Sports are a big part of the American way of life. We admire athletes for their drive, their determination, their dedication to the game, and the contribution they make to their team and to the sport as a whole. And these are good things.
Christians Are Like Athletes
The Christian life is a lot like the life of an athlete. In fact this comparison is drawn several times in the Bible. I Corinthians 9:24, Galatians 2:2, and 5:7, and Hebrews 12:1 all use running a race as an allusion for the Christian life. Let’s look more closely at one of these. Continue reading “Spiritual Athletes”
I have always considered dressing dogs in people-like clothes to be degrading and silly. I’ll admit that I’ve seen (and enjoyed) some photos of dogs dressed up for Halloween that were really cute, and I marveled at the patience these dogs display in sitting still for a photo. But to dress a dog in doll-like clothes and trot it around on a regular basis is…silly. And I have always doubted that the dogs like it, so it must be something forced on them.
Cochise, spiffed up for visiting.
Accessories are another matter. Even my own Cochise has shown a fondness for adding a splash of color when we go out to make our rounds at Christmas time. But this does not restrict his movement or get snagged on things the way clothes do.
And protective clothes are an exception. Our friends at Old Friends Senior Dog Sanctuary often put coats on their wards to help keep their aged bones warm in winter, but these are special made to conform to the shape of dogs bodies and to allow free movement. And the dogs to seem to enjoy the protection from the cold.
It was, therefore, rather surprising to me to see Cochise’s reaction to being stuffed into a Tee shirt after he came in from the cold, shivering violently: Continue reading “Clothes, Dogs and Fashion Sense”
Batteries: portable power cells that can range in size from the tiny button battery in hearing aids to the boxy lead-acid batteries in an automobile produce electricity through a chemical reaction between two elements inside the battery. One of these elements is typically a heavy metal: lead, manganese, lithium, zinc, cadmium, mercury and silver are common. If disposed of by tossing dead batteries in the trash, which goes to a landfill, heavy metals have the potential to leach into soil, groundwater, or surface water. Dry cell batteries contribute about 88 percent of the total mercury and 50 percent of the cadmium in the municipal solid waste stream. In the past, batteries accounted for nearly half of the mercury used in the United States and over half of the mercury and cadmium in the municipal solid waste stream. When burned, some heavy metals such as mercury may vaporize and escape into the air. Cadmium and lead may also end up in the ash, remaining a pollutant.
Alkaline Batteries
Single-use (non-rechargeable) alkaline batteries account for 80% of manufactured batteries in the US. These are labeled Alkaline and are the typical 9 volt, C, D, AA, and AAA that we use every day in our homes.
Americans buy around 3 billion single use alkaline batteries a year to power our common household items. Modern single-use batteries, including alkaline and carbon-zinc types, are no longer classified as Household Hazardous Waste (HHW), because they contain much less heavy metals than they did before 1997, and can be safely disposed of in the trash. However, they do contain recyclable materials such as manganese, zinc, steel, paper, and plastic that can be reclaimed.
There is also the question of; do you want to add to landfills by dumping this waste when batteries no longer supply power, or do you want to recycle them? Dead batteries do not break down readily and will add bulk to the landfills for a very long time.
Rechargeable Batteries
Rechargeable batteries contain large amounts of nickel cadmium, nickel metal hydride and lithium ion. These batteries are typically found in cordless power tools, cellular and cordless phones, laptop computers, camcorders, digital cameras, and remote control toys.
On the morning of Sunday, January 19th, 2014 Allan Douglas passed over the bridge to pound the great typewriter in the sky. He died by my hand. Although I prefer the term “assisted suicide” to “murder” because Allan Douglas and I had in fact discussed this situation and the way things might play out. But should anyone elect to prefer charges…
Before the NSA data-mining center flags this post and sends the FBI over to break down my door, I should explain that Allan Douglas was my pen name. A pseudonym I began using way back in the late 1970’s when I first began writing for periodicals.
