billkirkwrites

2023-09-11T16:02:00.000-07:00

This is a post I wrote on another site on September 11, 2020.

IN REMEMBRANCE OF 9/11

There has been much said in recent days about 9/11/2001 being a day anyone old enough will remember where they were and what they were doing---another JFK assassination moment. However, I must admit the details have been strangely fuzzy for me, to the point I have had to reconstruct the circumstances of the day. Certainly there is much I do recall. But some of the most obvious details have eluded me as I reflect on that day ten years ago.

For example, which day of the week was it? Where exactly was I when I heard the news? How did I first find out about it? What was my life context on that day? Why aren't such bits and pieces seared into my memory?

It was a Tuesday. I know this because I have one of those circular 40-year calendars to tell me the day of the week for any date from 1995-2034. A little over a month before, I had started a new job as a manager in a research and evaluation unit in the Department of Social Services. My new office---and I actually had an office---was in downtown Sacramento, CA in the northwest corner on the 12th floor in one of two buildings widely known by State workers as the "Twin Towers".

The day started like most other work days. I was up early as usual---I like the morning quiet. Then the phone rang. Who could be calling unless it was a family emergency? In fact, it was my wife's mom two hours ahead of us in the Central Time Zone. "Turn on the TV! There's been a horrible air plane accident in New York!"

Still I was not registering the urgency of the call. Plane crashes are usually for the evening news, aren't they? But this wasn't just a crash, mind you. The plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York. You've got to be kidding! I remember almost immediately calling my closest high school friends in Dallas to share my disbelief about what we were watching. Secretly I hoped they would tell me this was all just another "War of the Worlds" mass hysteria hoax. It wasn't.

My wife and I sat watching, awestruck and helpless, yet mezmerized by the unfolding events three time zones away. Can't we rewind the movie reel and intercept those planes? How could this have possibly happened? Realizing there was nothing we could do but watch, that's what we did, as both towers fell, the Pentagon was hit and Flight 93 crashed in Pennsylvania.

At that moment we could hardly imagine how we could possibly leave the growing spectacle on TV. But by 7:00 a.m. our interrupted morning routine was beckoning somewhat impatiently as a full hour had evaporated while we watched the continuing news feed. It was past time to wake our grandson up and take him to school---he had just started First Grade the week before, still full of excitement about being a first grader. And there was a full day of work for my wife and me. She was in the middle of a pre-doctoral internship at Yolo County Mental Health and I had a full day of meetings ahead of me.

After making my way through the usual snarled traffic, the office routine sputtered all morning. Everyone was clearly distracted by the weight of the news, although we were disconnected inside our office spaces from any media sources of information about what was happening on the ground. Every news snippet coming in via phone calls from outside spawned a new round of spectulation and shock.

Meetings were cancelled---I know this because my planner has all my meetings crossed out---and all but the most critical business was suddenly on the back burner or off the stove all together. A decision about about a multi-million dollar research contract got lumped together with the report about a broken copier. All was eclipsed by questions about how we would know our children would be safe if disaster struck our building. And all those seemingly mindless practice evacuation drills? They now took on new importance.

Then we wondered if there might not be something---anything---we could do individually or collectively to help. It was as if someone had stuck a stick in a giant ant hill and the entire nation was trying to sort out what to do next. Of course, there was nothing we could do for those so far away except tighten things up our own house, to hold those close to us dear, to reach out to distant family and friends and to share, even if only virtually, this common national tragedy.

In the years since the events of that day, we have remembered what it is we were doing and how we felt as individuals and as a nation. Now, ten years later, it is good and right that we once again take time to reflect or to do some particular thing to acknowledge our differences and celebrate the strength of our commonalities.

So, today, my Boy Scout Troop will retire several American flags whose service is done. In this small way, we will share the sacrifices made on our behalf, symbolized by the flags we fly. We do it to bond those who have no recollections of September 11, 2001 with those who saw it and felt it.

Always remember. Never forget.

2023-09-11T15:28:00.000-07:00

Let's see if I can finally pull this off. Two posts in a row, although this one may take me a couple days. Mostly because I'm digging through old photos to include visuals here.

I suppose the biggest project we have been working on is the small fishing cottage on our Florida property. It looked fine on the surface when we bought it (and the house). But literally after a bit of digging (which I have noted on Facebook a few times), we found a lot of work that needed to be done, both sub-surface and above ground. In actuality, most of it was work we wanted to do to extend the life of the last remaining fishing cottage along a several mile stretch of the Santa Rosa Sound shoreline.

With that intro, what follows is a "before, during and after" annotated pictorial capturing a rehab that began four years ago and continued through early spring of this year. Yes, there are still a few more tweaks remaining on the "to-do list." But the bulk of the work from plumbing, electrical, A/C, floor leveling, reflooring, receiling, rewalling, reroofing and rehabbing the kitchen and bath, is done.

"A Whale Of A Tale" Accessibility

2023-09-11T14:44:00.003-07:00

How the time does fly! This post is an update about my children's picture book, "A Whale Of A Tale". Here's the scoop:

Under the general heading of "One Step At A Time", I am happy to share that "A Whale Of A Tale" has now been listed by BiblioBoard (https://lnkd.in/
gQfEgmRm) among its holdings of internet accessible, independently published books available to patrons of BiblioBoard member libraries in several states across the country.

What that means in practical terms is the book is accessible in both electronic form for free online reading or in print for purchase, through BiblioBoard and partner booksellers. Clicking on the above link to the book, will open the BookBoard page for this book. Once on the page, you will find two options: "Read" and "Buy in Print". An attractive feature not found on bookseller sites is that BookBoard offers a "Read" option which provides free access to the complete book.

For anyone who decides to check out the free "Read" option, I would be interested in your opinion of the book, including the fiction story which is written in rhyme, the illustrations by nationally known artist, K.c. Snider, and the usefulness of the historical information presented as a learning opportunity. If you are so inclined, please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments section.

2018-04-08T16:15:00.000-07:00

After a long hiatus from my blog, I'm feeling the need to at least dabble a bit with a return to posting. Why now? Well, April is National Poetry Month. And today is Day 8 of the Poem A Day Challenge on the Writer's Digest site where anyone interested in poetry--either the writing of it or the reading--will find a treasure trove of poetry written in response to daily prompts from the moderator, Robert Lee Brewer.

Today's prompt is to write a poem about family. It is indeed humbling to read the remarkable poetry posted by other poets on the Writer's Digest site. For the record, here is my April 8 offering which, from the moment I posted it on the Writer's Digest site, I began revising. I think it's about done--at least until I hit the preview and publish buttons.... :)

Family: Our Very Root And Measure

By Bill Kirk

Whether through common DNA

Or, the deep emotional bonds between lovers,

Or parents and their adopted children,

Or even kinship with long-time friends;

Such are the relationships

Which establish the ties

That forever link us

To others who we regard

As permanent extensions of ourselves.

Think on these things for it is indeed

Hard to imagine what possibly could be

More personal, more lasting or transcendent

In the midst of the frailties of mind, body and soul.

An unexpected brief glance

Exchanged across a crowded room;

Then, in a fleeting moment,

A lifetime passes and we let go the hand

Of someone now only with us in spirit.

An infant on life support, rending our hearts;

Yet one day dances, steady in our arms,

While lightly standing on our shoe-tops.

Too soon, you are transported to another dance

As you bear witness to your daughter—or a son perhaps—

Staking out their own hoped for lifelong bonds.

In one home, an only child defines family on their own terms;

While in another, sisters and brothers hold the feelings

And secrets of deeply personal things

Often shared with no one else.

Each, in his or her own way, is there with us—

and with one another—until the end.

A child or grandchild, often excelling

But sometimes struggling—

Seemingly just beyond our reach

To encourage them to stay the course;

Or let them know it will be all right.

Family in all its forms gives us our highs and lows,

Testing our strength to hold on

In the face of the too frequent urges to simply give up—

Yet, through it all, unexplainably,

Somehow leaving us the richer for it.

In their ever-changing forms and endless variety,

And whether far or near,

Family is life—our very root and measure!

Embrace it each day you are given….

Mt. Whitney Or Bust! Part Two

2015-09-23T17:45:00.000-07:00

(See Part One Below)

After a few stops the day before for supplies, bear canisters and food, we were finally ready for our Mt. Whitney departure. A last minute flurry of e-mails, texts and phone calls confirmed the meet up place and time the next morning. We left Sacramento at 4:30 a.m. on Thursday, September 10.

Lone Pine, CA at the junction of Highway 395 and Whitney Portal Road.

The six-hour drive eastward from Sacramento took us along highway 50 toward Lake Tahoe to the CA highway 89 turn toward Markleyville. By sunrise we picked up CA highway 88, then U.S. highway 395 south paralleling the Sierras. At 10:45 a.m. we pulled into the Lone Pine Ranger Station parking lot, 15 minutes before the "No Show" lotto time.

