Shooting the messengers

Years ago, we at the Deseret News Utah County Bureau in Provo were worried about a very angry news source.
This man felt we were deliberately attacking him in print.
He would sometimes stand across the street and stare up at our office.
He was a big man and just a little unhinged.
It was unnerving.
Our office was pretty open and people could literally walk in off the street with a complaint, a sales pitch or a weapon.
We realized that by putting our names on our stories we were actually volunteering for trouble.
A couple of us asked the receptionist if we had money in petty cash for pepper spray.
She kind of laughed and said she would check on it.
The news bureau chief offered to buy us some toy guns that looked real.
I remember at the time thinking we were probably overreacting.
Since then I've watched the reports on the news about the random mass shootings and car plows and suicide bombings.
The latest tragedy at the Maryland Capital Gazette is horrifying. The people killed were just doing their jobs, just following their inclination to make a difference.

The newspaper men and women killed

It calls attention to the fact that working as a journalist is not so much a situation that calls our worries an overreaction as underplaying what's reality today.
I think it's sad to be at this point.
I also think it's time we wake up and take it very seriously.
I now work from home and seldom do a hard news story.
The closest I come to ticking somebody off is to make a bad joke in this blog.
Meanwhile...
Where does one buy pepper spray and how do I keep it away from the grandchildren?

Counting the miles...

So Marc is telling me about trying to make it home in the electric Leaf on Eco mode with the radio off, the air conditioning shut down, and the windows open.
I'm listening and laughing at his story.
He barely made it (in my opinion) to our garage without going into "turtle mode" which is when the car basically is moving on instinct rather than electrical power.
We had taken our granddaughter to meet her mom in Salt Lake and now we know that to do that we need the car charged at least up to 85 miles. 100 percent would be better.
I tried it a week later on 87 miles and I was sweating it by the time I reached 106th South.
The heat cuts into the range a little and freeway speeds reduce the available miles.
Where I had laughed a little at the image of Marc rolling along the highway with the windows open and at a pretty reduced speed, when it was my turn I didn't laugh.
I stopped thinking it was amusing.
I started watching the mileage rate as I came off down the hill from 1400 East.
Coming downhill is encouraging because not only do you not lose any miles, you gain.
And on the freeway, it was bumper-to-bumper traffic which for me was a plus.
The electric car does fine in parked-car traffic. It doesn't lose anything.
However, I'm still a chicken when it comes to running out of power.
I like to know I can get home without calling a tow truck. (My daughter reminded me that one of the gifts Nissan gave us at the outset is a miniature tow hook for the front of the car.)
I did all of the things Marc had done, took all the same measures: put the car in Eco mode (though it's a little more sluggish in Eco), turned off my music, opened the windows and shut down the air conditioning).
I knew once I cleared the Point of the Mountain and down onto the surface streets, I could coast on home — which I did. But usually my rules is the car should be at 40 miles left at the crest of the Point.
It was at 32, 18 when I got home and with only 1 and a half power bars left.
I reflected on my experience yesterday when my grandkids, Cael and Mia, took our little Monster machine over to the park.
Cael, who routinely checks the gas mileage as he buckles in, was alarmed. "We almost out!" he cried.
Mia leaned over to look. "Grandma, it's on the yellow! she said. (In this small battery-powered car, yellow means "hurry back home" and red means you're stopped in the road.)
Again, I was counting miles and steps back to our garage and the charger.
With a bit of pushing and crossing of fingers, we made it.
Both cars are now charging and we'll all be fine.
I'm just wondering if the electric car makers realize the "range anxiety" is a real thing for all of us.

Flying high...

If you should be inclined to catch the Thunderbirds in the Air Force Air Show at Hill Air Force Base today (or in the future) I have just a few words of essential advice:
Take water, cold water.
Take and wear sunscreen. Apply often and liberally.
Wear a hat and sunglasses.
Wear good, comfortable shoes.
Take a chair.
An umbrella cuts the heat.
Bring earplugs.
Take cash and prepare to spend it for food and trinkets and cold stuff.

Prepare for a long day as the Thunderbirds don't perform their amazing and thrilling show until 3 o'clock "sharp" and even then, it's a 45-minute wait while they go through their pre-flight checklist on the way to actually taking off.
If you take children, secure them with a wristband with your phone number on it. Lots of little folks ended up in the Lost Children facility awaiting reunification.

