Thursday, November 20, 2008
The Blizzard Of Ninteen Seventy Something
The power went out, and with it, our oil burning furnace, because the controls were electronic. At least our artesian well had its own pressure so we had running water. And the gas stove worked. We closed off the kitchen from the rest of the house and settled in with the oven on. We played games and read books while our parents read magazines and the parts of papers they'd skipped or only skimmed days before. We listened to a battery operated radio for a little bit now and then. We ate well, because each stove burner added more warmth to the room. But we ate weird stuff. First we ate as much as we could from the non-operating fridge, then once it had been out what was deemed 'too long', we ate only canned and other non-perishable things. When it got dark, our dad went to the basement for an old oil lantern, but it was smelly and mother worried it was going to make black marks on the ceiling. And we were pretty bored anyway. So we gathered up extra quilts and blankets and layered them on our beds and nestled in for the night. In the morning, the hot breakfast that was normally a time-consuming chore before school was a welcome change from the chilly night, and was the beginning of warming the kitchen back up for another day of games and crafts and books. Days later, when the snow stopped and the wind let up, we ventured outside in layers of jackets and hats and scarves and mittens over gloves. There were amazing formations, curled drifts many feet above our dad's head by the trees and covering cars and trucks and half of the sides of buildings, with hollows carved out in curves and sweeps. One could clamber up the sloped side of a drift and jump off the cliff side into another bank, or send a sled fast down the side slopes and if you leaned just right, make it curve on the complex curls of the drifts. The highway to town was buried under double digit high snow and until the newfangled trucks with snow blowers could blast their way through over many days of work, we drove across the blown clear frozen wheat field to school. The drama of a winter storm was adventure to us before we really understood the power and danger that were in it and learned to be a little afraid of such things. We were safe in our house with our family, oblivious to the worries of our parents that perhaps the gas would run out or the pipes would freeze or we would fall victim to some medical emergency and be unable to go for help. But snuggling by a fire now, holding warm coffee or hot cocoa, with white snow making lacy patterns of the branches beyond brings back that feeling of safe refuge, of camaraderie with family, of the joy of being alive with people you love.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
An Act of Bad Parenting Which I Regret (Deeply)
"Defenestration: The art of throwing someone or something out of a window."
My son had a stuffed duck named Penny Nicky that was his all time favorite and when we were cleaning windows once, he wanted to see if she could fly. So we humored him and told him to go down to the yard and catch her. He positioned himself under the window and I let her go in a case of serious misjudgement of location and season. He missed in his attempt to catch her and she landed on the grass which turned out to be a thin veil between air and mud. So after her failed flying lesson she had to go for a romping swim in the tiny spa in the basement and then a tumble in the tiny wind tunnel next to it.
I do wonder if the boy has scars from any of it.
My son had a stuffed duck named Penny Nicky that was his all time favorite and when we were cleaning windows once, he wanted to see if she could fly. So we humored him and told him to go down to the yard and catch her. He positioned himself under the window and I let her go in a case of serious misjudgement of location and season. He missed in his attempt to catch her and she landed on the grass which turned out to be a thin veil between air and mud. So after her failed flying lesson she had to go for a romping swim in the tiny spa in the basement and then a tumble in the tiny wind tunnel next to it.
I do wonder if the boy has scars from any of it.
Dancing
This post is a private message to my family, but if anyone else out there can benefit, so be it.
Here's the deal. I am just SICK of hearing you say "I don't dance." Come on, people, dancing is as integral to human life as smiling. Get on with it. You don't have to be GOOD at it, but really, what a silly concept. No one is 'good' or 'bad' at smiling. You just DO IT. People might say "You have a nice smile" or "You look pretty when you smile" but no one ever says "Jeeze, man, you just can't smile, can you?" Truly, outside of third grade, no one in real life ever gets teased for not being a good dancer. So get up, family members, and dance. Spouse, boys, I mean you. And you too, girlfriend with the pretty hair. All this not going to events labeled 'dance' is just silly. A dance is just another name for party. Who wants to miss a party? There will be nice people there. There will be food there. There will be music there and each and every one of us loves music, don't we? DON'T WE?!?! And yes, there will be something there called dancing. That is where you let your body move with the music. It isn't scary. If you want to appear exotic and zennish, you can just close your eyes and let your knees flex a little bit and sway just a little bit. Nothing flashy. I am not asking any of you to acquire a white shiny suit and point at the disco ball. Just go to the party even if it is called a dance. Just stand up every now and then and let your body move with the music a little. Watch what other people do and do just a tiny hint of it and work up to more. I mean it. I am seriously alarmed at what I see as a second generation of non-dancers out there. Get up off your feet. Turn up some music now and dance around whatever room you are in. No one will laugh. It will feel good. Just like there is that feedback mechanism in our brains that makes us feel happier just by the physical act of smiling, we also feel better just by dancing. Try it. Next time you are in a crappy mood, just make your face into the shape of a smile. It sends signals to your brain that you are happy and pretty soon you start to feel happy and think of happier things and pretty soon after that you ARE happier. So get up and dance. For me. Please.
