Run off at the state championship

The USA Waterski Association hosts state competitions for every 50 states. Indiana's was held near Danville this year - just west of Indianapolis. All ages competed in slalom, jump, and trick skiing events over two full days.

One of the most fun events this year was men's 4 slalom. Although these men are in their 40s, it's one of the toughest groupings; skiing some of the shortest rope lengths. Kevin Smith took first place in this event, and Paul Miller took second, with an exciting run into 38 feet off the line. Paul M. Is impressive, and to watch - he just hangs on to the handle no matter what, even if his body slams into the water around the buoy. He'll hold on to the handle when most of us would be finished, keep his ski under him and keep going. So exciting. I think he got 2 buoys at 38' but don't quote me on that. He had run a bunch of complete passes around the buoy before that at the longer lengths.

The thing was, three other competitors in the class all scored the next best - these men all got .5 buoy at 38' off - don't ask me to explain the weird (half a buoy) scoring now, the terms are old fashioned. There's the metric scoring used world wide but most people in the U.S. still use English measurement in common conversation. Brad Beerman, Chris Clark and Paul Goldman tied at this score, beating the rest of the field. This meant a run-off for third place statewide.

Goldman won the coin toss, and chose to go last. Beerman went out first, at 35' off. No warm up here; that is really smokin' hot at 34 mph. Brad did not make it around one ball at 38'. Clark was up next. He ran solidly through 35', and then looked strong at 38', even though he had reported rotator-cuff problems. He came up with 2.5 at 38'. Very impressive - but what it did was set a goal for Goldman to reach. He no longer had to try and run the whole pass - he just had to get past 2.5 to win.

Goldman is cool and collected under tournament pressure, about as trim looking as he was in his twenties, long-legged, a bit more slight than the other men - lean. He stayed on the back of his ski, didn't over pull and jerk himself out of position, and smoothly nailed 35'. There was lots of anticipation in the crowd before his 38'. All eyes were down at the far end, waiting for the boat to take off. And there he came, and around ball one, two, stretching out at this super-short rope length, slipping his ski around ball three, and then just back behind the boat, in control behind the wake.

He had won it. Slick as it could be, he did, and didn't risk falling and blowing it by going on and trying to run the whole pass. Choosing to go last from the coin toss had paid off. It was fun for the crowd, and a good story to report from the iPad. On to the regionals in Minnesota the competitors will now go. More challenges ahead. See you all later.

Red Cedar Center summer camp

Red Cedar Center on Hursh Road is a special place. The large horse farm offers horseback riding lessons, boarding, therapeutic riding, and recreational camps. It's so lovely - mature trees and verdant fields, white-washed fences and a swimming lake that glitters and beckons.

This week, the country park has a special mission - it's hosting disabled campers. Camp Red Cedar features different kinds of camps - allows kids in wheelchairs the opportunity to go swimming, facilitates kids with cerebral palsy in riding horses, etc. This week it's a home to another unique group of campers - teens with autism.

Autism Community Together coordinates this much-needed camp in Fort Wayne. Fine people have put on the camp for seven years now. The activities would be fun for any kid campers, but are of course tailored to the busy autism community and the stimulation the kids need.

There is music therapy, tumbling, soccer, and an obstacle course. I think the most popular activities are the horseback riding (with helmets and guides/trainers) and the swimming fun. The day is rounded out with crafts and Karate. At the end of the week, the kids will tie-dye a shirt as a keepsake.

Earlier today, I saw an anxious child tear through the parking lot, not able to patiently wait for the parent picking him up. Three counselors charged after him, moving quickly - a kid with autism on the run. It was touching- the concern, the bolting child. It's great these kids have a special place to go, where there is much compassion for them. They can just be kids, enjoying the best of summer.

