Remembering Alaska - The Last Frontier

It has taken a few weeks for the significance of our family summer holiday in Alaska to sink in. For a few days I found myself jabbering about the scenery and the game, and feeling I should correct my terminology, and the salmon virtually leaping out of the water onto my hook, and the blue color ice in glaciers. So I stepped back and waited. But now here it is!
We’ve been to Alaska, the whole family flew up to the last frontier, into Anchorage on Alaska Airlines, and then on a shorter connection into Fairbanks.



There to meet us at the airport were the Mikats, what a clan! We know these folks through our online home schooling program which Maran and Oliver took. Greg, the dad, is a sergeant and a musician serving at Fort Wainwright, and he and Laurie really went out of their way to make us welcome.



After a first night’s picnic supper and rest on base, we loaded up Greg’s trailer with everything we needed for a camping trip, and all eleven of us set off to Denali National Park.



A drive across Alaska, any drive, is going to be scenically beautiful. The country side is unspoilt and breathtaking. Of course the weather is changeable, and it is apt to get cloudy and rainy in a moment. But we were blessed and our days in the park were warm and sunny making the drive down to the park a pleasure and the setting up of camp easy.


Sergeant Mikat’s trailer even had firewood in it, and we had a wonderful fireside supper while endless daylight drifted on till eleven p.m.








An early start the next morning allowed us to take the first bus into the park proper, and although we never did see Mount McKinley clearly, we saw just about everything else there was to see.



















There were Dall sheep on the mountain sides,




















a Grizzly sow and her cubs cavorting in the river draw,


























Caribou

















and Moose,

















a wolf on the kill all right beside the road,


















and eagles

















and Ptarmigans.

















We slept contentedly that night after our campfire dinner, and had a good run back to Fort Wainwright the next day before starting off the next day for Valdez.

















It’s a long run following the great Alaska Pipe Line all the way down to Prince William Sound, but gosh the views were spectacular.



It was late when we got into the trailer park and after we set up kitchen it started to rain. Putting up an extra tarpaulin allowed us plenty of room by the fire pit to kick back and enjoy supper. We were going fishing the next day.

When the Salmon are running you could probably scoop them out of the water better with a net than a line, but we were using rods lines an lures.





It wasn’t hard. As soon as the lure hit the water it was being tugged at, and if you jerked the line suddenly you could, and we did, snag a fish by the fin. We ate well that night, with more fresh boat baked Pink than we could eat.

Our final adventure was Glacier Lake kayaking. Rowing right into the crevice of a glacier and looking into the ice which is a deep light blue is a fairing thrilling experience. The color is something to do with the ice being compressed for thousands of years. After that we took out T shirts and drove all the way back to Fairbanks for our final night. We all got along with the Mikats, and pray we will go traveling with them again.

Blue September

September 1st 2010 sees the launching of the Blue September campaign here in California, which is an Australian idea to boost public awareness of the significance of prostate cancer round the world. You will see well know land marks like the Ramada Plaza on Santa Monica, the Capitol Records building and the Roosevelt Hotel lit up in blue at night, and why, because blue is the the color of the ribbon for this critical new movement. Remember the girls have pink for the breast cancer awareness movement, well now there’s a blue ribbon for the boys.

Tonight we were at the Blue September Eve party at the home of Chis De Cure, the Australian Consul General and his wife Cathe. We were in good company with Alan Johnson, the Ausie hotelier who seems to know everyone. Tom LaBonge was there to present a City of Los Angeles Proclamation to Dr Mark Scholz MD coauthor of the new book “Invasion of the Prostate Snatchers”. We raised our glasses to fine "Messenger" wines grown in Napa by another Australian, Rob McDonald.

Prostatic cancer is a treatable condition which may linger for many years only to be overtaken by other more strident extinguishers of human life. But while this is so, and while most men will eventually develop prostate cancer and live to die from another ailment, there are many who for the wrong reasons decide they do not need to see a doctor, and only when it is too late will they seek help for a condition so advanced that mortality is a certainty. This is particularly true for the men of the African American community.

So run in and get checked. Go Blue!

