Good Morning Ted and Jody:
First a weekend weather update for Silverlake WA and Vicinity (an unincorporated area that knows no bounds save it is roughly a day’s drive in all directions it is possible to drive). Partly cloudy with daytime temperatures shy of 70 (ok the mid to high 60s), but so far, no suggestion of rain after noon on Friday.
Yesterday morning I was driving along, minding my own business when OptumRx called. The robot caller explained there was a problem with a prescription. Since I missed a call from them earlier in the week, I found a place to park and talk to them. After confirming I have a birthday and that I am who they think I am, they transferred me to a person (I guess they can’t let their people talk to just anyone and waste their time). After waiting for a total of 5 minutes the robot came back on the phone and informed me that the line to the person I wanted to talk to was busy and I should “call back later.” I chose to take them literally, and have scheduled my call back for 2026 at 3:00 P.M—I’ll decide on a particular day later when I have a clearer picture of my schedule for that year.
Speaking of phones, I read this morning that the pestilence is passing his cell phone number out to world leaders and telling them to call him. Interesting in that cell phones are not secure and presumably everything that the pestilence says is a national secret (it is the only way they can keep the American Public from finding out things other than through unnamed sources at the White House—leaks). Now correct me if I warm wrong but wasn’t it the pestilence who chastised Secretary Clinton for mishandling classified information? However, there is an upside, since the pestilence is averse to the truth, nothing a spy cold glean from his ranting on a cell phone would actually give them a clue as to what American Policy is, for we have none and the pestilence is doing his best to keep it that way.
On a side note, I stumbled on how the canned food industry makes canned corned beef hash last night. I was shy a going nowhere ride on my stationary bike and had to decide which to do, stand and stir corned beef hash or ride the bike. So, after I got the onions and jalapeno peppers sautéed with some garlic and other spices, I put it all into a baking dish and baked it at 350 while I moved those peddles. I baked it an hour. When I finally ate some, I was surprised to discover that I had the consistency of canned corned beef hash without the tin can taste. I guess to get that tin can taste, I need to leave the corned beef tin in the mix while it bakes.
I trust this finds you happy, healthy, and able to pass TSA inspection on Friday.
Warmest regards, Ed
040 Treasure Hunt
Fiction in 823 words by T. Edward Westen
“Are you sure this is the right stretch of coast?” asked Edith Gunderson.
“In 300 or so odd years, there has been a lot of coastal erosion from hurricanes so the shore line would be not quite a match,” replied Captain Batan. “But the latitude and longitude notation on the map put us near where he buried the treasure.”
“I didn’t know he came this far North?” said Edith Gunderson.
Captain Batan laughed, “in the movies, pirates ply the topics. In history, they followed shipping lanes. New England, especially Boston, was the source and destination of many a rich cargo. Remember the triangle trade. The rum part departed from here. As I recall pirates liked rum.”
“I prefer a single malt,” said Edith Gunderson. “That is on the rare occasion I take a sip. I can’t imagine a bunch of pirates burying a ship load of rum.”
Detective Phillipson said, “Yes, we even know in which drawer you keep the single malt.” Watching the map, he said, “Turn right at the next intersection, Ms. Gunderson. I think they drank the run and buried the silver, gold, and jewels.”
Captain Batan said, “It looks pretty built-up. I should think if there were buried treasure here, it would have been discovered a long time ago.”
Pointing to the left and a parking lot with beach beyond, Detective Phillipson said, “Pull in there, Ms. Gunderson and we can reconnoiter the beach. We are close.”
The three got out of the car and popped the trunk. Captain Batan retrieved a ground penetrating radar unit and cheeked the fuel tank. “This unit still looks to be O.K. And we didn’t lose any fuel in transit. Help me attach the handle Eddie.”
“You want me to push that thing?” Detective Philipson asked.
“We’ll take turns,” replied Captain Batan. “It is heavy. It is a good thing it is self-propelled.”
“The map shows the treasure equidistant between a big, old tree and a pile of stones,” said Edith Gunderson. “I see several piles of stones but not a single old, big tree.”
“A big old tree on a 300-year-old map would have been firewood a long time ago,” said Captain Batan. “Looking at the angle on the map relative to a perpendicular to a tangent line drawn through the coast line. I suggest we try a 30-degree line from each of the stone piles in a northwesterly direction.
As Captain Batan ran the ground penetrating radar unit in a line roughly 30 degrees northwest from the closest pile of stones a Sheriff Department car pulled up on the sand next to where Detective Philipson and Edith Gunderson were standing. A Deputy Sherriff got out and walked purposely toward them. when he got close he pointed to Captain Batan and the ground penetrating radar and asked, “Just what do you think you are doing?”
Detective Philipson reached for his credentials and the Deputy quickly upholstered his gun and pointed it at the ground between him and Detective Philipson. “No funny business,” the Deputy said.
Detective Philipson put his hand out in front of him and said, “I am a detective.” Gesturing to the Captain Batan pushing the ground penetrating radar, he added, “and that is my unit commander. I was just reaching for my credentials. What If I slowly l turn around and have Ms. Gunderson here pull my credentials out of my left rear pants pocket?”
Without moving his gun, the Deputy said, “I believe that would work. Miss if you please.”
Detective Philipson turned so his back was to the Deputy and his hand were held outstretched and Ms. Gunderson pulled Detective Philipson’s credentials wallet out of his pocket, opened it and careful to not move quickly walked toward the Deputy Sherriff. When she was close enough for the Deputy to read the credentials, and see the photo was that of the man he held at gun point, he holstered his weapon and said, “I do apologize, Detective, but, better an apophony than I get shot by some guy reaching in his back pocket.”
“I completely understand, Deputy,” replied Detective Philipson. “I should have announced myself and waited for instructions before making that move. The next time . . . “
Captain Batan, shouting and waving his arms, “OVER HERE, OVER HERE. WE HAVE SOMETHING,” interrupted Detective Philipson’s statement.
The Deputy, the Detective, and Ms. Gunderson trudged through the dry sand to where Captain Batan had come to rest with the ground penetrating unit. When they got there, the Captain pointed to the display and said, “We have a body.” The display showed the bones of an adult sized female or young man.”
The Deputy Sheriff said, “How did you know to look here?
“It is a long story,” replied Captain Batan. “Would you mind calling your crime scene unit and the detectives that are due to catch the next case? I’m afraid this is not my jurisdiction.”