The Nuance of Weird

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April 18, 2023- The car pulled into Costco Gas, by way of the exit and faced the wrong way towards the pumps. Driver was swiftly corrected by the station’s attendant, and shortly thereafter pulled around and came in the same way as the rest of us.

I don’t often witness a general energy of the off-kilter quite so widespread as today’s. Whether it is due to the coming New Moon eclipse or just the result of a collective ennui, people were acting in rather a backwards manner or in complete obliviousness to their surroundings, in various moments. A young woman was dancing, this morning, in the middle of a pedestrian crossing in downtown Prescott-innocently enough, but seemingly unaware of anyone around her. It was a Thoreau moment-definitely a different drummer. Later, a woman walked to the far end of our post office lobby, thinking the exit door was in a different place than it has been for the thirteen years she has lived here.

For someone like me to make such observations may seem odd, in and of itself, but I have become accustomed to mostly neurotypical behaviour, since I moved here, twelve years ago this July. Not today, though; the pace of oddity seemed to accelerate towards evening. The gas station incident was preceded by at least five people walking trancelike, inside our local Trader Joe’s and its parking lot. I was grateful to be well-rested and fully aware of my surroundings, lest one of them walk right into my path. On the way back to my apartment, someone went from my lane, across an inside lane and a gore point, then stopped momentarily, before continuing across to Sheldon Street, which is clearly separated from Gurley, the street that goes directly to downtown.

For once in my life, I was among those not exhibiting off-center behaviour. Having been in a position of grave responsibility might just have re-wired me. Let’s see how the rest of the eclipse unfoldment turns out.

Pushing Back On The Mud, Day Fifteen

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April 16, 2023- Michael had over a hundred people to place in hotel rooms, so it took a while for my team mates and me, who were out-processing, to get our room in San Jose, in advance of our departure tomorrow. Michael got it done.

I spent the morning at the shelter, tying up loose ends, turning the reins over to my right-hand person and the car key over to another shelter worker, who will be there for several more days. After hugs and handshakes, I left a bit after noon, catching a ride to Red Cross Event Headquarters with one of my team mates who had other business there.

The ride was smooth, as was the immediate out-processing. I was thanked, profusely, by the headquarters staff, as well, and was treated to dinner by my second-level supervisor, who also gave me a lift to Holiday Inn, near Norman Y. Mineta San Jose International Airport. (I am very much gratified to see honour given to a Japanese-American patriot in this way, given the past treatment of his kindred,)

So, the mud will continue to be pushed back, the homes rebuilt and families will rebound. The Camarillo family will continue to arrange and sell fresh-cut flowers, their neighbours will go back to the fields and provide us with strawberries, artichokes and watermelon. Homes will be sturdier, in preparation for what might lie ahead. Governments will, hopefully, be more responsive and grant a listening ear to even the simplest of those who they serve.

Tasha, our server on Saturday evening, will keep on with her own recovery from the series of atmospheric rivers that have pummeled the wide area from Santa Cruz and Aptos to the north side of Salinas. She and many others will, God-willing, learn to smile again. I will go back to my Home Base of Prescott, and be of service to small children, in the latter part of this week and take part in Earth Day activities, next Saturday.

Pushing Back On The Mud, Day Fourteen

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April 15, 2023, Aptos, CA- I walked into Lillian’s Italian Kitchen, in downtown Santa Cruz, a bit after 8:30 p.m., looked around a bit, and found the party of eight that had gathered in my honour. Such gatherings have not been as rare as my psyche sometimes imagines, and in each case, they come as a pleasant surprise. Lillian’s takes a fair amount of inspiration from the San Francisco ristorante/cucina scene.

Sunday Gravy, a dish popular in New York and New Jersey, which spread to California in the 1940s, was a succulent mix of short rib, beef, pork and blended sausage, in rich tomato sauce. There was no hint of oregano, basil or garlic-just spicy tomato. Each person had a similarly delectable dish, from lasagna to antipasto.

This was a day which began with word that my overall evaluation is “a nice one”. Then came a colourful and heartfelt poster, made by a family who were greatly moved by the love and caring shown by our team. Another woman wanted to express similar sentiments, but was ashamed of the quality of her writing. She conveyed her appreciation, then went shyly back to her cot area.

This was also a day when my heretofore critic responded to the care I showed, at the word of his having experienced severe pain last night, by expressing full appreciation of the way the shelter was being handled. The work that my crew and I have done, without let-up, now seems universally approved. It is not differences of opinion that matter so much, but how each of us grows to relate to one another over time.

Far from here, in Dadeville, AL, a town which I visited a year ago, a young girl sits, head in hand, weeping at the horror which people, who hate her for some reason, inflicted on her, and on her family, by killing her older brother on her 16th birthday. In Guanajuato, Mexico, other men, who couldn’t leave well enough alone, just had to slaughter six adults and a seven-year-old child-because they could.

My, my-the contrast between a climate of understanding, and tolerance that becomes acceptance and oneness, and a climate of toxic abusiveness, ignorance and egoism that fosters hatred and violence.

Pushing Back On The Mud, Day Twelve

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April 13, 2023, Aptos, CA- Standing tall is a risky proposition. One is an easier target for the disaffected and the self-important, alike. On the other hand, it is the only way to be recognized by those who matter most-the honest and continuously hard-working people, who make up the majority of any given workforce.

We made adjustments to our daily tallying procedure, more in line with actual “winding-down” behaviour of the shelter residents, instead of counting just to have a count by day shift’s end. There are bound to be other course corrections, in the time that I have left, but they will be made without my feeling that I have failed somehow.

Today was also a day to honour and acknowledge the Monterey County team, who have been so strong in support of those whom we have sheltered. Four of us, a chaplain, translator, one of my supervisors and me, interviewed those who have chosen to stay in the parking lot, in lieu of taking a bed in the shelter. The four of them have different reasons for doing this, but they break no laws and are just as entitled to dignified treatment as anyone else.