I chose to use that name because it was easier to remember – and to spell – than Douglas Bittinger. I also felt it sounded more artistic: more…writerly. And since it was indeed my own first and middle names, just deranged, it was still “me” any way you sliced it.
Why Kill Allan Douglas?
So what would motivate me to cast aside a moniker that I had served me well for so long and I had spent so much time building up? I can explain that in one word: Phoneyism.
Minimalist and Minimalism, Dear Reader, are terms we hear bandied about quite a bit these days. So I thought I’d take a look at minimalism in terms of how it relates to living a simpler life. First let’s look at a brief history of the minimalist movement.
History of Minimalism
The minimalist movement came into being in the 1950’s as an artistic expression in which a painter or sculptor would employ an extreme economy in his or her work; eliminating all complexity and reducing the work to it’s most basic shape or form. Using very simple shapes and colors to evoke the emotion they desired.
This trend was picked up in the 1970’s by the performing arts when stage productions were done with no sets and only a bare minimum of props; relying on the performers to convey the setting and mood of their location and situation. A bizarre off-shoot of this trend developed when certain producers decided to take it a step further and put on plays that included no costumes – the performers were naked – or nearly so – as well as the stage.
The poet made a healthy observation when he wrote, “Let me grow lovely growing old.” He understood that life can become either bitter or better as our years advance. We are created with a capacity to adjust to whatever circumstances life imposes upon us. If we develop a positive disposition toward negative situations we can find the poet’s beauty in growing old. On the other hand, if we allow negativity to dominate we will develop a sour disposition. The years will take a terrible toll if we allow circumstances to defeat us. The poet implies that it is possible to have an aging attractiveness. We can turn the scars of life into beauty marks. Our wrinkles can produce smiles instead of frowns. Our experiences can be used as a tender tool to encourage the next generation. As the years transpire, we can develop the gift of growing lovely as we age.
It is important that we monitor the aging process in our lives to see what is happening. Sometimes it is helpful to make a comparative study of those who precede us. Some folk remain vivacious and kind to the end of their days. Others become disgruntled and hateful in their twilight years. They develop frowns on their faces. They appear angry and sad. We do well to work on our faces, not so much with cosmetics, but with some smiles and laughter that let our inner beauty show. Expressions on our faces reveal a lot about us. It might surprise us to know what others think about our countenance. Does our appearance reflect the joy of life or the sadness of growing old?
The kind of person we are has a way of emerging to the surface. Character cannot be camouflaged indefinitely. Our true person comes to the surface by how we look, what we say, and how we say it. The attention we give to our soul’s development adds more to our beauty than any kind of face-lift we receive. If we want our cosmetics to really work, then we add some love, joy, peace, and hope to our outward appearance. Personal radiance is the product of good grooming and personal hygiene from the inside out.
How well do you smile? Do you reflect God’s love or the devil’s disposition? Is your attitude one of complaint or encouragement? Charisma, charm, and grace belong to the same word family. Remember we can grow lovely as we grow older. It is a matter of make-up within and without.
Last time I covered some of the challenges people will face while setting up home in mountainous terrain. This time I want to look at some of the rewards and drawbacks of living here.
Our Mountain Home
Before we were married, Marie was a life-long resident of St. Louis, Missouri. She grew up being able to walk to school, the library, and the neighborhood grocery store. Many of her relatives and most of her friends lived right in her neighborhood. When desired, her family could get in the car and drive a few minutes to find most anything their hearts desired. The gratification of going out for something and coming back home with it that day was a way of life.
During my youth, we lived mostly rural. Often in a community that was little more than a handful of homes, a post office and a grain elevator. A few times in a small town with a population of a few hundred, a bank, post office, maybe a couple of grocery stores (just to make it interesting) and a Woolworth’s. Other times truly rural: out in the sticks. We moved a lot, and we preferred a little elbow room.
