All posts by Charles

Colorado, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Hawai'i, Health, Judaism, Korea, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Weather +Climate, Writing

A great birthday present

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Imbolc and the Valentine Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Kep, the calm. Pulmonary function test. That nurse. Driving down the hill. Beau Jo’s. Pizza and cherry cobbler. Snow. Still coming. Into the Snowy months. Rocky Mountain Pulmonary. Wheat Ridge. A 1960’s ‘burb. CJ Box. Tal. Philpott. The Good Life. Vince. Who will plow my driveway. A good birthday. Ruby and her peculiarities. Gift certificate to Pappadeux’s. Animas Chocolates.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friends and Family

 

My peripheral arteries and veins are fine. Rocky Mountain Vascular Institute. My lungs, too, are fine. Rocky Mountain Pulmonary. A good birthday present.

Drove down the hill to the quaintish suburb of Wheat Ridge. Had a chest x-ray. Always fun. Then to the campus of Lutheran Hospital where a very enthusiastic nurse administered a full pulmonary function test. This involves taking a deep breath. Well. Several. Then blowing out hard. Panting, very softly. Repeat 3 x. Into a plastic tube. Albuterol inhaler. 4 x. More inhaling and blowing.

Hardest part for me. She enclosed me in a clear plastic cylinder that looked like a small dunk tank. Seated. We got 2 out of 3 repeats done before I tapped out. Claustrophobia got me. She kept saying I did very well. And, apparently I did.

The pulmonologist, whom I wish Kate could have seen, was a young guy. Got his M.D. from U. of Minnesota like her. What are we seeing you for today? I want to know if there’s any pulmonological reason I’ll need to move to a lower elevation? Within four years.

He leafed through my results. Your chest x-ray looks fine. An elevated left diaphragm. Polio? Yes. Some of your breathing tests are actually better than normal. Oh? Yes. Your lungs are very efficient at diffusing carbon dioxide out and oxygen into your blood stream.

So when I get shortness of breath, my paralyzed left diaphragm plus my extremely low testosterone level and altitude explains it? Yes. And it won’t get worse. No. In fact you could probably go up another two thousand, three thousand feet.

What a great 76th birthday present! Glad I scheduled it for yesterday.

On Monday I see Dr. Eigner. My oncologist. He sees me once a year, the rest of the time I see Kristie, his p.a. We’ll make a final decision on the radiation though as I’ve said I’m inclined to do it. I’m also going to ask him straight up what the odds are for me since I have metastases that have gone to the bone. How much time have I got? No certainties. I know that. But he knows me, my medical history. More important though how long will my healthspan remain solid as it is now?

Not sure what pushed me down so far last week, but I’ve turned the corner on it. Back to doing what I can, then living my best life.

 

Wondering about writing. Do I even want to do it? Yes, Ancientrails. That’s a well established habit. Now in its 18th year. But the other writing. Fiction. Non-fiction. Do I need to do it to feel good about myself? Not sure anymore.

Maybe I’m at a point where leaning into the life I have is enough. Friends. Family. The Mountains. Hawai’i in four years. Learning Korean. Reading. Art. Movies. Hiking. Travel. Taking care of the Kep.

A longer conversation.

 

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Holidays, Shadow Mountain

76 Earphones

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Imbolc and the Valentine (Day) Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: 76 Valentine’s days. And counting. E-cards and e-mails. A day of celebration and pulmonology. Gettin’ old. For the most part. Ruby. Running. Kep, the unseeing. Marina Harris. Furball Cleaning. Ana and friend. Luke. Snow on its way. Winter Storm Warning. Black Mountain. Shadow Mountain. That Aspen out my window. The Lodgepoles waiting for the Snow. Down the hill and up again before it comes.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: 76 birthdays

 

As our earthly Chariot speeds past the February 14th spot in the sky, the clicker strikes up another year for me and all of us with Valentine Day birthdays. And the Solar System rushes outward, away from the great Black Hole at the center of the Milky Way. While the Milky Way itself speeds on its way as well. So much high speed motion literally all around us and we feel nothing. Strange.

