CORRIGENDUM

A LATIN WORD MEANING 'IN NEED OF CORRECTION'
Willow, who knows a thing or two about boats, has drawn my attention to my misuse of the word 'sporting',which is short for 'disport' and means 'to show'.
No...the super-maxis DO NOT have up to 4.5 square kilometers of sail set to wind. What I meant to say was that this is the total area of sails stored or in use aboard the yacht.
Sorry...and I will correct the posting sometime today.

NEW YEAR'S GREETINGS

THANK YOU, GLENN, for New Year's wishes to us all. How charming to think of the last posting embellishing someone's Christmas Morning.

I decided to try sunset photos. This one is taken looking West across St. Vincent's Gulf towards York Peninsula, from a lookout point just half a mile from my sister's home. Here is how it looks at 8:29 PM. If you watch enough sunsets here a bouts, you could get lucky as follows. The sunsets during a period of fine weather can get very red (red sky in the night is a shepherd's delight, as the saying goes), due to the fine dust particles caught in the high pressure system. Here, the sun's rays are reaching across hundreds of miles of land can cause an occasional copper coloured flash, or so I am told. You have to be lucky but I have met at least one person who claims to have seen it often. But then, he lives right on the sea front and spends a lot of time watching the sunsets with a beer in his hand.

All Australia is in sack cloth and bedaubed with ashes. The Poms have thrashed us at cricket and retain The Ashes. Having lost the Fourth Test in Melbourne, the best the Aussies can hope for is to win the final test match in Sydney to draw the series. Win or loose, the Sacred Urn remains at Lords Cricket Ground in London. I know many of you will be truly saddened by this news. I jest, as important as cricket may be, it can't be all that serious. For those of you accustomed to baseball and basketball and the vigorous arguments that umpires at these games must sometimes endure, consider this. In this last match, the Aussie captain talked too long with the umpire about a decision and got fined 40% of his match fee. Such ungentlemanly behaviour is just 'not cricket'!

As I write, most of the yachts in the International Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race as still completing the course. The super-maxis have either finished or are about to. The boats set out on Boxing Day and were soon into the teeth of the infamous 'Southerly Buster', with its 30 foot waves and 50 knot gales. Quite a few yachts have had to retire due to extensive damage. One had two men overboard in wild seas, crossing Bass Strait. The race was won by the 99 footer, Wild Oats. Sporting sails that total 4.5 square kilometres and costing almost a quarter of a million dollars, this three year old boat can really go. In strong seas, the ride can be tough and even seasoned sailors can suffer sea sickness. The photo at left gives an idea how sailing conditions can look.

I have an affection for this race as, a quarter of a century ago, when I was young and foolish, I helped crew a 33 foot boat that attempted this race, taking it around from Adelaide to Sydney (ten and a half days at sea). I got a bit sea sick on the way down St. Vincents Gulf (about where this sunset photo was taken) and did not eat much for a day or so. Mainly, it was a quiet ride until we rounded Gabo Island and had a Southerly Buster at our backs most of the way up the eastern coast almost to Sydney. On the way, we broached the boat, tore our storm jib and had to heave to in very impressive swells to make repairs. I do recall some very uneasy moments but the terror I felt then has long since faded.

Safe sailing for 2011, me hearties!

LIFE IN ADELAIDE IV

Looks like I am getting another posting in before Christmas! A chance to repeat my well-wishing for your enjoyment and safety over the holiday season.

Is Australia an island or a continent? Being surrounded on all sides by the sea, one could argue that it really just a very big island. Most of it is quite arid, giving rise to the description that it is the driest continent. Just at the moment, it could the wettest; a good bit of the country is under floods. Even in the high country, at this beginning of Summer, there have been blizzards and heavy falls of snow. Nothing to compare with what is happening in the Northern Hemisphere but, hey, this is Summer! My daughter and her family are off on a camping holiday after Christmas (actually, the day after the day after Christmas Day; here, as in the UK, the day after is know as Boxing Day). Just now they are busily searching on the Internet for a non-flooded area.

In the New Year, the big event here in South Australia is the Tour Down Under. Lance Armstrong and some other cycling greats will be participating as this cycling event centres on Adelaide from 16 to 23 January. One stage is alongside the River Murray and is threatened by possible flooding of the river. This is the first of the races on the world professional bike racing circuit. It is a big tourist attraction and it may be possible, in the US, to watch it on Versus, should you not be coming down to follow it.

Australians are sport-mad but, whether you follow tennis (the Australian Open Tennis begins January 11), soccer, rugby, Aussie rules football, or any other sport, just now the Fourth Test Cricket Match between England and Australia commencing Boxing Day (recall? The day after Christmas Day) dominates the papers. This is BIG because, having miraculously defeated England after they seemed doomed, the Aussies have leveled the series. Whoever wins in Melbourne takes out the series and either retains The Ashes (if the Poms win) or wins back the Sacred Urn (if the Aussies win).

Despite having in common things like bat and ball, cricket is as unlike baseball as it is possible to imagine. Bear with me as I attempt to tell you why the condition of the pitch is so important to the outcome of the series.

Cricket is played on a cricket pitch in the centre of a cricket ground or oval. The oval is marked by a boundary. Weeks (even years in the long term) of preparation go into getting the pitch ready for an important match to ensure it remains playable the five days of the match. The batting side has two batsmen in play at any one time. If the batsman taking strike scores an uneven number of runs from one delivery by the bowler, the batsmen will have changed ends so that the second now has the strike. These must be actual runs (i.e., each batsman will have to run the length of the pitch. A ball hit all the way to the boundary scores four runs but the batsmen do not have actually to run; if hit over the boundary without bouncing, it scores six runs. There is much, possibly boring detail that one might add, but I desist.

Coming now to the bowler: the bowlers selected by the captain can each bowl six balls before swapping directions or 'ends' (causing the fielding side to adjust their positions accordingly). With the exception of one ‘full toss’ allowed within each six deliveries, the ball must bounce once before arriving within reach of the defending batsman. (What is he defending? Well might you ask. Of course, his wicket...therein lies another story). That is, the ball must hit the pitch.

The pitch began as rather special grass, cut very sort, growing in rather special earth. The cricket groundsman or curator goes to a great deal of trouble (watering, rolling, protecting from the elements, and the like) to make the pitch as smooth and level as possible ensuring the ball will bounce reliably. Bowlers come in several varieties; fast, medium, slow, swingers, and spinners. As a stiff, straight arm is required, the action of bowling can be quite awkward and needs considerable skill, especially if one is a spin bowler.

One way or another, all bowlers attempt to disguise from the batsman the exact sort of delivery they intend to make. Their main purpose is to get the batsman out by hitting and knocking down the wicket (there are, of course, other ways by which the batsman may be dismissed but, once more, I desist). Now I will get to the point.

The condition of the pitch favours certain styles of bowling, usually fast bowling in the early stages of the match and slower, spinning delivery in the last couple of days, as the pitch begins to crumble slightly. Right now, the English cricket writers are up in arms because they think the curator at the Melbourne Cricket Ground (MCG) is preparing that pitch to favour the Aussie fast bowlers. How evil can these Aussies get…how low can they go?

A fast ball can travel at over 90 mph and cover the 20 yards or so to the batsman in about half a second. There is no way the batsman can decide, by sighting the ball, which of the many strokes in his repertory he will play for a particular delivery. Yet batsmen contrive to score many runs. The world’s greatest current batsman is an Indian, Sachin Tendulkar, has made 15 centuries in 40 test matches. Research has shown that a practiced batsman subconsciously ‘knows’ from the motion of the bowler what to expect before the ball leaves the bowler’s hand. Once ‘in the zone’, a good batsman can dominate the bowlers of the other side and prove impossible to dismiss. Equally, certain bowlers are either so terrifying (really fast bowlers) or so skillful (great spinners) as to ‘destroy’ a batting side.

Be safe and happy over the holidays.

LIFE IN ADELAIDE III

MY LOCAL AREA: I sense you all like to have a photo now and again so I am including two more, taken whilst on a walk along the cliffs about a half mile from my sister’s home. My family purchased a small house here, 30 kilometres south of Adelaide downtown some fifty years back. It was a kind of middle class beach house within a very short walk of the beach but set high up on a bluff. In those days there were just a few other houses, a constructed camp for a youth organization and a small store. The environs were really quite wild and natural. I hunted rabbits (of which there were very many) along these cliff tops. Down below, a rocky section of the coast which is otherwise given to sandy beaches.

