Royal Birthday, Part II

In celebration of my daughter Angie's 28th birthday - Pictures of the Princess

First birthday party, 1979






With little brother Tim

Royal Birthday, Part I

My daughter Angie, aka the Princess, is celebrating her birthday today, so I will be posting a gallery of photos of Her Majesty during the day. Here's a recent photo of the Princess with one of her many pets.

Happy birthday, Princess!

Buffalo Back

If I were into tattoos, I would be jealous.

Allerton Appreciation . . . and Depreciation

After a run this weekend on the 5.5-mile trail at Allerton Park, I strolled over the park grounds and the Allerton House. I usually don't visit Allerton during the summer, but the trail is very lush and green now and in good shape, although there are some downed trees and limbs blocking the path. As for the house and grounds, I had mixed emotions. My buddy Bacchus (photo), god of wine and merriment, is on the side of the Allerton mansion. It's one of my favorite sculptures out there. Of the two bare-breasted sphinxes (half woman, half lion) in front of the mansion, one is in good shape while the other needs some facial work, her face being cracked. The large pond in front of the house, once covered in a nasty coating of pond scum, is now clean and looks good, thanks to a UI student project that cleaned it up. The flowers in the gardens were nice, but many of the rows of bushes needed trimming badly. The Allerton House itself needs work, the brickwork deteriorating and some of the wood trim rotting. And of course the entrance road is rough and the unrepaired bridge that has forced closure of the main road entrance is still not in use.

Much money is obviously needed for repairs and reconditioning at Allerton, and I hope it is forthcoming in some form. For now, the place is still a gem in the Illinois prairie.

Gimme a B, gimme a U, gimme an F . . . .

After a very hot run with the herd at the Buffalo Trace Trail at Mahomet last night, I quickly headed over to Marj and Wes’ house for a swim in their neighborhood lake. I was the first to arrive for their party, and quickly changed to my swimsuit. Waited for a few other buffalo to arrive, then into the water. The thermal layers in the water felt strange, with cold water from about the thighs down and warm water at the top. This was perfect, and with a pre-swim beer I felt good and had one of my better swims. Later on, after a couple more beers, I swam even better. This was good training. Far cry from swimming boring lane laps in a pool, and no kicks in the face from other competitors while doing a mass swim at a triathlon. I was perfectly at ease and didn’t tire the whole time. Maybe a beer or two before a triathlon would do the trick for the swim, but then again I’d probably plow my bike into a tree.

Newlyweds Marj and Wes gave us a party for the ages, and when Marla and the Great Byroni did their Saturday Night Live cheerleading skit (Buffalo Spirit!), we all ached with laughter.

And yes, Arathi, I did make it home. The beer with wine chasers just mellowed me.

Flak for the Flock

White Sox third baseman Joe Crede licks his chops upon catching a cardinal. "Tasted like chicken" said Crede after he devoured the bird. More feasting for Crede and his teammates next week when a big flock of cardinals from St. Louis invades Chicago.

Little Lion on the Trail? I Don't Think So

After reading this, and knowing there are black bears in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, maybe I should bring my cat Maddie (photo) with me to that section of the Appalachian Trail in August. Hah! Even with two confirmed mouse kills this year on my screened porch, a first for my spoiled feline, Maddie is the most skittish cat on the planet. At the sight of a bear she could outrun a cheetah.

Buffalove: A Wedding in the Herd

Big gathering of the herd is planned for this Thursday evening as we run the Buffalo Trace Trail at Mahomet, then gallop to Marj and Wes' house for a Buffalo wedding party. Marj and Wes were married this past weekend. With plenty of buffalo bait flowing, rowdiness will rule.

On the Trail with Weed Whacker and the Flower Child

Much fun this past Sunday with fellow Buffalo Jeff Riddle and Pokey Allsup (above photos) hiking the Clinton Lake trail. Tested my new backpack loaded with about 22 pounds to see how it would feel. This in preparation for the Appalachian Trail. With the tall grass and plants overgrowing the trail in places, Jeff, in desperation without his lawn mower, used his walking sticks to whack away at the grass, while Pokey planted flowers in her hair and studied plants along the way, all the while keeping up with us quite nicely. I must give credit to the chigger-chewed and tick-attacked Pokey (aka Cassandra) for again hitting the woods after days of walking through forests for her job as a field technician plant guru and insect landing zone (photo is of her on the job in the field).

Hot Dog and Pizza

Just had to post these photos from WhiteBlaze.net, a website of Appalachian Trail enthusiasts. The pizza box illustrates the advantage of being near a town by the trail. I don't know who these hikers are; these are samples of a host of photos posted at the website from all over the Appalachian Trail. I am now registered as Buffalo Tom on this website and may post a few questions and comments about my upcoming AT trip.

