by Jim Cathcart

I can’t imagine how tough it must be to face a raging inferno and boldly enter it as a firefighter or police officer.
As you have no doubt heard, the fires came once again to Malibu (just over the hill from Lake Sherwood where I am). But this time the Fire Department had reserves nearby and was ready to respond instantly. Even with that, 51 structures were lost and many people’s dreams disappeared in flames.
My good friend and fellow hiker, Rocky Morton, sent these photos. Rocky is the brunette on the radio in the photo. She is part of the Sheriff’s department in LA County. A narrative of the photos from one of her team members is pasted below.

Here are two pics to contemplate:
Water Drop – In this image, we are looking down into Malibu Bowl after our evacuations were complete. Fire Dept. is desperately trying to save the dense cluster of houses just around the knoll at the right of the image.
They ultimately saved more than they lost. The S-64 Skycrane is making a water drop on the flames in the center of the image. A Skycrane is 18 feet 7 inches high from the wheels on the landing gear to the top of the rotor mast. The pilot made a DIRECT HIT on those flames, meaning the helo is directly over them. So, you can use the helo to get an idea how high the flames are. Do the math.

Fire `n Water – We’re near the bottom of Corral Canyon. While the fire blazed behind us, the sun seemed to ignite the ocean as well.
Evacuations
are complete all the way to Point Dume (the rightmost point in the image).
Teams had plenty of non-ambulatory residents, cats, dogs, and horses to worry about too.

(Jim here again) Folks we owe so much to those among us who choose to serve. Whether in an Armed Forces uniform, police blues, or in fire fighter garb, they have stepped up to place their own welfare secondary to ours. And they deserve our continuing gratitude and respect.

Mom told me that when Pearl Harbor was attacked in 1941 her coworkers flocked to the recruiting offices to sign up for military service. That response from “The Greatest Generation” was what we see today from these professionals.

People only do selfless things when there is a higher reason. A parent willingly endangers their own life to protect their child, a friend offers their last ration so that someone else can survive, these are acts of love.
Not just fondness or affection, Love. “Greater love hath no man than this, to give up his life for another.”

When I see bravery such as this I’m reminded how important it is for us to have a belief system that extends beyond ourselves. When we trivialize the importance of faith or criticize others for expressing their faith publicly such as offering a blessing at a meal, we reduce the likelihood that someone will, in the future, step up to protect us. If there is no God then this life is all there is. If this is all we’ve got, then why should anyone put themselves at risk for others?

In this season of Thanksgiving and Holy Days we will all benefit from reviewing our beliefs and expressing our thanks. Let each Christmas Tree, Menorah, Church, Synagogue, Mosque, Nativity Scene, Wrapped Gift and yes even Fire Trucks remind you of the power and importance of faith in our beliefs. We need to not only thank each other more often, but also thank our Creator for the myriad blessings we receive.
Thank you for being my friend and reader and Thank God for this wonderful life.
And once again, thank you to our Fire Fighting friends.

by Jim Cathcart

Mom deserved a special gift for Christmas, after all in more than 80 years on this Earth she had more than earned my gratitude and unfailing love. I could think of so many reasons to appreciate her besides just her “mom-hood”, .
She had raised my sister and me with no experience around babies and despite my Dad’s job that kept him out of town all week for most of the year. When I was in grammar school she took in my Grandfather and Grandmother as well. Grandfather Cathcart had a stroke that left him unable to talk or move. He was in a hospital bed in our front bedroom for about seven years.

Mom is an amazing person in many other ways too. She left an emotionally abusive stepmother and went out on her own at age 15 in Little Rock, Arkansas. She got a job right away, found a boarding house and made a good life for herself. She served in the Women’s Volunteer Army Corps during World War II and traveled to Des Moines, Charleston, Springfield, Massachusetts and ultimately to San Francisco.
She and Dad married upon his return from the war and they settled in Little Rock. That’s where I was born in 1946.

Mom’s maiden name is Laura Elizabeth Fudge. Yes, really. To make the name even more remarkable, I married Paula Sue Dugger whose mother had the maiden name of Flowers. Fudge and Flowers, what are the odds?

Well, Christmas gifts aren’t as simple as they used to be because Mom says she doesn’t “need or want anything”. She modestly defers our inquiries and just says “give something extra to the grandchildren.” Nice, but I’m not falling for it. I still plan to give my Mom a Christmas gift each year. So, I got creative.

