Category Archives: US History

Far Right, Politics, US History, World History

Shriveled

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Tuesday gratefuls: Shadow, crosser of thresholds. Ginny and Janice, Annie and Luna. Colder. Red Flag Day. The rise of neocolonialism. Gunboat diplomacy. The ravaging of our nation. Never waste a crisis. A dusting of Snow. Notebooklm. The Great Work. Thomas Berry. The Nature rights movement. Crooked media. The Bulwark.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Furious Minds by Laura K. Field

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah:  Patience.  Savlanut.  “Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Tarot: Back at it soon

One brief shining: More snuggle and cuddles, this less reactive Shadow wants more hugs, more together time; she also takes the threshold as a much less absolute barrier, sometimes prancing in, most often coming with a bit of cajoling, less often I have to go out and she follows me in, Natalie having done the difficult work at her home and the Dog run limiting Shadow’s options. All good.

“We live in a world, in the real world, Jake, that is governed by strength, that is governed by force, that is governed by power,” he said. “These are the iron laws of the world since the beginning of time.” Stephen Miller to reporter Jake Tapper of CNN, NYT, 1/6/2025

Oh, Stevie. Go back home and embrace those guys who bullied you. Don’t imitate them. Not very evolved. This naked claim about history, from everybody’s favorite xenophobe, lays bare, like a copper wire exposed under a far too thin insulation  of civilization, the motive force for Trump’s reign. Power begets might. Might begets right.

Want Greenland? We’ll just take it Miller said in the same article, who’s gonna stop us. Here is the rationale for changing the name of the Defense Department to the War Department. For changing the name of the Gulf of Mexico to the Gulf of America. For scooping up human beings striving for a better life and depositing them in countries, any country, that will take them. For ignoring Federal Judges, how many divisions does the Pope have. For ignoring norms, allies, decency.

Let Trump be Trump. Let Miller be Miller. Let RFK by RFK. Let Vought be Vought. No guiding mission or vision necessary. The only question, can we make it happen? If we can, that makes it the right choice.

It is not lost on me, or on you, I imagine, that this brazen claim by a Jew who ignores the reality of the holocaust, gets front page placement on this, the fifth anniversary of January 6th’s insurrection. Remember that word? And, treason? And, the convictions, in our courts, following legal investigations and trials with juries and judges? The pardons proof Miller’s claim. The big guy understands.

I’m sorry Miller and his kin missed out  on love, justice, and compassion as guiding forces in their lives. How shriveled and withered they must be inside.

Dogs, Politics, US History

Shadow at Home

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Sunday gratefuls: Shadow at home. The Dog run. Shadow crossing the threshold. Shadow on a leash. Shadow. Cooler weather ahead. Ruth skiing A-basin. Joy at seeing Shadow play. Dr. Josy. A certain liveliness in Shadow Mountain Home. Natalie and her holistic pet training.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow crossing the threshold

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah:  Patience.  Savlanut.  “Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Tarot: Back at it soon

One brief shining:  Natalie led Shadow toward the front door on a yellow leash, handed it to me, and Shadow froze, sat down, unwilling to follow me inside, c’mon baby girl, she got up and trotted inside like that was her intent all along; once downstairs in her home, Shadow gently rose up, put two paws on my leg, I leaned down and she nuzzled her head against my cheek, kissed me, nuzzled again. She was, finally, home.

Dog journal: February 4th. Up Berthold Pass, through Winter Park and into Granby Ginny, Janice, Annie, Luna, and I headed to the Granby Shelter to meet Nugget, an Australian Cattle Dog puppy rescued from a house fire in faraway Trinidad, Colorado. On the way up I decided to go with the stream of events. Perhaps I’d come home with a puppy. Maybe not. Depends.

I sat in a metal folding chair when Heather, Ginny’s niece, brought Shadow out from the shelter kennel and left us alone. We did not, as these stories often go, bond immediately. She was shy. Reluctant to be touched. Yet. My heart said, this is my dog.

Later, when she wouldn’t come out from under my bed. When she refused to come in from outside. When she resisted the leash by running away as if it contained poison. When it was 12 degrees outside and she would not come in even for her evening meal something in me broke. My heart. I couldn’t keep her safe so the loving thing to do was to give her away.

