Okay, this month’s post is not going to be a rant about how the world is falling apart. Nor is it likely to really fit into the “Living Off the Grid” category. This one is about passing on information to the next person in hopes that they do not end up with the mess I have.

The topic is Blower Motor Resistors.

First let me state that I hate working with anything that greasy & oily. Give me a piece of wood and there is not much I can not do with it and I am in hog heaven, but I detest machinery. But because I am cheap, I have a grand desire to learn anything new, & it is very difficult to find someone you trust to work on your vehicle. I tend to do a lot of work myself. My newest endeavor into the world of auto mechanic is a blower fan that stopped working. I figured the blower motor itself was fine, there was sickening sound that you hear of metal on metal when a spinning object is about to die. My first assumption was that it was the control switch in the cab going bad.

I had lost the first three settings of the fan control some time ago. And yes, I should have researched the issue back then, hence why I am telling you all this in hopes that you gain an advantage from my stupidity. I finally lost the highest setting a couple of days ago. Not wanting to be without the mighty blast of northern cool air that usually baths me like the music of an Ice Cream truck coming down the street. I jumped into researching how to replace the control panel.

I quickly found out that the most common, and easiest to replace, problem when a blower motor stops running is a burnt out resistor. Now, if you are like me and have limited auto mechanics experience, but have computer knowledge. A resistor looks like this:

Well, to my surprise, and a new lesson of the day, they come in other forms. My blower motor resistor looks like this when all shiny and new:

According the various YouTube videos I watched, these thing have tendency to burn out over time due to heat build up, use, and moisture. I learned I made two mistakes that I can determine from what I have learned from the videos and web forums. If you go back to image 1, you can see that to shut the fan off, the right most control needs to be pointing towards Santy Claus, North, or straight up to the “Off” position. Well, even on times when I was not actually using the heat or the ac, I would never move that control to the off position, I would just turn the fan control to the lowest speed. This was not good. This allowed the fan to operate, thus allow electricity to flow through the resistor and shortening its lifespan. So the lesson here is clearly, shut of the fan when not using it. Do not be a lazy bastard like myself who refuses to acknowledge the existence of that elusive far right control (it’s a lefty thing). My second mistake was not looking into the issue when I lost the first fan setting. This was the resistor telling me it is not feeling well, it could a check up, a little love. But I ignored it, which caused it to work harder, thus get hotter. The end result to all this is a welded mess of metal and plastic.

Removing the resistor from its location was easy enough. For mine, two small screws, resistor and wiring harness come right out. Now, removing the resistor from the wiring harness, not so easy. This was the results of tearing the resistor from its plastic male base;

After the resistor itself was drawn and quartered, leaving the male base:

which pulled right off of the female harness without a single cry of objection;

leaving the female wiring harness. This was the failure point;

Being that my beautful baby is working on her 17th year, finding parts tends to lead me to RockAuto.com because local auto stores tend to not have anything but the most replaced items in stock. Waiting a few days for parts to come in is nothing to cry over, but i could have saved myself having to replace the wiring harness end had I checked on why I lost fan speed when it was first indicated.

Hope you all benefit from my life lesson.

Love & Light

 

Just a quick update. Well I hope it’s quick. You never can tell. One of the aliens in my head may take over and I’ll be here typing all night. I hate it when that happens.

Well the solar panels came in. I was all excited opening the first panel until I noticed that it had a special connector on the cabling. After some research I learned that it was a MC4 connector and in order not to void the warranty I had to use a matching UL listed connector. I’m sure you can guess where this went. They are expensive. And they require a proprietary crimp tool. I already have a dozen crimpers rusting in tool boxes so what are the chances that one will work? Absolutely none. In order to not violate UL you have to use the special low drag go faster crimp tool. I ordered a set of pig tails for each panel and will run my own connectors and cabling from there.

Then I got to looking for the mounting hardware for the panel. There was none. Checking out their site I found some lame assed excuse for not including mounting hardware but they would be more than happy to provide hardware at only $30 per panel. Yeah, sure. Three panels would be nearly enough to buy another panel. Let me see, hardware or a new 100 watt panel? DOH!

