The Hana Chronicles: Month 8, Day 16

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September 6, 2026- I spent much of the day at a Red Cross Donation Center in Irving, about 40 minutes west of Plano. When I got back, Hana was waiting and wanted me to play with her for a while. So, we focused on a new set of colour-coded cloth baskets, which each hold three cloth vegetables and fruits. The green basket holds a watermelon, an avocado and a pear. The yellow basket holds an ear of corn, a banana and a pineapple. The red basket holds an apple, a tomato and a strawberry. The orange basket holds a pumpkin, a carrot and-an orange. The items are lined up on a Velcro strip, on one of the walls of the playpen. Hana has started to associate the vegetable or fruit with its coloured basket. She is especially fond of the red items.

She went with her Mom and Dad to a Japanese market, while I was at the Red Cross center. She seemed to like the place better than she did the first time we all went there, for Mother’s Day. Of course, then she was four months old. Being “twice as old” changes one’s perspective. Having had a full day, at any rate, she went to sleep before 7 p.m.

HANA’S NOTE- I like the colour game. I can even put some of the pieces in the right baskets.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE-2020 The meteor streaked past my home, as i arrived back from a drumming session in Sedona, around midnight. Meteors and comets often portend something momentous. Little did any of us who saw the fireball know just how impactful the event would be. Coronavirus disease 2019 was not World War III. In a way, it was far worse. COVID 19 could have easily wiped out a huge percentage of the world’s population. As it was, the number of victims, in all but six of the world’s countries and territories, was, by the pandemic’s ebb, a horrendous toll. There were a lot of deaths, and a significant number of people suffered from lingering effects of the disease. Vaccinations became available, and once school resumed, in the Fall of the year, we substitutes had to be vaccinated with two doses, two months apart. Many people distrusted the vaccines, and tried their own remedies. For the healthiest of those folks, the DIY stuff had a placebo effect. For others, like Herman Cain, a conservative podcaster, it was lethal.

I, like most people, was largely confined to home during the worst months of the pandemic. We had meetings on Zoom, an online network, which actually allowed people to communicate across the nation and the globe, visually as well as audibly.

I took hikes, around Prescott and in Sedona. I visited restaurants whose owners either were not cowed by the pandemic or who had people who were unrelated sit apart. In grocery stores-and most other places, like the post Office, masks were required and distances of 12 ft. were required. Semantics became a battleground- “physical distance” vs. “social distance” being one of the bones of contention.

Hurricanes did not take notice of the pandemic. In August, I spent two weeks with the victims of Hurricane Laura, as part of a team responding in Alexandria and Baton Rouge, Louisiana during the brunt of the storm. I was daytime floor supervisor, tending to the needs of some 86 displaced souls.

A month later, I went to Dallas, and helped many of the same people, who were now living in a hotel provided by the Red Cross. I was “bumped up” to assistant shelter supervisor, by an appreciative manager. Each family had their own room, and meals were taken in a large dining area with long tables. FEMA was present, and I was able to establish a good working relationship with that team. The two weeks passed with few serious issues. A laundry snafu, which resulted in a person’s clothes being mislabeled by the laundry service, and thus delivered to the wrong room, required some detective work on my part. Fortunately, after I had arranged for some shopping funds for the aggrieved party, her clothes were brought to us by the person who had been given them by mistake. All was thus made right. The ladies even gave each other “air hugs”.

The year ended, while the pandemic lingered. I was okay, even celebrating my 70th birthday at the family apartment in Plano-their first Texas home. We all survived.

The Road to Diamond, Day 44: Ring of Fire

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January 11,2025- The views from north Los Angeles County have been dispiriting, as views of mass destruction always are. There seems to be no end to burned-out shells of what used to be homes, businesses, institutions of culture; no end to scenes of forest gone, and dead wildlife lying on the forest floor. There is, also, it seems, no end to the finger-pointing back and forth, between people who didn’t like each other, before the fires, and won’t like one another even after some of them are dead. This last accomplishes nothing, as the well-to-do and the homeless, alike, find themselves on the street and too many are wondering where their next meal might be found.

