Travel Boom

Found a fascinating feature in Bloomberg Weekly titled “Airbnb Is Banking on a Post-Pandemic Travel Boom.”  I guess I should say it’s fascinating if you have a stake in Airbnb as either a host or a guest. I have been both, so it’s right up my alley. If it’s also up yours, you can read the full story, here.

Full disclosure 1: Our next Airbnb guest, arriving Friday, is a pro basketball player from Greece. And our last one was a Cirque du Soleil acrobat who hails from the U.K. So we’re not exactly catering to the immuno-suppressed crowd in town for a week’s worth of kidney dialysis here.

Full disclosure 2: I was never about to sink any investment money into Airbnb’s IPO, originally planned for 2020, now on hold. As such, neither am I primed to swallow any glad-hand platitudes from Airbnb’s CEO who’s looking for his big payday. If you’re into that sort of thing, click the link and read the article. You won’t be disappointed.

Bottom line, how we get back to something approaching “business as usual” in the hospitality industry is more than a passing fancy for me. And on a purely person-to-person transactional level, how and when we get back to trusting each other in shared spaces – hell, even just shaking hands, if that custom even survives – should be a matter of some interest to us all. In any case, don’t expect a peck on the cheek from me any time soon. If it ever was my style, it sure ain’t now – travel boom or no travel boom.

 

Airbnb

Shameless personal Airbnb promo, here.

We are still 100% nanny-cam free!

Polio Vaccine

On this day in history, April 26, 1954, field trials of the Salk polio vaccine began at Franklin Sherman Elementary School in McLean, Virginia. It was a full year before that vaccine was proven safe and effective, becoming available for wide use in 1955. Ten years later, the more easily administered Sabin vaccine became standard prophylaxis against polio.  That’s the one I took as a kid. The polio virus finally was eliminated from the U.S by 1979.

For those with a Disney-esqe faith in the magical pace of medical progress to combat COVID-19 – or for your own good fortune at having avoided it so far – let’s review that timeline once more, shall we? Over one year for a proven safe and effective vaccine. (Lysol injections and hydroxy-chloroquine you can have right now – just be sure the cure isn’t worse than the disease. Ahem.) And at least twenty-five years until virus elimination. Let me repeat. Twenty. Five. Years. Minimum.

If you expect a return to “business as usual” sometime this summer, may I suggest you meditate on those historical time-frames for just a moment? Of course, not everyone who gets COVID-19 dies from it. Just like not everyone with poliomyelitis ends up in an iron lung or a wheelchair. Still, some do. And for those who don’t learn from history? Well, you know what they say… and you know who you are. But are you listening? Aye, there’s the rub.

 

Polio vaccine came too late for Ted.
In Memoriam.  Edward W. Ziegler (1932 – 2019).

 

Ted Ziegler was an editor, author, etymologist, and polio survivor.

The vaccine came too late for him.

For you? For me? Only time will tell.

As in Spring 2021 – at the earliest.

You been warned.

That is all.

The 601

“The 601 rode that night – six feet under, no judge, one rope.” Some tales are just so timeless, it’s impossible not to get roped in. For me, the ghost town of Bodie, CA – “winter population, 5” – is the perfect setting. Maybe it’s because, growing up, I had a slice of that kind of offbeat Americana as a personal play place – see below.

 

 

Or maybe it’s because, pre-quarantine, we all liked to imagine what our too-busy lives might be like far from the madding crowd.

 

The 601 - Baker, NV
Baker, NV just off U.S. 50 (aka “The loneliest road in America”) is remote, but it’s not near as remote as Bodie, CA.

 

My own personal fantasies of unforced isolation often stray to the caretaker couple at Barr Camp on the trail up Pike’s Peak. Insanely busy all summer, they only had to deal with the occasional snow-shoe guest for dinner-breakfast-overnight come dead of winter. Well, that and splitting 20 cords of firewood.