Driving route (in blue) from Sacramento to Whitney Portal (Map image courtesy Google Maps)

A small crowd had materialized inside, casually milling around the gift shop and Eastern Sierra InterAgency Visitor Center (e.g., Lone Pine Ranger Station), studying the photo displays, maps and the large 3-D raised model of the high Sierras. All were hoping for a lucky number.

High Sierras in 3-D (Model located in the Lone Pine Ranger Station)

The Ranger called one representative from each group forward. Nine numbers initially went into the bucket from which seven group leaders would randomly draw a number. Rob Fong from our group pulled lot number FOUR. When all lots were drawn, leaders/groups were called forward sequentially to claim their permits. As it turned out, numbers ONE and TWO were not drawn. So, our number FOUR gave us an excellent shot at a permit.

During our planning, we expected our best hope would be one overnight with “Next Day” entry onto the Whitney Trail. That meant we would have to find a “no permit required” place to sleep the first night, such one of the Cottonwood campgrounds at Horseshoe Meadows or even in the Whitney Portal parking area.

Cottonwood campground at Horseshoe Meadows (Courtesy hikespeak.com)

The next day, we would push as far as we could up the trail to an overnight trailside camp. The third day we would hike the rest of the way to the summit and all the way back down to Whitney Portal for our trip home. That was our plan. But plans are made to be changed based on more current information. And so it was.

When our turn came to request our permits, we asked for one overnight each if possible out of the “No Show” pool. As luck would have it, there had been 22 overnight “No Shows”. Because we were second in line, the Ranger offered us TWO nights on the trail! We could barely subdue our excitement as we nonchalantly accepted our gifted fate—far better than we had hoped. The only condition was a “Same Day” entry, meaning we were burning daylight the longer we stayed in the Ranger Station as we had to begin our hike up that same day rather than starting early the next morning. “OK. We’ll take it!”

Both day hiking and overnight permits must be visible on packs for a quick check by Rangers.

After the Ranger gave us our WAG bags (with instructions on how to carry out all solid waste) and reminded us to attach our permits to our packs, we were off. By the time we drove the 13 miles from Lone Pine to the Whitney Portal parking lot, tweaked our pack weight down a few pounds (given the excellent weather forecast) and hit the Trail, it was 1:45 p.m.

At the Whitney Portal Trailhead: Ike Krieg, Dennis Kazee, Rob Fong and Bill Kirk.

We entered the John Muir Wilderness around 2:00 p.m. and were above the tree line at around 10,000 feet by 5:30 p.m. We were optimistic but the sun was already dipping below the surrounding ridges and peaks. It would be another hour when we passed by Outpost Camp at 10,800 feet and 3.8 miles from Whitney Portal.

Dennis Kazee at the entrance to John Muir Wilderness.

Assuming we might get there before nightfall, the Ranger had suggested camping at Lake Consultation (quieter and a bit off the beaten path at about 11,850 feet). However, when we reached that point it was almost 9:00 p.m. and too dark to find a camping spot among the rocky outcrops above the lake. So, we continued a quarter-mile farther to the more open (and more populated) Trail Camp located six miles up from Whitney Portal and at 12,000 feet elevation. There were a few dim lights and quiet voices among the scattered tents as the last of the overnight hikers drifted into camp for the night.

Ike Krieg leading the way on the trail to Trail Camp.

It had been a hard 3,700 feet ascent to that level from the Whitney Portal Trail Head at 8,300 feet. After quickly setting up camp in the dark, we did little more that get a quick bite of dinner and collapse in our tents. Sleeping on granite (with a 1.5 inch Thermarest pad) was actually more comfortable than I thought. But due to the elevation change from sea level in Sacramento to 12,000 feet, sleep was fitful and there was a lot of breath catching going on all night in the thin air. We knew the next day we had another 2,500 feet of elevation gain and five more miles ahead of us. But somehow that didn’t sound too bad at the time. We were glad to finally get our packs off and find a flat place to pitch our tents.

At Trail Camp preparing for the ascent to the top (Photo courtesy Ike Krieg)

After a restless night, we were up at 5:30 a.m. to eat breakfast, filter water at a nearby tairn (small mountain lake) and load up our day packs with 3 liters of water and trail snacks.

Trail Camp tairn at sunrise (Photo courtesy Ike Krieg)

Based on the Ranger’s advice, we left our tents open to any critters (marmots and chipmunks), knowing they would likely chew their way in otherwise. All food was stored in bear canisters placed 50 feet from our tents. By 8:00 a.m. we were on the trail toward the Whitney summit five miles ahead of us.

At Trail Crest looking toward Hitchcock Peak and one of the Hitchcock lakes.

Our slow, steady climb brought us to Trail Crest at 13,600 feet by 10:40 a.m. The trail was very well designed with only two or three spots where caution was warranted. Had the weather not been as good, the footing might have been more of a concern. But it couldn’t have been much better—luck of the draw.

Mount Whitney is just up the trail a piece--a couple more hours, that's all.

Just beyond Trail Crest, a sign post announcing 1.9 miles to the summit was a mixed blessing—that relatively short distance translated to two hard hours of hiking the additional 900 feet of elevation gain.

The final approach to the Stone Hut.

At 12:50 p.m. we reached the summit, took the obligatory photos and signed the record in a metal box outside the stone hut. For a brief moment, each of us was the highest human in the lower 48 states.

Official survey mark at the top. In fact there were three or four of them....

As billed, the views were remarkable and the top of the mountain didn’t disappoint. It had been a hard “up” but it was worth the effort. There was a growing chill in the wind—20 knots steady with frequent gusts of 25-30 knots. Clouds forming in the distance were a visible reminder that weather could change quickly in the High Sierras.

Looking west from just below the peak on our way back down.

With some urgency, we started our slow retreat at 1:45 p.m., glad we had a second night on the trail. We reached Trail Camp shortly after 5:30 p.m. with no sign of furry visitors or gifts left in our tents.

Sunset looking easterly from near Trail Camp.

A few hours later, the scattered clouds which had been swirling near the peaks earlier in the day had moved on. There would be no rain that night and stars were brilliant with the Milky Way on its edge stretched like a narrow, thin cloud band across the night sky. It wasn't until after dark, in the quiet of the evening, that we recognized the special significance of the date we had chosen to reach the summit: 9/11. Somehow, it seemed an appropriate way to mark the date.

Sunrise looking westerly from Trail Camp, illuminating the challenge between us and the summit.

The next morning, we woke early. Breaking camp was somewhat leisurely as we contemplated the six mile descent before us. Yes, it would be downhill all the way but it still took us over four hours. We left Trail Camp by 8:30 a.m., arriving at the Whitney Portal parking lot at 12:45 p.m.

Approaching the Whitney Portal parking lot and our ride back home (Photo courtesy Dennis Kazee).

Overall, our Whitney trek was indeed grand. But it was far from easy, even extending our time on the trail to three days. Recalling my Air Force Winter Survival training north of Spokane, WA near the Canadian border in 1970 and several more recent tests in the form of 50-mile ultra-marathons, this trek was among the hardest (if not the hardest) of physical experiences I have ever completed. No doubt altitude was a factor.

We had each put around 50,000 foot strikes on the trail to the summit and back down. The higher we went, especially above 12,000 feet, the shorter the time between brief stops to catch our breath. Without the training hikes in the weeks before our Whitney ascent, I’m not certain we could have made it.

Rob Fong and Dennis Kazee on the trail.

Summiting Mt. Whitney is doable in less time than we took. In fact, day hikers complete the 22-mile round trip in about 18-20 hours or more. Generally, they start at Whitney Portal at 2:00 a.m., reach the summit by noon and finish at Whitney Portal by 8:00 – 10:00 p.m. Almost half of their time on the trail is in the dark, which can be a bit dicey in spots. Personally, I would recommend at least one overnight on the trail—two if you are lucky.

Some bumper stickers you just can't pass up. Mt. Whitney elevation = 14,508 feet.

It was a long drive home but we were glad to have the time to decompress and reflect on what we had just finished and to recall the many hikers we had met from all over the U.S. and the world. Some were from places as far away as eastern Canada, Germany, France, Australia and Asia. The experience was definitely a high point. With a recovery week or two behind us, we are already imagining where the next adventure will take us....

Hike on! The trail beckons!

Mt. Whitney Or Bust! (Part One)

2015-09-23T14:10:00.000-07:00

Mt. Whitney, far distant slightly right of center.

Some ideas become reality, springing forth like so many dandelion tufts, exploding with the least provocation in a breeze. Others form slowly through wondering and contemplation which nudge an idea from concept through reality check to full-on execution. A recent Mt. Whitney experience on September 11, 2015 for four Troop 259 Boy Scout leaders was clearly the product of the latter process.

