Beck is a living, breathing four-letter word.
On Aug. 28, 1963, Martin Luther King Jr. delivered one of this nation’s – perhaps the world’s – most inspiring speeches.
He began that speech:
“I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.”
And he urged his audience:
“In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline.”
And he made his refrain that has become so familiar to Americans: “I have a dream today.”
He said:
“I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.’"
Dr. King spoke to the throngs gathered in front of the Lincoln Memorial of his dream that:
“With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.”
http://www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/mlkihaveadream.htm
And now Glenn Beck has planned a rally at the Lincoln memorial on the 47th anniversary of Dr. King’s momentous speech. Beck – yes, Beck is a four-letter word – has called for a rally called Refounding America. For Beck to have the unmitigated gall to hold a rally on the day Dr. King gave his speech is an insult to everybody who believes in what Dr. King stood for and fought for.
Compare Dr. King’s words above with Beck’s words below.
"This president I think has exposed himself over and over again as a guy who has a deep-seated hatred for white people or the white culture ... I'm not saying he doesn't like white people, I'm saying he has a problem. This guy is, I believe, a racist."
"I'm thinking about killing Michael Moore, and I'm wondering if I could kill him myself, or if I would need to hire somebody to do it. ... No, I think I could. I think he could be looking me in the eye, you know, and I could just be choking the life out. Is this wrong? I stopped wearing my What Would Jesus -- band -- Do, and I've lost all sense of right and wrong now. I used to be able to say, 'Yeah, I'd kill Michael Moore,' and then I'd see the little band: What Would Jesus Do? And then I'd realize, 'Oh, you wouldn't kill Michael Moore. Or at least you wouldn't choke him to death.' And you know, well, I'm not sure."
"When I see a 9/11 victim family on television, or whatever, I'm just like, 'Oh shut up' I'm so sick of them because they're always complaining."
"The only [Katrina victims] we're seeing on television are the scumbags."
"I think there is a handful of people who hate America. Unfortunately for them, a lot of them are losing their homes in a forest fire today." –on why people who lost their homes in forest fires in California had it coming.
"I have been nervous about this interview with you because what I feel like saying is, 'Sir, prove to me that you are not working with our enemies. ... And I know you're not. I'm not accusing you of being an enemy, but that's the way I feel, and I think a lot of Americans will feel that way." –interviewing Rep. Keith Ellison (D-MN), the first Muslim U.S. congressman
"Al Gore's not going to be rounding up Jews and exterminating them. It is the same tactic, however. The goal is different. The goal is globalization...And you must silence all dissenting voices. That's what Hitler did. That's what Al Gore, the U.N., and everybody on the global warming bandwagon [are doing]."
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Peace
I went outside this morning with my three cats and watched them play in the green grass speckled with little white flowers. The towering redwood poked high into the blue sky as the warm sun soothed me and I listened to a chorus of at least four different birds in the treetops warbling their various songs and I thought of what is going on in the world as I enjoyed the peace in my backyard and I suddenly thought of this song the Kingston Trio sang decades ago by Sheldon Harnick:
They're rioting in Africa
They're starving in Spain
There's hurricanes in Florida
And Texas needs rain.
The whole world is festering
With unhappy souls
The French hate the Germans,
The Germans hate the Poles
Italians hate Yugoslavs
South Africans hate the Dutch
And I don't like anybody very much
But we can be grateful
And thankful and proud
That man's been endowed
With a mushroom shaped cloud
And we know for certain
That some happy day
Someone will set the spark off
And we will all be blown away
They're rioting in Africa
There's strife in Iran
What nature doesn't do to us
Will be done by our fellow man.
They're rioting in Africa
They're starving in Spain
There's hurricanes in Florida
And Texas needs rain.
The whole world is festering
With unhappy souls
The French hate the Germans,
The Germans hate the Poles
Italians hate Yugoslavs
South Africans hate the Dutch
And I don't like anybody very much
But we can be grateful
And thankful and proud
That man's been endowed
With a mushroom shaped cloud
And we know for certain
That some happy day
Someone will set the spark off
And we will all be blown away
They're rioting in Africa
There's strife in Iran
What nature doesn't do to us
Will be done by our fellow man.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Bisket Gets Lucky
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Bisket Gets Lucky
OK, to start off, we never did decide on how to actually spell this cat’s name, so for the purposes of this essay, I am sticking with Bisket.