And take advantage of the UTA special which allows you to ride the Frontrunner and bus bridge for $5 round trip. Not only does it save you the headache of fighting traffic and finding parking but the police made concessions for the buses, allowing them to speed through the intersections without delay.
It's still a crusher at the end when thousands of fans try to leave and board all at the same time.
We went yesterday morning after a stint with our ward cleaning the church so we were there fairly early. (It opens at 8 a.m. and flights begin around 10 a.m.)
If we were to go again I would wait until the afternoon and go around 2:30 so as to catch the Mighty Thunderbirds.
They truly are worth the effort. They are fast (the races toward one another are made at 1,000 miles per hour!) The planes are gleaming. The choreography is unbelievable as these giant, powerful jets fly within inches of each other's wings, tip, dip and roll with seemingly little effort.
You KNOW one tiny mistake could be disaster.
It's thrilling.
It make you appreciate the skill and the training involved.
It makes your heart ache.
I recommend it but like a Scout, go prepared!

Space for more...

As part of Central Elementary's rebuild, Alpine School District is putting up a permanent planetarium dome — with a little help from a few friends, of course.
The new dome will be built on land next to the new Central Elementary which will be torn down.
It'll create space for more space...as the demand to participate in the Christa McAuliffe Space Center has outstripped the program's capacity.
We have gone there since the very beginning over the past 27 years. We've gone as a family, as business colleagues, as birthday party groups. We followed it from Central Elementary to the Discovery Center in Manila to Renaissance Academy in Lehi and back to Pleasant Grove and the mobile center in a semi-truck and trailer.
We've cheered, thrilled and sorrowed as our various missions succeeded and/or failed.
"Nice try," said the operator one time, "but unfortunately, you all died." 
We think it's a wonderful way to learn to work as a team, to problem solve and to appreciate science.
The planetarium will cost $800,000 so fundraising is underway.
 

“For 27 years, the Space Center has served over 400,000 participants in our simulators and classroom through field trips, summer camps, a volunteer program, employment, and other outreach efforts.” said James Porter, the program’s director. “Through simulated learning we introduce and reinforce curriculum from areas such as science, social studies and math in an engaging and unforgettable way. Participants take on the role of crew members in a starship simulator set 300 years in the future. During their mission, crews test their skills in communication, critical thinking, collaboration, and have to creatively problem-solve to overcome many challenging situations. 
Adding the planetarium will increase the capacity by 50 percent.
Right now, schools wanting to go to space without leaving Earth are being turned away.

Tax deductible donations are being accepted now through the Alpine School District Foundation and the rebuild is scheduled for completion in 2020. To donate to the project or learn more about its progress visit: spacecenter.alpineschools.org/donate or facebook.com/asdspacecenter.
I say here is an opportunity to make a visible difference in the future for kids. 
Make it so!

YouTube video explaining about the program and rebuild

• https://youtu.be/A2FjWXFo8SQ

Living with lizards in the rainforest

We've lived with lizards before.
Years ago when we were staying in the houses once occupied by the workers in Chichen Itza in the Yucatan, we expected lizards on the walls and ceilings during meals – even at the fancy places.
We didn't freak when they turned up in the shower.
Basically it was a waste of time to fret about them.
So when we moved into the Bamboo Valley Inn in Haiku for a week in Maui, we weren't overly concerned or surprised to find the slightly creepy creatures running about on the patio and climbing through the dense plants just outside the door.
(We did check the insides of our shoes in the morning after they'd been outside all night. No shoes inside the Inn, y'know.)
We figured it came with living in the middle of a rain forest as did the warmth, the breezes, the gentle misty rains and the lush, green foliage inches from our door.
I only screamed a little when I discovered an inky black baby lizard on the wall above the bathroom mirror.
I told Marc to get him out of there. I didn't want him dropping on me while I was brushing my teeth.
He tried but the tiny guy leaped and disappeared into the air.
I figured he was somewhere preparing to crawl across my toes.
But again, what is there to do?
I checked all around, under mats and inside the trash can and then tried to mentally blot him out.
When we went to bed, I changed the sheets and made sure no Thing was in there.

I was mostly OK until the last night when we were on the couch watching the news.
On the fireplace below the screen, up popped a pretty good-sized grey lizard looking right at us.
Neither of us moved and the lizard proceeded to walk across the wall and drop back behind it.
Ewww.
Now I knew they could be everywhere, in tiny and in bigger spaces.
I realized the doors and windows were mere inconveniences in these little creatures' way.
I had to acknowledge we were co-existing with nature.
But, hey, when you can't do anything about it and they were here first, you just go with it, huh?

Give a turtle his space...

