P. T. Barnum

P.T. Barnum was a master showman renowned for his ability to captivate audiences with sensational attractions. With his flair for promotion, Barnum created spectacles that combined entertainment and spectacle, drawing large crowds. He popularized the concept of the circus in America and introduced audiences to unique performers and exotic animals. Barnum's legacy endures as a pioneer of entertainment marketing and the embodiment of the phrase "there's a sucker born every minute."

Interestingly, there is no firm evidence that Barnum ever used the phase that is now so closely associated with him. But he did say this: “Money is in some respects life's fire: it is a very excellent servant, but a terrible master.”

—Mitchell Hegman

Long-Arm Toilet Paper

I measured the length of my arm, from the tip of my fingers to where it is attached to my (handsome) frame. We are looking at something just a bit over 2 feet. Normally, this is not something I concern myself with, but that changed the other day while staying in a room in Colstrip. That's when I discovered something of a design flaw that falls either on my arm or the designers of the bathroom there. Specifically, the toilet paper dispenser was half-recessed in the wall, something much closer to 3 feet from the edge of the toilet.

Of course, I didn’t notice this until after I sat on the throne.

It’s risky business, at best, to lean out and reach for toilet paper. I will spare all lurid and unnecessary details and simply say this: Two or three inches more of separation would have been devastating.

Sometime later, I asked Desiree if she noticed how far the toilet paper was from the commode. “Yes!” she exclaimed. “It’s across the room!”

A Long Short Walk

Yesterday, after I taught a Code-heavy continuing education class to a gathering of power plant electricians, Desiree and I piled all of my labs and materials into our car, and I drove some 6 hours to get back home. A profound exhaustion overtook me once I plopped down onto my sofa alongside Desiree to fully unwind. After sitting there for a few minutes, I extracted myself and started walking toward the kitchen to pour a glass of wine. After only a half dozen steps, I hit a wall. I turned Desiree with a sheepish grin and said, “Hey, hon, mind finishing my walk to the kitchen for me? I think I’m out of fuel here.”

—Mitchell Hegman

Philippine Cuisine

Montana will surprise you more often than not. Here is a case in point. According to the 2020 census, Colstrip supports a population of 2,096. Given that, the population of Pacific Islanders lands somewhere in the single digits. Even so, the small town of Colstrip has a Philippine restaurant named “Mabuhay,” a word meaning “welcome” in Tagalog, the national language of the Philippines.

Naturally, upon discovering a place with Philippine Cuisine in Colstrip (something we don’t even have in much larger Helena), Desiree and I were compelled to have dinner there. Upon arriving at Mabuhay, Desiree discovered that the restaurant owner hailed from Cebu, a city on an island next to the one from which she came.

Mabuhay proved to be clean and filled with sunshine. We enjoyed our meal, and Desiree was able to chat with the owner in both Tagalog and Bisaya. Good stuff, that.

Below are two photographs from our visit to Mabuhay.

Mabuhay

Desiree and The Owner of Mabuhay

—Mitchell Hegman

On the Road (Helena to Colstrip)

Yesterday, Desiree and I drove from Helena to Colstrip so I could conduct two days of training here. We drove Montana Highway 12, which at one time also served as Main Street for my hometown of East Helena. The route skirted alongside the Big Belt Mountains, and wound its way between the Big Belt, Castle, Crazy, and Big Snowy Mountains.  Just for your reference, that’s good stuff.

After emerging from the mountains, we sailed through a mix of open country and sometimes rugged and rocky landscapes carved into the spine of Montana by the Musselshell River.  A good portion of this is prime dinosaur fossil hunting country—also good stuff, just for your reference.

We eventually dropped down across the Yellowstone River and found our way to Colstrip. In total, we drove nearly 350 miles in about 6 hours. Though a bit snowy at times, Desiree and I enjoy the drive immensely.

On the Road

—Mitchell Hegman

Let’s go Golfing (Cindy is Super-Hot)

Text to Me: “Long time no see, do you have time to play golf tomorrow afternoon?”

