Many of us have been wondering about the search for 66-year old Geraldine Lorgay who went missing along a section of the Appalachian Trail in Maine in the summer of 2013. Two years would pass before her body was found, and searchers learned she lived for 26 days before succumbing to the elements.
I yield this week’s blog entry to an excellent story about the case from the Bangor Daily News.
I also offer my personal condolences to the Largay family, and especially to the searchers who worked so diligently to bring her home.
I’d heard of such a thing, but I didn’t really believe it existed. A couple weeks ago I saw one for myself and was flabbergasted. No, it wasn’t a unicorn, they’re a dime a dozen.
It was an actual Garmin 60Cs GPS unit. Not the 60Csx that is the grandfather of all modern GPS units. It was during production of the 60Cs that Garmin changed the game, and put new technology into later versions. They made significant upgrades that allowed the units to work effectively in heavy Western Washington tree cover. To differentiate, they added an “x” to the model number of the improved versions.
A friend in SAR was complaining that his GPS didn’t work in the trees. “What model do you have?” I inquired. “A 60, just like everybody else,” was the response.
“Bring it to me.” He did and there it was: a 60Cs logo without the “x.” I was holding it in my hand. Indiana Jones would have been proud, though this wasn’t the holy grail. In fact, it’s a very expensive paperweight unless you’re using it in a boat.
That said, if you can find a 60Csx somewhere online, and the seller assures you it’s in good working order, buy it. It’s not only all the GPS you’ll ever really need, but it might have collector value someday. It’s that good. Just be careful to look for the “x.”
I’m spending the week in toasty Las Vegas at a conference of mystery writers. I am getting great information and taking lots of notes. But as I was catching up my notes on a break I sensed someone standing beside me.
Then, I noticed a copy of my book on the table near me. I didn’t recall getting it from my supply at the back of the room, but I figured I needed to get it back with the others.
Finally, it clicked for my aging brain! The person had purchased my book at the conference “bookstore” and was seeking an autograph. They were quietly standing at my elbow, saying nothing, while I typed. I ’bout broke my arm getting it signed for them!
Family and friends have been very gracious about asking for autographs, but this was the first complete stranger. I gotta admit, that was a rush. I made sure to note that we’d met at a conference so he’d later have some memory of our interaction. And then, I looked at the stacks of books at the “bookstore” table. My stack’s getting smaller.
Super-secret spies have a procedure, called “sign/countersign” for identifying each other in the dark and dangerous world of an enemy’s capitol city. It’s a scripted conversation that, upon completion, lets both parties know they’ve met the right person.
Spy #1: I like a moonless night.
Spy #2: So do the fireflies.
Hugs follow, or at least they don’t kill each other with silenced Lugers.
We dog handlers need a secret code to identify real handlers from the wannabes. So here’s what I propose:
Sign: “What’s the only thing two dog handlers can agree on?”
Countersign: …wait a minute, this is a spy story. You have to figure out the countersign.
Pop on over to my web site at www.robertdcalkins.com. Look around and find the countersign. It’s on one of the pages. Once you’ve found it, head back to the Sierra the Search Dog Facebook page and post it in the comments. The first person to do so will win a Sierra the Search Dog ballcap.
Got it? Head off to the web site, find the secret phrase, post it on the FB page, win a ballcap.
It couldn’t be simpler. And if you’re a dog handler, I think you’ll get a laugh out of the countersign.
Ahh…technology. And, like the mortgage commercial says, a little competition between banks.
In the 1990’s I tried doing some freelance media training, and the banks were horrified at the thought of me taking credit cards for tuition. I wasn’t selling a physical product and hadn’t been in business for 20 years. “Not possible,” was the response. The fact that I hadn’t bounced a check since I was 17 and had a very good credit rating didn’t matter.
FF to 2016, and it’s time to start selling some books. And what to my wondering eyes should appear but “The Square.” A little gizmo that plugs into my iPhone to let me take credit cards for books. Best of all, they’re frothing at the mouth to get me to use it.
The device works as advertised and couldn’t be simpler to set up. If you’re in any kind of business, even a hobby that you try to justify with a few sales, it’s worth getting.
It’s been 21 years since I hung up my tape recorder and ended my career as a broadcast journalist. I’ve been to a couple of war zones, covered a serial killer or two and responded to countless disasters both large and small. Most stories have faded from my memory.
But there is one that comes back to me every Independence day. It’s about a call I received early one July 5th from the saddest woman I’ve ever talked to. Through her tears she was imploring me to tell her son’s story so that others wouldn’t make the same mistake.
Her son had gotten some admittedly illegal fireworks and was planning to spend the evening setting them off. It was fine, as his beloved German Shepherd wasn’t the least bit skittish about loud noises. The son had set off a few, taken a break, and then went back to it.
But this time, he changed his M.O. He lit the big M-80, and then threw it across the yard. The Shepherd thought they were playing fetch, and tried to retrieve the explosive. The results were horrifying and resulted in euthanasia of the beloved dog.
This was not some irresponsible dog owner who left his dog in a hot car, or chained to a tree. This young man loved and cared for that dog every day of its life. The fellow simply didn’t realize his little buddy couldn’t know the difference between a tennis ball and an M-80.
So…as you think about your K9 friend this holiday weekend, please remember that it’s not just about the noise. Never, ever throw fireworks in the presence of a dog. Bottle rockets blow up high in the air, safe from doggie jaws. But throwing a firework or other explosive that will blow up on the ground looks way too much like playing fetch.