FIRST IMPRESSIONS

Sometimes you come across a news article that is upbeat - that stays with you, possibly due to it leaving an impression that nothing but good will come of it. Then one day you get more thoughtful about it. There is a clear up side, but is there also a down side?

This was the case when at its origin I read articles in August of 2010 that high-lighted the good news that forty billionaires had committed to donating half their fortunes to charity. I thought this was great. Lots of good can come of this generosity and no one suffers if the donors get to have their names carved on facades of museums, medical buildings, park entrances, etc. as monuments to themselves (Bronze and marble statues are so yesterday). At the time, however, I had a prejudicial accompanying thought that should not, but can’t help but be mentioned: If a billionaire donates five billion, what on Earth is that person going to do with the other five billion?

Yes, a good story stays with you, and now that the gestation period is over, the downside has made its appearance.

There’s a reason why the tax code runs to thousands of pages. Bit by bit it has been crafted to provide the many ways in which the machinations of tax avoidance are rendered legal. It seems logical that a philanthropic gesture involving millions, or hundreds of million dollars, would look to lessening the burden by taking advantage of the tax laws, applying tax deferrals, establishing tax-free trusts, or other manipulations that are fully legal. That way, a hundred million dollar bequest can be finessed with many millions saved in tax avoidance. How great to achieve your goal at, say, sixty cents on the dollar.

But wait a minute. That is lost revenue to the government. In a government that operates with a budget surplus it might not be noticed. But in one that operates under a deficit, it gets added to the government debt.

So guess who will end up underwriting the philanthropist’s project, most of which a typical taxpayer will never even hear about, or care about?

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BAYING AT THE MOON II

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When you think about it, it is no surprise that legislators are both patronizing and condescending with respect to their constituents. The preconditions were in place long ago for the legislative process to morph into supportive policies and operations for special interests. Letters of response from legislators to their constituents are nonspecific because they know they can get away with it. How burdensome it would be to take seriously the positions, needs and suggestions of countless constituents.

A new battleground has been allowed to develop, centered in the legislative bodies of the Federal Government and the individual states. But constituents are virtually without weapons in countering activities of lobbyists and their clients - so the moneyed interests are winning. In real life we find constituents’ cries competing with the warm, person-to-person pressures of a lobbying crowd that has been allowed to grow to where the government can no longer be called representative, but rather coerced and manipulated. The condition is exacerbated by the legislator’s immediate concern, once in office, with how to get reelected, and how to raise the necessary money.

A lobbyist has the benefit of personal access. But that personal access is anything but a brief greeting in a Senate hallway. The lobbying business has developed into a fine art. Introduction of a lobbyist representing, say, Archer Daniels or Exxon to a new legislator is the beginning of an elaborate, solidly choreographed dance, steeped in nuances and tacit understandings. Lobbyists seek development of a partnership. They make friends of legislators. They never talk of money - just the problems and concerns of the special interests and what might be done to fix them. Besides that, a little stroking, never forgetting that stroking in its manifold forms is the mother’s milk for ego-driven politicians. Then, in the future, if legislation turns their way, it is understood that money for reelection will flow. No one would be so crude as to ever mention a payoff.

Corruption of a representative government is in full swing, and that is the main reason why organizations like Americans Elect are created and are growing.

What is astonishing, and yet should be no surprise, is the proliferation of schools around the nation whose sole objective is to train lobbyists for “lucrative jobs.” The seriousness of these courses can be gleaned from the content of “Lobbying Seminars” sponsored by Capitol Services located in downtown Sacramento a few blocks from California’s Capitol:

Lobbying 101

The introductory course covers the fundamentals including a review of all relevant resource materials. The qualities of a good “legislative advocate:” the rules of advocacy; the language; culture and mores of legislators; the dos and don’ts of testifying; how to find the right author of legislation; client relations and much more.

Lobbying 201

The advanced course is for graduates of Lobbying 101 or for people with a significant amount of lobbying experience. This seminar builds on principles taught in the introductory course and also focuses on budget advocacy, lobbying the administration, regulatory advocacy and media strategies.

So with this on-going perversion of the Founders best intents, and about which they voiced some concern regarding success, it should not be a surprise to witness appearance of organizations like AmericansElect that are committed to righting what has developed into a bad turn for our chosen form of government. As a passive but interested member, I am strongly advising against putting up a presidential candidate. That is not the center of the problem, and past experience with third party candidates can easily result in the lesser desirable contender gaining the presidency. President Obama has done quite well considering that he has been knee-capped by the opposition at almost every turn during his entire term of office. The problem lies in the evolved functional intransigence of the two party system. Were AmericansElect to concentrate on adjusting that situation by mainlining candidates so a third of the legislators would be independents, we would then see some changes.

