Davidson Woods

January 11, 2013 - Lee County FL
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 16, 1970
We relax this evening after a second day in the warmth. With Mom & Dad and Mary Helen we joined the Friday evening potluck supper here at Heritage Cove and were happy to find familiar faces.

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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTWe relax this evening after a second day in the warmth.  With Mom & Dad and Mary Helen we joined the Friday evening potluck supper here at Heritage Cove and were happy to find familiar faces.  We brought in the New Year at Princeton with my sister and slid about on a very icy canal trail on the morning of the 1st to start our Year 2013 bird list.  On January 2 we returned to South Mountain via Long Beach Island NJ where we enjoyed finding  winter specialties including fabulous Long-tailed Ducks and Harlequin Ducks along the jetty at Barnegat Lighthouse. At home, we were greeted by a snowbank in front of our driveway and ten inches of dense snow about the house.  We shoveled our way in and went to bed.  I said to Anne that I had had enough snow for the season and was ready to go to Florida.  We left on Sunday when we drove hard to Columbia SC.  The next morning we went to the Phinizy Marsh preserve (a series of sewer lagoons) at Augusta GA where we added significantly to our year list of birds on an icy morning.  In the afternoon we drove and walked about the Harris Neck NWR on the GA coast.  On Tuesday morning we crossed the St. Mary’s River and then turned east to look for sea birds from the northernmost pier in FL at Fort Clinch State Park.  We nearly froze and didn’t see much but enjoyed the fresh air very much.  Then we drove to Lake Woodruff NWR near Ocala and opened our doors to 75 degree air.  What a shock!  We found a house wren in the bushes in front of the office and walked levees through the marsh.  We lodged at Lakeland. On Wednesday morning we drove to Apollo Beach and there watched and listened to the cacophony of boat-tailed grackles and watched a pair of white pelicans paddle along the bay beach.  We made two more stops for birds before arriving here at supper time.  We shared company and news with the folks here and settled in.  Yesterday we unpacked and today we shopped.  All is under control and we will begin projects next week.  On the weekend we will just enjoy the fine weather.
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December 12, 2012, Menallen Township PA
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 16, 1970
The temperature is plunging this evening. Anne says if it falls to 20 we won’t run in the morning. I can hope. I have never taken much pleasure in dawn runs when it is cold. Still, I enjoy what the running does for me. It is a tonic, certainly, and keeps us fit for hiking, birding, and other grand exercises.

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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTThe temperature is plunging this evening.  Anne says if it falls to 20 we won’t run in the morning.  I can hope.  I have never taken much pleasure in dawn runs when it is cold.  Still, I enjoy what the running does for me.  It is a tonic, certainly, and keeps us fit for hiking, birding, and other grand exercises. We are finishing the year with a rush.  Too much going on.  We bought a car yesterday, a new Ford Focus Hatchback with moonroof.  It replaces our 2003 Focus ZX3.  Anne wanted four doors this time.  That was easy.  All of them are now four-door.  We worked hard to find a good car for a dinghy.  Anne fell in love with the new Subaru Crosstrek, it has 8.5 inches of ground clearance and weighs less than 3,000 pounds.  The manufacturer certifies it to tow flat, but the tow-bar manufacturers don’t make a plate for it.  That is too bad.  The focus has only the six inches clearance that I consider for snow and gravel roads.  Clearance is becoming a serious problem today, manufacturers sacrificing safety for mileage.  Too bad.  We bought the car at the end of a long day.  We made an expedition to York, shopped, banked, took my mother to a doctor’s appointment, and found my aunt signing herself onto hospice care.  We sat down and listened to her.  She is tired, she is in pain, she does not want to be sent to the hospital again.  We told her she could recover.  She said she did not want to.  So, we assisted her in the application process and shed a few tears to the side. After that we should have come home, but instead went out for a light dinner and lots of coffee.  We went to the dealership knowing exactly what we wanted and how much it should cost.  I offered a much lower price and was told I could have it for a bit more than that.  I said fine and we came home.  We’ll pick it up tomorrow. Our time till we head south is limited.  The new car should be fitted out with trailer hitch, towbar, and roof rack.  Perhaps not before spring.  We need dental and eye appointments.  Perhaps in Florida.  Anne is sewing and quilting furiously.  She made lovely curtains for Elley’s new home.  Also various Christmas gifts and favors.  I made plans for a garage installation next spring, but still need to apply for the building permit before we leave. Today I took the old car into the shop to have the tow-bar and trailer hitch removed in hopes the apparatus can be applied to the new car.  I also bought stocking stuffers.  Tis the season.  Tomorrow we return to York to pick up the new car and trade-in the old one.  We will visit my Mom and Aunt again too and also join the count public works association for a luncheon meeting with a meteorologist who traditionally gives the long-term winter weather forecast.  Long-term forecasts are still not much good, but they are improving. On Friday we may put up our Christmas tree and continue with chores.  We were going to NYC this weekend to put up curtain rods and curtains for Elley, but we will wait until the end of the month to do that. If anyone reads this tonight, there is a meteor shower tomorrow morning.  Too cold to go out for that here tonight.  But elsewhere . . .  Enjoy the stars, they are brighter than the earth below.  Our Congress could not agree a year ago on a deficit reduction plan and so agreed if they could not agree by now that taxes would go up next year and spending  would slow (probably not go down.)  Still no chance of bringing the deficit to zero.  Now they cry over that, call it “a fiscal cliff” and want to not raise taxes or decrease spending.   In they end, I know they will increase taxes and I think they will not decrease spending.  The deficit will only open wider.  Tragic.  And as we go broke we provoke our enemies.  Do we have a death wish?  Ah, we should forget all that and enjoy this season of darkness and of lights.
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Visiting Brooklyn with Sandy - November 1, 2012
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 16, 1970
We are at home today returning last evening from a several day visit to Brooklyn, NY. Our daughter moved on Sunday, and we parental units provided assistance with the move and the furnishing of the newly renovated house. The move went well and was completed before the arrival in the evening of the post-hurricane-Sandy storm that produced an extraordinary storm surge along the northern New Jersey and coastal New York area.