Access to this natural area was cut off when Mobil built an oil refinery there. With the wind in the North strange odours would waft in our direction while the night was constantly lit by the flare of burning waste gases. Thankfully, the refinery no longer operates although the structures remain. Now the State Government is financing the construction of a huge desalination plant in this area. If you ignore the disfigurement of these structures, the area is still quite beautiful and subject to wonderful sunsets. The family later sold the beach house and moved to a small home of better construction in a nearby street in which my sister now lives and which I am repainting.

In those early days, this small settlement was surrounded by wheat or barley crops; occasionally a crop duster would operate from a nearby field. The littoral bush area below the cliffs was also the site of a surprising, if macabre, discovery when a couple walking along the beach were drawn to the excited barking of their dog ahead of them in the small scrub. Sticking out of the sand was a human foot. Later, as a prison psychologist, I met the perpetrator of this murder and I assure you that he could tell a most interesting tale. Now it is a reserve to allow regeneration of the natural bush.

OPRAH HAS ARRIVED! In her private jet and accompanied by a Qantas Jumbo Jet filled with some 300 of her fans as guests on a trip to the Land Down-Under, Oprah has been in Australia for a week or so. The huge party split into not a few small groups to travel to various tourist destinations. Yesterday, they all came back together for the filming of two live shows near to the Sydney Opera House. These will be shown as part of Oprah’s final year of her current shows. The Australian Tourist Commission funded a good part of this trip and expects good returns on this investment as the show goes to air in 149 countries around the globe. Russell Crowe was one of her guests. He lives in nearby Woolloomooloo (try saying that three times quickly) and decided to walk around to the Opera House. A zealous security man initially barred him from entry. Eventually a message got to Oprah, “There’s a bloke out here who says he is Russel Crowe…” They allowed him to enter in time for his moment with Oprah.

Oprah did something I would like to do. Along with other intrepid members of her party, she trekked across the high arch of the Sydney Harbour Bridge…no mean feat. Good on you Oprah (Aussie translation: ‘On yer, Oprah mate!’). All this was such big news, with pages being devoted each day in the Aussie press. I did a Google News search and was astounded that the rest of the world has hardly noticed this watershed event.

On the other hand, the world press continues to take notice of the Aussie I mentioned in my previous posting: Julian Assange. Here, in Australia, the balance of opinion seems to be shifting to support him. President Obama is not quite at this end of the support continuum, not to put too fine a point to it. For an interesting comment on the 'balance of probabilities' in relation to the possible political motivations underlying the current charges against Mr. Assange, follow this link. Hopefully, the Assange affair may lead to a return of the press, the so-called 'Fourth Estate', to its role of ensuring balance between the interest of the government and that of the governed.

AUSTRALIANS IN THE NEWS

OCCASIONALLY, Aussies get in the news. The ex-Prime Minister and now Foreign Minister, Kevin Rudd, who has been hobnobbing with Hilary Clinton quite a bit lately, has been making some headlines, demonstrating that he has a tough side. This aspect of him was revealed through recent Wikileaks disclosures some of which have been published in the Australian media, showing a certain hawkishness. Today, he is reported as commenting. "Franky, I don't give a damn...". Bravo, Mr. Rudd or, in Aussie speak, Good on Yer, Mate!

Amongst the leaked cables, Australia is acknowledged to be a good friend to the US but, due to economic size, is pretty much small beer and not likely to have much influence on American foreign policy, so it does not matter how loudly we might beat the drum. Other information leaked indicates an opinion held by senior Australian public servants that the ex-PM is somewhat of a 'control freak', overly concerned with details.

The perpetrator of these leaks is another Aussie, Julian Assange, founder of Wikileaks. He seems too be unpopular with just about everybody, some calling for his arrest for espionage or even treason, others saying we should just cut the whole nasty business short and have him assassinated. No wonder, then, that Mr. Assange has been lying very low, given haven by influential friends and getting money via PayPal.

Coincidentally, as the agitation at his outrageously indiscreet behaviour in leaking information was reaching a peak, charges against him for sexual assault have been raised in Sweden. There is a view amongst legal authorities, on the side of democratic principles and the right of the public to know more about what governments are up to than the latter would like to be known, that if Mr. Assange were to be guilty of the sexual assault allegations, these would be the only crimes he has committed in the recent past. WikiLeaks is a funnel for whistle blowing on the grand scale, some public servants seeming to agree that the governed need to know more about the actions of those who govern. Some doubt that there is any coincidence at work.

As if in a great game of chess, a serious attack on Mr. Assange's position came when PayPal (owned by eBay) shut down the stream of donations, forcing him to come out into the open to face the sex-related charges. He is currently locked up, presumably safely, in a London gaol (jail, that is, for North American readers). In Sweden, apparently, they take a very dim view of sexual abuse. One might hope, if he is innocent (as we must believe, until proven guilty), that Mr. Assange makes it through the the legal hazards ahead of him and does not get assassinated along the way.

One reason for wishing him well is that he has threatened to take on the Big Banks next and bring them down, revealing their true nature. That would be the ultimate 'treason' at a level not so far attempted by anyone. Ironically, it now falls to Mr. Rudd, as Foreign Minister, to ensure that Mr. Assange gets full consular support.

Falling now, like lightening from heaven, to much more mundane matters, I regret to report that another bunch of Aussies, our glorious Test Cricket Team, have been in the news, disgracing themselves by falling prey to the fiendish Pommy Team (Aussies like to call the English 'Poms', or 'Pommies', these terms being based on their well-known love of potatoes...from the French "pomme de terre"). Having drawn the first Test, played in Brisbane, the Poms well and truly dished the Aussies here in Adelaide, winning in record breaking style. Ahh...the humiliation of it!

LIFE IN ADELAIDE II

IF ONE READ THE LOCAL NEWS, South Australia might seem quite a violent place. Since I have been here, there have been five or so murders, including a particularly vicious slaying of a family of three in a small town at the beginning of the Barossa Valley (where a lot of red wine is grown). It has more convicted serial killers (per million of population) than most places around the world. Just recently, in the early hours of the morning, an as yet identified person or persons set upon the Deputy Premier (second in charge of the governing party) giving him quite a pounding.

This last item has been noted in the press with a certain irony as the present government (Labour Party, somewhat akin to the Democratic Party in the US) has made much of ensuring public safety. After a long run in government at the state level, the Labour Party is reeling from another set of blows in the form of electoral voting going against them. This makes the local ruling party somewhat nervous and some folk are questioning whether such an important person (he is also the State Treasurer) showed good judgment by being out alone in the small hours in a distinctly shady part of town. On another front, both Melbourne and Adelaide, whose Universities depend a great deal on students from India, China, Malaya, and Indonesia, have been considerably dismayed by a sharp and sudden drop in enrollments as news of violence against foreign students late at night has gotten back to their homelands. A case of beating the geese that lay the golden eggs, one might say.

Having grown up here, I do not experience Adelaide as an unsafe place (I keep off the streets late at night, to be sure) unless I happen to be on the road, whether a pedestrian, a cyclist, or driving. Then one must look out for aggressive lane changing and a general disinclination to respect anyone not enclosed within motorized sheet metal. Perhaps the wide streets contribute to this, generating a false sense of safety. Even so, it is not all that bad, compared, say, to Rome on a Saturday night.

Violence of a different sort is coming to Adelaide this weekend, in the form of the Second Test cricket match, played between England and Australia. I mentioned in my email alerting you to my previous post, that cricket is played by very many countries (105, as a matter of fact) and is second only to soccer as a zone for international competition. Once again Wiki comes to the rescue with an excellent explanation of this "game". It is played at several levels but the 'cricket to end all cricket', ultimate cricket, is the International Test series, each match lasting up to five days, when the leading cricket nations play off against each other in a seemingly endless series of matches all around the world. Not a few are former British colonies and have an historic grudge against the "Mother Country" (England), with fervent intent to beat the English teams at cricket. This site will give you all the latest scores and, if you want to get the biased Aussie perspective, go here. Cricket followers experience incredible fervour, perhaps not quite as high as that engendered by World Soccer, marked by international rivalries, sometimes epitomized by riots at test matches.

Watching the First Test (played in Brisbane, Queensland), I was rewarded by, and thrilled to see, an extremely rare event at this level of the game, a "hat trick". This occurs when a bowler succeeds in dismissing three batsmen with three successive balls! What is more, it was the bowler's birthday...quite a birthday present.

