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Though it’s long after midnight — I’m up having a snack. Two egg sandwiches and a hot lemonade spiked with ‘Sailor Jerry’s Rum.” It’s a meal that can’t be beat considering how early or late one might believe it to be.

Much of my day was spent on my own. My wife was at work while our housemate was off helping a friend move.

I ended up in mid-town Reno taking pictures of murals — something I’ve been mistakenly calling graffiti.

It’s always amazes me that I cab find art where ever I go and in much of what I see. I’m even more amazed when I manage to capture a picture that I can call my own work.

More than taking photo’s occurred as well — and soon you’ll know why my lemonade’s laced.

For the third time in my life, I was hit by a moving vehicle. And for the third time — I walked away virtually unscathed.

It happened as I was crossing Virginia Street near Lulu’s Chic Boutique jus’ north of Arroyo. I looked both way and even waited for some cars traveling north ob Virginia to pass by.

After stepping out into the road I watched as two cars heading south failed to stop for me as I walked through the cross walk. I wasn’t sure if the third car was going to stop or not.

It did — but the truck I saw pull up to the stop sign across the street from me decided to go when the third car did stop. I saw the hood of the truck out of the left periphery of my eye and prepared for the worst.

The driver of the truck managed to stop in time and not run me over. However the bumper smacked into me and I banged up my left arm pretty good on the hood of his truck.

He apologized for not seeing me and nearly running me over. I let him off the hook with, “It’s okay, accidents happen,” because I thought the dude was going to burst out in tears.

I’m jus’ now beginning to feel the pain.

Ingredients:
1/2 cup chopped SPAM
1/3 cup chopped fresh pineapple
1/4 cup butter or margarine
½ cup milk
4-eggs
Salt and pepper

Directions:
Cook SPAM and pineapple in butter until glazed.
Blend in eggs.
Cook over low heat, folding SPAM and pineapple into eggs.
Serve while still hot.

Question: When is it “racist” to call a group of African-American females, “Black?”

Answer: When they’re being excessively noisy.

In a recent tweet, Associated Students Union of Nevada Senator Spenser Blank wrote, “These girls are being so loud in the library…oh wait, they’re Black.” The electronic message was disclosed in a University of Nevada, Reno campus newsletter published by the secret society, “Keys and Coffins.”

The disclosure led to Blanks resignation from the school’s governmental body. Furthermore it’s opened him up to criticism by members of the student body, the Associated Students Union, and UNR’s President Marc Johnson not to mention the local press.

Since political correctness means minimizing social and institutional offense in occupational, gender, racial, cultural, sexual orientation, religion, beliefs or ideologies, disability, and age-related contexts  — why is no one’s upset he pointed out they were females?

It was quick visit from President Obama as he sat down at the dining room table with a Reno couple. He came to town after an overnight visit at actor George Clooney’s home where he raked in nearly $15 million, a record for a single fundraiser.

Guests paid $40,000 to attend and included Robert Downey Jr., Barbra Streisand and her husband James Brolin, Jack Black, Salma Hayek, Tobey Maguire and Stacy Keibler. It’s a stark contrast with Obama’s visit to highlight the plight of struggling homeowners in Nevada.

During the scheduled visit he had a private conversation with Valerie and Paul Keller to discuss their refinancing situation as they had been ‘upside down,’ on their mortgage. Then after talking with the Kellers, Obama took the opportunity to blasted the GOP — saying Republicans had no new ideas and weren’t willing to work with him.

“They think that all we can do are try the things that have been done in the past — things that they’ve tried in the past. So they want to cut more taxes, especially for the wealthiest Americans,” the President said. “They want to cut back on the rules that we put in place for banks and financial institutions. They’ve said that they want to let the housing market hit bottom, and just hope for the best.”

Meanwhile Nevada’s Lt. Governor Brian Krowlicki pointed out that discussing home refinancing is not addressing the real issue — which are jobs.

“I appreciate the fact the president is coming to town and sitting the living room with the Kellers but it’s not going to solve our problems,” Krolicki said during a brief conference call ahead of Obama’s visit.