Our planning was nothing if not long, slow and deliberate, yet with a certain edge of urgency that comes from aging—I mean maturing—with the passage of time. Like the Cubs, we wanted to get past “There’s always next year” to “We can check that off our bucket list!” So, we listened on the edge of our chairs to all the superlatives from other hikers—Amazing! Awesome! Unbelievable vistas! Unforgettable! We also acknowledged their cautions—watch the weather, carry plenty of water and train at elevation (if possible including hikes above 12,000 feet) to condition and acclimate.

InterAgency Visitor Center (Photo courtesy of USFS/USDA)

During the February 1 through April 15 Mt. Whitney permit lottery, we failed to be selected for an overnight permit which would allow us to hike to a mid-point, camp overnight and then summit the next day. Our only hope was to present ourselves before the “drawer of daily lots” (e.g., the Park Ranger) at the Lone Pine Ranger Station (http://www.fs.usda.gov/recarea/inyo/recarea/?recid=20698) in hopes of getting a good draw for any available “No Show” permits. May through August are heavy use months. So, we opted to wait until September. Our reasoning was the number of hikers (and overnighters) would begin to drop off.

The summer drew on, after family vacations, Scout summer camp and before the press of school prep took over. In late July and early August, our personal and family schedules seemed to open up a bit. Would this be the year after all? Soon two training hikes fell into place.

Atop Mt. Judah: (l-r) Ike Krieg, Dennis Kazee, Rob Fong, Bill Kirk

The first was a virtual walk in the park on August 22, up Donner Peak (8,019 feet) and nearby Mt. Judah (8,243 feet). The second on September 3 was an arduous hike/crawl up Pyramid Peak (9,984 feet), which was more challenging in terms of the number of hours on our feet, the higher elevation and the rock scramble to the top (and back down). I vaguely remember hearing someone utter, “What were we thinking?” Oh, wait. That was me.

Pyramid Peak, looking up from the shoulder. Time for a scramble.

After those conditional successes, all that was left was to pick a date for the six-hour drive south to Lone Pine—without a firm target date, we knew Whitney wouldn’t happen this year or ever. A three-to-four day group itinerary quickly took shape. At the same time, each of us began our individual preparations to make sure we had accounted for all gear contingencies while reducing our pack weight. Each person has certain rituals during the final week before departure. That's when things start to get serious as the objective actually feels within reach. Stay tuned for Part Two.

A Day For All Fathers

2015-06-20T21:08:00.003-07:00

It's Father's Day Eve. And all over the country, children are thinking about tomorrow and what will be done to celebrate the father in each of their lives. Some of the thinking and planning will be with encouragement, of course, which is probably as it should be.

As for the dads, most may not have given it much thought. Or at least they may not let on much about it. Yet there may be a moment now and then---in the quiet when they may reflect on how they have done and perhaps on how their children may be changing as they grow. Are they becoming more self-confident? Getting stronger? What about that unexpected moment when the ball landed in an outstretched glove after repeated attempts at the elusive catch? Or the suddenly solo bike ride unassisted by either a fatherly push or training wheels.

Then there is the chorus of wishes for a happy Father's Day and maybe even a little excitement at what your reaction might be when you open the bag or box and find that new pair of shorts or the replacement for the drill having long passed its useful life.

Sometimes, the changes we fathers actually notice show up subtly, in the midst of our day to day routines. Small things around the dinner table or at bedtime when the night light is no longer needed. And then there are the changes that occur when least expected---you know, like when you drop your son or grandson off at school in the morning, when it's your time---just the two of you in that moment when you say goodbye.

Yes, it's a ritual and it's your ritual, which ought to be sacrosanct, right? After all, some of life's moments just seem they should be unalterable. Aren't some experiences simply not to be messed with? Well, as it turns out, even the brief flashes of perfection are subject to change. Enjoy those moments while you can, man...

"When Boys Grow Up"

By Bill Kirk

It happened sometime just last week

When we arrived at school.

For Third Grade boys, a morning hug

Was now no longer cool.

That day we followed our routine

To get to school on time.

Dylan quickly washed and dressed,

Then heard the wall clock chime.

"You'd better hussle--grab your books"

Called Grandma with a sigh!

"The tardy bell will soon sound off,

So, you had better fly!"

Inside the car, we buckled up,

And drove right to the school.

We parked and crossed down at the light,

For that's the safety rule.

We got to class just as the kids

Were set to start their day.

But something different happened then,

Or didn't, I should say.

Instead of giving me a hug,

He shyly waved good-bye,

And whispered, "See you after school."

"OK," was my reply.

As I watched Dyl turn to leave,

I let him have his space;

But, so he'd know that I was there,

I waited just in case.

And then, as if to let me know

That he would be just fine,

He bravely said that at his school

"Just kids can wait in line."

Our hug became a shoulder pat-

Or noogies-just for show.

How quickly had the time arrived

For him to let me go.

They say that growing up is hard,

For boys, and Grandpas, too.

Yet with each change that comes along,

You'll both know what to do.

Troop 259 On The Trail To The Summit: Mt. Tallac, CA

2014-08-27T17:50:00.000-07:00

Recently a small group from Boy Scout Troop 259 hiked to the summit of Mt. Tallac, CA high above Lake Tahoe. It was my first ascent of that peak which is a 9.6 mile round trip along the main trail from the Mt. Tallac Trailhead parking lot to the summit. Although I have hiked and backpacked at the same or higher elevations, this adventure got my attention, especially through the switchbacks in the steep mid-section of the trail. But I digress.

Our group actually started the trip the evening before, driving from Sacramento to Echo Lake. We were fortunate to have access to an overnight way-station to help us acclimate to the higher elevation. By the next morning, all were eager to make the short drive to the Mt. Tallac Trailhead on highway 89 a few miles to the west of South Lake Tahoe. In the parking area, we learned a wilderness permit is required, even for day hikes, as the boundary of the Desolation Wilderness is only a short distance beyond the Trailhead. Wilderness permits for day hikes are available next to the bulletin board at the Trailhead. However, overnight permits must be arranged and paid for ahead of time.

The first part of the hike traverses a long and slowly ascending ridge line above and to the west of Fallen Leaf Lake. Along the way, the small but picturesque Floating Island Lake can be seen on the right (west) side of the trail with Mt. Tallac reflected in the background.

This first segment of the trail takes about 1-1/2 hours (nearly two miles) from the Trailhead (at 6,480 feet elevation) to Cathedral Lake (around 7,400 feet). Note: There is a very rustic trail that splits off to the right of the main trail about 0.2 mile before arriving at Cathedral Lake--not for the faint of heart. Cathedral Lake is a popular watering hole and is the last available water on the trail to the summit.

(Photo courtesy Brittany Krawczyk)

As a rule of thumb, you may need two liters of water to get you to the summit and back down to the parking lot unless you have a filtration or sterilization method with you. Although there are ups and downs en route to Cathedral Lake, the incline is gradual and some of the "ups" are just teasers to what lies ahead.

At Cathedral Lake, the main trail swings westward through a well-shaded stretch on the way up toward the tree line about a half-mile or so ahead. In no time, the increase in elevation goes from noticeable to "no-doubt-about-it." I heard the word "relentless" several times on the way up.

A hiking stick or hiking poles will get well used on the way up and even more so on the way back down. This is the section of the trail where resolve may be tested. The trail is well-maintained and easy to follow but you will know you are going up for the next mile. It is breathtaking in more ways than one. After leveling out for a short stretch, the trail becomes steeper still. At this point in the hike, you will hear the mantra repeated by anyone who is already on the way back down: "You're almost there!" You may doubt the veracity of their encouraging words. Yet you will likely join in the chorus on your way back down as you encounter other hikers on their way up.

Eventually, we arrived at the summit at 9,735 feet. The last two hundred meters or so are somewhat of a scramble as the trail disappears in the midst of boulders and rocks. Dig deep during this final ascent, for the reward of spectacular views is worth the extra effort.

(Photo courtesy Brittany Krawczyk)

Lake Tahoe stretches out before you to the northeast, along with bits of Emerald Bay and Cascade Lake slightly in the foreground.

To the southwest (below), Gilmore Lake is clearly visible with Pyramid Peak on the horizon. In total, the hike up took about 3-1/2 hours and the hike down a bit less. When (not if) you go, plan to have lunch or a snack at the top to give you time to enjoy the views.

In another setting nearly 85 years ago, Eric Sevaried began an adventure above the Arctic Circle, chronicled in his book "Canoeing With The Cree". Although our adventure was a day hike and the number of visitors large by comparison, Sevaried's words rang true for me on that day, gathered with my fellow Scouts atop Mt. Tallac: "Such sights as this are reserved for those who will suffer to behold them." It was indeed a great day for Scouting!

