Keeping Good Thoughts

Today I am keeping good thoughts for Roger and for all who love him and for all who come into contact with him today as he undergoes and recovers from a colectomy and resection this morning starting at about 10:30 AM in the Eastern Time Zone.

Putting California Behind Me

I have learned - or recognized or admitted - some things about myself lately.

I'm not a good mover. I told my sisters I was fine because I only had a few pieces of furniture that I was taking and six or seven 32-gallon tubs of 'stuff.' I thought about renting a 17-foot U-Haul, but got the 14-footer instead. I was wrong. It turns out that I'm something of a packrat.

I can be unreasonably stubborn about things. I was sworn, bound, and determined to be out of California before 2010, and so I spent a ridiculous amount of time (including twelve hours on New Years Eve) in an effort to cram a 17-foot truckload of crap into a 14-foot truck. I drove away at 4:30PM on New Years Eve leaving a substantial donation to Goodwill behind, and didn't stop until 11PM(PST) in Kingman, AZ. I guess that means I "won," but I've already had to replace several of the small appliances and other items I left behind.

I do enjoy driving across the country, and I caught a huge break on the weather. Having said that, I really should avoid trying to back up while towing a trailer - or get a lot better at it. A couple of times it's provided some laughs from my fellow Red Crossers when I've had to back a shelter trailer, but there were several minutes on that freeway off-ramp in Arkansas when I seriously wished I was better at backing off of that freeway off-ramp before someone tried to exit there.

Putting all of that behind me, I now live in an apartment on a hillside overlooking Asheville, NC, with a really nice view of the sunsets over the Smokey Mountains. I'm unloading boxes, and too often finding things that have me asking myself what the hell I was thinking when I packed that instead of my toaster oven or whatever.

My baby sister has already asked when I'm going to see the error of my ways and move back. I told her that, even if I were to admit to missing an El Nino winter in Southern California and California politics, I recognize that I suck at moving and I'm staying put.

A Reflection on University City

I remember standing out near the flight line in 1970 shortly after reporting into Attack Carrier Air Wing Two at (then) NAS Miramar. Looking to the west I noticed and asked about the construction going on past the end of the runways, and I was told they were putting in homes. I responded with, "Who the (deleted) builds homes at the end of the runway of a Naval Air Station?" (At that time I hadn't experienced Point Loma where people move under the Lindbergh Field traffic pattern and complain about the noise.)

I am mindful of PSA Flight 182 that crashed in North Park about 30 years ago, and I seem to recall a couple of mishaps out of Montgomery Field up on Kearney Mesa. I think when you live under the flight pattern (not to mention at the end of the runways) of an airport - military or civilian - you need to come to terms with the reality that - sooner or later - gravity always wins and you could be in the bulls-eye.

It's a shame, certainly, when innocent lives are lost. On the other hand, I am thankful that the crew of the F/A-18 was able to eject and will live to fly another day.

A Little About the Red Cross

I guess I haven't said much about my experience with the Red Cross, and that's kind of a shame because I know I used to only think of the Red Cross in terms of emergency leave (when I was in the Navy) and major disasters. I have been out on two national disaster responses (DRs) this year - in June and in November - and that was fulfilling work, but I've also been out on a dozen house and apartment fires and that was also - and perhaps more - fulfilling.

I spent two weeks in Columbus, Indiana, in June as a client caseworker in the aftermath of the flooding there. You may be asking yourself, as I did, "What flooding in Indiana?" Iowa and the Mississippi got all of the press, but I think we wound up helping more than 400 families in the Columbus area out of the science classrooms at the middle school.

For five days over the weekend before Thanksgiving I was deployed with an Emergency Response Vehicle (or ERV) to Sylmar. With my co-driver (pictured above) we provided snacks and beverages at the bulk distribution site near the client service center, provided meals to the volunteer staff, and drove through the Oak Ridge Mobile Home Park delivering snacks, beverages and clean-up items (rakes, shovels, gloves, etc.) to clients.