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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTWe are at home today returning last evening from a several day visit to Brooklyn, NY.  Our daughter moved on Sunday, and we parental units provided assistance with the move and the furnishing of the newly renovated house.  The move went well and was completed before the arrival in the evening of the post-hurricane-Sandy storm that produced an extraordinary storm surge along the northern New Jersey and coastal New York area.  Moves are difficult  affairs, especially so for cash-strapped young families moving into a first house.  The presence of a set of parents provides valuable labor and experience but also add to the stress.  We tried to be useful but respectful and especially not to interfere with the establishment of the household.  None of the parties involved needed a major storm to add to the mix, but Sandy didn’t care. Anne arrived before I did.  There was a wedding dress to shop for.  I drove in early on Saturday morning.  Google and the GPS said to take the Holland Tunnel to Manhattan and then across the Williamsburg Bridge.  The trip went well although I’m not sure the GPS gave the best route.  Without a navigator I had to “trust my instruments.”  They got me there OK.  I joined in the tasks of making the new home ready, completing the packing and making the old apartment “broom clean.”  We enjoyed a take-out Indian dinner with the refreshing company of the next generation.  With Adam, the wine is always grand. Early on Sunday I went with my future son-in-law to fetch the rental truck while Anne and daughter continued to pack.  Mary-Helen and Mark called and offered to help with the move.  We welcomed their coming.  The weather was damp and blustery, but serious rain held off through the day.  We began the many trips in and out of the ground floor apartment.  We needed to make two trips with the truck.  There were many steps up into the entrance of the new home.  Good news was that the new owners are taking the first floor unit and tenants will occupy the second and third floors.  Bad news was that the move was from the west to the east edge of Bedford Stuyvesant neighborhood.  Going back and forth was a long slow trip.  So, it was a typical and challenging move.  We dined out and enjoyed Italian food on this evening.  Brooklyn has many kinds of fine food.  Returning to the house we slept between the stacks of boxes.  On Monday we undertook unpacking and home improvement activities.  Prospective tenants were coming through the apartment during the move.  The renovations that had been made did not include critical bathroom accessories such as toilet paper and towel racks.  I worked on that and discovered how difficult it is to drill through tile. Meanwhile the weather worsened.  I had noticed that the basement needed cleaning and gave it a coarse sweeping so that some items could be stored there.  While doing that I studied the systems.  Didn’t look too bad.  The basement door was study but rusted.  I couldn’t see much of the drainage system.  I saw what looked like one drain pipe going into the floor.  Later in the day when I was bringing items into the basement, I noticed trouble.  Water was dripping out of that drain pipe.  I brought Elley down to look at it and we tore out a bit of dry wall to expose more.  This revealed that it was in fact the vent at the trap to the sewer.  It was full of water.  I gave the bad news to the kids.  They needed a plumber.  That is expensive in NYC and with the storm took seven hours.  The good news was that a simple snaking opened up the pipe.  There were rags in the pipe.  No surprise that a long vacant and renovated house had that problem.  The renovator should have cleaned out the pipe, but “these things happen.”  The sewer now drained smoothly and we could begin using the plumbing again.  We cooked in baking a whole chicken.  Clean-up would have been difficult without plumbing.  Overnight the storm raged.  The lights flickered but we were on high ground.  In other parts of the city it was much worse, evacuations, flooding, and a major fire.  We had planned to leave on Tuesday but stayed put.  There was lots to do and Lowes was open.  I finished installing the bathroom fixtures and lots of door stops in the upstairs apartment.  The unpacking was mostly completed.  Our daughter went to work for a few hours.  The storm left town.  Anne cooked ravioli. On Wednesday, yesterday morning, we knew it was time to leave.  We made an egg breakfast for everybody and waited until ten o’clock.  We hoped to slip out against traffic, but it took us two hours to get on the Brooklyn Queens Expressway.  The problem was the traffic trying to get into Manhattan.  The BQE was stalled and that backed up traffic on the streets of Brooklyn.  We finally got around the last bottleneck at the northbound ramp onto the BQE (making an illegal maneuver) and rolled easily up the southbound ramp.  We continued moving, if at times slowly, to the Verazanno Narrows Bridge and onto Staten Island.  The back-up in the other direction continued for a few miles after that.  We stayed on 440 and I-287 to I-78 into New Jersey without incident.  Needing fuel we exited near the Round Valley Lake where I knew there were clean stations with low-priced gasoline.  This was a mistake.  The power was out and a long line was in place for the one station with a generator.  We returned to the highway without stopping.  I calculated that I could reach Lebanon PA without a refill.  We restrained our bladders until we reached the Pennsylvania welcome station which had power.  Inquiry there indicated that power was patchy between there and Harrisburg.  The gal told us there was power and gas at the next exit, but we blanked after the merge onto the interstate and I saw the ramp as we passed it.  We started looking for evidence of power (light traffic signals) before making an exit and finally fueled up at Fogelsville.  Now, with a full tank of gas we were confident we would sleep in our own bed last night.  There were many downed trees along the way and more than a few highway signs.  I worried a bit about the road through the forest from I-81 to our home.  We sailed clearly over the main ridge of South Mountain and down to Pine Grove Furnace State Park.  There we found route 233 closed.  A large tree was down behind the barricade.  This was not good, but being near home I knew alternate routes.  I wondered if they would be open.  The first one was and we arrived home twenty minutes later.  Our yard was a mess with leaves and twigs, but all was well.  I turned on the water and started the pellet stove.  Today I clean up. A final comment.  Sandy was a weak hurricane but a severe depression.  As such it produced an extraordinary storm surge that caused most of the damage.  Storm surge is the reason development at low elevations along the seashore is subject to periodic destruction.  I would be the last person to suggest that one not build there but the first to say that the public should not subsidize such development through either disaster relief or flood insurance.  Such “welfare” encourages unwise development and is unfair both to those who build along the coast but do not seek handouts to absorb the additional cost and to those who elect not to build along the coast to avoid these costs.  People managed well and made better decisions before government assistance for “disasters” became common.  I must think that payment for bad decisions makes us all poorer.
