Pushing Back On The Mud, Day Three

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April 5, 2023, Aptos, CA- It made an impression, seeing the width and height of the Pajaro River, flowing through the remnants of its namesake town. The community of 2,000 people has been inundated, and largely leveled, by the second major flood in 28 years. Most locals remember the destruction from the Deluge of 1995. Now, the artichoke fields, and some of the vineyards which have sprung up, in the interim, will again endure an unplanned fallow period. It will take a long while to recover.

Not surprisingly, feelings are raw, and voices rose in anger, late this evening, as a few rowdy children ran about while some men and women were trying to sleep, ahead of the next day’s work. Matters didn’t come to blows, thanks largely to the calm voice of the night supervisor for the Red Cross crew. Those who felt that their children were unfairly chastised by others left in the middle of the night, but that was a free choice-and no one would have continued to berate them, had they stayed in the shelter. I stand by my associate and his style of management.

The day shift produced a whirlwind of activity and resulted in more materials and services being available to the residents-both in the shelter and around town. Watsonville, the larger town west of Pajaro, was also seriously affected by the flooding, and is also a focus of services, with food being brought to them by our mental health team and outreach from various agencies, both state and local. FEMA is becoming steadily, but carefully, involved in the recovery operation.

The scene is being replicated, across the continent, by wind and ice, as well as by flowing water. Tornadoes have slammed over a dozen states; Ontario and Quebec have suffered widespread power outages, due to ice storms, which are as bad as-and sometimes worse than, torrential rain. It is bound to be a long, hard Spring, yet we’ll get through it, by diligence, encouragement and sticking together.

Pushing Back On The Mud, Day Two

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April 4, 2023, Aptos, CA- It may be something in the air, or in the water, but for the second night in a row, only vigilance averted a tragedy, as a little girl on a pedal scooter blithely rolled in front of me, in this mostly quiet beach town. I was able to stop short, and her mother sternly offered a verbal life-lesson. I cannot imagine the horror that would unfold, were a life be cut short and the lives of four other people (mother, father, older brother-and me) be shattered.

Nothing of the sort happened, though, and I went on to Rio Sands Hotel, at the east end of the beach district. Many people were in the heated swimming pool, while I focused on relaxing, after a rewarding, but very busy day of running a large shelter. Thankfully, I have a dynamo of a helper, who has both thrown herself into being a bridge between my tenure and that of my immediate predecessor, while taking pains to apprise me of what needs to be done. It all is easy to understand, being similar to Yarnell Hill and Alexandria, just on a much larger scale. People are suffering, yet they see the light in the future and hold onto one another. The feeding director is providing quality Mexican food, and the hospitality team is organizing Ballet Folklorico, Easter festivities and a mid-April Pinata Fest, which they are calling a “Birthday Party”. Our overnight staff is to use the quietude of their shift, to fill Easter baskets and plastic Easter eggs.

I feel blessed by all this, a lot more than the sense of world-weariness and easy annoyance I sensed in the large Headquarters in San Jose. Perhaps part of this is the difference between a fast-paced urban existence and a more measured rural life. Yet, my vibrant assistant is an Angeleno and the more irritable of the upper managers are from quiet rural areas in the Midwest and Northwest.

It all boils down to worldview, and inner harmony. This will be a fortnight of full days and short, relaxing nights. We will, as a team, set the process of healing in motion-and set a precedent for working through any ongoing disasters.

Mellowness

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April 1, 2023- The Director regarded me with a side eye. “What do you need?” This is a person around whom I have become guarded, so it was no surprise to get such a greeting, when my only intent was to say “Hi”. I told her of my coming absence, due to the impending deployment to California, and her tone softened to “We’ll miss you”. Sometimes, a mellow response to hardness will bring about a softening.

This evening, I enjoyed more mellowness, first as R & D project played tunes from the Sixties through the Teens, at Rafter Eleven. After coming back to Home Base, I went through one set of tummy tighteners (up to 50 per set, on truncated sit-ups) and joined some new neighbours around their fire pit, for light conversation and a song-guessing game. I recognized about five of the tunes, out of fourteen, so paying attention to Aram’s playlist, when he was a teen and young adult, still has its rewards. After a while, I came back in and did a second round of exercises.

Spring, for me, begins with April, and this year is no different. It is a season that stokes a mellower mood, a sensation of encouragement. Meditating on what still triggers residue of my autism, I realize that any perceived hostility towards my actions, or my mere presence (as at the Market, this afternoon) causes me to momentarily want to shrink back or disappear. Thankfully, I no longer act on that impulse. I have a place in the world, and in this community, regardless of anyone else’s opinion-or what I initially think is their opinion.

