I Must Have Great Karma!

On Monday, July 3rd, I lost my camera. My $3000+ Nikon camera. Not only the camera, but the $900 zoom lens, the $200 brand new Nikon flash, and the $200+ Pelican hard case they were all in.

We'd just left the field in Metamora, MI where the weekend trials had been held. This is out in the (wealthy) boondocks of Northern Oakland County (or Southern Lapeer County, I'm not sure). It's "hunt country"... lots of horses, hounds, and large homes on huge chunks of land. The roads are dirt, narrow, hilly, and heavily wooded.

As usual, when we can't take the motor home to the site, we commute in the Escape. We'd loaded the EZ Up, and tables, and generator, and all the mundane pieces and parts that make up our "store" into the Escape, and as we've done dozens of times before, put a towel on the roof in the secure square created by the Yakima bike rack, and tossed the camera case up there, along with the lunch cooler. We've never secured these items, because they're very heavy- especially the camera case. The rear of the Escape was packed to the ceiling, so I had no center rear view in the mirror. We waved at the stragglers, and drove out onto Rock Valley Road.

After turning north on Barber Road, the longest, hilliest, most washboardedest stretch of the commute, we hit a big hole on the right side of the road- a hole I'd missed completely the first two days of the event. Margaret shouted her usual epithet, which I won't repeat here because her kids read this. I never checked the outside mirrors.

Forty minutes later, we pulled into the Water Tower Travel Trailer Park in Lapeer, got the dogs out of the motor home to walk, (they'd stayed back in air conditioned comfort on this day), when I glanced at the Escape- particularly the roof, and asked the stupidest question of the day: "Where's the camera?!!?"

Handing the dogs to Margaret, and jumping back in the car, I peeled out of the campground at just over the posted 5mph speed limit, and with Margaret's admonishment to "don't speed", made my way back to Metamora in the afternoon traffic... why were so many people still working on this day before a holiday?

By the time I got back to the stretch in the road where I was certain I'd lost the case, it had been over an hour. We'd seen two oncoming vehicles when we were leaving, either one of which would have seen the case if they'd travelled that far.. it would have rested right in the middle of the road, because there were hills going up on both sides of the road... the dropoffs coming a little further down the hill. What I found there, was what I expected: nothing. I checked the dropoff areas as best I could.. there was no evidence of any heavy object sliding down there. There was only poison ivy. Lots of it.

I drove back to the field to see if, on the off chance, anyone had dropped it off there. It was a way-off chance. I absorbed as much sympathy from the folks there that I could stand, and decided to drive back to Metamora and report my loss to the police. When I arrived there were a fat kid and his mother talking to a uniformed cop in the lobby... I was hoping that maybe they'd found this black case on the backroads and had just come to inquire if there was a reward. No such luck.. they were reporting an alledged theft of something the kid considered valuable by someone he had considered a friend. I think he decided to not file a complaint.

Another, not so observant, officer asked me if I was with these people. Duh. I said no , and asked if anyone had by chance turned in a black camera case with a few thousand dollars worth of gear in it. Not yet, he said. He said that most of the people who would be travelling those roads were rich and honest (I'm thinking that's oxymoronic!), and would turn it in if they found it. I left my name and number, and got back in the Escape to make the depressing, empty-handed, return to Lapeer. I called Margaret and told her to check the RV insurance to see if this kind of loss was covered. I wasn't optimistic.

Margaret was more optimistic than I. She kept saying that someone had found it, and would turn it in. I was thinking, "I'm going to get my Nikon D200 earlier than I expected". Most people are honest, but what would you do if you were driving down the road, found a case full of digital camera gear, but no identification? I know I'd be conflicted at the very least.

Anyway, a couple hours passed. The phone didn't ring. I started slamming doors and drawers, and feeling more and more depressed. I was burning pork and vegetables on the grill when Margaret came out the RV door and said, "Phone call". I got excited and asked, "Police?". She said no. I took the phone.

"Is this Dan?"
"Yes"
"Dan, my name is Cindy Schweiderson" (I have no idea if that's the correct spelling, I didn't ask), "and I live in Dryden, MI. Are you missing something? Something like a..."
"Like a large, black camera case loaded with expensive equipment?" I completed her question. "Yes, I am."

The story becomes rather unbelievable at this point:
"My husband's a conservation officer, and was returning home with his patrol boat on the trailer. He found it on the side of the road. When he brought it in and we saw what was inside, I said 'I'll bet this belongs to that man that was taking pictures at the field trial' ".