Yesterday was another 90 minute workout. Doing what I can to ride this bad boy as long as possible. Ate the Shrimp and Grits from Pappadeux’s for lunch. Better. Still far away from the Savannah restaurant where it was so good I went back twice on the same trip.

Got a gift card from the Johnson sisters. To Pappadaeux’s. Gonna order off the Cajun menu the next time. Lean into their strength. Besides Sarah, who lives in North Carolina, says she never orders Shrimp and Grits outside of the Carolina’s or the coast of Georgia. I get it.

Several sweet Jacquie Lawson cards. I like to send them and receive them. Sister Mary introduced me to her long ago. It’s fun to be recognized on my birthday. Especially at 76. Although there’s something to be said for the thoroughbred and Korean way, too. January 1st for the horses of the Northern Hemisphere, August 1st for the Southern. During the spring festival all Koreans turn over a year after eating a special soup. Everybody can celebrate together. It’s a big family holiday as you might imagine.

All of my septuagenarian days. A Coloradan and a Westerner. My Mountain decade. A great place to get old. er.

Celebrating this morning with a trip to Rocky Mountain Pulmonologists. Gonna check out my fitness for a few more years at 8,800 feet. I need four. Time to go. Short one for now.

Cooking, Denver, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Sport, US History

A 76’er

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Imbolc and the Valentine Moon

Monday gratefuls: Birthday dinner with Ruth and Gabe. Pappadeauxs. Chiefs win. Kep’s new gettin’ up time. His sweetness. Ruth, newly black hair and pink glasses with crystals. Gabe in his fancy shirt with no pocket. The old man eating alone. An American revolutionary birthday tomorrow. Pulmonologist. The Ancient Brothers on their favorite things. Dogs. Hawai’i. Sushi. Dr. Zhivago. Little kids. The Chiefs. Mendocino. Delmar, California. Shanghai. Wombats.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dining with Gabe and Ruth

 

Realized yesterday that this is my American revolution birthday: 76. A revolutionary celebration. I like it. All you 76’ers out there. We’re not done yet. May not be nearer to God, but I am nearer to 80.

As you can tell, my mood has lifted. Thanks to those of you who expressed concern. Sadness stands next to joy. Both are important.

Pappadeauxs. Disappointing. Could have ordered off the Cajun menu: gumbo, crawfish etouffé, jambalaya, but I chose a dish I first had in Savannah, shrimp and grits. Loved it there. The Pappadeux version was over spiced and not very good. Though. Gabe loved the Red Snapper. Delicious, he said. Ruth had a dish with blackened catfish, cooked oysters, shrimp, and dirty rice. She loved it though, I’m trying to get off sea food. Wants to go to Watercourse, a full vegan restaurant for her birthday. 17. A teen queen.

Ruth says she’s reintegrating at Northfield H.S. She sounds and looks good. Earlier drug related jitters calming down. We talked about food, being a teen, cancer, laughed a lot. Took one silly picture. Gabe tried with some visible discomfort to dine with aplumb. Those bread crumbs spread around his plate told the tale.

Glad they were able to join me. They were both eager Eagle’s fans. I told them I wanted the Chiefs to win. Nah, Nah, Ne Nah, Nah. Hey, Hey.

At the table next to ours an older man than me dined alone. He had on a red and black plaid shirt and ate his catfish carefully. His hair was white, his skin the papery texture I associate with a person in their 90s. Wondered if his wife had died, or if he had been alone a long time.

Got home about 7:30 pm. I did notice that my jaw clinched on my way home, but it lifted as soon as I got back into the Mountains. This is home and my body knows it.

 

76. Eh. After three score and ten, we’re all in bonus time. My friends are older now, too. Though I have Luke, 28, and Mike and Kate. Ruth and Gabe. They keep me connected to earlier days of the journey. Glad I’m no longer scanning the horizon for what I want to do.

