Three Pillars Of Civilization

This is the time of year for travel. I haven’t been flying about like I used to but it wasn’t long ago that I would roll up a couple of changes of clothes, pack them in a seabag and head for the airport. It was during this packing that I had to be sure to throw my trusty Swiss army knife into the bag so I wouldn’t wind up at security with it in my pocket. I’ve lost good knives that way.
I’ve had to ruin a good Zippo too. I did not know that lighters weren’t allowed on flights so I had to take apart a new lighter and throw away all the fuel soaked cotton.
These are small concessions when it comes to being more secure when we fly the friendly skies. But I’ve noticed a lot of people don’t carry knives and lighters in their day to day lives.
For all our technological advances I still think there are three basic implements of civilization that every person should carry with them:
A knife, matches or a lighter, and a pen.
A knife is the refined extension of the chipped flint of our earliest ancestors. I prefer to carry a Case yellow handled medium stockman model at the present time but there are a host of options to choose from. A good knife with an interesting handle of bone, stag antler, celluloid, or wood makes a handy tool and a great conversation piece. Another great thing about carrying knives is that people always know something safe to get you for Christmas. You never wind up with that pair of baby blue Izod pants like I once did.
Carrying a lighter could literally save your life. There is nothing more human than the ability and desire to make fire. That few people today can make a fire from rubbing two sticks together doesn't matter if you have a lighter. As Geico would say, “Its so easy even a cave man could do it.” You don’t have to smoke to need a lighter. What if you wanted to burn trash or destroy documents?
Lastly, a pen is the most important implement a person can carry. Unlike a knife or lighter there is hardly ever a time I go out that I don’t need to sign my name or write something down. And before using that plastic Bic the girl at the cash register shoves your way think how many people have picked their nose and then used that pen. In the Navy I used to tell the younger Sailors that a pen was a basic part of their uniform. The salty First Classes and Chiefs had already figured that out (and taught that lesson to me). I carry a medium point retractable Parker in my pocket. Though I am still fond of the Danish pen my dad gave me when I was a little kid. It has a photograph of a pretty girl on it whose swimsuit falls off when I turn the pen upside down. It survived getting confiscated by my tenth grade French teacher and sits on my desk waiting to be turned upside down to this day. Writing utensiles have come a long way since chisels and charcoal.
Your pockets are what you make them. I choose to make mine a triune testimonial to human achievement.

Alternative Fishing Amid the Buzz of Modern America

Yesterday I assembled my new fishing pole and drove out to J Percy Priest Dam in Nashville to try it out. I sat just below the dam enjoying Nature with Interstate 40 rumbling by just downstream, jets loudly shredding the air a few hundred feet overhead, and titanic power line towers adding their electromagnetic buzz to the scene. A peaceful afternoon. Despite the encroachments of our running world I saw a least bittern and some ducks, female mallards I think. There was also a large buffalo which made a few passes up and down the shoreline right under my nose.
Not many people were fishing, just a few Mexicans enjoying the cheap entertainment, and like most uneducated people, they left their trash, their worm boxes and the plastic bag that held their Cheetos, behind on the river bank to be swept downstream by the next flood. I've never understood people too lazy to pick up their trash. But I admit a certain guilt: as a youth my job on boat outings was to fill the beer bottles my dad and his friends passed to me with water and sink them to the bottom of Center Hill Lake. But that took effort.
For a lure I used a small, floppy plastic crappie with a treble hook on the bottom of it. It didn't take many casts to decide this was not going to garner much attention in such a river setting. I needed worms or dough. What I had was a Cliff Bar. So I balled a small pinch of the energy bar around a barbed hook and cast out. Over the course of ninty minutes I caught zero fish but had about four good tugs. My conclusion: a Cliff Bar will catch a fish but you have to make sure enough of the point is exposed to set the hook.

Southern Gothic Socialist Asparagus Eaters

Last night I cooked dinner for my parents. It was the first time they'd been to my little apartment so I had it extra clean but I think they were as or even more excited about seeing their "granddog" as seeing me. They had never had lamb chops so thats what I fixed.
I cooked six one-inch thick chops that I'd marianated in soy sauce, black pepper, and rosemary...plenty of rosemary. I pan fried them in EVOO on medium for about seven or eight minutes. If the skillet is too hot the meat gets tough. Lamb chops should be served with plenty of pink in the middle (or rare for those who prefer that).
I also roasted apsaragus and red potatoes and onions. Asparagus is easy, just drizzle with EVOO and course salt then bake at 450 for about ten or twelve minutes. When it turns bright green its done. The potatoes are similarly dressed with EVOO, salt, cracked pepper and paprika and put in the oven for about 20 to 25 minutes.
I served the lamb with horseradish and mint jelly, at my grandmother's recommendation. I was at first skeptical about the mint jelly but it is absolutely wonderful when paired with the horseradish on a perfectly prepared lamb chop.
I really enjoyed having my folks over last night.
Afterwards I went out to see a band with some friends and wound up outside making out by the old Cannery Building with a girl I knew. It was a good location, nestled between the 120 year old brick building and some hopper cars on the railroad track next to us. Southern gothic with a train whistle and rumbling railroad cars. The weathered dedication stone imbedded in the crumbling brick wall, facing the tracks read: 1883 - Laborers Shall Rule the Earth As The XXXXXX Inherits Heaven. If I only knew who the sign said would inherit heaven every thing would be alright.