The New American Digest

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Terry Noland – “Fungus Among Us” – 1958

I am not old enough to remember the song being released but was reminded of the fungus among us line as I took an afternoon walk through some autumn woods on Sunday and found a proliferation of fungi.

They were everywhere on the ground, popping up from under fallen leaves, bending their heads over the river’s edge, spreading across the river bank and into the fields, gathering in groups at the base of trees like little hooded monks at a meeting.
There were tiny dainty butterfly-like fungi fluttering up old tree trunks in the thousands and topping it all off, the grand sounding, wonderfully named and enormous Fomes Fomentarius dangling further up the trunks of the hardwoods. I guess a perfect combination of heat, moisture and light created this abundance of fungus.

The Fomes Fomentarius is also called a hoof fungus because it looks like a hoof. It is also called tinder fungus, and sometimes called Iceman fungus because Otzi, the 5000 year old Iceman was found to be carrying four pieces, presumably as fuel. Hoof fungus can be almost two feet in height and width. The ones I saw were about 12 inches and looked more like baby elephant feet than hooves. They were tall and round with smooth flat pads on the bottom. The latin name has a great ring to it…Fomes Fomentarius. It has historical significance as a fire starter because its insides spark. It is inedible, but has been used to make amadou, a material for tinder and clothing. Some of them high up looked like giant paper wasp nests they were so big.
Photo below.

Nature put on quite the show of mushrooms for me and my dog although all I saw seemed of the poisonous or at least inedible variety so I let them all be.

I crossed paths with only one other person in my two hour walk through the woods… a sturdy lady with a heavy slavic accent who appeared out of nowhere with a giant red, white and blue supermarket bag filed to the brim with small golden mushrooms. I asked her how she intended to use them. She told me they were for her mother in law. Hmm.

Headline: “‘No Kings’ Color-Revolution Turns Into White Liberal Boomer Parade“

Now I’m a member of that most dreaded group, white boomer conservatives – yet the news is making it seem that all us boomer types are ex-hippies. (Actually, “ex”-hippies are OK but too many of them never left that playground)

I don’t know that I’ve encountered such a group of people – liberal ex-hippies and wanna-bes – so willing to be so ignorant, so unwilling to look at details, so unwilling to think maybe they should change at least some of their beliefs – yet know so much better than anyone else about just about any topic that comes to their minds.

Way back when in the 80s, I lived in Santa Cruz where I first seriously ran into what I call “hippies with money”.

They struck me as mean-tempered, holier-than-thou hypocrites even then.

All those glorious ideas when they were poor about the “proper” society went out the window when they got money and it became “their” money, not “the man’s” money – or even “our” money.

Now they’ve organized.

I liked living in Santa Cruz – I like the regions within the Santa Cruz mountains – but SC was more quirky than insane then, before the earthquake. No way would I live there now.

I had something else lined up for today but it’ll keep.

I just received this photo of some finish work my brother did recently. I don’t know the proper name for his specialty but “finish carpenter” is what I use.

His work in this photo is the entry way and ceiling trim. Probably other detail trim work as well.

Other than his mother’s house, I don’t think he’s worked on any home under $10M for a long time; some in the $100+M range.

I can’t afford him.

so I have to use family “secrets” to blackmail him 🙂

And there I lay, early O-dark-thirty, instantly teleported from some unknown world to this one.

My brain turned on … or at least changed channels … and I start thinking about the day ahead.

I have things to do, places to go, I got a good night’s sleep, I feel good.

It’s time to get up.

So I swing my legs around to get out of bed and sit up contemplating my next move.

Coming to the conclusion my mind was fooling me about the day ahead.

I’m ready for a nap.

Along about a long time ago, I was in a position to obtain a 1 ft square section of shuttle tile – the original recipe, not the later version. This ⅜” thick section looked like a section of acoustic ceiling tile – weighed a bit less though.

You could hold a ⅜” thick section in your hand and put an acetylene torch to the other side … and not feel the heat through the tile.

Once upon a time, this impressed people and over time, I gave pieces away. What I have now is a few larger sections of what once was a single section of tile.

My house is being repaired from a flood last summer. One of the workers – an apprentice – discovered some of my old CDs when they were moving stuff. This kid – he might be 18 – was very interested in my old Fleetwood Mac and Pink Floyd music. That period of time is old history to him.

Thinking of it, the 70s to him is what the (19)20s were to me. Time of legend and mystery yet some living remnants still exist.

So he was admiring some of my “my shit is stuff” stuff so I showed him the pieces of tile (looking like busted styrofoam).

“Here’s a piece of space shuttle tile.“
“Shuttle? What’s that?“

Automobiles were still a novelty in the 1920s but not the 1970s. Space was still a novelty in the 1970s but not the 2020s.

Time flew by – so make me feel obsolete …