Cricket tends to make baseball appear somewhat 'wimpish'. For example, apart from the two batsmen and the wicket keeper, fieldsmen do not use gloves; also, once each turn at bowling, the bowler may bowl right at the batsman, either full on or by bouncing the ball.

One has to pay to see Cricket on special channels in the US (everywhere else, on free-to-air TV) but you can get an idea of the game by going to the video section on the Australian site. English English is dotted with cricket metaphors and references that must seem mysterious to those unfamiliar with the game, such as "that is not cricket", "on a sticky wicket", or "caught on the back foot". If you know a few, why not drop them off as comments to this posting?

LIFE IN ADELAIDE

DESPITE BEING OF SIMILAR SIZE to the 48 contiguous United States, Australia has only six (plus two territories). Another dissimilarity is that each of the principle cities in size in each state is also the capitol.

A LA TERRACE IN ADELAIDE, the capitol city of South Australia, and my home town. My family moved here down from the county to the North, just after the Second World War. Over almost 40 years, here I grew up, was educated and plied my trades (first, Baptist minister and then psychologist). It is also home city for my three children and my younger daughter continues to live here with her husband and two children.

Somewhat surprising for such an out of the way place, Adelaide is counted by The Economist amongst the world's top ten most livable cities. Given that it is the capitol of the driest state in the driest continent, and is about as far away from any part of the rest

of the world, outside Australia, as could be imagined, you might wonder at this. Wiki Encyclopedia has a good description of the city. My other home city is Portland (Oregon) and the two rival each other as livable places. There are some surprising ties between South Australia and Oregon, and between Adelaide and Portland, particularly in the public transport field.

The climate is Mediterranean and mainly mild. Summer weeks can become quite hot for days at a stretch, followed by a refreshing change with winds from the South and spectacular thunderstorms. Not surprisingly, Adelaidians are devoted to many outdoor pursuits, including the famous back yard Bar-B-Q but also many sporting activities, football (Aussie Rules, Soccer, and a sprinkling of Rugby), tennis, and cricket. Part of the answer is the amazing racial (hence diversity of food) mix. There is plenty of opportunity to eat a la terrace, as my lead picture indicates.

Unlike some other Australian states, South Australia has no convict history. It was founded by English settlers seeking political and religious freedom and has become home to successive migrations since the 1950s, from northern Europe, the Mediterranean, Asia, and most recently, Africa. So it is possible to eat good food according to many national cuisines.

Then there is the wine. Seventy percent of Aussie wine is grown in South Australia and much of the countryside to the North and South is occupied by vineyards, some quite famous, with plantings going back over 150 years. Limestone soils and plenty of sun make for excellent wine.

The city is laid out on a square mile and surrounded by a band of parklands. Within the square mile, there are five large squares, connected by broad streets. Part of the parkland belt contains expansive botanical gardens and a zoo.

So there you have some of the reasons that make Adelaide so livable: spacious surrounds, pleasant climate, good food and wine, plenty of festivals, great sporting events, a vibrant multiculturalism, and miles of sandy beaches near to hand. And also, when it is cold in the Northern Hemisphere, the weather is most enjoyable.

STILL IN THE EYE OF THE NEEDLE

HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE to pass through the eye of the needle? I thought that all I had to do was to reduce my stuff to the contents of a suitcase or so, travel to Australia and look around for a place to settle. If you want to hear more about my dilemma, just send me an email and I will put you on the list of close mates to whom I plan to send more detail of how this is working out. Suffice to say that the passage may well involve shedding some expectations. The project of the ecologically correct cabin continues to develop but the ‘where’ is yet to be determined.

In the meantime, I am enjoying Adelaide and have settled to a routine. For the greater part of the week, I am living with my sister, Cherie, and finding lots of maintenance work to do. Presently, I am attending to corrosion that has attacked metal framing around her house. Over the weekends, I am with my daughter and her family quite near to the city. Sunday morning is quite a highlight as we go to the nearby farmers’ market. It is quite extensive and involves real farmers; depending on how soon you read this posting, there will be one or two pictures of market scenes.

Near to her home is the local Alliance Francaise centre where I have enrolled in a course on Monday evenings. I have a work project at my daughter‘s home; retiling a shower alcove.

ON THE KNEE FRONT, I am continuing with rehabilitation exercises at a local gym and also keeping up a program of exercise call ‘Slow Burn’ (introduced to me by my friend Richard who lives near Hudson in New York). I was so impressed with the results of this program for him that I just had to take it up myself. I am now able to ride Bike Friday easily for up to an hour. My sister lives in an area with rolling hills, some quite steep so I find ’bike riding fitness’ returning with pleasing alacrity. I expect that it take a month or two for them to feel quite normal. One effect of chronic osteoarthritis with knees is that, as cartilage wears away, the legs become noticeably bowed. Now that they are straightened out, occasionally I feel a little knock-kneed. Still learning a normal gait, particularly when in a hurry, I am improving with balance and stride. Nonetheless, it can feel somewhat strange at times.

THE VIEW DOWN UNDER, Unfortunately, Aussies are not doing so well in their beloved game of cricket and have had a long run of defeats in one day matches, most recently being trounced by Sri Lanka. The six day matches against England are about to begin so selection for the Aussie team is a hot topic. The English team have brought along their own top sports psychologist to assist in maintaining their morale which suffered a terrible collapse last series. The battle between England and Australia is for “The Ashes“. At any time, cricket must be hard for Americans to understand but what on earth could The Ashes be? Would you believe these are the remains of the stumps (forming the wicket at each end of the cricket pitch) which were seized long ago by the Aussie team that first won against the English at the famous home of cricket, Lords. These stumps were burned and the ashes placed in an urn. This urn is kept by either the Aussies or the English, depending on which team wins the series.

RECENT VISITS BY AMERICANS: Hilary Clinton has been in town. She has been followed by Tiger Woods who is determined to add another Aussie Golf tournament to his list of successes. His fortunes have been varied since his last victory here a year ago and he hopes for a comeback on several fronts. Our Prime Minister has gone to South Korea to talk up a free trade agreement between the two counties. The G20 group meets there very shortly. Australia attempts a Janus stance vis-à-vis Asia and the US. We like to think or ourselves as part of Asia, despite our British colonial origins, On the other hand, in relation to Hilary Clinton’s visit, we have agreed to have a greater US military presence here, particularly in relation to training US forces for action in central Asia. Some of Australia’ neighbours might have misgivings about this. Australia provides an important strategic listening post via secret radar and intelligence installations. This may be part of the US’s plan to limit the influence of China. However, China is busily buying up Aussie mining and gas companies and may be seeking thereby to limit the influence of the US in Asia. Australian politicians hold the faith that, should we get into serious trouble with our neighbours the US military might will come to our rescue, as with the Second World War in the Pacific. “Might” of course, has several meanings. Ah…international politics!

FAT TUESDAYS

"FAT TUESDAY" GENERALLY REFERS TO some aspect of the Mardi Gras or similar festival. Next week, the first Tuesday in November, is a rather special occasion on each side of the Pacific.

In the US, it will be election day for a lot of senators, congress men, governors, and other officials. It could make for quite a change in the political scene with a possible swing back towards conservative sentiment in the offing. On the surface, there are some differences across the Pacific. Voting is compulsory in Australia and takes place on a Saturday, when it is much easier to attend a polling place. One has to be a little more committed in the US to cast one's vote. This aside, politics looks much the same. There is the party of the left and the party of the right, with some tendency for the political centre to shift towards the right. On either shore, it does sometimes appear that the main business of politics is to get elected or re-elected.

A major difference is that minority politicians can have extraordinary influence here in Oz. At the last election, the major parties each got 72 seats in the lower house. Since the Senate is only a chamber of review and does not originate bills, it follows that the work of government mainly takes place in the lower house, where the leader of the ruling party has much the same role as a US President. So, to gain power, the current government had to court the favour of the independent members and those elected from the Green Party. The independents therefore have a lot of influence on the fate of proposed legislation.

In both countries, the urgent need is for politicians to relearn the art of government, for example considering the long term good of the people (sometimes referred to as the commonwealth) rather than merely playing the game of politics. In both countries, the role of conservatives seems to be focused on countering the need to attend to environmental issues.

