Comparatives and Superlatives

There's something nostalgic about the fall, the dimming light, the closing door, the end in sight, but it's also an opening, at least for Jews at the high holidays, into a new year, a new focus, a renewal of strength and energy. But what a contradiction, opening and closing at the same time— Good G-d, make up your mind!

And that would be a god I—wavering on this point—no longer believe in. We had a long discussion about this very thing yesterday at Rabbi Singer's: the pull between knowing god and not knowing, not finding, not solving; using the word to know, find, solve, vs. getting stuck in the word, which is so wholly inadequate and misleading. You must love! You must love! said God to Hosea, said Rabbi Singer to his tribe, meaning you must love all of humanity, the message we tucked away in our pockets and then, counting the minutes, the seconds until the end of the fast, praying for the services to be over finally, we walked outside and ate. 

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Comparatives and Superlatives

Fall on the east coast is certainly lovely...

 Lovely light!

 Fall on the east coast with your kids is certainly even lovelier...

Lovely texting!

Fall on the east coast with your kids being as crazy as they were when they lived with you is certainly the loveliest of all, the most fun, the most satisfactory, to see them being so goofy, to being their true blue selves.

True bluest

 ...and then there's skateboarding!

 

True black and blue

Skateboarding in Providence, R.I. at India Point Park on Narragansett Bay.

(Click on pics to see as slideshow.)

Asking Forgiveness....

I have a theory on why we live with others....it's so we'll remain civil, and not gorge on food and alcohol, like i did last night drinking more beer than i needed to, and finishing off a huge dinner, which then exploded exponentially....inside. This morning I had a terrible belly ache, but since Tom's not around to complain to...he left yesterday for OK, right there you see the problem...I only have myself to blame.

So while I'm belly aching, here's a good one: Republicans in Texas purged the rolls of tens of thousands of voters, a majority elderly African Americans and Latinos, saying those very much alive minorities were dead. And even now, knowing the purge was misinformed, the Texas Sec. of State refuses to change the voter rolls. This boils my blood.

Another: I still don't have an oven. But then someone requested my brisket for Rosh Hashanah, so I dug deep inside my pockets, and bought a Lodge Logic, cast iron heaviest damn pot I've ever had. But when I wrote to Janice Patterson in charge of all questions concerning the Logic, in the form of "how long to cook it," she didn't have an answer. She said, "Sorry, I cannot honestly say this will work." What?! Rosh Hashanah is tonight!

 

It's the Jewish New Year, a time to seek forgiveness for our sins. I'm not a big believer on the concept of "sin" but I do believe in asking forgiveness. So here goes: Daughter, I'm asking. I didn't understand what you were going through when you were home at the beginning of summer. Since then I've felt this gulf between us. It's hurting like nothing else I've ever felt. I bet you probably aren't even thinking about it, you're just living your life, a life that doesn't include your mother, like it should be, for god's sake. But I breached a sacred trust when I didn't ask what you were feeling. So daughter, please forgive me, and know I'll do better next time.

My mother used to spend all day in shul during the New Year. On Yom Kipper she stayed from morning til sundown without eating or drinking. What was she praying for? What was she asking forgiveness for? What "sins" could she possibly have had? I never asked her. I never tried to understand. And now I wish I knew what compelled her to perform those rituals. She was a good woman, without sin, what could her conversation with God have been?

So, on this holiday, ask for forgiveness, ask to understand.

A peaceful New Year to you all.

These are the two women I think about most in this world. I have their photos next to my bed in the same gold frame, placed together, one across from the other. 

Lily Nellie Noble

Every night, I look at these photos and wonder: what is it to be of my mother, and in turn, to have gotten my daughter? I look back and forth between the two and ask myself: what is the link?

                                                    Maya Rose Harjo
                                                                                                     
                                                                                                   

 

The Beautiful

Hello Blog, how was your August? Mine was swell, a little hot, but a lot going on. Pretty excited about the election, seeing Obama, Clinton— oh, that man pulls at my heart strings, such a brilliant politician and such a wasted second term. You might say the same for Obama's first, with the Republican obstacle course he's been made to travel.....but, don't want to talk about politics. How was your vacation?

