Dear Governor Perdue,
As a citizen of our great state, I am disappointed in your decision to not attend the events celebrating the 75th Anniversary of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park - the most visited national park in the United States.
This is a park that many North Carolina citizens worked hard to establish. Citizens like Horace Kephart and George Masa worked tirelessly to preserve and protect the area and ensure its stability and viability for future generations.
Ms. Perdue, the citizens of western North Carolina are taking your decision as a personal snub of the mountain region. For far too long the mountains have been treated as a place of second-class citizens. Your rationale that the travel expense would be too great doesn't hold any water with us. You have a western residence in Asheville. It is my plea that you will make use of it and represent our state at this event.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
The Blizzard of '93 (Part 3)
I don't recall the exact time it happened, but exhaustion quickly overwhelmed me. I struggled to speak and think. I was unsteady on my feet. I made my way to my room, turned on the heat and TV, and climbed into bed. I made a brief phone call to my wife, then quickly dozed off.
I woke up in time to catch some of the news Sunday evening: more snow. I worked a relatively uneventful Sunday night - or at least I don't recall anything significant. In fact, other than the the snow climbing to about 2 feet and high drifts in the parking lot, I don't recall much about Monday, either.
By Tuesday morning the snow had stopped and the sun was starting to shine through. As a few employees trickled in, I took my queue to exit. I walked outside and checked the road. It was still snow covered, but it had been plowed and packed down, so I knew the VW would make it out. Walked back in, grabbed my coat, and told the rest of the staff I was going home.
I made it out to the highway where the trucks had plowed enough to open one lane. The rest of the road was under 2-3 feet of snow. In my tiny car, I felt like I was driving through a World War I trench. Along the way I encountered a lady hitchhiking along the narrow path. I had never picked up a hitchhiker before, but, given the circumstances, I relented this one time. She was nice enough and needed a ride no more than a mile down the road.
When I got close to my apartment, I floored the VW and drove into the driveway as hard as I could. I pushed the VW into the deep snow until it could go no further. I wanted to make sure it was good and stuck, so that I wouldn't have to go anywhere for a while. After a while, I called the owner of the hotel to let him know I made it home and that I really needed a couple days off. He told me in his Bombay accent , "It is not a problem. Take some time off and I will give you hundred dollar bonus." I was making about $5.75 per hour at the time, so $100 was about 2 days' pay. This was in addition to the roughly 20 hours overtime I'd earned. While I was happy about the extra money, I was happier about being home - especially given my wife's troubles while I was gone...
My wife was safe at home, but caught a nasty cold. Due to the deep snow, she was not able to get out to the doctor or even down to the drug store. Our landlord's daughter came by (on horseback) to use our phone because theirs had gone out. She gave my wife a ride to the gas station down the street to see if they had any medicines. She said riding into a gas station on horseback where no cars were able to get in was quite surreal. Fortunately, they had some meds (unfortunately at typical gas-station rip-off prices, but at least she was able to get something).
A day later, as she was tossing some old popcorn outside, she slipped on the icy steps. As she fell her bottom hit every single step on the way down. She was OK, but she sat still for a moment, stunned. She then slowly crawled back into the apartment. The fall resulted a very black and blue bottom.
I woke up in time to catch some of the news Sunday evening: more snow. I worked a relatively uneventful Sunday night - or at least I don't recall anything significant. In fact, other than the the snow climbing to about 2 feet and high drifts in the parking lot, I don't recall much about Monday, either.
By Tuesday morning the snow had stopped and the sun was starting to shine through. As a few employees trickled in, I took my queue to exit. I walked outside and checked the road. It was still snow covered, but it had been plowed and packed down, so I knew the VW would make it out. Walked back in, grabbed my coat, and told the rest of the staff I was going home.
I made it out to the highway where the trucks had plowed enough to open one lane. The rest of the road was under 2-3 feet of snow. In my tiny car, I felt like I was driving through a World War I trench. Along the way I encountered a lady hitchhiking along the narrow path. I had never picked up a hitchhiker before, but, given the circumstances, I relented this one time. She was nice enough and needed a ride no more than a mile down the road.
When I got close to my apartment, I floored the VW and drove into the driveway as hard as I could. I pushed the VW into the deep snow until it could go no further. I wanted to make sure it was good and stuck, so that I wouldn't have to go anywhere for a while. After a while, I called the owner of the hotel to let him know I made it home and that I really needed a couple days off. He told me in his Bombay accent , "It is not a problem. Take some time off and I will give you hundred dollar bonus." I was making about $5.75 per hour at the time, so $100 was about 2 days' pay. This was in addition to the roughly 20 hours overtime I'd earned. While I was happy about the extra money, I was happier about being home - especially given my wife's troubles while I was gone...
