Your Pet's Best Friend

Happy Birthday to Me

I had a birthday last week and my wife gave me the best card ever.  My (younger) sister always remembers my birthday with a “funny” card about how old and decrepit I must be getting… like I need reminding.  This one is better.

Some years ago, another Scoutmaster had some patches made up for the adult leaders with an embroidered rocking chair.  The adults were supposed to be the “Rocking Chair” patrol, who do nothing but lay around camp.  Theoretically, in a boy-run troop (the ideal), that’s all the adults should be doing (though it rarely works out that way).

I’m more of a believer in “it’s better to wear out than to rust out”, so I had one of those patches modified for myself.  No rocking chair for me, thanks.  I work hard so that I can take those boys rock-climbing and hiking, and carry my own luggage, and go where I want to go under my own power.  I'd like to bypass the early heart-attack mode of the Mobley men, too.

That’s why I love this card. I’d love to be the model for a card like this one when this guy finally retires from the business.  I have to admit that he looks like he has more energy at eighty (or whatever) than I do now.  Maybe he gets a nap every day, like President Reagan.  Maybe I should, too.  Work hard, and sleep hard -- like a growing puppy (or President Reagan).

Scout Quest 100 and The Roping Ranch

Last weekend was Scout Quest 100.  It was the second biggest Scouting event in the country, second only to the upcoming National Jamboree.  This year is the 100th anniversary year of the Boy Scouts of America.  Every 10 years, the Greater St.Louis Area Council puts on a big shindig in Forest Park. It’s the only time the folks are allowed to camp in the park.    I went ten years ago when it was “X-treme Scouting 2000”.  Then I was relatively new to Scouting and just wandered around looking at all the events and displays, and tried to keep tabs on the boys in my troop.

Now I’m a “lifer” and this time I spent the weekend staffing one of the events.  There were 13,000 Scouts (some say as high as 20,000) participating, and that takes a lot of activities to keep everybody happy.  The official site is still up, with pictures of most of the activities, ranging from medieval catapults to climbing walls, leathercraft to water slides. Too many for me to describe, anyway, which is why you have the link. 

The activities committee came up with the idea of a "lasso-ing" activity, and then I got the call.  When we were kids (that's me on the left), every other show on TV was a western, and every kid wanted to ride and rope and shoot.  Would today's kids even know what we're talking about?  Much less be interested in trying it out?

My brothers and I (with three other volunteers) spent our day at the SQ-100 Roping Ranch.   Here's our nice, shady spot before we unloaded our 42 bales of hay, 32 roping dummy heads, 48 lariats, 26 trick ropes, 3 plywood saguaro cacti, plywood corrals, tent shelter, branding iron, 40 electric fence posts, 500 feet of perimeter rope, gateway poles, and boom-box full of cowboy songs.

Here's a look at the transformation that we wrought over the course of the next few hours.  You're seeing the herd from near the far down-hill end of our area, right next to the mouse-trap powered car-building and Tandy Leather's crafts area.

 This is the entrance with our sign-boards courtesy of Mike Brooks of Brooks' Signs in Kennett.  Mike printed out the weathered board background, as well as the cool rope letters, just like Roy Rogers had on the Double-R-Bar ranch sign that I played with when I was a kid.

We didn’t have an official counter, but one of the volunteers estimated 100 Cub Scouts per hour, and I wouldn’t doubt it.  We spent Friday evening setting up, and I stayed up helping other Scouters until about 11:30.  At 7:30 AM Saturday, we finished our set-up, and by 8:00 AM we were showing Cub Scouts how to rope steers, spin a flat loop, and branding their leather goods. This is Matt starting a boy with the thrilling and dangerous "flat loop" trick.

Our nice shady spot just happened to be the first thing the Cubs saw when they left the parking lot.  Brother Will said, “They think our little roping ranch IS Scout Quest.”  I don’t think many of them missed it.  The ranch stayed full until we shut it down at 5:15 that evening.

It was great to have such a huge crowd of boys, as it would have been just as much trouble to set everything up whether we had a crowd or not.  We sometimes had a little trouble getting the point of roping across.  As Will said, "We had some Lord of the Flies moments -- "I killed it!" said the Cub Scout. "

I think that Will did most of the work ahead of time, and I didn't get a picture of him teaching.  We all worked hard (only one pit-stop break all day), but he provided the hay, and took care of ordering the roping supplies.  We now have official Scout Quest 100 steer heads and lariats and trick ropes for sale -- lots of them. 

Somebody else took this picture of me and put it up on the SQ facebook site.  I thought my shoulder would disintegrate by the end of the day, but it was no more tired than my feet.