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October 21, 2012 - On Household Economy
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 16, 1970
Having settled in at home for the season, we are upgrading the establishment. That is a problem with ownership. There is always something to do, things you think of and things on the “honey do” list. Last weekend I installed foundation shrubbery in front of the house. As a result we really do now have a garden. Before the bushes we had only a few herbs and a small patch of greens - currently lettuce and spinach. I also removed a foot of clay from two other beds and replaced it with top soil and leaves. These will now make good gard
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTHaving settled in at home for the season, we are upgrading the establishment.  That is a  problem with ownership.  There is always something to do, things you think of and things on the “honey do” list.  Last weekend I installed foundation shrubbery in front of the house.  As a result we really do now have a garden.  Before the bushes we had only a few herbs and a small patch of greens - currently lettuce and spinach.  I also removed a foot of clay from two other beds and replaced it with top soil and leaves.  These will now make good gardens next spring. With serious gardening now in play, a compost bin is useful.  We have made do since moving in with an old bottomless metal drum that has accepted our kitchen waste for these five years.  Only because we are so seldom here was it adequate.  It was ugly, unventilated, and leaning.  Still, it served.  But we now have neighbors on that side.  They deserve better. In need of a larger unit to serve kitchen and garden, I thought of my main bin at our last home.  I built it handily from two left over sections of picket fence.  I sawed them in two and formed a four by four foot open box.  The slits were a bit too wide and let the occasional egg shell escape, but it had capacity and could be easily stirred by inserting an old broom handle through the slits and pulling it up.  When the compost was ripe I could step in it and pitch fork out product.  When it got low I could flip over the box and finish the removal.  It worked great. So, not having any picket fence sections I went to the lumber yard to buy two.  I guessed that the price had increased and it would cost me $40.  Arriving at Lowes, however, I found that simple wood picket fences are not to be had.  They sold metal fences and plastic fences at a price much higher than the old wooden ones.  These sections could not easily be cut and joined.  I was sorely disappointed. There was a solution.  At home I had three pallets.  These came with the wood fuel pellets we buy each year.  We had considered using them as flooring for the pellets in the basement, but they were heavy, too thick, and ugly.  Disposal might be a problem, but usually somebody wants pallets.  I studied them.  I have broken down pallets before.  Seems like it should be easy, but they nail them together well and it’s difficult and time consuming to pry them apart.  If one is not careful the boards splinter before the nail comes out.  Did I want this project? I looked at them.  As with any difficult project, the challenge makes it interesting.  I had a new one handed sledge hammer from my Dad and a good crow bar.  I said to myself, “I can do this in a day.”  The pallets included three stringers and top and bottom deck boards.  The wood appeared to be oak and should last a decade.  I realized I would have to almost entirely dismantle the units taking all the deck boards off one side and all but the end deck boards off the other.  After that I would remove the central stringer to lighten the pieces and because I needed to construct a fourth section to make the box.  Remember, I only had three pallets. So the work began, and it was as tough as expected.  I had to squeeze the crow bar between the deck boards and pry.  That would eventually release one or the other of the boards.  If I was careless it would split the boards.  Some split regardless of care.  Once I cleared one side the other was easier.  I propped up the pallet with the now exposed boards on the bottom and used the sledge to hammer them off.  I left on the board at each end.  Then I banged free the center stringer and set it aside.  I hammered out and then pulled all of the nails from the deck boards and set them aside.  Then I laid out what was left, the two outside stringers and a plank at each end.  I took the loose planks, spaced them and inch apart, and nailed them back onto the one side.  I now had one side of the bin.  I did the same for the two other pallets and had three sides.  I had three extra stringers.  I took two of them and two boards, squared them and formed the last section.  I filled in with all the planks I had left.  I knew I would need four more to fill in the corners and would have to make them, but that could wait.  I carried the pieces to the assembly (and final) location not too far from the back porch, leveled them on blocks, and joined them with four nails.  I had done five hours work and left the project for the next morning.  That arriving I needed two step ladders to finish the job, one to take me up outside of the box and the second to let me descend into it.  I tacked together the pieces checking level and square as I went along.  Finally, I went into the basement and found a ratty, unfinished 1x2 of hemlock and sawed it into four 40” sections that would close the corners of my box.  I nailed them in and the box was done.  I put away the tools and brought out the wheelbarrow and garden tools.  I quickly raked a load of leaves and tossed them into the box.  Then I took the shovel and barrow to the compost can.  It held the material we accumulated in August and October.  We were in Italy in September.  I tipped over the can and shoveled the contents into the barrow.  The weather was chilly so there were no yellow jackets to deal with.  I chucked this somewhat fragrant and raw material into the new bin.  I then flattened and folded the old metal drum.  It was finished.  I may try putting it out for recycling, but I have a small dry well that needed covering, so it went over that for now.  I put away the garden tools.  I had worked another two hours, so the project took about seven hours.  If I had been able to buy the fence, the project would have taken two hours.  I lost some time certainly, but I had to buy no materials.  Except for the nails and the single piece of left over lumber, all the materials came from the pallets.  The one left over stringer went to my lumber stack.  The nails were bagged and dropped into the recycling bin. I went out to look at the finished project and was satisfied with it.  I looked to where the barrel had been and was glad to see it gone.  I might like to have a smaller bin for kitchen waste composting, but see no economy (or “ecology”) in buying one for $50-100.  Perhaps I’ll find a plastic drum to use.  In the meantime this will do.  I’ll stuff it with leaves this and next month.  These will provide organic material for my new gardens next spring.  Tomorrow I will “winterize” the motorhome.  The curse of home ownership is that there are always projects.  The motor home provides its share, certainly, but it has provided enormous adventures.  I’ll take care in putting it to bed for the winter.  Our daughter is looking a wedding dresses so her mother must join here this week.  She is moving next weekend, so we will provide basic labor too for that project.  Children are more trouble than houses.  I have often wondered if they are the greatest vice.  Oh well, we have the vice of children.  Nobody is perfect.  Besides, there are currently three good birds in southern New England.  If they hang around a bit, we may chase them when we break free of the progeny before coming home.  We shall see.
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October 1, 2012 - South Mountain, PA - On Italy
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 16, 1970
I write from home after spending most of September in Italy. We enjoyed a splendid sojourn there but are glad to be home. I may compare the qualities of the two places and point out advantages and disadvantages, but of course familiarity provides comfort, and I am more comfortable here.

