Start Slow... and Taper off

"As I get older I'm more and more comfortable being alone." This is a quote I came across quite by accident and is attributed to Sienna Miller. She's 36 years old. It is a one line testimony to just how frazzled our world has become. Henry David Thoreau once spent an entire day, from sunrise, to sunset sitting at his doorstep. He never stood to eat, or use the bathroom and later declared it was the most productive day of his life. That left a profound effect on me when I read it years ago.

This coming June, I will enter my 4th year of retirement and still have to remind myself that I can take time to sniff the flowers. I do not have to be almost anywhere other than for appointments. Like Tom Hanks character in the desert island movie, I lived by the clock. Sure, I love to arrive early for everything. Punctuality is a dying practice, but hanging around afterward has never been an option for me. I was always rushing off so  I could "sit on the couch".

JoAn Martin's Tuesday column about 85 year old folks being content gives me hope that not worrying about stuff I can't change is in my future. I sat across from the Sun's managing editor, David Bloom and exclaimed that I would love to write about glitter and unicorn sightings, but there is just so much negative fodder available; I get sucked into writing about it. It's a black hole I simply have trouble avoiding.

Emma's Hugs is staging a fund raising event at McLeod Park in Mont Belvieu February 24th from 4pm to 7pm and I was asked to support it by gathering geocachers there for an event, which I am going to do. Why not? I have time and its a noble cause. This past weekend, SETX geocachers staged 2 trash bash CITO events right here in Baytown, even attending the event set by Baytown Tourism. The rain forecast curtailed their plans and they cancelled, but that didn't stop us from showing up with about 20 people and cleaning Blue Heron Parkway and associated trails.

Like Ms. Miller and Mr. Thoreau, I like my own company, in spite of the fact that I will group up now and again. My dad was the same way and would spend the whole day fishing in his boat far away from other people. He wouldn't even take a radio. I drove down to Galveston Sunday for a geocaching event that got delayed and decided to look for geocaches by myself for the rest of the day. I had a ball and found over 20. I might have turned on the radio though.

Years ago when I was a runner, I learned of the incredible running man, Walt Stack. His motto in his old age was "start slow... and taper off," but he always kept running. From Wikipedia: For 27 years, from 1966 until 1993, Stack persisted in covering a set training route. His highly visible training routine made him a San Francisco institution. "I'm going to do this 'til I get planted," Stack decreed. Starting on his bike, he would ride six hilly miles from his Potrero Hill home to Fisherman's Wharf. Once there, he'd strip off his shirt, displaying tattoos of peacocks, wild horses, and bathing beauties across his broad chest, and then proceed to run a 17-mile route over the Golden Gate Bridge to Sausalito and back, after which he would take a one-mile swim in the currents of the San Francisco Bay near Alcatraz Island.

Even with folks in tow, Walt's exercise regimen was a solo sport. He wasn't doing it for anyone but himself and like my dad fishing, or me wandering around Galveston Island geocaching, a great deal of peace and contentment is enjoyed going solo. On top of that, the phase I have entered isn't measured by how fast I can accomplish it. Boy howdy. That is a revelation. I do not have to race.

When I was a runner, I always timed everything and always tried my best to set a new personal best time. Jogging slowed that down a bit, but then I went for longevity. I never stepped out to run, just to run. Now after nearly 4 years, I'm learning I can enjoy life a whole lot more by not racing the clock. When I was a Process Operator, I spent about 90% of my time alone and to this day do not regret it. I would tell people I was social by my own terms. Now that I am retired, I am enjoying people more than ever.

What's more fun than people? Maybe its a balance of them and me.

Happiness is best served earned.

"True happiness comes from the fulfillment of our duties." This is one of my oldest and favorite locutions. The main reason is it simply sums up and answers the age old question of how to obtain peace and contentment. Think about it. In this one sentence is the key to happiness. Here all along I've been led to believe it was that shiny new truck, or that winning lotto ticket worth 70 bazillion koruna.

