Moving Day

Twenty-four years ago I found my niche in life. It wasn't until much later that I realized that I had found it. I was telling a friend about all the different types of jobs I had done. (Broadcast radio, sales, heavy equipment operator, paper hanging, computer programming, and so on...) He asked me, "Out of all the different jobs you had, what was your favorite?"

I had never thought about that before. But, as I reviewed what I had done to determine what I had enjoyed the most, only one job really stood out.

In the '80s I had been programming computers for a diversified company. Among other things, they owned construction firms, a lake/pond management business, and Redbrush Park (swimming, rides, camping, rooms and cabins). In early 1986 the general manager of the park asked me if I would be interested in managing the camp desk and housekeeping for the season, which began in the spring. The position didn't pay much...way less than what I billed for programming. (The park was mainly staffed by high school and college students during their summer vacation.) But, I had visited the park, and I loved it. So, I took the job just because I wanted to.

As I was self-employed and was already running two businesses of my own, I told the general manager that I could only commit to 3 1/2 days per week. But, I loved the work so much that I'd generally get to the park around 7:00 am (long before anyone else), and often wouldn't leave until after midnight...sometimes taking only one break for a meal. Each week my "3 1/2 days" amounted to well over 40 hours. When I programmed the computer at the park, I didn't bill for my time; I just did it as an employee (at the "summer job" rate).

I discovered that what I enjoy more than anything else is making people happy. If a guest was unhappy -- regardless of whether or not the park was in any way at fault -- I made it my mission to fix it...whatever "it" happened to be. I used a segment of a PBS video (that was based on Tom Peters' book In Search of Excellence) to show my camp desk and housekeeping people how "cast members" are trained at Walt Disney World. As a group, we had a lot of enthusiasm, and the video gave us a solid goal.

The only negative part about the job was that the park lost oodles of money every single year, which meant that around midsummer -- when it always became clear that this year would not be "the year" that the park would get "turned around" -- the general manager would become extremely irritable, and vent his frustration all over whoever happened to be around (although never at me). More than once I walked into his office to confront him after he had vented on one of my employees. Each time I would explain to him that, if he had a problem with the way one of my people was doing her job, he needed to come directly to me, since -- in every single case -- the employee was following my orders to the letter! The manager would apologize to me and promise that it wouldn't happen again.

Until the last time it happened.

The manager left a retirement-aged employee standing in the middle of the gift shop crying her heart out. I consoled her the best that I could, then went directly to his office. His response: "This time I'm not going to apologize." I quit on the spot. (On my way out the manager asked, "Can we still call you to work on the computers?" My answer: "Of course!" I would be more than happy to get paid far more without any of the drama!)

Fast forward twenty-some years...

After about a year of fulltime RVing, I found a campground that really needed help: Honey Bear Campground. The owner -- who has never camped a single time in her life -- had bought the campground 6 months earlier, and was in way over her head. I just started looking for things to do and ways to help out, and stayed about a month. Among other things, I created a system for reporting and tracking problems...repairs, errors and things like that. Had it not been for the owner, I'd have stayed there all season. But, she was bleeding money and was even more difficult to get along with than the manager of Redbrush Park had been. (During my first week at Honey Bear Campground I broke up a fight between the owner and a guest!) Finally, one morning -- after I had watched her walk all over a couple of her work campers for the umpteenth time -- I hitched up my house, told the owner goodbye, and left.

A month later she called me and invited me to come stay at the campground over 4th of July weekend. I knew she was just looking for some more free help (on a particularly busy weekend), but I didn't mind. I really enjoyed working hard for the campground guests. I showed up July 1, and endured a few more weeks of random neural firings.

Things came to a head the day that I busted my tail finding accomodations for a family with 4 RVs who had -- months earlier -- reserved 4 campsites together. For some odd reason (probably having to do with the alignment of the moon and stars) the owner had moved two of the reservations to two different areas of the campground, and had canceled another one of them entirely! After finally finding 4 sites together that the family was content (barely) with, one of them discovered that the sewer hookup at his campsite was clogged. I realized that the last thing this group needed was one more delay. I reached into the sewer pipe and cleaned it out by hand.