Getting the gang together again

When we were in Maui, Marc and I heard about some turtles hanging out on the beaches.
I absolutely wanted to see them, thinking they would be a herd of average-size turtles who were congregated on rocks in the sun.
We found some at the Ho-Okipa beach on the north side of Paia.
Turns out they ARE the rocks in the sun.
They're huge and they just come laboriously nudging out of the ocean onto the sand whenever, using their flippers to propel their bulk.
Then they sleep in a pile until they decide to lumber back out into the water.
I found them fascinating.
We stood and watched them for about an hour.
These guys are one of the seven kinds of turtles who home in Hawaii. They are green sea turtles or Honu and only live on the beaches and reefs in Australia, the Galapagos and Hawaii.
They can live up to 80 years and reach a speed of 20 miles an hour coming at you if you get in the way of them and their air!
They generally weigh between 500-700 lbs. and have shells up to five feet long.
They like it quiet so if you go to where they are and see them napping in the tropical sun, hush! We watched the clueless people, adults and their kids, ignore the signs that asked that the turtles be given their space.
A minimum of 15 feet from a turtle is advised and no touching, petting or riding allowed.
(I hear they can snap your hand off if you get too close. I didn't test that theory.)
Mostly we in the crowd were minding the rules, staying fairly quiet, taking pictures with our phones without flash and standing on the proper side of the line.
And when a particular bunch of rowdy folks crossed the line, heading in to see the turtles up close, brave people spoke up.
"Hey, can't you guys read?" asked one guy. "Geez. What are you thinking!"
I'm not sure they were.

The road to Haiku...

Because we had been well warned, we didn't have very much trouble with the legendary Road to Hana on Maui when we were there last week.
We planned ahead. We bought cold drinks with bubbles. We ate a good, light breakfast. We started off early so as to avoid the crowds who would be coming with us on the narrow, winding road purported to have over 600 twists and turns, narrow bridges and endless scenic delights.
Our intrepid rental car was full of gas if not gusto so off we went.
We stopped for this and that, trying to head off any carsickness, stepped right into a dreadful mud puddle that sucked our shoes in and tossed Marc into a violent bush.
We visited the Garden of Eden with strolling peacocks, checked out off the colorful flowers and ancient trees.
Eventually we arrived at the Hana Coi Maui where we were staying the night.
The next morning, we headed back, visiting caves and beaches and lava tubes that amaze.
It was great and we only had to stop once: at the way stop for feral cats. (Apparently there are between 11,000 and 20,000 charming feral cats living in the rest stop park. The cats aren't friendly or pretty. They're skinny, hostile and everywhere!)
The real test for us everyday in regular Maui was the road to Haiku to the Bamboo Valley Inn where we were lodged for most of the trip.
It was dark when we arrived and we had this little list of instructions. "Head north to W. Kaulia road, go until you see the flag pole and mailboxes. Turn right! Follow the road to the inn. Aloha!"
We drove along. There were numerous chickens scuttling out of our way. Then suddenly, a flag pole appeared and mailboxes.
Marc turned into a road that was a little more than a dirt trail. It was bumpy and full of holes, dirt-packed with jungle on both sides.
There were junked, decaying cars all along the way until the end where there's a sign explaining that the neighbors were going through an "unfortunate" time and with some help would be cleaning things up.
At the bottom, after the car had groaned and complained most of the way down, there was the Inn, simple and sweet.
Marc went around the side to park under the carport.
That's when I heard this horrendous smashing, grinding sound as he hit the side mirror into a concrete pole.
(It looked like metal mayhem with wiring hanging out and missing portions. The car was disabled. It wouldn't go, shift into another gear or turn off.)
Long story short. The damage was really only minor. Once we called a tow truck and suffered for a while, trying to guess what this would cost, Marc went back to the scene and found the back side of the mirror. He popped it back on and "Voila!" the car came on and we were good.
(At the rental return, when the check-in girl asked if there was any damage. We were able to say, "uh, no...just a little problem with the light.)
We consider ourselves lucky and now that we're home, we can truthfully say, "We survived the Road to Haiku!"

Jumping the line...

The kids about to graduate from Lehi High School were firmly told: if they weren't in line and in place by 9:30 a.m., they wouldn't be allowed to walk.
Samantha and her parent and sisters were sitting in traffic at 9:20.
And the cars weren't moving.
She could see the event center but she couldn't get there.
"Hurry," said her mother. "Get out of the car and run!"
They did, Samantha in her cap and gown and heels with her mom alongside her.
They made it to the fence which is about six feet high.
"Hurry," her mom instructed. "We're going to have to climb it."
So, standing on her mother's shoulders, Samantha went over the fence, ripping the sleeve of her robe as she went.
"It's OK," yelled her mother. "I'll fix it when I catch up with you!"
And she did. With her handy, dandy sewing kit from her purse. Lauree mended the tear.
The adventure had a happy ending.
Samantha got into line and marched with her class, graduating in style with the class of 2018.
She looked beautiful and relaxed and you couldn't even tell it had been a stressful home stretch there.
Here's to making memories!
(I'm so glad I only had to hear about it after it turned out OK!)