Dec 7

Excerpt from my email announcing my new job:

"It is an exciting but bittersweet moment as announce my resignation as the Chief of the Bureau of Preparedness in Florida Division of Emergency Management.

The past three years with the Division have been a privilege. I have had the professional opportunity to learn from some of the finest leaders in the emergency management field, by observation, ...formal training and opportunities for hands-on field leadership. These three years have led me to conclude that emergency management is the desired field for my second career.

I have enjoyed working with the State Emergency Response Team and the Division. I particularly want to thank the team of our Preparedness staff, who have shown tremendous initiative and professionalism that have made leading that team an honor. I have made friends and professional acquaintances that I will cherish for the rest of my life.

I have accepted a position with the Florida Department of Environmental Protection (DEP) as the Chief of the Bureau of Emergency Response, and Emergency Coordinating Officer for DEP and Emergency Support Function 10. This new promotion offers an opportunity to experience a new and more more specialized aspect of emergency response.

My last day in the office will be December 16, 2011. I will begin with DEP here in Tallahassee on December 19.

I am grateful for the experiences that have been afforded to me by the Division. I look forward to exploring horizons with the DEP team and continuing to serve the State Emergency Response Team (SERT) in this new capacity.

Best wishes for the continued success of the emergency management community, the Division and the SERT.

Dec 9

Out to get the tree at the Havana Tree Farm last night. The kids each picked their ornaments for the year they'll all have nice collections when they have their own first tree. Dinner at Julies. Home. Tree up. Lights on. Cai, caroline and I sare watching "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town." Clare's at "Hugo" with her class then we'll all head off to Maddy's game against West Florida. We'll "dress" the tree over the weekend between soccer games. Always love the ornament by ornament walk down memory lane. Trying to "go slow" and enjoy the season...well, enjoy it at least.

Dec 15

While walking to the party and out at the bonfire, had the privilege of enjoying the Geminid meteor shower. Spectacular streaks of lights crossed the vault throught the evening. Cai is in a "star phase," always asking us to name stars, planets and constellations and have to rack my brain for that old Academy celestial nav... John Muir had it right: “The grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never dried all at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor is ever rising. Eternal sunrise, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls. ”

Dec 20

There is an uncanny sense of irony in the air when Kim Jong-il and Vaclav Havel pass from this world on the same weekend. I still remember as a government student and amateur writer watching with amazement and admiration as the playwright became president and helped tear down the Iron Curtain we'd studied all our lives. Then there were the Kim Jong-Il's of the world struggling to keep it pinned up on the other side of the globe. Fascinating place this world....

Dec 22

Nice morning with Cai. We went "noticing" with the goats....they like to go find blackbberry bushes to nibble their favorite and Cai told me everything he "noticed" with his telescope (an empty wrapping paper tube). He an osprey and hawk fighting over a fish in mid-air and trapdoor spiders with their web decorated in dew. He used a long pine needle to tap the web to lure them out to say "hi." Good two hours of entertainment and good yard work on the part of the goats.

Dec 25

Beautiful Christmas Eve services last night. We attended at 4 and 8 since Clare sang at the 4 and Maddy served at the 8. Cocoa, chili, wrapping packages, tracking Santa through NORAD, reading stories, then, oh my, 5:20 came early at our house. The opening of stockings held the Christmas wolves at bay til 6. Not quite 8 am and now the house is the dull murmur of contentment as the kids tinker with new toys and gizmos, and browse new books. Now we are off to share the goodies left for all the animals. Today, as always, we are blessed. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all.

Dec 27

‎"The days that make us happy make us wise." - John Masefield..... We had a happy Boxing Day. The kids all played with their treasures from Christmas. Cai flew and recharged his little "mote controw helicopter" hourly...he may be qualified for his pilot's license. Dr Richardson (vet) and our friend's son Wes (vet-in-trng) came to vaccinate the crowd and the four-footeds behaved (except for Camo, t...he goat, who ate half of one shot record...baaaad goat). We cleaned out the tackroom to begin the rehab of the barn garage into a workshop. had a long, pleasant chat with Mom, got Clare to and from keeper training, rode and watched Caroline ride Hanky, who has a trot like a jackhammer and a canter like silk. We worked on speeding that bone-jarring transition. Maddy enjoyed a day of no demands, helped with critters, a little local driving practice and playing with Mr Stockings, the Christmas baby ferret. Terance worked in the office a bit, cleaned the garage then helped the transportation master, Cai, build hot wheels highway and log flight hours. We dinner at home together, a fire in the fireplace, a long call with dear friend Chris in Australia and read a few pages before fading into my pillow. Hopefully a bit wiser, for certainly, happy.See More

Dec 27

Had the occasion to walk out into the pasture at 4 am. Odd front rolling in from the Gulf promises severe thunderstorms today. This is the kind of weather that invites Maggie, Clare's horse, to colic, so thought I'd check on her. Old Mary was nibbling hay alone in the barn. Walked down the hill to the pine flat which is astoundingly black on a cloudy, starless night, but, with backlight from the... barn, I could make out three white face markings, Hank and Marilyn's stars and snips and Delilah's blaze plus the broadside patckwork of Maggie's paint. All four nickered the equivalent of, "Why are you here? And, do you have cookies?" Coat pocket was full so shared a peppermint treat with each. I rarely have chance to see the house from the pasture in the dark. The colored glow of the Christmas tree and a few dim windows looked snug, warm and inviting. I enjoyed the walk back through the drizzle with Hanky in escort. Ooooo, thunder; here comes the front.See More


