JUST YOU WAIT AND SEE...

   It's funny how a fragment of memory launches itself and then sends you down a lane of thought, maybe even a rabbit hole.

   I can't tell you why, but one of my great aunts singing Blue Birds Over The White Cliffs of Dover sprang full bloom into the day. My great aunts, Martha, Anna, and Sarah were, like my grandmother Mary, born in England and arrived in the US as young girls and teens. 

    The song was made popular by an English singer, Vera Lynn and it was one of the most popular tunes of WWII.

    I'm a post war boomer, but I remember hearing them sing that tune as I was toddler in their care when my parents were out or on a trip. It was soothing to them, an assurance that regardless of the present problem or crisis, it would all work out. And apparently it did the same for this former little tyke.

I think they sometimes sang it to me when I was having tyke travails. 

   Maybe it's the winter clouds decorating our Santa Lucia mountain range, or the full moon rise during the light of evening.

        Maybe it's my hopes and prayers for a friends who are struggling against serious health challenges. Perhaps my optimism fueled by my trust in our democratic republic's sense of justice and the power of tenacious investigation and judicious outcomes. Perhaps it was reading of the winter storms and seeing snow blanket Arizona like something from North Dakota in photos from my friend Bruce. (His blog link appears in the column to the right.)

    But there it is, Blue Birds Over The White Cliffs of Dover, in my head, evoking memories of assurance, certainly as it must have done for millions as a world war against great evil ensued.

     Funny, how time's jewels come back, often just in time.

       By the way, I think the drag net is tightening around the great fraud and stooge. His poison will come to an end, "just you wait and see"

       "...I remember well as the shadows fell

           the light of hope in their eyes..."

        "...there'll be love and laughter

          And peace ever after

          Tomorrow when the world is free..."

    

    

    Be as young of heart as you can.

    See you down the trail.

CALIBRATING FREE SPEECH

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

First Amendment

Bill of Rights

    It is the "First Freedom" and on it I am an absolutist. It is as close to sacred as a secular statement or law can be.

     It means we must tolerate hearing even those things we find offensive. Reasonable people understand the implication of beginning to limit expression of a particular group or idea-where does it end?

    There is an however to this and the Charlottesville march and incident and its aftermath illuminates the however.

     The right to free speech does not extend to nazis or white supremacists. Here is how this free speech advocate gets to that point.

     I begin by quoting an unlikely source, Richard Spencer the American white supremacist. Spencer said "nazis are out of the bounds of humanity."  In this case, I agree with him.

     Like many of his generation, my father was a combat veteran of WWII where the issue of the legitimacy of the nazi idea was prosecuted. Later the Nuremberg trials further established the outlaw, vile and inhuman nature of that belief and the participation in it. 

      The nazi government of Germany undertook behavior that is the most evil in human history. I find succor then between the bounds of a white supremacist and the defining history of WWII to say clearly there is nothing legitimate or protected in a nazi belief, statement or attitude. The nazi history of barbarity disqualifies them from any human right or endeavor.

      White supremacy is a specious idea at best. More, it is fundamentally wrong and it is just stupid. With the exception of a isolated tribe or clan that has never had contact with others, there is no place on this planet where "blood lines are pure." Beyond that, the United States fought a brutal war fueled in great part by the foundational attitude and attendant arguments of white supremacy. 

     Those ideas allowed slavery to exist in our national experience and contributed to the inhuman and barbaric treatment of human beings. We didn't need a war to establish the foul nature of that belief, but the side that pressed racial supremacy was defeated none-the-less, ending any claim to it being a legitimate idea.

      The sheer lunacy of white supremacy, combined with the  tragic and bloody U.S. history of that issue places that view outside the bounds of protected speech.

      We would not permit those who believe in child sacrifice, cannibalism, public beheading, public rape, or the likes of ISIS, Taliban, Boko Haram,etc., to march or express their views. White supremacists and nazis are no better and no different. In fact as a civil society we are better off when those attitudes and behavior are criminalized.

      I think I'm safe in saying we have history on our side, to say nothing of the greater moral arguments. There is nothing good or right about white supremacy or nazim. They have no legitimacy or credibility. They are more than offensive, they are off the human scale. Humanity would be better if we never again had to cross them.

      Waring elephant seals just up the coast from here have more right to free speech than nazis or white supremacists.

         It is my assumption they also have more intellectual

power than the human slugs who are so out of touch with humanity.

the night i saw the nigger

    First, my apology to anyone who might be offended, but that is exactly how Dick Gregory identified himself the first time I saw him.

