Trip Trauma and Trip Karma

Once I begin thinking of all the Trip stories it's hard to let them go without recounting another one.

Like how Trip became traumatized to loud and sudden noises and will forever be frightened of thunderstorms. When Trip was a very young dog, probably less than one year, he and Angie lived in a house on the edge of a lake about 30 feet below a steep and shear cliff. One summer afternoon a very young girl whose parents lived in a house on the cliffs edge above where Angie's house was located was playing and exploring. Soon she was behind the steering wheel of an old abandoned truck near the cliffs edge, and as she was imagining driving this old truck she managed to mash the clutch in and allowed the truck to roll uncontrollably over the edge of the cliff. The truck came crashing down the thirty foot cliff and landed upside down on its top near Angie's house and Trip's outdoor enclosure (please note the PC "enclosure", rather than the tacky word "pen", as I am working through my negative Trip Karma). Thankfully, the young girl recovered from her scrapes and bruises without any serious consequences. But Trip was not so lucky. He is traumatized to this day by that sudden crash and noise and is unable to keep from cowering in a corner everytime a thunderstorm rolls through the area.

But now to the Karma.

I had always thought that since I was building fence on the ranch when I was diagnosed with Testicular Cancer that fence building was a cause of cancer (not very scientific or logical I know, but it's one of the ways I deal with the randomness of it). And I had never made any connection between Trip's "surgery" and mine until I watched a few episodes of Earle on television. And then, there it was, clear as a cold winter night. I remembered recommending to Angie that she should consider having Trip "fixed" in order to mellow out his temperment and curb his enthusiasm. Of course, it wasn't the fence building that caused the cancer that led to the surgery, it was Trip Karma. So, now I'm on a quest to make it up to Trip somehow, to get the karma right. An implant maybe? They do that now you know. One thing I can do though, stop calling him by that Spanish nickname I gave him - "no mas dos"...even though in fun they still call me "uno". That's got to be good karma.

I Sent Trip To Boot Camp

Boot camp is a place. When I first heard the word boot camp it was a term that got its meaning from the war years. It described the anvil where the military took green young boys and forged them into fighting men. A noble process of passage into manhood. But like many words it has morphed and serves us with a variety of other meanings. Today it can mean a resort where people go to solve a weight problem. Or, a juvenile detention facility where society hopes to accomplish a redemptive process for troubled young men and women.

And so, I thought I would send Trip to boot camp. You may think it a stretch, but it seemed a good fit for Trip and for me. He was at that critical stage in life where he had not yet shed that puppy adolescence and had all that bottled up enthusiasm for life in a gangley and powerful one-hundred-pound frame. Lovable yes, manageable no. And since Angie had left him in my care I thought the timing was perfect and my purpose noble. Of course, finding suitable boot camp facilities in the Quanah area required some imagination. Eventually I settled on the idea that Trip would make a good farm dog and I soon found a local farmer-rancher who needed a watchdog at his remote and uninhabited farmhouse. So Trip was off to boot camp. This has got to be one of my greatest feats of "win-win" solution making. Or so I thought. Almost immediately phone reports were pouring in of a large black dog ranging across the western areas of Hardeman County. Miles apart and away from his new farm home and guard dog duties. And soon reports were coming back to me that Trip was a tireless pursuer of porcupines and skunks and who knows what else. The skunks were a lesson learned quickly; however, as strange as it seems, Trip found the porcupines irresistible. Trip would be found pawing his face which was swollen twice its normal size from the embedded quills, whimpering at his self-inflicted wounds. Not just once, not just twice, but at least three times Trip had to be taken to the vet by his new guardian to have the wounds treated. And so it was that three times turned out to be the charm as they say for Trip. His new guardian declared that Boot Camp was not the right place for Trip. He was just too enthusiastic and energetic to be a companion for the young grandchildren he explained and the farm was just too much freedom for Trip's own good. So Trip returned home to my back porch. His spirit was undiminished and physically he was thin and lank and scarred and muscled; with a toothy smile that said he had graduated from Boot Camp and that I better not think of asking him to go anywhere other than the back porch...or home with Angie. And so that is how this episode ended. Of course, Trip is more wary now of who I introduce him to and he gets very nervous and agitated when Angie leaves him alone with me. But, with the same bent he had in chasing porcupines, he keeps coming around with tail wagging and eyes that say all he wants is a friendly pat on the head and that all is forgiven. The same I expect of many that get home after Boot Camp.