The Man Who Lost His Name

2014-05-28T21:32:00.003-07:00

I don't often dabble in political topics on my blog. It's not something I like doing or seeing done in public fora. But this week, after watching several promos about an upcoming interview on NBC News later tonight, I can't let this pass without comment. Apologies in advance if I offend anyone's views or sensibilities.

Many in our country, and likely other countries as well, have gone through a full range of emotional reactions about a young man who decided his individual mission should be to expose his country’s deepest secrets. His stated motivation from the beginning has been that the U.S. government has violated its basic charter to preserve and protect its citizenry as guided by the Constitution—a view I don't personally share. Such a grand motivation assumes a certain righteousness that no one else working in the government (or knowledgeable of its inner workings) could ever possess.

I believe the single person who might ever have made such a claim of pure righteousness chose not to set himself apart in such a way. Instead he simply challenged anyone who is guiltless to cast the first stone. To me, the young man who betrayed his country’s trust is now a man without a country. He is a liability wherever he lands and the country which might opt to claim him is rare indeed.

As for the damage done to national security, is there a cost to restore the level of protection for systems and data which trusted authorities are responsible to protect? Yes. Will the recovery take time? Yes. Will the locks to the kingdom be rekeyed and the new keys secured? Yes—they no doubt already have been. So, what else is left to do? What is to become of the man without a country? The answer is largely up to him. He will decide if or when he will return to face his fate in his homeland.

But what about the value of anything he has to say? Very likely, there’s not much. With each passing day, week and month, anything he revealed or plans to reveal continues to become less relevant. As soon as his treason was exposed, the government would have immediately implemented defensive procedures. First, every effort would have been made to determine what was lost. Second, anything and everything that could have been changed would have been changed to blunt the impact of the revelations.

And yet some seem to believe there is entertainment value in an interview. Perhaps. For at great expense and with considerable effort, a U.S. news agency has arranged an interview with the young traitor. But what is the story to report? Personally, I would be surprised if there is a story or if anyone is interested. So, move along—there’s nothing to see here, right?

But wait. There may be a story after all. Instead of the focus being the interviewee, the real story may be the details of what it took to arrange the interview in the first place. How long did the negotiations take? Who should do the interview? How would all the media gear be transported into the country without creating a stir? What location would have the lowest profile for the interview? Would extra security be needed? Would there be cover stories and aliases for the news crew? How long would the interview team stay before and after the interview? Would they be transported in and out of the interview location under cover of darkness or in plain sight? And what was the Quid Pro Quo exchanged between the U.S. and Russia to allow the interview to happen?

The only other possibility that an interview might be of value would be to create opportunities during the interview for the young traitor’s narcissism and ego to kick in. For example, he might inadvertently reveal something that would otherwise be left to conjecture. Is there a crack in the purity of his motives? Did his ego get in the way of rational decision making? In front of millions or even billions in the TV audience, will he come across as a true patriot or will he appear flippant, foolish, arrogant, untrustworthy and irrelevant? And maybe in all that will he have any regrets?

Personally, I have struggled mightily with the question of whether I will watch the interview or not. My feeling is that the possibility of any value coming out of the interview is very likely a craps shoot. Anyone in the Intelligence business, whether collecting, processing or disseminating, understands that failure to protect data and information held in the national interest is a failure to protect the interest of every American. Anyone deliberately betraying that trust puts Americans at risk and is an affront to all who have been or are in the information security and facility security business. The idea of watching the interview in hopes some value, or better yet even the slightest shred of satisfaction, will come out of it is indeed a bitter pill.

To Junior: The Thanks Of A Proud Nation

2014-05-26T19:06:00.000-07:00

Memorial Day always leaves me with conflicted emotions. It's not because I find it hard to intellectually understand that some have made, and will yet make, the ultimate sacrifice. And after 22 years as a military brat and another 20 years in the military myself, I totally get the realities of military service---life effects that may seem unacceptable to those who have not experienced them.

I even acknowledge there will never be 100 percent clarity of purpose when leaders must make decisions about what thousands of others are to do for the greater good. Missions are messy. And as "instruments of national policy", ours is but to follow and implement the best way we can, hoping our leaders are doing the same.

In terms of character, the oath of enlistment and oath of commissioning are essentially the same promise each military member makes to the nation they serve. Even after leaving the military, whether completing one stint or a career, wearing one's newly granted civilian status is neither easy nor complete---nor should it be. Yet among those who have served, you can see it in their bone-weary faces. There are few who would be happier and more relieved to return home, emotionally and physically spent, knowing they had done their best and glad that their burden can be set aside, if only for a while.

Sure there will always be grumbling about orders given. But, if called on again, likely almost all would take up the mantle once more and march on. Those unable to continue will stand in spirit behind all those who can and do. That is the unstated code not to be trifled with.

So, what is it that gives me pause on Memorial Day? In a visceral sense, it is hard to get my head around. It is just a deep, unfathomable feeling. But in truth, the conflicted emotions are fed by the discord that bubbles and boils as close as the TV remote or the never ending reports and interpretations of reports according to one's own world view. It is the constant din of disagreement, the ceaseless competition for a slice of the pie, swirling even as the distant combat continues. It is the masses apparently feeling no other option but to gnaw on bones tossed into the crowd by those who would incite riot.

And in the face of all that, how can an individual casualty among the thousands of dead and maimed warriors be understood and accepted? What of the mothers and fathers whose sons and daughters will no longer sit at table on Thanksgiving or find love or celebrate the lives of their children, born and unborn? For me, I think of an uncle I never knew: Alfred Washington Kirk, Jr., Private First Class, US Army. He was Jute or Junior to all who knew him.

Uncle Junior was a young man when he signed up, not much more than a boy, really. Born on August 10, 1923, he had yet to reach his 21st birthday when he died on a beach in the South Pacific. Junior had enlisted after Pearl Harbor, following two of his brothers (my dad and another uncle) who had joined up a year or two before him. Trading farm life for the company of thousands of others bound for an uncertain future, in less than three years, he fought what was likely his first and last battle on May 4, 1944. I can only imagine his final days and hours and minutes when, through serendipity, he became part of the nation's sacrifice.

When such loss is personal, the acceptance gets harder, even decades later. And yet, we go on in the knowledge that the totality of those losses are the price of freedom for all those left behind. Shouldn't the sacrifice of the few who we hold so close to our hearts call us to a common purpose that transcends our differences? Don't we owe the fallen at least that much, that they did not die in vain? Thanks hardly seems enough and yet it is all we have. Junior, I am humbled by your sacrifice. You and all your brothers and sisters in arms, who made the ultimate sacrifice then and since, were taken from us way too soon.

DON'T TOUCH THAT DIAL! IT'S HALLOWEEN!

2013-10-31T17:22:00.000-07:00

In honor of Halloween, this post finishes the month with an un-rhyme:
A Halloween story in free verse for those who dare to read on.

"Don't Touch That Dial--It's Halloween!"
By Bill Kirk

'Tis a dark and stormy night.
The moon is shrouded by low-hanging clouds,
Pushed along by a howling wind.
Branches dance erratically, all but disconnected
From massive, creaking trunks. Snap! Something breaks.

Momentary flashes of moon and stars
Yield brief hints of what awaits those
Who choose to travel on such a turbulent night.
Will we make it to our destination?
Or only wish we had?

This is not a night for the engine to fail.
Is that why we stopped?
A lone car approaches in the distance.
In a flash, virtually on top of us,
High beams shock shut our wide-open eyes.

Then nothing as tail lights disappear in the distance.
The first drops of an impending storm
Dot the dusty windshield
Leaving spider-like reflections
Of the dimming interior lights. Keep the engine running.

How long will the battery last anyway?
Without it, the night is impenetrable.
Yet squandering it by leaving the lights on
Gives the visual advantage to those outside looking in.
Sure they can see us-each one of us.

Turn it off then. But can we at least listen to the radio?
Anything for a little distraction-even for a few minutes.
Hey, does anyone have a cell phone? No matter.
No reception. Better save their batteries, too. Wait.
Go back to that last radio station. What did that guy just say?

"Mass escape from Ravenscroft…. Two guards killed…
Throats slit; hoisted feet first on the flagpole.
Three others left surgically blind, deaf or dumb.
No sign of where the monsters went
And no way to track them.

"To all who hear this broadcast, stay inside your homes
And let no one in, not even if you think you know their voice.
If you are out, keeping driving, as far and as fast as you can.
And hope you can find shelter quickly in the company
Of those you can trust for help and safekeeping.

"For there is evil prowling the night,
Looking for a hiding place away from the storm,
No matter what they must do to find it.
And just for entertainment, they will spare no suffering.
Relishing the screams and pleadings of their victims.