BAYING AT THE MOON

I have written letters to Congressmen (and women) for many years concerning various issues on which I had opinion or suggestions. Now I am convinced that doing this is little more than an exercise in futility, judging by the content of the responses, if indeed there is a response at all. I suppose this must be the case for other letter writers as well. It seems to me the human equivalent of canines baying at the moon. Nothing satisfying comes back, though in the canine case it may be argued that the animal sustains an intense pleasure from their interaction with the moon. Not so with letters to Congress.

I can imagine stacked unanswered letters in a congressional office. A senior staffer passes them out to underlings for answering with maybe a guideline or two. What comes out in most cases hardly touches on the subject matter of my letter, and more often than not covers a subject not even mentioned by me.

Senator Boxer is notorious for ignoring the content of the letters she receives. Most replies boil down to: “Thank you for your letter. Let me assure you I will keep your views in mind in future Congressional activity. Meantime, please go to my website to see all the good things I am doing for my constituents and for America.”

To illustrate further: On August 29, 2011, I wrote a common letter to Senators Dianne Feinstein and Barbara Boxer of California and Senator Bill Nelson of Florida, along with copies of a Space News op-ed titled “Mission First, Then Heavy Lift,” that strongly questioned the wisdom of government investment in a heavy-lift space launch vehicle before a mission is defined for it. The reply from Senator Bill Nelson (Dianne Feinstein’s was similar) shows clearly how our representatives operate somewhere in a parallel universe.

Dear Senator Nelson:

The attached op-ed will appear in space publications in the next couple of weeks. I thought that you, Senator Barbara Boxer and Senator Dianne Feinstein would appreciate an advanced copy.

Before going ahead with funding a heavy-lift launch vehicle it seems imperative to define and approve a mission, or it will likely fall by the wayside in today’s tight budget situation. An approved mission that will require heavy-lift capability will ensure its development. I am a strong proponent of heavy-lift but without a mission it will be only a dream.

But there is a useful mission. As the article points out, without the Space Shuttle the International Space Station ( ISS is in a much weakened position. Were it to shut down sooner than planned, the United States could be looking at a 20 year hiatus before sending astronauts for prolonged service in Earth orbit again.

Everything points to a switch to something smaller than the ISS - multipurpose turnkey stations drawn from the Skylab design, weighing between seventy-five tons and a hundred tons.

Were we to move in this direction, a whole new world would open up. Instead of fielding only two or three astronauts at a time, which severely limits what can be accomplished, there will be hundreds, dedicated to scientific research, manufacturing and processing and even tourist destinations.

Moreover, the United States will move into a premiere position in space exploration and exploitation as a provider of turnkey stations to nations around the world. All this, plus a heavy-lift capability that can be applied to a wide variety of missions that include Lunar Base, Asteroid Landing, Manned mission to Mars, A space power prototype for beaming power to Earth, etc.

Sincerely,

Edward Hujsak

Senator Bill Nelson’s September 29 reply:

Dear Mr. Hujsak:

Thank you for sharing your concerns about our country’s human spaceflight programs. I want to assure you that the retirement of the Space Shuttle is not the end of the U.S. program, and we are going to continue to be world leaders in spaceflight. I have been working to provide NASA the direction and the funding they need to begin the next phase of space exploration. We will not take a back seat to Russia or any other nation in science and technology.

NASA just recently announced its plans to build a new monster rocket that will be the most powerful one ever created. It will carry our astronauts to deep space destinations in this decade and one day will take them to Mars. At the same time, NASA is helping four separate companies develop the next generation of rockets and spacecraft that will taxi American astronauts to and from the International Space Station ((ISS). The ISS was originally going to be cancelled in 2015, but thanks to legislation I led last year, it has been extended through 2020. That means we will continue to have presence of Americans in space through this decade.

I have been working with my colleagues to do everything we can to mitigate the impacts of the shuttle retirement to the Space Coast and the valuable work force that made that program possible. NASA’s announcement of their plans for the new heavy-lift rocket will provide stability to the aerospace work force and create jobs as the Kennedy Space Center is modernized. In addition, a non-profit organization based on the Space Coast will be managing research projects planned for the ISS. Projects like this will bring money, jobs and industry to diversify the economy of the Space Coast.

I will continue working with local leaders and community partners to bring in new opportunities by highlighting the concentrated, highly skilled work force that the Space Coast has to offer. If there is anything additional I can do to help, please do not hesitate to contact me.

Sincerely,

Bill Nelson

One might just as well bay at the moon.