 

How bout those Chiefs. Stand up of that Eagle’s player to admit he did grab the jersey of the Chief’s receiver. Resulted in a penalty that gave the Chiefs a chance to run out the clock and kick a winning field goal. Wish I had had the opportunity to watch this one. A true championship game.

 

Cooking, Denver, Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Judaism, Travel

Luke’s

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Imbolc and the Valentine Moon

Sunday gratefuls: An open heart. The joy that sits next to sadness. Tu BiShvat. The new year of the trees. Luke. Leo. Those construction folks. The one from Texas. The bald guy and the old man. Zoom. Manna. The Red Sea as birth imagery. The sabbath. Judaism. Mary back in the frozen tundra. Sayonara, Kobe. Mark in OKC. Kep. Kate, always Kate. Early rising. Pappadeaux’s with Ruth and Gabe tonight. A Cajun 76th birthday meal.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Feelings

 

On Friday night I drove into Lakewood for dinner with Luke, the former Executive Director of Congregation Beth Evergreen. He’s a good friend. When I copied his address I added an S in front of Ames St. That gave me the opportunity to see more of Lakewood than I intended. Sheridan runs north and south through Lakewood and I accessed it off of Hwy 285, turning north. The city limit between Denver and Lakewood.

The west side of Denver is heavily Latino as is the east side of Lakewood. The houses are small. The lots close together. Pickup trucks in most driveways. Spanish a second and often first language on storefronts. This was around 4 pm and Sheridan had the full city traffic experience to offer. Blinking turn signals, horns, and about halfway to Luke’s a huge red metal Mexican guitar on a sign that said Westwood. On the Denver side.

Luke had called and warned me of logistical issues. True. A new gas main project had a trench dug for seven blocks, including his. At one point I needed to make a left turn onto Colfax, old highway 40, and a main thoroughfare through Denver and beyond.

I was having no luck and just contemplating a right hand turn, then crossing three lanes of traffic so I could make a u-turn later. A bald headed guy came from behind me and said, “Wait, old man.” He got out into traffic and tried to create a space for me so I could cross the stopped traffic. A guy in a white pickup refused to back up the 6 feet or so I needed. Don’t know why.

Finally got Ruby’s nose in, wiggled her through, and the bald guy stood in the oncoming lane with his hand out stopping cars so I could turn. Gratitude. Although. Old man? I mean, how he did know I turn 76 on Tuesday?

Took me a while even after that to get to Luke’s and when I did I had to park on one side of the trench. And walk over it. The construction workers were gracious, kind and guided me through.

Dinner with Luke, who’s Italian, was eggplant Parmesan. His favorite food since 5th grade. I brought Italian bread and a salad. Leo, his mostly German Shepherd dog, is ten years old and as sweet a dog as you could wish for.

Luke had a tough exit from CBE. We talked about that and what he plans going forward. He may have found a very well paying part time gig with Judaism Your Way, another reconstructionist effort in South Denver. No synagogue. Gatherings for holidays at Denver’s Botanical Gardens. Not sure what else.

His path since leaving the Materials Science Ph.D at Colorado School of Mines has found him doing computer work for a non-profit, converting to Judaism, becoming CBE’s executive director, and now perhaps turning toward Tarot and Astrology to round out his income. Things, he said, I love.

After dinner he pulled three cards from the Druid Oracle deck: Mint, Woad, and a Hawk. We discussed my sadness and the way forward in light of those cards. Encouraged and supported by him and by his reading.

He walked me to the gate. We hugged, said I love you, and I went back across the trench.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health

Last on this for awhile

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Imbolc and the Valentine Moon

Saturday gratefuls: My son. Luke. Sadness. Emet. That guy directing traffic for the old man. Me. Eggplant Parmesan. Leo. A very sweet dog. Those contractors working on Luke’s street. Kind. Driving in Lakewood. A long Latino dominated part of east Lakewood and west Denver. Carnicerias. Mexican restaurants. Signs in Spanish. Lots of pickups. Mental health. New directions. Open heart.

