Category Archives: Family

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.

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.

Family, Memories, Travel

She would have been 81 today

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Monday gratefuls: Kate, always Kate. Her 81st birthday. Memories of her. Her retirement cruise. Finding Shadow Mountain home. Her feeling of always being on vacation up here. Her love for Jon, for Ruth and Gabe. For my son and Seoah. For our dogs. For me. Her work with children. In Minnesota and in Guatemala. Her pacifism. Her love of chamber music. Of seeing the world.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kate

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Histapkot. Contentment.

Tarot: The Pole Star, #17

One brief shining: That evening after the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra had finished its program, the last of the season, the last chance I had to invite the woman who had sat next to me all those months out for coffee, would I overcome my discomfort around dating? Yes.

Pensive Kate. Also a big part of her personality

At the Capitol Grille, across from the Ordway Theater, a short walk through Rice Park, we had coffee. She thought I was a lawyer. I thought she was a teacher. Nope. Wrong on both. Clergy. M.D.

A week or so later we had our first date. A walk around what was then Lake Calhoun, now Bde Maka Ska, or White Bank Lake in Dakota. I had on a brand new Lands End checked shirt which I would much later tear for sitting shiva. She wore a new dress. We ate at a small French restaurant not too far from the lake. I don’t recall its name.

We got serious in a couple of months. Both happily divorced. Both still enjoying life and work. Kate soon had my son clomping up and down my Irvine Park condo stairs in ski boots and off on Saturdays for ski lessons. He was eight years old.

I got to know her 21 year old son, Jon, an art major drop out at the time. Our relationship developed more slowly.

When Kate and I decided to get married, we chose the Landmark Center in St. Paul close to both the Ordway where we met and the Capitol Grille.

Our March honeymoon was epic. We followed spring north from our first stop, Rome. We loved Italian food, coffee, and croissants. Our hotel, the Internazionale, was at the top of the Spanish Steps.

We visited Pompeii and Florence from Rome, then took our first class Eurail Pass to Venice. Venice to Vienna. A long ride with no food.

When we got into Vienna, it was 10 pm. The concierge had our bags taken up to our room while we went across the Ringstrasse to a restaurant he recommended. Red checkered table cloths and wiener schnitzel. Some cabbage and spaetzle.  Ah.

On then to Paris and the Angleterre Hotel on the left bank. Paris to London. London to Edinburgh. Edinburgh to Inverness. Inverness to London on the sleeper.

At Pizzaro’s place in Lima

Kate and I bookended that trip with our cruise around Latin America for her retirement.

In between we raised my son, vegetables, fruit, bees, dogs and a life of joy and abundance. We had 32 years together, each of them an adventure, each of them in a mutually supportive relationship that I still miss.

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, Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Greenhouse, Health, Korea, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

The Future?

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Monday gratefuls: My son and Seoah back home. Murdoch was happy. The Jangs back to Gwangju and Okgwa. Chilly morning. Rain last night. Feels like Fall. Hearing check. Natalie at noon. Edith Wharton. The Gilded Age. When robber barons ruled the U.S. Teddy Roosevelt, who broke up their trusts. The turning of the wheel

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Jet travel

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov. Recognizing the good.

Tarot: Seven of Vessels, Mourning.

One brief shining: Leaves gone from simple to complex, seed husks discarded, young stalks pushing upward, reaching for Great Sol, Kale, Spinach, Beets, Nasturtiums, Squash all outside the greenhouse where Tomatoes grow, pollinating themselves, yellow blossoms turning to green bulbous growth on their way to redness.

 

Dog journal: Shadow and I have settled into a nice rhythm. Up at 4:30 to 5:00. A bit of training and cuddling. She goes outside, comes back in around 6. I feed her at 6:45, a bit more training after which she heads outside where she’ll amuse herself until naptime.

Out again after the nap. I go outside at least twice each day to play with her, walk the yard dropping treats. Sometime around 6 pm she either comes in on her own, about 50% of the time, or I pour her food into her bowl which always gets her inside. I close the door and she’s inside for the night.

The next barrier. The leash. Natalie comes today. Our focus.

 

Health: Hearing check today. Don’t expect any changes. May discuss the new AI assisted aids. Tom seems to have had good luck with those though I don’t know whether he bought a new pair.

Visit with Sue Bradshaw last week. She met Joseph. I asked her for a referral to a post-polio doc. Specifically for my neck. Which I find wobbles and tilts. Annoying.