In Australia, Fat Tuesday undoubtedly is the Melbourne Cup Day. Not all Aussies are punters though it must be admitted that racing is much more to the fore Down Under. On the first Tuesday in November, the whole nation pauses to watch, listen to, and celebrate The Cup. It is just one of the races on the day culminating the Spring Racing Carnival but it eclipses the other races in terms of attracting the nation's interest. At the time of the running of the Cup, in shops, offices, industries, and in almost every place, Aussies stop to watch or hear the running of this race. Horses from many parts of the world will have come for a chance to win the coveted Cup. If you live in Melbourne, it is a public holiday. Outside of Melbourne, across the State of Victoria, workers can get a day off at some other time of the year in lieu of this great occasion. It is a day of high fashion, of cruises up the river to the 'sacred' scene, of amazing interest in the running of this one race. The cup itself is gold and valued at some $125,000.

So there you have it...Two Tuesdays of very different sorts, the outcome of which can be of the greatest interest.

Yes, I did say that I would write more about passing through the eye of the needle. Sorry, next time...just could not resist Fat Tuesdays.

A ROBERTO POT-PURRI

SOMEWHAT OF A MIXTURE, THIS POST:
Drawing together some catchup threads...first of all, Glenn has requested a photo of the new 'old' car. It is a 1997 Volvo 850 SE, purchased from the second owner of 12 years at 168,000 kilometres or 104,000 miles. It is very comfortable to drive and extremely quiet on the road. I will attempt two shots, one of me and the car in my great nephew's front yard in Canberra and the other taken on the way to Jugiong (to give you as sense of the countryside along the Hume Highway). However, this might have to wait until I have access to more download capacity at the end of this week. Here is one at least. The only problem with the Volvo is that the 'Check Engine' light comes on, indicating a fault with the oxygen sensor system. I am studying up on this and will get a scanner to ascertain the problem's nature. It costs $45 to have this service done and I can get the scanner for about $60 and access diagnostics via the Internet. Mechanics seem not to have much of a clue about this so I may as well get all boned up. My other car, with my daughter in Colorado, has a similar problem, but with the knock sensor, so a scanner will be a handy tool. Oh...the scanner can turn off the light!

Knees: Today is Monday, October 25, so my right partial knee has now been in place for three months and the left for six months. I am pleased to report a very high level of satisfaction with progress. On Friday, one way or another, I walked about seven miles without so much as a thought about whether I could do it! Compare this with my situation in April when I had to plan carefully just where I would park in the supermarket parking lot so as to be able to walk to the store, go around doing my shopping, and make it back to the car. The second knee was slower in recovery and the rehabilitation has been conflicted by so much travelling. Nonetheless, I am riding Man Friday and managing the hilly terrain amazingly well. Also, I have enrolled in a local gym and did my first work out this morning.

I am now enrolled in Medicare Australia (my US plan only covers emergency treatment while out of the US) and have applied for a Seniors Card to get transport concessions and the like. Once I have the latter, I will be able to make greater use of public transport as this is free for card holders for a good part of weekdays and entirely so over the weekends.

Just a block or so away from my daughter's home (where I am Fridays and over the weekend) is the local Alliance Francaise, so I plan to enroll in a conversation class there. I have a written test to do and also, on Friday next, an oral test. This will crank the old brain up a tad or so, as will getting to know engine management fault codes and how to fix them.

As part of the celebration of my son-in-law's birthday last week, on Friday night I went with family to the Soccer game between the Adelaide and Wellington (NZ) teams. That day's sporting section in the local paper (Adelaide Advertiser) assured us that the local team had a game plan. This must have been to convince the other side they were inferior in the first half, when the teams were tied at 0:0) and then to fire off three goals in quick succession the in the second! This completely rattled the 'Kiwis' (as Aussies call folk from New Zealand) who failed to make a score.

A more serious take on the continuing story of passing through the eye the needle next time.

AUSTRALIA’S FIRST SAINT

I ARRIVED IN ADELAIDE in time to witness the celebration around the canonization of Australia’s first saint. By the time I write this, she will have become St. Mary of the Cross. This is a great day for local Christians of the Roman persuasion, ever a minority in a state that was founded by religious dissenters, mainly Baptists and Lutherans. Born in 1842, Mary MacKillop began founding schools and working amongst the poor during very hard times, she has become more familiar to the world and Australians than the bishop who famously excommunicated her for her independence from the clergy of the day and her uppity attitude to authority. I can claim a tenuous connection to her since the first school I attended was a convent school run by the Order of St. Joseph, founded by Mary MacKillop, in the town of my birth (Clare, South Australia).

It appears we Australians have a second saint in the pipeline, perhaps remarkable for a country so irreligious. I doubt I will harangue you anymore of Aussie hagiographies, since I know nothing about this second in line, other than she was shot in the course of her missionary endeavours. It is hard getting to be a saint, it being essentially a post-humus award. Apart from splendid achievements that any reasonable human would admire, one must live a holy life, be credited with at least two miracles, and have one’s life well attested long after death. Of course, if you have not truck with the notion of an afterlife, it is hard to make sense of the veneration accorded saints after death. Notwithstanding, it would be churlish in the extreme not to acknowledge a life well-lived. Good on you, Mary MacKillop.

So here I am in Adelaide, made all the more congenial by the very good recent rains. Mark my journey: by car from Painted Post (NY) to Basalt (CO) and then by air from Aspen to San Francisco. United Airlines took me from there to Sydney where I regained the skills of driving on the left hand side of the road and of driving in the mad traffic through Sydney’s narrow, winding streets. Having acquired my car, I have driven to Canberra, then Wodonga, and then Melbourne. After a week I set out for Warracknabeal, abut half way to Adelaide, in the grain growing district called the Wimmera. After two days, I was once more on the way to Adelaide. Somehow, I have arranged for it to be raining when I travel and fine when visiting, The rains have been glorious, coming just when the farmers wanted, filling the reservoirs, and greening the entire country after almost five years of drought (and longer in some areas).

I introduced you to the Dog on the Tucker Box. In Warracknabeal I discovered a Dog on the Wheat Bags but could find no one to tell me if there was a story to explain this memorial at one of the three roundabouts in the main street. I stayed with a old friend who is the Baptist minister to three congregations in the Wimmera. He had undertaken to organize to smarten up the front of the local church building, so I fell to wielding a paint brush, so making my mark on the place as one might say. I hope you like the scenes I photographed (Tom, my pastor friend, is the one on the ladder).

I have so enjoyed this long journey, meeting old friends, seeing my family, and being alone as I drove through the rural country side, often the only car along the road for an hour or so. To the visitor travelling my course, the Australian rural landscape would impress as empty and very flat, contrasting with the bustling, crowded cities with their car packed streets…streets that seem to change their names every mile or so. I know which I prefer; I seem to be a country man at heart.

Despite this being my home land, I confess that it seems far from the rest of the world, truly a place ‘down under’, and the cities seem very far apart. No wonder Aussies travel so much!

WEDNESDAY WAS QUITE A DAY

TRAVELLING ALONG THE HUME HIGHWAY
(Now that I am in Oz, I observe the the non-American spelling)

I departed Canberra early (7:30 AM) for Albury-Wodonga, the Twin Cites straddling the Murray River, the one in New South Wales and the other in Victoria, heading back to the Hume Highway. First stop was a small town called Jugiong (Aboriginal name meaning, ‘valley of the crows’), set in a beautiful valley and the location of The Long Track Café and Bakery where I hoped for coffee and small pastry. Alas, I arrived before the opening time of 10 AM and contented myself with a Pink Lady apple from the small fresh fruit and vegetables/wine shop next door. Mmmm…quite the most delicious apple I have eaten for many a day. Here is a photo of a typical Oz homestead overlooking the valley

All this meant that I had to stop by the café five miles from Gundagai (where the Dog sits on the Tucker Box). Here, at the Bill the Bullocky's Roadhouse, I indulged in a Devonshire Tea. Rather than take tea, I elected a café late to have with the two fresh scones, strawberry jam, and cream. Australia is a land where one can buy an excellent version of espresso just about anywhere. For Americans reading this, an Aussie scone (pronounced ‘skon’) is rather like a biscuit (English readers will know that I am not referring to what in America is called a 'cookie'), but lighter and somewhat sweeter. The way to eat Devonshire tea scones is to split them in two, spread first with strawberry jam, and then with the whipped cream…absolutely delicious, as many things invented in Devon are.

