May 15, 2015

Yesteryear
One year ago today: May 15, 2014, more Winter Haven.
Five years ago today: May 15, 2010, my economic plan.
Six years ago today: May 15, 2009, beware of geotags.

MORNING
           Oh-ho, guess what I find out? I’m not the only nice Christian boy who got sent to bible camp. Today, this would be rated as punishment. My view of these operations is the last remaining holdover from the English Victorian era. And we all know how well that society treated children, beggars, and factory laborers. If you are not sure what is good for you, go to bible camp. As luck would have it, bible camps have a staggeringly refined blueprint what is good for you, yes indeedy.

           JZ was in Camp Good Times. Or was it Good News? What did he say? Dang, he changed the subject quickly. Anyway, that explains why a guy who never travels on his own knows so much about the swampland around Ocala. Ah, got it. Camp Good Counsel. Aw, isn’t that such a nice name? Really, aw. Let me say that again, Camp Good Counsel.
           You see, JZ has been on this kick lately that he had some hard times. Since these things are highly relative, you don’t pre-judge. To JZ, roughing it is living on his father’s boat. So let’s find out how close to Nature you get at CGC. It will be a trip down memory lane, I’ll wager. For JZ, I mean. My camp made us take turns washing the dishes.
           I went over the atlas without much luck since the entire area around Disneyworld is one big swamp. Here’s something to the northwest. Maybe the camp has been relocated another hundred miles away. After all, few things get eight-year-olds antsier than the afternoon psalm-reading whilst there is a roller coaster on the eastern horizon. That’s the same circumstance were you don’t put any but your most popular counselors working the archery class.
           Apparently their mess hall burned down in October 2014. Don’t you say nuttin’.
           I promptly give up as all the sites for Good Counsel camp are either 404 or won’t load. But it existed at some point in time. Mind you, I did find out that the phrase “good counsel” is a rather common one if you are a Catholic. There is even an Our Lady of Good Counsel High School. Why not? Did you know, I was educated at a Catholic school and I grew up to work for the phone company. Does that sound right to you?

NOON

           “Preach the gospel at all times and when necessary use words.” --St. Francis of Assisi

           So I see this ad for a rehab property in the “up and coming” design district for $55,000. Better take a look. The district has been “up and coming” for thirty years so far. And 58th street is across the lane from the design district—oddly, quite near that very first place I looked at in 2002. The one I would have bought if Ken Sanchuk had paid back the money as promised. And rehab could include a joint totally vandalized by bad tenants. I didn’t say they were you-know just because of that part of town.

           Nonetheless, I’m sending JZ over for a peek. If it is structurally sound, comps in the area are over $100,000. And I’d like to find out what this separate little building is in the photo. Otherwise, it meets many of our parameters. Two bedroom, two bath, concrete block. That’s your only guarantee against termites. Rentals in the area are in the $1,400 range. My offer is probably $25k tops and flip it.
           The things you learn studying robots. The radio on the Titanic was a spark-gap generator, which gobbles up bandwidth. Since it is basically a large step-up transformer connected to a telegraph key, only the loudest signal gets through. The Titanic’s set was owned by the Marconi company who installed it as a gossip service for the rich passengers, not as a safety feature. Hence, when a nearby ship broadcast an iceberg warning, Titanic essentially blasted them off the air until they shut down their transmitter.
           Some trivia? Okay, during those civil war re-enactments where they use telegraph operators, they are usually faking it. Most modern Morse users only understand the “beeps” and not the “clacking” sound of the original telegraphy equipment. Hence, oprators wear hidden earplug microphones to receive tones and the clicking of the relays is all for show. Myself, I can receive tones only. I’m looking into that fault. For anybody who thinks it is easy, try sending code with this practice key.
           More trivia. Until the 1920s, ladder-style fire escapes often had wide handrails on the presumption that office workers vacating a blazing building would take their brief cases and important papers with them. I think that could be a hoax.
           Wait, more trivia. In comparative tests that include the extra time it takes the recipient to read the communication, Morse code is faster than texting. I still don't like people who say "More-ess" code.

AFTERNOON
           Another grand day off, may you have the same when it’s your turn. I took apart that Zac Brown tune, “Toes”. Lends itself rather well to one-note bass riffs that capture the lead. In fact it is about as simplistic a guitar part as I’ve made fun of in my time. If Pat-B was here, I know what he’d say. That I’m usurping the lead. Him, I’ll listen to because I’ve heard him do a good job of keeping the rhythm going behind his breaks, but most don’t.

