Category Archives: Politics

Dogs, Family, Far Right, Friends, Politics, US History

I Mean, C’mon Guy

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Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Cool Morning. Morning darkness. Shadow and her tire. New toys for Shadow. Insulation for Artemis. Shadow and Artemis. Enriching my life. And, theirs. That Mule Deer Doe yearling. Eleanor. Tara. Marilyn and Irv. Late lunch at Three Victorias. Rabbi Jamie’s 20 years. The insuring of Shadow.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tara’s snacks, her conversation

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Rodef Shalom. The desire to generate well-being for ourselves and others.

Tarot: Ace of Arrows, the Breath of Life

“The card signals the start of a journey focused on intellect, communication, and ambition. It’s a call to examine your beliefs and be open to new information, “spring cleaning” your mind of what no longer serves you.” Gemini

One brief shining: The small mostly black Dog ran ahead of the tawny colored Mule Deer, dashing turning, catching up then chasing, two young Animals at play, ginning up energy as they ran, the joy of being young.

 

Dog Journal: Eleanor came to visit the same day. She’s black with curly hair. A bundle of puppy doggy earnestness, movement twice as big as Shadow. They ran outside, around the yard, then back inside up the stairs to see what Tara and I were doing. Talking. Boring. Back down the stairs and outside. Quite a day for the Shadow Dog.

 

Children and Grandchildren: Tara and I meanwhile parsed the mysteries of raising children, grandparenting. Each child, each grandchild has their own, unique path. Vincent’s second bite at the Big Apple. Ruth switching her major from art to premed. Julia in her second year of a master’s degree in something neurological. In Holland. Gabe, waking up, choosing creative writing. Sophia, working at Wendy’s, fashion forward. My son, in command far away on the Korean Peninsula. All spokes radiating outward from their family of origin, all connected, yet also all so, so different.

Tara brought bacon and a Fruit salad; I made the coffee. We also talked gardening. Her Tomatoes have begun to ripen. She made Zucchini bread and had some for me. Tara starts her day seeing how her garden is doing, first looking at it from the second story deck, then wandering down to check on it up close. I go to mine each day, too.

Oh, and btw. I found my Seeds. I’d put them behind the metal bookstand next to Moby Dick. Planting Carrots this morning.

 

Just a moment: Conservative principle #2. Nationalism. “Human beings form national collectives characterized by bonds of mutual loyalty and unique inherited traditions.” Hazony places this definition over against what he considers Enlightenment Liberal understandings of the nation as a creedal collective. The French Revolution. Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence. For instance.

In Hazony’s Hobbesian world (though he lumps Hobbes in with the Enlightenment Liberals, he leaves out Hobbes’ war of all against all.) competing families form competing clans which in turn form competing tribes which then create a nation. Which competes with other unique nations.

My primary critique of his view of nationalism is that I see no evidence for competing families forming competing clans. Or, clans forming tribes. Let alone tribes creating a nation. So there.

He also, later on, makes the extraordinary claim that nations function according to the scientific method, remember historical empiricism? Like Newton the conservative nationalist observes how laws work, how programs and policies function, then inductively creates any tweaks necessary. This after what I can only call a rant about rationalism. I mean, c’mon guy, choose a path.

Dogs, Far Right, Greenhouse, Politics, US History, Wild Neighbors

Creative Tension

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Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Monday gratefuls: Shadow’s sweetness. Morning darkness. Shadow, destroyer of towels. Ode and his mushroom trip. His brother. Cancer. Rain. Cool mornings. Many, many green tomatoes. That Mule Deer in the yard. Learning how to use Artemis. Rabbi Jamie’s gala. My best teacher. Luke. Alan and Cheri, healing.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Artemis’ Hail protection

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Rodef Shalom. The desire to generate well-being for ourselves and others.

Tarot: Page of Bows, Stoat

“The stoat’s seasonal coat change and use as royal ermine emphasize a sacred connection to the earth and the cycle of nature. The card serves as a reminder to honor the ground beneath your feet and reconnect with your vital, ancient self.” Gemini

One brief shining: Buddy Ode wrote me from the road, a trip with and for mushrooms, all the way to Telluride with Dennis, then over to K.C. to see his brother, driving by himself much of the way, a lone Ancient Brother, a rolling meditation.