Congressman Mark Amodei  was also part of the same conference call, adding, “There are several projects that are no brainers.  It’s like the Yerington Mine Bill Project, 800 hundred jobs on the ground at no cost to the government with no cultural or environmental issues.”

But for me — the most telling thing to come out of President Obama’s visit with the Kellers is that when asked, Valerie Keller says she’s still undecided about who she’s voting for in the upcoming Presidential election this November.

“I’m leaning, but undecided,” she says tells KOLO-TV’s Ed Pearce, “I’m still watching the economy.”

Talk about kicked in the crotch! I mean what’s a popular President gotta do to earn the vote of a commoner?

Time and again I’m reminded we don’t always get what we want, but we always get what we need. This lesson was re-enforced once more – this time by the sound the leaves make as they flitter-flit in the breeze.

The gentle rustling noises came to me as I sat outback of my home, soaking up sun and recuperating from over-exercising my worn-out body. I heard amid the light snapping of those leaves the realization that I am and never will be anything more than what I am.

This caused me to look about and see how everything I’ve worked to develop such as my house, with its worn and weathered siding, needing a fresh coat of paint and nails pounded back in to the weeds that manage to grow strong in my otherwise manicured lawn. All that I saw has deteriorated and needs the human touch to stay in usable order as an organized society desires.

Then it dawned on me that the tree I sat under – with a little water and a change of season – has again transformed itself into something bright and friendly. It needs no intervention from me – or from anyone for that matter.

These things I’ve observed tell me that I am insignificant – that all men are insignificant — especially in the face of nature, which is God’s expression on earth. It’s the kind of reminder I needed.

Whistling – someone was whistling and as far as I knew – I was the only person in the radio station. I set my coffee down and continued from the newsroom down the long hallway towards the front office.

Whoever was whistling stayed ahead of me – as if they knew what direction I’d be walking. By the time I passed by the reception area and into the inner offices, the whistling seemed to be coming from the kitchen.

I stopped and listened – realizing the whistling had gone silent.

And even though it was now quiet, I continued through the building hoping to find whomever was making the noise. I found no-one.

About two-hours later, jus’ as I was heading for the backdoor and the parking lot where my truck was parked, I heard my name. It sounded like a male voice.

This caused me to stop in my tracks. I listened for further sound – but nothing came.

So I went back to the newsroom and asked my co-worker, Matt, if he’d shouted my name. I could tell by the look on his face that he hadn’t even before he told me, “No.”

Instead of returning to the inner office area, I decided to go out the side door and around to where my truck sat. I’d had enough of what or whoever it was playing tricks on me.

It’s always tough news to hear when a friend’s child is injured in combat. Ron Worrel’s 22-year-old son Travis is Combat Medic with the 3^rd Brigade, 1st Armored Division, 1-41 Infantry Battalion, Fort Bliss, Texas.

Ron reports Travis was severely injured when a rocket-propelled grenade exploded next to him during a dismounted patrol in a village, near Kabul, Afghanistan. Travis was then airlifted via helicopter to FOB Shank for initial treatment, and then sent to a hospital in Germany for surgery.

“He is stable, did not lose any limbs or (his) eyesight,” writes Ron through Facebook.

Travis was flown to Walter Reed Medical Center, where he’s undergone surgery to remove shrapnel from near his spinal cord. Doctors say there was no fluid leakage and that he remains in stable condition, though still on a ventilator.

Ron is currently In Bethesda, Maryland at Travis’ bedside. Prayers are needed for both the family and for the wounded soldier.

I decided to do what I’m not really supposed to do anymore – I went for a short jog. Today, as expected, I’m stoved up and in so much pain.

No — I’m not complaining – I’m jus’ sharing with you.

Time and again I dream of running through the Redwood’s behind my childhood home like I used to do. My wife’s constantly waking me up because I thrash so much while in bed.

The only other dreams I have are more or less nightmares, brought on by bad and rough memories. This however is a different subject all together.

My plan is to recuperate from the soreness in my calves and the ache in my lower back only to do it to myself once again as soon as the hurt subsides. I want to work myself back into shape and I need to do it slowly.

Like the Chinese proverb says, “A journey of a thousand miles begin with a single step.”