Signs of Joy and Awe: Emet

 

The days of sadness. Hunting for emet, the truth, the meta-truth. About cancer. Turns out it’s about surfacing my needs, long blunted as I said on Thursday. In one sense I’ve skated through the last eight years. Why? Well, thought the cancer was gone for two of them. It wasn’t. But by the time I began radiation therapy for the first recurrence Kate had begun to decline. The radiation failed, but I would only learn that nine months later after the last of the Lupron left my body. By that time Kate’s needs dominated our lives.

After her death, two weeks. The second recurrence. Deep in grief. Having to begin drugs. Orgoyx and Erleada. Androgen deprivation therapy. Side effects. Hot flashes. But good results. Numbly following Kristie’s lead. Which was good. Piling on, but I barely noticed. Death. Cancer recurrence. What else? Hit me with your best shot.

And of course, during a lot of these last years, Covid. Then, Jon’s death, Ruth’s troubles. It’s been a rough patch.

The truth about this cancer is its longevity. That is, the treatment regimens, even those that come after the gold standards fail, are excellent as far other cancers go. I’ve been kept alive to experience these twists and turns in my family’s life. All the while with cancer as an underlayment. Won’t go away, won’t get cured, won’t kill me. Yet. Can’t ignore it with every three month labs and visits to the oncologist.

Sad about it. Yes. And about Kate’s illness and death. About Jon’s divorce, struggles, and death. About Ruth’s mental health. About the death of Rigel. Maybe it’s deep sadness about all these things. Not only the cancer.

The cancer is mine. The rest. Loved ones dying, grandchildren in pain. Close in. As close as the spot on the bed next to me. Guess sadness makes sense.

Yesterday I called my son. Told him I was sad. Needed to talk to him about it. He reassured me. You’re a survivor. You’re stubborn. If it comes to it, we’ll take you in gladly. We love you a lot. And I know they do. They mean what they say. A wonderful cushion. This sadness might have turned toward depression if not for them and their support.

And the support of others. The Ancient Brothers. My two mussar groups. Friends like Luke, Tom, Alan. Family like Diane. You all hold me up, keep me from sinking. This water is deep and often black, but I can swim when I know I have lifeguards at the ready.

This is a time of opening my heart. Glad you’re there.

Mountains, Science, Shadow Mountain, The West

Colorado Plateau. Rotates!

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Imbolc and the Valentine Moon

Friday gratefuls: Kristie. Kep. Sunseen. On the Lodgepoles. Through the Lodgepoles. Fresh Snow. Cold temps. A search for emet. Cancer. Diane. Her political astuteness. Our long connection. Family. Biden. Ukraine. The Democratic compromise. State of the Union, steadier. Luke. Rabbi Jamie. Tara. Our Land, this Land. The Rockies. Mind blown. The Deep. Love everlasting.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Science

 

The Laramide orogeny. Mountain building seventy-five million years ago. A tectonic plate crashing into another right at a line followed by Hwy. 470 here in the Denver metro. The Plains crunched up at the Front Range. What I’ve read and believed since moving to Colorado. Those Hogbacks the remains of an ancient Mountain Range, the Laramides.

Turns out. No. Not the case. The Colorado Rockies are around ten million years old! Wait. There’s more! The whole Colorado Plateau rotates clockwise! The Colorado Rockies still being pushed up higher! That’s right. The Rockies are a young Mountain Range created by a dynamic I’ve not fully grasped.

I understand this much. The orogeny (Mountain building) pressure comes not from the east as in the old Laramide theory, but from the west. And that pressure, exerted by the same Faults that create Earthquakes in California, are dynamic, still at work. There may be some Vulcanology implicated too.

As you can tell by the exclamation marks, I’m excited about this! Taking a new class on Colorado Glaciations. Glaciation is why the Rockies look so rugged. Also, according to Vince Matthews, another former director of the Colorado Geological Survey who’s teaching this course, none of the current Glaciers in Colorado are over 400 years old. Stopping with the exclamation marks. That’ed get silly.

Not sure how to reconcile Vince Matthew’s comments about the Rockies being ten million years old and what you’ll see below, but it’s evident that this is work no one understands very well. Even geologists.

