TRUST THE SCIENCE

  I cannot speak for others my age, or any age for that matter. I trust science much more than tradition or common sense or what I was programmed with when I was young. So saying, I need to define science before I can speak to it. First, Science needs People, without them forces and matter would still operate as they do. But unobserved and unquestioned they would just be force and matter. Second, there needs to be a Process that organizes information, considers possible cause & effect relationships and draws conclusions. Last and most important, to some extent that information has to be transformed into a Product that can take the form of new or better knowledge itself or a useful application of that knowledge such as a tool or article that serves a purpose. 
People, Americans in particular, want facts and truth that are absolute, that will be true for ever; and they want it now, right now. But that’s not how science works. Universal truth is the business of philosophers who frame their understanding to match their beliefs and beliefs are too many for them all to be true. Likewise people frequently if not always bring a bias to significant questions as to what is true and what is not. We are inclined to believe what profits us or what we want to believe. In the 1950’s & 60’s every research university that received support from the tobacco industry proved conclusively that smoking was harmless to smokers. The rule of thumb for researchers is that you must disregard any bias (preconceived notion) that might skew your process in favor of one outcome or another. Neither wisdom nor Belief rely on unbiased peer review in the vetting of their conclusions. 
One can think of it as good science vs. bad science. Set up an experiment that will yield results that are both credible (measures what it claims to measure) and reliable (can be repeated over and again with the same results). Bad science may be driven by profit or passion or random strokes of misinformed incompetence. Pure research would have, should have us, “Do the math, check your math, use credible-reliable methods and go where the numbers take you.” But doing science is expensive and research universities need sponsors to help underwrite the costs. Unfortunately sponsors can be (often times are) motivated by profits in the marketplace. The politics of that arrangement generate opportunities for bad science and it is what it is. But even then, I trust the Science. It can take a lot of time for good science to trickle down through the peer review process but in the long run good science does prevail. 
Astronomer Carl Sagan wrote, “We live in a society exquisitely dependent on science and technology, in which hardly anyone knows anything about science and technology.” He went on to observe that living in that kind of dependency has the potential for devastating outcomes. Ella Al-Shamahi, a prominent British paleoanthropologist & evolutionary biologist explains that human (brain) biology has not changed in over 20,000 years; that 99% of our history is evolved to a hunter-gatherer society. Modern technology has arrived in just the latest fleeting moments of our species timeline and our bodies and instincts are stuck playing catch-up with a modern world. 
Between Sagan and Shamahi I get it. Two of the most credible scholars in recent history come at the same dilemma from different points of view and present the same qualified reservations. They’ve done the math, applied proven logic and meet at the crossroad. I am an old man, something I allude to more often than I care to admit. With that I’ve had a long time (in human years) to weigh and measure this human journey. With enough experience I have grown comfortable with big numbers, 20,000 years of reflecting on our beginnings and the long backstory my prehistoric ancestors left in their fossilized remains and artifacts. We are Super Social animals and we truly need each other. Born with the need to share time and space, to care for one another and be in community. But there is another side to the human personality. We also dwell with competitive, hostile, selfish, greedy nature and the two-sided ‘Self’ has to navigate that impasse.
This has been a rambling reflection; I blame it on old age and the acceptance of my human condition. I prefer cooperation to competition and affection to malice. The difference between being #1 or being #10,000 is irrelevant. When our sun goes super nova and glows red the earth will vaporize leaving no fossils, no artifacts, nothing to speak of. But my story and myself; it is real and we were here.

NOT HERE TO JUDGE

  Today is Thursday but every day is special; my mother would say today’s the day the Lord has given us, Eleanor Roosevelt would say it’s a gift - that’s why they call it the present. I think it special because I woke up this morning and that’s not nothing. It’s the day I usually volunteer with the HOT (Hunger Outreach Team) at All Souls Unitarian Church. Whenever I mention my church I feel the need to qualify that identity. Collectively we are secular humanists who focus on human behavior and what we truly believe will be manifest in what we do. However one does or does not address God or gods in their spiritual practice is their own business. On Thursdays a group of us from All Souls and a couple of other organizations meet to prepare and distribute a fresh meal and bag lunches that can be saved for another day. We fix food at the church and serve hungry people at a public park in Kansas City, Missouri. That’s today and I’ve got about an hour before I head that way. 
Depending on the season and the weather we serve from 150 to 250 folks every Thursday who are, for whatever reason, food insecure. Some are homeless, others can’t hold a job but there is a tangible reason they will go to bed hungry tonight if someone doesn’t share what they have and that’s us. Some of the hungry are regulars, show up every week. Some are the dregs of society with little or no hopes of repairing what it is that’s broken. They’ve all come up short for one reason or another but we’re not there to judge. 

                                             *  *  *  * *
Just after 8 p.m. getting home from kitchen cleanup at All Souls. The feed went well but every time out is a new adventure. It’s been hot, really hot for the past week and everyone is stressed a little. The park where we usually feed was reserved for an Irish Fest, street blocked off and a big crowd. Across the street diagonally and up a block there is another smaller park with no place to park so couldn’t take all the vehicles. So we went over the curb and set up under a tree, set up tables and arranged a serving line. Most of our customers were milling around the Irish Fest, not knowing where or if we would show up. At 6 p.m. it was in the mid 90’s. Our ragged people started trickling over from the crowd up the street. The meal was really good; I was serving pasta salad that was loaded with cherry tomatoes, black olives and cheese cubes. Along with that was french fries, curry chicken with chick peas and chopped green veggies. I sampled the leftovers before we packed up to leave. 
Leftovers were consolidated and back in the van, serving tables folded and in the truck when a medium size black man, maybe 40 came up to me. He was late, couldn’t find us and hadn’t eaten all day. His clothes all fit and he wasn’t carrying any belongings. That may not have meant anything but at least he wasn’t carrying an oversized backpack or dragging a bicycle or grocery cart. I had several protein snack bars that had spilled out of a brownbag sack-lunch and gave them to him along with a water bottle I had picked up for myself. He was polite and well spoken, thanked me for the food & drink and sat down in the shade.
Around 7:00 a clean up crew shows up at the church to help us unload. Shortly after we arrive two or three people are ready for doing dishes, pots & pans. They determine what can be repackaged and served on the Saturday feed and what goes in the garbage. When I pull out of the parking lot the sun is low, I need my headlights and it’s still 90 degrees. It’s a good job. It needs to be done and I can do it. I’m not a self-righteous bigot who thinks they are qualified to judge people who cannot meet their own needs, that they get what they deserve. I am one of those people who know that sh*t happens and it does not discriminate. I believe the three most important choices we make in our lives (all of us) are; choosing our parents, choosing our teachers and the neighborhoods we grow up in. I believe that this life is a crapshoot from the start and the cards we get are the only cards we get to play. That’s it; still really hot and it’s been a long day.

HATE THE BASTARDS

In April of 1962 I was 22, fresh out of the army working nights at an entry level grunt job in a factory for $ 2.72/hr. It wasn’t a bad job, not sitting at a machine assembling pieces and parts which it very well could have been. I got to walk around, pick up and clean those parts, put them in boxes and deliver them to quality control. John F. Kennedy was President. To say he was a rich man’s son would be a dreadfully serious understatement. Like previous rich men’s sons in that office, the Roosevelts, Teddy and FDR; he aligned himself with ordinary people and a greater good which infuriated the barons of big business. 