After 10 months of affection. Of her play with the rubber tires and the Kong lobster and the treat puzzles. Of downward Dog, her smiles, her gentle hugs. Of having her curl up next to my pillow, sleeping through the night. Of her chasing Butterflies and running circles with the yearling Mule Deer. Love is a terrible bond when things go bad.

Yet. The Mountain folk would not let me go through with it. Dr. Josy enlisted Natalie. I agreed for Shadow to be with Natalie for four weeks of training. In the interim I would have a Dog run added to the house. Nathan did it. It’s functional but not beautiful.

Now that respite is over and Shadow sleeps beside my chair while I write. She has come in, albeit reluctantly, each time I have called her from outside. She let me put the leash on her and we will go for short walks.

Shadow is home.

 

Just a moment: We will run Venezuela? Neocolonialism. How far back do the hands on this clock go? Will we restore the days of cavaliers in the deep South? Impress foreign sailors to serve in our navy? Perhaps we could conquer all of Latin America. Steal Greenland. Recover not just the canal, but Panama, too?

The mind, sorry for the cliche but it seems so apt, boggles.

 

 

Politics, US History

The Red Tie guy. Yet again.

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Shabbat gratefuls: The Dog run. Nathan. The igloo Dog house in place. Shadow’s coming home today. Her Dog food still in the Chewy box. The heated pad for her Dog house arrives tomorrow. Natalie. Tenderloin filet. Broccolini. Seasoned Potatoes. Tony’s Honey Lime fruit dipping sauce.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah:  Patience.  Savlanut.  “Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Tarot: Doing a Celtic Cross spread for the New Year

One brief shining: The patient Aspen waits through the cold and the lowlight of Winter as the Black Bears sleep in their den, the moon waits through its orbit for its face to be toward Great Sol, then it becomes full, the full Moon of New Beginnings rises tonight; Shadow and I will have to relearn our life together, granting each other space for new behaviors. Savlanut.

 

Just a moment: US CAPTURES MADURO, TRUMP SAYS. Headline, NYT, 1/3/2026  When I first saw this bold face headline, my mind took me on a memory trip. Instantly. William Randolph Hearst. Remember the Maine! And this,   “Destruction of the War Ship Maine Was the Work of an Enemy!” (New York Journal, Feb 17, 1898) A sort of dèjâ vu occasioned by history as personal memory. The era of gunboat diplomacy justified by the Monroe Doctrine which warns all comers that the U.S. considers the Western Hemisphere its sphere of influence.

Naked imperialism. Stephen Miller (yes, him again) said:  “American sweat, ingenuity and toil created the oil industry in Venezuela,” Miller, who serves as White House deputy chief of staff, wrote in a social media post.

“Its tyrannical expropriation was the largest recorded theft of American wealth and property. These pillaged assets were then used to fund terrorism and flood our streets with killers, mercenaries and drugs.” quoted in Al Jazeera, Dec. 17, 2025.

“Trump says Venezuela stole U.S. oil, land and assets. Here’s the history.” W.P. Dec. 20, 2025. An AI summary of this article:

“Venezuela’s nationalization of its oil industry under Presidents Pérez and Chávez led to U.S. sanctions and a blockade by President Trump, who claimed Venezuela stole U.S. assets. Economist Francisco Rodríguez refuted Trump’s claims, noting U.S. companies never owned oil or land there.”

This event, the bombing of Caraccas, the kidnapping of Maduro and his wife, an attempt to reclaim “stolen” assets had no Congressional approval. It’s pure histrionic adventurism driven by a bully who listens to the most extreme voices who have his ear.

And, there’s this: Trump said we are “locked and loaded,” ready to intervene in Iran if the government begins killing protesters. I wish China, or Canada, or Mexico had made the same declaration when ICE began its extrajudicial rampage against protesters in L.A. and Chicago.

Killing protesters in Iran. NO! Killing and maiming protesters and legal citizens during deportation raids. Well, you gotta break a few eggs to make an omelet.

Sigh.