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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTI write from home after spending most of September in Italy.  We enjoyed a splendid sojourn there but are glad to be home.  I may compare the qualities of the two places and point out advantages and disadvantages, but of course familiarity provides comfort, and I am more comfortable here. Still, the journey was stimulating, even provocative at a time when Italy and Europe are clearly in crisis.  I hesitated to buy euros until the last minute, not sure what currency would be in play.  We prayed there would be no riots or strikes during our visit, and Italy was peaceful, though in Spain and Greece there were strikes and riots. Much of the appeal of the land of Italia is the fairy taleish structure of its architecture, ancient yet sturdy.  We wandered for a day across Venice and it seemed a fantastical recreation of a Disneyland village.  It was a world of neat stonework making up canals, bridges, narrow streets, and a hodgepodge of homes and businesses.  There was scarcely room for plants, let alone trees.  The paths formed a huge maze that we navigated by using the many churches as beacons.  The mostly no-longer places of worship are not far apart and each is fronted by a small clattery piazza.  Using map and compass we zigged and zagged block by block until we found a church.  Confirming its identity we would then make another setting to the next dom, chiesa, or capella along our route.  We could find our objectives from the closest church, and frequently the church was the objective.  In the church of the Frari we found sculpture beyond belief and tombs of both Monteverdi, the man who turned opera from an idea into a miracle, and Canova, a sculpture who created perfect luminescent human figures from local stone.  Even Disney world does not have that! We had arrived first at Florence.  The two flights went well, but we went through hell at the DeGaul Airport in Paris.  Our flight was late and the passport checkpoint was a mess.  We went through this same line a few years ago.  It was a mess then too.  Getting through, we sought advice on where to go but could find little.  One airport employee looked at our ticket and said to go to Terminal C.  We found signs for a terminal C5 and followed them onto a shuttle, through a half kilometer of winding halls, down steps, the wrong way down an aisle, back to the stairway and out a door.  There we found a bus, boarded, and standing were carried a few kilometers to what we thought but were not sure was our terminal.  We looked at our watch and wondered if our plane was boarding.  Arriving at the terminal we went through security.  The good news was that at least in Europe one is not subject to the humiliation of having to take your shoes off to board a plane.  After putting ourselves back together we rushed upstairs and reached a point where the passage to the gates split, but we did not have a gate number.  We entered a short line and spoke to another employee.  She said the gate would be posted on the board in the hall.  “It has not yet been posted.” So, the good news was that our flight was later than we were.  We waited.  Thirsty after the transoceanic flight where bladder control is the highest priority, I left Anne and sought out water.  I found a 16 ounce bottle for 4 Euro 50 and decided we were not that thirsty and returned.  Our flight number came up but we sat almost another two hours while an engine part was replaced.  Remarkably I was happy just that the ship had air-conditioning during the wait. Arriving at Florence we whizzed though customs and entered the bustle of the airport departure area.  I found a little information booth, was given a map of Firenze, and told where to find the bus into town.  We walked the hundred meters and found what looked like a tour bus packed with people and luggage.  I managed to squeeze our bags into the luggage compartment and we tried to board.  At that point the driver said the bus was full and would depart.  I hastily retrieved our bags and we sat on a bench.  The next bus arrived in twenty minutes.  It was a small bus with no baggage compartments.  We boarded with our bags and paid.  The bus was almost empty as we worked our way to the downtown “Centro” train station.  We had debated how to reach our lodgings, a small (as it would turn out “unregistered” B&B) about a half mile from the station.  Still feeling energetic we decided to walk.  That, of course, was how little we knew of the confusing windings of streets in Italy.  The map showed intersections as they our in this country with streets that meet at one point.    In Florence, they mostly don’t, and one can’t see very far down any street to see where it is going.  Worse, streets change their name every block.  Then, after we had just become oriented and started along the correct compass heading, Anne spied a “Bar” and reminded me we had not eaten in several hours.  So, we dragged our bags inside and learned how to order and buy consumables in a bar.  Typically one places the order and pays and then goes to the counter to pick up the items.  This is particularly difficult when one does not really know the name or how to say it of the various types of culinary offerings available.  Still, we managed to eat.  We marched on and reached the point where I thought we should turn for the bridge over the river that should be a block away.  We couldn’t see the river and no streets seemed to go through.  It turns out that many streets that appear as if they could not possibly go through (mostly because they are only about two meters wide) do in fact go through.  So, we overshot, retreated, and then blindly walked north through a crazy construction zone and found the bridge.  We barely got through but somehow cars and even small trucks were crossing the bridge.  Half way across we stopped to admire the strange place we were at.  The crooked intertwined edifices of Florence surrounded us except over the broad walled in river.  Grass banks on either side gave promise of birdlife, and a block away on one side was the Old Bridge of Florence.  This peculiar arched bridge is a jewelry shopping center.  Many fortunes of gems are peddled there from shops that look like old flour boxes when shuttered up for the night.  The bridge has that old world charm.  It is sound, yet to use a furniture marketing term, highly distressed.  Its rickety-looking arches, steep rises to the center, and the shops on the top give it the look of an ancient sailing vessel.  Yes it is marvelous.  So marvelous that in 1944 some German general didn’t have the heart to blow it up with all the other bridges of Florence.  Instead he blew a huge hole in the road to the bridge (and much of the neighborhood on that side of the bridge) so that we might stand on that day and see it.  Funny, but we can give him only grudging thanks for that. We walk another long block and find our address but don’t know where to go.  Luckily the door was open because of workmen and someone told us which floor to go to.  We knocked and a lovely young woman answered.  She wondered how we got in.  Turns out the procedure is to arrive and call on the phone.  She briefed us and gave us keys to our bedroom, the apartment (that we would share with others,) and the door to the building.  I was ready to unpack and rest, but the phone rings and Anne learns that her sister is only a block away.  We meet at the famous, but frankly rather poorly maintained Baboli Gardens.  They lie on the slope between a previous owner’s palace on the river flat and his fortress on the top of the bluff.  We had a report that some birds inhabit the park and brought our binoculars though the birds are best found first thing in the morning before the tourists pour in.  Still, we found Mark and Mary Helen and enjoyed the comfort of family in a strange and fascinating city.  We dined outdoors with them in a tiny piazza and were entertained watching cars arrive, attempt a turn, then back up to realign, and finally complete the desired maneuver.  I concluded that driving would not be much fun in Italy. Indeed it is not.  Italians hate driving.  They view it in mission terms and do their best to make trips as short as possible.  