Hiatus

I've got a few topics in the hopper, but there just hasn't been a lot of time for this blog.  My daughter had been in Zambia for only about two weeks when she developed appendicitis.  They flew her to South Africa, and she had surgery in Pretoria.  Everything has gone well, and she's back with her Peace Corps training group again.  Most of my computer time has been involved with trying to keep up with her progress.

Between that, working a lot of late nights, and starting a new Wood Badge staff development,  I just haven't had a lot of play time.

Blair Mobley joins the Peace Corps

I had set my alarm for 6:00 AM, so when my wife woke me, I thought it must have malfunctioned.  I was supposed to be up early to check the road conditions.   The clock was fine, but it read 5:00 AM.  Plans had changed since I went to bed at midnight.  She informed me that we had to be on the road by six.    Weather delays would cause missed connections, and now Blair’s new flight would be leaving Memphis at 9:25 AM.  I had only had five hours of sleep, but Libby probably had less than four, and Blair had been up all night finishing her packing.

You know, you have to be careful what you say in front of kids.  You’re always setting an example – the question is, what kind? 

When my daughter, Blair, was in middle school and high school, I worried that maybe she was a little too materialistic.  When the big dance was coming up, it was all about the new dress (you can always get a date later, but the perfect dress can’t wait).  Once I remarked that she had more shoes than Imelda Marcos, a cultural reference way before her time.  When I explained, her eyes glazed over: “A thousand pairs of shoes…” Hey, you’re missing the point of the story, sez I.

Either I needn’t have worried in the first place (“I was a kid, for heaven’s sake!”), or she has WAY over-corrected.

We kept hauling her to Sunday School and church, and youth group, and there was no escape from the values of Scouting.  Her mom is the Girl Scout leader supreme.  This picture is from survival weekend when the girls were about fourteen or so.

The next thing you know, despite your best intentions, you find out your kid is taking this values and mission stuff seriously.  She feels called to serve her fellow man, and she up and joins the Peace Corps, headed for darkest Africa.  “Maybe not darkest Africa.  Maybe more like just dingy Africa.” she says.  I feel better already.

She has been talking about it for years, but people have been known to change their mind.  When she did the six-month horticulture internship at “The Land” in Epcot at Walt Disney World, I thought she might ease up on the “to serve man” thing. Plus, I’d always yell, “It’s a cookbook!”   Here’s her Christmas card, and it kind of says “Disney Princess”.  On the other hand, here she is giving the greenhouse tour, and this is more down to earth… actual earth, plants and such.

After more than a year of soul-searching and writing and re-writing her essay on why she wanted to join the Peace Corps, her application was finally sent in and accepted (there are three times as many people applying as there are placements).   She had requested a post working with agriculture (her degree is in plant science) in Africa (she hates being cold).  Oddly enough, many Peace Corps workers are now serving in Eastern Bloc countries, doing I.T. and business plans, living in apartments (tiny, cramped apartments without cable TV, but apartments).  Blair wanted the old school, sixties-style Peace Corps (check out the movie, “Volunteers” with Tom Hanks and John Candy).

That’s what she got, too.  She is posted to Zambia, which used to be Northern Rhodesia.   It’s about the size of Texas, with a temperate climate.  The country is very poor, but relatively stable politically (unlike the hell-hole of Zimbabwe to the south).  She will live in a mud hut with a thatched roof and no electricity or running water.  Sort of a two-year survival weekend.  At least she’s going to a place where the people have actually asked for help from the Peace Corps (rather than going to be shot at in Iraq or Afghanistan).

Here’s a weird thing.   It would be more than fair to say that prior to Blair’s assignment, Zambia was not really on the Mobley family radar.   Within a week of receiving her letter in  December, my wife takes a short-cut through the aisles and stumbles across “Zambi the Elephant” in Wal-Mart… the Kennett Wal-Mart, no less (Blair couldn’t find them in Columbia, Missouri, where she was living).  The good people at Hasbro, through Project Zambi are donating big bucks to help AIDS orphans in Zambia (and there are plenty of them, since about 15% of the population is HIV positive).   He’s a little fuzzy for an elephant, but when you pet him, he waves his trunk and makes cool noises. 

Blair didn't want to do a speaking tour before she left. "I haven't done anything yet."  Mom twisted her arm and she spoke in church the Sunday before she left.  Blair used Zambi in her children’s sermon on Sunday.  She tried to give the kids a rudimentary notion that there are people less fortunate than they who need their help.  I doubt they have any concept how much less fortunate.

The choir sang a farewell anthem in Swahili, “O Sifune Mungu” (they don’t speak Swahili in Zambia, but how many African anthems do you think we have in the Presbyterian file cabinet?).  Blair spoke to the congregation about how she came to her decision to enter the Peace Corps, and preemptively answered the “frequently asked questions”.  Really, we don’t know exactly where she will be or what she will be doing.  It will be with agriculture and forestry and it will be remote and primitive.  Every time someone says what an adventure it will be, I am reminded of my favorite definition of adventure: “Somebody else, about a thousand miles away, having one hell of a tough time.”

