15.

Getting it fixed was simple enough -- a matter of lifting and moving a few ties and reballasting -- but as things will happen on the railroad, it became complicated quickly.

Peter and I took the scooter and a bunch of tools out to take a look. The track was not flat and level, like it normally is and is supposed to be. Instead, it was a series of small hills and gullies, barely perceptible to the eye, but enough to cause problems.

So I called in an asked the crew hanging around the hard to bring out the diesel and a passenger car, so that we could repair and check, check and repair, watching the couplers between the engine and the car to make sure we had the track flat and level.

Three came out -- Gary, Dale and Bruce -- and entertained Peter and me with tall tales while we were working.

We got the track sorted out by seven, and trains ran fine today, as far as I know. John and I will have to take a look at that stretch of track tomorrow. My guess is that we'll make it a priority for the WDOC workers August 10-13.

Shirley

2009-07-30T14:44:00.000-07:00

I was conducting yesterday during the annual state inspection of the railroad. I was surprised and delighted to see Shirley, who has done the inspections for years.

Shirley turned over the reigns to a younger inspector last year, and I didn't expect to see her again. As it turned out, the younger inspector had medical needs to attend to, so Shirley volunteered to help out by picking up the slack.

Shirley is a good inspector. She is thorough and careful. She is also a delightful person, and fun to be around. As retired people will do, we talked about how our families were doing and how we were doing. I was happy to make a trip with her and get a chance to talk again.

I hadn't conducted for a couple of months because I've been focusing on track, and the day was longer -- ten hours -- and harder than I remembered.

It isn't the physical labor so much as being "on" all day, keeping track of everyone and everything going on around the trains and the station. By the end of the day, I was ready to slump in front of the television and go mindless.

Luck of the Draw

2009-07-28T05:15:00.000-07:00

We had weather yesterday afternoon.

Not in the Dells, of course, since weather skirts us to the north and south most of the time, but to the north and south. Heavy rains, high winds, a couple of small tornadoes, large hail, roads and highways closed by fallen trees, a lot of damage of one sort and another.

Meanwhile, I was grilling pork chops on the deck, with one eye on the television, which tracked the storms and provided minute-by-minute updates.

Outside, it looked and felt like we were going to get creamed any minute, but all we got were a few sprinkles. No t-shirt even. Luck of the draw.

The area hardest hit was the Uplands area Michael and I drove through on Friday. The area was soaked with just under three inches of rain, and flash flooding was all over the place, apparently. Michael and I dodged heavy rain in the area on Friday, and that didn't help, because the ground was already soaked for yesterday's storm.

No word yet on whether Gays Mills flooded yet again, but the Wisconsin State Journal reports that about 20,000 areas of corn and beans were destroyed, at last count.

Farming is a tough gamble.

I spent yesterday morning building track tools at the railroad, converting old pry bars into tie lifters. Because most of our tools are hand built, each pry bar was a different size, of course, which meant that I had to hand measure and cut the parts for each tie lifter individually. No mass production for us.

I spent the afternoon mowing the perimeter of the yard, out from the house a hundred to two hundred or so feet, an area I like to keep rough cut and meadow-ish, and mow only once or twice a year to keep the brush out.

I use an old mower for that job, set as high as it will go.

The mower was acting up, burbling, a sign that the gas line or carb was gummed up.

I tried the incremental route, putting in a tablespoon of carb cleaner, and things didn't improve. So I waited until the gas was almost out, and them dumped in about a quarter cup. That got its attention, and after five minutes, it started running just fine.

Don't mess with me, mower.

Tools

2009-07-27T03:31:00.000-07:00

This weekend was "tool weekend" at the railroad.

We have a track maintenance crew -- twelve of us altogether -- coming in for four days in early August, and we plan two or three more track maintenance pushes in September and October.

John, the railroad's track master, and I worked out the number of tools needed to support crews that large a couple of weeks ago -- four of this, six of that, eight of something else -- and we spent the weekend buying or building the tools we'll need.

I spent Saturday designing and cutting the metal needed to build eight track gauges. Track gauges are tools we use to keep the track exactly 15 inches apart when we are laying ties, and look something like the letter "I" with a long bottom.

The gauges get a lot of abuse -- kicked, pounded, yanked and so on -- and over the years warp and bend, and at that point we have to toss them. We were down to a couple of "good" gauges, so we built a new set.

The work of cutting all the metal needed was methodical work -- cut, grind, brush, cut, grind, brush -- but I enjoyed the day. I've always liked building things, and it was a bonus to be able to work in metal, using machine shop equipment.

When the metal was cut, I built a jig for welding the gauges, using two ties and two 12 inch long rails. The jig was quickly dubbed, not by me, the "RGN Shortline".

Yesterday, John and I went on a scavenger hunt, buying what was commercially available -- levels, pry bars, spades and shovels, 28 ounce framing hammers, and so on. We got a few things here, a few things there, and the rest someplace else.

It surprised me how hard it is to buy four or six or eight of anything these days. For example, we found that Farm and Fleet had three levels and three hammers of the kind we wanted, and we needed four. We bought three of each at Farm and Fleet and found the fourth at Menards. Just-in-time inventory is essential to economic survival for store these days, I guess, but it doesn't save on gasoline.

We are still short a couple of tools we couldn't find in any of the stores we visited, and I'll try to hunt them down this week. If nothing else, I'll drive down to Delaney's, an often reliable source of "Oh my God, you actually have these?" oddball things.

But that's tomorrow. Today I'll be cutting metal for tie lifters, so that Dale can weld them together when he comes on Thursday, painting everything fluorescent orange, and figuring out how to provide a dozen sweating men with a couple of gallons of water a day for four days without bringing the "use bottled water and die" crowd on my head.

When I get that done, I'll start goading Dave into ordering the port-a-potty for Camp Siding and laying 300 or so ties out along the track in the right spots.

"Tool weekend" was a break. John and I usually spend our weekends repairing track, and it gets old. This weekend, we got to knock around, get away from the railroad, and chatter about this and that along the way.

Boys' days out, and all that ...

When you don't have the law ...

2009-07-26T05:53:00.001-07:00

"When you don't have the law on your side, argue the facts, when you don't have the facts, argue the law, and when you don't have either the facts or the law, just argue."

So goes a "rule" of lawyering.

As oft promised, Julaine Appling, Lee Webster and Jaren Hiller, the President and two directors of Wisconsin Family Action, the political action wing of the Wisconsin Family Council, filed a petition in the Wisconsin Supreme Court asking the court to declare Wisconsin's new domestic partnership law unconstitutional and to enjoin Governor Doyle and other Wisconsin officials from putting the law into effect.

The petition asks the Supreme Court to take direct jurisdiction over the case, skipping the trial and appellate court levels, and most legal observers believe that the court will take a pass on direct review, requiring that the case be heard through normal channels, a process that will probably take a few years.

Whether or not the Supreme Court takes direct jurisdiction, the petition is a good example of "When you don't have the law on your side, argue the facts, when you don't have the facts, argue the law, and when you don't have either the facts or the law, just argue."

The petition is thin soup, indeed, from a legal standpoint, and bears the earmarks of good lawyers trying to create something out of nothing. It has a dispirited feel to it. The petition reads more like a political document than a legal document, and contains the seeds of its own self destruction, stretching the facts to the point of overreaching.

The petition, for example, says (at Paragraph 18) "Although not all of the legal incidents of marriage are legal incidents of domestic partnerships created under Chapter 770, they are mirror image legal statuses which share enough of the core legal incidents of marriage to be seen by a reasonable observer as a form of marriage for same-sex couples." and then concludes (at Paragraph 19) "Thus, the status created is not only substantially similar, but virtually identical, to that of marriage."

The claim that the "incidents" are "virtually identical" is absurd, given what the new law does and doesn't do.

The domestic partnership law is a pale shadow of Wisconsin marriage law, if it even amounts to a shadow at all.

The domestic partnership law grants roughly forty rights to same-sex couples who register as domestic partners. The rights created involve peripheral rights of marriage, not "core" rights. The rights may be important -- they are, in fact -- but they are rights incidental to marriage, not central.

The two most important rights created by the new law are the right to inherit and the right to make medical decisions for an incapacitated domestic partner.

While it is true that both rights are also rights of spouses, the rights are also granted to others -- parents, siblings, children and so on -- by Wisconsin law.

The point of the domestic partnership law is to get domestic partners into the legal mix, so that a surviving domestic partner can inherit property, instead of finding himself or herself out in the cold after twenty or thirty or forty years of living together while a second cousin inherits everything, and so that a domestic partner can be involved in medical decisions for a dying partner, instead of being shut out because he or she is a "legal stranger".

The domestic partnership law does not grant rights are "core", reserved to spouses alone, such as the extensive marital property rights granted by Wisconsin law exclusively to married couples, rights to an orderly divorce granted exclusively to married couples, the right to two-person adoption, the right to file joint tax returns, and so on.

What is not granted is much greater than what is granted, and to claim, as the petition does, that what is granted by the domestic partnership law is "virtually identical" to what is granted by Wisconsin's marriage laws is a claim that falls flat on its face.

The petition also overreaches both law and fact when it claims (at Paragraph 22) "This [marriage] status is recognized by the law and becomes the basis for legal incidents thought necessary to support and enforce this status and the obligations assumed by the parties to one another. Chapter 770 does precisely the same for domestic partners."

The domestic partnership law, itself, creates no obligations whatsoever on the part of either domestic partner. For example, the statute creates no obligations of mutual financial support or mutual financial responsibility, obligations that are "core" to the marriage relationship under Wisconsin law. Nor does the domestic partnership law provide for any obligations whatsoever in the event of dissolution of the domestic partnership, in stark contrast to the extensive obligations created between a divorcing married couple, obligations that often extend well beyond divorce. Nor does the domestic partnership law create obligations with respect to the children of domestic partners.

The reason that the domestic partnership law does not create such obligations, of course, is that the domestic partnership law creates no rights requiring any such obligations.

So what is the basis of the petition's claim that "Chapter 770 does precisely the same for domestic partners" when it comes to "the obligations assumed by the parties to one another?" Thin air, as far as I can tell. And soup concocted out of thin air is thin soup, indeed.

The most interesting part of the petition, though, is a long exposition on the "conjugal model" of marriage, a model drawn entirely from articles cited from social conservative journals. Using the "conjugal model" as its wellspring, the petition begins (at paragraph 22) the "obligations" argument by saying: "Marital status is understood to involve intimacy between married partners and the creation of a family. This status is recognized by law and becomes the basis for legal incidents thought necessary to support and enforce this status and the obligations assumed by the parties ..."

It is at this point that the petition self-destructs most clearly.

As I pointed out in Domestic Partners earlier this month, in which I discussed the possibility that petitioner Julaine Appling and her long-time friend Diane Westphall, both straight, appeared to meet the requirements for forming a domestic partnership under the new law: "The heart and soul of marriage is a bond of intimacy that goes beyond friendship, no matter how longstanding or close that friendship may be, and no matter how closely the friendship intertwines the friends into familial and financial relationship. It is the bond of intimacy -- and in particular a sexual bond, past or present -- that most clearly distinguishes marriage, as we commonly understand it in our culture, from the domestic partnerships envisioned by the law enacted yesterday."

In a nutshell, that's the problem that the petition struggles to overcome and cannot.

As the petition points out, marriage is a unique relationship, and understood as such, based on a unique intimacy, an intimacy that friends, however close their friendship and however longstanding their friendship may be, do not share.

I doubt that Julaine or Diane or anyone who knows them would describe their friendship as involving or even approximating the "intimacy between married partners". Friends are friends, married couples are married couples; the gulf between the two relationships is wide and deep. The two are not "equivalent or substantially identical", and never can be.

And yet, it appears that Julaine and Diane could become domestic partners under the law.

That is why, stripped of all the discussion about rights and obligations, the domestic partnerships created by Wisconsin's new law are not a form of marriage for same-sex couples. The domestic partnership law does not require, assume or even hint at a relationship similar to the "intimacy between married partners" that is the core of marriage as we understand it in our culture.

Like the "protect marriage" crowd's arguments during the 2006 debates over the anti-marriage amendment, and like the arguments put forward by Julaine, Lee and other social conservatives at the time, the petition stretches the facts to the point of overreaching.

The overreaching worked with the body politic in 2006; it will not work in court, because courts know the adage "When you don't have the law on your side, argue the facts, when you don't have the facts, argue the law, and when you don't have either the facts or the law, just argue." Judges learned it in law school, just like the rest of us, and judges see the adage put into action every day. Judges are not as easily fooled as the body politic.

I've read the petition carefully, and followed its arguments.

I no longer worry about the possibility that Wisconsin courts will strike down the new domestic partnership law; the law almost certainly falls within the constitutional boundaries established by the anti-marriage amendment.

So at one level, I would like to see the Wisconsin Supreme Court take direct jurisdiction and dispose of the matter quickly and efficiently, and get the matter over with.

Legal observers don't think the court will do so, however, and I suppose that is just as well.

It will not hurt, and could help in the long run, for a trial court to put the extensive public record involving the genesis and passage of the anti-marriage amendment into the court's record as evidence, a record that could provide the basis for the Wisconsin Supreme Court to draw clear guidelines concerning the meaning and intent of the anti-marriage amendment, should the court decide to create such guidelines so when the matter is finally decided.

