Monday, January 31, 2011

All aboard

The RV park that marks my winter bivouac in Tucson is only a few hundred yards from the southernmost main line of the Union Pacific Railroad. I can hear the sounds of train horns, engines and rolling stock 24/7.

Many folks would consider this a deficit. I count it a perk. There are few sounds that thrill me more than the wail of a diesel’s road horn. To me, it’s a siren song of distant places yet to be seen. If I could park my rig right next to the track, I would.

In fact, many times, I have. When dry camping—also called boon-docking—I have often parked near rail lines just to watch the trains go by. I have made it a habit, when parking my motorhome or travel trailer in one of those impromptu camp sites, to watch every passing train, even if it meant rousing myself from sleep to peek out the window.

I suppose I belong to that informal fraternity known as railfans. I’ve been a member ever since I can remember. I have always found trains, railroads and railroading fascinating. I took my affinity as far as working as a main line brakeman during summers when I was in college. I’ve also enjoyed a number of long distance passenger train trips.

Uh-oh. I can feel the verbiage building up. Telling train stories is a favorite pastime—well, next to grandchildren stories, that is.

I’ll spare you from either.

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Monday, January 24, 2011

May you live in uninteresting times

Recently, as I was leaving a restaurant, I happened to spot a friend I hadn’t seen in a while. I stopped to say howdy and he asked me in turn, “So what’s new and exciting?”

I replied “Not much.” And then, after a moment’s pause, I added, “Thank goodness!” 

I realized, in those couple of seconds, that much of the effort in my life had been devoted to dealing with excitement of various kinds. I won’t go into a list right now; I’m sure your life has had a similar round of exciting events, from fender-benders to child-rearing challenges, which have occupied much of your attention.

I understood, in that moment, that my fondest wish was for a generally uneventful life—except, of course, for events of my choosing.

Even more, it finally dawned on me why I had been structuring my life in the specific patterns I had settled into over the past decade: reducing institutional and organizational involvement while still maintaining a wide network of good friends. I was opting for a lifestyle that had fewer irons in my fire, especially those of considerable extraneous interests—like employers, for example. Now there’s a group that really knows how to keep your life exciting.

To a large degree, I’ve been successful. Though there still are unavoidable entanglements: insurance companies, engine problems, weather. Well, what can you do?

But I’m not bored. I read, write (obviously), watch movies, correspond with friends and family, visit the kids and my grandson (soon to have a sibling!) and spend considerable time trying to dodge excitement.

I hope your life may be equally dull.

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Monday, January 10, 2011

A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing

Last week I suffered a rather shocking experience: I learned something new.

I know, I know: so what’s the big deal, right? Some people learn new things every day without going into panic.

The problem is, I should have known this years ago!

What was this startling information? Well, that’s not really the point, but I suppose you’ll be distracted until I tell you, so I’ll just get that out of the way: there is an international distress call, “Pan-pan,” that is one grade short of “Mayday.”

Pan-pan denotes an emergency situation which does not require immediate assistance but which has a significant risk factor for the caller and alerts others to the potential for escalating advisories. For example, a vessel that has a fire onboard but has it under control.

So what’s the big deal? Just this: this seems to me to be an item of fairly common knowledge, even important knowledge, but here I am, over 60 years into my learning curve, AND I DIDN’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT IT!

How is that even possible?

I watch PBS and Discovery and History and Learning. I’ve been an avid reader ever since I learned how. I have seen well over 3000 movies in my lifetime (‘cause that’s how many I’ve rated on Netflix, of course). I even picked up the pan-pan bit while watching an educational video (yes, on Netflix) about foul weather boat navigation—and I don’t even care for boating that much. So how has this knowledge escaped me?

What’s worse, this isn’t the first time this panic has cornered me.

I remember the first time. I was 28 years old. I was reading a book and was amused to discover what I thought was a misspelling of the word "dilemma." But, to be safe, I decided to look it up in the dictionary, because, all of a sudden, the way I thought it was spelled didn’t seem to make sense.

For some reason—perhaps from another misspelling I’d seen, perhaps from some forgotten head trauma or, I don’t know, maybe a lightning strike—I thought dilemma was spelled with an “mn” instead of an “mm.” Go figure.

In any case, after discovering my error, I remember being awash in acute embarrassment, the kind that makes you want to glance around furtively to see if anyone is watching. I immediately began to catalog, in my mind, the number of times I might have used the word in print so far in my life, sweating each possible faux pas. Fortunately, the occasions to use dilemma were few and it was just slightly possible that a reader might have missed even those supposed uses—I hoped.

The point is, I was many years too old to have something so basic and commonly known escape my attention!

And yet here I was, more than 30 years later, and still these junctures of knowledge and panic continue to occur.

So why is it so scary?

Only because of this: what else don’t I know?

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