The thing is that for every DR that makes the papers there are hundreds of personal disasters, and, when we respond to those, our Disaster Action Teams are responsible for the damage assessment, assessing the clients needs, and providing for their immediate needs consistent with the Red Cross mission and values. I know we did good work in Indiana and in Sylmar, but - pound for pound - I wouldn't trade working with a family through one of the worst times of their lives.

Now, the Red Cross does a lot of other things beside disaster relief: Services to Armed Forces is another program I make time for, Community Education, Health & Safety training, Blood Services, etc. Cop Car takes disaster relief to a whole 'nother level with regional planning.

I'm new to the Red Cross, and still working into my role as a foot soldier; but, on a personal level, my work as a Disaster Assistance Team (DAT) member has been some of the most fulfilling work I've done... which won't keep me from fighting for the keys to an ERV for the next DR.

Sentient Beings and Their Sacred Cows

I'm having a moment of frustration with the way corporate media and politics can totally bury the lead and change the conversation. General Clark didn't say that Senator McCain wasn't a military hero; he said that a fighter pilot, however great he was as a tactician or heroic in combat and in captivity, isn't necessarily any better or more knowledgeable in global strategic planning than someone who sat out the war entirely. (Witness the lack of military backgrounds in Department of Defense civilians.)

In a country in which W. gets elected to the presidency twice, and Arnold gets elected governor of California twice, one wonders when or if people will ever wake up and appreciate the mess we're in. What will finally be their inducement to recapture the patriotism of their forefathers, or will they finally just submit.

We're talking about the future of mankind and we're talking about it like we're in junior high school... a poorly performing junior high school.

Reflection on Mortality

My baby sister's mother-in-law's birth anniversary was June 19th. Gemma was a real spitfire, blind as a bat from her diabetes but she hardly ever missed a thing going on around her. Despite her diabetes and complications from it, she was totally aware and engaged and retained a keen mind. She was plain-spoken, totally without guile, and if she liked you she was fiercely loyal. This was the first birthday that her family had to observe without her.

On Wednesday I got a call from my step-brother telling me that his mother had passed away. I only met her in 2004, but everything about her was warm and genuine. She and my step-siblings opened their homes, shared family history with me freely, and I left the next morning with the strong sense that I had just spent the previous day with family. Bernice, in particular, just radiated compassion and, although I have no doubt she had a temper, it has been that loving compassion that I remember every time I think of her.

Today I finally had time to catch up on some blog reading and I learned that Joycelyn Ward, Maya's Granny, has passed as well. I never met her in person, but her writing was so clear and engaging that you have to imagine that she spoke just as she wrote. Of course, she was a Berkley liberal which was initially intimidating to an Iowa farm boy, but she was so articulate and clear in her thinking and writing that I always enjoyed what she had to say, even on the rare occasion when I couldn't agree with it.

Finally, I've been reflecting on mortality. Of course children must expect to lose their parents one day, but these three women were so full of life that it seems impossible that their lives have been lost to us.

I am reminded of a conversation I had with a friend a few years ago regarding her grandmother, and she told me that her grandmother had promised that she'd live forever. Her grandmother passed away, of course, as we must, but her legacy remains very much alive in the way my friend relates to her daughter and her daughter to her friends. Gemma's influence has been imprinted on her son and on my sister, and Bernice obviously gets a lot of the credit for how her children and grandchildren have turned out so far.

It occurs to me that what dies is the body. The love that emanated from each of them does live on, if not forever then at least indefinitely, in the lives of those they touched and in the lives we, in our turn, touch. I think people like Gemma and Bernice and MG don't die unless we let them die, unless we turn away from the gifts they left in us.

There are people I've forgotten, and perhaps I'll be forgotten (that's not for me to say), but there is a piece of Joycelyn Ward in me that I hope I never lose touch with.

Update: Winston Rand... He was a pretty good guy.