I first recognized the correlation between completing a task and feeling really good about myself in the mid to late 70's. I heard a sermon in church about wasting time; time that could be spent investing in service to Jesus. The preacher said "Procrastination is the thief of time." Research reveals it was penned in 1752 by Edward Young, but I can't say I heard it before that day. It stuck in my crop, so to speak. I had no idea at the time, that almost 40 years later, this would become my mantra.

Now, knowing to jump right on a project doesn't mean that the motivation will be right there like an over eager helper, because most times, it won't. It is very convenient to brush off the completion of a task due to our current economic standing and this justification is real a large percentage of the time, but that won't stop us from taking that same 60 bucks and going to Pappa's.

It is also extremely easy to forget that high-five ourselves feeling when we do right and complete a task. It could be small reward, like cutting the lawn, cleaning up our closet, or leveling that kitchen table your wife has been asking about for 6 months. Small jobs bring small, but nice rewards. The bigger and more difficult tasks can be performed by you, or someone you scheduled and both give us that great feeling of accomplishment.

I like to subtly remind my bride, oh, about 7 or 8 times after I get something done. I've been married long enough that "getting lucky" is a coveted pat on the head. Doing the task is reward enough and that satisfying feeling cannot be purchased with money. It is akin to the sensation we revel in when we perform an unselfish act. Let's face it, we are not going to get our jollies watching the news, weather, and now even sports has become a source of hand wringing. We have to reach from within. What?

Soul searching for that blood diamond? Grab a sheet of paper, cause "we gonna make a cipher!" Take a look around (Note: men just ask your wife) and pick the smallest tree in your forest and cut it down. Now take a break. You did it. You are a success story. Have a root beer. Tomorrow, pick the next tree. Each day you chop down another. Don't pick a 6 day $2300 project for starters, or chances are you'll enjoy that root beer while you ponder the economic blockade from the safety of your foxhole.

Go 5 days and take 2 off, but stay the course. That's what your list is for. Personal accountability and if you are like me, you staple the list to the inside of the garage closet door. This serves more than one purpose. It shows what you've done and it shows what you need to do, but it's also your trophies of accomplishment. Yea, you can gloat. Leave it up there too, even when it gets full.

Now, like I alluded to earlier when I said something about getting lucky. Don't believe it. If you do, then you are trapped into the false reward system and the first time there is no delivery, you will mope and whine like a 6 year old. We're going after the gold, baby! We want those reward endorphins that only come to us when we do good and they don't come from anyone else but good old us.

 

Now I realize I am writing this as if women are excluded, but the contrary is true. Pointing out projects for your mate to accomplish does not qualify you to get anything except frustrated. You have your own forest and your own axe (No, not the one you normally grind). Your plan is the same as his. Blood diamonds baby and the reward only comes by doing. I like to express to my bride that I didn't learn how to do whatever it is that she wants me to do, when I was attending school for that craft - because I didn't attend a school for that craft.

In short, do research on YouTube and it might just surprise you what all you can repair on your own. We are talking tasks, repairs, maintenance, and undesirables, right? Chances are if you don't want to do something, it is because you feel like it will be a hassle, too complicated, or just plain difficult. Okay. That's what your axe is for. That's why you feel so good when you chop that sucker down. 

Happiness is best served earned.

Alana Goodman Gill being happy.

 

Camp fires, wood smoke, and burning leaves.

 When I was a kid, everyone burned leaves in the fall. I always enjoyed it so much.  It was a happy time. Man, that smell was amazing and you couldn’t go anywhere without smelling it. Of course now I know that it is a major source of air pollution and those of us that live inside the city limits are restricted from doing it. I don’t think I would burn them anyway, choosing to compost instead.