Dec 31

We've had a wonderful New Year's Eve and it's only 8. Took Clan Keenan plus Maddy's buddy, Becca, to Lafayette Blue Springs yesterday. We stayed in one of the cabins which was perfect. The kids played in (waded in) the springs and we hiked along the river bank, grilled out burgers then made some killer s'mores. Last night was topped off by goofy, fierside skit/dance routines, compliments of th...e kids. Up this am (not so early for the teens) but Ter ran and Clare and I walked along the river, then at noon we headed out on the Suwannee canoeing from the 51 Bridge to Hardenburg Landng (about 8 miles). The weather was perfect and the river gorgeous. We explored some of the springs along the way. There is definitely an overnight canoeing/camping trip in our near future. Now we have a quiet night at home with the sound of fireworks echoing across the lake. A nice close to 2011. Happy New Year to all!

Just did the early fireworks for Cai (in case he can't hang til midnight). Neighbor is lighting off some big devices too. I watched the show from the pasture with a pocket full of peppermints to soothe the savage beasts who DO NOT appreciate fireworks.


Jan 2

Ahh, slow lazy morning after a fun New Years Day. Lorena, Chris, Althea and Joe came for dinner and Joe's bday (Happy 6 years old, man!). We visited for a long time while the roast cooked....and cooked...and cooked....80 minutes, my foot. Anyway, Annabelle's Portuguese Vinegar Roast was good when it was finally done. (Secret to a successful meal, starve guests then it all tastes better when it's finally ready...). Homemade cake by Clare and Terance then we adjourned outside into a beautiful night for a bonfire and fireworks. Good evening with great company. Malachi (at 9:15) is the first sign of movement from any child...think they had fun.



Jan 7

I am so going to pay for this day. Basketball scrimmage with Caroline's Lady Tigers this morning at 9, watched Clare's 1:30 game and kicked around with Cai, played pick-up soccer with the U12s and families for an hour, then Duffer League soccer practice for an hour and a half. Fun today but I'll be the inanimate object tomorrow morning......

Jan 9

Mystical, misty morning. The full moon is wrapped skein of vapor, setting into the pine flat. Could sit and watch mists drift in and across the lake all day, but to work I go.


Jan 11

Somber day in light of the unexpected loss of Bob Lay, Emergency Management Director of Brevard County. Bob was a class act and true professional. A mentor and role model, he will be deeply missed. Our thoughts and prayers go out to his wife Patti and his family, as well as his staff. Godspeed, Bob.

http://news.brevardtimes.com/2012/01/brevard-county-emergency-management.html

After a sad day, kind of nice to hear our 4-year old singing in his bed (to the tune of Frere Jacques) "R -E-D, red! R - E - D, red! I love red. I love red. Firetrucks are red, racecars are red...i love red. I love red." It's a day to appreciate family and the simple quiet moments.


Jan 12, 10 pm

Walked the dogs this am, early...about 6. The waning moon lit our path like a spotlight. Had a "moon shadow" for the whole walk. My flashlight hardly even showed up against the moon. Jumped now and again as the dogs woofed and snuffed at rustles in the brush, but the dawning day, breaking in strips of red through the trees, was breathtaking.

As we walked along the canopy road, the moonlight shone through the bare branches making the roadway a lattice of light and dark. It was a sort of metaphor for the previous day, patches of darkness and patches of light. Both have their place and role in life, but it's up to us to pick the focus of our attention...the dark or the light.

Jan 17

A Friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of Nature."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 - 1882)

Home from a wonderful weekend with the Ladies of CGA '87 (plus a few). The Arizona landscape was spectacular but the company was even moreso.
This wonderful fellowship is a rare treasure, a group of wise, accomplished confidantes, who inspire you to be better and more, but lovingly accept you just as you are. Thank you all for the gift of your friendship.

Jan 18

Busy day and night. Quiet at work, punctuated by hasty completion of a myriad of online training courses for "new employees." Brain and eyes hurt. Then off to coach the Lady Tigers (Caroline's hoop team, which incidently tied their first outing 18-18...:-) ). From the court to the pitch for Maddy's playoff game. The Lady Lions played well against #1 seeded Moseley.

The frenzy, frivolity and excitement of high school championships lit the air; great game but they lost 0-1. Great season; great experience.

Home to tuck in the crew. Clare and Cai fighting flu bigs in various stages. Put on a kettle of beef barley soup to nurse the sickies tomorrow, then a rumble of thunder sent me to the NWS website. Did not see the forecasted rain coming...so off to the barn to tarp the new load of hay that I thought was safe and dry for a few more days.

Funny how in the commotion, as I walked out to the barn in the company of Jaguar and Bagheera (barn cats), still in my sweats and high tops from bball, wrestling with the tarps in the rising wind, I had a flashback to Sky Hill Farm back in Ohio.

