Happiness For A Day

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Life is short: show those you love that you love them. … so I frequently end posts on this blog when I speak about my family and legion of “elder buds.”

This past Saturday, my partner and I planted some flowers in a garden outside Mabel’s condo, so she could see them from her window and enjoy. We didn’t think much of it. She said that she liked to see flowers, and all the flowers she once had were gone, destroyed by snow, eaten by deer, gobbled by weeds.

In about an hour, my partner and I pulled weeds, turned the soil over, added some compost to enrichen it, and planted some daisies, coriopsis, and our state flower, Black-Eyed Susans. Mabel loved Black-Eyed Susans, in particular. I don’t quite know how I remembered that, but I did.

Mabel was so happy. She gave each of us a big hug, a huge warm smile, and thanked us profusely. We said, “nothin’ to it; glad to help.” We washed our hands and were on our way.

Sunday morning, Mabel phoned. Once again, she described how happy she was to wake up, open her blinds, and see the flowers. She said that she knew she could call early (6:30am) because she knew I was always an early riser.

“Mabel, thanks for your call. Seriously, nothin’ to it. You made us some great casseroles when I was laid up with my broken leg. It’s what we do: help each other. Thank you for the thanks, which warms our hearts. Seeing your smile is our rich reward.”

Monday morning, Mabel’s neighbor called me to let me know that the ambulance came to Mabel’s condo, followed by the coroner. Mabel died in her sleep. That surprised me. She had not been ill, and she wasn’t “that old.” She was 78. Always bright, peppy, and full of good cheer. I knew that she had a history of heart problems, which is why she gave up driving her own car. She was afraid that “some crazy driver will cause me to have a heart attack!” She always said that with a laugh, but I sensed that she was seriously frightened.

Mabel gave up her car six months ago. I helped her sell it. Then I began including Mabel on my regular rounds of older folks who I take to the grocery store for shopping trips. Mabel was doing well. She was getting rides, using the bus, and otherwise getting around rather well on her own. She admitted to me rather sheepishly on Saturday morning that she had me take her to the store because she liked spending time with me — but she really didn’t need it. She was managing well on her own.

Mabel taught me a lot of things. She was an avid historian. I learned a lot of history of my own state, and about the U.S. Revolution. She shared information in an entertaining and informative manner, dropping in occasional lines like “Charles Carroll of Carrollton was the last surviving signer of the Declaration of Independence when he died at age 95 — 40 years beyond the life expectancy of someone of his cohort.” She always talked like that… sprinkled scientific terminology with history. I shall always cherish what I learned from Mabel spending time in my life. Sharing with me. Being my friend.

Mabel was so very happy — for a day — the day being Sunday, the last day of her life. All because of a few measly flowers that we planted on a Saturday afternoon. Who woulda thunk?

Life is short: show those you love that you love them. Do it now… you never know.

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Fitting It All In

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“Busy” doesn’t define this past weekend. Lots and lots on the list, but lots got done. You read about our gardening chores for some of my elder buds in yesterday’s post. On Sunday, I did much more.

First, at dawn, I snuggled close to my partner, watching the sunrise, the birds chirp, and together, we planned our day. I got up, fetched the paper, and went to swim for an hour. Upon my return (before 8am, still), I prepared home-made waffles (the kind you make with flour, corn starch, baking powder, etc. Not from a mix).

After breakfast, I changed into biker gear (leather jeans, shirt, and tall lug-soled Chippewa boots). My partner started preparing our gardens to receive the plants we grew in our basement over the winter, as well as those which we bought on Saturday. I went to my Aunt’s home to check on her, feed her breakfast, and give her the meds she takes regularly. Then I went to a location where I joined some friends for a motorcycle ride.

I rode my Harley for about three hours. The ride was sweeeeet! The weather was cloudy and coolish — great “leather weather!” We rode throughout the Maryland byways on back roads with a good-sized group of some 15 bikes. I rode sweep (last), which I am finding is my favourite position. While it is a safety position, since all members of my group keep their bikes in tip-top shape, I don’t have to worry about someone having a breakdown. Instead, I just sit back, put my boots up on the highway pegs, and enjoy the view of the Harleys in front and the countryside to the left and to the right.