Supposed to get a link to a video that shows how this works. I’ll post it when it arrives. The whole Colorado Plateau. Rotating. Wow. Here’s a bullet point list about what one author believes:

▪ The Colorado Plateau’s iconic landscapes were shaped during its 70-million-year, still-enigmatic, tectonic evolution characterized by uplift and erosion.
▪ Uplift of the Colorado Plateau from sea level took place in three episodes, the youngest of which has been ongoing for the past 20 million years.
▪ Tectonism across the Colorado Plateau’s nearest plate margin (the base of the plate!) is driving uplift and volcanism and enhancing its rugged landscapes.
▪ The bowl-shaped Colorado Plateau province is defined by ongoing uplift and an inboard sweep of magmatism around its margins.
▪ The keel of the Colorado Plateau is being thinned as the North American plate moves southwest through the underlying asthenosphere.
Family, GeekWorld, Jefferson County, Travel

Selling the Jeep

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Imbolc and the Valentine Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Kep the nosy one. His good mornings. Mine, too. Tom. That one Star through the Lodgepoles last night. The Aspen shining in the Moonlight. Feelings. Cancer. Gratitude itself. Surviving eight years. The time of our lives. Ichi-e ichi-go. This one wild and precious life. MVP tonight. Rich. Alan. Moving in a bit more than a week. Cold. Atmospheric Rivers. The North Fork of the South Platte. Bailey. The Smiling Pig. Happy Camper.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: That one Star shining through the Lodgepoles

 

On Monday I put in a 100 minutes of cardio. Finished that, put on my hat and coat, went to the garage. Moved the snowblower and the garbage can out of the way. Time for the Jeep to go to Carmax.

Stopped for a Quizno’s sub on the way. Not impressed. First and last time. Got to Carmax and handed over the voluminous paper work they gave me the last time I was there. All signed. Quite the operation. A huge parking lot filled with used cars nice and shiny. A spacious room where would be buyers meet salespeople at kiosks scattered around the floor. All in a blue and yellow and birch wood decor that continues in the blue employee uniform tops.

The operation where I took the Jeep had a bit more used look to it. The seating though modern showed wear. At a reception like desk sat the young woman I’d encountered before. I handed her everything. Has it been more than 7 days since your online quote? Yes. She handed everything back to me. You can give this to me after the appraisal if you want to go through with it then.

A polite Asian man collected the Jeep keys, explaining that the process would take about 35 to 45 minutes. After that? Oh, only about 15 minutes. OK. While the appraisal was begun I called for my very first Uber ride. Well. Not called. Used the online app. They could have somebody there by 3:40. Fine. $56. I was a ways from home far up on Broadway in Littleton, almost to Englewood.

The appraisal came back a little lower than the earlier one but not much. The process seemed fair and it was quick. Only 15 minutes. I took the appraisal and the paperwork back up, handed it in. In a bit I had a check in hand. Easy peasy. Sort of a pawn shop experience only with cars.

The Uber driver came early and I got in his silver Murano. We talked all the way. He drove me past the place where he bought all of his barbecue gear. Proud Souls Barbecue & Provisions. “We don’t just sell barbecue, we live it.” The driver, Tom, grinds his own meat for sausage, cures his own bacon. Has a setup for everything barbecue. Smokes meats of all kinds.

He’s been driving for Uber for several years. His only gig. He likes the freedom and the flexibility. Drives 8 to 10 hours a day. Starts with trying to hit surge pricing rides around 6:30 am. Uber cut all the drivers portion of the fair by 20% last Thanksgiving. Thanks for that, eh? No explanation. Even with that, he still enjoys the work. Before this he was a dog walker. In better shape then he said.

Glad to get home without the hassle of driving myself. Almost worth $56. Thanks, Sarah and Annie.