Getting Back to the Blog

I have to say that losing John Edwards has taken a lot of the wind out of my sails. I know I have historically been sporadic in posting, but it's 2008 and I have nothing left to write about in February. John McCain promises not to change anything, Hillary Clinton hasn't changed anything but says she wants to start, and I seriously doubt that Barack Obama has the political chops to change anything.
John McCain hurts my heart because (despite the Keating scandal) he's been someone I respected, and now it's painful for me to watch him. I'm reminded of how I felt when Admiral Stockdale stumbled so badly through the VP candidate debates several years ago.
I have a couple of posts working and I hope to get at least one of them out within a couple of days. It won't be anything like Kay's series over at the Thinking Cap... as I've said before, I am not comfortable sharing the fruits of my introspective efforts (and, yes, that has been a topic of discussion with more than one of my exes). I respect folks who are willing and able to do that, and it might be healthy if I did it, but... seriously... no. With me you get superficiality.
Keeping good thoughts, for Maya's Granny. Update here.
Namaste

I Have A Thing About Heights

As I was reading this story about the Skywalk that the Hualapai want to build out over the Grand Canyon I was reminded of Tybee Island. You see that picture of me atop the Tybee Island lighthouse and you probably have no idea of what was involved in reaching out to that rail and moving away from the wall of the lighthouse.

A group of MSN 50s Chatters… it was Sheri and Mike’s idea actually… decided to meet out on Tybee Island to put faces to screen names, and there was this lighthouse which, naturally, begged to be climbed. Here’s the thing though… I have an issue with heights.
I get to the top of the stairs inside with Kathy and Linda, and Linda… bless her heart… steps off to the side saying that she’s afraid of heights and wants to stay inside. I’ve fallen into the habit of teasing Linda and there is no way I can say, “Me, too.” I have to talk her into stepping out onto the top.

So out we go… Kathy who is ex-Army and fearless, Linda who is scared to death but game, and me. If you can see the picture you’ll see that Kathy is enjoying herself, and that Linda looks… uncomfortable. Did you notice that my back is pressed to the wall? My scapulae were actually trying to cling to the wall. Then the guilt started. I had talked her out there so after she went back in I had to go around the top… and I had to have my picture taken out on the rail.

Linda, if you see this, it’s your fault. If you hadn’t gone out there I could have just poked my head out the door and come right back in. As for this Skywalk? Not in this lifetime. Not in a million years.

What Guys Do

Remember when I said a few words about Chris Walsh? That's okay; it was three months ago.
A HUGE hat tip to Sean at Doc In The Box for this story. You have to go read this story in the Boston Globe (free registration required for the entire story)because this is a great example of what guys do.

A Word About Sen. Lloyd Bentsen

I'm experiencing a personal sense of loss with the news of Sen. Bentsen's passing.
There are so very few remaining in national politics who engender any feeling of respect, and - for me - he was certainly one of the few. He put me in mind of Jimmy Stewart in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance.
Rest in peace, Senator.

Things That Made Me Go Hmmm

Yesterday my boss and I had a rare conversation that didn't involve work, and we got to talking about the immigration demonstrations taking place. I can't say that I was completely surprised by her attitude because she did vote for Bush-Cheney twice and for Arnold, but still...

Her position on illegal immigration was that life could be hard and that was a shame, but that Mexican economic issues were Vicente Fox' problem and not ours. I pointed out that there did seem to be some degree of bias in the emphasis on the southern border, and she said she didn't really have a problem with that. I asked her if she had any thoughts on the proposal to make illegal immigration a felony and she just dismissed that out of hand saying, "It'll never pass." Then it got a little surreal...

I asked how she could maintain such unsympathetic views given that her first language was Spanish. She responded that these migrants were different, not like her grandparents when they came across in 1940. These migrants, in her view, weren't committed to the U.S., but to providing for their families in Mexico and returning to Mexico at the earliest opportunity. Why, they don't even have established businesses and phone numbers. They only have cell phones, and can't be found from one year to the next if she wants them to do more work around her home.

She also mentioned that migrant families received more services for her tax dollars than she did, especially because she had to pay all those taxes for schools and her daughter goes to a private school. She acknowledged that this was generally true of all poor people though and not just migrant families. You've got to feel for those Republicans.

