Local Protests

I'm ready to make a sign and stand down near Percolator Park* in downtown Oly, Washington. My sign will proclaim: I'm not for or against anything, I'm just trying to get attention.

As we drive downtown, we regularly see the weirdos from the local university carry-on near the boardwalk and old biddies that dress in black in silent protest against the war. They are present whenever a military shipment is loading weapons of mass destruction or unloading military rations at the local port. They stand silently or chant boistrously whenever the papers run articles on our troops, many who are stationed at the nearby massive Army base between Olympia and Tacoma. Their demonstrations have recently made the local paper as some have been arrested for trying to cross the fence line and attack the soldiers who plan to go defend our country abroad.

Are the dissenters planning to beat the army with their 1" x 1" sign poles? Does this mean that they will force the army to no longer use force with, well, force? Will they have much success against the tanks and humvees? Do they think that because about 37 sign carriers with long, unwashed hair have a contrary opinion, some suit in D. C. will take note? Remember those beliefs don't take into account that the enemy of the US is also the enemy of Iraqis. These are the same Iraqi people who formerly could have been tortured for the very behavior shown by the demonstrators.

I compare the conduct of the local malcontents to a group of radicals in Northern Wisconsin about a decade ago. There was a sort of spring ritual surrounding the local tribes' right to spear spawning walleye right after the ice melted on the many lakes in Oneida and Vilas counties. One one side were the inhabitants of the Reservation and on the other were the fishing guides and the local fishermen claiming that the Indians were ruining the local fishing by overharvesting.

It was true that often many fish were found discarded in the underbrush after spearing sessions. These fish should have found their way into someone's freezer. But the fishing guides, with their electronic sonar, radar, and knowledge of the lakes' understructure were just as hard on the aquatic populations. The recreational fisherman shouldn't have sided with either, but protested vigorously and often found himself crossing police lines and landing in jail.

The state and national press loved it. All over the area, satellite trucks could be seen driving this way and that. The tribe's showboat mayor tossed them quote after quote, instigating the locals into a maddened frenzy. Taverns and restaurants overflowed with patrons who could only discuss the horrid practice of destroying the beloved walleyed pike. The spokesman for the locals, the proprietor of a local eatery, also got on teh tube regularly. It appeared that this was becoming more of an emotional media event for the fame of two leaders every April than anything else.

The county officials finally came upon a plan:

Load Limits.

No vehicles over a certain weight would be allowed on the county roads. These load limits mystreiously took into account the weight of those news trucks that hereafter would only be seen in downtown Minocqua at the lakeside hotel and the main drag of the Lac du Flambeau reservation. The news folks arrived in droves, but with no mindnumbing pictures of protestors willingly climbing into paddywagons after trespassing across the sheriff's caution taped boundaries, the numbers of the news vehicles dwindled. The other interesting part was that the owners of the reservation's new casino weren't inclined to allow their employees leaves of absences in order to practice the treaty rights they had had since a Supreme Court ruling in 1937. see The Lakeland Times August 19, 2003 story.

The protests were never the same. I realized that my suspicions were correct. The only real winners were the two local TV personalities, the names of either I can not remember clearly , nor can I even find using a web search.

Getting back to the local dissenters. They are getting what they want - attention. The war will go on, whether they like it or not. It will continue whether they contribute to the Repulican, Democrat, Green, Libertarian, or Federalist parties. It will continue until the terrorists are eliminated or take over the Pacific Northwest or California or Idaho or Wyoming or the Yukon Territories.

Protestors will continue to get the attention they crave. And our lives will be enriched because of it. I think I'll go and demonstrate against protests. Maybe I can make a sign that will pursuade the college students to get a job, or at least spend more time studying.


* note: Olympia's Downtown Heritage Park contains a water fountain with bursts of H2O in timed sequence which locals have named after the old-style coffee maker.

Another Day, Another Eruption

It's just amazing. How can we pick the days to see our favorite erupting volcano? A couple years ago, Ben and Kelly came to visit and picked the day to visit Mt. St. Helens on the day that it chose (or was chosen) to send an ash plume 30,000 feet into the air after settling down to very little activity for about four months.