Health

Cuffed

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Imbolc and the Valentine Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Vascular Institute. Dr. Mubarak. All those blood pressure cuffs. Florida Avenue. Found it! Steak and Shake. Driving down the hill and back up again. My arteries and veins. Nichie. Helping me. Help. Tom and his careful reading. The Morning Sun. The Lodgepoles clear of Snow. Waiting. Kep. Grooming today. Busy days. Low T. A blue Colorado Sky with puffy white Cumulus.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Good blood vessels

 

I know I’ve done a lot of medical stuff but this one is interesting. Promise. So. Take off your pants and put on these shorts. Ooh, silky. Nice. Lie down and I’ll be back in. The pregnant nurse. I took off my shoes and socks, pants as requested.  Put on the shorts.

When she came back in, the nurse put blood pressure cuffs on both arms. Both thighs. Both calves. Both feet. And on my big toes. More cuffs than a major takedown of a criminal organization. She then snaked lines to each cuff. And one by one, or rather two by two, she took my blood pressure from my arms to my toes. Having your blood pressure taken on your big toe? Weird.

I sat for a while in an interior waiting room. A nurse finally came and got me to go see Dr. Mubarak. He came in the exam room and leaned against the wall. I have no idea why your feet were cold. Sometimes I have to put mine on my wife. My arteries and veins in my extremities are not impeded. At all.

Dr. Mubarak was in the room for 2 minutes. I left. Happy with a good report.  Back up the hill.

 

Distracted a bit this last couple of weeks. Missed a dental appointment as I said. Showed up late for my appointment with Kristie. Had difficult finding Florida Avenue yesterday. I know, use GPS. I don’t like to. But in the instance of unfamiliar locations in the future, I plan to. Also. Read my calendar more carefully. Doesn’t seem like a big deal but this cluster doesn’t feel good either. Nothing else. Otherwise on the ball. What does that even mean? On the ball.

My best guess. The money issues with cancer drugs and the question of how to handle the metastases. Plus my annual physical and med changes, new appointments. As I wrote the other day, I felt overwhelmed. This is a point where life without a partner really sucks. No one to do an oh that’s not a big deal check in with. Kate was great at that. Observant and honest. Always.

Tom noted that I was in a much better place than a year ago. Birthday coming, but Rigel dying. Also not even a year after Kate’s death. Guess I can take his observation as a good sign.

 

After seeing Diane, I’m off to Bailey to Award Winning Pet Grooming. Keeping Kep sleek. Then back home. Handling stuff.

 

 

Health, Poetry, Politics

More medical stuff. Skip if not interested.

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Imbolc and the Valentine Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley Septic. Kristie. Nichie. Monty. Pam. Good lab numbers. Mets. No, not those Mets. Metastases. Prolia. For strong bones. Weight loss. Colorado River Compact. Snowpack. Water. So necessary, so scarce here. The West. The Rocky Mountains. Laurentian Shield. The Huronian Supergroup. Cratons. Erleada. Orgovyx. Award Winning Pet Grooming. Vascular Institute. Ultra Sound.

Sparks of joy and awe: Urology Associates. Has my back.

 

Whoa. 82 minutes for my workout yesterday. And, I mean whoa. Wore me out. In a good way.

 

Over to Urology Associates in Littleton for my three month checkup. The Orgovyx/Erleada combination keeps me in the undetectable range. Still aiming for taking me off of them late summer, early fall. So they don’t lose efficacy for me.

That last point may tip the decision about radiating my two active metastases sites. I don’t want to go off the meds with active cancer sites. Going to see Dr. Eigner on the 20th of this month. Will decide then. Kristie suggested I get his input, too, before I made a final decision. She said it’s a tough call. It is. I wouldn’t hesitate if it didn’t involve my spine.

After my medical consult and my every six month shot of Prolia, I went to see Nichie. A Nurse navigator. Glad. Choppy financial waters. Her specialty. She handed me a bottle of Orgovyx and a month’s supply of Erleada. Samples. Then she took my information and started applying for other possible sources of aid. We’ll give you free samples until we find something. OK.

Not sure how this whole thing turned around, but right now I’m paying very little. I think it’s the case that nobody understands the damned system. We’re all flying blind. Why we need a nurse navigator, I guess. Oops, mixed metaphors.