Bisket had been wandering around our neighborhood for a few days before we took her in. We had noticed that our neighbors had also noticed her and they asked us if she belonged to us. We already had two cats – Sylvie and Rico.
Finally, we took her in and started to ask around to try to find her owners. The moment I picked her up I fell in love. She purred so heavily and heavenly and she loved being held. Rico and Sylvie were not so sure. They let it be known right away that should she become a resident in our house, it was going to take some time.
We put up signs all over the neighborhood that we had found a cat. We took her to the veterinarian and got her shots and then we took her back to get her fixed. And that was when the first surprise hit. Bisket loved to eat. She ate so much that one of my wife’s colleagues at work suggested that perhaps Bisket was, good God, pregnant!
The vets called hours sooner than the time they said they would call for me to pick her up. “Mr. Rosso, you can pick up Bisket and we have a surprise.” “Oh, no,” I said, “She’s pregnant.” “No,” the vet said, “She’s a he.” They had already shaved her/him and anesthetized her/him when the discovery was made.
I picked him/her up and he/she staggered all over the house for a few hours until the anesthesia wore off and I stopped calling him her.
Over time, Sylvie and Rico started to accept Bisket. They still had their moments, but they also slept together, shared space together and ate together. Rico is all black, except for a small white patch under his chin. Bisket is all white. Sylvie is black and white. A perfect feline trio.
Last weekend, Susan and I took down many of the signs we had put up. It had been almost a month and no calls seeking a lost cat. Bisket was a member of the family.
Until this morning. At 7:15 this morning. That is when the phone rang. Gary was asking about a lost cat. Yes, Gary lived just a block away. His girlfriend got mad and left and let his cat out. Is your cat white? Yes. Gary said he could come by at 9.
A little before 9, Gary called again. This time Gary volunteered that Lucky, formerly known as Bisket, had a kink in his tail. Yes. That was Bisket/Lucky. Gary said, he and his father, who had a paper route had been out when his father ran over the cat. Gary retrieved it and nursed it back to health and has had it ever since, until his girlfriend put it out into the street.
Gary came to the house and I was holding Bisket and Gary yelled, “Lucky.” I handed Bisket/Lucky to Gary and he told his story again and how much he appreciated our taking him in and taking care of him and how happy he was to have Lucky back and we gave him the vet papers and he offered to pay for the shots and we said no and he said we could come visit and we said we would take him if he goes away on vacation and he told how he found Lucky and whey he named him Lucky and how his girlfriend let him out in the street and how much he appreciated us taking care of him and we had to go and we were happy he had him and I brushed a tear away and Gary hugged Lucky and we shut the door.
And Bisket is Lucky
And I cried.
Friday, March 26, 2010
familiar fear mongering
Ahh, yes, Armageddon. This health reform bill will destroy our great United States of America. Does it sound familiar?
Here is Ronnie Reagan arguing against Medicare in 1961:
“The doctor begins to lose freedoms; it’s like telling a lie, and one leads to another. First you decide that the doctor can have so many patients. They are equally divided among the various doctors by the government. But then the doctors aren’t equally divided geographically, so a doctor decides he wants to practice in one town and the government has to say to him you can’t live in that town, they already have enough doctors. You have to go someplace else. And from here it is only a short step to dictating where he will go.”
With an echo from Republican Sen. Carl Curtis of Nebraska in 1965:
“It is socialism. It moves the country in a direction which is not good for anyone, whether they be young or old. It charts a course from which there will be no turning back.”
And what about that terrible Social Security and all the many sins it will rain down on our country. Listen to Republican Senator Daniel Hastings from Delaware in 1935:
“I fear it may end the progress of a great country and bring its people to the level of the average European. It will furnish delicious food and add great strength to the political demagogue. It will assist in driving worthy and courageous men from public life. It will discourage and defeat the American trait of thrift. It will go a long way toward destroying American initiative and courage.”
And now that we will be turning our attention to immigration, let’s not forget who we may be allowing to enter our sacred grounds. Let’s remember the prophetic words of Democratic Congressman Compton White of Idaho in 1943 on why Chinese nationals should not be allowed to immigrate to the United States or become U.S. citizens:
“I do not think we can take the Chinese with their habits and mentalities in this year and time into our great American melting pot and in ten years or a hundred years bring them up to our standards of civilization.”