So I raided the storage unit to load up a couple hundred pounds of hardware. One of the benefits to being a pack rat and working construction for so many years is that I have at least a ton of hardware in there.

So I headed to the swamp a few days ago all happied up about being able to get the panels mounted so I could do the final hookup this weekend sometime after the pig tails arrived. I arrived late in the afternoon and after unloading and settling in it was time to cook and get ready for dark.

Getting set up for dark is a big thing for me. I have to bring in the solar lights and preposition everything I’ll need after dark. When it gets dark out there it is really, really dark. On a clear night you have some starlight plus maybe the moon when outside. On overcast nights walking outside is like walking into a cave and turning out your headlamp.

I’m not scared of the dark by any means, but there are bears, bobcats, panthers and raccoon out there. There’s already been reports of rabid raccoon this year so I’m justifiably wary. I’ve seen bear, bobcat and panther tracks within 100 yards of the shack so I know they come close.

The next morning I was full of myself and started the day on a most optimistic note. I had talked to the manufacturer about the generator problems so I was equipped with a short list of maintenance items to do then my generator would be singing like a canary. By noon I was so frustrated and angry I broke out the AR and sat on the porch hoping for a raccoon or armadillo.

Then I started calling the manufacturer. After a dozen calls, two phone recharges and a couple gallons of sweat, the generator locked up and wouldn’t even consider working. My last call ended abruptly when I began to describe in great detail the lineage and sexual deviations of the generator. This time I broke out the big AR in 308 thinking I would turn a critter into a red fog.

After a few bottles of water I began thinking about how to get the generator in the back of the pickup. It weighs right at 260 pounds which is about 245 pounds more than I want to try lifting. I thought of letting the air out of the tires on the truck so as to lower the bed. Good idea till I remembered I didn’t have a generator so I couldn’t start the air compressor to pump them back up. Then I thought of digging a hole and backing the truck into it then rolling the generator into the bed. Then I had it, gathering all my extensive knowledge of Star Wars trivia I looked at the generator and said “Luke, I be your daddy.” Focusing all my energy I extended my hand, concentrated on seeing the generator in the bed of the truck and got a cramp. I think I heard a silly little faggot giggle coming from the generator.

Back on the porch I loaded some tracers I got somewhere.

My next and final attempt worked much to my amazement. I built a stairway to the truck be using pallets. I laid two out for the first step, four for the second, then six for the last. I had to take the two from the first step and put them on the third once I got the generator to the second tier since I was running out of spare pallets. I placed plywood between steps to form a ramp which greatly eased getting it up, still it was a chore with many breaks and bottles of water. Still, I was concerned about falling and breaking my ass.

So tomorrow I get to take it back to where I bought it for an exchange. It’s nearly a 600 mile round trip but worth it since I have to have a generator.

Good grief what a crappy day. Ever have one of those days when everything you touched turned to crap? Man did I ever.

It started when I built a cup of coffee. I have one of those percolators that you put the grounds in and it percolates the water up then down through the grounds. Works fine unless you forget to turn the heat down when it starts making that strange strangling sound. I forgot and ended up with a cup of half grounds and half a coffee like substance that seemed to be evolving or something. I managed to get it down before it developed a language and began arguing with me. I just wasn’t in any mood for argument this morning.

Then I broke out all the weapons of mass destruction and began to set up a solar cell. Don’t scoff. In my hands a skill saw, drill and hammer are weapons of mass destruction. I have a mountain of badly abused wood out there that I could have sworn would fit. Well it didn’t. I had to mount the cell three times before I got it right. I chalked it up to nearly losing an argument to a cup of coffee and plowed on.

I figured I wanted to charge my deep cycle battery while doing this so the generator was being obnoxious as hell the whole time. Then it stopped. Repeatedly. Did I mention I had a crappy day?

After a couple of hours of arguing with the generator I decided to give it a rest and take a nap. After I approached it with my most menacing scowl, put my hand on my gun and said “Go ahead. Make my day.” Didn’t work. Finally I checked the oil. Yeah I know I should have done that first off but I had just checked it a few days ago.

