June 20, 2020

Yesterday was Juneteenth.  This national celebration marks the commemoration of the end of slavery in America.  The Emancipation Proclamation was an executive order issued by Abraham Lincoln on January 1, 1863.  It proclaimed the freedom of slaves in the ten Confederate states still in rebellion.  It also decreed that freed slaves could be enlisted in the Union Army, increasing the Union’s available manpower.  What is rarely discussed is it did not apply to the rest of the states, including those in the North.  However, it did change the focus of the struggle from preserving the union, to a dual aim of union and freeing the slaves.

Even after the War, Texas continued to be a haven for slave holders, as there were few Federal troops to enforce the law and slave owners were not prone to tell their slaves of their freedom.  It was not until June 19, 1865 and the arrival of General Gordon Granger in Galveston, Texas with 2000 troops that news of the end of the war and freedom for slaves was announced.  While there were earlier celebrations, Juneteenth became a state holiday in Texas in 1980.  To date 46 states and the District of Columbia celebrate this holiday.  This has become a day to recognize the end of slavery and to celebrate the culture and achievements of African Americans.

During the nightly news, the celebrations around the country were highlighted.  Then at the 7 o’clock hour CBS had the first ever coverage of the history, purpose, and stories of African American’s 155-year fight against racism.  Much of what I saw I was already aware of, but like so many things we think we understand, there were new insights.  In college I learned two specifics about history: that it is written by the winners, and that three witnesses will provide three different stories.  That is why joining the conversation is so important, everyone brings a different reality.

THOUGHTS:  The first I heard of the Black Wall Street massacre in Tulsa was earlier this year.  I received a graduate degree in the history of the four decades around the turn of the twentieth century and this was never a topic of conversation.  I got an inkling of this riot from the series, The Watchmen, that was set in a stylized version of Tulsa.  I have later learned most of the information about these two days and the 300 lives lost was covered up and suppressed.  Pushing something underground usually results in a resurface at the most inopportune time.  If you can, work to keep the conversation going.

June 19, 2020

Today I was finally able to get up to the Lake.  I like to fish outlet tubes and I have fond memories of the one below the dam at Blue Mountain.  Last year I was catching bass that literally jumped out of the water to attack my fly.  The difficulty with fishing tubes is I never know what the water level will be.  They are kind enough to blare and alarm horn before they open the gates.  This lets you get to higher ground before getting washed away by the surge of water.  We have not had rain in a few days so I hoped the level would be low and I could catch some big fish.

One reason I have been itching to get up is because of the YouTube videos I have watched in the last week.  These have been about monster fish this and monster fish that.  I was wanting to try my two new techniques.  I mentioned fishing with Spam (already purchased) and the other was using a Carolina Rig.  I kept hearing this was the best setup, so I finally watched a video yesterday showing how to make the rig and another on how to fish for bass with plastics.  The last time I was at this site I watched another fisherperson pull 3-4 good sized bass out of the tube.  This time I was going to get mine.

I did some work at home and when I got on the road, I saw on my maps app I would get there at noon.   This was a little later than I had hoped but still gave plenty of time before Melissa got home from work,  There were some road closures in the park but I figured they were due to being shut down until recently.  As I pulled up next to the tube my heart sank.  The water was at full surge and there was no way I could try either of my techniques today.  I went farther downstream and came across a section with a nice eddy and back flow.  I rigged up, tossed out, and immediately hung up on the rocks.  I retied and tried again, reeling in rather than letting it sink.  Rocks again.  I did finally catch a fish by putting a huge bobber on my line and letting it swirl in the current.  Even with the disappointment, I was fishing.

THOUGHTS:  I could not believe how excited I was to try the two new techniques I had learned about online.  I had spent the last several days thinking about pulling in big fish and had literally dreamed about fishing this rig.  While I was disappointed by today’s results, I knew they would work when the conditions were right.  There have been several times in America’s history when the conditions have been right to make advances against the systemic racism the founders left in our constitution.  Among these, the Civil War, the 1960s, and now.  We cannot let the disappointment of the past keep us from working to achieve the goal of equality for all, neither can we become complacent with the gap that still exists.  If you venture out, stay safe.