I helped a little with tent selection and the stuffing of the backpack (more Scouting).  I gave her my Leatherman multi-tool.  It’s got her name engraved on it (hey, we have the same last name), so she can give it to some Zambian as a keepsake when she leaves.  You can tell from my attitude that I can’t really take any credit for her decision.  She is who she is, an outstanding young woman with strong faith and high ideals.

So here she is, with her two suitcases and a carry-on, “no more than eighty pounds of luggage”, on her way to Africa for the next two years plus.  You can’t see her mother and me waving and smiling and shedding a few tears (I would say the first of many, but they were hardly the first).  She’s on her way to do what she thinks is important.  We pray that she’ll come back to us safe and sound, as well as older and more experienced.  There will be lots of letters back and forth, and we’ll know more soon about what she’s doing and where she is.  Maybe once a month she’ll have internet access, and I know she’ll be writing a blog then.

In the mean-time we’ve got pictures and Zambi.

100 Years of Scouting

Today is the 100th anniversary of the founding of the Boy Scouts of America.  There are all kinds of places to learn about Scouting.  I wore my uniform to work all day today to celebrate.  It appears I'm having a bad hair day... or a not-very-much hair day.  Oh, well...

I never thought I'd be a "lifer".  I (like most people) got roped into being Scoutmaster because "somebody needed to do it".  There was no doubt in mind that as soon as my son got out, so would I.  When I said as much at a Pioneering training, old Cliff said, "No, you're a lifer."  "Hide and watch, buddy", sez I.  Well, we see who was right.

So here I am, 12 years later (nine years after my son quit), still dressing up like Barney Fife.  It's the friends you make, and the values of Scouting that keep me here. 

There are far too many sad messages being drummed into people from all quarters these days: "If it feels good, do it."  "The one who dies with the most toys wins."  "Life is short: Have an affair." 

The world will be better off for every person who is Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean and Reverent.

What a difference a year makes.

One year ago, the Ice Storm of Aught-Nine was moving in.  Today, the temperature was in the mid fifties.  Of course, the prettiest part of the day, with the most sunshine, and the least wind, was between 10:30AM and noon -- i.e. church time.  Coincidentally, Don Rollins, the guru of the Docs-a-Cyclin' veterinary motorcycle gang, emailed me a list of "Things my motorcycle taught me" today.  My favorite?  "I'd rather be on my motorcycle thinking about God than in church thinking about my motorcycle."  Ain't it the truth, brother? 

As consolation, we had a great anthem in church today.  I love Haydn, and we sang a real rouser: "The Heavens are Telling" (the glory of God).  As another consolation, the weather was still decent this afternoon.  I intended to see my CASA cases (two different towns now).  Contacting them by phone is iffy, so I usually just drop in at a semi-regular time.  Missed them both today, BUT I was on the motorcycle instead of in the mini-van, so the I enjoyed 90 minutes and 50 miles of soul-freeing flight (instead of a wasted afternoon).

Lots of N.C. Wyeth type cumulus clouds today.  It was a little dark and cool underneath them (and occasionally a little sprinkly), but beautiful when you were in the sun and seeing them in the distance.  May this be a harbinger of a great year to come.

Herd Health for the Human Herd

Back in 1978 when I graduated from veterinary school, there were still a lot veterinarians practicing what was called "fire engine" medicine.  The farmer has one sick animal, so you drive right over to take care of that one sick animal.  That's sort of analogous to "putting out a fire". This is my mentor and first employer, Dr. Dwight O. Creach.  He and I spent half our time on the road, going from farm to farm.  Even then, though, it was becoming apparent that this approach was not making economic sense.

 The trend was already turning away from running to tend one sick animal, and turning toward the “herd health” concept.  If you have a limited number of dollars to spend on medical care for your livestock, you want to take the approach that will yield the greatest number of healthy, marketable individuals. 

I take my dollars and use them to set up pasture rotation, vaccination programs, de-worming programs, nutritional supplementation and other preventive medical procedures.  If this doesn’t leave me enough dollars for the animals that get sick,  I may have to just cull them out.   If this program leaves me with an increased number of salable animals at market time, then it is a cost-effective approach. 

True, I may lose a few animals, but the better overall care has still left me with more animals to sell than if I had concentrated on just dealing with sick ones on an individual basis.  The concept is to treat the herd as one big entity, and to get the best results while spending the least money.  This holds true whether we are talking about so-called "factory farming", or the organic, free-range variety.