Cancer, Dogs, Far Right, Fourth Phase, Health, Politics, US History, White Supremacy, World History

Link Arms Against This Sea of Troubles

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Samain and the Shadow Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Rising PSA. Shadow, seen. Natalie and Dr. Josy. Winter is coming. (next week) Hanukah. Ruth and Gabe. Joe. Seoah. Murdoch. What I want. Death. Other life punctuation points. Hawai’i. Nathan and the Dog run. Venezuela. Latin America. Central America. North America. The Gulf of Mexico.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Joe

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:   Netzach   “Endurance and Tenacity: Netzach represents the inner strength and fortitude required to pursue a goal or a passion over a long period, especially when faced with obstacles.”

Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: Shadow cast her presence toward me, casually, too absorbed in other nearby dogs and her trazadone pall to greet her Dad when others of her kind, so many of them, were nearby, crossing behind Natalie’s FJ Cruiser with its DOGS4LIFE license plate, in the Flying J parking lot human companions holding leashes, some pulling toward Shadow to say hi, I’m here, too.

 

Dog journal: First I’d seen Shadow since a week ago Friday. She greeted me, but with little enthusiasm. A little bit of my heart broke. My hope for an enthusiastic smile, a jump, kisses set aside. I noticed, in a bit, that she moved a little slowly, that spark in her personality tamped down.

I’d forgotten the trazadone/gabapentin she was on while the prozac reaches therapeutic levels. Didn’t like it, but I understood the rationale. Reduce her reactivity and help her learn new behaviors. Like letting a leash on. Like easily crossing thresholds. Temporary. Similar to chemical constraints for humans in an agitated state. Shadow exists in an agitated state most of the time.

Natalie said Shadow acted the same at her place as she does at mine, vis a vis thresholds. Made me feel good. Not me. Some psychic gremlin gripping Ms. Shadow when faced with crossing from the outside to the inside.

Natalie, an empathetic and kind person, said she’d come pick up Shadow if I had appointments, keep her for the day and return her. How blessed am I. So many loving folks in my orbit.

We parted after about twenty minutes, Shadow with Natalie.

Good-bye.

 

Health: Yes. My labs showed my PSA jumped, in spite of the radiation, from 0.3 to 2.7. At first I saw the 2.7 and thought, yes! Only later wondering, opening the lab report again. Oh. Not 0.27.

Probably means new drugs. New side effects. Still many options between me and ordinary chemotherapy. Erleada is technically chemotherapy, says so on the pill container, but its side effects have been slight.

There again, blessed. A cancer with many treatments, slow progression. And, for me so far, no symptoms. Happy Holiseason to me!

 

Just a moment: Make Western civilization white again. A sad dream, a dream of the desperate, of the frightened and deluded.

Even the Asian civilizations with which I have some familiarity exhibit strong evidence of liberal ideals. Look at the young women of Korea on a virtual Lysistratan sex strike, wanting their autonomy. Or, young women and men in China. Many of the women rejecting traditional Chinese female roles, many men disillusioned by them and the job market, pushing back against their heritage of centralized control. Taiwan, too.

And here’s the paradox, the irony. Those of us strong with the force of liberal/enlightenment/renaissance ideas of no kings, individualism, small d democracy, individual freedoms and rights as human beings are the ones that recognize most the need to link arms against this tide of civilizational troubles and by opposing end them.

Yes, the liberal journey is not toward a fractious libertarianism, but toward a democratic socialism where the commonweal balances as best as possible with liberty and freedom for all. Not an easy project as our imperfect America has shown since its birth, but an inevitable one pushed forward by the creative tension between individuals and the collective. That’s what I see, what I have lived for.

