Harleys, Cars, Girls & Guitars

Overlooking the Village Green… Woodstock’s Shops

I don’t know the name of this building, but it sits in one of the most prominent positions in town… overlooking the Village Green. The Green is the main gathering point of the hippie tribe and the tourist crowd on weekends during the summer. On major weekends, the hippie drum circle convenes there.

This building houses three businesses:  FreeStyle Realty, the Garden Café and Sorella, a women’s clothing boutique.

One of the few ways to make a living in Woodstock is selling houses. Every realtor pledges to provide a unique hip experience. FreeStyle Realty is no different. The truth is that every real estate agency in town is selling the same houses. If you’ve got the money, now’s the time to buy. We’re probably at the bottom of the market. Housing prices have declined by a third in the past 18 months. If you look carefully at the picture of FreeStyle’s exterior, you’ll see a Buddha above the sign. Aspirations to Eastern mysticism, of course, are pure Woodstock hipsterism. The name also evokes the town’s perpetual obsession with freedom.

Vegetarian is the new emblem of hip. The Garden Café occupies a site that for a couple of decades was the home of Woodstock’s best pizza parlor. I took my daughters there for a pizza and a salad many times. Of course, the owners are hipsters, so they aren’t just selling food; they’re selling a lifestyle. This from the splash page of their website:

We are passionate about using fresh, organic and high quality ingredients at the Garden Café on the Green.  Our menu is created from products that are as pure, organic and natural as possible.  Using the simplest ingredients…whole grains, beans, soy foods, fruits and vegetables, we add inspiration and creativity. Our wish is to bring to the table food that will support our personal, community and global health as well as our local farmers and producers.  To that end, we use no preservatives, chemicals, transfats or genetically engineered products.  All of our food is carefully and conscientiously made from scratch to provide delicious, nourishing and balanced meals served in a warm and friendly way.

The menu, as is the style in such restaurants, lists the ingredients in each item. Rest assured, everything is pure as hell… that is, heaven.

Not so long ago, Sorella’s spot was occupied by an art gallery that cleverly adorned its storefront with Stalinist graphic emblems. Thank God, those morons went bankrupt quickly. The shop was empty for a few months. I’ve only looked in the window of Sorella’s. The new owners have picked a tough time to go into business. I counted six vacant shops in the business district as I drove through the other night. It’s tough to compete selling clothing in Woodstock. Why buy here when you can drive to Kingston in 25 minutes? The malls in Kingston offer much greater variety and better prices.

Who knows how long Sorella will last? According to Woodstock legend, our town was cursed by Indians angry at the land grabbing whites. The curse: So long as you live in Woodstock you will suffer failure in love, failing health and failing business. In general, this is true.

Obama’s Stimulus Package Explained

Big Joe Vaccarino, lead guitar player in Saints & Sinners, sent me this joke that precisely explains President Obama’s stimulus package:

Three contractors are bidding to fix a broken fence at the White House. One is from Chicago, another is from Tennessee, and the third is from Minnesota.

All three go with a White House official to examine the fence. The Minnesota contractor takes out a tape measure and does some measuring, then works some figures with a pencil. “Well,” he says, “I figure the job will run about $900:   $400 for materials, $400 for my crew and $100 profit for me.”

The Tennessee contractor also does some measuring and figuring, then says, “I can do this job for $700:   $300 for materials, $300 for my crew and $100 profit for me.”

The Chicago contractor doesn’t measure or figure, but leans over to the White House official and whispers, “$2,700.”

The official, incredulous, says, “You didn’t even measure like the other guys! How did you come up with such a high figure?”

The Chicago contractor whispers back, “$1000 for me, $1000 for you, and we hire the guy from Tennessee to fix the fence.”

"Done!” replies the government official.

And that, my friends, is how the new stimulus plan will work.

Internship in the Nursing Home

Nursing school continues to move at breakneck speed. On Thursday and Friday, I’ll begin my student nursing at a long-term care facility. Tonight I’m washing my scrubs, which I purchased last week.

And, I’ll admit it… I’m scared. This is the tough part of the transition… actually caring for patients. I’m worried that I’ll hurt a patient. Nurses make mistakes. Everybody makes mistakes. Medication mistakes are among the most common, and LPNs administer medications.

