Some few years ago, I read Bill Bryson's “A Walk in the Woods.” The book deals with his hike on the Appalachian Trail or AT. It is a comic gem (if a bit preachy in places) and it inspired me to “go thou and do likewise.” I began reading other books, so called classics in the genre, by people who hiked the AT. One, “On the Beaten Path” was written by a whiny egotist who quit his job and told his wife to take care of the house and their geriatric dog while he went to “find himself” on the AT. The shocker: they were still married at the end of the book! Reading his vapid tome was, I think, harder that actually hiking. I read several others but Bryson’s is by far the best. Of course, the AT culture disdains it for its lighthearted approach and because Bill only hiked about 45 percent of the trail.

I also started following other people’s plans and progress re their hikes on an AT site. Many plan but it seems like few do - and they are, er, unusual types. Add to that there is no running water out there (faucets, showers, and flush toilets that is) and it seems like the whole thing is an expensive and pointlessly colossal inconvenience. It takes lots of costly specialized hiking gear when it seems genuine US army surplus would do just fine to me.

So I scaled back my plans to hike just a small section of the Maryland AT. That too, failed to get off the ground. Then I remembered a Boy Scout hike in the early 1960s where we hiked a portion of the AT and ended up in Harper’s Ferry, WV; even spent the night on the trail and everything. We rode the B&O railroad home and debarked in Silver Spring, MD. So, like Bill Bryson who hiked some, but not the entire trail, but proclaimed in his book the he and his buddy “had hiked the AT.” I too, ipso facto, have already done it. So there!

But I have not given up on grueling hikes! I hike the Monocacy Battlefield trails. Yes, I have combined my fascination with this obscure Civil War battle and the CW in general with the need/desire to exercise and enjoy God’s creation. I have already hiked part of it and plan to do some more next week. Some of its trails (e.g., the Worthington Ford trail) are every bit as wild and poorly marked as the AT. They are long too – up to 2 miles! The battlefield is close to my home so I don’t have to stay overnight (indeed the park closes at sundown) and there is a McDonald’s nearby for resupply on the way home.

I have invested less than a $100 in surplus army equipment for my excursions; a new pair of very comfy desert boots, a 2-quart canteen, and a “boony” hat. One of my former reenacting tent poles is being converted into a hiking staff.

Yes, you read correctly. Civil War Reenacting and I have come to the end of the trail. I am just too old. I am going to next’s week reenactment of the Battle of Chancellorsville but am getting shaky about going to Gettysburg in late June. If I do, I think that will be it.

Not that I do not expect relapses. I have therefore organized my own recreated unit, the 37^th Iowa Infantry. I am the senior member and we have a face book page. The dues are also considerably cheaper than the group in which I am presently a member. I need 18 more “likes” to be able to access the secret face book statics on the page.

Reenacting has had its benefits for me though. Like a lot of great pictures and the inspiration to lose about 50 pounds. My wife has gone from “you need to lose weight” to “you need to gain some weight back.” I have decided to ignore scale readings of 175 or less and use this criteria – as long as I can comfortably wear 34” waist pants and a 42” chest sports coat, I’m good.

Yesterday was “A Day out with Thomas” at the B&O Railroad Museum. A disappointment for me as Thomas was not a real steam engine. In fact he was not an engine at all. It was just, apparently a mock-up incapable of movement under its own power. A 1950s vintage General Motors general purpose diesel (a GP7 or 9, I think) did all the work. Still, for the 4-year old and under crowd (my grandson gave Thomas multiple “wowees”), it was a big hit so I will stop being a curmudgeon.

On Saturday, April 13, I had occasion to “interface” with our local state police barrack. My brother-in-law was giving me a pistol in exchange for my old car and we had to get the pistol registration transferred to me. I called them the day before and asked about the procedure. They told me they could do it (will yeah, it’s one of their jobs) but, they being terribly busy, I should just go to a gun store and have the store do the paperwork. The problem there is the local gun store is packed these days, charges $90 plus a $10 state police fee. The state police just charge the $10. Care to venture a guess where we went?

 We dutifully arrived about 9:30 AM. The corporal in charge told us to go in and have a seat as they were terribly busy; shuffling police cruisers around in the parking lot as far as I could tell. We did as instructed. About 20 minutes later the corporal came in and gave us some papers to fill out. Among the information requested on the list was a “firearms safety training certificate number?” It was not mentioned verbally that honorably discharged armed forces veterans don’t need to take the safety class but the form states it. I knew this and did the mentioning. I was asked for proof. Other than a host of sea stories, I didn’t have any on me (I always knew I should have gotten one of those USN over an anchor tats – I just knew it).