It would be helpful, I think, because clear guidelines might help the legislature in future years, as adding this or that right or obligation to the domestic partnership law is discussed.

Clear judicial guidelines might even, although I doubt it given the political and financial needs of "protect marriage" groups like the Wisconsin Family Council and Wisconsin Family Action, lessen the likelihood of a full-court legal battle every time the legislature grants any new right or creates any new obligation for domestic partners. Clear judicial guidelines or not, I suspect that groups like Wisconsin Family Action will fight to the last ditch on every issue, because fighting gay and lesbian rights is a reliable source of funding, and funding is the lifeblood of the organizations.

But however the case is handled, and whatever the process by which the case finds its way to the Wisconsin Supreme Court, I think that the outcome is almost certain. The domestic partnership law will be found constitutional.

Michael and I are moving forward, doing the estate planning and other work we need to do before entering into a domestic partnership, and I suspect that we'll form a domestic partnership under the new law within a month or two. At our age, the limited rights granted by the law are critical, and the clock is ticking.

We were not lost ...

2009-07-24T08:00:00.000-07:00

Michael and I were both in a grumpy mood this morning, so we decided to head off on a day trip, just to get away for a day.

We decided to head to Prairie du Chien, the town where the Wisconsin River meets the Mississippi.

The plan was simple enough.

We would drive south in western Sauk County to Spring Green, and hook up with STH 60, which is a designated Wisconsin scenic byway dubbed the "Lower Wisconsin River Road", follow STH 60 along the river to Praire du Chien, and then drive north on STH 35 along the Mississippi for twenty or so miles, then head east on STH 171 through the Southwest Wisconsin Uplands back to Richland Center, and then through the back roads to Sauk County.

The plan was simple enough, but the execution brought to mind the old saw about "mice and men".

STH 60 is like the Bermuda Triangle. It kept disappearing on us.

It first disappeared in Gotham, when we somehow missed a turn onto STH 60, and ended up in Richland Center, which was on the return route.

No problem, said we, intelligent men both. We would simply reverse the route, driving TO Prairie du Chien through the Wisconsin Uplands and driving BACK from Prairie du Chien along the river.

So far, so good, and the first part of the plan worked. We drove through the Uplands along STH 171, which looks squiggly even on a state highway map.

The drive was beautiful, although better suited, perhaps, to a roadster than a pickup, since it was so winding that I don't remember a single stretch along the whole road where anyone in their right mind would even consider driving the normal state highway speed of 55 mph.

About halfway to the Mississippi is Gays Mills, self-styled as the "Apple Capital of Wisconsin", I find out.

Heretofore, Gays Mills was embedded in my consciousness as "the town that floods out every time it rains". Gays Mills is located in a narrow valley along the Kickapoo River, and has flooded out twice in the last few years. Most of the town is picking up and moving now, headed upriver, and presumably to higher ground, where it will be reestablished as "North Mills".

I wonder which will be the "Apple Capital of the World" then, Gays Mills or North Mills?

At any rate, the idea that Wisconsin, known for cows and cheese, even had an Apple Capital was news to me. I wonder how I missed that? I suppose, as one of my friends used to point out to me, I was born ignorant and have always been determined to stay that way ...

I have to say, though, that seeing hundreds upon hundreds upon more hundreds of acres of apple orchards along the hills on both sides of Gays Mills was quite a sight. I wonder who eats all those apples?

We eventually made it to the Mississippi, and drove for a while along the river, something I always like. The road and a railroad track cling to a small area of land between the bluffs and the river for hundreds of miles between the Wisconsin border and the Twin Cities, and it is beautiful driving.

The Mississippi has always romanced me, and I can't get enough of it. I'm in my sixties, and I still get a thrill every time I see it. I'll drive out of my way to drive along it.

I'm not sure why I'm stuck on the Mississippi. Its not as if I didn't grow up on the Wisconsin River, which ought to be enough for anyone. But stuck I am.

I suppose the river's romance has to do with its mystery, stories ranging from the literature of Mark Twain's "Life on the Mississippi" to the banality of the dark river caves of Walt Disney's "Davey Crockett". I don't know, but I'm obviously not going to get over it.

Michael and I had lunch in Prairie du Chien, and then started back along STH 60 and the Wisconsin River.

STH 60 turned into my nemesis once again, this time near Boscobel, when STH 60 merged with STH 61 for all of a mile. Somehow, I lost STH 60, and the next thing I knew, we were back in the Uplands, headed north-northwest instead of east. We woke up to the fact north of Rolling Ground, which is where STH 171 crosses STH 61, and worked out a new route -- 20 miles out of our way -- back to Richland Center, and then, on familiar ground once again, we made it to Sauk County without incident.

We made it just in time, as it turned out. A fierce storm passed through the area we'd been traversing an hour or so after we got home. I was glad that I wasn't caught in the storm driving through the Uplands, to be sure.

All in all, it was a good day, and both of us were back in a good mood by the time we got back, so the drive, as ridiculous as it was in terms of routing, was worth it.

But I want to point out that we were not lost. We always knew were we were, more or less; it just wasn't where we were supposed to be.

A metaphor for our lives, if you listen to the social conservatives.

Shamwow

2009-07-24T07:20:00.000-07:00

John, who spent a month on Facebook this winter mocking the Shamwow Guy, was visiting this week, taking a break from law school in Austin.

So, naturally, he spotted Shamwows on a grocery haul at Walmart last night, tossed a set in the cart, and proceeded to give Michael and me the full Shamwow demonstration, picking up gallons of water with a single 8 by 10 inch Shamwow.

Uh, huh, John. At least he did a good imitation of the Shamwow Guy.

Walter Cronkite

2009-07-18T05:59:00.000-07:00

Walter Cronkite died yesterday at the age of 92.

I am of the generation that grew up on Walter Cronkite and the CBS Evening News.

Cronkite's reporting helped me put Jack Kennedy's assassination into perspective as a high school student. His reporting on the Tet Offensive brought the reality, and the futility, of the Vietnam War home to middle America, and he was reviled by the far right during that era. His reporting on the moon program was the best in the business.

Cronkite was voted "the most trusted man in America" year after year during his dominance of the network news. For good reason, my my view. He reported during dark times, and he helped keep America sane.

Rural, Wisconsin

2009-07-18T04:43:00.000-07:00

Michael and I took a couple of days off Thursday and Friday for an overnight to Green Bay.

We took the trip to see the National Railroad Museum and Heritage Hill State Park, but we wandered our way back through the rural areas of north central Wisconsin, so we were treated to surprises as we drove back.

We discovered, for example, that there is a Rural, Wisconsin, just off STH 22 in Waupaca County. We didn't drive through the town, which was about a half mile east of STH 22 on a "Wisconsin Rustic Road", a path not taken, so I can't tell you if Rural, Wisconsin, is as beautiful as rural Wisconsin. I suppose that's just as well. No sense in dashing your hopes before you have a chance to visit yourself.

We passed through Seymour, Wisconsin, which claims to be the town where the hamburger was invented in 1885 by Charles "Hamburger Charlie" Nagreen. Well, maybe. At any rate, it wasn't lunchtime, so we didn't stop.

We also ran across the Grand Army Home in King, Wisconsin. The Grand Army Home was founded in 1887 by the Wisconsin Department of the Grand Army of the Republic, a Civil War veteran's organization.

Three of my great-grandfathers belonged to the GAR, and I have one of their GAR medals around here someplace, so I was curious.

It turned out to be worth the stop.

The Grand Army Home was delightful, a relatively large number of white frame cottages in a park-like setting aside Rainbow Lake, now part of a federal veterans' home complex. The cottages appear to be occupied, perhaps by folks who work at the complex.

The Grand Army Home was built to house indigent older veterans in dignity, and it was there that that last surviving Wisconsin veteran of the Civil War, Lansing Wilcox, died in 1951 at the age of 105.

We drove through the Onieda Nation, immediately west of Green Bay, and stopped at the Nation's cultural museum. We spent about an hour at the museum which, although small, was informative, interesting and very well done. I was glad to see a display honoring the Onieda Nation's contribution to our nation's military history, including a list of all known Onieda veterans, organized by war.

The list was long. I noticed the name of Tony Skennadore, a college friend who served in Vietnam.

I visited the nation's land in college with Tony and a few others, and I remember seeing a tract of virgin forest during that trip. I can't tell you where the forest is, because I literally don't know now if I ever did, but I remember how primal it was, and how different from the standard Wisconsin forest.

Discovering Tony's name among the veterans brought Sarge Waukau to mind. Sarge was a Native activist working to improve conditions on the Onieda reservation when I knew him in Ripon and later Chicago. I don't know where he is these days, but I think he is teaching in Colorado.

The National Train Museum, a collection of locomotives and trains from a bygone era, including General Eisenhower's World War II command train, was interesting.

I liked being able to climb into the cabs of the enormous steam locomotives at the museum, and get an idea what driving one of those behemoths might have been like. Michael climbed up into a Union Pacific "Big Boy" -- all 1.3 million pounds of it -- and he was dwarfed, as you can see.

One of my grandfathers was a steam engineer before he got injured and turned into the stationmaster of a small town in Minnesota, and I remember how alert and bright he would get when he talked about his days as an engineer. I understand, a bit. Steam engines, even the small ones we have at the railroad, are living beings.

At some point, though, I think you have to be a dyed-in-the-wool train buff not to have your eyes glaze over.

The highlight, as far as I was concerned, was seeing the "Edsel Train", a misbegotten 1950's attempt to make train travel stylish and modern. Needless to say, the "Edsel Train" caught on about as well as the Edsel did.

Heritage Hill State Park is something like Old World Wisconsin, except on a smaller, more compact, scale. The focus of the two museums is different -- Old World Wisconsin focuses on the various farming cultures that tamed Wisconsin, while Heritage Hill focuses more on the fur and river trade history of the state.

I thought that this building -- an French fur trading post -- was particularly interesting because of its architecture. The French did not build a sloppy, ramshackle log cabin like so many cultures did -- this log cabin has style.

It was also very well constructed, with interlocking logs so that it was airtight and relatively warm in the winter. The French may take an undo and unwarranted pride in their cultural superiority, but they built a wicked log cabin.

We got back home from Rural to just plain rural, or at least that which passes for rural on the outskirts of the Water Park Capital of the World, Friday afternoon.

Whirl

2009-07-14T18:39:00.000-07:00

The last week was a whirl.

I spent Wednesday, Thursday and Friday at the Sauk County Fair, staffing the Sauk Democrats booth during the day. Saturday and Sunday John, Judi and I did a tie-by-tie yard-to-yard track inspection, updated the track inspection report to reflect changes in condition, and wrote a plan for using W-DOC labor for maintenance later this month. Yesterday, Tim and I fixed several small "hot spots" John, Judi and I found during Saturday's inspection, replacing 15 ties.

I finally got a day off today.

I caught up on the railroad's and the Stewards' websites early this morning, and then I got the chainsaw out and cut up the six poplars that went down in the storm last Wednesday night.

I didn't stack the wood today, though, because I was behind on ironing. Michael goes through a lot of shirts working in the summer, and I had a stack of 18 shirts to iron.

I ironed while watching the Sotomayor hearing, which was boring. Senator Kyl of Arizona was worrying at her like a coyote at a buffalo, and he wasn't scoring. Kyl reminds me of an aging Draco Malfoy. Serious, mean and whiny, he's a drag. Kyl has none of the entertainment value of Jeff Sessions, who is a parody of himself and, like Sarah Palin, fun to watch.

Speaking of Sarah Plain, I honestly thought Tina Fey was at it again when I first saw the "hip wader" shots of Sarah Palin's news conference. Palin has moved beyond self-parody. What fascinates me is that only a third of the Republicans polled recently think that Palin is up to the job, and yet over two thirds think she should be the 2012 nominee. What's with that? I guess eight years of President Bush convinced Republicans that competence is irrelevant.

In other news, I had an eye examination Friday, and it is time to get surgery on the cataract in my right eye. The cataract has gotten big enough and dense enough that it is fuzzing up my vision in that eye. The optometrist is scheduling an appointment with a cataract specialist sometime in the next week or two, and I imagine that I'll have the surgery in late August.

I read up on cataract post-operative recovery, and it looks like I'll have an enforced vacation from the railroad for much of September.

I had planned to conduct Tuesdays and Thursdays after Labor Day, but that's not going to work. Turning 9,000 pounds of steam engine around on a turntable doesn't quite fit the "no lifting" requirement that I'll be living under for about a month after the surgery.

The "no lifting" requirement results from an odd -- odd to me, anyway -- detail of human anatomy. Apparently, whenever you put strain on your abdomen, pressure builds up in your eyes. That's why folks who are sucking in their gut bulge in the eyes, I guess.

I won't be able to do a whole lot around here, either, since what I mostly do around here involves reasonably strenuous physical work, work I like. Maybe I'll take a lot of walks and pretend I'm retired.

I'll be glad to get rid of the cataract because there's a good chance that my right eye will have 20-20 or close vision after the surgery. My left eye is already 20-20, so that means I'll be able to have just reading correction in my glasses, and I'll be able to flit around in sunglasses if I don't plan to do any reading.

