Firewood and Facebook
Lead Summary
By
Rory Ryan-hcpress@cinci.rr.com
Obama is the nation's first Facebook president.
Someone whose name I was happily ignorant of a few years ago is Hillsboro's first Facebook mayor.
After three years, the former has been an abject failure. Perhaps the latter may learn from his shortcomings, but I wouldn't count on it.
The one thing both seem to have in common is their relative "free pass" from voters to the press to their respective party elders. Such are the ways and means of the You Tube generation, one may suppose…
Don't worry, though, your Independent local newspaper will keep you posted.
* * *
A good friend and I were emailing back and forth on 11-11-11 last week, when I mentioned it was roughly 390 days until 12-12-12, otherwise known as the End of the World. (After all, there will be no such day of 13-13-13.)
Just when I thought I'd escape 12-12-12 without another hitch in my git-along, I read about a possible "Space Katrina" next year.
Supposedly, a NASA study has warned of solar flares that might bring down power grids and satellites. Who knows, maybe they'll take out Facebook, too!
Of course seven years ago, many of us remember dealing with power outages for two weeks or longer, during the now famous Ice Storm.
Frankly, I can't recall any more than a few minor inconveniences during our 15-day power outage in December and January of 2004-05. Of course that's easy for me to say – unlike our goldfish – who froze to death on the third day without electricity.
But with a good stash of firewood outside the basement door and a solid Ridge wood-burning stove I bought from Richard Morris's brother in 1986, we managed to cook and maintain some semblance of warmth. We played a lot of poker by candlelight, too, as I recall.
* * *
Fast forward from the Ice Storm of 2004 to the latest Winter of Our Discontent, and you'll hear a few choice words from a no longer young Ax Man. This past weekend, as my wife posted on Facebook (arrrgh!), she, Colin and I brought out the chainsaw and sledge ax and commenced to filling the wood pile.
As much as I detest the winter months and wish that I could join a few friends at the Neptune on Fort Myers Beach from December until March, I have to admit that I enjoy listening to the Reds Hot Stove League while sitting in front of our aforementioned wood-burning stove. Our three black Labs and two golden retrievers seem to like it, too.
(On a side note, we came dangerously close to adding a chocolate Lab to the canine herd recently, after a visit to the Highland County Humane Society. They do have some beautiful dogs, so stop by if you are in need of a perfect Christmas gift.)
Anyway, as I was saying, I did mumble a few choice words this weekend while cutting standing dead trees and splitting future firewood. There comes a time when a person should no longer use a chainsaw, an ax or a snow shovel. If that time hasn't arrived for yours truly, it's certainly on the not-too-distant horizon.
* * *
With a few backyard rest breaks – and emergency medical checkups by Mocha, our oldest Lab – we managed to fill the wood pile. Afterward, it occurred to me to add a few more "You might be a redneckisms" to Mr. Foxworthy's popular list.
• You might be a redneck if you've ever had to use a chainsaw to untangle your boots from a grape vine.
• You might be a redneck if you've ever shown your neighbor where you "just missed" losing half a leg.
• You might be a redneck if you've ever played basketball while wearing a Smith and Wesson .38 Special on your hip. (For me, that was a first.)
• You might be a redneck if you traded a 1985 Dodge Dakota for a cord of firewood to a guy who immediately sold the truck to another guy for $150 who now wants a title to said truck. However, you are most certainly NOT a redneck if you provide said title without seeing said cord of firewood.
Trust me, we have had a most enjoyable weekend. Dinner at Dakota's was good, too. Thank God, they had Yuengling on tap.
Rory Ryan is publisher and editor of The Highland County Press.[[In-content Ad]]
Someone whose name I was happily ignorant of a few years ago is Hillsboro's first Facebook mayor.
After three years, the former has been an abject failure. Perhaps the latter may learn from his shortcomings, but I wouldn't count on it.
The one thing both seem to have in common is their relative "free pass" from voters to the press to their respective party elders. Such are the ways and means of the You Tube generation, one may suppose…
Don't worry, though, your Independent local newspaper will keep you posted.
* * *
A good friend and I were emailing back and forth on 11-11-11 last week, when I mentioned it was roughly 390 days until 12-12-12, otherwise known as the End of the World. (After all, there will be no such day of 13-13-13.)
Just when I thought I'd escape 12-12-12 without another hitch in my git-along, I read about a possible "Space Katrina" next year.
Supposedly, a NASA study has warned of solar flares that might bring down power grids and satellites. Who knows, maybe they'll take out Facebook, too!
Of course seven years ago, many of us remember dealing with power outages for two weeks or longer, during the now famous Ice Storm.
Frankly, I can't recall any more than a few minor inconveniences during our 15-day power outage in December and January of 2004-05. Of course that's easy for me to say – unlike our goldfish – who froze to death on the third day without electricity.
But with a good stash of firewood outside the basement door and a solid Ridge wood-burning stove I bought from Richard Morris's brother in 1986, we managed to cook and maintain some semblance of warmth. We played a lot of poker by candlelight, too, as I recall.
* * *
Fast forward from the Ice Storm of 2004 to the latest Winter of Our Discontent, and you'll hear a few choice words from a no longer young Ax Man. This past weekend, as my wife posted on Facebook (arrrgh!), she, Colin and I brought out the chainsaw and sledge ax and commenced to filling the wood pile.
As much as I detest the winter months and wish that I could join a few friends at the Neptune on Fort Myers Beach from December until March, I have to admit that I enjoy listening to the Reds Hot Stove League while sitting in front of our aforementioned wood-burning stove. Our three black Labs and two golden retrievers seem to like it, too.
(On a side note, we came dangerously close to adding a chocolate Lab to the canine herd recently, after a visit to the Highland County Humane Society. They do have some beautiful dogs, so stop by if you are in need of a perfect Christmas gift.)
Anyway, as I was saying, I did mumble a few choice words this weekend while cutting standing dead trees and splitting future firewood. There comes a time when a person should no longer use a chainsaw, an ax or a snow shovel. If that time hasn't arrived for yours truly, it's certainly on the not-too-distant horizon.
* * *
With a few backyard rest breaks – and emergency medical checkups by Mocha, our oldest Lab – we managed to fill the wood pile. Afterward, it occurred to me to add a few more "You might be a redneckisms" to Mr. Foxworthy's popular list.
• You might be a redneck if you've ever had to use a chainsaw to untangle your boots from a grape vine.
• You might be a redneck if you've ever shown your neighbor where you "just missed" losing half a leg.
• You might be a redneck if you've ever played basketball while wearing a Smith and Wesson .38 Special on your hip. (For me, that was a first.)
• You might be a redneck if you traded a 1985 Dodge Dakota for a cord of firewood to a guy who immediately sold the truck to another guy for $150 who now wants a title to said truck. However, you are most certainly NOT a redneck if you provide said title without seeing said cord of firewood.
Trust me, we have had a most enjoyable weekend. Dinner at Dakota's was good, too. Thank God, they had Yuengling on tap.
Rory Ryan is publisher and editor of The Highland County Press.[[In-content Ad]]