My wife was safe at home, but caught a nasty cold. Due to the deep snow, she was not able to get out to the doctor or even down to the drug store. Our landlord's daughter came by (on horseback) to use our phone because theirs had gone out. She gave my wife a ride to the gas station down the street to see if they had any medicines. She said riding into a gas station on horseback where no cars were able to get in was quite surreal. Fortunately, they had some meds (unfortunately at typical gas-station rip-off prices, but at least she was able to get something).
A day later, as she was tossing some old popcorn outside, she slipped on the icy steps. As she fell her bottom hit every single step on the way down. She was OK, but she sat still for a moment, stunned. She then slowly crawled back into the apartment. The fall resulted a very black and blue bottom.
Monday, March 2, 2009
The Blizzard of '93 (Part 2)
A short time later, Ross, one of the desk clerks, was able trudge in by foot from his home a couple miles away. We agreed that so long as it was just the two of us, he would work 12 hours during the day and I would cover the other 12 at night. (We both ended up working longer than that. Many tasks arose that required someone to be away from the desk, so we covered for each other quite a bit.) I set aside three rooms on the first floor for Ross, Mary and me.
By the time Ross relieved me on Sunday morning, the sole vending machine had been picked clean. Fortunately, I had already procured a small stash of items, so I had a few snacks to ration. The 24 hour convenience store down the block closed up shop by Sunday afternoon. One guest came back from there to report the worker had locked the doors and posted a sign that read "Sold Out of Everything." A few guests forced their way through the deep snow to Denny's a couple miles away only to find out the restaurant had nothing left by the time they arrived.
Realizing that we all needed food, I called information and asked for the "Emergency Operations Control (EOC)" non-emergency number. This was the 911 call center back then. I told the operator that we had nearly 90 rooms of people who had no access to food. She told me someone would call me back shortly. A few minutes later a man called and asked what we needed. I told him we mainly needed food and water. He said a truck would be by to deliver some items shortly. Within an hour a large, almost "monster" truck pulled up at the front door. Out hopped a man who I recognized as Vice-Mayor Gene Ellison. He brought water, crackers, loaves of bread, peanut butter, jelly and a large, unsliced bologna with some paper plates and a few plastic utensils.
I went into the abandoned restaurant area to look for a table. Most of them were damaged, dusty, and too unwieldy for me to move on my own. I did find a couple saw horses and an unused door that was probably meant as a replacement for a guest bathroom. I moved them to the lobby and Gene and I started loading up the table with the items.
As guests started making sandwiches, Gene made sure everyone knew who he was and that he had brought the food in from a local charity. It might have been good PR for him if not for the fact that the guests were ignoring him as they lined up for food...
By the time Ross relieved me on Sunday morning, the sole vending machine had been picked clean. Fortunately, I had already procured a small stash of items, so I had a few snacks to ration. The 24 hour convenience store down the block closed up shop by Sunday afternoon. One guest came back from there to report the worker had locked the doors and posted a sign that read "Sold Out of Everything." A few guests forced their way through the deep snow to Denny's a couple miles away only to find out the restaurant had nothing left by the time they arrived.
Realizing that we all needed food, I called information and asked for the "Emergency Operations Control (EOC)" non-emergency number. This was the 911 call center back then. I told the operator that we had nearly 90 rooms of people who had no access to food. She told me someone would call me back shortly. A few minutes later a man called and asked what we needed. I told him we mainly needed food and water. He said a truck would be by to deliver some items shortly. Within an hour a large, almost "monster" truck pulled up at the front door. Out hopped a man who I recognized as Vice-Mayor Gene Ellison. He brought water, crackers, loaves of bread, peanut butter, jelly and a large, unsliced bologna with some paper plates and a few plastic utensils.
I went into the abandoned restaurant area to look for a table. Most of them were damaged, dusty, and too unwieldy for me to move on my own. I did find a couple saw horses and an unused door that was probably meant as a replacement for a guest bathroom. I moved them to the lobby and Gene and I started loading up the table with the items.
As guests started making sandwiches, Gene made sure everyone knew who he was and that he had brought the food in from a local charity. It might have been good PR for him if not for the fact that the guests were ignoring him as they lined up for food...
The Blizzard of '93 (Part 1)
It was March 12, 1993, around 10:15PM. I hopped in my car to drive from my apartment in Weaverville to my job at a hotel in Asheville. Snow had been falling steadily for a few hours. The roads were pretty slushy and starting to freeze. Although it had no heat to speak of, my little '71 VW convertible made the trip just fine.
The hotel was an older one, built in the 1960's. It had restaurant and bar space, but neither had been used since the early 80's. The hotel was five stories high with 92 rooms. Although it had an elevator, the doors to the rooms all faced outside with access provided by walkways surrounding each floor.
