The Leaf Blower Blues

Of course I don’t have to remind you that the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo in 1848 ceded California, Texas, Nevada. Arizona, New Mexico, and parts of Colorado and Wyoming to the U.S. from Mexico, do I? I thought not.

You’ll recall that in addition to paying the Mexican government $15 million in 1848 dollars, the U.S. conceded the use of leaf blowers within the continental United States and its territories.

That’s right, leaf blowers.

See, even though leaf blowers would not be invented until the next century, those wily Mexicans consulted their Azteck and Mayan calendars, which are also dandy little oracles, and forecast a time when Mexico could get even for the headaches caused by Davy Crockett, Jim Bowie and the rest of that Alamo riffraff in 1836.

Oh sure, the Mexicans won that one, but latter day hotheads in the Mexican government were still pissed about the Great Yanqui Land Grab of 1848. While they were pleased about giving the bowel splitting symptoms of Montezuma’s Revenge to Yanqui invaders, something more was needed to take the fight to the enemy camp, the U.S. itself.

Hence, leaf blowers. It took awhile, but eventually, in 150 years, California was swarmed with legions of lawn care workers armed with howling leaf blowers causing sleep deprived mayhem from the Oregon border to San Ysidro. Traffic accidents caused by drowsy drivers doubled overnight. Domestic tranquility among formerly happy couples degenerated into sleepless and sometimes fatal squabbles over such trifles as custody of the TV remote. A whole social fabric was being torn asunder by the barking blasts of backpacked engines.

Things came to a head in 1973 when the U.S. was leaf blown to the negotiating table. No less than Henry Kissinger himself worked out the Tijuana Accords that year, but the Mexicans hung tough with Article IX, Section VII, Paragraph 3, subparagrph ( c ) which states that "Expatriate Mexican lawn care workers employed by Yanqui Gringos may use gasoline powered leaf blowers when tending the lawns, gardens and yards of said Yanqui Gringos between the hours of 7:00 and 7:30 a.m. forever world without end amen. Viva Mejico."

So that’s why four presumably documented Mexican workers, who are probably working for minimum wage or less, and without ear and eye protection, make Monday mornings around here worse than Monday mornings usually are by leaf blowing their way into every brain pan within earshot.

I could buy an AK-47 and end this leaf blowing nonsense myself, but that has more consequences than I am willing to bear. Folsom Prison is not far away. Neither is San Quentin. Besides, the sight of blood makes me sick.

So, I just try to remember that the Treaty Of Guadalupe Hidalgo was very one sided, that the leaf blowers only blow leaves around here less than an hour each week, and that I can buy a set of earplugs for sixty five cents.

Besides, if you can’t beat ‘em, hire ‘em. Maybe I can pay the leaf blowing crew to blast the crows that crap on my car from the tree over my parking spot.

I know that "into each life some rain must fall," but this?

* * *

Comments?

This reminds me of the morning I had a migraine and the workers at the childcare center next door would not stop using the damned things when asked. I still cringe when I hear them.  -- Shannon

Contrary to your eloquent and well-thought-out analysis of the leaf blowing disturbance, I am just going to say this:

Why in the hell do my thoughtless, uncaring, brainless neighbors, in this otherwise well-kept, neat, quiet complex that I live in, have to turn on their water every freakin' night right at the precise moment that I shut my eyes to finally go to sleep?  Do they save up their body washing, desperately-needing underpants laundry jobs, dishwasher duties, extended hand-washing and quenching of thirsts for that exact moment for some reason I have failed to research and therefore comprehend?  How do they know?

