Month: July 2019

I have lived in Missouri since 1964, having moved here from Okinawa, an island now belonging to Japan. During this time I have managed to float a good number of Missouri’s fine float streams from the wide and slow to the narrow and fast, almost all of which are located in southern Missouri. In the deep recesses of a mind that has few deep recesses left, I store a number of life’s regrets and from time to time will resurrect one in an attempt to move it from the regret column to the accomplishment column. This weekend, for the first time, we found ourselves floating Courtois Creek in Crawford County, we being son Stephen and his two boys, daughter Stacey, with husband Tom and her two children, Sharon, Tazzy and me. Not floating the Courtois is no longer a regret.

Our outfitter, Bass’ River Resort, advised that conditions on the creek were near perfect and the weather WAS perfect as we pushed off some 6 miles from the resort. With Tazzy at the helm and Sharon behind him in an effort to keep him in the boat, we began the float.

The water was beautiful, gin clear and cold and the Old Town livery canoe the perfect place for Miss Sharon to rest her legs (😏)as she contributed a canoe stroke here and there. A perfect start that, incredibly, only got better.

Predictably. We stopped frequently the first mile or so to let Tazzy swim. There were few other floaters on the creek and Tazzy enjoyed swimming toward them to offer an enthusiastic Labrador welcome before being recalled and loaded up for the continuation of the trip.

We are not a nuclear family. Steve owns a contracting business in Colorado where he is the chief craftsman, overseeing projects that require the utmost detail. His medium is various woods, some exotic, designed for customers that, well, can easily afford his services. Time is what he has very little of and scheduling time together with a daughter who rarely looks up from her business on the LOZ this time of the year, and who is married to a service manager for a huge marina, is exceedingly tough to do. The Courtois is a superb float stream fully capable of draining the tension out of the existence folks establish for themselves these days. I am told that weekends on this stream offer anything but serenity and I can see why. The photos below are of Steve, grandsons Justus and Sig as well as grandson Lucas and granddaughter Kaelin. We were enjoying shore lunch at the “Log”. 😏

For the most part, floating the Courtois (pronounced coort-a-way) is going to require a capital outlay. Even if you bring your own boat, there is a charge to put in and take out and the campground will charge for just about everything from air for water toys to showers, (50 cents for 5 minutes). RV fees are based on the number of occupants on your site and there is a charge for each individual in the livery boats as well as a boat rental fee. This campground is well thought out with a section for normal folks and a separate section for the “loud” crowd, with their own quiet time between 2:30 AM to 6:00 AM. I am too damned old for the party side of things. There was a day though……

I feel sorry for kids who know nothing outside of concrete and asphalt. I watched a cicada emerge from the ground, saw many fish in the clear creek and enjoyed the thrill of navigating gnarly class 2 rapids with kids whooping and hollering as the spray hit them. Creek gravel in your water shoes and the occasional horsefly are experiences not found while gaming on a personal electronic device. As a matter of fact, there was no cell coverage at Bass’ River Resort and not enough WiFi to register on your phone. Our meals were simple; fat all beef hotdogs over a grill one night and terrific beef “sliders” the next with s’mores, (not my cup of tea). Fresh strawberries, fat pancakes and plenty of bacon made for a hearty breakfast. Stacey, Justus and Lucas ended the trip with a long ride on the outstanding mountain bike trail that has a stop in the campground. Stacey celebrated her 49th birthday on this trip and is seen with Tom over the beginnings of a camp breakfast in the photo below.

There are a number of take always here. You say you don’t know a gunnel from a sponson or a j-stroke from a keel? No problem, rent a raft that requires little more than staying awake as you float down the creek. Don’t have a RV, no problem, bring a tent, many of which you can easily erect while blind folded and under the influence. Don’t like tents, again no problem as they have nice cabins. You don’t need the skills of Meriwether Lewis to enjoy a trip down a float stream, cook over a small grill or camp stove or navigate a roller. You don’t need anything but the wisdom to gather your family together and enjoy time as you recall the experiences that are a part of what you are. Courtois Creek, a gift from God, is the perfect place to gather.

Below you see Lucas in one of the more intense parts of our float. Does that help you frame the benefits of a float trip?

Have a great weekend.

SR

Yesterday, I ran into a frail gentleman in a local eatery, escorted by his wife. He was sporting creased khaki pants, an ironed shirt and clean but worn footwear. He was the picture of gentlemanly conduct, soft spoken and observant as he smiled at the greeter recording his name for a table. He wore a ball cap that proclaimed his status as a World War II veteran, specifically in the European theater. His hat was telling a story even before I spoke to him thanking him for our ability to enjoy lunch on a blistering day in Springfield, Mo. There was a certain reverence about him and I am glad that I was able to enjoy a short conversation with this hero of days gone by. I am not sure why, but as we concluded our conversation he returned my appreciation for my military service, a keen observation as my past was not the topic of conversation. I suppose my query as to his unit in Europe triggered his confirmation as to my status as a veteran. His hat was the catalyst for a couple of vets to share a moment. This happening stimulated this musing about the unspoken words that hats convey.

