Southern discomfort

I had the chance last week to browse about the Saugatuck library sans kids. A rare alignment of the stars permitted this to happen, so I took advantage.

I was looking for another book to read, so I wandered the fiction area looking for the EarthSea Trilogy by Ursula K. LeGuin but came up empty. I did, though, come across Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird." I hadn't read the book since the ninth (or 10th) grade and I figured age would give me a new appreciation for the book. I was right.

Questions

If I recall, the book I read in school was abridged and didn't much use the word "nigger," but I could be wrong. That was a shame, because the use of the word is key in the novel. Scout and Jem stop using it once they realize it's a demeaning term. The transformation is subtle but has impact.

The scene where Atticus shoots the rabid dog (the photo above is of Gregory Peck in the film -- a great work! -- from that scene) holds great weight with me as well. As is brought up by the kids, Atticus can use violence -- and effectively -- to solve his problems, but he doesn't. And, of course, he shoots the jays (Bob Ewell) but leaves the mockingbird (Boo Radley) alone.

I had forgotten the morbid humor of the closing scenes: Scout in a homemade ham costume being attacked by Bob Ewell. Funny but sickening just the same. Just like pork.

The novel left me with several questions -- the kind you can't really answer. But here are three that might have answers:

1: Is "To Kill a Mockingbird" the great American novel? I find it more meaningful than "The Great Gadsby" and certainly more approachable than "Moby Dick." Not sure about the Mark Twain thing. But, alas, I've wasted my youth reading Victorian novels, so my knowledge of American writers is limitted.

2: Is Atticus Finch a good father? He worries about this in the book, about leaving a meaningful legacy for his children. That creates the conflict about whether to tell the truth about Arthur "Boo" Radley killing Bob Ewell or following the sheriff's plan of saying Ewell fell on his knife.

Also, Atticus lets his kids roam about unattended for almost entire days. Would a good father do that?

Atticus also puts a lot of emphasis on being in another man's shoes. This works well, especially with Jem and the neighbor with the morphine addiction, but does he go too far? He misjudged Ewell and his ability to harm Scout and Jem. He misjudged Tom Robinson and his desire to escape. Both had deadly results.

3: Is racism still around? I can say yes -- ask any black or Hispanic man who drives a car in Holland. He's probably been pulled over at five times the rate of white people. Ask a black, Hispanic or Asian person who goes to court and you'll probably find they get a harsher sentence than a white person. But is this racism as heavy as in the novel? More pervasive, more evil? Or just different?

Thought:

"An' they chased him 'n' never could catch him 'cause they didn't know what he looked like, an' Atticus, when they finally saw him, why he hadn't done any of those things ... Atticus, he was real nice ..."

"Most people are, Scout, when you finally see them."

Pressure

Oh, hear me sing

The praises of power

That comes from the tap and the shower;

A beautiful thing.

After months of having nothing but a trickle from the faucet, we finally have normal water pressure.

The crew from Bruce's Underground (his underground what?) showed up Friday with a backhoe and shovels to install a new water connection from the main under Main Street to our house of the clogged artery. It took them all day, and cost us $2,500, but it's worth it.

Fennville Factor

For months we've had little more than drops from the sinks and shower. The toilets took 10 minutes to fill; the washer took days, it seemed, even for a small load. In fact, it's been more than a year since we had enough force to run water through a hose to the garden.

Once we determined the problem was outside the house, but not in the city's waterline, we set about finding someone to help. Once again, we hit what I call the Fennville Factor. This iron law says that contractors and professionals will do everything under the sun to avoid coming to Fennville because everyone here is poor or a minority.

I called three plumbers to come down, and only one finally took my call. He suggested that he could not help me, but that I should call Bruce's Underground (a great name for a Scottish rock band or World War II movie starring Van Johnson) because, well, that's what he would do.

Luckily, Bruce was not afflicted by the Fennville Factor and promptly showed up. Seems he had worked on a house just down the street and felt Fennville people trustworthy. Poor but honest.

The only delay: We had rain and lightning the first two days the workers were scheduled to arrive. The sun finally popped out Friday.

As the crew was wrapping up that day, the foreman showed me a section of pipe from the ground. It was about the size of a toilet paper tube, but the inside was so encrusted with rust and sediments that the actual hole the water had to pass through was less than the diameter of a pen.

The pipes were at least 50 years old, probably 75 years old.

Well, the water runs great now. I about blew off my skin when I stepped under the shower.

The aftermath

Now that the water works are done, we are left with a side yard full of mud. Needless to say, the kids love it. Thus, the photo up top of my youngest daughter's shoes waiting to be rinsed on the back step.

Thought: My name is mud -- and I like it.

The post office

We do not have a mailbox in the traditional suburban sense.

We have a box at the post office (thus, a post office box). When we first moved here, the city did not allow folks to have mailboxes on their property. That has long since changed, but we've kept the post office box.