Appalachian Dreaming

Scenes in the Shenandoah Valley, Virginia


After a good run last evening on the Buffalo Trace Trail with the herd, followed by a healthy dose of hops and barley and a mean game of wiffeball with Buffalo Nancy's inexhaustible sons, I basked under the light of the moon with several of the herd. So, Tom, what about the Appalachian Trail? Glad you asked. Told them I’m backpacking the entire Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, a little over a hundred miles, in a week this August. That’s the goal, anyway. In my quest for lightweight equipment, I bought a backpack that weighs just two pounds and I've ordered lightweight boots that are supposed to cushion the transfer of a 30-pound load on my back.

For this trip I have also rejoined the Appalachian Trail Conservancy, where I can get great maps of the trail at a discount, and I’ve read at length forum postings at WhiteBlaze.net, a network of Appalachian Trail enthusiasts, and the "Get Out Fast" section of Backpacker magazine’s website. A wealth of great information about backpacking equipment and the trail is at these sites. These forums often start with a question from a novice hiker, and a chorus of experienced hikers then give their thoughts on the subject, all online. The section "Hike the Trail" at the Backpacker site gives descriptions of the entire Appalachian Trail state by state.

Backpacking buddy Cassandra is already booking our next trip on the trail - Maine, considered the best part of the Appalachian Trail by hikers who have trekked the entire trail from Georgia to Maine.

Tatanka Wicasa

Only recently did I learn of the 2004 death of Dale Lott (photo inset), author of American Bison: A Natural History. The book has been called by the Library Journal "the most extensive description of bison natural history ever published." Lott, a professor emeritus of wildlife biology at the University of California, was always quick to answer my e-mail inquiries about buffaloes. He literally grew up with bison, his grandfather having been manager of the National Bison Range in Montana, where his father was also employed. Lott studied the behavior of many animals, but the buffalo was his true calling. In American Bison, Lott mixes the science of buffalo behavior, historical accounts, and an entertaining writing style. One of my favorite passages in the book:

"I'm watching a mature bull standing alone on a dirt road on the National Bison Range. He's the only buffalo around, and I have set up my movie camera, so I'm watching him through the viewfinder, finger on the shutter button. He stands broadside to the road's line of travel, his front feet at the bottom of the cutbank where the road is in a trough cut through a low hill to ease the grade. His right horn slips into the cutbank and cuts a horizontal groove. He glances up to the top of the cutbank, six feet above the road, cuts another groove with his left horn, glances up again, then--without seeming to gather himself--leaps to the top of the cutbank, lands upright on all four feet, and calmly surveys his new view. My finger is still on the shutter button, and I still haven't pressed it. I've just seen 2,ooo pounds of buffalo do a standing high jump of six feet. My breath is quick and a little shaky, but the bull is perfectly calm. After standing for a minute he plods off. No high fives, but his patient, confident amble seemed an understated celebration of its own--'Not bad for a big bull with a skinny butt, eh?' "

With this account of a buffalo high jump, I've included a photo of escaped buffalo in Maryland that made the news last year when they were finally rounded up on a tennis court. Another track and field event--hurdles.

I borrow a term from the Sioux Indians, Tatanka Wicasa, which means buffalo man. A fitting title for Dale Lott.

Lunch

Oh the Shark, Babe, Has Such Teeth, Dear

The Tri-Shark Triathlon at Moraine View State Park near Bloomington Saturday almost ate me up, especially in the swim portion, where I really struggled. Maybe if I had a modicum of training I would have not felt like I was about to be devoured. Once I got out of the water and into the transition area to peel off my wetsuit, the darn thing just didn't want to come off. Once on the bike I felt fine, and the run was decent. But my overall time was awful, and I can only blame myself. The weather was near perfect. Last year I managed to get an award, this year zilch. Still, the event was much fun as usual, with about 450 participants. This is a very popular event, a horde of Chicago-area athletes and others from all over Illinois and elsewhere converging here every year.

My buddy Bruce Rodgers, for the first and last time, whipped me in the swim, and he had a great race despite still trying to heal an injury. Bruce, get off that leg and rest.

A Date with the Daughter of the Stars

The sport that preoccupies my mind these days is backpacking the Appalachian Trail (AT) in Virginia's Shenandoah Valley (photos above).

While planning the trip I’ve been careful to lean toward lighter gear. This from a lesson learned during my first trip to the trail in 2001 when I crossed the Shenandoah River at Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia, and immediately had to ascend a steep bluff with a way-too-heavy backpack. This was early November, but it was unusually warm and I paid the price for overloading. That was work. I have read of backpackers who go to unusual lengths to lighten their loads; for example, cutting a couple of inches off a toothbrush handle, trimming the margins of maps to get rid of excess paper, or maybe not taking a tent, just throwing down a sleeping bag and calling it home. I can see the reasoning behind all this. Every ounce counts, and those ounces add up to pounds on your back that you have to carry step after step. I've ordered a backpack that is a full four pounds lighter than my other backbreaker pack. Ultralight but strong titanium cookware is also ready.