By the time I got back from my appointment, after a brief stop at Tony’s, I’d been rode hard and put away wet. Got home when the phone rang. Nichie telling me she had my application underway. And a lot of other stuff I was too tired to take in, especially since I was also feeding Kep.

After Kep ate, I sat down and felt overwhelmed. Tired and having necessary, but complicated information coming at me. Knew it would all seem less complex after a good night’s sleep. It does.

Later today. Left leg arteries and veins. Keep those doctors gettin’ paid.

 

I’ll close with this by Langston Hughes. Found by buddy Tom:

Southern Mammy Sings

Last week they lynched a colored boy

They hung him to a tree.

That colored boy ain’t said a thing

But us all should be free.

Yes, m’am!

Us all should be free.

Not meanin’ to be sassy

And not meanin’ to be smart.

But sometimes I think that white folks

Just ain’t got no heart.

No, m’am!

Just ain’t got no heart.

Aging, Commentary on the news, Cooking, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Great Work, Jefferson County, Judaism, Mountains, Plants, Politics, Shadow Mountain, US History

It was a lynching

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Winter and the Valentine Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Hot Water. My shower. Marilyn and Irv. Ageism. Aspen Perk. Aspen Park Dental. Darlene, the hygienist. Seeing the Magpies against the Snow as I sat in the dental chair. Clean teeth. Good gum health. No work needed. Yes. Grocery pickup. Home. Brined center cut porkchops. Cooked in the Air fryer. Mixed vegetables. Tangerine. Mary’s photos of her last days in Kobe. Eau Claire. Air travel. Sarah and Annie. The Jeep.

Sparks of joy and awe: Friends and family

 

A note I sent to my county commissioner, Lesley Dahlkemper, about a proposed Mountain bike park on Shadow Mountain Drive:

Hi, Lesley!

Met you at Marilyn Saltzman’s 70th birthday party. Before you became a commissioner. Congratulations!

I live on Black Mtn Drive. Up the hill about 2 miles from the proposed mtn bike park. Aside from the obvious degradation of a mountain side and a beautiful, clear running stream and aside from the obvious traffic nightmare on already difficult to navigate blind curves and narrow no shoulders Shadow Mountain Drive, I’d like to tell you about a 7 AM drive I took that passed by the bike park area.

There in that meadow were thirty cow Elks and one magnificent bull, a fourteen pointer. A mist was rising from Shadow Brook. Now that may not be a logical argument against the bike park, but it’s damn sure a good one to me.

 

Tyre Nichols. Still think the role of police in our culture doesn’t need drastic and dramatic change? Tainted by the power given to them by a frightened white majority the police live out the violent fantasies of those at home watching TV. Their color does not matter. What matters is their intent, their willingness to step well beyond the bounds of decency. Remember Derek Chauvin’s knee? One of the officers who stood by was Hmong. The others who stood and watched? Rodney King?

Tom Crane found an interesting interview with Rev. Dante Stewart. His words on lynching are worth sharing:

“That was more than police brutality. That was a lynching. They wanted to kill him because, in some sense, lynching is about the spectacle. It’s about what someone with power does to another human being to ride and rid them of every ounce of their dignity and put it in the public to show this is what we think about this person.

“When those in the past put Black people up on noose, it was a message to them: This is our estimation of your life, and much more, this is our hatred of your life. And when Tyre Nichols was beaten and the just immense disregard to him, it showed us in public once again the estimation of Black life, white racism and white supremacy.”  WBUR

This sort of action by the police reimagines the whip of the plantation slave master. Sanctioned violence to keep the enslaved in place. We still fear the emboldened and empowered other. What might they do to us? What to do? Do it to them first.

 

On a better note, also from Tom. On Kernza Grain. “I just came across this perennial grain developed by the Land Institute. I also ordered some from a site which sells it as a cereal much like oatmeal. I’ll let you know how it is.”

The Land Institute is a solution finder. Glad Tom found this product, the first commercial fruits of the Institute’s work. I’ll let you know what he thinks.

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