Is this travesty related to some historical issue I have yet to discover in my neck vein popping fits, and you are the only one studious enough to figure this stuff out?  Please, tell me it has to do with some drought that happened in dinosaur times that somehow wormed its way into the long lost ancestors of these freakishly ignorant people I live next to.  Please tell me that so I can blame it on something that makes sense. Tell me I will one day sleep again. -- Zoey

We're both doomed. MB

Don't get me started on snowblowers, something you are blessed not to have to deal with. Wonderful reading as always. -- Julisari

I enjoyed reading this column. -- Ken

At our complex, yard workers are allowed to start at 7:30 AM. They are even allowed to try and blow wet leaves after a heavy rain. I mean really! I empathize. -- Beaty

What a coinkydink. I was just lookin for a Guadalupe medal -- Uma

Uma provided a balanced perspective well worth reading:
http://www.beinglatino.us/uncategorized/invisible-men/

That was hysterical and yet so very poignant. Excellent. -- Mary Pat　

A Suspicious Character

Two beefcake security guards yanked the plastic cooler out of my hands, slapped some handcuffs on my wrists, hustled me off to a small room and plunked me down on a folding chair.

“Did you call the bomb squad?” one of them asked his partner.

“Not yet. Should we?”

“Let’s have a look first. Check his ID.”

One of them pulled me upright by my collar and fished my wallet out of my hip pocket.

“Best fake ID I’ve ever seen.  Got the state seal hologram and everything.  Even looks like him.”

I asked what this was all about.

“Shaddap!  If we want any crap out of you we’ll tighten your shoelaces!”

So I shaddap while they carefully set my plastic cooler on the floor and slowwwwwly removed the cover.

“Hmmm. Looks like a tuna sandwich, a bottle of Gatorade, a bag of Cheetos and a box of Junior Mints.”

“Well, that’s better than that gawdawful smelly curry that dark guy was packing yesterday.  Think this stuff could be bomb components?  I don’t see no wires.”

“Ya never know.  Don’t forget the Potroast Bomber Of Poughkeepsie that was all over the news last week.  He had one of them printed circuits under the sliced potatoes and carrots. Turned out to be an old hearing aid that somehow fell in the stew, but you can’t be too careful.”

Again I asked what this was all about. This time I got an almost civil answer.

“Listen, bub. You match the profile of the Angry Old White Male, right down to your bifocals, bald head, black socks and Birkenstocks.”

“Well, he’s clean,” the other guard said, sounding disappointed.

His partner removed the cuffs and jabbed a finger in my chest.  “Be more careful next time. What were you doing at a Little League game anyway?  You got a grandkid here or something?”

No, I just happened by and needed a place to sit down for awhile.

“Well, you’re lucky we got to you first. Them Little League moms woulda torn you to pieces.”

Since then I've been trying to remember who said "Those who give up civil liberties for security lose both." 

I don't like pot roast either.

* * *

...And so you said:

I wouldn't trust a person that doesn't like pot roast.  -- Ldy

Well, it's okay if I can put teriyaki sauce on it.  MB

Keep writing Mikeee. You are awesome -- Canids

Aww, you say that to all the produce.

Mike I always enjoy your mind and the pictures you paint in my mind with your words. maybe we can have a little feminine nudity and a few snickers in the near future?

Loved the relationship/comparison to the police profiling that happens in this world today and how it does not work. Used to when one was pulled over we were asked politely for a registration, proof of insurance and a valid drivers license. You may have a ticket coming but it was done with politeness unless you became a asshole, and then the cops revenge was to be nicer and write you more tickets.

Now a Command Voice is used on you and a command to place your hands on the steering wheel while your approached With Hand on Weapon to intimidate you.  Yes I know it's a different world today and society as a whole is under attack, but still  the police are not our representatives/protectors and servants, they are our keepers and have joined Washington in the attitude that they are above us as a class and do not have to live by the same rules and laws we do.

Not Sure whats really happening, but Amy, myself and our children are striving to find the America we used to know.  We are seeking a small town atmosphere on a lake, and we think we have success in Oklahoma in a Cherokee environment.