Today was no joke-and ended rather nicely. It is nice to feel mellowness.

The Beleaguered Southland

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March 27, 2023- I got a text, and an e-mail, from the Red Cross, early this afternoon, wanting to know if I would be available to assist in the recovery efforts following the latest wave of tornadoes in the mid-South, especially in Mississippi. I will be available starting Sunday, so we will see what RC’s response is.

The South appeared to have endured a triple whammy, these past few days. Tornadoes have come to be expected, yet those which hit rural areas at night have tended to not get as much forewarning as their diurnal counter parts and are thus deadlier.

School shootings, sadly, have come to be expected-and are dismissed as “an unfortunate trade-off for the protection of rights under the Second Amendment”. That codicil says no such thing, but has been interpreted as protecting the “rights” of the craven and the mentally ill, to the extent that it is, itself, no protection at all for those who either don’t own firearms (the vast majority of underage students, for example), or do not bring their weapons to the workplace or leisure spots , OR are outmaneuvered/ outgunned by the aggressor. Oh, for the days of a well-trained militia and firearms safety classes, as the prime missions of the National Rifle Association.

Thirdly, the Thirtieth Anniversary of the Waco Massacre should have been a day of national reflection and shame. Instead, it was turned into a political circus. Fortunately, a good many of those who went there to reflect, grieve and process their emotions did their processing and quietly left, well before the politicizing and venting had come to a close. To me, the carnage that day was every bit as reprehensible as what followed in Jonesboro, San Ysidro, Lakewood, Sandy Hook, Sutherland, North Charleston, Fort Hood, Pittsburgh, Roseburg, Arlington, Peoria, San Bernardino, Uvalde, Parkland, La Plata, Oxford and Nashville-as well as the places which escape my recall at the moment. The deaths of people, in misguided loyalty to one man are a supreme cautionary tale-and I pray the Divine that this never is repeated, for the sake of any one leader, father figure or surrogate neurotic means to power.

I’ve spent many enjoyable days in the South, as in other parts of the country and the continent, over the years. My heart hurts for those affected by each of the tragedies above-and while certainly praying, I am also willing to go and help in the recovery process, should my presence actually be welcome-as it was in Louisiana and Dallas, three years ago.

What Eternity Is Worth

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March 11, 2023- I attended a memorial service this afternoon, for a man who pretty much devoted his life to the elevation of anyone with whom he came into contact. When his time came, in December, the last photo taken of him was of a smiling man, lifting both arms up, ready for the next level of existence. He was sure he was going to meet Jesus-and my hunch is that he has.

There are those, however, in his circle of friends, who have other ideas. They snarl and sputter about their departed friend’s generosity to the less fortunate. The finite mind is trying to outmaneuver the infinite, as once again, money and power are exercising their appeal. I can’t get more specific than that, due to the matter being in legal process. If injustice seems to be getting the upper hand, however, mine will be one of the loudest voices in this community, calling out the miscreants.

It is worthwhile to ask, however, what is the power-monger’s concept of eternity? Those who occupy the highest seats in any given denomination, of many, if not most, of the world’s major sectarian entities, and a good many of those down the ranks, behave for all the world, as if the promise of eternity does not really exist-or if it does, it is more of the same, with rank having its privileges. The finite mind can never comprehend the infinite. To be fair, the same sense of entitlement is rife among the elite, and the aspiring elite, in many walks of life besides the clergy.

There is, however, good reason why Jesus the Christ cast the moneylenders out of the Temple in Jerusalem, why Mohammad did battle with the merchant class of Yathrib and why Baha’u’llah wrote that “The best beloved of all things in My sight is Justice” (not power, not control, but justice). The way to a better world lies in transcendence of attachment to the material, and in seeing the things of this world as simply tools, as aids to a temporary state of existence-and not as ends in themselves.

It remains to be seen, how many of the departed gentleman’s associates recognize that fact.

The Don’t Blink Emergency

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March 10, 2023- The alert came on my phone, warning of a possible need for me to go over to California, due to imminent flooding. An hour later, the Red Cross sent out an “all-clear” e-mail. This puzzled me, as there was still a weather alert for the state. Oh, well-there’s plenty to do around here-and in the north of AZ, next week and the week after. Then again, things could change, emergency-wise, on a dime.