Here's the deal. I am just SICK of hearing you say "I don't dance." Come on, people, dancing is as integral to human life as smiling. Get on with it. You don't have to be GOOD at it, but really, what a silly concept. No one is 'good' or 'bad' at smiling. You just DO IT. People might say "You have a nice smile" or "You look pretty when you smile" but no one ever says "Jeeze, man, you just can't smile, can you?" Truly, outside of third grade, no one in real life ever gets teased for not being a good dancer. So get up, family members, and dance. Spouse, boys, I mean you. And you too, girlfriend with the pretty hair. All this not going to events labeled 'dance' is just silly. A dance is just another name for party. Who wants to miss a party? There will be nice people there. There will be food there. There will be music there and each and every one of us loves music, don't we? DON'T WE?!?! And yes, there will be something there called dancing. That is where you let your body move with the music. It isn't scary. If you want to appear exotic and zennish, you can just close your eyes and let your knees flex a little bit and sway just a little bit. Nothing flashy. I am not asking any of you to acquire a white shiny suit and point at the disco ball. Just go to the party even if it is called a dance. Just stand up every now and then and let your body move with the music a little. Watch what other people do and do just a tiny hint of it and work up to more. I mean it. I am seriously alarmed at what I see as a second generation of non-dancers out there. Get up off your feet. Turn up some music now and dance around whatever room you are in. No one will laugh. It will feel good. Just like there is that feedback mechanism in our brains that makes us feel happier just by the physical act of smiling, we also feel better just by dancing. Try it. Next time you are in a crappy mood, just make your face into the shape of a smile. It sends signals to your brain that you are happy and pretty soon you start to feel happy and think of happier things and pretty soon after that you ARE happier. So get up and dance. For me. Please.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
The Point of The House
I installed them today!
Everyone knows the real point of building or remodeling any house is to have cool kitchen cabinet knobs. In fact, that is the real reason we are building the lake house. A couple years ago, my spouse said "Let's build a lake house." and I said "Can it have those cool leaf shape cabinet knobs?" and he said "Sure, as long as they are not too expensive." which I took to mean less than a hundred dollars each, so I said "Okay, let's look for a lot to build on." and it all followed from there.
They were long and narrow, with an undulating edge and a distinct center vein and they came in this amazing bronze color so dark it was almost black. Each has two points where it is attached, so techincally, it is a door 'pull', not a 'knob'.
I visited the manufacturer's website every few weeks to take a look at them and fantasize about how they would look on various style cabinets and in various types of homes, and in fact, the entire design was shaped in a major way around how it would provide a framework for the leaf cabinet pulls and show them off to their best advantage.
The house was given a timber frame, wood and bamboo floors as a background to show them off, oil rubbed bronze door hardware to match them, black granite counter tops to coordinate with them, a brown stone sink with leaves carved on the front, an area on the second floor open to the ground floor so that you could see down to them, an open floor plan so that you could see the kitchen from other rooms, a cabinet that pierced the kitchen wall with glass doors on both sides so that there could be doors with knobs in the hallway, visible from the living and dining rooms, and a deck outside series of patios doors so that you could see in to them. Every so often, I would fill up a shopping cart at the website just to carry the fantasy a bit farther toward reality, even though it was far too early to order them. Finally, when things were well on their way, I suggested to my spouse that it might be time to order them. He said it was still a bit early, but what could it hurt?
So I went gleefully to the website with my credit card propped by the screen and . . . they . . . were . . . discontinued! Oh, the horror! I lost all interest in the lake house for several weeks and sat at my chair in the kitchen and stared at the opposite wall. My family would show me the plans and the books and magaines with their pretty pictures and ask me questions to try to stimulate renewed interest and I would say "Whatever" or "I don't care" or "Anything you want will be fine." Finally, my husband convinced me I was ruining it for the rest of them and that he knew the joy was gone for me but that I should fake it for their sake and find some merely adequate leaf knobs instead of the perfect ones that the house had been designed around, and so I agreed to get back involved in the process. I even ordered some knobs that had two smaller leaves at the ends and a twisty part to hold onto to open the door or drawer. But still, I mourned the elongated undulating leaf shape pulls. I mourned them deeply.
Finally, on a visit to one of those overstock discount stores, as I was ambling pointlessly around the kitchen wares section, there, at the end of an aisle, in dusty plastic bags, were my leaf pulls! Could it be? Were they the real thing or cheap knock offs? Yes, they were the real true oxidized undulating leaf pulls. But there were only about a third enough of them. I bought them anyway, full of hope that other stores in the chain would have more. I rushed home and called. Several stores, miles away and from each other, had quantities that would total what I needed and a couple of spares. I cancelled appointments and plans and refused meals to dash to the stores to bag them before someone else discovered my treasure.
They have been in a box in the garage, awaiting the moment that they could be installed, for weeks and weeks. The cabinets were delivered in their cardboard boxes on a Friday, but the carpenters could not come from their other construction job until the next Thursday. I suggested to my spouse that I could open the boxes and find the fronts of the cabinet doors and drawers and install them. He rolled his eyes and said it was too early. When the cabinets were installed, I suggested it was time and he pointed out they would be damaged during the installation of the heavy granite counter tops. When the counter tops were installed, I suggested it was time. He said they might be in the way during appliance delivery and installation. When the appliances were in, I brought them in from the garage and removed them from the dusty bags and caressed them. He said they might be damaged when the plumbers came to hook up the sink. Or when the carpenters worked on trimming the cabinets and the windows and doors.
But that was all done last week, so today, after I did some scary painting over the part upstairs that is open to the ground floor where the guard railing is not installed yet, I rewarded myself by installing the elongated undulating oxidized leaf pulls. They are wonderful! It is everything I knew it could be!
Everyone knows the real point of building or remodeling any house is to have cool kitchen cabinet knobs. In fact, that is the real reason we are building the lake house. A couple years ago, my spouse said "Let's build a lake house." and I said "Can it have those cool leaf shape cabinet knobs?" and he said "Sure, as long as they are not too expensive." which I took to mean less than a hundred dollars each, so I said "Okay, let's look for a lot to build on." and it all followed from there.
They were long and narrow, with an undulating edge and a distinct center vein and they came in this amazing bronze color so dark it was almost black. Each has two points where it is attached, so techincally, it is a door 'pull', not a 'knob'.I visited the manufacturer's website every few weeks to take a look at them and fantasize about how they would look on various style cabinets and in various types of homes, and in fact, the entire design was shaped in a major way around how it would provide a framework for the leaf cabinet pulls and show them off to their best advantage.
