tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75788565446497361952024-02-18T22:41:19.748-08:00Don Robert's AlmanackDon Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.comBlogger184125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-21364740195427966022016-10-15T16:18:00.000-07:002016-10-15T16:18:53.386-07:00Mrs. Ball & the new neighborhoodIn the late thirties my family moved from the Silverlake "flats" to an area where my father had bought a lot and built a house. All of this was somewhat "miraculous" because the depression was still in place and he seemingly worked 18 hours a day just to keep us in a modest flat with a rented roof over our heads. But moving was complicated because we had to move and the new place was not ready.<br />
<br />
We moved into a rental house across and up the street, directly behind the people who were to be our across the street neighbors, Mr. & Mrs. Ball (one of whom was described as "a cop," and it was assumed, of course, that was Mr). Wrong, I started watching the comings and goings of Mrs. and soon feel in love with her. My reaction was to go into their yard and put the largest rocks I could find in the driveway (not realizing, of course, that she was a police officer!).<br />
<br />
Soon she found me and quickly provided the ample evidences of my affection. I agreed to remove them forthwith, and was soon she introduced me to Mr. Ball and her beautiful, sizable collection of glass paperweights and miniture ceramic vases. During these visits I was also introduced to the collection of ceramic bowls that had wrapped candies in them, which seemed to me to be left overs from Christmas or trick-or-treat activities.<br />
<br />
Then she offered me a job of cleaning up her yard, and other small chores that came up. I soon found out she never wore her uniform when she went out, and that she and Mr. Ball lived very different lives. The next thing to happen was that they invited me to go with them to a park not far away that had a "lake" (a pond) with rental boats on it. I was completely surprised when they took the back bench seat and turned the wheel over to me. MacArthur Park became quickly a place of paradigm shift thanks to this generous couple. <br />
<br />
<br />
The next expansion of "the neighborhood" was their invitation to go to a huge circus in downtown Los Angeles (probably Barnum and Bailey). We had excellent seats a few rows up in the center of the Main Tent, and it was within minutes of the performance and the arrival of the classic, tiny clown car that a man stood up down our very row of benches and started loudly berating the clowns (many of whom had exited from the little jalopy and were carrying on in great style. His story was that "they were not funny, that they didn't know what they were doing," etc. <br />
<br />
He went down the row and then down the aisle to the ring, whereupon the clowns came to the edge and began yelling back at him. Lots of confusion and at some point they grabbed him and pulled in over the edge into the ring. And then a large white (seemingly bareback) horse came charging around the ring and our neighbor down the row managed to jump up on its back. Meanwhile the clowns were back in their jalopy and began chasing them. The bareback, civilian clothes clown was a seasoned horseman and acrobat and the chase became a spectacular very funny event. <br />
<br />
I have been fascinated with clowns ever since, seeing amazing acts both in circuses and in other places (for example Las Vegas). Their antics were always instructive of the ways of humanity, and some of the literature they have inspired (eg. Henry Miller's "Smile at the Foot of the Ladder") has stayed with me for years. Thus "the neighborhood" for laughter and amusement has travelled a long ways from Silverlake in Los Angeles, to a small circus in Menomonie in which I saw a clown and dog do an amazing version of a show I saw done in Vegas many years earlier, also with a clown and a dog. Is this a universal act of some kind? Perhaps I should dial up Google and see if I can find out. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-54208321722168072192015-08-28T09:22:00.002-07:002015-08-29T09:54:58.925-07:00On thinking via David Foster Wallace's Kenyon College address "This is Water." The introduction to this piece takes me back to Marshall McLuhan's remark in the sixties to the affect "that if you want to know something about water don't ask a fish." His point was, of course, that the poor humanoid is so surrounded by thought and media blitzes that it may be futile to expect him or her to know anything about them … drowning in them as we are. <br />
<br />
So it is somewhat pretentious to imagine being shown how to think better, unless you are someone with the nerve to try, and a good example of that person would be David Foster Wallace. His primary focus is what he calls our "default setting," which indeed turns out to be very useful. Taken, I guess, from computer language, but also other connexions (see Google), his take on this is that we are hardwired from birth with settings which then have to be changed to make sense of a radically changing world. Most of us will simply overlay beliefs and knowledge over this hard-wiring, and perhaps make superficial changes from time to time to make things function for us. <br />
<br />
Here is a quote for a start: "Everything in my own immediate experience supports my deep belief that I am the absolute center of the universe, the realest, most vivid and important person in existence." "We rarely think about this sort of natural, basic self-centerdness, because it's so socially repulsive, but it's pretty much the same for all of us, deep down." - "It is out default setting, hardwired into our boards at birth." - "Think about it: There is no experience you've had that you were not at the absolute center of." Now, let us say that at one critical point one is baptized, then confirmed after some study and potential brain washing. There will be some potential change to the basic hard-wiring, and one may shift the center of existence to a Judeo/Christian God and his right hand person/Son", Jesus. A setting has occurred, one's thought patterns may have changed radically … but the basic hard-wiring may still underlie those changes. <br />
<br />
Now to go back to Wallace again, which is described after he describes how the adjustments in one's natural default setting are often "described as being "well adjusted," which I suggest to you is not an accidental term." Then Wallace goes through the various types of personal power (wealth, belief/worship, intellect, body and beauty, etc.) and cautions that these are unconscious default settings, and thus dangerous to any deeper work in "real world" default setting. <br />
<br />
My hope is that this brief synopsis will encourage you to pursue this with Wallace, through the little classic book which was produced from the notes used to deliver the commencement address at Kenyon College. In the words on the jacket cover, Wallace helps us with these questions: "How do we keep from going through adult life unconsciously, comfortably entrenched in habit?" and "How do we remove ourselves from the foreground of our thoughts and achieve compassion." And as Wallace concludes with this sentence, I join him is saying: "I wish you way more than luck."<br />