My Response: “Wrong number?”

Text to Me (along with a sexy photo): “God, have you forgotten me? I’m Cindy, and this is me.”

My Response: “I don’t remember you, and I’m not a very good golfer, but I really want to go now.  Only thing is, you are going to need to clear it with my wife first.” 

No Further Messages.

—Mitchell Hegman

Montana in Brief

Montana is unique in that we have river systems that flow into the Hudson Bay in the far north, the Pacific Ocean, and the Gulf of Mexico. At the same time, Montana produced Evel Knievel, and it does whatever the hell it wants with the weather.

—Mitchell Hegman

Chaos

Following is a list of things certain to produce chaos:

• Offering free beer at any venue in East Helena, Montana.
• Building an Ikea bookcase that features more than three shelves.
• Spilling an entire box of tapioca pearls on the floor.
• Handing tambourines out to a class of first-graders.
• A gathering of three or more Filipinas (for any reason).
• Telling a group of electricians that the last one out the door has to dig a ditch.
• Moving a Starbucks drive-up location.
• Having the Chelsea soccer (football, if you must) team either win or lose a match.

—Mitchell Hegman

Something Albert Einstein Said

— “If you can't explain it simply, you don't understand it well enough.”

— “Any man who can drive safely while kissing a pretty girl is simply not giving the kiss the attention it deserves.”

— “Intellectuals solve problems, geniuses prevent them.”

The Scotch and the Lemon Tree

I am old and identify as an electrician. Both of these things predispose me to avoid change as I would a big aggressive spider.  But not long ago, I was gifted a bottle of Scotch that has instituted a change in my life. The Scotch, GlenDronach 12-year, has become my “must-have” bottle on hand. I have pushed aside the Balvenie 12-year Speyside single malt that has served as my standard for many years. That’s sort of a big deal; something akin to switching the brand of beer you drink or starting to favor the Cats over the Griz.

GlenDronach is a Highlands single malt Scotch matured in sherry casks for 12 years, then finished in American oak. It’s impressively smooth with a distinctly sweet finish. This is a change I can readily accept.

Simply because I have the capability to do so, I am posting a photograph of a bottle of GlenDronach standing alongside my lemon tree.

Cheers!

And let’s go Cats!

The Glendronach

—Mitchell Hegman

Montana’s Cold War Ghost Town

St. Marie, Montana, is an intriguing example of a modern-day ghost town. The town was established alongside Glasgow Air Force Base in faraway northeast Montana, which was established during World War II. The base played a significant role in the defense strategy of the United States during the Cold War era.

During its active years, Glasgow Air Force Base served as a Strategic Air Command (SAC) base, operating as a key component of America's nuclear deterrent. Its strategic location in northern plains of Montana made it a crucial hub for bomber operations and missile defense.

The Air Force base brought both people and economic prosperity to St. Marie. As geopolitical dynamics shifted and military priorities changed, Glasgow Air Force Base was ultimately closed in the early 1970s. The closure had a devastating impact on St. Marie, leading to a rapid decline in population and economic activity. Many residents left in search of employment elsewhere, and businesses shuttered their doors.

Today, St. Marie stands mostly as a modern-day ghost town, characterized by abandoned buildings, empty streets, and a palpable sense of loss. As of the 2020 census, the town supported a population of only 325. The remnants of its past glory; including derelict military facilities and neglected infrastructure, serve as poignant reminders of the town's former vibrancy. I have posted a link below for a video about St. Marie.

St. Marie, Montana (PHOTO: Sean R. Heavey)

—Mitchell Hegman

YouTube Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LhR2iTWvo30&t=192s

Prescribed Burning

The Forest Service is conducting prescribed burning in the mountains just southeast of my house. It’s a bit jarring to stand on my back deck and see huge arms of smoke reaching into the sky from the forests so near me. Such burns are a forest management tool intended to:

• Reduce hazardous fuels, protecting human communities from extreme fires.
• Minimize the spread of pest insects and disease.
• Remove unwanted species that threaten species native to an ecosystem.
• Provide forage for game.
• Improve habitat for threatened and endangered species.
• Recycle nutrients back to the soil.
• Promote the growth of trees, wildflowers, and other plants.