June 18, 2020

Grounded always had negative connotations when I lived at home with my parents.  It generally implied I had done something wrong and now I was being punished.  I grew up in the Dr. Spock era, so punishment was rarely punitive.  Dr. Spock was an American pediatrician who wrote the book Baby and Child Care in 1946.  His ideas about childcare influenced several generations of parents to be more flexible and affectionate with their children, and to treat them as individuals.  This was a huge contrast to the Biblical mandate of the “spare the rod, spoil the child” in Proverbs 13:24, or the Victorian concept of children being “little Adults.”  For me, it just meant I was not going to have any fun.

Fifty years later “grounded” has taken on a different meaning.  Now when I think of grounded, I think of my garden.   My plants need to be well grounded; they need to have good soil and deep roots to thrive.  I have found this is the same with Melissa’s succulents.  Many of Melissa’s plants are not hardy enough to survive outside even in the mild winters of Arkansas.  There are some however, who will survive and even thrive from the stress the colder temperatures put them through.  Each plant seems to have its own level of tolerance.

Today Melissa decided it was time to get some of the hardier plants into the ground.  She sent a text around noon suggesting “if I had no other plans, perhaps I could weed the front bed and get it ready to plant the succulents.”  I had other plans, but I know how much Melissa wants her succulents to thrive.  After I finished some of my work, I weeded the bed and then waited to help put the plants into the ground after she came home from her work.  It was a pleasant night and the hardy succulents were put in the ground, surrounded by pea gravel, and the rest of the bed was mulched.  It was good to work together on this project she loves.

THOUGHTS:  I took a course in linguistics in college.  I was fascinated by how the same words took on different connotations given their context.  Being a “newbie” gardener, I have also been fascinated by how similar the needs are of remarkably diverse plants, and how fragile similar plants can be to slight variations.  The unrest we face is forcing us to reevaluate whether we face similar words with different meanings or similar concerns with fragile variations.  This is a time to decide where you stand, and then find common ground as you share your views with others.  If you venture out, stay safe.

June 17, 2020

My father loved Spam.  SPAM is an acronym for Special Processed American Meat.  I personally do not recall ever eating it, but I am sure we must have when mom was away, and dad had to do the cooking.  This combination of pork, water, salt, potato starch, sugar, and sodium nitrate come out of the can covered in a gelatinous mass.  I have never gotten beyond opening the can.  My dad even found a SPAM tee shirt at the state fair and bought it.  I have seen several photographs with him proudly wearing his shirt.  I used to do odd things when my own son was in school.  When asked if I was not afraid of embarrassing him, I replied, “That is what dads do.”   I guess I am just like my father.

It was not until Melissa and I went to Hawaii on our honeymoon that I learned the glory of Spam.  The Hormel Corporation unleashed the product in 1937, and it took off during World War II.  According to the Spam website, that is when the island’s love affair with Spam began, when GIs were served the salty luncheon meat because it did not require refrigeration and had a long shelf life.  Hawaii consumes seven million cans of Spam a year.  Spam musubi – a slice of Spam perched atop a block of rice and wrapped in seaweed – is perhaps the most popular Spam dish in Hawaii, and it is available almost everywhere.  I did not try this delicacy, although it did look good.

We have been looking for alternative ways to air our Facebook posts and one is on YouTube.  I signed up for an account but have yet to get any farther.  What I do get is daily suggestions on fishing videos posted.  I watched one today about catching monsters in a city pond.  They started using plastic frogs but then switched to their secret bait, Spam. They opened the can and it looked just as I remembered.  They put it on the hook and began to catch huge fish.  There were Bluegill bigger than your hand and Grass Carp over thirty inches long.  On my way to work I stopped at the local store and found they also carried Spam in a single serving pouch, perfect for fishing bait.  I hope the fish like this more than me.

THOUGHTS:  When I bought the Spam, I was skeptical, but the vision of catching huge fish after fish stuck in the back of my mind.  My hope is that the single serving packets will not come with the added gelatin that keeps the canned meat fresh.  Sometimes we need to try new things “even though we have never done it that way before.”    Other times we need to revisit old ways and, if they appear worthwhile, reinvent them to suit today’s ethos.  Some things we just need to stop doing entirely.  Everything you do in life should be reexamined periodically to see which category the action falls into.  If you venture out, stay safe.

June 16, 2020

When I finally got around to reading the Sunday edition of my local paper, I came across an article taken from the USA Today about how to take action against racism in this time of staying at home.  The essence was:  donate and support activist groups, provide resources to aid protesters, and vote.  The ideas and organizations the article provided allowed someone to make an impact from home.  The suggestion which really sparked my interest concerned becoming actively anti-racist.  This included ideas like urging schools to include diversity in curriculum, bringing diverse voices to schools, reading about race, and others.