Side note: there were a lot of “Sunday bikers” out there. A “Sunday biker” is someone out riding his Harley, but wearing improper clothing and the worst: sneakers. At least the riders in my group always wear the right gear for the ride, including boots.

When I arrived home in the early afternoon, my partner and I enjoyed some lunch. After that, we planted away in our gardens. My partner loves do this, and it is my pleasure to help him.

When we were done at 4pm, we both were very tired. We shucked our clothes and got into the hot tub to unwind.

Dinner, served promptly at 6pm, included home-made pasta (made last week, so all I had to do was boil it), chicken, and a salad.

After dinner, I wrote this blog post, then shut down the computer. Bedtime rolls around early on these very busy days.

Life is short: get ‘er done!

Harvesting Smiles

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I admit, I whined somewhat on Saturday when the weather was spectacular, bright and sunny, with a low dew point and mild. It was a gorgeous day and the Harley… remained in the garage. Oh man, would I have loved to have been out riding. But something else took priority.

Besides the non-ending and ever-expanding “honey-do” list at home, I have three older friends who are still living independently, but whose mobility and ability to function are limited. Each have recently given up driving, which was very hard for them to do, but had to be done. They each were gardeners in their day, having lovely gardens around their respective homes. Each of them told me how much they missed seeing annuals out their windows, and looked kinda forlorn and sad.

My partner and I remedied the situation. When we were at the nursery on Saturday, buying the obligatory plants for our own gardens, I turned to my partner with a look that made him cry out, “what’s the matter? What’s wrong?”

As a tear ran down my face, I explained what Mabel, Iris, and George each had told me, in their own way, about missing flowers in their gardens.

Ever the problem-solver, my partner said, “okay, let’s buy a some extra flats of this-and-that.” US$100 later, flats of flowers brimming from the back of my truck, we left the nursery and drove right over to my elder buds’ homes. We planted the flowers in their gardens all afternoon. It was back-breaking work, as the gardens hadn’t been turned over, de-weeded, or otherwise tended in some time. We mixed in some additional “clay-breaker” soil and compost from our yard, then applied mulch, which was free for the taking from a county-provided supply.

The smiles we harvested immediately were worth the effort, and made me feel better. Even though I couldn’t go riding, and our own gardens still need to be planted, the days’ work could not have been more “worth it.”

Life is short: show those you love that you love them.

My Brother-in-Heart

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This is my brother-in-heart, AZ. I found a couple pictures on my computer that I had not processed yet. These pics were taken of us when I visited him in Arizona in September, 2009. What a wonderful guy. How blessed I am to have him in my life as my best friend. His smile warms my heart, and his heart warms my smile.

Seattle Sights

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I write blog post 800 from Seattle, Washington, USA. I haven’t been here since 2001. Still as hilly… but let me tell ‘ya a secret: it does not rain here all the time. Shhhh… don’t tell ’em, but it is sunny and pleasant. I came here to give a speech. Did it, got the ovation, warm regards, “atta-boys” etc., etc. As you are reading this, I am winging my way back home.

While here, I had a very pleasant opportunity to meet a guy whose screen name on BOL is Hwystud. What a nice guy! We enjoyed a very nice seafood dinner on the waterfront under bright sunny skies with mild temps. We talked about our lives, interests, and — of course — boots! I truly enjoyed visiting this beautiful city and meeting a great Bootman. Thanks, Hwystud, for such enjoyable company.

If you look real hard in the photo below, you can see Mt. Rainier.

Life is short: enjoy the great people you meet along the way.


Are You That Leather Boot Dude?

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The other day when I came home, I changed from my work duds to full leather. Naked leather jeans, leather shirt, and an old but favourite leather vest, my “Skyrider” vest that my partner had made for me when we went to the Sturgis motorcycle rally in 1995. It was an unusually cool, clammy, wet day: perfect for leather.