In April of ’62 JFK was embroiled in a battle with the Steel Industry. He had just pressured steel workers to sacrifice with a modest pay raise for the sake of holding down inflation. The steel companies followed with a significant price increase to their customers which gave the appearance that JFK had conspired with big business against the union and its workers. The President’s response was captured in a private conversation which of course was leaked to the press. In so-many words he shared what his father had told him about businessmen, that they were all a bunch of bastards; that he hadn’t believed it before but this changed his mind and punctuated his feeling with, “I hate the bastards.” 
At 22 with little more than 3 years of rigid military conformity and a few months of swimming in corporate conformity I was more like half-baked bread, almost ready but not quite. But now, 65 years later I have most of the puzzle pieces in place. I learned how important trade unions were for us in my growing up and how the teacher’s union protected my family’s best interests. The biggest problem with trade unions is, in order to succeed they’ve learned to fight fire with fire. Union leaders and members are willing to adopt the same underhanded dealings and deceitful schemes that the Business stereotype had employed from the beginning, the Bastards. 
This story may be a stretch and I may be overreacting but then it’s my story. My garage door broke last week and I couldn’t park my truck inside. I googled for businesses near me that do that work and started calling. On their websites I noticed the absence of their address, only that they serviced my town. I asked  if they did in fact repair broken garage doors and whether or not their business was located in my zip code. It didn’t seem to matter who I had on the other end, male or female, scheduler or the guy driving the service truck; all I got was vague answers. All they wanted was my address and a request for service. I’m full of questions, it’s my nature and nobody I talked to wanted to answer my question about where their business was located. I like to hire local people. It keeps local money in the community and I get a local name and face to go back to if need be. It’s not uncommon for the voice on the other end and myself to argue and be confrontational and I don’t like being that way. But they want to charge me for a $75 service call when they make an estimate, even if I don’t hire them. They say, “We have to pay our drivers.” I reply, “My time is as valuable to me as yours is to you. I have to spend valuable time waiting for your service tech to arrive and you tell me it will be sometime (sometime) that afternoon. If he runs late then so do I. My time is valuable too so I’ll pay you for the service call after you pay me the same amount for me having to wait.” I don’t have to elaborate on how those conversations end. I got my garage door repaired but neither of us were happy and the tech was grumbling as he left.
Going back to JFK’s off the cuff remark, my mother told me there are two different sides of business. One is where you give someone the business which is to exploit the vulnerable person/group so you maximize your gain at their expense. The other end of the business is the vulnerable person/group who is being exploited, getting the business. The underlying rule is; maximize profit, whatever it takes, whatever you can get away with. And yes; Bastards is a good fit.
True, individuals and groups of individuals can vary greatly to the extent of how accommodating or how manipulating they are pursuing Business. People like myself would prefer the two doing business to view themselves as equals trying to meet the other’s need in a mutually beneficial transaction. It seems to me the fewer individuals involved the easier it is to be collaborative; in the end you  all have to feel validated for it to succeed and 2 is a much more accommodating number than sales, supervisor, manager, purchasing, president and board of trustees. The farther one is removed from the interface the easier it is to fall back on Bastard behavior. 
Think of it as a game; the formal game is called “Zero-Sum”. For Zero-Sum to work there has to be a winner and with that distinction there has to be a loser. Without a loser there can be no winner. In each case the competitors knows their role in the outcome. If you cheat and win it’s still a win. The opposite game is called “Non-Zero-Sum”. Rather than competing in a winner-take-all interaction they can negotiate terms of agreement. The perfect outcome is a “Win-Win” where both sides give up something in return for a concession on the other’s part. 
I have been taking my vehicles to the same shop for scheduled services for so many years I can’t recall; oil change, rotating tires, safety inspections, etc. I’ve done the math and don’t see how he makes a good return on my business. While I’m there they check things that aren’t included in the description on the receipt. By now the owner and I are on a first name basis and he is genuinely interested in my travels. His shop employs 6 or more techs, a bookkeeper and an assistant. It’s a rare day when he doesn’t have to turn work away because his plate is full. 
When something goes wrong with my truck that one of my mechanical sons can’t get to or is too big a project for them, John (the business owner) works me into the schedule as soon as possible. I understand that return customers are like vegetables in the garden; if you don’t cultivate them they die on the vine. John knows that too. I think of it as a “Win-Win” game or maybe just Paying It Forward but we both benefit and the cost of playing that game is worth it. 
I’m afraid JFK’s father was right, if anything has changed since 1962 I don't know what it is. The Bastards are still bleeding the public and the ordinary people still being exploited.
 

FOUNDING FATHERS

  Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950) was a highly accomplished American poet, playwright and author. I’ve borrowed from her many quotes before. My favorite is; “It's not true that life is one damn thing after another; it's one damn thing over and over.” I’m feeling that (one damn thing-thing) now when I write. Most every time the voice inside my head pushes my buttons and I start fretting over things I don’t control, like Edna’s one damn thing. So I throw a few words at the page in self defense. Then, sensing a dead end ahead I hit delete and walk away, do something I do control. 
In 1776 the Founding Fathers had no idea how their struggle against England would turn out. They didn’t want to start a revolution but with no tangible rights and oppressive conditions in the colonies, they felt compelled to push back. Long story short; bullets were fired, England responded with bullets and more Red Coats and we had a revolution that dragged out for 8 years. The battles are well known but the process of creating a government gets largely overlooked. 
All 13 colonies sent representatives to the Continental Congress from which the Declaration of Independence emerged. To be sure, they  were not common folk, all influential white men of means with much to lose if they failed. Every colony considered itself more of a micro-nation rather than an integrated state in a grater body. Freedom from British oppression was their common cause but they didn’t trust and didn’t like each other. The difference in both the culture and economy between North & South created a stumbling block for a united nation to emerge. The cold, rocky North was suited for small farms, industry and lumber while the South had large tracts of tillable land and a warm climate suited for plantation agriculture. The resulting dichotomy explains the distrust. They all wanted freedom from England but they couldn’t agree on what freedom should look like.
In the North, Freedom was measured out primarily to men of means with land or property and a pathway for upward mobility. In the South, Freedom would be reserved for white men who owned land or property. There would be a path for upward mobility but it would be observed within a tightly structured, elite, white aristocracy. Without slave labor the plantation system would collapse under its own weight. African slaves transported to the colonies had for over a century been considered to be subhuman, the property of white men, not unlike domesticated animals.
In order to frame a constitution that could be approved in congress the language had to be vague and indirect. They kicked the can down the road for the next 80 years until it wouldn’t kick and we fought the Civil War. So far this piece draws from common knowledge but I do have a bias and opinion that will spill through.
Reconstruction was meant to emancipate former slaves but it failed. Vigilante intimidation and violence (Jim Crow justice) was measured out against newly freed blacks with little or no effort to find perpetrators. Jim Crow ruled in the South for the next century until the Civil Rights Act passed in 1964 but even now, racist policies and practice have been systematically normalized in public actions. 
I am disturbed but not surprised that after two & a half centuries our national government is still divided in a two party system where counterparts neither trust nor like each other. While their issues may have changed the math is the same; we all love America but we don’t want to live together in the same country. Slavery has taken a back seat to competing systems of government. The controversy is framed by whether or not or to what degree we preserve a a self-righteous tradition of the rich getting richer and the poor staying poor. I’m not saying that the South’s slavery driven culture has evolved into conservative politics but if it quacks and looks like a duck; just sayin’.  The underlying truth prevails; Everything is legal as long as you don’t get caught, the legal system protects the wealthy from the poor and poverty is the reward for stupid, lazy people. Times change but the fundamental snag is the gap between healthy ambition and unmitigated greed. Power and material wealth are after all, interchangeable; one begets the other.
Liberal ideology recognizes the group’s interdependence. Individuals need willingly sacrifice some of their own Best Interests for the sake of the collective (Culture). Conservatives do not like that idea; they say, “I got mine, you get your own!” They believe one must  take care of meeting their own needs. If they cannot, then they suffer the brutal consequences, sacrificed to the god of greed. Most people demonstrate both behaviors and things usually find a working balance. But not everyone can live with balance and the rub comes determining where to draw the line between winners and losers.
Of the Founding Fathers the names that pop out are Washington, Jefferson and Franklin. After they won the war their greatest fear was that the new nation’s government would reinvent the British monarchy or some other form of fascism where power was concentrated in a ‘Strong Man’ authoritarian who would concede to ego and greed. They created checks and balances in the constitution; two different bodies of legislators, three branches of government Executive, Legislative & Judicial, so power was divided. Still, the Later Greeks (Plato) perceived a fundamental flaw in democracy (self rule). “ . . . it allows people to elect poor or dangerous leaders.”
As I see it Plato’s fears were shared by Thomas Jefferson in particular and they are being realize in America now. I share those fears but I don’t control anything. I am concerned but my voice doesn’t raise even a tiny ripple in a minuscule puddle. Like many others of my generation I take comfort in the fact that my life story is approaching its conclusion and even the super-rich narcissist who’s calling the shots cannot undo my backstory. From Bunker Hill in 1775 to 2021 and the January 6 attack on the Capitol, Americans have been using poor judgement or no judgment at all choosing leaders. Adolph Hitler was a hero until he wasn’t and his collaborators either perished with him or found a rock somewhere to hide under. 
I’m too old to immigrate, nobody wants poor old foreigners  tapping into their economy. At this stage abandoning my family and network of friends would be nothing more than spite on my part. So I can’t run away and denial doesn’t solve anything. I still want to take the high road which, as I see it, models an old axiom that I take to heart; Be the change you want to see. I can’t change the world but I can leave some fingerprints behind. My writing may suffer but then again, maybe not. If I can dwell on possibility instead of the ugly side of human nature, then the words might come easier. Edna was clever but she gave up too soon. 

