Montana Jones

Stupid animal

The deer charged out onto the road at a full sprint and I could tell he was changing his mind before he even reached the double yellow line. We weren't going all that fast, taking a curve at 45 or 50 miles per hour. The brake lights on the big sport utility in front of me flashed and the vehicle narrowly missed colliding with the creature. The animal tried to stop and change direction in the middle of the road but it's own momentum was against it. Somehow it missed the oncoming truck, but was not so lucky with the trailer the truck was hauling. The leading corner of the trailer gouged into the animals' side and threw it down on the road. The deer's head struck first, right on the double yellow line. It had a beautiful rack of antlers that shattered against the asphalt and chips of antler flew in all directions. The collision with the ground was brutal and I'm sure the animal was killed in that instant. The carcass rebounded across the road like a pinball, spinning across the ground and spilling blood, guts and antlers on the road. It just missed colliding with the back end of the sport utility in front of me and skidded into my path. I swerved and slowed as best I could in the narrow road but I did not miss it entirely. I could feel my wheels rumble over the deer legs sticking into my lane.

This has always been my greatest fear while driving the roads of Montana. I am more afraid of animals than I am of drunk drivers, bad weather or icy roads. I am becoming a fan of hunting season because it means fewer deer on our roads. I am curious to take up hunting so I can get the satisfaction of blowing away some of these stupid vermin animals before they step in front of my car. Since moving to Montana I have started thinking of deer as giant fucking rats with long legs, hooves and antlers. This particular deer would have had a better end to its life if a hunter had claimed it instead of the road.

Labels: accident, animal, antlers, car, collision, death, deer, driving, hunting, road, stupid, truck

Posted by: Montana Jones / 7:03 PM 1 comments

Last Jump

When the rain stopped the skydivers hurried into their jumpsuits and gear. There was a sense of urgency to take advantage of the break in the weather. A crowd of about 40 people huddled under the tent and under the awnings guarding against the rain, some wrapped in blankets against the chill.

I recognized most of the faces from the funeral two days before. But now the suits and fancy dresses and sunny afternoon had turned over to casual tee shirts and gray skies. The ritual and formality of a church ceremony had given way to a more festive mood.

After the skydivers put their parachutes on they gathered in a circle out in front of the hanger. I knew they were talking about groups and exit order and making their plan for the moments ahead. I walked over and listened from just outside the circle.

The widow was with them, wearing a pilots seat back parachute and carrying a blue helmet that I recognized. The helmet had plastic bags in it. The leader of the group stood close to her and told who would be carrying __ with them and who was to be first and last out. His voice choked when he said __'s name and I could tell he was holding back tears as he gave his instructions.

Another of the skydivers asked to say something and proceeded to lead the group in prayer. I noticed then that more onlookers had followed me and a crowd gathered to listen closer. I watched men reach to hold their wives hands and the children in the crowd stopped roughhousing and listened to the prayer. By the time all the onlookers had gathered close a murmur or "Amen" passed across the field and the circle of jumpers broke and turned to the runway and the waiting airplane.

They held the widow close and guarded her as they approached the machine. She was helped aboard first and I could see through the windows that she took the seat next to the pilot. Then the skydivers climbed the ladder one by one and the ladder was taken away and the door closed. The airplane began rolling to the far end of the runway.

The onlookers did not move from their spots and gave a cheer as the airplane thundered down the runway and leapt into the sky. It climbed, circling the field and the crowd turned in place to watch it, rotating through all the points of the compass twice. The children grew more excited with each turn and the mother held close to her family with eyes glistening. Murmurs grew louder and talk became more excited in anticipation of a main event.

The airplane stood in a stark contrast, a small black silhouette against the cold gray skies. The skydivers themselves looked like tiny atoms as they dropped away one after another in a single file. The crowd gave a collective gasp of appreciation as the jumpers appeared and a child began counting them, shouting out loud "one, two, three, four…" all the way up to twelve, for each of them leaving the airplane. And then the sky blossomed with color as the parachutes came out and the smooth line of dots became a kaleidoscope of dancing flowers drifting in the wind.

The parachutes turned and spun and flew. There were too many to watch them all and the crowd produced oooh's and aaaah's of appreciation. And then from one of the parachutists a dusty cloud dropped away like a billow of smoke. The crowd put up a loud cheer and then the ash was gone. Blown and spread into the air and it was no more.

The skydivers quickly dropped down onto the field and the colorful parachutes landed one by one in the open space between the onlookers and the runway. The crowd cheered and clapped loudly as each of the skydivers touched down. Some of them dropped out of the sky quickly, swooping fast across the ground. Others came down with more caution and gracefully stepped to earth. The onlookers applauded and shouted for each of them as they touched down.

The skydivers gathered up their parachutes and strolled in from their disparate landing points. As they came together they would hug or touch hands. The onlookers spread out onto the field as well, encompassing the skydivers with hugs and congratulations.

The parachutes were carefully laid out in a colorful row, waiting to be folded up again. No one hurried to the work. Skydivers sought out their friends among the crowd. The mother wore a smile on her tear lined face. When the widow walked back from the landed airplane she carried with her the empty blue helmet and the sorrow on her face had a look of peace to it.