When Marie and I married, the wisest thing to do was for me to let go of my little rural rental house and move to the city to share a home with her. For a few years I became accustomed to the convenience of being able to buy lumber and supplies as needed for my woodworking because several specialty stores were just a few minutes of driving away.
How we came to move to the mountains is a story unto itself, but as we formulated that plan the biggest hurdle in Marie’s mind was going to be giving up the convenience of having all the trappings of life so close at hand. Her only real demand was that there would be a Wal-Mart within a reasonable distance … and that we have the fireplace she has always wanted.
Hello Dear Reader. Today is chilly and rainy. The yard work I had planned on doing today has been postponed. So instead I’m going to build a fire in the fireplace and work on an article about making use of what is on hand as a way of simplifying landscaping and construction projects. While I work on that, I thought you might enjoy this video that emphasizes “on hand” and artistry.
If you enjoyed that little artistry video (and the surprise ending) please leave a comment below. Thank you for coming to visit and may the Simple Life be yours.
Last time I covered some of the challenges people will face while setting up home in mountainous terrain. This time I want to look at some of the rewards and drawbacks of mountain living.
Convenience
Before we were married, Marie was a life-long resident of St. Louis, Missouri. She grew up being able to walk to school, the library, and the neighborhood grocery store. Many of her relatives and most of her friends lived right in her neighborhood. When desired, her family could get in the car and drive a few minutes to find most anything their hearts desired. The gratification of going out for something and coming back home with it that day was a way of life.
During my youth, we lived mostly rural. Often in a community that was little more than a handful of homes, a post office and a grain elevator. A few times in a small town with a population of a few hundred, a bank, post office, maybe a couple of grocery stores (just to make it interesting) and a Woolworth’s. Other times truly rural: out in the sticks. We moved a lot, and we preferred a little elbow room.
When Marie and I married, the wisest thing to do was for me to let go of my little rural rental house and move to the city to share a home with her. For a few years I became accustomed to the convenience of being able to buy lumber and supplies as needed for my woodworking because several specialty stores were just a few minutes of driving away.
How we came to embrace mountain living is a story unto itself, but as we formulated that plan the biggest hurdle in Marie’s mind was going to be giving up the convenience of having all the trappings of life so close at hand. Her only real demand was that there would be a Wal-Mart within a reasonable distance … and that we have the fireplace she has always wanted.
Edwina Grocery
Our home place is on Piney Mountain and is within the community of Edwina. The term ‘community’ is used loosely here. Edwina boasts a country store: Edwina Grocery, and a small community center, which is a steel building with one large room, a kitchen and bathroom. It is used as a meeting place by the High Oaks Coon Club, and the Edwina Ruritans. It also serves as the local polling place at election time. There is also a Tennessee Department of Forestry building, a rock quarry, a cabinet shop, a guy that does heating and cooling work and a truck stop/convenience store out beside the interstate, and a Russian-American restaurant called Grill 73.
Grill 73, run by Valentina and Alex Ryzhkov
Grill 73 is run by retired Romanian circus performers! And there is Farmer’s Daughter Nursery and Produce, which is just what it sounds like: the enterprising child of a local farmer. These are all strung out along Route 73, known locally as Edwina Road. There are perhaps a couple hundred homes and several farms tucked into the hills and hollers of Edwina.
From Piney Mountain, Newport can be reached by driving down the mountain roads to Route 73, a winding two-lane highway. Turn south to go to the interstate or turn north to go to Route 25/70, which becomes Broadway, the main drag through Newport. The interstate is a greater distance, but faster. The state highways are shorter but slower speeds. Either way it takes about 15 minutes to get into town. Newport does have a Wal-Mart, but we don’t shop there much anymore.
We have the best of both worlds here. For things we need quickly, Newport – population around 33,000 – is big enough to meet most of our normal needs. For some of the less common needs, Knoxville, Tennesse, is an hour away by interstate in one direction, Asheville, North Carolina, an hour in the other direction. Morristown, Pigeon Forge and Sevierville are in between and reached by state and county roads.