Sweats and high tops were my evening winter wardrobe for most of high school and I often didn't change out of my court shoes to do the evening barn chores, especially after a game. As I stopped to scratch Hanky's forehead at the gate, I had that moment when the time-continuum warped or folded for an instant.

I couldn't have told you if I was 16 and scratching Wyllie's nose with Tiger and Gracie at my ankles after the evening game and a feed, or 46 nuzzling Hanky with Jaggy and Baggy in tow.

The peace of the barn, the breeze heavy with the scent and promise of precipitation, warm noses seeking attention and a treat.....through the rabbit hole, or worm hole, Alice.....

Sometimes the phases of our lives seem divided by only the thinnest veneer. I was happy to land back on Brill Point with my family awaiting me inside, but what a wonderful brief, fond journey back to the red barn on teh windswept hill of my youth.

Jan 18

Farewell, good man. Florida bid adieu to Bob Lay yesterday. IT is good to see his service and life so well and fondly remembered.

http://www.floridatoday.com/article/20120118/NEWS01/301180013/Lay-remembered-man-who-could-counted-upon
Lay is remembered as a man who could be counted upon
www.floridatoday.com
A spillover crowd of more than 500 people attended memorial service for former Emergency Operations Center Director Bob Lay Tuesday at Ascension Lutheran Church in Indian Harbour Beach

Jan 24

You know, I count myself a liberal; I really like the first half of this. But....I am so tired of sides, I am tired of rhetoric that pokes finger in teh eye of the"other guy" rather than declaring, with substance, what exactly anyone stands for. I would like our elected officials, and our populace, to be on the side of the country. There is a place for all the opinions at the table (It think that... was a tenet upon which the country was based???), but I'd like to see the "civil" back in "civil discourse." 46 years on this earth has taught me enough to know I'm not always right. Call me Pollyanna, but I'd like to see a CIVIL federal, state and local discourse and then have intelligent people discern the facts and make a decision based on the best information on a given topic or issue.Self-interest has taken the lead in all the polls as near as I can discern. Positional bargaining, aka new party politics, seems doomed to fail, because everyone presumes the "rightness" of their entering argument and assumes that any concession is a sign of weakness rather than a sign of sage, educated consideration.

"A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines." Ralph Waldo Emerson

"Die when I may, I want it said by those who knew me best that I always plucked a thistle and planted a flower where I thought a flower would grow." Abraham Lincoln

"Always do right - this will gratify some and astonish the rest." Mark Twain


OK, off the soapbox and to bed.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/07/11/betty-ford-funeral-to-hav_n_894942.htmlSee More

Jan 28

Ahh, one down at 5 pm. An overnight bday party with 2am bedtime, followed by 7:45 reveille for a basketball game, back to the party for an afternoon at Zoinks has sent Caroline to an early demise this afternoon. Think we'll see her in the morning. :-) The house smells wonderful with the aroma of chocolate cake...Clare came home from her soccer game saying she felt like cake and she's baking up a storm, chocolate cake with mocha icing...and I didn't lift a finger. Maddy's taking care of the barn critters. I miss them being tiny, but kind of fun to watch these capable youngsters in action.Think I'll go walk the dogs in anticipation of a taste of Clare's goods.

Feb 5

Beautiful sunset after a gray overcast day. The eagle is cruising over the lake and pasture...making his distinctive, bubbly warble. Terance, Maddy and Malachi are working on the new oriental garden and koi pond. Clare is sleeping....not sure her sleepover last night had a whole lot of sleep involved. Caroline is sitting on the roof watching sunset, actually she's walking now...the noisest 50-pound elepahant ever to have stomped the shingles. We'll walk the hounds to the lake then come back to make steak and wings on the grill for Superbowl. Not real vested in the Superbowl...maybe the commercials will be worthwhile. :-)

Feb 7

Nice morning: had a cup of coffee while sitting on an overturned feed bucket listening to the owl's last calls as I waited for the sun and the farrier to arrive. Played scratching post for the ponies while Brett trimmed hooves. The horses come with no demands except a scratch on the nose and a cookie, please, if you have one in a pocket. A morning in the barn can be very grounding.

Feb 12

Gorgeous crisp sunny day, if cold. True hard freeze last night, one of few this winter, left ice on the buckets in the barn. Fascinating for the young scientist., Cai. I hope it wasn't enough to do in all the befuddled flora: azaleas, daffodils, redbuds and all, that had begun to burst in the past week.

Feb 18

Thank you Walt for sharing this wonderful, thoughtful article by Bill Moyers. If only we could get more folks in DC and across the country to focus on the common ground and realms of possible compromise where we might find successes to benefit ALL Americans. If we could kick our politicians off their soapboxes and get them to roll up their sleeves and come to the table to produce something beside...s rhetoric, we would all be better off. Despite the prelude to most recent headlines, we are supposed to be the UNITED States of America. Wouldn't it be nice if we acted like it more often?

