Category: Responsibility

Photo by Joe WilcoxNov 17, 20249:11 pm

Thirsty?

As the November 5th Presidential election approached, I focused on preparing for emergencies—such as protests or infrastructure attacks, regardless the winner (or loser). I stocked up medical supplies and took trauma training for massive bleeding incidents. My wife and I majorly topped off food and water supplies, while I purchased some additional items, particularly for dealing with power outages.

Water bothered me most. What if some crazy person poisoned the water supply, or there was unexpected contamination incident—such as agricultural or industrial runoff or more Mexican spillage. Yikes, cyberattack? The solution that made most sense: Water-filtration system, for purifying the liquid from almost any source.

Photo by Joe WilcoxNov 2, 20249:56 pm

Stop the Bleed

This morning, we drove 56 km (35 miles) to Ramona, where I received trauma training meant to Stop the Bleed when injury severs an artery. The official, instructor-led class lasted about 90 minutes. Kit Fox Outfitters’ co-owner provided hands-on learning as part of the curriculum.

I will practice the techniques taught today so that they become muscle memory. Familiarity could make the difference between life and death in the event of a bleeding emergency, where seconds matter and being flustered and slow-moving is unacceptable. Practice makes perfect, as they say.

Living by Joe WilcoxOct 31, 20249:26 pm

The Incident on Halloween

The two photos have absolutely nothing to do with the content of this post—other than timing: Halloween. I had already planned to use them, and nothing better is available for appropriate illustration.

For many adults and kids looking for a good candy haul or costume party, the day is trick rather than treat. Fast-moving canyon brushfire erupted, around 1:40 p.m. PDT today in College Area, which is a neighborhood that includes San Diego State University.

Photo by Joe WilcoxOct 9, 20249:29 pm

Royal but Rustic

This isn’t the first rustic typewriter that I have seen put out for the taking. The vintage is way older than the one that I used as a teenager, but it is the same brand: Royal. I am a poorly, but efficient enough, self-taught typist—starting around age 14 (my handwriting is notoriously sloppy).

My recollection is dim about why I inherited a typewriter, which got plenty of usage. I punched out many poems and song lyrics on the thing; they were lost inside a box of memorabilia sometime in 1989. Advice: Don’t leave something precious in someone else’s garage. Your treasure could be put out as trash.

Photo by Joe WilcoxSep 6, 202410:12 pm

Heatwave Reading

The Summer’s hot days have finally arrived in San Diego. Official high yesterday, according to my phone: 34 Celsius (94 Fahrenheit)—although the thermometer in the apartment complex’s courtyard read 38 C (100 F). Well, all the cement makes quite the heat island, so that is unsurprising.

This morning, the mercury touched 33 C (91 F) before thin, high clouds provided some relief. Forecasted high for tomorrow is about the same and scorching like yesterday for Sunday. We don’t have air conditioning, by the way. Fans provide plenty of relief, as long as breeze outside blows indoors. Unfortunately, winds are light, and air is muggy.

Photo by Joe WilcoxSep 4, 202410:20 pm

When No One Helps You

This morning, as my wife and I waited to cross Mississippi at University Avenue in North Park, we heard arguing and shouting. We both turned back to see some kind of disagreement between a man and woman near the distant bus stop on the opposite side of the street.

The dude looked to be stealing, or trying to steal, the lady’s bicycle. Shirtless, he was clearly homeless; she was well-dressed. Taller than her, he was racially white but so sunburned to be almost black; dirty, my guess, too. We weren’t sure what to do, being older folks, but we decided to walk down the block nevertheless. She needed help.

Photo by Joe WilcoxAug 1, 20246:35 pm

Much Better

On the block of the same street where fruit falls to waste, another residence is ready to gather the bounty, as you can see from the Featured Image. Yes, the homeowners have placed blankets to catch the apples—something done without worry because rain is rare this time of year.