 

Last time I hiked it, Neal & Theresa were there . Since ’13, other caretaker-couples  have called Barr Camp home.

 

But I guess there’s just something special about old Gold Rush places, preserved like flies in amber. They capture the spirit and the imagination of the American West in ways few other places can.  The full piece about Bodie, CA is here.  Definitely worth a read if you like quirky. Down by Mono Lake, just out the back door of Yosemite, you’ll likely never lay eyes on it unless you get hopelessly lost xc-skiing the back country of the eastern Sierra. For those whose job it is to preserve the relics here, that’s just fine by them.

 

Bodie by summer or winter: Either way, it’s a long haul off the beaten track.

 

As for last word on The 601 …

 

One infamous Bodie story goes that during a night ball at the Miners’ Union Hall, two men got into a verbal altercation over one of them dancing with the other man’s wife. They were separated, but one came back a few minutes later and shot the other fellow in the head. He rode off into the night, but an impromptu vigilante group caught up with him six miles later. They brought him back to town and hung him from the tree where the murder took place. Tour guides still proclaim that “the 601 rode that night” — the code that the vigilante group gave itself.  It stands for six feet under, no judge, one rope.  Ummm… maybe? There’s no factual basis for it, but it sure sounds awesome, right?

The 601 - Bodie Hotel.
The Bodie Hotel – Accommodations for miners, miscreants… and tellers of tall tales.

Nabob

Simple, straightforward, WOTD. It’s been a while since we’ve had one of those. But today, that’s what you’ll get. Actually, you got this one before, hidden at the bottom of a President’s Day post. But the good folks at Merriam Webster have summarized it so perfectly, it bears repeating.

 

Nabob – noun.    “Nay-bahb”
:
a provincial governor of the Mogul empire in India
:
a person of great wealth or prominence

 

In India’s Mogul Empire, founded in the 16th century, provincial governors carried the Urdu title of nawāb. In 1612, Captain Robert Coverte published a report of his “discovery” of “the Great Mogoll, a prince not till now knowne to our English nation.” The Captain informed the English-speaking world that “An earle is called a Nawbob,” thereby introducing the English version of the word. Nabob, as it thereafter came to be spelled, gained its extended sense of “a prominent person” in the 18th century. That’s when it was applied sarcastically to British officials of the East India Company returning home after amassing great wealth in Asia. The word was perhaps most famously used by Vice President Spiro Agnew, in a 1970 speech written by William Safire.  That’s when he referred to critical members of the news media as ” nattering nabobs of negativism.”

 

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You go, Spiro. Hey, at least he didn’t recommend injecting Lysol into your veins. God, I miss the good old days, when our nabobs in positions public trust at least had the good grace to make fun of the MSM without endangering public health.  Well, before they were convicted of felony tax evasion that is. That’s something at least. Right?  <sigh>  Carry on, good folk. Close as it appears in the short run, it’ll all be long gone in your rear view mirror soon enough.  And you can quote me on that too.

 

The reason objects are closer than they appear in the rear view mirror is actually pretty simple. It’s convex, bowed outward in the center, and curves back on the sides. That distorts the perceived distance.

In Case You Were Wondering About Yeast

In case you were wondering about yeast, as I was when the shelves were bare, WTH? Paper towels and toilet paper, I get it. But YEAST? Turns out, there’s good reason, not least of which is there’s an absolute amount of time it takes for yeast cells to divide. Also, stress baking. For the full story you can read it here, from Slate. For do-it-yourself baked goods from home, you can knock yerself out. Well, that is, IF you can find the yeast. Good luck, stress-bakers!

 

In case you were wondering about yeast

Harry Bosch

I have written before about my love for the police procedural in general, and for Michael Connelly’s iconic Harry Bosch series in particular. If you missed it, you can access the post here.  If your short attention span (and you know who you are, you Golden Retrievers chasing squirrels) prohibits you from consuming it in book form, now you can watch it on TV.  Full review is here.  Excerpt is below, on Bosch as protagonist.