The reason this resonated with me was from my experience during the early 70’s at my high school.  Following the unrest of the late 60s, the school board instituted social consciousness events during the year.  I do not recall the name of the speaker, but her message has stayed with me.  We had an assembly for everyone followed by an open discussion in another large setting.  During the assembly she challenged the audience by making one claim after another concerning the role of African Americans in the formation of our country.  In the discussion time she fielded questions.  Even as a Sophomore I was not shy about speaking up.  I asked if the real purpose of what she said was to challenge us to research the past written from a different perspective.  Apparently, I got it because she asked if she could give me a hug.  I went forward and we did just that.

The next day I was surprised by the openly racial slurs and comments I received.  I lived in a medium sized college town with an army base nearby in a Northern state.   Although there were not a lot of African American students, they did comprise 10-15% of the school.  My brother has told me of a similar feel when he learned of the racism against Hispanics at his school in another small town where we lived in the same state.  I realized this was not a Mason-Dixon Line problem, even in “Bleeding Kansas.”

THOUGHTS:  Melissa and I completed one of our “bucket list” events several years ago when we attended Mardi Gras in New Orleans.  We sat in the grandstands for three of the big parades on Sunday and Monday and watched the Tuesday parades from the side (already sold out).  We planed the trip to spend the Wednesday and Thursday after touring “Nola” and the surrounding countryside.  I was amazed how fast the crowds left after Tuesday.   Two museums stood out, the Presbytere, with an exhibit on Katrina and the Cabildo, with an exhibit on the slave trade.  Both showed in graphic detail the plight of the marginalized.  We both left wondering how it was allowed to happen.  I appreciate the challenge I was given by an unknown woman 45 years ago.  I realized it is not enough to be anti-racist, we need to be active.  If you venture out, stay safe.

June 15, 2020

I have found myself talking to my plants.  It is not because they are such great conversationalist, it is more a thought that perhaps if I give them enough encouragement they will thrive.  I have read and heard several biologist and psychologists who say talking to your plants can be good for both of you.  The plants seem to thrive off the emotions we put into caring for them and our words can be soothing.  At the same time, airing thoughts and getting things off your chest is recommended for humans.  I will give you one hint, do not yell at them.  That does not seem to work.

When I was in seminary, I attended a discussion on Martin Luther King, Jr. during Black History Month.  I recall 25–30 people there and I was the only Caucasian.   As this was a student led discussion the content varied widely.  I do not recall what was specifically being discussed, but the realization I received has stayed with me.  The group had been going back and forth with everyone offering their understanding.  I sat quietly and listened, until the answer to our discussion became obvious.  I spoke my peace and outlined what I believed to be a well thought out solution.  Everyone listened politely, and then after I had spoken, went back to the previous discussion.  What I gained from this experience is conversation is not always about finding a solution, it is often more about being heard.

Even while I am being a bit tongue in cheek about talking to my plants, it may go a long way to keep them happy.  My garden is facing the toughest time of the year.  The rains and cool weather that set my plants on their path have given way to the warm and dry afternoons they will face for the rest of the summer.  It is during these times of stress that I need to be the most compassionate.  I will offer them a little more food, keep them well watered, and tell them how well they are doing.  After all, it cannot hurt.

THOUGHTS:  Melissa turned me on to a post this last week called Encouraging Meaningful Conversations.  This is an ongoing blog by a group called Mindful.  In this episode, Jenee Johnson encouraged hearers to have meaningful conversations about race and trauma.  This implies “the historical trauma, the microaggressions, the white fragility that often is a barrier to conversation.”  Just as I needed to realize discussion is about more than finding a solution, I know our unity will never happen without the conversation.  If you venture out, stay safe.

June 13, 2020

When I watered my garden this morning, I noticed my bird feeders were getting low.  I have mentioned I provide different types of food for different types of birds.  I have grain in one and black oil sunflower in another along the fence, and two hummingbird feeders next to the house.  The lawn also provides an abundance of worms which are especially in use now by the Blue Birds who are feeding their young in the bird house.  I have yet to see or hear these chicks, but the frantic back and forth of the parents make it clear they are doing well.  Even the squirrel is doing well, feeding off the seeds kicked out by the cardinals rummaging through the feeders.  I do not mind him eating off the ground, but I have chased him off when he got into the feeder itself.