"The soldier and the lawyer may both love this country with equal passion, and yet reach very different conclusions on the specific steps needed to protect us from harm. The gay activist and the evangelical pastor may both deplore the ravages of HIV/AIDS, but find themselves unable to bridge the cultural divide that might unite their efforts. Those who speak out against stem-cell research may be rooted in an admirable conviction about the sacredness of life, but so are the parents of a child with juvenile diabetes who are convinced that their son's or daughter's hardships might be relieved. The question then is, "How do we work through these conflicts?" President Obama 2009

See More
Freedom of and From Religion
www.commondreams.org
The president did something agile and wise the other day. And something quite important to the health of our politics. He reached up and snuffed out what some folks wanted to make into a cosmic battle between good and evil. No, said the president, we're not going to turn the argument over contracept...


Feb 22

Up for early walk with the hounds this morning. Spring is springing early. The early morning twilight was astir with birdsong. If I was more fluent in "bird," I'm sure I could have named two dozens species in the winged choir. As a birding boot, I could only clearly identify the stacatto"chip" of the cardinal and hard-to-translate-but-unmistakable phrasing of red winged black birds. It was a beautiful chorus to walk with....nature's IPod.

Feb 24

THis was the sailor's prayer Mom sent in a framed calligraphy. It's beautiful and one to get you off your haunches and looking forward.

A prayer by Sir Francis Drake

Disturb us, O Lord, when
... We are too pleased with ourselves,
When our dreams have come true
Because we dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
Because we sailed too close to the shore.

Disturb us, O Lord, when
With the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst
For the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with life,
We have ceased to dream of eternity
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
We have allowed our vision
Of the new Heaven to dim.

Disturb us, O Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wilder seas
Where storms will show Your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.

We ask you to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push back the future
In strength, courage, hope, and love.

Amen.See More


Mar 2

Found out tonight, I was accepted into the Executive Leadership Program at the Center for Homeland Defense and Security in Monterey. Class starts in May: four one-week sessions over the next nine months. Very excited but better get that new prescription fo reading glasses filled now....

Mar 2

Read one of Cai's new birthday books with him tonight. "Goodnight, Goodnight, Construction Site" is a keeper. If you have a little person in dirt in your life who is obsessed with big machines that move and play in dirt, this is a for them. Gentle rhymes and beautiful illustrations are a nice way to tuck in your little dirt monster.

http://www.amazon.com/Goodnight-Construction-Sherri-Duskey-Rinker/dp/0811877825#reader_0811877825


Mar 8

This is a wonderful article about peacekeeping and humanitarian operations. It is delightful to see a focus on engaging women in these processes, but the more important highlight is an emphasis on inclusion of multiple, diverse skillsets and perspectives when developing solutions for whole communities. Thanks Bob for posting!

Stuff Mom Never Told You: Women in peacekeeping

coastguard.dodlive.mil

Over the past two days more than 1,700 men and women gathered together for the Sea Service Leadership Associations’ Joint Women’s Leadership Symposium, the largest gathering of women in uniform in the world. As service members reflected on the theme “United in service: Our global impact,” a special ...

Mar 8

Thank you Google for telling me today is International Women's Day. Salute to all of the women worldwide who make a difference in this world. There are so many.

Here's a salute to Nobel Laureate, Dr Wangari Maathai, who won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2004 for her work with the Greenbelt Movement. We lost Dr Maathai in Sep 2011; may she rest in peace and may her legacy live on.

http://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/peace/laureates/2004/maathai-bio.html

Biography
Wangari Muta Maathai was born in Nyeri, Kenya (Africa) in 1940. The first woman in East and Central Africa to earn a doctorate degree. Wangari Maathai obtained a degree in Biological Sciences from Mount St. Scholastica College in Atchison, Kansas (1964). She subsequently earned a Master of Science degree from the University of Pittsburgh (1966). She pursued doctoral studies in Germany and the University of Nairobi, obtaining a Ph.D. (1971) from the University of Nairobi where she also taught veterinary anatomy. She became chair of the Department of Veterinary Anatomy and an associate professor in 1976 and 1977 respectively. In both cases, she was the first woman to attain those positions in the region. Wangari Maathai was active in the National Council of Women of Kenya in 1976-87 and was its chairman in 1981-87. It was while she served in the National Council of Women that she introduced the idea of planting trees with the people in 1976 and continued to develop it into a broad-based, grassroots organization whose main focus is the planting of trees with women groups in order to conserve the environment and improve their quality of life. However, through the Green Belt Movement she has assisted women in planting more than 20 million trees on their farms and on schools and church compounds.

In 1986, the Movement established a Pan African Green Belt Network and has exposed over 40 individuals from other African countries to the approach. Some of these individuals have established similar tree planting initiatives in their own countries or they use some of the Green Belt Movement methods to improve their efforts. So far some countries have successfully launched such initiatives in Africa (Tanzania, Uganda, Malawi, Lesotho, Ethiopia, Zimbabwe, etc). In September 1998, she launched a campaign of the Jubilee 2000 Coalition. She has embarked on new challenges, playing a leading global role as a co-chair of the Jubilee 2000 Africa Campaign, which seeks cancellation of the unpayable backlog debts of the poor countries in Africa by the year 2000. Her campaign against land grabbing and rapacious allocation of forests land has caught the limelight in the recent past.