Mike, Ole Bud, thanks for the grins and giggles on the 2nd story and have a great day.  On June 1 we are floating from Quad Cities to New Orleans on the Mighty Miss in canoes and Kayaks , 96 miles a day 11 days .. Dont just grow old , have fun doing it The Boomers arent dead yet we just arent noticed any more! -- Nick and Misses Nick "aka My Amy"

”Those Who Sacrifice Liberty For Security Deserve Neither.” -- Benjamin Franklin

Above quote provided by CDB. Thank you.

“If a nation values anything more than freedom, it will lose its freedom; and the irony of it is, if it is comfort or money it values more, it will lose that, too.“ W. Somerset Maugham

I have this framed on my office wall at home. Good work, as usual, my friend. Thanks. -- Tom

Thanks for the good stuff to read. About every few weeks I get to thinking I ought to find a good book to read, maybe even some short stories - which I write a lot of and like when I find one, too. Sometimes a Reader's Digest falls into my hands at the dentist's office, but since I don't go to the dentist but once a year or so, that really doesn't work all that well. So, every so often I get a piece of mail from Mike. Ah, there it is. A little humor, some wry comments, something thoughtful about life or people or something ordinary that is written in just such a way as to hold my interest, make me smile, make me think, make me enjoy. Thanks again, Mike. It's always good. Stay well. - Zoey

You are a bright spot in my day.  Keep going.  And quit deleting the luv ya. -- Carol

Hysterical. -- Mary Pat

Do they really think a man in black socks and Birkenstocks would do something even remotely evil?  I find that hard to believe. But keep writing. I'll believe anything you write (cough) -- Linda B

Yes, I do.  Committing a fashion felony, for openers. MB

Mike, thank you for sending the T Times. Wonderful as always -- Liv.

This is a sad statement about our society. Too many police are acting like every citizen they deal with is a terrorist or at least criminal. Every city has a SWAT team, usually financed by the feds and this is designed so that the cities will do the their bidding.

The people who founded this country were explicit about just this eventuality and tried to write our Constitution to prevent it. It appears our duly elected officials in Washington are doing everything in their power to circumvent these safeguards.

It's a sad state of affairs and one day maybe the human race will learn to deal with our shortcomings without resorting to force. -- Wht

Ok, now that we've read the script, we want to see the film, or the cartoon, rather! -- Gerard

I like the humor in this story. -- Ken

LOL Tomatomike. a BIG THANKS ONCE AGAIN!!.. for letting my imagination run free and wild! Hearts and Thoughts -- Pirate

Was this true???? -- Lynda

No. I like pot roast.

Rugs

The other night I was startled by the televised appearance of a local businessman I had known 20 years ago. He owns a piece of the National Basketball Association franchise here, the Sacramento Kings. That’s what the TV interview was about.

He also owns a piece of hair.  Or what might pass as hair in a dim light.  What I remembered as his thinning blond hair had been replaced with something that looked like a road kill skunk, minus the white stripe. In short, this guy was wearing the most obvious rug in captivity.  That’s what startled me.

See, this guy is not a pauper who can't afford to accessorize.  He’s a developer who’s built vast suburbs and a Hyatt Regency hotel in addition to owning a percentage of the Kings.   You’d think he would buy a hairpiece that didn’t look like a failed experiment swept from the floor of a barber college.  He could easily afford a head ornament from the Sean Connery Collection of Cranial Canvas, but no, he’s taken the badly paved road to a false economy and looks it.

I can sympathize.  My own hairline has not just receded. It’s gone into wild retreat.  I toyed with the idea of buying a rug in order to be attractive to a woman, then the voice of sweet reason whispered in my inner ear,  “She’s gonna find out sometime, Ace.  Better make it sooner than later.  Later and she just might burst out laughing if the damn thing flops over on your face at a crucial time and ruins The Moment.”

Besides, as a woman told me, “If it falls off in a restaurant, the other diners will try to kill it.”