Much more planning to do, but the mountains, streams, and wildlife will wait. Shenandoah - an Indian word meaning Daughter of the Stars. Beautiful name, beautiful place.

I'm Doing What on Saturday?

This Saturday I will have to cram myself into a wetsuit, swim 600 yards, run to a transition area, somehow peel off the clinging wetsuit, get on a bike and pedal 13 miles, then run a 5K. These are not difficult distances, so speed is the key to this triathlon. Since my training has been pathetic, I'll chalk this up as training for a longer-distance triathlon next month. Buffaloes like this mom and her little one are amazing athletes, adept swimmers that could whip me in the open water, and at a full gallop of 30 miles per hour could easily top me on the run. But they don't bike. Got 'em there.

Where the Buffalo Moan

After reading Cassandra's account of the demise of turtles crossing the road in southern Illinois, I'm posting this photo of a car that met a buffalo in the road. Photo was taken at Wind Cave National Park, South Dakota. Don't know how badly the buffalo was hurt, but the car isn't well after colliding with 2000 pounds.

Simon rates his own show

Watched "American Idol" last night for the first time. Snooze TV. What's the attraction, America?

Albert, Jim and Joe

If any Cardinal fans are reading this, I am an avowed White Sox fan, but when I listened to an interview with Albert Pujols yesterday, I was impressed. I had never heard him speak, just viewed his power hitting. I must say the guy seems the be the real deal, a genuine player's player. He came across as quite likeable and down-to-earth, and not the juiced and puffed athlete like McGwyer was and Bonds is.

Same can be said of Sox slugger Jim Thome (top photo), whom teammates and rivals say is one of the friendliest guys you'll meet. Second to Pujols in homers in the major leagues, Thome, like Albert, gets the job done.

My favorite Sox player, Joe Crede (bottom photo), is not a great hitter, but his fielding as third base is among the best I've seen. Solid and reliable. As the Sox motto says, "Good guys wear black."

Race over, normal life resumes

Waking up Saturday at 4:10 a.m. was normal, but waking up to the thought that 160 runners, walkers and volunteers would be converging to do things that I was responsible for as race director was a stronger stimulant than eating a pound of coffee beans. For the 5-mile Buffalo Trace Trail Race, insurance, flyers, t-shirts (second photo), awards (top photo), race numbers, giveaways, food and drink, entry applications and money, data entry, course marking, and race results and scoring somehow all came together. Weather was the last and only factor that I could do absolutely nothing about, but after last year's gray and damp 32-degree race day it just had to be better. In fact, it was perfect. Sunny, slight breeze. I had good, reliable people working the race, so I was relaxed knowing that race registration, course guides, aid station, race results, and food and drink distribution were in good hands. The race went well, but I am quite relieved that it is over. I just hope everyone had fun.

The rest of the spring and summer I will train for and participate in triathlons. In August, though, there is the potential for two hurricanes that might have quite an impact on life as I know it.

"What are the buffalo doing that is so wrong?"

So rants a steamed homeowner at the outskirts of Yellowstone National Park after Montana Department of Livestock agents invaded his land without prior notification to haze bison that had strayed from the park to seek food. The homeowner tells agents that the buffalo can eat the grass on his land. "Leave them alone when they're in my yard," he demands. He adds that his neighbors feel the same way. The angry homeowner then shouts, "They've been here longer than all of us." So true; hundreds of years before human settlement. The homeowner is part of some very powerful video footage at the website of the Buffalo Field Campaign. If you are an admirer of wildlife, a warning: one video shows buffalo being gunned down one by one.

Yeah, there are tree huggers . . . and there are buffalo huggers like me.

The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie: Underwater Adventures of a Whacky Deep-Fry Cook

RATING

How do you entertain a four-year-old on a rainy day? Sponge Bob, THE MOVIE.

I must admit, Sponge Bob is appealing, and I've always liked the introductory song to his regular cartoon ("Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? SpongeBob SquarePants! Absorbent and yellow and porous is he! SpongeBob SquarePants!"). Catchy. The full-length story of Bob, the little yellow deep-fry cook at the Krusty Krab restaurant, and his sidekick Patrick the starfish kept my grandson Ethan very entertained.

