A friend of mine just wrote in his blog that BIDEN’S Climate Czar John Kerry is proposing to reduce greenhouse gas emission by taxing cow farts. This is about as effective as using an eyedropper to purify the oceans. Back in 2009, Obama proposed a special tax be placed on all cattle as a way to reduce methane gasses being emitted by cows. Where in the world do these guys come up with these ideas? What John Kerry has omitted to tell us is that modern dairy farms capture cow produced methane to power their milking barns. If anything is an example of going green that is a big one. Leave the problem to the American entrepreneur and he will find a profitable way to solve it, as did the dairy farmers. The Left doesn’t believe in entrepreneurship. They only believe in inventing new ways to destroy capitalism.
I believe that when someone proves to me that John Kerry abstains from beef, and eats only bugs to get his protein then I too will consider giving up beef.
The test came to me when I questioned how I would get to work if I didn’t have a car? I researched all forms of public transportation available to me from my home in Alsip, IL to my place of work in Tinley Park, IL. I found a way to do it by researching the bus schedules of two different companies: the Chicago Transit Authority (CTA), and PACE a suburban transportation system. Uber was still fifty years away from reality, and cab companies existed mainly in large population centers like Chicago, and the Metropolitan Train Authority (MTA) trains were inconveniently too far away from me. The distance between my village and that of my work place was 9.2 miles, and by personal car it took twenty minutes to commute on a bad day. I devised a plan and set a goal to ride the buses to work. I left the house at 5:00 a.m. and finally arrived at work at 10:00 a.m. I bummed a ride home at the end of the day. Another five hour commute was not in my schedule. I am only one out of millions of people who commute to work by car because it is the most convenient way to do it.
The infrastructure necessary to link suburban areas to central cities like Chicago and to link the hundreds of smaller towns surrounding the city will be exorbitant in cost, take hundreds of years to accomplish, and the result would be impractical. So, when the Greens write articles like the one referenced above they are either completely clueless to what happens in the real world or they envision that everyone has molecular-transporter capability to move themselves from place to place. If you are not familiar with molecular-transport search your archives for Star Trek an ancient TV show. I would be the first to buy a transporter if it ever comes available. Unfortunately, it may not be available until the year 3023.
The Greens have shown me that they are totally unable to think in terms of practicality. Not only will we not be able to get rid of cars within the next hundred years, but they will continue to be powered by fossil fuels. The scenario they envision is looking into the past not into the future.
I solved my personal green commuting dilemma by riding a bicycle to work. Riding the bike safely to and from work was possible only between the months of March through September. In those months there was enough daylight to been seen by drivers, the temperatures were still civilized, and the probability of snow and ice on the road was still minimal. Risking my life to live Green was not a priority. I commuted by bicycle only because it enabled me to double up on time by giving me exercise as well as locomotion to the job. I often imagined everyone in the Chicago area riding bicycles to work. The visions streaming through my mind saw thousands of riders using the interstate highway system within the city. In other words it looked a lot like images I saw coming from China of people riding bicycles. Again, this vision was not forward thinking, but rather retrograding. The pictures coming out of China today are more typical of photos of morning traffic in Los Angeles, i.e. six lanes of traffic all going in the same direction bumper-to-bumper, and most likely moving at seventy miles an hour.
The greens have convinced me over and over again that their vision can only be achieved by returning to the age of dinosaurs where people relied on their feet to move about, ate greens for energy, lived only in warm climates during daylight.
This morning I got up at 6:30 a.m. to an early start. Since it is Sunday, I went to 7:30 mass at Saint Anthony’s Church in Frankfort. After mass I usually hang around to talk to my old time buddies. This morning was no different. One of my friends Gene, asked me “what exciting thing have you done today?”
“I woke up,” was my response, but Gene really wanted to talk about the weather. We woke up to a snow this morning. It was what we call a “dusting.” That is snow that is so fine that it looks like dust on the planet. It is now noon and the snow is still falling but the flakes have grown to the size of quarters. The air is so still the flakes fall vertically to the ground. Since the ground temperature is above freezing the flakes melt immediately. Gene commented on how mild our winter has been. I reminded him of January’s past when in 1967 we had a very mild month, and then the snow hit the fan at the very end. It didn’t stop until Chicagoland was stopped, dead still. When twenty-seven inches of heavy snow land on you it brings everything to a stand still. That is all it took. A group of us began telling stories about how we were affected. Gene’s family ran a grocery store and he told about a butcher who carried a quarter of a cow for half a mile from his truck to the store. That is one big hunk of meat. That story began a new line from Al. His story was a “remember when” they used to deliver ice to houses, and the ice man would use an ice pick to chop a huge block of ice from the really big block of ice on the back his horse drawn carriage, and hoist it up to his shoulder to carry it into the house. Back then not many people owned refrigerators, so we all had ice boxes. Not to be outdone, I told about the guy who drove through the neighborhood, street by street hawking fruits and vegetables. My mom would streak out to buy beans, onions, fruits, etc. for cooking, and the table. Wally chimed in with the guy who cruised through the alley’s behind the houses in his horse drawn wagon calling out “rags and iron.” He was the original Green movement recycler, and made a living off of it.
