DOCUMENTS WHERE? -- RELIEF -- UNWANTED LEAK

 Republic -- "If you can keep it."  [Democracy]

     Accountability for Jan. 6th insurrection.

U.S. Select House Committee on Jan. 6th Hearings continue in the fall.

U.S. Dept. of Justice and FBI deserve respect for doing their jobs.

QUESTION:  Were any of those classified documents missing from empty folders found at Mar-a-Largo and other security information in boxes like those confiscated by government authorities transported by the ex-President to his Bedminster, N.J. residence as theorized by ex-FBI agent and seen in Daily Mail, U.K. video in Washington Post article questioned in Newsweek HERE?

Note:  "Trump and the Mar-a-Largo documents: A timeline -- Washington Post HERE.

9/11 A date embedded in our memories as are those whose lives ended that day.   

SO-CAL

Updating Southern California weather effects where I live should any who might want to know what climate changes on this planet may bring to some in the future.  Refer to my previous post describing the situation.

Given our extreme heat wave, we managed to avoid any rolling blackouts with our power grid withstanding day-after-day heavy demands.  Residents voluntarily cut back further on power usage including during our flex alert prime time usage expanded by one hour on each end of the five hour block for a total of seven hours (3 - 10 p.m.)

Hurricane Kay formed in the Pacific Ocean off Mexico's coast moving north toward our Los Angeles area fortunately only becoming a tropical storm breaking heat and rain records.  A California hurricane is a tropical cyclone with usually only the remnants affecting us though they are rare.  The last hurricane was 25 years ago.

Periodic rain bursts from Hurricane Kay came to various locales across the Southland, finally even a couple very light rains to my own neighborhood.  Some beach communities built up sand dunes along the shore to contend with high surf and possible flooding.  People living inland in areas where forest fires had burned away soil-holding vegetation filled sandbags for placement against possible excess water causing damaging mud slides to homes and businesses.

East of where I live one forest fire only 5% minimally controlled day-after-day kept spreading causing several occasions of thousands being told to evacuate their homes.  Two people died in their car apparently trying to escape the flames.  Finally,  though only a small amount, enough rain came to curtail the fire's expansion which is now 50% contained.

I was delighted to see dampened pavement on my driveway one morning and a bit more the next day.   This light rain almost invisible to the eye was hardly sufficient to impact our drought but was enough to give vegetation a brief refresher.  

Let It Rain -- Diana Krall en live sur RTL

Equally, or maybe even more importantly, our temperatures have cooled down now.  In fact, our temperatures are in the 80's, a bit below our previous years usual numbers.  In a few more days our humidity will lessen to the drier level we usually have that is more comfortable, especially if the heat increases as is expected.  

My week brought me water in a way I did not welcome with the discovery of a leak when a patch of water which hadn't dried up in the heat I observed coming from underneath my garage door.  The week before I had noticed water but couldn't detect an active specific leak though I had my suspicions as to the source.  Now, with this obvious water it was time for the plumber.

A new hot water heater was the order of the day as I expected.  The plumber thought my heater was probably about fifteen years old -- quite a long life well beyond the usually expected ten years or less longevity.  I vaguely recalled reading these heaters operated best if drained periodically but realized I had never done that.  Maybe it would have lasted even longer if I had.

I could recall only that my husband had taken care of the last purchase sometime before his 2006 death.  I didn't have the old purchase receipt to make a cost comparison with the quote I was given for a new hot water heater.  I was really surprised to learn how expensive installation of a new one would be.

I did check the internet verifying what they said was the cost of the unit, the quality of the brand as the highest rated one, so I decided not to delay installation in order to get other price quotes.  Additional copper piping and connections were needed since the old ones were long since beyond being workable.  

They said they could install the new hot water heater for me right then, that Friday afternoon, so perhaps it was best not to delay.  The two young men (most service workers are young to me any more) worked steadily and hard for several hours and labor isn't cheap.  Hopefully, there are no more appliances or other items needing replacement anytime soon.

I expect others of you living in individual residences have had to go through the hot water heater experience but I'd never had to give much thought to one -- we just always had hot water wherever we lived, but then my husband probably always looked after this essential I just took for granted.  

REMEMBERING 9/11 TWENTY YEARS LATER

You may read my recollection of 9/11 written ten years after that momentous day by clicking on the link below.   I was not blogging in 2001.  (Also, to read history of 9/11 click here.)

https://joared-along.blogspot.com/2011/09/911-remembered-10-years-later.html

Comments written then triggered still strongly felt reactions from readers though a decade had passed.  