I just got back from Mammoth Lakes. Ever been there? I hadn't. It's a pity we never took the kids; they would have loved it. The area is so pristine, we saw animals loping through the woods two by two.

 We stayed on Lake Mary, a chameleon body of water...

Afternoon

Late afternoon

 

Sunset

We hiked a lot. We went mountain biking around Horseshoe Lake. I knew nothing about mountain biking, but I had a quick lesson: never, never, brake with your front brakes. I did and flew over the handle bars into a shallow creek, bike crashing down on top of me. Pretty funny. I survived with only scratches.

 bum knee

After the dirt trail we jumped onto the new bike path that took us around the lakes and into town. Watch out. Speeds down the hill rival cars. Scary.

Warning

But the most memorable thing, Blog, was going to Hilltop, off Benton Crossing Rd. south of Mammoth, in the Owens Valley, on land purchased by the City of Los Angeles, land that William Mulholland and Frederick Eaton stole in the early 1900s to gain water rights for L.A. The story of the California Water Wars is a lurid one (Chinatown), and much to my surprise, a suit between the City of L.A. and former Attorney General Bill Lockyer, environmentalists, and ranchers and farmers to rewater the lower Owens River wasn't settled until 2006. But what a valley, what a land, this is what we call America the Beautiful.

Hilltop is a mineral hot springs surrounded by grazing pastures and bordered by the White Mountains. From the road you can't see a thing, only cows on a distant hill.

Tom heading towards the unknown

 

But right over the berm, you see the tub...and the cows.

There's a certain etiquette honored here by the locals. If you're in the tub, others won't bother you. We soaked in the warm mineral deliciousness, with an eye on a VW van parked by the side of the road, people waiting. How nice of them. Meanwhile, the cows got closer...

 (good for the sole...)

and closer...

 

All around us were spectacular mountains and a wide sky. After we soaked and talked to the cows for awhile, we headed back the way we came.

 Blog, maybe you'll tell me about your vacation next time...?

 

Squint

Last week, driving home, I almost got into an accident. The late afternoon sun was so blindingly bright I had to squint to see. Ahead of me, the freeway looked like it had split in two and a giant fissure lay in my path. I swerved out of the way, but when I looked down, it was only a small crack in the road. The oblique angle of the sun made that depression look momentous, but really, it was a small nothing. But a small nothing, in this light, is something you suddenly see.
 

 Birds

Bear Tracks

Buried Dog Nose

  The State of Oklahoma?

 Or...

Totem Pole

Later...

A friend from my Art Center class brought me this last night. I looked at it and wasn't quite sure what it was. But it fit the description: something small, otherwise over-looked, found in the bright sunlight:

A Rat!

The Attack Came Unexpectedly

(Found this brochure on the floor of Tom's car, who'd visited the Washita Battlefield on his way back from OK. Seemed relevant in light of events. Change the scenery, the time, but the unexpecting victims of violence remain the same. As Bill Moyers reminds us (and least we forget), violence and the "reliance on arms" was the way our country began. It's all here in this surprise attack that took place in 1868— the guns, the violence, the innocent fleeing...a crazy man leading the way.)

 

Washita Battlefield

The attack came unexpectedly at morning's first light when the village was most vulnerable. It began with a rifle shot, a bugle sounding "Charge!" and a band playing the opening strains of "Garry Owen." In a moment all was tumult as the charging troopers of Lt. Col. George Armstrong Custer's 7th U.S. Cavalry came splashing across the frigid Washita River into the sleeping Cheyenne camp of Chief Black Kettle. They came in four battalions. Custer led the largest straight into the village... 

The soldiers drove the Cheyenne from their lodges barefoot and half-clothed and pursued them in all directions. Some of the warriors fought and died in the village; others took up positions behind trees and in ravines and returned fire; many of them escaped. The village's leader, Black Kettle, and his wife, Medicine Woman Later, were killed by soldiers while trying to cross the Washita River. When the firing ceased two hours later, approx 30 to 60 Cheyenne lay dead in the snow and mud.