The house was given a timber frame, wood and bamboo floors as a background to show them off, oil rubbed bronze door hardware to match them, black granite counter tops to coordinate with them, a brown stone sink with leaves carved on the front, an area on the second floor open to the ground floor so that you could see down to them, an open floor plan so that you could see the kitchen from other rooms, a cabinet that pierced the kitchen wall with glass doors on both sides so that there could be doors with knobs in the hallway, visible from the living and dining rooms, and a deck outside series of patios doors so that you could see in to them. Every so often, I would fill up a shopping cart at the website just to carry the fantasy a bit farther toward reality, even though it was far too early to order them. Finally, when things were well on their way, I suggested to my spouse that it might be time to order them. He said it was still a bit early, but what could it hurt?
So I went gleefully to the website with my credit card propped by the screen and . . . they . . . were . . . discontinued! Oh, the horror! I lost all interest in the lake house for several weeks and sat at my chair in the kitchen and stared at the opposite wall. My family would show me the plans and the books and magaines with their pretty pictures and ask me questions to try to stimulate renewed interest and I would say "Whatever" or "I don't care" or "Anything you want will be fine." Finally, my husband convinced me I was ruining it for the rest of them and that he knew the joy was gone for me but that I should fake it for their sake and find some merely adequate leaf knobs instead of the perfect ones that the house had been designed around, and so I agreed to get back involved in the process. I even ordered some knobs that had two smaller leaves at the ends and a twisty part to hold onto to open the door or drawer. But still, I mourned the elongated undulating leaf shape pulls. I mourned them deeply.
Finally, on a visit to one of those overstock discount stores, as I was ambling pointlessly around the kitchen wares section, there, at the end of an aisle, in dusty plastic bags, were my leaf pulls! Could it be? Were they the real thing or cheap knock offs? Yes, they were the real true oxidized undulating leaf pulls. But there were only about a third enough of them. I bought them anyway, full of hope that other stores in the chain would have more. I rushed home and called. Several stores, miles away and from each other, had quantities that would total what I needed and a couple of spares. I cancelled appointments and plans and refused meals to dash to the stores to bag them before someone else discovered my treasure.
They have been in a box in the garage, awaiting the moment that they could be installed, for weeks and weeks. The cabinets were delivered in their cardboard boxes on a Friday, but the carpenters could not come from their other construction job until the next Thursday. I suggested to my spouse that I could open the boxes and find the fronts of the cabinet doors and drawers and install them. He rolled his eyes and said it was too early. When the cabinets were installed, I suggested it was time and he pointed out they would be damaged during the installation of the heavy granite counter tops. When the counter tops were installed, I suggested it was time. He said they might be in the way during appliance delivery and installation. When the appliances were in, I brought them in from the garage and removed them from the dusty bags and caressed them. He said they might be damaged when the plumbers came to hook up the sink. Or when the carpenters worked on trimming the cabinets and the windows and doors.
But that was all done last week, so today, after I did some scary painting over the part upstairs that is open to the ground floor where the guard railing is not installed yet, I rewarded myself by installing the elongated undulating oxidized leaf pulls. They are wonderful! It is everything I knew it could be!
Saturday, November 15, 2008
First of Winter
It was the first real snow to me today! There was enough coming down that I was able to catch snowflakes on my tongue. It was not the usual soft fluffy stuff, but more like pellets. I even picked some off my jacket sleeve to melt in my mouth. They made sort of a sh-sh-sh sound coming down and bounced a little when they hit the ground. When there is snow you can play with, no matter how little of it there is, it certainly is really and truly winter.
Overheard
Overheard at the construction site recently:
In response to a lady bug crawling in one guy's hair and creeping him out, the other guy says "They are disgusting little vermin aren't they?"
And in the next sentence he says "Are you going to use the gun or do you want to try it with the hammer?"
Huh? Against ladybugs? In my new house?
Well, the second sentence was really about the best way to attached delicate maple crown molding trim to the top edge of the cabinet, to use the power nail gun or to risk hammer marks by using the more precise manual nailing. Whew!
In response to a lady bug crawling in one guy's hair and creeping him out, the other guy says "They are disgusting little vermin aren't they?"
And in the next sentence he says "Are you going to use the gun or do you want to try it with the hammer?"
Huh? Against ladybugs? In my new house?
Well, the second sentence was really about the best way to attached delicate maple crown molding trim to the top edge of the cabinet, to use the power nail gun or to risk hammer marks by using the more precise manual nailing. Whew!
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Camping - In The House
I have a flushing toilet. I have a stove. I have a refrigerator. I have a functioning furnace. I have lights in most rooms and outlets to plug task lights into in others.
I am sleeping on a camping air mattress, a Big Agnes multi-chamber to be specific. It is quite comfy except for the getting down and standing back up parts. My joints are older than I am and too old for that. I have a sound system that plays a flash memory card so I don't have to worry about sawdust ruining it. I have my laptop and internet service via a cable to the phone jack.
Here's the gripe: I don't have running water indoors. For a few days, I had a bucket and a water hose from the outdoor spigot on the front deck. I could wash my face and brush my teeth there and get water to drink. Now it is winter and the hose is frozen, so I have to leave the deck and walk in the mud around to the dark side of the house to get water. Not gonna happen after dark. Huh-uh. And winter not only means the hose is frozen, but it means it gets dark about mid afternoon now.
I bought angel hair pasta and meat flavor pasta sauce at Menard's today when I went for building supplies. Oh shut up, they have a nice little grocery section if you are willing to want what they have. I really wanted to cook in my almost-complete kitchen.
So I dumped ice from the refrigerator ice maker into a pot and heated it to a boil to make my pasta. It works. And I use Lysol wipes to wash my hands and face. Probably not that good for the skin, but better than intestinal woes from germs, I suspect. And not that much worse for the hands than the primer, the paint, the varnish, the construction glue, the tile-set mortar, and the tile sealer that have coated them at various times or simultaneously in the last couple weeks.