All good stuff, to be sure, but I still watch warily, thinking about some of my friends and how their “prescribed burns” ended up torching fences, adjacent fields, and a random shed now and then.

Smoke in the Mountains

—Mitchell Hegman

The Green Flare

Even now, as lingering patches of snow are yet receding in shaded prairie catchments and random places of shadow, deep green bitterroot rosettes have emerged where the late winter sun has regularly touched the earth. These modest plant formations, with their fleshy leaves arranged in perfect symmetry, embody nature's capacity to thrive in adversity. And a Montana winter and spring provide ample adversity in weather. Bitterroot is the very first plant to commit to fresh growth in our North Country spring. The weather can throw down what it will, and this low plant will thrive. Soon enough, this modest plant will produce and display our large and showy state flower.

Bitterroot Rosette (March 2024)

Bitterroot in Bloom (June 2023)

—Mitchell Hegman

The Mattress

Driving along and seeing litter snapping by me along the edge of the roadway distresses me. My way of addressing this is to collect and properly dispose of what litter I can. To this end, I regularly stop to pick up cans, bottles, and whatnot on the country road leading to my house.  I also collect litter along Lake Helena Drive and will grab litter elsewhere if it annoys me enough—especially big things such as whole bags or big boxes alongside the road.

A few days ago, I saw a mattress from a single bed lying conspicuously in the grassy barrow near the Masonic Home in the valley. Feeling sufficiently annoyed, I stopped and dragged the mattress up closer to the road. My intent being to toss it my truck the next time I drove the truck to town on that route.

Yesterday, I drove my truck by the place where I left the mattress and found that someone else had picked it up.

I love it when that happens!

—Mitchell Hegman

Little Miss Muffet

After witnessing a spider rapidly descend from the ceiling on a web not far from me, I thought about the old nursery rhyme 'Little Miss Muffet.' As you may recall, the rhyme goes something like this:

Little Miss Muffet

Sat on a tuffet,

Eating her curds and whey;

Along came a big spider,

Who sat down beside her,

And frightened Miss Muffet away.

After watching my particular spider drop into my hoya plant and scuttle away, I decided to amend the rhyme as follows:

Little Miss Muffet

Sat on a tuffet,

Eating her curds and whey;

Along came a big spider,

Who sat down beside her,

So, she squashed it dead.

—Mitchell Hegman

Game Trail

I followed a game trail into the hills of juniper and jack pine. The decision to follow the trail proved a good one. Produced almost entirely by deer, the trail charted the gentlest route through the glacially carved swells of earth and stone. I thought about my age as I walked. As defined by the number, I am what children have long defined as old. My face and hands wear the permanent scars of time. But I am upright and that is good enough for a walk in the hills.

After a time, I encountered a single chickadee. The bird alighted on a juniper not much more than an arm’s reach from me.

“I am happy to meet you,” I told the bird. “You are welcome to follow me along if you wish. But I must warn you, I am particularly self-absorbed today, and the deer are unwittingly guiding me.”

That said, the chickadee abandoned me with a half-dozen quick wing-beats. I walked on, taking the easy way as defined by deer.

—Mitchell Hegman

Memorial Services

On a day when the sun stands high and the righteous have marked their place by firmly planting flags at their feet, we commit our departed to the earth. This is done as it has always been done: in somber ceremony, with murmured supplications and clenched fists.

The deceased shall henceforth love us forever, and we them. Tomorrow, we will plant our grain and stack together the stones of our choosing. In the morrow, we shall dance with our young and begin anew, imagining for the whole time that we have a choice.

