life speaks

     Much has been made about nature since we've been living through a pandemic. The earth has been clearing and healing. We are reminded of forces more powerful than human. Many good minds note this is an opportunity to learn. How are we doing on that score?

are we listening?

      We were warned not to push "re-opening" at the risk of set backs. Impatience, hubris, economic pressure and failed leadership landed us in a death spiral and so we are closing again. The scene from Washington is frankly insane.

moments of pause

       But for now, a montage of vignettes of nature, normalcy,  life, listening, and living.

       If you are familiar with humming birds, you know hyper speed is their normal. I was arrested the other day by how this creature landed on a vine that embraces our front gate. It came to a full stop, something I've not seen.

       After a stunning and disbelieving couple of minutes, it dawned that I should get a shot.  I worried my motion in the kitchen window would send it off. The little creature stayed there for another five minutes, taking in the morning sun splashing against the Santa Lucia Mountains. We shared a glorious morning pause.

morning sun

    Lana painted this, Morning Sun, in 2015. It hung in a couple of gallery exhibitions and then we put it out of sight and mind.
     Just this week a friend, who manages a winery and who saw the painting back then, inquired as to if she still had it. That set off a search by an artist who is better at creating than managing inventory. Let's say her files do not rise to the Smithsonian, or Library of Congress, so we spent time looking through the physical inventory, checking records of sales, looking through her computer archive of inventory images and calling around. In the meantime Miguel called to ask what she had learned. "Still searching," was the response.
      A call to her friend and "broker/representative," a dealer in fine art, object d'art, collectibles and such, discovered Morning Sun. Thank you Carolyn. 
      I was happy to get reacquainted, enjoying her brush work. From the time we dated when she was a budding art student, I've told her, I am her greatest fan.
     I also enjoy her gardening.

gardens are also good for the soul

      As I have been padding the front walk these last days I've admired the progress of this beauty.

     It is a lily that reminds me a bit of the orchids she raises.

      Our vegetable beds have produced an abundance of snap peas, lettuce, micro greens, artichokes and our beloved favas, that our grand daughter is developing proficiency at "shucking." 
     The shot is a few weeks old, because the fava's have been harvested and we are now watching the tomato experiments.  Stay tuned.

between sea and sky 

with a large marine bank looming

    Boats are rare, close in, on this stretch of the central coast's notoriously dangerous waters. As I watched the little craft work north on the big water, pictured in the frame below, I was brought back again to our national ship of state. 

      

s o s

     It certainly must be obvious to even his base and the disgusting Republican Senate that Donnie the Dope, as other Republicans call him in advertising, is insane and incompetent.

      But he is dangerous too. His attempt to divert hospital virus data from the CDC is a naked exposure of his strongman tendencies. It is a page from a banana republic dictator or Russian ruler playbook. He wants to control and manipulate vital information. 
      He must know he is a cornered rat and that makes him more unpredictable. 
       We may be fatigued by the virus, and certainly by Trump world, but now is when the resistance and our resilience must be in high gear.  Some 100 days until the election and who knows what the mad king is fevering in his sick and perverted mind.
        The homestretch approaches and only diligence and participation can extract us from a netherworld of betrayal, failure, traitorous actions, lies, racism, fraud, perversion, ego, insanity and death woven by Donnie the Dope!

a good guy

Here is the guy who gives orange a good name.

       It is almost as if Hemingway's gaze says, get rid of that rat or I will. 

       Resolve is the implement of war against what has become an unimaginable perversion of American life. We cannot lose the will to expunge all things Trump Republican.

           Stay safe and stay well. Take care of each other. Remember, pay attention to life.

       See you down the trail.

Respite

    Gentle ripples on a little pond in the flow of San Simeon Creek offer a respite from the madness and sickness of  2020.
     Remember the kind of world you imagined for 2020, back when we were filled with dreams and when most of life, including the distant 21st century was far in the future.
     For health and for a kind detox I've been visiting the past. 