Los Angeles proper is not free and clear, yet. No place within a thirty mile radius of the Palisades or Eaton fires is. The Santa Ana winds are that strong. Prayers are going up, all over the world, that next week’s tempests will not exacerbate the current fires, or spark new ones, along the State Highway 15, I-5 or Highway 101 corridors. Solutions are being devised, to the water accessibility issues, and in the United States Senate, where a conservative Republican (Montana’s Tim Sheehy) ,who is also a wildland firefighter, has reached out to Senator Schiff, of California and Senator Kim, of New Jersey-which has also had recent wildfire woes. The Federal strategy should prove proactive and its necessity is beyond argument, given that FEMA ends up with the tab for much of the costs of recovery. The piper can set the stage before playing the tune.

Too often, in times of disaster, from Pearl Harbor, through September 11, 2001 and on through all manner of hurricanes, tornadoes, chemical explosions, mass shootings, and wildfires, naysayers have to some extent deflected the public’s awareness of the actual causes of a tragic event and been allowed to interfere with the process of recovery. The public weal calls for us to shut off the noise and focus on actual causes of a disaster. Usually, those causes are far more complex than the fast track news cycle allows for analysis. Addressing only surface issues serves merely to guarantee that the same problems will be faced, the next time, regardless of the locale.

I live in a fire prone area. There is no daylight between the suffering of a conservative rancher or that of his neo-hippy artist neighbour. We have learned to see the needs of both as equally worthy of consideration, and it is highly likely that the one would come to the aid of the other, without hesitation, judging by the reactions to our own last big blaze, in 2013, when 19 wildland firefighters died in a firestorm. Conservatives and progressives spoke with one voice, when misfits came out of the woodwork, after the blaze had been extinguished and threatened the very lives of other firefighters, Go Fund Me,should there be a future fire, in a ludicrous claim of “speaking for freedom”. Everyone of sound mind stood together and helped both those who lost their homes and the families of the fallen Hot Shots.

That last is already happening, in Altadena, in Sylmar and in what remains of Pacific Palisades and south Malibu. Several nonagenarians were carried out of harm’s way, by their neighbours. Go Fund Me campaigns are in place for assistance to large families who have been displaced. A network of recovery is being established, across Los Angeles County and across the nation and the world. Fire teams from Oregon, Idaho, Alaska, Arizona, Nevada, Montana,Texas, the Navajo Nation, Canada and Mexico are on the ground, rendering assistance. World Central Kitchens, Project Rubicon and the American Red Cross are also in a full court press, across the County.

When disaster strikes, the greater fire of community strength rises. May it ever be thus.

Pushing Back on The Mud, Day Nine

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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.”

Membership in Groups

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March 24, 2020-

I’ve historically had it tough, when being part of a group.  That hasn’t stopped me from trying.  I showed up every day, as a child, to take part the best way I could, in what ever game was being played.  In high school, I had friends with whom I could sit in the library and at lunch, and hang out on weekends.  Many are still connected-at least online.

I didn’t fare so well in the Army, or in college, but my purpose during those years was much different-and so, the work became most important.  The same was true of my first four years of teaching-never an insider, but connected with my students.  So it continued, over the next four decades, but family was my bedrock, and the kids were always the foundation.

I say this, in thinking about the groups with which I’ve been involved over the past nine years.  My Faith community is the strongest connection, followed by the mostly senior crowd at the American Legion, and my younger friends at Prescott College, both groups now in abeyance, until the virus runs its course.  Permaculture groups, like Slow Food and the Farmers Market have warmed to me, over the years.

I have personally committed to helping the Red Cross in the present crisis, only to find there is an “age-ism” rising.  The mentality seems to be that those of us over 65 are “at risk” and therefore ought to keep our distance, even beyond the current social distancing.  It may be that this is an attitude meant to keep us safe, but I find it patronizing-and more than a little cliquish.  I know my limits and would relegate myself to the background, if at all feeling ill.  I also am very tuned into the dynamics of small groups, and having seldom been an insider, can see when a situation is being manipulated to exclude all but the favoured few.

In the event there is a much larger calamity, I have become certified in FEMA’s Points of Distribution.  I am committed to helping my community, whether being welcomed by the elite, or not.  May it all just turn out to be unnecessary.