Back around 2000, then Army chief of Staff, Gen. Eric Shinseki, made the decision to place soldiers in the US Army in black berets as opposed to the more traditional headgear. The General was not a fan of elite units within the Army and sought to water down the significance of the Green Beret for Special Forces troopers and Tan Berets for our Rangers. It is rumored that President Kennedy was stirring under his eternal flame as he was a devout admirer of the Army’s Special Forces trained at the John F. Kennedy Special Warfare Center and School at Ft. Bragg, NC. As warriors go, the Green Beret denotes a special kind of warrior that has earned his headgear much as a Seal earns the coveted trident insignia. The decision by Shinseki was subsequently reversed some ten years later. Another coveted hat in the military is the venerable brown campaign hat denoting drill instructors. Folks with a military background all know full well the aura that surrounds this hard earned headgear, specifically the conveyance of expectations that you WILL meet.

A good number of police organizations today wear a campaign hat, particularly state police organizations. Police officers endure many hours of training to earn the hat privilege and generally are considered to be “out” of uniform when they are not wearing their hats while in uniform. There exists much controversy within police ranks relative to the merits or demerits of wearing this headgear, but few can argue the professional bearing conveyed by the presence of a uniformed officer while “under” his hat. Hats that speak are not limited to the uniformed services…

One of my “trophies” is a simple flat brim straw hat that I bought while on an RV trip in Amish country in Ohio. The good Amish people are seldom seen without a covering on their heads, and these utilitarian hats are favored when outdoors working. For most of us, the appearance of one of these hats instantly conveys an impression related to a strong work ethic as well as an appreciation and adherence to Christian principle. You will seldom have occasion to question the Christian ethic of a person under this straw hat.

No treatise on hats would be complete without mentioning the venerable ball cap, which has been around a long time. Today, the brim of the hat conveys many identities, but one needs to be careful here. A flat brimmed cap, in certain colors might signify something entirely different for a flats fisherman as opposed to a young man in the inner city. Ball caps are intended to be utilitarian, but are often used to confirm one’s identification with a particular group or, as in the veteran above, a military past. A worn, red Dekalb seed cap, with sweat stains and an oil mark where it is grabbed each time it is picked up, worn by a denim and flannel clad man wearing dusty boots, is likely indicative of an individual who knows something about the farming industry.

Folks who are around emergency services recognize the venerable hat worn by firemen as a “leatherhead” now replaced by newer composite helmets offering better protection. Still the shape of this headgear immediately identifies someone associated with the fire services. The same can be said of the helmets worn by motorcyclists. If you think a bit, you can identify folks who value freedom and comfort (minimal skull cap helmets) over safety (full face helmets that are hot and confining). I am not moralizing here, merely pointing out the obvious. I have noticed a direct correlation between motorcyclists who wear minimalist helmets and the use of gloves when they ride. Full face guys are more likely to wear gloves than the minimalist riders, and hands are particularly vulnerable in even the most mundane of crashes. Check this out for yourself.

In summary, hats do a lot of talking about the wearer. A ball cap is almost always resting on my head, usually brightly colored denoting some place I’ve travelled to. My propensity to wear a cap is the result of many years wearing a campaign hat and…….honestly….to cover a head that is hair challenged. Removing the cap to sit down for lunch ages me instantly. 🥴

As you move about in the next few days, watch and see if the hats don’t talk to you!

Have a good weekend.

SR

There is a number out there, known only to God unless, of course, you have made the decision to interfere with the Master’s plan and select a date to exit this world on your own accord. I add this macabre thought in deference to the many members of the blue line that are choosing to deal with their misery through the “final solution”. But that is not why I write. Another visit to a doctor this week, for rather routine age related issues, has reminded me that I really have not done a stellar job of managing my time on earth. I suspect that I am not alone in the realization that misplaced priorities are great time thieves. Let’s have a look at time and priority.

If you are fortunate enough, and I certainly was, to work in pursuit of an occupation that is a passion, it is easy to ignore the possibility that you are missing many of the joys that life in the most prosperous country on earth offers. I am reminded of a story that a great friend tells from the heart. His brother called him one day and begged him to take the next day off and fish with him, a passion that both men enjoyed but often set aside to pursue their jobs. My friend declined, begging off as he had “obligations” at work that were, at that moment in time, far more important than a trip to the river. A day or so later, my friend’s brother was killed in a horrific vehicular accident. My friend solemnly declared that he had no time to fish with his brother, but could take the time to bury him. It is a regret he will carry to his grave. The trick, my dear readers, is to avoid creating regrets by not thinking through your priorities in life.