We will finish with an uptick in the quality of our service and in everyone’s sense of well-being.

Pushing Back On The Mud, Day Five

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April 7, 2023, Aptos, CA– It was, to many people, a day suitable to their mood-rainy and a bit cool, reflecting the feelings of many people about the Crucifixion of Christ. Yet, throughout the day, the sun shone through the clouds, periodically. There is, in fact, progress being made on the determination of water potability, which is one of the factors that will affect the return of people to their homes. The bigger issue, of course, is the presence of mud in and around those homes. Finally, there is the issue of accessibility to the houses.

To many people, the ordeal feels like a crucifixion, of sorts. Most will recover, to a greater or lesser extent. The lessons learned from this inundation may not be immediately clear to the victims, yet there seems to be a very strong sense of “We will go on and show our children that these kinds of events are not the end of life.” This is much in the spirit of what Christ was telling humanity, by submitting to the ignominy of the Cross.

The best of parents deliver this message to their children, both verbally and by example, on a daily basis. The ethic of picking oneself up and going forward is also what will carry human civilization and sense of community.

“And still we rise”.

Nevertheless

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April 2, 2023- These thoughts come to me, as two weeks of night duty approach.

I don’t see much of my restaurant-worker friends, as the weight-reduction plan continues and my schedule takes this one afield. Nevertheless, I think fondly of all of them, and wish a steady flow of diners and income.

I haven’t gotten out to see local friends, as much as I might have. Nevertheless, I keep each of them in my heart.

It’ll be three weeks until I get back to my weekend routine in Prescott. Nevertheless, I summon the forces of assistance to the Farmers Market, to my beloved vendor and worker friends, and to the regular breakfast crowd at Post 6. May all be safe and well.

I have no idea what lies in store for the suffering masses, both across the United States and around our planet. Nevertheless, I sense that all will heal and goodness will flow, even from the darkest of times.

I have no clear picture of what lies in store for us in the Central Valley, even with improving weather. Nevertheless, our team will do everything possible to safeguard the victims of nature’s ravages, until it is time for them to safely move on.

The weeks and months ahead will be filled with both challenge and opportunities for growth. There will be a lot of work required and putting the needs of all manner of people on my radar screen. Nevertheless, I will maintain self care and keep my focus.

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.

Some Gave All

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March 29, 2023- The roll of honor featured those killed in action in the Afghanistan and Iraq conflicts, and those who died in the three attacks on September 11, 2001. These extensions of the Vietnam War Memorial Wall, whose traveling exhibit is in Camp Verde, AZ for five days, are part of its mission to bring closure to those left behind by these more recent tragic series of events.

The day was observed, nationwide, with many state governors issuing proclamations honouring Vietnam Veterans on this day. The President apparently did not, but he had honoured an individual soldier with a belated Medal of Honor on March 3. The importance of today, to those of us who served in that conflict, will hopefully not be lost on him, in the future.

“All gave some. Some gave all.” I lost three friends from my home town, and nearly lost a fourth, in the conflict. The death of the first one, in combat, spurred me to go to the war zone and see for myself what was going on. Fortunately, I was assigned to Army Postal Units-first in Long Binh, the largest base in the Vietnam Theater and later to Cholon, a smaller compound in the midst of Saigon. Those of us in the rear echelon “gave some”, but whatever threats there were to our safety, in 1971, came more from fellow Americans. The War Zone was no safe haven from drug and human traffickers, or from the internal divisions of our own society. While I came home with less Post-Traumatic Stress than combat arms veterans, there was some.

I felt the residue of much of that stress today, as speakers in Camp Verde and in Prescott paid homage to us and some spoke of their own experiences. It was surreal, as I have long since put the war behind me, and I didn’t really feel that people showed any particular disrespect towards me, when I came back, in 1972. There were no left-wing radicals trying to spit at me or accusing me of being a baby killer, though I know of a few who had those experiences. What did surface today was my wanting to not draw any attention to myself, or to commiserate much with other Vets. I mainly wanted to observe the day in semi-private, being in the group, but not prominently.

So the day passed, and the Pledge of Allegiance was recited on three occasions. I received a swag bag from the Red Cross, indulged in a donut hole, then exercised on a stationary bike for 20 minutes and got in a 2-mile walk to/from downtown. At day’s end, the residual feelings of unworthiness have passed and I am back to a more even emotional state.

Some, though, gave all-and we are forever in their debt.

Correctness

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March 28, 2023- The young man was quick on his feet, pointing out that I had used a complimentary adjective, in reference to a woman of colour- only minutes after another member of the group had cautioned against combining references to mental prowess with a subject’s ethnicity or gender. Point taken-and I simultaneously wonder if pinpoint concern over the fine points of speech may not have the unintended consequence of turning people away from the mental process of refining one’s thought.

Thought refinement has to precede the elevation of speech. I can readily see how “She was a feisty, articulate young Black woman” must sound to a person who shares those qualities-or to anyone who is sensitive to such cloying language. I remember wincing, years ago, when a colleague reported that someone had “complimented” her for being an “educated Indian”. The person who used those words may, or may not, have entertained a condescending view of First Nations people, but the effect was obvious.

Truth be known, I was, and still am, in awe of the woman to whom I referred. I hope she has only become more articulate, and retained her fire, over the years-and that these have helped her realize her goals. The world needs, if anything, more people who are resolute and who won’t “mind their place”, when it comes to seeking justice. In that regard, I hope the young man at tonight’s meeting likewise keeps prodding the rest of us to stop and elevate our thoughts, so that the resultant speech is of the highest order.

Correct must come to truly mean right.

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.