And speaking of the Chinese, don’t forget that good ol’ standby threat – Communism, as expressed by the National Association of Manufacturers in 1938 coming out against minimum wage and guaranteed overtime pay (some of this may sound very familiar):
“[The Act represents] a step in the direction of Communism, bolshevism, fascism, and Nazism.”
And then there is Lee Iacocca, sounding very Ayn Randish in 1970 coming against regulations against airborne contaminants:
“[T]his bill could prevent continued production of automobiles . . . [and] is a threat to the entire American economy and to every person in America.”
Here is Ronnie Reagan arguing against Medicare in 1961:
“The doctor begins to lose freedoms; it’s like telling a lie, and one leads to another. First you decide that the doctor can have so many patients. They are equally divided among the various doctors by the government. But then the doctors aren’t equally divided geographically, so a doctor decides he wants to practice in one town and the government has to say to him you can’t live in that town, they already have enough doctors. You have to go someplace else. And from here it is only a short step to dictating where he will go.”
With an echo from Republican Sen. Carl Curtis of Nebraska in 1965:
“It is socialism. It moves the country in a direction which is not good for anyone, whether they be young or old. It charts a course from which there will be no turning back.”
And what about that terrible Social Security and all the many sins it will rain down on our country. Listen to Republican Senator Daniel Hastings from Delaware in 1935:
“I fear it may end the progress of a great country and bring its people to the level of the average European. It will furnish delicious food and add great strength to the political demagogue. It will assist in driving worthy and courageous men from public life. It will discourage and defeat the American trait of thrift. It will go a long way toward destroying American initiative and courage.”
And now that we will be turning our attention to immigration, let’s not forget who we may be allowing to enter our sacred grounds. Let’s remember the prophetic words of Democratic Congressman Compton White of Idaho in 1943 on why Chinese nationals should not be allowed to immigrate to the United States or become U.S. citizens:
“I do not think we can take the Chinese with their habits and mentalities in this year and time into our great American melting pot and in ten years or a hundred years bring them up to our standards of civilization.”
And speaking of the Chinese, don’t forget that good ol’ standby threat – Communism, as expressed by the National Association of Manufacturers in 1938 coming out against minimum wage and guaranteed overtime pay (some of this may sound very familiar):
“[The Act represents] a step in the direction of Communism, bolshevism, fascism, and Nazism.”
And then there is Lee Iacocca, sounding very Ayn Randish in 1970 coming against regulations against airborne contaminants:
“[T]his bill could prevent continued production of automobiles . . . [and] is a threat to the entire American economy and to every person in America.”
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Stand up and say ENOUGH!
Just sent this to Democrats: I have contributed money. But we need to do more than contribute money. We need to reawaken the silent majority. While we listen to the angry, insulting, racist, threatening screaming diatribes most Americans shake their heads and worry. Now it is time to stop shaking our heads and start speaking. It is time for Democrats – and Republicans – to start taking vocal and public stands and say ENOUGH! Enough of the threats of assassinations. Enough of the racial insults. Enough of the gay bashing. Enough of the bricks thrown into windows. Enough of the non-stop lies about what the legislation does. Enough of the distortions. Enough of members of Congress acting like children and spoiled brats. It is time for them to engage in intelligent, deliberative debate that involves listening to all sides, quietly and with the single goal of reaching an agreement on the best route that will serve all of the people. These are bad times that require good intentions. These are bad times that require dedication of the whole for the whole, not of the few or the special interests or the special egos or any one party. This is not time for any more division and the American people have had enough. It is the responsibility of all of our leaders to start leading, start speaking up and start insisting on decorum.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
My Father And Einstein
My father always wanted me to be a journalist. I learned this in a few ways -- a couple very indirectly. The most direct was when I announced that while attending College of Marin in Marin County, California, I was majoring in music. He let it be known he was devastated.
"You are a writer," he told me, adding, "What are you going to do with a music major?"
I told him I wanted to teach and follow the example set by one of my favorite high school teachers, Byron Jones at San Rafael High School.
One day, my music professor, who was also our choir director, Drummond S. Wolff, came up to me after class with one of my attempts at composition. It had a lot of red marks all over it. He looked up at me. He was very short. And he said, "Why don't you go into journalism?"