<br />Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-31196663193852804012015-05-25T19:44:00.000-07:002016-02-24T18:09:51.441-08:00Roadside Memorials (3) 2015<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmM9WdhT3B8uvqxlfVIK0m4DYAdvNTz0qufjg-LeTquXoO9vPkINHWBQtVXrqHPttSwpdxuw4eVI68Ia-hfVHhTcIxaq3DPSfbd2lbIBUdLBhrXiHvjiVWXInD2zy9rl-kBbkRKCRjWwM/s1600/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmM9WdhT3B8uvqxlfVIK0m4DYAdvNTz0qufjg-LeTquXoO9vPkINHWBQtVXrqHPttSwpdxuw4eVI68Ia-hfVHhTcIxaq3DPSfbd2lbIBUdLBhrXiHvjiVWXInD2zy9rl-kBbkRKCRjWwM/s320/photo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
for Memorial Day, a brief tribute to the three roadside memorials closest to us. RIP<br />
<br />
#1 is on "S" just a few hundred yards east of "SS." In memory of Edward Connel (aka One Eyed Ed), this memorial was created by two of Ed's children (& myself), and has been haphazardly maintained and added to since. It consists of a picture of him, assorted plants, both live and plastic, as well as plastic flowers. For awhile there was a solarpowdered lamp there, presumably removed when it stopped working. There are an assortment of beer cans (empty), presumably there to honor Ed's love of the beverage. My understanding is his close to mortal wounds when he left his moror- cycle at the site may have been due to drinking. He died in a hospital, RIP, Ed.<br />
<br />
#2 is on Highway 25 and FF, northwest corner. In memory of Tory Kahl, 2 crosses, one tall and one short, with a copy of the well known poem, "The Broken Chain" attached to the taller one; as well as a gothic cross, a couple of small toy motorcyles and a little angel doll figure. Usually there is a baseball cap hanging on one side of the tall cross. And then there is a succession of plastic flower strands, ballons, and right now a plastic valentine wreath ornament -- added in the last few days appended to the tall cross. My intention has been to try and find more information about Tory's passing, and I do intend to add that if and when. <br />
<br />
#3 is also on Highway 25, at 1040th Ave., northeast corner. In memory of Mike Nordin and Jen, there are two white crosses with the different names on each, Mike's provides his birth and death years: 1974 - 2004. This is the simplist site, and seemingly seldom visited. There have been decorations in the past, but there are none at the present time. Again, my intention is to find out more about Mike and Jen if I can, and perhaps add it here.<br />
<br />
(Pictures of these memorials would be appropriate, and I may luck out and get some shot and posted. I've spoken to a couple of photographers about this.)<br />
<br />
My interest in roadside memorials began years ago in Europe where they are far more common.<br />
Sometimes constructed and maintained as small religious shrines, sometimes with Jesus, the Virgin Mary or another religious saint included. Some are almost like little grottos, and often landscaped and planted with meticulous care; some even with little benches included. How do we celebrate the dead, how in this day and age, an "age of discontinuity," are we to honor those who have passed along? <br />
<br />Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-67711660950958174752014-04-13T18:56:00.002-07:002014-04-13T18:56:48.874-07:00Bees. our current "canaries in the coal mine"There are many versions of the old adage about canaries as the harbingers of disaster, but the most powerful one currently has been sounded by Friends of the Earth, warning about the loss of our pollinators as the "Second" Silent Spring. This "imminent and frightening threat to our food" and our very lives is underscored about a revelation concerning Neonics/Neonicotinoids, chemicals which come in many, many brands, and which are virtually unregulated. <br />
<br />
The losses of the world's bees is documented by the countless stories about massive bee die-offs, something referred to as Colony Collapse Disorder earlier on. To quote the Friends of the Earth brochure: "Diseases, pests and climate change have all been implicated in the global bee die-off, but now a growing body of science points to the world's most popular pesticides as a key contributing factor."<br />
<br />
I have noticed in the last few years the rarity of bees as pollinators on our plants. If it wasn't for bumble bees I'm not sure what would have happened out there. Luckily some relatively new neighbors have taken up bee keeping in the last two years and thus we see bees among our plants again. There is no way we can fight this menace by ourselves, we must band together with others, and insist that the organizations (for example farm organizations) get into the fight for our pollinators.<br />
<br />
So I suggest that you dial up Bee Action.org from Friends of the Earth. Use their launching pad to support a well thought out campaign to deal with this unbelievable crisis, and encourage your friends and organizations* to do like wise. The Friends of the Earth campaign includes the passage of the Save America's Pollinators Act, something which parallels the actions abroad, for example the U.K. and the European Union. Employ their 5 ways you can help save the bees.<br />
<br />
* Especially farm organizations, including the USDA and FSA, landscape and gardening organizations<br />
<br />
<br />Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-1152891193490757192014-03-25T16:17:00.000-07:002014-03-25T16:17:24.512-07:00Gas StationMy first gas station was across the street in L.A., corner of Silverlake Blvd. and Silverlake Drive, Hoeppel's Flying Horse Mobil. It was right next to my father's automotive repair garage, Norman's. Thus these were places to hangout and work, get to know people. My dog, sort of, Wimpy, lived a lot of the time in the gas station. Because he got so greasy in the station and garages he wasn't allowed in our house, except for the back porch in rain storms and other bad weather. This was around l936 - l937, depth of the depression.<br />
<br />
Only rich people and those in the business had cars. No credit cars, no credit card gas. Mr. Hoeppel had little jobs in the office and garage, I did some of those: helping sweep out cars, clean the insides and wash the lower outsides, being a gofer to deliver things, dump the trash into the burn barrels in the vacant lot, recycle things, clean up, including out in the little landscape on the corner, etc. At the gas pumps I could ask to polish the hubcaps, sometimes it was "do they need polishing," checking the battery water, etc. Mr. Hoeppel was very patient, encouraged me in every way, except when I got in the way. Wimpy was always supportive too, wagging his tail, looking for handouts of food, of course, especially hamburgers or pieces of them.<br />
<br />
Rich people lived atop the hills, and down the sides, the rest of us lived on the flats. The very poor didn't have screens on the window and doors, the children came to school with bites all over them. We were lucky to have a landlord who not only maintained our flat in good order but hired me too to help him with the gardens and landscapes at ours and other rental properties. Sometimes he would pay me a nickel or pennies, sometimes he would take me to the Silvermart and get me a soft drink or candy bar. I started a savings account in the Bank of California, and either my Mother or Father would take me to make deposits. I was very proud of my little savings book and showed it to relatives at times. <br />
<br />