Confident that he will land the job of manager at the new Krusty Krab 2 restaurant, Bob is dowwncast when the job is given to someone else. Bob's work as a deep-fry cook at the restaurant in Bikini Bottom, a city at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, is getting stale. Bob is shown crying his eyes out at the nut bar of Goofy Goober's. Tragic. And an ice cream hangover from the bar doesn't help. But fun also abounds in this movie as Bob and Patrick ride around in the patty wagon, a hamburger vehicle on wheels of pickles. "You don't need a license to drive a sandwich," says Bob. Eugene Krabs, Bob's boss, eventally sees the light and gives Bob the manager job ("We're gonna party till we're purple," Bob says).

The movie is given a PG rating because of what is labeled "Mildly Crude Content." Most of this passes right over a four-year-old, but is great fun to an adult, like showing Bob's little yellow butt in one scene.

My favorite cartoon is Rocky and Bullwinkle, especially the segment starring Dudley Do-Right, the Canadian mountie. SpongeBob will never replace Dudley in my cartoon craving, but for Ethan, Bob is the man. I give the movie my highest rating - 4 buffaloes.

To Cassandra: Grrrrrr

Special Day

To Mom, Princess and all the buffalo moms of the Buffalo Nation . . . have a happy Mother's Day.

Toenails . . . . They're Not Just for Your Feet Anymore

For some bizarre jewelry, take a look at THIS.

And One Last Blast from the Past: The Drill Sergeant

The summer of 1969 was an eventful time:
Life magazine published the photos of all American soldiers killed in Vietnam during one week in June - 242 of them. That really hit home to many Americans. We landed a man on the moon in July, and Woodstock happened in August. I remember reading about Woodstock in a newspaper while in basic training at Fort Campbell, Kentucky.

In the second week of training we were told that we were to get a new drill sergeant, a veteran of two years duty in Vietnam who had been wounded three times. We thought, God, this guy will be hard core. This photo of him shows a wirey soldier who looked like Lee Van Cleef (left), the pipe-smoking villain of the movie "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly," which had come out a couple of years before. If you look closely at the photo, our drill sergeant has in his belt a silver pipe. Lee Van Cleef with glasses! That's what he looked like, with slanted beady eyes and a steel glare. But getting to know him, he was no ordinary drill sergeant. He was not the egotistical clown that some were, not the sadistic joker that dominated our lives. This guy was tough, and all business, but fair. If you did what you were told and kept quiet, he respected you, and in turn we respected him. Even Clint Eastwood would have liked him.

From the Past: A Little Buddy

I took this photo at a favorite stop in the village of DiAn, South Vietnam - an orphanage. Occasionally we stopped there while on patrol and gave the kids goodies. Besides a bottle of Coke this little guy was enjoying (?) the contents of a can of something from our C-rations. It is likely his mom and dad had been killed in the war.

Bottles Up!

While I'm on this military reminiscences kick, I just had to post these photos. This is how Army MPs celebrated one of their buddies getting orders to go back home. I can't remember any of their names, but the guy in the middle was a giant . . . and crazy, and it was always an interesting time when I was assigned to do patrol duty with him as a partner. He liked to use his bayonet for cutting food. I took these photos at our barracks at DiAn (Zee-on), where I served in the 300th MP Company after transferring from the PBR unit (posted yesterday). DiAn was the base camp for the 11th Armored Cavalry (tanks).

Our barracks formerly housed the First Infantry Division (the Big Red One). The division had more than 3,000 of its brave troops killed in the Vietnam War. I had feelings of pride and deep sadness when I opened an old locker in our barracks and found a sort of yearbook of the First Division. It was full of combat and other photos. I have the book at home.

Long Ago and Far Away

The first live buffalo I ever saw was not an American buffalo, but an Asian water buffalo (above). It was amusing to see small herds of these creatures swimming quite well across the Dong Nai River near the village of Cat Lai in Vietnam, where I was assigned to a patrol boat (PBR) as a military policeman in 1970. If you've seen the movie "Apocalypse Now," you've seen our boats. I didn't know much about our unit and its history until I found this. The photo above is me on a barge full of 500-pound bombs in Cat Lai harbor, a major staging area for the shipment of ammunition for much of Vietnam.

Sorrow at Yellowstone

This is a disturbing website, especially the video of the buffalo that have fallen through the ice. A wealth of information here about the 4,000 buffalo at Yellowstone.

Tiny Bison

My friend Jim Konopack, who is also a Buffalo Warrior, sent me these photos today of his 9-week-old son Trenton. Just had to share these. That's Jim holding Trenton. I've sent buffalo t-shirts and bibs for newborns of the herd. The smallest shirt I could get was for a 6-month-old, so it's a bit big but looks great on him. Welcome to the herd, little guy.

Sox Supreme

Guess who owns the best record in the major leagues right now? White Sox. So, in celebration here's a photo of me at age 5 . . . in a White Sox uniform. The Sox logo is lost in the folds of the balloon-like fit of a flannel uniform.