The whole family would engage in raking the yard and the reward was burning the leaves. The thick gray smoke would pour out like liquid clouds and we would run through it. Afterward, we smelled like smoke, but we didn’t care. I would wager that most people under the age of 30 have never even raked leaves into a pile, let alone burn them.

Growing up in north Georgia in the late 60’s, my 3 brothers and I would camp out most of the summer and burn anything and everything on our campfire. At the end of summer there wouldn’t be a stick, pine cone, or needle on the ground. We smelled like mountain men and didn’t even notice it. Of course we showered every third day or so and put on clean clothes, but we pretty much lived in our outdoor summer campsite. It was a grand time of adventure and primitive living. I guess you could say we were happy.

The other night when it fell into the 50’s, I beckoned my bride to step outside, as someone was burning wood. I’m not sure if she was impressed like I was, but I stayed out front for sometime and my memories were refreshed. It is the simple things in life that sometimes bring the most pleasure. Someone asked me one time what brings true happiness and I told them it is when you fulfill your duties, or a job well done. Peace and contentment bring real joy also.

Disneyworld is nothing more than entertainment. It doesn’t induce lasting happiness. Standing in front of my house smelling that wood smoke made me happy, as I was living in the past and in the moment and days later I still feel good about it. I was content. Doing good deeds and accomplishing things also bring a sense of well being. In a time when everything is pushed as entertainment, we almost forget that none of it really makes us happy.  People go on cruises and vacations and never talk about them afterward.

There is so much hassle and logistics involved to go and do things anymore that when it is all said and done, I’m not sure we got anything more out of it than seeing and doing things – and spent a bunch of money we don’t really have and why? Because we are chasing the illusion of happiness. My dad could sit in one spot and fish all by himself from sunrise to sunset and be as happy as a frog eating a June bug.  The scenery never changed and all he might have seen around his boat was water and sky, but he was more content, than if he would have traveled and climbed up to Machu Picchu.

Wood smoke and camp fires. How long has it been since you hunkered down by a campfire and let the world fly by without you? Of course, you cannot haul in a lowboy of modern conveniences on this trip, or you just complicate it. No, just some meat on a stick; coffee in the morning, and maybe a cooler with beverages is all you need. Get a pocket knife and whittle a stick, just frittering the day away. I promise, it will do you more good than a trip to a crowded stadium, where you have a 50/50 chance of leaving disgusted.

My little doggies make me happy on a daily basis. They demand nothing, chase each other in mock fights and dadgumit, they just are great companions. I feel good caring for them, by taking them for walks, making sure they have plenty of food and water, and great veterinary care. It’s these simple everyday things that enrich my life and the best part of it all is I recognize it. I don’t have to book a flight to Belize to have a great time or to be content.

Like the burning leaves, wood smoke, and campfires, what has truly made me satisfied in life - is life itself.

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Achieving true happiness

Do you consider yourself to basically be a happy person or do you feel that there is a giant invisible hand holding you back where you cannot truly enjoy life? In the deep recesses of your mind, do you believe that winning the lotto, hiking the Rockies, or getting that dream all expense paid vacation will unlock the shackles that deprive you of inner peace? You are not alone, I assure you, but sadly, none of these illusive desires will give you what you want for more than a few days.  

The money will be spent, the hike will conclude, and the voyage on the seas will come to an end and you will find yourself back at work and in the doldrums. Then the old problems will resurface and once again you will wish for relief.

I have a good friend who in a very frustrated state and on a daily basis will explain to me why he is no longer happy at work. “It’s not the job, it’s” – and he has a long list of complaints. “I won’t ever be happy here,” he angrily vocalizes and I sit and listen and know in y heart he is sadly lacking a revelation that I can’t give him.’

He will have to see it for himself.  He needs an epiphany, an awakening of sorts and other than the possibility of a divine intervention, it is up to him.

He truly believes he will get a job somewhere that the current issues simply do not exist. I try to explain to him that he is living a fantasy, because the identical issues that bug him here are at every job site, everywhere, but he is so caught up in believing that his happiness is dependent on finding another place to work, that my words fall on deaf ears.