I Haven't Cried Over A Dog Since Seeing The Movie Old Yeller...

but, I'll shed plenty of tears when "Trip" is no longer looking towards the door to see Angie come to greet him. I had not thought much in that regard until I arrived home ahead of Vickie and Angie following our Thanksgiving travel and saw Trip standing at the lattice porch. His muscles taunt with anticipation and his eyes full of anxiety about why it was only Old Bill and not Angie that climbed out of the truck; and then he let out a whimper that made me feel it was absolutely necessary to explain to him that she was coming too and it would only be a little while yet. It was then I began to think about the deep affection I felt for this dog and how sorry I felt that I might have ever said a cross word to him or about him. It was then I realized that I loved Trip and why; that I loved him because he loved Angie and was simply never content unless she was where he could get up and come over to where he could get Angie's attention while looking for some approving word or gesture. I'm going to appreciate Trip more from now on and I'm going to treat him more kindly instead of that frequent cursory growl about staying off of me and not getting his nose against my pants. I'm going to appreciate him all the more now that I understand he's family.

Long Time No Blog

If it's said, it's not true. I have not been on a drinking binge and unable to write a blog entry since we voted to go "wet".

Not Particularly Different

Vickie and I had met at Red's tonight to get a quick evening meal before going on to Wednesday night church services. It was a different day today like every day is different. But yet the same, because it's just life, always moving and always bringing some variation of life's refrain.

The family had one of its children give birth to a child today. Not particularly different.

I learned that Ken's Restaurant closed Monday with plans to re-open as a liquor store. Not particularly different in today's society; but, a shock. It's just not right for a Dairy Mart to grow up and become a liquor store.

My doctor's office called during that meal Vickie and I were having tonight at Red's. I thought that was different. The report from my most recent CT Scan indicated no changes, no recurrence of cancer. Not particularly different thankfully. It's a part of life now. Difficult to feel comfortable with and not a welcome guest; but, you make room and you accomodate. It was 2 years ago almost to the day that I finished the radiation treatments following the surgery to remove the cancer. I'm different now - I won't ever be the same; but that's not particularly different.

Alchomania

The election has settled it. Hardeman County has voted to go "wet", as they say, and I'm somewhat baffled at all the excitement over it. Where's the fun in being able to openly buy liquor here at home. No more cat and mouse games for the local youth in dodging the local law officials and no more careful clandestine "spiritual" purchases at area town liquor stores and bars by the cloak and dagger religiously challenged. And what about my own heritage which has been rumored to have had connections to the "bootleg" economics of our earlier 20th century history. Why, I've been known to indulge in economics myself, having majored in the field in college. And what about the lore of past indulgences at "trash hill". It just won't be the same. Oh well, economics always wins out in this life.

I'm considering closing down my blog and reopening as an online liqour store.

But, it seems too serious for me. No amusement value.

I Never Dated A Virgin (Says The Bachelor)

Okay, that's almost more than I can take in one TV viewing evening. Sadie telling The Bachelor that she hopes he doesn't think she's wierd, but she is "saving herself" for marriage and he responds that he would have never asked her that personally; but, he's glad she shared that with him. And then, he says "I never dated a virgin". Yea, you heard that right, I never dated a virgin. Wow, I mean this is some great television. Who would have thought that California would have allowed Sadie to hale from there professing that kind of neo-conservative core belief system. No wonder they have earthquakes out there. And to round out the drama, the Italian prince has to break hearts with sensitive rejection and continue to select dates from a bevy of young needy career women who will pull off all tops - Oops!, I meant pull out all stops - to get the rose. And, then comes the cliff hanger, if they don't get the rose not only do they cry real tears, they lash out with a little venom about the other contenders. It takes years off my life - all the way back to Junior High!

