Among the Best: Montana

I bet you didn’t know . . . 

Damn!  I did it again!

 

You were probably not aware that Montana has an issue with gambling.  According to an article that popped up on the ever reliable and accurate social media, Montana ranks as the third most gambling-addicted state in the United States.  Betcha . . . oops!  I imagine you were not aware of this because I had no clue that Montana had an affinity towards games of chance . . .namely gambling.  Who would have thought, given the population of the state, that the odds favored the Treasure State ranking in the top three of gambling addicted states.

 

The article states that 2.5 percent of Montana’s population has what they call a “gambling disorder”.  Approximately one to three percent of adults sin the United States has a gambling disorder.  A gambling disorder is also known as “compulsive gambling” is defined as “a serious, diagnosable mental health condition characterized by the uncontrollable urge to gamble despite severe personal, financial, and social consequences.”  It is listed in the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostics and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5)—the sacred and holy grail for all things mental health in the medical field.  It is the “go to” tome.  When gambling gets out of control it can lead to serious economic consequences, social issues, and personal problems.  It can ruin lives and destroy families.

 

The deck is stacked against Montana when it comes to gambling.  Only South Dakota and top dog Nevada ranked higher.  It is no surprise that Nevada ranks number one as it is home to Las Vegas, the gambling capital of America.  Nevada ranks number one in casinos and gaming machines per capita, has the highest overall gambling revenue, most arrests for illegal gambling, and take the cake when it comes to Gamblers Anonymous meeting per capita.  Gambling is Nevada, Nevada is gambling.

 

At number two is South Dakota.  Have you been to South Dakota?  What else is there to do?  It is no wonder that gambling is so prevalent.  With nothing else to do, South Dakotans gamble . . . casinos and gaming machines are prevalent in retail and convenience stores . . . high prevalence—being the 11^th ranked state—in purchasing lottery tickets.  Gambling is everywhere.  Like Nevada it ranks high in Gamblers Anonymous meetings.  If you’ve been to South Dakota you know.  It’s been said that the two best things that ever came out of South Dakota are Interstates 90 and 29 . . . and now gambling.  People have to do something, so they gamble.

 

Like Nevada and South Dakota, Montana has a lot of casinos.  It seems as if there is a casino in every town in Big Sky Country . . . one on every corner is the saying here.  Thanks to Town Pump (gasoline company) there seems to be a casino in every Montana community.  When it comes to casinos, Montana is ranked number five (actually number two because the four states above it is tied for first—Nevada, Oklahoma, North and South Dakota).  If not casinos, then gaming machines . . . Montana jumps to first in a tie with Nevada, Oklahoma, and South Dakota.  Gambling is everywhere and you can lay money down on that.

 

There I go again . . . betcha didn’t know any of that.

 

When the wife and I moved to Nebraska decades ago there was some apprehension on her part.  She wondered if there was a gambling issue in the Big Red state because every time she asked for directions or assistance, she was greeted with a big ol’ “you betcha!”  Seems to be a standard catch phrase in Nebraska.  It was a fluke as Nebraska only ranks 30^th when it comes to gambling disorders.  “You betcha” is a common phrase out here in the west and Montana . . . but it is no fluke that it is popular in Big Sky Country.

 

Gambling is considered by many to be a vice.  It is heavily regulated by the state and federal government as most vices are . . . where there is money to be made on a vice the government is involved.  Gambling is a vice . . . some say sin . . . but none the less, it is a vice.  Montana loves its vices.  Gambling involves lots of sitting around seemingly doing nothing but feeding coins into slots.  Lots of down time.  Which brings up another vice Montanans seem to love and are ranked high in . . . drinking.

 

When it comes to alcohol consumption, the Big Sky state comes in fifth behind New Hampshire, Delaware, Nevada, and North Dakota.  The average Montanan drinks 3.10 gallons of booze a year.  That figure is probably skewed since there is a high prevalence of binge drinking” in the state.  Only three states and the District of Columbia have greater odds for going out on a bender. Montana ranks fifth overall or fourth if you drop out the District of Columbia.  Of course, the district is ranked number one—that is where the federal government is located with all the nation’s politicians.  I’d drink heavily if I had to live there, especially now.