Now mind you, when I talk about our workplace, I am not talking about a hostile environment and if that describes where you work, then maybe in your case, leaving is a good option – but not here. Here happens to be a good work atmosphere for the most part. I know. I’ve toiled at this place of employment a long time. People are people and people have a myriad of personalities. There is no getting around that unless you work completely solo and those jobs are rare, so managing your interaction with those around you is essential to peace on the job, but honestly, has little to do with your personal happiness.

Our personal happiness is almost one hundred percent our responsibility and in our control. Whether you are a believer of the Christian Bible or not, no one could argue with the Apostle Paul’s statement found in Philippians 4:11 and I paraphrase, that I learned to be happy, no matter the circumstances.

Inner peace can be achieved regardless of who bugs you at work and is our responsibility to develop and nurture. We simply cannot depend on circumstances, or the lack thereof or the people around us to dictate our state of mind and the sooner we take command of our own well being, the sooner we can achieve what appears to be elusive to so many.

My Dad was a hard-working family provider.  He was always at work.  He was not a particularly gregarious man and had a very low tolerance for what he termed “idiots”.  He spent many years in industry as a tool and die maker and in his later years told me he hated every minute of it.  This surprised me very much as I do not recall hearing him complain about work.  His real pleasure was to go off fishing in his boat and be gone for hours.  As he aged, the trips grew more frequent and the largest percentage of the time, he went by himself.

One day I asked him why he went alone and he told me, “I enjoy my own company.”  His simple answer has never left me and over the years I have developed the same sentiment with one exception.  When I can, I want my bride with me.  If she can’t go, or has other plans, I simply happily go by myself.

Working in the chemical industry for almost 40 years I have thousands and thousands of hours in my wake of being someplace I’d rather not have been, but do I hate it; am I unhappy; or have I numbly became hardened to the task?  Has all of this work made me an unhappy person?

The answer is no; I am not unhappy and for the most part, I am not only content, but enjoy myself a great deal of the time, even at work.  Seeing I have to be there, I simply make the best of it.  You see, I learned a long time ago that no one can dictate whether I am happy or not – only me.  So, I simply choose to be happy and content and enjoy my own company.

The Greatest Gift - reposted from December 17, 2006

Every day at work, I wash down the bird droppings from the pigeons and dove that nest in my area. I’ve thought about ways to keep them out of the covered areas and really want to do it in a way that isn’t harmful to them. Their droppings are surely a health hazard and I get aggravated when each day, I drag out the water hose to flush it into the Plant sump.

Yesterday, I saw a pigeon all fluffed up, sitting on the ground and I instinctively knew it was sick. Instead of feeling justified, I felt nothing but pity. Under my breath I whispered a short prayer for its recovery. I guess I’m getting old, or mellow, or something. In my earlier days, I wouldn’t have given the poor bird much thought, as sad as that sounds.

Each day in the media and the online forums, the war in Iraq and Afghanistan is tossed back and forth with a detachment that is as bad as my former aloofness concerning sick birds. We complain about the war and the way it’s being handled and all the while "our boys" are in the thick of it, facing another Christmas away from home.

We want it to go away, so we can resume our lives, shop for Christmas and attend a joyous New Years party. I truly wish it would go away and we could experience peace on earth and good will to all men.

The troops in Iraq and other war zones occasionally have access to the Internet and most of them have a MySpace account. Being the techno-geek guy that I am, I too have an account and I regularly read what my son and other soldiers write. What I’ve experienced in my own life as a G.I. overseas in wartime has brought depth to their casual remarks.