Working in the long-term care facility also provokes fears of working with the elderly and dying. I’m still not entirely sure that I can take it. The work is often dirty and stinky. And, those old folks in their wheelchairs and beds are just a step ahead of me. I’ll be taking their place in the not too distant future. Not easy to confront.

We’ve been studying some very tough procedures in class for the past two weeks: administering injections, calculating drug dosages, inserting a tube down a patient’s nose into his stomach and setting up an IV. Errors in the administration of any of these procedures could produce dire results for the patient. Studying this material is fascinating, and sobering.

In the last two months of her life, Myrna needed to be fed by IV at home. I administered the feedings. What a job! I had to learn to use a syringe and how to administer morphine drops under her tongue. Even though I knew that she would inevitably die, I was always worried that I would seriously injure her. In an odd way, Myrna was my first patient.

For the past two months, I’ve been practicing my technique on mannequins. This week, I’ll move on to real patients!

Lisa Dudley is a Harley Girl

I heard from Lisa Dudley last week. Lisa found my site because she was googling “harley girl.” Lisa is a country and bluegrass singer who hails from Tennessee and now lives in upstate New York. She’s got a great voice, as you can hear for yourself if you visit her site.  Check out the tunes “Harley Girl” and “Angel on My Shoulder.”

She’s playing soon at Taste Budds in Red Hook, where Big Joe and I will also be playing.

Unfortunately, Lisa broke her leg last week. How’d she do that? I dunno. Couldn’t have been riding a Harley in the middle of New York winter.

Maybe Lisa and I will get together to play some day. I hope so. I love singing two part harmony in country and bluegrass music. Years ago, I played with Kentucky Kate, who was a singer and mandolin player. Katie may have been crazy, but she could sure sing and play. I wonder where she is now?  (I wonder where a lot of people I used to know have gone.)

It’s snowing today in the Catskills. Please stop! I want to get my Harley out of the garage and go for a ride.

Hard Times

Can the stock market drop to zero? Are we completely bankrupt? Every day seems to bring ghastly news.

The U.S. may soon have no economy, except for public sector and health care jobs. I’m in the right place. In a couple of years, I’ll be an RN. People will continue to get sick and die. Health care jobs are, directly or indirectly, funded by the Fed.

President Obama doesn’t really seem to care about the private sector. He’s entirely an income redistribution, welfare guy. That’s his constituency. The stock market is taking note of this. Obama will borrow and print money without regard for the future.

Although I didn’t make the decision to go into health care for these reasons, I’m lucky to be moving into that field. For the rest of my life, I’ll be paid by government transfers. I’ll be living on the dole. All of us will.

Nursing school continues to demand just about all of my time. Last week, we started to learn how to give injections. That’s scary stuff! Next week, we’ll be interning at nursing homes. We’ll be meeting some real patients.

I’ve got a few more years until I can begin to draw Social Security. I’ll do OK on Social Security and an RN’s salary. Won’t be rich, but I might be able to take a vacation and buy a few things that I want.

At least, that’s the hope. Who knows what the next few years will bring?  All bets are off.

The Mayor of Woodstock

I discovered Jeremy Wilber’s blog by accident. Jeremy is the former four term Supervisor of the Town of Woodstock. I’ve added the blog to my links.

Woodstock’s Looney Tunes politics would drive Jesus Christ to madness. So, it’s interesting to read Jeremy’s discussions of his tenure and the ongoing mental disorder that is our Town Board.

His distaste for the looniest of our Town Board members, Jay Wenk, pervades his blog. Wenk is our town’s token veteran. Our local Stalinists and America haters trot out Wenk continually to prove their patriotism. He’s their human shield.

“See!” they yelp. “We’ve got a veteran who agrees with us. So, we’re not really kooks and traitors.”

Wenk hates America with a passion. He’s always trying to get arrested so that he can see his name and picture in the paper. Oppressive, imperialistic America continues to refuse to throw the old fool in prison, thus denying Wenk the martyrdom he deserves.

I don’t know how Wilber survived four terms in the loony bin of Woodstock politics. Read his blog and try to figure it out for yourself.

A Windy Night on the Mink Hollow

The wind blew out four transformers over on Route 212 at about 6:30 last night, and the lights didn’t come back on until 4:00 this morning.