Anyway, I guess I could answer that the most exciting thing that happened to me today since I woke up was to participate in a fifteen minute “can you top this” discussion about the good old days.
On my drive home I wondered if bringing those services back to the front door would be a viable business today? It didn’t take me long to determine that it wouldn’t because no one is home during the daytime anymore. The modern lady of the house now works, and is not always at home to take advantage of such a service. A little more thought and it occurred to me that the modern family would substitute the internet for the horse drawn wagon and the man. On-line grocery shopping with home delivery has become a real thing since COVID hit our towns. In fact the on-line grocery store carries a lot more than fruits and vegetables. Another difference between then and now is that families don’t cook things from scratch as when we were growing up. There are far too many convenience foods offered in frozen packages that merely require defrosting and heating.
Last Sunday I had the distinct pleasure of driving through some heavy rain for one hundred miles from Frankfort, Illinois to Covert Michigan. The low hanging dark grey clouds and the pouring rain combined with some heavy traffic slowed down the trip. Lovely and I were attending my family reunion. It doesn’t happen every year, but my older brother decided he may not be here next year to organize another, so he invited everyone to his place in Michigan for a good old fashioned Hungarian bacon fry. He is guaranteed a crowd if only his five kids come with their kids, and grandkids. It gets bigger if our sister and her three boys come with their clans, and even bigger if I come with my three kids and their families. We didn’t have perfect attendance, but there was enough of a mix from all three families to make it a great visit. The rain stopped about ten miles from our destination, but the grey sky lingered.
The bacon fry is a family tradition founded by my parents when we were still little. Although it is not recommended by the American Heart Association, we do. It begins with a square of bacon preferably taken from a hog’s jowl. The bacon is skewered onto a long stick and held over a very hot wood fire. Naturally, the grease begins to drip from the bacon into the flames. Sitting on the ground next to the fryer-person is a plate of freshly sliced old world rye bread covered with diced onions and tomatoes. When the bacon is running, the fryer swings the rod off the fire and holds it over the bread to capture the drippings. The fryer, this year was not my brother, but his Irish son-in-law Kevin. Brother Bill told him that since he’s been in the family for twenty-five years he was now qualified to spin the bacon.
When the plate full of bread is soaked in hot bacon grease, a fresh one is placed before the fryer while one of the girls walks the finished plate around offering scrumptious greasy bread to the guests. It takes a while to make enough of the recipe to satisfy everyone’s palate. For those who consider the greasy bread just an appetizer there is also grilled, bratwurst, hot dogs, and a cooker full of Szekely Goulash (Shepard’s Stew slow cooked with cubed pork in sauerkraut, garlic, Bell peppers, and onions), along with number of salads. For me the afternoon turned into a non-stop eating fest.
We spent the time dodging occasional droplets of rain and catching up on the families. Most of my brother’s family came the day before and set up tents to sleep in. The children played lawn games while the adults mostly gabbed away.
The drive home was a pleasure since the rain had stopped, and since the following day was Labor Day, the Sunday night traffic was extremely light. By the time we pulled into our drive there was no evidence of rain at all, and the sun was beginning to burst through the clouds in rays of light just in time for sunset.
This morning I sat at the table looking out the window at the emerging garden and I began thinking about spending more time working on the “house inside the house project.” I was literally in the mood to work on it. Then, the phrase “in the mood” popped into my head. That is the title of a very old WWII song made popular by the Glen Miller Band. The melody immediately locked into my brain and began playing. Naturally, I sang the lyrics to myself. It is in the swing beat and very easy to dance to.
The “house inside the house” project has to rest today because I promised Lovely that we would go to the Jolly Burgenlander Social Club Spring Dance held at Gaelic park. Ed Wagner’s Lustige Blaskapelle (Brass Band, or as I like to call it an Oompah band) is playing. The funny aspect of this event is that it is a German-Austrian Club holding it’s major fund raiser at an Irish venue. Even funnier, is that I am of Hungarian ethnicity, and am attending with two lovely Lithuanian ladies.
I cannot imagine Ed Wagner playing “In the Mood”, and even if he will, I can’t imagine what it will sound like with Tuba’s, Saxaphones, Trumpets, and French horns jiving away with a German polka beat.
I hope the food is good, the beer is fresh and foamy, and the jungfrau are all beautiful.
Ladies why not carry your own jug of adult beverage around your neck with shot glasses in hand?