 

Probably should throw pot into the mix.  In the United States the percentage of Montanans using cannabis in the past year was 23.44 percent.  This ranked Montana as number six.  Since the legalization of cannabis use in Montana there has been a shift in substance use.  Marijuana use has seen a significant rise with 15 percent of adults using it.  At the same time there has been a downward shift of less alcohol use—yet, at the same time, binge drinking ranks in the top nation-wide.  With all the free time that comes with gambling a person turns to other thrills, and it is nice that they have their choice of poison . . . alcohol or pot.  Still considered a vice by many.

 

When it comes to vices, Montana competes with the best of them.  Montana holds its own—you can bet on that.  You can toast that.  Apparently, Montanans like their vices—gambling, drinking, smoking, and sex.  Sex . . . I haven’t mentioned anything about sex as a Montana vice.  Seems talking about sex is a private personal thing and isn’t put out there for public consumption.  But there was a time in Montana when it had quite a robust commerce selling sex.  The state has a notable history when it comes to prostitution, brothels, and red-light districts.  The brothels died in the 1970s and 80s.  One of my favorite watering holes/restaurants in the state capital of Helena is the Windbag Saloon and Grill.  This bar was (and still is) a favorite for the state legislators to gather after a day’s legislative sessions to down a few drinks—thus the name “Windbag”.  At the same time for a long time, it was also a brothel operated by Big Dorothy Baker.  She closed shop after a raid in 1973.  But let’s just say that it still carries that ambience and historical significance today.  The Dumas Brothel in Butte has the distinction of having been the longest continuous running house of ill-repute in the United States history from 1890 until it shuttered its doors in 1982.  Though less blatant than the infamous brothels and red light districts the shift has been towards more subtle and what some think is more respectable forms—illegal massage parlors.  A recent investigation into human trafficking revealed that there are at least 50 of these parlors throughout the state.  Trust me, sex still sells.  It’s big business and I imagine, though mostly under the radar, that Montana holds its own when it comes to sex.

 

I bet you a five-spot that you didn’t know any of this—gambling, drinking, smoking, and sex—had such a lofty ranking in Big Sky Country.  Montana can compete with the best when it comes to vices.  For better or worse, it is a part of who Montana and its residents are.  You can bet on it.  You can drink to it.  You can even light up a joint and smoke to it.  You’ll fit right in.  When it comes to vices it is safe money that Montanans will be in the race. You can bet on it.

 

Damn . . . I did it again!

 

Bugged by Insects

 With the warm winter and the early transition into spring the premature arrival of Coleopteras, Lepidopteras, Hymenopteras, Arachnids, Anneleldas, and Arachnids—BUGS!  INSECTS! CREEPY CRAWLERS! NUISANCES!  They have returned with a vengeance. 

The ground is warm enough that the earthworms are easy prey for the Robins.  Bees are buzzing around pollinating on premature dandelions.  Ants are breaking free of their underground winter hibernation.  Butterflies are fluttering here and there.  Little gnats and what some call “itty bitties” are swarming in the air.  Spiders are starting to weave their intricate works of web art.  Even a mosquito or two has been spotted searching for their next victim for blood sucking.  Ticks are lurking around the tall dead grass.  Box Elder bugs are everywhere in the hyper-amorous state of creating a mass invasion of even more of their kind.  The bugs are everywhere.

 

For the most part I have nothing against bugs and insects.  They have their place in nature and the world, I have mine.  As long as we respect that we get along fine.  They leave me alone and I will leave them alone.  When boundaries are crossed . . . well, that’s when the conflict begins.

 

I believe in boundaries.  Insects belong outside in God’s creation.  They do not belong in the house.  In the winter the pesky itty bitties see the house as their version of “going south” and make themselves a nuisance as they hatch out in the potting soil of the house plants.  Because they are so small and practically unseeable except to the person they are harassing, I often appear to be viewed by others as having a fit as I swat and swear at the air.  Outside of placing miniature sticky pads in the pots, they are winning the battle.  I have threatened with the wife that I am going to replace all the plants with fake artificial plants.  I am also losing that battle.

 

Another creepy crawler that seems to see the house as its winter destination is the Box Elder bugs.  They like warmth and swarm on windows and doorways trying to get in.  Box Elder bugs are worthless.  They serve no real purpose.  Birds do not like to eat them because of their foul odor and taste.  No one likes them—NO ONE!  Basically, their purpose is to produce more Box Elder bugs, and they do that quite well . . . millions of them!  When I lived in Nebraska folks used to call them “Democrats” because there were lots of them and they were pretty useless.  Give them credit . . . they are persistent in getting into the house.