Wangari Maathai is internationally recognized for her persistent struggle for democracy, human rights and environmental conservation. She has addressed the UN on several occasions and spoke on behalf of women at special sessions of the General Assembly for the five-year review of the earth summit. She served on the commission for Global Governance and Commission on the Future. She and the Green Belt Movement have received numerous awards, most notably The 2004 Nobel Peace Prize. Others include The Sophie Prize (2004), The Petra Kelly Prize for Environment (2004), The Conservation Scientist Award (2004), J. Sterling Morton Award (2004), WANGO Environment Award (2003), Outstanding Vision and Commitment Award (2002), Excellence Award from the Kenyan Community Abroad (2001), Golden Ark Award (1994), Juliet Hollister Award (2001), Jane Adams Leadership Award (1993), Edinburgh Medal (1993), The Hunger Project's Africa Prize for Leadership (1991), Goldman Environmental Prize (1991), the Woman of the World (1989), Windstar Award for the Environment (1988), Better World Society Award (1986), Right Livelihood Award (1984) and the Woman of the Year Award (1983). Professor Maathai was also listed on UNEP's Global 500 Hall of Fame and named one of the 100 heroines of the world. In June 1997, Wangari was elected by Earth Times as one of 100 persons in the world who have made a difference in the environmental arena. Professor Maathai has also received honorary doctoral degrees from several institutions around the world: William's College, MA, USA (1990), Hobart & William Smith Colleges (1994), University of Norway (1997) and Yale University (2004).

The Green Belt Movement and Professor Wangari Maathai are featured in several publications including The Green Belt Movement: Sharing the Approach (by Professor Wangari Maathai, 2002), Speak Truth to Power (Kerry Kennedy Cuomo, 2000), Women Pioneers for the Environment (Mary Joy Breton, 1998), Hopes Edge: The Next Diet for a Small Planet (Frances Moore Lappé and Anna Lappé, 2002), Una Sola Terra: Donna I Medi Ambient Despres de Rio (Brice Lalonde et al., 1998), Land Ist Leben (Bedrohte Volker, 1993).

Professor Maathai serves on the boards of several organizations including the UN Secretary General's Advisory Board on Disarmament, The Jane Goodall Institute, Women and Environment Development Organization (WEDO), World Learning for International Development, Green Cross International, Environment Liaison Center International, the WorldWIDE Network of Women in Environmental Work and National Council of Women of Kenya.

In December 2002, Professor Maathai was elected to parliament with an overwhelming 98% of the vote. She was subsequently appointed by the president, as Assistant Minister for Environment, Natural Resources and Wildlife in Kenya's ninth parliament.

From Les Prix Nobel. The Nobel Prizes 2004, Editor Tore Frängsmyr, [Nobel Foundation], Stockholm, 2005

This autobiography/biography was written at the time of the award and later published in the book series Les Prix Nobel/Nobel Lectures. The information is sometimes updated with an addendum submitted by the Laureate.



For more updated biographical information, see:
Maathai, Wangari, Unbowed : a memoir. William Heinemann, London, 2007.



Wangari Maathai died on 25 September 2011.

Mar 13

Just finished "Unaccustomed Earth" by Jhumpa Lahari. (Thank you Tamara for a WONDERFUL recommendation). What a masterfully written collection of short stories, a glimpse into an American immigrant experience, not my own. Eleven year old Clare completed her project on historical women tonight: Grace O'Malley, Irish pirate (Grainne, of Joanna's daughter's fame). How telling is it that, God know's how many generations later, Clare said she picked O'Malley because of trace Irish ancestry and O'Malley's willingness to pursue women's rights/abilities? The past is with us....always. How we use it to move forward is our gift and our challenge.

Mar 16

I had the good fortune to catch Michelle Norris of NPR's February "Backseat Book Club" review a few weeks ago. She explored two young adult books, 'The Hundred Dresses' by Eleanor Estes and 'Shooting Kabul' by N. H. Senzai. Although written some 60 years apart, both are stories of the American immigrant, assimilation, bullying, prejudice, and triumphs great and small.
Finished 'Shooting Kabu...l' this am...beautiful story. As I wrote the title into my journal reading log (habit of over 30 years -- thank you, Ms. Nethero), I was struck by a pattern and insight of books I've recently read. In addition to the previous two titles, 'Unaccustomed Earth' by Jhumpa Lahiri, 'The Dry Grass of August' by Anna Jean Mayhew, 'Sarah's Key' by Tatiana de Rosnay and 'Bel Canto' by Anne Patchett have held the highest point in the bookstack on my nightstand over the past six months. Each book is beautiful, heart wrenching, and insightful in its own right.
Each is, at some level, a story of cultural intolerance or cultural arrogance versus human decency. Part of me is overjoyed at the open dialogue and publishing insight that brings these diverse stories to the fore of public eye through reading lists, awards and reviews. Part of me is frustrated that, over the course of time, bigotry and bullying are still such universal themes. From the "Pollacks" persecuted in 'Dresses' to the Puhktuns targeted in 'Shooting Kabul', the "ins" poke and the "outs" get stabbed. Only the group membership seems to change... Human nature? How much beauty do we miss because the ugliness attracts, demands, our attention?
I suppose daily life just gets in the way... We need the author's words, the photographer's eye, the poet's soul to lift up our vision now and again.
In Wilder's 'Our Town,' Emily asks,"Does anyone ever realize life while they live it...every, every minute?"
The Stage Manager replies, "No. Saints and poets maybe...they do some.”
In 'Shooting Kabul', Fadi's cab-driving, PhD of Ag, philosopher-father talks to his son about what efforts are valuable or wasteful, and he quotes the Persian poet Rumi, saying, “When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy.” The reference has taken me to Rumi, who despite the dust on his 13th-century vintage, is proving ever so germane.
Here's to multi-cultural insight. Perhaps the more and more we realize that the basic struggles of humanity are constant despite our wrappers, ...hmmm.

'Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.'
― Rumi

Go Rumi.

http://m.npr.org/news/Arts+%26+Life/145841795See More

Mar 16

Conversations that make you say, "Hmmm."
11 year old daughter: "I got a book at the book fair and I'm going to memorize it: '100 Words that Make You Sound Smarter'. "
Me: "SOUNDING smarter is fine, but we'd rather have you BE smarter."
Daughter: "They are good, big vocabulary words."
Me: "That's wonderful, but remember sometimes it's hardest to use simple words clearly to get your point across."...
Daughter: Long pause.... "But Mom, I want to be a lawyer and lawyers use big words to confuse people....."

Mar 19

Day two of spring break. At the beach in St George. Beach and weather are beautiful...hmm, I miss the water. Climbed the lighthouse yesterday. Everyone, even Cai, rode biked 6.5 miles from town to the Plantation. Mixed work and play with the Franklin/Wakulla/Jefferson Co ACP today. Swam, played at beach, rode bikes again. Ter went back to Tally to check critters this evening. Ahh, calm before storm. Next six weeks are packed with travel for work...then it should calm down.
Mar 20

Beautiful blustery morning at the beach. The waves are crashing into the beach, bring treasures. May be a non-beach day so we don't get sandblasted. Kids already took the dogs for a beach romp and now Clare and I are off to get bait. Tomorrow we'll kayak across the cut to explore the other half of the island.
Mar 24

With the surf rumbling in the background, it is time to pack and head inland. Wonderful week, spent mostly at beach, in pool, on bikes or at Sykes Cut. We paddled the cut Wednesday and explored uninhabited Little St George. Clare has a new passion - fishing. She's killer with her new cast net and had a blast fishing with our clan plus Tyler, Jessica and Gabe Beyer. Cai proved to be the most pati...ent fisherman, spending 7 hours yesterday. He cast his line and checking his crab net, undeterred by the lack of action. His quarry? "sordfitch." Everytime his bait disappeared the culprit was the "fast and sneaky "sordfitch." Gabe landed a 6-foot bull shark on Thursday. Fellow fishermen landed 4 and footers; don't swim in or near Sykes Cut.
Off to pack and watch the sunrise to the rhythm of the surf. Dolphin Alley has been a lovely home for the week.

Mar 27

A funny thing happened on the way back from spring break. We stopped in Apalch for lunch and some window shopping on the way home and while walking down the path in Lafayette Park, I was bitten on the heel by a pygmy rattlesnake. Two hour ambulance ride, 12 viles of antivenom, day and and half in ICU and day and a half in regular room, I'm home with a bruised up ankle. At least he got me and not... Cai, who was nearby or Maddy and Tyler who had walked throught the same area. The good news is, if you ever get bitten, stay calm and get to an ER, after years of being terrified of a snake bite, it was neither as painful or traumatic as my imagination had led me to believe. In Florida in spring, ALWAYS keep your eye out for snakes. A brick path in a city park was NOT where I expected to meet my nemesis. Lastly and most importantly, snake notwithstanding, we had a great spring break: beaching, swimming, biking, fishing, kayaking and just hanging out. So good on the sunning scale, in fact, that I'm peeling, a little like the guy who nibbled my foot,See More

Across the Waters:

Daddy was a dreamer. He watched the winter storms roll across Lake Erie from Canada and gazed toward the distant horizon. For his own good, Depression-era parents kept his dreams reeled in tight.

While he longed for the adventures of faraway places, he found himself not riding the waves, but balancing columns and burrowing through the bowels of anthracite mines. As an accounting student attending university in the hills of southern Ohio, father struggled to finance his schooling; there, on the brink of Appalachia, only the coal corporations proved willing to oblige.

Their co-op program offered experience in the book-keeping office and stints as a badger burrowing deep beneath the green hills. Some men succumbed to the Company. The long dark nights of study, followed by longer, darker days in the pit sent my father fleeing along the path of the coal he liberated from the earth.

Northward, he and the ore sped. The gloomy industry of the Great Lakes ports looked to be their demise. From the belly of the earth to her barren fingertips at land’s end, industry pursued them. The ore fell prey to the hot furnaces, but father escaped. He fled the clutches of the land on the crests of the Great Lakes.

* * *

January 1986

Dear Dad,
When I gaze across the water, I can see you leaning on the starboard railing, the lake mist frosting your whiskers. You were younger then, as you steamed toward the newly opened seaway.

It was a work you could love, a hard, healthy work that left you exhausted but satisfied. There was no coal dust in the crisp, sharp air. You ate, looked, and talked like all your Swedish pals from Minnesota. Grandma told me so. I picture you at the railing with your broad smiling face a healthy bronze. Gone is the pallor of the mines. Your eyes look off to the sea and distant ports.

