The Nuance of Weird

6

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.

Greeted by Apple Blossoms

5

April 17, 2023- The earnest woman seated next to me, on the flight from San Jose to Phoenix, inquired about my work in the shelter. I mentioned that there were 350 people in the three halls, combined. She replied, “That’s not all that many people”. Compared with her place of service to the Red Cross-New Orleans Superdome, during Hurricane Katrina, it certainly wasn’t; but, we made a difference to those starfishes. That’s what matters most. She did thank me, profusely, on behalf of the people of her native Santa Cruz County. It turns out that she grew up a block away from Rio Sands Hotel, in Aptos, but was heading to Snowflake, AZ, for some personal work.

The day started with a sumptuous breakfast in Holiday Inn’s Santa Cruz Room, followed by a shuttle to the airport, courtesy of a would-be NASCAR driver, or so it seemed. He got five of us to the airport, in less than three minutes, so I had plenty of time to sit and reflect. There is no reliable WiFi at SJC, but there is a wonderfully soothing massage chair-30 minutes for $ 5.00. It was heavenly, after two weeks of constant movement, with only nightly sit-ups and crunches to relieve any soreness.

After watching my seatmate heading, pell mell, towards her next flight, I waited-very patiently-for an hour, before the bags from our flight arrived on a different carousel from that listed. There were about ten of us who wondered as to the fate of our bags. We landed at 2:20; the bags came up on the chute at 3:23. It was a good thing that I had signed up for the 4:20 shuttle to Prescott!

At 6:25, I pulled into the driveway, having retrieved the Sportage from the shuttle’s parking lot. As the task of unloading my bags ensued, the scent of apple blossoms wafted in the rather comfortable evening air. Spring is indeed upon us!

Pushing Back On The Mud, Day Fifteen

0

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

2

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 Thirteen

2

April 14, 2023, Aptos, CA- The Australian surfer dude turned restaurateur took my order for two of his unique tacos, made of baked vegetable shells. I chose red beet shells, one filled with ahi and avocado; the other, filled with crab and avocado creme. Diced vegetables and mango topped each one. When it came time for me to pay, he was off doing something else. So I looked around the immediate arcade and nearby shops, then came back and paid. This isn’t something I particularly feel okay doing, but this is Capitola.

Before the storms of January and March, the little town was a surfer’s haven. Margaritaville has a branch here, and there is the well known Pizza My Heart. Many places are just now renovating and preparing to reopen. There is a Homeless Garden Project that is getting started as well, and when I get back to Home Base, I will order a few of their products, to help the effort along.

Today was my day off from shelter duty, and it was lovely day for a hike. So, I started out on Seacliff Beach, just south of the wrecked SS Palo Alto, which has been left in situ, as a marine animal habitat. The cement ship was used, for a time, as a recreation and entertainment site. People came from the Bay Area and Sacramento, to dine and dance on its polished wooden floors, and gaze at the stars on the northern edge of Monterey Bay. Now, it is the centerpiece of this part of Monterey Bay Marine Sanctuary.

SS Palo Alto, wrecked by a storm, in 1932.
SS Palo Alto, from Seacliff Overlook

Seacliff, New Brighton and Capitola Beaches all suffered from January’s Atmospheric Rivers. March’s sequels didn’t help matters any.

Seacliff Beach, Aptos
Driftwood at the edge of a forested hill, Seacliff Beach
A lone cliffside bouquet, Seacliff Beach
Boulders moved by the surf and collapsed from the force of the January storms.
Little Koe’s Beach Bits, Capitola, CA-Home of the veggie shell taco
Capitola Village
Capitola Wharf, damaged in January, 2023 Atmospheric Rivers
Snow glories, New Brighton Beach, Capitola
Long-billed curlews, catching their meals

It was a full six-mile roundtrip, up a couple of bracing flights of stairs and along a flat, but sometimes absorbent, stretch of sand. Both Aptos and Capitola are worth a day of exploration.

Pushing Back On The Mud, Day Twelve

2

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 Eleven

6

April 12, 2023, Aptos, CA- The little girl’s hands were caked with an eerie green chalk dust, as she pretended to be a threatening monster. I pretended to be equally scared, and ran away, ever so slowly. Anything one can do to relieve the ominous forces that have upended so many lives, young and old alike, is an imperative. Getting her to giggle with delight was huge.

We all deal with monsters. Some are internal, including my own tendency to see any exclusivity or clannish behaviour as a repudiation of my presence. Others are from without, the relative handful of people who seek to squash anything I do, out of hand. There are only a few such individuals here, among the Red Cross staff and volunteers, and thankfully, their power and influence is shrinking.

