My mother was trained as an artist, but during World War II, she served her country by drafting battlefield maps ~~ in the Pentagon, as a matter of fact. In the Eyes Only drafting room, she had her own special desk separated from the rest by a curtain. Her maps could be seen only by the Joint Chiefs of Staff and President Roosevelt.

When I was in the 4th grade, for various reasons she decided she needed a job, and found one drafting for CalTech Geology. Many stories there, but the one I am telling today involves my parents' decision that we kids didn't need to be entertained, we should be able to entertain ourselves. As a result, to this day I have never lived in a house with a television.

All well and good, but one momentous July day in 1969 we wanted one. The Eagle was on the moon, and man's first step on the moon was going to be broadcast live.

It turned out we were not the only ones who just said NO to television. Many of the geologists who were first in line for the moon rocks also did not have televisions (smart people can find better things to do with their time than watch the idiot box?), so someone brought a set to the Moon Lab, and we went to watch it there.
(It may be hard for people today to understand what an overwhelming honor it was for these scientists to be first in line for the moon rocks. They earned that honor by decades of dedicated labor and groundbreaking discoveries. I recall that Eugene Shoemaker was there, as was Andy Ingersoll, who if I remember correctly was at the time one of the world's two or three astrogeologists.)

I vividly remember the excitement in the room as Armstrong stepped onto the surface of the Moon. Not the excitement that we beat the Russkies, or isn't that cool, or we're Number One, but the excitement of geologists seeing, live, rocks on another planet, and who knew they were the first geologists ever to see, live, rocks on another planet. Pure intellectual excitement and bliss.

Frankly, I don't think anybody in the Moon Lab but Mom and I were watching Armstrong. The geologists were straining to figure out, in the blurry black and white telecast, just what they were seeing. They knew they would be getting their share of the first rocks ever brought back from the Moon, but first they wanted an idea of what they would be getting, and what else there was to see.

Forty years ago today. In light of all the toil the United States devoted to that incredible, historical effort, it is comforting to know that NASA erased all the original tapes of the momentous Moon landing: :click here:::

and here::

宋、孟元老著「東京夢華錄」(東京指宋古都開封，非日本東京)序：太平日久，人物繁阜，垂髫之童，但習皷舞，班白之老，不識干戈。

勢類今臺灣。

Something funny we have noticed is that on the bus down from the mountains, generally the tourists, who may visit Wulai once in a decade or a lifetime, pay little attention to the spectacular scenery along the way; rather, it is Chao and I, who live here, who have our noses glued to the window and take in every view. The tourists who drive race along the road as if they were afraid of seeing something.

Chao has lived here for over a year now, I for over twelve years. I have been up and down that road thousands of times and never get enough of its beauty. Every day we feel very lucky to live in such a wonderful place.

I love living in the mountains. I can't imagine ever living in a city again, knock on wood.

However, before you sell your apartment and head to the high places, allow me to remind you that living in the mountains is not only about sitting comfortably drinking good tea. There’s a lot of work involved. Sometimes I joke that if I didn't do any yard work for two months, I wouldn't be able to find the house. Only it's not really a joke.

飲水思源. When you turn on the faucet, water comes out. Do you know where it comes from?

I can tell you exactly where my water comes from, and know every step of the way from the spring to my house. In Wulai, you find your own water. Ours (I share water towers with a neighbor, Mr Fu) comes from a spring a ways up the jungle.

Sounds nice, but it does have its inconvenience. From time to time, I come home all sweaty and dirty, step into the shower, turn on the faucet, and … and nothing. That means I have to go find where a pipe burst or fell apart or whatever. (Which explains how I got lost in the jungle one night: there's an earlier post::) The other day Mr Fu told me that although we had some water coming in, we had trouble with our pipes, so yesterday morning we set out. We found the problem and decided that a section of pipe had to be replaced. Fortunately, Mr Fu had a length of pipe, but he injured his hand recently, so I had the honor of dragging it to our worksite. It's not particularly heavy, but doing something like that gives you an appreciation of drag.
But when you've done work like that, a victorious shower is especially sweet. You've earned your water.

To reach our house from the road, we have a flight of over a hundred steps up a ravine. During the strong winds last Friday, one of the trees with a light attached to it blew down, so I had to replace it. I am afraid of electricity, so I did not relish the prospect of those wires, but it had to be done. I selected another tree and a spot to attach the light to, climbed up, and put the light in place.

In the winter, the work would be enjoyable, but in the summer, don't even mention the heat and humidity: the mosquitoes eat you alive. I sprayed repellent all over myself until I repelled myself, but the mosquitoes managed to find every cell of skin that was not smothered in repellent.

Of course, over time you do develop some immunity to mosquito bites, but caterpillar poison is still very noxious. So you may not want to live in the mountains full time. But when you come, at least keep your eyes open and look at the view.

I've always thought so myself

Ditzy teen on cell: Why can't they, like, have two footballs instead so both teams could score?

Overheard by: Robert Gleyberman

Another witless musing: somebody from Virginia is a Virginian, somebody from Georgia is a Georgian, somebody from Hawaii is a Hawaiian, somebody from New York is a crass loudmouth oops I mean a New Yorker, but what do you call somebody from Nevada? A Nevadan? Is there such a thing as an Illinoisian? An Ohioan? A Vermonter? A Massuchusetter? An Arizone? An Oregoner? My spell checker has some of these words, but I don't think anybody uses them.

Chicagoan, Los Angelean, Bostonian, San Franciscan. We name people from cities more than from states.

Don't ask me what it all means.

不景氣，大家很辛苦。最近看到很多原本生意很好的店都關門大吉，原因是甚麼？房租太貴，賺的錢不夠付房租。房東寧可把店家趕走，把房子空在那兒養蚊子，也不肯降價。

是不是所有房東都惡劣？有沒有好房東？傳說中聽說過有很好的房東、很體恤房客困境的房東，但本野人未見過就是了。

每次看好好的店家被房東攆走，可惜。我的建議，所有租賃房屋應強制加入調解會(檢舉規避者，賞)。如果有糾紛，例如房東硬把房子收回，必須先經過調解會，決定妥善與否。調解會看店家實際生意的狀況，可勒令房東降房租。總該挽救一些創業生機。

ciboq Yukal Kayu
「我到洛杉磯，他們都講英文，我一個字都聽不懂，怎麼辦？我跟他們講我們原住民的話，他們都不理我。怎麼辦？我想去找Indian講話看看。」
"I went to LA and they all speak English there. I couldn't understand a word, so what could I do? I used our tribe's aboriginal language to talk to them, and they just ignored me? What could I do? I wanted to find an Indian and see if I could talk to them."

Actually, in LA, I think they were speaking Spanish.