Keeping Up To Date Professionally

Continuing Dental Education is a constant feature in my professional life. There is always something new to learn and one is never able to be completely up to date. The highlight in my “academic refreshment program” is participating in the “Pacific Coast Society for Prosthodontics” congress each year, it was the seventy fifth anniversary of the society. This organization of Prosthodontic experts holds its annual meeting in the summer in a different west coast location each year. Papers are presented by original researchers on their recent findings and research. This year it was at the Silverado Resort in Napa, and Nancy and I got away sans children for the first time in many a year.

The Links from the club house at the Silverado Resort

Apart from the updates in the latest porcelain for dental crowns and how the use of implants is growing and improving, we also enjoyed fine wine and a drive up the Napa Valley passing many now famous named vineyards on the way. The setting seems idyllic, rows of neatly groomed vines narrowing away to the gentle hillsides dotted with classically Tuscan or Provencal looking homes and tasting rooms, dabbed with yellow ocher on the fields of green.

One private night out we dined at Neela’s, where caterer and authoress Leena Paniz has set up her new enterprise to bring Indian haut cuisine to Napa. One doesn’t usually associate Indian flavors as being well accompanied by wine, but clearly, though we stuck with Kingfisher Ale, many of the patrons were choosing the local vintages. The food was excellent. The Palak paneer, Cornish game hen and the lamb kebab were delicately spiced and delicious. There was one other thing to note, oh her breads, they are cheese dressed warm and moist. Mmmh! Neela catered a reception one evening and taught a cooking class for the spouses.

A special bindi for each lady

The president’s installation ball was a big hit, and was in the Bollywood theme inspired by Dr. Arun Sharma, our outgoing president. As we entered the ladies were offered beautiful bindis to match their outfits.

Pukah Sahib and Memshib

Later when the dancers came on the whole room was inspired by their vigor, and when they asked us up to join with them the entire audience got up to dance.

75th anniversary pin I designed for the PCSP

Crowded floor

Casa Hogar – Helping the children

My good friend Nick Medoza, and excellent electrician, invited me to drive down with him to Tijuana, to spend some time with the children in the Casa Hogar Orphanage. We all piled into our cars and shortly after 7.00 a.m. we were on the road. In a few hours we were crossing the border into Mexico. Our arrival at the children’s home on the southern hillside of the city was greeted with a shower of shouted welcomes and cheers, and we all received warm hugs of welcome from these delightful youngsters as we climbed the stairs beyond the iron gates from the dusty dirt street.



















My mission was to give dental advice and an examination to all who wanted it. I talked to an attentive audience about the importance of brushing and flossing, and was pleasantly surprised by how well they listened as my words were translated. Then I examined some on the children, and was able to make some treatment recommendations. I wanted to use x-rays and treat, but that I cannot do in Mexico.



















Pastor Freddy Duarte and Eva Morales, are doing marvelous work devoting their lives to helping this little band, saving “Just a few star fish”, but each one will have a life that is much better for it.



















When the dental exams were over we all trouped out and convoyed to Parque Morelos and there we played ball games and barbequed their dinner.



















After prayers of thanks, we said good byes, and then caravanned back to wait in line for an hour watching the hawkers and beggars as we queued up to present our passports and cross back into the United States. The contrast between the chaos of Tijuana and the order and cleanliness of the United States is dramatic.



















The children at Casa Hogar need help: Casa Hoar Eben-Ezer, Tijuana , B.C., Mexico.

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A tribute to Ann FitzGerald Skipper

A tribute to Ann FitzGerald Skipper
1925 -2009

It is with great sorrow that I have to report of the demise of my dear friend Ann Skipper, who had been suffering from Alzheimer’s for some years and sustained a severe stroke late last December. She was eighty four and passed away on the 30th December. The humility and lack of fanfare typical of the family resulted in my not discovering the truth of it until now, June 2010.

After a very full life raising four boys as the wife of a schoolteacher, Ann took up Scottish Country Dancing, and became an accomplished teacher in the late 1970s. In 1983, Ann and I met at a Highland Games in Costa Mesa as a result of an introduction made by the Broadcaster Tom Girvin. She rapidly endeared herself to me and inspired me to take up Scottish Country Dancing. From that point on Scottish country dancing was a regular activity in the Clan MacLeod Society in Southern California. Together we started a dance team who came with us to the Clan MacLeod Parliaments in 1986, and 1990. In 1986 we published our first book on Scottish Country Dances that relate to the Clan MacLeod, it was called “Dances of An Island Clan”. This book was really successful and helped to inspire lots of McLeod’s across America and beyond to take up Scottish Country Dancing, and five teams were formed in the United States. Here in California the McLeod Rant was one of the most successful dances held each year.

