hydrangea blossoming

hydrangea blossoming
Hydrangea on the Edge of Blooming
Showing posts with label airplanes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label airplanes. Show all posts

Friday, February 13, 2009

What's My Problem?

I am wishing that I knew why we have a Department of Homeland Anything. I don’t remember anybody every talking about the U.S. as the homeland. It reminds me immediately of the Russians use of motherland and the Germans use of fatherland during World War II. To me, it has an inherent sound of fascism, although Wikipedia says only that it has 'ethnic nationalist connotations.' Who in the last dismal administration thought that was how Americans think of their country? When they get around to figuring out who ordered all the torture, I hope they allow a few moments for determining who named that new agency 'The Department of Homeland Security,’ rather than, say, The Department of National Security.

And speaking of DHS, they instituted a new regime last November (the waning days of that dismal administration) designed to irritate me and doubtless others, even though it doesn’t actually affect me as it stands. But as it stands, it could easily be transferred to affecting all of us who leave the country by legal routes. As of November ’08, anyone who leaves the U.S. in a private plane must first inform the DHS that they are leaving the country and who is leaving with them. Obviously, one has to do this when one is entering the U.S. in a private plane, but why should one have to inform them when one is leaving? Because they want to know everything about us, I guess.

When I leave Point Roberts by car, I am not required to inform either my father or my Congressperson or my U.S. border guards that I am leaving. Why should anyone have to do this just because they are leaving in a private plane instead of a private car? Well, says DHS, it has the authority to do this because it already requires commercial airlines to report their passenger lists to DHS before the commercial plane takes off on an international flight. I don’t know by what authority they can do that, but then I don’t know by what authority they can require the same of private planes. Something like the DHS Sec’y is allowed to do whatever he wants if it occurs to him to think doing that will keep us safe. No reasons required.

I suppose that if we oppose this, then the terrorists will win. At least that’s what it says here. [This site may be hard to bring up because of heavy traffic. I got it this afternoon, but can't get it to come up tonight. jwr]

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

What's Above Us?

One of the great advantages of life in Point Roberts is the proximity of the Vancouver Airport, a scant 30-minute drive from the border. Most simply, it means the ROTUS, as well as the rest of the world, is easily available to us. It's a beautiful airport, but since they collect $10 from every passenger that takes a flight out of the airport, I think of the airport and all its beauty as in some small way belonging to me, and of course to all of us who fly out of YVR and pay our $10 fees. I like to think that my many $10 bills were used to pay for some part of the waterfall near the entry to customs as you arrive in Vancouver. You, on the other hand, may have paid for part of the Jade Boat in the main departure hall. Another good choice.

Although neither Point Roberts nor Roberts Creek is directly under the flight path of the Vancouver airport, one is aware of the great number of planes taking off each day (less aware of landings, unless you're nearer yet to the airport). There is one flight in particular, thought, that puzzles me. I hear it from both places, lying in my bed, somehow awakened around 1:30-2:00 a.m. The sound of a plane flying at first puzzles me because it's late and the planes have stopped flying by that time, I think. But it is a plane, a heavy plane as the controllers say. It's going somewhere I can't quite figure out. But here, today, and also here in a somewhat different version, comes the answer...if only I study it long enough, I'm bound to be able to spot that very late-night plane and to see at last where it's going.