It was gone. The dip stick said bone dry. I checked the ground, then tilted the generator up to see if there was a leak. No oil. I pulled the plug and there was no evidence of fouling so it didn’t burn it. I am completely mystified wondering where did the oil go? One of the voices is telling me that aliens needed it to super charge their inter dimensional trans warp drive but he’s always been a silly little shit so I rarely listen to him. After putting the prescribed flavor and amount of oil in the generator was most happy to do its job which was nice seeing as how I had went all in with my Clint Eastwood impression.

Back at the solar cell I was cussing myself for packaging it in about 10 layers of Faraday cage. I was obviously in one of my prepare for an EMP phases at the time. Two cuts and a broken fingernail later it was unwrapped and not at all what I expected. For starters it was 15 watts where I remember 45 watts. It is however a desulfator system which is a good thing. I’m planning on several small solar power systems so I can periodically move it to individual battery banks and tune them as needed. Also I forgot to order cells so that is high on my list when I get back to town. Still I’m wondering if I have a 45 watt cell somewhere. Heck, I can’t remember what I was thinking or doing two hours ago much less two years.

I bought an inverter and charge controller at Harbor Freight the other day just to get something up and running. I don’t need the charge controller yet but figured I’d put the inverter in even if it was overkill right now. As soon as I opened the box I was angry. Well, really angry. Hell, I was furious. The inverter is used and there’s no way I’m putting it in. It’s a 150 mile round trip to return it so the voices were especially loud.

During the course of the day Ziggy discovered the fan. I had it on the floor just moving air in the shack while I worked. When it came time for our afternoon walk he made it very evident that if the fan wasn’t going neither was he. At least it drowns out some of the noise of his snoring.

Last night was miserable. It didn’t get below 90 until about 2 am so sleep was one of those things that you just wished for. Tonight I’m ready. Charged battery, inverter in place and fan on standby. It’s in the 70s, light breeze blowing through the shack and I can hardly keep my eyes open. Go figure.

I’m really getting into dragonflies. Besides being fierce predators they are pretty smart for a bug. They will often hang out wherever you are because they know that some muzloid bugs are going to go geehawdy on your azz. They then swoop in and snip, no more terrorist bug. This guy was just hanging out on my laptop while I was trying to do a system recovery. Every few minutes I would hear a buzz then he would be back with a yellow fly. He would sit on the screen frame and eat his snack while I tried to get my system back. All that was left when he finished was wings and legs which I didn’t mind brushing off at all.

Actually I’ve come to like these guys so much I began naming them which might not have been the best of ideas. Dragonflies only live for a few weeks and they just don’t seem to have what it takes to learn their names in that time. I’ve noticed that when I try to use my Jedi mind power on them they seem confused at times.

Me: “Alvin! Yellow fly! Get him.”

Dragonfly Union Leader: “OK, Alvin yer up. Which one of youse is Alvin?”

Dragonfly 1: “Not me Boss. I’m Horace. Or Bill. Or maybe Jim. I dunno.”

Dragonfly 2: “Alvin? Didn’t he get eaten by a bird? Or was that Cheryl?”

Me (being bit repeatedly): “Ouch! Shit! Crap!”

Dragonfly Union Leader: “OK, Ouch Shit Crap yer up. Which one of youse is Ouch Shit Crap?”

Perhaps you’ve been in the swamp to long when you begin speculating about the conversations of insects.

Clearing brush is only the start to a battle that I don’t see ending anytime soon. I’ve learned two things about swamp gardening. First is that if you don’t want to grow it then bend over. Every time you cut it down it will come back with 20 new shoots to taunt you. Second is that if you want it grow bend over. It won’t.

Deciding that I needed some way to kill the newly sprouted brush without the use of a gazillion gallons of weed killer which would eventually leech into the water table I started experimenting. In this picture you can see the rare and exotic camo tarp and black sheet plastic plants. These previously unknown plants were once a Chinese state secret and only grown in the most remote regions of northern China. Farmers who had earned the gratitude of the Emperor were allowed to grow these plants that made them fantastically wealthy with some making $3.97 a year in a good year. This was a boon for their children since they didn’t have to work in the sweatshops which was just as well since children don’t sweat all that much.