THE PAST 300 YEARS

  I’ve been writing some but when I come back to it the next day it doesn’t measure up. I don’t delete it but neither does it belong in the blog. Sometimes I post articles that have no legs. Still I keep throwing words at the page in the hope it grows into something that does have legs. I got a text message from my daughter in law; “if you want to hate the world watch the news and if you want to love the world then travel in it”. I already share the sentiment but it’s nice to have someone agree. I don’t watch the news, didn’t need her advice. But I go. I don’t think of myself as a traveler, that suggests to some extent planning, expectation and adequate resources. I just go; something to do with being in motion, curiosity, meeting people in their culture and finding a niche. I hope I never lose that appetite. 
Leon Trotsky was instrumental in the Russian Revolution (1917) He said; “Old age is the most unexpected of all things that happen to a man.” To be more concise he was lamenting the rapid passage of time and the ironies of this life. Unlike Trotsky my aging out has not been unexpected, I’ve seen it coming for decades. The irony is, to my way of thinking, I’ve seen enough and weighed cause and effect transactions to my satisfaction. I’ve compared my observations to what others believe. From training and experience I challenge what I think is correct and what I want to believe until it either collapses under its own weight or it rings true. The irony is that I am confident now in just about everything that is worth knowing or believing but no one cares. I’m just an old man. Times have moved on and my contribution is perceived as irrelevant. In reality I am aware of my shortcomings, I don’t really know all that much but it’s enough.
‘Perception’ is the process of organizing, identifying and interpreting sensory information. That's how we understand the world, our culture & ourselves. The process translates raw sensory data from the five senses into meaningful experiences. I don't get to experience reality, all I get are perceptions. Millions of neurons turn data into ideas and understanding but we are unique individuals. We can be in the same loop and come away with different perceptions. Is the barking dog going to play or bite? It depends.

If this sounds like navel-gazing then that is your perception but by my sense it’s where the rubber meets the road. For nearly a million years small clans of hunter-gatherers practiced a culture that was predicated on cooperation and peaceful resolution of differences. A single life in the clan was too precious to risk unnecessarily and you had to be able to carry everything you owned. Material wealth and political power were yet to be and fighting didn't meet the need. That culture went unchanged for nearly a million years. In the last 10,000 years (+ or -) civilization has evolved, changed rapidly in culture and technology while the human animal has not evolved noticeably if at all. Experts, real-deal, bonafide experts are concerned that we now have technology and machines that can replicate brain function in certain skills and tasks much faster, more reliably, and more efficiently that our outdated Hunter-gatherer brain. As this phenomenon unfolds the implications are scary at best.
In this old man’s irrelevant view it suggests something about human nature. Since the introduction of civilization (cities, farming, war, etc.) creative problem solving, advances in tools & weapons, machines, etc. have accelerated exponentially. In large part those advances have been manifest in the past 300 years. Considering all of the factors involved, humans do very well with creating things that work for the culture and civilization at large. But we haven’t advanced Human nature to favor a more efficient, peaceful, cooperative culture. Humanity seems obsessed with a win-win, zero sum culture that profits from tribal prejudice, intimidation, violence and ultimately war. That was deadly enough when weapons were spears and bullets. But powerful nations now have weapons of mass destruction and the danger is global rather than local. 
My perception is that the world is becoming more and more ugly with lust for power and material wealth more appealing than noble hyperbole about democracy, freedom and peaceful cooperation. I remember when willing sacrifice for the greater good was considered a virtue but now who ever has the biggest penis calls the shots. 
With this post I have shared stuff that I’ve always kept to myself. I do so at risk of being dismissed as an irrelevant old man but if I want to be perceived at all it’s a better choice than trusting squeaky clean, mundane old-man chatter. I know there are much younger, much better educated, more eloquent, truly expert sources who write books and I read those books. Collectively they have expressed the same concerns that I have noted here. At the end of the day I don't have much faith in intelligence to save us from ourselves and certainly none in humanity to evolve an improved human nature. That is how I perceive things. 
I’m heading out on a roadtrip in a few days. I speak just enough Spanish that I’m concerned I’ll be pulled over by masked ICE agents and sent to a concentration camp. I say that out of my hate for what the news conveys. By the time I see my daughter in law my disposition will hopefully have improved. 