Find Your Niche in the Solution Process

One of the first steps I want to take is to confirm what local history is or is not being incorporated in the community school history and government classrooms. If I was a "half-empty" glass guy, I would put my money on nada. But who knows, there may be a whole six week period committed to the historical significance of the Jerry Bywaters mural on the upper West wall of the US Post Office in downtown Quanah depicting scenes of Quanah area history and what the WPA and related government programs meant to the lives of artists such as Bywaters during the depression era and how that gives Quanah a "one up" over Houston who did not have any better judgement than to bulldoze the building that held their Bywaters' mural. To say nothing of what those government programs meant to the lives of the families and men who built the city park and many other construction projects here and across the nation and what part the relative government policies and economic conditions in the country played in the events of the times. I will also inquire if there are lesson plans that include more than a fly-by study of the westward advance of the railroad that spurred the development of the town of Quanah. And what about Quanah Parker, who was a leader of his people in the great transition from a nomadic tribal society to a society of interconnected agrarian and industrial based economic settlements supporting the growth of a nation. What about J.L. Elbert and the ranchers and businessmen whose lives gave breath to our spirit in this place. What about the Quanah Tribune Chief? What about the history of the Oil Mill (ADM)and the QA&P RR and the Acme gypsum plant and mines? The examples can go on and on, but I think I have made my point. There is enough history relative to our lives today to instill a fierce spirit of community in our young people and to spark their imaginations which can generate the necessary economic climate to regenerate us and sustain us here in this place. We have so much to work with and so much to work for...I'm going to take that first step; find your path and take your step too.

The Problem - A Matter of Heart and Home

I know I have neglected you, my blaudience; but, like me, I know you understand how demanding work can be of our time. So, no apology on that count.

Now, down to the business at hand. I've been thinking of what can be done at a grass roots level to foster a renewed sense of community spirit and pride that is constructive and meaningful. And I would quantify and define constructive and meaningful for example, as fewer blighted and neglected properties, more businesses and a propensity for individual activism in supporting an interest in the welfare of the community and its citizens. Specifically, young people, students, who are committed and vested in being active in local government because they have learned and experienced how local government operates and the potential for good that it holds for members of our local society and for them personally. Why young people and students? Because they are the ones whose economic and social needs are not being met at a local level and who don't know for example, that they can demand bond elections to support the community services and quality of life that makes them proud of their community and makes this community home. Home where there is not just history and memory but sustenance and shelter and comfort and a fertile environment for growth of economy and ideas and families. I think I am accountable to them about this; I think you are accountable to them too. Do they have reponsibility in this framework? Certainly, and they will respond and they will be responsible if they are taught and they are encouraged and they are held accountable.

Answer to Words...as a reader responded

If you move the first letter to the end and read backwards it becomes the same word.

Word Work

Brain teaser from a friend...

See If You Can Figure Out What These Words Have In Common.......


Banana
Dresser
Grammar
Potato
Revive
Uneven
Voodoo
Assess

Look at the words carefully and post your answer. I'll give the answer in a few days.

Big Bang No Longer Theory

Saturday, August 25, 2006 began quietly enough. The automatic coffee maker gurgling and rumbling and hissing; the faint buzz of a distant lawnmower. I methodically went about gathering up what I would need for the day. I didn't want my leaving to alarm the brunette still asleep. Even though we had discussed it for days, I knew she would be anxious about the outcome. It's her way.

Moments later it happened. Just as it had been planned for weeks perhaps months.

Gunfire, tentative at first, but quickly becoming more regimented, ripped through the cool August morning not to end till late afternoon. It was a day that will not be forgotten easily.

It was the second annual Hardeman County 4-H sporting clays shoot. A fund raiser for a great program. Thanks to all for a fun day.

Paranoia? Paranormal? Pluto?

Will they never stop! The risk to civilization was heightened this week when the planet(we thought!)Pluto was benched by psuedo-scientist in an obviously Al Queda backed move to undermine those teaming masses who continue to claw their way out from under the crush of mistrust. I was just regaining enough trust to re-commit after "big brother" dashed my idealism in the Vietnam Era. And now this! Why couldn't they just burn the tapes or whatever that gave evidence of Pluto's lagging gravitational pull? These people won't get me I tell you. Why, I suggest that they're from a galaxy far far away - one where they can't even count out change without a calculating cash register.

Why, my generation, we went to the moon. Didn't we? I saw it on TV! I saw it on TV!

What a Song! What a Redhead!

