Monday, March 26, 2018

The Setting Can Be Beautiful

If it weren't for the fact that Paula and I were without electricity for five days ...

We received more snowfall yesterday here on Big Walker Mountain - thirteen inches - IN MARCH - than we did in December, January and February combined.


Without power I would once a day run the tractor to the creek toward the back of our property to obtain water for the horses and cats (and once for a "shower" that I took outdoors in 30 degree weather, buck naked; a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do). We used the LP gas grill for cooking and for coffee and we had our fireplace insert (sans electric fan) for keeping the house's pipes from bursting. 

We survived.

Friday, March 23, 2018

Now You Know

[This is my personal favorite of all the articles I wrote for the Roanoke Times.]

Did you know that in the seminal battle of the Civil War, Southwest Virginians were instrumental in bringing victory to the Confederacy?

As Southern troops were retreating from the battlefield of Manassas (1st Bull Run) on the afternoon of July 21, 1861, a colonel who would after the battle and for all time be remembered by the nickname he gained there – “Stonewall” – stood with his 1st Virginia Brigade and refused to yield. Among the troops he commanded that day and who made up the center of his line of infantry at the climactic moment of the conflict were boys from Grayson, Montgomery, Wythe, Carroll, Pulaski, Smyth, Floyd, Alleghany, and Giles Counties. At the order to charge, the volunteers from Southwest Virginia, as part of the 4th Virginia Infantry Regiment, and with the other troops of Stonewall Jackson’s brigade, moved forward and sent the Union soldiers into headlong retreat toward Washington. The first major battle of the Civil War was won, in large part, by soldiers from Southwest Virginia.


Did you know that Wytheville, Virginia can boast of having a Civil War legacy that no other town in America has?

The last two commanders of the famed Stonewall Brigade, Generals James A. Walker and William Terry, died there. The two settled in Wytheville after the war and are buried near one another in the town’s East End Cemetery.

Interestingly, General Terry sustained three wounds in the war but managed to survive, only to fall from his horse as he tried to cross a swollen Reed Creek and drowned, 23 years after the war ended.

Did you know that the most famous cavalry commander in the Civil War was born in Patrick County?

James Ewell Brown Stuart, known more famously as Jeb, was born there in 1833. He spent several of his summers with two of his aunts who lived in Wytheville (their home, on Withers Street, is still there), and attended Emory and Henry College in Washington County before moving on to West Point – and the history books.

Did you know that, despite the average estimated age of a Civil War regimental drummer boy to be sixteen, Pulaski County’s Company C, 4th Virginia Infantry Regiment enlisted the services of a “mature adult.” Private David Scantlon, regimental drummer “boy,” was 57.

Did you know that on the field of battle known as Carnifex Ferry near Summersville, Virginia (now West Virginia), there is maintained but one grave of a Civil War soldier?


Granville Blevins of Grayson County, enlisted at the age of 20 in Company C, 45th Virginia Infantry in May of 1861. Just before the battle began, on September 9th of that year, he died of “fever” and was buried on the field. The battlefield is a state park today and Blevins’ grave – the only one in the park - is maintained by the park service.

Did you know that there is a tragic story of lost love and lives cut short to be found on two grave markers in the cemetery of the Old Glade Spring Presbyterian Church in Washington County?

William E. Jones was a young cavalry officer in 1852, when, having recently married and having received a new military assignment out west, he and his new bride were en route to his new post aboard a ship that sailed into a horrific storm. The ship sank and, although he survived, she was swept from his grasp to her death. The tragedy is said to have destroyed him. And to have brought about a change in attitude that subsequently earned Jones his Civil War nickname – “Grumble.”

In 1864, now-General Jones, CSA, led his army into the Battle of Piedmont, near present-day Waynesboro. There, on June 5, as he was rallying his troops, he was shot and killed. His body was returned to Washington County and he was buried in the Presbyterian cemetery. If you stop by the graveyard in Glade Spring today, you’ll find two markers, side-by-side, in the southern shadows of the church. One marker identifies the mortal remains of General William E. “Grumble” Jones and the other his wife of just a few months.