—Mitchell Hegman

Flight of the Bluebird

 Bluebirds display quick and distinctive flight patterns when they take to the sky. The patterns are easily recognizable from almost any distance. If their flight were translated into music, it would mirror the immediacy and intensity of "Flight of the Bumblebee." At the same time, bluebirds exhibit remarkable gracefulness in their movements—lifting, veering, swooping their elegant cursive-like signatures through the air.

Bluebirds also have the remarkable ability to hover in mid-air when they spy something of interest amidst the prairie grass below them. I cannot ignore the sight of a hovering bluebird. If I see one doing so, I am compelled to stop whatever thing I am doing so I can witness. To fly is one thing; to hover is another.

—Mitchell Hegman

First Bluebird

On Tuesday, March 19, 2024, spring will officially begin temporally, but in my exact corner of the universe, spring is official when I see the first bluebird freshly returned from overwintering in the south. As luck would have it, I spotted my first pair yesterday morning. They spent several minutes appraising my bluebird box, and I even managed to get a photograph of the pair at the box.

Welcome back, bluebirds!"

Bluebirds Checking Out the Nesting Box

—Mitchell Hegman

Salt

Amanda Ava Koci, known professionally as Ava Max, is an American singer and songwriter. Her song “Salt” is one of those songs that tends to catch my attention enough to make me stop and listen for at least a moment or two before I can go on again. I am sharing the acoustic version here today.

Video Link:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tZg_7s86Hho

—Mitchell Hegman

The Search for Gold

Montana is nicknamed the “Treasure State” for good reason. The state is home to significant mineral deposits, as well as the metals gold, silver, and copper. In addition, sapphires are found in abundance in several mountainous regions of the landscape. This moniker also reflects the state's flag motto, "Oro y Plata," meaning "Gold and Silver" in Spanish.

The city nearest me, Helena, sprouted from a gold strike and ensuing mining rush in the 1860s. To this day, some of us—my buddy Mark included—seek this precious metal. It is often wryly noted that “gold is where you find it.” In the case of Mark, he finds it in his living room—at least, that’s where he spends part of the winter months panning the paydirt he garners from various places.

On a recent visit to Mark’s place, he panned through a handful of “pay” for me. Impressively enough, he turned up a few flecks of color.

Mark Panning for Gold

A Little Color in the Pan

—Mitchell Hegman

Last Piece

Desiree and I just finished another 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle. The puzzle features a Thomas Kinkade Christmas scene. Putting in the last piece presented a problem I have never before experienced: the wrong piece was left for last.

This particular puzzle is of the type where the wrong pieces will fit together in certain wrong spots. Twice during the process of piecing together the scene, I had to remove the wrong piece from a place where it not only fit but also looked like it belonged.

In the end, the final piece fit (more or less), but the colors and patterns did not match. Desiree and I scanned the puzzle to see if we could find and swap it with the proper piece, but to no avail. I am sharing a couple of photographs to show you our dilemma.

The Entire Puzzle

The last Piece

—Mitchell Hegman

Surrounded

Some lucky people, by their own reckoning, are surrounded by guiding angels that keep them safe as they bumble through life. Others believe they are surrounded by positive energy which shields them from turmoil.

Me?

I have a bunch of tiny, tiny flies circling around me for no apparent reason.

—Mitchell Hegman

1977

First of all, for all you newcomers, 1977 was an actual year. It occurred back in the last century. Some important stuff occurred in 1977: Elvis Presley died, the first of what appears to be an endless string of Star Wars movies debuted, and Farrah Fawcett was a blonde goddess. Also, in the spring of that year, I started working as an apprentice electrician.

Mind you, I am not equating my beginning an apprenticeship with the debut of Star Wars, but I will say this: 1977 sure was a long time ago, and Farrah Fawcett was pretty hot for not being Salma Hayek.

—Mitchell Hegman

Wendy

Wendy is a cow. She is currently the mother of newborn twins and is hanging out in the calving corral at the 4R Ranch with her little ones. Wendy is pretty good-looking for a cow. I think Walt Whitman once said a nice thing about cows, so complimenting a cow is not without precedence. I also captured an image of Wendy standing below a row of weird icicles hanging down from the roof of the calf shelter, and I am sharing that here today.

