Hello Brothers,
Well the end of my Clampyear as Humbug has finally arrived. It's been quite a ride, with lots of ups and downs; but I've had the good fortune of having some generous and good natured Redshirts to back me up.
If you've followed the CLOG, then you've pretty much seen the highlights and lowlights of my year. On the high side we had a great Widders's Ball, followed by two solid doin's in a row. We brought in 18 new members, and increased our chapter's reputation up and down California for being a real class act. Clamp Okihi especially brought in Clampers from all over the state, and there were plenty of seasoned guys who still can't say enough good things about us, and I hope that never stops.
I was very proud of the hard and creative work put in by our Brothers who made our doin's this year second to none. Because of your work we are fast becoming known throughout Clamperdom for the honest way we challenge our PBCs, for the way we encourage everyone to mingle and get to know each other, and most especially for our food. Who can forget Timbo's Chile Verde or his now legendary Pot Roast? Now if that isn't Kick Ass Backup, I don't know what is.
In fact there was plenty of backup, and if I took this space to thank everyone who deserved thanking I'd run off the page. Russ, Tom, Luis, Don J., Jim B., CCF, Smalls, Yeti, Andy, Bobbabooey, Charles, Pat (yes, Pat, I remember, it gets hot up on the pass), Marti and my twin compass points of Timbo and Dickhead, would only be a start. And as for Jeannie Johnson, she gets a whole friggin' compass all to herself.
Russ "Hole" Chapman, saved my tush on more than one occasion, and has earned the honor of being PXL's incoming Humbug. If you aspire to be Humbug, you'll have a tough act to follow. Hole served the chapter well as Vice filling in wherever help was needed. He took custody of the trailer and hauled it to G.C., carted building materials hundreds of miles, and even stepped in as interim Hawker. Russ's efforts in hauling the store up and down the state helped generate revenue for us at a time when the store could have simply gone dark due to the untimely passing of XNGH Dale Charter, who was just beginning his career as our new Hawker.
On the fun and dirty side, we held a couple of work parties. Up at Fort Tejon we built shelters for the Porta Potties. While up on Walker Pass we rehabbed a monument of national significance and installed one of the most striking plaques in all of Clamperdom. And we even got to know and make nice with our Brothers from Platrix who split the cost of the Walker Pass restoration and offered bribes to boot! We were invited to hawk at their Doin's for free and we brought a little extra something home for the kitty. (I even met some Platrix guys who drink real beer and aren't shy about sharing, woohoo!)
But of all the moments that brought me pleasure during my 'bug year, there was nothing to top putting the new guys through their paces during the Graybeards' Examination. Understand that for me it's not about getting to be mean or sadistic. Those of you who know me know that I don't like to make grown men cry (with the exeption of Dickhead).
But there is something that really gets to me when I see a guy that wants something just out of his reach and he's willing to risk ridicule to get it. We've all been in his shoes at some time or other. I know the feeling, you know the feeling. We all do.
I can sense that feeling in each PBC as he approaches the Graybeards' Table, and I can feel it in the assembled Redshirts as they cheer their victim on and will him to succeed. The Redshirts want the new guy to become one of them almost as much as he wants to become one of us. The experience doesn't just tear a guy down, it builds him up; and that's something our new Brother is not likely to ever forget. In my eyes this is truly high camaraderie and the spirit of PXL Clamping at its best.
Most of the sad notes you know, and one of them isn't having to give up the wet seat in the barrel to someone else. That just goes with the territory, but it is frustrating not having enough time to get done what you want to get done. I really did want us to do another plaque, and I really did want us to complete the reorganization of the chapter's governance on my watch. Neither of those worked out this year but we've made some progress on both, so there's hope; and maybe, just maybe, I've even passed the "Cookie Test" and left the chapter in better shape than I found it.
The poet once described being Humbug as akin to nailing Jello to a door post. To that I say, the poet was likely an ex-Humbug with sore thumbs. Lord knows I ran out of Bandaids half way through the year.
Some micro disasters left me laughing (afterwards), like suddenly realizing that we hadn't brought the roll of raffle tickets to the Widders' Ball. Sometimes personalities clashed, but we got through those eventually. And I'm sure there were some other sad things mixed in there that I'd care to forget.
But of all the moments that brought me sadness, nothing broke my heart like the sudden passing of Doc Charter. Though we lived over a hundred miles apart, I could always pick-up the phone any day of the week and count on Doc to buck me up and cheer me on. Before I became Humbug he would say, "Brother, when it's your turn in the barrel I'm going to make you look real good." And once I was Humbug he was always calling me "Boss" and reporting in, as if I was something special. But truth be known, if I lived to be a hundred, I could never be anywhere near as special as Doc Charter.
When his Widder Marti asked us to eulogize him at Wofford Height, it was my honor to do that for the chapter and it was the least I could do for a dear friend. Doc was one of the wisest men I've ever met, I miss him, and it still makes me sad.
That was my year. It was an honor to have served you as Humbug. My thanks to all.
Credo Quia Absurdum.
Clampfraternally yours,
"Medium Green Mike" Ramirez-Mares,
NGH #51 -- January 13, 2013