Okay, I admit that I have issues with the flags. Display the American flag right side up, and don't display the flags of other countries at all. I'm a huge fan of the freedom of speech, but I get this visceral response to disrespect of our flag.

Other than that I personally think we're overdue for recognition that the migrants are here, they've always been here, and we don't really and truly want them to go away. Deal with it.

Another Reality Check... and an Appreciation

I am mindful today of all of the men and women over the years who have given their lives in service to our country. It is not a matter of gratitude so much as an appreciation that each of the liberties we enjoy has come to us at a very high price paid by the blood of others.

I had intended to spend time this morning out at Riverside National Cemetery, but that didn't work out.
While I was in the hospital in April they were giving me injections to prevent blood clots, and at the time of my discharge it was anticipated that those would continue. My young surgeon, on the other hand, was under the impression that if one was going to develop a clot one would do so within five days. I didn't argue because, frankly, the idea of giving myself a shot in my abdomen twice a day didn't sing to me in the first place.
During my sixth post-op week my right lower leg became progressively more swollen as each day passed, and progressively more painful with each passing day. On Friday I was ready to admit the possibility that all was not as it should be. An ultrasound showed that the clot wasn't just below the back of my knee where the throbbing was worst... the clot just ended there. The tech couldn't see the top of the clot as the vein passed up into the torso.
My thinking is that it probably started to form some time ago, but that it didn't get my attention until the lower leg became blocked.
This past Friday, Saturday, and Sunday they gave me my injections in the hospital. Today I'm giving them to myself at home... and taking Coumadin... and the leg still throbs because it takes about six weeks to dissolve the clot.
By the way, last week I got the new date for removal of my cancerous prostate... July 12... six weeks from tomorrow... and I have to be off anti-coagulants for at least a week before surgery.
I’m wondering if I didn’t have another lesson in humility coming. I was all psyched about running through my recovery process as quickly as possible... I wanted to spend a whole day walking the Del Mar Fair in a few weeks. I pushed it, and reality pushed back. Still, there’s a difference between recognizing limitations and accepting them.