It will be odd to have two good eyes, something I haven't had since fourth or fifth grade. I'm going to continue to wear glasses, because it is a pain to try to find glasses for reading or computer work if they aren't on my nose. I can lose anything, and glasses are no exception. At the very best, they'd always be in the wrong room. So glasses it will be.

My eyes are funny. My left eye, except for the need for a close-vision correction, is normal, but my right eye is a disaster -- blind-as-a-bat nearsightedness, a cataract, and lord knows what else.

My ears are a flip of my eyes. My right ear is more or less normal, adjusting for the damage I did to it in the days when I listened to rock at volumes I'd run from at my age, but my left ear is essentially useless -- deaf as a post.

Physical asymmetry is fine with me, but I do wonder how supposedly identical body components, a few inches apart, could develop so differently. And I really wonder why my right eye is my bum eye and my left ear is my bum ear. You'd think that the bums would hang out on one side or the other. My hats all go crooked on me, too, now that I think about, with the brim migrating off to the right, so my skull must be crooked. What's that about?

This is "intelligent design"? It's not my business to figure out, I suppose, but I do wonder.

Speaking of the fair, I am pleased to report that Hannah entered two steers and got blue ribbons for both. I was worried that she'd have a letdown after last year, when she won five blues and had a Grand Champion, but nobody can argue with two steers, two blues. It was nice way for her to end her showing career.

I took a half hour off from booth tending and watched her show the smaller steer. She did a beautiful job of making that steer look as good as it could possibly look.

PFLAG

2009-07-09T04:10:00.000-07:00

The Sauk County chapter of PFLAG has a booth at the Sauk County Fair this year, with a table full of literature.

The Sauk County chapter is relatively new, started this year by a family in Plain, a small community located in the west central part of the county. The group has about thirty members right now.

I stopped in for a moment to thank Joann, who founded the chapter with her husband Richard, for being at the fair, and asked how things were going.

Joann told me that she was surprised by the amount of interest, and the generally positive feedback she's been getting.

That's good to hear. Joann and her husband are doing the work of angels. Too many gay and lesbian kids are driven out of their families around this area, and end up kick-started too young into fending for themselves in Milwaukee or Chicago.

The Fair

2009-07-09T03:37:00.000-07:00

I spent yesterday, as I will today and tomorrow afternoon, at the Sauk County Fair, staffing the Sauk Democrats' booth.

The fair was quiet yesterday. The weather was cold and cloudy, the animals showing up and getting groomed for judging today and tomorrow, and the crowds light. It was a good day to walk around and talk.

Mid-afternoon, I found myself in a discussion with a number of farmers I know, listening to them talking about the farm economy right now, which is a disaster.

Costs are up, prices are down, and despite careful management, all of them find themselves in a situation where it costs them more to produce than they expect to get from sales. A large dairy farmer is losing $5,000 per month at this point, the difference between the cost of production and the price he gets for milk.

Not one of the farmers in the discussion thought he would turn a profit this year, and several were openly questioning whether or not they'd be able to hang on.

Farmers, of course, are used to swings in cost and commodity prices, and the most common topic of discussion among farmers, right after the weather, is how hard it will be to come out ahead this year. I've been listening for years and years, and I usually don't take talk of pending disaster too seriously.

But the talk this year is different, it seems to me. The talk is more serious, more quiet, more desperate. I don't remember a year when I've heard so many farmers talk so openly with each other about getting out. Farmers are not quitters, and talk of quitting is serious talk indeed.

Because I got into that discussion, I didn't make it over to the rabbit and chicken barns, where the younger kids show their stuff. I'll try to make it over there today, because I think that its important to encourage the younger kids. When you are eight or nine, a few words of praise for your efforts goes a long way.

Hannah, who had the Grand Champion cow and four other blues last year, is showing two steers this year, the last year that she is eligible to compete in the fair.

Both steers are handsome animals, although Hannah tells me that one could use another 200 pounds or so. Hannah told me that she has mixed feelings -- a chapter of her life is closing as she studies in school to open the next chapter.

I know the feeling, as all adults my age know it, of course. We've been through the experience many times -- leaving school to begin working, leaving our childhood homes to set out on our own, leaving the footloose and fancy free life of young adulthood to have children, leaving the child-raising years, and finally, retiring.

As each chapter of our lives closes, we feel a loss while looking forward with anticipation to the next chapter. It is bittersweet. It is a constant of human experience.

I've known Hannah since she was knee-high, and I wish her nothing but the best in life. She is a wonderful young woman, and I hope her life will be as full and rewarding and she is full of life.

I expect that the fair will pick up today. The showing and judging begin, and that brings the crowds. I imagine that by the end of the day, I'll have heard all manner of opinion about Democrats.

I look forward to it.

DOMA and Federalism

2009-07-08T20:09:00.000-07:00

The Commonwealth of Massachusetts filed a complaint in federal court that confronts the federal courts with a core question of constitutional law.

Section 3 of DOMA, enacted in 1996, prohibits the federal government from recognizing state-sanctioned same-sex marriages for any purpose. The complaint alleges that Section 3 of DOMA unconstitutionally interferes with state sovereignty under our federal system.

I have been waiting for this lawsuit. As more and more states sanction same-sex marriage or recognize same-sex marriages from other states, the lawsuit was unavoidable and inevitable, given the nature of our federal system.

The power to define and regulate marriage has been, traditionally, held to be a power reserved solely to the states. If a state sanctioned a marriage, then the federal government has recognized that marriage, whether or not the marriage is recognized under the laws of some or all of the states. Section 3 of DOMA turned that longstanding principle of constitutional law on its head.

The complaint alleges that DOMA interferes with the states' exclusive authority under our federal constitution to define and regulate the marital status of its citizens, and requires that states that sanction same-sex marriage disregard such marriages in order to participate in federally funded programs, acting contrary to their own laws.

The Massachusetts lawsuit is different in character from challenges to DOMA brought by individual citizens because it raises questions which only a state has the standing to raise. It is a case of critical importance, a case that goes to the core of our government as a federal, constitutional republic.

I am certain that this question will have to be decided, ultimately, by the United States Supreme Court, whether in this case or a future case brought by one of the other states that sanction same-sex marriage.

It seems to me, at first blush, that three outcomes are possible.

First, the Supreme Court could decide that Section 3 of DOMA is an unconstitutional usurpation of state sovereignty under the federal constitution, and require the federal government to recognize all state-sanctioned marriages on an equal footing for all federal purposes.

Second, the Supreme Court could decide that Section 3 of DOMA is unconstitutional in application, as and to the extent that Section 3 of DOMA is applied by federal law and federal agencies to require a state to disregard same-sex marriages in order to participate in federally funded programs, but upholding the right of the federal government to disregard state-sanctioned same-sex marriage for solely federal purposes, such as federal tax laws.

Third, the Supreme Court could decide that Section 3 of DOMA is constitutional, and that the federal government, not the states, has the power to define and regulate marriage.

The legal noose is tightening around DOMA, because the Massachusetts case raises issues of state sovereignty that individuals do not have standing to raise. With this lawsuit, coupled with constitutional challenges raised by individual citizens, the legal battle is now joined on all legal fronts, and sooner or later the constitutionality of DOMA will be determined.

A decision by the Supreme Court, whatever the outcome may be, will fundamentally shape the boundaries of the "reserved powers" clause of the federal constitution for years to come in matters of marriage and family.

I hope that DOMA will be repealed before the Massachusetts case, or a future case brought by another state, is decided by the Supreme Court.

To my mind, that would be the best outcome.

DOMA was misguided and is of dubious constitutionality, should never have been enacted, and the sooner it is repealed, the better.

Portage

2009-07-07T05:41:00.001-07:00

I went to downtown Portage last night for a meeting.

I got into town about a half hour early, so I decided to take a walk.

I was surprised to see the number of vacant store fronts along Cook Street. I didn't count, but I think that at least a half dozen store fronts are vacant in a two block area.

Cook Street was dug up -- for all practical purposes, closed -- for most of the summer last year, while new sewers and whatnot were installed.

I guess the construction took its toll on the businesses along those two blocks.

It was a shame to see downtown Portage looking so devastated. I hope it comes back.

Water tower follies ...

2009-07-07T05:17:00.000-07:00

The water tower at the railroad has been leaking recently.

The water tower is a large tank that works like a toilet, mechanically.

You pull a chain, which lifts a flap at the bottom of the tank, and gallons upon gallons of water come out the pipe -- somewhere in the range of 60 gallons per minute -- and, assuming you've aimed the pipe right, into the tender. When you let go of the chain, the flap seals the pipe, and the water stops.

In theory.

The flap hasn't been working right, and the water tower has been leaking, soaking the track under the pipe, creating a swamp.

The water tower was repaired yesterday morning, so I went over to repair the track.

"Track Monday" -- the day on which I have two twenty-something workers assigned for weekly track maintenance -- had been canceled this week -- one of the twenty-somethings was finishing up steam training and the other had to study for a test -- so I recruited Kat and her cousin Marlin, both about my age, to help.

We dug a trench between the water tower and the track, and enlarged the sump to handle future leaking, diverting water away from the work area and the track. While we had the area dug out, we replaced seven wood ties with composite ties, which aren't affected by water, ballasted, and then filled in the trenches and sump with ballast.

It just goes to show that what you see -- a ballasted surface -- is not always what you get -- underground trenches and sumps.

Future archeologists will no doubt decide that our trenching system has religious significance.

So July 5th turned out to be a bust ...

2009-07-06T04:56:00.000-07:00

July 5th, as it turned out, was a bust.

John and I had scheduled three hours for track inspection. As it turned out, we didn't get to do it.

I showed up a bit before ten to find John fuming. John had to step in and conduct because our general manager didn't schedule anyone to conduct the second train -- he had scheduled three engineers, but only one conductor -- for the second day in a row. We had large enough crowds so we had to run two trains, so John, who is on the board, decided that he would have to step in and keep things going.

John was not a happy camper. Neither was I. I don't know how the track felt about it.

Management! I've always contended, not entirely in jest, that the most fundamental human right is the right to contend, loudly, that "manager" and "moron" are "identical or substantially similar" concepts, to quote our Wisconsin Constitution on another subject.

Fundamental right or not, truth is truth.

The 5th of July

2009-07-05T05:58:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure what I'll be doing today.

Helen and Jay will be passing through on the way back to the Twin Cities from Chicago. The time they pass through will determine how the day shapes up. I imagine Helen will call in the next hour or so to let me know what is going on, and I'll decide what I'm up to today after I know.

Yesterday was something of a bust, in terms of the 4th of July, anyway.

John and I checked and tightened track joints between the bridge and Western Springs for much of the day. The joints work loose over time, and need to be periodically checked and tightened up to keep the track safe.

Each of the joints is held together by four bolts, tightened with a short spanner, and the section of track we were working on had somewhere in the range of 90 joints, so we checked and tightened roughly 360 bolts.

Tightening the bolts is stoop and grunt work -- you have to put your body into the work to get the bolts tight enough -- and John and I were both worn out after a few hours' work. At least, John looked worn out, and I was.

We returned to Hyde Park and diddled around filling the coal tower and doing other useful but less energetic work for a few more hours. John headed into the Iron Horse for a root beer float, and I headed home.

Michael and I went to Reedsburg for dinner, and spent the evening quietly. Michael mostly laid on the couch being a couch potato, and I read and played computer games. Exciting life, huh?

Even so, at the end of the day I was tired. I went to bed as the fireworks were starting up in the Dells, paying no attention to the noise. So much for the 4th of July.

The 5th of July? We'll see.

A Pleasant Respite

2009-07-04T05:04:00.001-07:00

As part of yesterday's fire drill, Helen and Jay stopped in to get Peter to Chicago, where he is needed right now.

I got home in time to make lasagna and fixings -- a good meal to have when dinner is going to be sometime within an hour and a half window and has to be served on arrival, because lasagna keeps warm well.

We had a pleasant dinner, a pleasant respite from the day's madness.

Michael, for some oddball reason known only to him, went on the internet and discovered that July is "Lasagna Awareness Month" and blogged about it.

As Round Matthew often says, "Michael, you're weird!"

Too old to nip it in the bud ...

2009-07-04T03:37:00.000-07:00

I spent the day yesterday laying track, unexpectedly. A crew came down from upstate, and I got called in late Thursday night to teach them how to lay track and certify the safety of the track as it was laid.

I wasn't a happy camper, because Thursday and Friday are Michael's and my weekend, our days off. Michael and I had other plans for the day, plans which had to be canceled on no notice.

Dave, the railroad's general manager, is infamous for not thinking through who will be needed on a project and scheduling them all in advance. Typically, he waited until the night before, when it was too late to cal things off, to call and tell me that he had a crew coming in for me to supervise.

So the routine became a fire drill, yet again.

I just don't understand people who seem incapable of planning ahead. But I'm very left-brained, apparently -- my Myers Briggs is over 95% NTJ in each case -- and I do understand why I don't understand such folks. They live on a different planet than I do.

As Bob Mitchell's mother used to say, "Oh, well ..."

Dave is a bit old to nip it in the bud, in any event.

But that doesn't make it any more fun.

So plug ugly its funny ...

2009-07-02T16:56:00.000-07:00

Peter needed a dresser so we've been looking around at the thrifts.