This 20 year anniversary of such a tragedy continues to elicit from me only slightly tempered emotional feelings as I've felt on 9/11 every year since 2001.   

I had no loved ones, friends, acquaintances, whose lives were taken, but like so many across this nation, around the world, we didn't know what was happening ... what might happen ... where ... when ... who ... why?    

Reliving the experience I wrote about, I again felt the increasing anxiety I felt then about what was occurring as I was viewing on television events unfold in real time that morning.  I was simultaneously speaking on the phone with my daughter in Virginia as the east coast atrocity came to the Pentagon, much closer to her.  Was my son and family safe in middle America?   What about family who I learned later could actually view the Twin Towers out their window?   At some point it even crossed my mind to wonder if we were safe on the west coast?

Like many, I never imagined such an attack could or would ever occur on our shores.  I had been a mere child on December 7, 1941, Pearl Harbor, (click to read event history), the day that has lived in infamy, so did not fully grasp the significance of that event at the time, unlike 9/11 when I was an adult.   

Also, on the Hawaii attack we did not have the immediacy of visual television news capturing the real time tragedies as occurred on 9/11.   Radio broadcasts, newspapers were dominant news sources.  I think most of us have wanted to believe that our shores would never again be subjected to such a foreign attack.  9/11 proved we were wrong.  

Domestic terrorism as we experienced January 6th is what we are subjected to today.  We cannot rule out foreign forces will continue to be of concern.   Our democratic republic is under assault but largely from within.  Truth has been trampled as leaders have let the American people down.  

We have ceased to be united as a people despite our differences, unlike how we were after December 7th, then for a short time after 9/11 before actions taken then went askew.  There is a truth to the saying, "United we stand, divided we fall."  We are long overdue for putting our country over political party. 

May we preserve our nation intact with a government as prescribed by our Constitution, not led by a one person leader who perceives and promotes himself as omniscient, God-like.    

Meanwhile, we remember 9/11, the lives of those taken from us, honor the national heroes who rendered aid.  

 

May we never ever have to experience any tragedy even remotely like this again.  

DOESN'T MATTER

Life is fragile and we have so much for which to be grateful as I described my 9/11 Remembrance last year.   I pay tribute to those whose lives were taken from them as a consequence of the events on and associated with that fateful day -- to their families and friends who forever acutely feel their loss. 

(Writing this particular piece for publishing today is purely coincidental.  Clearly what matters is valuing every minute of every day which we may sometimes forget when caught up in our own angst.)

Awakening after seven or more hours of sleep one weekend day, I arose to satisfy nature’s urge, then went to the kitchen,  glanced out the window noticing the papers had been delivered, returned to bed and slept until noon.  I’ve come to enjoy those hours when once in a while I return to bed, since generally lovely dreams, that I even remember afterward, fill my mind.

When I awaken again, a button pressed allows the radio news, weather reports to bring me up to date on life outside my house.  All the usual, another sunny day, firefighters still battling the flames in the forests distanced enough to the north, that the smoke-filled air is well beyond my environs, much less visible.  Storm warnings up the coast in the earlier-this-year strawberry festival city of Oxnard with possible wind and hail expected later today. 

Wandering out to the kitchen again, I see the newspapers still lying on the drive in their rain and sprinkler water-protective  plastic wrappings when I again glance out the window.   I decide I’ll bring in the papers, so don a jacket over my pajama top, a half-way body covering, since the pajama bottoms seem somehow less of an affront should someone drive by who might see me while I was engaged in my newspaper retrieval task.  Rarely ever are any of the neighbors in surrounding homes visible, but even their eyes would likely not be shocked or offended should they catch a glimpse of my strange-looking somewhat meagerly clad form.

Returning to my front door, I notice the mail has been delivered already today, so remove our city newspaper, flyer ads, promotional letters with one addressed to my long deceased husband, plus only one business letter of any consequence.  I miss the days when there was almost always a personal hand or type written letter from some friend or family member.  Once inside, jacket removed, my newspapers extracted from their protective covering, I decide to just sit down in the living room with them.  

I don’t have to gaze around the room to know there are, as always, an overwhelming number of tasks which I need to undertake that have multiplied daily in number since my husband’s death over six years ago, yet I continue to leave them all mostly undone.  Matters haven’t been helped by the fact I’ve drug at lot of “stuff” into the living room, ostensibly to sort, that I never quite get completed.   Refocusing on today's activities, I do sort the reading portions of these daily  newspapers from the advertisements I discard unread, along with the sports pages after I glance at the headlines, and special car sales sections. 

