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Posts tagged Sierra Club

Legislature Lurches

Spring                                                                      Beltane Moon

The legislature lurches toward adjournment, up ending decades of environmental legislation as it goes, e.g.  permitting relaxation, a transfer of school trust lands out of the DNR’s purview (about 50% of land currently under their management), a probable wolf season.

A major reason for the bad outcomes (from my point of view) is the legislature’s focus on three big issues:  Viking stadium, a bonding bill and the Republican tax legislation.  These are the issues with which the governor has engaged and around which he has used his leverage in negotiations.  Our issues have not risen to the top of any of these debates.

This session, my third as chair of the Sierra Club’s legislative committee, is my last and I don’t like going out on this note, but there you are.  The next big target for all environmental activists has to be the 2012 elections where a concerted effort will be made to change control of both chambers of the legislature.

The ebb and flow of political fortunes, effected as always by many factors outside anyone’s direct control–economy, world military engagements, current social issue orientations–will give us a favorable climate at some point.  We need to work to make that point the 2013-4 legislative session.

Pity Pentheus

Samain                             Moon of the Winter Solstice

Pebbly ice outside this morning.  Rain through much of the night, very little snow.  Sigh.

Finished ten verses of the Metamorphoses last night.  This is the story of Pentheus, who gets torn apart by the Bacchante, among whom is his mother. A Greek God skeptic in Ovid’s account, Pentheus pays for his scorn.  Somewhere in his story is the mythic beginning of theatre.

Joseph called with a report on his new dog.  No accidents, nothing chewed, little barking.  This black and white Akida is glad to see Joe when he comes home.  (he’s still working on a new name:  Buddy, Kepler or Ronin are under consideration.) That’s a big difference, having a warm, friendly body in the house when returning home.  He’s been living like a monk for several years now.  He sounds lighter.

Feeling the pinch in time with Latin, the novel and preparation for tours.  When the Sierra Club work starts back up in January–yikes.

 

A Changeable Month

Fall                                                Waxing Autumn Moon

A warm fall night, a clear sky, a half moon high above it all.  The moon roof open on the Celica.  October in Minnesota.  A changeable month.

The Sierra Club set its legislative priorities tonight, though with this particular legislature a good deal, most, of our work will be defensive in nature.

Today saw final touches on my tour of ancient art for a group of Somali teens.  I did not know that Somalia was, most likely, the ancient land of Punt.  It covers the Horn of Africa like a cap, hugging the coastline north and south while extending in toward the interior.  Piracy is not a new activity here in this country positioned close to major shipping lanes for centuries.

Did some editing on Spiritual Resources for Humanists, or With No God, and found it could use some rewriting. I’ll get to that Friday or Saturday.

 

Getting Ready for the Dark Time

Lughnasa                                         Waning Harvest Moon

The museum (MIA) has us check out when we’re going to be gone over our tour days, so I’ve checked out from mid-October through early December.  I’ve not had many tours in August and none in September, just one in October.

That, plus the relatively light schedule for the Sierra Club–the legislature doesn’t convene until February, so no weekly meetings–has given me plenty of time for the late garden work with time left over rearranging the downstairs and reconfiguring my study.

Yesterday I finished swapping out books from the bookcase nearest to my desk.  The desk and the bookcase form the sides of a U, with the bottom of the U created by the computer workstation.  On this bookcase I had collected various art and art history texts as the docent years had gone on, but they were works I did not reference frequently.

What I need near the desk are books I pull off for work.  It’s a working bookcase, not a storage unit.  Now I have near me all my Latin dictionaries, commentaries, grammars and readers; various style manuals like The Chicago, a thesaurus and english grammars plus books on writing.   The works I use most after the latin texts are the oxford dictionary of art, the oxford dictionary of philosophy and the oxford english dictionary.

On the bottom most shelf I have notebooks from docent training and several comprehensive art history texts.

I do have a shelf devoted to a long term project which I’ve shorthanded Ge-ology.  This project has its own page on this website, but I’ve let it dangle, as I have the ecological history of Lake Superior.  Here’s the summary:  This work will gather various strands from ecology, environmental movements, pagan and neo-pagan faiths, literature, art and philosophy.  It will weave those strands into a faith indigenous to the Midwest (and most other places) and universal to Ge.

Having at least some key texts near to hand may spur down time work on Ge-ology.  Oh, hell, why not go for it?  It will produce work.

There are still a few book stacks on the floor and this and that to find new places for, but I’ll finish that today.  Ready for winter.