Here’s something to think about. In the fifty years of manned space flight, summed up to a total of around 30,000 man-days, the United States averaged about one guy in orbit on continuous duty. How are we going to get anywhere in space at that rate?

And is it a surprise that Americans give Congress an approval rate around 10%?.

SILOS

This story was included in a book of anecdotes published by the Merrimack, NH Historical Society in 2008

Books have been written about American barns. Common folklore describes gatherings of neighbors on a summer day for a barn raising. While the men accomplished the job through a Herculean effort, womenfolk prepared food for a feast that was to ensue as evening approached, after which unspent energy was exhausted while dancing on the new barn floor. But building a silo is a different matter and you seldom hear about it. For one thing, they weren’t even around until the turn of the twentieth century when machinery became available for processing the crops to fill them, which was mostly corn and millet.

Driving across America, you see all kinds of silos, built of wood,, concrete, sheet metal, or ceramic blocks. By far the most impressive are the giant silos that stand clustered in the prairies, adjacent to railroad tracks, where grain is stored before shipment to the markets of the world. But the most numerous are the silos that are attached to dairy barns, built to contain cattle feed for the winter months.

I have a personal acquaintance with silos, but the story begins before I was born, on the New Hampshire farm where Ma and Pa raised their family.

On a sunny October morning in the mid-1920’s Pa drove away from the farm, seated on the wagon’s hardwood seat, urging his team of young, lively roans into a trot. A half dozen turkeys in the driveway scattered as the horses thundered toward them. There had been a frost, and the air shimmered in the purple haze that comes only in Indian summer. Poplars and birches and maples had dressed themselves in yellows and reds. The fields were shaven and browned, and the barn was filled with hay.

Ma watched from the kitchen door, holding a baby in a blue blanket on one arm until Pa reached the end of the long driveway and turned left onto Wire Road. She listened awhile to the pleasant sounds of the wagon wheels clacking back and forth on their axles, until those sounds too disappeared. She gazed fondly on three daughters, jump-roping to rhythmic chants on a sandy spot in the front yard. Then she returned to her chores in the kitchen.

Less than two miles distant, in a little settlement called Reed’s Ferry, but still a part of Merrimack, Pa reined the horses into the Gordon’s front drive, rounded the house and stopped at the side entrance. On the back of the wagon were two one-hundred pound burlap sacks of potatoes that Mr. Gordon had ordered.

Mr. Gordon was a highly respected man in Merrimack. His family underwrote the design and construction of Merrimack’s public library, a gem of a stone building that opened your eyes as you passed by. It has since been bastardized by an atrocious cement block and brick add-on, a product of good intents on the part of the town’s leaders, but reflective of Neanderthal design thinking during times when preservation of valuable architecture was just a budding idea.

Mr. Gordon came to the door when Pa knocked, balancing a sack of potatoes on his shoulder. He led him across the kitchen to the basement door, down the stairs and over to the vegetable cellar where cabbages, carrots, turnips, beets, apples and other fruits and vegetables were stored for the winter. Pa returned to the wagon to get the other sack, and then emptied both into a bin reserved for potatoes. The two men then returned to the wagon where Mr. Gordon retrieved a money clip from his pocket, peeled four ones from it, and handed them to Pa.

“You know, Stanley,” he said. “There’s a way for you to build a silo for your farm.”

“Ya, I like to build one,” Pa said. “But cost many dollar.”

“ I was thinking. We just finished building the new concrete water tower on McElwein Street. The old one was taken down. Good solid redwood staves. You could build a couple of silos out of them.”

Pa brightened. “You still got?”

“Yeah, they’re stacked up behind the new tower. We want to get rid of them.”

“How much cost?” Pa was hoping it was nothing. It might be worth it to the town fathers to have them hauled away.

“Oh, twenty-five dollars will do it.”

Pa didn’t have twenty five dollars, but he had eight dollars and fifty cents plus the four dollars Mr. Gordon had just paid him for the potatoes, and he had an idea. He dug down into his pockets and handed Mr. Gordon twelve dollars and fifty cents.

“I bring you rest,” he said.

The two shook hands, Pa jumped on the wagon and drove off toward home, taking the back way, where a short jog on a side road led to Viskin’s place. He hoped to find him at home.

Viskin was a jovial Ukrainian Kulak of diminished fortune who arrived in America at about the same time as Ma and Pa did. He lived on a small farm adjacent to a farm where Ma and Pa had first settled. He kept a few cows and other livestock and had a fair team of horses. Pa and Viskin were passing good friends, but there was a slight language problem. Pa couldn’t speak Russian, but Viskin had command of a somewhat fractured Polish. The two were thus able to get along. Ma never connected with Viskin’s wife, however, as neither spoke the other’s language.