As the tallest building in Del Norte County, the 5-story Surf Hotel towers at corner of Front and H Streets across from Beachfront Park. Although the foyer suffered extensive damage from the tsunami of 1964, the Surf was one of the few buildings in downtown Crescent City to structurally survive.

But it remained empty until mid-1988.

As a kid, I used to daydream of owning the Surf. I thought it a fairly romantic building, full of history and adventure.

When I was in my very early 20’s I used to sneak into the hotel, usually with a six-pack of beer and head straight for the roof. From there I could look out over the mostly sleeping town.

That all came to an end when someone introduced guard-dogs to patrol the building, keeping trespassers like me outside. I used to listen those dogs howl all night long while working at KPOD as it was located only a few hundred feet from the hotel.

It was a terrible, lonely sound, seeming a perfect fit for the abandoned building.

Former owner, Walt Miller had planned to create condominiums in the building, along with a lounge and restaurant. He later decided private development was not a good idea — so he opted towards governmental development.

With Pelican Bay State Prison under construction, space needs at the courthouse were changing. It was believed the Surf Hotel could accommodate a number of county offices.

Some people opposed taking the building off the tax rolls while others said parking would be a problem. One thing everyone could agree on was that the hotel had to be renovated.

In its hay-day the Surf was the most elegant stop between Portland and San Francisco, playing host to movie stars like Clark Gable, Carol Lombard, and William Boyd, better known as Hop-Along Cassidy.

Even film star Lloyd Bridges along with his father, were co-owners of the hotel at one time.

Construction on the building was completed January 7, 1854. Known as the Crescent City Hotel, M.G. Tucker was the owner until August 19, 1857, when Gottlieb Myer took control.

Francis Burtschell bought the hotel from Myer the same year, when Myer decided to go to Jacksonville, Oregon. Burtschell then leased it to Jacob Richert.

The Richert family eventually moved to Arcata in 1870, leasing the Union Hotel. When they moved, Burtschell took the hotel again.

Burtschell built new addition to the front side of the hotel. Once completed, the name changed to Bay Hotel.

W.H. Woodbury purchased the hotel in 1894, but he died a year later. His wife continued to manage the business until she sold the hotel to Oscar Lauff in 1926.

Lauff, using money he’d made selling stock, that same year had the rear of the hotel torn down. In its place would rise the Lauff Hotel.

In 1943, the Lauff was sold to Clifton Richmond who then sold to Sam Wilson. In 1946, Wilson sold the hotel to the Surrey brothers from Montana — friends with one time guest Hop-a-Long Cassidy.

The Surrey’s owned and operated the hotel until the 1964 tsunami. They shuttered the building after it was discovered a large crack in the foundation had been caused by the earthquake that preceded the tidal wave.

As of 2011, records from the California Secretary of State office shows the registered agent of the Surf to be James McCoy, having filed April 24th, 1987.  At present the former hotel serves as affordable housing with 55 units for low-income, elderly, and disabled residents.

It was a laughable moment – a woman I know exclaimed, “Let Tom pay for it, he’s in radio and famous. He make’s lotsa money.”

Laughable because anyone who has ever been in radio broadcasting, whether it’s behind the microphone, sales, engineering, support or management, knows making LOTSA money is something that happens few and far between in the business. As for famous – not so much either — though people do ask my wife from time to time if she related to “Tom Darby on the radio.”

I can only imagine what some of her responses have been.

Radio was something I wanted to do when I was not yet a teenager. In fact I pioneered the carrying of a “boom box,” on my shoulder nearly a decade before it became popular with urban kids. I had Dad’s Emerson, AM/FM radio, dual cassette recorder/player with a two-meter band with me almost every summer from the time I was ten.

I had it with me the day I first met Kelly Spruce — whom I immediately ‘crushed on.’ Not even then would I let that stupid radio go.

In fact, I used to get teased about packing it around with me by the neighborhood kids and I managed to get into a couple of fist-fights after someone took the thing and started playing keep away with it. If I recall I lost both fights but because they were afraid of what my old man might do – they returned it after having their fun time.

Honestly – I sometimes question my desire for working in radio. After all, the truth be told here, I don’t even like the sound of my own voice.