THERE IS A CRACK

  I read somewhere that an adventure is any ongoing experience where you have at least some control with the possibility of a good outcome as well as the risk of something not so good. The adventure could be anything from skydiving to trying to finish mowing the yard before it rains. Helen Keller told us that life is to be lived courageously rather than passively when she wrote; “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.” I wish I had that kind of insight. Eleanore Roosevelt is often credited with; “Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery but today is a gift. That’s why they call it the present.” I like that. It's the only time I can put my hands on it. Eckhart Tolle wrote a tiny-little book, ‘The Power Of Now’ . The book begs awareness that clock/calendar time is a man made device to organize human activity. But Tolle hits us over the head with the stark realization; time is a fluid dimension that propels us through the human experience but nothing ever happened in the past nor will it happen in the future. Everything happens in the moment, the present. That would be now, right now. For the sake of clarity it can be a few seconds, minutes or even hours depending on the situation but once it has moved on there is no going back. I imagined the metaphor; traveling by train, watching the world go by but the train never stops. The view outside changes as the action moves from present to the past and into what had been the future. You can’t take a 2nd look the way a movie director shoots the scene again and you cannot experience the flashing lights of the Railroad crossing until you and the crossing are in the same moment.
Certainly Tolle wants to sell books and get people into his workshops but it resonates with that same sense of urgency Helen Keller spoke to. Time is precious, don’t waste it, be prepared. That fleeting, fluid moment carries us along with it whether we like it or not and if you’re not paying attention,  a ‘Daring adventure’ might lose its luster and be experienced as, ‘Nothing at all’. 
I spend a fair amount of time (frequently) thinking about people like Helen Keller and Eleanore Roosevelt and how their life experience translates to the rest of us. They’re not the only ones, I could make a long list but they are a great place to begin. When it comes to taking refuge in ideas and understanding I keep a huge collection of quotes. I default to them the same way my mother read her bible. My heroes are like life coaches who council me through the wisdom they leave behind. I would rather dwell in their shadows than bemoan my culture’s dive into unmerited hubris and lust for power. So I avoid both news and social media. In Leonard Cohen’s song ‘Anthem’ there is a line; “There is a crack, a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” That’s how I get my news. By then it’s old news and like standing water it finds its own level. 
I just finished watching a four part Netflix series; FDR. What stood out was exactly what the producers wanted us to understand, that  the 32nd President was driven by an unlikely array of circumstance and experiences that made him both a lightning rod of controversy and beloved at the same time. Born into a politically powerful family, vested in social status and great wealth it would seem likely for him to follow his uncle Theadore into politics as a Republican. But he married a strong-willed woman who championed the underclass. At 39 he was struck down by Infantile Paralysis (Polio) leaving him crippled for the rest of his life. 
FDR was able to win the Presidency but his physical limitations gave him a perspective that most Republicans could not identify with. He could not dismiss the way people fall victim to events and forces beyond their control. When the working class and underclass needed help, they needed help.  He would not follow the party line where government was organized to benefit big business, banks and the rich and they hated him for that. Factor in the Great Depression and WW2; he pushed social reform, the New Deal, etc. His wife worked relentlessly to advance women’s rights and their gainful employment. Between them his administration was viewed as a dictatorship by rich Republicans and as a savior by ordinary people. Some of the same schemes we attribute to the DT administration were employed by FDR. The big difference is that FDR was driven by a sense of duty. Growing up in the Roosevelt legacy it went without saying, "Those blessed with advantages, wealth, or power hold a proportionally greater responsibility to serve others." The Trump legacy is an altogether different story, one of unquenchable ego, self obsessed avarice and a case of self righteous narcissism. 

    The framers of the Constitution agreed on the principle of; ‘Liberty & Justice for All’. But from the very beginning Federalists modeled British aristocracy with centralized government, national banks that were ruled by the few; when they said "All" what they really meant is us (just us) the rich & powerful few. Over time Federalists evolved into Republican Conservatives but their interpretation of "All" is still double-speak for the privileged few who rule. FDR changed the rules by embracing the underclass and now, nearly a century later the powerful-rich are still cursing his name. 

DON'T LIVE IN A VACUUM

  My first job out of college was teaching K-6 physical education at a temporary elementary school in Liberty, Missouri. In early December 1967 I had one semester to go before graduation. I had met all of the school’s graduation requirements so all I had left to do was supervised student teaching (6 hr.s credit), carry another 6 hrs to be a full time student to qualify for my GI Bill plus a grant in aid and play baseball. That was the plan. My wife and I were learning (hands-on) how to be parents with our firstborn infant son. It was a busy time but no more so than the previous three and a half years.
At the time Liberty was building the new Lewis & Clark Elementary School. Those students held classes on the 3rd floor of the Odd Fellows Home just south of town. The gym teacher was an old black man. Mr. Gant had been the Superintendent of the Black school when segregation was the rule. He had been integrated along with black students into the new, reorganized district. He died unexpectedly and they were put in a bind midyear looking for a replacement. I had coached little league baseball the summer before and the son of the School Board President was on that team. It went like a double jump in checkers from School Board to Athletic Director to me. I could drop out of school, forego baseball, graduate with my class in the spring and do my supervised student teaching in the summer.
The second week of January, 1968 I reported to the 3rd floor of the Odd Fellows Home. It was the beginning of what would be a 36 year career, hanging out with kids, sharing what I could share and learning something new almost every day. The Physical Education thing got my foot in the door and with additional studies I migrated gradually into the Science Department (primarily Biology). It wasn’t that I loved the gym less, I just loved the Science more. 
Today I am 25 years, a quarter century into retirement. Teaching biology and environmental issues has evolved to a new generation and neither can I nor do I want to keep digging in that hole. But I don’t live in a vacuum. I resonate to a World View that favors a sustainable, unpolluted environment at the expense of corporate profits. I resonate to a World View that rewards cooperation rather than competition. One doesn’t need a crystal ball to imagine where that scenario would lead. I am not a doomsday prophet but change is the nature of nature and as a species I fear we are digging a hole that our descendants will not be able to climb out of. 
Mine has been a long and healthy life but there are no guarantees. Every morning my first thoughts include gratitude for the new day. I try to stay positive in troubled times. I like the idea of paying it forward a lot more than Making America Great Again. I almost always reflect, “When was it great?” I’m not going to berate the man or those who think he holds the answer. It’s not about intelligence, smart people do stupid sh*t. We all have a World View that either embraces diversity (a good thing wherever you find it) or obsessed with exclusive privilege for people just like themselves. If I ruminate on privileged bigots and their narrow views I get upset and that’s no fun. Pay it forward; do what you can, when you can and make the world a better place. When I do that I go to sleep and wake up feeling better.

WAITING, (WAITING)

  I’ve been writing a monthly piece for my high school class newsletter forever it seems and I’ve been able to keep up with that. But that’s a whole other thing than posting journal work in this blog. The one is little more than wordplay and some gentle, friendly reflection. The journal is a place I can internalize, examine and develop ideas and issues for my own benefit. So far this year I haven’t done much of that. Rather than opening a can of worms I would simply say that my culture has made a hard turn to the right and my left leaning conscience does not help rationalize the funk I’m in. 
Critical Mass is a science term dealing with the minimum amount of radioactive material required to sustain a nuclear chain reaction. In the social context it refers to the point when a process or idea gains enough momentum to become self-sustaining; it does not require a majority. I don’t think the current social thrust represents a majority of Americans but the ‘Right’ certainly does have critical mass. That would account for authoritarian undermining the rule of law, of weaponizing the Justice System, attacking independent media, the militarization of law enforcement and scapegoating marginalized groups. That’s how authoritarian regimes consolidate power. I find it difficult taking  comfort in that paradigm. So when I work at internalizing ideas and issues for my own benefit there is no benefit. 
Crap! I did it anyway; opened the can of worms. Thus far into 2026 I have posted five times and the year will soon me half past. I keep listening to a 20 year-old song by John Mayer, it goes: 

Me and all my friends, We’re all misunderstood

They say we stand for nothing and
There’s no way we ever could
Now we see everything that’s wrong
With the world and those who lead it
We just feel like we don’t have the means
To rise above and beat it
So we keep a-waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting (waiting)
Waiting for the world to change
It’s hard to beat the system
When we’re standing at a distance
So we keep on waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change
Waiting on the world to change. 

I liked the song straight out but reading the lyrics I get it. I’m waiting for the world to change as well. I find little ways to be thankful for the good life I live, volunteer with the Hunger Outreach Team. We solicit donated food, prepare, deliver 200+ healthy meals & another 200 brown-bag lunches, twice a week to a park where hungry people gather and trust us to share what we have. The only thing we require in return is a peaceful meal site and they leave the park clean as they found it. 
Every time I look across the serving table at a hungry soul holding out an empty plate I remember my Mother’s council; “There but for the Grace of God go I.” I neither judge nor condescend, I just spoon up food and usually get a genuine thank you. I don’t think people set out to be failures; sh*t happens and some of us handle it better than others. Some of us just get lucky. Feeding hungry people is something I can do in the moment and see the benefit unfold. 
There was a movie in 2000 with Helen Hunt and Kevin Spacey titled ‘Pay It Forward’. It revolves around a 7th grade homework assignment to plan and implement an action that will make the world a better place. The movie follows a chain reaction of good deeds from one person to another. An expanding network of people who know nothing of the project benefit from the initial good deed and you get a feel-good movie. In the following quarter century, ‘Pay It Forward’ has become an axiom for doing unsolicited good deeds with no conditions or expectations. My mother would call that The Grace of God but I would call it Making Good Karma (what goes around comes back around). That’s all I’m trying to do, make good karma; what you put out into the universe will come back to you, some day, some way. 
Every day I think about Good Karma rather than writing a journal post that will gravitate to the dark side. At the end of the day I’m Waiting, (Waiting) Waiting for the world to change. 