Your image is vivid because some bent and yellowed snapshots fell on me one day. The box, like a secret, sacred corner of your life was pinned beneath old ledgers in your den closet. The shelf was far too high for me to reach when I was small and you were here. Alone, I puzzled through smudged photos.

You and four others grin from under woolen watch caps. Your shoulders were more squared then, not yet softened by the taming of home and the office. Cold, foaming waters break the rail behind you. Dampened hair gleams wheaten gold against your wind-chiseled face. Suddenly I understand your joking way of explaining your youth as being so long ago that I “was just a twinkle in your eye and half of that was the reflection off the waves;” it was another world for you.

A black-and-white postcard shows a lake freighter with “National Steel Corporation” blazoned down the hull. The fine letters on the bow, ERNEST T. WEIR, tell me it was your ship. On the reverse side of the postcard is an address and postage. The brief scrawled message suggests the bustle of your lifestyle:

*****
Here’s the new rustbucket. We’re in the land of eternal fog. Caught 60 to 70 cod last night. Good fishing.
Junior
*******

The postmark says, “Sept Iles, Quebec, 21 VIII 1959….” Your twenty-first birthday. I’m twenty-one now.

You loved the deck watch, the endless rolling breakers and the brisk Arctic winds that whipped in from Canada. You never told me how you loved it; I had to ask grandma and read it from the faded journal you thought I’d never find.

Your journal was buried in the snapshot box. A younger you emerges from the faded fountain ink. Many entries are travelogues; more are poems and letters. Some are to the grandfather I never knew. Did you find the letters years later at home, or were they never sent?

Some of the ink is not so old; perhaps the box was not so forgotten. In broad, flair pen, you write of more recent days:

*****
11-24-75
A lovely revelation came to me early this morning as I walked out my lane. A beautiful, pink sunrise was peeking between the horizon and the cloud cover where it would disappear for the rest of the day. Beside me walked my ten-year-old daughter in a sheepskin coat with a bright, orange rucksack for school gear on her back.

Sounds like an idyllic start for a father’s day until I add that I’ve been unemployed for eight months, between lack of work and illness, and the bus driver who will pick her up is my working wife.
****

Your love of the water was never far away, even on the farm where we settled. What farmer’s shelves were filled with books like Men, Ships and the Sea or Chapman’s? I guess I always knew though, by that longing gaze that appeared every time you saw the lakes. I always sensed the pride you tried to hide when I said I’d be a sailor. Your heart was never in it when you scolded me that sailors were drifters and that there was no satisfaction in aimless wandering.

You escaped the mines, but the land won back your body. You gave up the sea for the accounting office because Grandpa told you that security was most important. He was an immigrant and had survived the Depression so you thought he knew. You married Momma, had Bob and me; you were everything a husband and father should be. We had a good life.

The sea was in your soul though; I knew even though I was little. I knew you loved us dearly but that you longed for the Lakes.

Why didn’t you tell me? Did you think I couldn’t, or wouldn’t, understand?

I wish you could’ve told me, but you left before I had the chance to ask. Your dying never hurt too badly; I missed you, sure, but I just figured you were finally back on the Lakes. Death didn’t seem so harsh that way; it was almost even kind.

Now, ten years later, I still cry for you sometimes. Your death caused tears, but they were for a figure: FATHER. And Death did seem almost a friend come to end your pain. Now, I cry out of frustration because I was ten when we learned you had cancer. At ten, you don’t tend to contemplate fathers dying; they’re kind of “forever fixtures” in your life.

I never consciously acknowledged that you were dying. At ten, I had total faith in medicine and doctors.

Now you’re an enigma to me. You’re a memory collected from eleven years of co-existence. I never had the chance to know, to curse, to understand, to grow with…to love…my father.

God, Dad, how I’d love to talk to you now. I want to share sea stories, and life. Do you realize that the last time we talked we watched EAGLE sail into New York Harbor? You told me all about the Tall Ships during the Bicentennial Parade of Sail while I sat on the foot of your hospital bed. It’s my last clear memory of you.

I’ll be on EAGLE this year and we’re going back to New York for a tall ship reunion. I want to tell you about riding the bowsprit and what a seaport looks like from the yardarms. I want to ask questions and tell you about so much.

Sometimes I want back the last ten years. They haven’t been bad without you; they’ve been good, but you’ve been gone almost half my life now. Sometimes I have to look at pictures to remember your face.

I know life would have been different now if you could’ve stayed, but, oh, just to glimpse the would-have-been. I look back sometimes and wish you would’ve fought more, or did Death sneak up on you too? Were you as surprised and unprepared as I was?

Heraclitis said, “You cannot step in the same river twice.” So, even if we could talk, I guess I’d still have to find the answers for myself. To sea or not to sea? That is my question, Dad. Maybe you always knew I’d come asking; maybe you left those faded pages just in case.

I see you at the starboard railing, looking off to sea. Just wanted you to know Dad, I’m looking that way too.

***

July 2007

Dear Dad,
It’s been 31 years since you left us. Oh, I wish you were here to celebrate. Tomorrow I will end my career at sea - twenty-four years on or by the ocean. The sea is a wonderful teacher. I know now what drew you to the waves. What else holds such a range of moods? Serenity, rage, playfulness, tumult, calling forth, casting up.