Ann and I continued to gather dances related to the Clan and for the next 10 years worked on producing another book. As the dance teams were formed, Ann took over their coordination and became the Dance Mistress to the Clan MacLeod. In 1991 the “Ghillie Guide” was published, a small booklet with a wealth of information on the nuances of dance steps, figures and terminology needed to understand the many dances we were discovering. As dancing became popular at Clan ceilidhs Mrs. Skipper met the need for simple dances for these occasions and published “Clan MacLeod Dances For Ceilidhs” in 1993. A year later in 1994, “If the Ghille Fits…” was published, and together with“Dances of An Island Clan” it makes a unique repository of knowledge of Clan MacLeod dances and history.

It is not possible to begin to communicate the extent of the commitment and devotion Ann Skipper directed to her labors on behalf of Scottish Country Dancing, and especially to the Clan MacLeod. She was inspired in the Milligan tradition and was tireless in her work. Her academic research resulted in her readership at the Huntington Library here in San Marino, California. In 2000, as if to welcome the new Millennium, Ann published her crowning glory “Best Foot Forwards” a collection of twelve of her own dances each designed to emphasize a particular dance figure she wanted to teach. This little booklet alone represents an enormous amount of work, and places her in the ranks of the great Scottish Country Dance choreographers of the twentieth century, many of whom she new personally.

Ann stepped down as Dance Mistress to the Clan MacLeod in 2002, and in the letter to her from John MacLeod of MacLeod he wrote, “I must thank you very much for all the work you have done on the dance scene in clan MacLeod. You have been most successful in your role as teacher and enthuser and the clan is in your debt. I am sure that the heritage of dance will live on.”

Her four sons Tim, Andy, Brian and Paul, her husband Peter, the many grand children and a myriad of dancers around the world will mourn the loss of this “best of mothers and wonderful American lady” who is much loved.

Dr Neil Stewart McLeod FSA (Scot.)

Happy in America

I grew up in Africa, I’ve been to Zanzibar
I’ve seen the great Rift Valley, and it’s western rim so far,
I’ve stood on Table Mountain with Cape Town down below
A sight I’ll long remember and think about ..although...

I’m happy in America, America for me,
The land that flies the Stars and Stripes, home of the brave and free
And should my memory wander and hanker for old haunts
It’s the notion of how much I’d lack if I weren’t here that daunts.

I was born in Oxford City famed for mist and spire,
I know Scotland’s Western Isles, The land of Heart’s Desire
I traveled to Bologna to Napoli and Rome
But though I’ve loved them all at times, I do not call them home.

There’s no place quite like Rio with Christ’s statue so tall,
Few natural wonders impress like Iguacu Water Fall.
New Zealand is so beautiful, Australia’s got a reef
With the most amazing creatures in the waters underneath.

Oh! I spent time in London, that’s a city I have known,
I’ve crossed through France and taken luncheon at Chalon sur Saône
I call the world my oyster and round it I may whirl,
But when I’m done I’m headed back to claim the greatest pearl.

I’m happy in America, America for me,
The land that flies the Stars and Stripes, home of the brave and free
And should I chance to wander and take a final fling
Doubt not that I’ll be back again, America I sing.

Memorial Day 2010

On Memorial Day the Boy Scouts help us remember the fallen by planting flags on each grave in our National Cemeteries. Although this picture taken with my son is a few years old now, it captures the sentiment of what we value most and what needs to be treasured in this great country the USA.

Dentist | McLeod Neil Dentist, West Hollywood, CA

Dentist | McLeod Neil Dentist, West Hollywood, CA

Cricket Song

In Kenya the call of the crickets is a well loved bush sound, which for many was a sign of safety and peace. The crickets would chirp away all night unless something approached. Then all would be still and alert, ready for the intruder. Many settlers have them as their ‘watch dogs’, and they would awaken if the song stopped.

God’s Wee Watchman

Who is God’s wee watchman
Chirping through the night?
Who lets us know that all is safe
That everything’s alright?
Is company when we’re wakeful
Who softens night like dew,
Who lulls to sleep with singing
Oh little cricket, it’s you.