 

My wife is a benevolent soul and views these invaders . . . these Box Elder bugs . . . as being misplaced and needing assistance in getting back out to the great outdoors.  She captures them and releases them outside.  Me . . . CRUSH them and throw them in the trash.  After all, they crossed the boundary and consequences can be hell.

 

With the wife, any indoor insect is just a misplaced critter worthy of life . . . except for spiders, flies, and mosquitoes.  These are not insects, they are pests.  Despite the useful and wonderful purpose of spiders in controlling other insects, they are icky, creepy, and gross . . . untouchable.  Their fate is to be smushed up in a tissue and flushed down the toilet.  Flies are nuisances that carry germs and diseases.  Mosquitoes bit and could have diseases that they transmit.  They get the death sentence and there is no argument from the wife.  As I have stated, there are consequences for crossing boundaries.

 

This early onslaught of insects indoors and out is testing my patience.  It is way too early for flies, but they are here.  Though I haven’t encountered any yet, my neighbors have claimed to have been bitten by mosquitoes already.  Again, too early.  Bees and buzzing and we even had a wasp in the house.  With the wasp I felt merciful and shooshed it out an open door.  Bees are laidback doing their own thing.  If you leave them alone, they leave you alone.  With the warm weather the flying insects are gathering enmasse.  For the most part I endure them and only occasionally swat at them.  The neighbors on the other hand really cannot tolerate them and have a massive blue glowing bug zapper in their yard.  Nothing beats a beautiful warm evening out on the deck listening to bugs being zapped all night long.

 

As long as bugs respect the boundaries I will leave them alone . . . except for mosquitoes and ticks.  In my estimation mosquitoes are like Box Elder bugs—there are lots of them and they are basically worthless.  Indoors or outdoors, they get the death penalty.  Same goes for their blood-sucking parasite cousins—ticks.  The ticks came out with the first hint of warm weather.  It’s too early.  I have already removed two of these creepy crawlers off my body in the past month.  It makes my skin crawl.  Death to all ticks!  No debate!

 

With the early spring and the warmth, it bathes everything in, why wouldn’t the insect world want to participate?  They have returned in full force.  They are appearing everywhere for better or worse.  They cannot be avoided.  They are a force to be reckoned with.  My goal is to respect boundaries.  If they respect my boundaries, they are free to exist.  Disrespect and break the boundaries and they are fair game for the wrath of John.  To each their own.  How you handle the invasion of insects is up to you.  If you are a tree hugging naturalist proclaiming that all God’s critters have a place in the choir . . . well, more power to you.  I’ll stick to my boundaries.  It’s been a battle that I have been fighting my whole life . . . what’s another year?

The Power of Silliness

I am becoming an old person.  The years are stacking up.  I suppose retirement does that by creating an awareness that the times are changing and there is nothing that can change that.  Life is serious and that seriousness is being seen and experienced through younger and fresher eyes.  Generations experience life differently.  This transition into the realm of elderliness becomes more obvious with each passing day.  I and my generation are now becoming categories in Trivial Pursuit and the “do you remember” questions asked at the end of the nightly news.  I am becoming a relic . . . and old relic at that. 

This is not anything that has been pointed out by the masses.  We, there are those smart aleck people who relish the old age putdowns when they have the chance . . . but for the most part it is more subtle.  When going out to play with the grandchildren, I hear my children say, “Be careful with Papa.”  A reminder that Papa is getting older, slower, and more breakable.  Wouldn’t want to break Papa!  “You, okay?” is another subtle reminder I get whenever I moan or groan with any movement I make.  Most of the time I am just moaning and groaning because it is expected at my age and I do not want to disappoint.  Gotta play the part whether there is a reason for the moaning or groaning.  The children are gracious in their subtle hints at my movement into being old.

 

It is not like I am not aware of this transition into old age.  I may be old, but I get the hints.  The biggest culprit is my body.  It seems that arthritis and its buddy rheumatoid like to play tag with the joints and muscles in my hands daily.  Sometimes they even expand their playfulness and wander up my arms to camp out in my elbows.  Stamina isn’t what it used to be.  The heart and lungs rebel more than they used to.  They tend to send reminders to slow down and don’t overdo it.  The heart is especially adamant in letting me know that if it goes, so goes everything else.  Eyesight is fading . . . we now have a drive in size television.  Hearing is following closely . . . thank goodness the big screen television comes with closed captioning.  I’m not complaining about the hearing going as I am discovering that a lot of what people want to tell me really doesn’t matter to me.  Memory is staking a claim in the race to physical disintegration of my body.  I catch myself often forgetting little things here and there.  Which has actually been wonderful as it has provided multiple epiphanies once I remember what I forget.  A whole lot of “oh, yeah” moments.

