WHAT THEY WANT
Front door of a rural mountain grocery:
On top of a 50' power boat owned by a doctor cruising the San Juan islands, Washington, July 11, 2018:
Thursday, July 12, 2018
SHINE, PERISHING REPUBLIC
While this America settles in the mold of its vulgarity, heavily thickening to empire,
And protest, only a bubble in the molten mass, pops and sighs out, and the mass hardens,
I sadly smiling remember that the flower fades to make fruit, the fruit rots to make earth.
Out of the mother; and through the spring exultances, ripeness and decadence;
and home to the mother.
You making haste haste on decay; not blameworthy; life is good, be it stubbornly long or suddenly
A mortal splendor: meteors are not needed less than mountains: shine, perishing republic.
But for my children, I would have them keep their distance from the thickening center; corruption
Never has been compulsory, when the cities lie at the monster’s feet there are left the mountains.
And boys, be in nothing so moderate as in love of man, a clever servant, insufferable master.
There is the trap that catches noblest spirits, that caught — they say --
God, when he walked on earth.
Robinson Jeffers, 1925
Tuesday, March 21, 2017
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Bienvenidos a Oaxaca...
Have arrived and settled in Oaxaca City. Spent the day yesterday wandering the city. It does appear to be thriving. Some wonderful new museums have opened within the past few years. Most are housed in renovations of old colonial buildings, very well executed. It's apparent that the government is using what money it has to make the city stand out for its patrimony. I guess I vaguely knew this, but Oaxaca (the city and the state) are the true heart of indigenous Mexico. Five of the 8 root native languages arose here. It's a big state, from ocean to 8,000 ft elevation, lots of varied terrain. There are the equivalent of over 500 "counties" in the state, all vying for land and dominance. So, the politics are intense... not only between the urban/contemporary population and the indigenous population but among the indigenous peoples themselves.
Fueled by tourism dollars (in good measure) Oaxaca City seems to have achieved a happy equilibrium. Native populations can eek out a living with their native crafts, and the city has made a concerted effort to encourage growth of culture and tourism. There's a section of town that's blocked off to cars and it's wonderful for strolling to museums, nice restaurants (mostly serving "gourmet" indigenous dishes and smoky tasting mezcal), gardens, art galleries and lots of upscale tourist shops. FYI, mezcal is the specialty brew of Oaxaca whereas tequila is the specialty of Jalisco/Guadalajara/Chamela.
Yesterday I started the day at the local neighborhood open air market...like a mini version of the big market we visited in 1985. Had a breakfast of fresh squeezed OJ, sat down in the spic & span clean restaurant area of the market and listened to a marimba concert. Lots of kids running around and whole families enjoying time together. Flowers and color everywhere. Then I wandered over to the blocked off/no-car tourist area. Highlights included seeing a wedding in a gloriously baroque Dominican cathedral, a small baptism at a much plainer church (but with people in their finest native dress - very rare now - and a fantastic solo soprano accompanied by violin), lunch at the Institute of Graphic Design, and a great wander through the Museum of Contemporary Art of Oaxaca with wonderful paintings and an amazing old building, beautifully restored. Dinner in the same area with some Canadian folks who stay at the same pension....highlight was little tacos made with Oaxaca white cheese, smoky chile and, of all things, spearmint -- delicious.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Leaving Lake Almanor
Well, today we pack up; tomorrow we head down Deer Creek canyon to the San Francisco bay area. I already miss the peace and quiet, the beautiful trees, moonlight on the water, the bats swooping at dawn and sunset, and the occasional surprise visit by the likes of a pygmy owl or a giant vine maple beetle (prionus californicus). But, we’re returning to the pleasure of many friends and city life.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Random Thoughts on the Election
At an unpleasant dinner in Panama City, Panama, in spring 2004, I was roundly cuffed about by a university professor regarding the Bush administration and the American system of government in general. He was convinced that we are brutal bullies. I say “we” because, indeed, we Americans are in this together. I paid my taxes and I voted along with everyone else in 2000, and the choice was George W. Bush. The professor stomped on my every effort to say that, despite a long history of “re-arranging” Latin American governments, there was another side to my America, one with a bill of rights, enduring human values, a representative government and the ability to transform itself every four years. The relentless professor had been through a divorce recently. I could see why. No doubt his ex-wife felt as rotten and angry as I did.
But even in the darkest days of the Bush-Cheney-Rumsfeld administration with terrible news of American torture perpetrated in Iraq and hideouts elsewhere in the world, I clung to the belief that things would change...that one day President Bush would turn over power peacefully to another…that our history, constitution and bill of rights are so large and so formidable, no individual president or administration could undo our system of government.
We had another election in 2004. I was disappointed with the result. I felt like one of the butterflies in Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s poem:
“even as butterflies are beaten back
by hurricanes
yet do not die
They lie in wait wherever
they can hide and hang
their fine wings folded
and when the killer-wind dies
they flutter forth again
into the new-blown light
live as leaves.
Time passed, and we’ve just finished another election. A year ago, I would never have guessed at the sweeping vindication of my trust in the American system of government.
The election of Barak Obama is transformative, a watershed event. Born well past the WWII, too young to be drafted for Vietnam – but old enough to have experienced 9/11 with the rest of us. Product of a hippie mother and Kenyan father. Raised in Indonesia and Hawaii. He does represent a new generation of tax-paying, voting Americans, 40% of whom can claim multi-cultural, multi-racial roots. And, I’ll be interested to watch how, as president, he leverages his huge following over the Internet to deliver the modern version of FDR’s “fireside chats.”