—National Park Service brochure for Washita Battlefield, Cheyenne, OK

Bad Behavior!

(If you are in the least bit squeamish about rats, please do not read further!)

I'm the grown up here, so get a grip! It's not entirely my fault that my pet rats, Blu and Lily, spent the night in the defunct oven again! They crawled into the cabinet when I wasn't looking; crashed through the airduct, nearly scared me to death. I thought it was a raccoon from the roof who'd found it's way in. I'd accidentally left the cage door open and... oh, never mind...

I have no control over these rats, they won't stay put. (Was i this lenient with my kids? I don't think so. Absolutely not!) If they hadn't come out of the oven this morning I'd have to call Patrick the Plumber. Ah, but they did. I threw them back in their cage where they weren't happy, and they made sure I knew it— sticking their noses out to get my attention, climbing up and down, not settling. At least with a baby you can drive it around in the car until it passes out, or put a little whiskey on its bottle. But rats? Man, there's absolutely nothing you can do to make them behave!

(News flash: I just read where landmine sniffing rats in South America have been trained to respond to commands such as, "stop," "let's go," and even training their babies. Perhaps not all is lost...?)

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I'm psyched about my class at Art Center. I did my first comic ever! (excuse the bad copies, but my scanner is also defunct).

 "Cleaning out the cabinets..."

 

"Everything I looked at was out of date—

by at least 5 yrs."

 (Use by 2000, 2001, 2005, etc.)
 

"But some things never grow old...."

(use by 2050)

And I have a new look for the main character of my rat story....

 RR

Now I just have to finish it...

Picher, Oklahoma

 Picher, OK

home of the Gorillas since 1918

I've heard of them, but I've never seen a ghost truck before, that is, until last week in Picher, OK. We were cruising down the main road, past abandoned buildings, when out of nowhere a large diesel truck came careening towards us, kicking up dust. The cab was high off the ground, the windows tinted; even so, we could see that no one was behind the wheel. On the side of the road, chat piles spread out for miles, and in the distance, a ghost fire was burning.

 

(photo credit: zendogpictures.com)

Ghosts aren't unusual for this area. Once, close to here, Mary saw a man with a green face walking by the side of the road. Spook lights (mysterious floating orbs) haunt the woods. But the condemned town of Picher is particularly scary; not for its ghosts, but for what happens when industry destroys the environment with mining, in this case, lead. The town which lies between Miama (pronounced My-a-muh), OK and Baxter Springs, KS, is virtually deserted. On Quapaw Tribal land, the town became the center of lead-zinc mining in the early 1900s. In 1981, the EPA declared Picher a Superfund site, the most toxic in the US.

Main Street

Good citizen Gary Linderman was the only pharmacist in town. When the government offered to buy everyone out in 2006, Linderman refused. Who else would help the 40 or so remaining residents when they got sick, he asked, so he stayed on. The Ole' Miners Pharmacy is a neat little shop, with shelves full of prescriptions and some old timey benches for sitting. People come from miles away, picking up scripts, wanting to talk. No one mentions the empty streets outside, the collapsed buildings, the dust in the air.

Gary Linderman

It's eerie walking here, like on a deserted beach, but you're in a land-locked state, so maybe a better analogy would be the moon, you're walking on the moon.

I didn't want to come here with the kids and all that dust kicking around, but Tom wanted to see it. Tom's mom's family grew up next to chat piles outside their home in Miama, and the siblings who didn't die of other causes, breathed in the dust and got cancer; some have died, some still standing.  He didn't say so outright, but I figured, as part of family history, Tom wanted to show the kids this ruin of hell.

The EPA wanted the town cleared because of the network of underground mines threatening collapse, but the real tragedy here is lead, how it seeped into the water, into the ground, into people's blood and tissues. A third of the children had elevated levels of lead, and that was enough for most people to get out of dodge. The Quapaw tribe hopes to reclaim this land as wetlands after the last person standing gives up the ghost... or moves on.


(The Creek Runs Red, an Independent Lens documentary, tells a more complete story of the tragedy of Picher.)