More Than Ordinary Lives

You’ve probably heard about recent flooding in Washington State. Several wrote inquiring about our welfare. Thank you. Our home wasn’t threatened. But Kit and I had paid $250 (non-refundable) for a Christmas fair booth at a fairground in the heart of the flood zone. We hoped the sponsors would cancel the event but that would have meant financial disaster for them. Kit and I debated simply skipping out. But we share a value to finish what we start and so attended.

The fairground, being on higher ground, became the operations center for the Red Cross. They also invited farmers to move threatened livestock there. We had horses, cattle, goats, sheep, goats, chickens, and ducks as neighbors. I’m not sure how ducks are threatened by a flood. Preventing their escape maybe. The highland cow shown is one of the animals rescued.

As always, we met interesting people. Shoppers were understandingly sparse and none of the animals bought books. But unexpectedly, we sold enough printed novels to put us past 2,000 for the year.  Adventures usually involve a bit of risk but frequently pay off.

I recently watched twelve hours of the documentary series The American Revolution by Ken Burns. As an amateur historian, I think I could pass a college-level final exam on this and some other historical topics. Very little surprised me in this documentary.

But in retrospect, my deeper understanding had resembled the black and white outline in a coloring book. By comparison, Burns’ history is an oil painting by a master artist.

All Burns’ documentaries are thoroughly researched and told in an unembellished factual manner. Burns uses multiple first-person viewpoints from letters and diaries. Historians representing different groups—Patriots, Tories, slaves, free African Americans, British, French, and Indians—who participated in that world-changing conflict provide faceted perspectives.

The series has current relevancy in the way Americans think of the United States and should deepen their appreciation of the importance of compromise in forming and maintaining a union of disparate peoples.

Kit signed us up to anonymously provide Christmas presents for a young boy. A list of possibilities had been provided by a parent or guardian. Directions gave us a limit of $125. “He needs clothes the most,” Kit insisted as she made selections and put them in the shopping cart.

“This is a little boy at Christmas,” I returned. “Not a girl eager for the start of a new school year.” I then pushed the cart to the toys aisle. The possibilities list also mentioned monster trucks and dinosaurs. I selected a T-Rex and a battery operated monster truck.

“We’re over the limit,” said Kit.

“Put some clothes back,” I answered.

Eventually we compromised by deciding to cheat on the limit. Clothes shouldn’t count anyway. I told Kit to not wrap the clothes so he wouldn’t be disappointed opening them.

No, the picture is not Drew in Halloween ghoul garb. Rather Windows 11 took a picture of bewildered me pondering my new computer. My desktop computer had been showing signs of dementia. No wonder. At thirteen years old—a millennium in tech years—that operating system isn’t able to handle the requirements of new websites and programs. The battery in Kit’s iPhone, only eight years old, couldn’t hold a charge anymore. We had been proud of just being in the 21^st century. But last week we caught up with 2025 by buying me a new laptop and Kit a new iPhone.

The laptop came with exactly zero instructions how to operate it. Microsoft left me to hunt and click in Windows 11’s 27,000,000,000 byte operating system. Asking the Help function connects you to AI,  which I’ve maligned. AI is taking revenge by cheerfully directing me to apps buried deep in Windows 11’s ones and zeros without revealing their location. How useful would a direction app be if it told you to go to 18 Maple Street without including the town, state or even country? I suspect AI will also widely distribute the photo of bewildered Drew.

Despite the challenge, I’ve managed to get my new laptop to perform the operations I need. If you face the same struggle as me, start with the assumption that Windows 11 has built in apps that can do any operation you might imagine without you buying additional software. That is if you can find the right paths through all the preloaded commercial offers or AI.

My next goal will be trying to figure out how to turn down the camera’s resolution.

Reddit and YouTube both document separate incidents of a robotic vacuum cleaners spreading dog poop all over a house.

Numerous articles offer evidence of AI telling people what they want to hear thereby reinforcing biases. As I was researching the types of rabbits in Washington, Google offered to answer a question, “Why are rabbits in your yard?”

After I clicked, Google’s AI suggested, “The rabbits could be bringing you a spiritual message.” More likely our lush green grass and the carrots we leave for them, I thought. I was then curious about the spiritual message a rabbit might deliver. “Live for today,” maybe.

Thinking more deeply, I became afraid. If that’s the type of truth AI is providing, we’re all in trouble. Cookies allow AI to profile each of us. AI likely profiled me as being interested in spiritual matters.  Then AI told me what it anticipated I wanted to hear using several websites that proclaim rabbits as spiritual messengers.

The result is AI spreading poop like the robotic cleaner. You can’t use Google or other informational sites without encountering AI. Don’t trust it. Look for documented confirmation. Our concept of reality is at stake.

Well before moving to Washington State I had developed an interest in the Oregon Trail. Pioneers, including many immigrates to the US, starting in the 1840s traveled 2,170 miles west to Oregon Territory mostly in oxen drawn wagons.