This is difficult because the roads are so narrow and winding that one must pull in the sides to get through them.  Drivers go as fast as the accelerator will allow except they must slow down for the automatic speed traps in every town.  Of course they know exactly where each speed monitor is located and honk and tail gate furiously at stupid Americans who, knowing there is a speed trap ahead but not where, slow to the speed limit upon entering the town limits.  Italians pass anywhere, so it is no surprise when driving to see, typically upon rounding a corner, two cars approaching in a section where there is scarcely room for two cars.  You take to the shoulder and so does the car approaching that is being passed.  The car in the middle zips through, and you cease to wonder why there are so many sanctuaries perched along the the roadway.  Italians need someone to pray to even if they don’t go to church.  The style of driving in Italy is different.  Here I keep to the centerline.  There I quickly learned that that is for the motorcycles.  They appear and pass in an instant.  You don’t see them coming from behind.  You hear as they roar past you, pausing only if a large truck is approaching.  So you keep right to let them go, moving left only for bicycles and motor scooters which own the right shoulder and the right part of the lane if there is none.  At home I accelerate and brake slowly to conserve fuel.  One goes to hell for that in Italy.  One guns the motor and screeches to a stop.  One does not slow down to pass a truck but sweeps by it knowing that if someone comes the other way he will take to the shoulder.  Of course if two cars, two motorcycles, and a motor scooter or bicycle all happen to reach the same point of the road at the same time, somebody is going down.  My recommendation is not to ride a scooter or bicycle in Europe.  The pictures in the newspaper everyday are not pretty!  But, I am sidetracked.  We enjoyed a dreamlike visit to Florence.  We were not jet-lagged having mostly adjusted our sleep/wake cycle before leaving the U.S.A.  There is an advantage to being retired.  I am jet-lagged now.  More on that later.  We were charmed by the great squares and art despite the mobs of tourists and the grubby streets and worn, mostly unpainted buildings.  We found the Dom (cathedral) on the first evening when looking after dinner for where to buy tickets to see the statue of David.  We had overlooked and passed by the church where the ticket booth was supposed to be - it was closed anyway - and stepped onto another piazza to encounter a monstrous, blocky, white marble church.  It is so big, so ornate, so overworked, and so over the top in so many ways that it is crazy.  One cannot conceive that one would build such a thing, and yet there it is.  I can think of multiple reasons why it should not have been built, the first being cost.  Clearly the Italians today cannot afford to maintain it.  About half the outside is filthy.  But it is an extraordinarily astounding monstrosity.  I am not sure I would want it in my home town, but I am sure that any one of the hundreds of sculpted panels that grace its sides would be a treasure for any one’s home town.  It was late and time to return to the apartment and go to bed, but instead we took probably an hour to walk around the giant church.  We looked at it and its separate tower from all angles.  We also watched the people around it, those like us who came to see it and local people, vendors, youths, beggars, and simply residents who like us felt its pull.  We finally left it and crossed the Old Bridge finding the shops all boarded up and looking like an undistinguished merchant pier.  We slept well. On day two we walked passed the Dom and enjoyed seeing it again, but I commented that I was glad to have first seen it at night when it seemed to glow in the half darkness.  We reached the gallery of the academy early, but not having obtained tickets in advance as planned (instead having spent time with family) we waited perhaps an hour before achieving entry.  The small museum was wonderful even without the David, but that sculpture is another art wonder of the world.  The piece reflects so perfectly on the beauty of the human form that the artist’s failure to cover the genitalia must be overlooked even by the most puritan among us.  In the afternoon we joined Norbert and Susan to tour the great collection of Italian art at the Uffizi Gallery.  I always feel a bit of sadness at visiting such a great museum that I will probably never return to and must find a path to see the most significant of its treasures before exhaustion ends the endeavor.  One pauses in front of a work that seizes your spirit and takes to a place it has never been;  then you move on to another that also takes possession of your soul.  You know there are more great pieces to see but after a few hours your feet hurt too much, your stomach is making demands, and your spirit is exhausted too.  That is the way it is, but even walking out you know you have seen things that are greater than the reproductions you may witness again later (and have already witnessed before) in books and on film.  You know you are blessed to have seen them. We enjoyed a lovely dinner with Norbert and Susan on our second and last evening in Florence and then rested well.  We wandered the streets and visited more sights the next morning before going for our rental car.  That turned into a travel adventure.  We walked and found lunch along the way.  Arriving I began the rental process, and while waiting for the computer I told the attendant that we wanted to drive the car to our lodgings to pick up our luggage.  He said we couldn’t.  It was in a “residential area” and we would be ticketed if we drove there.  I said, “no,” and he said, “yes.” So we walked back and called a taxi.  We returned to the car rental and he gave us a map to go out of town and to come back in on our return.  I began driving in Italy in downtown Florence.  The drive was exciting but uneventful.  I learned to drive fast and keep right.  I thanked God and the GPS Europe chip we had obtained that we found our way to the villa in the vineyards near Panzano in Chianti south of Florence.  We had to follow written directions for the last few kilometers being told the GPS would not work.  The directions were clear but the roadway was ugly with limestone pinnacles, loose stone, and gullies.  I wondered if the rental had a spare tire and did not want to break the oil pan.  “Was this the right way?”  It was.  We reached the “villa,” an old olive oil squeezing barn that had been converted into accommodations for about a dozen people.  We joined our group of eleven family and friends for nine days of fun in Tuscany.  The awful road was a small price to pay.  There were grapevines on the hill across the gravel road and scrubby woods along the ravine below and the mountaintop across the way.  The temperature was perfect. We enjoyed nine nights there visiting two wine festivals, one in Greve and the other in our Panzano, numerous other little towns, vineyards, fortresses, vineyards, abbeys, and gardens.  Too much to write of in one blog but all charming.  All of the chianti classico and reserva was great.  My taste is wine and household economy is such that I usually elect not to buy it, but we enjoyed it greatly in the place of its production.  At the festivals they provided glasses with which to sample.  We ended up with three that Anne wanted to bring home.  One almost made it but broke during the flight home.  Anne was a bit heartbroken.  Air travel today is not for the fragile, baggage or passengers. It was a sad day when the group broke up.  We said our good byes and began a long drive north to the Po River Valley near Venice.  We  lodged at a rural B&B among the farms near the village of Mesola.  There we found some birds including splendid Old World flamingoes, but the birding was tough and the mosquitoes vicious.  I suspect that birds that live in or migrate across Italy and north Africa have good reason, at the appearance of people, to move so as to have something between them and the people and to fly far away if the people persist.  The birds did this consistently and with great skill, frequently frustrating these birders.  