We found one this afternoon in Sauk Prairie. It is so ugly that both Peter and I thought it was funny. It was well built, and cheap, so we bought it. But it is amazingly ugly, I'll say that for it.

I spent the morning at the railroad, with Kat, checking the ties put in on Monday. As always happens, the ties settled into the ballast, and Kat and I leveled the track, adjusting and reballasting here and there from the Sandberg Coach Barn to the Iron Horse.

I spent yesterday afternoon mowing out away from the house. I layer the landscaping -- lawn near the house, meadow and woods a farther out. I mow the areas farther out two or three times a year, just to keep things under control, and I'm in that cycle after the June growth.

Tim was coming this weekend, but called last night to say that he had to cancel. So I've a relatively free weekend. Michael, Peter and I are going to a fish fry with Peggy and Rich tomorrow night, I'll be marching with the Sauk Democrats in the Witwen parade on Saturday morning, and, of course, watching the fireworks in Reedsburg on Saturday night.

Otherwise, the weekend is unscheduled.

Legal Challenge Fund - Fair Wisconsin

2009-07-02T05:44:00.000-07:00

The Wisconsin Family Council's Julaine Appling reiterated yesterday the WFC's intention to challenge the constitutionality of Wisconsin's domestic partnership law under the 2006 anti-marriage amendment.

The Wisconsin Attorney General is charged with primary responsibility for defending the constitutionality of Wisconsin law. The current Attorney General, J.B. Van Hollen, is a conservative Republican who has, in the past, taken positions which suggest to me that his office will issue a legally competent, but minimal and pro forma, defense of the law.

Vigorous defense will come from an Amicus brief filed by Fair Wisconsin, which has stood front and center in the fight to legal equality in Wisconsin. Fair Wisconsin has established a "Legal Challenge Fund" to allow Fair Wisconsin to join in the lawsuit and pay the expenses of a vigorous defense.

Please consider a contribution to Fair Wisconsin to help fund the defense.

Domestic Partnerships

2009-06-30T05:03:00.000-07:00

Wisconsin now recognizes same-sex domestic partnerships.

The bill passed the legislature on Friday, and Governor Doyle signed the bill into law yesterday. Domestic partnership registration in the counties should start by Labor Day.

The law results from the work of a few dedicated men and women -- Governor Jim Doyle, State Representative Mark Pocan and Fair Wisconsin Executive Director Glenn Carlson come to immediately to mind -- who were determined to do what can be done to protect gays and lesbians and their families despite Wisconsin's 2006 anti-marriage amendment, which banned same-sex marriage and substantially similar legal status, such as civil unions.

Because the law had to be shaped to withstand constitutional challenge, the law offers limited protections -- about 40 of the 200 afforded by marriage -- to same-sex individuals who choose to register as domestic partners, including the ability to make medical decisions for one another, end-of-life protections and inheritance rights.

Limited as they may be, the protections afforded by the law are important, and Michael and I may well register as domestic partners.

The law will provide uncertain protection during the next few years, because the "protect marriage" crowd in Wisconsin -- notably Julaine Appling and Wisconsin Family Action, who led the fight to enact Wisconsin's anti-marriage amendment -- are almost certain to bring a lawsuit challenging the domestic partnership law on constitutional grounds (the anti-marriage amendment prohibits any legal status which is identical or substantially similar to marriage).

The challenge will leave open the possibility, however remote, that the law will be struck down, so couples who register as domestic partners will have to live with the uncertainty until the law's constitutionality is finally determined by the Wisconsin Supreme Court.

The bill was primarily intended, of course, to provide protections to gay and lesbian couples -- couples like Michael and me, many of us who sorely need its protections as we age -- but does not limit domestic partnership registration to gay and lesbian couples.

A domestic partnership may be formed by two individuals who are at least 18 years old, are not married or in another domestic partnership, share a common residence, are not nearer of kin than second cousins, and are members of the same sex.

The law does not require that the couples be gay or lesbian, or have an intimate relationship. Two straight men or two straight women living together may, for whatever reason, form a domestic partnership and receive the protections afforded to gay and lesbian same-sex couples.

While I am glad that Michael and I now have the option of registering as domestic partners, I'm also glad that the law is broad enough to encompass the needs of straights who live together in same-sex, long-term relationships, however platonic.

I'm glad because Wisconsin has many straight men and women living in such relationships, and the limited protections afforded by the law could be as important to them as the protections are to gay and lesbian couples.

Take the situation of anti-gay Wisconsin Family Action's CEO Julaine Appling and Diane Westphall, the woman with whom she lives and works, as an example.

Julaine is straight. I know this because she consistently opened her remarks during the 2006 anti-marriage amendment debates with the declaration "I am Julaine Appling. I'm straight and have never been married. So why do I care about protecting the institution of marriage?" I take it as a given that Diane is straight, as well, for obvious reasons.

And yet, Julaine and Diane appear to meet the requirements to form a domestic partnership. Both are over 18, and both are women. Neither is married. Both are registered to vote from the same address, a house they own together in Watertown, and share the same phone number, so it appears that they live together. The two are not related by blood. Julaine is the adopted daughter of Bob and Mary Appling, of Atlanta, and Diane is the daughter of Raymond and Audrey Westphall, of Watertown.

Raymond Westphall's obituary in the Watertown Daily Times does list Julaine, as well as Diane, as a daughter ("Survivors include his daughters, Diane Westphall, Renée Westphall, Janet (Ben) Peterson, and Julaine Appling, all of Watertown ..."), but I don't read a blood relationship into that reference. Many people who become close to someone's family through long-term friendship with one of the children eventually reach the point where they become "children" to the parents. It is fairly common to include such "children by affection" in obituaries, in Wisconsin as elsewhere, without regard to blood or legal relationship.

As suggested by Raymond Westphall's obituary, which implies that Julaine has been in a close friend of Diane long enough to be considered "family", Julaine and Diane seem to have close ties in many respects. In addition to living together and owning a home together, the two attended Bob Jones University when they were young, work together at the Wisconsin Family Council (Julaine is CEO and Diane is a Project Coordinator), teach at Maranatha Baptist Bible College, and collaborate in conferences on Christian education and other matters of common interest.

Given how closely their lives seem to be intertwined, in terms of friendship, background, work, residence, property ownership and familial relations, it would seem to me that the protections afforded by the domestic partnership law -- particularly the right to make medical decisions for each other and inheritance protections -- might be important to Julaine and Diane.

In that, Julaine and Diane are typical of quite a number of straight women who live together in Wisconsin. I've known a number of such women over the years, as you no doubt have.

Despite that, I don't suppose that it is likely that Julaine and Diane will form a domestic partnership, given the Wisconsin Family Council's fierce opposition to the law.

But it is, ironically, the fact that straights like Julaine and Diane could form a domestic partnership if they chose to do so that erodes the theoretical foundation of the coming legal challenge to the domestic partnership law, as much if not more so than a dry accounting of the 40-odd protections afforded by the domestic partnership law in comparison to the 200-plus rights and benefits afforded by marriage.

The heart and soul of marriage is a bond of intimacy that goes beyond friendship, no matter how longstanding or close that friendship may be, and no matter how closely the friendship intertwines the friends into familial and financial relationship. It is the bond of intimacy -- and in particular a sexual bond, past or present -- that most clearly distinguishes marriage, as we commonly understand it in our culture, from the domestic partnerships envisioned by the law enacted yesterday.

As a friend of mine put it one day, the domestic partnership law is essentially about death -- medical decisions, end-of-life decisions, inheritance, and so on -- and marriage is essentially about life -- two persons becoming as one.

I doubt that Julaine or Diane would describe their relationship -- their "status" if you will -- as "identical or substantially similar to marriage". And yet, it appears that they could become domestic partners under the law.

Odd, isn't it, that straights like Julaine and Diane could become the proof of the pudding in that respect, the bottom-line evidence of the distinctive and critical difference between Wisconsin's domestic partnership law and marriage?

Summer in Wisconsin

2009-06-29T17:14:00.001-07:00

A cool front came through today, finally. We were in the 70's, not the 90's, and it will stick around for a few days. I turned off the air and opened the windows, airing the house.

Peter arrived on Saturday night and is settling in. The truck is unpacked and stuff is getting sorted and put away.

I took Peter's motor scooter for a drive last night. It was fun, but it feels unstable to me, as all the scooters do.

Today was "Track Monday" at the railroad, the day I work with a small crew to replace ties. It was cool and cloudy, so we got a lot done -- about double the normal day's quota -- despite the fact we were short one worker. I'm done now until Friday, when John shows up.

John and I have to get plans laid for a large track replacement project coming up in a few weeks. We'll have a larger crew and expect to get about 500 ties replaced during a three week period.

I'll be checking and certifying the new track every morning before the passenger trains start, marking "slow" zones and whatnot. John will do the final certification of all the track laid during the week on Saturdays.

We had John and Judi, and their sons Matthew and Dan over for dinner Saturday night. I hadn't met Dan, who is 29, and enjoyed getting to know him a bit. He has his mother's quick humor.

I'm planning to spend the next few days working with Peter to get or build in furniture he needs to live in the house. A computer desk is on tap, for sure, and probably a dresser for his bedroom.

The day lilies are out in force this week, and if it stays cool, they might be around for a while. Helen and Jay brought several dozen new plants from Minnesota earlier in the summer, and it looks like a few of them might bloom. Helen said that they were yellows, and I'm curious to see them.

Tim is coming Thursday night for the holiday weekend. Tim's a priest Michael and I know from Chicago. He was a professional photographer earlier in his life, and he spends a couple of days shooting at the railroad, where he is a member. He gets spectacular results, and we use quite a few of his photos on the railroad's website.

We'll be knocking around on Friday, playing 4th of July -- the Witwen parade, a cook out and Reedsburg's fireworks -- on Saturday, and probably shooting at the railroad on Sunday.

All in all, not much to report. Summer in Wisconsin.

Stonewall

2009-06-28T01:17:00.000-07:00

Today is the fortieth anniversary of the "Stonewall riots", a series of spontaneous, violent demonstrations against a police raid at the Stonewall Inn in Greenwich Village, followed by sustained resistance over the next several days in the Christopher Street neighborhood.

Stonewall is generally considered by historians as the defining event that marked the start of the modern "gay rights movement" in the United States.

Today, I think, is a good day to remember that the road toward equality has been hard, pursued at great risk by many thousands of gays and lesbians. Today is, as well, a day to reflect upon the fact that for all that has changed since Stonewall, the need for each of us to stand and fight for equal treatment, each according to our own circumstances, has not changed.

Advent

2009-06-27T06:38:00.001-07:00

Peter is on his way from Santa Fe. He will be spending a year with us, saving money for graduate school by cutting his living expenses to zero, or close to zero, anyway.

Michael and I cleaned out the room he will use last night and this morning. We expect him late tonight or early tomorrow, depending on the vagaries of the Interstates.

Ridiculous

2009-06-26T18:41:00.000-07:00

I cannot believe the coverage of Michael Jackson's death. I'd expect wall-to-wall coverage from the entertainment news outlets, but the level of coverage is beyond reason.

When Chris Matthews, of all people, devoted his entire hour to Michael Jackson, I concluded that the world as I know it is ending.

I didn't have the balls to watch to see what Rachel Maddox did during her show last night. As it turns out, her show was preempted by Michael Jackson coverage, so she didn't do anything.

I hope the reason Rachel's show was preempted is that Rachel told MSNBC to take a hike for the night, refusing to devote her show to Michael Jackson. If that's what she did, good for her.

UPDATE (6/27): We've just gone from ridiculous to the absurd.

Get this -- The Weather Channel announced plans today to air a three-week retrospective of the weather that transpired during the singer's lifetime. The retrospective, titled "Bad and Dangerous: Fifty Years of Weather During the Michael Jackson Era", will begin airing on Monday.

Ignoramus

2009-06-26T05:12:00.000-07:00

Pennsylvania State Senator John Eichelberger has found himself in hot water after saying "We're allowing [gays and lesbians] to exist ..." while being interviewed about legislation he is pushing to ban same-sex marriage in the state.

The idea that the straight majority has a right to decide whether or not gays and lesbians will be allowed "to exist" is, of course, is preposterous, although there seems to be no end to the arrogance of social conservatives. Wisconsin's vaunted protector of marriage Julaine Appling once opined "I think we've been extremely tolerant in allowing [homosexuals] to live wherever they choose ...". Gee thanks, Julaine. And thanks, too, to all of the straight folks who tell me that gays and lesbians should be "respectful" and stop demanding basic protections for ourselves and our families until you are damn well ready to "give" them to us, as if human rights were something that you dispense like candy to good little boys and girls.

A comment Eichelberger made a few minutes later interview displayed another common characteristic of the "protect marriage" crowd -- invincible ignorance: "This changes the definition of marriage, allowing same-sex, and then like I said, 5-10 years from now it’ll be polygamy, marrying younger people, it’ll be whatever ... It won’t be a 6 year old, it’ll be a 15 year old, then it’ll be a 14 year old, then it’ll be a 13 year old."

Uh huh.

The age of consent for marriage under Pennsylvania law is 18. A minor 16 years or older may marry with parental consent, and a minor younger than 16 may marry with parental consent and a finding by the Orphan's Court that the marriage is in the best interest of the minor.