A song from the wartime has an Aussie soldier (a ‘Digger’) dreaming of his girlfriend,
'Oh, my Mabel waits for me,
Underneath the clear blue sky,
Where the dog sits on the tucker box,
Five miles from Gundagai…’

The story originates from the days when bullock teams hauled heavy loads through The Bush. Nowadays the dog is still there though his master, a bullocky, is long dead, immortalized as a statue still on a tucker box. Since the last time I stopped by to visit The Dog, he has been placed at the centre of a small fountain, so if he wants to leave, he will first have to swim a little.

Then it was on to Wodonga to meet up with Karl, my eldest grandchild’s father. We had lunch and then went out to visit with his father, Wal, who has to be close to the most remarkable man I have ever met. At the end of the day, a heavy storm arrived and we ate steaks while the deluge thundered on the roof and the sky performed its terrifying dance.


Wal lives 0n 100 acres just outside Wodonga, off the road that leads to the snowfields. Earlier in the afternoon, sipping an occasional beer, we drove in his 4-wheel drive up along the fire track he had cut along the ridge bordering his land to look out along the valley, across to the Hume Weir (one of the great dams in the Snowy River Scheme, Australia' version of the TVA). I was impressed by an old tree, much abused by the weather, that continually oversees this beautiful landscape.

More later from Oz.

BACK IN OZ II

I HAVE BEEN BACK in the land of my birth just over two weeks now. There is not a lot to report. The time has been filled with renewing ties with family and friends. I had a great time meeting up with two friends from graduate school days. The one, Lorraine, I have kept in touch with over the years but the other, Janice, I had not seen for over 25 years. The last time in Melbourne when I visited with her while her son, Daniel, barely three years of age, was raking up autumn leaves. "Mummy," he kept complaining, "the leaves keep on falling." Now he is a grown man and she has raised two daughters since! We lunched while looking across Darling Harbour.

Unfortunately, by the end of the first week, I had come down with what Aussies call a "wog". A bad cold that peaked with a feverish Friday night followed by a Saturday filled with aches and pains. However, I continued the hunt for a second hand car, ably assisted by my nephew. Besides being over six feet and a qualified auto mechanic, his deliberate and careful examination, with lots of note taking and use of lifting devices and stands, certainly impressed the owners of the two cars we had selected. I bought the second, a Volvo 850 of 1997 vintage and some 169,000 kilometers and in very good order. So now I have a car although the transfer of registration had a few kinks to it, due to me not being a resident of New South Wales.

Yes, I proven that I can drive on the left hand side. Driving in Sydney can be a challenge as the streets are narrow, the lanes just wide enough for a car, and the traffic always very dense. On the other hand, the drivers are amazingly tolerant and considerate, accommodating sudden lane changes without signals with out so much as a turn of a hair. Sydney is full of traffic lights and long delays waiting for the green light. A fortune burnt at intersections as cars idle patiently. Also, the growth of the city has been dominated both by history and by the invaginations of the sea as the coast intrudes into the land. Hence you need a map book of the suburbs to fin.d your way around. The book I have has some 480 maps! It pays to study your intended route carefully before setting out and to mark the maps you will need to refer to as you wind your way across the city and suburbs. Tolerant as they may be in most respects, Sydney drivers have little patience with those who seem not to know their way.

Anther week on and I am just about over my cold (seems it is going around and mostly affecting folk who have recently been on planes). Tomorrow, I set out for Canberra and yes, I have been carefully studying how to get out of Sydney, from Bondi Beach where I am staying with my son and his family, to the main highway south to the Australian Capital Territory. I now have a GPS so should not loose my way or, if I do, find it again easily. I will be avoiding the network of tollways as it is difficult to pay electronically or in cash and they are very expensive.

From Canberra I will wend my way around Northeastern Victoria, visiting friends and looking at property and plan to arrive in Melbourne by next weekend. From there I will travel to Adelaide via the Wimmera area in Western Victoria to visit with an old friend I have not seen for many, many years, now a Baptist pastor serving three country congregations in that area.

In two weeks, I shall be in Adelaide.

Nothing else of interest, so...so long

BACK IN OZ

WELL INTO MY FIRST WEEK...the journey has been long and varied and I am now well and truly "down under", almost diametrically through the center of the earth from where I started, driving from Painted Post NY to Basalt CO, then flying to San Francisco (SFO) to enjoy time with friends there before departing.

MY GOOD FRIEND, Dr Francis Wright, went with me to SFO via BART (Bay Area Rapid Transport), virtually from one end of the Bay area to the other, helping me with my now quite heavy suitcases. How good to have friends who provide support at just the right times! The flight lasted about 14 hours leaving around 11 PM and arriving in Sydney 6:45 AM. I passed the time reading, dozing, talking with my young seat companion, a geology student at University of Washington State, or walking about the cabin getting in knee exercises. This also provided protection against the possibility of deep vein thrombosis (DVT), for old codgers like me a serious threat during long periods of seating.

Once in Sydney, I was very much in the arms of my family…my son Andrew and his two sons, my nephew Peter and his family, and my brother, Norton.

I seem to have stood up to my travels pretty well and enjoyed a walk around the block with my nephew, the surroundings ablaze with spring flowers and smitten with the loud sounds of the many birds, on what became increasingly a perfect Sydney spring day.

Thanks for the many good wishes you nave sent me by email. This is a serious time in my life…as Elizabeth (Peter’s wife) remarked, ‘Robert, you are virtually homeless for the time being!’ So then to the work of settling in and settling down. First on the agenda is the purchase of a car. Another of my nephews, Zintis, a qualified mechanic, is assisting me. We have already had a look at one; we make a smooth team. I engage the owner while Zintis goes about his careful inspection and evaluation.

My knee continues to improve and I am able to go down stairs symmetrically now. Getting in lots of walking.

Not much more of interest for the time being. Regards and good wished to you all.

LAST DAY IN THE USA

IT'S THURSDAY SEPTEMBER 16 and a very pleasant afternoon here in Walnut Creek, sunny California (although some rain may be possible over the weekend).

Around about 6 PM, my good friend Francis and I will take the BART out to SFO International Airport. My flight out to Sydney leaves around 10:30, so this will give me enough time for the check in procedures.

It was a long day getting here from Basalt, due to the long stopover at Denver. Up around 3 AM Pacific time and into bed about 10:30 PM. I felt very sad leaving Aspen, saying goodbye to my little family there after four great days seeing what a wonderful young woman my eldest granddaughter has become.

Staying with my friends, Mary and Francis Wright, has been very relaxing and restorative. I am very grateful to them for this pleasant, quiet and enriching time. As ever, we have had deep conversations and I have some new authors to follow through on. Two streams of luggage converged here, the stuff I had sent ahead via UPS and my stuff from Basalt. Lots of 'needle work' separating what I really need to take to Australia and what must be left behind to benefit the local Goodwill.

I am really down to two suitcases for checking (one containing my folding Bike Friday), a computer case, and one other carry-on bag...pretty amazing, really!

So this last blog posting in the USA on a very pleasant afternoon. A very long night and I will be in Sydney. Winnowing the stuff had me immersed in the business of discarding what really had to do with my life here and what I really need to begin anew in Australia. Truly, passing through the needle strips all but the necessities. I arrived in the US on 19 February 1995, making about 15 and one half years here, richer in many ways with experiences and new friends.

Next posting from Sydney. 'Adieu' and 'au revoir', to return in late January, moving into longer and warmer days as the Australian summer bears down.

KNEE #2 UPDATE & THE NEEDLE'S EYE

SEVEN WEEKS have come and gone. The surgeon is happy with progress, as is the physical therapist. I, lacking rationality when it comes to rehabilitation, think that things are going too slow but have learned from the last bout that it is unwise to push too hard. Even so, there have been some moments that caused concern, none of which count being now past. The first knee, surgery and rehabilitation and all, appears to have left me somewhat depleted and my fitness level had slipped by the time of the second procedure, leading to some small complications. What this means is that is wise indeed to have a good interval between the first and the second. Keep this in mind should you or someone you know is contemplating serious surgery.

Which brings me to the Needle's Eye.

Whatever your view of Jesus, his sayings (which are the core of Christian practice) can be very pertinent. In one of the gospels (John), he is depicted in deep conversation with a Jewish Rabbi who came secretly to confer with him. The Rabbi was concerned about how one can live a life that is pleasing to God. The Bible has a lot to say about this, none of which Jesus repeated. What he said was, "One must be born anew to enter the kingdom of God." In another gospel (Mathew) Jesus is reported saying that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.

When you think about it, being born anew or threading a needle can be exceedingly constricting . You have to be or become small in certain ways to make it through.