I asked her if she found me by calling the police. No.. she had been at the trial on Saturday, visiting with a friend who has Italian Greyhounds, so I asked if she'd been in our "store" and grabbed one of my business cards? No, again. So how did she find my phone number? She did what any thinking person would do: She went online to a dog list and made an inquiry. It's good to be famous.. or notorious, I'm not sure which.

Even more unbelievable is the fact that Mr. Conservation Officer didn't find it anywhere near where I thought I'd lost it. He spotted in in the weeds, on the side of Dryden Rd; a much heavier travelled, paved road, running from M-24 to the village of Dryden, and used by a lot more people who aren't "rich and honest". Obviously, the right guy came along, at the right time. We figured out it hadn't been on the ground more than 5 minutes!

I offered to come pick it up, and she said she was going to be in Lapeer the next day for the 4th of July parade, knew where the campground was, and she would bring it. Which she did the very next day. Even refused a reward, or a dinner at the White Horse- so I gave her one of my matted nature pictures.

And that's how I got my camera back. If that ain't great Karma, I don't know what is.

A Fabulous Fourth..

First things first... Happy Independence Day (belatedly) from our vantage point in the Meijer's parking lot in Lapeer, MI. Now if Dubya would quit tapping my phone I'd feel really independent.

We're Still Here!

Things get backed up some time, and that's where we are with the blog... tomorrow, I'll catch up on the schedule, maybe cover the Ridgeback Rodeo, talk about Steve Yzerman & Ben Wallace, and recount a harrowing tale (with a happy ending) about good Karma! Can't wait, can you?

Today's Health Tip

Here I was, thinkin' that I was going to meet up with Stone Phillips at this nice rural Ohio home, and we'd discuss teen sex on national TV... Instead, I get whacked over the head, and when I wake up, my back's been sewn up... and my kidney's gone!

In all seriousness... this is an example of why it's smart to cover up and/or wear your sunscreen! This is where one of two "atypical" moles had resided on the back of yours truly. The other one was on the back of the neck, and looks about the same.

They were removed last Friday at the Ann Arbor VA hospital by a pair of young... really young, dermatologists. I had thought, at first, that I'd wandered onto the set of Grey's Anatomy, they were so pretty... the boy doctor and the girl doctor.

So I spent the better part of an hour face down on a surgical table while they went at my flesh.

They reassured me that these were not malignant... but that they weren't exactly normal, either. All in all a scary proposition.

And that's why we weren't at the race meet in Antioch last weekend. 

Going... Going...

...and nearly gone. "I heard the news today, oh boy..." that the city of Detroit has finally decided to tear down Tiger Stadium.


And when it's gone there will be only Fenway Park in Boston to represent the old time stadiums. It's hard to get really worked up about it.. it's been sitting unused for 7 years now. The last game played there was in 1999.

This web site
keeps track of "at risk" ball parks. There's a nice sentiment there that resonated with me somehow:

For many, old ballparks represent simpler times and a more egalitarian atmosphere; they also serve as direct links to the past, bridges to childhood memories of time spent as a child with parents and loved ones.

No wonder, then, that an old ballpark can stir some powerful memories. In an ever-changing world, an old ballpark is an island of stability and tranquility. There are few places that are the same as they were 20, 30 or 75 years ago. Your grandfather's Tiger Stadium is the same as your father's Tiger Stadium. Sadly, it's not your Tiger Stadium if it's torn down to make way for a Best Buy or a Home Depot. That's why this list was compiled: to stir public awareness and to perhaps make people realize that there are old ballparks worth saving.

I don't know how "powerful" the memories are, but they remain.. Tiger Stadium is the one sports venue in Detroit that I went to more than once or twice. I saw one hockey game at the old Olympia... never went to "The Joe". Saw one Pistons game at Cobo Arena. Haven't been to the new football field yet, or Comerica Park- the Tigers' new home. I was trying to remember how many times I have gone to Tiger Stadium.. at least half a dozen, probably more.

I remember coming into Detroit to attend a game when I was very young. I was with my father, and the neighbor kids and their father. We were down on the expressway, and there was a house burning, up on the surface street. "Fully involved", as they say on TV. Had nothing to do with Tiger Stadium, per se, but I remember it like it was yesterday.

I think it was at Tiger Stadium where I first became unable to pee in public.. may need hypnosis to confirm that theory.. but there was an event in the public restroom that I remember well. Big room with long troughs. Very fancy plumbing, and zero privacy. I might have been 10, or so.

