I’ve been interested in biodiesel for a few years now. I would love to convert an old Mercedes 240D into a Grease Car. But there are a number of other projects I’ll never get around to, to get to first. Once my odometer finally tops 300,000 miles I imagine I’ll guy a new one. As much as I’d love to get an old Mercedes, it’s much more reasonable to assume that I will be driving a Rabbit, Mini, or Smart Car.
Why someone would drive around filming Bath Maine from the passenger seat I don’t know. Further still to put that video up on You Tube seems somehow nearly status quo. I was fortunate enough to be stationed in Maine in ‘04. It was the place I fell in love with the outdoors again. Where I remembered how to fish, camp, canoe, kayak, and climb. This New England town was the perfect place for my twenty-three year old soul. I will take a piece coastal Maine with me through out my life and am grateful that someone would spend eight minutes and forty-nine seconds driving around for me.
Looking back on this year that I predictably cannot believe has flown by I reflect on my writings as a signpost of who I am and where I am headed in yet another major transitional period of my life. In the midst of this period following a second deployment and separation from military service I began my academics inspired by a fishing story nearly four years old. Maine has fairly liberal fishing laws. As I understood them when I was stationed there in aught four, no permit was required for fishing in coastal and tidal waters. That season we fished Striper along the mouth of the Kennebec, camping on the beaches every weekend we had off. In August of that year I overheard some of the the auxiliary crew and deck hands complaining how each of them had gotten tickets from a game warden for fishing without a license up state. Another received a citation for urinating in public, in the river no less. While they all laughed it off I wondered how hard it seemed you would have to work at getting cited for fishing without a license. You would need to forgo the immediate four hundred thirty-eight of miles of coastal waters, ignore the eight dollar temporary permit for the weekend at the tackle shop, then piss into public waters at a state park. I reviled in the repercussion of their arrogance. Shortly after, it occurred to me that that someone got paid to patrol the scenic beauty of those northern New England waters. It was their daily routine to protect and preserve that alluring land. I set out to achieve my Bachelor of Environmental Science in hopes of working in fishing and wildlife enforcement.
As I wane into my late twenties I consider my views of identity, community, and tradition. I feel grateful that my life experience to this point has allowed me to work with people from the world over, building strong teams and a better understanding of the culture of humanity. As Jon Stewart said in his commencement address to the 2004 class of The College of William and Mary in Williamsburg Virginia, “The unfortunate, yet truly exciting thing about your life is that there is no core curriculum. The entire place is an elective.”
It seems as if the State Patrol pulled someone over for a seatbelt violation which led to the discovery of methamphetamines. The subsequent arrest then apparently lead to jail time for a 2006 “Illegal hunting trip of a life time” which left carcasses scattered across Alaska.
Link: Everett Herald
I’ve been hiking and camping through out the Central Cascades since I’ve first moved here nearly four years ago, I have even managed to make it out to the Olympics. I rediscovered how much I loved the outdoors while I was stationed in Maine, years after I had given up on the Boy Scouts after realizing that an atheist could never really abide by the twelfth point of the scout law. A discussion that I am still ok with almost a decade later, despite how close I was to becoming Eagle. Obtaining one of the highest ranks in a religious organization that excludes children based on their sexual orientation would carry a heavier burden on my soul than any lost achievements.
Excited about the upcoming season, my oldest son being old enough to take on tougher outings, and my wife’s confession of her desire to summit Rainier, I eagerly await the equinox. I bought an Audubon field guide this morning for the Pacific Northwest as a self present. My wife perplexed on what to get me for my upcoming birthday and I somehow decided to get binoculars. More for the family, she had wanted to get into bird watching earlier last year and my oldest son loves going out on hikes and hunt as he calls it, when he brings along his book of animals hoping to see a tiger in the wetland preserve near Boeing.
I’m feeling inspired by the ranting essays of David Gessner I will arm myself with my upcoming binoculars and filed guide and take to the Cascades and shores to identify every 483 different bird species in Washington.
Monkey Boiled Alive at Everett Research Lab.
KIRO News reports that a Macaque Monkey was boiled alive last November at the SNBL primate lab in Everett WA.
I understand the need for animals in pharmaceutical testing, but when something like this happens we need to reevaluate what we’re doing and how we go about it.
I first heard about the primate research facility a few years after I moved here. I was always curious where it was at and was told that the location was pretty hush hush. I doubt that was really the case because once I knew the name of the place, 6605 Merrill Creek Pkwy, Everett, WA 98203, was pretty easy to find.
Douglas Coupland wrote, “You see, when you’re middle class, you have to live with the fact that history will ignore you. You have to live with the fact that history can never champion your causes and that history will never feel sorry for you. It is the price that is paid for day-to-day comfort and silence. And because of this price, all happinesses are sterile; all sadnesses go unpitied.”
We are the disappearing middle class, to us there is no connection between our plates and microwaves to the farmer’s field or slaughter houses. While this sad statement tethers us to the sterility of our daily lives and eating habits it also gives us the luxury to make a difference if even for a fleeting moment of self recognition. Since suburban ordinances restrict us from growing our own food and keep the farmer from processing theirs we can take an objective look at our relationship to our community and the environment that surrounds us. First through understanding, then through conscious thinking. We may not be able to solve the worlds problems but we no longer have to support them.