"If you are in your car, do not get out. Lock every door.
Turn out every light. Stay out of sight.
If you hear any scratching on your car, stay quiet and do not move.
Dial 911 if you can and give your location to the authorities.
Only turn the radio on for hourly updates from this station."

Click.

"THIS MORNING AUTHORITIES FOUND SIX COLLEGE STUDENTS
ASPHYXIATED AND HUDDLED IN THE FLOOR OF THEIR CAR.
A PLASTIC BAG, TRAPPED BY A BROKEN BRANCH BLOWN DOWN
IN THE WIND, HAD COVERED THE EXHAUST PIPE. DOORS WERE LOCKED.
ALL CELL PHONES WERE TURNED OFF. THE BRANCH HAD LEFT
HEAVY SCRATCH MARKS ON THE TRUNK.

FULL GAS TANK, GOOD BATTERY; ALL CELL PHONES WORKING."

"Fire Restrictions Are There For A Reason"

2013-09-09T13:28:00.002-07:00

At the risk of suggesting a topical shift from writing to backpacking in the Sierra Nevada, my first entry for quite a while is a reflection on fire in the wilderness. But first a photo from a short backpacking trip in the Sierra in July of this year:

To snap the pic required a five-mile hike in to Showers Lake (photo) from near Woods Lake along highway 89, plus a brief wait after eating dinner in camp for the sunset. Needless to say, an i-Phone photo, although pretty spectacular, doesn't come close to a first-hand look. In a totally different context, Eric Sevaried once wrote of the northern Canadian wilderness in his book Canoeing With The Cree, "Such sights as this are reserved for those who will suffer to behold them."

Here's another shot looking easterly toward Lake Tahoe from a rock perch at the edge of the camping area. Arriving early enough in the day, a camper might be lucky to snag this campsite and awake to see the birth of the dawn over Lake Tahoe.

So, why these photos now? And what is the connection to the topic of fire in the wilderness? Anyone in central, eastern and northern California and parts of Nevada have been witness to the effects of the Rim Fire burning near and in Yosemite National Park in recent weeks. The fire was reportedly started by someone who disregarded fire restrictions which were (and still are) in place to reduce the possibility of just such an event. As a result, 400 square miles of wilderness area have been scorched, including several homes in the path. The livelihoods of thousands of people in the surrounding communities and towns have also been jeopardized by the drop in the number of visitors and the trade they bring.

Clearly, natural causes could have started the Rim Fire just as easily. Lightning strikes have destroyed thousands of square miles of wilderness over the years and will continue to do so. Yet, the obvious lesson is nature needs no help from people when it comes to starting fires.

Little can be done to recoup the losses of those affected by any wilderness fire. Nor can we soothe their disappointment about the carelessness of those who would disregard prudent restrictions on the many in favor of the momentary enjoyment by the few. Masking her frustration last week, one nearby resident affected by the fire summed up the feelings of many when she simply said, "Fire restrictions are there for a reason." The message doesn't get much clearer than that.

On a another trip to Lake Tahoe last weekend, I was part of the support group for the Emigrant Trails Bike Trek (no, I wasn't among the riders). Approaching Lake Tahoe on Highway 50, I was looking forward to the panoramic view of the deep blue lake nestled among the surrounding peaks. However, as I rounded the last of the tight curves which open up to the spectacular lake views, the lake was totally masked by the thick haze of drifting smoke from the Rim Fire.

Personally, I like a good campfire as much as the next person. And I can vouch for the same sentiment among the Boy Scouts in our Scout Troop and other Troops who frequently camp in California's wilderness areas. After all, campfires are an expected part of the camping experience. Yet when conditions warn against fire, there is no debate. Like the lady said, those fire restrictions are there for a reason.

Dad, Can I Help?

2013-06-16T16:33:00.002-07:00

I've included this rhyming story before but I can't pass up using again on this day, the first Father's Day without my dad. He passed away in January and all of his family are missing him today. But he wouldn't want us to be droopy-eyed about him missing this day with us. I had him for 65 years and even he would probably say, that's long enough. And then there were three generations: My son, Chris, and his son, Dylan, with me hiking Bodega Head in California last week on June 8.

Cherish the fathers who are still with us, wherever they may be. And hold in your hearts the fathers we can only remember this day. May the Lord bless you and keep you all and may we all be sons with whom our fathers are well pleased.

Dad, Can I Help?
By Bill Kirk

The long weekend beckoned—
I’d written my list.
And I was quite sure
There was nothing I’d missed.

No yard work distractions,
No carpools to do.
The weekend was mine
Until I was through.

I had all my hardware
And lumber galore.
I’d work on the deck;
Replace an old door.

I set up my saw
And tested my drill.
With anticipation
I felt quite a thrill.

“No holding me back,”
I thought, a bit smug.
Then all of a sudden,
I felt a slight tug.

Stopping my work,
I turned with a glance
To see my small son
Grab the leg of my pants.

What could I do?
Did I have any choice,
When my little son asked
In his little boy voice?

“Dad, can I help?
I just need some glue
And maybe a nail,
Some wood and a screw.”

“I’ll be very careful
And do what you say.
I promise, I’ll try
To stay out of your way.”

I felt the deck slipping
Right out of my grasp.
And the door would remain
On its very last gasp.

We built a small boat
With a deck and a sail
Out of two bits of wood,
An old rag and a nail;

Then battled some pirates
And found chests of gold.
With each new adventure
A story was told.

We sawed and we hammered
Until we were done
With all of our work—
Like father, like son.

I never did finish
My list on that day,
Instead I spent time
With my son, just to play.

And those weekend projects?
Sometimes they must wait.
For some life appointments,
A Dad can’t be late.

Two Nights, Two Skunks And The Boldness Of Noah

2013-03-07T17:46:00.000-08:00

Have you ever noticed there are literally hundreds of references to water in the Bible: The parting of the Red Sea, turning water to wine, the washing of feet, baptism in the river, Jesus walking on water, the woman at the well—you get the picture. Water seems to be everywhere in the Bible. I suppose it shouldn’t be all that surprising, what with three-quarters of the earth being covered with it. Then there was the Great Flood when all four quarters of the earth were covered. Let’s face it. If we get a bit concerned about reports the earth’s oceans are rising a few inches, think of the headline when water covered Everest over 29,000 feet above sea level! Some things are way beyond imagination. We’re talking epic proportions here!

Which naturally brings me to skunks. Yep. That’s right. Skunks. OK. So, my transitions could use a little work. But think of it. Using what can only be described as his extraordinary negotiating skills, Noah managed to get two skunks onboard the Ark—and keep them INSIDE for over 40 days and 40 nights. And no one in the family was thrown overboard.

But wait! There's more! The 40 days and 40 nights don't begin to tell the story. According to Genesis Chapters 7 and 8, the elapsed time Noah, his family and all the animals were on the Ark was over a year. Is that impressive or what? Covering the earth with water was indeed miraculous. But I can’t help but think hosting two skunks on a boat and living to tell about it was pretty amazing in its own right. As a matter of fact, in some small way I had my own epiphany about such acts of faith just last week….

Years ago, we converted our heating/cooling system to gas, which was supposedly cheaper and more efficient than our electric system. If memory serves, “brilliant” was the humblest of words I could find to describe my stroke of genius at the money we were going to save. In retrospect, there appears to have been one minor shortcut during the installation. But how was I to know there could possibly be a downside to running the gas pipe under the house and out through one of the crawl space vents rather than poking a hole through the stucco? Besides, the wire mesh patch job the installers did seemed secure at the time.

Fast forward to one evening last week, my wife and I were tuned in to “Jeopardy” and “Wheel Of Fortune”—What? You thought we would be watching “Masterpiece Theatre”? Suddenly, we heard a strange bumping and scratching. The location of the sounds was rather non-specific except they seemed to be coming from under the family room. As it turns out, I should have been a bit more diligent about inspecting the aforementioned wire mesh patch which had apparently worked its way loose over the years.

Somehow, an enterprising skunk had found its way under the house below the family room. There was also the slightest hint of something ominous in the air. If you have ever wondered how air tight the ductwork in your house is, wonder no more. It ain’t. And did I mention skunk mating season is in February and March? Fortunately, the gestation period in skunks is 60 days. So, time was on my side.

The next three days and nights were a blur, mostly due to the tears in my eyes. I was Trapper Bill by night and a critter relocation specialist in rubber gloves and a HazMat suit by day. If you are wondering, my wife did mention Animal Control once or twice—OK it was several times. But why would any self-respecting Eagle Scout resort to such tactics. Besides, just think of the money I saved—a Scout is Thrifty and all that. Admittedly, buying febreeze by the gallon isn’t cheap and salvaging my Honda Accord after transporting skunks in my trunk is still a work in progress. But I really feel the skunks and I have cleared the air in our relationship.