I heard the mail truck and went out to get the mail. The truck was just pulling up to my box. The postal carrier was busy looking at the mail on his lap, deciding which was mine and which went to the next house. He handed me the mail and then looked at me. Let’s say he did a double-take, “leather bounce.” That is, he looked up at my face, then down at my boots, then slowly back up again, looking at the leather jeans, then the shirt and vest.

He said, “nice gear! Hey, are you that leather boot dude?”

I didn’t quite know what to say. Not knowing if he recognized me from my blog or website, I just played coy, and replied, “thanks for the compliment.”

He said, “hey, I recognize you. I was reading your website a few weeks ago and decided to get myself some of those Chippewa fire boots you talked about from that store in San Francisco. See?” Then he pointed to his feet. Darned enough, he had on a pair of Chippewa Firefighter Boots. He went on to rave about the comfort of the boots and said that he found my website informational and helpful. Gee, thanks again, man. I’m glad to meet a “happy customer.”

He seemed to have all the time in the world, and wanted to know more about my gear that I had on, how comfortable it was, where I got it, how much it cost, how it fit, and so on and so on. I had to bug off because it was damn cold and I didn’t have a jacket on. The leather was warm enough for a short trip to the mailbox, but not for standing out in the drizzle and cold shootin’ the breeze about boots and leather with the local postal carrier. (Too bad he was a substitute for our regular carrier. I’d like to see him again and continue the conversation.)

Anyway, you never know who you influence or what they think, but it just goes to show that almost anyone can be a boot and leather dude incognito.

Life is short: wear your leather (and BOOTS!)

Proof of My Point

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Yesterday at about 5am my time, I posted one message on the Hot Boots “Boots on Line” board linking to my gallery of photos that I took on the Law Ride on Sunday, May 9.

So far, the post got two replies, from my dear friend “KneeHighGuy” and Larry, the webmaster of Hotboots.com.

One would think, “only two replies? Does anybody care? Is anybody reading it?”

Yep… I have proof in statistical page views and visits. In 24 hours since I made that post, that gallery has received 1,085 visitors from that one link on BOL, with 3,104 page views (a “page view” is looking at one page or one picture. One visitor often views more than one page, so the number of page views will always be higher than the number of visitors.)

So if you whine or worry that you post a message on BOL and “nobody reads it” because of few or no replies, have no fear. They are. Believe me, they are.

Life is short: tell us about your boots on BOL!

Motorboots

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Someone asked me once, “are all boots that the police wear black?” Well, for the most part, the answer is, “yes.” There are a few exceptions in the United States and in some other countries where tall brown boots can be found. But at all of the events where motor officers participate that I have attended, their boots have been uniformly black, tall, and … black LOL!

As I was watching the (relatively few) motor officers arrive at the Law Ride in Washington, DC, I was (of course) looking at their boots. I giggled to myself at how quickly I was able to determine which brand and style of boots were on the cops — Dehner Boots, Chippewa Hi-Shine Engineer Boots, Chippewa Patrol Boots, and a few Wesco Motor Patrol Boots. There seemed to be a relatively even split this year between Dehners and Chippewa Hi-Shines among the some 200 motor officers who were there. The numbers of officers who rode in the Law Ride this year was significantly less — about 40% from the number who were there the year before.

I discussed this with my fellow boot blogger, Cliff, at lunch yesterday. Gosh, it was great to see him and enjoy catching up with each other. Cliff was also at the Law Ride and remarked about what I had noticed about the vast drop in motor officers attending. He agreed that the economy had something to do with it. Amusing aside: as Cliff and I were seated at the restaurant, the waiter noticed our boots. He said, “nice boots! Want to trade for my shoes?” We laughed and said, “of course not!”

Anyway, why did I post this blog post with the title “motorboots?” Because, that’s what cops call their boots. Simple as that. Enjoy the galleries of the cops and motorboots that I just posted to my website.