A large-scale poultry operation is even more dramatic when we talk about sacrificing the few for the good of the many.  With ten thousand birds in one big building, infections can really spread quickly, leading to the loss of hundreds, even thousands of birds.  When you see one sick bird, he gets gathered up out of the building, along with anybody else who looks cross-eyed or was just standing nearby.  Those birds are sacrificed to get an immediate post-mortem so that the diagnostic test results will be as accurate and fast as possible.  That way the vast majority of the birds can be treated preventively and saved from illness (and lost production). How well I remember those  interesting hours spent with the late, great Dr. Emmett “Peck” McCune, our poultry pathology instructor.

And now, the herd-health concept has come to the fight against breast cancer in women.  Since so few women between the ages of forty and fifty show up with breast cancer, we’re told that it’s a big waste of money to do all those mammograms and biopsies.  It costs untold millions, and you only save a few hundred women each year by doing so.  Obviously, it’s not cost effective, and we should spend the money elsewhere.  On NPR tonight, I heard "There are some cancers we don't need to find."  Also, "People can become so stressed by diagnostic procedures that it makes them sick.  They might even die from the stress."

Of course, this doesn’t come from medical specialists who deal with cancer and women’s health.  It comes from the folks who are trying to come up with an explanation about how “health care reform” will save the country money. There's a scary trend.

Well, I planned on working till I drop dead, anyhow.  I just have to be sure to drop dead suddenly instead of getting sick.  That’s why I ride a motorcycle.

UPDATE 11/21/09: Well, I should have gone to the original report instead of listening to the news media.  Today's Wall Street Journal says "We probably, in retrospect, could have been more clear." This from Dr. Diana Petitti, vice-chairwoman of the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force.  "The task force is not against women having mammograms in their 40s."  Instead, she said, it is in favor of women in that age range deciding on their own, after consulting with their doctors, whether to undergo regular screenings.   Similarly, they did not mean to deter women from practicing self-examination.  They merely intended to signal primary-care physicians that they no longer need to teach women how to do it.  Now there's a fine distinction.

On the one hand, it's easy to conclude that this is just a case of the media sensationalizing a poorly understood scientific report.  On the other hand, if I were a conspiracy theorist, I could see this as a trial balloon to see how easily the sheep go to the slaughter.  Apparently, the sheep are not so eager to lie down and die.  Good.

Fruit of the Ice Storm of '09

Some of you may recall that we had a pretty incredible ice storm last winter.  We are told that even though our power crews continue to work 12-hour shifts that the Kennett power grid is at about 75% of its previous capacity.  Incredibly, good planning and conservative management over the years had built up enough of an emergency reserve fund that we are not facing a utility rate surcharge to pay for the rebuild.  Our citizens continue to be indebted to the hard work of our city-owned utility company.

Still, it's an ill wind that blows nobody good.  Our Euonymus bushes were so loaded that the ice pulled them over.  We staked them back up, but one just didn't make it.  We planted a little replacement, but it's still the ugly duckling, being about a tenth the size of its mates.  It's got a new companion, though.

We've lived in the ancestral manse since 1979.  Built by my great-grandmother, Panola Mississippi Rayburn Donaldson, in 1909, it was occupied before us by my great-aunt Madge Donaldson.  She was the gardener supreme and HER yard was always a showplace.  As soon as something quit blooming, it was dug up and replaced with something else.  There were many beds and it was really something to see.  She used to keep two boys busy moving water hoses, digging and fertilizing, and she did the same, on up into her eighties.

Our gardening is much less ambitious.  Mrs. Mobley has done a lot, but we don't spend the time and effort Aunt Madge did (she was retired).  We still enjoy her daffodils, tulips and "surprise lilies".

This one really surprised us, though.  We've never seen it's like in the thirty years we've been here.  I guess it needed more sun than it was getting.  With the Euonymus gone and the big pine trees stripped by the storm, the dormant bulb sprang forth this week.  It's not exactly compensation for the lost trees and cold nights, but it's pretty neat.

Incredibly great weather!

Here it is the middle of July, and this beautiful weather is like an oasis in the desert.  After a much needed rain Wednesday night, the high temps are down to 80, and the humidity is down to 40% (versus the usual mid to high 90's and 90% humidity - think "jungle", even in the midst of drought).

I hadn't been on Ol' Red for a couple of weeks, but yesterday I found time to ride for a couple of hours.  It just could not have been better.  We made a long circle, most of it on Crowley's Ridge. This upheaval created by the 1812 New Madrid earthquake gives you the experience of riding through hills, yet you can look over and see the pancake flat lands for miles on both sides of you.

The little rain and cool weather have really created a burst in the mosquito population, though.  Enjoy the beautiful day, but get inside when the sun goes down or they'll eat you alive.

Don't miss the concert in the park!