I have always greatly admired folks who can walk out and safely and competently climb into an airplane and soar above the chaos of earth. I have another friend who is near the end of a glorious career driving triple 7’s (Boeing 777’s) around the world for a living. I have written about him in the past as he is a consummate pilot, able to fly just about anything he can climb into. Amazingly, he truly loves to fly smaller aircraft and does so with the calm deliberation that has marked his career. He helped me realize that I, too, can fly an airplane, encouraging me to pursue this dream to where I am today, a solo “student” pilot who is being throttled back by aggravating and perhaps disqualifying health issues that befall us all at some point in time. The final chapter in my flying career is yet to be written, but misplaced priorities have resulted in me grabbing this passion later in life than I should have. I did not think this through when health was the last thing on my mind. These same aggravations have resulted in my placing my motorcycle helmet on our book case, a trophy reminding me that I returned to this passion later than I should have. Am I wallowing in misery and self pity? Hell no, I have experienced the thrill of flying cross country alone and the feel of wind in my face over the rumble of a motorcycle while driving through the country. I paid closer attention to another passion, fishing. The aforementioned health issues have seriously cut back on the pursuit of this noble sport, but I will continue to fish when arthritis is at bay, until I fall over in a trout stream somewhere and am dragged to the bank by a younger, more able angler. Below is a picture of my training airplane taken a day or so after my cross country solo.

These examples of conceding defeat to the time thief are likely no different for most of my readers. If your passion is golf, are you hitting the course as often as you can? Perhaps you enjoy the shooting sports. Do you make it a point to shoot as often as you possibly can? The list is endless; boating, traveling, gardening, bicycling, scuba diving, floating, well, you get the point here. The maintenance of your family obligations can be greatly enhanced by introducing them to and urging them to participate in your passion, or vice versa.

Here is the take away. At some point your health is going to interfere with your life. Do not be lulled into complacency on this consideration as we are want to do when we are 30 something and can jump over buildings and throw a 800 pound motorcycle around as if it were a sack of potatoes. I would offer a fair challenge: Think about the things in life that provide the most joy and consciously consider this important question. Are there changes you can make in your life that will enhance your opportunities to pursue your passion(s)? Is there a strategy, unique to you, that can be adopted that will limit the distractions that are a part of everyday life? Can you enhance your discretionary time? Are your priorities in order? Most of us are at a time in place in life to begin eliminating additional regret, always a good strategy.

We are all very good about making time for the funeral. The trick is to have an eulogist who can smile and suggest that “he (she) had her priorities in order and lived a full life”. Grab a second cup of coffee and give this some thought…..

Have a great weekend!

SR

As I sit at my desk this morning, I have a commanding view of two stop signs, one regulating traffic from a neighborhood street onto another and the second controlling the flow of traffic from a neighborhood street onto a busy and fast county road that faces the entrance to a busy farm park. I retired from a career where the regulation of vehicular traffic was the focus of my enforcement efforts and I have little patience with folks who don’t make an effort to comply with our motor vehicle laws. These stop signs are an example of how the seeds of civil disobedience are planted in our children. Hear me out before you casually discard the rantings of a frustrated “traffic guy”.

This morning I watched two neighborhood cars drive through these stop signs at speed. There was no effort at a “California Stop” much less an actual attempt to stop as required. This is a very bad habit to develop as eventually these violations are going to get the motorists in trouble. Traffic guys have all worked a number of crashes where folks pull out in front of oncoming traffic after a stop and many more where there was no attempt to stop at all, as was the case this morning. We have also worked a number of crashes, some quite serious, where the violator swears they looked, but did not see the oncoming traffic. Looking and seeing are two entirely different things folks. Just this week, I drove up on a very serious crash at a controlled intersection just outside of Springfield where a motorist failed to stop and drove into the path of an oncoming vehicle. These things happen when you casually disobey the basic rules of the road.

The merits of compliance with traffic law are obvious to virtually everyone who drives today. This important consideration is not why I write. One of the cars that drove through the stop sign today, as if it did not exist, was occupied by children in addition to the driver. These kids were old enough to form impressions based on the behaviors of the “adult” driving the car and are being taught that it is okay to ignore the law in the interest of expediency and time conservation. Driving is a very basic freedom that we enjoy, guaranteeing unheralded mobility in a country where cars are seen as an absolute necessity. I would argue that casually ignoring traffic law is the first step in teaching our children that laws are to be followed only when it is convenient and that casual disobedience is the order of the day. Ignoring the stop signs is the first, baby step in the fine art of civil disobedience. Everything has an origin, and civil disobedience is spawned when laws are broken. I would further suggest the thugs in ANTIFA have little regard for laws of any kind, including traffic law, although they do offer a ridiculous rationale for their ignorance, the hatred of authority.