Misc. news items, gardening tips, music, theatre and film festival reports give way to the regular physician’s medical column feature of the day, followed by my chuckling through the half-dozen or so cartoons I enjoy reading.   The living room radio has continued broadcasting since I transitioned to that unit much earlier after leaving my bedroom.  The print reading now complete,  I tip my head to rest against the recliner chair back.   I am unmotivated to begin any activity, think about simply returning to the bed’s comfort, though I’m not sleepy and don’t feel tired.   I could care less about booting up my computer, and reading emails, blogs or going to other Internet sites.  I consider linking to music, but am not really certain what I might want to hear. 

My thoughts wonderingly examine why I’m actually listless, though I don’t feel dark thoughts as might be associated with the blues, or depression.  I wonder why I don’t become interested or enthusiastic about organizing my home’s interior into one presentable to not only myself but others?   Why don’t I care enough to just do all I need to do here – simply to please myself – and never mind any body else?  What crosses my mind is, that it just doesn’t matter. 

There is no one locally, unlike most of my past years here, who is going to pleasantly surprise me with a phone call asking what I’m doing, and would I like to join them for a cup of coffee and just chat for a while.  I realize there is no one who might show up unexpectedly at my door.  I realize there is no one I want to phone to inquire if they would like to get together for a  bit, just to discuss life, general nonsense, or intimate thoughts, concerns and questions.

When I consider taking off in the car, I realize the better part of wisdom for me is that maybe I shouldn’t be making long distance auto driving trips alone, even once I have my car completely checked over to make sure it would be safe for such trips.   I realize, as I’ve been aware for some time, that even making such a trip would likely not be as enjoyable as I might anticipate, because there would be no one of like mind with whom to share the experience. 

Additionally, I realize that my efforts at involving myself in activities interesting to me have resulted in my meeting few people here with whom I might establish close intimate relationships.  Good trusting friends take time to establish and as we age time gets much shorter, but the time required to develop those relationships often does not.  I did meet one such person (though we had know each other casually for over 30 years,) but inconsiderately life unexpectedly presented them with only a few short months existence after sudden onset of life-terminating health problems last year. 

Yes, others I’ve met, we share similar interests, but they already have such companionship with their spouses, so I urge them to treasure their time together.  Others, in some instances, already have their own longtime circle of friends who are all fortunately still living.  Yes, the spouse, local friends as I once had enjoyed – just as they sought out and enjoyed me – are long gone from this immediate area – and  many elsewhere, expired.   I’m glad I’m alive and would not want to be otherwise, but these years are not as I had expected them to be.   Selfishly, I fully anticipated many of those friends would share these years with me, especially the younger ones.  I suppose the situation doesn't alter as we get older in this living lottery

I think I may know why I’m motivated primarily only to go to work.  In addition to enjoying my work, the people I meet, and with whom I interact – that work impetus may only be partly because I made the commitment, so I have a professional obligation to honor it as long as I choose to keep working.   Other than that, my bottom line is that I don’t care – nothing else seems to matter that much.   

Still --- yes, I care about my children and their children, but they are far removed geographically, so they aren’t going to stop by.   They can’t pop in given the miles that separate us, as I know they would otherwise.  But then, if they did live by, they would have their own responsibilities.  That would be okay,  I want them to have a life of their own and I know how busy their lives can be – so many demands.  I, too, lived that life once, as I think about the contact I had across the miles with my mother.   I don’t want to move to either of my children’s parts of the country –  they’re even widely separated geographically from each other, too.

Sometimes I’m envious of those who have family living close around, then I hear of the conflicts and challenges that sometimes pose for all and think my situation doesn’t have those issues.   Still I’m tempted to wonder if I’m out-of-sight, out-of-mind, but I refuse to badger, complain and aggressively demand attention which would only seed undeserved guilt, possibly resentment and maybe even anger.

If the geographic distance wasn’t so great, I would undertake periodic driving trips to spend short visiting times – so much better for all of us than descending on them for long periods of time when I fly in.   Also, flying comfort is so unpleasant now, plus once I’m there I have no transportation to go out and about, it's inconvenient to borrow theirs – not worth renting a car -- not really areas to walk to nearby.  They don’t subscribe to newspapers, so I don’t  familiarize myself with what of interest is going on in their area.    