I contacted a number of candy companies about producing a special limited run of personalized candies for me. And when Mom received the gift she cried tears of joy.
She said, “every time I look at the candy wrapper I start crying again.” Here is what I did.

I created a line of candy called “Laura Elizabeth Fudge.” In truth it was chocolate bars and truffles but you get the point. Then I designed the labels to tell the story of her life as if it were a chocolate candy company. Since she was born in 1919, I had the company “founded in 1919″. The employees of the company “signed” their names to the label (these were her family members including her parents, siblings, me, my sister Kathy and my wife Paula.)

Here is the label:

And here is the back cover:

In the legend I mentioned her birthplace of Rochelle, Louisiana and praised her sweet nature. Then I had the labels blown up to a larger size and framed in an 8 x 10 frame for her. The production run was small but I produced enough candy to provide her plenty to share with friends and neighbors plus a special stash that I could give to my friends and clients. The entire experience was great fun and surprisingly inexpensive. Most of all, the fun of it was Mom’s reaction to the gift.

She thought I had actually formed a candy company in her name. She worried that I had taken a huge risk in a field I knew little about. But my reassurance allayed her fears and she smiled and cried with joy. I get a glow each time I think about this experience. Hopefully, this will stimulate an idea for something you can give to your own special people that will produce similar benefits.

Have a very happy Thanksgiving and a Blessed Christmas Season.
Jim Cathcart

by Jim Cathcart

Since I was a preteen in Little Rock, Arkansas I have been in love with motorcycles. I know, there are dangers and everyone I’ve met has at least one story about someone who was injured on one. But somewhere in me there is an almost genetic predisposition in favor of motorcycles. I even like seeing the word in print! M-o-t-o-r-c-y-c-l-e. Nice.

Jack Edwards lived just down our street and had a Triumph. It was midnight blue and had loud pipes that all our neighbors hated. But it was music to me. He’d let me watch as he worked on his bike in the driveway and I can still recall the wonderful smell of the engine, leather and petroleum products. I couldn’t wait to grow old enough to have one.

When you reached age 13 the state of Arkansas would issue a learners permit for bikes. That Christmas my wonderful parents blessed me with a Harley Davidson “Topper” motorscooter. It had a 165cc engine and an automatic transmission. Top speed was about 50 mph if you were going downhill with a tailwind. But I loved it! It was my ticket to the world.

After acquiring my full license I started the routine of going for daily rides after school and on weekends. I’d ride until I got lost and then find my way home. Risky perhaps, but in the 1960s the risk was low. I discovered virtually every street, road and alley in central Arkansas. Then I got a newspaper route and rode my scooter to deliver the papers. That little vehicle changed my life. Or more accurately, it changed the size of my world.

I wasn’t particularly “cool” for riding it. After all, it was almost silent and had no power. But it took me where I wanted to go, even if I didn’t yet know where that was. My parents were relieved of the need to shuttle me to and from sports events, movies, school and more. They liked the convenience and Mom, bless her heart, never made me feel that she worried about me while I was out for a ride.

I kept the Topper until High School when it was decidedly un-cool to have a scooter. So, one weekend when something on it broke I relegated it to a corner of the garage and never got it running again. Sorry about that.

Years went by and I always pined for another bike but didn’t get one until one day in 1968 the temptation was just too great. I went to Doug Reynold’s Suzuki shop, a brand new hole-in-the-wall-sized dealership to kick tires and possibly buy a used small bike.
But when I walked in the door there it was.

No, not another Topper, but “The Rolls Royce of Motorcycles”, a BMW R69US! That was the king of the road for folks who didn’t like to work on their motorcycles. The Harleys, Indians and Triumphs were way too high-maintenance back then. Doug asked me if I’d like to take it for a ride. Gulp! My heart was in my throat. Me? Ride one of the finest bikes in the world? Me?? Really??

Well, that was a “puppy dog” sale. (When the pet store owner suggests you take the puppy home for the night to see if you want to keep it, you have officially become a puppy owner. Your family names it and it cannot go back to the store.) The same was true for MY new bike. I still remember the price, big at the time, $2010.00. I had to finance it for $60 a month. But that same day I was the proud owner of one of the finest bikes on the road at that time.