So off we went back home to get a copy of my DD214 – honorable separation from active duty form. My brother-in-law was stunned I still had such a document. The fact that it has “This is an important record – safeguard it” in big letters at the top impressed me 40 years ago so, hey, I kept the thing. It came in handy too, come to think of it, when I got my VA house loan in 1984 and needed a security clearance for my job. It will also get me a VA grave marker when the time comes!

 As added proof, I also bought my boot camp graduation picture (yup, that's it). When we returned, the form DD214 was accepted as proof, the photo was not. Hey, I never thought it would be but I was a bit disappointed when my little attempt at humor elicited not so much as the hint of a smile. Finally, two hours later, it was all done. After a 10 day waiting period from the date of the paperwork filing, I will be the new official owner of the pistol.

 The last time I actually fired a gun was in 2006; incidentally at our state police training academy. Our son was beginning training and the state police conducted a family gun safety day for families of the soon to be new troopers. We saw a William Shatner “Rescue 911” episode about a policeman who left his loaded gun within reach of his toddler daughter (she survived by the way). Then we saw the recruits demonstrate their marksmanship and then got to give it a go ourselves. They actually taught me how to get a respectable shot grouping with a semi-automatic pistol; something the US Navy and Marine Corps were never able to do.

 Last Monday our plastic goose and two ducks were abducted from the planters in front of our house. The two ducks were my late mother’s and I took them home with me on the day I went to settlement on her house in 2007. My wife and I are irate to say the least. Living in an ethnically diverse state, I am hiring a member of the local immigrant community to put a voodoo curse on the thieves. Will it work? Who knows; but it will make me feel better.

 We also have several “psychic readers” who have opened shop near us. Maybe for $15 bucks, one of them can tell me where our goose and ducks are. I am doubtful though. They put “open” signs in their front doors. It seems like a good psychic reader would know when a customer is coming and be ready to meet them as they arrive.

 Big events are looming in my near future – a “Day out with Thomas” with my grandson and reenactment commemorating the 150^th Anniversary of the Battle of Chancellorsville. My enthusiasm for the latter is waning but if I go, it will provide good blog material (maybe). Still, my increasingly blasé attitude toward civil war reenacting plus my duties in caring for our dachshund as he recovers from back surgery may cause me to sit out Chancellorsville 150. But if not, I guess it will be better than having been at the first one.

To all ye who come into these presences; greetings!

This is my trial blog entry.

I am entering the world of blogging at the urging of a very close friend who does it on a daily basis. That’s too often for me. For one thing what would I write about? After all, as the world’s first and greatest blog observed:

The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun. (Ecclesiastes 1:9)

I was once a member of a civil war reenacting unit that put out a newsletter published “occasionally on a regular basis.” So my occasionally regular interval shall be weekly.

I must warn you dear reader (not to be confused with the title “Dear Leader” of that very strange man who of is the nominal head of that vast prison complex called North Korea) that much of my scribbling will be rants against the present state of affairs. I am geezing (i.e. I recently collected my fifth social security check); if you are working, thanks! Therefore I dedicate this blog to Mr. Fraser.

Mr. Fraser was the mid-fiftyish, retired on disability (before it began an accepted means of eking out a living), guy a cross the street when I was but 10 or so. Mr. Fraser had a heart condition. He also spent his waking hours taking care of and keeping watch over his lawn. On more than one occasion a ball of mine inadvertently rolled on to that patch of sacred ground. That ball was lost – until my father went over in the evening and retrieved it, got the talking to about hooligan “kids today” and dutifully passed on a diluted version to me that was mostly a gentle explanation of why Mr. Fraser was the way he was.

I vowed I would never become Mr. Fraser. I am failing. Oh, I don’t care about our lawn much, and I like kids and dogs, but I cannot say I am happy about things today or that I am “tolerant” in the current application of the word. I love my country; Ronald Reagan was its greatest president in my lifetime (General Dwight D. Eisenhower was a close second) and I am proud to be a United States Navy veteran. By the way, rest in peace Lady Margaret Thatcher.

So, if we are kindred spirits; hello! If you are offended by anything you just read, well, just sod off and no harm done.