These plants were smuggled out of China at great risk in the underwear of two 19 year old Chinese twin sisters I purchased on the internet for $49.95 plus $29.99 shipping and handling. After seeing the bounty they had brought I set them free, bought them both tickets to New York city and gave them two cases of Ramon noodles to speed them along.

OK, it’s a camo tarp and a sheet of black plastic. I made it all up. So sue me.

Though somewhat slow, this works. When temps reach 90+ underneath the tarp/sheet it’s a lot higher. This results in sort of parboiling whatever is growing there. The black plastic seems to work best with the brush turning dead in two weeks or so. I’m leaving it on for several weeks more in the hope that it will kill the roots making further treatments unnecessary. The camo tarp doesn’t concentrate as much heat so it is working much slower but it is working none the less. I’ve since started covering the brush with cardboard then clear plastic. The jury isn’t in on this approach yet but I think maybe the clear plastic may work even better than the black. Hopefully it will transfer more heat in and cook those suckers much faster.

A few days ago, well a couple of weeks ago, I started a shed for my generators. I cleared the brush, leveled the ground a bit and set to it. I began by laying down plastic sheet to stop future growth then nailed together two pallets which would give me a 4×8 foot shed. This is a convenient size since most of my on hand lumber is 8 foot long. Then I decided it was to close to the shack so I cleared another area and set about leveling it. Then I decided I wanted a permanent shed and not something that would blow away. So I started digging holes. No need to mention the WMD needed to dig a hole. Then I started setting the poles. 12 foot 4x4s were way overkill. So tomorrow I buy some 10 foot and hopefully start nailing some lumber.

“What you eating Daddy?”
“It’s a banana Ziggy.”
“I know what it is. Can I have some Daddy? Not the peel this time.”
“It’s a banana. You sure want it Ziggy?”
“Yes please.”
“OK, here.”
“No thank you Daddy. I don’t like banana. I just wanted to see if you would let me have it.”

Back in the swamp and time for another installment of “What’s that smell?” Oh wait. That’s another story. Never mind. Maybe later.

As usual, things are stumbling along at a pace somewhat akin to watching paint dry. Hauling brush, picking up trash and wondering what bit me and how the hell did it get that far up my pants leg just isn’t all that exciting. Well once it was. I’ve wiped out several colonies of fire ants and I believe they have put out a fatwa on me. I had a couple of fire ant suicide bombers make it all the way up my pants leg and inside my underwear. I’m very glad no one saw me running around with my pants to my knees screaming at the top of my lungs while slapping madly at,,,,well, you know. I don’t believe anyone who witnessed it would describe it as exciting. On the other hand I’m pretty sure I heard some tiny little voices yelling “Aloha Snackbar!”

I finally got the last of the bamboo in and it is doing OK to gangbusters. I put some mild lawn fertilizer on which seems to really agree with it. I now have four different varieties which are supposed to grow from 30 to 100 feet tall under ideal conditions. But it has to be watered which has led to a water shortage. Yeah, I know. I live in a swamp. Water everywhere. Except close to where the bamboo is.

The closest water is about 200 yards away and running away rapidly. I don’t know if this drying trend is a seasonal thing or an indicator of things to come. Anyway, water weighs 8 pounds per gallon. For the first month or so each plant should get a gallon in the morning and one at night. Thankfully we’ve been getting afternoon showers this week so I only have to deal with the morning water.

Some good friends came to visit a few days ago and we had a good time visiting both the local sights then journeying out to the shack. We started off with a visit to the town boutique specializing in everything you never thought you wanted or needed. No kidding. This shop is great and I never go there that I don’t find some hidden treasure that I will never use but just can’t live without. They were no different and left with some treasures as well.

Then it was on to the seafood buffet and more calories than a school bus full of illegal alien children should eat. I especially enjoyed the 4000 calorie blackberry cobbler topped with vanilla ice cream. I really didn’t want it but sure didn’t want to leave it for some illegal to snarf up. Besides it was good.

We visited the swamp the next day, took a walking tour, shot some tin cans and in general had a very pleasant time. Hopefully I’ll have the shack better prepared the next time they visit and they can stay longer.