The indirect came many years later, after my father had died. Immediately after he died, I found a letter he had written to me. He talked about his days at a newspaper with the old printing press and my days at Syracuse University and how someday I would be a great journalist. He attended Syracuse University. I did not. The letter was a class assignment. It was written when I was four years old.
The second came many years later in a book about Einstein written by Walter Isaacson. I quote from the section about my father:
He once helped a 15-year-old student, Henry Rosso, with a journalism class. Rosso's teacher had offered a top grade to anyone scoring an interview with the scientist, so Rosso showed up at the Einstein home, only to be rebuffed at the door. The milkman gave him a tip: Einstein walked a certain route each morning at 9:30. Rosso snuck out of school and accosted him.
But the student, flummoxed, didn't know what to ask. So Einstein suggested questions about math. "I discovered that nature was constructed in a wonderful way, and our task is to find out [its] mathematical structure," Einstein explained about his own education. "It is a kind of faith that helped me through my whole life."
The interview earned Henry Rosso an A.
So, I guess it was in my blood. But I don't think I ever got an A.
"You are a writer," he told me, adding, "What are you going to do with a music major?"
I told him I wanted to teach and follow the example set by one of my favorite high school teachers, Byron Jones at San Rafael High School.
One day, my music professor, who was also our choir director, Drummond S. Wolff, came up to me after class with one of my attempts at composition. It had a lot of red marks all over it. He looked up at me. He was very short. And he said, "Why don't you go into journalism?"
The indirect came many years later, after my father had died. Immediately after he died, I found a letter he had written to me. He talked about his days at a newspaper with the old printing press and my days at Syracuse University and how someday I would be a great journalist. He attended Syracuse University. I did not. The letter was a class assignment. It was written when I was four years old.
The second came many years later in a book about Einstein written by Walter Isaacson. I quote from the section about my father:
He once helped a 15-year-old student, Henry Rosso, with a journalism class. Rosso's teacher had offered a top grade to anyone scoring an interview with the scientist, so Rosso showed up at the Einstein home, only to be rebuffed at the door. The milkman gave him a tip: Einstein walked a certain route each morning at 9:30. Rosso snuck out of school and accosted him.
But the student, flummoxed, didn't know what to ask. So Einstein suggested questions about math. "I discovered that nature was constructed in a wonderful way, and our task is to find out [its] mathematical structure," Einstein explained about his own education. "It is a kind of faith that helped me through my whole life."
The interview earned Henry Rosso an A.
So, I guess it was in my blood. But I don't think I ever got an A.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
show it as it is
There has been some discussion over the past few months about what should and should not be shown and reported from the battlefield in Iraq and Afghanistan. It started during the Bush administration -- those clowns who started the misguided, irresponsible, disastrous war in Iraq. Remember? Do not show pictures of flag-draped coffins carrying dead Americans returning home. The Bushies didn't want Americans knowing that war causes death. Then there was an uproar over the publication of an American soldier who died during combat. Some American newspapers published it. Some didn't. Many Americans screamed in protest.
I bring this up because I heard Robert Siegel on National Public Radio discuss reaction to a report by Soraya Sarhaddi Nelson, which included the sound of Taliban militants shooting at the Marines and Afghan soldiers, their return fire and the moment when one of the Americans, Lance Corporal Alejandro Yazzie, was shot and killed.
Siegel reported that Nelson's report upset several listeners, including one who asked: "How could you air the actual incident? As a former Army captain who served as a social worker in the military and currently counsels combat veterans, I can't tell you how wrong that was on so many levels." Siegel added that the listener added that "The American public has no right to share in that moment."
Not everybody agreed. Siegel added another listener who said, "Considering the fact that most Americans have no idea what is involved in being a member of the military, combat reporting from the front is more essential now than ever."
I agree. We have been fighting two wars now for more than eight years and I can guarantee there is a very large portion of Americans who are totally unaware of the wars.
I agree with words as I do with pictures, if Americans see and read and hear what is actually happening on the battlefield, they might start to look at what is happening with different eyes. We have been fighting two wars with Americans not in uniform having no idea what the hell is happening. And I venture to say a very large portion of Americans are even oblivious of the fact that there are wars going on. And of those who are aware of the wars, how many know that to date, at least 4,378 Americans have been killed in Iraq and 1,003 have been killed in Afghanistan. More than 20,000 Americans have been wounded in these wars. And that's only counting the Americans. How many civilians in Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan are we killing in an effort to save them?