Their motivations included dire economic circumstances due to a severe depression, reports of lands that sounded magical, and thirst for adventure. American patriotism also played a role. England claimed what is now Oregon and Washington and had a foothold on the Columbia River. Spain claimed California. Patriotic Americans scrambled to secure the land for the US according to the concept of Manifest Destiny by which the US should extent from sea-to-sea. Without the Oregon Trail, our west coast probably wouldn’t be American.

The Oregon Trail would not have been possible without a 7,412 foot elevation break in the Rocky Mountains called South Pass. Journals written while in-route describe hardships unimaginable to 21^st century Americans. About 35,000 travelers died on the trail and were hastily buried in unmarked graves. The survivors suffered deprivation and had to abandon prized possessions. None of them could have completed the journey without relying on each other. After the Continental Divide, the trail divided into alternate routes. But everyone, 500,000 mostly in families, had to funnel through South Pass.

On our recent tour of the northwest, Kit and I visited South Pass, a desolate and windswept saddle of sagebrush in Wyoming. Seeing the slowly passing emigrants in my mind became an emotional experience. I marvel at their courage and perseverance. I’m tempted to moralize here. But I think I’ll allow readers to draw their own conclusions.

Kit and I have just completed a 2,512 mile road trip through Washington, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, and Oregon. This is an annual custom for us around the time of our wedding anniversary. The October crowds are thin and the fall foliage is spectacular. We even drove through falling snow. Our country is magnificent.    

We cut through Yellowstone and Grand Tetons parks. Due to its shutdown, the government had instructed the Park Service personnel to basically abandon their posts.  They then left the gates to both parks wide open for visitors to come and go as they pleased. We saw a lot of wildlife including a herd of bighorn sheep. But the animal highlight was a bull elk bugling as he followed his harem of cows.   

Drew visited historic sites along Lewis and Clark’s journey from Missouri to the Pacific and the famous Oregon Trail. Kit enjoyed cute towns and restaurants. The picture shows Kit in Jackson Hole. The insert is Drew’s face as he took a selfie trying to take a photo of Kit. You’d look this way too while driving 2,512 miles.

“I thought we were going to have to help keep those dogs apart.”

“Me too,” said Drew.

“So thankful they decided to be friends.”

Washington State must be the dog lover’s state. Everyone seemingly has a dog. We love to watch the dogs interact, especially at the Farmers Market. There are big dogs, little dogs, old dogs, and young dogs in black, brown, or white. They all have their own personalities. Some are laid back and others can’t be contained for all their excitement.

At a market recently, I was watching two friends visiting , each with their own dog. Both dogs behaved well but very differently. The larger dog sat still waiting for the conversation to be over. The smaller one jumped up and down the whole time. He acted, as if his owner had forgotten him. Occasionally, the owner patted his head to reassure him that he wasn’t forgotten but that didn’t make much difference. The jumping continued until the conversation finished and each went their own way.

While I was watching, I realized many times I am like the smaller dog in my relationship with God. Whatever my current challenge might be, I am convinced I have been forgotten. No longer seen, no longer in His care. I jump and jump until I am so tired I can’t go on. So I have added some new words to my daily prayers to remind me. Lord, thank you that you see me, you love me, you forgive me, and you want me for your own. No jumping necessary.

I always tried to hide the whimsical side of my nature fearing that people wouldn’t regard me seriously. Who cares now?

I have a mammal list (also bird, fish, crustacean, and reptile lists) like bird watchers maintain. But to add a creature to my list, I have to bare-handed touch a live and healthy specimen. Besides every type of pet and farm mammal, I’ve touched at least one wolf, tiger, tapir, cottontail, hedgehog, river otter, elephant, armadillo, kangaroo, brown bear, sloth, lion, coatimundi, giraffe, deer, manatee, bat, porcupine, koala, opossum, wombat, raccoon, reindeer, sea lion, and coyote. I had to escape from some of these afterwards. I’ve had many other near misses but didn’t manage the touch.

Gobi is a camel who lives near us sharing a pasture with three horses. Gobi prefers human company to  horses though. Although I’ve seen camels many times, I finally added camel to my touch list. Gobi’s huge lips are soft and bristly like a donkey’s.

I hope you have a  whimsical side as well. If so, I’d enjoy hearing about it.  Or perhaps some of you have touched unusual animals.

Drew

Rabbits—Kit prefers calling then bunnies—are peaceful happy little creatures.  I’ve trained wild ones to eat carrots. Kit and I enjoy watching them in our yard. The photo is of one eating a carrot I placed near cover.

Unfortunately, rabbits are at the top of every predator’s meal preferences. Our semi-pets often disappear without any trace probably due to foxes or coyotes. More grisly, we find their mangled and partially devoured carcasses due to hawks or owls.

Everyday Kit and I are deluged with tricks trying to take our money. Some are outright scams like the ones which email, “Your purchase has shipped,” or “Pay now to avoid a penalty.“  Others from legal businesses try to stimulate fear or hope. Then they deliver unneeded or worthless services. I once lost a lot of money due to false claims by a Fortune 500 company highly recommended by consensus of security rating services. Nobody went to jail and I recovered only a few dollars in the ensuing lawsuit.

Kit has taken to reminding me, “YOU are the bunny,” advice she readily applies to herself.  All of us, especially seniors, are prudent to beware of predators.

Drew