Riding Again

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I had the pleasure yesterday of riding in an annual event called “Law Ride.” It is a ride where motor officers and their supporters, like me, ride our motorcycles from an assembly point in Washington, DC, past the U.S. Capitol Building, to the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial. We park and then watch a ceremony that pays tribute to law enforcement officers who have died in the line of duty.

I enjoy this event because it brings a purpose to what is otherwise a pleasure anyway: riding my motorcycle.

This year, there were far fewer motor officers than have participated in past years. Most of us think the reason for the lower attendance is because of the economy. Local governments, where (most of) these officers work are slow to feel the effects of an economic downturn, and are even slower recovering. While most officers attend this event on their own time and spend their own money to get there, it is still a burden back home to be away. Plus, I heard that a number of local law enforcement agencies have cut their motor officer contingent completely.

I did see some cops from Austin and Dallas, Texas, and Orlando, Florida. These were the ones who came from the most distant locations (that I saw). However, I was disappointed that the big contingent from Sacramento County, California, didn’t come this year. But I can imagine that it must cost a lot of money to pack up their bikes in big rigs and transport them cross-country to DC for a week, not to mention the cost of housing, meals, etc.

The ride was fun, the weather was a bit cool but pleasant, and the views were good. What was most important — remembering law enforcement officers who have died — is something that I did, personally, for several officers I have known over the years. I’m glad I went. I am glad that I was able to go.

It was also a pleasure to see my fellow boot blogger, Cliff, again, his friend Bullneck, and a friend of mine who is into boots and came to the staging area to visit.

I am working on photos that I took at the event, and will post them on my website when I have them ready.

Life is short: remember those who make the ultimate sacrifice by giving their lives in the line of duty — and their families and loved-ones, who miss them every day.

Why Do I Need To Wear Motorcycle Boots?

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This was a question entered into Google and landed on my Guide to Motorcycle Boots. That Guide is about choosing motorcycle boots and reviews information about them to enable an informed decision. However, it assumes that one will wear motorcycle boots when is operating a bike.

So, why does one need to wear motorcycle boots? As a motorcycle rider with over 33 years in the saddle, these are my opinions about why a biker needs to wear boots while riding:

  • Having just broken my fibula (bone in the leg) down near my right ankle, I have learned how fragile the structure of the ankle really is. It’s an amazing and complex joint. You need boots to protect that joint. Believe me, if you injure it, the recovery is long, painful, and debilitating. Of course, young guys think they’re invincible so nothing will happen, but as you mature, you’ll realize that your body can break. Prevent the damage that you can.

  • A good pair of motorcycle boots will reduce the impact on your feet, ankles, and legs should you be involved in a crash.

  • Motorcycles produce heat from the engine and the exhaust pipes. Boots will prevent your legs from getting burned if accidentally brushed against a hot engine or pipe.

  • Motorcycle boots are designed with good tread which will help you keep the bike stable when stationary at a stoplight or when maneuvering it into a parking spot.

  • Some wise states or motorcycle riding clubs require motorcycle riders or members to wear protective gear, including boots.

  • Boots look cool!

There are some people who complain, “boots get too hot” or “I want to wear shorts because it’s hot outside” which begs wearing footwear like sneakers (or worse, sandals or flip-flops). Honestly, well-fitted and well-designed boots do not get hot on the feet, even on hot days. “Shortie” or tactical boots, such as the Chippewa Firefighter boots pictured here, provide good protection and don’t get hot. In fact, these boots have been the most comfortable boots I have worn while motorcycling, which is why I still call them the best all-around motorcycle boots.

Wearing shorts while operating a motorcycle is not only stupid, it’s dangerous — not to mention the possibility of getting sunburn. Oh yeah, I forgot, kids are invincible, they’re not going to get hit by another car and get thrown from the bike, or burn their legs on a hot pipe. (I heard this excuse often when I was a volunteer paramedic, and still winced every single time I brought a kid to the hospital who was injured in a motorcycle crash.)

So, why do you need motorcycle boots? Not only for protection, but also because boots are part of the image of what makes a cool biker. You want to be a cool biker dude, right? Put your boots on.

Life is short: wear boots. End-of-story.