I remain a faithful reader of Letters From An American, a daily newsletter from American History Professor at Boston College, Heather Cox Richardson (HCR). Since she publishes most often at night East Coast time (she lives in Maine), I mostly read her when I wake up at night and need some soothing before going back to bed. HCR blends an historical context with her reporting of the political machinations of the day. She has published this way since 2019 and has well over a million loyal paid subscribers, myself among them. I find great value in her historical perspective in helping to understand the tumultuous times we have all lived over the past five years, From what I can tell, HCR is unlikely to ever run out of column ideas just as she is unlikely to ever run short of historical descriptions of our modern life and times. Like most chroniclers, I’m sure she considers her daily letters to be an obligation to her readers as much as anything else. I will read her with great interest over the coming days as her five year journey is as littered with the tales of our electoral shenanigans as anything and November 5th seems more than a little like the final scene of a melodramatic opera in which we are all starting to squirm in our seats.
Tonight’s letter was all about the Crash of ‘29 and the changes that trauma wrought on our history. It began with a gala opening of the Metropolitan Opera where the Knickerbocker elite attended in all their finery only to awake the next morning to the tragedy that became the spark to a global Great Depression. Not an unfactual word was said in the retelling of that tale, which wound itself eventually into the 1960’s and encompassed the great years of American liberal democracy.
I know that the Democratic war cry these days is “We won’t go back!” and that it’s the Republicans that seem to prize the nostalgic days gone by, but there is something about the New Deal and all that came from it that constitutes the fabric of my very personal ideology. I was just told by one of my texting red friends that I will never understand the conservative people that work hard to drive their MAGA beliefs onto the national stage. Truer words have rarely been spoken to me by that red friend. My biggest frustration in life (at least at this time) is that so many Americans, even some I know very well (and vice versa), cannot see what I see in the world. I’m sure my lack of comprehension of their worldview makes them just as crazy.
When I moved out here about the time HCR started her journaling, I had only minor thoughts about the gravity of our circumstances as a nation. I did not move to California seeking political sanctuary, but I do now consider myself well positioned in a state of consistent beliefs to those of my own. I have yet to not connect with the themes in an HCR newsletter, so I’m certain that they reinforce my perspectives on democracy and what I choose to call the righteous path. As I think about the days ahead of us I also think about the changing of the seasons which seems finally upon us here on the hilltop. In some ways, I am throwing myself into my autumnal yard work with more enthusiasm than in the past few years. I have plenty of expert witness work to do, so it is not out of boredom, but rather it’s to distract myself with meaningful honest work in the dirt rather than in the somewhat dirtier world of the American tort system.
The weather change has caused me to revert to long pants this week. My change in trousers from shorts to long pants always seems like a coming of age moment for me. Men of all ages wear shorts year-round out here, but when I shift from short to long pants it always makes me feel more serious about life, and that feels all the more so this year with the weather change coming just as we are girding our loins for the coming electoral storm. I used to think there was nothing better than to be able to wear shorts every day, but now I look forward to the comfort and added versatility of long pants. The added protection of long pants, especially since most of my work-a-day pants are cargo pants from Duluth, make me want to work in the garden since the pants are meant to be rugged garden work pants. They all have more pockets than what I know what to do with, but I am forever trying to carry some tool or another to avoid that dreaded extra trip. The problem is, as I have learned, that tools weigh down your pants and it can get pretty darn inconvenient always having to fiddle with your waistband, pulling your trousers up as you walk the garden paths. But just knowing that I have pockets for everything is a comforting thought nonetheless.
My big garden project this week is taking down the 30’ blue agave stalk that has sprouted since early summer on the front hillside and replacing it with the olive tree I have already mentioned previously. The bid I got from Mike’s guy was astronomical at $3,000 to remove the old agave stump (Joventino will get it to that state), dig the hole and plant the olive tree. Granted the 800 pound tree box is sitting on the driveway a good five feel below and fifteen feet to the side of where the tree must be planted, but that alone did not justify that bid. I could have gone to the outrageously-priced Moon Valley Nursery if I wanted to pay that much. So I set my sights on coming up with a solution. I had my multi-pocketed trousers on, so a serious guy like me should be able to solve this dilemma. There is no way to lessen the burden of digging out the agave stump and digging the hole on the rock hill (presumably with a good jackhammer). I knew I could even find a way to deal with the stump if I had to. Worse come to worse, I could haul it in my electric wheelbarrow to the curb and stuff into a green bin for the EDCO people to dispose of. But the heavy lift of an 800 pound boxed tree up five and over 15 was a concern. I priced a telehandler with extension arms and that would have cost $750 for a day plus the manual labor to dig the stump out and dig the hole. A telehandler could also pull the stump out, but I would fear for my garage, my shrubbery and my driveway if I started trying to mechanically muscle things. I can drive heavy equipment only so well.
But then it dawned on me. Our neighbor John that has the 15 acre avacado farm has heavy equipment and loves to use it. I called him and he came over to survey the setting (the size of the tree, the slope of the hill, the tightness of the driving gap at the corner of the garage…not to mention the expensive shade sail that overhangs the whole top end of the driveway). He thought the job could be mostly done with his forklift. But he’s away for a week in Denver. Nevertheless, he felt fine lending me the forklift. He drove it over today and brought with it the 7’ steel fork extenders he had crafted. We played around with the forklift and determined that this could work. We have now placed the tree box on the extenders and the set-up is ready for me (scheduled now for Saturday morning) to lift the tree up to the hill height with the extended forks, which just reach the top of the hill. There, the guys Handy Brad brings in from the Home Depot parking lot ($200/day laborers) will dig out the stump, widen the hole and cajole that box into the hole for them to plant. With any luck it will be a half-day affair and I will have been trained sufficiently on the operation of the forklift by You-Tube and the few tips John gave me. I will put on my big-boy trousers and make this happen for less than one third the cost of what Jose proposed. That’s right folks, what could go wrong….right?