A Pair o' Dimes. . .

. . .Or what can 20 cents buy you? Sleepless nights I suppose.



I've been thinking about many things lately related to this country, our schools and my own family and where we are going. I was involved in a discussion with another teacher and they suggested this article by David Brooks.
In searching for the piece I found another article about it in salon.com. And within the second article I found the what I think is the best of the bunch in this Thomas L. Friedman column in the New York Times.

Please don't think this is another rant about why education's failure is not the teachers fault. I think you'd be missing the point. At least the idea I've been pondering and wondering about for a while.

It's tough in schools right now, but it's tough everywhere. People are looking for direction, or at least someone to stand up and point in a direction that truly helps. The problem is when someone does stand and point they are usually blaming someone else, not leading. A good friend says to remember every time you point to blame someone remember there are three other fingers pointing back at yourself.

Our leaders aren't honest about the difficult things we need to hear but don't want to hear. And we don't listen even if we do hear. The times they are a changing is so true. People are getting fed up. This week I read the lines from Network used in a newspaper article.



But that's only part of the issue. Remember that movie was made in 1976. How much of what he says is still true?

We can complain about politicians and Wall Street, but isn't the issue with us also? I'm reminded of the theme of Lord of the Flies by William Golding: The success or failure of a society does not depend on the system, but depends on the morals and values of the people within the society. I'm to blame and we're to blame.

So for me and my house we are acknowledging that the times have changed and the paradigm has shifted. Let's see what happens.

Gotta dime?

A Taste 'O Eugene

How about another glimpse of our trip to Eugene? Eugene has a different feeling. Earlier I said it reminded me of Chico of the late 70's. There is more though, and it is pervasive in a mellow kind of way. The selection of markets was amazing. We found four small to mid size stores with organic and fresh foods. Picture Whole Foods/Trader Joe's but at a Mom and Pop corner-store size and friendliness. Bakeries were usually attached or nearby with an array of breads and pastries.

It was green everywhere, and for this boy from dry Central CA this was a welcome change. I'm guessing some of the gardening situations we have here would be no problem in Eugene. I'm guessing grass yards would grow easily, yet the majority of grass was in parks, schools and green swathes through the city. We saw at least three neighborhood vegetable gardens in different parts of town.

The absence of grass was on display in people's front yards. The vegetables and fruits though were there. Front yards were in many configurations and it made one wonder what was going on in the back of the house if this was the exposed side. It's hard to explain in words, but here are a few pictures of front yards. We would not be the weird ones with potatoes in the front if we lived in Eugene.


















This is the Friendly Street Market, one of the four we visited. Across the street was a development being started of mixed use buildings. The drawing showed what would be housing, markets and office space. This was one of the building that would be incorporated.




This was another version of a front yard "garden," though bikes were the product being grown. And also where Wilson got his bike.

Addendum to Little Car Story

I talked to brother Dan about my recollections about the TR-3 and he reminded me of a few things. The water jackets, the channels water travels through from the radiator to the cylinder walls to cool the engine, surrounding the back two cylinders were clogged with deposits. No cool water to them equals overheated engine.

Add to that the radiator had a hole in it for a hand crank to start the engine in emergencies which took up space for more water for cooling. I remember the hole in the grill for the crank, but not the radiator.

Here's what Dan said much better than I can: "The reason for the overheating was the space for water to the back cylinder and a half was clogged with deposits and water was not allowed to circulate as it should have. There was also a hole in the radiator for a crank starter that took up valuable water capacity. We replaced it with one without the hole. It was easier to push start than crank. Fun car. When I was looking for the Harley I told Brenda if I found a TR3 I would buy it instead."



This is a 1960, ours was an '59. If you look close you can see a slightly larger hole in the grill for the hand crank.

Think About This For a Bit

"Men sleep peacefully in their beds at night because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf."