Now my world was getting really big. I rode it to Oklahoma, all over Arkansas and occasionally into Tennessee, Texas and Louisiana. If my job had permitted I’d have ridden it all over North America. I kept the bike until late 1970 when I got married and promised my lovely bride that I’d not buy another until first we got a house of our own.

Fast forward almost a generation. We had bought numerous houses and moved to California. My business was my own and life was sweet but, you guessed it, incomplete. One day in 1990 when Paula heard me whimper with jealousy as a motorcycle rode by, she said, “why don’t you just go get a motorcycle and get it out of your system?” God bless that woman. It took me almost a day to do so.

I bought a used BMW rode it everywhere within 1,000 miles of home and traded it for another BMW, which I rode to Cody, Wyoming and back. Then I traded for a Honda, then a Kawasaki, a Triumph (yes a Trophy 1200), another Kawasaki, then two Triumphs and today I ride a Yamaha FJR 1300.

Several wonderful experiences have grown out of all those motorcycles. While Jim Jr. was in college in Santa Barbara we lived in San Diego and I’d frequently ride the 220 miles north to pick up Jimmy and take him on a 1,000 mile motorcycle adventure. When Paula and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary she got a new diamond ring and I got 14 days of motorcycling through the Swiss, German, Austrian and Italian Alps with her on the back seat! We loved it so much we repeated it and added France to the itinerary to celebrate our 30th. We’ve toured New England on a Harley Road King during the changing of the leaves. We toured Colorado, much of California and more. It has been a great way to share some pretty exciting adventures.

I’ve served on the pit crew of Championship motorcycle drag racer Ricky Gadsen and taken advanced handling skills instruction on Infineon (Sears Point) Raceway and Laguna Seca Raceway. Full speed under the supervision of World SuperBike Champion Reg Pridmore. Yeee Haaa! I’ve also attended Daytona Bike Week twice but haven’t yet made it to Sturgis, SD for their annual event.

In 1968 after a long motorcycle ride I got out my guitar and wrote a song about motorcycling titled “Riding Free”. (Lyrics posted below) I didn’t publish the song until 2004 but it is recorded and linked here for your enjoyment.
The link takes you to a video interview of me by Selling Power Magazine’s publisher, Gerhard Gschwandtner. The song is linked into that clip.

I’ve been booked for speeches and seminars by Harley Davidson, Suzuki, Kawasaki, BMW and Honda. My hobby has enhanced my business, my marriage and my life. And yes I wear a helmet even in states where the law doesn’t require it. I figure I’ve ridden about 150,000 miles and my worst mishap was a 1995 spill on a country road where I cracked a bone in my wrist and picked up an “ass-fault” tattoo. A few weeks later I was healed and back in the saddle. I’m more careful now but happy to be “riding free” for as long as my mind and body will cooperate.

Here are the lyrics to Riding Free. I hope
you’ve enjoyed this message, and, thank you in advance for resisting the temptation to send me stories of the dangers of motorcycling. Now go for a ride and have a great day!

Riding Free
By Jim Cathcart
Copyright 1968, 2004

I’m riding free, got the highway at my feet,
No place to be and no schedules to meet,
There’s not a thing in the world to tie me down.

The buses pass me by, their destinations on their face,
No names on me Man I’m not going just one place,
I go where I want to be, to any town.

Nothing but my mood to guide me,
I follow the road I like best,
One week I may go to Mexico,
The next I’m headed northwest.

Two wheels below me and open road ahead,
Don’t need much money ‘cause I’m carrying my bed,
I’ll work one day for my bread, then travel on.

Don’t put me down Man I’m doing what I like,
Yes I’m happy when I’m out here on my bike,
I’m seeing the world my own way, come on along.

Nothing but my mood to guide me,
I follow the road I like best,
One week I may go to Ohio,
The next I’m headed southwest.

Ninety miles to Little Rock, my roots and memories,
I’ll pause but new and winding roads are calling me,
My goal’s the ride not the place, I’m riding free.
My goal’s the ride not the place, I’m riding free.

www.cathcart.com

Note: Doug Reynolds Suzuki of Little Rock
is now a very large and successful dealership.
9800 Interstate 30
Little Rock, AR 72209
PH: (501) 562-6229