And should you stop your singing
And all the dark is still
We’ll wake and lie there listening
And hold our breath until
The comfort of your laughter
Dispels the fear of harm
Oh little cricket it is you
Who signals the alarm

Cat Gone

Too late to the rescue
Too slow out of bed
I heard the Coyote howling
Jar my dreaming sleep with dread.
I heard the mournful mewing
I knew it was too late,
By letting her be out at night
She kept her date with fate.

This was not the first time,
And it won’t be the last,
The neighbor dog’s gave the alarm
The time was coming fast.
I didn’t rise to face him
Bare footed in the chill
To make him drop the sad remains
And drive him up the hill.

Too late to the rescue,
Too late out of bed
I heard the Coyote howling,
I knew the cat was dead.
It was just a little feral
Not a real pet
But when I heard the meow I knew,
It’s too late for the vet.

The Tower of Babel

The iPad, Apple’s new toy, is truly amazing. And if you are into recording stuff there is an application called StudioMini XL (oxymoronic - extra large for the iPad as it was originally designed for the iPhone).

I just laid down three tracks for one of my mother’s poems.

Click here to play the song






















There is an interesting story that goes with this poem. In the city of Nairobi, midst the filth of the central bus station, there was a row a stinking lavatories propping each other up. They were long overdue for demolition when this poem found a place in the East African Standard. Shortly afterwards they were pulled down. I particularly liked this poem and composed a tune to go with the words.

Slaying Haggis Again

In 2010 the tradition has continued. The calendar was packed, four venues and fourteen haggis slain and two Immortal Memories of Robert Burns and all in eight days.

It started on Friday 15th, when the president of Rotary International, John Kenny, was being the key note speaker for the Rotarians at the Bonaventure Hotel in Downtown Los Angeles. Retired Chef Ivan from the Tam O’ Shanter Inn and I were there to “see to” the Haggis. A retinue of attendees were gathered up to follow the piper round the room as we paraded Scotland’s famous sausage. Amongst this throng was a Sikh, who previously admitted when challenged, that he was not a good Sikh and that he would drink his dram whisky. The general incongruity added to the fun of the moment when he sampled the first breath from the disemboweled sausage, “Warm, reekin’, rich!”

On the 20th and 21st at the Tam O’ Shanter, Lawry’s landmark restaurant, Burns’ Night was held in spite of the rain, and at two seating on each night we slew twelve of the haggi. It was there that my new friend Bernadette Hayes recorded the footage that forms the basis of the YouTube video. Burns’ “Address To A Haggis” is followed by “Horace” the Terry Jones’ Pythonesque irreverent explanation of the contents of a haggis.

Friday 23rd found my bonnie bride and I dining at the Athenaeum Club, the exquisite faculty club for California’s premier science academy, Cal Tech. The setting and the fare were wonderful. Chef Kevin’s haggis was opened to a gasping crowd. Nancy gave the toast to the Queen, and I proposed a toast to the Immortal Memory and preceded it with a discussion and recitation of “Death an Dr Hornbook”

The footage below was captured at the Tam O’ Shanter by “Lady Liberty” the twitter alias for Bernadette Hayes. We had fun and now so can you.

Thanksgiving Poem

Here is my Thanksgiving poem with pictures:

Tusker Larger - from Chip Hammack

Tusker Lager - a very fine beer
for William “Chip” Hammack 1954 -2009 who passed away too young

He was a member of the Executive LeTip of West Los Angeles, the networking club that I love.























William "Chip" Hammack



I was raised as a kiddy in Kenya,
An urchin in khaki and grime,
Where crawling under the floors of the club
Seemed to us quite a lark at the time.
There were cigarette boxes and matches
Razor wraps by Gillette that were blue,
Bottle caps of all flavors and spent bullet shells
Discolored by the damp and the dew.

Above was the bar of the Club House
A Kericho town watering hole
Where away from the heat with the weight off their feet
Folks would sew back their body and soul.
Permeating the cracks in the floor boards
From the bar where the Bwanas stood near,
Was the tinkle of glass and the roar of a laugh
And the wonderful smell of warm beer.

That smell of the brew got my notice
I wondered just how it would taste,
And though years in a row would come and would go,
The memory did not go to waste.
For many more later in Ojai
To see Kenyan friends in that vale
I stopped at a duka to buy me a tupa
And found Tusker Lager for sale.