Whatever biblical commentators make of these sayings (I recommend you Google them), I seem to be in an ever constricting process. Now in Colorado, visiting with my elder daughter and her daughter, I have filtered out a lot of "stuff" leaving Painted Post. I shall divest myself of more during this visit. By the time I reach San Francisco, I will be down to two regular suitcases and carry on bags.

While we are thinking along these lines, one might well ask, "Well then, what is this 'kingdom of God'? As one who tends either agnostic or else atheistic, I take this to mean the life that you really want to live but may feel held back from by reason of unsuitable beliefs, attitudes, habits, and the press of life. Jesus was not concerned with possessions. From his perspective, preoccupation with possessions and riches must have seemed somewhat absurd, particularly if these stood in the way of the life we would wish above all else to be able to live.

So it does one good from time to time to divest all but the essentials. This can happen if one is robbed, or a fire consumes all, or when one moves, as I am doing. Having been robbed three times, apart from annoyance and some grief for things lost, it did appear to me that there could be a positive side. Pioneers who trekked across continents or risked all across oceans learned this lesson.

To go on to the good life can mean leaving much behind. You have to be prepared to let go, even renounce much that seemed to be important.

So far I have driven three days from Painted Post to be with my daughter, making my fourth semi-transcontinental crossing. I am sad to be leaving so much that is good and valuable behind. Passing through the needle's eye is not without pain. I shall miss being each day with my lovely friend, Uma, but we plan that our paths will cross from time to time while we support each other in the paths we must tread in the meantime.

For me, the biggest loss is friends I have made along the way. While travel permits, some at least of you might have to bear an occasional visit from me. Nowadays we have this marvelous Internet so you will continue to hear of me through this Blog. I plan to get better at blogging. I am getting to see that regular updates in Facebook can really work. If you are not on Facebook, give it some serious consideration. That way I will get to hear of you.

I am here at Basalt for three more days and then go on to stay with my friends, Frank and Mary Wright, in San Francisco for a day or two before boarding United Airlines on Thursday night arriving in Sydney on their Saturday morning. My life in America will be behind me, having arrived here as an immigrant on February 19, 1995. Only one or two visits each year remain. On the other hand, I am looking forward to completing my apprenticeship as a grandfather and plan to have my grandchildren remember me a supportive and interesting person.

So it is almost farewell to my life in America, almost time to say, 'Goodbye'.

THE CONNECTEDNESS OF THINGS

WHAT REALLY BOTHERS ME is judging how best to react to a crisis like the great BP Oil Spill. This is a US located disaster and quite a few of the readers of this Blog live far away. Even here in Painted Post, in Upper New York State, it is hard to grasp the gigantic effects of this disaster on the life and ecology this is having and will continue to have. On the other hand, it is hard indeed not to feel some sense of connection to it. Why are BP and similar companies drilling for oil off-shore in the Gulf of Mexico? There some 50,000 drilling sites abound, over half of them capped, abandoned, and un-monitored; only some 600 are related to BP activity. We hardly need to be told this is a risky business in terms of human lives; when I fill up at the local service station it is hard not to think of eleven lives vanished at Deepwater Horizon. In terms of financial risk oil drilling cost billions and only relatively few exploration holes become productive. The per barrel extraction costs keep rising and the amount of oil reserves found keep falling. Yet still we drill for drill we must; and the reason we must is that the demand for petroleum products will continue to rise as more internal combustion vehicles come on the world increasing number of highways.

What can we do? One possible response is outlined in an NY Times OpEd article, This Time It Is Different (June 12, 2010 http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/13/opinion/13friedman.html) in which Thomas Friedman quotes a letter to the editor written by a friend to his local paper. In part, his friend says, "Here's the bottom line: if we want to end our oil addiction, we, as citizens, need to pony up: bike to work, plant a garden, do something. So again, the oil spill is my fault. I'm sorry. I have not done my part." However true this may be, it is far too simple a 'mea culpa'. A large proportion of the working population have been seduced into living far from their work place and must rely on owning and using a car to get to and from from work. The construction of modern suburbs prevents students from walking or riding bikes to and from school and recreation. It is far cheaper to buy a tomato at the supermarket that to grow one at home, even including the cost of driving. Besides, what I do or don't do is a drop in the bucket compared with what others don't do and do.

Maybe a growing consciousness about the cost of things is needed. Perhaps I should think about the eleven dead at Deepwater Horizon when I gas up my car, or the 29 coal miners dead in Pennsylvania when I turn on the light. Or the 35 to 47 $Billion the oil industry receives each year so that I can have relatively cheap gasoline that makes it possible for me to make four trips downtown a week instead of three, or two.

Today I saw a documentary ('Blood, Sweat, and T-Shirts') in which six young Brits went to India to work in the clothing industry that supplies Europe's fashion shops, living and working in the same conditions as Indian workers. It was a trying and testing experience in which they discovered the harsh discipline workers must endure, that the 'bargain' costing 15 Pounds at home resulted in 33 Rupees (about US$0.45) to the worker who assembled it and who must make 16 garments a day to scape together enough for the necessities of life. In the globalization made possible by cheap oil, garments purchased on 'the cheap' in the developed world, worn once or twice before being discarded, mean a cheap life for those who make them.

Discovering the world beyond what is under our nose can be a shocking experience. Caught up in the web of our own existence, we struggle to understand how things might be different for others if we changed our own behavior. Things might be worse, not better...how can we know?

A couple of things stand out for me. We need to be a lot smarter about how the world of economics and politics 'works' and those of us who are finding out more need to spread the word so as to influence our 'masters and betters'.

Just now, in Australia, in last weekend's election, the governing party may have lost power because it dropped the ball on action to combat global warming. Here in the US, we face the awful consequences of an oil disaster that could have been prevented by better regulation and administration of the industry. Perhaps we are beginning to realize that, for democracy to appear, citizens need to be well versed over issues, to take time from Fox news and 'reality TV' and get busy 'googling'. Maybe we need a Church of the Environment, a religion of the Internet to rescue us from ageing political slogans, and...who knows what?

KNEE #2 UPDATE

TWELVE DAYS ON...

Yippee! I am due to have my staples removed today. I mean those metal-like external stitches used to close up the outermost layer of skin. The incision has been healing nicely, and not quite so long as the one on the left knee. The county Home Care folk have a nurse looking after this and also provide a Physical Therapist to make sure I get going on the tasks of flexing and stretching the knee and recovering a proper walk.

This time around I had to stay overnight after the operation (instead of coming home the same day as I did previously). My health insurer had authorized a stay of up to three days but I was surely glad to be discharged the next day and to be heading off for Painted Post. Each location has its own procedures and this time I had to attend for a pre-surgical screening whereas the out-patient surgery location accepted my local doctor's screening. I still had to go to the local doctor however so the second workup was more complicated and involved travelling up to Rochester for the screening. This, plus the overnight stay, puts an extra load on one's carer.

The inpatient stay seemed more automated; for example, there was less choice about anesthesia. This time it was a spinal block as well as the regional block and an IV infusion to control consciousness. I have a recall of being briefly aware of some hammering and drilling at one point in the procedure (as if to someone else, far away). Cathedrization was non-optional so there was the business of removal and getting the 'water works' going. I suppose one could categorize these as the downsides.

The upsides included special care via pneumatic cuffs on the feet to ensure circulation in the lower limbs, immediate use of ice therapy to manage swelling, more physical therapy and occupational therapy attention, more people with whom to interact, and quite good meals. Also, on the plus side, I got to bring home the ice treatment machine. Apart from the time component, there is much less pressure on one's carer. Being in hospital for an extra day means that day is spent with lots of support.

All in all, what one loses on the swings, one picks up on the merry-go-rounds, as the saying goes.

Having trod this path (forgive the metaphor, if you can) once before, I find I tend to be impatient with progress and maybe a little more irritable on this account. To be fair, however, my impression is that recovery is a little faster this time around. The surgeon reported that the operation was less complex for this knee. I am certainly experiencing a lot less bruising of the lower leg, so he must have had to do less work on getting everything aligned properly.

So here I am, using my walking stick still but able to walk about unaided for short distances and looking forward to the sutures going. I can sit long enough to peck away at this blog and email so expect to hear a little more from me.

ON BEING 73: PART 2

HOW MUCH THE WORLD HAS CHANGED and how much more will it change?