Sure enough, Senator. If you don't stop gays and lesbians from marrying in Pennsylvania, the state will head right down the slippery slope, and pretty soon minors will be allowed to marry ...

Uh, huh.

The Baraboo Bear

2009-06-25T04:09:00.000-07:00

The Baraboo News-Republic has been following the adventures of a young male black bear who visited the city recently.

The bear is on a wander.

He was sighted in Castalia, Iowa, on June 8, and has been working his way north and east, through Darlington, then rural Mineral Point, and, earlier this week, Baraboo.

He seems to have made the most of Baraboo's legendary hospitality while visiting, checking out Walmart, raiding gardens and bird feeders, stopping traffic on Walnut Street, and taking in a baseball game.

It isn't clear where the bear is today. If he continues to wander north, I hope he'll take the opportunity to visit the Dells and enjoy a day at one of the waterparks before he heads into pine tree country. A City Pass might be a good idea if he wants the whole Dells experience, but I'm not sure he has a credit card.

The DNR speculates that the Baraboo bear is looking for love, trying to find a mate. My guess is that he's just goofing off. In either case, good luck to him.

Red Sky in the Morning

2009-06-24T08:52:00.001-07:00

The Obama administration put its foot in it recently, to be sure.

The recent DOJ brief filed in the California DOMA challenge was noxious, written during the Bush administration, dragging out the same-old, same-old, largely nonsensical and legally questionable constitutional "analysis" hawked by the far right.

President Obama found himself in the embarassing position of finding his own clearly stated views on DOMA contradicted by the brief, and his administration's handling of the situation verged on the mindless.

The brief created an uproar in the gay and lesbian community, rightly so, and the explanation is as insulting as the brief itself.

The Obama administration, it appears, was asleep at the switch and the brief didn't get a careful review before filing. So much for the Obama administration's claims of competence. As a friend of mine poked me, "He's your moron, not mine ..."

Gays and lesbians were restive before the brief was filed, because the Obama administration showed no signs of doing anything anytime soon about DADT, DOMA, ENDA or anything else of importance to gays and lesbians, and the administration's public statements have been both timid and tepid, the sort of tripe we'd expect out of a rural Rotarian, plenty of hail-fellow-well-met but little substance and certainly no fire.

So many gays and lesbians, including me, are, with good cause, fiercely angry.

Obama administration spokesfolk suggest that the brief falls under "lessons learned", namely, read before filing. Duh.

We'll see what happens when the Obama administration actually gets around to reading a brief involving DOMA next week, when the DOJ files a response in another DOMA case, this one brought by Gay & Lesbian Advocates & Defenders, a New England advocacy group, on behalf of Massachusetts married couples.

GLAD seeks a ruling that DOMA Section 3 is unconstitutional as a matter of equal protection as applied to Massachusetts married gays and lesbians in Federal Income Tax, Social Security, federal employment benefits, and the issuance of passports.

The complaint seeks a determination that Section 3 of DOMA violates the Constitution and an injunction to stop the Office of Personnel Management, IRS, Social Security Administration and the State Department from applying the law to legally married Massachusetts same-sex couples.

The case is carefully limited; it is not a broad-scope attack on DOMA. By design, this lawsuit is limited to particular programs and does not seek to invalidate DOMA Section 3 in its entirety. The case seems almost custom-made for careful and limited analysis by the DOJ. We'll see how the Obama administration handles it.

However the DOJ responds in the case, the last few weeks have been an eye opener for many gays and lesbians, who seem surprised to find that the Obama administration is as gutless as the Clinton administration when it comes to fighting for equal treatment under the law for gays and lesbians.

I'm saddened, but I'm not surprised. Pols follow the polls.

We've made great gains in recent years. Gays and lesbians can marry in six states, and marriages contracted in those states are recognized in several other states. We've won over the American people on DADT, however limp-wristed national Democrats might be about standing up and eliminating it. We've made progress up and down the line in the last decade, coming out and getting in the fight.

We've taken our knocks, too -- California comes to mind -- but the "great backlash" that naysayers predicted as a reason to back off the fight hasn't happened and won't happen. The hard-core social conservatives who were supposed to lead the backlash have been increasingly marginalized, and that is a trend that will continue as they get wilder and wilder.

I'm old enough to have lived through the entire post-Stonewall fight as an adult. I'm not a polyanna. I know how tough this has been and how tough it is going to be. We are in a fight that is going to be long, hard and expensive.

Little by slowly, we are winning over the American people. We've done it ourselves, without much in the way of help from either party, and that is one thing that isn't going to change. As we continue to win over the American people, politicians will get on board, each claiming to have been heaven-sent, as usual.

We need to keep the pressure on, everywhere and on every issue, and that includes keeping the pressure on so-called "leaders" of the gay and lesbian community, who are, for the most part, cautious politic insiders like Joe Solmonese. The reaction of the gay and lesbian establishment to Ted Olson and David Boies -- "Oh my God, you can't do this ... we have a carefully planned strategy ... you'll upset the apple cart ..." -- is, sadly, typical. More of the same-old, same-old.

My view is this: Gays and lesbians should not allow ourselves to become beholden to the Democratic Party. We've seen how that works -- DADT, DOMA and all the rest. Instead, we should remain independent and keep the pressure on both parties, through grassroots work, lawsuits and political action at all levels. If we want equality, we will have to earn it ourselves, as we have in the past. We need to continue to get out of the closet, get involved in politics, challenge our neighbors, and never take "not now" for an answer, not from anybody.

We're winning because millions of gays and lesbians took risks to win over the American people.

If the Obama administration wants to lead from behind, fumbling and stumbling along like the village drunk, so be it.

President Obama is no different than any other "gay-friendly" politician. He's not. He's never been different.

For President Obama, as is the case with almost all "gay-friendly" politicians, equality under the law for gays and lesbians is a talking point, and taking any political risks on behalf of gays and lesbians is something to be put off and set aside while the politicians deal with "more important" issues. President Obama appears to have made the political calculation that he can get away with it.

Get mad if you want. But don't expect different -- notice that in each of the four states where legislators acted on same-sex marriage, public opinion polls showed that we had already won over a majority of the public -- and don't get discouraged.

So keep fighting and keep winning over your neighbors. We need politicians like we need a hole in our head.

Slather a litte Butterfest on it ...

2009-06-23T22:05:00.000-07:00

The Sauk Democrats marched in the Reedsburg Butterfest parade Sunday morning as we do every year. I usually help carry the big banner, but we had others to do that, so I worked the crowds. I'll bet I greeted a couple thousand people. It was fun.

Butterfest was particularly festive this year because it was canceled last year. The June storms -- which dumped something like two feet of rain on us in a week and sent Lake Delton packing -- flooded downtown Reedsburg last year.

Reedsburg, like Lake Delton, is back in business.

Well, maybe not so much, as Michael is prone to say.

The lake levels, I'm told, are fluctuating up and down this year as rain comes and goes.

I suppose that a hydrologist will come up with a report and recommendation eventually, but it makes sense to me. Lake Delton doesn't have a shoreline, to speak of, any more. Much of the shoreline is rip rap and wall these days, so the water has nowhere to do but up and down.

Apparently the loss of several hundred feet of shoreline last June, out of the scarce shoreline left, was the straw that broke the camel's back, so Lake Delton is going to imitate the people on the bus for a while, going up and down.

If that weren't bad enough, Lake Delton is now infested with "swimmer's itch", according to the online version of tomorrow's Wisconsin Dells Events. That's new, and not welcome.

It won't be going away, though, apparently. The DNR no longer allows poisoning lakes to get rid of "swimmer's itch", so Lake Delton, like Devil's Lake, is going to be guided by the motto "If you itch to swim, you'll itch ..." from now on.

I've heard that slathering a little Butterfest on helps the itch. Uh, huh.

Lining Track

2009-06-22T21:58:00.000-07:00

Today was "Track Monday" -- the day of the week when Reed and Tim, two twenty-somethings, are assigned to me for the purpose of laying track -- and it was hot as can be. Not as hot as it is supposed to be tomorrow, but hot enough.

It was hot enough that I made them take a 15-minute break every hour, sit in the shade or the air conditioning and drink a bottle of cold water, and I called off work mid-afternoon.

Reed and Tim are both hard workers quick learners. We laid about a dozen ties today, even with the short day, and I expect to be able to average 15 to 18 on future Mondays as Reed and Tim gain experience.

The heat I can't do squat about, so we'll see.

Northwestish

2009-06-19T05:22:00.000-07:00

Michael and I took an unplanned day trip to Davenport, Iowa, to have lunch with a friend who is getting married in November.

I've attended a number of religious same-sex weddings over the years -- Reform Judaism, the predominant union in the United States, recognizes the validity of same-sex marriage under Jewish law -- but the November nuptials, performed by an Iowa judge at the Figge Art Museum in Davenport, will be the first same-sex civil law marriage I've witnessed.

I'm looking forward to it, even though I'm going to have to get my suit out of storage and dust it off for the occasion, and find my shoes. I know I have a pair of shoes around here someplace, but I don't remember where I stored them. I'll keep an eye out, and I imagine I'll find them by November.

Of course, finding my shoes and dusting off my suit is nothing compared to arranging a wedding, and I was amused to listen to Rick's stories of the back-and-forth he and Steve are having about the details of the ceremony itself. It wasn't quite as bad as sneaking a peek at Brides Magazine in the grocery store checkout line, but it was bad enough.

The weather was supposed to be wretched yesterday, but it wasn't. A gully-washer went though Davenport while we were inside eating lunch, but we didn't encounter anything more than a light rain while driving.

We came back along the Mississippi, routing ourselves through Mount Carroll, Illinois, to visit with John and Judi. John was working, but we had a good chat with Judi. Mount Carroll is a pretty town, unlike the Dells, with lots of well-kept hundred-or-more year old homes, and I'm glad we got to see it.

We came back via Highway 78 and Highway 23, the route Judi and John use to come to the railroad on the weekends, with one small detour.

At Gratiot, Wisconsin, we were supposed to take a six mile jog to the west along Highway 11 to connect between the two highways, then an eight mile jog north. I noticed a County highway that cut the diagonal, and suggested we take it. Michael knows how much I like ambling along County highways, so he agreed to cut the diagonal.

The road may have been a diagonal, but it was anything but straight. In fact, it looked like it had been laid out by a drunk, or at least laid out along a cow path created by a drunken Holstein. I doubt that there is a ten-mile stretch of road with so many unnecessary curves in the entire state. It was so bad that I told Michael we were traveling "generally northwestish", which was the best I could do, given that we were probably going southeast at the time.

Michael didn't grumble -- much -- and we made it home by early evening.

At that point, the weather finally started. Storms popped up all over the area with quarter-sized hail and sixty mile per hour winds.

Because the storms included a serious threat of tornadoes, I stayed up and kept an eye on the tracking radar until the worst of it was past, and we were lucky, as we often are around this area. The worst of the storms passed five or ten miles to the north or five miles to the south, hitting us with a good rain, but nothing worse.

I don't have a way to account for it, but that often happens. I can't tell you the number of times I've sat on my front porch watching all hell break loose to the north of us, listening with half an ear to the warnings issued for Baraboo ten miles south, while we are in sunshine or experiencing a gentle rain.

Micheal, who watches the weather carefully when he is working at the railroad, has noticed the phenomenon on radar, too. Storms really do split to our west, going around us. I haven't a clue why.

Snakes

2009-06-17T07:17:00.000-07:00

If rampaging raccoons aren't trouble enough, Michael reports that the coal tower at the railroad is infested with snakes.

I have no idea how to get snakes out of a coal tower, and I don't want to learn.

Frogs, next?

Raccoons

2009-06-15T06:09:00.000-07:00

A friend, talking with another friend who was carrying on about the Illinois tourists who flock in every summer and create havoc, observed "Shooting them works pretty good ..."

It is coming down to that with the raccoons.

I woke up this morning to discover that not only had the raccoons ripped up yet another planter on the deck, but had now taken to washing whatever it is they were digging up in the fountain.

Worse than the Illinois tourists, raccoons are ...

PrideFest

2009-06-13T19:21:00.000-07:00

I went to PrideFest in Milwaukee today with Bob Mitchell.

I've been often enough over the years that I have only mild interest in PrideFest, but Bob is my oldest friend and going to PrideFest together has become something of a tradition, so PrideFest will no doubt remain an annual outing until one of us just decides the scenery isn't worth the noise.

Lakeshore State Park, the "island" beyond the Fest grounds, had its official opening for the season today. Bob and I wandered around the perimeter -- about a mile circuit, I would guess -- for about an hour, taking a break from the music and crowds at PrideFest. I enjoyed it. I hope that the park Chicago is making out of Meigs field will be as nice.

I thought about driving back along the back highways, but the thought of Firehouse Pizza got into my head, so I headed back on the Interstate.

The pizza was good.

The Devil's Paintbrush

2009-06-12T10:11:00.000-07:00

The Devil's Paintbrush is out in the lower part of the yard, the area that is otherwise hot, uninteresting and impoverished.

The plant, technically Orange Hawkweed but called by its more colorful name in Wisconsin, is European in origin and can be invasive, but a spot of orange I welcome in early summer.

Upper Upper

2009-06-11T17:26:00.000-07:00

The water is still high enough to canoe the channels in the area, so Debbie and I canoed the Dells above the bay, from the Lemonweir to just below Louis Bluff, this morning.