Mr. Hoeppel sold windshield wiper blades and other items, he also had gum and peanut machines. Remember them, a penny or a nickel would get you a small handful? Sometimes he let me help him when he reloaded these machines. My father too had things for sale in his garage, and I sometimes helped him clean shelves and restock items. Thus I became interested in the businesses and wondered just how all those small purchases added up to anything. <br />
<br />
Fast forward to now where gas stations seldom have grease racks, often do no mechanical work. I am amazed to go into inner city ones, Pump 'N Munch type places, often run by Middle Eastern people; who sell necessities, including powerful energy drinks, liquid vials of ginseng, condoms, magazines and papers, groceries, etc., etc, and don't forget the many versions of gambling tickets (!). Gas, oil and other automotive liquids are crucial, of course, and some of these places even have air hoses to pump up your tires (3 quarters, maybe even 4) perhaps even a water hose to add water. <br />
Now-a-days these places have wire mesh cages around the cash registers and managers. Mr. Hoeppel and Wimpy would indeed be astonished by the transformations.<br />
<br />
It would be interesting to see the books of these latter day gas dispensaries, how much is made on what, the overhead vs. the profits, the stocking routines, cleanups, etc. It was so simple and primitive back in Silverlake, and there four corners out of five were gas stations (!) in the thirties; two were soon to fail. Luckily the fifth corner was a vacant lot and that was next to the property our landlord owned. Today it is all different, of course, and I intend to look it the intersection on the Google Map system and see what it looks like. Maybe one gas station left, who knows? <br />
<br />Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-16919363738632957682013-10-28T16:43:00.001-07:002013-10-28T16:43:36.761-07:00Your humble "Late Stage Adult" is backApologies for the prolonged absence, I've been making notes for the BLOG and my intention is to be better about blogging those. Meanwhile, the terms of "elder" and other such words are in transition, probably with the Boomers; thus "late state adult" showed up in the New York Times awhile back. Who knows where it will go next? I've recently received the advanced notice for the "2014 Senior Americans Day," "Fun, fit, focused and fulfilled!", "26 Years of Being Positively Ageless." Aye, Senior American. My intuition was to suggest that the Grey Panthers be invited to do a presentation.<br />
Vamos a ver.<br />
<br />
The subject this time is dread, dreading change. William McFee in his excellent book on the merchant marine ("To Catch a Ship") captures this with the feeling which can happen when some one signs on a ship and then goes to it and up the gang plank. The dread can be palitable because you seldom if ever know what the crew is like, the captain and officers, the physical conditions, and what the journey/journies will bring. <br />
<br />
When I went the last time from San Francisco to Portland to join the crew of a ship in dry dock there I drank my way north on a Greyhound bus. And when I got to the shipyard in a driving rain, soaked<br />
and in rough shape, the gang plank looked to be pretty much straight up. Strangely it was wide enough for two people and a half way up a shipmate leaving for town said three words: "She's a feeder" (which was a close as I was going to get to a greeting, the food was going to be tolerable). Which was enough. The bunk felt much better that night for those few words. Gracias, senor. Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-84884158168948591432013-06-14T18:46:00.000-07:002013-06-14T18:46:14.281-07:00Familiarity Breeds ContemptOne might guess that this could be attributed to Oscar Wilde, it originates with a Roman philosopher named Apuleius (124 AD - l70 AD); the second part of the quote is: "While Rarity Wins Admiration." In an age where privacy is given up to surveillance, where intimacy is sacrificed to bad taste, public confession and support, the possibilities of contempt seem endless. For those willing not to tempt the paparazzi into a chase, there may be a diminishing possibility of the rarity which wins admiration. <br />
<br />
I've said earlier in this BLOG that the hazards of individuality in this time seem endless, and those hazarded by familiarity seem to be the most tragic. The cute approach to information (a very telling example of familiarity) and self serving promotion is one of the most blatant examples of the the hazards. Even organizations such at National Public Radio are indulging in this, perhaps because of the view that this is necessary for fund raising. And that may indeed be true. Sad if so, familiarity<br />
breeds contempt. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-62862023473875416482013-05-21T13:05:00.000-07:002013-05-21T13:05:58.239-07:00Close CallsHaving lived as long as I have, I have had many so-called "close calls." Recalling a California memory for my son Aaron last week, I then elaborated it in memory, both as it seems in reality; and then as an extension of memory. During my last residence in Venice (Calif.) I body surfed at night sometimes below the fishing piers with a group of crazies. Sometimes we were on acid, sometimes we had smoked "dope," I guess at times just alcohol was involved, and often none-of-the-above.<br />
<br />
As I shared with him, I do not have a single memory of anyone having really hit one of those piers, but it had to have happened over the years, without doubt. I had a close call where I just kind grazed one, tore up the skin on an arm and it got me out of the water for an examination. The fictional account included splinters, blood and a creosote smell, but did not, when I try to sort it out, really happen (?).<br />
<br />
The is a prelude to an advertisement for a time when I will not longer be able to write this BLOG. It will be when my "wake" is to be held along Highway 35 in Wisconsin, from Bay City to Fountain City, all the small towns, camping places, parks, bars and restaurants, shops, and the like. This will be to celebrate i m p e r m a n c e (especially those who come, but mine as well). My hope is the people will wear orange clothing, hats and such so they can identify each other as part of the celebration. My further hope is that no one disqualify themselves because of time or money limitations. You can stay as long or short as you wish, and in any manner you can afford (eg. if you cannot afford lodging, fine, sleep during the day on beach, in a car or truck ... whatever works). <br />
<br />
When will you know when this is going to happen? My wife, sons and associates will hit the grape vine, and this BLOG will provide lists of resources for your use. For example, the A-Z Farm, above Stockholm on the bluff has a pizza dinner on their grounds every Tuesday evening. My hope is that there might be a gathering there at least once. Overlooking Alma is a park not to be missed, Buena Vista. I would be hugely pleased if people could come there as part of their stay on the coast.<br />
A three CD album set of music has been prepared by a good friend from Minneapolis, and that will be available for audio celebration Enough, for now. Thanks in advance for coming. Zoom, DonDon Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-22112564794013637132013-04-29T17:03:00.000-07:002013-04-29T17:03:06.638-07:00An Open Letter to the President of These United States4/29/13 Dear President Obama:<br />
<br />