I fired up the generator and studied for a few hours, and then I ran into town to buy some gasoline for the generator. An hour roundtrip, since the emergency workers diverted me away from the direct route into Woodstock.

I listened to Sirius radio, soon to go bankrupt, and every station broadcast the same babble of pundits trying to make sense of our current predicament.

Here’s the skinny. I guarantee this analysis is 100% correct. President Obama doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing. The Democrats are just throwing darts at the board. Very expensive darts. Of course, the Republicans are equally adrift. Nobody knows what to do about the recession or the epidemic corruption we’re suffering. We would have been better off doing nothing at all to try to resolve the situation. Everything we are doing is making things worse. When you don’t know what you’re doing, it’s best to do nothing.

On the way into town, I picked up a hitchhiker. He wanted to talk, mostly about his ex-wife and his kid, who is off saving the world in Sri Lanka. Saving Third World women is an obsession of Woodstock women. They want Third World women to be just as rotten, selfish and worthless as they are.

I told the hitchhiker about Myrna: “She was absolutely on fire in every part of her life. I’ve never seen anything like her. She was the damnedest thing I‘ve ever seen.”

The generator ran out of gas again at about 11 p.m., and I packed it in for the night. When the lights flickered back on, I woke up.

Often, I think about becoming active in politics… trying to knock some sense into this stupid world. The old fire starts to burn in my belly.

“Fuck it,” I always decide. “That’s not my job. I’m going to be gone from this world in a few years.”

I don’t have any idea how to fix this world either.  There’s nothing left to do but to have a good time and to try to help a few people. We’ll all be broke.  I’ll be wiping the bottoms of the old folks in the nursing home within a couple of months. Somebody has to do it. Might as well be me.

Welcome Home, Matt!

PFC Matt Studer returned home from Iraq today! His girlfriend, Jackie, left a comment to inform me.

Just in time for Valentine’s Day!

I wrote about Matt in this post, way back in April, 2008. Welcome home, Matt! And, thank’s for your service to America.

Cubs’ Pitchers & Catchers Report in 3 Days!

God, I hate winter! I’ve still got foot high drifts in my front yard. The snow plow guy has erected a ten foot long, six foot high snow pile at the end of my driveway.

I’m starting to plot how I’m going to dig a trench through the pile so that I can get my Harley out in six weeks. I’m thinking that the best method might be to use the garden hose to wash the mess away.

Don’t worry! Cubs’ pitchers and catchers report to spring training in Mesa, Arizona in three days! Friday! By this weekend, the Chicago Tribune will be carrying its daily Cubs’ story with pictures.

The Cubs have won the Central Division of the National League for two years straight! A regular dynasty. We’re heavily favored to win again this year. Finally, the 101 year drought will come to an end.

Once I get my RN, you won’t be seeing me in these northern parts over the winter. I’ll become a traveling nurse, a snow bird, spending my winters in Las Vegas, Florida and… Mesa! I’ll go watch the Cubs play in spring training.

Nursing School Report… Vital Signs

An exhausting week at nursing school! And next week promises to be even tougher.

The standard schedule is two tests and one paper due each week. Everything is graded and assessed. This makes sense. I’m going to be sticking needles in real people and giving them their medication.

Last week, we worked on vital signs: pulse, temperature, blood pressure and respiration. Except for blood pressure, these vital signs are pretty easy to measure. Using the blood pressure cuff takes some practice. We were graded by an instructor on each of the vital signs. An instructor would take one of the patient’s wrists, and I’d take the other, and we’d compare pulse readings.

The course is moving very quickly. By the end of February, my class will begin to work in nursing homes. After 30 days of student training in the nursing home, we’ll be eligible to take the Certified Nursing Assistant exam. It takes a couple of months for the state to report the results. By June or July, I’ll actually start to make some money as a CNA.

I really am enjoying the classes. When I began to study programming and multimedia in my mid 40s, I discovered that I like studying technical material. Hard fact is a whole lot better than the opinion swamp of the liberal arts. And, hard fact and skills produce marketable skills.

So much of the misery of Woodstock is caused by liberal arts education. The detritus of every liberal social movement washes up on our shores. Our local activists imagine that the injustice of the world is the cause of their distress. In fact, it is the uselessness imposed on them by their degrees in English and Women’s Studies that is the culprit. You can’t earn a living with these degrees.

The solution: learn a hard skill that people really need.