Why? Well, I'm lazy to begin with. Changing something takes effort. But let me tell you about my experience at the post office yesterday that may help explain:

I went into the post office to pick up a package. As I waited, I stood behind Jerry. He taught the class on the Bhagava-Gita I took a year or so ago. It was nice to chat with him. Behind me was Roger, the UPS delivery man. Jayne and I know Roger and his wife, Dawn, from about 15 years ago or so. We all chatted as we waited.

When it was my turn at the counter, the post master smiled, asked me how I was doing today and if I have had a chance to go bike riding over the last few days. As he got the packages -- I didn't have to tell him my name or address -- we talked about the weather and a few other things.

So, I got my mail and some pleasasnt conversation. I normally wouldn't get the latter if I had a box at the curb of my sidewalk.

Thought: And the post office is about three blocks from my door.

One birthday down ...

We celebrated Elspeth's 10th birthday Sunday afternoon in the traditional way -- Chuck E. Cheese followed by an hour at Crazy Bounce.

Above, Elspeth smiles between bites of pizza and games.

We invited several of Elspeth's friends and Alyssa brought her friend Oscar. Seems they all had a good time.

What's Crazy Bounce? It's a place full of those giant inflatable slides and obstacle courses. The place also has a giant Velcro wall -- just put on a Velcro suit and jump up. For kids, the place is great fun. For adults, well, I just watch and worry for broken bones, bruises and all the germs that congregate on the surfaces.

Alyssa's birthday is in June. Who knows what she'll do.

Thought: After an afternoon surrounded by kids, my mind is blank.

Back in the saddle

I got my first bike ride of the season in on Tuesday. Nothing major. About 10 miles around Hutchins Lake.

The lake is still frozen over, but I didn't get the normal cold blast off the surface as I passed. The strong winds were out of the southwest, so, being on the south side of the lake, the warmth stayed in the breeze.

The ice reminded me of early spring riding south of Buffalo. There's an ice boom on Lake Erie before it forms the Niagara River and heads into the Falls. This net across the lake stops huge chunks of ice from flowing into the hydroelectric generators. So, where I grew up, the air stayed colder longer than those who were just a few miles away. You can actually see the line of ice on the lake: One side is clear blue open water; the other, gnarled chunks of ice.

Anyway, as I'd ride close to the lake, I'd hit a wall of cold air because of the wind off the ice jam. It wasn't far away. Just down Orchard Avenue a couple of blocks and -- BAM -- you hit a drop of like 10-plus degrees.

Well, none of that here. I had a challenging headwind in the first half of the ride, but a great push the rest of the way home.

What I notice most about spring rides, besides the melting snow forming impromptu rivers, is the litter. Man, we are pigs. Food wrappers, cups, tires, bags all over the sides of roads and in the trees.

About the above picture: I took the shot above of my bike in my garage. I added a bag on my handlebars and removed the wrack and bag from the back of the bike. I needed something I could put a map in! I spent too many miles last summer wandering the streets of South Haven trying to figure out where the heck I was!

Book break

I finished a book one of my wife's coworkers passed on. He knows I'm a fan of World War II armor, so he shared the book, "The Trail of the Fox" by David Irving (1977).

It's a good read about Rommel. I liked how the author inserted first-person graphs about his interviews with Rommel associates and how he (the author) found some of the documents he used as sources.

The book was not sympathetic to Rommel, and seemed to paint him as a selfish, glory-seeking man who understood tactics but not the big picture.

Another good book about Rommel is "Knight's Cross" by David Fraser. I've read a few Fraser works -- he's a detailed writer -- an a bit more objective than Irving.

Also, I read "The Rommel Papers," a collection of letters and other writings from Rommel edited by B.H. Liddell-Han. It's a good insight into his day-to-day and personal thoughts.

Of course, I enjoyed Rommel's own work, "Infantry Attacks." I follow his mantra from the work: Sweat saves blood!

I'd recommend reading Guderian's "Achtung Panzer!" as a companion to Rommel's work.

Thought: From the movie "Kelly's Heroes," as Oddball explains why he bought a Tiger tank from an SS officer: "It's a mother beautiful tank!"

Sick Daze

The girls have been sick the past week, as the photo above shows.

Alyssa was out of school Tuesday through today (Friday) with a fever. Elspeth just started with the fever Thursday and stayed home from school and piano lessons. Her piano teacher said that four of her six students cancelled Wednesday due to sickness.

Jayne's mom is feeling ill, too. Jayne seems OK so far. I'm toast because one of my coworkers called in sick Monday and Tuesday, so I'm working all this week.

As the picture above shows, there really isn't enough room on the couch for two sickies, but they manage. I think you can see the cat, Melvis, between the girls. He's about 2,000 years old and just loves when people sprawl on the couch because he can cuddle with them.

What you don't see is our little dog, Mischa, who is angry that his spot at the end of the couch is being occupied by Elspeth. So, Mischa is taking out his frustration on our other dog, Milo, by jumping and biting his neck. Milo is a chocolate Lab and outweighs Mischa by about 75 pounds, but Mischa seems to win every battle.

Thought: Is it time for more medicine? I need it!