You introduced Bob and me to sea life in funny ways. When we played Battleship, you made us call our guesses in the phonetic alphabet. My cadre at the Academy thought it odd that a hayseed girl from an Ohio farm knew the phonetic alphabet by rote upon reporting. During lambing season, we split the night into watches and, whenever it was cold, a blue Bean watchcap snugged atop our heads.

You set me up well. The Coast Guard allowed me a life tied to the tides. In an age often cut off from nature, the vagaries of wind and weather framed my days. It is a rich life, seasoned by the tang of salt air, primeval scents, and the sense of decay and renewal that ride every tide -- natural wonder framed in the routine of the watch. Around-the-clock watches taught the beauty of all hours.

The morning watch was my favorite. Beginning at 0330, this watch let my sleep-stopped eyes stargaze. The stars are never more sharp and brilliant than at sea, away from the clutter of manmade light. You taught us to look at the stars lying on top of Sky Hill, gazing at constellations.

Sea in the pitch of night is humbling. I never felt more insignificant, given my smallness in the grand expanse of sea and space, and yet felt more connected, a part, albeit small, of the cosmos that cradles us across the swaying black sea.

On this watch, night’s pitch gave way to day. The spread of dawn across the sea and sky taught me the painter’s palette. Nowhere are there more shades than in the sky as the black chrysalis of night hatches into the thousand pastels that become the blue wings of day.

The morning sea teamed with life. Perhaps because the hubbub of day was not yet there to distract, dawn unveiled sea life. Depending on the sea and season, daybreak brought the dancing dorsal fins of dolphins playing in the bow wake, or bobbing orcas spyhopping to gaze at us in mutual curiosity. Flying fish danced across the wavecrests away from their pursuers. Near shore, seals barked to greet the day. Sometimes, a ray leapt from the waters or more sinister dorsals cruised close aboard. Perhaps the most mystical discovery is that the sea is not a way of life, but a life unto its own. I see now why the ancients worshipped the ocean as an entity in its own right.

The days and watches have grown long now. Watching the sun sink toward the waters, I know too why you left the sea. The Coast Guard rewarded me so richly that I sometimes overlooked its demands.

We have four small children now. Neither the satisfaction of a rescue, the thrill of a chase, nor the beauty of the raging, rolling waters is enough to temper the long, erratic hours and lengthy separations.

The merchant hulls you rode would have taken you away from us long before the cancer did. Maybe some sense of foreshadowing kept you with us for that brief time we had.

Somehow, in so many subtle ways, you planted the dream that sent me in search of salt air. It led me to many of the loves of my life: a career of challenge, the man I love, the children I never knew I’d love so much. It is a wonderful, wonder-full life.

Twenty-four years plying the waters along the coast has been more than a livelihood. Those years helped me to see you more clearly, to appreciate you as more than my long-lost father. Perhaps I went to sea to find you, but you were not there on the waves.

When I was young and looked at you looking off to sea, your gaze and smile were bittersweet. I thought you looked toward dreams unfulfilled because of your untimely death.

While your young death was a tragedy, your brief life was a gift. Now that same smile seems one of knowing. Like those ancients who worshipped the sea, you, in your love of the waves, became one of our wisdomkeepers, those revered as repositories of ancient ways and sacred knowledge.

Over time, I have realized your good fortune in discovering a passion at an early age. Beyond discovering it, you followed it to the waves. You carried the surge of the surf, the majesty of the sea, in the deepest recesses of your soul.

You chose to leave the waves to have a family, which I now understand as a passion and journey unto itself. As you gazed toward that distant horizon, you piqued my curiosity to look there too, to push out beyond the safe and familiar. The fascinating thing about horizons is that, if you go toward them, they expand, but you never reach them. It is that journey that has made life sweet.

Having sailed the seas, I understand your fierce love of the freedom and challenge of the waves. Like all good sages, you guided me to see my interconnectedness to you, to the world, to life. I see how some of your choices helped me to frame my own. You taught me the sea and the sea taught me -- reverence for its moods and might, reverence for the land that bounds it.

I leave a waterborne career to immerse myself in the sea of life. I revel in the expanse of time to watch my family grow. Your gift to me was more than the sea. You looked not only at the water, but at the horizon. That vision allowed me to look beyond the immediate and the ordinary.

In those old photos, I still see you at the starboard railing, looking off to sea. It’s odd to think that I’m older now than you ever were, but this twinkle-in-your-eye danced on the waves. I didn’t find you at sea; I discovered you in the waypoints, the hints, along the way. Dad, my lines are taut and I follow your gaze across those waters where new horizons may lead.

Baggywrinkle

According to The Art of the Sailor, baggywrinkle is handmade chafing gear made to protect the sails of a ship. Aside from being a fun word, "baggywrinkle" carries me back to my earliest days in the Coast Guard on the Eagle with Chief BJ Whitley bellowing directions to us, clueless swabs that we were. Chief Whitley could bellow and direct as well as any drill sergent or Marine gunny....It was a formative experience; I really do remember this fondly.
Writing has certainly been an outlet, a sort of cahfing gear to my own progress through this life. So, for now, Baggywrinkle is a good name and purpose for my blog.