Reflections on a Past Perspective

It has occurred to me (it's up at the top of the page) that my political awareness began with Barry Goldwater's 1964 campaign. Barry Goldwater seemed, to me at the time, to represent how we did things in Iowa. In particular (because I already had a sense of where I'd be the following September), if we were going to engage the communists in Southeast Asia then let's commit to that and get 'er done.
I've been thinking back to those times, not so much in nostalgia but to try to regain the perspective I had at the time on issues that now separate America. What were you people who voted for Bush thinking? Did I used to think that way?
My great-uncle believed that internal combustion engines were bad for crops. He parked his Ford in a shed down next to the road, and he farmed with two Belgian horses. Seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year, things had to be done.The cows had to be milked twice a day. The livestock had to be fed. You don't feel well? It's dark/cold/hailing? Well, tell that to the livestock, and if it's okay with them then it's okay to skip your chores. Bucket's too heavy? Don't fill it so full and make two trips.
When it came time for harvest, the nearby farmers would all work together to get everyone's crops in... but as time passed there were fewer and fewer neighbors who farmed with horses. If you got sick or hurt, your neighbors had your back... but if you weren't able to make it anymore then it was time to "move into town."
He and his wife went to church every Sunday, a little one-room church you could see from his farm, but their mantra was "The Lord helps those who help themselves."
His son was a different sort of farmer. He embraced mechanization and technology, and bought the latest equipment... on credit, of course. A gamble? Farming is a gamble. He'd rent out the equipment he wasn't using himself. He knew all of the programs there were for paying farmers not go grow surplus crops.
When I went to live with the foster family many of the same themes continued. They had a cow, a pony, and poultry; and they had a couple of large garden plots on the edge of town. We all had our chores, and the chores all had to be done every day by someone.
I learned about gleaning there. The farmers outside of town would harvest their corn, but there was always corn that the reaper didn't get. We'd all go out and walk the fields and pick up the "missed" corn for our livestock. It was actually a win-win because we got the corn, and the farmer didn't have to hire kids to come out the next year to cut corn out of his beans. I also learned about hunting for wild mushrooms and berries in season.
We went to church on Sunday, morning and evening, and on Wednesday nights; but we didn't go to the "revival" meetings. They only had about one a year come into town. They did watch Billy Graham on television.
I was aware of the second Eisenhower/Stevenson campaign, and I recall that it was generally accepted as a foregone conclusion that General Eisenhower would win.
I remember, of course, the Kennedy/Nixon campaign. Both had paid their dues, serving in the War. Nixon looked unshaven... unkempt... but Kennedy was... you know... Catholic.
I moved into town in the summer of '61, but still worked farms in the summer doing yardwork in town the other three seasons until I was sixteen.
At that point in my life I didn't understand welfare. You worked. If you couldn't work then you found something you could do, but you worked. I'd had a paid job since I was eleven.
At that point in my life I never thought about abortion. There's not a farm kid in the world who doesn't know that sex is for reproduction. If you had unprotected sex and got pregnant you simply started your family a little earlier than you planned. (One store, in a town where everyone knew everyone else and their business, sold condoms.)
It never occurred to me not to fulfill my military obligation. It scared me when I got my draft notice toward the end of my second week in boot camp and realized that I wouldn't be able to report. My Company Commander explained to a few of us who'd received them that we'd be okay, and that we were no longer subject to the draft. (We burned our draft cards!)
I mean to continue to reflect on this... if toward no other end than my own peace of mind. I still don't know where the anger between right and left... between red and blue comes from. I wonder how much of it is manufactured in order to emphasize our differences.
There are right answers upon which we should all be able to agree. My understanding is that Buddhists believe one knows the truth because it is always and invariably true. In that context, can one be "pro-life" if one kills under certain circumstances? Is it rational for someone who is "pro-choice" to oppose the death penalty under any circumstances?
I think we should stop shouting and discuss these things.
By the way, in any election prior to 1964 I don't think there's any way that George would've beat a combat veteran. I could be wrong... again.

Thoughts on Place

This could turn out to be an introductory post, but I don't know that yet... I never know what I'm going to write about next. Ronni Bennett over at Time Goes By has been forced into the realization that she has to change her venue from her beloved New York to... where?
Appalachian Intellectual posted regarding some of hatefulness that has been vented toward the people of East Waynesville, N.C. (It was the pastor at the Baptist Church and he's resigned!) There are conservative Republicans in California and there are liberal Democrats in North Carolina. We may need to work on our tolerance.
Finally, I have been thinking about posting on my reflections about some of differences between red states and blue states... an issue with me as my intention is to move from the ultimate blue state smack into the middle of a bunch of red states. It came to me that my roots are in red states and that with a little reflection I can still see where they're coming from... for the most part.
I had an epiphany of sorts early last year... that I was never going to be able to retire in California, that I was working full time at a job that I do not relish in order to be able to live in California, and that I really don't care to live in California. I've lived in California since 1970 when I got back to the States. My last fifteen years in the Navy were in and out of San Diego. My kids were born in San Diego and I went to college in San Diego and after college I finally found a job in Southern California... not in San Diego, of course! I was already 42!
I grew up in the rural midwest... central Illinois and Iowa... a million years ago but I have never had a desire to return to the bitter winters or the hot, humid summers there.
My father's family was from Henry County, Georgia, and my only memories of it were of the summer. I got a chance to go back there last May, but it's become so... metropolitan Atlanta that it's just not an option.
During my drive through America last May I looked around, stopped by coffee shops, smelled the air... Tennessee sang to me... the Smoky Mountains sang to me... when I met my wife she said the Smoky Mountains sang to her (but her preference is for the Georgia side of them... she's from Clayton County, Georgia and had vacationed up around Rabun Gap). Today I'll be dipped if the MSNBC Travel Section didn't have a piece on 25 Things to Love About Asheville.
I know guys who are making it on their military retirement... but not in California. Worse, California has never really sung to me. This is where I got off the ship in 1985 and I stayed here, but I'm not a Californian. It remains to be seen whether or not I'll become at home in the Smokies, but they are calling me... and it's time.
In eighteen months I'll be 59 and a half, and I promised my wife's family that I'd have her back home in time for her birthday in 2006. I just need to hold off on breaking stuff for awhile.