George Orwell

Just a Little Car Story

I like riding bikes. Though mostly for transportation now, I ride for the pleasure of the act. For many reasons long miles in the saddle doesn't appeal any longer, but just feeling the wind still does. As a youngster riding a bike gave me a freedom that could not be found otherwise.

Things started to change during junior high as with many boys. Cars started to show up on the radar. '57 Chevies, Mustangs, GTO's, even some older trucks. The teenage desire for a licence and wheels that most young men go through hit. But one day the focus changed.

On one of my usual bike rides around town I came across a car that would change my thoughts.


The Austin-Healey 3000 Mk. II. A red one just like this one.

My Sunday evening ride ritual now took me by this car as much as possible. I'd stop and look, and dream and wonder. Before the internet there were few options to gain more knowledge. So I started buying sport car magazines and learning more about the British Invasion of cars after WWII. A neighbor had a Triumph, but it was a poorer relative to the Healey. The low slung Healey was the ticket.

As with many young men reality hits and school and sports and other distractions moved to the forefront of my mind during high school. This was the early to mid '70s and the oil embargo hit the US. Bikes were still on my mind. The car I drove was a '63 Ford Ranchero that was the family work truck on weekends. Though I still have a fond spot for Falcons and Rancheros, but the British two seaters still festered in the back of my mind. A classmate came by one day when I was gone offering his brother's Healey for sale at $800. Upon hearing of this the next day I scrambled and conjured to gather the money, but to no avail. The Ranchero was replaced by an El Camino after a collision and the dreaming continued.

In the fall of my freshman year at the local JC my brother and I decided to pool our money and look for a car. A proper British sports car. The Healey was possibly going to happen, but none were to be found, at least within our budget. We eventually found a TR-3 for the worldly sum of $750. I put up all my savings of $350 and my brother contributed the rest, and a Columbia Blue 1959 Triumph was ours.



Though not without some learning experiences along the way. The trip home took four plus hours because of a blown head gasket found later. The first time I drove the car the hood flew off hitting the windshield, then glancing off my head and finally landing in the road behind me. This led to the discovery of the high cost of auto parts made in Britain and shipped to the US. As well as the lessons of the scarcity of parts for 16 year old foreign cars. Economics 101 on a personal level.

Eventually the TR-3 and the Garver Boys reached a truce and the car taught us that maintenance will be rewarded with a reasonably reliable British car. There was the Geography lesson we learned. The damp, cool climate of Great Britain led to the making of cars that don't always like the hot, dry of Central California. When the car ran it was a joy to drive and everything we expected. When it didn't, we were left to figure things out at odd times. As the time a friend and I were stranded on the wrong side of a rival town near midnight with a back seat full of oranges. A helpful MG owned helped us find the distributer wire had rattled loose and we were gladly on our way.

All of this is a prelude of a pleasant discovery last weekend in Eugene. Across from our motel was a British Car Restoration Showroom.



We didn't find any TR-3's but there were three Austin-Healey 3000 Mk. II's. I've never been to a concours, so this was more Healey's together than I'd ever seen in my life. One red, one British Racing Green and one a beautiful gun metal blue. Please excuse the pictures. The glare from the sun and the glass, or maybe it was me drooling, made for difficult shots. You get the idea though.



That's the green 3000 in the back with the blue one between a Jag XKE and MGB.



Then the car that started all. Nestled between two Jaguars a red 1962 Austin-Healey 3000 Mk. II. The car I that led me away from bikes. The car I had a chance at for a mere $800. The car that still turns my head. For Sale on the showroom floor. Waiting for me to drive it out the doors. Mine for only:



Maybe that's why I ride a bike.

The First of Many Hearty Thanks

This is the third of more than a few stories that will come from this past weekend traveling to Central Oregon and back. As Dickens said, "It was the best of times and the worst of times." Though in relation to the French Revolution much less blood was shed.

When we travel there is always the element of the new and exotic. But even more often is the experience of the old and already known shaded by the novel and fresh. Napa is that to me. John and Ashley have invited us into their world with open arms and hearts. This past Sunday they weren't even there but their presence was very evident.

