6:53 am

37 people encapsulated
     under a dusty blue sky
they comprise:
7 pairs of closed eyes
   5 energy drinks
      8 coffees,
         7 hidden in hoodies,
            14 pairs of ear buds,
               28 small, glowing screens,
                    12 backpacks
                         6 tote bags,
                            32 sneakers
                                 10 boots,
                                      2 umbrellas

                                      0 conversations

Give It Up

Today is "Giving Tuesday."  It's another in a long line of contrived commercial events that sprang from Black Friday and Cyber Monday.  Yet I, like many, seem more accepting of a day when people can choose a worthy charity or group and help raise funds for worthy causes.  The internet has been wildly successful at doing fundraising.
I should have known something was up with the amount of email that came in this morning.  Seems like every group I've ever given to and any dimly related group was smiling with hands out in my inbox today.  Am I complaining? Hardly.  Like many of my friends, in recent years I've stopped giving those obligatory holiday gifts and chosen to make donations to groups that I and we support.  It's doubly satisfying because not only do we eliminate the need to get in line at the post office or have the expense of using an overnight carrier, but we no longer have to spend time in crowded shopping malls or retail districts wondering if the shirt, or book, or game we picked out will be well received.  It's a win/win for all involved.

I have about a half a dozen to choose from this year.  My usual standbys are organizations like Dr.s Without Borders and Oxfam International because it seems as if their needs are on-going and that every year brings new famine or disease or a new set of refugees.  The past year also brings unforgettable video images from Syria to Yemen, the Mexican border to Indonesia.  Earthquakes, droughts, fires, and floods usually get a few bucks and in the current climate (pun intended) they are hardly unexpected.
But today I did something different.  I made a spontaneous donation to a former student's theater company.  It's a fledgling group that has had some real successes and reminds me that the theme of "Bread and Roses" is very much alive in these dark times. Quite simply the term refers to recognizing the need for art, beauty, and culture along with the need for life-sustaining resources.  There was another reason for my motivation to give a modest contribution to this group.  Aside from the fact that they are a dynamic, risk-taking theater company led by an equally talented director, it was a chance for me to give back to my student's passion.  I recall how he, like a few other students, went to bat for their teachers when we were threatened with everything from losing funding for our district to short-sighted curriculum decisions that might have forced us to stop teaching whole books in favor of scripted textbooks.  Not that we ever would, but when some of your students take the time to display their voices and writing skills in from of your school board, you don't forget.
My exuberance with combining gift-giving with supporting deserving causes is no doubt a result of aging.  Getting older is, in many ways, a consolidation of making things easier for yourself.  If that can be done while benefitting others, why not?

Smoke in My Eyes

Maybe it was the masks.  People walking around with surgical masks over their mouths and noses do add a dystopic element to reality.  Sonoma county is usually noted for the quality of the wine it produces.  Wine that becomes exceptional because of the ideal growing conditions.  Lots of clean water and a very temperate climate.  But after spending a week in Northern California...a week breathing toxic air from the horrendous wildfires that now extend the fire season into winter, the reality we face is as topsy-turvey as ever.

As Bob Dylan asked during another dystopic time in our lives "..and you know something's happening, and you don't know what it is, do you Mr. Jones?"
Something is definitely happening. The fire season has lengthened, the hills are dry and dryer.  The climate is not what it once was. It's changed. To those who deny, the only response can be... It's the environment, stupid.
The week piled on more bad news.  Florida is incapable of having an election and the shocking news that one of my most memorable students took her life.
In Oregon we vote by mail.  It's so much easier and eliminates all the problems accompanying voting machines and human beings.  Sure, our ballots still have to be counted, but that's a minor chore compared to all the drama circling around a Florida election day.  Besides, it saves money.  One postage stamp rather than  maintenance to outdated machines.  Let's do it right, have a holiday and mail in a ballot.  Easy as you please.
Sure, it's been 30 years since Rachel was in my classroom, but when a person has a certain light in their eyes, an empathetic soul, and the intelligence to make the most of those qualities, they are easily recalled.
This loss was another attributable to chronic depression.  That there seems to be an epidemic of said disorder, there can be no doubt.  What swirls through my brain is the often repeated phrase, "but she seemed so happy, so centered, so passionate about living."  Like so many others, most of us who loved and cared for this young woman were dumbstruck.  How could this happen?  Didn't anybody know the distress she was suffering? Apparently not.  That's what hurts so much.
We can breathe wildfire smoke, we can see it, and we can all too often taste it.  No so with a person's emotional state.  It's easier to block pain than it is to stop the penetration of smoke and fire.
Both are like earthquakes.  They arrive suddenly and wreck havoc...unexpectedly.

Vice Versa

The sun came up a larger and brighter orange this morning.  November is nearing its midpoint and ash, not snow falls from above.  New California normal.

The President strangles the press openly now and the mass shootings occur on a regular basis.
We slide from synagogue to night club, from school to church.  And all the while the drum beats from Is this who we are? to yes, this is...who we are.  This is what we have become.
People always kid about getting their passports ready and moving to Canada.
They don't want us.
The time for kidding is over.
The Constitution is in a vice.
Two versions of the future pull at each end of the handle.
Civil War takes many forms; Civility only one.
The burning question is literally burning.