I can't wait for Thanksgiving so I can get away from all this for a few days and go sleep in a tent in the wilderness where we pump water through a filter out of streams and use cat holes for, well, you know.
I might need a vacation after my camping vacation from my working on the house vacation.
I am sleeping on a camping air mattress, a Big Agnes multi-chamber to be specific. It is quite comfy except for the getting down and standing back up parts. My joints are older than I am and too old for that. I have a sound system that plays a flash memory card so I don't have to worry about sawdust ruining it. I have my laptop and internet service via a cable to the phone jack.
Here's the gripe: I don't have running water indoors. For a few days, I had a bucket and a water hose from the outdoor spigot on the front deck. I could wash my face and brush my teeth there and get water to drink. Now it is winter and the hose is frozen, so I have to leave the deck and walk in the mud around to the dark side of the house to get water. Not gonna happen after dark. Huh-uh. And winter not only means the hose is frozen, but it means it gets dark about mid afternoon now.
I bought angel hair pasta and meat flavor pasta sauce at Menard's today when I went for building supplies. Oh shut up, they have a nice little grocery section if you are willing to want what they have. I really wanted to cook in my almost-complete kitchen.
So I dumped ice from the refrigerator ice maker into a pot and heated it to a boil to make my pasta. It works. And I use Lysol wipes to wash my hands and face. Probably not that good for the skin, but better than intestinal woes from germs, I suspect. And not that much worse for the hands than the primer, the paint, the varnish, the construction glue, the tile-set mortar, and the tile sealer that have coated them at various times or simultaneously in the last couple weeks.
I can't wait for Thanksgiving so I can get away from all this for a few days and go sleep in a tent in the wilderness where we pump water through a filter out of streams and use cat holes for, well, you know.
I might need a vacation after my camping vacation from my working on the house vacation.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Living It
While some people were marching in marches and sitting in sit-ins and writing protest letters and working for civil rights organisations in big and obvious ways, others were doing the same thing just by living it. I know a man who was an officer in the army. He was preparing to serve in the Korean War, at a training camp in the south in some town I should know the name of, for I have heard the story a few times, but the town does not matter. He had been off the army base for some entertainment and was riding the bus back at the end of the day. The bus was full, every seat taken. A black woman got on, looking tired to him. So he did the natural thing, the right thing for a man on a recreational jaunt to do for a woman who had been working all day. He got up and offered her his seat. I bet she paused for just a fraction of a second before she gratefully took it. The bus driver saw what happened, and stopped the bus. He bellowed that she could not sit there, that she had to move to the back of the bus. The man said there were no seats back there and that she was tired and that she could have his. The bus driver said that people of her color did not sit in the front of the bus, seats or no seats, and she would have to get up and move back. He used a word I will not use even to tell the story. The man moved ahead a step or two, putting himself between the bus driver and the woman and said "You are going to have to fight me if you are going to come back here and try to make her move." The bus driver grunted and probably spat in the aisle, but he drove on.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Cat and Crow
He had a pet crow with feathers black as coal that shimmered blue sheen in the sunlight. He had a pet cat, with fur dark as deepest night and soft as velvet. The crow rode about the farm on his shoulder, struggling to hold on as he did chores, flying up to perch above on the beams of the barn when he moved too much or when he brushed her off. The cat kept near his feet, just far enough to keep out of the way of boots and tools and trouble, but near enough to catch the milk he squirted in her direction at milking time.
One spring morning he missed the crow landing on his shoulder as he left the house for the bus stop, but some days she was busy hunting or riding the breezes and was there to greet him after school, so he did not worry just then. He missed her again as the bus pulled up to his home stop when she was not on the jagged branch of the oak tree on the corner. He missed the cat too at milking time. He called for them and poked around the farm, in out buildings and along fencerows, half certain they would both turn up soon from their oddly coincidentally-timed disappearances. As the number of days grew greater, he missed them a little less each day and soon summer swimming and fishing and biking into town with friends kept him distracted. It was a mystery he would occasionally ponder, and missing them would make him sad, so he would allow himself to move on to other thoughts.
Late in summer, he and his friend were tossing a ball back and forth in the farthest reach of the farmyard, where evergreens formed a border between the lawn and the cornfield beyond. He jumped for the high ball, missed, and turned to run for it. His friend came to help look, and lifted spruce branches so that he could look on the ground under for the ball. That is how he found them. Perfect skeletons of a cat and a crow, meshed together.
How did it happen? Did the natural enemies that normally coexisted peacefully for the sake of the boy give in to instinct and battle with each other? Were they after the same mouse or grasshopper and crashed by accident? Who died first? Did the crow attack first and dive at the cat and dig its claws deep into the cat’s loose coat? Did the cat turn and claw or bite some critical artery and kill the crow, whose claws remained firmly locked onto its spine? Did the cat crawl off with its horrible burden finding rest under the tree for shelter, to bleed to its own death or to slowly starve over days?
The friend held the boy’s shoulders as he threw up his lunch, then stood silently by as the boy panted to catch his breath. They found shovels in the barn. They dug a trench along side the skeletons and scraped them in. The boy and his friend buried their bones, cat and crow together, tentative friends, ultimate enemies, partners in their tragic death. They covered the white bones with black black earth.
One spring morning he missed the crow landing on his shoulder as he left the house for the bus stop, but some days she was busy hunting or riding the breezes and was there to greet him after school, so he did not worry just then. He missed her again as the bus pulled up to his home stop when she was not on the jagged branch of the oak tree on the corner. He missed the cat too at milking time. He called for them and poked around the farm, in out buildings and along fencerows, half certain they would both turn up soon from their oddly coincidentally-timed disappearances. As the number of days grew greater, he missed them a little less each day and soon summer swimming and fishing and biking into town with friends kept him distracted. It was a mystery he would occasionally ponder, and missing them would make him sad, so he would allow himself to move on to other thoughts.
