Return to Chickamauga

          In two weeks’ time your loyal blogger will visit the Chickamauga National Military Park in Georgia. The Park is a handful of miles from Chattanooga, Tennessee and it is easy to stay in Chattanooga when visiting the battlefield.

          Fired up? You bet. The folks at the CNMP are very hospitable and the battlefield itself is fascinating. This is the first of two planned visits to Chickamauga this year.

The top of Horseshoe Ridge today.

          The ultimate goal is to understand and document the movements of a group of Confederate soldiers during the battle, which lasted three days. Most historians say Chickamauga was contested over two days, September 19 and 20, 1863, but the fighting actually started on the 18^th and we call it a three-day battle.

          The Confederate unit under the Speedylee microscope is Hilliard’s Legion. The Legion was primarily made up of Alabamians, with a few stout lads from Georgia, and was a part of Brig. General Archibald Gracie’s Brigade. Gracie’s Brigade did not enter the fighting until the final few hours of the battle, but the Legion saw some of the most savage killing of the war. Theirs is a compelling story.

          The Confederate attack on Horseshoe Ridge lasted most of the afternoon of the 20^th. Gracie and his men did not move to the sound of the guns until about 4:30 p.m. What they accomplished in the following 90 minutes has been acknowledged by historians, but not written about in depth.

          Until now.

The marker for the 63rd Tennessee, a regiment that was
part of Gracie's Brigade at Chickamauga and was on
Gracie's far right as the Brigade attacked the Ridge.

The research is reaching critical mass, meaning it just can’t go any further without the walking, measuring and figuring that has to be done on the grounds to insure the research is accurate.

          Better to be proved wrong now, you figure, than later when it might be embarrassing.

A close view so the reader can
read the 63rd Tennessee's
marker.

          With the help of an experienced guide, Gracie’s movements will be followed from the time his men crossed the Chickamauga on the night of the 18^th until the shooting stopped after dark on the 20^th.

          There are a lot of questions to answer. The only way to answer those questions is to walk the history.

 

          Thanks for reading.

Near Lee and Gordon's Mill. At one time or another, nearly every
 regiment involved at Chickamauga passed by this spot. No real
historic importance except that I like this shot and I
 hope you like it, too.

The bird that did not fly south

One of the great truths in life is that bad decisions later turn into great stories.

          Assuming that you live, of course. I mean, Charles Lindbergh was the first pilot to have a good story about flying across the Atlantic. Several other pilots failed to bring their stories to life after attempting to cross the pond before Lindy got it done. I’d love to hear Amelia Earhart’s story about trying to find Howland Island, but I’ll have to read the story of the US Navy ship that sat there waiting for her instead.

          You know how it goes: One decision follows another, leading to a conclusion and then, POOF! You have a good story.

          Take, for example, the bird I saw in front of the condo this week. It is not clear why this bird did not fly south with all the other wingers last fall. Maybe this little bird-brain had an ex-girlfriend, a chick so to speak, that headed south and he decided not to go. Maybe warmth bores him.

          This idiot bird was sitting in a tree with no leaves, while snow cluttered the little branches.

          No, of course I don’t know what kind of bird this thing was. I know it was not a Philadelphia Eagle or Arizona Cardinal. It was not a Seagull, a Seahawk or an F22 Raptor. But, beyond all that, I don’t know what it was.

          I know what it was not. It wasn’t a Ford Falcon, Atlanta Falcon or Air Force Falcon. I don’t think it was a starling or a starlet and I am certain that it was not a five-star general. I know it was not Lady Bird Johnson or Larry Bird. It wasn’t the Birdman of Alcatraz.

          It wasn’t a chicken or a Chicken Hawk. It wasn’t Hawk Harrelson or Hawkeye Pierce. It did not appear to be from Kansas, so I know it was not a Jayhawk. It was not a Tomahawk. It was not an Atlanta Hawk or a Royal Air Force trainer plane (named the Hawk). I suppose it could have been a Chicago Blackhawk and thus accustomed to ice, but I did not see any skates or mouth guards.

          Whatever kind of bird it was, let’s call it Al.

          Al was small and, when I saw him, he was hopping around the branches of this little, naked tree before he became birdlike and flew away.

          Imagine the story Al will have to tell when all the other birds return from their southern retreat.

          “You would not believe how cold it was,” Al might say. “All this white stuff fell from the sky and some of it stuck to the tree. All the stuff we usually use for nests fell off the branches of the tree and every time I made a nest out of the white junk, I got wet and cold. Then the whole thing turned to water.”

          Al would ask where his friends went for the winter.

          “Oh, you know, the usual. Daytona Beach, Mobile, Pensacola. All the usual spots. But you should talk to Robin, you know, the Redbreast that usually stays around here during summer? She went to Atlanta and had the same problems you did.”

          “Could have stayed here,” Al will say wisely, “and saved all that travel.”

          Thanks for reading.

The story of a nice guy and an autograph

          Years ago your loyal blogger had the good fortune to meet Jay Leno and now the truth behind his success can be revealed: People watched the Tonight Show with Jay Leno because he is a really good guy and that simple truth reached out through television sets and connected with viewers.

          How it all happened is unimportant, but I was offered the opportunity to attend a racing gathering at Leno’s garage several years ago and I jumped at the chance.