I want to mention HM3 Jeffery Wiener. Petty Officer Third Class Jeffery L. Wiener, 32, of Louisville, Ky., died May 7, in a combat related incident. Weiner was a Navy hospital corpsman assigned to II Marine Expeditionary Force (MEF). Here is the piece they wrote up on him in the Lexington, KY paper.

Thoughts on This and That

Today my ortho surgeon signed off on my return to work this coming Monday. I'm running the wheels off of my walker and am just a hair away from switching to a single crutch or a cane.
The urologist, on the other hand, has said he won't even think about doing surgery on me until I'm at least eight weeks post-op from the femoral rod. He says the risk of emboli is too great. Objectively, I can see his point. Subjectively, it occurs to me that six months (at least) will have passed since my biopsy. I've been racking my brain without success for a potential upside to leaving a cancer to do its work for six months.
Speaking of faith, I did see a couple of items in my reading today.
From WLOS in Asheville, N.C.: "East Waynesville Baptist asked nine members to leave. Now 40 more have left the church in protest. Former members say Pastor Chan Chandler gave them the ultimatum, saying if they didn't support George Bush, they should resign or repent. The minister declined an interview with News 13. But he did say "the actions were not politically motivated."
If you're okay with that tidbit, then you're going to love what they're doing in Kansas (and elsewhere). The Kansas State Board of Education wants to "alter the definition of science, not limiting it to theories based on natural explanations." Yes, it's another run at passing off creationism/"intelligent design" as science.
I'm not going to be hypercritical today. I suspect that defending the conceit that the entire universe was created for the pleasure and benefit of those humans of the Judeo-Christian faiths must be extremely hard work... although it has to be somewhat easier under the current Administration.

I'm Being Judgemental

I think I need for someone who appreciated Hunter S. Thompson to explain to me... patiently... why one ought to mourn his passing.
I read Hells Angels but that's all. I didn't care much for it. Mostly I just know what I read here and what I've read on a few blogs. I don't get it.
My initial response to his suicide was "how incredibly selfish."

“I think he made a conscious decision that he had an incredible run of 67 years, lived the way he wanted to, and wasn’t going to suffer the indignities of old age,” Brinkley said in a telephone interview from Aspen. “He was not going to let anybody dictate how he was going to die.”
“He was trying to really bond and be close to the family” before his suicide, Brinkley said. “This was not just an act of irrationality. It was a very pre-planned act.”
Family members had no hint that Thompson planned to take his own life, Brinkley said, and he did not leave a note. “There was no farewell salutation,” he said.

The guy... who has apparently always been all about himself... has had a hip replacement and a broken leg... is apparently starting to feel his years... and instead of manifesting any degree of maturity whatsoever waits until his son and his family are visiting one weekend to kill himself without so much as a "goodbye."

I consider for a moment some of the faces I've seen... working through war, famine, and pestilience to raise families, to keep body and soul together for just a little while longer... and Mr. Thompson has apparently stopped having fun so he shoots himself on his ranch in Aspen and leaves his son to find his body.

One can only hope that he had a really good story lined up for when he met his Maker. I think his son and his grandson deserved better.

Bishop Desmond Tutu

I find that when you're listening to some people... or even reading an interview with one of them... you just can't help but smile. That sounds stupid, I know; but you know that there's nothing but love there... nothing abusive... no vituperation... an occasional loving reproach such as one might expect from a loving teacher or parent. You can just feel that they are at peace.
Maybe it's me... a bias of mine... but some of those angry evangelists you see?... telling me what or who God hates? Well, I think it says a lot about who we are... about who we're becoming... that we've given them such a powerful forum in this country.
The Creator of Life did not create good life and bad life... who would do such a thing as to deliberately create bad life?... just LIFE... and it's all precious. Bishop Tutu knows this, too.