A barber who hated to lose any business counseled me to let the hair on the side of my head grow long enough to cover the nekkid part on top.  Bad idea. That looks goofier than a cheap hairpiece and is even more obvious.  Another barber suggested that a couple of combover strands might be a comforting illusion for me, but that would just make me look like a skinny Homer Simpson.  Forget it.

I thought Bald Pride might be the way to go.  I had barbers give me the quick Buzzed To Fuzz Special.  Eventually I bought an electric clipper to do the job myself instead of spending ten bucks a pop to be shorn like a sheep.  On cold days I wear a stylish beret or a woolen Navy watch cap at a jaunty angle and strut around like a grand boulevardier and the most vain of peacocks.

I even bought a license plate frame that read “The More Hair I Lose The More Head I Get” but a miffed Christian neighbor took offense and removed it.

Yet I am sometimes humbled when remembering the words of a tired cocktail waitress when a bald drinking buddy of mine told her,  “Bald headed men are more virile.”

She sighed and said, “No, they aren’t. They just talk more.”

Some of us even write about it.

As for that developer, I know him to be a nice fella.  I wish he would ditch the toup and let his head shine like a beacon of good will. 

Besides, if it falls off in a restaurant, well......

* * *

Comments?

Funny.  The day before I left, a neighbor suggested that I dye my hair and the very next day (the day I left!) a woman in the airport told me how much fun I'd have with "the bottles."   I like your jauntiness, your highness.  --  Thea

LOL Tomato. No lie! As I clicked to read this story, my husband opened the door and shouted out, "I brought you home a  rug to use your ab exerciser on."  Another cute write, you!  -- Pirate

Wonderful, and more wonderfuller. Love your timing. Lust for your sentences. Plus the hair thing is funny. -- Galen

Aw shucks. I thank you and my surviving hairs thank you.

I dated a man a long time ago who was going bald and went for the shave-his-head-with-a-razor technique. I thought it was pretty spiffy, and I thought it equally spiffy that he made up for his lack of hair on top with a grand mustache and a fancy goatee that looked like a work of art. He was a striking looking guy. Now, if only his looks had compensated for the fact that he turned out to be a prick. Oh well. Sometimes there's just no way to make a dumbass fine, no matter how handsome a package it comes in. Great writing as always. -- Zoey

What a terrific story, Mike! -- Amanda

To the point: What is hard for our generation is we once were longhairs, unlike our fathers.The guy's codpiece only tells me god has a sense of humor. There are many forms of self annhilation. Your writing , always good, is seeming even more fluid, perhaps the natural outcome of hearing ones own voice, and haven given up on defense mechanisms to ball up perceptions. Keep going, and know I always enjoy your sketches, scenes and scenarios. They have that feel of substance. -- Peter Kidd aka Ig Bear

Thank you, Peter. Took me a long time to hear that voice and commit it to print. Up to that point I tried to commit literature. The result would have gotten me a membership in Pompous Anonymous. Then I learned to write for the readers’s ear and not the term paper eye, sentence fragments and all. Took lots of practice. Stll does.

Bravo.  Nobody I know who sets out to make literature actually succeeds. Sometimes even poets don't get it often. Be a humble writer and let the rest take care of itself. -- Ig

Thanks again. Humility is harder for me to learn than committing literature.

You never cease to amaze and amuse me. Please, never stop. I agree with one of the other posts, you should write a book. -- Carol

Now I'll know what my Australian cowboy hat will be good for, when my hair gets so thin you can see my brain through it -- Gerard

Thanks, this is utterly charming.  Just thought you should know! -- Kate.

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! -- Karen

Even though a hairpiece is something quite atrocious?

I enjoyed your essay on hair. I am glad that I still have my hair. When I weighed 225, my stomach stood out ahead of my chest. I lost 30 pounds but still have a thick waist. I suppose that if I exercised more, I might have a thinner waist. On the positive side, you and I are still alive and good things may happen to us. -- Ken

Donald Trump says he has a double comb over. Well, someone who analyzed his head in a picture said that's what it was. You could go for that, but I'd choose another color than orangutan. It's not even becoming on men with money. Keep writing. I'll keep reading and laughing. -- Linda B

David Letterman refers to Trump’s hair as “that thing on your head.”