Today I woke up ready to go so I broke out the brush cutter and set out to cut a path I’ve been wanting to open. As before the existing path took a rather meandering route as I would take the path of least resistance or spot the occasional “shiny” that I just had to see. The new path will allow me to sit on the porch and see the west end of the hog wallow that I previously thought were two wallows. Once finished I’ll be able to sit on the balcony and mercilessly exterminate Miss Piggy on four different lanes over 90 yards long. I lasted about three hours before it got so awful hot I had to quit.

When you get between two walls of brush there isn’t a hint of a breeze. The heat just builds until it becomes hard to breathe. Throw in the fact that you have on heavy boots, long sleeved shirt, heavy gloves, a face shield and a somewhat restrictive harness to support the cutter and it gets really hot. The brush cutter itself puts out a tremendous amount of heat as well. The manufacturer recommends running it at about 10 thousand rpm which is fun but man does it ever heat things up even further.

Tomorrow is a toss up. I may cut some more path or maybe put up siding. Or maybe sit on the porch and doze all day. Can’t you just feel the excitement?

I really need to get the siding on the north side done and sealed. I bought some thinset Monday since the bag I had got wet. It’s remains are resting in a shallow grave out in my parking area. If I can remember where it is I’ll silently mourn its passing every time I drive over it.

There was a very strong storm here yesterday which had me concerned about the siding I have up now. After I did an inspection and was relieved to see no obvious damage. Maybe I got something right for a change.

The north wall is proving to be much more of a challenge than the east wall. For one, I didn’t know you should glue the siding with liquid nails so there isn’t a bit of glue on the east wall. After the first row it was just a matter of sliding the board up a ladder, then up the wall, setting it in place then screwing it down. With glue it’s an entirely different matter. You have to push the board up a ladder until it nearly touches the wall. Then you have to lift it out while continuing to push up the ladder. Once in place you set the board all in one fluid motion. Yeah, right. I have liquid nails everywhere. In my hair, on my shirt, gloves are caked and the wall looks like some modern art piece smeared with glue everywhere. Naturally the wind picks up just about the time you start to lift the board in place. Whereupon you are holding a 26 pound 3 by 5 foot sail that wants to go anywhere but over the area you previously applied glue to. There’s a piece of siding over in the brush now that I regularly cuss on every trip by that is destined for a shallow unmarked grave out in my parking area.

It’s very hot tonight. Not a bit of breeze, I have a hole in the air mattress and the Boy is snoring like a chain saw. It’s going to be a very long night.

Speaking of the boy snoring. A few weeks ago he went missing for longer than usual. I usually check several times an hour to see what he’s up to just in case he goes wandering off behind some new and possibly deadly adventure. Realizing that I hadn’t seen him for several hours I started the hunt. First stop was his favorite hide out

in the brush that he doesn’t know I know about. I always walk by it real casual like and never look directly at it. If he’s in there I keep walking and pretending that I don’t know where he is. Nope, he wasn’t there. By now I’m calling him and hitting the buzzer on his shock collar like a hive of angry bees. Nothing.

So it’s off to the road which is usually a total waste. Amos was out for awhile at the time so I decided to stop by his place to see if the Boy had visited. Just as I got to his trailer Amos was coming out for the call of nature. “Looking for Ziggy?” he asked. “Yep. Has he been up here?” “Yep, he’s inside asleep on the bed. I heard him outside whining and when I opened the door he came in, jumped in bed and went to sleep. I just laid down and went back to sleep.” I wasn’t really sure what to say at this point so I played it cool, “When he wakes up will you send him home?”

Woke up this morning and decided to go to town for a day or two. I was out of ice, out of food and out of vodka. Besides that I have about 374 actively itching bug bites that need some benadryl and calamine lotion. I was planning on a late afternoon departure time but the wind died while I was putting up the last few pieces of siding on the second row of the north side and I smelled me. I moved my outgoing flight up to noon and set about stowing everything.

It’s been several days and I’ve been back and forth several times. Not a whole lot of news to report other than dam is it getting hot. I’m in town for several days while I get over a mild case of trench foot and toxic levels of bug bites. I have another post nearly ready to go so I’ll get this up and work on it a bit.