As I washed up at the office I remembered something: Hadn't I written a "trouble ticket" on that clogged sewer line two months earlier? Sure enough, I had! Why was I the only person who cared about satisfying our guests??? I wrote a strongly-worded note on the trouble ticket and taped it to the owner's computer screen. The next morning she fired me (I guess you can fire an unpaid volunteer!), using language that I had never even heard my father (a merchant marine) use.

A few weeks ago the owner of the campground called me to ask if I'd help open the campground for the season. She assured me that some major "stressors" in her life were now settled, and that she would be much easier to work for. I doubted that she would be that much different (she wasn't), but I showed up (as an unpaid volunteer, as before) and brought in a work camper who hustled from dawn to well past dusk for very little pay. I was hoping that the owner would see the value of keeping a couple of people (one free, the other dirt-cheap) who were willing to do whatever it took to open her campground. (My bad. She didn't.)

She must have had a really bad night last night, because this morning she came into the office looking for a fight to pick...even more than usual. She lashed out at me more than once, and I let her know that her verbal abuse wasn't appreciated. She responded, "Well then, let's just end it right now." I suppose she thought I'd beg her to let me stay on as her unpaid doormat.

I didn't.

So...now I'm at Bandits Roost campground near Wilkesboro. Next Monday I start my volunteer work for MerleFest. The festival ends Sunday, May 2. After that, who knows? I'd love to find a campground that would really appreciate someone who takes guest relations seriously.

Food for Paradigm-Shifting Thought

It is useless to try to reason a man out of a thing he was never reasoned into. -- Jonathan Swift

Tonya and the Grandkids!

Tonya brought the grandkids (Diana's and Julie's kids) over for a visit today. We had a great time, fishing, exploring the stream, and more.

See more pictures here.

The Wailers at ASU

Friday afternoon, as I checked in a tenter from Columbia, South Carolina at Honey Bear Campground, he told me that the purpose of his stay was to attend a concert by The Wailers at Appalachian State University.

THE Wailers? As in Bob Marley and The Wailers???

Yup! They were playing at Legends, an ASU students' nightclub and social center. The ASU campus is only 3 miles from Honey Bear Campgound.

Over the years I've enjoyed several live reggae performances. But, there were a few things that discouraged me about this concert:

• The music wasn't scheduled to start until 9:30 pm, and an opening band was going to play for an hour. That meant that The Wailers wouldn't start performing until about 11:00 pm, which is way past my bedtime.
• The venue was a nightclub. I've rarely been in bars, and never in a club. (Drinking makes me sleepy, so I don't drink often.) Although I knew I'd love the music, I wasn't so sure about the atmosphere.
• The online ticket sales website listed the event as BYOB; each person was allowed to bring six beers. (Again, I wasn't sure if it was someplace I'd want to be.)

Okay, I figured, if I get too tired, or if I'm really not comfortable in that crowd, I can always leave.

So I went. On the way I even picked up a 6-pack of Guiness Draught. (Drank 2 at the concert, brought 4 home.)

I couldn't have enjoyed it more.

The opening band, Soul Benefactor, was great. With guitar, bass, drums, trumpet, and trombone, they played an hour of upbeat music, including a few Stevie Wonder songs.

The Wailers -- as expected -- were awesome. (The guy who told me about the concert said that one of the vocalists was Bob Marley's nephew.)

The crowd was 99% ASU students (I saw a handful of fossils my age), and they were all there to enjoy the music. No smoke, no rowdiness; just a whole lotta fun!

Possible Paradigm Adjustment

The world did not change 11 September, but the English-speaking peoples' understanding of it did. -- From A History of the English-Speaking Peoples Since 1900 by Andrew Roberts

Smart & Stupid

A couple of days ago I had a very enjoyable conversation with one of my daughters about "smart and stupid". I believe that -- with very few exceptions -- there are not "smart" people and "stupid" people...although people do some pretty smart and stupid things.