Late in summer, he and his friend were tossing a ball back and forth in the farthest reach of the farmyard, where evergreens formed a border between the lawn and the cornfield beyond. He jumped for the high ball, missed, and turned to run for it. His friend came to help look, and lifted spruce branches so that he could look on the ground under for the ball. That is how he found them. Perfect skeletons of a cat and a crow, meshed together.
How did it happen? Did the natural enemies that normally coexisted peacefully for the sake of the boy give in to instinct and battle with each other? Were they after the same mouse or grasshopper and crashed by accident? Who died first? Did the crow attack first and dive at the cat and dig its claws deep into the cat’s loose coat? Did the cat turn and claw or bite some critical artery and kill the crow, whose claws remained firmly locked onto its spine? Did the cat crawl off with its horrible burden finding rest under the tree for shelter, to bleed to its own death or to slowly starve over days?
The friend held the boy’s shoulders as he threw up his lunch, then stood silently by as the boy panted to catch his breath. They found shovels in the barn. They dug a trench along side the skeletons and scraped them in. The boy and his friend buried their bones, cat and crow together, tentative friends, ultimate enemies, partners in their tragic death. They covered the white bones with black black earth.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
The Next President of the United States
GObama!
The 'landslide' that this will be called should not be taken for granted. The popular vote was still too close for comfort. But America has a better chance now for a brilliant future. My kids and I watched this election from three separate locations and talked about it via cell phone. 
To quote Jakob Dylan "Something good this way comes . . . "
Secret Codes for "I Care About You"
A father comes to the kitchen where his daughter is studying and gets himself a bowl of ice cream and brings her one with chocolate syrup without even asking. A mother gets up and makes sure her son takes a breakfast bar and hugs him before he leaves for the schoolbus even tho he is old enough to remember breakfast on his own. In a house with multiple cats, when the girl is sad or upset, the brother offers to bring her 'a kitty' to cheer her up. A son comes upstairs and plays the song he has been working on to his mother then goes back downstairs without a word. A man emails his friend old songs when he knows she is in a bad mood. A woman shovels her neighbors walk before work each time it snows. A coworker bakes cakes for his office mate. She leaves candy bars on his chair. A family buys an extra loaf of bakery bread and leaves it on the door of their neighbor. A mom pick up her daughter's dry cleaning and put it in her closet in her house. A sister leaves a book in a bag on her sister's back door knob when she finishes reading it. A teacher puts a flower in water in a vase on another teacher's desk. A woman keeps popsicles in her freezer for when the neighbor kids come by.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Two More Days
We were such a modern family, living in our new ranch house with trendy curved shelves at the end of our sleek new blond wood cabinets. One of those shelves held the black plastic radio, which is where I heard most of my news. There was morning news and noon news and late afternoon news on the radio, and the late night news might be on the black and white television, but that was past my bedtime. I would play on the kitchen floor in front of the radio or work on art projects at the end of the kitchen table while the radio played in the background. I guess that is where the first appeals to my born-liberal mind were made, because I remember thinking sympathetic things about Civil Rights workers and equal rights for black people. My values were 'Christian' values back then, formally verbalized in Sunday School class. My Jesus was a loving kind fair person, and of course, black people were people too and would not Jesus want them to have equal rights? Seemed obvious to me. Until I heard sentiments all around from grown ups, how that King was 'stirring things up' and why couldn't those marchers 'leave good enough alone'. It was my first brush with the idea that grown ups could be wrong, because I knew in my heart and soul that the fight for equality was a good one.
And it pissed me off that my friends who were boys and my cousin who was a boy were allowed to ride with their dads on tractors and in trucks while we girls stayed home and watched our mothers do laundry and make meals. It irked me that our friends who were boys had toy trains and toy tractors and toy trucks. I was apparently born not only a liberal, but a liberal feminist.
I heard the news coverage of the Vietnam War and hated it. By then we had a color TV and tame as the images were then, I hated the war, and as coverage of anti-war protesters increased, I was on their side. The liberal feminist was now also a pacifist.
So today, two days before the election of the next president of our country, I worry. On a par with the worry of when ones own child has a cold or is having trouble in a class at school.
There is one right answer for peace, for equality, for opportunity in the coming presidential election.
It is not because one candidate is 'black'. But it is partly because we see him as black. He is half. Half white. Half black. Why do we label him 'black? Why do we label him at all? Because we are still more racist than we should be. But I have hope. Many in my sons' generation do not see it the way we see it. To them, Obama is just a person, and his skin color is irrelevant. They have friends of many shades of skin color and it is irrelevant. They categorize their friends not on basis of skin color, but on basis of shared interests. They have Scouting friends and climbing friends and chess friends and music friends and those interests are the things that friendships are based on, not race lines. So they look at this race and see a man who is for the war and old ways of doing things yet claims to be a 'maverick' against the current powers. They see the hypocricy in that. They look at this race and see another man who has goals and questions and ideas much more like their own. They see a man who does not have all the concrete answers now but is intelligent and eager to gather information and ask questions and try new things. They want new answers to old questions and they want new questions to be discovered. They want the war to end before they have to fight it and they want a clean environment so they can hike and climb and camp in it and they want equal and fair access to jobs and they want our country to be respected again outside our borders, for they have studied history and know how we were once seen to the world. They see the one campaign based on ideas and looking ahead to solving problems. They see the other campaign do nothing but trash the opponent and spread fear of terrorism and fear of socialism and fear of Muslims and they don't like that negativity.