GUARDIAN ANGEL PUBLISHING CHILDREN'S BOOKS RELEASED SEPTEMBER 2012

2012-10-03T22:42:00.001-07:00

After a stretch without blogging, I'm back---just in time to announce that a pile of terrific children's books was released in September by Guardian Angel Publishing. I'm happy to say that my Book 6 ("The Skin We're In") in THE SUM OF OUR PARTS series is among those books.

Keep reading the thumbnails below and click on each link for more information about the books. Or go to the Guardian Angel Publishing Bookstore (http://www.guardianangelpublishing.com/catalog.htm ) to browse through hundreds of books by other talented authors and artists at Guardian Angel Publishing. Enjoy!

BENJAMIN JAY WAS A BULLY
Animals & Pets
by Emma Glover, artist KC Snider
http://www.guardianangelpublishing.com/benjamin-bully.htm
When the fledglings of Bird Garden extend their wings in friendship to Benjamin Jay, he must choose the dove's way or the bully's path?

BLUE PAINT
Chapbook for Tweens
by Liam Maher, artist Bonnie Everett-Hawkes
http://www.guardianangelpublishing.com/blue-paint.htm
John shares his story of a painting job he had as a young man and the grumpy little man who came by to trick him out of fifty dollars.

CAMILLE'S JOURNEY MASTER & MUSICAL SCORES
Angelic Harmony
by Dixie Phillips, Sharon Phillips, Lucy Robbins, Leslie Troyer
http://www.guardianangelpublishing.com/camille.htm
Spend your Christmas with Camille, an orphaned camel, as she leads three zany wise men and their bossy camels to the newborn King in Bethlehem. A Christmas musical-includes play, lyrics and musical scores.

CAPTAIN COURAGE & THE FEAR-SQUISHING SHOES
Littlest Angels
by Stacey A Marshall, artist Michelle Morse
http://www.guardianangelpublishing.com/captain-courage1.htm
The new girl at school shrivels until a unique superhero swoops in to the rescue, demonstrating specific ways to make self-confidence and courage soar.

JUST FOR TODAY
Littlest Angels
by Kevin McNamee, artist Marina Movshina
http://www.guardianangelpublishing.com/just-today.htm
You'll love this gentle rhyming picture book about spending quality time with kids. All that's needed is a little time, a lot of imagination and plenty of love.

LITTLE ISAAC'S BIG ADVENTURE
Littlest Angels
by Tracy Helixon, artist Jack Foster
http://www.guardianangelpublishing.com/little-isaac.htm
What if you could swing so high that you landed on a cloud and traveled through the sky? Isaac did! Join him on this adventure.

MYTH-BUSTING COLUMBUS
Academic Wings
by Kelly Bakshi
http://www.guardianangelpublishing.com/columbus.htm
Columbus convinced royals to fund his voyage; he forged new water routes and introduced Europe to a new world. He also lied to his crew, murdered and enslaved Native Americans, and never realized where in the world he actually was.

ONE FAMILY'S CHRISTMAS hardcover edition
Academic Wings
by Mary Jean Kelso, artist KC Snider
http://www.guardianangelpublishing.com/1-familys-xmas.htm
After a family's star for their Christmas tree is destroyed they resurrect the treetop angel carried across The Oregon Trail by a young pioneer and bring the story of The Christmas Angel full circle.

THE SKIN WE'RE IN: TSOOP series Book 6
Academic Wings
by Bill Kirk, artist Eugene Ruble
http://www.guardianangelpublishing.com/skin-tsoop.htm
An anatomical rhyme which describes all the names and uses of the different tissues in the skin, including factoids and extra educational pages.

THE TOWN OF MASQUERADE
Littlest Angels
by Jack Samuels, artist KC Snider
http://www.guardianangelpublishing.com/masquerade.htm
Explore an unusual town full of colorful expressions and childlike charm where two friends realize that the perfect mask might be easier to make than expected.

When One Rejection Deserves Another

2012-07-01T14:29:00.001-07:00

Don't some rejections just irritate the muse right out of you? I'm talking about the ones that don't tell you anything about what you wrote. Perhaps the sender is just being kind in a silent sort of way. But still....

Temptation Resisted
By Bill Kirk

In the context of the writing craft,
Some rejections
Are easier to take than others.

The best ones are those
That leave reason for hope
Or even those that
Harshly jab at one’s sensitivities
To clearly make a much needed point.

Those are the ones
I can live with and learn from.
For at least I know
Where I stand
And have an idea
Where I need to move.

Others without a hint of
Having been humanly handled,
Aren’t worth the paper
The reasons for rejection aren’t written on.
Why, that’s a non-rejection plain and simple.

Personally, those are the ones
I mentally reject in return,
Fully satisfied with having
Saved a stamp by not sending a follow-up letter,
Although sometimes I’m tempted.

Poem A Day Challenge, Day Seven

2012-06-28T17:34:00.001-07:00

This is a short poem, the prompt for which was write a poem about two people interacting with out talking. As it turns out this prompt arrived on April 7, my wife's birthday. The poem is whistful and hopeful, conjuring up all the other feelings someone has when "the one" appears, if only briefly.

There She Is
By Bill Kirk

There she is.

Across the crowded platform

Stands a slip of a girl

In a whisp of a summer dress,

Swirling with the coming and going

Of each passing train.

Which one will be hers, he wonders?

The boy gushes a hope-filled glance in her direction.

And she, sensing an extrasensory broadcast

As if from a distant universe,

Scans the panoply of possible senders—

First, around her; then at a distance.

For one brief moment, eye contact.

His hopeful stare and slight upward nod,

Rewarded almost imperceptively

By her barely uplifting eyebrow

And the slightest curl of a smile.

In that moment she is his.

Then she is gone.

Maybe It's Time To Double Check The Dead Bolt

2012-06-26T11:12:00.000-07:00

This short piece may best be read in the light of day....

The Visitor
By Bill Kirk

Three sharp taps on the door beckon.

Should I wait or should I go?
Why would anyone be knocking at this hour?
Can’t see much through the peephole.
Why didn’t I change that light bulb last week?

If I just stay quiet,
Maybe the visitor will go away.
Besides, I just wanted
Some time to myself tonight—
Don’t really feel like “being home” for anyone.

A presence is almost palpable
Out there in the darkess,
Waiting. Watching.
How long has he been outside anyway,
This visitor?

Has he seen me?
Does he know I’m inside?
Does he sense my hesitation?
Does he know his knock has
Left me wary and wondering?
Where’s that bat I put in the closet?

But what if it’s important?
Could it be a neighbor?
The Police?
Has there been an accident?
What if someone’s hurt?

Three sharp taps on the door beckon….

April 2012 Poem A Day Challenge, Day 1

2012-06-20T09:03:00.002-07:00

To any and all who drop by my blog from time to time. I'm catching up. Many of you will recall April is Nationally Poetry Month. This year, I tried to hang with the schedule of writing a poem a day. Or I should say I started to try. Failing the daily grind, I have nonetheless committed to going back to all those poetry prompts from all those days in April; to write the wrong of the unmet challenge. Some of those poetic musings will appear here, starting with the prompt and poem from April 1: "Write a communications poem".

Communication Conundrum

By Bill Kirk

"Hey, John.
Just heard my phone buzz.
What’s Up?
Wait a sec. I got no Wi-Fi
And this connection is crap!
Yeah, I got four bars
But the audio-video is totally
Out of sync and slow beyond belief!”

In times past,
Communication wasn’t always that slow.
It was even slower—on a good day—
And mostly by design.

There was a time when the
Transmission of the messages themselves
Seemed to reflect the natural rhythms
Of everyday living.

To be sure, some messages
Were more important than others.
Perhaps that’s the difference in a nutshell—
Only the most critical messages
Were sent by the fastest means possible,
Even if slow by today’s standards.

Whether by runner
Or horse
Or ship
Or train
Or tom-tom
Or telegraph
Or phone,
The means (and speed) of transmission
Often defined the sense of urgency—

That hierarchy of speed
Was fine with most people.
Based on the sense of urgency alone,
There was a time
In the not too distant past,
When no one wanted to get a
Long distance phone call,
Because it meant someone was
Either dead or dying.

Everyone knew
The greater the speed
And sense of urgency behind the message,
The less anyone wanted
To be on the receiving end of the line.

Yet in far less than a life time,
The urgency of a message
Is no longer defined
By its speed of transmission,
Nor by assumptions about who
In the known universe may have sent it.

That quiet ding
Or buzz
Or Beethoven bounce
Or Salsa sound bite
Heard while eating
Or meeting
Or toileting
Or driving,
Signals the arrival of a message
From just about anyone, sent
From just about anywhere.The sound of arrival demands
The attention of the receiver
(“I’ve got to take this”),
Like the insistent cry of a newborn.