I'd heard over & over during the campaign that it would be transformational to elect a black man. I'd poo-poohed this concept, because I thought of Obama as a multicultural, generational-change candidate who is part black (see above). But, at the announcement of his election, I saw that it was not inaccurate to say that he is our first African American president. Which brings me to Abraham Lincoln, Jesse Jackson, Martin Luther King and Rabbi Sydney Akselrad.
History is a great thing. It shows the power of time and enduring human values. Over the objections of his entire cabinet, Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation. The Supreme Court struck down “separate but equal” in Brown v. Board of Education. Martin Luther King declared we shall overcome. He led a march in Selma, Alabama. With Jesse Jackson. With Rabbi Sydney Akselrad, the rabbi who married my husband and me.
When I saw Jesse Jackson in Chicago’s Grant Park with tears in his eyes as Obama’s election was announced, I cried too.
I thought of Rabbi Sydney Akselrad marching in Selma. He was a frail person with terrible eyesight, a keen sense of humor, an outsized humanity, a huge heart. How could he face the violence and anger? He just did.
However it goes in the next assuredly turbulent months and years of the Barak Obama administration, no matter if he takes a course that I disagree with, this particular moment in time is rightfully a celebration of all that America stands for. We have the ability to transform ourselves, not instantly, but just see how quickly! President Bush has been gracious and offers his ready cooperation in the transition to a new administration. Our system of government is still bigger than any one president, any one party, any one component of our society. The pendulum swings…. We may not have perfect government or a perfect union, but I’ll keep on paying my taxes, I’ll keep on voting, I’ll keep on putting the American flag in front of our house at Lake Almanor each day, just as my Dad did.
But even in the darkest days of the Bush-Cheney-Rumsfeld administration with terrible news of American torture perpetrated in Iraq and hideouts elsewhere in the world, I clung to the belief that things would change...that one day President Bush would turn over power peacefully to another…that our history, constitution and bill of rights are so large and so formidable, no individual president or administration could undo our system of government.
We had another election in 2004. I was disappointed with the result. I felt like one of the butterflies in Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s poem:
“even as butterflies are beaten back
by hurricanes
yet do not die
They lie in wait wherever
they can hide and hang
their fine wings folded
and when the killer-wind dies
they flutter forth again
into the new-blown light
live as leaves.
Time passed, and we’ve just finished another election. A year ago, I would never have guessed at the sweeping vindication of my trust in the American system of government.
The election of Barak Obama is transformative, a watershed event. Born well past the WWII, too young to be drafted for Vietnam – but old enough to have experienced 9/11 with the rest of us. Product of a hippie mother and Kenyan father. Raised in Indonesia and Hawaii. He does represent a new generation of tax-paying, voting Americans, 40% of whom can claim multi-cultural, multi-racial roots. And, I’ll be interested to watch how, as president, he leverages his huge following over the Internet to deliver the modern version of FDR’s “fireside chats.”
I'd heard over & over during the campaign that it would be transformational to elect a black man. I'd poo-poohed this concept, because I thought of Obama as a multicultural, generational-change candidate who is part black (see above). But, at the announcement of his election, I saw that it was not inaccurate to say that he is our first African American president. Which brings me to Abraham Lincoln, Jesse Jackson, Martin Luther King and Rabbi Sydney Akselrad.
History is a great thing. It shows the power of time and enduring human values. Over the objections of his entire cabinet, Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation. The Supreme Court struck down “separate but equal” in Brown v. Board of Education. Martin Luther King declared we shall overcome. He led a march in Selma, Alabama. With Jesse Jackson. With Rabbi Sydney Akselrad, the rabbi who married my husband and me.
When I saw Jesse Jackson in Chicago’s Grant Park with tears in his eyes as Obama’s election was announced, I cried too.
I thought of Rabbi Sydney Akselrad marching in Selma. He was a frail person with terrible eyesight, a keen sense of humor, an outsized humanity, a huge heart. How could he face the violence and anger? He just did. 
However it goes in the next assuredly turbulent months and years of the Barak Obama administration, no matter if he takes a course that I disagree with, this particular moment in time is rightfully a celebration of all that America stands for. We have the ability to transform ourselves, not instantly, but just see how quickly! President Bush has been gracious and offers his ready cooperation in the transition to a new administration. Our system of government is still bigger than any one president, any one party, any one component of our society. The pendulum swings…. We may not have perfect government or a perfect union, but I’ll keep on paying my taxes, I’ll keep on voting, I’ll keep on putting the American flag in front of our house at Lake Almanor each day, just as my Dad did.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Wind
At 5:30 in the morning I wait for my computer to power up, in the darkness, watching the hourglass twirl, anticipating what communication might have landed in my inbox in the course of the night.
Outside a low wind passes through the trees. Low and gentle. Low and gentle. Out there in the darkness, my mother, her thin and elegant form, is winding slowly through the dense tree trunks, fanning through the clusters of needles in the tree tops, bringing down upon me this low and gentle wind.
Outside a low wind passes through the trees. Low and gentle. Low and gentle. Out there in the darkness, my mother, her thin and elegant form, is winding slowly through the dense tree trunks, fanning through the clusters of needles in the tree tops, bringing down upon me this low and gentle wind.
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