 

Dogs, Politics, US History

Baron Samedi and Shadow

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Samain and the Radiation Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Loving Shadow. May it mean I need to let her go? Struggling. Anxious. Stressed. 14″ Snow. 9 degrees and she won’t come in. And, yes, I’m grateful to be alive, to struggle. The Jewish way. Part of this world. Radiation. Yes. Same. Sparkling fresh whiteness. Eleanor, who helped. Tara. Her scratch at the door. Hegseth, showing us the problem with unserious men.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Snow

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:  SERENITY   Menucha     Serene, literally “at rest/comfortable”                         “In Jewish tradition, ‘menucha’ (מְנוּחָה) signifies a profound state of spiritual and physical rest, tranquility, peace, and fulfillment, going far beyond merely ceasing work. It is a core concept tied to the Sabbath (Shabbat) and the ultimate spiritual destiny of the soul.” Gemini

Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: As the 9 degree cold slumps across the threshold that may separate Shadow from a life here, my fingers feel it as I type this, hoping hoping that she will lift her reluctance long enough to just let me close the door, no longer for me, I am warm, but for her so I can once again nurse the delusion that this is working. She does not.

 

Dog journal: Sometimes love is not enough. I’m seriously considering calling Dr. Josy, who took an instant liking to this mostly sweet girl. See if she would take her, for good. For her good. For Shadow’s good. For my sorrow at not being what she needed.

Not what I want, but may be what she needs. A new home with an older dog to teach her. Because this old dog can’t seem to do it.

Oh. I hate this. So deep in my heart.

 

Just a moment: Beginning to wonder if what has happened in the Caribbean may represent a toxic combination of Hegseth/Trump little boys playing war with the more serious culture of men tasked with doing the nation’s dirty work. Whatever it takes. By any means necessary. Only doing it always far from the public eye. Naive to the ways of valueless men, men without honor, men only interested in some middle-school fantasy of us against them. Feels like somebody needs to declare recess over.

Could this be the rallying cry that brings Congress alive, resuscitated from the zombie dust blown in their faces?  Baron Samedi sits in the White House, his skeletal face hidden by corpulence, corruption, greed, and a lust for power. His usual disguise.

Perhaps the Democrats need a seance with the spirit of Marie Levaeux. Use her knowledge for the 2026 campaign. This time calls for fighting the oligarchs on ground they understand but do not own, what evil lurks in the hearts of men and how best it might be combatted. Don’t think her advice could be any worse than the Dems are getting right now.

I, for one, would sit at that table, recognizing the power of other traditions, other ways of understanding how to engage the important battles of this age.

Cancer, Health, Politics, US History

Riders in the Storm

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Samain and the Radiation Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Ruth. Sugar cream pie. Driving me to radiation today. Luke and Leo. Anne. Waxing crescent Moon. Christmas lights. Jackie and Rhonda. Shadow the mystery. Dog Poems. Billy Collins. Cold night. Darkness growing. Alise and Jenna. Skiing at A-Basin. Jon and my son. Brothers. Gabe, accepted to Montana. Black Bears. Mountain Lions. Wolves. Canada Lynx. Bobcats. Fox.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Linear accelerators

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:  Gevurah      “While Chesed is associated with flow, Gevurah provides the structure that allows this flow, acting like river banks to channel energy. It is seen as essential for establishing healthy boundaries, creating space for important work, and preserving what is most valuable.”

Tarot: Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: With Hannukah presents, Christmas presents, a kitchen stool, a ceiling fan, sheets for my bed all delivered, most still in their boxes, my living room looks like a receiving dock, a few opened, those Silence Please mugs for Gabe and Ruth, the Tuskegee Airmen hoodie and baseball cap plus the crystal ball with the planets suspended in it for my son, jigsaw puzzles, a color chart for the wall for Ruth, the kitchen stool, the ceiling fan, the sheets, mechanical puzzles of the most difficult category still taped and sealed shut. Holiseason

 

Alise and Jenna pull me a bit this way and that, put the plastic mesh on, and get me a warm blanket to cover my bare chest. Then they leave the room, closing the foot and a half thick lead and concrete door, and I am alone, offering my cancer as a sacrifice to the gods of radiation with my hands gripping metal rods behind me, keeping my arms out of the way.

A flashing red light signals danger, stay out, yet I remain. The Clinac iX whirs and buzzes, its looming bulkiness hidden from me, rotating, bringing the beam to bear on just. the. right. spot.

And. Over. Alise of the cold hands helps me get up while Jenna strips off the sheet, wipes down the hand rests and the neck rest, readying the sliding bed for another sacrifice already in waiting.