 

The Jangs: My son sent me a message on WhatsApp. Back on base. Murdoch’s tail wagging, wagging, wagging.

Appa and Umma have returned to Okgwa and their truck farm. They left it on its own for the week. Though a rice growers co-op member came by to check on the rice crop.

Mikyung, Seoah’s sister, whose name I misspelled earlier, her husband, and two kids have gone back to Gwangju.

Gathering and dispersing. The way of families in this mobile age. Why this Jang, Ellis, Olson clan has so many different locations: Melbourne, K.L., Osan, Gwangju, Okgwa, Shadow Mountain, Longmont (Ruth), Denver (Gabe). And, Diane in San Francisco.

I used to think this was a problem, and it presents some in the matter of emergencies, but more and more I see at as a feature, not a bug. We are more flexible in our political affiliations and we can support pluralistic, socialist like governments in our home countries while supporting each other in theirs.

Also, I no longer feel quite so attached to the USA. I have a bit of Australian, Korean, Saudi Arabian, and Malaysian patriotism, too. That is, I feel bound to the political actions and their results of those countries as well.

Perhaps this is the future?

Asia, Family, Great Wheel, Greenhouse, Judaism, Korea, Memories, Paganism, Plants, Sport, Tarot

Variables

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Morning darkness. Cool. Shadow and her toys. The flight to Incheon. 9:30 am, MT today. Korea. The Jangs. My son. The Giants. Baseball. A six year old and the World Series. 1987. Kirby Puckett. Randy Johnson. Bert Blyleven. Kent Hrbek. Fathers and sons. Memories, the scaffolding of identity.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Metrodome

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov. Recognizing the good.

Tarot: The Three of Arrows, Jealousy

One brief shining: Stubble darkened his golden brown face as he listened, focused, a commander, a lieutenant colonel, yes, but here with me, my son hearing my doctor, Sue Bradshaw, discuss my health.

 

The Jangs: The Giants lost. 4-2. Beaten by the Nationals. Jung Hoo Lee got one hit. Root, root, root for the home team. If they don’t win, it’s a shame. Not in this case. Seeing Lee play center field, bat. That was the ball game for the Korean cheering section.

Their plane leaves this continent today at 10:30 am Pacific time, arriving in Incheon on Monday, the 11th, at 3 pm. The international dateline.

My son returns to work on Tuesday after a “vacation” spent as chauffeur and main problem solver for this Rocky Mountain Korean holiday. He’s confident, decisive, steady, kind.

His work phone kept him busy, too. The oddest problem? A geomagnetic storm, space weather, that could harm the instruments used in his job. Talk about force majeure.

 

The Tarot: Not often do the cards perplex me, but this one, the Three of Arrows, jealousy? Wha…? I left envy and jealousy behind, at least I think I did, years ago. Each night I touch the mezuzah on my bedroom door and say, “I’m comfortable with who I am. I’m comfortable with what I have.” I mean it, too. And feel it in my lev. So, jealousy?

Perhaps it comes to remind me of those days when I read many authors and wanted to write like them? Marion Zimmer Bradley. Herman Hesse. Ovid. Many others. I found my own voice.

Or. Perhaps it comes to remind me of the spiritual journey I’ve taken since those days of ambition. Toward acceptance of the Great Wheel as a model of life. Toward the Jewish insistence on constant questioning. Toward Yamantaka’s wisdom on death. Toward knowledge, intimate knowledge, of the One.

Or, perhaps it’s a random card with no particular resonance at all.

 

Artemis: Kale, Spinach, Beets, Tomatoes thrive. Arugula, Lettuce, Chard not so much. The east facing bed challenges me to learn how to plant it, water it. What unique gift does it have that I can’t quite see right now?

While I wait on the other vegetables to mature, I plan to try different things, see what might turn it from fallow to abundance. First, I plan to replant the Arugula, Lettuce, and Chard. Perhaps today. Then I plan to supplement the drip irrigation with my pretty green watering can. It has a flat copper spout with holes and produces a gentle Rain.

My goal is not so much a harvest at this point, but experimenting with variables to see what makes this bed a comfortable home for Seeds.

 

Asia, Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Judaism, Korea, Memories, Mussar, Travel, World History

New Ideas

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Bagel table. Sue Bradshaw. My son with me. The Jangs in San Francisco. Breckenridge. The oxygen concentrator. Shadow, barking in the early morning. Protecting Artemis from Mule Deer? The darkness. Shadow still barking. Ah. Stopped. Tactical flashlight. Artemis heater. Tomatoes fruiting. Evergreen Lake. Hot weather.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Walking in the Dark

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov.