     It was at Ball State University in the mid 60's. Gregory performed his social comedy and was pushing his 1964 book Nigger. Throughout the concert he kept urging us to buy his book and send a copy to the President because he said he "wanted to see a Nigger in the White House!"

     Over the ensuing years I would cover or interview Gregory as he advanced his social activism. On one occasion when I was scheduled to interview him I had a sore throat and a cough. Before the interview began Gregory asked the hotel staff to bring him hot water, tea, lemon and honey to make me an elixir.

     Gregory was a ground breaker. He found a way to combat racism and segregation with a great and skilled sense of humor. He was also was a sincere and dedicated advocate of human dignity and liberty. 

     See you down the trail.

Passing it on

trails in the slipstream

     It was a quiet moment, a relaxed pause in holiday saturation, a deep sigh.
     "I think it's so neat the girls are carrying on some of our traditional things," Lana said looking at one of the home made gift tags Katherine created.
     Sentimentalist that I am, I've kept some of those tags, even dating back to when elder sister Kristin was a wee one.
     Traditions and rituals are the stuff of this season including taking measure, a self imposed exam we tabulate when we see old man time limping for the door. 
      Resolutions and reflections go hand in hand.

      We are fond of the Kennedy Center Honors, a seasonal glitter of tribute. This year's celebration came with an announcement that a year long remembrance of JFK's devotion to the arts and creativity will cast a major presence in Washington. I'm struck by the resurrection of the lights of Camelot in a capitol presided over by a reality television star. JFK and Jackie looming over the Donald and Melania. Good juju.

the embrace

      Do you think the significance of the US and Japanese ritual is fully appreciated and understood? 
      75 years after the entry of the US into WW II two hated foes crossed a chasm once thought impossible to bridge. Though we are nominally allies with Japan two visits this year seared wounded hearts with deep and cathartic healing.      
      First President Obama visited Hiroshima where America first used an atomic bomb. He embraced survivors, said the souls of those who died speak to us and he urged the world to purse a future without nuclear weapons. 
      Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe's visit to Pearl Harbor, that they attacked propelling the US into the war, was another bridge. The significance of those first visits of former combatants to the historic sites of war may seem to be only protocol or ceremonial but in the arc of history they are momentous. Two blood enemies acknowledging the deepest blackness of their hearts in order to move forward in a better world. The ritual of forgiveness on a global scale.

        Does irony not strike again? The end of a year, the end of an administration, two principal adversaries of a World War talk of burying hatred and nuclear weapons as a President-to be-talks of a new arms race.

the fist salute

        Every four years as the Times Square ball drops, an adjustment begins to move over the US as the transition of power turns closer to inaugural day. It is a marvelous tradition  and sends up the message things are normal, life continues  and all is well. This year the peaceful transition will occur, but a majority of Americans know things are not normal and all is not well. 

       A fist salute next to a Christmas tree?! A Christian celebration of the birth of the Prince of Peace met with a kind of power fist salute. No things are not at all normal or well.

winter green

dedicated to resilience 

     See you down the trail.

A PIECE OF PARADISE

FEWER TOURISTS-MORE LOCALS

    Around the northern point of Ohau, away from Waimea, the Pipeline and Turtle Bay lays stretches of undeveloped scenic beauty dotted by local communities of Kahuku, Laie and Hauula near Sacred Falls.

    The north shore appeals not only to surfers and fans, but those who like nature, country, local culture, agriculture and a very laid back mood.

   "Keep the country, country" is the call on signs and bumper stickers.  Here, as in communities close to nature, there is the tension between the way it is and the desire of developers. 
    I have preferred other Hawaiian Islands because of the heavy tourist development and building of Honolulu however the local and authentic feel of the North Shore and from here south to Hauula is delightfully pleasing. There is an easy accord between simplicity, balance and allowing the beauty of nature to be dominant. 
    The world has enough high rise condos, hotels and resorts. I'm with those who find favor in true local culture and perspective. Here it is country and it feels to this outsider that is how it should be.

 BATTLE IN PARADISE

 History looms in a strange juxtaposition on a point between Kawela and Turtle Bay. The beauty of paradise interrupted by an artifact of WWII.  The bunker stands at the tip of Protection Point.

 The fortification was one of many along the shoreline, protecting the Kahuku airfield that housed B-17 and B-24 aircraft.

  Here in paradise or on beaches and rises in modern Europe,  I am struck by the paradox and contradictory force of such beauty being the scene of historic and heroic battle.

 LOOK FAMILIAR?

    This banyan forest on the north shore has been a scene in many films and productions, the most recent being Hunger Games.