   Farmers and ranchers on the California central coast have been "putting up hay."
   That leads me back to the early 1960s in central Indiana.
    US Highway 40 east of Indianapolis was dotted with villages and crossroads that were once part of the National Road. Places like Cumberland, Gem, Philadelphia, and Charlotte were little clusters of a life that passed by when the Interstate system was built. A few still had grain elevators and the expanse between was farmland.
    My father rented an historic and drafty large farmhouse in Cumberland, as we awaited the construction of new home near a golf course. I got to know the local lads, the Hills, and their cousins the Hilkene's and Sharpe's. They were farm kids and their families "put up hay" every summer and needed manpower.

      We'd start early in the morning, as soon as the field was dry. There were usually two of us on a wagon, pulled by tractor hooked up to a baler. 
      Blades would gather the cut hay and it was fed into a kind of conveyor.

         The baler shaped the hay and then wrapped it with a line or wire to keep it in a block. My job was to stand on the front of the wagon with a hook

  and grab the wrapped bale off the conveyor, turn and hoist it to Bobby, Chip, Jack, or who ever was on that wagon. He'd then stack it on the growing pile. We rarely had three on our wagons, so the "boy-power" could be spread to another wagon working the same field.
        The farms were large, the fields were massive, and the bales kept coming at you without stop.

           Hay is "put up" in the summer. The sun is scorching,  the hay or straw is scratchy and there were days when I thought the field was an ocean. But we'd always stop at noon. If there was a tree line with shade we'd settle there or get a ride to an area that was out of the sun. The farmer's wife would bring us picnic baskets full of relief. There were gallons of lemonade, iced tea, either a mountain of sandwiches or fried chicken. And usually there was a pie or fresh baked cookies.  15 and 16 year olds can devour more food than you can imagine.

          After lunch, and a moment to answer "nature's call," it was back to the wagon, field and hay. After a field had been cleared, or when the stacks were at a proper height, we'd jostle along to the barn, where the bales had to be off loaded and stored.

         I got stuck in the loft one day and thought I'd die from not being able to breath. A barn hayloft in the heat of summer is a miserable place. After that I was the guy who hauled the hay off the wagon and threw it on to a conveyor where the rest of the guys would go about filling the loft. They'd handle only every third for fourth bale, but tossing each one was worth not being in the loft.

   When ever I see hay in a field, I go back to those couple of years of learning to work. 

    Back then the future was unlimited. I want it to be that way for my grandchildren as well.

       We've got to get better at solving problems and working around or through differences.

      Lana took these shots the other day. She said it looked like I was talking to the cow. I was. 
       We'd been hiking for a while in the sun and I needed a moment in the shade, a shade being shared. I told the cow she didn't need to bolt, or charge me, that there was plenty of shade for the two of us. We made peace.

     There's been a lot of recent attention to the fact so many are depressed, or ill, full of the toxic nature of the news.   
      There is the unrelenting worry about Covid and this nation's failure to handle it as well as most of the world.    
      Then this age of reckoning brings us to painful truths and difficult decisions. I hope they are growing pains, but pains none-the-less.
      Remember when we used to say, as mad and as incompetent as Trump is, at least there is no crisis. Almost seems like the good old days doesn't it. Another mile marker on the descent of this nation.

             If I may suggest, a great antidote is to spend a few minutes viewing Lincoln Project videos and/or the videos  of Republican's Against Trump. They are short and cathartic. The truth is always alternative to the sick fantasy world the sick man weaves. Seeing it all told so well may help this nation with it's first political exorcism.
         I've been gratified by the early response of college leaders who say the administration's recent ICE crackdown on foreign students is just more evil and meanness. I hope they fight it. 

           We are fortunate to have the timeless shore, help with our emotional respite. We enjoy being able to share a few moments.

       Another respite moment came the other day when friends Jacque and Griff arranged for this. The talented Brynn Albanese and Eric Williams entertained a socially distanced block gathering within view of the Pacific.

  They are renowned and have superb credits and resumes, but like all musicians, have been sidelined. It was pure pleasure to see and hear them back in action.

   Everyone seemed to enjoy the respite. 