Really enjoyed this one, Mike--and I wish you could get the Donald to read it! -- DA

This is one of my absolute favs, Mike.  Very funny. This guy must have a relative named Donald, right? -- Sandy

Right!

You're going to think this odd but I'm on a Greyhound bus headed for Las Vegas as I write this. Lol, this ain't the 1950's Pomidoro man! -- QBman

Good luck in Vegas. Hope you don't get, uh, clipped, and have to hitch hike home.

Oh, Mike, how I love your stories.  I really, really do! -- Tia

This was a good one.  We were just talking about combovers at work last night. -- Julisari

You're hilarious!  Why don't you send this to the New Yorker? -- Pamela

Flatterer.

.I liked 'the most obvious rug in captivity.' Thanks. -- Lady W

LOL.  That was entertaining. -- Mary Pat

You should have seen the pilot I flew with when I was a co-pilot in B-52s. He wore an unmistakable rug, and was so vain that he would not take it off even when he flew. So, for 8 hours or so during flight he had his helmet on (and we usually sweat a lot under those helmets). At the end of the flight he kept his helmet on until he could finally get out of the plane and get to the men's room at base ops, where he would comb and rearrange his hair piece, and emerge with perfect hair and helmet under his arm. -- Mickey C.

Well, as long as he didn’t also touch up his eyebrows and lipstick while shooting an instrument approach, I guess he was harmless.

Some hair turns grey, some hair turns loose. That's all I have to say on the subject. -- Wht

In my case, both.

A Birthday Of Books

Last Monday I became one year shy of my allotted three-score-and-ten by having another birthday. My birthday loot included an armload of books. I love books. Always have. I even went to book college and got two commercially useless degrees in the reading of books. Now that’s real love.

Sometimes I prefer books to people. There are reasons for this. Books never borrow money, break promises, give unwanted advice or get jealous of other books on your shelves. Another plus: once you’ve enjoyed them, you can nod off without having to sleep on a wet spot.

Books can transport you to any point in the universe without making you take off your shoes and get petted by a TSA person prior to departure. I mean, you can still take off your shoes and get petted before reading a book if that’s your thing, but it’s a personal choice and not a government regulation enforced by people who are paid to pet other people in socks.

You don’t even have to leave home to enjoy a book, unless it’s to go to the library to get more books. I treasure my library card more than my credit card.

Unlike credit card companies, public libraries don’t charge interest and send huffy letters when books are overdue. Instead libraries politely inquire with “Have you forgotten?” notices written with motherly concern.

Libraries do have fines for overdue books of course, but it’s chump change compared to the extortion demanded by credit card companies for overdue payments. You get the impression that if you don’t cough up the overdue amount plus interest and fees, the credit card company will have people with names like Guido and No Neck kneecap your credit rating with Louisville Sluggers.

Local governments can be a threat to books. Public libraries are the most vulnerable of services when budget time rears its snarling head. The result is often reduced staff, limited  hours and fewer purchases of new books.

The electronic medium is also eating away at the printed word. Television has already chewed a big chunk out of the newspaper industry, even though the script for a 30 minute newscast would not fill a single column of the newspaper you used to read.

Personal computers with Internet capability are also nibbling their way into the print medium, but in some cases, marriages of convenience are arranged between books and computers. Libraries that can afford computers have digitalized their card catalogues, although those big varnished cabinets with their drawers of Dewey Decimaled cards still have a prominent spot in libraries. They're usually near a reference desk or a counter with a real human being behind it, a kindly person who can patiently direct you to the book with the answer to your goofiest question. Such people are saints.

You can order books on-line, and even read them on your computer with some services, but reading them on a glowing screen lacks the comforting feel of a hefty hardback in your hands.