With all due respect, I would like to share some humble opinions from the hinterlands. My feeling is that you are too much in touch with the power brokers, the revolving door swingers and the like, with not enough "input" from the trenches and back roads. This is from a BLOG written in farmland, it will also be published in the "Hay River Review" in Prairie Farm, Wisconsin. <br />
<br />
Although I have never held public office I have an enormous amount of respect for what you and the Vice President do, including and especially the part that has to do with vital memory, applying thought to problem solving and the like; extrapolation, crucial in times like ours. With that in mind I am going to start with your latest trips to Boston and Texas. Part chaplain, part cheerleader with the weight of your office behind you, you become, willy nilly, a publicist for terrorists and a mourner for victims and a mourner and celebrator of first responders . What often gets lost are the meanings attendant to issues like the fertilizer plant (the lack of inspections there - 5, 10 years, the violations involved by the plant -- eg. the huge amount of anhydrous ammonia stored there (270 tons/54,000 pounds), adjacent to a school, senior citizen housing, and houses! Nothing said about this, the focus was put on the loss of the first responders and their families. <br />
<br />
With the XL Pipeline on deck we have next to no response by the White House to the Mayflower, Arkansas tragedy. It is as if it this Pegasus Pipeline is a "sacrifice zone," a not to be talked about precursor of the mammoth XL in the West. The same goes for the behemoth Shell Kulick oil rig in the Artic. Hardly mentioned in the media, it as if the weather conditions which have been described in great detail up there just have no bearing on what is done or not. Corporate energy power is almost sacrosanct, and you needn't dial back far to discover that there is plenty of BP oil on the shores of the Gulf; and Williwas in the Artic are considered just a figment of indigenous imagination, or cries of leftist weather wimps. <br />
<br />
Weather and the response of corporate and governmental power to it. Mother Nature has lashed back with unbelievable fury, the bills paid in part for Katy are instructive, the earlier ones in New Orleans and the South are by now assumed, but are unfinished, incomplete, as well. Part of the deal, as we know too well out here in farmland, is that continual droughts and challenging weather condi- tions take a tremendous toll on agriculture, and how much is that mentioned in Washington (?). The latest absurdity there was that you signed the spending bill with a very dangerous Monsanto rider in it, something that will unleash a huge amount of genetic engineering mischief with alfalfa crops. Can it be that Mr. Vilsack missed providing you with information about this outrage (?), or are his and the USDA's ties to giant agribusiness such that it was a fait accompli.<br />
<br />
In order to make all this work Air Force One has to be a "frequent
flier," which means that our very fragile atmosphere (ozone layer)
takes a beating as yet another assumption. Again, little or nothing said, a lot assumed. We are doing our best out here and it isn't good enough. It was only a week or so ago that we had a lot snow on the ground, now that soil seems to be as "dry as dust," as I heard someone say yesterday ... and the temperature today was in the seventies. You are doing a lot of praying, Mr. President, don't forget the farmers and growers, and Mother Nature. Thank you.<br />
<br />
Respectfully, Don Roberts - in Otter CreekDon Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-51595740779762353722013-03-24T19:28:00.000-07:002013-03-24T19:28:42.066-07:00John ClaytonJohnny Clayton came through the door of the Venice Public Library, sometimes with his siblings with him. It was the sixties, the family lived a few doors to the East. Mother worked at the Post Office & the children needed a place of be ... the Father gone elsewhere. Soon Johnny asked if there might be a job he might fill; and luckily we had one, shelving books. <br />
<br />
It wasn't long there after that he asked if we might like to have his band play in the Library (we had started some performances and such) and we said "yes." The quartet was composed of Johnny and his fellow students and they were quite good. Then he and I did a project to build a collection of LPs to play in the Library and circulate.<br />
<br />
I went on to Buffalo, N.Y. to teach library school and Johnny won a full scholarship to Indiana University in music. Later I heard that he had played an extremely difficult bass concerto to complete his degree there, and later on I heard from him on the phone in Minneapolis; he was playing with Count Basie and could I come that evening and hear them? <br />
<br />
Now I am honored to count John Clayton among my friends, treasure his recordings and still know his family. We have kept in touch, and I was so pleased when he came to the Los Angeles Airport to pick me up during a visit to Venice and its' environs a few years ago. I want to ask that you get to know John and his music too, first by going to his website at John Clayton Jazz.com and then to You Tube to hear both his small group and orchestra. Specifically I would like you to hear his rendition of the great Stevie Wonder tune, "You won't go when I go,' and know that this song is deeply embedded in my "Last Exit"/impermanence recordings put together by another friend, David Motzenbecker. Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-83008521716643060092013-03-01T13:03:00.002-08:002013-03-01T13:03:50.090-08:00Elder & MidgitWhat set me off here, oh yes, I know, the description of a senior citizen conference I am going to attend later in the month: "Celebrating 25 years of being positively ageless!" My sons (they were about 6) were at a power intersection in Minneapolis, Hennepin and Lake. Great place to watch people, and (bingo!) an ancient man walked across the cross walk, undoubtedly going for a bus there. Cane in hand, bent over, legs in questionable shape, my boys couldn't get their eyes off of him. <br />
<br />
Well, he decided to honor their stares with a description of his age, one that was honorable, had taken some beatings getting there, but with the help of his trusty cane still mobile, thank you. I don't think to that date they had ever seen anyone as old, certainly not with his mobility. They kind of smiled, I (as I recall) thanked him for his understanding, and we went on. <br />
<br />
Later, however, in a different cross walk at the same intersection, A & A saw a midget woman and, again, couldn't get their eyes off of her. She came at us, struggled up on the curb, and ask "what you little son of bitches are looking at?" They kind of shrunk back, said a few apologetic words, she wished us a "good day" and went to her bus stop. I had seen her before and was to see her again, this intersection was part of her travel routine and as I went to the Post Office storefront and a store there fairly often she was a part of things. I don't think the boys saw her again, and if they had it might have been "interesting" to see how they handled it.<br />
<br />