I read the polls and look at the numbers and I see the forward looking candidate ahead by 4 percentage points or 6 points or up to 7 points. I am a little sickened that so few people see the tragedy of the war and the threat to the environment. He should be far far ahead, not just a little ahead! Then I hear that in past elections, the candidate 'of color' has lost some 6 or 7 percentage points from the opinion polls to the voting polls because of their race. Because the people who declared undecided actually intended to vote for the white guy. Because people who felt they 'should' vote for the minority really did not intend to. This scares me. It scares me that this nation could still be that racist. And so, for two more days, I will worry.
And it pissed me off that my friends who were boys and my cousin who was a boy were allowed to ride with their dads on tractors and in trucks while we girls stayed home and watched our mothers do laundry and make meals. It irked me that our friends who were boys had toy trains and toy tractors and toy trucks. I was apparently born not only a liberal, but a liberal feminist.
I heard the news coverage of the Vietnam War and hated it. By then we had a color TV and tame as the images were then, I hated the war, and as coverage of anti-war protesters increased, I was on their side. The liberal feminist was now also a pacifist.
So today, two days before the election of the next president of our country, I worry. On a par with the worry of when ones own child has a cold or is having trouble in a class at school.
There is one right answer for peace, for equality, for opportunity in the coming presidential election.
It is not because one candidate is 'black'. But it is partly because we see him as black. He is half. Half white. Half black. Why do we label him 'black? Why do we label him at all? Because we are still more racist than we should be. But I have hope. Many in my sons' generation do not see it the way we see it. To them, Obama is just a person, and his skin color is irrelevant. They have friends of many shades of skin color and it is irrelevant. They categorize their friends not on basis of skin color, but on basis of shared interests. They have Scouting friends and climbing friends and chess friends and music friends and those interests are the things that friendships are based on, not race lines. So they look at this race and see a man who is for the war and old ways of doing things yet claims to be a 'maverick' against the current powers. They see the hypocricy in that. They look at this race and see another man who has goals and questions and ideas much more like their own. They see a man who does not have all the concrete answers now but is intelligent and eager to gather information and ask questions and try new things. They want new answers to old questions and they want new questions to be discovered. They want the war to end before they have to fight it and they want a clean environment so they can hike and climb and camp in it and they want equal and fair access to jobs and they want our country to be respected again outside our borders, for they have studied history and know how we were once seen to the world. They see the one campaign based on ideas and looking ahead to solving problems. They see the other campaign do nothing but trash the opponent and spread fear of terrorism and fear of socialism and fear of Muslims and they don't like that negativity.
I read the polls and look at the numbers and I see the forward looking candidate ahead by 4 percentage points or 6 points or up to 7 points. I am a little sickened that so few people see the tragedy of the war and the threat to the environment. He should be far far ahead, not just a little ahead! Then I hear that in past elections, the candidate 'of color' has lost some 6 or 7 percentage points from the opinion polls to the voting polls because of their race. Because the people who declared undecided actually intended to vote for the white guy. Because people who felt they 'should' vote for the minority really did not intend to. This scares me. It scares me that this nation could still be that racist. And so, for two more days, I will worry.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Dead Tree
A dead tree is not dead. There is life in it and on it and all through it. Thousands upon thousands of insects may dwell in a single downed tree. Many kinds of fungi may inhabit it. This mushroom is only the external evidence of a fungus that is shot through the pores and crevasses of this fallen tree. The mushroom is the 'fruiting body' of this life form. It is to the entire fungus what the tiny crab apple is to the entire crab apple tree. The fungus lives hidden entirely within the dead wood for years, decomposing it, softening its fibers so that eventually it returns to the ground to become part of the soil. Typically it appears as strands or sheets of white or tan within the trunk and under the bark. At certain times of the year, when the moisture conditions are just right, a mushroom might appear on the surface and mature to form spores within the fins on the bottom surface of the cap. From those fins, the spores are dispersed to float about on the wind to form new fungi on some other fallen or dead tree.Thursday, October 30, 2008
Vote!
I voted yesterday. Since I will be out of my home state painting at the new house next week, I was grateful for the ease with which one can do that these days.
But the last couple days I have been thinking too much about this election season and though I try to keep this little blog fun and light and about nature and related things, I just want to get a couple things said.
First, it seems kinda odd to me that in a country where religious tolerance and religious freedom are not only founding principles of our country but the reason people continue to take refuge here today, one side has used accusations about religion as an attempt to insult and discredit. Religion has come up on both sides. On one side, a specific candidate has been held accountable for specific extreme ideas that she holds due to her religion that are in direct conflict with an overwhelming majority of science. It has been suggested that she is not a viable candidate because she believes in those unscientific things and would make policy based on those unscientific beliefs. That seems a fair thing to hold a candidate accountable for. On the other side, a candidate has simultaneously been lambasted for radical things the pastor of his church says, as though any of us really challenges our pastors or is responsible for things they say, and also been accused of being of another religion entirely. Well, I would like to point out that if you are going to claim one thing, you should shut up about the other.
And then I would point out that due to the fact that this country was founded by people seeking relief from religious prosecution, you should stop making it sound like being from that religion is a bad thing. Most of you who are trying to insult that candidate by claiming he is an adherent of that religion are using it as an insult, and it should not be used that way. Making such implications feeds religious intolerance and feeds discrimination and we are a better country than that.
Second, it seems kind of odd to me that when there was a certain party in control for, oh, 12 years, give or take, and then they lost their absolute power just a few months ago when the majority shifted in congress, that certain party would choose to blame all that they claim is wrong with the country on those in power before 12 years ago or those in power after the recent shift in power. To do so would seem to be admitting that nothing happened in the last 12 years. It would seem to be admitting that they, while in power, were ineffective in fixing anything and that they left things so unstable that it could all be wrecked in a few months. Why would that make us want to put them back in power for the next four years? As a parent, it seems like shirking responsibility is a bad thing.