Did you know that Roanoke, Southwest Virginia’s largest city, played no part in the Civil War?

It didn’t exist. Originally known as Big Lick, the town of Roanoke wasn’t founded until 1882 and didn’t become a city until two years later, fully nineteen years after the Civil War came to an end.

Now you know.

Thursday, March 22, 2018

Urinating On a CRJ700*


[This originally appeared on March 21, 2005. Over time it proved to be the most popular post of the twenty thousand that I published on the weblog.]

Canada has given humankind, in all its history, only one gift. No, Shania Twain doesn't count. Had she stuck with country music, she'd qualify, but she decided to go off into popular music and soft porn videos. And we can't include the Toronto Maple Leafs because they have sucked since before I was born (and what does it say about a country that can't get the plural of the word "leaf" right?). Maple syrup might measure up but it's my understanding the Canucks stole the idea (and secret processing plan) from Vermont

No. The only thing good ever to come out of Canada is the Bombardier CRJ700 Canadair Regional Jet Airliner. I have some considerable familiarity with commercial aircraft and I can attest to the fact that the Canadair jet is the smoothest, quietest aircraft in its size range in use today. There are a few Saabs that come close but no other plane compares to the CRJ700.


Yeah, it was built for midgets. When walking down the aisleway, one has to stoop. No, make that crawl. And when you're seated, your knees are smashed against the seat in front of you (and that's in "first class"). And there is only enough overhead luggage space on the plane for one carry-on, the size of which cannot exceed a shoebox. But other than that, the CRJ700 is a traveler's dream.

Oh, then there's the bathroom. Or lavatory, as they prefer to call it (why I don't know; it must be one of those arcane FAA regulations).


I'm at cruising altitude. 29,000 feet. I have to use the john ... er, lavatory. I stoop/crawl to the back of my Bombardier CRJ700 Canadair Regional Jet Airliner, where a flight attendant is stationed to ... pick her distressed passengers up from the floor when they finally claw their way to her, and to hand out the in-flight meal consisting of six miniature pretzels and three ounces of water - and to kick open the bi-fold door to the lavatory. Which she did for me, with an admonition to watch my head as I entered (she saw me stooped over as I made my way down the aisle so her warning was an indication to me that her other job was at Chicago's famed Second City comedy club).


I ducked my head and entered the lav (as us flyers have come to affectionately call the crapper). I was immediately met with a rather serious dilemma. In order to begin the process of relieving myself, I thought it proper to close the door behind me. Makes sense, right? 


Well, the Canadian who designed this aircraft was either a very tiny person or he/she also moonlighted at Chicago's famous 2nd City comedy club because there was no way that bi-fold door was going to close with my butt still protruding into the aisleway. This lav was so small, I would have had to stand on the tiny toilet seat - which is a subject in itself - in order to get the door closed behind me. You've heard of the Mile High Club, the membership of which consists of really odd people who have found it somehow enjoyable to have sex on a plane while in flight? Well, they need to have a Six Cubic Feet Club for people who can do the same in a space the size of the back of your Honda Civic.


Anyway I somehow managed, with herculean effort, to close the door. Now it's at this point that I'm going to lose you women reading this. You're not faced with the task of aiming. At 29,000 feet. In moderate turbulence. At a toilet bowl opening no larger than that of a 2 litre bottle of Coke. I often brag at how adept I am at hitting my target (I attribute it to my many years of practice). And even on most planes, I've become pretty darn good at avoiding peeing on the walls of the lav - with only the occasional mishap (I usually blame it on wind shear). But as good as I may be - on target all the time - there ain't nobody on God's earth can hit the tiny toilet - standing up in a stooped position - on the CRJ700.


The thought struck me - since I'm about to embarrass myself (and probably violate some FAA/TSA/HSA regulation) I'm going to sit down and do this the way you women (who we all know are smarter; this is just another example of that) would have approached this problem in the first place.


Great plan.