Well, back to the e l d e r l y & our coming celebration. Another memory to share and I will close this. On Geary St. in San Francisco when in and out of there I frequented a sailor's bar. There was an ancient crone who came in to cage drinks and flirt with us. She dressed like a gypsy, and often challenged us to food races down the block for drinks. Unless you were hopelessly drunk it was quite easy to beat her, but often we let her win as part of our understanding of the dynamics of the situation. Now, why (I ask) isn't if OK to not be "positively ageless," to show and enjoy the bumps and grinds you have been through in your life? It seems to this old duffer that that is perfectly acceptable, perhaps much better than even trying to be "ageless!"Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-76321667639955061042013-02-27T10:00:00.003-08:002013-02-27T10:00:59.218-08:00Baby Talk and CutesyI have been put off my entire life by baby talk, the talking down to someone, especially children and elderly people; and especially with a change of voice tone, plus attitude. Cutesy talk is the reverse side of the same "coin," and is equally disgusting in my view. I may be wrong, but my feeling is that this is especially endemic with the so-called "Boomer" generation, although I know it goes back far before that generation became so dominant in our society and will undoubtedly be an influence in other generations extant and to come.<br />
<br />
It may be that I am a little oversensitive as an eighty year old, because I am a prime candidate for such talk and attitude. And I have watched/listened in horror as I've observed "care givers" indulging in this stuff with people I know. One of my dear friends has the added complication of forgetfulness and dementia, so that people caring for him seemingly do not have to be cognizant of any insults which may be given to him via their attitudes (!).<br />
<br />
Thinking about this for myself, I discovered a kind of parallel problem when trying to speak with people in other countries in their language, or in a simplified version of English. You want to "get through," but (and I can remember several very insulting incidents to this day) then found that either the person I was speaking with was fluent in English, or was offended that I subjected them to what amounted to baby talk in their language. <br />
<br />
Thinking back to my own family, I never remembered my Father or Uncles baby talking to my Grand Mother Nellie Mae in anything close to baby talk. The same goes for Grand Father Roberts, although he didn't live to a "ripe old age," and thus be potentially subjected to such talk. As for my Father and Mother, I don't remember them being subjected to the baby nor the cutesy either. Can I ask the dear reader of this to be careful in this area of speech? Thank you, much appreciated. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-6920012251792417592013-02-18T07:05:00.000-08:002013-02-18T07:05:02.347-08:00Hysteria HypeIt may be my age that makes the "tenor" of current events so e x t r e m e, so watching television and listening to radio lately has been a bit more scary. The advertising, which is no stranger to hype, has become even more edgy, in your face, including the teasers for shows to come. Even NPR & PBS indulge in these extremes now, and it make me wonder if we have passed through yet another veil into a twilight zone which all but precludes the participation of someone raised in a totally different time (?). Sitting in a local bar watching cable a few weeks ago took this even further, a reach I didn't know existed.<br />
<br />
Conditioning is undoubtedly important here, and how much can we go on which says that our basic templates were laid down by the time we were five or six years old? How much has that changed in the last decades? Can we really be conditioned and reconditioned, over and over again, so that we will accept a kind of Orwellian reality where waves and waves of electronically driven "inputs" can make acceptable what is clearly not, nor, I think, ever was. <br />
<br />
Everything from fast food deserts advertising, to the trailers for cop/doctor/adventure shows describe a recklessness which is close to abandon. & yet the people who create and participate in the production of these would be hooks and snares have to get in their cars and go home after work, just like everyone else (?). To keep upping the ante seems analogous to the cautions urged by conservationists end environmentalists on the continued desire by breakaway capitalism for growth and more growth. Some bewildered bumper sticker maker said it some time ago: "Stop the World, I Want to Get Off." Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-55748757012489312142013-02-17T13:57:00.001-08:002013-02-17T13:57:45.736-08:00Jason Collins, Saxophonist & ComposterJay Collins is an extraordinary musician who lives in our "neighborhood" with his wife, Charis, her Sister Becka and her Husband Chris Newhouse and all their children ... on Lostview Farm. Jay also teaches at a middle school in Menomonie, English and writing. I have had the honor of a tune composed for me by this man, "Blues for the Man in the Orange Shirt," and I invite you to dial this up by going to the links in my Blog and thus be able to hear it and some other tunes. It features one of the most exceptional of instruments, the baritone sax. Enjoy, I hope you get to hear this man and his group in person one of these days. Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-8265782390836667232013-02-10T15:41:00.000-08:002013-02-10T15:41:07.022-08:00Home Less<br />
<br />
Early memories of what are now called the "home less" are few, although the Depression era meant that we had people moving through our community in Los Angeles who were not residents, and who often asked for support, had something to sell, or offered to work or provide services. They came, as I recall to the side door in the back, not the front door. Our very modest duplex was right on a main boulevard, adjacent to an intersection, and thus we saw these people fairly often. <br />
<br />
The number of indigent people has swelled over the years, and yet the problems associated with this go largely unmentioned in the media. Why? My suspicion is that it is very much a stigma to be without a place to live, and those who could report on this tend not to. A friend of ours runs what would have been called a "soup kitchen" in the Depression, and although she says they get fairly substantial support from the community for their services the media coverage is minimal. <br />
<br />
My reacquaintence with homelessness came in Minneapolis several years ago, especially in two instances. One with a group of "caregivers" who were being sensitized to the issues by meeting with people without homes, talking with them and sharing a meal at a shelter. Very eye opening because we found out in short order what does not come over the news. Namely that many people do not go to shelters because they find them dehumanizing, would rather sleep under a bridge, or in a car, whatever. They will come to a "kitchen," but will chance death by even sleeping out in subzero conditions if they have to. I carried a sign for a man named Eugene who died of exposure back then on a walk from Sharing and Caring Hands to the Simpson Shelter to highlight the tragedies of home- lessness in the Upper Midwest. I still have that sign and have it out right now to remind myself of the conditions which surround us in America.<br />
<br />