There is a price to pay for war and it is a lot more costly than dollars and equipment. It is lives and limbs and sight and senses and mental capacities and marriages and families. And for all those flag-draped coffins that come home there are far more empty minds and half bodies and blown-apart lives and shattered families. And so many of us are so unaware. And our government and the people who complain about the publication of the truth and reality of war would like us to stay ignorant about the realities of war.
So, while you enjoy your American Idol and your Olympics and your Sarah Palin and you weep over your Tiger Woods, you better also know that your American soldier is getting his leg blown off. And you better know that you sent him there because you approved of his going there because you thought it was a good idea that he go there because somebody told you it was a good idea for some good reason for some war that had a purpose and was going to accomplish something or other. And what's on TV tonight?
I bring this up because I heard Robert Siegel on National Public Radio discuss reaction to a report by Soraya Sarhaddi Nelson, which included the sound of Taliban militants shooting at the Marines and Afghan soldiers, their return fire and the moment when one of the Americans, Lance Corporal Alejandro Yazzie, was shot and killed.
Siegel reported that Nelson's report upset several listeners, including one who asked: "How could you air the actual incident? As a former Army captain who served as a social worker in the military and currently counsels combat veterans, I can't tell you how wrong that was on so many levels." Siegel added that the listener added that "The American public has no right to share in that moment."
Not everybody agreed. Siegel added another listener who said, "Considering the fact that most Americans have no idea what is involved in being a member of the military, combat reporting from the front is more essential now than ever."
I agree. We have been fighting two wars now for more than eight years and I can guarantee there is a very large portion of Americans who are totally unaware of the wars.
I agree with words as I do with pictures, if Americans see and read and hear what is actually happening on the battlefield, they might start to look at what is happening with different eyes. We have been fighting two wars with Americans not in uniform having no idea what the hell is happening. And I venture to say a very large portion of Americans are even oblivious of the fact that there are wars going on. And of those who are aware of the wars, how many know that to date, at least 4,378 Americans have been killed in Iraq and 1,003 have been killed in Afghanistan. More than 20,000 Americans have been wounded in these wars. And that's only counting the Americans. How many civilians in Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan are we killing in an effort to save them?
There is a price to pay for war and it is a lot more costly than dollars and equipment. It is lives and limbs and sight and senses and mental capacities and marriages and families. And for all those flag-draped coffins that come home there are far more empty minds and half bodies and blown-apart lives and shattered families. And so many of us are so unaware. And our government and the people who complain about the publication of the truth and reality of war would like us to stay ignorant about the realities of war.
So, while you enjoy your American Idol and your Olympics and your Sarah Palin and you weep over your Tiger Woods, you better also know that your American soldier is getting his leg blown off. And you better know that you sent him there because you approved of his going there because you thought it was a good idea that he go there because somebody told you it was a good idea for some good reason for some war that had a purpose and was going to accomplish something or other. And what's on TV tonight?
Monday, February 1, 2010
For Beer and Jeans
This is a song that was sung at the Grammys last night. Maybe I am seeing too much into it. Maybe I am too sensitive about war. See, there is a verse that disturbed me. Here it is:
I thank god for my life
And for the stars and stripes
May freedom forever fly, let it ring
Salute the ones who died
And the ones that give their lives, so we don't have to sacrifice
All the things we love
There is an eight-line chorus that is repeated five times:
You know what I'm a chicken fried
A cold beer on a Friday night
A pair of jeans that fit just right
And the radio up
Well I've seen the sunrise
See the love in my woman's eyes
Feel the touch of a precious child
And know a mother's love
Yes, thank god for those who die so that we don’t have to give up our cold beer and fried chicken and jeans that fit just right. And, yes, do it for the stars and stripes and old glory. And salute those who died. Should make them feel much better. Meanwhile, the peace man -- you know, that guy in the White House who won the Nobel Peace Prize who sent a whole lot of American warriors to Afghanistan – yeah, him, the president of the United States is overseeing the deaths of those we salute so we continue to enjoy our fried chicken, cold beer and jeans that fit. While actions in the name of the United States continue to kill civilians in Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan. So that we don’t have to sacrifice all the things we love.
Maybe I’m reading too much into this song.