We did not know for certain whether Leno would be there that afternoon. Obviously, your loyal blogger and everyone else in the group hoped Leno would be there and there was a happy reaction when we saw him ride in on one of his motorcycles during the tour of the garage.

Truth be told, the chance to see the Leno garage and all the great cars and motorcycles was every bit as attractive as the chance to meet the star. If you are a car guy, Leno’s collection is stunning. Every car, truck and motorcycle is in running condition. That’s more than most museums can say. Leno drives them all himself. There was also a massive steam engine that was very old and it was undergoing restoration.

Leno spoke to our group when the tour was over, offered to help with the project in various ways. I recall that he referred to several people by first name, so some of the folks more completely involved with the project had obviously already met with him.

When the gathering was over, your loyal blogger headed home, intent on getting down the road before traffic got heavy. But halfway to the car the thought occurred that while I had met Jay Leno, Mrs. Leeway had nothing to show for it, since she was working that day.

Turning around, I returned to the garage and nearly bumped in to Leno himself. Pulling a notepad out of my pocket, I offered him a pen and asked for his autograph to give to my wife. Leno’s answer was a quizzical look.

He asked, “You don’t want it on that, do you?”

I had a great comeback. I said, “Well, yeah, I do.”

“Come on with me,” Leno said. “We can do better than that.”

Like a puppy looking for a home, I followed Jay Leno through his garage, past all the cars I had enjoyed looking at earlier, and into an office. He opened a desk drawer and flipped through some business folders crammed with pictures until he found one he liked.

I forget the name of the car, but it is a long, silver roadster with (I think) two Allison aircraft engines crammed onto the chassis. A smiling Jay Leno is leaning against the car.

Leno asked my wife’s name (for the curious, I did not tell him, “Mrs. Leeway”) and then wrote, “Yo Amy, let’s race!” and signed his name.

Leno did not have to let me back in the garage after I had walked out. He didn’t have to sign an autograph. He surely did not need to go to his office, pull out a photograph and give it away. And he had no reason at all to personalize the autographed photograph he gave me for free.

But he did all of that and I’ll never forget it. He was affable, friendly and patient. I have met other famous people who have none of those traits, but Jay Leno has all of them. I know. I’ve seen it.

Funny as he was on television, he is that nice in person.

I wish Jay Leno well going forward. I’ll miss his late-night humor, but I know the guy who was so nice to me will still be spending time in his garage and I’m glad about that.

 

Thanks for reading.

The water has dried up in California

          We’ve all read about California’s current drought conditions. Local and regional governments have started rationing water, especially in Southern California.

          Lawns are brown out there (normally, lawns are green in winter – because the weather is wetter then -- and brown during the summer). Lakes and rivers are dry. The man-made Salton Sea, in the Imperial Valley, is so dry it is now hard to find where the puddles might be. There is no snow in the region’s mountains so, as it stands now, there will be no water in the rivers and lakes when the spring and summer come because there is no snow to melt.

          The fact of the matter is Southern California has been short of water for about

three decades now. 

         

          The leading cause of California’s shortage is the rampant over population the state has allowed to happen. California has spent more than half a century over-building. The same local governmental bodies now restricting water use and praying for rain have, through the years, routinely rubber-stamped the building requests from developers rather than restrict growth.

          New housing tracts spring up everywhere. Places where people have never lived are now paved over. Wildlife is overrun.

           In Los Angeles, locations where single-family homes stood for decades have been rezoned for condominiums. If you know a neighborhood, you can see where houses have been replaced by complexes with 30 condos or more. The number of people living in a given spot might grow from, say, 16 (four houses with four people each) to 90 or more (30 condos with roughly three people each). The number of cars soars from perhaps eight (four homes, two cars each) to as many as 60 (30 condos, two cars each).

The politics of water can be complicated in California.

Traffic snarls and the difficulty of finding a spot to park a car is approaching the two worst parking towns your loyal blogger has ever seen, Philadelphia and Boston.

Farm land is getting eliminated at an increasingly fast rate. Acres once used for growing crops now sag under the increasing population of neighborhoods. Not only has the water use dramatically increased, the value for the use has decreased.

Growing food is a pretty good thing, a high value use of land.

In a lot of cases, neighborhoods are growing in areas that typically get very little rain (we call these areas ‘deserts’). That means that there is little natural water in the area and no rain.

But the population just keeps growing and not just in California. Look at Arizona: Plenty of people, no water.

California’s share of water from the Colorado River was trimmed a few decades ago, making long stretches of rainless/snowless periods more difficult to deal with than they used to be in the state’s southern-most counties.

The issue, of course, is not identifying the problem. The issue is solving the

This is Phoenix, where water is scarce but people
are not.

problem. Local governments must throw off the yoke of domination by real estate developers. The local city councils and county boards must stop allowing zoning changes that result in high density population growth.

That’s an easy thing for your loyal blogger to write but a difficult thing for politicians to do. New housing is a business booster. It also gives local governments an increased tax base. Politicians need money like crops need water.

But too many people need too much water for the supply Southern California has historically had at its disposal. In times of drought, the supply goes quicker when too many users can twist the taps. That is what is happening now.

The problem is clear, the cause is obvious. The sticking point is the cure.

It’s like watching a drowning man: The problem is that he is drowning. The cause is that he can’t swim. The sticking point is teaching him to swim before he sinks.

Good luck with that.

 

Thanks for reading.