To the folks who demonstrated their willful noncompliance with the law mandating a stop at a stop sign, think about your answer when the child asks why you didn’t stop as required. If you are able to come up with a good reason as to why you ignored this basic law, please offer it to me in your comments. I suspect that I have heard them all and have yet to hear one that sticks. We should strive to eliminate the necessity of explaining to our children why we break laws.

I was fortunate to enjoy a law enforcement career that encompassed every aspect of policing from criminal investigation to safety education and training. Traffic enforcement is how troopers cut their teeth in the State Patrol and is an aspect where you can make a difference instantly when you flip open your ticket book and begin the process of reminding motorists that someone is always watching you at some point in your public movement.

Take an extra few seconds to teach your children and grandchildren that laws are written to insure our safety. At the end of the day, you will have contributed to their development in a very positive way and will smile at your effort, knowing that you have made a positive contribution to their education and our civil order.

In my years on the Patrol, I looked forward to the July 4th holiday with mixed feelings. The revelry and warmth of this summer holiday were tempered by the absolute certainty that either I personally, or one or more of my officers would confront tragedy in some form or another. As we enter this holiday, I appreciate America more than ever, but am concerned with the tone and tenor of our resolve to defend ourselves against our enemies, as they say “foreign and domestic”. The recently concluded trial of Navy Seal Eddie Gallagher is an example of the shifting resolve we face. Below, we have Chief Gallagher.

Combat is not akin to a mean natured dog on your paper route. Those of us who have served in combat know that war is a nasty business that will sear your conscious and awaken you in the middle of the night. There are no easy solutions when your boots are on the ground and a rifle is your best friend. I do not wish the experience on anyone, but also know that it is inevitable if we are to continue to enjoy the life that our fighting men and women have guaranteed by confronting our enemies and killing them when necessary. The line between absolute immorality and morality is drawn somewhere between Me Lai and the actions of Chief Gallagher, with one being clearly out of bounds and the other…well you judge for yourself.

I am a relatively inexperienced warrior, having spent a year in Vietnam near the end of a war we fought for reasons not clearly understood and that has not been judged kindly by history. I did, however; live with a very experienced warrior in my father, a highly decorated Green Beret Colonel, who saw combat in both Korea and Vietnam. I suspect that dad would be appalled by the trial of Chief Gallagher, even though his actions as portrayed by the prosecutors were “distasteful”. My father and I did not talk much about his participation in combat, but I understood his clear eyed, intrinsic belief that you met a challenge “on terms they (challenger) would understand”. My friends viewed dad with a deep respect as his presence could chill a room instantly. One of my uncles, an Air Force veteran, often referred to dad as “the most dangerous man he had ever known”. There is absolutely no doubt that killing, in combat, was not difficult for my father and folks like Eddie Gallagher. That, readers, is the essence of combat. The Chief stands convicted of posing with the corpse of an enemy combatant, an occurrence that represents the black humor that is often present on the battlefield. This stuff is not for timid, inexperienced warriors. Again, I leave the judgement of his actions to the reader, based on his or her own sensitivities and experience with death. The picture below is of Col. SR Johnson.

Shifting gears just a bit, our televisions have been alive with footage of ANTIFA punks beating the hell out of a journalist attempting to capture the essence of their despicable antics. As a professional police officer for many years, the sight of these masked thugs beating up folks without police interference makes me retch. I would smile broadly if one of the victims in these assaults could somehow secure a baton and beat one of the ANTIFA thugs senseless. We are not going to influence the actions of these idiots by standing by and shaking our heads while we mutter under our breaths. Dad’s wisdom comes into play, meet them on the terms they have established. Chief Gallagher was confronted by an enemy that teaches public beheading of innocent people as a means to shock the world into accepting their way of life. Were his actions any more shocking than the words of one of our greatest warriors, General George Patton, who proclaimed he “would grease the treads of his tanks with the guts of the (German soldiers)” that his troops killed? Was that unbecoming conduct? Hardly.

The point of this all is simple. America must continue to produce warriors that are willing and able to meet our enemies, domestic and foreign, on terms they will understand. There is little if any diplomacy in combat, whether it be in a foreign country or our streets. The diplomacy that does exist must be exercised before the gloves come off and we engage the combatants. Chief Gallagher will write a book, as he should, in hopes of guaranteeing his financial future. His trial was America’s trial and the verdict is in. Combat is a double barreled hell that results in blurred lines between reasonable and unreasonable lines in the sand. The advantage must be given to the warrior.

America is on trial…..are we up to it?