 

So, yes, I am joining the ranks of the elderly.  I am assuming my place in the geriatric choir where we sing lots of songs from the 1970s—Beatles, Rolling Stones, Aerosmith, CSNY—instead of the hymns of our parents.  I am old, but I ain’t dead yet.  Nope, I’m experiencing a “Merlin”.

 

In T.H. White’s Arthurian legend, The Once and Future King, the child Arthur is taught and mentored by the old wizard Merlin. As the story begins Merlin has reached the peak of his age and has begun his descent down the mountain of age.  As the child Arthur grows older each year, Merlin grows younger—he lives backwards, starting as an old man and aging toward infancy.  I have entered the “Merlin” stage of my life . . . I regress.

 

What a wonderful gift it has been to backtrack and rediscover the beauty and joy of life that have been repressed by the duties, responsibilities, and expectations of adulthood.  There is much to re-learn, re-experience, and re-grasp.  Too often I forget this gift . . . this regression.  Yet there are those who remind me.  Where my children focus on my journey of aging, my grandchildren see the other side.  They see the gift of my youth shining through the wrinkles and cracks of old age.  They recognize the “child” in me and encourage that “child” to come out and play.  After spending a week with two of my visiting grandchildren it is more obvious that the “child” in me is emerging.

 

And the “child” rejoices.

 

The greatest gift revealed from my childhood has been silliness.  Garrison Keillor recently wrote in his weekly column: “Silliness is essential to human life, it’s proof that life can be joyful, we need not die from indifference.”  As my grandchildren have told me many times, “Papa, you are silly.”

 

They are right.  I am silly.  A week with my grandchildren amplified the silliness often hidden from the judgmental eyes of adults in my life.  From discovering rocks and their hidden identities waiting to be released with a little paint.  Drawing pictures with chalk releasing a world others cannot see on the sidewalk before them.  Making joyful and beautiful music with a kazoo that others claim is noise.  Drawing pirates, Easter bunnies, flowers, caterpillars, and butterflies on windows with markers.  Basking in popsicles.  Waging battles against unseen foes with all the sound effects of the old Batman series . . . boom, bam, wham, and POW!  Wearing two different colored socks.  Blowing bubbles in the milk glass.  Constantly giggling, laughing . . . and doing it some more . . . at really bad jokes, puns, and riddles.  Teasing.  A whole lot of silliness.

 

And it was joyful!  A celebration of life.  A wonderful dance of love . . . and if you have ever seen me dance, you’d know silliness.  For a while nothing else mattered.  There wasn’t the drama of a crazy orange person in the White House.  No worries about inflation and rising gas prices.  No thoughts about war and injustice.  No pictures of meanness or cruelty.  No fussing and fighting.  No darkness blocking the sun. Only blissfulness and joy of embracing the silliness of childhood and life . . . and it was good.  For this reminder I am thankful.

 

I may be seen as old and elderly by the world around me, but I regress.  As I regress, the “child” I once was with all the dreams and hope that youth can hold comes tumbling towards me.  It is a gift . . . a wondrous, beautiful gift of life that reminds me that I am loved and cared for.  I may be getting old, but I am not dead or forgotten.  Nope, I’m still here and I am . . . silly.  Silly and enjoying life.  And it is good . . . really good.

 

Life is pretty dark and tough right now.  We are all experiencing our age in these difficult times.  It is frustrating and scary.  Dark.  Because of this I encourage you to pause, find a child, and spend some time getting silly.  It is good for the soul.  It will help you to see and remind you that life is good . . . life is beautiful . . . that it is joyful.  Silliness reveals what the eyes cannot see but what we need to see.  As Johnny Nash once sang:

 

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone

I can see all obstacles in my way

Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind

 

It’s gonna be a bright, bright

Sun-shiny day

It’s gonna be a bright, bright

Sun-shiny day

 

I think I can make it now, the pain is gone

All the bad feelings have disappeared

Here is the rainbow I’ve been prayin’ for

 

It’s gonna be a bright, bright

Sun-shiny day

 

Look all around, there’s nothin’ but blue skies

Look straight ahead, nothin’ but blue skies

 

The power of silliness . . . the power of growing old.