Active Recognition: Hakarat hatov is not passive. It requires conscious effort to identify and acknowledge the good, rather than taking it for granted. Beyond Gratitude: While related to gratitude, hakarat hatov extends to recognizing the good in situations and people, even when they haven’t directly benefited you. Jewish Perspective: In Judaism, hakarat hatov is considered a fundamental value, encouraging a positive outlook and a sense of appreciation for the world and its inhabitants. Gemini

Tarot: The Green Woman, #3*

One brief shining: Out into the back yard tactical flashlight in hand, where is she and what has she seen to cause such a commotion, a lot of barking, barking, barking; the cool Mountain morning wraps around me as I see light reflected in two eyes looking at me, Shadow wondering what is he doing out here.

 

Parting words: When I left the Happy Camper a couple of weeks ago, the Gen Z latter day hippy clerk smiled and said, “Be high out there.” Altitude attitude?

Yesterday when I left Jackie’s after getting my ears lifted, Rhonda, her colleague, gave me a mischievous smile and said, “Don’t behave yourself!”

 

The Jang’s last day in Colorado: My son and Seoah packed up, loaded the huge Dodge Van they’ve used for transporting each other on this Rocky Mountain holiday, and headed for a morning in Breckenridge, my son’s post college home for three years.

The part of their stay which focused on things I’ve done many times, I stayed at home. Partly to preserve my energy. My stamina is not up to days away from home. Mostly I just didn’t want to go.

The evening meals I enjoyed immensely. We connected on levels beyond the need for language. Smiles. Hugs. Being together as family. Some conversation and some of it deep: the nature of government or the origin of Homo sapiens. Some of it silly. They liked Macgiver, Battlestar Galactica, American TV. I like K-dramas. Soft culture.

We left each other on the asphalt of my driveway. Hugs all round except for Umma, who shook my hand. Her way.

An important visit. Memories that build relationships. Relationships that can last over time and distance. My question now is how to nurture, how to reinforce them.

A few ideas. I pay Ruth’s airfare to Korea next summer if she gets an internship there. Maybe I go with her. Gabe’s graduation money could send him to Korea, too.

Perhaps we’ll all meet in Hawai’i. Vacation together in a spot between the Mountains and the Peninsula.

Emails and zoom. Gifts. I’m open to other ideas. Mary? Mark?

 

Just a moment: A new form of family, united across oceans and languages and nations, perhaps that’s part of the answer to Trumpism. An end around. Loosen the bond with any one home country, spend the released energy on building connection continent to continent.

 

*”…the Green Woman mediates the sacred sovereignty of the Earth’s soul and can show the path to understanding and communion with nature. But with this blessing comes responsibility. Remember that this glorious, magnanimous and generous spirit can live through you, radiated by the sacred breath of life and given to others who need guidance and healing.” Parting the Mists

 

Asia, Denver, Family, Korea, The West, Travel, US History

The Buckhorn

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Friday gratefuls: The Buckhorn Exchange. Appa and the long guns. Umma eating beef tenderloin. Buffalo Bill Cody. Guru, the Malaysian Sikh, partner to Mary for 28 years. Their attendance at my son’s command ceremony and Mary’s at my son and Seoah’s wedding. Mary’s long stay in Hawai’i after being deported.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mark in Saudi Arabia

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: The Woodward, #11

One brief shining: Ruby drove into the Buckhorn parking lot at 4:45, the first car there for the evening; as Great Sol boiled the asphalt at 102 degrees hipsters rode by on electric scooters and expensive bicycles with very thin tires, the RTD station filling up with early evening commuters while I waited to dine with Appa and Umma, my son and Seoah in Denver’s oldest restaurant.

The Jangs: The whole clan visited the Denver Museum of Natural History in the afternoon. They found its size amazing, Joseph said. Dongun and Dioon (his sister) (please note: I may have these spellings wrong) loved the mummies.

Leaving Shadow on her own in the back yard, Ruby and I left for Denver around 4 pm, filling her up at the Conoco station before hitting 285. Only with my new seat cushion would I willingly drive down the hill. It makes driving bearable, not pain free, but not excruciating.

As I drove down the hill, evening commuter traffic flowed in the opposite direction, west to Littleton and south up 285 to the Mountains. Nice to go against the traffic. Easier.