Labels: airplane, ash, ceremony, death, farewell, funeral, parachute, skydiving, widow

Posted by: Montana Jones / 7:33 AM 2 comments

Later

He:

Did you know the pilot?

Me:

I met him last week. He struck me as a decent guy.

He:

Yeah, I'm sure he was a good guy. What kind of experience did he have?

Me:

I heard he flew jumpers a lot back in _place_. He did a good job flying us last weekend. Hell, I was just in that plane with him two days ago. What do you know about the others? The students?

He:

I think they were from _place_. They were fiancée's.

Me:

Shit, that sucks.

[later]

Guy:

I was going to go over there, but __'s wife is there crying and if I go over I would start bawling too.

Me:

Yeah, me too.

[later]

Guy:

You know, spend enough time in this sport and you go through this.

Me:

I know more jumpers that have died in plane crashes than have died skydiving.

He:

I know more people that have died on the job than have died skydiving.

[later]

He:

God, I wish I had been here.

P_:

No! There is no point to thinking that. It happened the way it happened because it happened that way. You can't think about if. It doesn't help.

He:

Well, if I was flying…

P_:

Yeah, if you were flying you would have done it different, and if I was flying I would have done things different and if there were different people on board there would be different weight loads and it would have been different. Doesn't mean anything. You just go crazy with those ifs. It doesn't help to think about ifs.

Me:

If I had tried to get here earlier I might have been hit by a truck on the highway.

P_:

Exactly. Things happen the way they happen.

[later]

Guy1:

Can we go down and look if we stay out of the yellow?

Sheriff:

Yeah, just stay on the outside of the tape.

Guy1:

Damn, there is just nothing left.

Guy2:

The burn is not very big. It all went in right close together.

Guy3:

Just the engine and the tail.

Guy1:

You can see a bit of the pilots window frame right there.

Guy2:

Can you see the instrument panel?

Guy1:

Naw, it looks like that burned up too. The FAA guys would want that.

Guy2:

That divot there must have been the first point of contact. Where the wing hit.

Guy1:

And that flipped it like that, so the prop would have hit there in that divot.

Guy3:

I don't see the prop.

Guy1:

Naw, the prop is aluminum. Once that starts burning it all goes up like paper.

Guy2:

First load, it must have had plenty of fuel.

Guy3:

There's no wings either.

Guy2:

You can see a bit of the wing tip right there. Left wing it looks like.

Guy1:

Pointless. It's just goddamn pointless. No reason for it.

Labels: aircraft, aviation, conversation, crash, crying, death, if, pilot, pointless, skydiving

Posted by: Montana Jones / 8:23 PM 0 comments

Blue skies, black death

He:

There's not going to be any jumping today.

Me:

Oh?

He:

Seven one tango crashed.

Me:

Oh God.

He:

Do you know __ and __?

Me:

Yeah.

He:

They were on it.

Me:

Oh God. Was this today?

He:

Yeah, first load.

Me:

Where did it go down?

He:

Just down there. End of the runway. It's all burned up, only a little of the tail is left.

Labels: aircraft, aviation, conversation, crash, death, skydiving

Posted by: Montana Jones / 5:54 PM 2 comments

Valenti

http://www.cnn.com/2007/SHOWBIZ/Movies/04/26/valenti.obit/

When I laid eyes on the headline "Jack Valenti Dead" the very first thought to flicker through my mind was "Good Riddance". Funny how the brain works. I immediately arrested that thought and replaced it with "do not speak ill of the dead". But it is telling how the moment showed my true opinion.

Jack Valenti was the head of the Motion Picture Association of America for a long time. Jack is the man responsible for movie ratings. G, PG, PG-13, R and so forth. To his credit it replaced the previous version known as the Hays code which was basically movie censorship. Even though the new system is still not perfect it is an improvement that gave filmmakers more opportunity to make provocative films.

So Jack Valenti has had an impact on American culture and touched most of our lives. Arguably in a positive way. What has truly raised my ire about the man is his reaction and fight against the 21st century. When home video recording technology was introduced Jack feared the demise of the motion picture industry. He is famous for testifying to congress "I say to you that the VCR is to the American film producer and the American public as the Boston strangler is to the woman home alone." Pretty strong stuff, arrogant, demeaning to women and as completely wrong as could possibly be.

Jack continued to fight against new technology for the rest of his life. He was a champion of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, advocate of anti-copying technology, and fighting against the power of the internet. When you start up a DVD movie that you legally purchased, yet you cannot skip past the FBI warning, an anti-copying warning and an advertisement accusing you of being a thief. Jack Valenti is responsible for that. Arrogant, demeaning, and completely wrong.

That is why I hated the man. Because he hated me. He battled against the new internet technologies that I was making my living with. He hated the idea that I wanted to share and participate in my own culture. He misunderstood the value of digital data and called people thieves even after taking their money. He foolishly fought to stop the tides of change.

So my first reaction to his passing was "good riddance". It may be wrong to speak ill of the dead, it may be that he did good works in his day, but our future is brighter without him in it.

Labels: death, Jack Valenti, movies, MPAA, news, obituary, opinion, ratings

Posted by: Montana Jones / 9:20 AM 0 comments