Older folk go on from time to time about the "good old days". I am not sure that such have ever existed but it is interesting to reflect on how the world was when one was young. My first four years were spent on our small farm in the Mid-North of South Australia. This dry-farming country just north of the Clare Valley (now famous for its wines) and about 100 miles north of the state capitol, Adelaide. The Depression was about over and the Second World War about to begin.

Apart from a few well-off, long established farmers, I suspect we were somewhat poor. Grain prices were down and cash flow was ever a problem. I think we ran about 20 cows that my father hand milked. Each evening, he separated the cream, using a hand operated separator. I loved to wathch his steady rhythm as a steady flow of rich cream appeared in the collector. From this, my mother churned butter to be sold at the Clare market for cash. We had no electric power so used kerosene lamps at night. A party-line telephone and a battery-powered radio kept is in touch with the world. My father had been widowed in 1933 and married my mother the following year. Tragically, their first child died, drowning in a close-by creek during harvest at just 18 months age. Even so, I am sure they recalled "good old days".

Once war broke out, manpower shortages forced my father to close up the farm. We moved into Clare and he rejoined the Army. We now had electric power but had no telephone. Wartime meant shortages and strict rationing of almost every thing. There were national programs to recover scrap of almost every sort. The unemployment endemic prior to the war came to an end through military service or work in factories devoted to producing war material. Shortages and rationing continued into the early 1950s.

Despite the wartime conditions, I had an almost idyllic childhood. Prior to teenage years, this was spent in the county or the natural settings of Adelaides. In those days, there was little or no pollution of streams and we could swim, fish, and frolic in the river, dammed up in the city area to form a lake, and riding our bikes or hiking.

Relative to life in the US, Australia was somewhat 'backward'. Having marched into war for the sake of King and 'Empire', we were mightily glad for the role US forces played in the defense of Australia. The population of Australia was about one quarter of the current level of 26 million. The national government established the 'Snowy River Scheme'', requiring American engineering expertise from the TVA and large numbers of migrants from Europe. The economy began to improve though few of us had any such notion as "the economy".

This was the beginning of boom times in both countries, particularly the US. Amongst the many explanations for this is a relatively clear and simple account offered by Jeff Rubin in his recent book, 'Why Your World Is About To Get A Whole Lot Smaller'. He posits that the post war boom was enabled by cheap and plentiful oil. This continued up to the OPEC embargo of the early 1970s. He shows that cheap oil relates to the boom-bust business cycle. When demand is less, cheap oil acts to stimulate the economy. More oil is used to drive the improving economy so it then rises in price. In turn, this slows business and brings on the next recession.

It was simpler when the developed nations were the main consumers and the large oil companies owned the major oil fields. Now the large fields have been taken over by oil producing nations and economies like China and India are developing a middle class bent on owning motorcars just like the rest of us. A third factor is that oil producing countries are increasingly reserving oil for their domestic consumption. Finally, oil is getting harder to find, extract, and bring to market. BP's woes with deep sea drilling underscore this problem. Deep sea supplies were expected to make up 12% of new supplies. Safe retrieval of deep sea oil will now mean more expensive crude.

So much for the "good old days"; what of my next 20 years (and yours)?

Transport uses 70% of fossil fuels consumed. We private car owners consume 50% of that. Experience has shown that, as fuel cost rise, we travel less, the bottom limit being set by our need to commute and drive other essential miles. We also plan our miles more carefully. More fuel can be allocated to business transport, like trucking and rail transport. As these industries confront rising fuel costs, more goods are transported the cheapest way, by train and by water (yes, traffic on the Erie Canal increased 300% when fuel was over $4 per gallon!). The goods transported by the more expensive modes will rise in price, especially food and most especially food provided by the large agricultural companies.

We will show great innovation about how to use less gas and oil. How long will be our period of adjustment to a lower standard of living (as defined by the use of motor transport)? If you look to Europe and $7 per gallon gasoline, there will be a lot of Chrysler/Fiat 500s, three door super-mini hatchbacks, and scooters.

What I fret about, as I consider possible futures, is the rising cost of energy and how this will slow economic recovery. Almost everything we dig out of the ground, even coal and the oil from Alberta's oil sands, is done by machines using oil. When oil was triple digit dollars, mining companies began to close down mines. Since the economy runs on energy, where will the required energy come from?

According to some pundits, it will take 20 years to bring alternate energy sources to significant levels and the same period to replace sufficient gas guzzler cars with really economic or electric vehicles. As for the latter, imagine the extra load charging up all those electric cars will put on the grid...a grid that threatens to collapse with too many air-conditioners are on in the summer. A more taxing question is from what energy source will the necessary power be generated.

I hope that human ingenuity will come into force. A recent article,

http://www.courier-journal.com/article/20100717/GREEN/7140373

tells how the Empire State Building management is spending $13 million to replace 6,514 windows with remade, energy efficient windows. The power saving will be 38% making possible recovery of the outlay in just over three years! Using cars less, using more efficient cars, and conserving energy looks like the way to go, nobody disagrees.

The problem is with price; while energy is relatively cheap, most of us do little to conserve. It might be hard to extricate ourselves from a looming nightmare dilemma if we all wait until price forces us to conserve. But what is new?

ON 73

ON BEING 73

I had written an earlier post ('Painted into a Corner') prompted by the huge oil spill off the Louisiana coast but decided it was a little too boring. Since most of you seem interested in the personal side of my journey through life and now that I am getting accustomed to the age of 73, why not a note on what this is like for me.

First, a knee update. On the whole, going pretty well. However, as would not surprise some of you, I took too much advantage of this and got out my road-bike, the faithful Trek 2120. After giving it a good cleaning and tune up, off we went. Regarding my legs going up and down as I pedaled slowly and steadily, I noticed that relative to the top frame tube, the left knee now passed much closer than the right. This is due to the realignment of the joint so that it is less bow-legged, I thought to myself. All went well on the ride and a day or two later I ventured a little further. Horror!!! The next day the knee was so sore on the outside that I could barely walk. This was also the day of a visit to my physical therapist so I had to confess to overdoing things. His comment: not unusual to have a flare up like this. With a new set of exercises to stretch the offended connective tissue, lots of Ibuprofen for several days, regular ice packs, and the knee is gradually improving. When will I ever learn not to overdo things? At 73, I had better get with the program!

Ah yes, the next knee job will be on July 21, so I am about to go through it all again.

I write this on the eve of American Independence Day so the date, American fashion, is 7/3...another 73. I am rather partial to prime numbers, as 73 happens to be, and so are a bunch of mathematicians. Apparently, every whole number is either a prime number or made up from two primes. Since there are an infinite number of whole numbers, it follows that the number of primes is also infinite. However, it is difficult to predict or generate primes. My next prime age will be 79, the age at which my paternal grandfather died. On a street car, in Adelaide, and I am not sure if he had paid his fare. How many primes have I left to me to enjoy? My mother lived to 102, so maybe I have a few more.

Even at 73, first experiences are possible. Some good things have happened already. For example, just last week, as I was walking around the block as a warm up for my home physical therapy exercises, I heard a steady, loud, hammering sound. Looking up to where the sound appeared to be originating, I spied a large, black, handsome bird crowned with a red comb banging his beak against a tree. My first glimpse of a pileated woodpecker; widespread across the norther part of the country but not often seen; here it is:

Indeed, a handsome bird, but my recall is that the beak was somewhat more pronounced. At any rate, he could really pound that tree! And big, at about 18 inches or 45 cm long.

Another first happened the other night. After a couple of days of really sultry weather, a severe thunderstorm alert, prompted me to go out to see if it was coming. My eyes were attracted downward to the lawn where there were hundreds of winking, bright pinpoints of white light...fireflies!!! Amazing. So far as I am aware, we do not have fireflies in Australia (but perhaps in caves) and I had not seen any in the Northwest. The next day, the barrista in the coffee shop told me that the folks down South, such as in Georgia, catch them and place them in jars to light the night, releasing them the next day.

Perhaps the secret of living, to a degree, is the art of 'finding firsts'; at the least, they certainly stir the blood. I think I may have a few ahead. Some of you know that I plan to return to Australia later this year to resume residence there. Yes, on September 18, I board the United Flight from San Francisco to return to the land of my birth, ending some 15 years of residence in the US. With good friends and family still here, of course, I will return from time to time. In the Gospels, Jesus remarked that it is 'easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God'. He was referring to the necessity, once the main gate of a walled city was closed at night, of bending low to pass through the 'eye gate'...quite a tight squeeze! So it will be for me; my possessions will have been reduced to what will fit into two suitcases. With less than what I had when I left in February of 1995, I will re-enter my home land.