I am writing this on Feb. 1, 2010. So far, 31 Americans have been killed in Afghanistan. Another 20 coalition military personnel have been killed so far this year. The total after seven years in Iraq stands at 4,375 American of a total 4,693 coalition forces.
In 2007, U.S. beer consumption was 6.7 billion gallons, according to the National Association of Convenience Stores.
I thank god for my life
And for the stars and stripes
May freedom forever fly, let it ring
Salute the ones who died
And the ones that give their lives, so we don't have to sacrifice
All the things we love
There is an eight-line chorus that is repeated five times:
You know what I'm a chicken fried
A cold beer on a Friday night
A pair of jeans that fit just right
And the radio up
Well I've seen the sunrise
See the love in my woman's eyes
Feel the touch of a precious child
And know a mother's love
Yes, thank god for those who die so that we don’t have to give up our cold beer and fried chicken and jeans that fit just right. And, yes, do it for the stars and stripes and old glory. And salute those who died. Should make them feel much better. Meanwhile, the peace man -- you know, that guy in the White House who won the Nobel Peace Prize who sent a whole lot of American warriors to Afghanistan – yeah, him, the president of the United States is overseeing the deaths of those we salute so we continue to enjoy our fried chicken, cold beer and jeans that fit. While actions in the name of the United States continue to kill civilians in Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan. So that we don’t have to sacrifice all the things we love.
Maybe I’m reading too much into this song.
I am writing this on Feb. 1, 2010. So far, 31 Americans have been killed in Afghanistan. Another 20 coalition military personnel have been killed so far this year. The total after seven years in Iraq stands at 4,375 American of a total 4,693 coalition forces.
In 2007, U.S. beer consumption was 6.7 billion gallons, according to the National Association of Convenience Stores.
Monday, January 25, 2010
feral thoughts
We can all get along here.
That quote has been on my mind lately, but it might surprise you why. That was Rodney King in 1992 appealing for peace after days of riots in Los Angeles.
So, why have I been thinking about that quote lately – here in 2010 in Humboldt County, while feeding feral cats. OK, stay with me.
I volunteer with a group of dedicated people who take turns feeding feral cats all over our community. I feed on Sundays and Mondays. I am joined by my wife, Susan, and Carole and Cynthia and Tammy and there are many others and those that I named do so much more – with Bless the Beasts, the Humane Society, Miranda’s and other organizations that help with animals that are lost, abandoned, injured, mistreated or in other ways require assistance. While feeding, we also attempt to trap so that the cats can be spayed and neutered and some may even be adopted.
Susan and I feed at the tracks off of Commercial Street near the waterfront where the trains are. We have been doing it for years now and have gotten to know the cats and we know the newcomers and have given them names. Fluffy is a regular. We notice that Fluffy has a regular companion and they are almost always together, living and eating under one set of train cars, while on the other side, another set of cats appear to have taken up residence and prefer to eat on what I have taken to calling the Mezzanine. These two sets of cats seldom mix. Recently, two new cats have appeared on the Mezzanine – a very small coal black kitten I have yet to name and a tabby with what appears to be a bad left eye that has been very protective of the black kitten. I call the tabby Hissy because he hisses ferociously at me even while I am presenting him with his food. Hissy and the black kitten are always together. Not all the cats show up every time I feed and Hissy and the black kitten have gone missing entire weekends only to show up the following weekend. The most I have seen in one day is eight cats.
And then there are the visitors. Raccoons. Many times only one will appear. A few times there have been three and several times there have been two. I will try to divert the raccoons with a small pile of dry cat food so they will leave the cats alone. There have been times when the raccoons have appeared and the cats on the ground level have scattered across the way and joined the cats on the Mezzanine level.
The cats have a lot of train cars to hide under and in and around and I often see them as I drive in. They see the car come in and they run to follow it to the spot where I usually feed. They know the chow wagon has arrived. One time, as I drove in, I looked in the rearview mirror and three cats were running behind me.
Oh, yeah, the quote.
One day, as I drove in, I looked in the rearview mirror, and there were two cats following me, running alongside a raccoon – the three of them, running together behind the car to get to the chow wagon.