   I apologize to my friends abroad. This is not the America that nations could once trust. This is not the America that was recognized as a leader on important issues, as a beacon of light. We did it to ourselves, but I'm gaining a sense we will fix this. I suspect there is a hard rain coming, and it will be a time of rumble. 
    We seem on a path to address our racist and genocidal proclivities. Honest acknowledgement is forthcoming, even now. Fixing it will take time, but it will be good work for a nation.
     I think most have been shaken into a state of awareness. The prevailing cultural attitudes of celebrity, wealth and entertainment are not lodestones for a serious nation, nor the values by which to measure women and men for the fitness of work on the public's behalf. 
     These are hard truths. We ate the poison. It made us sick. It is killing us, but we know the cure, and the power resides within.

          Stay safe and well. Take care of each other. That is our destiny.

    See you down the trail.

Monumental Times

   Lin Manuel Miranda told interviewer Lulu Garcia-Navarro we are "living in revolutionary times."

    The creator of Hamilton was on NPR reflecting on the film release of his award winning, historically successful Broadway smash.

     He hit upon a truth. 

     Our American upheaval and reckoning on race is more deeply nuanced than black and white. If I may suggest, a California accent in these days of change bears witness to deep complexity and leads us into a journey of discovery that should bring clarifying discovery to almost every point of view. 

LA Times Photo

         A sunglass wearing work crew removed this statue of an 18th Century Franciscan friar who led the building of the California mission system while the Spanish colonized this part of the US. Junipero Serra founded the San Luis Obispo mission in 1772.

       Three of the giant Sequoia trees in the eastern slope of the Sierras have become nameless. In the Sequoia, King's Canyon and Yosemite National parks, trees named for Robert E. Lee will no longer be identified as such in the parks, in tree census data, records or in publicity.

      I've made repeated visits to the spectacular groves and forests and have wondered how and why the trees were named.
      In unpacking that process we get a tighter view of the history of institutional or systemic racism.
      In 1875 Richard Field, a confederate lieutenant, named a tree after Lee in the Kings Canyon area before the breathtaking land along the King's River was a park.
      It wasn't until 1901 that a tree in Sequoia National Park got tagged the General Lee. John Broder, then the park concessionaire, gave it the name. Broder had confederate leanings and in 1937 formally dedicated the tree in a ceremony sponsored by the Daughters of the Confederacy.

       There was no good reason to name California trees for confederate rebels. There were no Civil War battles in California and the state provided gold to support the Union. California troops battled the confederacy in the New Mexico territory, built forts and military compounds to stop the rebels, and many California men went east to join the Union army.

       Like all things in history, it gets more complicated.

California was anti confederacy, anti slavery and anti-secessionist. 

        Here is where the notion of good guys and bad guys gets educated by fact. California Volunteers, regiments of infantry and cavalry, massacred native peoples in California, Oregon, New Mexico and other western regions to "secure" the land for the Union.

        This brings us back to a reality, that though it is a companion to Black Lives Matter, the genocide of native citizens is the United States' original and continuing sin. 
       The treatment of the sovereign residents is a story of genocide more than 500 years long. It was first practiced by Europeans colonizing the new world. As the American nation rose up, it too engaged in genocide. Millions of native citizens were murdered, killed in battles, slaughtered, poisoned, shoved off their lands, lied to by the government and abused since the age of discovery.

        As slavers stole human beings from Africa and the Caribbean, and forced them into labor, western expansionists, settlers, land developers, and then later, the US Army, railroad developers, and the full federal government continued to deny life, citizenship, and human dignity to first citizens of this land.

        So we circle back the grievance of other skin hues who see this moment in US history to tell the full backstory, and to seek validation and support. 
      The Mission at San Luis Obispo sent the men in orange shirts and sunglasses to move Junipero Serra to the basement. At a time when monuments, statues, memorials and public icons are under attack, the Catholic Church moved the Serra statue for safekeeping because his record and that of the church provides fuel for ire.
     Serra led the 18th century effort of the Catholic Church to build Missions and "convert" Native Americans to Catholicism. The Natives were abused, their own faith systems were banned, customs they had practiced for centuries were stopped, and many died. It was the practice of the Catholic Church where ever they "Missonized."