Spring Break is coming, and with it a respite from working for wages. I did, though, get in two days this week-both among students who welcome my presence and assistance. I spoke earlier of Wednesday’s work; today’s was more upbeat, with a birthday party for one of the students, a fire drill that occurred just as I had retrieved a broom and dustpan for cleanup after a class project and the project itself-making “Leprechaun Traps”. Collaring imaginary humanoids is tricky, according to legend-but the students’ imaginations and systematic planning skills were given free rein. It will remain in the annals of the school, that “Mr. B.” walked down to the fire evacuation area, carrying a broom and dustpan.

There is also good news about the situation I mentioned in the last post. The school has hired a capable worker, who is keeping the troubled student I mentioned on track. Human ingenuity can, as a friend said in a post of her own, reduce the most severe of worst case scenarios to puffs of smoke.

So many “emergencies” tend to end up being “Don’t Blink” affairs.

Trade-offs

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February 28, 2023- “There are no solutions, only trade-offs.”- Thomas Sowell

One of the more provocative conservatives in our midst, Dr. Sowell has made a good many outrageous statements about “the passing scene”, but he is correct about a great generality of this life: Everything has a cost, as well as a benefit. The value of things great and small lies in the balance between the two.

My thoughts:

Further, all choices we make have immediate and long terms costs and benefits. Those things which cost us, with fleeting benefits, may be viewed as expenses. Those which have long-term benefits may be cast as investments. For example, a meal in a restaurant has mostly fleeting benefits, unless it also includes the generating or enhancement of a friendship or business deal. The deposit of funds towards the education of one’s child or grandchild should, one hopes, result in both the offspring’s well-being and prosperity, and benefits to society, stemming from the person’s expertise.

The same observations may be made, with regard to social movements. Fascism and the Divine Right of Kings benefit elitist claques, and oligarchies, whilst leaving out the vast majority of a country’s citizens, aside from cosmetic and superfluous economic and social trinkets-including insipid entertainment media. Democracies, which INCLUDE republics, are far messier, but have the potential to benefit all citizens, long-term. Everyone has to GIVE, in the form of taxes, or exercising the vote, or allowing those whom one might not like the same rights as one has. Of course, opposed to both of the aforementioned systems is anarchy, chaos, which adheres to no overt rules, save vengeance, self-aggrandizement and short-term personal satisfaction.

I have seen all three, in this short span of seventy-two years, and can only see the most beneficial trade-offs coming from the patience, perseverance and resolve that come from being an active participant in a democracy-and allowing everyone else the same, including-especially, those whose viewpoints differ from my own.

Yes, everything is a trade-off. This, friends, is why we are given free will, combined with intellect and a moral compass, that we may know what to keep and what to give away.

A Day of Change-ups

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February 26, 2023- With 3 inches of snow on the ground, I found it was not a problem to drive to the grocery store and purchase some vegetables and fruit. Then came breakfast at the American Legion Post-a routine on Sunday mornings. Being faithful to my weight reduction program, I saved the pancakes, freezing them for a time when I can nibble at them-along with the cheese and other items that sit in the freezer as well-and will be nibbled at, judiciously, when the time comes.

Normally, a group of us sit at the same table and encourage each other. Today, two of the other five diners showed up-and were already at another table, with other old friends. So, I joined them and the regular table was occupied, in short order, by five gentlemen who had not eaten breakfast there before. When the regulars left, I stayed for a delightful conversation with some other people, who usually sit on the other side of the room.

When I went back to the apartment, and logged onto Zoom, for the devotional which I host, three Sundays each month, I found two of the regular participants also joined-and three who are not usually on the call also logged in. Then, my audio went out, but theirs did not,so they could hear each other-and me, but I was the odd one out. We ended the program prematurely, so that I could go in and find out what Zoom was doing. It turned out that a button had been pushed to mute my audio, when I shared the full contents of my screen. That is something to watch at the next gathering.

The last change-up occurred when I went to the laundromat, and found it locked. What is likely is that the pipes froze, and they just didn’t bother to put up a sign. I will go back on Tuesday and try again.

Changes in routine are good, in that one does not get sclerotic in approaching daily life-as long as the changes do not reflect chaos, which calls for different skill sets.

Speech and Screech

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February 25, 2023- I would not recommend canceling “Dilbert”. I will still look at the comic strip and keep an open mind. Just as I do not recommend refusing to read “The Autobiography of Malcom X”, or “Hillbilly Elegy”, “Paradise” or, for the sake of a cautionary understanding, “Mein Kampf” or “The Communist Manifesto”. I might even pick up “The Art of The Deal”, at some point. The First Amendment trusts the American citizen to become educated enough to hear speech, read the written word and ponder the meaning of what is heard and read, through several lenses, if necessary.