 

Dog journal:

Bandit. Saw a post on Nextdoor Shadow Mountain about a Blue Heeler named Bandit. He slipped away from his humans in Hiwan, part of Evergreen. They described him as skittish and shy, unlikely to come to a stranger. Sightings of him led them to near the Buchanan Recreation Center. Though skittish and shy even with his humans, he “finally broke down and came to us.” This week.

Boy, this is Shadow. Must be breed specific behavior. Makes me feel better about the bond Shadow and I have. And, about getting her back inside at all on Saturday.

Addenda: Stopped writing. To workout. Kate’s old sewing room that overlooks the backyard. A Mule Deer Doe, a yearling was in the yard. Shadow was not barking at her, though I wish she would. To protect my growing Vegetables that don’t yet have critter barriers.

Shadow gave an obvious play bow to the Deer. Then again. And again. Finally, the Deer got it and they chased each other in zooming circles throughout the backyard, through the Lodgepoles, around Artemis, past the lone Aspen, onto the leechfield and on and on.

I don’t know how long, three/four minutes. The Mule Deer had longer strides, might have been faster on a straightaway, but she tilted and had to correct while trying to follow Shadow’s fleet bursts of speed and turns. Play ended with the Doe’s tongue hanging out, panting. Shadow came inside, proud of herself.

 

Shadow Mountain Home: One inch Hail yesterday. Unusual for this elevation. Had  roofers knocking on doors, looking for that big insurance payout.

I’ve saved a couple of guy’s information who live here on Shadow Mountain. May have one of them come to check my roof. Of course this came just after my home insurance policy added a $5,000 deductible for any Hail damage claim. Sigh.

The good news is that I had Nathan build out the roof on Artemis so it covered the outside raised beds. One round of Hail like this could wipe out a whole season’s growth. Kale, Spinach, Beets, Squash, Nasturtiums all healthy.

Odd thing. Saw a note about planting carrots right now, letting them get sweet as the weather cools. I thought, oooh, I have carrot seeds. I can plant them in the east facing bed. I even added special soil to that bed on Saturday morning. However.

Where did I put those seeds? I bundled up the packets I hadn’t planted and put them away for next year. OK. That’s good. But where did I put the damned things? I can’t find them. They’re here in the place I considered logical a month ago. Again, sigh.

 

Just a moment: I do plan to return to the five principles of National Conservatism, but until I do I have begun to wonder about the nature of conservatives. Why they focus so much on stability and order.

The thinking in Hazony’s book is about confining the individual and the group by adherence to historical empiricism, not only as I wrote about it on Friday related to governance, but in every other sphere of life: family, (tribe, which I don’t find a convincing argument for in U.S. culture), and nation.

My take is that much, if not most, of conservative thought comes from fear-based reflections on the human experience. A fear that too much leeway to change laws will destabilize the nation or the state. A fear that accepting gender challenges will destabilize relationships. A fear that allowing women their whole life will destabilize the family. A fear that an intentionally heterogeneous citizenry will destabilize the culture.

While these fears may not be unreferented, their effect is to trap the other in the closet, in the kitchen, in a white’s only culture. That’s why we need both liberals and conservatives, conservatives to remind us of what we have and liberals to remind us of what we can yet have. A healthy, creative tension.

 

 

Coronavirus, Family, Far Right, Friends, Health, Politics

National Conservatism

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Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Lighting the candles. Gathering in the light. A day for friends, family, naps, and learning. Shadow mornings. Kisses. Training. Outside, Inside. Food. Re’eh. Parsha today. Rain, steady. Artemis. Between 65 and 85 degrees. Tomatoes fruiting. Kale Leaves. Spinach. Beet Roots expanding. Luke and Leo visiting.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Lighting the Candles

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Rodef Shalom. The desire to generate well-being for ourselves and others.

Tarot: The Seer, #2  “The Seer represents potential and things not yet made manifest. This is a time for quiet, solitary reflection and listening to your inner voice rather than taking action.” Gemini (a good Shabbat card) 

One brief shining: Alan sat at our usual place in the Dandelion, face drawn, his usual high personal energy muted; last week he canceled, a cold he said, but looking at him I knew what it was. Covid.

 

Covid: Alan had tested negative since Wednesday while Cheri still suffered. Covid has not left the house. I’m confident a Department of Health and Human Services war against vaccines will be greeted with good cheer in Covid dining halls. Here’s to RFK, those viruses must say, as they lift a glass to that vacuous ass.