Another day, as I was feeding the cats, the raccoon appeared. He saw me and I motioned to him to go to the spot where I usually dropped a pile of dry food for him and then went to the car to scoop up a bunch. I dropped it beside the train and the raccoon came up from under the train, looked up at me and started pawing the food into his mouth, all the while watching me. I checked on the cats on the ground and they went back to eating. I crossed the way and gave food to the cats on the mezzanine. When I turned around I saw three cats and one raccoon all eating together. The raccoon had left his pile of dry food and joined the cats with their food and the cats just moved over one dish and continued eating.
And I thought about Rodney King’s quote: “We can all get along here.” And I thought about the rest of what he said that day: “We can get along here … we’re all stuck here … let’s try to work it out.”
That quote has been on my mind lately, but it might surprise you why. That was Rodney King in 1992 appealing for peace after days of riots in Los Angeles.
So, why have I been thinking about that quote lately – here in 2010 in Humboldt County, while feeding feral cats. OK, stay with me.
I volunteer with a group of dedicated people who take turns feeding feral cats all over our community. I feed on Sundays and Mondays. I am joined by my wife, Susan, and Carole and Cynthia and Tammy and there are many others and those that I named do so much more – with Bless the Beasts, the Humane Society, Miranda’s and other organizations that help with animals that are lost, abandoned, injured, mistreated or in other ways require assistance. While feeding, we also attempt to trap so that the cats can be spayed and neutered and some may even be adopted.
Susan and I feed at the tracks off of Commercial Street near the waterfront where the trains are. We have been doing it for years now and have gotten to know the cats and we know the newcomers and have given them names. Fluffy is a regular. We notice that Fluffy has a regular companion and they are almost always together, living and eating under one set of train cars, while on the other side, another set of cats appear to have taken up residence and prefer to eat on what I have taken to calling the Mezzanine. These two sets of cats seldom mix. Recently, two new cats have appeared on the Mezzanine – a very small coal black kitten I have yet to name and a tabby with what appears to be a bad left eye that has been very protective of the black kitten. I call the tabby Hissy because he hisses ferociously at me even while I am presenting him with his food. Hissy and the black kitten are always together. Not all the cats show up every time I feed and Hissy and the black kitten have gone missing entire weekends only to show up the following weekend. The most I have seen in one day is eight cats.
And then there are the visitors. Raccoons. Many times only one will appear. A few times there have been three and several times there have been two. I will try to divert the raccoons with a small pile of dry cat food so they will leave the cats alone. There have been times when the raccoons have appeared and the cats on the ground level have scattered across the way and joined the cats on the Mezzanine level.
The cats have a lot of train cars to hide under and in and around and I often see them as I drive in. They see the car come in and they run to follow it to the spot where I usually feed. They know the chow wagon has arrived. One time, as I drove in, I looked in the rearview mirror and three cats were running behind me.
Oh, yeah, the quote.
One day, as I drove in, I looked in the rearview mirror, and there were two cats following me, running alongside a raccoon – the three of them, running together behind the car to get to the chow wagon.
Another day, as I was feeding the cats, the raccoon appeared. He saw me and I motioned to him to go to the spot where I usually dropped a pile of dry food for him and then went to the car to scoop up a bunch. I dropped it beside the train and the raccoon came up from under the train, looked up at me and started pawing the food into his mouth, all the while watching me. I checked on the cats on the ground and they went back to eating. I crossed the way and gave food to the cats on the mezzanine. When I turned around I saw three cats and one raccoon all eating together. The raccoon had left his pile of dry food and joined the cats with their food and the cats just moved over one dish and continued eating.
And I thought about Rodney King’s quote: “We can all get along here.” And I thought about the rest of what he said that day: “We can get along here … we’re all stuck here … let’s try to work it out.”
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Looking Back
Looking Back
I have often been accused of spending too much time looking back, reminiscing, bringing up the “good ol’ days.” It’s not that I don’t enjoy good today days and good today friends and today experiences. I posted on August 7, 2009, a poem I had written many years ago titled The Good Ol’ Days that touched on this subject a bit.
But, sometimes the good ol’ days come at you suddenly and without warning. It was just before the big shake here in Eureka that my wife thought I was having a heart attack. I was sitting at the computer and she was in the other room when she heard me yell. She thought I was in pain. I wasn’t. I had just received an email from someone I had not heard from in 43 years. And it wasn’t just any someone. It was M/Sgt Elton Britton, the man who had formed and directed the Cam Ranh Choraleers, the choir I sang with while stationed in Cam Ranh Bay Air Base in Vietnam from 1966 until 1967. It was a wonderful experience. The Ed Sullivan Show sent a crew to Vietnam to film us for the Ed Sullivan Christmas Show that aired Dec. 18, 1967 – a show I have yet to see. I have been trying for years to get a copy of that tape or to hear from somebody from the choir. Then, just before our house and the rest of Humboldt County, started shaking, up pops this email from Sgt. Britton.