For things we can wait on for a few days, there is the internet. These days we can order most anything we want and have it in hand in a few days.
We may not be able to walk to the library, but the freedom, privacy, and clean, clear air we enjoy so much out here away from all the traffic, exhaust fumes, noise, and regulation of the city more than offset the inconvenience. Here, almost without exception, we can live as we please. We love the peace and quiet. The sunsets are fabulous, the views are breathtaking, and life itself is an adventure.
In the past we would take an annual vacation just to get away for a while. Since moving here, we have felt no need to get away, in fact when we must travel we are eager to get back.
Travel
There is a joke that goes around about how mountain folks must be sure to walk equal distances in each direction, or they end up with one leg shorter than the other. But it’s actually not far from the truth. Where we travel a lot we tend to dig-in or build up pathways to level the surface, but just walking around my property means climbing, descending or traversing steep slopes.
This is our “lawn” the forested parts of the property are steeper. I spend a good bit of my time walking to and fro on our property. Even just fetching the mail means walking 120 feet down the hill from my front porch to the road (that’s the easy part) then back up the 30-degree slope (that’s the hard part) in whatever weather we are experiencing.
The up side of this is that moving around the property to do my chores is a great workout. Think of the time and money I save by not needing to go to a gym!
Driving the roadways here is also a matter of acclimation. When we first arrived I was used to roads that were, by and large, straight. Maybe a sweeping curve here and there, but nothing that would take me by surprise.
When we began looking around this area for property, traveling even the main highways was a stressful task because they tend to be carved into mountain slopes, thus follow the contours of those mountains. Some are worse than others, but there aren’t any I can think of that are straight. Then there are the back roads.
Some of these are dirt roads and not wide enough to two vehicles to pass one another. Wide spots are placed where a recess in the mountain permits or a wide curve can be created. When two vehicles meet, one has to back up to the last wide spot and allow the other to pass. It is fortunate that mountain folk tend to be good-natured.
Most back roads do not have guard rails. At first, the act of driving these narrow, winding ledges with precipitous drop-offs was no less than terrifying! On some, the turns are so sharp that even creeping along at 25 or 30 miles an hour made me carsick as we snaked through one tight, blind curve after another. But, after a while, one gets used to most anything. Now I no longer get sweaty palms driving these roads, in fact I rather enjoy it. Who needs a theme park: we have our own thrill rides!
We are fortunate that Piney Mountain Road is not only paved but wide enough for two vehicles to pass by one another … unless you meet the school bus.
Semi-trucks will not come up our road. At least not the 53-footers normally used by freight lines. I’ve seen a shorty up here once or twice, but for the most part the biggest truck to travel our road is Big Brown from UPS. Therefore, when I order a piece of equipment or other large item that will come by truck, I have to take our pick-up truck and go meet the semi at the truck stop to transfer the crate into our truck for the final leg home. That too is another form of adventure.
All proper mountain men need to have a pick-up truck, preferably four wheel drive. That is a rule here.
I recently went to my annual doctor’s visit. I say that as though I go every year, but I don’t. In fact this is the first time I’ve made an appointment because it was time to go again. He had not told me to come in, but it has been a year since I last saw him, and I thought I should check in to see how ‘things’ are going.
He started off by asking me, “Why are you here?”
“Because it has been a year since I last visited you, and I miss you.”
“That’s nice, but you could have called.”
“Everyone everywhere always says that I should get an annual check-up just to see if anything is wrong. So, here I am: poke and prod away.”
“OK. Anything in particular wrong?”
“I have a headache.”
“Who doesn’t, these days. Let me tell you something about annual check-ups.” And he proceeded to tell me this story:
Christians Are Like Athletes
The minimalist movement came into being in the 1950’s as an artistic expression in which a painter or sculptor would employ an extreme economy in his or her work; eliminating all complexity and reducing the work to it’s most basic shape or form. Using very simple shapes and colors to evoke the emotion they desired.