    Better that such paradise be the setting for only play war.  Were it that way everywhere, huh?

    See you down the trail.

PRECIOUS AND COURAGEOUS

THE PRECIOUS

   Whenever in high country, as here in the Sierra Nevada,
I am forever like a kid on Christmas morning when I spot water.

   A pristine alpine lake or meadow is magical.

   Streams or babbling brooks evoke an undeniable joy.

   I tried not to intrude on the exquisite solitude of this fly fisherman working his line above 10 thousand feet on the Morgan Pass in the Muir Wilderness. But I wondered what was it about this particular spot?

   Why not in that pool to the north?  Up here you read nature in your own way.

    In a season of drought the gentle flow of a stream is a lift for the heart.

   Even the smallest trickle or eddy is a giggle and a wonder.

    These next three frames, taken on the Tioga Pass in Yosemite, display a victorious spirit of life. Notice the dome in the lower left-center just above the distant lake.

   In this zoom you can see trees, growing out of granite.

   As I continued the zoom I grew increasingly amazed at how determined and persistent life can be. Roots that penetrate rock, on a mountain dome, at high altitude in  an inhospitable environment. 

PERSISTENT COURAGE

   Our younger daughter Katherine, a second year nursing student tells us the medical community is trying to raise consciousness about precautions and care in the wake of the Ebola outbreak. Doctors, nurses, staff are better aware and more prepared since news of its jump to the US. There are posters and information packets on hazardous attire, protocol, what to look for, questions to ask and procedures. All of this in the last few weeks.

     Doesn't it seem we are always caught unprepared, for almost any eventuality?  The US was without a Navy, Army and Air Force capable of waging WWII, but responded in short order as American industry and awareness focused on the need and waged a transformation that should still be a matter of pride. Life is messier, more complicated, too political and cranky now, but some have jumped into the breach in this medical crisis and legions more now realize that on any given day, they too could be thrust into a medical outbreak with frightening potential.

     As a father I am of course hopeful my daughter is spared such a reality, though she trains for a profession that is long on courage, mercy and selflessness. We should have the utmost admiration for those doctors, nurses, technicians and logicians who are on the front line.  And a dose of encouragement and/or prayer for lab scientists and researchers who seek medicines and treatments.

     Like that tree up on the dome in the Sierra, persistence, determination and a striving for life can be powerful.

     See you down the trail.

THE HEROES

REMEMBERING

     My father, Karl, was what they called a Top Kick, a Sergeant Major when he began his tour of duty in the South Pacific during WWII. He's the man in the middle.  On this day when we remember those who are gone and honor those who sacrificed I've been thinking about dad and how he never wanted to talk of his war experiences.

      He was more candid about his time as a Drill Instructor, especially as he meted out "training" and discipline to my brother and me. It wasn't until he was dying that he spoke of some of what he did and saw in the theater of combat.

   He was part of an effort that took heavy losses and

engaged in tough jungle war fare.  This is an article that reached home, dispatched by the Army communications office.

    Toward the end of his duty in New Guinea and the islands of the south Pacific he was made a Chief Warrant Officer.  He always said it was an inducement to stay in the Army and go to Officer's Candidate School, though in those days the designation was ordered by either the Secretary of the Army or the President and went to men with particular skills  and talents.  

    After he returned home, he continued to work for a special branch of the government.  He was coy and tight lipped, but It was a type of investigative agency. I have memories of his colleagues, "uncles", late night visits, meetings in old box cars and odd coming and goings.  

   One of the keep sakes in his Army locker was this autographed copy of a playbill. He always maintained a sense of camaraderie and concern for those with whom he served.

   I remember visiting the Ernie Pyle memorial at the Pyle Post of the VFW in Indianapolis.  Dad, in the middle, was active in the organization in the early days.  It was during this part of my early kid hood that he and my mom encouraged me to read Pyle's work and that of other war correspondents and journalists. From Indiana, Pyle was killed as he covered the war. Pyle's work and the memorial to him had a remarkable impact on me.  

    My dad and I were always friends, even during the teen years. There never was a "generation gap" in our home.

     I respected his political leanings, he was an active participant in election campaigns as a manager or strategist, never as a candidate.  

     During the Viet Nam era, he cared about the well being of the troops and often was critical of politicians willing to commit young men and women to war.

      He had a great sense of justice and was a true patriot. I continue to miss him. He remains my hero. So this evening I will lift a glass to Karl and the men and women like him, who served. And I will toast some of those "uncles," those who also served, though not always in uniform. Indeed we are in debt to many.

WALKING THE BLUFF

A FAMILY AT THE BEACH

  See you down the trail.