Brought all those Covid times back. Especially Mary, only now a permanent resident of Australia, finally settled in Melbourne. And Seoah. Who ended up here for a few months, then onto two weeks of quarantine in Singapore. Kate, who never saw the end of the pandemic.

That one visit Seoah and I made to Safeway. Empty produce shelves. A staff person (essential workers, remember?) handing out one dozen eggs per customer. How wary we all were of each other.

I pick-up my groceries rather than shop for them myself. Crowds bother me. Enclosed spaces with lots of people, too. Covid boosted my natural introversion, a different, but valid rationale to stay home, see only friends and family.

 

Just a moment: I’m reading, so you don’t have to, Conservatism, by Yoram Hazony. This text by an orthodox Jew who lives and teaches in Israel lies behind Project 2025 and JD Vance’s politics.

In it Hazony argues for what he calls national conservatism. He writes well, a clear prose outlining ideas that guide policy (what there is of it) in the red tie guy’s administration.

National conservatism has, according to Hazony, five main principles:

  1.  Historical empiricism
  2.  Nationalism
  3.  Religion
  4.  Limited Executive Power
  5.  Individual Freedom

Hazony, Conservatism, p. 33-34

This morning we’ll examine historical empiricism. “The authority of government derives from constitutional traditions known, through long historical experience of a given nation, to offer stability, well-being, and freedom.” op cit, p. 33

As you can see from this definition, conservatism bases its rationale for governance on what Hazony insists on calling historical empiricism. I say insists because whatever falls outside of that purview just doesn’t count. Hazony has no problem with that since taking the path laid down by a people and their constitution will (I would say might) produce the key conservative virtues of stability, well-being, and freedom. Stability and order being the key to conservative fealty to the past.

I understand the desire to maintain a certain degree of order and stability in a state. Without order life can sink into chaos. Look at any failed state for the consequences: South Sudan, Congo, El Salvador, Venezuela.

Yet to get that stability by genuflecting to the ways of history leaves out key realities. The role of women, for instance. What to do with LGBT folks. How about the disabled?

Hazony agrees that it would be blind and stupid not to oppose slavery even though it has historical precedence on its side. He seems to think, however, that the case for other groups must remain unheard.

This is, to me, a fundamental flaw and one reason I reject his whole project out of hand. National conservativism appears willing to close off its fifth principle, Individual Freedom, in obeisance to the first.

 

Dogs, Family, Far Right, Fourth Phase, Greenhouse, Politics, Seed Keepers, US History

Paying For It. Right Now.

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Kate, always Kate. Gabe, thinking of her, thinking of me without her. He and Ruth driving up here yesterday. Oyama. Sushi, our common ground for food. Our conversations. About two college girls on their own in an apartment. About senior sunrise, which Gabe is doing right now.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Grandkids.

Year Kavannah: Wu wei

Week Kavannah: Histapkot. Contentment.

Tarot: The Forest Lovers, #6

One brief shining: Hammer in hand, I drove four nails into Artemis, two on each outside raised bed, pulled out a length of twine, long, cut it from the spool and tied loose knots around Squash Plant Vines under a branch for strength, attaching the twine to the first nail, looping it, and the second nail, a tight note, redirecting the Squash toward the ground so its large fruits will not occupy the raised bed, robbing the Kale, Spinach, and Beets of Great Sol’s light.

 

Yesterday I wondered what I might do to celebrate Kate’s birthday. Last year I took myself out to dinner at Evoke 1923, ordered oysters for an appetizer, and discovered a pearl. Hard to top that.

Yet, it happened. Gabe thought of me, texted Ruth in Longmont. She contacted me and we soon had a lunch plan for a sushi place in Golden. That morning, yesterday morning, Shadow got me up at 3:30 am, and my back acted up early.

Ruth was ok with driving the extra half hour up here. (I paid for her gas.) They got here to the Mountain home around 11:30. We ate lunch at Oyama, a local sushi spot.

In honor of Kate I ordered a tempura bento box. When the rest of us, Jon, Ruth, and I, would go to a sushi place, she made do by ordering tempura. She was more a prime rib or tenderloin sorta gal.

Discovered, again, why I don’t order it for myself. Too dense. Too heavy. Still, Kate’s memory.

We came back to Shadow Mountain, talked some more. Toured Artemis and her amazing Tomatoes, her Spinach, Kale, Beets, and Squash. Everything that’s growing has done well over the last couple of weeks.

Gabe carried two bags of gardening Soil out to her for me. Something only a few years ago I could have done under one arm. Sigh.