     

    The first grievance this nation should address is our atrocious, criminal and barbaric treatment of those who resided here first.

     I suspect most US citizens today are as ignorant as were our ancestors who participated in the murder and abuse of natives centuries ago, that we owe our form of government to the Iroquois. In 1754 Benjamin Franklin, depicted above, began suggesting that the Colonies adopt principles of the Iroquois Confederacy. At the time Iroquois nations came together to form a government based on peace, equity and the power of the "good minds."  Franklin persisted over the years and the Constitution we have owes its birth to the oldest North American system-the Iroquois Confederacy.

     The Cherokee could also have taught us a lesson. They were a matrilineal society and their men were equal. They governed by use of Council Houses, where men and women had equal voice.

      It is hard not to be outraged when one considers the brute force that devastated the first citizens was fueled by the spawn of European Court Society, Trading Companies, and the arrogance of wealth seeking more wealth, usually practiced by white men, insensitive to all views but their own and most certainly ignorant to the value of the cultures they maliciously and deceitfully destroyed.

   The anger being released now is simple to understand but some of the destruction and vandalism we witness is reminiscent of the Taliban or Isis.

    And there is this-Lana's perspective. She is an artist and when she sees a statue tumble, no matter how nefarious or political was the motive of the creation, she sees a work of art, the effort and creativity of an artisan being destroyed. Rage destroying creativity.

     I see no reason for a statue to a confederate anywhere on public display, but I think those that have been built can be brought down and used as tools of education. They can be retitled, new messaged, repurposed. Perhaps they belong in a museum where the truth is told and where they are not "celebrated."  I like to think how the curators of the National Museum of African American history might be able to repurpose them.

    There is value in memorials, even if we elevate and 

 celebrate other mere mortals, men and women who, as the saying goes, have "feet of clay." No one is without fault, but some have lived lives of historic value.

     There is a point at which we need to think. Before we become like the Taliban, we need reason and rationality of how to proceed. 

   Some are now trying to get the John Wayne Airport renamed! Really. Aren't there real battles to fight?

     

   What if some unimaginable disruptive change delivers society to the point where violence and war is so disparaged that it was tantamount to being outlawed and banned? Would we-could we, then begin to target other memorials.

    All decent and thinking people need to yell STOP when the legitimate movement of protest and outrage turns from being an assembly for the redress of grievances to mindless and mob driven, hysteric acts of violence or destruction. Good causes can be excessive. 

    We depart from the light when passion overtakes reason. Charles Dickens in A Tale of Two Cities wove a warning when the cries of "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity" became a dreadful cheer of bloodlust and beheadings. 

   

    There can be no untouchable, PC protected, hands off, "sacred" aspect of our history, or person, group, movement or   politics in this time of reckoning. No one has privilege. All voices should be heard. Grievances need be protested.

     We will not change our history, but we need to know it honestly, all of it, so we can make a future more honest, fair and equitable than our past.

      When Lin Manuel Miranda spoke with Lulu Garcia-Navarro it was a snap shot of the best of who we can be; young American citizens, children of immigrants, bright, creative, exploring the realm of ideas and embracing the American dream.

      "...in this moment right now, what I'm seeing is the language of revolution everywhere. And so the language of revolution present in this show from 244 years ago is being felt again in this different way by the Black and Brown future of this country reckoning with what we want the future of this country to be going forward."  

        Lin Manuel Miranda to Lulu Garcia-Navarro on NPR June 28, 2020

       Stay safe, take care of each other.

       See you down the trail.

...we will not look away...

   Bob Dylan's recent and rare interview with historian Douglas Brinkley covers sensitive history and sacred ground and does so at this time when the history we are creating shakes us to the core. 
    The rebellion against racism is global. The outcry about killer police and the culture of inadequate training and profiling is also world wide. It seems people of reason are fed up with the enabling of racist attitude. Non-Black people are the majority of this universal movement. This may be one of those "inflection points in the arc of history."