Still we found and saw many new birds.  I mentioned our tour of Venice.  On that day we drove to the smaller but also charming town of Chioggia, parked, and took a passenger ferry to the magic city.  Along the way we passed the famous barrier island and home of the wealthy called Lido.  The weather was perfect on the day we choose, but it was the time of the New Moon and we arrived as high tide approached.  The tide was especially high for September and flooded the famous Duke’s square.  This may give heart to those believing that global warming is raising the sea level, but it was a simple nuisance to those visiting the town.  Still, we avoided the flood and wandered pleasantly about.  We left at low tide and the square was then dry.  We understand that in December the tide floods to a meter deep.  Some day they will have to give up this city.  The Italians already have.  They can’t afford to live there. Along the way we learned the art of dining in Italy.  Usually we were provided breakfast with our lodging.  This varied, the best being at a hotel at Lake Garda with offerings of cereal, fruit, yogurt, eggs to boil, bread, pie, cheese, ham, coffee and juices.  Most were simpler but adequate.  We most enjoyed the “self service” breakfast in Florence which was there at dawn.  At most stops we had to wait until eight o’clock for the meal which was long after our rising.  Sometimes we took our large meal at Noon, other times in the evening.  Many restaurants are closed through the afternoon and until 7:30.  That was late for us, so often we bought or prepared sandwiches (panini) for supper.   At other times we took the sandwich for lunch and stayed up for supper.  The first time out we each ordered a dinner.  That was too much.  Most establishments offered antipasto, first and second courses, and desert.  We found ordering a salad or other appetizer and one first and second course was more than enough for the two of us.  Pasta, polenta, risotto, and, yes, pizza were common foods, but beef and potatoes are also common in northern Italy.  We ate well, but I tired a bit of the ever present too salty and greasy pursutto in sandwiches.  The pasta in all its forms was excellent as were the salads. From the Po Valley we drove north into the heart of the Dolomite Range of the Alps and stayed at Cadore, the place from where my mother’s family migrated to the United States at the end of the 1910’s.  We found no DeBiasio’s but found Cilliotas common and a few Cortes.  We found almost no one who could speak English and were sorely pressed to learn much of the community.  I did find one lady, the daughter of a Cilliota who figured we are cousins.  Anne and I walked all over the still small town of Valle di Cadore and visited its three ancient churches.  I enjoyed the sense of being in the homeland of my grandfather in this high valley among big mountains.  We also hiked to the top of a moderately high ridge between two towering ones to embrace the lines of great mountains on either side. From Cadore we drove to Bolzano on the so called Great Dolomite Road.  The weather was poor so we missed the long views, but the road was plenty exciting.  In the middle we found the road closed to allow bicyclists to loop across four high passes on that Sunday.  We parked, drank a beer, and ate a pizza.  The road opened and we continued to our lodging in the small town of Castelroth.  There they speak mostly German.  My mind became twisted trying to remember my German and I created bizarre sentences mixing Deutche, Italiano, and English.  We managed none the less to make our way.  Yes, of course we visited the “ice man” in his museum in Bolzano.  This Austrian style city is enormously different from Florence.  We relished the fine rye and pumpernickel bread and Austrian style sausage.  We also hiked on a plateau in the Alps.  The bus ride and then our auto drive from Castelroth to Bolzano was somewhat terrifying.  The road was, as usual narrow and windy, but here the wall of the mountain fell away from the road.  From inside the bus it seemed we were flying!  The bus had to back up only once when meeting another at a narrow spot. From Bolzano we drove south to our last tour stop at Lake Leddro near the large finger Lake Garda.  We lunched at Riva della Garda coming in and enjoyed the enchanting lakescape there dining along the water. The next day we shunned motor vehicles and walked around the much smaller Lake Leddro and through the various small ancient towns around it.  On our second day there we drove to a high point in the Alps, at Madonna di Campiglio with plans to take a gondola ride to the snow fields.  This plan was spoiled by finding that the lifts there run only on weekends in September.  Instead, we hiked to a refugio at a meadow by a small glacial lake halfway to the top.  We enjoyed the walk and flushed a hazel grouse along the way.   Our return to Florence was uneventful except for the terror in trying to find a way to the car rental agency among the towns twisted roads.  We were very happy to turn in the smooth little Volkswagen Polo.  We caught a bus back to the high rise hotel near the airport.  There we were disappointed to find no air conditioning because “it was past the season for Florence.”  We left the windows open and slept poorly from the highway noise.  We awoke before dawn and took a taxi to the airport.  We would not be home for twenty-six hours and pulled into our driveway after midnight.  Our flight from Rome was delayed - we never found out why the plane arrived late - and missed our flight from New York to Philadelphia.  Delta found us another, but we were up much too late.  A few kaydidids were singing at our house and the moon was bright over Pennsylvania.  Our bed had just the right feel.  Still, for some reason we woke up a four a.m.  Go figure.
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August 27, 2012 - Menallen Township, PA
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 16, 1970
Lovely afternoon on South Mountain, in the upper 70’s and drying out after the inch of rain we had yesterday afternoon and last night. We have been running back and forth from York all week. My (Chuck’s) Aunt Bernie suffered a calamitous fall on Tuesday while making her bed and broke her hip. She had surgery on Thursday and was released this evening to a nursing home. She is anxious to get home to Autumn House and resume her peaceful existence there with my Mother and other friends. We hope she will be there within a month.

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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTLovely afternoon on South Mountain, in the upper 70’s and drying out after the inch of rain we had yesterday afternoon and last night.  We have been running back and forth from York all week.  My (Chuck’s) Aunt Bernie suffered a calamitous fall on Tuesday while making her bed and broke her hip.  She had surgery on Thursday and was released this evening to a nursing home.  She is anxious to get home to Autumn House and resume her peaceful existence there with my Mother and other friends.  We hope she will be there within a month.  We have now been home from Carolina for two weeks now and are, among other things, preparing for our expedition to northeastern Italy.  We will join several of the family for time in Tuscany and then traverse north to the Po Valley to find migrating birds and visit the quaint stilt city of Venice.  After that we will stalk the Alps, first the Valle di Cadore from whence sprang my mother’s DeBiasio clan.  From there we will visit the Lake Placid-like resort town of Cortina and make a day hike in the Alps.  Then we drive over the Dolomite Alps to Bolzano where we will see the ice man and tour and hike more high ground.  Finally we will reside at Lake Garda, a finger lake of Northern Italy, and return to Florence, our starting point.  We are very excited and mildly apprehensive about this grand travel. Our fall plans are more modest; we should be mostly at home closing out this unexpectedly busy year with small projects.  We will be plotting our final hiking on the Appalachian Trail in Virginia, probably next April.  Hikers make note!  We will plan some kind of celebration in the vicinity of lovely Grayson Highlands State Park.