 

Me and my Shadow: Yesterday I laid down for a nap (up at 3:30, remember?) and didn’t call Shadow for naptime. I wanted to get to sleep and sometimes she wakes me up.

I turned on the oxygen concentrator, cranked the fan up another turn, and went to sleep. When I woke up, Shadow had curled her body next to my pillow. Fast asleep. Oh. Well.

 

Just a moment: I read this Atlantic article yesterday, How Ivy League Admissions Broke America. I found the author’s argument not only persuasive, but possibly a way forward. He shows how an intentional change by Harvard to admissions based on intelligence rather than family lineage created an unhealthy distortion in our whole education system. The valorizing of intellect über alles.

We pushed away the bakers and candlestick makers, the steelworkers and the factory workers, farriers and dress makers. Placed them on a lower social rung. We’re paying for that right now.

Dogs, Friends, Politics, World History

He shoots!

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Shadow. Dr. Josy. Audrey. Ginny and Janice. Bread Lounge. Fave’s restaurant. Good friends. Laughing. The leash and the collar. Putting a leash on Shadow, the free spirit. Tomatoes. Kale. Spinach. Beets. Soil in the mail. Mark. Al Kharj. Mary. Melbourne. My son and Seoah. Back in Osan.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Annie and Shadow

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Histapkot. Contentment.

“Who seeks more than he needs, hinders himself from enjoying what he has. Seek what you have and give up what you need not. For in giving up what you don’t need, you’ll learn what you really need.” Rabbi Solomon ibn Gabirol

Tarot: Seven of Stones, healing.

One brief shining: A chittering sound, a Squirrel maybe, or some Insect rubbing its wings together, a Grasshopper could be, comes in through the open window along with a cool morning Breeze, occupying a bit of my mind as I write, bringing the outside inside while I try to wrench the inside outside.

 

Dog journal: Dr. Josy came carrying a long flat object in a cloth covering. A portable scale. Her daughter Audrey carried a large rectangular carryall full of syringes, medicines, treats, other necessaries for a traveling veterinarian.

Shadow weighs 35 pounds. Dr. Josy had to hold Shadow and then weigh herself with Shadow and without. Shadow would not stand on the scale. Of course.

She gave Shadow a vaccine for leptospirosis. Lepto comes for contact with animal urine and is zoonotic, meaning it can transmit to humans often resulting in kidney failure. She also drew blood for a heartworm test, checked Shadow’s heart and lungs, her various joints, her teeth, and whether her i.d. chip was functional. It is.

While Audrey held Shadow on her lap, Dr. Josy clipped her nails. Shadow remained quiet and comfortable the whole time, snuggling into Audrey’s lap.

Dr. Josy thinks, and I somewhat reluctantly agree, that I should get a second dog, a companion for Shadow. Someone to play with. Since Kate and I always bought litter mates when we could, I understand. But do I want to be a two dog household again? Thinking about it.

Dr. Josy thought Shadow was perfect. Healthy, sweet, comfortable to work with. Well, I do, too.

 

Friends: Ginny and Janice came over later in the day bringing Annie and Luna to play with Shadow. Along with takeout from the Bread Lounge. While we ate, Shadow and Annie ran each other around the yard. Sometimes they would all run inside, up the stairs, to see what we were doing.

Ginny and Janice call Luna, their little girl who can’t weigh more than five pounds, the fun police. When Shadow and Annie got too boisterous, Luna would bark at them to stop.

 

Just a moment: He dribbles, he shoots! Putin scores! I can imagine the flattery, the bribery, the sophistry that Vlad brought to the table. All catered to our insecure tyrant. This one was over before it began. Pity the poor, benighted Ukrainians. No need for Zelensky. The big boys are taking care of it.

Ancient Brothers, Family, Fourth Phase, Friends, Humanities, Poetry, Politics, Seed Keepers, US History, World History

Ways Forward

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Waning gibbous Moon. Morning Darkness. Shadow. Father of Shadows. Great Sol. Artemis and her children. Heirloom Vegetables. Raised beds. Co-creation. Gardening. Kate, always Kate. Bee keeping. The Atmosphere. The Troposphere. Space. The International Space Station. The Hubble. The Web. Exoplanets. Distant Suns. Galaxies. Black Holes.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadows

Year Kavannah: Wu wei

Week Kavannah:  Hakarat Hatov. Recognizing the Good

Tarot: The Seer, #2

One brief shining: The boiler turns itself on, feeding hot Water into the hot Water tank while open windows let cool Air flow in and over my chair, my feet the chair chosen by Kate supporting me while I write.