I have always been considered pretty "smart". My first grade teacher used me to tutor other students in reading. I think she did that partly because I was an excellent reader, and partly because I had way too much time on my hands, as I finished my classwork very quickly.

At some point I seem to have made it my life's mission to befriend the friendless...to hang with -- and help -- fellow students who were rejected by most.

In fourth grade, I actually got called out for trying to help a boy who could not read. He had failed and repeated two or three years (so he was older than the rest of us) and then he had simply been given all "F"s and promoted. I discovered that he did not even know the alphabet, so I took it upon myself to teach it to him during recess. (Yes, he did learn it.) When Mrs. Banks -- one of the most hateful teachers I have ever known -- "caught" me teaching him, she screamed at me in front of the entire class, "HE CAN'T LEARN!!! IF COLLEGE-EDUCATED TEACHERS CANNOT TEACH HIM, WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THAT YOU CAN???" I am not proud of the fact that I stopped trying to teach him after that.

At the beginning of my fifth grade year, the teacher explained to the class quite honestly that math was not her favorite subject, and that if anyone was able to learn it by reading the text book and wished to work ahead, they were welcome to go ahead on their own as long as they turned in every written assignment in the book. (In my experience, teachers typically asked for only certain written assignments to be done in any subject, and never finished a complete text book by the end of the school year.) I took her up on the offer, turned in every single assignment, and finished the entire book two months before school ended. (Math was my favorite subject -- and I generally aced all the tests -- right up through ninth-grade Algebra I.)

I did well on I.Q. tests. (Still do.) But I believe that tests -- while important -- of necessity measure a person on specific areas of "intelligence"...areas that are important to society, and particularly those parts of society that are commercial. I firmly believe that everyone (again, with very few exceptions) is equally "intelligent" and "smart". The intelligence of some simply has little value in society. (Think "Rain Man", for example. I have personally known similar people.)

My belief that there are not "smart" people and "stupid" people was reinforced when I began reading The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People a few months ago. I cannot think of a single book that has enlightened me the way Stephen Covey's book has. Really. For the first time in my life I truly understand that no two people see the world in the same way. Everybody's view of things is distorted by their own unique paradigm, which is based on their own knowledge and life experiences. (If you find that hard to understand or accept, I invite you to participate in an experiment that I am preparing on a Facebook discussion forum that I created.)

For the past few weeks I have been reading A History of the English-Speaking Peoples Since 1900 by Andrew Roberts. (I hated social studies and history when I was in school. Now I read lots of biographies and histories, and almost no fiction.) About Michael Ventris (an Englishman who deciphered Europe's oldest language) Roberts wrote that "he exhibited any number of signs of genius: the capacity to take infinite pain, depression, fluency in four languages from childhood, a mother who committed suicide, lack of interest in human (or even family) relationships, an ill and remote father, a mathematical, logical but above all compartmentalised mind, and no teritary education."

Wow. With a couple of exceptions, that's a fairly good description of me!

Yet, I am constantly reminded of how little of lasting value I have ever accomplished. By some measures, I am quite intelligent. And yet, it isn't always very evident in my life. Many people of average or below-average "measured intelligence" appear much smarter than me in the real world.

Roberts' description of Ventris also fits my idea that there aren't "smart" and "stupid" people. By some measure, I believe that virtually everyone is intelligent...maybe even equally so. I've always been fascinated by the human mind...and particularly interested in people who are autistic or savant. They are good examples of unquantified intelligence.

Our perceptions of "smart" and "stupid" -- as well as "right" and "wrong" -- are very subjective. That does not mean that reality does not exist, or that "right" and "wrong" do not exist. They do! But I am convinced that no human can see things as they truly are. Our only possible viewpoint is through our own unique paradigm.