And that’s one of the joys of enjoying spots in the past. If looking back into our past is such a sin, why do we take pictures? Why do we keep diaries? Why do we jot down notes? Why do we collect souvenirs? We have a thing with numbers – 10s and 50s. We like to look back at the year in pictures, the decade in the news, what happened 50 years ago. Fifty years ago – 1960 – I met the girl at San Rafael High School who became my first love. And I still keep in touch with her.
But 1960 was much more for all of us alive at that time: The Kennedys – John, Bobby, Teddy, Jacqueline, Ethel – Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, the Black Panthers, Angela Davis. It was racial tensions, moon landings, assassinations, Vietnam, hippies, Woodstock, sexual revolution, Timothy Leary, LSD. And so much more.
I have copious notes about the three years I spent at military school between the ages of 13 and 15. The school is putting together its 140th anniversary special to be published in May and is asking for contributions. My memories came in handy. Believe me, not all those notes will be printable. But I am glad I kept those notes. I am glad I delved into the past. And maybe I’ll do more with them. Maybe not.
I had a wife who told me that her previous husband made her throw away all of her pictures and memorabilia of her previous friends when she got married. I thought that was terrible. I would never make such a request and would never bow to such a request. Those memories are part of our lives. The friends we had are part of our lives. They shouldn’t be thrown away except by choice.
I have my memories, but I also have my todays and tomorrows. I have choir rehearsal tomorrow.
I have often been accused of spending too much time looking back, reminiscing, bringing up the “good ol’ days.” It’s not that I don’t enjoy good today days and good today friends and today experiences. I posted on August 7, 2009, a poem I had written many years ago titled The Good Ol’ Days that touched on this subject a bit.
But, sometimes the good ol’ days come at you suddenly and without warning. It was just before the big shake here in Eureka that my wife thought I was having a heart attack. I was sitting at the computer and she was in the other room when she heard me yell. She thought I was in pain. I wasn’t. I had just received an email from someone I had not heard from in 43 years. And it wasn’t just any someone. It was M/Sgt Elton Britton, the man who had formed and directed the Cam Ranh Choraleers, the choir I sang with while stationed in Cam Ranh Bay Air Base in Vietnam from 1966 until 1967. It was a wonderful experience. The Ed Sullivan Show sent a crew to Vietnam to film us for the Ed Sullivan Christmas Show that aired Dec. 18, 1967 – a show I have yet to see. I have been trying for years to get a copy of that tape or to hear from somebody from the choir. Then, just before our house and the rest of Humboldt County, started shaking, up pops this email from Sgt. Britton.
And that’s one of the joys of enjoying spots in the past. If looking back into our past is such a sin, why do we take pictures? Why do we keep diaries? Why do we jot down notes? Why do we collect souvenirs? We have a thing with numbers – 10s and 50s. We like to look back at the year in pictures, the decade in the news, what happened 50 years ago. Fifty years ago – 1960 – I met the girl at San Rafael High School who became my first love. And I still keep in touch with her.
But 1960 was much more for all of us alive at that time: The Kennedys – John, Bobby, Teddy, Jacqueline, Ethel – Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, the Black Panthers, Angela Davis. It was racial tensions, moon landings, assassinations, Vietnam, hippies, Woodstock, sexual revolution, Timothy Leary, LSD. And so much more.
I have copious notes about the three years I spent at military school between the ages of 13 and 15. The school is putting together its 140th anniversary special to be published in May and is asking for contributions. My memories came in handy. Believe me, not all those notes will be printable. But I am glad I kept those notes. I am glad I delved into the past. And maybe I’ll do more with them. Maybe not.
I had a wife who told me that her previous husband made her throw away all of her pictures and memorabilia of her previous friends when she got married. I thought that was terrible. I would never make such a request and would never bow to such a request. Those memories are part of our lives. The friends we had are part of our lives. They shouldn’t be thrown away except by choice.
I have my memories, but I also have my todays and tomorrows. I have choir rehearsal tomorrow.
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