 

Hakarat Hatov: Recognizing the good. Luke’s joy at getting an associate Professorship in Chemistry. His care for Leo. Rabbi Jamie’s creative teaching. Tom’s quiet confidence. Ode’s sketchbooks. Bill’s everyday kindnesses. Paul’s serious joy.

As Paul said on Sunday, if we seek Hakarat Hatov, goodness abounds in everyday life, no matter the bitter and ugly transformation of our government. Too easy to focus on the doom, let ourselves fall into despair. Don’t ignore it, no, but also recognize the ordinary good all around.

 

Just a moment: A way forward. Storm Before the Calm by George Friedman. Amy, my audiologist, echoing a similar idea. She knows folks she said, progressives, who want to return to the Obama era. No, she says, MAGA has revealed too many cracks (her word. I might go with chasms, abysses.) in the U.S. There’s no going back Amy went on. What we have to do is survive these years, then build something new, something that takes into account the MAGA reveals.

I agree with her and with Friedman. The excesses of the Gilded Age, which Trump apparently has in mind, led to the progressive era of Teddy Roosevelt, the trust buster.

Or, we could also call this late stage capitalism wherein the oligarchs gather so much money unto themselves that the rest of us have too little to power the consumer economy.

Greed cometh before a fall. As Gordon Gecko showed us.

 

Learning: Higher education and in particular the Humanities have suffered hit after hit as the conservative mortar crews have begun to walk in their ordnance, finding the bunkers and trenches of Renaissance and Enlightenment thought with their “anti-semitic” coded explosives.

I no longer fear the elimination of Humanities courses. Why? Because Thucydides and Beowulf and O’Neil and Whitehead and Mozart and Caravaggio do not live in the academy. They live in those who seek to understand their own humanity, the ways forward when faced with a culture shattered by avarice and base fears.

We and mine will still read the Iliad to understand how one man’s rage can cost the lives of thousands, even millions with today’s WMDs. We will also return to multiple perspectives as modeled by Impressionist, Expressionist, Abstract, and Realist painters and sculptors. We will embrace a world characterized by the metaphysics of becoming, of a One always in process, over the split apart world of Cartesian metaphysics.

The Humanities will not, cannot disappear because they are us at our best, self critical. learning from the vast deposit of human lives already lived.

 

Asia, Colorado, Family, Korea, Politics, Travel, US History

The Third Day

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Appa and Umma. Seoah. My son, their rock. Min yun. Dinosaur Ridge. Buffalo Bill Cody. His grave on Lookout Mountain. Shadow. Sleeping beside me. Ruth and Gabe, coming up today. Artemis, protector of Plants. Buchanan Rec Center. Sue Bradshaw. Post-polio syndrome. Steroids in right hip working.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Talking politics with Seoah’s father, brother, sister, and brother-in-law

Year Kavannah: Wu wei

Week Kavannah: Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: Three of Bows, Fulfillment. (If I don’t post the question, it is: What do the cards have to say to me today.)

One brief shining: Smart phones out, language apps called up, gyros and hummus and basmati rice from Ali Baba put away, we sat around the dinner table, Seoah translating for Appa, her brother and sister, her brother-in-law as we all vented against Trump, against oligarchs, for governments that serve the people and not the rich, a common fight, one we all recognized, my people, my family.

 

The Jangs: The Jangs and my son went to Dinosaur Ridge, where the first Stegosaur bones were found, and Buffalo Bill Cody’s grave.

Appa had a great time, riding on a faux horse, then getting a cowboy hat and chaps, continuing to ride. I saw videos. He’s a very in the moment guy, open and full-hearted. Whereas Umma holds her emotional cards close. She smiled last night, a rare and happy experience.

The whole family and my son then went to Ali Baba and picked up enough gyros to feed us all. I drove over to the air bnb and enjoyed a meal and an evening with the Jangs.

They’re a friendly, happy family. I enjoy being with them. Even with the language barrier. Seoah took on the difficult task of translator as we discussed the predations of Trump tarrific, the ills of societies structured for the wealthy and against the rest, the common bond we felt as persons who believe government’s role lies in leveling the playing field with affordable housing, decent health care, good education and food available to all citizens.