From reading yesterday I learned that a Clinac costs $1.5 million dollars and requires between three and five hundred thousand dollars in maintenance per year. The clinic or hospital also builds a concrete room with thick walls and doors to house it.

 

Just a moment: Comey and James cases dismissed. Presidential fatigue an issue. Red tie guy wants a bigger ballroom. Nobody seems to know whose page they’re reading from in Ukraine peace negotiations. Whatever happened to Gaza?

This clown car administration honks its horns, spins in circles, confuses themselves while the rest of us gasp open mouthed at matters never associated with the Presidency. Like his press secretary assuring us that the President does NOT want to execute members of Congress. Relieved to hear it. Like wanting to build a yet bigger gilded ballroom, one out of proportion with the White House.

Riders in the storm. Into his world we’re thrown.

 

 

Cooking, Dogs, Politics, US History

Never Waste a Crisis

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Samain and the Radiation Moon (#1)

Monday gratefuls: Meds. Orgovyx and Erleada. Radiation. Dr. Carter. Our current mess. Shadow, the regressor. Never waste a crisis. Cold weather. A Mountain morning. Sheet pan cooking. The Ancient Brothers. My electric blanket. Ukraine. Gaza. All the people. Imagine. Peace. Cold war. My son. His neighborhood: South Korea, North Korea, Japan, Taiwan, China, the Philippines.

Sparks of Joy and Awe:  Learning, again, from Shadow

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:  Gevurah      “While Chesed is associated with flow, Gevurah provides the structure that allows this flow, acting like river banks to channel energy. It is seen as essential for establishing healthy boundaries, creating space for important work, and preserving what is most valuable.”

Tarot: Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: The Chinese cleaver, now my favorite knife, sliced through the peeled Red Onion, halving it, and then cut 1/2 inch wedges, after the Onion, halving each Cherry Tomato as easily as the Onion, finally cutting the salami into 1/2 inch strips and placing all of them in the big mixing bowl with the Pepperoncini, the vinagrette, the Chickpeas, the quartered Radicchio, mix with the wooden spoon till coated, then spread out evenly on a sheet pan and roast at 450 for twenty minutes. Four meals. Slick.

 

Dog journal: Diane noted the other day that I’d stopped writing about Shadow as our relationship had begun to normalize. Well… Right now we are, once again, at Shadow outside, her breakfast ready an hour and a half ago;  her outside Water frozen, and yet she. will. not. come inside. Why? I have no idea.

Unless. Was it my erratic, drug addled behavior on Friday afternoon and part of Saturday. She’s used to me behaving one way and I slept the day away, fed her an hour late in the evening. Whatever it was, she has returned to her skittish, threshold shy persona of months ago and bolts, flees instead of coming in to eat and drink. Primal needs. A puzzle.

 

Just a moment: Though I can see his decompensation, though his erratic behavior, both in foreign affairs and domestic matters long ago became self-evident, though he has no moral compass and plummeting poll numbers, yet his wrecking ball of an administration continues to level much more than the east wing of the Whitehouse.

USAID. Gone. Department of Education. Almost Gone. Trust in the CDC. Weakened, maybe beyond fast repair. Trust in economic data produced by the U.S. government, the basis of sound decision making. Shattered. Misuse of the military, illegal orders. State murder in the Caribbean. Firing military leaders of color. Firing female Admirals and Generals. Diminishing trust in our Universities and Colleges. Ruining our reputation as a staunch ally. Aiding former enemies and punishing friends.

I’ve been thinking about the political axiom, never waste a crisis. Why? Because change has to happen then, the only choice is how, if possible, to direct it. If we can use this random, crazed attack on our republic as an opportunity to build it back better, more responsive to the needs of Now-think climate change, an open hearted country, defender of the weak, health care, affordable housing, education relevant to all student’s needs-then perhaps this immoral agent of flagrant corruption will have served a purpose.

Back Pain, Health, Politics, US History

25th Amendment?