WHEN KARMA SMMILES

  So far this year I’ve been going to the gym first thing after morning ritual and I make it most every weekday. Before that I sat down at the computer and wrote first. When I get home, instead of writing I move on with something else. This is Saturday, coffee group at 9:30 and that is two hours up the clock so writing now feels normal. You don’t forget the keyboard, the letter ‘a’ is still under little finger-left hand. I’ve always had to sneak a peek at the numbers but muscle memory still kicks in on the home row. When my granddaughter was 11 or 12 she asked a question while I was typing. I looked up at her but kept on typing and she freaked out. They used computers at school but practice ‘Hunt & Peck’. She blurted out, “How do you do that?” But she types on her cell phone with only her thumbs and I think that is unreal. 
I am the classic introvert, spending a lot of time inside my head  rather than milking the environment for stimulation. Back when: my wife kept telling me I should be more outgoing but competing for talk-space in a group was never a good fit. People time their leap into the conversation so there is no break in the stream of words. By the time I can muscle into a short pause the subject has changed. Then there’s the Mark Twain quote; “When you have nothing to say, say nothing.” 
I am too old by now to be anxious about growing old. In a random crowd of 100 people there will be (maybe) one or two others my age or senior to me. Church and the hospital don’t count; they’re not random crowds. I’ve bee lucky all my life. When I break something now it takes longer to mend, maybe a lot longer but I mend. My introvert-self reasons that long life is preferred to the alternative and good health is an afterthought until it goes away. I cannot take good fortune for granted, can’t count on it but when Karma smiles on me I practice sincere gratitude.
Still, with advancing years I can’t ignore the obvious. As far as we know, we are the only self-aware species. We think about thinking and about what others are thinking. We connect the dots and make meaning. Without any ‘afterlife’ hyperbole we understand ‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust’. This life can be measured in wake-ups and the number of remaining wake-ups dwindles with each new day. When we are young the number seems so far removed it’s easy to dismiss. So every new day I spend a moment being self-aware; my number today is diminished by one measure from what it was yesterday. Every new wake-up becomes more precious than the one before and I don’t want to squander any wake-up. I try to have a plan, even if it’s just for the day, do something important enough to feel good when you close your eyes goodnight. Life is short; by the time one realizes that inevitability it’s later than you think. 
BREAK: That was four days ago and I’m just getting back to writing. Been walking at the gym early, made cheesy-grits for breakfast when I got home and noticed I had an unfinished draft waiting in my journal. Today is Wednesday before Maundy Thursday, then Good Friday, skip Saturday and Easter itself. Busy week for the Faithful. I have Jewish friends who consider themselves Cultural Jews, observe all the holidays but pass on the religion. I could think of myself as a Cultural but nonpracticing Christian. Again I default to Mark Twain who was quoted; “Having Faith is believing what you know ain’t so.” So Easter for me is welcoming new life springing from the earth from baby eagles in the nest, the greening of new grass and flower beds coming back to life after a long winter sleep. 
Speaking of life resurrected, stepping out the door this morning I was taken aback. Over night the buds on the Choke Cherry tree next to my driveway had transformed into tiny leaves but leaves none the less. Backing down the drive I could not dismiss the leafed out Choke Cherry standing there next to the bare-naked Golden Raintree and equally undressed Sycamore. In a few days there will be clusters of tiny white cherry blossoms with a pungent-sweet scent that cannot be ignored. I know it’s coming but every year I am surprised by the way it lifts my spirit. Yesterday I planted columbines in the flower bed under the cherry tree and never thought about the buds above me just hours away from popping. 
I feel better. Not so long ago I was preoccupied with what I consider to be a failed, lack of leadership at the highest level. If I let their self-promoting obsession spoil any part of this wake-up or the next or the next; then I’m taking the bait and become part of the problem. So I don’t tune in on the news as there is no good news. The less I know is not a handicap. I missed the ‘No Kings’ demonstrations recently but nothing or nobody suffered as a result. They were timely and welcomed but they were not diminished by my not knowing. I’m writing less but otherwise able to focus on doing what I can do and being a minuscule part of the change I want to see. A friend (philosophy Prof.) once told me; “The world is broken but you didn’t break it and you can’t fix it. So be the change you want to see and live the best life you can. That’s all there is.” 

THE CORNERS IN MY LIFE

How in the world did I manage to live so long and transition from a teenage adrenaline-junky to an 86.6 year-old with a case of terminal wanderlust? For most of my life I’ve been writing in self defense, never knowing how the puzzle pieces fit but never giving up. In my 40’s I stumbled onto music. No training just listening to stories unfold in three verses and a bridge. I wondered how I might tell my story in three verses and a bridge, then I discovered it had already been written. In 1989 Willie Nelson recorded ‘There’s Nothing I Can Do About It Now.” With 35 years of hindsight my spirit’s not as wild or restless as Willie’s but the rest of it could belong to me just as easy. The bridge goes; Running through the changes; Going through the stages; Coming ‘round the corners in my life” and it ends with “I’m forgiving everything that forgiveness will allow and there’s nothing I can do about it now.” As I reflect on those changes, those stages and the corners and forgiveness; the thought of being something, someone other than who I am; not a good thought. My Here & Now is pretty good considering the years and the miles and I don’t think another path would be so forgiving. 
If one gets this deep into a long life I think pondering the journey with its stages and corners is important. Having a real job with a boss and responsibility is necessary but terribly time consuming. It’s really true, after you’ve been retired a year or so one wonders how they found time for work with so many other important things in play. Making decisions based on my own wants and needs came natural until a decade or so ago. Now the first criterion is; How will this affect the way I would be remembered? I have no confidence in the ‘Hereafter’ myth, none at all. The promise of what I leave behind is as good as it gets. I hope that would be a legacy of fair play, tough love when needed, compassion, affection and generosity.
I am healthy considering; some folks inherit better genetics and others make a serious effort to live a sustainable life style. I fall into both categories and I attribute my good fortune to those elements. Those changes, phases and corners in my life have been exciting as well as difficult. Nobody had to tell me; ‘when you fall down, get back up.’ As often as you fall, keep getting back up. Life is unforgiving. If you need help then get it but you still have to do the getting up. Then, today is the only day you can put your hands on so do something with it. I learned that from my mother and as long as I cling to that then her legacy is alive in me. 
I am making a legitimate effort to be positive and work on my own character rather than bemoan the politics and divisive powers that beset present times. By now I don’t have to elaborate on my values or ideological convictions and, I can discriminate between being judgmental and having an educated opinion. I refuse to be intimidated and attempts too normalize bad behavior will not weaken my resolve. So I wake up to a new day every day and make it my business to find the joy. Spring is just around the corner and my wanderlust has me exploring maps and weighing destinations. A 10 -14 day roadtrip will do wonders for my spirit; who knows who I’ll meet or where I’ll find them. 