My sister and brother, both long time expatriots, have had, I’m sure, many similar meals with their Singaporean, Thai, Arab, Malaysian, Aussie friends. I’ve not had the experience often and mostly with Seoah’s family, but I cherish the moments when the realization arises, hey, we have similar feeling and dreams across cultures.

I used to believe that America existed to support such common feeling, support it enough to include dreamers from other nations who wanted to share their dreams with us as fellow citizens. Now I see that dream turning into a nightmare, one that would gather up the Jangs, put them in a concentration camp, then deport them to any random country that would take them, if they chose to stay past their tourist visas.

Sigh.

 

Just a moment: It’s Andy Warhol’s birthday. And yesterday was International Owl Awareness Day. More pertinent to me, August 11th is International Mountain Day. Perhaps Shadow and I will gather inside Artemis to celebrate Shadow Mountain.

 

Asia, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Korea, Memories, Minnesota, Politics, Shadow Mountain

The Second Day

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Shadow, looking at me across the pillow. At 4:30 am. My son, working. Seoah and her sister. Shopping. A warm morning. The Tomato fruits setting. Kale, Spinach, Beets growing. Having my son and Seoah under my own roof. Family. A strong, dispersed family. The view from Shadow Mountain.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Sharing pizza with my son

Year Kavannah: Wu wei

Week Kavannah:  Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: Knight of Vessels, The Eel

One brief shining: A quiet, gentle feeling with my son and Seoah sleeping above me as I type; a joy that comes from deep within, neither from a happy place, or even a place of satisfaction, rather a connected and comfortable spot, one where no expectations other than love lies.

 

The Jangs: Jet lag saw yesterday a quiet day with my son staying here, drafting personnel reviews while Seoah went to be with her family at the Air BnB.

Apparently it was an emotional Sunday evening with tears and alcohol at the BnB. Not sure what  triggered all that except Appa’s jet lagged yearning for a life in the U.S. he was not able to live. He fought for and with U.S. soldiers in the Vietnam War so I imagine this is a long nurtured dream.

He never went past elementary school, yet learned and successfully applied the principles of organic farming as a grower of vegetables and rice. He’s also been village headman for Seoah’s home village, Okgwa, for many years. Education does not equal intelligence or reveal skills.

Appa’s long sober so it was not him drinking but Seoah’s brother-in-law, the six foot green grocer, and her sister, Min Yun. I imagine the unexpected confluence of jet lag, altitude, and American beer led to stronger effects than anticipated. Travel, eh?

Seoah’s sister recovered well enough to convince her husband to drive her, Seoah, and their kids into Cherry Creek for some fancy, label focused shopping. My son was happy he didn’t have to go. Me, too.

I spent a quiet Monday here with Shadow as my son worked. In the evening I went out to Ripple, a new pizza and soft ice cream joint, picked up a large pepperoni and green olives which we ate together.

Sharing a meal, just him and me, called up the Irvine Park years when we lived in my condo. Irvine Park had a lovely square with a Victorian fountain, a bandshell, and great oaks, one of which played backstop for many evenings of catch.

Yesterday, talking about Hawai’i, Seoah said, quite casually, “Yes, we’ll all live there.” Indicating my son and me. If my son does decide to retire at the end of his twenty years, one year after he finishes in Korea in 2027, that’s been the plan.

A good goal for me. A Hawai’ian sunset.

 

Just a moment: I knew this was coming. Trump Administration Will Reinstall Confederate Statue in Washington. NYT, 8/5/2025. Gotta pander to that base with the Epstein files nipping at your MAGAmatic heels.

Memories, Politics, US History

I am become death

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Sunday gratefuls: The Jangs. Landed. Asleep in Conifer. My son, too. Cool Mountain Mornings. Shadow, defender of the yard. Kate, always Kate. That long thin line between the first single-celled organism and each of us alive today. That long thin unbroken line. Shadow’s upside down Dog move.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Jangs. My son.

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: Ace of Arrows, the Breath of Life

One brief shining: Odd to consider a whole family of South Koreans asleep only a few miles from Shadow Mountain, bunked in for now after a late arrival yesterday, asleep I imagine since on Korean soil the time is 9 pm and each of them traveled over 6,000 miles yesterday.

 

Just a moment: Yes. Up here at the top. Why? Two Donald moments that should frighten the bejeezus out of all of us.