I haven't seen a redhead sparkle like that in Quanah since Bonnie Gaye twirled three glitter batons at one time in the state twirling contest. Cara Daniel as Louise was great and she wasn't even the leading-role star of "Always...Patsy Cline". That staring role as Patsy Cline was played by Linda Gooch of the Childress Theatre Company and she presented Patsy Cline through her songs in one of the most enjoyable evenings Vickie and I have had in the Quanah area in a long time. It was fast paced and kept your interest from start to finish. And talk about local talent! Which is it Bill Price, great comedian or talented steel guitar player? The live band gave the setting a great feel and the production should be seen by everyone interested in a fun-filled musical evening or matinee performance. The only uncomfortable moment I experienced was when I thought Louis was going to pick me out of the audience as a dance partner. And regrettably, after thinking about it, that would have been fun too. Do yourself a favor and go see it; and, don't hesitate about the facilities. The sound and lighting systems are first rate this season and the newly reworked air-conditioning distribution system made the building very comfortable. Thanks to all at Pease River Productions and to Norma Trolinder for a great evening at the Goodlett Gym.

New Era - No Imposing Edifices Here

Quanah City Hall is continuing to see the results of cost-effective upgrades to the new facility. Learning in a course on architecture that the purpose of imposing architectural edifices for public government and banking buildings is to instill a feeling of faith and confidence in citizens, I know I'm pumped! Aren't you?

But maybe these are students of the architectural school of function.

I Don't Remember Him Being At Lunch

Next?

During lunch some months ago, when the city council races were still unsettled, there was talk of organizing a group to fund a 501c3 to buy up the old abandoned properties in town and create clean open spaces that would then be available for future development and use under a forward-looking master plan for the community (Master Plan as in the one formulated and published for Quanah by the "Big Timber" back in the 1960's). It is an idea of merit. Now, I know it would require burdensome permits and resource allocation discussions since we would be tampering with the habitat of various rodents and reptiles and other players in that particular hierarchy of the food chain. But we could do it. And, I know we are a rural farming community and many feel we need our animals with us here in town. But I hold to the statement made by Mrs. Koch (a formidable Community Advocate) at a city council meeting many years ago, and I quote - loosely, from memory, "farms are for farm animals, communities are for people who want to live together in a community setting and not on the farm".

But, getting back on my main point by reference in the title... as the photo clearly shows, this guy is getting it done and I don't even remember seeing him at lunch.

That's What I'm Talking About!

Waiting On The Resurection

Being in the area of my favorite neighborhood I just wanted to take a moment and note that it has probably been well over ten years, give or take, since this once well-maintained home was destroyed by fire. And, since the feelings I have about my hometown run so deeply that it borders on a religious experience, I could not resist this image with the "cross" in the foreground.

It makes me a little uncomfortable in my pew.

Skunk Not Playing Possum

It was confirmed today that "Treads" the skunk was not playing possum but was actually dead. Saturday, August 5, 2006, was the first day that Treads was noticed lying motionless in the North lane of 3rd Street and after several random observations through Tuesday August 8, 2006 ample time had passed for citizens to declare Treads dead rather than carry on with the thought that Treads was playing possum. This line of thinking growing out of the resulting confusion that no offical government action had been taken up to 2:30pm Tuesday.

And It's Not Just The Lake...The Club Has Turned Over Too

I also remember from times past when I would walk up to the porch at the golf shop at the Country Club or near the putting green; it had a different and distinct flavor too. I'm sure it was the time in my life interacting with the time of their lives like the thermal layers of the lake. But there was a different spirit at work. While it was somewhat intimidating to confront these characters in their lair, it wasn't distasteful to me. In fact, I aspired to be one of those characters. Why? Because they were captains in the community, because they were generally successful businessmen, because they were schoolboard members, because they seemed to belong there as a respite from doing something significant for themselves and the overall good. I mean, rather than just hanging out and drinking beer with no intent to do much more than the same near term or long term. That's distasteful to me too and it just doesn't seem right.

Now, were these captains all worthy of admiration in every respect? Of course not!

Do we have some of those captains around today that still frequent the club? Of course!

But I'm ready to make the seasonal change and complete the cycle and return the waters to a pleasant and pleasing tasteful state of equilibrium. It just seems better for us all.

Is that distasteful?