Picked up 20+ degrees as I left the Rockies and got back on the High Plains, another reason not to drive down the hill. I did though, as we Mountain folk do, have a light jacket with me, knowing the Buckhorn would be air conditioned and the Mountain evening air would be cool.

Appa’s vision of the American West comes from John Wayne movies. The Buckhorn Exchange, 130 years in the same building next year, hosted many famous men of the Wild West era like Buffalo Bill Cody and Wild Bill Hitchcock.

Founded by a German family, it has, I only tumbled to this yesterday, the feel of an old world Germanic hunting lodge. And, in fact, all the stuffed animals died under the guns of the founding family.

We also learned from our knowledgeable waitress that during Prohibition you could order Pumpernickel Bread. A whole loaf would be brought to the table and inside it would be a bottle of whiskey.

My son, Appa, and I had the special, Elk and Buffalo tenderloin, while Seoah and Umma had beef tenderloin. Appa cleaned his plate and ate some of Umma’s as well.

A fitting final evening meal in Colorado. Seoah’s sister’s family stayed behind, finishing off the gyros from Monday’s way too much for one night supper. They had been surprised by how much they had been spending. Even with a weaker dollar, the won to dollar conversion is not favorable so the actual cost of things snuck up on them. An easy mistake to make your first time out of your own country.

Asia, Colorado, Family, Fourth Phase, Korea, Tarot, Travel

The Fourth Day

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Ruth and Gabe. Georgetown Loop Railroad. Appa and Umma. Dongoon. Min Yun. Her husband. Their daughter. Seoah’s brother. My son and Seoah. A family knitting itself together. Slowly. Slowly. Beau Jo’s pizza. Swimming. Hawai’i. Shadow, too many people, too many changes.

front: Dongoon, his sister, Min Yun, Back: l-r Seoah’s brother, Seoah, my son, me, Min Yun’s husband, Appa, Umma at my house

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Blended families

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: Six of Stones, Exploitation*

One brief shining: A young Korean boy with round wire glasses talking about how humans got bigger brains, a book in Korean with an English title, Origin Stories, on the table between us after the pizza and gyros had been put away, his father stroking his hair.

 

The Jangs:

The gentle, circuitous creation of an Asian American family made up of many disparate persons, places, and experiences.

At first I didn’t understand the Tarot cards I’d been drawing this week.

Perhaps I would have seen this anyway, but possibly not. These cards and this week have opened my eyes to an unusual, slow motion event that has been building ever since Mark and Mary set off for parts unknown over thirty years ago.

Then, Raeone and I adopted my son, a Bengali. Who experienced 9/11 as a freshman in college and shifted his focus from pre-med to a future in the military, defending the country that had given him so much. (his words)

As a result of Mary’s living in Singapore and my desire to see Angkor Wat, resourced by an inheritance from my father, I made my second trip to Asia in 2004. My son, Kate, and I visited Beijing in 1999.

In his Air Force career he took a two year deployment to Korea (do you see an Asian pivot slowly turning our lives?). During his time there he met and married Seoah Jang. They will celebrate their 10th wedding anniversary next year.

I know. But I’m getting there. Kate and I went to my son and Seoah’s wedding in Gwangju. 2016. I officiated. That was the first time I met the Jangs, going to their home in the small village of Okgwa where Seoah grew up. Slowly. Kate and I went on to Singapore after the wedding.

Seoah got stuck here for four months during Covid, unable to return to Singapore where my son had been chosen to attend the Singapore War college. That cemented Kate and mine’s relationship with Seoah as their year in Singapore cemented their relationship with my sister, Mary.

After Kate died, I returned to Korea for five weeks in 2023. I got to know the Jangs again, revisited Okgwa during the fall festival.

Ruth met the Jangs this year in May when she went to Korea to attend my son’s transition to command. Now, only two months later, they’re all here in Conifer.

Slowly. They want to learn English so they can talk to me. I want to see them more because I enjoy their comfort, their warmth, their sense of family.

Seoah wants Ruth and Gabe to consider Dongoon and his sister as cousins. Apparently a primary goal of this trip for Min Yun was for Dongoon and I to talk. Not sure why. Not sure it matters.

The effect has been to lay down, to paraphrase Lincoln, more mystic cords of memory between the United States elements of this widely dispersed family and its Korean members.

We have the chance to become a true international, interracial family. One I want to devote time and resources to nurturing. Seems like a worthy final push before the Hawai’ian sunset.

The left Reverend Doctor Israel Herme Harari