The worst of the two:

Didn’t realize how deep seated my fear of nuclear Armageddon had become. Until my President-commander in chief of the world’s most powerful military-announced he had repositioned nuclear-NUCLEAR-submarines in response to a playground taunt from a former Russian president.

An instinctive response. Oh, my god. Dr. Strangelove. 7 Days in May. Not fiction. This is how it begins, who knows how it will end.

Recalled too the many drives before moving to Colorado. Through the barren reaches of South Dakota and Wyoming. The square plots with chain link fences and razor wire dotted every once in a while in the flat landscape. Inside them missile silos. Missiles with nuclear weapons. Too real for me.

In just three days we acknowledge a day that lives in infamy, to paraphrase FDR. August 6, 1945. The atomic bombing of Hiroshima. Robert Oppenheimer quoted the Bhagavad Gita: “I am become death, destroyer of worlds.” And so it came to pass.

Those of us baby boomers could also be called the cold war generation. The generation of mutually assured death and destroyed worlds. Duck and cover drills? I don’t remember them but I apparently haven’t forgotten the ur-fear of my childhood, nuclear holocaust.

 

The more subtle, yet still horrifying second thing:

So let’s say a courtier brings a message to the king. Oh, king, the harvest in the villages. Some of it will rot in the field because your nobles refuse to pay for the work. Let’s also say that the king feared this message because it would him look like a bad king. Don’t kill the messenger came into common use only after many such messengers died.

And what did our naked emperor do to become famous? He said, “You’re fired!” He’s killed thousands of messengers since then in that third millennium way.

“These numbers, oh, king, are worse than we originally thought. The nobles failed to report them because it made them look bad.”

And the naked emperor did decree on that day that henceforth the nobles would report only good numbers because bad numbers, well, they made him look bad.

 

 

 

Asia, Dogs, Family, Far Right, Korea, Politics

A D.E.I. family

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Summer and the Korea Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Morning Darkness. Artemis glowing. Shadow, protecting the yard at 1 a.m. From the inside. Her head on my pillow. Jim Butcher. Harry Dresden. Moving toward Lughnasa. First harvest festival. Mabon. Samain. The Great Wheel. Sukkot. Pesach. Shavuot. The Tree of life.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Cosmic Void

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Yirah. Awe.

Tarot:  The Woodward. (yes, again) How can I get stuff done around the house today?

One brief shining: Shadow’s head on my pillow, her coming inside at night, walking out to Artemis, checking on the Tomato Plants, looking for the Shoots to come up in the raised beds, writing Ancientrails, regular exercise, filling my soul.

 

Just a moment: Psst! Yes, you. Have you heard about the Epstein files? No? Well, let me tell you.

If the Donald has a hint of sexual predation on under age girls, much of his base will throw him to the Democrats. I mean, cruel Evangelicals have their limits. At least I think they do.

Conspiracy theorists eat their own young, so red tie guy will not get a pass. Irony, thy name is MAGA.

Interesting to see where this goes. Attempts to distract: Release MLK files. Blame Jerome Powell for costs incurred building a building five years ago and claim it as a cost today. Put out executive orders on, oh, what was it again? I can’t keep track. Maybe recasting statues of Confederate Generals? Telling the Commanders they have to go back to their old, racist name.

Will no one rid red tie guy of this troublesome pedophile? What? They did? Oh. Well. At least there’s the Epstein files.

Finding a depravity in this President with chronic moral insufficiency that goes below all the others. That’s quite a challenge. But this might be the one.

 

The Jangs: As the Jang clan nears takeoff, Seoah said there is a lot of excitement. Buzzing.

Diane, cousin Diane in San Francisco, offered to write the Giants and tell them that a whole Korean family has come to see Jung-hoo Lee play. Might give them a chance to meet Lee. A kind gesture on her part.

When they get here on August 2nd at 7 pm, their bodies will be on 10 a.m. Korea time. I imagine at least a day or two of serious jet lag. Then let the sight-seeing begin.

That also gives Seoah and my son time to go to H-Mart, stock up on Korean diet friendly foods. Korean cuisine is, imho, a world treasure whereas the U.S. diet? Not so much.

I hope Ruth gets her internship in Korea next summer. Getting involved in the Korean medical education system early could help her if she chooses Korea for medical school.

What an odd weaving together of Jews, Norwegians, Koreans, a Bengali, and a garden variety white family. I love it. Can you say D.E.I.?

 

Dog journal: Me and my Shadow. She just came in for breakfast. Her big meal. I still feed it to her by hand.