But in order to sit down, I had to turn around and drop my drawers. In this Bombardier CRJ700 Canadair Regional Jet Airliner lavatory. Obviously the Canadians have perfected some physical manipulation of the human body with which we Americans are unfamiliar. There was no way I could make a turn in that half-phone booth sized bathroom.


I therefore decided to do it the old-fashioned way, and throw caution to the wind ... so to speak.


I'll bring this saga to a close with a word of warning. Next time you find yourself on a Bombardier CRJ700 Canadair Regional Jet Airliner and find yourself crawling into the lav, don't look too closely at the walls and mirror. Some things are better left unnoticed.


And sit back and enjoy your flight. It's still the greatest plane in the air today.

* Grammatically speaking, I've never peed on a plane. I have, however, peed into toilets in lavs on planes.

Wednesday, March 21, 2018

The Pembroke Public Library


As the crow flies, Pembroke, Giles County, Virginia is about seven miles from West Virginia. If you've never been there, it's no surprise. Pembroke doesn't even get a dot on most maps, it's so small and so far removed from the world. And, like the rest of Appalachia, the people there make do ... because nobody is going to make do for them.

Pictured above is the Pembroke Public Library. I'd take you on a guided pictorial tour of the stacks inside but the library is closed on Fridays (I was there yesterday) and I wasn't able to get inside. My guess is the town is working with a rather tight budget. Can you tell?

I took this picture not to poke fun at my neighbors but to make two points that I think are worth making.

First, and most important, there is a public library in tiny Pembroke, Virginia. It may not look like much, but, by God, they've got a library for the inhabitants there.


A library connotes a desire on the part of (many?) locals to gain knowledge, which implies their collective desire to achieve. To prosper. To make for their children a life better than the one provided them by their ancestors. The American Dream.This little library - in need of repair and another coat of white paint (how many layers of paint are lathered on those clapboards already?) - signifies to the local populace and to the outside world that Pembroke's young people are every bit as important as the offspring of the rich down in Palm Beach and those on the upper west side of Manhattan. The road to success may be a whole lot longer and more treacherous - figuratively and literally - (try driving Route 460 out of Pembroke through the mountains toward The Narrows in a driving snow storm) but the Pembroke Public Library is clear and convincing evidence that the road to success runs right through Giles County, Virginia.

It is an unfortunate fact of life that, in order for young people around here to succeed, they'll eventually need to pack their bags and move up north, like so many other area residents around here have done. There is little opportunity for them in Southwest Virginia and it's been decided by our political leadership that Giles and Wythe and Pulaski and Tazewell and Bland and Washington and Smyth Counties are to become nothing more than a
scenic tourist attraction and the natives to be entertainers made up in blackface, strumming banjos, and singing Old Black Joe for the tourists' amusement.

So it is that the children of Pembroke make their way to this library - one hopes - and learn. Learn to succeed. While on my journey over that way yesterday, I met a young man who was holding down a summer job, sweating in the noonday sun but not seeming to mind it. He's actually from a small town over on the West Virginia side and commutes to Pearisburg each day. He's a college student at West Virginia University way up in Morgantown. He had the demeanor of one who knows where he's headed. And its not back to southern West Virginia. He'll be moving on ... and moving up. Good luck to him.


My second point has less to do with the library itself and more to do with libraries in general and the state of technological advancement in the world today. Did you know that all the printed information currently being warehoused in the Library of Congress (10 terabytes) can be stored in Pembroke's tiny library? I guess in this regard, the people of Pembroke are ahead of their time. They knew it wasn't necessary to build a massive structure (pictured is the Library of Congress) to house hundreds of thousands of dead trees. They need only enough space to mount a Broadberry Data Systems 10 terabyte server and they're in business. How cool will it be when a resident of Pembroke can pull up to their library's drive-up window, order a copy of Victor Hugo's Les Misérables, or a copy of the budget of the United States Government, or today's edition of the Deutsche Allgemeine Zeitung, be handed a disposable CD, and drive off to work?

Life in these United States. Wonders to behold.