Wendy

—Mitchell Hegman

Thomas Kinkade (Darkness Behind the Light)

Few artists have reached the commercial success level of Thomas Kinkade. His idyllic landscapes adorned the walls of countless homes across America, with an estimated one in twenty households boasting at least one of his pieces of art. Kinkade's appeal lay in his ability to capture a sense of nostalgia and tranquility, often depicting cozy cottages, serene gardens, and glowing streams bathed in the soft light of dawn or dusk. Despite criticism from some quarters for his sentimental style, Kinkade's popularity endured.

Behind the scenes, as is often the case, darkness gripped the artist. Kinkade battled personal demons, including alcoholism and financial troubles. Tragically, his life came to a premature end in 2012 when he died at the age of 54. His death was attributed to an accidental overdose of alcohol and Valium, shedding light on the struggles he faced despite his outward success. Thomas Kinkade's legacy as the "Painter of Light" lives on through his art, but his untimely demise serves as a poignant reminder of the complexities that often lie beneath the surface of seemingly charmed lives.

Everett's Cottage (Thomas Kinkade)

—Mitchell Hegman

Not Good

Following is a list of things that qualify as “not good':

• Rebuilding an engine and then, just before trying to start it, finding a small box of parts from the engine you forgot to use.
• Waking to the sound of running water in your bedroom.
• Ordering a Merlot in Pinot Noir country. (NOTE: I sort of did just that once… but only once.)
• Juggling expense account numbers when you are heading to an audit.
• Asking me for the correct spelling of words over three letters in length.
• Singing in public the same way you sing in the shower.
• Adding salt.
• Watching your rear wheel pass you while driving down the highway.

—Mitchell Hegman

Note to Desiree

Let’s not fall in love this time, Honey. Instead, let’s just run toward it full-tilt. We already know how good it is and I like the way you run. 

—Mitchell Hegman

Product Placement

Product placement in movies and television programs has been going on for some time and is generally not so overt as to battle you. This is not the case of a “reality” program Desiree and I have been binge-watching. The program, Season 6 of “Love is Blind,” was filmed in the Dominican Republic and at various locations in Charlotte, North Carolina.

Location matters because the product is stridently conspicuous at virtually every location. The product in this case is gold stemless wine glasses. They turn up at every location and in nearly every scene.

“What is the deal with the gold glasses?” I asked Desiree after watching a couple of episodes. By the fifth or sixth episode, I found spotting the wine glasses as interesting as the program storylines.

Apparently, I am not alone in getting distracted by the glasses. When I googled a question about them, I found this: “The answer isn't as complex as you might think: The show's creator, Chris Coelen, noted that the gold wine glasses simply serve as a visual reminder to viewers that they're watching Love Is Blind, and they help the show stand out from other series.

Stemless Wine Glasses

—Mitchell Hegman

Chickadee Reflections

The chickadees have taken to flapping up against the glass of my back door to get my attention. They want me to crush fresh walnuts into the palm of my hand and feed them.

I can hardly refuse.

These birds are the children of the children of the children of the children of the first pair to befriend me. I have not bothered to name any of these birds. To me, they are all simply “Hello Chickadee.”

I see the chickadees only in the morning hours; I never dream of them, and I don’t question their motives. I will say this: they stay for the entire Montana winter, which is admirable if not a little silly. When the weather finally turns for the better this spring, I am considering taking a book of Richard Hugo’s poems outside so I can read a few verses aloud for the chickadees.

Birds understand the music in words.

—Mitchell Hegman

The Long Shadow

Only in dying light

does the silhouette of a lone pine tree

stretch across the entire open plain.

The shadow reaching out to take measure

 and to touch, ever so lightly,

distant earth the tree’s roots will never taste.

The shadow of the tree,

for a brief time,

more imperative than the tree itself.

—Mitchell Hegman