Booming One More Time

Fall                                 Waning Back to School Moon

Metro Lounge                  Union Station

This is the first class lounge, folks who’ve bought rooms.  My next trip to Lafayette had no rooms, but I convinced the lady here to let me in since I had rooms on the Empire builder both ways.

Old folks pass by, some in the early years of aging, like me, others in the thin, papery skin and tottering walk phase.  How many of them in the former, I wonder, marched in Washington, fought for student rights, worked hard to end the Vietnam war, protested to achieve civil rights for African-Americans?  Age and accommodation hide the former marks of my kind, the long hair, the frayed jeans, the combat boots, the green book bags, the peace symbol pins,the flower print dresses and plaited hair.

We walk past each other, joined by other links, the cane, the gray hair, balding pates, bum knees, expanded middles.  Makes me think of another addition to symbolic logic:  the law of the expanded middle.

One of our own, Tom Brokaw, wrote a book, the Greatest Generation, talking up the folks of the WWII era as saviors of our culture.  Maybe they were, I don’t know, history is difficult to judge; but, the next spate of articles and books focused on how the Baby Boomers are not the Greatest Generation.  Somehow we have failed to live up to pundits self-made expectations of us.  Balderdash.

An article this month in the Atlantic offers a guide as to how we can retrieve our lost promise by solving the economic crisis at home.  C’mon.  A minimum sized group of greedy bastards almost sunk the American economy, a breed that, like the poor, has always been with us.  It is the chattering class that needs to fix the economy and they’ve worked at it in fits and starts.  The economy never was our forte.

No,we fought our battles for change at the level of the personal,the local, the national foreign policy level, not in the canyons of wall street or the board rooms of the Forbes 500.  We challenged US military policy so successfully that a generation of military leaders has vowed never again to make the same mistakes as Vietnam.  We supported the African-American community among us and Lyndon Johnson in a push for civil rights.  Women and men of our generation took the gender controversy into our private lives, struggling for a just place for women one bag of garbage, one diaper and one sink full of dishes at a time.

We have had our share, more than our share, of brilliant scientists and innovative artists.

Where we still have a big opportunity is not in the stock market or its ancillary phenomenon like the Department of Treasury.  No, our opportunity lies in the self same area we did early work in during the 60’s when we took the advice of such gurus as Scott and Helen Nearing and tried to go “back to the land.”

Climate change, local food, energy independence, forest and water health, these are the areas where our generation can still act and act forcefully, this time for the future of the unborn generations who will suffer from the profligacy of our time.  We know how to use the levers of popular power.  We know how important it is to speak truth to power and to use our personal lives as leverage in the pursuit of deep social change.

I hope we take the challenge and begin to acknowledge each other in the metro lounges and streets and lobbies and town halls and legislatures of our country.

The Great Wheel in the City

Fall                               Waning Back to School Moon

How can city dwellers, big city dwellers, stay in touch with the natural cycles, with the rhythms of the Great Wheel?  This was on my mind yesterday as I walked around the loop.  There are, of course, the occasional plantings decorating outdoor cafes, the greenery of Grant Park and Millennium Park, even a lushly planted median on the boulevard of Michigan Avenue, yet these seem like captive specimens, botanical exhibits in a zoo for denizens of concrete, stone, metal and glass.

When I went out for a walk this morning, wandering down Jewelers Row, out to Michigan Avenue and down to State Street, building facades began to show themselves.  Here there were floral inspired Prairie School designs.  There were viny elements in tile and plaster ascending the column of a building.

At 30 Michigan Avenue an idea began to form.  There on a frieze perched above a  soulless slab of polished marble that defined a Walgreens were small medallions punctuated by a familiar face, the Greenman.  He looked like this one.  There were four, separated by the flowery medallions.  After that, the plant inspired architectural design appeared, as if by magic.  For those who have eyes to see, let them see.

In a flash I realized what I dislike so much about Modernist architecture.  It does not acknowledge the real context in which it exists.  This Bauhaus influence attempted to rid the world of the Greenmen, the vines, the flowers, the sinuous riverine shapes that the late 19th and early 20th century architects considered essential.