Exceptions occur, and today is one of them. Thunderstorm is just ending, so those blankies are probably soggy now. But, obviously, they were dry yesterday, when captured by Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra. Vitals: f/1.7, ISO 12, 1/1250 sec, 70mm (film equivalent); 9:46 a.m. PDT.

Photo by Joe WilcoxJul 28, 20246:42 pm

I Boycott the Paris Olympics

I am more than a little surprised to be writing this post. But here we unexpectedly are. I stand with those people criticizing the 2024 Olympic Games Opening Ceremony’s mock Last Supper as mocking Christianity—and the almighty God, for that matter. In what appeared to be a live reenactment of the famous painting by Leonardo DaVinci, the actors were either drag queens or some simply dressed as such.

The Summer games officially began in Paris on July 26. Today, spokesperson Anne Descamp apologized to anyone offended by the, ah, banquet scene. If BBC reporting is accurate, explanation is as offensive, if not more. From the story: “The ceremony’s artistic director, Thomas Jolly, said there was no intention to ‘mock or denigrate anyone’ and explained the scene in question was designed to reference pagan gods”.

Photo by Joe WilcoxJul 9, 202410:57 pm

The Farmhouse

I continue to mourn loss of the Wilcox farm—the majority of which my father unexpectedly deeded to the pastors of his church during the last weeks of life. He died on April 16, 2024.

The deeding deed was kept secret from immediate family until after he had passed. I attempted to contact the main pastor—twice. He ignored me. Inaction has shaped, or reshaped, my perspective about the incident, which won’t be publicly shared here.

Photo by Joe WilcoxJul 7, 202411:13 pm

Do you Feel…?

You may want to rethink that yes, if the answer. We have come to perilous times, where conspiracies make more sense than commonsense. Take, for example, Joseph Biden’s debate debacle with Donald Trump. An astute observer should have seen Biden’s cognitive decline years ago. I am no expert, and it was obvious to me—and plenty of other folks. Now, post-debate, Biden’s brain, and the continuation of his campaign, are the dominant topics seemingly everywhere. But something smells fishy here—and it ain’t good.

The Commission on Presidential Debates, a nonpartisan organization, is responsible for organizing the face-off between candidates, which typically starts some time following each respective political party’s convention. CPD had scheduled four debates, with the first slated for Sept. 16, 2024, at Texas State University in San Marcos. In a statement, the organization explains that it received a “letter dated May 15, 2024 from Jen O’Malley Dillon, Campaign Chair for the Biden-Harris Campaign, in which the Biden-Harris Campaign informed the Commission that President Biden will not agree to debate under the sponsorship of the Commission during the 2024 general election campaign”. The B-H campaign decided to organize its own debates, and Trump agreed to participate.

Photo by Joe WilcoxJun 28, 20247:47 pm

Requiem for the Farm

Two months ago, or thereabouts, on March 27, 2024, my father signed over title to a large portion of the family farm to the two pastors of his local church. The transfer of ownership was quite unexpected and was not disclosed—to my sister—until after he died on April 16. We all understood that he intended to will the property to the couple, but his estate would pass through the typical legal process first.

Since my grandfather’s will hadn’t been probated, the older document might supersede the other—something I presumed a lawyer and judge would sort out. That process would be opportunity to also open a discussion with the pastors about final disposition of the approximately 100 acres. The unexpected transaction nullified everything—unless the older will is legally enforceable. I wouldn’t know.

Photo by Joe WilcoxMay 22, 20249:46 pm

Games We (Poorly) Play

Yesterday, one my neighbors expressed surprise about filling out paperwork at a doctor’s office, where she was presented with choice of a dozen genders. I would think that a medical practice would stick to the science: Humans are biologically either male or female. How people feel about themselves is something else.

All through the SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 lockdowns, we kept hearing about the science—physicians and researchers following it, and we should, too. In 2024, should a doctor’s office do no less? Meaning: Put basic biology before social culture?