The more conscious I am that everything I "see" is distorted by my paradigm, the more I recognize the need to examine and adjust it. It is a process that must never stop, unless I choose to cease progress and remain as I am.

Sometimes I think that I am awfully old to just now be learning such deep but basic things about myself. But then I realize how fortunate I am to to understand it now!

RVing in the Snow!

Yesterday I left Stuart, Florida at 7:30 in the morning, headed to Greensboro. Had I left the day before, as intended, weather wouldn't have been an issue. But, strong thunderstorms were forecast for southeast Florida, and I wanted to get away early. Besides, snow was forecast for much of North Carolina, and I wanted to get the trailer to the campground at Hagan-Stone Park before things got too messy.

So much for plans.

About halfway through the 700-mile trip a tire on the trailer blew out. If I hadn't heard it blow out, I probably wouldn't have even known it until I stopped for fuel, or until another motorist signaled for me to pull over. I was somewhere south of Savannah, Georgia, on a clear straight stretch of I-95 with the radio cranked up loud, when I heard what sounded like a shotgun blast behind me. Those of you who know how well I hear (NOT!) are probably thinking, 'Wow! That must have been a loud boom!' Well, that's what I was thinking, too! There was no other vehicle close to me, so I was pretty certain that the sound came from my house! I immediately pulled onto the shoulder and got out and looked. The tire was split almost from bead to bead, and steel belts had already taken a small chunk out of the fender.

As part of my normal routine, before I had even hitched the trailer to the truck, I had checked the pressure on all the tires. Still, the only thing I could think of that would have caused a failure was overheating from a loss of pressure. Maybe I had picked up a nail somewhere...? (The tire was only a year old and had very little wear...probably less than 5,000 miles.) But, when I felt the tire, it wasn't any warmer than the intact tire right next to it! Hmmm...so it didn't overheat, which means it didn't fail from low pressure. That kinda made sense, because tire disintegration from low pressure probably wouldn't happen in one big explosion. So...I don't know why the tire went. At any rate, changing it (and checking the other 7 tires) delayed me about 45 minutes.

By the time I crossed the North/South Carolina line, it was already dark. About 30 miles south of Ashboro (and 55 miles from my destination) I suddenly ran into snow...pretty big flakes, and falling fast. I haven't had much experience with snow since moving to North Carolina 17 years ago. (Around here, when snow is forecast -- maybe once or twice a year -- everything just closes and people go home.) I had forgotten how a heavy snow in the headlights looks like a meteor shower -- or like the view from the Millenium Falcon going into hyperspace (Star Wars). Within a few miles I had passed 6 cars that had slid off into the median. (Wreckers and police were already attending to a couple of them.)

I finally pulled into Hagan-Stone park shortly before 9:00 pm. Since the ground was already covered by a couple inches of snow, I first had to get out of the truck and walk the campsite just to find out where the drive was. Then I had to back in blind, because there was no light in that part of the campground. Parking took several attempts (back up, get out of the truck and look, pull forward, back up again, get out of the truck and look, and so on), but I finally got it right where I wanted it.

Given the fact that it was around my usual bedtime, and I had started driving 13 1/2 hours earlier, and snow was coming down, and everything was slushy-sloppy, I really didn't want to mess with leveling the trailer. I figured I wouldn't worry about leveling side-to-side unless it was off quite a bit. I checked that level, and it was right on the bubble! (Woo-hoo!)

When the trailer is hitched to the truck, the front is always a little lower than the back. (One of these days I'm going to raise that hitch ball...) I had decided that if it wasn't too low, I'd just sleep with the head of my bed sloping down a little, and unhitch in the morning. Well...evidently the campsite I chose slopes down toward the back, because the trailer was perfectly level front-to-back, too!

So -- after the normal post-travel set-up, answering a few emails, and taking a phone call, I was in bed watching the news by 10:00.

This morning, as soon has I had my shower, I took the camera out to get pictures.

This is the first time I've had the RV in the snow. It's kinda cool...but not something I'd want to do often.

See more pics here.