In later years, we drove down from Saginaw to see Mark "The Bird" Fidrych pitch. He was a phenomenon of the '70s. Known for talking to the ball. The game was rained out. We spent the rest of the afternoon at the Lyndell AC. A legendary bar near the stadium.

I saw the Lions play an ABC Monday Night Football game there. The series was in it's second season. We could see Howard and the boys in the booth.

That booth was another phenomenon of Tiger Stadium.. hanging off the upper deck, directly behind home plate. Van Patrick, or Ernie Harwell, or George Kell, or Al Kaline would have to duck the foul balls. You could hear the ricochet on the broadcasts. And how did Ernie always know where the guy down the left field foul line, who caught the ball, lived? "That foul ball was caught by a man from Whitehall, Michigan..." Amazing.

I've sat everywhere in Tiger Stadium... the upper deck on the 3rd base side, the box seats on the 1st base side, the centerfield bleachers, lower deck behind the plate.

So many amazing things happened there, just in my lifetime. I didn't go to any games in 1968, (I was in the Navy), but I followed closely the World Series from my duty station in Memphis. They were all Cards fans- it was Tim McCarver's hometown.) The CW is that the Tigers saved the city that year... it was the year after the riots. The Tigers brought the city together.

Again in 1984, the year of "Bless You Boys". The Tigers started the season 35-5 and never looked back. That World Series gave us a preview of Kirk Gibson's proclivity for dramatic home runs.

An on and on. I can see the stadium in my mind's eye. I can smell it. I can taste the peanuts purchased from the vendors on the way to the turnstile. I guess I'm going to miss it. I'm surprised at how much the memories came back as I started to type.

Comerica Park's a nice place. One of the best of the new "retro look" parks. But it ain't on Michigan and Trumbull.

Panhandling

The observant among you will notice certain changes to the right of this post. First, the absence of the Google Ad. This was supposed to generate lots of income from the millions of readers of this blog, when they click on the ad for "West Highland Terriers For Sale", or "Mac lessons", or whatever. In a year in a half, the total number of click-throughs on this fine program totalled exactly: 0. I never even clicked on them myself, because that would be illegal! So, our total income from the Google AdSense program totalled exactly: $0.

Obviously, something wasn't working... and that something was: Google Ads. So I've resorted to a more direct approach: The Tip Jar. I really don't expect it to do much better than the Google AdSense program, but who knows? It works through PayPal, and it's for a good cause. When you click on the Tip Jar (assuming you find the content of this blog a) helpful, b) insightful, c) humorous or entertaining, d) educational, or e) all of the above), you will be directed to PayPal.com where you can donate any amount no matter how small (or large) to the "Bounder Fuel & Maintenance Fund". It costs a lot of bucks to haul this 10 ton behemoth around the country... lessee.... 80 gallon fuel tank X $2.75 a gallon..... wow! You could feed a platoon of Marines in Iraq for that kind of money. And, we just put over $800 into it for a tune up and new front springs; the coach batteries are dead.. that's another $150, minimum. And the beat goes on.

This will spur us (me) on, of course, to make this blog even better. It was enlightening to find, at the II, that people actually read it! I had no way of knowing.. readers rarely comment, which was the only way to know someone had looked- until I added the counter- another new feature on the right hand side. It is also linked to an ad. I have no idea what Pronto Pasta is, nor do I wish to find out. The counter's free because of it. Maybe if someone clicks on the Pasta thing, they'll report back on it.

Lastly, I was shamed into putting the link to "Go Coursing Dot Com"... since there's supposedly a link to our photo site on their site. (I haven't found it, nor have I found the photo credits for the fine photos of their hounds). The proprietors are good people, Red State-bound though they are, and the products I've used.. mostly the "Burn Out" (and mostly on me!) are excellent. When our coursing and racing blankets wear out, we'll replace them from GoCoursing... Check them out! Now, maybe they'll be shamed into making a donation for fuel...

Onward and upward...

Is This Oxymoronic?

Think about this: The Fifty Greatest Conservative Rock Songs. Apparently not to the National Review. Here's a commentary I found on the Huffington Post, where you can link to the whole sordid article.

By the way.. "Wouldn't It Be Nice" aside.. the Beach Boys's Pet Sounds was one bitchin' album. (And we were conveniently ignoring the "abstinence message" back in the '60s anyway... isn't that right dear?)