Viskin brought to America the picturesque life of a Russian Kulak. On occasion in winter he would appear at the farm, bundled in a sheepskin coat, driving a one-horse sleigh, beside him a round of cheese or other spare foodstuffs. His family was small - ours was large, and the importance of sharing was taken for granted and appreciated. Pa and Viskin would enjoy a round of drinks in the kitchen, and then he would depart with bells ringing on his horse’s harness and red-trimmed sleigh and a wave of a mittened hand before disappearing from view.

Viskin was at home and together they drove to the water tower to inspect the lumber and hardware. The wood was flawless. California redwood staves almost three inches thick, six inches wide, and twenty feet long. There was indeed enough material to build two ten-foot diameter silos.

Viskin liked the idea of having a silo too, so he paid Pa twelve-fifty for his half and they agreed to jointly build two silos, one at Viskin’s’s place and one at our farm, both adjacent to their barns. So in a way they had a couple of silo raisings, topped by celebratory drinks at the conclusion of each job. But it was nothing like the legendary barn raisings of old.

I don’t know how many times Pa actually filled the silo. I have no memory of anything but an empty structure with a leaky roof, and years-old, dry corn shards on the concrete floor. It was a great place to play. The echoes in that empty chamber were something else. Then, in the late thirties, when we got into serious dairying on the farm, we began to fill the silo again.

World War II started. Half the family of twelve was called up or enlisted. At sixteen I was too young to enlist. I was the one left behind to help run the farm.

In the spring of 1944, when dairy farming was well underway, I got to talking to Pa about building a second silo and the subject of Viskin’s silo came up. Viskin was dead, but the silo still stood, with a caved-in roof. Pa offered the new owners of the farm twenty-five dollars for the silo. They wanted a hundred and Pa offered fifty, which they accepted.

Together we dug a four-foot deep hole, about eleven feet in diameter, located symmetrically with the old silo at the east end of the barn. We poured a concrete floor, then built forms for the round foundation. We poured more concrete and at last had everything ready for the erection phase. I then drove our Reo platform truck to Viskin’s place to get the old silo.

I had no idea how one should go about dismantling a silo, but I thought that if I knocked out the spacers between the doors, one at a time, the staves would collapse inward on themselves like a teepee and all the iron rings that held it together would simply pile up on the ground. I had a long ladder and climbed up it, knocking out the spacers with a sledge hammer until there was only one left at the top, holding the whole works together. I thought, “What have I done?” as I looked 20 feet down at the ground. But I plunged on, and with one blow knocked the last spacer out.

Just as I had thought, all the staves did collapse inward, leaving me standing at the top of a twenty-foot ladder that was leaning on nothing. What happened next was a feat that would have made performers at the cirque d’soliel proud. I dropped the hammer and made it to the bottom of the ladder safely, and to boot was able to grasp the ladder so it did not fall over.

Pa and I erected the silo over a period of two days. We then assembled the iron hoops that held it together every couple of feet, and tightened them securely. Then it was time to put on a roof, which Pa left for me to do. Pa didn’t like heights. I didn’t care for the round, pitched roof on the old silo, so I decided to build a gambrel roof, with two distinct pitches, in an octagonal shape. That looked so good that I decided to do the same on the old silo. After that, a white paint job on both structures brought the whole affair to a respectable conclusion.

So that’s the whole story of how the farm got its two silos. Maybe it was good training. A good part of my engineering career after college dealt with building underground silos for Atlas Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles.

Copyright © 2007 Edward Hujsak

BARBECUED CHICKEN

Backyard barbecue season is about over, but another one is just months away. I thought to share this superb recipe that has been in the family for generations.

Mix the following for a barbecue sauce:

One 14 oz. bottle tomato catsup

One large can diced tomatoes

¼ tsp tabasco sauce

1 tbsp horseradish

1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce

½ cup scallions – chopped

¼ cup chopped onions

¼ cup chopped green pepper

¼ cup vinegar

¼ cup olive oil

½ tsp sugar

1 ½ tsp salt

1/8 tsp fresh ground pepper

2 cloves garlic – crushed

In a deep pan submerge up to a dozen chicken breasts, boned or un-boned, in the sauce and marinate for six hours.

Before barbecuing, place the chicken breasts in a large baking dish and oven bake for30 minutes at 300 degrees. This shortens the time for barbecue and preserves the juices.

Barbecue over gas flame or charcoal for 30 minutes. Baste liberally with the sauce and turn every five minutes.