"Life isn’t supposed to be this bad when you’re still young".
"I figure I’ve been through the worst of it and I’m ready to start living again".
"This is the worst place on earth"…

Christmas is approaching and for many of us Christian people, it marks the greatest day of the year, both for the celebration of the birth of the Christ child Jesus, but also as a time of gathering together. We exchange gifts, eat a lot of fattening food, and generally indulge ourselves to the point we all go on diets beginning January one. As my daughter Melody loves to say: "Good times!" and it surely is.

As an Airman, I spent four Christmas’ away from home. One in Basic Training, another in freezing Malmstrom AFB, Montana and two at steamy Takhli RTAFB, Thailand. I lost something in those four years and those that are away serving our country will lose something also.

* "He went to fight wars, For his country and his king, Of his honor and his glory, The people would sing.
Ooooh, what a lucky man he was…"

The truth is just the opposite. Our boys and girls come back old men and women and some bear physical and mental scars they will carry for the rest of their lives. Sometimes the scars are not apparent and surface many years later. Sometimes the scars are too hard for loved ones to bear and a separation takes place while the Veteran sorts it all out.

My son will be returning to Fort Sill, Oklahoma on January 7th, if everything goes as planned and after 10 days of "reintegration", he will be able to come home on leave. I looked this Army term up, as I found it peculiar and this is what I found: "The automatic energetic process, whereby the projected double is reintegrated with its physical/etheric body". In plain old Texas talk, what this means is, these soldiers have to be eased back into society, a little bit at a time. It’s supposed to take 10 days.

The greatest gift I could possibly get this Christmas season is the boy is still alive inside the man. He left for Iraq, a Veteran of Korea and Kuwait, but after 82 combat missions, 15 IED attacks and a Purple Heart medal, I do not know who this man might be when he comes back. God willing, my "boy" is still in there somewhere.

Footnote: On April 16, 2009 I found my Army Veteran son dead on a friends couch, the victim of depression, VA prescribed anti-anxiety pills and alcohol. His Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) finally bought him a ticket to the peace he so desperately craved.

Nick's passing left an unexpected gift though and at first it was difficult to cipher out. Over 600 people gathered at this funeral and our home for days on end to comfort each other and those he had affected. It was his parting gift.

I do not blame God and am trying to make sense of it all. I do have as a gift this Christmas season the greatest of all gifts and that is my Faith, my church, my faithful friends and my wonderful family...and I share the belief that someday we'll be reunitied with my hero son, Nick.

* "Lucky Man" Emerson, Lake & Palmer

It’s the Little Things, Man

No one can say the word “man” like Dennis Hopper. He’s the quintessential biker hippie 70’s freak dude and when he uses the word “man’ in a movie or commercial, he says it with all the peace-love-dope inflection I remember the word deserved in its time. He said it the way I said it.

Yesterday I was hiking up to the top of a giant reactor structure. It was hot and there was little wind. To set the scenario, it was a slow weekend day with nothing to do, so I decided I would see if I could break my personal record of five back to back climbs of 326 steps. On my sixth and last ascent, I was noticeably tired and quite hot and realized the wind had ceased to blow. This particular ascent was cooking me. As I neared the top, I muttered a plea to the good Lord for a breeze and within seconds a light wind came up. It was little, but it was enough.

I’ve been working non-stop since my son’s funeral, clocking in just shy of fifty days in a row with one exception on May 20th. It’s been doable and it’s helped occupy my mind and pay expenses, but the scenery hasn’t changed and that is something I miss. Opening my lunchbox the other day I found a small love letter from my bride. My lunch tasted extra good that day.

At the Byrd Sanctuary out Dayton way, my family gathered for a crawfish festival, one of many gatherings my sister and brother-in-law stage for friends and family at their place. As we talked, laughed and ate, an American swallow-tailed kite flew over their property. This giant predatory bird with a four-foot wingspan caused all of us to stop and stare as it performed its beautiful aerial ballet. We are still talking about it days later.

Last night my folks came by for a visit and as we sat on the patio, we were delighted to see a pair of black-bellied whistling ducks fly over Chaparral Village. I was happy we were there at that moment to witness this display. It was a little thing and I enjoy life in bite-sized form.