PULL TO THE LEFT

My writing recently has been pulling to the left like my truck with low pressure in the front tire. My truck won’t fix itself, I have to do the fixing. February has been a challenging month. I am too old to be taken seriously but I can live with that. What little leverage I have is limited to mundane muttering over issues within my grasp. I know that and it’s alright. But February has been a month of reprehensible behavior by my country’s CEO and my mind keeps going there against my wishes. I don’t want to focus on his mischief as I cannot change his ways. I must have started this entry 6 or 8 times and never gotten to the 2nd paragraph.
I am missing a big lower tooth in the very back. That leaves the back-side surface of the next tooth exposed. It has a sharp edge that had been out of reach but now my tongue keeps going there without permission and I don’t notice until it makes a sore spot that I cannot ignore. Here comes the metaphor; my conscience is like my tongue and all the Trumpfuckery is like the sharp edge on my tooth. The term is defined in the Urban Dictionary as; . . . involving racist, misogynistic, hateful speech & actions masquerading as patriotism. I love my country and I’m sure that DT Disciples do too but the irony seems to be, we don’t want to live in the same country. 
I have friends who delight in beating up on the man but when I go that way all I get is a sore spot on my conscience. I’m old and life is short, too short to be pissing in the wind over a broken system. I choose not to think of it as being in denial but rather, spending my energy on things where I can in fact be an agent of change. I can help with feeding hungry people who cannot meet their own need, and I do, it's a good thing and I don' know who would step up if I didn't. Best of all when I get home I feel better than before. When I can, I make small contributions to Planned Parenthood, National Public Radio and the A.C.L.U. They put my few pennies to work with other donated pennies to make for a fairer, more equitable society. 
Somewhere in the middle years of my career I had a revelation so to speak. I became aware that being an educator made me a moving target. Students, administrators, parents, other teachers; I never know who is paying attention or what they notice. If you care at all what others take from your example then you have to wear the hat you want to be associated with all of the time, every minute of every day. I like to think I don’t care what others think but I do care about the quality of their experience when I am part of it. I still think about the hat I’m wearing. 
This life is truly a journey and we know its destination, the ride stops with a eulogy. That makes every day more precious than the day before. I’m not going to let an egomaniac at the wheel spoil my day; that bears repeating, I’m not going to let an egomaniac at the wheel spoil my day or the next, or the next. American poet Emily Dickinson wrote; “Not knowing when the dawn will come I open every door.” I like that. I don’t know when the dawn will come but I have to believe that it will.  

LIKE A ROLLING THUNDER

     This summer will make it fourteen years that I have been writing this blog. All along I’ve made a habit of going back to reread articles. I used to belong to a writer’s group where we brought new eyes to each other’s work and that peer feedback is important if you want both your process and skills to improve. Haven’t had that support for a long time so I improvise with my own new eyes. More often than not I will leave an article dormant over-night or a day or two, so when I see it again I’m coming back around and it has to stand on its own legs. When I’m satisfied I can share it with others. I’ve deleted a lot this winter. The most recent blog post got away from me without the follow up revision and it was awful when I saw it with new eyes; a rant on DT that felt good with the writing but not what I want for the blog. I had addressed that situation sufficiently the blog before. He is a diabolical scoundrel but my scorn isn’t going to change either him or me. So I pulled it down a couple of days later and today is another day. 
    For over twenty years I have created a letter/story for the holiday season, sending it to 80 or 90 friends and family. The purpose was partly in the writing but also to reaffirm that I remember and I care. I am moved by the idea; if you love someone then you should tell them and this was sort of that. But I didn’t send my usual holiday greeting in 2025. I sat down and went through the motions but the words didn’t come; wanted it to read authentic but it just wasn’t there.       

    I am thinking a road trip would do wonders for me. But right now there are two doctors, a dentist & dental hygienist, optometrist, audiologist and the guy who services my truck, all wanting a spot on my winter calendar. My health is better than most at 86 and my pit crew all want the good health to stay good. There is a point when a promising idea becomes a plan and I haven’t quite reached it. But neither can I imagine spending a full winter in Kansas City. Still, other than a bitter, week-long, below zero cold snap in mid-January the weather has been a pleasant surprise. The road trip will happen, the when & where is still up in the air but I can pack and be out the door in a couple of hours. 

    The old Greeks has five or six different words to discriminate between all the different kinds of love. ‘Eros’ was passionate, physical love, ‘Philia’ love was dispassionate affection between equals or brotherly love, ‘Storge’ was familial, between parents and children, ‘Philautia’ love is love of self, etc. But most of us Love-speak without splitting hairs and draw from the context what the feeling is. So I can say without reservation that I love being on the road. What is it about keeping it between the lines, checking gauges and mirrors that gives me a dopamine hit? I do take satisfaction in the protocol but I suspect my love for driving is more about being in motion through time and space, watching signs and billboards slip by; certainly topping the next grade for a glimpse of where the road unwinds. I love it.

    I'm giving a shout-out to The Australian band, ‘The Waifs’ from their song, ‘How Many Miles’. It speaks to moving on, even whethe destination doesn’t meet expectations. The chorus goes: “How many miles did we wander, how many nights did we drive on through. We traveled that road like a rolling thunder; Yea but none of them led to anywhere that we wanted them to.” 
Back when I was a regular in my writer’s group with monthly meetings and seasonal workshops I learned a trick to offset writer’s block. You just start writing, about anything, random nonsense, descriptions of the wallpaper, anything at all. Before long that process of pointless wandering will spark an idea that should be explored. That is what I’ve been doing now for almost two pages and the only accomplishment I can boast is two pages of random rambling. I’m not giving up, just taking a break. I’ll come back tomorrow but I won’t throw this out and I’ll know where I’m going or I won’t sit down. 