For movie night, try Mao's Last Dancer

While the rest of my family is away at a waterski tournament, I'm going to take a moment to write about a film that really moved me. Mao's Last Dancer is an Australian biographical film from 2009. It's the true story of Li Cunxin, who was plucked as an 11-year-old from Shandong province in China to attend an elite ballet school in Beijing. In the 1960's and '70's, Mao was scouring the nation to find the best talent for nationalist programs to make the Communist regime look good. Children were gathered up and trained for years away from their families.

Directed by Bruce Beresford, the film starts a bit slowly and then hooks you. I rented it to see the dancing, and the technical quality of the dancing in this movie is outstanding. But this inspiring story (superbly acted by folks including Joan Chen and Kyle MacLachlin) how this dancer came to Houston and began to question his future as an artist and a Communist, is what is truly special about this film.

Li, brilliantly skilled in the classic Russian ballet technique, is chosen by the Houston Ballet for a three-month stint in the United States. Immersed in the culture, he wishes to stay longer, and marries an American. When the Chinese officials want him to return, he and Houston Ballet director Ben Stevenson go to the Chinese Consulate to plead his case. There Li is forcibly detained, and it takes high profile, high level negotiations for him to be freed from the consulate. After tense talks, he is released but his Chinese citizenship is revoked and he is banished from ever going to China to see his family. He has nightmares about how cruelly they may be treated because of him.

Even if you don't like ballet, I think you might be impressed with this story and its true history. At the end, he triumphs when China relents after five years and allows Li's folks to go to the U.S., to see him perform. Li is now married to an Australian ballerina with whom he has three children. I actually cried a couple of times during this movie, so unexpectedly. Hope my skiers are cutting it up out there. Peace.

Preaching to the whole e:mail group

What do you do when a person rubs you the wrong way?

I'm part of a group that has some common interests. One person in the group thinks she's in charge, and writes e:mails addressed to everyone in the group. She talks about various group members, reporting on them. She will address individual members one at a time, sharing private conversations with each, to the whole group.

And I've noticed, no one responds to her e:mails. She uses the public forum to manipulate, to try to pressure some in front of others in this way. She has a unique world view, at which she sees herself in the center. Thus firmly positioned, the world seems askew when I read about it through her eyes.

But the e:mails keep coming and coming, and those preposterous notions unchallenged just stand out there. Odd comparisons, judgments about people, guilt trips. Do I change my e:mail address, or do I delete the messages before reading them? Do I tell the person not to include me any more? Or do I just get over it?

Some people seem to constantly crave attention. They want everything their way, and want others to follow them. But the older I get, the less I can stomach certain things: gossip being one. I don't like people making a habit of talking about other people. Let people speak for themselves, and let their actions stand on their own. When the dust settles, the righteous will stand alone, and words won't mean much.

Not Jack Sparrow - crazy sparrow

We have lots of birds on the property and around our house. Recently I've seen Cedar waxwings, a Baltimore Oriole, a Scarlet Tanager, eastern bluebirds, and the list goes on. I adore all these beautiful birds. I recently saw a few goldfinches alighting in our catmint plants, a purple-flowering plant that attracts lots of bees. I couldn't tell if the birds might be eating pollen, nectar or what - I didn't see any insects to eat.

Yes, the birds are gorgeous, and I love the " screen door opening " sound effect made by the pheasants launching into flight. But there is one bird around the house I don't like at all. It is a plain brown sparrow, and it's not the bird's looks - it's just a crazy bird. It doesn't hang out with the other birds. It's always alone, usually flying around looking at itself in big panes of glass. If it can get in front of a picture window and sit on a chair, it will poop on the furniture (or house or window or patio) and try to attack itself (or make out with same, who knows) over and over.

It wakes me up in the mornings sometimes scrubbing along the window, not chirping but clattering its beak at its reflection. I thought maybe this spring it would not be back after the winter, being too wacky to survive. But no, there he was, so he must be well able to feed and shelter himself, unlike the lovely swallows who will bed down in bluebird nests not suited for them, and freeze to death in sudden temperature drops.

