Direct from the sawmill

I didn’t realize how massive this bed is going to be until I started unloading the truck.  And I realized I will have to assemble it inside the room — it won’t go through the door.  Hopefully it won’t overpower the room.

I started planing right away and after a couple of hours destroyed my planer.

Old Planer before it broke

I broke the planer last year working on the farm table and it never quite worked right after that.  This time something came apart inside and actually cracked the frame.  Fixing it would have cost as much as a new one.  I decided my problem was simply a light weight planer and bought the next model bigger.  And this is a whole lott beefier.

I find myself going out to the garage just to look at this baby

So yesterday it was back to planing.  I did the whole job in less than three hours.  Hard to imagine I needed a $500 tool to do three hours worth of work.   But I’ll use it again, and again, probably for the rest of my life.

And the wood is looking good.  I’m starting to get a vision for the final product.

J. Ralph Carter, mid '80s

The passing of J. Ralph Carter on November 17 has hit me harder than I thought it would.  After all, in the news business we see and report on death all the time.

This time it’s different.

I mourn not only for life lost, but for the end of this man’s influence on our world.  I grieve also, because in some ways, he was a better person than me.

J. Ralph hired me at KDZA when I was two weeks out of high school.  That was in 1973.  I knew–we all knew–KDZA was something special.  I didn’t know how special until years later when I was old enough to compare  it to the rest of the world.  That little radio station, with maybe 18 employees (including part timers) was, pound for pound, the most creative place I have ever experienced.

A large part of it was J. Ralph’s intrinsic ability to see what the audience wanted, coupled wth the creative genius of Frank Provenza.  With the help of those guys we reached for the stars.  We were the dominant radio station in Pueblo until long after I left in 1983.  We had so many awards, we didn’t know what to do with them.

But as creative and bright as he was, J. Ralph was never cynical.  I never heard him turn his quick wit on anyone.  He accepted the things he couldn’t change and focused on those things he could.  We were both perfectionists, but his way was more gentle than mine.  Maybe 15 years ago when I was faced with an unfixable problem, he said these words, which I still find myself repeating: “The intensity of your headache is directly proportional to how hard you beat your head against the wall.”

I was his boss in the mid-90s at KOAA-TV when he quit his weekend weather job.  I was shocked and I asked him him what he was planning to do.  It was a dumb question.  He had, at that time about seven jobs between radio, commercials and hosting Matchwits at KTSC-TV.  Once again his ability to see the big picture surpassed mine.  He said, “There will always be work for guys like you and me.”  He always followed his heart and it usually worked out.  He filled in on the weather for us until three or four years ago.

We knew he had ALS and that his time was short.  What I didn’t realize was how much I would miss him.

Here’s the article the Chieftain printed this morning.  Here’s a post from my life-long friend Lee Douglas on the same subject.

Below is the video tribute we did last night:

It’s 1:45 a.m. and I’m in the Amtrak Station in Hastings, Nebraska.
I’ve driven my daughter to college, left her the car, and I’m heading back to Denver. Unlike Paul Simon, I am Homeward Bound.

The train should be leaving now, but it’s always late. Everyone knows this, but they don’t do anything about it. They just continue to run late. Seems to me they should adjust the schedule an hour later so that it runs on time. But what do I know. I’m the guy who’s blogging at 2 a.m.

It also occurs to me this early morning hour that the seating in train stations was not designed for comfort. But man is it sturdy! Beautiful oak, the kind they don’t make anymore. These benches have to be 100 years old. My fifty-something bonious maximus wishes for a cushion.

Amtrak employees are inherently cheerful. This station is only open from 11 p.m. to 4 a.m., but the man at the counter has a smile on his face for me and all others. I find this amazing.

Another train blares its warning, like a mournful whale. I’ve been listening to this all night, at my nearby  hotel. Randy, from Action Cab, says he’s been busy too.  Showed me his chart. Two pages of passengers including me. From Randy’s cheer, I gather this is very good. He says he’s been picking people up at bars. Last weekend before school starts, after all. That’s Randy’s theory anyway.

Despite wailing trains, I do not despair. Boarding a 2 a.m. (or maybe closer to 3 a.m.) is a new experience for me, and I am a naturally curious person. I’m interested in seeing how a train can make it to Denver in 6 hours. It would take me that long in my car and I bet this train stops more often.

The next time I see the cheerful Amtrak man, he’s outside driving a lawn tractor, pulling a trailer of luggage.  The weird part is that the trailer is a creaking antique, with wooden spoke wheels wrapped with steel bands.  Only in the Heartland.

The trip is uneventful. We stop three times in small Nebraska and Colorado towns. We’re in Denver by 8 a.m. (local), which means it took six hours. After a huge breakfast at IHOP I am back home in 9 hours. This is exactly how long it took to get to Hastings in my car. This amazes me. My six hour train ride cost $54.

By now I know that Amtrak service travels covers much of the U.S. from Montana to New Orleans, from Vancouver to Miami. Last year was another record year, the sixth in a row, with 28 million riders. And Amtrak, fully owned by the federal government, only lost a half billion dollars, give or take.

I also know the seats are roomy, the bathrooms are clean and the ride is mostly smooth. The cars are 85 feet long and 14 feet tall (I had a great view from the upper deck) and ten and half feet wide. All that is balanced on two tracks 56″ inches apart.

I’m not too happy about the annual loss, but I like Amtrak. And I shouldn’t complain. I paid $54 for my trip and the government (you) chipped in another $17.45.

But this trip was booked a month ago and generally Colorado’s bears are pretty docile. Unless, apparently, you feed them. Take a gander at the article below:

Bear killed elderly Ouray County woman.

By PAUL SHOCKLEY/The Grand Junction Daily Sentinel

Monday, August 10, 2009

A Ouray County woman was killed by a 394-pound adult male bear, which investigators believe attacked the woman as she was standing on her back porch, dragged her under a wire fence and started eating her body, authorities said Monday.

With this knowledge far in the back of my mind I arrived at our hotel in Ouray and around dusk went to take a look at the on-site, spring-fed hot tubs. As I reached tub number three and stuck my hand in it I saw a bear running away under the deck I was standing on. Since he was small, maybe 200 pounds, and since he was running I didn’t think much about it. I continued on my quest when suddenly he appeared again, this time crossing straight in front of me at a distance of about 15 feet. And then he stopped and we looked at each other.

I froze. He froze.  And time stopped.  I have long known that A fed bear is a dead bear. But I also know that An eaten Greg is a dead Greg.

And then as time resumed, he took off again.

Our stay has just begin in Ouray, so I may see him again. I’ll try to get a picture.

Pacu caught in a pond near Runyon Lake in Pueblo

Elaine Sheridan:

I understand they think there are more in there?

James Muller:
How would they know?  Drop in a cow?

Subject: Large, carnivorous pacu found in a Pueblo pond and featured on News First.

Wild Catch