There's nothing quite like the
Clarion call of a common ring tone
To generate a frenzy of twisting, turning, patting,
Reaching and grabbing: "Nope. Not mine."

Alas, with all messages essentially traveling
At the same speed,
Through the same pipeline,
How is it that the relative importance
Of one message can be distinguished
From any other?
“Pick up! Pick up! I’m in the ER!”
“Hey, how do you spell ‘misspell’, one ‘s’ or two?”

If all messages appear equally important
By virtue of the speed they span
The distance to destination,
Which ones are the most urgent?
Which ones are worthy of a rapid reply
Or even of taking the time to find out?

To retain sanity, might such a
Lack of distinctions
Doom all messages to being
Discarded or disregarded?

On the other hand….
Instead of turning a blind eye or deaf ear,
Is the socially mandated alternative
Now the giving in to the siren song of
The electronic beck and call
And the click and clatter of constant comment?

Have we reached saturation
Or do we still crave yet more stimulation.

Such is the communication conundrum.

NOW AVAILABLE FOR VIEWING

2012-06-03T22:30:00.001-07:00

Children’s Ezine Guardian Angel Kids: Growing Up – June 2012 Issue

The Guardian Angel Kids creative crew is pleased to announce the new Ezine format. The inviting visual will take the reader on a turn page style adventure with the click of the mouse accompanied with the sound of turning a page in your hand. Without further ado, we present the Guardian Angel Kids Growing Up June 2012 issue…

The carefree days of childhood invokes memories of lazy days of summer vacation filled with days of swimming at the town pool. It was the central social point of the neighborhood and the excitement of the day would then flow onto our cul-de-sac (after the children of the neighborhood ate their respective suppers) where there was always a stick ball game going on until the single street light flickered on. Quickly we would change gears and switch to playing flashlight tag.

My mother, always an avid reader, made sure her children read each and every day and to this day we all have instilled the same love of reading with our own children. Without lapsing in our reading skills throughout the summer we were always well prepared with our studies. The days appeared endless and before you knew it, it was time for back to school shopping.

The love of reading has led me to the path of writing for children and Editor-in-Chief of Guardian Angel Publishing, for which I’m joyful for and proud to present the Guardian Angel Kids June 2012 issue of Growing Up http://www.guardian-angel-kids.com/.

We hope you enjoy our issue of Growing Up as much the Guardian Angel Kid staff did reminiscing about our childhoods and selecting the wonderful poetry, stories, articles, and activities.

* Letter from the EDITOR-IN-CHIEF: Donna M. McDine

* Featured BookS:
    ** Growing Up Dreams by Susan Berger and illustrated by Samantha Bell
    ** The Odd Chick by Mary Esparza-Vela and illustrated by Kevin Collier

* Children’S poetry, ACTIVITIES, SHORT STORIES, and articleS:
    ** “I’m Growing Up,” poetry by Guy Belleranti – how quickly the time passes by.
    ** “Is It Friday Yet?” poetry by Alicia Z. Klepeis – The excitement of the approaching end of the week.
    **  “Activities to Make Reading Fun,” by Kathy Stemke – having fun with language is the key to         unlocking the world of reading to your child.
    ** “Too Much Trouble,” by Juliana M. Jones and illustrated by Nancy Miller – the growing responsibility of getting older.
    ** “Maid for Make Believe,” by Caroline Yu and illustrated by Clara Batton Smith – the magic of pretend brings to friends closer together.
    ** “Read Aloud Tips for Preschoolers: Put Some Pizzazz in Reading Aloud,” by Dorit Sasson – how to connect to the story by acting it out.
    ** “Encouraging Your Reader,” by Vanessa Fortenberry – tips on how to encourage and instill the love of reading.

Visit Guardian Angel Kid today and www.guardian-angel-kids.com and enjoy a child safe and ad free Ezine.

We also invite you to stay connected with Guardian Angel Kids through our Facebook Fan Page http://www.facebook.com/pages/Guardian-Angel-Kids-Ezine/163785080346247.

Please feel free to drop Editor-in-Chief, Donna McDine an email at mailto:submissions@guardian-angel-kids.comand let them know what you think of Guardian Angel Kids and what you'd like to see in the future. They aim to please.

The Guardian Angel Kids Ezine staff and contributors look forward to your visit. Thank you for your time and interest.

Thoughts On The Search For Meaning

2012-05-05T16:57:00.000-07:00

Some experiences in life make us all the better for having had them, even if we may not believe that to be the case at the time. Often we may not recognize the goodness or richness inherent in an experience until much later, especially the mentally or physically or emotionally challenging ones.

Maybe that delayed learning is the essence of human adaptation in the face of seemingly unbearable pain or change---letting go when it seems no good can come of it or holding on for dear life to all that seems to have meaning. And sometimes both of those sentiments are wrapped up in one event, symbolic gesture, touch or sound. Who hasn't been catapulted decades back at the sound of a few chords from a song or felt tears well up at the sight of a tri-fold American flag presented with the thanks of a grateful nation to a bereaved mother or young widow?

Occasionally we are blessed by the gift of understanding even in the very same moment. Those instant revelations seem to fill our senses to bursting as we struggle to absorb and appreciate the full measure of their meaning on the spot---as a new baby first suckles at its mother's breast or with the exchange of trust when a new driver is given the keys to a car on his or her first solo date.

Perhaps the blessing is surviving those life events to allow understanding to occur in the fullness of time. That is, maybe individual experiences only become more meaningful as we age. Layered one upon another, they seem to make us wiser, stronger, more complete---like the plies and cross plies in plywood or the over-lying layers of fiber glass in a boat hull.

Time allows us to process what has occurred into why it happened in the first place. In those first few proximate moments, the why often remains hidden, sometimes in plain sight. Yet it waits to be discovered when our vision has cleared and we are ready to see.

A WRITER'S POSTAL EXCITEMENT SCALE

2012-05-04T09:13:00.002-07:00

The top ten responses from editors and publishers and what they mean....

By Bill Kirk

Now that National Poetry Month is behind us and no doubt many of you have a stack of submission quality poems and stories to work with, it's time to crank up the submission machine. To give you a little something to look forward to, here's a tongue in cheek poke at the submission responses all of us dream about and wait for.

Reprised from an earlier version, it's been updated for your reading pleasure and encouragement on your writing journey. Apologies in advance to all the editors and publishers on the receiving end of our millions of submissions.

#1: No response from the publisher… No, really. Nothing. Zip. Nada....

OK. So, it's been over two years---some people are thorough. Obviously, the editor must still be thinking about it.

# 2: Your original outgoing envelope shows up, returned unopened---manuscript still inside, with no notes, no form letter or any other indication that anyone or anything besides a Pitney-Bowes mail sorter has touched it....

Why is that little pointy finger stamp next to "Return To Sender" bent that way? Nah, can't be....

#3: A returned SASE with nothing inside….

Oh, Wow! The editor must have liked it so much they made copies and are still passing them around the office!

#4: An SASE with a pre-printed, unsigned and unmarked form letter....

How can you not appreciate all the extra effort and attention? Someone had to write the form letter, didn't they? I coulda been the first one they sent it to!

#5: A returned SASE with a SIGNED form letter and an explanation box chec.... Wait. All SIX boxes are checked---and with different size check marks....

Hand-checked boxes! Now we're talking! I'm getting "goosies" all over! Someone actually held this rejection letter in their hand! Surely they must have read me!

#6: A returned SASE with a SIGNED letter and an encouraging rejection note-like, "I read this twice before throwing it away." or "Next time, don't waste your postage on a SASE"….

OMG, a perk! They're going to pay the return postage next time. Quick! Send them something else---preferably before the postman drives away!

#7: A returned SASE with a marked up manuscript---in color crayon---and three Cheerios inside....

I'm impressed! The editor's 3-year old prodigy child must be on the payroll.

#8: A returned SASE with the manuscript inside, marked up with legible comments like, "This is truly beyond belief! In my 25 years as an editor, I've never seen anything like it...."

Be still, my heart! Finally, someone who really understands how unique and creative I am.

#9: A returned SASE with a form letter and a signed hand-written note asking to see more….

YES!!! Honey, where did you put those used car ads? I'm feeling a Jaguar in our future....

And the #10 response: A returned SASE with a SIGNED offer letter and an anticipated date of publication... sometime within the next ten years....

FINALLY!!!! This puppy's going under my name as my first "Coming Soon" credit at the bottom of my e-mail messages!

KEEP THOSE SUBMISSIONS COMING! HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL…!