Guess I’ll boot up the computer and check my personal email.  How exciting!  My DIL has emailed me several photos from her smart phone.  My handsome (Grandma bragging rights invoked here) red-headed grandson is visiting the petting zoo, quite intrigued with all the animals and their noises, especially the piggies.  Also, he’s at the top of the slide, informing his mother he’s quite capable of sliding down on his own without her assistance, thank you.   Oh my!  He’s growing so fast – walking and running all over since he was nine months or so. 

Lost in thought, my phone rings – I’m surprised -- the call is from my daughter.  I know she is incredibly pre-occupied with all that’s going on in her home, none the least of which is studying for her classes, aiding my granddaughter as she begins her senior high school year and so much more for both of them.  My daughter is so tired and sleepy as I hear the periodic yawns in her voice.  We have a loving mother-daughter conversation that I eventually end, tucking her in with a hug and kiss across these miles for a much-needed good night’s sleep.  Her morning will come much too soon.   I remember those years only too well.

Where did the day go?  Evening arrives and I decide to cater to my whim for part of my weekly fish allotment.  Furthermore, I’m not going to cook – though I have some frozen salmon filets which are probably more healthy for me than what I have in mind.  Why not just go to that fast food place and get a fish sandwich?  That’s what I’ll do, but I’ll dress from the top up, still leave on those pajama bottoms – no one will know the difference – sure hope I don’t have an auto accident.  Mom always said it was important to have clean underwear on when I left home.  Oh well, off I go.

Soon I’m home again.  I feel just a little bit wicked having gone off dressed as I was, or undressed, depending on your perspective, but at least I’m not one of those people I’ve read about occasionally who are discovered stark naked in the car.  That’ll never be me, rest assured dear reader! 

Aren’t I lucky!  I do have good close friends, including one I’ve known all my life with whom I have frequent contact.  It’s just that none of them live here in my city any more.  And I have such a loving caring family, however few there are of us, regardless of the miles that separate us, who certainly don’t neglect me.   I suppose all of us have times when we may feel a bit alone in the world, but we really aren’t if we think about it.  Besides, I also have all my Blogger Buddies, too!

9/11 REMEMBERED 10 Years Later

The sound of a ringing phone gradually began to sink into my consciousness as I slowly aroused from a deep sleep that early September 11th morning ten years ago.  Wiping the sleep from my eyes with one hand, I reached for the phone with the other.  "Hello" I answered, glancing at the clock which showed it wasn't even 6 a.m. yet.   My daughter's familiar voice responded with a noticeable tinge of anxiousness asking, "Have you been listening to any news?"  "No," I said, "I was asleep."  Immediately, I knew something was amiss for her to phone me so early though it was three hours later at her east coast home.  "Turn on your TV......" then she paused. 

I arose from bed, moving a couple feet across the small spare bedroom floor to turn on my mother’s old TV with manual push buttons that especially aided her use since she had limited vision – a set with rabbit ears antenna, dating even from before remote controls.    The picture emerging on the screen was a startling view of smoke pouring from what newsmen were identifying as one of New York City's Twin Towers.   My daughter’s tension-edged voice on the phone recounted how a commercial airline’s passenger-filled plane had flown into the World Trade Center North Tower.    Looking at that burning tower of black smoke I thought what I was seeing was the aftermath of a singular horrendous event. 

We were trying to make sense of this scene while simultaneously integrating news reports.  Suddenly another commercial airliner came into view -- flying through a lovely blue sky background on what appeared to be a peaceful day.   I was momentarily reminded of a cross country 1960's flight in a 2-seater Cessna my husband piloted taking us over NYC with the Hudson River leading us north -- long before the Twin Towers existed.   I quickly re-focused on the current day’s televised scene showing billowing mushroom-like clouds still erupting from the North Tower.  Then, 17 minutes after that first 8:46 a.m. plane disaster, we watched with unbelieving eyes the second passenger-carrying aircraft flying directly into the WTC South Tower.  

We each stared in disbelief at our TV screens, asking one another if this could actually be happening?   Surely this was like special effects for a Hollywood action disaster movie -- but we knew the scene we were seeing was reality.  For the next 35 minutes we alternated between listening to news commentators providing whatever information they could obtain about the situation, and watching incredulously the sight of both heavily damaged Tower buildings pouring clouds of smoke obliterating that blue sky.  Our eyes centered on those Towers as we heard experts and laymen alike speculating about whether or not those tall steel structures would withstand the assault to remain standing.    

I thought of family in NYC living not too far from the WTC, but hopefully trusted they were unlikely to be affected.  Suddenly the news became even more personal when we were stunned to see the Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia had been victimized by a third plane.    My daughter’s voice quality became tight with tension as she realized she lived only an hour’s drive away from that site.  The distance was an uncomfortably close proximity to her home in my mind, too.     