           I wonder when he’ll be back in town, dusty off the music trail and wanting to talk recording. When I met the guy, he had never heard an original bass player worthy of the title in his life. Which is not to say he didn’t meet bass players. But sooner or later all guitar players figure out that solo isn’t the answer. That it is a far easier to compose and record music than to sell it. Then they go looking for a bassist to find all the good ones are long gone.
           Shown here is a rather typical “sheet music” copy of “Toes”. It sells for $5.50 and this is the type of scam that I feel for a few times when I was young. This is some hack piano players transcription of how the music might go if it was played on that instrument. Otherwise, the intro goes nothing like this. There was no one to tell me these things when I started music, nobody to ask. So I spent my hard-earned paper-route money. They got me for about $15 in 1970s money before I wised up.
           Some say it is not a scam, but the way the sheet music industry works. I don’t know about that. This music, as written, is outright wrong and even if it is a particular artists rendition, he should include the correct notes. Maybe write them at the end as reference points. To anyone curious how I play such riffs, I don’t know because I figure them out on the bass and often have no idea what notes I’m hitting.
           As a rule of thumb, generally I would play the top note in the treble staff, but where there are several notes in a chord, I tend to play the note second from the top unless it is a median, would let a guitar player hit the subdominant, and would avoid altogether if it was a supertonic—unless that was the correct passing note.
           So you know I’m versatile, I also marked and cut carry-handle holes in all the boxes I’ve built recently, including the box that has no purpose but to prop my foot on when I’m playing the bass. And JZ reports back the house (shown above) is right on the edge of an area where the city has had problems with homeless people entering any vacant premises. It is structurally in great shape, but nope, not if they gave it to us. I won't touch it.

EVENING
           JZ confirms the Good Counsel Camp in Floral City is not the one he attended. He recalls riding the train to Yeehaw Junction. I’ll need some time to look that up. He was there in the past century, but I’ve rode the train and there are not even any tracks near Yeehaw Junction, although I will check. Plus, within the past five years, I’ve driven through (more like past) Yeehaw Junction four times, twice on a sidecar motorcycle. So I’m not likely to forget the terrain.

           When I followed up the abandoned railroad clue, it transpires that at some point, there have been over 210 different railroad lines in Florida. So, time to go looking for rusty rails. Ah, here’s something, it says “Hopkins built a small railroad.” And mention of a “branch parallel to 441”. That road [441] goes up through useless territory, so maybe that would be the Florida East Coast railway. And a steamship schedule that refers to a stop at Yeehaw Station. And here’s an item in the DuPont family (the owners) records saying that railroad was the first in America to “eliminate all its cabooses and end all passenger service”. Here we go, the abandoned Kenansville Branch East mentions Yeehaw.
           Part of the problem is that Yeehaw is not the official name, which is Jackass Junction. But apparently some oil company refused to build a refueling station unless they changed it. Ah-ha, now a quip of a station “east on State Road 60” of the hotel that entertained cowboys. Oh, a whorehouse. I’ve got the area on satellite map, I’m looking for a perfectly straight right of way that has no roadway intersections. If you see a photo nearby, that is what I found. I would still need boots on the ground to confirm.
           For now, that narrows the location of the old summer camp to either Lake Blue Cypress or Lake Marian.

ADDENDUM
           This quest for the bible camp is a revealing chapter on the state of the Internet. In theory, with the majority of the country able to publish and opine, it would seem an easy thing to tap a few keys and find any and all information about anything in America. Those who have tried it beyond the most primitive of searches know this is not the case. The sole determinant of what appears on searches has transmogrified from content to popularity. What comes to the top is determined by nincompoops.

           When I needed facts on an area upstate, all I got were car rental ads and rip-off hotel rooms. This is not supposed to be, yet here you can see me reduced to using the same system as would have been employed in 1715. Poring over outdated maps of questionable origin with a magnifying glass. That is a sad commentary on the quality or usefulness of the Internet for any but the commonest information. If anything new is found, it is usually due to my merely not having looked there before.
           My friend Elliott has spent a fortune trying to keep his unique invention at the top the first search page to no avail. If ten thousand public school types make a common spelling mistake, his ad gets bumped. I often watch weapons history to be amazed how many times that ridiculous and fake video about “Hitler’s Hidden Drug Habit” appears on screen this year. The one with Hitler’s head superimposed on a steroid athlete’s torso. That’s what the immeasurable minions want to believe so you get 1.5 million views on that utter nonsense. And now it won’t go away.
           I estimate that during this search, around, oh, 70% of the Internet time was wasted eliminating the garbage that came back. In the end, the successes were done by hand using traditional methods. Without specialized searching techniques, the Internet is rarely more informative than television these days. It certainly, counting the false leads, is not any faster. How do you like them apples?


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