The river was peaceful and quiet this morning. A blue heron kept pace with us, landing and then taking off again, for part of the journey.

It was a great break from the routine.

Cypripedium acaule ...

2009-06-11T17:07:00.000-07:00

... or Pink Lady's Slipper to you.

I saw several today, the first I've seen since I was a teenager.

I was with a group of folks looking for something else when we spotted the first, and we found others later. I won't tell you where we saw them, because I don't want them disturbed.

Pink Lady's Slippers are almost impossible to domesticate and so rare in the wild in this area as to be remarkable.

My mother went looking for them this time every year in an area just east of Birchwood Road, now covered over by Spring Brook development, and sometimes found as many as forty in bloom at a time. It was with her I saw one last, years and years ago.

I've always held destruction of those orchids against Spring Brook, to tell the truth. Pink Lady's Slippers are rare and exquisite orchids, and manufactured houses and artificial lakes are neither rare nor exquisite.

Be that as it may, I was so glad to be surprised today. What an unexpected gift!

Pick and Shovel

2009-06-10T17:34:00.000-07:00

I spent the last few days redoing a garden in back of the house, replacing a wildflower garden, which grew into a tangled mess, with shrubs.

The work was hard -- a lot of pick and shovel, hauling and mauling. I finished it mid-afternoon.

The shrubs, many of which bear fruit, will be welcomed by the birds in years to come, and the shrubs will make the environment more welcoming for them, as well.

The garden will take 3-5 years to look like anything. An odd coincidence, don't you think, that tonight's topic at a meeting I attend on Wednesday nights was "patience"?

Circus World

2009-06-08T04:54:00.000-07:00

spent much of Saturday with John and Judi, along with their son Matthew, at Circus World.

We'd planned to take a boat tour of the Upper Dells, but the weather was more befitting November than June.

II'm glad we went to Circus World. After a few rough years, the museum is greatly improved in many ways. The museum has more exhibits, and more areas of Ringlingville are now open to the public.

The museum is a different experience now than it was when I last visited with the kids years ago, worth spending the day.

The weather was bad enough, though, that the carousel wasn't operating, and wandering the grounds was not in the cards. So we mostly went from indoors to indoors.

The "one ring circus" is still fun, an hour-long performance that is varied and entertaining. The museum doesn't have a dog and pony show this year, but it has elephants.

What would a circus be without elephants, I ask you?

The very model ...

2009-06-08T04:35:00.000-07:00

It appears that there is no length to which the Fox network, home of Faux News, the unofficial organ of the social conservative wing of the Republican Party, will not go to demean marriage.

According to Variety:

Fox is plotting to play matchmaker to a couple of marriage-starved strangers.

Net has picked up the pilot "I Married a Stranger," from A. Smith and Co., the shingle behind "Hell's Kitchen" and "Kitchen Nightmares."

Production has already been completed on the pilot, which centers on a woman who is in her late 30s and is eager to get hitched. A group of friends and family are presented with five eligible men, and the group slowly picks off the guys until one is left standing.

As each man is booted out, the bride-to-be gets her first look ("Dating Game" style) at who she won't be marrying. By the end of the episode, she finally meets the guy she's going to marry -- and the ceremony is held. Each week focuses on another potential coupling.

Fox is so enamored of the sanctity of marriage that it hosted "Married by America" and the special "Who Wants to Marry a Multi-Millionaire" in recent years.

I guess social conservatives need something to lighten up their day after listening to Bill O'Reilly's rants about how us queer folk are hell-bent on destroying marriage, so live and let live.

I just hope that the social conservatives don't completely destroy marriage before we get a chance at it.

Gems

2009-06-06T07:39:00.000-07:00

Michael is a "friend of the library", which is having a book sale today. He was working yesterday, so I took the afternoon to help them set up for the sale.

I spent most of the afternoon with Mary, a lady of a certain age which I am fast approaching, setting out tables and tables of "Adult Nonfiction" and "Children's Nonfiction" in careful rows of two, three and four, depending on the length of the book.

We had a nice time talking while we worked.

After we established how we were related, the precursor to all conversation among locals (although she grew up about twenty miles north of the Dells, we have ties through the Nelsons and the Rhineharts), we spent the afternoon talking about all the ways in which the Dells has changed in recent years, whether today's rain was likely to slow down the tourists, and cultural changes we've seen over the years, particularly the ways in which women have forged new roles in our culture.

Mary has a dry wit, and she'd spot odd book titles which struck her fancy, and twist them into something downright funny. I enjoyed spending the afternoon with her, enjoying her company and her intelligence.

It turns out that Mary is the head librarian's mother, and we talked about what a nice job Kathy has done with the library. It wasn't just mother's pride and my politeness, either. The Kilbourn Library recently received a "five star" rating, the highest possible rating, one of 84 out of about 8,000 libraries nationwide to achieve the rating.

The library is a gem. So is Mary.

Little by slowly ...

2009-06-03T14:15:00.001-07:00

Marriage equality will come, in time. It won't be quick, and it won't be easy. But it will come.

The map represents Nate Silver's demographic projections about when each state would vote for marriage equality, adjusted to take into consideration whether or not the state has an anti-marriage amendment in place and how long process of overturning the amendment in each state was likely to be.

I grouped the states into five categories -- states that have marriage equality now, states that can be reasonably expected to achieve marriage equality within five, ten or fifteen years through constitutional amendment, if necessary, and the legislative process, and states that are likely to be "hold outs" when the United States Supreme Court rules on the issue.

The model ignores future court-mandated action at the state level, and ignores the possibility that lawsuits like the one Ted Olson and David Boies recently brought in federal court challenging the California's Proposition 8 amendment will accelerate a decision by the United States Supreme Court.

The striking thing, as I look at the same-sex marriage prediction map, is that the states likely to be holding out when the Supreme Court acts are more or less the same states that were holding out on interracial marriage when the Supreme Court decided Loving in 1967.

The more things change, the more things stay the same ...

It may be just a coincidence that the anti-marriage fight is led by folks like Wisconsin's Julaine Appling, late of Georgia with three degrees from Bob Jones University, or it may be that religion-based bias born and bred is religion-based bias retained and retargeted.

Food for thought ...

Summer Garden

2009-06-03T05:29:00.001-07:00

The early summer garden is coming in, and a combination of a cool, relatively wet spring and warm but moderate weather in the last two weeks has brought the gardens around the front of the house into full bloom.

The early summer daisies are doing well, with long-lasting blooms. I put the daisies in two summers ago, and they are finally taking hold. I'm of the "put them in and see what works" school of gardening, and I try to use native species.

A week or so ago, the bleeding hearts made a spectacular display. I brought one of the plants from Chicago, an older variety that my mother, and perhaps her mother before her, cultivated at the farm, and bought two more modern varieties from a local nursery in Bear Valley. The differences between the two strains are typical of developments in flowers over the last thirty-odd years. The newer variety is larger, but somehow coarser and less beautiful.

The iris have also come into their own, both along the walk to the front door and alongside the driveway. The differences between older varieties and modern varieties show up clearly in the iris beds. The small, delicate iris on the left are an old variety, given to my great-grandfather by Al Ringling, and the larger, and to me less interesting, iris on the right are more modern varieties from Betty Staron's garden.

I favor early summer gardens, before the green foliage has become dark and dusty looking, and the plants looking stressed from the heat. Early summer gardens epitomize the hope of youth, and every year I am caught up, once again, in the promise of things to come.

I suppose I should know better at my age, but I don't.

Of cats and ticks ...

2009-06-02T06:12:00.000-07:00

Sundance and Cassidy have been bringing in the advance guard of the ticks in recent days, so Michael and I put on the anti-tick stuff today. The cats hate it, and usually won't talk to us for a couple of days after we do it. Sundance is sitting over by the window, looking baleful. Cassidy has headed for points unknown.

Taking a Break

2009-06-02T06:10:00.000-07:00

I've been taking a break from the railroad over the last week, and I'm going to extend the break until at least the end of the month. Unless something changes, the break will almost certainly extend through the summer.

I love the railroad, but putting the time into it that I've been putting in hasn't been good for me, or, for that matter, those around me. I have been getting virtually nothing else done, and I have been neglecting other priorities.

So it is time for a break, a time to clear my head, a time to consider what level of involvement will work for me and for the railroad.

I've spent the week doing what I did two years ago -- working around this place, which is showing the neglect of the last year, catching up with friends I haven't had enough time for, cooking dinner so that Michael has a decent meal to come home to after work, and working my way down a long to-do list for other groups I volunteer for. I'd like, as well, to get to work on a few paintings that I've sketched out, but not put to canvas. I'm returning, in short, to an active but not frantic life.

It has been a busy week, but calm and peaceful. I'm enjoying return to real life.

GM

2009-06-01T07:09:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about my friends at GM today, which is natural, given that GM filed for Chapter 11 protection this morning.

I did consulting work for GM Legal the last five years of my working career, helping GM Legal and GM Public Policy develop an intranet that functioned as an internal information system.

I enjoyed the work -- it was interesting and on the edge of then-current technology -- and made friends. I am in contact with four or five of them still, and often think of them.

I hope that GM will be successful in turning its fortunes around.

Mitchell Time

2009-05-31T07:04:00.000-07:00

I went to Milwaukee today to visit with Bob, and we ended up rearranging his house to hook up his new television, a 42" flat screen HDTV and DVD player.

Bob had a stroke four or five years ago, and can't do physical labor, so we needed his brother Jim to help move a large bookcase out of the way.

I called him and settled in for the wait, which was considerable. Jim, it turned out, wanted to finish something he was working on, and estimated twenty minutes. Bob and I took the opportunity to head out to lunch, returning after an hour, calling Jim to see where he was at on his project.

Jim reported that he managed to get all the tools together for the project, and hoped to be over in about thirty minutes.

Jim did show up on time, we moved the bookcase, Jim took off, and Bob and I settled into watch a movie.

The Mitchell family, my mother used to observe, operates on "Mitchell Time", which means, almost always, "When I get around to it." Always has, still does.

Memorial Day

2009-05-25T01:11:00.000-07:00

Among the 58,178 who died in Vietnam ...

TERRY ALBRIGHT - Marine Corps - PFC - Age 21;
DENNIS CALTON - Army - 1LT - 196th Light Infantry Brigade - Age 23;
ANDREW CHICANTEK - Marine Corps - LCPL - Age 18;
RAYMOND CHURCHILL - Army - SGT - 25th Infantry Division, Age 19;
ROBERT CRAWLEY - Army - SP4 - 9th Infantry Division - Age 22;
ERROLD FARRAR - Army - SGT - Special Forces - Age 22;
RONALD HAGEN - Army - MSGT - Special Forces - Age 39;
ROBERT HASZ - Navy - AN - Age 21;
LELAND JOHNSON - Air Force - A1C - Age 21;
JOHN KAZANOWSKI - Army - CAPT - Special Forces - Age 31;
THOMAS KLEMP - Army - SP4 - 1st Infantry Division - Age 19;
CLAYTON LUTHER - Army - PFC - 1st Infantry Division - Age 19;
GUADALUPE MARTINEZ - Army - SFC - Special Forces - Age 32;
RONALD NEUBAUER - Army - CAPT - Special Forces - Age 29;
THOMAS NEWMAN - Army - 1LT - Age 24;
MICHAEL PROTHERO - Army - PFC - 101st Airborne Division - Age 19;
HECTOR RIVERA-COLON - Army - SFC - Special Forces - Age 30;
WILLIAM ROEGLIN - Army - SGT - 4th Infantry Division - Age 20;
ROBERT SCHELL JR - Army - SP4 - Special Forces - Age 22;
JEROME SCHUETT - Marine Corps - PVT - Age 19;
RICHARD STEIN - Army - SP4 - Age 20;
MURREL THOMAS - Army - SSGT - Special Forces - Age 37;
KENNETH WORTHLEY - Army - SSGT - Special Forces - Age 22.

Excavating

2009-05-21T04:48:00.000-07:00

The squirrels, frustrated in their attempts to climb the bird feeder, have apparently decided to excavate instead, digging out around the post so the bird feeder crashes to the ground.

As our late and unlamented President used to say, "Bring it on!"

Mark my words. The Sciurus evil-doers will not succeed. I will fill in faster than they can dig out. If necessary, I'll bring the Bobcat over from the railroad.

Such is the resolve that represents the American Spirit!

Orson, Welles but Limp

2009-05-21T04:38:00.000-07:00

Orson, the Foster dog, likes to take herself (Orson is of the female persuasion) for a walk every so often. That's fine, but Orson doesn't have the brains that God gave grasshoppers.

Orson showed up at the door yesterday after a day's outing in the mid-80's heat, dead tired, panting, looking lost. I brought her into the house, and she promptly went through three bowls of water while I called the Fosters.

Orson then plunked down on the rug in front of the kitchen sink and settled in for a long nap.

Kevin and a friend showed up to take her home. Orson didn't so much as look up.

So we talked a while, catching up, until everyone but Orson decided it was time for her to go home.

With a little persuasion, she dragged herself out to the car, got in, and headed down the road.

Dogs ...

Spring to Summer

2009-05-20T03:27:00.000-07:00

We are moving, more rapidly than I am quite ready for, from Spring to Summer.