What a fluke to find that very bevy,
I liked it well from the word go,
I flipped off the top, took a swig with the froth
And one whiff made the memories flow
From then on that beer was a favorite
Tusker became my new bent,
And if I had the chance at a party or dance,
I brought it wherever I went.

But I found the supply was not constant,
Sometimes the shippers went dry,
So I kept my lids peeled as I passed town and field
For some place that had a supply.
Well one day I met with Chip Hammack
A vintner who also sold beer,
He wasn’t averse to dampen my thirst,
And that is the reason I’m here.

Chip was an affable fellow,
He had oodles of charm and a smile,
When I asked if he had Tusker Larger
He just beamed and said “Might take a while!”
Then what do you know two hours later,
He called me, his voice like a reed,
Singing “Doc, your in luck I’ll get Tusker,
“Now how many cases you need?”

That was it, Chip and I became buddies,
He kept me in beer and in wine,
He’d pick out a mixed case of specials
So the grog with our grub was sublime.
But it grieves me to think of him gone now,
God calls the best folk away young,
So raise your glass high, wipe the tear from your eye,
To Chip Hammack whose song has been sung.

Dr Neil Stewart McLeod -10 .7.2009

























Neil with brother Alan "Bundu Saints" 1957

Swahili words used in the poem

Bwana - master
duka - a small shop
tupa - a bottle
bundu - the African bush

Islam - Telling lies doesn’t change the truth

My poem in tribute to the 911 disaster has hit the thousand mark on YouTube for the number of viewings, and the emails have poured in expressing thanks for the effort. One comment however, that was left on my Blogspot, deeply disturbed me, and I feel forced to make a public rebuke to its author.

Shahid, a proud to be Muslim Fundamentalist male of 24 years of age, in Lahore, Pakistan, left a note saying, and I quote,
“hey, 9/11 was fake daram, they plan by your secret angancies and moosad.”

Shahid, you are wrong, and if you adhere to your ignorant beliefs you will die wrong.

His link will take you to his site which is filled with vileness. His point is that he believes and spouts the myth that the towers were brought down by our own American agencies.

At a time when Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is making hateful and ignorant remarks denying the Holocaust, we should be warned that these extremists needs to be isolated and feared. The 1945 evidence supporting the facts of the holocaust are undeniable. It is deplorable that the elected leader of a nation can mouth such wicked lies repeatedly. We cannot let our guard down.



I therefore draw attention to what Winston Churchill observed in 1899 when a correspondent in South Africa and what is published in “The River War”.-Sir Winston Churchill (The River War, first edition, Vol. II, pages
248-50 (London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1899).
1 November 2005 - Australia

“How dreadful are the curses which Mohammedanism lays on its votaries! Besides the fanatical frenzy, which is as dangerous in a man as hydrophobia in a dog, there is this fearful fatalistic apathy.

The effects are apparent in many countries. Improvident habits, slovenly systems of agriculture, sluggish methods of commerce, and insecurity of property exist wherever the followers of the Prophet rule or live.

A degraded sensualism deprives this life of its grace and refinement; the next of its dignity and sanctity. The fact that in Mohammedan law every woman must belong to some man as his absolute property, either as a child, a wife, or a concubine, must delay the final extinction of slavery until the faith of Islam has ceased to be a great power among men.

Individual Moslems may show splendid qualities, but the influence of the religion paralyses the social development of those who follow it.

No stronger retrograde force exists in the world. Far from being moribund, Mohammedanism is a militant and proselytizing faith. It has already spread throughout Central Africa, raising fearless warriors at every step; and were it not that Christianity is sheltered in the strong arms of science, the science against which it had vainly struggled, the civilization of modern Europe might fall, as fell the civilization of ancient Rome.”

























Winston Churchill 1899 in South Africa

9-11 Tribute Poem on YouTube

Yes I took a break, but I have been busy. 911 came and went, and we have been dealing with a post flood experience at my dental office. Burst pipes above brought ceilings down and required a complete upheaval to restore the workspace.

While this was going on I made a presentation to the Executive LeTip of West Los Angeles, our hundred member breakfast networking group to commemorate the September 11th atrocity. The presentations centers on a parody in the Dr. Seuss style of a poem called "Blank The Binch".