I’ve been asked to post some of the stories about the characters I’ve met on my journey here. Since the night is yet young and I’m getting half potted why not? I’ll give it a go and if anyone enjoys it I’ll do some more.

Chatty Cathy – Ever see a sight that just made you want to wash your eyes out with bleach? Chatty Cathy is one of those people you wish you could unmeet. (not a word I know but it fits) My first encounter with Cathy began when I was moving here and had a large enclosed trailer to unload. I stopped by my friends shop and asked him if he knew anyone who I could hire to help me unload. He said he knew someone but I would have to go pick him up. I was warned that he was “a nut” but I foolishly assumed that he was simple and crazy like me. After a phone call I set off to pick him up.

When I got to his place I honked the horn about the time he walked out of his trailer. Sitting in the truck with a diesel engine running, 60 feet away I wondered who he was talking to. My best guess was that he had a wireless headset and was talking on the phone. When he got to the truck there was no headset, no phone and he was still talking a blue streak. I told him he would have to sit in the back seat since Ziggy was kind of freaked also and not about to get that far away from daddy with this guy in the truck.

So we set off to the storage unit with Chatty Cathy talking all the while. And talking. And talking.

At the unit we pile out of the truck to start unloading. Did I mention that he was talking the whole time? By now I had realized that he was not the sort of person to let conversation get in the way of talking so I didn’t even bother to grunt or wiggle my ears to acknowledge the constant stream of words issuing from him. I began unloading.

In the trailer and in passing I could understand part of what he was saying. Some of it was comments about the boxes we were moving such as “Gun stuff. Oh, wonder what you got in here.” One comment in particular came back to haunt me when he was holding a surplus back pack I had picked up at the local Army Navy store, “Oh you were there to. I was there. We’re brothers.” Like everything else he was saying I just tuned it out and kept going. When I was outside the trailer all I heard was some mumbling sounds that just increased in volume as I passed him then died out a bit as he moved something into the storage unit. He was a worker though. We unloaded the trailer in half the time I had estimated which I attribute to whatever drugs he was taking.

At the end of the day I paid him with a belt sander he was particularly enamored with and took him back to his trailer. In nearly three and a half hours he hadn’t stopped for breath a single time and had covered every topic imaginable. I tipped him 20 dollars and told him that no one needed to know my business and to keep what he saw to himself.

Weeks later I had a truck to unload. Steeling myself I made the call. I told him the day I would be there and could he help unload. He told me he might be baling hay and that he had to work his trade after all. Baling hay is a trade? What has happened in the 50+ years since I bailed hay that it has become a trade?

Time passed and I began settling into my new life. While visiting with my friend at his shop he told me that Cathy had stopped by. Seems that Cathy wanted to tell my friend about helping me with unloading my trailer. “That guy has some stuff in there if you know what I mean (wink, wink). But I don’t want to say any more. I’ve said to much already.” I wasn’t happy.

Not long after that I had stopped at the local truck stop for a grease bomb and fries. Upon leaving I walked by some homeless guy only to hear “How you doing tonight?” I just grunted and kept going. Then I heard “Aren’t you that guy that I helped unload a trailer?”

I stopped dead in my tracks and looked closely. Oh shit, it’s him. And he’s winking. “Yeah” was about all I could think to say. “I thought you were going to call me to help again.” he replied while apparently trying to blink something out of his eye. “I did” I answered. “You never called me back. And what’s wrong with your eye?”

“You know” says he “we were over there together” while nodding in the general direction of the truck stop parking lot. Looking over to the corner of the parking lot all I could see was a Dollar General and some unmarked truck. I had no earthly clue what this nut case was talking about but I was quickly becoming concerned that he might be dangerous or that at some point he might start humping my leg. Then I remembered. Afghanistan He had babbled about being over there when he saw the back pack. “No, I’ve never been to Afghanistan” I said then hurried to the truck for a quick escape.

A few days later I was in a local hardware store when I heard “Well hello my friend! How are you?” Oh shit, it’s him. And he’s winking like a broken traffic light after being hit by lightning. And he’s coming toward me. I started backing up and wondering if “He was humping my leg judge” would stand up in court here. About that time I had a very pleasant collision with a very pretty and very buxom young lady who simply said “I’ll handle this.”

