TEXAS 001

I’m 17’ above sea level, and I know this because the sea is less than 100 yards from my door and there is a 17’ seawall between it and me. At the moment it is raining, pelting actually, and the noise from the roof drowns out the TV. Makes one wonder what a Cat 1 hurricane would sound and feel like.

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As a younger man I would typically seek out challenges the more arduous the better, perhaps in an effort to prove myself worthy of some cosmic trial. But now I confess to being drawn to less demanding pursuits, and while watching the Olympics yesterday I may have glommed onto something. While viewing the rowing competition, described as one of the Games most demanding, I noticed the chap in the back with a little megaphone exhorting the actual rowers to ever greater effort. Now I gather the responsibility includes determining and communicating the proper cadence, but I couldn’t help fanaticizing the acquisition of Olympic Gold for aerobic screaming. Something to look into.

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My accommodation here in Galveston is a recently converted garage, clean, quiet, funky, dry, with all modern amenities, fully furnished and parking at the door. I walked to the water’s edge and squinting I could almost make out tropical storm Fay gathering steam in the Central Atlantic. During all my previous experience along the Gulf I was under contract to companies that promised “swift and early” evacuation, although this was never necessary. This time I’m on my own, and separated from the mainland by a causeway, which causes me to think ahead, hence perhaps the name.

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Pedagogical gurus fret over the likelihood that youngsters using calculators will eventually lose the ability to perform manual calculations, a result that may or may not hasten the downfall of civilization. In a similar vein I fear that if deprived of my vehicle GPS, I might enter a spiral of perpetual geographic confusion, and fall victim to the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle.

My fancy, expensive Garmin (which became much less expensive the very week after I bought it) sped me breezily around a Dallas rush hour accident that completely closed I-45, and led me through some convoluted and poorly marked spaghetti in Houston. I am indebted to the lady in the box, who instead of admonishing me when I accidently or purposely ignore an instruction (no “make an immediate U-turn” scolding), simply and pleasantly says “recalculating.” Would that those around me were as understanding of my deficiencies.

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I’ve been warned about Texans by a close acquaintance charged with serving the needs of vacationing Lone Star residents, but so far no great evil has befallen me. They’re not very good spellers (I actually passed the “Cavalry” Baptist Church) and they do have some odd road signs, including one appearing every few miles that warns “State law requires that all warning signs be obeyed.” Glad they clarified that for me. And I have noticed a tendency for some (I assume out-of-staters) to add an extra “s” to the State name, likely a political commentary on the populace.

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Most folks I’ve met along the planet’s byways are rather inarticulate in describing their political proclivities. Liberals talk in generalities about justice for all of humanity and saving the earth, to which conservatives respond “tree huggers and bleeding hearts.” The right professes to promote individual responsibility and personal freedom, which the left dismisses as the “haves” screwing the “have-nots”.
My own conservative leanings were molded on the belief that however well-intentioned, government has a well developed knack for bollixing things more than the forces of nature originally designed. My own decade as a federal bureaucrat solidified these feelings, and as time passes I am greeted with a continuum of examples that confirm these inclinations.

Government efforts to stamp out discrimination of every stripe provide a wealth of illustrations. Efforts to eliminate age discrimination are a relatively new phenomenon, and arrived on the scene just in time for me, as before entering my 7th decade I always seemed to have more opportunities than the time to execute them, but afterward I was left in a wasteland of “don’t call us, we’ll call you” responses.

In recent times I encountered two instances of age discrimination so egregious and well documented I felt they were slam-dunks, at least until George Tenant forever trashed that sobriquet. I pursued neither, preserving a life-long track record of neither bringing suit nor being successfully sued (though several have tried).

Besides the federal government, every state and most local jurisdictions of reasonable size proudly sport an EEOC, while most NGOs and many companies feature the equivalent. In the “age” arena they boast of federal and state statues forbidding (on pain of severe punishment) employers from asking applicants their date of birth.

But I am now engaged in a mating ritual with a company that claims to have great interest in my services, and the last hurdle they require of me is to specify the exact month and year of my graduation from high school and college. Now it has occurred to me that they may have actuarial talent on staff that could invoke some complex algorithm to elucidate what my government has taken great pains to protect me from divulging. All perfectly legal.

I’m told that Asian cultures revere age as much as western society distains it. Always in the wrong place at the wrong time.

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Were I to seek a Masters in Sports Medicine, my thesis would be titled: "Comparison of jogging in 60 degree weather at 10,500’ and at sea level in 90+ heat and 100% humidity". Research would be concise and conclusion as to preference terse: “Neither.”

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Mother Nature often seems intent on pursuing an equal opportunity posture, and is at the moment steering Fay through Florida and away from Texas where Dolly and Eduard made landfall. But some are now calling for the lady to enter the Atlantic, gain strength, then turn left and rumble through the panhandle and possibly the Texas Gulf coast. Film at 11.

…the adventure continues