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Samain and the Radiation Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Shadow of the morning. Artemis in late fall. The bare Aspens. The duller green of the Lodgepoles. Gray, cloudy Skies. Recovering from the ablation drugs. Still no pain except for one area over the right hip. Remembering this man, the one before the pain. Ruth coming up the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. With a sugar cream pie. Winter Solstice less than a month away. Holiseason well underway.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son’s sophisticated ethical reasoning

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:  Gevurah      “While Chesed is associated with flow, Gevurah provides the structure that allows this flow, acting like river banks to channel energy. It is seen as essential for establishing healthy boundaries, creating space for important work, and preserving what is most valuable.”

Tarot: Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining:   With the still new sensation of a largely pain free lower back, all manner of things withheld came flooding back: that trip to Korea, maybe by way of Taipei to see the National Museum, even Melbourne in far away Australia, back to Mussar and Bagel Table in person, local travel in Colorado, New Mexico, yet I have to wait, wait until weeks go by and the relief from the ablation and the steroid prove durable not ephemeral. May it be so.

 

A little giddy. A little, not skeptical, but aware things could change. Right now. Yesterday. This morning. No pain bending over, getting out of bed, going upstairs. Not quite true. There is a spot above my right hip that still flares, but I’m sure a lidocaine patch would calm it down. I’m reluctant to feel as good as I want to feel. Protection against disappointment.

And yet. I feel pretty damned good! Since Korea in September of 2023 I’ve lived with chronic pain that seemed only to get worse. With the hip injection and the ablation I can be hopeful of at the very least a much lessened pain experience.

I’m still weak from months of favoring my back, working out, yes, but not at full strength. I can get some strength back though I’m not sure how much.

The fourth leg of medical treatment starts tomorrow.

 

Just a moment: Let me count the ways. Favoring a larger, stronger state in its war against a smaller one. Misogynism with no shame, even bruited as a sign of honesty. Huh? Making millions from deals involving foreign allies. Even ordering the Justice Department to repay hundreds of millions of dollars in doubtfully earned restitution. Pardoning citizens investigated and convicted of insurrection. Directing the department of Justice (note that word) to go after rivals, persons seen as enemies. Having close ties with a man whose ability to tempt and seduce made him a human simulacrum for the devil. Denying food, medicine, and birth control to citizens of poor nations. Blowing up real boats, with real people and calling it an act of war when no war has been declared. Using the military to occupy American cities.

None of this is invisible or in question. Yet it’s wrong on its face, blatant, egregious. All from the President, our President. Why hasn’t the 25th amendment been invoked?

Memories, US History

My Inner Kid Chose to Speak.

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Samain and the Summer’s End Moon

Friday gratefuls: Alan. The Hummingbird, Josh and Sarah’s new restaurant. The gathering darkness of late Fall. The journey of all men with prostate cancer. Dr. Carter and the medical physicist, developing a plan. The MRI. The PET scan. Tom, his journey. Walking each other home. Bishop Berkley. Leibniz. Hume. All who wonder.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Science Fiction

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Chesed.  Loving Kindness.        “Kindness is the language the deaf can hear and the blind see.”  Mark Twain

Tarot: Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: The Stars above, the Samain Moon, constellations created in the mind, Galaxies, local clusters, the Cosmic vastness, a void filled with the stuff of dreams and wishes, stuff of very stuff, no less part of the one than your big toe or mine. And, no more.

 

When Dad became the editor of the Times-Tribune, Alexandria’s daily newspaper (in a town of 5,000. Can you imagine?), Bob Feemster, who bought the paper and hired Dad, believed he needed a television to keep up with national news, especially elections.

That meant our family was among the first in Alexandria to have a staticky, rabbit-eared box of vacuum tubes and a black and white cathode ray tube that somehow captured something out of the sky, turning it into pictures, moving and talking pictures. Wow.

And so. Saturday morning television. The children’s time with cartoons like Woody the Woodpecker, Donald Duck, Yosemite Sam, and Tom and Jerry. Also, dramas. Roy Rogers, Captain Midnight, Sky King. Captain Renfrew of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and his dog, Lightening, Tarzan, and the Cisco Kid.