But I digress. I don't see anyone taking BB gun to this bird; they might hit the house. So I guess he'll just continue to annoy us, and I'll have to keep scraping his poop off stuff. Maybe I should go rustle up that old slingshot that came home on someone's business trip to Australia as a souvenir.

Did That Really Just Happen?

I mowed yesterday. It was an interesting experience, and at the end of it all I felt like a chimpanzee fishing ants out of a hole with a twig. Allow me to explain:

It was a lovely day in the '70s when I chose to go out in the garage and start up the old John Deere. Noticing the mower's gas gauge was reading nearly empty, I grabbed the red gas can and unscrewed its cap nozzle. Someone had replaced a center piece with a disk of black rubber - it functioned well enough in storing the gasoline; kind of a two-piece, makeshift cap for the portable five-gallon tank.

Anyway, after carefully filling the mower tank and then getting ready to reattach its black screw top, I reached over, looked in the tank and the small black disk flew out of my left hand with the breeze, kind of 'Frisbee-flew' sideways and drifted straight into the mower gas tank.

I couldn't believe it. Of all the places in the garage or around the mower that little thing could land, and it flips into the gas tank. Unbelievable. I look in there. It's there, resting on the clear plastic bottom of the gas tank. Ok, but what if it clogs the gas intake to the engine, cutting off the supply? I decide to see if I can extract it. I locate a long screwdriver and an old dinner fork from the kitchen. I attempt to get a hold on the disk, but it slips out of my grasp. I wish I had a really, really long set of tweezers.

I decide to close up the tank and go ahead and mow, and see what happens. Thankfully, I mow without incident. An hour or so later, I drive the green and yellow tractor back into the garage, and can't forget about the little intruder in the gas mechanism. I take another look.

Now the tank is much emptier, much of the gasoline having been used. I decide to go fishing again. This time this time I drag out more tools: a pair of long-handled pliers (why must it still be a PAIR), a set of bar-be-que tongs (BBQ is such an interesting word. Remind me to Google that.).

None of the new stuff works. I finally go back to the screwdriver and fork, chasing the little black disk around the tank. Finally I find I can steer the disc with the screwdriver, trying to get it to rest on the fork. Because I can't get much angle, this is tough and takes many tries.

Finally, after working bent over looking in the tank for over half an hour, I finally manage to get the little circle resting on the fork, and gently extract it from the tank. Done and done. This is why I see in mind the African primates using their primitive tools, fishing like me. I fit the little black circle onto the mouth of the red gas can, and screwed the black cap over it. Somebody needs to fix this- maybe.

By the way, google's best explanation for BBQ is a translation of "sacred fire pit.". I would take some pig roasted in the ground anytime you want to make it. I'll clean my fork and tongs first, though - or get some new ones.

Carpet cleaning day

Technical difficulties from my mobile device. So back on the old Dell with the 'tower', here's the word:

I really like Stanley Steemer carpet cleaners. My carpets looks so clean when the guys have been here. It's really a big event: when the most heavily trafficked areas finally get too grimy for me to look at, I call and schedule, once a year or so. I prefer hardwood floors, and have them, but I also have a busy area that is covered with carpet.

Picking up and moving things ahead of time makes the areas easier to see - nothing is hidden. So I end up moving nearly every chair and every object I can get out of the room. Then I vacuum. It's like prepping well for painting - it pays off.

I've heard people who have chem-dry type services, without the steam cleaning, complain about 'it not looking as good' when cleaned that way. I've also tried purchasing home appliances, and renting the big machines myself from grocery and hardware stores, but nothing looks as good as when S. S. has been there. The local office is located at 202 Research Drive in Fort Wayne.

I like the company's spray spot remover, that one uses ones self. Applied properly, it does an amazing job.

I also think their protection treatment, sprayed on after the professional cleaning, holds up well.

Metal and wood furniture is placed on foam blocks or plastic strips to protect from water damage. Meant to be left under the furniture until the carpet dries, I sometimes forget it's there and it stays for months. Ah yes, clean carpet. One can lie down, do yoga, not worry about gross stuff.