I draw the line at sadistic works or those writings dripping with dark energy, but that is my choice. I don’t want to be dragged down a rabbit hole that bottoms out in a sewer pit. If someone else chooses to do that, and comes away unscathed, that person is far tougher than I. I also choose to be discerning, when someone is screeching at their audience. A person who has endured a lifetime of beatings and gaslighting is entitled to some vitriol. Someone who is merely inconvenienced by the advancement of others is not so much entitled. Both are free to talk, but I may tune out the latter, in short order.

I am keeping this short, and will end here. In conclusion, I have oceans of sympathy for the people of East Palestine, Ohio, who are still not being taken seriously by the President. I have no patience left, however, for those who claim he was not duly elected. The former victims should keep speaking out.

When Separation Is A Fallacy

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February 24, 2023- The writer and artist responsible for “Dilbert”, a comic strip carried by several newspapers in the country, has announced he is no longer interested in contact with Black people. He says that, in his recent experience, Blacks hate him for being White. Not knowing his specific experiences, I can’t speak as to what he should or should not do. Scott Adams goes further, though, encouraging other White people to likewise shun contact with Blacks, even saying that the news commentator Don Lemon, who himself is Black, has reported problematic experiences, when he lived in predominately African-American neighbourhoods. I can’t speak to Mr. Lemon’s experiences either.

For me, though, I have faced no hatred whatsoever, when visiting predominately African-American “hoods”, or mostly Hispanic barrios, for that matter. The opposite has been true. In one of my first walks in the Southeast area of Washington, D.C., I was a bit hesitant, when walking past a family of three, who were watering and weeding their front lawn. The father was pleasant, and told me not to worry; nobody was going to hurt me. A neighbour girl told her wary little brother, a few minutes later, “He’s a good white man”-while knowing nothing specifically about me.

This experience has repeated itself, many times over, in Black neighbourhoods of Boston, New York, Newburgh (NY), Newark, Philadelphia, Erie, Baltimore, Chicago, Milwaukee, Atlanta, Phoenix, Los Angeles and Las Vegas. People have either been friendly or indifferent, but not hostile. The same has been true in barrios, both in the U.S. and, years ago, in Sonora and Baja California del Norte. These experiences tell me that separation is not the answer. Open mindedness and understanding of different styles of communication, however, are of the essence.

The same holds true for the idea, recently floated in the halls of Congress, and elsewhere, for a “national divorce”-letting regions or groups of states go their ways-even to the point, advanced by a local resident here, of a total dissolution of the nation-with fifty independent countries as the result-so “each state can follow its own destiny”. To this, I say “rubbish”! Any family, community, county, state (or province, for that matter) can attest to the difficulties resulting from differences of opinion, perspective, world view-what have you. The choices are either work through it all and focus on common ground, or give up and walk away.

We have seen five nations split apart, in my lifetime: Pakistan, Yugoslavia, Czechoslovakia, Sudan and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. The first four were hybrid states, pieced together by colonial powers (Pakistan and Sudan) or by the participants in the Treaty of Versailles (Yugoslavia and Czechoslovakia). The last one fell apart of its own weight. In none of these cases has the separation been complete and total. The nations arising from Yugoslavia have fought one another and still deal with cross-border tensions. Czechia and Slovakia have managed a more amicable separation and find themselves working together, both being part of the European Union. Pakistan and Bangladesh are both part of the union of South Asian states, their main bone of contention having been their being separated geographically, by India. Sudan and South Sudan are slowly learning the need for economic cooperation, despite their divisions, which are primarily tribal and religious in nature. As for the USSR, central planning and a sclerotic economy still hobble several of its former members-especially Russia. The Commonwealth of Independent States, floated by Boris Yeltsin, was a good idea on the surface, but because it mainly sought to maintain Russia’s dominance, it exists today only in name.

I have gone on too long, but the point is, we are a global family-and not talking, or talking trash, with each other, is going to “make the whole world blind”-as Gandhi said, referring to adherence to the Old Testament, back before World War II. There are people who see a better path, such as activists on both ends of the political spectrum, from South Central Los Angeles and rural West Virginia, who have chosen to work together for the common good. One group’s strength is collective effort. The other’s is individual initiative. There are uses for both.

There is, however, no use for throwing up hands and walking out on the very people who need a person’s individual strength and a group’s unified power. There is no strength in division.