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July 28, 2012 - Whittier NC
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 16, 1970
We are tired tonight, but Anne is revived by the Olympic spectacle. I enjoy only some of it. So, I write while she watches a hunk paddle about the pummel horse. We hiked today, walking from the Blue Ridge Parkway down and then up over the summits of Yellow Face Mountain (6,032) and Blackrock Mountain (5,810) before returning up the ridge of the Plott Balsam Range. I had hopped we would finish off the walk with the sturdy climb to the top of Waterrock Knob (6,292), but Anne had had quite enough when we reached the car in the parking lot near the little visitor center
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTWe are tired tonight, but Anne is revived by the Olympic spectacle.  I enjoy only some of it.  So, I write while she watches a hunk paddle about the pummel horse.  We hiked today, walking from the Blue Ridge Parkway down and then up over the summits of Yellow Face Mountain (6,032) and Blackrock Mountain (5,810) before returning up the ridge of the Plott Balsam Range.  I had hopped we would finish off the walk with the sturdy climb to the top of Waterrock Knob (6,292), but Anne had had quite enough when we reached the car in the parking lot near the little visitor center at the turnout off the Parkway.  We both found the walking difficult though the air was reasonably cool and comfortable at the high altitude.  It was, however, also thin.  I joked that we had forgotten our oxygen canisters.  Waterrock Knob is the 16th highest mountain in the Eastern United States.  The walk to its summit is rather short, certainly less than a mile, but it is steep and the trail is rough.  Many tourists attempt it and most turn around before long.  It is enjoyable to wander among them and share their wonder at the difficulty of this little climb.  Northeasterners are shocked to hear that it is four feet higher than Mt. Washington.  We were a bit overwhelmed hiking the high range today, but we enjoyed the fragrance of the balsam, a few early berries, and fabulous vistas across the Great Smoky and Balsam Mountain ranges.  The temperatures were warm, in the 70s and low 80s, but the humidity was high.  We were adopted by a dumped dog as we crossed the parkway.    A black lab and pit bull cross, he followed us to Blackrock Mountain.  I gave him part of my sandwich, but we had no intention of taking him back.  We were happy when he followed a young man we met on the trail who walked down to his cabin below the ridge.  We saw only him and a young couple walking down the mountain to Sylva on the trail.  As crowded as the Parkway and the National Park are this weekend, we wanted a quiet walk and found it.  The trail along the Plott Balsams does not show on the maps and the trail is unmarked.  One cannot see it from the Parkway.  You walk up the shoulder and there is a small opening in the shrubbery at the edge of a grove of spruce and fir trees.  Leaving the sunshine it is suddenly cool, and the narrow trail follows the crest of the ridge with all its ups and downs.  We had previously walked to Blackrock Mountain from the valley on the steep Pinnacle Trail.  Today we reached it from the top of the Plott Balsam range, giving a sense of completion.  Blackrock Mountain is capped by a lump of schist, perhaps 15 meters long by 8 meters wide.  A scramble is necessary to summit, but it is not too tough.  The view is fantastic.  The hike was unusual in that we hiked down the ridge but up and over two sharp summits.  The return was uphill, of course, but ended with a descent to the Parkway.  After that was a sharp walk up the paved road to the parking lot.  We scarcely noticed this descent when we started.  Coming back it winded us. We enjoyed our retreat on the Parkway by auto to Balsam Gap and then down, down, down to the Tuckasegee Valley and our campground which is in a forest cove above that.  Anne enjoyed the sports and I studied Italian this afternoon.  A good weekend day in Carolina.
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July 1, 2012 - Whittier NC
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 16, 1970
We relax this warm morning after Sunday breakfast. We will drive to church at Franklin at 11:00. The service is too late, in my opinion, but it gives us time to relax on Sunday morning.
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTWe relax this warm morning after Sunday breakfast.  We will drive to church at Franklin at 11:00.  The service is too late, in my opinion, but it gives us time to relax on Sunday morning.  Yesterday we hiked with friends up a ravine and back down a ridge in Great Smoky Montains National Park.  Half way through at lunch time we were approached by a family that clearly had exceeded their limits.  One asked if we were close to the parking lot.  Our group responded, "are you kidding?"  He was not.  We consoled them, gave them a map, and refilled their 12 ounce water bottles.  We sent them back the way they had come, the easiest and shortest route, but still more than six miles.  I felt a little bad not going with them, but their course was clear and smooth.  Our group returned on a slightly shorter route, but one that continued to climb before descending steeply into the Deep Creek valley.  We enjoyed a lovely if warm hike. The forest is, of course, in full leaf now.  Not too many flowers in bloom, but the rhododendons are finishing up gloriously.  In places fallen blossoms made the trail appear a wedding path adorned with dropped flowers.  The streams are down a bit, but still roaring.  Coming close to the road we passed hundreds of bathers carrying tubes up the trail to begin a float down Deep Dreek. After the hike we stopped for a pint at the Nanthahala Brewing Company before returning to camp.  No ambitious plans today.  We will prepare for visit of Laurie and Mom and the busy week to come.
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Western Carolina - June 26, 2012
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 16, 1970
We begin our time in western Carolina this week. Summer, it is warm and at time sultry, still the mountains are relatively cool. The sounds are a bit different than at home. Bullfrogs croak from a small pool at the edge of the campground in the evening. Carolina wrens sing furiously in the morning. I pished some into our campsite when I returned from dropping Anne off at the hospital a few minutes ago. They eyed me suspiciously and then one clucked at me before waving its tail and twittering off as I unlocked the door. As at home robins make their s
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTWe begin our time in western Carolina this week.  Summer, it is warm and at time sultry, still the mountains are relatively cool.  The sounds are a bit different than at home.  Bullfrogs croak from a small pool at the edge of the campground in the evening.  Carolina wrens sing furiously in the morning.  I pished some into our campsite when I returned from dropping Anne off at the hospital a few minutes ago.  They eyed me suspiciously and then one clucked at me before waving its tail and twittering off as I unlocked the door.  As at home robins make their somewhat sultry phrases, and wood thrush is the fluty songster.  I smile comparing its song to that of the hermit thrush that graced the woods in Michigan in May.  I don’t know which makes a sweeter song, but the wood thrush holds a spot in my heart.  Both songs tell me that I am in the woods and away from the noise of the city. This is a week to catch up.  We had a frantic two weeks at home after our RV voyage to the Great Lakes area of Ohio and MIchigan. I accomplished many probate matters with my mother.  The house closing was delayed, but should occur without either her or me on this Friday.  My sister Laurie will pick up Mom on Sunday and drive her here.  So, we will be busy with them next week.  I have already signed us up for the 4th of July picnic.  The week should be very pleasant, but Anne has to work except on the holiday.  I won’t get any work done that week. Yesterday, I improved our camp and accomplished the RV maintenance for June and July.  The rig didn’t seem to mind that I was too busy at the beginning of June to perform the chore.  Laurie will sleep in a tent, and I have to find some hay to pad the floor before Sunday.  I think I’ll find some in the rich Thomas Valley not far from here even though most of the thousands of tomato plants are mulched with plastic.  On Thursday I bring the car into Mountain City Ford for an overdue service and to see if they can explain the new rumble.  Last year a mechanic said it was the gasket on the motor mount eroding and not a safety hazard.  I hope that is true.  We should replace our “dinghy” this year, but I have not had time to car shop.  Perhaps I’ll see if there is a used Focus on their lot.  The difficulty is that when I buy a car I have to immediately have it fitted out as a dinghy.  Since it may take a different fitted tow-bar than the one I have, that may take some time.  Ugh! I am also working on Italy.  Lodging, auto rental, and bird guiding are all important.  We have our flight already.  Beside the villa in Tuscany with the group, we will stay in Florence, the Po Valley, Valle di Cadore (near Cortina), Bolzano, and Lago di Garda.  I seek that magic combination of decent accommodations at a reasonable price.  It being in September, air conditioning seems essential in Florence and the Po Valley, so that is a difficult combination.  My Italian is coming along.  That is the least of my worries. Alex and Elley visit us on the week of June 15, a week after my Mom and Sister depart.  Anne has taken a few days off on that week, so that should be a pleasant week to enjoy their company.  We brought the canoe.  Anne worries that it will be warm, but usually the nights at least are cool here in the mountains.  One should expect warmth in July anyway.  I still relish the warmth of summer, even if I too prefer a.c. on hot nights.  I remember sweating in bed on hot nights in Florida.  I would shower when I went to bed and when I got up.  Quick but refreshing showers.  The school was not air conditioned either, so one sweat a bit there too in August and September, but we cooled ourselves with thoughts of October coming.  Florida, like Italy, has warm summers. I notice Florida is wrestling with a tropical storm this week.  The news protesteth too much.  I remember our best tropical storm in Hollywood, Florida which delivered 22” of rain in 24 hours.  That was a September storm, I believe, and school was closed for it.  The grounds flooded but the structure did not.  We went to school the next day going barefoot through the puddles.  A week later the pools dried up.  Over the weekend we scooped up buckets of tadpole slurry and dumped them into the nearby canal.  There some survived.  Most became fish food.  In the end the puddles stank with rotting amphibians.  Still, tens of thousands of tiny toads made it out and swarmed on the ground.  We unintentionally stepped on many making our way in and out of school.  The tropical depressions and storms were considered nuisances, but we dreaded and yet were spell-bound by the hurricanes which promised excitement as well as danger.  We felt safe and prepared in our CBS house with awnings at a good location.  Still, we knew that if the storm was bad enough, it could kill you.  Instead it always entertained us.  Only after it was over did it became miserable, leaving us without power and putting us to work cleaning up.  I was always saddened by the loss and damage to fine trees.  But in Florida trees grow quickly.  We replaced them and soon they bore new fruit. Well, I have tarried enough.  I have work to do.
