Some days lead to an unexpected amount of introspection. Reading through previous posts, it’s obvious that one of my recurring themes includes my non-fulfilling career as an engineer. It’s probably a pretty boring subject. Oh well. It’s probably because I lead a pretty boring life at the present. The times where my life wasn’t boring coincided with my immersion into some activity, pastime or project. The latest example that comes to mind was my three years playing sled hockey.

I really enjoyed the time I spent on the ice. The best time was my year sabbatical from work where I managed to play pick up games with stand up skaters at least twice a week. I traveled a bunch, and spent way too many hours on a plane flying to Buffalo, NY. I never understood the descriptive “rust belt” until I drove around Buffalo. Lining the highways were the remnants of a long dead industrial stronghold where untold millions of tons of U.S. manufactured goods were produced. Steel mills, now shuttered and rusting away. The Wurlitzer Organ plant, a long abandoned and boarded up factory/castle that produced so many of the instruments that fell into disuse several generations ago.

I played hockey in New Jersey, in a small town about 40 miles east of Philadelphia. Mark Weimer and I flew in at night, drove through the fog and drizzle to our hotel, and never saw any of the landscape around us. We left during the day, however, so we got to see the surroundings in the gray light of a foggy and drizzly day. I vaguely remember lots of trees along the highway into Phily. Once we arrived into the City of Brotherly Love’s metropolitan area, I more clearly remember the miles and miles of tank farms, chemical plants and run down neighborhoods. All in all, not a very flattering picture of that part of the country. Such is the hazard of short itinerary travel.

We played a tournament in Massachusetts about an hour west of Boston. Beth went with me on that trip, but spent the entire time goofing off with our dear friend Martha in the city while I drove myself to the tournament. The drive back was so much more fun, as I drove our coach Haley to her great uncle and aunt’s house in some suburb south of Boston. The towns and neighborhoods we drove through were so “east coast” that I was in awe. The styles of houses, the brick downtowns, the multiple renditions of steepled brick protestant churches, and the omnipresent crush of so so many people.

I played in a tournament in New Hampshire, where we hung on every local word waiting to hear someone say “Pawk the Caw”. LIVE FREE OR DIE was the proclamation on the license plates. The view from the highway on the way to our hotel looked a lot like coastal Oregon. Lots of pitched roof homes with crappy siding slowly returning to the dank earth. Lots of moss covered roofs and vines covered walls.

I went to a camp in Chicago, where I was totally out of my league trying for a spot on the national team while dealing with some of the most bigoted assholes I have ever met in my life. We played on the Chicago Blackhawk’s ice before a game, and I sat the whole time, not getting one second of playing time. I remember commenting on the huge populations of geese that were wintering on the golf course next to our hotel, only to hear how all the geese should be killed for the pests they are. Not a great time in Chicago. I still don’t know why anyone ever decided to put a town there.

There were a bunch of other trips. Most of those were local, and involved traveling to Colorado. Much better not only in terms of travel time, but also easier to blend into the part of the country that better fits me.

OK. Enough for now.

Obama is President; the D’s didn’t get their super majority so there will be a check and balance in place in congress; and the guy that writes the Fresh Bilge blog is still alive and getting even more bitter.

The economy is in a shambles and it is even more obvious that us Americuns need to go spend our hard earned money on Xmas crap from China to restart the now moribund economic engine.

Peace.