THE DAMNED THING

  Edna St. Vincent Millay was an early 20th Century poet and playwrite. In 1930 she responded to an article titled “Life is one dam thing after another.” She said, “It’s not true that life is one damn thing after another—it's one damn thing over & over.” For two months now I have neither written in my journal nor made a blog post. Like Edna I knew my hangup wasn’t one thing or another, it was the same damn thing over & over. In my case writing is therapeutic. Framing ideas and organizing language to meet those needs feels good. Likewise, the process itself helps me to correlate and remember both the order and rationale of those ideas. It’s a win-win. But that same damn thing is depressing and I just didn’t want to dig in that hole. To avoid bad news I played computer games or went for long walks, listened to I-Tunes on my cell phone. Still, if I don’t process the damned source of my anxiety I’m afraid I’ll never move on. 
It is no secret that my truths and values are rooted in a progressive, liberal ideology. I didn’t choose to be this way. Those who tout ‘Freewill’ as the driver of belief and behavior would have it the other way. I do believe in the perception of freewill but it is no more credible than believing the sun revolves around the earth. The subconscious brain is programmed to react (choose this or that) and that program resonates with our emotional core faster and with more weight than the conscious mind. But this is getting away from my issue and better left for another day. 
Today that same damned thing is the current administration and its damned leader. I voted specifically against Donald Trump in the past three general elections. Who his opponents were didn’t matter. My vote was a firm rejection of an ultra-aggressive, irreconcilable, narcissist-billionaire. Every news broadcast, every media headline is in response to DT’s need to be the center of attention, to project the image he is peddling and to bully his way to dominance. I cannot pretend that his style and intent are in the nation’s best interest. They are unique to his self-obsessed sense of grandeur. They run parallel to the backstory that propelled Adolph Hitler through a decade of pillage & plunder in Germany from 1934 to 1945. Hitler used hatred of inferior races, Jews in particular to fuel genocide and global war, to ‘Make Germany Great Again.’ Hitler’s Gestapo broke down doors and dragged families away, deported them to prison camps in conquered countries and disappeared German citizens who resisted publicly against his tactics. What I see going on in Minnesota and California are the actions of Trump’s Gestapo. What else would you call masked white men with guns, breaking into houses and disappearing the residents, exercising deadly force against citizens who protest too loudly. I am not saying that DT is another Adolph Hitler but he is following the same patterns to the same ends. It’s not that I object to our borders being controlled and unregistered aliens being sent home. What makes me shudder is the way it is being done.
After 9/11/01 there was a shift in national sentiment against aliens and moslems in particular. The Department of Homeland Security was created to conduct criminal investigations, enforce immigration laws, preserve national security, and protect public safety. In the past quarter century Homeland Security has been focused on those President’s priorities. DT’s priority is his own unchecked authority. Hitler crushed Eastern European countries to expand German territory, gain resources and conscript a labor force to build his war machine. DT is turning his back on NATO and century old allies. Beyond that we have invaded Venezuela, seized its President and his wife, holding them for trial in the USA while capturing oil tankers from Venezuela in the Caribbean. Not to mention posturing a takeover of Greenland, all neatly packaged in the MAGA model. I fear that his slogan, “America First” is no more than a coded message that translates, “DT First”. His perception is that if you’re not #1 then you are just another loser. 
This is the damn thing that discourages me from writing, over and over. One could go on page after page of the Trump method vs. democracy as the founding fathers intended. He is a dangerous force in this culture. If I’m correct about Free Will, a public that has grown accustom to prosperity without sacrifice is at high risk of falling. Socrates among others noted that an uninformed or misinformed populace will give way to tyranny. Democracy (self rule) has always been and continues to be slow moving, messy, expensive and full of dead ends. But when people are well informed and employ critical thinking skills, it works. Today in my homeland there is a huge element that wants governance to be faster, less expensive, neat and clean with no dead ends. That chemistry is the working model for authoritarian autocrats around the world; just conform and obey. They are burning the candle at both ends, vulnerable to a Strong Man Overlord who rules in his own personal best interests rather than the Greater Good. Just because one’s feeling are strong it does not constitute a worthy purpose and that goes for me as well. So I keep going back to a fundamental truth that logic has never been able to disqualify; do unto others as you would . . . . . ! I think DT is just another wanna-be Despot (oppressive, authoritarian ruler) who would rule the world. 
I don’t know if this dive into my comfort zone will ease the struggle to keep writing. We’ll see. 

JUST SAYIN'

 

8 6 4 7

GOTTA HAVE FIRE

  Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving. Most of my family (20 + or -) brought great food, we got to hang out for the afternoon and feel grateful, satiated and obliged to start shopping for Christmas. I celebrate just about any holiday even if I don’t identify with its reason for being. Thanksgiving is a no-brainer; granted there are millions of people in dire straits with little or nothing to celebrate. But if we get it right then it’s a time to share, even if it’s just a token meal at a homeless shelter. Gratitude is the feeling, an emotion that moves us to be thankful, to behave in a selfless way, for the greater good. In all my life I’ve never gone to bed hungry or not had a bed of my own. I suspect that if we made it a weekly celebration it would lose its magic, just another weekend. I have a family that forgives me my foolishness; how lucky can I be? 
I like Christmas as well. It’s like Siamese twins, two joined stories and we get to choose the one we like best. One is an excuse to get righteous with traditional religion and many take that route. I prefer the childlike practice of exchanging gifts and even if we can’t make the world a peaceful place we can be at peace with those around us. “. . .  Children laughing, people passing, Meeting smile after smile, and on every street corner You’ll hear; Silver Bells, Silver Bells, Soon it will be Christmas day.” 
But the December holiday I do take seriously goes by practically unnoticed, four days before Christmas. Winter Solstice has been observed continuously, uninterrupted around the world longer than any other holiday in human history (think of it as a holiday). Ancient people noticed and kept track of the sun’s arc across the sky, measured the length of their shadow at high noon when the sun was straight up, high in the sky as it gets. Every year on the same day, the sun stopped sinking and started pushing its arc back up. On that day a person’s shadow at noon stopped getting longer and every day after measured a tiny bit shorter than the time before. 
Imagine 20,000 or 30,000 years ago; our ancestors were just as smart as we are. They were very good at what they did (stay alive) they just didn’t know as much as we do. They knew as days got shorter and noon-shadows got longer that the cold winter season was coming. They had to move around, follow the animals to find food and keep warm as best they could. Times were difficult and life was a struggle, almost enough to give up, lie down and die in their sleep. But they didn’t give up. After thousands of years of watching the arc of the sun and counting days, they knew when their shadows stopped getting longer and the sun’s arc stopped dropping in the southern sky that spring and summer would follow. It was like a promise; “It’s going to be harsh and bitter cold but the sun is coming back and spring will follow, bring new plants and long, warm days so don’t give up.” 
For all these thousands of years people have been very good at counting the days, knowing when that shadow will stop getting longer and it hasn’t failed in all of those centuries. It will be harsh and bitter cold but the sun is coming back. I can celebrate that wisdom and perseverance and I do. On December 21 as the sun is setting I build a fire for myself and sometimes a few friends (you gotta have a fire) and welcome the longest dark-night of the year. I listen to music, songs about sunshine and day light, dance around the patio, tell stories and put more wood in the fire. Then we raise a shot of peach brandy to the sun’s return and chase it with milk chocolate Hershey Kiss. Sometimes we repeat that toast several times. After we’ve sung and danced and it’s really dark, only glowing coals left from the fire, we go inside and eat chili. 
All I can do is fantasize about those paleolithic people but I’ve done the math and there is; there has to be a continuous, unbroken, genetic linkage between us. I don’t know how special we really are but whether it’s real or just self-ingratiating I feel gratitude and do something physical in their memory, the ones who did the heavy lifting so I can sip brandy and sleep in my own bed. 