And they were essential.  Why?  In our cities we put on a brave front, raising  our forests of buildings that shade out the sun, paving over the earth so trucks and cars can move about with ease.  Tunneling electricity so even the night cannot dominate us.

We still need to eat. Our lives depend on the vast unbuilt land where the primary things that spring from the earth are corn stalks and wheat fronds.  Where animals may outnumber humans and the humans work with and for the plants.

We still need to breathe.  The lungs of mother earth, the circulatory system that cleans our air consists in large part of trees.  The forests lie outside our urban boundaries, though they do join their city cousins in their work.

We still need to drink.  Fresh water comes from rivers, lakes, streams and aquifers either far away from city centers or buried deep beneath them.  Care for the source of our drinking water means  caring for those ends of the earth from which it comes.

Thus, it is not an idle question to wonder how we connect with the Great Wheel, with the changes of season and the growing of food, the cleansing of water and air.

The design motifs inspired by green leafy beings recognized that dependence and writ its continuing message on the walls of the buildings which we use and which we see each day.  They inspire us and help us recall mother nature in  her beyond the city state.

There was. too, another reminder.  I looked down Washington from Wabash and my gaze carried up the  building led me to a patch of blue sky.  There was the moon, a half moon, the Back to School moon, framed by buildings with leaves and greenmen and flowers.  These are enough.

One thing more.  Remember Ozymandias, King of Kings.  Recall the ruins of Babylon, Xi’ang, Epheseus, Athens.  Cities do not last.  Nature reclaims them all at some point.  What seems so permanent, so imposing, so there only awaits its end.  Which will come, sooner or later.

Change of Venue

Fall                        Waning Back To School Moon

Sorry, all, but wordpress or somebody ate my Nick Caspers file. I’m putting this here until I get this sorted out.

JENNY MICHAEL Bismarck Tribune | Posted: Wednesday, September 29, 2010 11:57 am | (3) Comments

A man accused of murder in McIntosh County will stand trial in Bismarck in late November.

The trial for Nicholas Caspers is slated to begin Nov. 30 in Bismarck. It is scheduled as a four-day trial.

Caspers, 27, faces a Class AA felony murder charge in the death of Paul Varner, 30, who died in the early morning hours of Feb. 28 after an altercation at his home in Wishek. Caspers, who is free on bond, was arrested after Varner was taken to the hospital by ambulance.

Defense attorneys for Caspers had moved for a change of venue, arguing it would be impossible to get a fair jury in the sparsely-populated community due to the notoriety of the case.

McIntosh County State’s Attorney Terry Elhard initially opposed the motion but dropped his opposition after preliminary juror surveys came back. He said the surveys indicated it would have been difficult to get a jury.

South Central District Judge Bruce Haskell will preside over the trial.

(Reach reporter Jenny Michael at 250-8225 or jenny.michael@bismarcktribune.com.)

Stories Straight from the Shoulder

Fall                                           Waning Back to School Moon

Writing bounces up off city streets, whizzes down from building tops and comes straight from the shoulder of each person on the street.  Each person walks by trailing a life time of stories, agony, love, joy, despair, fear, exultation.  I can feel them as I wander these streets of Chicago, these stories.  They make a walk thick with meaning and feeling, so many stories walking past each other, not knowing the narrative of the other.  We are a universe, those of us walking here on Wabash Avenue under the el.

Each building has a story, too.  The ambition of the people who conceived it, the gritty world of those who built it and the disconnected worlds of those who inhabit it.   Theodore Dreiser found a compelling story in the elevated railroads and the tycoon who built them  The Haymarket riot.  Saul Alinsky.  Rockefeller and the founding of the University of Chicago.

No wonder stories fall off the trees here like ripe fruit.

I’ve not had enough time here.  I need a week, maybe two, a chance to slow down and make my pace synch with the city, not feel rushed by the train, by getting here and there, having those movements compressed by the demands of travel on, headed somewhere else.