Third, one campaign has been about negativity and fear and tearing down others, directly and by slimy implication and insinuation and plays on words with exaggerations and twists and misrepresentations and misinterpretations. Those things count as lies in my rule book. The other campaign has been about what is good and what we need more of and it has been about ideas and proposals and problem solving and hope and promise and making a better future for an already great country. It was never a hard choice for me. I voted for positive instead of negative.
Whatever side you are on, if you have not voted yet, please do so. Too many people gave time and lives to keep our freedoms intact and to ensure that everyone, property owners or not, male and female, young or old, black or white or any color in between, has that right to vote. The leaders of this country should represent the hopes and dreams and ideals of the people, and voting is one way you can make sure that happens. No excuses! Leave early before work, skip a meeting, take a lunch break early or late, leave work early, watch someones kids while they watch yours. Take a bus, beg a ride, walk. Be counted. Make a difference. Vote, no matter how inconvenient, because it how you, on this historic day next Tuesday, get to be part of the process that makes our country great. Vote!
But the last couple days I have been thinking too much about this election season and though I try to keep this little blog fun and light and about nature and related things, I just want to get a couple things said.First, it seems kinda odd to me that in a country where religious tolerance and religious freedom are not only founding principles of our country but the reason people continue to take refuge here today, one side has used accusations about religion as an attempt to insult and discredit. Religion has come up on both sides. On one side, a specific candidate has been held accountable for specific extreme ideas that she holds due to her religion that are in direct conflict with an overwhelming majority of science. It has been suggested that she is not a viable candidate because she believes in those unscientific things and would make policy based on those unscientific beliefs. That seems a fair thing to hold a candidate accountable for. On the other side, a candidate has simultaneously been lambasted for radical things the pastor of his church says, as though any of us really challenges our pastors or is responsible for things they say, and also been accused of being of another religion entirely. Well, I would like to point out that if you are going to claim one thing, you should shut up about the other.
And then I would point out that due to the fact that this country was founded by people seeking relief from religious prosecution, you should stop making it sound like being from that religion is a bad thing. Most of you who are trying to insult that candidate by claiming he is an adherent of that religion are using it as an insult, and it should not be used that way. Making such implications feeds religious intolerance and feeds discrimination and we are a better country than that.
Second, it seems kind of odd to me that when there was a certain party in control for, oh, 12 years, give or take, and then they lost their absolute power just a few months ago when the majority shifted in congress, that certain party would choose to blame all that they claim is wrong with the country on those in power before 12 years ago or those in power after the recent shift in power. To do so would seem to be admitting that nothing happened in the last 12 years. It would seem to be admitting that they, while in power, were ineffective in fixing anything and that they left things so unstable that it could all be wrecked in a few months. Why would that make us want to put them back in power for the next four years? As a parent, it seems like shirking responsibility is a bad thing.
Third, one campaign has been about negativity and fear and tearing down others, directly and by slimy implication and insinuation and plays on words with exaggerations and twists and misrepresentations and misinterpretations. Those things count as lies in my rule book. The other campaign has been about what is good and what we need more of and it has been about ideas and proposals and problem solving and hope and promise and making a better future for an already great country. It was never a hard choice for me. I voted for positive instead of negative.
Whatever side you are on, if you have not voted yet, please do so. Too many people gave time and lives to keep our freedoms intact and to ensure that everyone, property owners or not, male and female, young or old, black or white or any color in between, has that right to vote. The leaders of this country should represent the hopes and dreams and ideals of the people, and voting is one way you can make sure that happens. No excuses! Leave early before work, skip a meeting, take a lunch break early or late, leave work early, watch someones kids while they watch yours. Take a bus, beg a ride, walk. Be counted. Make a difference. Vote, no matter how inconvenient, because it how you, on this historic day next Tuesday, get to be part of the process that makes our country great. Vote!
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Along the Cornfield
We do a disservice to our kids when we teach them that the seasons begin with spring and end with the 'dead' of winter, portraying fall as the end of the growing season. 
There, at the top of the brilliant red sumacs are the seed stalks, already formed, waiting for winter winds to break them apart and winter snows to press them to the ground. There, among the yellow leaves of the maples, are the winged seeds, dropping and spiralling their way to earth, to land within the layers of leaves that will decompose around them and enrich the soil for when they sprout in the spring. 
The corn ears are abundantly full of seed that will be soon harvested and dried and stored, probably as food for cattle, but which could very well be the seed for another year's crop. The seeds are formed during the summer from the pollination of spring's flowers, and it is in the fall that the seeds ripen in preparation for another cycle of life. It is in the fall that the new cycle really begins with the seeds. 
Look around you at the prairie plants and the trees and you will see seed pods and seed heads and seeds with wings and fins and prickles that cling to animal fur and seeds with bits of fluff that carry them on the wind. 
Fall is not the end, but the beginning, and a beautiful beginning it is, before the winter rest that is followed by the greening and sprouting forth from this fall's seeds. Life begins anew in the fall, with the potential of the seed.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Brown
Fall is brilliant colors, red and orange and yellow. But fall is also the tans and browns of the oak leaves, the faded leaves of the maples that have fallen days earlier and lost the sugars that give them their colors, of pine needles and hemlock needles and maple seeds and acorns and their caps and twigs and branches and bark and the soil exposed by the fading ferns. To see the beauty of the brilliant colors is easy. 
But a lingering joy can be had in the more subtle palette of browns and tans, from rich gingery hues to darker drabber almost blacks. Look more closely where at first you see just brown and tell me, how many browns can you see?