The Lake Has Turned Over

I remember from times past when seasons would change from winter to spring or summer to fall that as I turned on the tap for a drink of water it would have a different and distinct taste or sometimes an odor. And while it would satisfy my thirst, it would not be pleasant or pleasing. Science can explain this change of course by observing the reaction between the epilimnion and hypolimnion layers of water within the reservoirs where we store our drinking water. But my experience with this phenomenom doesn't require a high level of science. It's simply distasteful and I don't want to necessarily care why beyond that. It just doesn't sit well with me. You know, it just doesn't seem right.

Amen! To Change.

I fancy myself to be open to change where it's appropriate; but, religious matters are very complex and deep-seated and must be approached very carefully.

For example, I suggested to the preacher that no one voices approval and agreement with a vocal, Amen! like in times past. And not wanting to be the kind that grouses without making some positive offering of a solution, I told him that sometime soon I was going to make it a point to sit up in my pew, raise my arm high in gesture, and shout out a hardy "You The Man!"

Civilian Death Count

CNN reports in it's scroll, "Lebonon says 82 civilian deaths this week". FOX fills its crawl space with an Israeli outcry concerning the kidnapping of 2 of its soldiers and the unprovoked missle attacks. They hit me first! one yelps, while the other whines that they were minding their own business when this big bully pushed them with their big American fighter jets.

If it wasn't so deadly, if it wasn't so endless, if it wasn't so senseless we could just spank these little brats. But we've let them go too long. Boot camp won't scare them at this stage, a probated sentence won't shake them to their core and set them back on the right track. They're too old now...no longer the little train that could; now they're the runaway train that would. Would what? Would rather stay off the track careening wildly through civilized societies hurting, maming, destroying everything in their path; wherever that is leading. Who are they? Radical extremists? Well, extremists for certain; but radical? No, not in my opinion. There is nothing new or transforming in a positive way about these cruel and lawless criminals. They are simply unattended children who have grown into religous fanatics who never learned the golden rule and don't care about the golden rule.

After-thought...
These murderers, these pervayers of racial hatred march through the news reels in ridiculous postures like a formation of frenzied Meerkats driven by some animalistic instinctive impulse to satisfy a bloodlust that no sane person can understand. But I know CNN will explain it to us, and explain it to us, and explain it to us, and explain it to us, and explain it to...

It's Junky Town - But It's My Town

I rolled into town just as I have a thousand other times, coasting down from the current speed limit in my car or truck. Heading for my garage and my own little piece of paradise. And like all the other times, I ask myself why? Why live in the midst of the accumulating heaps of salvaged car and truck parts, scavenged and scraped, with the remains cast aside to host the weeds and shelter whatever small animals are looking for a home. Why live in a town where the only positive growth rate is in ramshackled houses and unmanaged vacant property and cemetary plots. Where every view in any direction is populated by the individual expressions of "my property rights" and the testimony of a philosophy that says "I want it all now; but I can't afford any of it yet". And it's not limited to the city limits boundaries. Even the major highways choking traffic down through town are being lined with ranchettes and hobby farms. It's a ground-swell of momentum towards helpless and hapless mediocrity and ambling aimless vacuous senseless posing. It's no longer about managing a burgeoning community of common interests powered by an advancing railroad and an expanding agricultural economy. It's no longer about bettering one's self. It's all about being yourself - whoever that is. To paraphrase the Pogo line, "I have seen the enemy, and he is me."

So, where does that leave me? Pockets empty of solutions? Maybe for now, but I haven't given up yet. I can still walk on the same sidewalk where I learned to ride my bicyle as a small boy and walk atop the remaining portions of the rock fence built by the WPA to surround the city park they had built for the community. For themselves. I can still go in the post office building and wonder at the Jerry Bywaters mural depicting the changing times of the early 20th century and the areas economic engines driving a sense of progress and hope. There must be value in that brand of nostalgia. There must be a spark in that rubbish pile. There must be a useful part in that junk heap. A building block.

To Steven at CaringBridge

Steven...thank you for your willingness to serve and the sacrifice you made and have been called to carry out. I don't know your religious beliefs but I know that men of all times have read the Bible and found it to be great in terms of literature and wisdom for living life with faith and hope. And with that as a preface, I would share what I think is one of the great stories of the Bible - the story of Job. We are always told of the patience of Job, and he certainly had that characteristic; but, I think Job offers more than simply the patient endurance of unbelievable personal tragedy. His was a more complex story of knowing he had not done anything to deserve his great loss. It is a story of taking positive action to live with hope and faith and integrity in the face of great physical and emotional obstacles. And discouragement from accusers who did not understand his firm hold on his own integrity in knowing that he had done no great wrong, but was upright in his life. I encourage you to make this your story too and to live your life as a good example to us all. And, when you have overcome and have found the blessing that is hidden in this life you are destined to lead; that you will look back and say with Job: "...when he hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold." Job 23:10.