“Go on! Get out of here! Quit bothering the customers.” Peering out from behind her I was tempted to throw in a “Yeah! What she said!” but held my tongue.

I haven’t seen Chatty Cathy since but then I don’t hang out in dark corners of truck stop parking lots so he may be out there still if you know what I mean. But I don’t want to say any more. I’ve said to much already.

Hello America

Nom de Plume here, Ishimo says that he received “some” positive comments from my last post and that I should post some more. Personally I think they be crazy or maybe Ish is just trying to get me to give out free advice I could be getting paid for from said crazies (if they had money). Either way, if i make one person laugh so hard that they pee their pants, it’s all worth it. Because honestly, who doesn’t like to laugh so freely that you split a gut, where you are screaming “Stop it, Stop it” because you are just trying to catch your breath.

Personally, I see less of that now than 30 years ago. Used to be I could be walking down a busy street and catch someone laughing so uncontrollably that it would infectious, others would smile, then start laughing (having no idea what they were laughing about) and soon you would have a very happy group. And what a great start to a day that would make if you could have a good laugh early in the morning, the whole day just seemed easier to take.

Now when I walk down a crowded street, while avoiding being run down by all the people looking down at the their smartphones, all I see is the occasional smile while someone just typed “LOL” into an app. Socialization has become a series of bits and bytes with no true emotion attached to it. Reminds me of a couple I know, almost 30 years my junior, that I witnessed get in argument, they were 3 feet apart, and they texted their comments back and forth instead of just looking at each other face to face and discussing their problems. Admittedly, I do not get it. Granted i grew up in a time before the invention of cellphones, (anyone remember party lines?) But I was ahead of the curve with technology. My father being a Professor of Computer Sciences, I was thrown into the world of computers and the “internet” back in its infancy. I remember tagging along with my father as a boy to where he worked and if the computer was free (back then it was an IBM 1130, it took up the space of two university rooms), I was allowed to jump on and communicate with other education and government entities that were connected back then. It was simplistic, green monochromatic screen, key card punch keyboard, and basic turned based conversations. But this experience did not deter me from wanting human contact. On the contrary, it made me want to meet the person at the other end so much more. So at what point did technology turn people into hermits that will not even have a discussion with their spouse face to face? Where are we heading when someone needs help and all they can get is “a like and a share” when what they need is a helping hand and a hug.

Although slightly off topic, I believe this next story is still inline with what I am babbling on about. Earlier this week I was at Walmart, doing some Walmartian hunting, the cart I grabbed had a pink leather item in it. I picked it up, opened it and found it was someone’s high end smartphone, all the IDs, credit cards, etc. and I assume their cash (I did not check that deep). I did not mull over what I would do with it, I did not sway back and forth as to whether I would sell the phone and IDs and keep whatever valuable I could use. I instead immediately headed to the Customer Service Desk to turn it in. That is in itself, in my opinion, should not be any big deal. My mother raised me to do what is right “If it was yours, what would you want someone to do”. But what surprised me was the reaction I got from the line of people behind me when they witnessed me turn in the item to customer service. People were agast, comments were being said like “wow, what a good guy” “you just turned that wallet in?” and many others that kind of put me back for a moment. I had to take a minute to process it all and then I had to say out loud to everyone in line. “What surprises me is that you are shocked that someone would do the right thing, and does that mean by your reaction, that you, yourselves, would not have done the right thing?” It is a sad, sad thing that society is actually de-evolving.

In closing, all I ask of every person who reads this rabble, go out and hug someone, hug a loved one, hug a stranger and hug life. Then find someone, anyone, and go have a conversation about anything and finally if you can muster up the strength, make someone laugh till they pee their pants, offer them a towel or another pair of pants and then laugh about that.

Love & Light

Nom de Plume

 

NO ONE, but no one, uses my litter box but me!

I’ve added disqus to the comment section on here. Now you can comment using your disqus account and not need to register here.

Hopefully this will let me get a feel for if anyone reads this drivel and if I should keep writing it.