I recently combined two passions: Sriracha hot sauce and bean, cheese and jalapeno tamales from Los Torito’s on N. Main. I drove in from work about 4:15pm and was greeted by the owner, Llyda Martinez. I told her about my new addiction (Sriracha hot sauce) and how I was anxious to try it on her made in Baytown scrumptious tamales. She said she was familiar with the potent Am-Viet concoction and even though her seasoning of Chile de Arbol peppers is perfect, the Sriracha is calling my name right now. Needless to say I scalded my innards and the already delicious tamales with Sriracha as soon as I got home. It’s a small delight, but it has big satisfaction.

My neighbors Barbara and Craig Pugh cooked us up a mess of pork ribs and dropped them off for no other reason than they are good and generous people. Small acts of kindness weigh in big at our house. Baytown has a lot of folks like this and that’s why I call it home.

My point is simple; it’s the small things, man, that make the world spin right for us, not winning the Lotto, or driving that Hummer H2 that gets our eye. Of course, those would be nice too.

A Stroll in the Woods

It’s been pre-Hurricane Ike since my bride and I strolled in the woods over at Walter L. Jenkins Park, so we leashed up the Shih Tzu, hopped in the hoopty and off we went.

Jenkins Park, as it’s more commonly known is located at 4334 Crosby Cedar Bayou Road and is 40 acres in size and Baytown’s third largest Park, but that is fixing to change, as the city has purchased 56 additional acres of land beside the existing Park. Jenkins Park also has about two miles of fantastic trails which make you feel like you are in the great outdoors.

The city is in the process of installing fences in the new addition for a giant dog park and it appears there will be two sections, one for large dogs and one for smaller dogs, which sounds good to me and I suspect our doggies will have access in the next few months. I notice the city has been very active in planting trees also, which is always a plus. The city installed some fancy doggie pick-it-up stations, so responsible pet owners can follow up on their pets. Another good idea!

Cross over Cary Bayou on one of the three bridges and you can walk through the woods to the tennis courts at J. C. Holloway Park on Raccoon Drive. It’s all very secure and safe and this morning, the trail was very active with joggers, walkers and folks with dogs on leashes. I like to hike alongside Cary Bayou also and this would be a logical place to expand the gravel trail. Our Parks Superintendent, Scott Johnson tells me they are going to replace the center bridge with a wider better bridge sometime in the near future.

On today’s hike, I couldn’t believe how air-ish and open the woods felt. The hurricane did extensive damage to the normally tree-crowded landscape. As we neared J. C. Holloway Park, heavy brush and downed trees were being removed by workers and after a short conversation with one of the operators, I learned they were cleaning all the dead wood out. All the same, it’s a spectacular view of the destructive force of a hurricane.

My bride and I sat down on one of the benches, which in my opinion are too few and attempted to “smell the roses”. Everyone knows the saying, but few of us, including me, actually make time to do it properly. We are caught up in our fast pace and getting off this roller coaster finds us jogging along side – and we tell ourselves we are relaxing. I read one time that it can take fourteen days to break out of our fast pace.

The Europeans are famous for knowing how to relax and we are just as famous for chasing the dollar. I think more benches along the trail would encourage folks to have a seat. Have a seat and do nothing, but listen, or maybe read a book. Sit and watch a bird or a squirrel. Do nothing but sit. Now that’s real living.

“True happiness is in the fulfillment of our duties” my bride quotes me as we sit on the bench after I remark that this makes me happy. I explain to her that true happiness is indeed fulfilling the things we need to do, but in the context of attempting the superficial happiness at Disneyland or a vacation cruise in the Bahamas, not trying to smell the roses. I still contend that real happiness comes when we do well or accomplish something, not in artificial places and things, which only rub the surface of real happiness.