I did not ask for the position of manager, preferring to be on the same level as my coworkers, but here we are and I will complete the tasks assigned me. My most virulent critic and foe does not think much of our partner organization, either. At least he does his job in a competent manner, so I can abide his jabs and taunts-for the few days that remain. .

The monsters in our lives always reflect any inner self-doubt that remains, harboured like a latent virus, in the inner folds of the psyche. Maybe that’s why J’s nastiness and the criticism of some of the upper management are playing out like nails on a chalkboard. I haven’t run a large scale operation before, and it is taking every ounce of self-confidence to get through a given day. The wounds are salved, though, by my immediate supervisors, who keep the “wolves at bay” and encourage continuing through to the end of my watch.

Internal, or external, it is the monsters who are doomed.

Pushing Back On The Mud, Day Ten

2

April 11, 2023, Aptos, CA- The forlorn man unwittingly managed to put at least five items of contraband in a commercial washer. Two of these shattered and led to the machine’s owner power-vacuuming it and shutting it down, until he can get time to fix it-probably on Thursday, as parts will need to come from San Jose or San Francisco.

The way things are these days, with possession of certain items being decriminalized, his denial of ownership of the contraband will get him grace from the legal system, for a time. It did not get him extended time at the shelter, which is, after all, run by a county. His clothes were dried and shaken for any shards of glass that remained, and he was escorted, bag and baggage, off the property.

The security team honoured what there was, of the man’s dignity, and by their quiet way, managed to not disturb others who were sleeping in the small shelter. This, to me, is a model for those who believe in not “sparing the rod” to follow, if they truly want to see a system based on order. He was not allowed to keep the contraband, nor was he allowed to hurt others.

While it was a strange end to a fairly quiet Tuesday, we managed to keep the residents safe, for yet another day in paradise.

Pushing Back on The Mud, Day Nine

2

April 10, 2023, Aptos, CA- Easter Monday is a day of rest and reflection for many, in devout Catholic communities. It is also the first day back to school, after a Spring Break that is centered on Holy Week and Easter. Thus, it was quieter, with mothers and very young children holding the fort. Their antics and playfulness are a joy.

I am now halfway through an unsought, but rewarding and growth-spurring leadership experience. I have received lots of praise-and a fair amount of grumbling. A shelter is no one’s idea of a vacation, even in a place as aesthetically lovely as Santa Cruz County. We’ve made it more than bearable for the residents and I have gone to great lengths to make things easier for the volunteer workers. A strong management team has helped, even though some try to shift or skirt around the rules, when they are asked to apply those rules to themselves.

That there are people in certain positions who are in over their heads is no surprise. The sheer number of volunteers seeking lodging assignments, and of shelter residents who suffer from the damage to their homes and thus need both Red Cross and FEMA assistance is daunting. Yet, I was always taught the truism-“When the going gets tough, the tough get going.”

Pushing Back On The Mud, Day Eight

2

April 9, 2023, Aptos, CA- “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end”. So goes the refrain from the 2000s song, “Closing Time”. Christ sent that same message, albeit in much more elevated fashion, some one thousand, nine hundred ninety years ago. He took the highest of roads, beseeching the Divine to forgive His tormentors, His executioners, the demons who surrounded and mocked Him. All these years later, I sense His Spirit remains in supplication to the Highest Power, even as He continues to offer strength and spiritual sustenance to so many.

It was the most gorgeous day of weather in the area of Monterey Bay, in some time. The skies were clear, the temperature warm and the mood reverent and mellow. Many people attended Mass, with shuttle buses providing the means. Many children took part in a pinata bash, with a nine-year-old finally getting the blow that cracked the Smiling Star. The free-for-all that followed nearly twenty renditions of Dale, Dale, Dale (DA-lay) was joyful and as carefully managed as humanly possible, by the many parents who joined my team mate in clapping and coaching the kids.

The new beginning, though, remains the primary focus of this day, which to Christians is the holiest day of the year. Twelve days from today, the holiest season of the year for Baha’is starts, just as the holiest season for Muslims comes to an end. Along with the conclusion of Passover and the approach of the Birth of Buddha, these three weeks in April and the first week in May, summon an enormous amount of spiritual energy. New beginnings abound, as ever, and offer us all a chance to both shore up our strengths and shed our weaknesses. The Messengers of the Divine have given us a variety of ways to bring those about. All of those ways are rooted in love.

May this be a fruitful season of love for all!