That all seems quaint today with streaming services that have pushed broadcast TV into near extinction. No Saturday morning kid’s time because cartoons can be found all day and night, every day of the week. As well, of course, so many dramas, comedies, movies. Just head over to the Disney Channel. Or, if the fare there smacks too much of patronizing adulthood, go to Amazon Prime, Netflix, Hulu.

I know it’s naive to say that my 1950’s childhood was innocent. Those TV shows I listed above were often explicitly racist and certainly sexist, reinforcing the worst of what kids learned in the home and from their friends. Me Tarzan, you Jane. Hey, Cisco. Hey Pancho.

Yet it was simpler, at least in the amount of information we had regular access to. No internet or smartphones or Google, their equivalent in my hometown was the Carnegie Library. Even that had a children’s collection and an adult collection.

Most kids did not have a mother who had been to Europe and Africa though many fathers had fought in France, Italy, Germany, some in northern Africa. So there were those connections, in all their horrifying reality, to somewhere far away.

Then, too, the Cold War. Sputnik. Nuclear weapons and mushroom clouds. No, hardly innocent.

And here I sit, on Shadow Mountain, over seventy years later from the time Bob Feemster brought that little black box into our home. Those days seem so far away, both in time and in the content of daily life. Yet. They shaped much of what I believed was true, much of which I’ve had to unlearn.

We all carry those young kids with us. For life. Mine chose to speak to me this morning.

 

Family, US History, World History

A Military Family

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Samain and the Summer’s End Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Dr. Patel. MVP. Cabbage and Butter Beans. Shadow and her dreaming. Paul. The Maine Coast. The St. Croix. The Bay of Fundy where the Tides sometimes reach a height of eighty feet. New Brunswick. Champlain Bubbles. The Camp. The Farmhouse. Findlay. Toby. Lobster pots. Lobster rolls.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: MVP

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Chesed.  Loving Kindness.  “Kindness is the language the deaf can hear and the blind see.”  Mark Twain

Tarot: Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: Feeling the stirrings of another novel, or novel revision, perhaps both, rereading my work featuring the Edmund Fitzgerald, learning about Wolf 21 and unzipping Superior Wolf to focus on Lycaon and his descendants, then adding the Rockies and the Denver metro, anyhow it feels good to have something bubbling, rising.

 

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Veterans Day:  The first Ellis in the New World, Richard, who came here in 1707, (no, I can’t explain the birth date on this headstone) fought and attained the rank of Captain in the Revolutionary War. His father was a Captain in the occupying army of William and Mary in Ireland. His mother sent him to an uncle in Virginia from Dublin, but the ship captain, in a practice apparently common at the time, kept his fare and sold him into indentured servitude in Massachusetts. As you can see from his headstone, he founded the town of Ashfield, Ma.

The first Spitlers (my Dad’s mom’s maiden name) fought on the side of the British as Hessian mercenaries. They never went home and became respected woodworkers in Virginia. And owned slaves.

I have relatives whose names I don’t recall who fought in the Civil War. Don’t know about WWI.

Both of my parents and my Uncle Riley (cousin Diane’s Dad) were veterans of WWII. Joseph, when he retires, will be a veteran. Neither Mark (my brother) or I served, so we’re outliers in this family history.

My mom served as a W.A.C. in the Signal (intelligence) Corps. She spent time in Algiers, Capris, Rome, and, I think England. My sister Mary found her name on a veteran’s memorial wall at her alma mater, and mine and Mary’s, Ball State University.

Dad flew liaison planes, spending his whole time in the U.S. He dropped bags of flour on troops in training to simulate bombs and ferried from place to place many of the key players in the Manhattan Project. He never flew afterward.

A military family. Patriots. Who served their country at critical moments in their young lives.

When I and so many others opposed the Vietnam War, we mistakenly and wrongly put the blame on those men and women now veterans of that war. Our opposition should have focused solely on the old white men in Washington sending among others, poor Black men to die for their sins. I regret that error.

My son’s military career has given me a chance to be on many Air Force Bases from Georgia to Korea. On those bases I’ve met his fellow officers who have been, to a person, thoughtful, kind, and devoted to the U.S. They have humanized the military for me in a way even Mom and Dad did not.

So this day I honor all those who served, who fought, who gave portions or all of the lives to defending this county.