How often do you get to stroll through a family's house with them nowhere to be found? Maureen and I got that opportunity Sunday night and the initial thought of just a place to rest our bodies while on the road quickly turned into more. It had been a long journey in many ways. Leaving a loved child twelve hours from home is problematic even when it is your third experience of such. Fifteen hundred miles in a car that doesn't quite fit adds to aching bodies and souls. Walking into a welcome house is a gift. To sit, eat and watch an old movie favorite with the comfort of familial amenity is something that the Holiday Inn will never be able to duplicate.
Thank you, Derrs.

What better way to celebrate changes in a family than watching My Big Fat Greek Wedding? That was the beginning of the karma that wouldn't end. The reasonably priced Cab turned cheap with a discount card continued the night. Movie, wine and cheese with no whine makes for a good time at my age. Great conversation is icing. All was present.

The morning dawned early, but good shades prolonged the rest. Sneaking out to finish the journey was expected, welcome, and we looked forward to the end with relish. Maureen and I went to one of our favorite Napa spots. We have heard of the French Laundry in Yountville for years, but discovered the garden a few years ago. We figure to never eat at the restaurant, but can always look at the food before it is prepared. As fellow food growers it is fun to see what other growers are doing.

We then were on to the Mustards Grill garden. Remember the new and novel with the old? Napa we've seen, but also try to discover something new each time. This garden was seen often but never visited, and the new gardener taking time to talk to us made the stop all the more special. Different techniques and style than the other garden that were not better just different. Just like all gardeners and cooks.

So again, thanks to John and Ashley for opening their door with Zoey and Socks welcoming us into their house.

P.S. Sorry, Eli. The Giants weren't on TV so we watched the movie about getting married.

Just Some Thoughts

This last weekend in Eugene reminded me of the Chico, CA I lived in 20 years ago. There are so many labels that tried to describe what we were living within the community: counter culture, alternative, hippie, etc. All were lacking, but there was a fuzzy-edged, laissez faire, live and let live attitude that was evident to me in Eugene this last time. Couple that with the desire to help others (All the second hand stores and philanthropic organizations) and help the Earth, there was no way you could not feel that this was a different place than much of America. Not worse, maybe better, but certainly different. Throw in the thought and energy that goes into food and food production, what better place to lay your head at the end of the day?

The Sort-of Long Way 'Round

We are home, sort of. Two thirds of this Garver clan is at the 'Zoo. Sam will shortly be on his way to Louisiana for more training, which is good. Maureen and I drove 1568.3 miles this last weekend to help Wils move into his apartment within central Oregon. I only got lost once and the GPS was actually correct in telling us to, "At the earliest possible opportunity, make a legal u-turn." I eventually did after observing a puddle of urine in the main aisle of a "sketchy" market in Esparto, CA. We then made an exit of said Esparto after asking directions from a soon-to-be intoxicated young man carrying out a 12-pack from the aforementioned market. Oh, what a night.

The offshoot of this travel has Wilson ensconced in Eugene with friend and roommate Preston. I have many stories to tell of Eugene, Goodwill stores, humans living alternative lifestyles, good food, bicycles, interesting people and a wonderful time with Maureen.

And by the way, to us roasting in Central CA today, Wilson called to say it was raining in Eugene and he thought maybe he should buy a rain jacket. Good thing he bought a bike with fenders.

P.S. I talked to Preston's girlfriend the day after this was written and they had both bought a rain jacket.

Just When You Thought. . .

It couldn't get more bizarre.




I've just been asked to change the classes I teach for the third time in the first four weeks of school.

Wilson is gone to Oregon. Maureen and I are driving up tomorrow night and Friday to help him move in properly.

We won our first girls water polo game. More to come so don't hold your breathe.

It took me 20 minutes at the end of this strange day to upload this picture.

Enuf said. Good Night!