Books can also decorate a room and make their owner seem scholarly and wise. A room full of computer screens will brand their owner as a nerd. Plus books don’t go dark during power failures and are not subject to having their contents erased by a computer virus or an electronic bug. The only bugs books get are silverfish and maybe a stray spider, but both are easily dispatched without having to call someone in Bangalore or Manila for customer service.

I agree with a 19^th Century writer named Edward George Bulwer-Lytton who wrote “Master books but do not let them master you. Read to live, not live to read.”

But then, he was also the author of the line “It was a dark and stormy night,” so I wouldn’t make too much book on his counsel.

* * *

Some pals write:

Oh, Mike, how I love your stories .... I really, really do! -- Tia

Thanks for these.  Always great to read them. -- Angel

I enjoyed reading the essay and love having time to read books now that I am retired. Happy birthday. Some of my cartoons will be published in my college class's 50th reunion book. -- Ken

They'll make a nice permanent memory.

Wonderful stuff.  You make me want to grab a book and find a well-lit comfortable spot.  Too much time on the computer these days. --  Mike C.

As always Mike thanks. Some write some do. I had to quit writing before I became so huge as to be house bound. The next adventure is from St Paul to New Orleans By Canoe and Kayak. You are invited to come along -- Nick

No thanks. For me, a trip to the mailbox is all I can manage.

Such a well-woven together essay; you never cease to impress me. -- Galen

Thank you. I know you are not easily impressed.

As much as I fancy computers and keyboards, I still find great comfort in writing out longhand all kinds of things I think about in my journal from time to time, and on my shelves are past ones, full now, next to poems and favorite books. A line of computer-generated stuff just isn't the same kind of comfort, is it? -- Zoey

Nope.

So?  When can we see all this in a nice bound volume? -- Larry

That’s a good question.

Another priceless gem, Mike! Thanks for sending another great piece my way. -- Amanda

I enjoyed this, Mike. Happy birthday, Buddy. Nice to see you're still doing this. Say hi to Jerry [Brown] next time you're downtown and tell him Scotty Miller's keeping the faith in Seattle. I hope he can fix some of what's broken. -- Rusty

Knowing the good governor, he’ll make things worse with good intentions.

Zounds!  Many happy returns of the day. Good TT! -- Albert

Love the kind words about books and libraries -- Karen

Excellent. -- CDB

In my eyes, you are like a good book! Thanks, for another good read -- P&P

Thanks for sending! -- Eve

Thank you for the break -- Carol

Always a treat, Mike. I have arthritis in my hands that makes holding a book and turning pages very difficult. I read almost exclusively on the computer now, and I miss the feel of books in my hot little hands! -- Linda

So nice to have a new Tomatoman Times! -- Diane

Happy Birthday, fellow Aries! I've come to love my Kindle more than actual books. Hope all is well with you -- Babe/Cyn

Happy Birthday, Mike! -- Pamela

Sooo good. I lol'd, literally, and I really needed to do that today. Thanks.

P.S. I'm sharing to Facebook, with or without your permission. -- Sum

Wonderful article about the value of books, those actual items of written word that nestle in your hands and your eyes can feast on the words. I love books. My life would not be complete without them. I am not into the electronic reading things, myself. I prefer to hold a real book in my hands. Thanks Mike for another terrific essay. -- Peggy

Always enjoy the arrival of Tomatoman Times in my emai box. -- Ldy
Always a treat, Mike. I have arthritis in my hands that makes holding a book and turning pages very difficult. I read almost exclusively on the computer now, and I miss the feel of books in my hot little hands! -- Linda

So nice to have a new Tomatoman Times! -- Diane

Happy Birthday, fellow Aries! I've come to love my Kindle more than actual books. Hope all is well with you -- Babe/Cyn

Thank alla yas for the kind words. Hell, thanks for reading this stuff in the first place. MB