Throughout the night, it continued to snow hard. During my rounds at night I could see the utility lines collecting snow. By the next morning the snow was about a foot deep - too deep for the morning crew to come in to relieve me: no housekeepers, no desk clerks, no maintenance, no manager. I made the first of many calls to my wife - to whom I had been married less than a year. This first call was to let her know I wouldn't be home any time soon.
During the day Saturday I checked in a steady stream of guests, most of them local folks who had lost power. (The owner gave me permission to lift the "no locals" rule due to the storm.) I remember one young couple who had apparently checked in the previous day. They came down to use the pay phone in the lobby around noon. They had asked earlier in the day if I knew how the roads were. Despite telling them I had no idea since I'd been at work the entire time, they asked me a couple more times that morning.
Eventually, the young man asked me if I could give them a roll of quarters for a 10 dollar bill. I did. They walked over to the pay phone. The guy used it first. He was visibly upset, but talked in a rather hushed tone for a couple minutes, then hung up. Next it was the girl's turn. She dialed the number, slipped several quarters into the slot and waited. Unlike her companion, her words were clear in spite of her sobbing.
"Mom?...Hey." (pause) "Um...I'm in Asheville." (another, longer pause) "I rode down here last night with Michael."
From the rest of the conversation, I gathered that she and Michael drove down from Tennessee the day before. I'm not sure how old Michael was, but it was clear that the girl was still young enough to be in high school. She explained how she skipped class on Friday to spend the night with Michael in Asheville. The couple had stayed in their room all evening and all night, oblivious to anything but each other. The next morning, they woke up to find that they were snowed in. The volume of her voice remained fairly steady, but I wasn't able to catch much else due to other guests at the desk. She continued talking until she ran out of quarters, gave her mom the hotel's phone number, her room number and a hurried good-bye, then walked with Michael back to the elevator.
As night set in, snow fell heavily and surface depth approached two feet. I had taken one of the spare TVs and hooked it up on the lobby to keep up with the news and weather. The snow was forecast to continue through Monday night. It became clear that I would not be going home any time soon even if other staff members were able to come in.
I was the only employee and worked straight through until about 8 o'clock Sunday morning (33 hours). Mary, one of the housekeepers, came through the front door with one of her children in tow. With the hotel approaching capacity and snow piled up on the walkways, normal housekeeping service would have been impossible. We talked it over and decided it best to ask all the guests to bring their sheets and towels down to the laundry room to exchange for clean ones. Mary would work on the laundry each day until more help arrived...
The hotel was an older one, built in the 1960's. It had restaurant and bar space, but neither had been used since the early 80's. The hotel was five stories high with 92 rooms. Although it had an elevator, the doors to the rooms all faced outside with access provided by walkways surrounding each floor.
Throughout the night, it continued to snow hard. During my rounds at night I could see the utility lines collecting snow. By the next morning the snow was about a foot deep - too deep for the morning crew to come in to relieve me: no housekeepers, no desk clerks, no maintenance, no manager. I made the first of many calls to my wife - to whom I had been married less than a year. This first call was to let her know I wouldn't be home any time soon.
During the day Saturday I checked in a steady stream of guests, most of them local folks who had lost power. (The owner gave me permission to lift the "no locals" rule due to the storm.) I remember one young couple who had apparently checked in the previous day. They came down to use the pay phone in the lobby around noon. They had asked earlier in the day if I knew how the roads were. Despite telling them I had no idea since I'd been at work the entire time, they asked me a couple more times that morning.
Eventually, the young man asked me if I could give them a roll of quarters for a 10 dollar bill. I did. They walked over to the pay phone. The guy used it first. He was visibly upset, but talked in a rather hushed tone for a couple minutes, then hung up. Next it was the girl's turn. She dialed the number, slipped several quarters into the slot and waited. Unlike her companion, her words were clear in spite of her sobbing.
"Mom?...Hey." (pause) "Um...I'm in Asheville." (another, longer pause) "I rode down here last night with Michael."
From the rest of the conversation, I gathered that she and Michael drove down from Tennessee the day before. I'm not sure how old Michael was, but it was clear that the girl was still young enough to be in high school. She explained how she skipped class on Friday to spend the night with Michael in Asheville. The couple had stayed in their room all evening and all night, oblivious to anything but each other. The next morning, they woke up to find that they were snowed in. The volume of her voice remained fairly steady, but I wasn't able to catch much else due to other guests at the desk. She continued talking until she ran out of quarters, gave her mom the hotel's phone number, her room number and a hurried good-bye, then walked with Michael back to the elevator.