Justin Sloggart of “Six 14 Productions” and his brother Bill made a video of it, and posted it on You Tube.





Watch it to the end and post a comment ion You Tube if you like it.

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Keep Flossing for a biting chance at life!

Wallace The Smiling Lion

For Dermot McQuarrie, of FOX Sports, who knows a good dram and the value of a good smile.

There's this lion at t'zoo up in Blackpool
Who is famous or so the tale goes,
He is large and ferocious and savage
With great scars all over his nose.

One day with the least provocation
From Albert, a dear little chap,
He snatched him through ’bars and he ate him
Leaving nought on the ground but his cap.

When the bill for the lad had been settled
There were one thing remaining quite plain,
They 'ad to do som'it quite special
To stop this from 'appenin' again.

So Zoo Keeper and t'Insurance feller
They 'ad this big meeting you see,
To decide how Wallace the Lion
Could be harnessed and kept trouble free.

They said when meeting were over
That the answer was some how to block
The size of the throat of the lion
With a grate or some big plastic chock.

They'll ave to fit Wallace with Choppers
There's no average dentist will do.
The impressions will be quite a challenge
For that lion mustn't choke or turn blue.
















And then there's the matter of timing
He'll have to be quick as a flash,
To get in and out in a hurry
Before Wallace chomps down with a gnash.

So they called up this world famous dentist
In Hollywood, land of the stars,
And explained they were having some trouble
With this pussy cat kept behind bars.

When he came he flew in on a Jumbo
And while driving him up from Heathrow
They explained there idea about dentures
But the Hollywood dentist said “No!”

I think you’d do better to crown him
Aye crowns for the king of the beasts
I’ll lengthen each nasher so a thin bacon rasher
Is all that’ll fit when he feasts.

He got right to work without flinching
Though he said that the job might be tough,
He said, “That lion’ll like thin strips of bacon,
I’ll make his teeth gap just enough.”

To start with he gave anaesthetic
So that Wallace lay still and relaxed
But while bending over to reach a back molar
'Lion gagged and then swallowed by reflex.

It would have been bad but for Sandy
His able assistant who came
To the rescue by giving emetics
So he brought up the dentist again.

He continued, ’e took the impressions,
And he made 'im some nashers so tall
That when Wallace The Lion opened widest
The gap ’tween `is teeth were quite small.















Oh! it did your heart good to see Wallace,
In his cage sitting grandly arrayed,
With a smile on his face like a rabbit,
From the teeth the dentist had made.


Neil Stewart McLeod

The illustrations were drawn by my friend and long time patient Colin Bailey, who has since past away, but whose imagination and humor live on in his drawings.

Santa's Holiday

When Santa takes a holiday he dumps the sleigh, gets in his car and heads south.

Well Christmas is over, and Neil McLeod, the famed photographer, of Merritt, British Columbia, is taking a jaunt with June, away from the cold to recover from his hard seasonal work. You may not have heard of the MacClause Clan, but Neil is a member. No kidding! he takes his work seriously. He joshed me saying he didn't think he'd shaved since some time back in the nineties.

He popped in to see us for a good Clan MacLeod welcome yesterday, and left a picture of himself at work for the record. This is the real Santa folks!























Run on Down
There are clansmen coming in,
Run to meet them, run to meet them.
There are clansmen coming in,
Run on down.
There'll be news from overseas
Of our family and their country,
There are clansmen coming in,
Run on down.

Will the piper be there playing?
Heart a beating, heart a beating.
Will the piper be there playing?
Hear the call.
Our chests will proudly swell
As we bow and bid a welcome.
Should the piper be there playing
Here the call.

And will banners then unfurl
Where we greet them, where we greet them?
And will banners then unfurl
Flying free?
Then we'll raise a dram together
To the chief and seed we share.
And the banners will unfurl
Flying free.

Then together we will dine,
Thanks be given, thanks be given.
Then together we will dine,
As of old.
Telling tales by the firelight
Singing songs and dancing.
Then together we shall dine
As of old.

We will all be there to meet them,
Piper playing, singing, dancing.
We will all be there to meet them
Run on down.
And we'll toast the time together
Say the grace and stay till morning,
There are clansmen coming in
Run on down. N.S.M. 11.8.1986.