Today, because I am off for spring break and the only day Dee could take off this week, we were able to visit this no-longer-dormant-volcano on what became a mostly sunny morning and early afternoon. As we turned the corner on hwy. 505 where Helen first is visible, we noticed a plume of steam. This had not been visible when we looked at the web volcano cam earlier in the morning before heading south.



By the time we got to Coldwater Lake, the plume continued upwards. We decided to go all the way to Johnson's Point, but were stopped by an "area closed" gate about two miles along. We pulled into the Hummock Trail parking lot and hiked inwards for about a mile getting closer to Helen, but were never able to get a clear view into the caldera. Nonetheless, seeing her vent gave us a thrill. It also made us realize that anything could happen. As we were walking, I got to an area where a sound made me jump. I looked about thinking that a lizard, bird, or small mammal might have been startled. There was no sign of any little critters around. I proceeded along the path and after discussing it, we think that we may have experienced a very small earthquake.
I don't know if I'll ever know. I'll try to find out if there were tremors on the mountain which saw a lot of geologists' activity via helicopter while we were there. As we got to the hummocks trail, we noticed them carrying some piece of equipment up toward the crater. About 20 minutes later, the chopper returned sans trailing machinery.
We noted three more trips out and returns. On a couple of those trips, we spied the helicopter circling over the dome and rim of the crater. This had to be some serious developments for the scientists to be that actively busy up there. That would lend credence to the earthquake theory.

Happiness is a new name tag

It's funny how a small piece of plastic can bring happiness.

This past week I had the distinct pleasure of being a substitute at a local Jr. High School teaching 9th grade math and science in one classroom from Monday through Wednesday and Geometry on Thursday and Friday. Since I have been hired as a substitute replacement for a ninth grade math teacher on maternity leave beginning Monday the 10th (after next week's Spring Break), it was a good thing to be able to get into the Oakland Bay Jr. High School in Shelton, WA to get a feel for the place that I would be working for the next 2 1/2 months.

As you may know, the substitute teacher is a bit lower on the food chain than plankton, but takes up a good deal more space. The front office loves the substitute as the farmer loves a full corn crib. The teacher justifies having one in their room because it's better to take a sick day at the golf course and get paid for it since this is in your contract. The pieces can always be picked up later; besides, it's fashionable to complain about how bad the sub was when you get back.

"Can you believe that she just handed out the worksheets and then played solitaire for the rest of the hour while the kids dismantled three light fixtures?"
"She'll never be in MY classroom again, I assure you!"
"He was so disorganized, he made Charlie Brown's friend Pigpen look like Richard Simmons on a good hair day."

The students find them fascinating. At first they walk into the room and ask," We have ANOTHER sub?" Then they ask when their regular teacher will be back. This is to get the sub used to the idea that the students hope he or she sinks lower than her nautical namesake. They then try out a few of the tried and true tricks.

"Can I use the bathroom?"
"Can we study in the hall?"
"Can I use the phone?"
"I have to leave ten minutes early from class today because I have a doctor's or dentist's or chiropractor's appointment."

"Do you have a note or permission slip?" asks the sub.

"My teacher never makes us have one," replies the young fork-tongued teen with eyes now turned narrow and stealthy.

The state of Washington expects substitutes to be state certified. This means that they pay upwards to 60,000 dollars in government loan dollars to make $17,500 during the school year and another 3300 bucks in unemployment during the summer. The employment agency, though, will hassle them for a month before releasing any checks so that the mortgage check requires an extra $50 for the late fees. The sub gets it from all sides - Makes you wonder if they are considered middle management with a plethora of pointy-haired bosses (see your comic section for a Dilbert cartoon).

Getting back to the part about the piece of plastic: Since I am going to be teaching in the same classroom for the rest of the year, I asked if I'd get to be a real person with a nametag that had my name on it or would I have to be a "guest" teacher for two months. The secretary assured me that my name tag had already been ordered. There was a bit of a backlog at the printers but he said it'd be there in a day or two.



Skip to Friday second hour. While I was teaching, in walked a student with a message from the office. Here was my name tag. I turned to the class and said, "Look, I'm now a REAL PERSON!" They gave me an ovation. Hmmm, I think I'm going to like it here.