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On the Mountain - June 20, 2012
Anne and Chuck submitted on January 16, 1970
We are home for a second week and have anxiety about it. Still, we are glad after a fine RV voyage to Michigan and the Great Lakes area. Anne filled in last week for the physician couple in Gettysburg and diligently exercised her practice skills. I too worked on a small project for my former employer. We also do house and rv chores and work on my Dad's probate. Today I travel to York with a dozen packages for my mother to sign and send to banks and mutual funds to change title and address. Much work made a bit easier by the Internet. Anne stays home
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BLOG TITLEBLOG CONTENTWe are home for a second week and have anxiety about it.  Still, we are glad after a fine RV voyage to Michigan and the Great Lakes area.  Anne filled in last week for the physician couple in Gettysburg and diligently exercised her practice skills.  I too worked on a small project for my former employer.  We also do house and rv chores and work on my Dad's probate.  Today I travel to York with a dozen packages for my mother to sign and send to banks and mutual funds to change title and address.  Much work made a bit easier by the Internet.  Anne stays home with the laundry.  Cherokee beckons and we look forward to that but have lots to do before we leave.  The sale of my mother's house has been delayed.  We hope the sale closes this week or next and does not fall through.  Ugh. We bought tickets to Italy yesterday.  No bargain, the prices have stayed flat so far and we dared not wait any longer for sales.  We hope that having waited this long the flights will not be changed, as they so often are when you buy far in advance.  My study of Italian goes well.  Interesting language that seems to have segregated from Spanish before they were written languages.  My Spanish helps with the Italian, but I'm sure I will sound stupid speaking Italian with a Spanish twist.  But, as usual, I hope not to be an expert, just to get by.  Uno, due, tre, ecco. I don't want to seem a curmudgeon, but am coming to find news irrelevant.  Sure I've become more conservative with age and have always been a skeptic.  I'm still registered Democratic, but I voted against the current president.  My problem is that most of what is printed or broadcast as news seems irrelevant, and much expert opinion is downright silly.  Current thinking about economics is naive.  To me, the globe seems like a space ship skirting a black hole.  Slipping away, the ship must risk burning out its systems to escape and the crew debates the suggestion that it would be easier on the ship to continue the slide into oblivion.  I think simple examples work best in economics.  The following conversation seems to parallel what is going on everywhere.  I wonder if the borrowing and loaning of money should be outlawed.  Perhaps it is immoral.  Is the borrowing of money different from theft? Dear, we have a problem. What my love? The Visa card bill this month is too high. Oh, that is a problem.  Did you forget to charge the vacation to Master Card? No, I did that, but you forget we put last year’s vacation on Visa and there was a big grocery trip when we got back last month.  The interest charges almost equal our payments. Oh.  Well, I guess we must make a decision. Must we choose austerity? No, no.  This is not our problem.  It is the fault of the banks.  The interest rates are too high.  So, should we cut back and start paying down the debt? No, that would be bad for the economy, and for our level of comfort.  We have cable TV, four cell phones, and a case of micro-brewery stout to buy each month.  It just won’t do to have to fuss with the antenna, walk to the land-line, and sip Budweiser.  So, what are we to do? Didn’t we get another credit card offer this month? Yes, but the interest rate was awful. Damn bankers.  Get it anyway.  I heard on the radio that if you have ten thousand dollars in credit card bills some outfit can get it reduced to hundreds. People can’t expect you to pay when the rates are this high.  Right, right.  It is not fair.  What if the bank won’t give us another card. They have to.  If they won’t give us more credit we won’t be able to pay our bills and they won’t get paid.  It’s like the Greeks and the Germans.  If the Germans don’t give the Greeks the money the Greeks won’t pay their debts to the Germans.  But the Germans don’t want to loan the Greeks more money.  Yes, and the newsmen are saying how stupid the Germans are.  The Germans are going to cause the collapse of the Euro. Yes, and the pigs seem irritated that the Greeks want more money. Yes, and the Greeks rightly blame the Germans for their problem.  If they had not loaned them the money, they would not have spent it.  How can people be so stupid? Don’t know.  Look at our government.  It will spend about a trillion more than it takes in this year and people are loaning it money for peanuts.  Boy, are they gonna get screwed.  They got no choice.  If people stop loaning money to the feds, the government will just print it.  Inflation will eat into people’s savings. Serves them right for saving. I wish we could print money. It sure would make budgeting easier. Yeah, but next year I think we should vacation closer to home.  That’s OK, but with the price of everything going up, we may not save that much. Damn government, allowing inflation and all that!  OK, let’s just take a cruise.  What good are savings when you die.  The tea party folks say we should worry about the kids.  That’s their problem.  It’s all the fault of the banks.  The government should make them loan us more money. It’s not our problem. 
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