Capitol Camp Out

Mid-Summer                                                                  Waxing Honey Flow Moon

Mark and I drove into St. Paul to help set-up the Capitol Camp-Out action on the lawn of the State Capitol.    We helped set up the sound system, then transferred to pitching tents, ones with which we had no prior experience.  That was fun.  How do these things work?  This cross piece bends and goes there.  Nope.  Over there.  Sigh.  To make things more challenging the tents could not have stakes, State Capitol grounds rules.  When Mark and I left, the area had begun to fill up already with tents.

After that we toured St. Paul, Rice Park, Irvine Park, Summit Avenue in particular.  Mark took over the wheel when we finished with Summit Avenue and drove us home, preparing himself for his driver’s license test.  He can’t do that until he gets a piece of paper from California confirming his previous license there some 20 + years ago.

Kate spent the morning entering contacts into her new IPad2.  She’s already learned how to play several games.  She has a definite solitaire jones, playing with care and precision, the same way she quilts.

Last night, still working out my new schedule, I spent an hour or so throwing out magazines.  Yes, I know.  I keep saving them for that mythical moment of return, which, I’m finally admitting, just never occurs.  Wired, Scientific American, Economist, Sierra Club, Philosophy Now, Dissent, Parabola, Orion.  I love magazines.  And don’t like to part with them.  Until now.

Take Action Against Sulfide Mining Exploratory Drilling

Mid-Summer                                                                      Waning Garlic Moon

This is part of a note I sent to the Forest Service about issuing permits for exploratory drilling in Northeastern Minnesota.  You can take part by clicking:

“Please accept these comments on the Federal Hardrock Mineral Prospecting Permit Draft EIS (DEIS). I have serious concerns about the project’s potential for harmful impacts to Minnesota’s natural resources.

Caring for our wilderness and natural heritage is a huge responsibility and I commend those of you in the Forest Service who have made it your life’s work.  Thank you for your commitment.

This particular instrument, a DEIS focused only on the environmental effects of drilling itself, is disingenuous. And you must know that.

The real environmental impact of drilling, whatever transient effects it may have, will be the mines, if any, that occur in its wake.  To not count the certainty of mining in the case of favorable mineral deposits as the first and most significant environmental impact of drilling makes us all look absurd.  Please, please add mining to the list of drilling’s environmental impacts.  Logic and good policy formation demand it.”

The Flame

Mid-Summer                                                              Waning Garlic Moon

“Sometimes our flame goes out, but is blown again into instant flame by an encounter with another human being.” – Albert Schweitzer

Out today to mound my leeks and potatoes.  Got through the leeks ok, but lifting a bag of composted manure, my back suddenly went ouch.  I mean bending over, omg, ouch.  Well, I thought.  Tough it out.  But.  Nope.  Went to the doctor right away.  She was in the bedroom hanging art from our various trips.  She recommended heat, valium, alleve.

I did that.  The valium kicked in over lunch and I began to get a bit goofy.  Smiley, hazy.  You know.  A nap seemed indicated.  This was around 11:30.  I got up at 4.  Still ouchy.

Gonna rest today because ouch or not I gotta do the bees tomorrow and I really want to get those potatoes mounded up, too.  It helps the production of the plants if they’re mostly covered.

A while back a classmate from high school asked, on our Facebook group, who had been the most influential people in our lives.  I answered, none.  Ashamed to say it, but it’s true.  I’ve not let others of influence close enough into my life.

Oh, I could point to plenty of teachers and the occasional boss who wanted, tried to influence me.  Miss Hull, bless her heart, pulled all sorts of strings to put me in the moderator position for the Little United Nations General Assembly.  Bill and Gloria Gaither, gospel music folks of legend now, got me into my first theatrical work with the lead role in Our Town.  Dr. Scruton wanted me to be Ball State’s first anthropology Ph.D.  Dr. Bishop secured a Danforth fellowship for me for graduate study.  Phil Jackson tried to get me into Princeton’s Doctor of Ministry program.  They didn’t want me.  Go figure.

A combination of stubbornness, fear and a deep desire to follow my own lead made me forgo all this well-intended and substantial help.  Instead, I ended up, in a backdoor way, in seminary, bored silly in Appelton, Wisconsin cutting rags in a paper mill for $2.45.  In seminary I decided I needed a trade and ministry was a good one, since I could practice my real passion, politics.  A decade plus of seminary and ministry had me embroiled in the Christian faith and one of its institutional expressions, the Presbyterian Church.  Most of the time my faith was real, a bit stranger than that of the laity, but I took that as a price of knowing so much about the foundational documents of the religion.

In the end the strain of that knowledge plus my realization about Joseph and his distance from God had he remained in India eased me out of the church.