Peace and contentment can be accomplished by sitting on a bench in the woods and letting the sun shine on our face. It’s the simplicity of it that brings deep satisfaction.

The Peaceful Baytown Neighborhood

I stepped out onto my front porch to get my newspapers like I do every morning I am off work and surveyed my peaceful neighborhood. I love this place. Down the street are the usual array of lounging cats; a stealthy furry night predator of innocent birds and rodents not indigenous to this country, but somehow introduced and accepted. Are they a metaphor of present day Baytown? Maybe, but then again I may just be thinking too much…again.

Looking around I observe an ominous pinkish tinge in the clouds and the myriad bird sound imitations of the ever present mockingbird or birds. Who knows how many are out there this morning? It’s peaceful here and feels warm and inviting; a great place for a kid to play and ride their bike – or maybe it isn’t. Of course kids don’t rise at the crack of dawn these days to meet their buddies and play baseball, but sleep, weary from an all-nighter playing video games, so it remains quiet. That is fine with me. Quiet times in the neighborhood are something I enjoy more than I can explain.

Walking around to the back I disturb a bouncing and boisterous blue jay as it launches off the limb of my dwarf cherry laurel, one of my sunflower seeds in its beak. Is there a more arrogant bird in Harris County than the blue jay? They land with a thump and a bump like they own the place and grab what they want. There’s nothing neighborly or easy about them – all flash and pizzazz and some refer to them as robber jays, as they have been known to hop in and take what they haven’t earned.

What - not another analogy to crime and criminal activity? Could be, but this thought is probably just a side effect of the neighborhood watch meeting we had with Captain D. W. Alford of the Baytown Police Department Saturday evening. Instead of enjoying the company of his own neighbors and family, he willingly gave us three informative hours and we appreciated it.

It’s no secret I live in Chaparral Village and CV is typical of almost any neighborhood in the city including your own. What happens here is an indicator to everyone else of what is happening in their neck of the woods with few exceptions. What we do that may set us apart is a neighborhood watch program that is growing stronger each day and that means we are collectively seeing more stuff that used to go unnoticed. We are calling more and that is a good thing.

According to Captain Alford, other than the street racing issue, we have less crime now than other parts of town and a lot of that stems from residents taking precautions and calling the police when we see something suspicious. We are installing night motion lights and for the most part locking our garage doors. We are removing our electronics and pilferables from our cars, locking the doors and setting alarms. In short, we are taking away the initiative of thieves by changing our pattern of behavior. Yea, we are changing the way we do things.

I guess it boils down to what we as tax-paying home owners want to see when we look around our homestead. Do we want to abort crime before we are victimized or do we want to pretend it couldn’t happen to us? Are we willing to change the way we do things if it reduces the chance we will be robbed or targeted for criminal mischief?

We here in CV are bolstering our stance of using the police department as the first line of defense in the event that our preparation fails. We are not vigilantes, but we are being vigilant. Capt. Alford told our group that a good way to decide if a call to BPD is warranted is if something seems amiss, doesn’t feel right, or makes us suspicious – then by all means call, but before you do, get a reasonable description of the situation. Get an address location and be as specific as possible. Think of it this way: Imagine the dispatcher is not familiar with your area and try to explain so anyone can find it. Don’t assume a vague description will be adequate – prepare as much as possible before making the call.

We CV folks enjoy our neighborhood as much as the next subdivision and realize the burden of creating a positive place to raise our family lies on us as individuals as much as anything. We have to communicate and share information more. We have to meet for Neighbors Night Out in August. We have to watch out for each other and by doing this; we increase the odds of keeping the bad guys at bay.

I want to spend the rest of my days right here in beautiful and peaceful CV and that means keeping it beautiful and peaceful in the future. So, as long as my fellow denizens and I keep vigilant, we can look forward to many more morning newspaper deliveries, pretty blue jays, lazy kitty cat sightings and beautiful pinkish fluffy clouds.