In many ways, I expect this to be the beginning of a new life. To stay with the biblical metaphors, I will be 'born again', enduring the narrow passage of birth and stripped of all but a few possessions just as Jesus said, 'Except one is born again, one cannot see the kingdom of God'.

Jesus was referencing a universal law of the journey: to go somewhere, one must first accept the discipline of the way to be taken.

What will I do and where will I live in the land that awaits my discovery?

And what is this like for me? Quite exciting; I am minded of the words that Tennyson put into the mouth of Ulysses:

I cannot rest from travel,

I will drink life to the lees...

...

For always roaming with a hungry heart

Much have I seen and known...

...

I am part of all that I have met,

Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'

Gleams that far untravell'd world, whose margin fades

For ever and forever when I move.

How dull it is to pause, to make an end,

To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!

As tho' to breath were Life! Life piled on life

Were all to little, and of one to me

Little remains: but every hour is saved

From that eternal silence, something more,

A bringer of new things...

...

And this gray spirit, yearning in desire

To follow knowledge like a sinking star,

Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

Ah well, a tall order; but why not give it shot?

BEYOND THE MIDDLE

ON THE LEFT KNEE FRONT:

A quick report...

It seems I am past the Terrible Middle. The incision has healed nicely, the bruising and soreness has gone from the leg, as has most of the swelling.

Some notable moments...

Walking all the way around the local block without aid of stick

Turned my compost heap over last week

Mowed the back lawn yesterday and also rode my bike around the block

Can walk down stairs using alternate steps (vs. stepping down always with left leg)

Resumed visits to the gym (upper body and arms only)

Work at Physical Therapy is going well, resulting in a good increase in knee flexion this week.

Sleeping better due to less discomfort from knee

My Physical Therapist is quite a card and here is a quip from him.

Question: What is the difference between a Physical Therapist and a terrorist?

Answer: You can negotiate with a terrorist

Pertinent, as the business of extending the range of movement has its (painful) moments.

I think the lesson from the Terrible Middle is that, while orthopaedic surgery has an almost magical aspect, especially as an outpatient procedure, the real work of recovery and rehabilitation is in my court if I want that fully functional knee.

A week or so past the use of pain killers, I notice that brain function has improved; I am able to get on with necessary tasks and I am taking more notice of what is going on in the world. Here in the US, the big news continues to be the oil disaster off the coast of Louisiana so maybe some thoughts relating to that next time around.

Many thanks for good wishes from quite a few of you. I have endeavored to respond as I received them but, if I missed replying to any, please accept this general appreciation.

THE TERRIBLE MIDDLE

HARD INDEED, it is to find a proper name for a phase like The Terrible Middle. Whatever the right name, here I am in the Terrible Middle...perhaps The Dreadful Middle, could that be the right term?

Those of you who have been here will know what I am getting at. Back when I rode century bike rides with my mates in Portland, I came to understand the existence of this Middle. How does one ride 100 miles? Or run a marathon? Physical training is important but can be overemphasized. Psychological conditioning is most important and often this comes down to understanding The Terrible Middle. Thirty three miles to warm up, then thirty three of the The Terrible Middle, and then "Well, anyone can ride 33 miles.".

Right now, my Terrible Middle looks and feels like this: Surgery done, walking about a bit, off drugs, only need pain medication occasionally, driving the car for shopping and library, but only able to sit, stand, walk, read (long list could continue) for short periods. Little engages my interest, I read but do not take in, chocolate does not yet taste like chocolate should, I eat because it is time to eat, food is boring...how the litany flows on! Folks, let me introduce you to my my Terrible Middle.

The only good thing to say about the Terrible Middle is that it is a Middle. How far can one venture into a forest? Well, just to the Middle...after that one is on the Way Out. One of my favorite TV shows is 'Man Against Nature' (a silly title, really, since man is part of nature). The heroic adventurer is in a dense Bolivian jungle, for example, and climbs a tree to see where he is in the forest; or shows us a way of keeping going in the right direction to exit the forest. Knowing the forest from the trees seems like a very good idea. Understanding the Middle and how not to go around in circles could be one of the great secrets in life.

This is not confined to long cycle rides or recovery from surgery. Where are we in the Great Financial Crisis; what about the Great Oil Spill; and how about the ordinary business of getting older? Unfortunately, despite our expectations from our youth, Terrible Middles abound and may even pass unnoticed.

What we do in the midst of the Middles, retrospectively, can be critical. Learning to save instead of spending, engaging in kindness to others, taking a walk in the sun instead of being indoors watching Telly, talking with a neighbor, and the like. Generally, doing other than what we prefer to do or are wont to do bears on the secret of surviving the Terrible Middle.

For those in the Terrible Middle of middle age, let me recommend Barbara Strauch's book, "The Secret Life of the GROWN UP BRAIN". Not only will this book slay many myths and fears about the aging brain, but also light up the path of things to do to exploit the strengths and properties of the mature brain.

Middle Age happens not to be a problem for me. On Saturday I trip over my 73rd Birthday and thus near the final quarter of my life. I am having a lot of fun dreaming up what that will be.

On the knee front, what lies ahead is the work of rehabilitation, especially restoring a good range of motion through physical therapy, extending my walking range, and also arranging the next ordeal for the right knee. I see the surgeon next Tuesday and hope that the good progress made with the left will persuade him to press on with the work on the remaining knee.

NEW KNEE: DAY 8

TUESDAY: Just over one week since the surgery.

Yesterday the local area nurse came by to change the dressing and check progress (measuring various circumferences and the like). An opportunity to get pictures and here they are...not exactly what one might call pretty! I have 14 staples closing up the skin and they are due to come out toward the end of this week. The underlying sutures closing up the deeper layers will dissolve. As you can see, there is a deal of bruising. What you can see from the back of the leg is due to the tourniquet used to stop the flow of blood to the knee during the procedure. There are other areas of bruising related to retraction of the sides of the incision to expose the operating area ands on the shin and ankle where the jigs to do with the carpentry and assuring alignment were sited.

Seeing all this bruising has reinforced in my awareness that one serious risk of the procedure is the formation of blood clots that could cause a lot of trouble in the leg and other parts of the body (lungs, heart, brain, and so on). I have been careful to take my blood thinning medication and to do the exercises that offset this risk.

I am pleased to report that the wound is healing well and swelling seems reduced each time the leg is measured. It is good to be able to slack off and spend lots of time napping with my feet elevated. I now am able to walk with more or less respectable form without the aid of a stick but the stick still proves to be a good tutor as to the proper way to walk. Life is a not unpleasant routine of my five physical therapy workouts followed by some time lying with feet elevated listening to a recorded book, interspersed by short walks hither and yon (like out to the mail box).

Pain management has been excellent; I must admit that I was prepared to experience considerable discomfort and it has be a welcome surprise to have very little pain. Discomfort seems to unravel or become apparent in 'layers'. By the middle of last week, this had resolved into deep muscle pain. Toward the end of the week and over the weekend, it was related to the bruising of the outer tissues. Just recently, it has to do more with the actual incision and I will be pleased to see those 14 staples on their way! Pain puts a limit on how much the knee can be flexed but flexion happens to be the name of the game. Small advances are acceptable and achievable. Really, I am very happy to report, pain has been no 'big deal'.

I discovered one aspect of healing that I could have anticipated from my reading around depression. Healing of serious injuries results in a process around the wound site that eventually sends messages to the rest of the body to slow down (via substances called 'cytokines') so that energy can be conserved toward the healing process. This have a side effect of depressed mood. I had forgotten this until I noticed that I was not enjoying the taste of food and was finding it hard to focus when reading. I ordered up some baking chocolate (very dark) and made sure I spent some time out the sun, as well seeking the company of my neighbors when outdoors. At first the chocolate did not quite taste like chocolate but the pleasure of its taste, I am glad to say, has returned.

I did get a little 'cabin crazy' yesterday. I found, however, that I could get in an out of the car without too much difficulty, so took my self off down to the local coffee shop for good coffee, my favorite cinnamon roll, and conversation.

It turns out that getting over the insult to one's body that surgery happens to be is quite complicated and, no matter how impressive the surgery itself may be, it does require quite a bit of personal effort and dedication in the recovery phases.

From now on, I promise, only occasional reports; it may be that there are more interesting things to write about. If you have a question, put it in the comments section and I will answer it the best I can.