Hi, my name's Dan and I'm a volunteer...
As I threatened to do, I am doing volunteer work for the Patricia Madrid for Congress Campaign. This feels like a real grass-roots kind of thing. So far I've stuffed, addressed and sealed envelopes; shown up at events to show support; I've been an extra in a couple of commercials; and the hardest thing of all -- making phone calls. This last one is really difficult for me, I hate making calls like that. The good news is that most people are pretty receptive and really fed up with the status-quo.

Ghosts
I've done a bit of research into my Family Tree. It started as an assignment for a history class in college -- it seemed like such a pain at the time, but it took on a life of its own and has been a solid foundation for continuing research. Fortunately many people were still alive who had artifacts and could remember things, many of whom have since passed.

Just last week I was poking around and found a genealogy forum where someone had a posting which read in part "Hoping to contact descendants of James Thomason b. about 1894 in Indian Territory to Lee and Anna 'Annie' (Martin) Thomason." It so happens that James was my grandfather, thus the ghosts have reappeared.

The handsome couple you see here is Ellis Martin and his wife Sallie (my great-great-grandparents), provided by my contact. I was able to give her a couple of letters written by his attending physician where he died at age 66 (Woodcroft Hospital in Pueblo CO). The letters are from 1908 and 1909. It sounds like he had Alzheimer's Disease. "As we have told you before he is very much like a child, often gets lost, as it were, in the house and could not find his bed or his place at the table; other times he gets up at night and were the doors unlocked he would wander away and not know enough to come back..." Fortunately though "He died without realizing any suffering but gradually slipped away."

Lives and times gradually slip away, and I often see my own eyes staring back at me from old photographs.

More Fun with Mr. Potato Head
The other day I decided to get a haircut. I have vowed to put some legs 'neath my opinions and complaints about the government and get involved in helping our Democratic candidate get elected to Congress. On Tuesday there was to be a mailing at Headquarters and I wanted to join in, and figured it was a good time to do something about my shaggy mane. I tootled over to Supercuts where I was soon being asked rather technical questions about how exactly I wanted my hair to be cut. In the past the person has always done about the same thing no matter what I say... they can tell I have pried myself out of my apartment for a haircut I could put off no longer and just buzz-snip their way through it. This time after her questions she fired up her clippers and I was soon being shorn like a sheep. In no time flat it was over and the shape of my noggin was there for all to see. My hair hasn't been this short since about the time of that kid you see there, first or second grade. It feels fuzzy again.

A friend told me she didn't like my mustache. I asked her preference and after some thought she told me I should go with the goatee configuration, rather than clean shaven. She has some problem with mustaches, she confesses. I decided to defer to her opinion -- even though she keeps me at arm's length, at least she's willing to be seen in public with me from time to time so she gets the nod of my fuzzy-wuzzy head-bone.

BLT
These are the ingredients for my current favorite snack -- the venerable Bacon, Lettuce, and Tomato sandwich (heretofore known as a "BLT"). The bacon slowly fries in a pan, filling the apartment with an appetizing scent; the lettuce and tomato is cool and juicy, the toast warm and crunchy. I have my doubts about the nutritional value of the combination; I'm sure some nutritionist could predict dire consequences in my future. Oh well, you only live once. Or you live again and again as different people. Or you come back in a higher (or lower) form. Or you live the exact same life over and over again. Or... it depends on who you ask.

In other news: North Korea is shooting off missiles. Once again, I am glad I don't actually have to run this show. I wouldn't know what to tell them. I could offer to make them a BLT, would that help? The only thought I had is that there is a certain poetic justice... we invaded a country, which indicates we like War. So they shoot off missiles, which is a war-like thing to do. I will let the "self-appointed guardians of the race" (quote from some Tull song) handle it though. Just don't blow the place up, boys and girls. It's the only planet we got.