As night set in, snow fell heavily and surface depth approached two feet. I had taken one of the spare TVs and hooked it up on the lobby to keep up with the news and weather. The snow was forecast to continue through Monday night. It became clear that I would not be going home any time soon even if other staff members were able to come in.
I was the only employee and worked straight through until about 8 o'clock Sunday morning (33 hours). Mary, one of the housekeepers, came through the front door with one of her children in tow. With the hotel approaching capacity and snow piled up on the walkways, normal housekeeping service would have been impossible. We talked it over and decided it best to ask all the guests to bring their sheets and towels down to the laundry room to exchange for clean ones. Mary would work on the laundry each day until more help arrived...
Friday, February 27, 2009
Pandora's Box
Votes do not decide what is right, nor do they decide what is true. People will vote for whatever is convenient. Lies are very convenient because you don't have to do anything about them, you just have to believe.
This goes for BOTH sides. Both the Republican AND Democratic parties lie - deeply and often.
It doesn't matter which side you choose. By picking a side and fighting against the other you support the fallacy that there are always only two sides to every issue. Reason is tossed away in favor of party mantra and lies.
Many Democrats, Republicans and independent citizens were against the stimulus bill - if only because no one really knew what was in it.
Anyone who says they were or are FOR the bill is either a liar or a fool unless they read all 1000+ pages of it (and even then may still be a fool).
This goes for BOTH sides. Both the Republican AND Democratic parties lie - deeply and often.
It doesn't matter which side you choose. By picking a side and fighting against the other you support the fallacy that there are always only two sides to every issue. Reason is tossed away in favor of party mantra and lies.
Many Democrats, Republicans and independent citizens were against the stimulus bill - if only because no one really knew what was in it.
Anyone who says they were or are FOR the bill is either a liar or a fool unless they read all 1000+ pages of it (and even then may still be a fool).
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Reflecting
The agenda is obvious: more nationalization of private enterprise and more socialization of services such as health care. It's an agenda accompanied by a developing personality cult where the public's elevation and perception of a single man is placed above the principles of liberty. A failed war and a tanking economy create a voting public willing to throw unfettered power to his government.
The present circumstances facing America today?...or is this Germany in 1933?
Nationalist-Socialist (Nationalsozialismus in German; nazi for short)
The present circumstances facing America today?...or is this Germany in 1933?
Nationalist-Socialist (Nationalsozialismus in German; nazi for short)
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Behind Closed Doors
President Obama signed a Presidential Memorandum behind closed doors. Unlike all the other orders he's signed in this first partial week of his presidency, this order was purposefully signed, according to Bill Burton, a White House spokesperson, "without coverage by the media, late on Friday afternoon.”
Why was this done away from the cameras and reporters? Because it's a shameful act. The order was to restore government funding (i.e. our tax dollars) of international groups that distribute abortion information or perform abortions. It's something I'm sure he's not particularly proud of, especially in light of those who beg for him to put an end to the deaths of 1400 black children every day.
This week he also signed an executive order that Guantanamo Bay be closed within a year. Now, we've already released a number of detainees, 12% of which have gone back to Al Qaeda, including one just promoted to the "senior ranks of Al Qaeda in Yemen." Supposedly, we've released the ones seen as the "lowest threat." This leaves the worst of the worst still there. Many will be released while others may stand trial, but where will they go? (Will they be sent to federal prisons on American soil? Can you think of a more fertile ground for their message of warped Islam, violence, and hate than in the minds of disaffected offenders in a penitentiary?)
So, the same week he decides to close Guantanamo Bay and likely release enemy combatants only to scheme another terrorist attack, he approves more of our already misused tax dollars to be spent ripping off arms, legs and heads of more unborn children.
Why was this done away from the cameras and reporters? Because it's a shameful act. The order was to restore government funding (i.e. our tax dollars) of international groups that distribute abortion information or perform abortions. It's something I'm sure he's not particularly proud of, especially in light of those who beg for him to put an end to the deaths of 1400 black children every day.
This week he also signed an executive order that Guantanamo Bay be closed within a year. Now, we've already released a number of detainees, 12% of which have gone back to Al Qaeda, including one just promoted to the "senior ranks of Al Qaeda in Yemen." Supposedly, we've released the ones seen as the "lowest threat." This leaves the worst of the worst still there. Many will be released while others may stand trial, but where will they go? (Will they be sent to federal prisons on American soil? Can you think of a more fertile ground for their message of warped Islam, violence, and hate than in the minds of disaffected offenders in a penitentiary?)
So, the same week he decides to close Guantanamo Bay and likely release enemy combatants only to scheme another terrorist attack, he approves more of our already misused tax dollars to be spent ripping off arms, legs and heads of more unborn children.
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