 

….the defensiveness, the loneliness, the distrust of bosses, the attraction to similarly hard-edged women. Each dotes on a daughter who has had to grow up too fast. <He> has perfected a cold stare that would make granite blanch.

 

There. Yer welcome. <Granite blanches.>

 

Harry Bosch it ain't

Obsessed with squirrels?  Harry Bosch it ain’t.

But now you can read or watch, depending on your attention span.

That is all.

Big Day

It’s a big day around these parts, and not only because we have a place in the shadow of Columbine High School (1999). Also not only because 4/20 was once the focal point of the pot legalization movement before it became law-of-the-land (CO – 2014) and absolutely nothing – except tax revenues – changed.  Last but not least, it’s the birthday of an infamous German statesman (1889) – but let’s not go there, OK?

 

Big Day - 35 years ago
The Big Three Five.

 

On this day in history, way back when I was just a callow fellow, a certain young lovely agreed to marry me – and life has never been the same. Whodathunkit?  After 35 years we’ve come full circle back to the Golden State.  And now we’re shacked up together again for a month by ourselves.  I gotta admit, the honeymoon in England staying in bed and breakfasts for 6 pounds a night was way more fun than quarantine – even when the only heat was a single heating pad in the center of the bed somewhere in the Lake District. But in any case, the company couldn’t be better. Thanks for making me more prone to smile. Apologies to Lou Gehrig, but you’d smile too when you’re the luckiest guy on the face of the earth. It’s been quite a ride.  Love ya lots!

 

And of course, the kids turned out OK too.

Natal Land

It isn’t often I get this much mileage out of my natal land of southern PA, hard by the Mason Dixon Line. But this story, from the Harrisburg (PA) online news at pennlive.com – about wearing pants (or not) when going to the mailbox just down the road in Taneytown (MD) – really makes up for it.

 

You been warned.

 

Natal Land - Taneytown Police
“Please remember to put pants on before leaving the house to check your mailbox. You know who you are. This is your final warning.”

 

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And while we’re in the area, this notice from my brother who still lives there: “First time in 40 years we missed opening day of fishing season.”  I guess the fish are under stay-at-home-orders too.  Below during happier times, my mom with bass from our pond.  And below that, my grandparents with a catch from our favorite little trout stream in all the world.  Fish on, friends!

 

 

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Natal land - Rock Run

Gotta love Rock Run.

 

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Oh, and also, natal land or no:  Wear pants!

 

Vintage

Scraping around the bottom of the barrel for blog content today, there’s this charming piece from hobbyfarms.com on vintage tractors. That’s right. You heard me. Tractors. Don’t get me wrong. I love me some old tractors now and again. And the link is worth clicking because there are some real beauts in there. But for my money, it’s working tractors, not show pieces, that hold pride of place in these annals. Like the ones below.

Bottom of the Barrel - Cat

My father-in-law was a Caterpillar Tractor salesman. Especially useful in low-lying fields that would bog down other lesser machines, the Cat’s metal tracks meant you never EVER got stuck. All that and about 2 mpg on diesel fuel – who could ask for anything more?

 

The real workhorse on our farm was this one. I’m ashamed to say I don’t remember the make or model. But I do remember riding around on those back forks quite a lot. Well, whenever there wasn’t another bin of apples on there.

 

This Farmall Model A was customized with a pneumatic tree trimming unit attached to the rear power-take-off.  I stalled it out on a steep slope one time and rolled it. My dad was not pleased. Luckily I jumped off the uphill side as it was beginning its descent.  Otherwise there would be no dewconsulting.net/blog today.

 

Last but not least, if yer gonna go for a hobby tractor, you might as well go for something like this steam engine from Williams Grove during their annual vintage tractor show.  It won’t be giving anything away to identify the kid in the red sweater as your very own blog master – and tractor connoisseur. Shades of yesteryear!