     "...If you can't speak out against this kind of thing, a crime that's so unjust,

      Your eyes are filled with dead men's dirt, your mind is filled with dust..."

      Dylan wrote the lyrics to the Death of Emmett Till in 1963, 8 years after the bright eyed 14 year old Chicago youth was savaged into a grotesque corpse in the Mississippi delta.

      "...For you let this human race fall down so God-awful low!"

     Years later a white woman admitted she lied about the incident that sent her husband and his half brother into a rage where they grabbed the youth from his uncle's home, beat and mutilated him, shot him in the head and put him in the Tallahatchie River. 

     An all white jury acquitted Roy Bryant and J.W. Millam. A year later the men admitted they killed Till.

    "...This song is just a reminder to remind your fellow man

  That this kind of thing still lives today in that ghost robbed Ku Klux Klan."

    Till's family wanted an open casket. The gruesome truth helped launch what we call the Civil Rights Movement.

    Dylan's song came in the midst of the push for the Civil Rights Act of 1964 that outlawed segregation. The Voting Rights Act of 1965 prohibited discrimination in elections. 

     

     We know those rights did not come without bloodshed, police violence, massive marches and demonstrations. 
     The extension of those freedoms were born of courage and faith.

      And, it seems, we are back to the start, though now everything is accelerated. The 21st century struggle against racism and repression is world wide. 

      People around the globe are demanding better training and less violence from their cops. 

       Too many men and women, black and white are killed by police without cause and for crimes that are minor, not serious and would never carry a death sentence. 

       Whites do not walk out of their homes with the daily fear that accompanies Blacks; will this be a day when a police encounter ends my life?  Being white in America offers a safety. Being Black in America brings jeopardy. Still, all these years later!

       Things must change and the momentum has filled our screens, dominated government attention, and provoked something new and powerful. 

     This has happened more rapidly than any political movement I've witnessed. But the grievances are centuries in the making.

      Something seems different. There is a kind of spiritual momentum. Justice and equality seem to be getting breath, bringing a multitude of races and ethnicities together and into the streets and halls of government with a common purpose.

   

     But racism does not die and it's congress of dunces do not go easily into the night, here or anywhere in the world.

     Ignorance is a powerful strain in humankind. While some refuse to see and understand, resisting all the while proclaiming they are not racist, others conspire to keep a knee on the neck of equality. We need only look at what Georgia did in their recent primary, suppressing black votes, as they did earlier in electing a racist governor denying hundreds of thousands of votes to a Black woman, the likely winner.
     The Republican strategy of voter suppression is in full overdrive, now trying to eliminate vote by mail, even in the midst of the pandemic. There continues a deliberate attempt to deprive people of the right, because of the color of their skin.

     It is dead wrong, but not surprising as the two most powerful racists in the US are the President and his partner Mitch McConnell.

    People of conscience should note, some of the harshest critics of the racist Trump and McConnell are Republicans, former Republicans now. They are a bit like the Germans who fled as the world watched the rise of a fascist regime.
Those who stay loyal to this President will be marked by history as ignominious fools.

        It is not unreasonable to see the murder of George Floyd as being a galvanizing moment, one death too many. In that way his murder by a dead eyed, trouble making cop captured on video is like the horrible casket photo of Emmett Till. We can not look away from that kind of evil. We can't deny the hatred, the racism, the stupidity, that still exists.
      Those of us who thought the legislative acts of the 1960's fixed the problem, were naive and racist in our way, because we refused to see the truth. 
     Racism is a human stain, it is ours to eliminate. It does not happen with one election, or a congressional action, or better testing of the psychological fitness of cops. 
     My dad used to say, equality cannot be legislated, but discrimination can be outlawed. Real equality is the work of the heart. 

       "...but if all of us folks that thinks alike, if we gave all that we could give,
        We could make this great land of ours a greater place to live.
           from The Death of Emmett Till-  Bob Dylan

beautiful diversion

Jacaranda trees are in bloom on the California central coast

     Take care, stay well.

      See you down the trail.