Once that process begin to move through me, or, better, me through it, I found myself adrift, again.  In a study group for writers, where my focus was on my Doctor of Ministry thesis, I wrote 120 pages of a novel for a writing assignment.  It excited and pleased me.  So, after I finished the D. Min., I returned to that work and began writing fiction.  After marrying Kate, I summoned up my courage and said I wanted out of the church.  I wanted to write full time.

I did.  For five or six years, pretty much full time.  Five finished novels, three in different stages of incompleteness, and several short stories later, I moved away from the writing and into a life focused on my various passions.  First it was Jungian psychology.  Then, art.  Art continues.  I tried various political venues up here in Anoka County, working for various DFL legislative and Congressional races, but the politics up here were too conservative for me.  A conference with Kate convinced me I should put my political skills to work for the environmental movement.  I have, with the Sierra Club.  Writing, gardening and bee-keeping are still important parts of my life.

But all this time, I’ve never had a mentor, an outside person who watched over me and my career.  Maybe that possibility died in the flames of my relationship with my father.  I don’t know.

This is all by way of saying that I’ve never met that person who rekindled my flame as a mentor, but I have met one who did, Kate.

Friday

Beltane                                                               Full Garlic Moon

Boy, the learning is slow on Latin.  I slogged through conditional counter-factual clauses and how to translate subjunctive verbs within them.  I’m still at the beginning of the Pentheus story but already we know what will happen to Pentheus, torn into a thousand bloody pieces by his mother and aunts, he will be scattered all over the place.  It’s worth waiting to get to the good part where he happens on his mother and her maenad friends.

Kate and I met with Mark over lunch.  He’s done a lot.  He attended a job seeking resource day on Wednesday and an interview tips day on Thursday.  He’s working now on getting info together about a driver’s license and Minnesota Care.  He’s made a lot of strides since he got here in early April.

Back in to the Convention center for another 4 hour shift at the Sierra Club booth.  Back home now.  Bushed.  Some TV, some reading, then bed.

A Sucker. One Born Every Minute.

Beltane                                                         Waning Last Crescent Moon

So.  Last Wednesday I drove into Minneapolis for the last regular legcom meeting of this year.  We’d been going at it since January, once a week, with all the prep work and other matters (legislative hearings, visits to legislators, conferences, boning up on the issues) and everybody would, I know, be ready for a rest.

First, though, I had to pick up Wanda Davies at Victoria and County Road C in Roseville.  In my rush to get out the door I oriented myself toward the street I knew that intersected with County Road C, Snelling Avenue.  That was how I ended up waiting in the parking lot of the Holiday station.

While I was waiting, a woman in a disheveled Whiskey Sour Notes t-shirt approached me.  Her car had blown a tire on the road.  The trooper gave her two hours to move it and she needed to get a can of the stuff that inflates your tire.  She’d found somebody to take her out there after she’d bought it, but the total was $50.00.  She had skin lesions on her face that in retrospect may have been meth craters, though her teeth looked good.

Anyhow I reached in my wallet, gave her the $50 I had plus my name and address.  She said she’d repay me.  When I told Kate, she said, “You’re always a sucker for a hard-luck story.”  Yeah, I am.

As I’ve reflected on it now, her anxiety, which was real, might have been a drug jones as much as worry about her vehicle.  I don’t know.  Even so, I’d rather risk being wrong than refuse an authentic plea for help.  It’s only money.

Oh.  Yes, I did pick up Wanda after a phone call or two and we had the meeting.  And were glad to be finished with the session.

A Northern Night

Beltane                                                                                      Full Last Frost Moon

The last legcom call of the session tonight.  I went into the Sierra Club office to make the call because I had to be in a meeting at 6 pm just down the block.  The legcom call is at 5pm.  Not enough time to make it into the city for a 6pm meeting.

I got a chili cheese dog (oh, I know…) and a blueberry smoothie at the Fast Freeze across the street from the Sierra Club offices.  Eating local.

The last meeting was interesting, but went over time.  I was glad when it ended.

I still had the drive back to Andover of course, but I have a new book on DVD, so I had a reward.  It’s a W.E.B. Griffith novel about the covert world.  He’s not very adroit at getting the backstory into the narrative, in essence he tells most of it rather than shows.  The real book starts somewhere well after the first few pages.

It was one of those northern nights when the modest heat of the day lingered atop the oncoming chill of the evening, a time when driving becomes mesmerizing, a trip back in time.  Nights spent cruising drive-ins, looking for girls.  Nights driving past the acres and acres of corn that grew in the fields that surrounded my hometown.  A night driving back to Kona from Kiluaea, a full moon in the sky and the air scented with jacaranda and jasmine.

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