Hey Dad, Give Me A Hand

I spent the last week of March in Mexico on business. The next week dad died. It was that abrupt and that rude. That's the way death always is I think. Unexpected even when it has served notice that it's near and in my experience it is like birth in that it requires effort. I was able to hold vigil at his bedside for two days and sort through the memories and carefully arrange those that were the best. I was able to tell him he had done well and that all was well and that he could let go of this life. But he still fought hard. I held his hand for several hours and found that when I would start to let go that he was holding onto my hand. Surprising in strength I thought at this point; and I was glad, thinking how I appreciate a strong handshake. And I remembered the times in my childhood when I held his hand while learning to ride the new Schwinn or walking the narrow bridge across the channel at Lake Pauline while fishing. I am glad I could hold his hand now when he needed it and I hope that it gave him the assurance that I felt when he would hold mine then.

Blog Work

I never imagined that blogging could be work. It's like one more thing to do in a jam-packed schedule and it's my fault! Why should I feel responsible to post a blog entry when I created the blog. No one asked me to blog. No one is paying me to blog. No one is making me blog or else. I could delete the blog; but I won't. And, I do feel a responsibility since I haven't posted since last month. It must be that I think I have something to say. True, I think I do have thoughts that are important enough to share; but, it seems a little arrogant. It's like my Sunday Morning Bible Class. I can't imagine why more people don't attend; the material is best-seller and I have a great presentation most times. That's arrogant enough I think; and sufficently wordy for this posting. So, I'll leave the rest to those who want to ponder...

Upset

It's still more than 24 hours until Oscar night and the crescendo of anticipation and excitement is building. Will Crash upset Brokeback Mountain? This morning there seems to be a shift in momentum reported by those who are manning the Red Carpet posts. One explosive report after another is being registered. I hope they all have been issued flak jackets... especially the back flap version. Which issue based film in this cinematic civil war will survive? Will it be racism? Will it be homosexuality?

All this points to the fact that the entertainment industry suffers an identity crisis. Evidently, entertainment value is not meaningful enough for the film industry. They must promote some issue it seems to feel they have any value.

I'd much rather have entertainment. Give me a movie that entertains - escapism - that's for me. I have enough issues and I understand my reality. Give me a break too, John!

Chief Drive-In Theatre

There is a lot of charm for me in living in my hometown. Usually I take it for granted, but on occasion I realize while driving to the local Post Office or through town that I often unconciously pass by several points that hold much meaning for me. It could be a particular tree or stretch of sidewalk that holds a specific memory or a jumble of memories of life in Quanah. But, one of those places that is quickly desintegrating into oblivion is the Chief Drive-in Theatre. It's remaining structures are located at the far west end of Quanah out past the compress and loop road towards Acme. I can see it out across my backyard and field anytime that I choose to look, but most of the time it takes some prompt for me to notice. I was reminded of it tonight when I came across a Website lamenting the passing of the old theatre. Even more surprising, I never thought of the old theatre while having lunch today with Doug Worley. His mother and father operated The Chief during my younger years.

Neopolitan Stress

I know life is great here in rural Texas. But, it's not without its awkward moments. Vic went to the store this evening but didn't get Neopolitan Ice Cream - she thought Vanilla would be less stressful for me. It's wonderful to be cared for in such a meaningful way, but it's hard on my self-esteem to think that Neopolitan Ice Cream could be too complex for my skills set.

Out

Planning towards another business trip out of the country soon. Not too difficult a place, but culturally different enough to make it very interesting. I don't watch the major network news reports as often when I am thinking of travel out of the US. It's much like watching the weather reports and forecasts of winter storms when I was driving to the Northern Plains and Rocky Mountain States during the 1980's. The conditions are described in such dramatic and global terms that you have difficulty making yourself leave the motel room and head into the teeth of a winter storm. But, leaving to travel home, now that was and is another story - no hesitation ever about heading home.

Initial Blog Building

It's all about structure now...substance waits...issues come and go.