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Darts

It hits like a dart.  A dart, thrown without warning, that pierces your armor.  A word or two that won't break your bones but inflicts great harm.  That time when someone said something that hurts.   The surprise, of course, is that they said it and your are required to respond.  No getting away from it, their outrageous belief demands attention.  To remain silent is complicity.  The kind of complicity that you decided long ago never to be a part of.  Yet, here you are, silent.   There are reasons for your silence.  Assumptions made by someone in your environment mean that the offending person did not think that you would mind their racism, or sexism, or ridiculous beliefs.  You do, but there are reasons for your silence.  Sometimes, survival.   So here you are, an eye witness to racism, and you have a difficult time responding. Case in point: In the early summer of 1970, I found myself with a small group of friends travel...
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Hipster Barber Shop

 I call it the "Hipster" barber shop.  It's run by millenniums and has all the trappings of their influence.  Most of the men who cut hair there have at least one tattoo, facial hair, and work schedules that give them ample time off.  The women who work there fit the age demographic, have tattoos, and are as friendly as the men.  You can have a beer, a shot of whiskey, or even a non-alcoholic beverage while you wait.  In place of the strictly male barber shop reading material, you might find coffee table books, or copies of Rolling Stone, or perhaps the local community newspaper.  Most people waiting just sit with their phones in front of their faces.  The background music is often hard rock, or blues, or perhaps a local radio DJ.   Within this establishment, I go to the same barber, a 29-year old man called Dash.  My wife goes to a 30 something woman called Cash.  Cash and Dash, is that Hipster enough for you? Dash and I have good ...

Life in the War Zone

 The President has declared my home a "War Zone."  He is prone to exaggerate and use hyperbole, but this is so off the hook it can be nothing but funny.  Only, with Trump, there is very little humor.  His war zone is confined to 1 square block in a city that covers 149 square miles.   And still he rants on. People here are posting pictures of people sitting outside watching the sunset from a restaurant patio, or swimming in a river, lake, or swimming pool, or enjoying on of the many city parks, under the title of "Life in the War Zone.  It's all a big joke that isn't very funny.  Aside from a small flare-up now and then at an ICE headquarters the war is not here.  It's an insult to people who really do live in a war zone.   True, the National Guard troops the President has activated help with the optics, but then people are posting pictures of them, in uniform, standing outside of VooDoo Donuts, clutching pink boxes instead of automatic weapo...

On The Wall

 My sister and I are a year apart.  Now we live about 20 minutes away from each other.  That hasn't been the case for over 50 years.  After a childhood at home with our parents, we went our separate ways when she got married at age 19, and I went to college.   As children, we were very close.  I actually have an ancient memory of us in separate cribs in the same room.  Most of our childhood together we were in separate bedrooms.  Mine was what would be called a den, and she occupied a small bedroom.  Growing up, we would knock on the wall separating our rooms.  We'd communicate things like are you going to get up now? Do you want to play? and Are you going to go back to sleep.  They were simple knocking patterns.  We even incorporated part of the theme from the TV show Dragnet to indicate, "Go away, I'm not interested."   All that died out as we matured from 5 year olds to kids about 9 or 10.  Today, however, when I u...

To Go or Not to Go

 If you look at the official state of the relations that the US has with the country of Vietnam, the State Department says, The United States supports a strong, prosperous, independent, and resilient Vietnam that contributes to regional and international security; engages in mutually beneficial trade relations; respects human rights and the rule of law; and is resilient in the face of climate and energy-related challenges. The United States and Vietnam are trusted partners with a friendship grounded in mutual respect that has developed since the normalization of diplomatic relations in 1995. This  rosy outlook despite the brutal history of the US involvement in the Vietnam War from about 1963-73.  I wonder how many of the 58,000 American dead, and 3.8 million Vietnamese dead could have imagined it would be so peaceful 60 years later?  How would they respond to the fact that the US and Vietnam are such good trading partners.  That the two cultures are i...

A Name Now Known

 I just finished the new biography of Sanora Babb by Iris Jamahl Dunkle.  Babb is the author who wrote a Dust Bowl novel and was put on hold because Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath was published a few weeks before hers was slated to be.  The fact that she was a woman, with a woman's perspective on this major historical event, had as much to do with her second class treatment.  In recent years, it's come to public knowledge that Steinbeck actually relied on Babb's notes and ethnographic data in putting together his award winning novel.   Sanora Babb's story is one of constant struggle and perseverance.  She was born dirt poor-literally, as her family lived in a dugout home in Western Colorado for a time before moving to a couple of small towns in Kansas.  The daughter of an abusive addicted gambler, Babb witnessed the emotional and physical abuse of her mother and sister.  Herself, as well.  But after learning to read from newspapers plastered on...

60s Witness

                          60s Witness A 10 year-old boy crying at the funeral     of his older brother,  A warm summer afternoon, while my mother irons. I                          listen to a King speak and try to tell anyone who will listen that this is history-making, Fire hoses, snarling dogs, a Sheriff named Bull. College students are next.   We're told to carry plastic bags filled with water in our your pockets when the governor comes to campus, this will help when the tear gas flies, CIA agents are rumored to be attending our classes, watch what you say,                          or not. At a party in 1969, all they played was Creedence...one after another. Today we marched inside a draft board,  the clerks scared and outraged by our au...