"No Bones About It" Receives Kids Book List Award

2012-03-29T13:01:00.001-07:00

The KART (Kids Are Readers Too) Foundation Honors Bill Kirk’s “No Bones About It” as a Middle School Kids Book List Award Winner for 2011-2012. The KART Foundation is the charitable giving branch of PediNatural® Books. The organization’s Kids Book List is compiled by the South Jersey Children’s Literary Festival selection committee and consists of books in three age categories.

The objective of the annual selection is to highlight children’s books with content that appeals to children in each age group: 2-5 years, 5-9 years and 9-12 years. The selected titles are deemed to be memorable and to enhance the gift of learning as a child grows.

Kirk’s book, which was selected among the ten winners in the 9-12 age group, is a non-fiction children’s picture book written in rhyme. The rhyming verses cover the bones in the human skeleton from the toes to the skull. In addition, the book is loaded with curious and interesting facts to stimulate learning about the skeleton.

Kirk says his inspiration for the book was his grandson who was learning about the skeleton in seventh grade science class several years ago. “Some of those Greek and Latin derived terms aren’t especially easy. So, I figured there must be a fun way to make the technical terms stick.”

According to Kirk, “No Bones About It” became Book One in a series of anatomical rhymes on several other systems in the human body. Thus far, four books in the series, known as THE SUM OF OUR PARTS, have been released by Guardian Angel Publishing in Saint Louis, MO, including “Circulation Celebration”, “Muscles Make Us Move” and “A Brainy Refrain” in addition to the bones book. Another five books are in the publication pipeline. All the books are illustrated by Eugene Ruble, whose quirky drawings and illustrations give the technical terms a visual context in the body.

The KART Foundation believes that introducing books at an early age will allow children to naturally master developmental milestones essential to solid learning. KART is committed to promoting and implementing children’s literacy programs and services throughout New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Delaware. The KART Foundation also distributes new books to children through educational learning institutions and libraries. Kirk’s book certainly meets the KART standard of excellence.

Title: No Bones About It
Author: Bill Kirk (http://www.billkirkwrites.com)
Illustrator: Eugene Ruble
ISBN (e-Book) 13: 978-1-935137-78-6
ISBN (print) 13: 978-1-935137-77-1
Library of Congress Control Number: 2009931676
Publication Date: July 2009
Number of Pages: 28
Price: Ebook $5.00, CD-Rom $10.95 (+$5.95 s&h), Print: $10.95 (+$6.95 s&h)
Available at most online booksellers or from: Guardian Angel Publishing, Inc.

Guardian Angel Publishing, Inc. Releases "A Brainy Refrain" Nationally

2012-03-08T01:09:00.017-08:00

****** FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE ******

Sacramento author Bill Kirk's children's picture book, "A BRAINY REFRAIN" (illustrated by Eugene Ruble), has been released nationally by Guardian Angel Publishing in Saint Louis, MO under their Academic Wings imprint in e-book and print form. Both formats are available for sale through the Guardian Angel Publishing web site and from most online retailers, such as Amazon, Google, Target.com and Barnes and Noble.

Book's Blurb: "A BRAINY REFRAIN" is the fourth in a series of anatomical rhymes by children's author Bill Kirk. The series, which is called THE SUM OF OUR PARTS, will eventually cover several anatomical systems including the skeleton, muscles, skin, circulation, respiration and many others. The entire series will be "kid-friendly" with just the right balance of technical content, humorous verses and anatomical factoids, brought to life through the playful illustrations of artist Eugene Ruble.

Learning about the brain and nervous system can be a challenge for anyone. Using this clever learning tool may be just what you've been looking for. You'll be amazed at how fast you will be able to learn the brain and various nerve pathways in your body. The subject matter and presentation format are ideally designed to support the science curricula for middle school grades 7 and 8. However, they are very suitable as basic human anatomy learning tools for elementary school age children 6 to 12 years old and even older students having difficulty with the subject matter.

Author's Bio: Kirk's writing has been influenced by his travels on five continents and the every day inspiration from his grandchildren. In addition to stories written in rhyme, Kirk writes fiction and satire for local and national publications. Kirk also wrote news and features for two Sacramento newspapers in the mid-1990s, The Suttertown News and The Old City Guardian. His children's stories have appeared in Boys' Quest, Fun For Kidz, Grandparents, Wee Ones and Saplings magazines. His poems have also been published by North Dakota Horizons, Absolute Write, The Baseball Almanac and the University of South Carolina Gamecock Health newsletter.

Kirk says his goal for his children's stories is to challenge the imagination of his readers, young and old, by exploring everyday life, simply and profoundly, and having fun in the process. Bill and his wife, Rita (a clinical psychologist), married since 1969, have made Sacramento their home since 1985.

CLICK HERE

to check out what reviewers are already saying about this book. To request review copies of "A Brainy Refrain" or to request an interview with the author, please contact the publisher, Lynda Burch, at bulk-orders@guardianangelpublishing.com or (314) 276-8482.

Title: A Brainy Refrain
Author: Bill Kirk (www.billkirkwrites.com)
Illustrator: Eugene Ruble
ISBN (e-Book) 13: 978-1-61633-232-7
ISBN (print) 13: 978-1-61633-231-0
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012934652
Publication Date: March 2012
Release Date: March 1, 2012
Number of Pages: 24
Price: Ebook $5.00, CD-Rom $9.95 (+$5.95 s&h), Print: $10.95 (+$6.95 s&h)
Available at most online booksellers or from: Guardian Angel Publishing, Inc.

Blogging Efficiently--A Follow-up

2012-02-15T09:23:00.000-08:00

Following up my post on January 31, I received some thoughtful commentary and helplful suggestions about blogging efficiently, including one from a group blog for which posting duties are shared. And as promised, here are the results of my unscientific "survey".

First, the consensus seems to be the obvious: If you get to the bus stop early so you don't have to run to catch a bus that is pulling away, you will likely have a more enjoyable (shall we say more efficient) bus riding experience. Staying ahead of your posts by drafting them---perhaps several of them---in advance makes blogging life much easier. And it also offer the opportunity to be somewhat more reflective about a particular topic instead of being in a rush to write something, anything, just to fill space.

Here are three examples of the stay ahead of the game approach to blogging. If you have a few minutes, be sure to drop by their blogs for a look.

Myra Garces-Bacsal over at the Gathering Books blog. Myra points out that drafting blogs in advance is the only way she and her partners can keep up. "I suppose it helps that there are three of us running Gathering Books.... It's great that we have a lovely system going and that we never run out of creative ideas to try out on the blog." Having an otherwise hectic work schedule demands finding efficient solutions to something as time intensive as blogging or writing of almost any kind can be.

Myra and her partners (Fats and Iphegene) have been blogging for over 18 months. They rotate the blog posting duties, selecting from a stockpile of drafted posts. "...what (has) worked best for me is to draft, write and schedule my posts during the weekend (as much as four or five blogposts) - and kind of spread them out over the next few days (so we have something like 10-14 days of blog posts in advance)." On the commenting side, Myra does her blog visiting during the week and only spends a dedicated amount of time--no more than an hour in one sitting--to read and leave comments.

Likewise, for Blessy Mathew at Reflecting Runes, following a blogging schedule is important. "Since I started my blog 9 months ago, I've strived for consistency...posting and blogging on Mon, Wed, and Fri. This allows me enough days to work on my own writing projects." Blessy says for anyone who leaves a comment on her blog, she feels it's important to respond in kind. "My motto: if someone takes the time to visit and comment on my blog, then I should do the same. It does take time out of my day, but that's the goal of building an audience/readership."

Sylvia Liu at Sylvia Liu Land blog. Sylvia says she struggles with balancing writing and posting on the one hand and commenting on the blogs she visits on the hand. Although somewhat less systematic than Myra's team approach, Sylvia tries to stick to a set schedule. "On the blogging side, I start a lot of drafts of blog posts that are half-finished. I don't have a strict schedule but I like to post twice a week. So when it feels like it's time to post something, I'll go through my drafts and find one that seems right and I'll finish it up."

On the commenting side, Sylvia concedes that the only way she can keep from spending too much time in the blogosphere is to watch the clock. "Now I try to limit the times I'm just surfing and reading other blogs to specific times." So, time saved is essentially time not spent--a common theme among many efficient bloggers.

As for me, I have found myself increasingly sucked into the vortex of the blogosphere, wandering from one blog to the next until I've lost all feeling from the waist down. That can't be good. So, my three-part, take-away lesson is to

(1) celebrate drafts--capturing ideas to be polished later is often enough,

(2) limit the amount of "butt in seat" time in front of my own blog and

(3) spend no more than 30 minutes a day reading and commenting on other blog posts.

Of course, this is easier said than done. But I suppose with a little practice, I could get the hang of it. Whoe knows? Efficient blogging could be the result. With that in mind, I bid you farewell for today. I have a Klondike Derby winter camping event to get ready for.