I’m sure my daughter's thoughts were beginning to focus more on her own family’s security and whether or not there was action she needed to take.  If so – what should she do?   Instantly,  I wanted to be with her or have her and family here with me.    My mind was coming to grips with the fact I was feeling profoundly helpless to assist her in any concrete way from my California location on the opposite coast.   The most I could do at that moment was to offer a calming voice.    Much later when relatives of doomed plane passengers and those trapped in the Towers described the anguish they felt receiving final phone calls from loved ones and friends, I could empathize in some small limited degree.  But I knew my loved ones weren’t so immediately threatened as they knew theirs were.   

Television news coverage 21 minutes after the Pentagon was struck covered the collapse of the WTC South Tower.   At 9:59 a.m., less than an hour after the first plane slammed into the tower it collapsed on those who had not yet been able to descend from offices on the over 100 floors, taking the lives of some rescuers, too.    In addition to structure pieces, grimy dust, debris and sheets of confetti-like paper rained down on those below who were racing away from the site as fast as they were able

Only 4 minutes later, when we could but  wonder what might happen next, we were told there was a fourth plane of concern, but this one had earlier been lost from radar after turning back east from Cleveland, Ohio.   This airliner we eventually learned failed to reach its unknown east coast destination when passengers able to resist their plane’s hijackers caused the craft to crash in Pennsylvania fields below.  Had Washington D. C.'s White House been the target many wondered? 

Then, 25 minutes later the WTC North Tower collapsed as we were still reeling from the onslaught of these horrific never-ending events.  We watched more people covered with gray or blackened dust, dirt and debris fleeing to safety from the roiling rubbish.    Television spared us most coverage of those who had actually chosen jumping to certain death, singly and in pairs, from many high floors, knowing they could not escape the smoke, fire and falling building.   Through all this firefighters, police had been streaming into the Towers to rescue others, but all too many were unable to save their own lives with both Towers collapse.  

Incredibly all these events transpired in one hour and forty-two minutes – less than two hours.    The morning seemed much like an eternity with uncertainty as to whether there was still more to come before my daughter and I finally ended our phone connection with each other expressing our mutual love.  

This time sequence of events coupled with added official actions during this timeline can be referenced at this USA Today site.   

Long after these events, word was received that my NYC family with young children was fine.   Fortunately, they had all been away from their apartment that was situated close enough they had had a window view of the Twin Towers.   They lived within an area that became designated inaccessible so they were unable to return home and had to stay with friends for a few nights.   

Across the country we were all asked to refrain from excessive use of the phone system in the beginning to keep lines open for emergency use.   I knew life was harried under ordinary circumstances for these dear family members, so knowing they were safe made it easier to resist my desire to phone them during these difficult times. 

I recalled knowing that following the couples wedding years earlier they had celebrated with dinner on the WTC North Tower’s 107^th floor’s elegant Windows on the World restaurant.  

“Weather-permitting, visitors could take two short escalator rides up from the 107th floor and visit what was the world's highest outdoor viewing platform. At a height of 1,377 feet (420 m), visitors were able to take in a view of the North Tower and New York City unlike any other. On a clear day, it was claimed that visitors could see up to 45 miles (72 km) in any given direction.”

Days, maybe even a week or so after 9/11,  I could not erase my NYC family members from my mind.    I’d had a very strong bond with the father throughout his life.   But we had both become quite caught up in our individual lives after he eventually started a family of his own in NYC on the opposite east coast from my own west coast Southern California home.     So, I made that call.  

When he answered the phone, I caught my breath upon hearing his voice.   I immediately identified myself, adding “I know you’re safe and okay…,” fully expecting to calmly engage in a rational conversation, but I don’t know what happened.  Hearing his familiar voice, I could feel emotion uncontrollably welling up from depths deep inside me.   Suddenly, I was gasping sobs, tears were overflowing from my eyes onto my cheeks and my speech was disintegrating.    I was trying desperately, but unsuccessfully, to intelligibly verbalize some meaningful words.    He quickly repeatedly reassured me, “We’re okay, Aunt Jo!  … We’re alright!” as I tried to say, “I know!  I know!  I just needed to hear the sound of your voice.” 

Today, 9/11 and always, I still think of those who are no longer able to hear the familiar voice sounds of those for whom they care so much.

   

SILENT VOICES

Silent voices hear

Osama Bin Laden is dead.


Remember 9/11/01

Many souls are listening.