A few weeks ago, when things were showing signs of new growth, Summer seemed far away. This week the bleeding hearts are in full bloom, the iris are beginning to flower, and weeds are popping up everywhere.

Yesterday was a summer day, with a high around 84, and today will be hot as well. The mornings have the feel of summer, too, slightly balmy, a pleasant respite from the heat to come later in the day.

I guess we are in early summer. I'm watering every morning, helping the new plants get a start, a task I've always liked. It gives me a chance to be outdoors early in the morning, a wonderful time of the day in the Summer.

As I walk around, trimming and cleaning up from the winter, I'm looking to see what is doing well and what isn't this year.

The birch trees did not fare well this winter. I have no idea what happened, but quite a number of them are not budding out properly.

An oak behind the house looks like it might be on its last legs. A maple along the driveway is also showing signs of failing this year.

Both were damaged in during the house construction four years ago. I had hoped that they would make it back, but neither isn't doing well, and the woodpeckers are at them.

I'll probably take both down next winter, although I'm thinking about leaving them up for a few years so what Michael and I can enjoy the woodpecker show.

The surest sign of Summer, though, this being the Dells, is that Memorial Day is upon us and the "season" -- the months between Memorial Day and Labor Day when no local drives on any of the main roads -- starts this weekend.

We had a foretaste of the "season" last weekend, when Automotion was in town. It took me about five minutes to find an opening to cross Highway 12 coming home from the railroad Saturday night. Off season, I look both ways before crossing more out of caution and training than worry about getting hit crossing.

Between now and Labor Day, Michael and I will be working at the railroad five days a week -- Saturday through Wednesday, with a break on Thursday and Friday -- instead of lallygagging around, working on our own schedules.

Sloth is out the window, along with the snow.

Giant Cavorting Raccoons

2009-05-18T21:55:00.000-07:00

Michael is 59 tomorrow.

Michael's Facebook status last night: "I have been ironing railroad patches on pink engineer caps while giant raccoons cavorted in the back yard. No, seriously."

Now seriously, is this a sign of early-onset dementia, or what?

Toot toot ... peanut butter!

2009-05-18T05:11:00.000-07:00

Peanut sitting on a railroad track
It's heart was all a flutter
Around the bend came Number 10
Toot toot ... peanut butter!

No peanuts, but Saturday was windy and we had lots of small branches down on the track.

Carl on the gallows

I spent the weekend in operations, running trains while training Carl, a college student from Milwaukee, how to engineer. Carl was as good a student as I've had recently -- eager, attentive, careful, innately cautious, unafraid to ask questions -- and I expect to certify him as a basic engineer over Memorial Day weekend.

Training new engineers is an interesting process. The feel of an engine is entirely different from that of a car or truck, and an engineer has to be thinking way ahead to operate safely and smoothly. We also work in inches on the turntables and while coupling, so an engineer has to be able to move an engine, at almost imperceptibly, with real precision.

I start student-engineers in the diesel, without cars or passengers, getting them used to the engine and the controls, letting them get the feel of moving three tons that starts and stops in hundreds of feet, accelerating and decelerating slowly and gently.

When I'm satisfied that a student-engineer has the feel of the locomotive, I add cars, which adds weight and makes the train less responsive to engineer control.

Then I start boiling the frog, hands on, teaching the student-engineer bit by bit under actual operating conditions, with passengers, while transferring both knowledge and responsibility little by slowly, as my friend Elton puts it.

I make a number of runs with the student-engineer, sitting alongside like a driving instructor, coaching and instructing -- "You're coming up on a slow zone, so throttle down to idle at this point ..." or "Remember the crossing signal coming out of this cut ..." and so on -- at each step of the way, and offering hints and tips about how to make the run easily and methodically.

When I think the student-engineer is ready, I start withdrawing myself, asking rather than telling -- "What are the steps leaving the station? or "What's the next signal point?" -- so that the student will take over the thinking process.

Next, when I sense student-engineer is gaining confidence, I let the student-engineer make runs without comment or question, critiquing the run at each end of the line, offering comments and suggestions, but remaining in the cab so that I can take over as needed.

After four to six runs without any significant errors, I remove myself from the cab, sitting outside the engine but just behind the student-engineer so that I can give instructions if something develops, letting the student-engineer take on full responsibility for the run and get the feel of being fully responsible for the safety and operation of the train.

Then, finally, I let things sit for a week, and start again the next week, making sure that everything "stuck" and adding in emergency training. If all goes well, I'll certify the student as a basic engineer after a few runs.

The training doesn't end at that point, though, because we try to run newly-certified engineers with senior conductors for a while, who keep an eye on things and continue to offer the new engineer suggestions and comments.

I've taken basic engineer training over from Jim, who is stepping back this summer after years of training new engineers, and I like the work. I developed the habits of a good trainer -- patience, clarity, thoroughness -- as an NCO, and I've always enjoyed helping folks learn and grow.

Carl is the second engineer I've trained this month, and I expect to train several more next month, building a stable of engineers for the railroad this summer. I give them the basics, and then the students who want to do so go on the advanced training with the steam engines. Bernie runs steam school, and I want to make sure that I send him new engineers who have the basics down cold. Running steam is beyond tricky, and advanced training is not the time to have to unlearn bad habits.

Inaugural steam run of 2009

We ran under steam for the first time this year Sunday afternoon. Two runs, at 1pm and 2pm. Bernie drove and I conducted the runs, with Gil along to check the locomotive's mechanicals at Western Springs.

The run was a shakedown for steam operations, which begin daily starting Memorial Day weekend, and I'm glad we made the runs when we did. The turntable at Western Springs warped a bit over the winter -- a problem not evident running the diesel, but clearly obvious when we ran the steam onto it during the 1pm run. I called it in to Dave and John, who road out on the 2pm to study the problem and figure out what to do with it, so the folks on the 2pm run were treated to the show.

The turntable needs to be fixed before we run steam again on Tuesday. I'll go over today and help Gary fix it.

Visit

2009-05-16T04:25:00.000-07:00

Helen visited this week, coming in on Monday afternoon and heading home with Jay on Friday afternoon.

Helen came in on the Empire Builder, which was dead on time. It often isn't.

I got to the station about ten minutes before the train was due, book in hand, and settled down for the wait.

I didn't end up cracking the book. I got into a conversation with an Amish farmer about my age, who was taking his family to visit relatives in Illinois. We talked, mostly, about farming and about the differences developing between the western half of the county, which remains very rural, and the eastern half, which is becoming an exurb.

Helen and I had lunch and then headed to the railroad. We took the battery car out, because I wanted to show Helen the railroad as I knew it, in all its track side beauty. We spent about an hour traversing the line, stopping frequently to look at the wild flowers.

We watched a French Canadian movie Tuesday night. It was, in a word, French. Helen and I both like French movies, because nothing happens.

Wednesday we -- Helen, Michael and I -- went to Madison to see the Odd Wisconsin exhibit at the Wisconsin Historical Society museum. It wasn't much, to be blunt -- an oddball collection of things from a six-foot long Bowie knife to a poster advertising Ed Gein's estate auction, but not long on substance. And no, I didn't study the auction poster in enough depth to tell you whether any of Ed's home made lamps were included. The place was full of school kids on field trips, noisy and funny, and but the permanent exhibits at the museum were interesting, so I'm glad we made the stop.

We also went to Savers, both the east side Savers and the west side Savers. Michael was stocking up on work shirts -- he has an "outfit" for working at the railroad's Museum Shop, which requires thin-striped shirts -- and Helen chased down various clothing. I bought a couple of Ralph Lauren shirts, one an unusual blue and the other a purple candy stripe, and a Holstein t-shirt.

Wednesday is "30% Off for Seniors" day at Savers, and I like the way they ask about it. If the clerk thinks you might be a senior, you are asked "Are you shopping with a senior today?"

We stopped at Turtle Island Beads in Baraboo on the way back to the Dells. Michael's account: "On the way home, we stopped in Baraboo so Tom and Helen could pick out the beads for her birthday necklace. I won't tell you how long that took, but one of us almost reached Medicare age while they were at it." Guess who isn't into beads?

Wednesday night was Facebook night. Rebecca posted a selection of old photos for Mother's Day, and Helen had to join Facebook to see them. She did, Sunday, but now wanted to know more about Facebook. At first appalled, bit by bit she got more into it, and the next thing you know, people from her high school were inviting her to "Friends" status, and so now she's off an running.

Facebook takes some getting used to, I think. Posts like "[Name] likes everything he says." or "[Name] is in desperate need of an additional female ultimate player for his CUSL - south side recreational buddy group. Anybody? Anybody?" or "[Name] went crazy with the green concealer. Now my face looks green. Gah!"are not, to say the least, immediately illuminating. Those of us who are of a certain age, who are used to more sustained conversations, even on line, often find Facebook a mind-warp. But I like Facebook, and I suspect that Helen will come to like it, too.

Tuesday, Thursday and Friday were digging days, all started by Helen's comment "Should we prepare the day lily beds today?"

Helen, you see, is getting rid of her day lilies, and dug them up before she came, so that Jay could bring them down on Friday. I had half-prepared a couple of beds for them, both in the front garden, but we needed to dig in manure.

As always happens when Helen and I start a seemingly innocent gardening project, one thing let to another and we turned into gardening maniacs.

Over the course of Tuesday and Thursday, we installed a two foot by sixty foot mulch barrier along the south foundation of the house, weeded and spot seeded the wild-flower border in back, hunted down and planted a shrub, planted the vegetable and annual gardens, moved existing day lily beds around in front of the house, installed posts for a clothes line so that I don't have to dry newly starched shirts on a ladder, and, oh, put some manure in the day lily beds I had prepared.

The place is better for it -- given my slovenly ways, the back gardens were looking raggedy-assed, and not headed in the right direction -- but I'll admit that I'm looking forward to heading back to the relative retirement of laying track this morning.

National Train Day

2009-05-11T03:44:00.000-07:00

You may have missed it in all the hoopla over Mother's Day, but Saturday was "National Train Day".

National Train Day is the annual commemoration of the 1869 joining of the Transcontinental Railroad in Promontory Summit, Utah, the day on which the "golden spike" was driven into the final tie that joined 1,776 miles of the Central Pacific and Union Pacific railways, uniting the United States by rail.

To tell the truth, I kind of missed it, too. I was too busy at the railroad.

I hadn't planned on working at the railroad this weekend. Saturday was cold and rain-ish, so I couldn't work out on the track side, and I was going to devote Sunday to cleaning up.

But somehow schedules got confused, and the conductor for Saturday and Sunday wasn't coming. I conducted Saturday, with Reed driving, and drove Sunday, which John conducting.

We had John and Judi over for pizza Saturday night as a consolation prize for having to work. The news about Michael's great-nephew, Jackson, got us all into a discussion of babies' names, and we spent more time than was probably warranted thinking up silly names and really silly nicknames.

The upside, though, was that the silliness gave John and Judi's son, who is currently grounded, perhaps for life, a chance to laugh and feel a little less quilt-ridden. He is on the edge of becoming an teenager and practicing hard at it; hence the grounding.

Here's an odd, almost random, fact about National Train Day and the "golden spike": The Sandley company, which the railroad preserves as a living museum, was the premier builder of small-scale steam engines in its day. Sandley was asked if it could make two full-size American 4-4-0 engines for the centennial of the "golden spike" in 1969. The company didn't have the capacity to build two full-size Americans in the 12-month period allotted, so the work went overseas. But wouldn't it have been something if the company had been able to do the work?

The railroad celebrates Mother's Day with "Mom's Ride Free", so we had a lot of families with very excited, wild-as-march-hare kids getting their first train ride of the season.

I'm taking a week off from the railroad. Helen is coming for the week, so I'll ignore my railroad to-do list.

The week won't be entirely devoid of trains, though. Helen is coming on the Empire Builder this afternoon, and I'm planning to take her out on the scooter, so that she can see the railroad through my eyes, if we get a chance.

It is supposed to rain on Wednesday, so we might all head to Madison. The State Historical Society has a well-reviewed exhibit on "Odd Wisconsin" that looks like fun.

Eugenia

2009-05-09T04:35:00.000-07:00

I received news last evening that an elderly friend, Eugenia, died early yesterday morning.

Eugenia was a delight, a rough and ready stick-shift Jeep driving battleaxe who told it like it was, with humor and honesty.

I always looked forward to seeing Eugenia at a meeting we attended weekly for about twenty years. Just being around her brightened my day.

Eugenia and Mary, her life partner of sixty-four years, met each other in college and never looked back. Their life together was a testament to faith and fidelity.

Murphy's Law

2009-05-09T04:25:00.000-07:00

Michael's latest great-nephew -- Jackson Bailey Kirk -- was born last night, just in time for Mother's Day.

It was a difficult labor, and Michael's niece eventually had to have a C-section. I got home last night to find Michael quiet and anxious, waiting for news that everything was all right.

The family was being kept informed via Twitter, which went down and stayed down.

Finally, Michael called his mother.

She, of course, had the news that mother and son were just fine -- no news on the father -- hours before, and had been assigned the task of calling everyone in the family in lieu of Twitter. She called everyone on the list, except Michael, who she forgot.

Miss Roxie is of a certain age, so its understandable that she dropped the ball, and even at that, she breaks down less often than Twitter.