The second was because of a chance encounter with a person who reminded me of the huge population of homeless people in Calif., which I mostly observed in Venice. The benign weather there means that by far California has the greatest number of people living on the street, and that many of them barely exist in a "climate" of competition for resources For example, there is a shelter not far from where I lived that provided a place to wash clothes, take a (cold) shower, and get a peanut butter sandwich and coffee at midday. Otherwise it was pan handling in order to eat in what is now known as "food deserts," places which sell substandard food/drinks as food. Which brings me front and center to why I wrote this. I want to call attention of these food deserts (urban and rural - see the USDA descriptions under Agricultural Marketing Service). Will our President mention these problems in his Inaugural Address next Tuesday? Doubtful, and tragic. Mum's the word. Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-20854279494519960762013-02-07T19:09:00.000-08:002013-02-07T19:09:38.631-08:00Shot Gun Approach --- Pardon me, Dear Reader, but I am going to continue with a kind of scattered<br />
approach until I can settle down into more organized writing. Perhaps I am reading too much, am setting the bar a little high, and to continue with a bunch of subjects joined in a single Blog entry will appear as backing into the year 2013's entries. Please have faith in me. Let me say before i proceed that my personal campaigns for this year will be p o v e r t y/food deserts and substandard housing, namely house trailers. These are subjects that have nearly no focus in our media outlets, I hope you will do what you can get gain a focus on these in your communities.<br />
<br />
The so-called "bubble" is an insiders term for the space (or spaces) within which the power resides in Washington. This area is very jealously protected by secrecy, national security paranoia, and the confines of the power elite, military/industrial complex and corporate wealth and influence. Thus the bubble can include everything from the justification of illegal war (drones), to the unwillingness to fully engage in new and radical policies in energy production, and the accompanying stubborn attitudes about weather change/global warming. From the bulletproof limousine, to Air force 1, to the White House, the President is presented with options which absolutely run counter to his stated personal ideals. Torture, illegal detention and other constitutional violations are forgiven within the bubble, as expedient. The number of correspondents to take this on is minuscule, and that may just continue to be. "Learn, baby Learn," the bubble is a luxury that we cannot afford, now or later.<br />
<br />
The new commemorative stamp issued for Rosa Parks last Monday, on what would have been her 100 birthday, is a tiny sign of hope ... accompanied by the slogan word "COURAGE." Courageous she was, and I invite you to examine her life and its ideals for action. Typically Martin Luther King is given the credit for the Montgomery Bus Boycott, which in great part he deserves; but Rosa kicked it off and instigated by her example a tough path for nonviolent action. She was asked at one point who her main hero was. Her answer was "Malcolm X," certainly unexpected in many quarters, but in complete character for her. <br />
<br />
Another hero, and then I will put away the shotgun for the night. Many years ago I took my sons for a week in Northern Minnesota at a former fishing camp; being changed to a kind of spiritual, "New Age" center by some folks from Minneapolis. A main figure in the camp was a musher who in winter time "ran" dogs in a variety of ways (winter survival, rescue, racing, etc.), and worked around the camp as a kind of handyman, watchman, etc., who had already spawned some incredible stories before we got there. Well, he had the dogs up in a meadow quite aways above the camp on a hillside. We showed interest and he invited us up. Not long after we arrived and started to get to know the dogs, my son, Alexander, stepped into a full scale wasps nest ... and was in an instant covered with the critters. Without a pause, Baba grabbed him, threw him over his shoulder and ran down the steep hillside. Alexander's temperature had climbed to 105 by the time he put him in fish ice bait tank. And then a woman who was presumed to be a nurse showed up with a shot kit. Next after a quick trip to the nearest town and hospital Alexander was stabilized and ready to enjoy the rest of the week. Years later while visiting a musher on Bear Skin Lake I discovered that Baba was his best friend, they live in the same town and he would put us in touch with each other. Ultimately my son Alexander was able to feed Baba and his family at one of his restaurants in the Twin Cities, and this Winter Baba and I were able to get together in Gran Marais and share stories and keep a precious continuity often missed in these times. Baba is truly a family hero to us. <br />
<br />
<br />Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-2619457967820987432013-01-24T19:12:00.000-08:002013-01-24T19:12:19.864-08:00It is now the 22nd of January and I've had comments about the absence of blog writing. No excuses & I intend to do better. It isn't for the absence of subject matter, that is glaringly plentiful, as I will soon describe. It may be that to be "swimming" in topics, stories and like appears to be disarming. At the moment I am looking at a postcard image of a polar bear trying to jump from one ice flow to another, while thinking about the giant oil rig being towed to Seattle for maintenance and repairs. What would our Commander-In-Chief think or comment about the imagery? It is heartbreaking and undescribed in our media. Just as so much else, such as poverty, the so-called food deserts, urban and suburban, and tales of bone chilling cold for those who do not have adequate housing, shelter from the wind.<br />
<br />
MPR had a show today about the possibility of changing our Nation's credo for the world and our foreign relations stance. It seems we have worn out our penchant for "Manifest Destiny" and self righteous preaching about our role model nation and its' benefits to all concerned ... and not. The other candidate for President wanted to reinforce this credo and put behind it all the corporate ideals and power needed. Now it seems we are more on the fence about it, and we will see what happens. <br />
<br />
Writing tonight about poetry to a dear friend I am heartened that poetry is holding its own in our bewildered world. Our new poet laureate in Wisconsin, Max Garland, is a gem and it will be a huge pleasure to meet him after having read one of his prize winning volumes. He is a grounded human being, a pleasure to read to say the least. And music, I look forward to accessing it digitally better in 2013. Again, music seems to gain more and more importance as this lurching, troubled planet proceeds along. One of my latest "finds" is a counter tenor from Germany, Andreas Scholl. Try him in his renditions of "Ombra mai fu" by George Frederick Handel (Akademie Fur Alte Musik, Berlin). Another dear Friend has helped me by producing three disks of music for my "Last Exit" strategies ...."Impermanence" the theme.<br />
<br />
Good night, and may you be well and inspired in 2013. I appreciate your patience with me. Love, Don ps. The snow leopard pictured is inspired by the great, great Peter Matthiessen book, probably my favorite of all books. The cipher of the animal is deeply inspiring to me. <br />
<br />