CAN'T LET IT GO

  I ate the last of the fresh strawberries this morning after the other night’s hard frost (21 degrees) and I’m feeling the urge to rearrange furniture. My short sleeve shirts have all migrated on their hangers to the dark end of the closet but I don’t mind the frost and long sleeves feel good for a change, but I’ll miss the berries. I had a roadtrip planned for this week but either something unexpected happened or something expected didn’t happened and I’m parked in Missouri until December. My blood pressure has been hovering at the boundary for a decade and it finally crossed the line so I’ll be adding another pill to my morning upload. If I wanted to grumble there is plenty to whine about but we didn’t evolve to be happy, we evolved to overcome and survive. So if it’s true, that life is a bitch and then we die then she’s a wonderful bitch; and if the fear of dying is too much to bear then there is religion. It won’t save you but believing makes you feel better.
I spend a lot of time learning more of the Human backstory. It’s not easy getting your head around the truly big blocks of time. Life spans are so short and to realize that other Homo sapiens just like us have been walking the earth, generation after generation in an unbroken chain of life for more than 270,000 years; it’s difficult to process hundreds of thousands of years when we only get to experience 90 years if we’re lucky. But the story is so fantastic I can’t let it go. 
Compared to how long it takes for humans to evolve, technology is advancing at the speed of light. When I was learning to use the telephone there were no reliable computers of any size, anywhere. A quarter century later the computer that guided Neil Armstrong’s crew safely to the moon and back had less power and less capacity than the smartphone in my pocket. So said; anthropology, the scientific study of Human origins and cultures from the beginnings to the present, it has been leap-frogging forward with that same, forward leaning technology.
Time for a disclaimer: Modern science as we know it is a relatively new discipline, less than 500 years old. Religion on the other hand can be traced back to its beginnings at least 70,000 years ago. Across that gap any questions about human origins and their purpose fell on priests, shamans and other holy men. Answers to difficult, complex questions required answers that were simple, easy to understand stories that were considered to be universal truths that would be true everywhere and forever. Within the last 500 years the science community has advanced knowledge with a process and discipline that has proven itself over and again. But that knowledge often comes slowly and with many dead-end possibilities that must be disproven before moving on. So what they got then was often either incomplete (emphasis on incomplete) or incorrect and the story likewise, too complicated for the layperson to understand. After all those centuries of faith based wannabe science, today we share the other truth. “This is what we’ve learned and have great confidence in but that can change. When we learn more and better we will tell the world and rewrite the book.” Anthropologists have been learning more and better in the past decades. What we believed when I was in college has been updated significantly due to better science and technology. 
In the past few decades the difference has been better technology and more scientists working in the field. They are making new updates concerning longer windows of opportunity for different Human species to interact and how that translates with DNA analysis. After all, fossils that were buried for hundreds of thousands of years and examined in the 20th century are being reexamined and yield new and better data than with the technology from only 50 years ago. Point of interest: “Human” is a genus category and there was a time when there were more than one human genus coexisting on the planet. But we (Homo sapiens) are the only surviving Humans on the planet now. All of the other humans have gone extinct. So when we see the word ‘Human’ used we also need to determine whether it includes one of several closely related species or just us. It seems that Neanderthals were not only coexisting with both Homo sapiens (us) in Europe and another human species, Homo denisovan in South East Asia but interbreeding as well. We’ve known for a long time that every modern human except for those in subsaharan South Africa carry a small amount of Neanderthal DNA in our body cells. We knew that but the vast increase in exposure to other species in terms of range and overlapping changes the way we treat the data. Here I am hanging on a hook and I can’t let it go. 
So I choose not to grumble, that this life is awesome even when it gets scary and even when it hurts. I’ll miss the fresh berries but I’ll make cookies. One thought in particular has humbled me for years. It goes like this: If I could trace my family lineage back from my mother to her mother to mother to mother all the way back to the dawn of civilization, about 10,000 years ago, I would consider that linkage as the path of my maternal grandmothers. The obvious question is, how many would there be? There is a certain amount of speculation but children matured sexually later than today’s children and lived shorter lives. So I speculate the average age for child bearing across the ages to be 20, for reasonable ease of calculating generations in a century. That would give us 5 generations per century times 10 for generations per thousand years, times another 10 for ten thousand years = 500 generations of grandmothers in my own personal, matriarchal lineage back to the dawn of civilization. Looking back I would have thought there be more than 500 grandmothers between the dawn of civilization and now but the numbers don’t lie. If it were possible you could get them all together in an auditorium and we could all share a meal together. What would I say to my 500th grandmother? I would certainly say “thank you”. She would have been born to a hunter-gatherer clan somewhere and moved continuously, following the food chain as seasons changed. She would have  grown up, given birth to a daughter, lived and died but most of all her DNA would have been passed on to my 499th grandmother, and from her to #498, and and from her to #497 and I can’t let it go. If that chain of grandmothers across 10,000 years had been interrupted just once by a different grandfather then her daughter would have been a different person and my DNA would make me different, eve if just a tiny little bit and I can't let it go.  
Buddhist teaching tells us; "Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn't learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn't learn a little, at least we didn't get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn't die; so, let us all be thankful.”

RAMBLING A BIT

  By definition I must identify as a professional photographer and artist as well. I take photographs, make frames and some of them I put together, show and sell. Most people like them but choose not to purchase because they don’t come cheap. I have difficulty putting a price on my art so I ask my artist friends to help me and none of them have ever suggested I am asking too much; just the contrary. “Why only $450, this should be $650; people who appreciate art are willing to pay.” But if making money was my purpose that would make my photographs the means to an end and in my case the art is the end. No matter how much they sell for or whose wall they hang on, my name is on the mat and the frame and that’s not nothing; sort of like my children who move away and take on a life of their own. I want them to hang on a wall where people can appreciate them.
By definition, ‘Science’ is the systematic study of the structure and behavior of the physical and natural world. The only credible, reliable system to that end begins with observation then experiment, and the testing of theories against the evidence obtained. Those who make that study a way of life and lifelong profession would qualify as scientists. I am not a scientist. I made a career of teaching biology and a few turns at chemistry but at best that made me a facilitator for others at the start of their science journey. 
Science is a disciplined process and as long as that discipline is observed, the product (knowledge or technology) is reliable. But historically the science of science only goes back 500 years at most. Civilization on the other hand has been moving its feet for from 9,000 to 11,000 years in different places at different times. They all sprang from agriculture (plants & animals), densely populated cities, specialized jobs that created social classes, armies to protect the cities and (upper class) rulers to enforce authority and maintain the system. Every civilization had/has its own particular spin but they all conform to these criteria. For a civilization to prosper and endure it must defend its territory (food producing lands) and or capture the same from others by means of war. Rulers could be cruel and indifferent to their subjects or kind and compassionate, it doesn’t matter as long as the system works. 
Science has evolved and no nation/culture/civilization can compete without good science. It’s only been a few centuries but rulers keep a close reign on how science can benefit them and what science is discovering that can threaten their financial/political best interests. After World War 2 tobacco companies had the best laboratories, the best scientists but their science was tainted by either intimidation or extravagant salaries to bury evidence between smoking and cancer. Duke University in North Carolina is still heavily influenced by the tobacco culture. In the end, good science prevailed and smoking took a hit but nobody went to jail. Today those same companies have stopped overt advertising but still send subtle messages to minorities and children who are most likely to take up the habit. 
I am rambling a bit, thinking through my fingers and onto the page but I’m moving to a point where I question the efficacy of intelligence and knowledge. When good science gives us bad news about climate change or harmful side effects from any profitable industry there is a reflex pushback. They attack institutions and individuals with the same strategy insurance company lawyers use against victims; here-say and fabricated testimony to create doubt and destroy any credibility of the victim, the evidence or their witnesses. Good science is predicated on a profound discipline that favors no one, nobody, only what is! Too bad there are science experts who can be bought and sold by unscrupulous players.
The host of the PBS NOVA series HUMAN is paleoanthropologist Ella Al-Shamahi. She observes that modern humans have not evolved to live and function in this modern world. Living in a small clan of hunter-gatherers was relatively simple. Their brains were as developed, no different than ours today but the demands of their culture were simple. That has changed but our brains have not. Our cultural pressures make us vulnerable to believing the unbelievable and conforming to the whims of charismatic leaders. That’s my interpretation, not a quote. Then there is Harvard Primatologist, Evolutionary Biologist Dr. Christine Webb who has written a book, The Arrogant Ape: The Myth of Human Exceptionalism. I am eager to get the Kindle version so I can have my computer read it like a podcast. Then I can stop, go back, listen again to a paragraph or a page, make notes and move on as it serves me. It certainly addresses ideas about the efficacy of intelligence and knowledge that I had already considered.
The church I go to has a good number of artist members. Some sell their work and others not but this time of year we hang a show for members to display their work. I put two matted, framed photographs in the mix. They are good enough to sell and I could use the money but they are NFS. Money has a way of going away and that’s alright but I wouldn’t have those photographs anymore and I would miss them. They both came down off my bedroom wall, one on either side of my bed. In preparation for taking them down and into my truck I discovered a photograph (it wasn’t lost I just wasn’t sure exactly where it was) I took it back in 1993 with a little point and shoot with a good, fixed lens. It’s a close up of snow covered ice in a farm creek with a very small sycamore branch in the snow. Next to the seed pods on the twig actually, there were several turkey tracks. It doesn’t sound like much but it grows on you. I’m going to mat and frame it sometime before Christmas and give it to someone I love. I have lots of those around.