Michael brightened up with the news that all was well, and we welcome Jackson into the world, not that he cares at this point.

Leaves, Not of Grass

2009-05-08T04:04:00.000-07:00

I finished another long-standing project today, getting the leaves blown back from the right of way at the railroad along its entire length, again just in time, because I'm taking next week off and the work needed to be done by May 16.

I've been plugging away that the leaf blow-back project for several weeks now.

Our track runs through woods, mostly red oak and white pine. Red oak are prodigious leaf-producers, and the problem is that red oak leaves fall in the Spring as the new buds push them off the trees, rather than in the fall.

At the railroad, that creates a problem, because the leaves have to be gone by the time we start running steam, to reduce fire risk, and the window is small.

I've been attached to a back-pack leaf blower, on and off almost every day, for two weeks now.

At this point, we have a leaf-clear right of way about six to eight feet from centerline. We also, though, have a pile of leaves, 12-18 inches high, on both sides, running the length of the railroad.

That's the next problem -- getting rid of the leaves, which have been accumulating now for five years.

The railroad burned them until a few years ago. The DNR changed the burning rules locally, and that hasn't been practical since, because we can't burn leaves until after Memorial Day, when we are in daily operation.

So we've got to figure out another way.

I've pointed out the problem to the best minds at the railroad, and so far nobody has a viable solution.

I posted a grump about this on Facebook, and got two responses, both from my children. One suggested that if I leave everything alone long enough, the leaves will biodegrade. The other suggested -- I am not making this up -- "Attach a cow catcher to the truck ... That would be both fun to do and hysterical to watch. Everyone wins."

For this I spent close to a million bucks on education?

Biodegradable, Not

2009-05-07T03:58:00.000-07:00

I spent the last couple of days, on and off, updating the Sauk Democrat's volunteer database.

It is tedious work - ugh - and I put it off as long as I could.

Databases, like Styrofoam, aren't biodegradable, so the work was just going to sit there nagging at me into the next century.

The deadline to get it done was today. I got it done today, just in time, and I'm the better for it.

Believe that, and I'll sell you the Wisconsin Dells bridge. I'd sell you the Brooklyn Bridge, but my brother owns that one.

One thing ...

2009-05-06T03:47:00.000-07:00

... leads to another.

I expanded the garden in front of my study a few weeks ago, setting in a good curve. The new curve, of course, made the curve at the other end of that garden look too sharp, so that end of the garden needed to be expanded, too.

I expanded that curve this afternoon, after I got back from clearing track side at the railroad. The new part of the garden is essentially a rock garden, planted with low-growing phlox, moss roses and other flowering ground cover.

Michael likes it better than I do, but it looks good and balances the garden.

Gardens, in that respect, are like rooms. You've noticed, I assume, that when you paint a room, everything else looks grubby, so the next thing you know, you are reupholstering, sending rugs out for cleaning, and looking askance at the wooden chair that has served well for, oh, twenty years.

I suppose it is inevitable, in both cases, but one thing leads to another ... and another ... and another.

Having got the front gardens looking like a million bucks, I'm now looking at the gardens in back, which are looking a mess.

I suppose that I'll take that on next. But, damn it, I planned the back to look a mess. Its called wildscaping.

Singing in the Rain

2009-05-05T14:17:00.000-07:00

Moses supposes his toeses are roses
But Moses supposes erroneously
Moses he knowses his toeses aren't roses
As Moses supposes his toeses to be.

I finally got Michael. He laughs at me because I'm clueless about modern culture, but he didn't know that these are lyrics from "Singing in the Rain". So much for him looking down his stubby nose at me.

The Ties that Move

2009-05-05T03:32:00.000-07:00

Jack was up today -- he comes Tuesdays and Thursdays this time of year, just to get out of the house -- and we spent the day working together on two-man projects, stuff that needs to get done, but is better done in a team.

Jack likes to play train, which is to say that the first thing he usual does when he gets to the railroad is to get the diesel out and hook up a work car. By the time I got to the railroad, Jack was set to go.

So out we went, first attending to a number of small projects that Jack wanted to get done -- move a wood pile here, toss some brush over the edge of a fill there -- and then moving on to a larger project that I wanted done -- stacking ties between mileposts 5 and 10, so that I could mow more efficiently this summer.

We usually lay the ties out where we will use them, but that makes it hard to keep the track sides safe during the summer, so I try to get them moved into stacks of twenty or so by this time of year.

We left the ties laid out on the ground between mileposts 10 and 13, because many of them will go in on May 16, one of several "track crew" days scheduled during the year, days when volunteers come in expressly to spend the day laying ties. Jack and I will stack the remaining ties the week after that, no doubt, and just in time. We've had warm weather lately, and the grass at that point is growing fast.

The area between mileposts 12 and 13, known as "Shelf", are particularly difficult to maintain. The roadbed is narrow at that point, high above the Wisconsin River, steeply sloped on both left and right. It is hard to mow, and there is no place to put anything, like a stack of ties, given that we need to maintain a clear zone six feet from centerline on both sides of the track. I might end up hauling ties out of the area and stacking them, which will be a lot of work.

By the time we were done with the ties, it was time for lunch. We went to Monk's and I had my annual Monk's hamburger, which I think are as good as any in the world. I'm allowed one a year at my age. I'd be allowed more, but I ate more than my allotment when younger, and am paying the price.

Twenty-Somethings

2009-05-04T05:27:00.000-07:00

I spent the day yesterday training twenty-somethings.

I took Karl out first thing in the morning, before the trains started running, and taught him how to run the battery car, used for work crews, and how to clear track side. Karl is a new member of the society, having joined this weekend. He visited the railroad again and again as a youngster, and now that he is in his twenties, he joined the society and will be volunteering with us.

I spent the afternoon training and certifying Reed as a passenger engineer on the diesel. By the end of the day, Reed was operating on his own. Reed is another young man who spent his youth on the railroad, in this case in the company of his father and mother, who are long-time members of the society. He will move on the steam training with Bernie next week, and the plan is that he will be a fully certified steam engineer, running trains four days a week by Memorial Day.

It seems to have been twenty-something day yesterday. While I was busy with Karl and Reed, Dave, I noticed, was teaching another group of twenty-somethings the art of building straight, level stair steps, part of the project they've undertaken of rebuilding our walkways around the visitor areas.

The youngsters can be a handful, because they haven't been around long enough to have developed the how-to skills they'll all have obtained ten years from now just from working on this and that, but they work hard, contribute a lot to the railroad, and their energy is infectious.

I'm planning to work on track side today. Tomorrow Jack is coming, and we are going to clear and stack ties so that we can cut the grass along the track side this summer.

Jack and I are at the other end of the twenty-something scale. Jack is 73 and I'm 62. We just think we are twenty-something. We think that all the way to the next morning, when all the aches and pains from working like twenty-somethings the day before catch up with us.

Janus Faced

2009-05-04T04:56:00.000-07:00

Speaking of the growing body of law emerging concerning gay and lesbian equality in the wake of same-sex marriage, civil union and domestic partnership laws around the country, Julaine Appling of Wisconsin Family Action told the Los Angeles Times that WFA "has always taken the position that these kinds of decisions should be made in the Legislature, where they can be fully vetted and can have public opinion given."

Uh, huh.

In 2006, Julaine and I spoke on a panel discussing civil unions and same-sex marriage.

I reminded Julaine that then-current polls showed that a majority of Wisconsinites favored domestic partnership or civil union rights for gay and lesbian families, and that the anti-marriage amendment she was pushing would lock down Wisconsin's constitution and keep the legislature from taking such rights under consideration in an orderly way.

Julaine demurred.

So where are we now, in 2009?

The Wisconsin legislature is considering creating a domestic partner registry that would grant limited rights to gay and lesbian families, basic protections like hospital visitation and end-of-life decisions.

Julaine's response? "If they are going to proceed with this, this is going to be settled in court."

How, exactly, do Julaine's past support of the anti-marriage amendment and present statements concerning the courts square with her profession that WFA "has always taken the position that these kinds of decisions should be made in the Legislature, where they can be fully vetted and can have public opinion given."

Julaine professes to be the spokesman for the Christian God, but she acts more like the Roman god Janus, talking out of both sides of her mouth at once.

Maybe its something about the letter "J".

It certainly can't be that Julaine says whatever is expedient at the time, without regard for either consistency or truth.

Home Depot

2009-05-03T04:11:00.001-07:00

I got shanghaied yesterday.

I spent the morning cleaning River Road, the Cambrian Overlook beach and Fisherman's beach with a group from the Stewards, part of Project Clean, and then tried to sneak into the railroad.

The reason I was trying to sneak in is that Dave wanted my truck to haul lumber from Home Depot for Karen's proposed "Caboose Garden" -- a caboose in flowers along one of the banks -- and my hauling anything in my truck entails me doing the hauling.

My plan -- it is good to have a plan, even if you don't know what the plan is -- was to drive in, park, not pick up a radio, and head out along the track to do some side track maintenance before anyone knew I was at the railroad.

I should have known better. I was busy sneaking in when Dave called my cellphone. I answered without thinking, and I was caught.

So off we -- Dave and Karen's twenty-something son Eric in his car, Karen and her husband Don in their car, and Karl, another twenty-something and me in my truck -- went to Home Depot, a floating circus on wheels.

And a circus it was. Karl and I got to Home Depot first, didn't see anyone, so we parked ourselves at the front entrance. Don and Karen showed up next, about five minutes later. And then we waited for Dave and Eric. Waited. And waited.

Dave, you see, gets sidetracked, talking to people.

Karen got antsy and called Dave's cell phone. "Where are you guys? ... "No, we are at the entrance to Home Depot. ... No, at the front entrance, the only entrance. ... By the handicapped parking. ... Okay, well, we're waiting."

"They're in the parking lot, someplace, ", Karen told us.

Another five minutes elapsed.

"There they are," said Karen, as Dave and Eric pulled into the handicapped parking, and Dave found yet another person, this time a Home Depot employee straightening up the shopping carts, to talk to.

We eventually got Dave into Home Depot, and then the job of herding cats began.

Dave got himself on one of the handicapped carts and headed off to the light bulb aisle, me in tow, stopping to admire garden carts. Don wandered off in another direction. Eric and Karl started scoping out the girls in yet another direction. Karen, not a woman to be easily diverted from a mission, headed off toward the wood aisles.

We reassembled in the paint department, where Karen and Dave had an extended discussion about oil-based primer, the keyword used by both seeming to be "No". Don showed up and grumbled that he had work to do at the railroad, and could we please get this done. Eric and Karl offered helpful suggestions, which were ignored.

We then moved to the wood department, stopping along the way to fill up the cart with other useful items. Karl and I located the 3/4 inch treated plywood, which is what we came to get in the first place, found a lumber cart, and loaded a piece of plywood.

Karen didn't like the plywood.

Karl and I found another cart, moved the plywood Karen didn't like to that cart for eventual return to the stack, and got another piece.

Karen like that piece.

We loaded another.

Karen didn't like the plywood.

We moved it to the "return" cart.

Eventually, we found two pieces of plywood Karen liked. Don at this point was muttering audibly, Dave was tooling around in his cart directing Eric to add other wood that might be useful to the cart, and Karen went off in search of Plexiglass.

Karl, good-natured to a fault, stuck with it, despite the fact that he was diverted from lunch when the adventure started, now forty-five minutes ago, although even he was beginning to fray around the edges.

Me, I was at the "Okay" point. "Okay" is what Michael says when I'm being diverted by too many bright shiny objects in a row, and it is time to get up, get done, and get out.

So what happened? Everyone wandered off yet again, each in different directions.

Karl and I moved the cart to the checkout point, and waited. And waited. And waited.

Don showed up.

We waited some more. Don sent Karl off to find Dave, Karen and Eric.

Eventually, Karl, Karen, Dave and Eric showed up in the main aisle, headed in our direction, more or less directly.

Dave wheeled into the checkout lane, Karl and I followed with the cart, and the checkout lady ran the beeping wand over everything.

Karl and I both recognized that this was our moment, to paraphrase.

We rolled the cart out of the store, never looking back, got to the truck, loaded and left, heading back to the railroad via Burger King, where Karl finally got fed.

Milk the Movie

2009-05-03T03:32:00.000-07:00

I follow a few folks' blogs, for different reasons, a number of them face-to-face friends and others folks I got to know online through their blogs I read because I enjoy the writing for one reason or another.

Sank, who writes Old and In the Way, is one of the latter.

I don't remember how I ran across his blog, and on the surface we have little in common. But I find something appealing in Sank's accounts of the ins and outs of his daily life, raising a couple of sons who seem determined to be teenage boys despite Sank's efforts to civilize them, dealing with a wife who has him down cold, and obviously enamored of his daughter.

I like listening in on Sank's somewhat grumpy, always clear-eyed and usually funny accounts of his life, the good and the bad, the ridiculous and the sublime. I think that there is a little of Red Forman in all of us who have tried to civilize teenage boys, and Sank is no exception. I respond to that side of his writing. At its best, his writing about the boys reminds me a bit of Erma Bombeck. Given that Sank is forty-something and male, go figure.

Sank wrote a blog yesterday about Milk the Movie that I found moving, so I pass it along if you'd like to take a look.