<br />Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-2223933617162863002012-11-30T17:07:00.000-08:002012-11-30T17:07:14.587-08:00Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-17499332351924855572012-11-21T19:27:00.001-08:002012-11-21T19:27:21.435-08:00Industrial Hemp & MarijuanaHemp, Industrial - I would like to suggest that you get a DVD copy of "Hempsters" and get the story on commercial hemp production. One of the tragedies today for agriculture is that we lack vital crops which could take the place of some which either cannot be grown and shouldn't be: tobacco for one, GMO crops for another. Hemp was grown widely in the U.S. during the second world war and is grown commercially all over the world, including Canada. If it gets planted here the DEA comes in a removes it and the grower is prosecuted. <br />
<br />
What is the confusion? Seems that the DEA/U.S. Government doesn't understand that although Hemp is in the same plant family as marijuana, they are very different plants and the affect of using them is completely different. Marijuana, which was approved for personal use in two states in the last election, and is now used widely as a medicinal substance in several states is still widely considered illegal by government authorities. Thus the confused actions of the DEA where industrial hemp is concerned. Kentucky is the state leading the charge to replace tobacco with hemp as a replacement cash crop. The fight goes on, the National Farmer Union has approved it as a crop that should be grown in the United States. <br />
<br />
Have I smoked pot? Yes, more than a few times, many years ago; but I could never have been considered a "user" of it. So, I would like to share a couple of stories from California about the plant. The first was in L.A. when I attended USC for graduate work. Looking down out the bathroom window into the adjacent alley I watched a man go up and down attending plants. I went down later on and found that marijuana plants had been planted in many yards in the block, and this fellow was obviously taking care of them and harvesting as needed; the home owners took care of the watering and, I guess, some of the weeding. Ron Le B. was a crafty fellow who I met shortly thereafter and he offered to give me some pot if I could keep his secret. Instead we became fellow jazz loving neighbors, he made it possible for me to go to after hours places in parts of town in which I wouldn't have been welcomed without his (black) presence; and I had wheels and he had not. <br />
<br />
Years later in Venice, Calif. there was a local named "Shag" Nightingale ("Shag" because he loved shag carpet and used in heavily in his residence, and even in his car). Shag was a dealer, but he went to prison because he didn't keep up with child support. Turns out that while in jail he was put in charge of road crews doing clean ups on the Pacific Coast Highway. And, like Mr. Le B. he managed to plant pot along the road which was then harvested at surreptitious times and sold in the community by civilian crews. When he finished his sentence he returned to Venice after having picked up a brand new El Dorado Cadillac, which was then upholstered in shag. Could it be that these two law abiding citizens might be an avant garde which would go beyond our present drug wars? Stay tuned. Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-20530250343585815872012-09-27T18:18:00.000-07:002012-09-27T18:18:00.158-07:00Knowledge, Love & ForgivenessIn front of the volume of "Thrall"" by our great, new Poet Laureate, Natasha Trethewey, there are two quotations which she undoubtedly approved of: "What is love?<br />
<br />
One name for it is knowledge. "<br />
<br />
-- Robert Penn Warren<br />
& "After such knowledge, what forgiveness?"<br />
<br />
-- T.S. Eliot<br />
<br />
When I first read these my response was something akin to being blindsided on both sides at once, perhaps the intention of the poet. Knowledge/Information is so all pervasive, so ever present and confusing to me, that is is completely impossible to think of it as love, not even close. And then to add the forgiveness factor is a change up so wild as to confound what is left of reason, to say the least. <br />
<br />
In an age of doublespeak, where there are both individuals and organizations employed full time to do the utter scrambling of knowledge and information (and I think of Global Warming right now, because it is so much in the news); one has to shake his or her head just to imagine all the think tanks dedicated to information manipulation to satisfy their clients and sponsors, unseat opponents, win elections, etc.<br />
<br />
In the naive days when I first graduated from library school, it seemed enough to cite a reference deemed authoritative to a patron, and thus be satisfied that you had done an objective, professional job for them. Little did we know that this house of cards would come down harder and harder, and that eventually the Internet would step in and provide so many sources, so much information and knowledge that to imagine an authority would be somewhat laughable. I guess we can be forgiven<br />
for that, but to back up and imagine love and knowledge together is just to be blind sided again. <br />
<br />
<br />Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-53265369168123303222012-09-27T17:32:00.000-07:002012-09-27T17:32:08.738-07:00PreparednessI think I've mentioned "to be prepared" earlier, one of the major Boy Scout mottoes. Today, in a world so complex it seems downright quaint to even broach the subject, September, has been deemed Preparedness Month. By whom and why, I don't know. One radio show had an announcement about a kit of some kind by the American Red Cross. (A note and call to them brought no response, they are probably busy with people who didn't or couldn't prepare for things that happened to them (?); just kidding.<br />
<br />
Then I noticed something from the State of Wisconsin, looked it up on the Internet and, bingo, it was there. Had something to do with Governor, with a list of suggestion about being prepared that would cost far more than people like ourselves could afford .... unless we had the time and fuel money to shop hard for the items far from here. One of the major problems today, of course, is to have the resources to do what is undoubtedly agreed upon as necessary.<br />
<br />
A month before last I sent a letter to some people in our surrounding community about a loose knit organization to deal with personal and group problems. It seems that with the crescendo of issues and disasters around us it would be good to be able to "take it on" together. Another community not far from us has done this, Prairie Farm, and we have attended a few of their events, watched and listened to the DVD they suggest on the so-called economy, "Crash Course." <br />
<br />
As the month of September progressed I began to wonder if anyone around us listens to the radio, had any inkling that it was a month dedicated to preparation, especially because not a soul responded to my earlier letter (?!). I suppose I should take the advice of my inner voice and just "get a life." What do you think? <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-45747800641020811932012-09-17T11:22:00.001-07:002012-09-17T11:23:23.493-07:00Scattered - ConclusionLet's not jettison the U.S. Postal Service. It is not too much of a stretch to imagine the corporate take over of our invaluable Postal Service and then outsourcing it in order to squeeze the profit out. Who is confused here? Go, go Wall Street Protests. Next month is Preparedness Month (?), "Be Prepared" the quaint Boy Scout slogan I grew up with. What is u r g e n t enough to be prepared for in these times? Poverty, starvation, thirst, homelessness? Hey, let the good times roll. James Howard Kuntsler (of "The Long Emergency") may have something to say about this in his new book "Too Much Magic."<br />