Good Money After Rust
Oh, I am a little poorer tonight but ooooh, baby, does that old 1996 Dodge Grand Caravan drive nice now! Some of you might remember how I told you it shimmied and vibrated at 54 - 58 mph so I had to accelerate quickly past that and how it vibrated again around 80 so I had to stay under that or punch it up to 85? I don't think you were very amused at the last part of that. When was this that I mentioned that? The September trip to WomanSong or as far back as the January to visit my mother after her surgery? So it has gotten worse, vibrating around 30 and also, when going very very slowly, like at a crawl in traffic. It was more like a rocking from side to side at really slow speeds.
So since I got the brakes and calipers redone before I went to Wisconsin for the last extended stay there, I thought maybe this was the calipers out of adjustment - like before the repair, it was from the bad calipers and now it was that they were not adjusted right - I know, a long shot, but that woulda made the fix free.
Kinda like the guy who is looking for his keys in the front yard and a neighbor stops to help and another and another and pretty soon one of them asks when he lost them out there and he says actually he thinks he dropped them in the basement but he can't see down there cuz it's too dark so he thought he'd look out where it was light . . .
So I took it in and explained all that and they guy said no, a caliper causes a jerking back and forth, not side to side because they grab and let go and grab and let go - he said this could be out of alignment or a bad tire belt or tires out of balance, like if a weight feel off. This is why I like these guys cuz they explain things to me and get the way I use sounds and hand motions to explain what is wrong and they actually drew me pictures to explain the brake issues last time, unlike the dealership guys who had a shut-up-and-just-trust-us-and-don't-ask-us-to-explain-anything sort of attitude.
So he calls me later after they have looked it over, and he is kinda . . . hysterical . . . I have not one but TWO tires with broken belts - one is probably the one causing the motion because it is so much worse than the other that seems to have broken just recently and well, he doesn't want to sound like he is trying to scare me, and he knows I don't want to put a lot of money into this thing, but really, do I know how dangerous it is to drive with a tire with a broken belt? Well, I knew going in they were kinda bald, as my oil change guy told me he wouldn't cross the city limits with tires that bald, let alone drive to Wisconsin. So I okay that and he hesitates . . . and I need an alignment, probably from driving with that bad tire all this time and the struts are worn too and I can leave those alone but it won't ride as well . . . so I okay that too, and later he calls to say the sway bar connectors are broken in 2 places and I really should do that too while they are in there if I drive on hills and curves (those of you who know the 'driftless area' of Wisconsin just snorted at that) - well, I know that has been broken since 2005, so I okayed that too.
He actually apologized for how much it all turned out to be when I picked it up - I like that, a repair guy who at least feels a little remorse for charging you 50-plus bucks an hour . . . but oooh, baby, does she drive like a . . . really old junker with brand new tires and perfect alignment and suspension . . .
So since I got the brakes and calipers redone before I went to Wisconsin for the last extended stay there, I thought maybe this was the calipers out of adjustment - like before the repair, it was from the bad calipers and now it was that they were not adjusted right - I know, a long shot, but that woulda made the fix free.Kinda like the guy who is looking for his keys in the front yard and a neighbor stops to help and another and another and pretty soon one of them asks when he lost them out there and he says actually he thinks he dropped them in the basement but he can't see down there cuz it's too dark so he thought he'd look out where it was light . . .
So I took it in and explained all that and they guy said no, a caliper causes a jerking back and forth, not side to side because they grab and let go and grab and let go - he said this could be out of alignment or a bad tire belt or tires out of balance, like if a weight feel off. This is why I like these guys cuz they explain things to me and get the way I use sounds and hand motions to explain what is wrong and they actually drew me pictures to explain the brake issues last time, unlike the dealership guys who had a shut-up-and-just-trust-us-and-don't-ask-us-to-explain-anything sort of attitude.
So he calls me later after they have looked it over, and he is kinda . . . hysterical . . . I have not one but TWO tires with broken belts - one is probably the one causing the motion because it is so much worse than the other that seems to have broken just recently and well, he doesn't want to sound like he is trying to scare me, and he knows I don't want to put a lot of money into this thing, but really, do I know how dangerous it is to drive with a tire with a broken belt? Well, I knew going in they were kinda bald, as my oil change guy told me he wouldn't cross the city limits with tires that bald, let alone drive to Wisconsin. So I okay that and he hesitates . . . and I need an alignment, probably from driving with that bad tire all this time and the struts are worn too and I can leave those alone but it won't ride as well . . . so I okay that too, and later he calls to say the sway bar connectors are broken in 2 places and I really should do that too while they are in there if I drive on hills and curves (those of you who know the 'driftless area' of Wisconsin just snorted at that) - well, I know that has been broken since 2005, so I okayed that too.
He actually apologized for how much it all turned out to be when I picked it up - I like that, a repair guy who at least feels a little remorse for charging you 50-plus bucks an hour . . . but oooh, baby, does she drive like a . . . really old junker with brand new tires and perfect alignment and suspension . . .
Monday, October 27, 2008
Leaf on the Water
"Leaf on the water,
Tumble and spin.
Where are you going?
Where have been?
Drawn by the current,
Touched by the wind.
Leaf on the water."
So goes the refrain of the lovely song by friend and singer/songwriter Sammy from Miami. The leaves of autumn always bring to me a bit of nostalgia and introspective analysis of the past, recent and long gone,
while the wind and activity of the movement of the leaves sends thoughts forward to what might come, what might be changing, ways I might grow.Our little lake is not as still as it might seem, for it is really just a stream taking break from its quick rushing along. In the end, our lake water is still flowing, and each fallen leave has a chance to
float on down the lake and over the narrow spillway to speed along in the fast flowing stream beyond. Waves from the wind or a late fishing boat may beach it or catch it in an eddy or flip it and cause it to edge into the water and slip below the surface. 
Or it could skate along the surface and end up across the lake and around the bend, at a new and unpredicted place far from the tree from which it fell.
Really, anything can happen. Whether we choose and do our best to guide the events of the future or whether we let things happen as they may and go with the flow, something will happen. What will it be and where will it lead?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
