Tag Archives: arson

No Day for Folderol

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Posted by on in Community, Education, impediments, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

April 1, 2024- “A little nonsense now and then is cherished by the wisest men”-Roald Dahl, “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory”.

All Fools Day is said to have originated in the Achaemenid Empire (First Persian Empire), around 580 B.C. It’s said to have been a day when levity and pranking were given official sanction, after a long winter. So it has been, primarily in Western countries, ever since. Those nations which have adopted many European practices have, of course, taken this day of silliness into their cultural repertoire.

Anymore, I see the first of April as a day when I might carefully both give and receive pranks. This morning, though, I opened my cell phone to see a message that a fire had consumed an apartment complex that was still under construction. There was no follow-up “April Fool!”, and the person who sent the message is not one given to tomfoolery.

As I was headed to that community, anyway, for a coffee klatsch, the fact of the actual fire quickly became evident. It had started during the early morning hours and moved with intensity-possibly due to it having been set. I have learned, over the years, to not speculate too intensely on such matters. If it is arson, that will be determined soon enough. A disturbed person has been going about, throwing glass shards in athletic practice areas, and committing acts of vandalism at a nearby high school, so this terrible event may well be part of a wider campaign of mayhem.

In any case, the rest of my day was spent pleasantly enough, but I was in no mood to indulge in prank-based levity. Doing errands, serving food at the soup kitchen and taking part in a spiritual dance gathering on Zoom made for a more satisfying day.

May April be beneficial to all, and not be the cruelest month, as T.S.Eliot would have had people believe.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47311/the-waste-land

Fortnight of Transition, Day 9: Glow of a Super New Moon

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Education, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

September 17, 2020–

If anyone had mentioned the above term to me, when I was a kid, I’d have rolled my eyes. Everyone knew that a New Moon was invisible to the naked eye, so how could it be “super”. The explanation turns out to be: If the new moon is at its closest approach to Earth, in a month, it is a Super New Moon. So it is with this New Moon, and will be with the next two.

Under this New Moon, lots of things are happening. The “pop-up” hurricane, Sally, dumped a lot of rain-several feet, on Mobile and Pensacola, and brought with it a storm surge that, among other things, washed away a replica of the Columbian ship, Pinta.

I have seen a disturbing video, purporting to show Mr. Biden inappropriately touching a little girl, while her family members were distracted. There is a voiceover, “narrating” the scene, and sounding remarkably like some of the Bots who “narrated” the stuff about Pizzagate. Uncle Joe may, or may not have, pinched the little girl, in a sensitive area. It’s hard to tell from the video, but she was uncomfortable and moved away, right after the contact. As with all such videos, while I take the comments with several grains of salt, (Any video can be doctored or altered.), I know that, with people of a certain age, patting, or slapping, a girl on the buttocks is seen as an act of endearment. I am disgusted by such behaviour, though. The whole culture of NOT seeing children, teenagers or even grown women, as full human beings is something that can’t fade away fast enough. This video was taken five years ago, but still- Mr. Biden needs to acknowledge the issue and make some serious changes to how he is perceived. At the same time, his misbehaviour can’t become a Right-Wing trope. His opponent, after all, is hardly a paragon of virtue.

The whole concept of good forest management is being raised-especially with regard to the Oregon fires. It is not enough to simply blame Climate Change-especially when arsonists are to blame, for at least three of the fires. If the First Nations could maintain good forest management practices, well before Europeans arrived on this continent, modern man can certainly do the same.

Around here, a house burned down in nearby Prescott Valley-the huge cloud of black smoke suggests that a vehicle was parked in the garage that burned.

COVID numbers are up, just a bit, in Arizona-attributable, it is suggested, to Labor Day weekend. I worked in two schools this week, and saw a good deal less than high attendance. Reportedly, a second wave of the virus has hit parts of Europe and, as expected, it’s worse than the first outbreak. August is vacation month on the Continent, so maybe that has a lot to do with this.

In the meantime, I am getting my rest while I can, and fully expect to be deployed, somewhere, with the Red Cross, either Tuesday or shortly thereafter.

I Care Not; I Care

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Posted by on in children, Community, impediments, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Poetry, Social, Spiritual, Striving

October 25, 2019-

The year,  of which I thought as a pinnacle,

when it was approaching,

now seems a plateau of focus,

as it begins to recede,

into the alpine mists of history.

Here and now have become

more urgent.

Past is  a glimmer,

whose lessons impact

the present stage.

Future is “that time”

of promises,

which only I

can bring to fruition.

Twenty-twenty

appears in my

mind’s eye,

like yin and yang.

In the heat of the now,

I care not for the culture

which glorifies drug use.

The mantra,

“This is better than crack!”,

is the cackling of the ignorant.

I care not for the powers

that pretend to be,

sending their tanks,

flame throwers and

armor-piercing bullets,

against unwitting defenders

of freedom.

I care not for the puppet masters,

who order the innocent

to stand down,

to step aside,

that the purveyors

of death,

may present their wares,

to the foolish and

the deluded.

I care not,

for those who

cry foul,

at being told

that an infant

has the right

to life,

the right

to be adopted,

instead of killed.

I care not,

for those who

start wildfires,

in the hopes

of returning later,

and building

cookie-cutter,

gentrified living resorts,

affordable only to

the favoured few.

I care,

for the struggling,

for the lost children,

kept in a prison box,

with no resources,

save the cement floor,

which they share,

with hundreds,

and with their reluctant

guards,

who are themselves

pariahs.

I care for those

who are beaten,

chased down,

hunted like animals

and then,

treated like filth,

by the jurists,

who look first

at the well-being

of those

who beat, menace

and hunt the innocent,

like so much prey.

I care for those

who have given

their all,

and end up

as footnotes,

in the journals

of narcissists.

Give us your tired,

poor, innocent,

that we may find room

in our hearts and

in our diminishing spaces.