<br />
Discontinuity precludes conversation and personal memory (about other people's needs?), "May the Circle Be Unbroken, in the Sky, Lord, in the Sky..." It may be only in the stratosphere that continuity is possible, where the circle can be unbroken. We have created a society of dependence, now especially in the corporate realm, where it is soundly blessed by think tanks, media, our government and the ever lovin' Tea Party. Balanced budget? I don't know if that is ever to be possible again, "entitlements" are just too strong, pervasive.<br />
<br />
Frequent fliers are another version of our problem, people with immense mobility desires, regardless of fuel problems, security issues, etc. Personal indulgence was one of the backdrops of Thorstin Veblen's landmark work, "Theory of the Leisure Class." It may be that this work needs to be revisited and updated to include indulgences of contemporary waste and personal prerogative. Think of frequent fliers as those whose lives consist of unending indulgence in waste and personal forgetfulness, airplanes or no airplanes.<br />
<br />
Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-86686322859163857372012-09-03T07:37:00.001-07:002012-09-03T07:37:19.498-07:00ScatteredLabor Day and no mention of l a b o r anywhere, except for statistics, which are not good*. The wagons are drawn up in a circle, the "slings and arrows" coming in are not indigenous. It is more like discontinuous shot guns blasts of a confusing array of media and mess. Echoes of the Republican Convention part of the muddle, described by the song words of Mose Allison (thinking of Romney's): ..."your mind is on vacation, you mouth is working overtime..." & now we have the Democrats to look forward to in Charlotte? * Farmer's Almanac: "He Who Shuns Labor Labors Doubly."<br />
<br />
In the recent past it seems that the Russian punk rock group, Pussy Riot, has gotten itself in trouble with the Russian Orthodox Church, Putin and the court system ... and are now are in a work camp for two years. About the same time Eve Ensler's "Vagina Monologues" have popped again all over the place, which brought back a memory of a book in the 90s, "Femalia," "a photographic representation of women's genitals" ... "they show that each human body is unique and beautiful..." (Joani Blank, c1993, There Press, San Francisco, Ca.) <br />
<br />
In the early fifties, Korean War duty, I was introduced to words which had been extremely scarce in my high school and community, pussy was one of them. In fact, Flexner's dictionary of slang was just on the horizon for bigots who not only wanted to keep the forbidden words out of society and its parlance, books and libraries, of course. My hazy memories of the young sailors using some of these forbidden words are strange, some of the fellows brought regional equivalents which are still in my mind somewhere .... eg. "beaver" for vagina, often spoken of in hushed tones, fear and respect, awe (!).<br />
<br />
And last but not least a more "prosaic" thought; as I listened to and watched the ("humble") bumble bee on the buckwheat this week. This insect is doing to work for its endangered species, and it is marvelous to behold. Can this be one positive example of "nature" trying to right the wrongs that homo sapiens have wrought out there, and will be bumble bee be able to withstand the "slings and dettos" that its cousin has suffered so greatly from? Aye, let us pray. <br />
<br />
<br />Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-21320004818290227422012-08-20T05:46:00.000-07:002012-08-20T05:46:39.135-07:00Many Rivers to CrossIn a dream/nightmare early this morning I am in a Mumbai/Bombay street setting, with the neighborhood hounds (here in Otter Creek) baying over the field. I have been making my way from one bureaucratic setting to another, looking for work ... in offices in old decrepit high rise buildings. The streets are covered with people, strange vehicles, loud with sound, including the dogs, and overwhelming with smells.<br />
<br />
I am hungry and have found my way to a locked up large old American ("Detroitian) vehicle hidden in a small, scrubby brush area. Unlocking it I retrieve a CD, lock up and quickly leave for the busy streets. In the lobby of a high rise I am ushered to a stairwell and walk up a few flights to a huge floor of what appears to be small delicatessens/food stalls a myriad of food smells, noise of people, confusion of food making, buying and bartering, eating. I find the stall and a man beckons me into a room behind the food area.<br />
<br />
It is a tiny community radio station, connected to some some electronic network (Internet?), of course. And then he presents my breakfast: three very small pieces of bacon, some flat bread and some chutney/jam, coffee. As we sit on chairs he puts the CD into a player, makes an announcement including my name and brings up cut #9, Many Rivers to Cross. Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7578856544649736195.post-33496304949889268042012-07-28T05:50:00.000-07:002012-07-28T08:53:53.621-07:00Being HumanTwo of my spiritual mentors, Frederick Franck and Bob Alexander focused upon the "human" as a factor in spiritual development and work. Frederick edited a book on the subject, Bob talked about it and was recently quoted in an article written about The Temple of Man after his death. Why is it that this critical factor is most often forgotten in religious/spiritual writings and life?<br />
<br />
One of the outstanding vegetable growers and human beings in our region was recently quoted as saying (and this is my paraphrasing): Be good to people, almost everyone is in some kind of trouble now-a-days .... As a "feeder" (there will be a blog on this subject soon) she knows humanness from a deep and pervasive place. Part of her life has been dedicated to what is known as a "transition alternative", to enable folks to get ready for a time when our food will not be trucked thousands of miles in 18 wheelers, our energy provided by distant, unreliable grids, our children bused to distant schools. STOP Petrochemical Dependency!<br />
<br />
In an article about Alexander in the "east of borneo," March 14, 2012, Kate Wolf describes his work and life and quotes from a "Bulletin to Temple of Man Ministry 1: "In all this, persons come first. None of the above is to be construed as a rule or regulation. Humanness always comes first!" see:<br />
http//www.eastofborneo.org/articles/humanness-always-comes-f... The title of Frederick Franck's book is: "What Does It Mean to Be Human," he was editor on this one. And "To Be Human Against All Odds: On the Reptile Still Active in Our Brain (Nanzan Studies in Religion and Culture).<br />
See the description of Frederick Franck's life and work in the World Wisdom website. Also, there is a Bullfrog video aptly titled "The Art of Being Human; A Portrait of Frederick Franck," written and directed by Emily Squires, ISBN: 1-59459-669-1 <br />
<br />
Enjoy your humanness, more and more referred to by those who are trying to save us on our dear Planet, especially from corporate power and bureaucracy, but especially from the many forces of impersonalization ... eg. self deceit, personal groveling, digitalization via electronic devices. <br />
<br />Don Roberts's Almanackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11558707154046424990noreply@blogger.com0