The Friday night commentary show Melissa and I watch featured Dr. Dariush Mozaffarian an American cardiologist, Dean and Professor at the Friedman School of Nutrition Science and Policy at Tufts University.  His main point was that the Pandemic is magnified by the fact that 12% of American Adults are metabolically unhealthy.  This is defined by obesity, high blood pressure, cholesterol and glucose levels, and hypertension.  Nearly half of Americans are diagnosed as diabetic or pre-diabetic.  Mozaffarian said the shocking death rates are caused by the rapid pandemic coinciding with a slow pandemic, as obesity has skyrocketed over the last 40 years.  Sadly, none of this is even mentioned in the daily briefings we have heard from around the country.

Melissa and I have been on a diet for the last six months trying to curb our own problems.  I often hear weight is a response to America’s sweet tooth.  I have always said I will forgo desert to save room for the carbohydrates I really want.  The number of low-carb diets that are popular now let me know I am not the only one.  When I went for a cup of coffee this morning, I noticed the slice of “specialty bread” next to the pot had gone moldy.  This is happening more often as we cut back on carbs.  I tore the moldy parts off the bread and took them out for the squirrel.  We kept the rest.  After all, the bread is “special.”

THOUGHTS:  A century ago, there was a concern that we would not have enough food to feed the world.  Huger and vitamin deficiency was, and still is, a concern for many.  The intentional goal was to focus on production of cheap, shelf stable foods fortified with vitamins.  This focus worked and we now produce enough food for everyone, even if cost and distribution keep it from those who are in need.  Much of what is produced rots in fields, storage, or like my bread, in homes.  It has caused other problems as these foods are often high in calories.  We were able to fight global starvation and the ravages of scurvy, rickets, and similar diseases.  Perhaps now we need to build a different system to allow us to stay healthy and still be fed.  If you venture out, stay safe.

June 12, 2020

For the last several weeks our house has been filled with chaos.  It began when the succulents first arrived.  As their numbers grew, they took over the kitchen table, then the living room floor, and finally the counter space on our kitchen peninsula.  Melissa has been diligently working with them daily.  They need to be unpacked, labeled, and watered.  Next, they need to acclimate to our house, or for those intended for outside, our weather.  Finally, they are decoratively placed in pots.  This all takes time.

Neil Gaiman is an English author of short fiction, novels, comic books, graphic novels, nonfiction, audio theater, and films.  He is quoted likening chaos to herding cats.  “I would like to see anyone, prophet, king or God, convince a thousand cats to do the same thing at the same time.”  I had a friend who used to put a leash on her cat and take it to the park.  Often people would comment they had never seen a cat on a leash before and wondered how it could be so well trained.  What they did not understand was the cat went wherever it wanted.  The 25-foot leash just kept it from running away.

Even amid the chaos our house is being transformed into a thing of beauty.  Melissa took me out to the porch several days ago and showed me the shelves of succulents placed along the wall.  Despite my good intentions, our porch has always been cluttered.  We keep the pool, gardening, and bird feeding supplies there and it is hard to keep them straight.   The chaos that ruled the porch has been transformed by the beauty of the succulent garden.  This is happening inside as well as more plants are being transferred to pots.  Change is never easy, and it often requires chaos to come to fruition.

THOUGHTS:  I listened to a pod cast by Van Jones (Activist and CNN personality) where he discussed generational poverty.  These are the people who live in Appalachia, the hood, on reservations, and homelessness.  The Pandemic has taught us a tough lesson that we have ignored in the past.  We need to take care of those at the bottom and do everything we can to keep them safe.  These are the people who also hold the essential jobs of caring for elderly parents, our children, and making sure the supply lines are open.  We can be safe because they are at risk.  Sometimes we need a little chaos to see clearly.  If you venture out, stay safe.

June 11, 2020

When I went out to water this morning the wind was blowing hard for Arkansas.  My vegetables were being blown around and the tree branches were matted to the south.  I checked to make sure the plants were alright and then went about watering.  Even though they were not being damaged by the wind, I know windy days suck water from the leaves and quickly dry the soil.  I gave all my plants an extra dose of water and restacked the mulch to help support my potatoes.  That done I put the hose up and went inside.

The reason I say “for Arkansas” is because a 15 to 20 mile per hour wind is normal for the Kansas plains I come from.  Melissa and I used to ride our bikes along the river trail that was near our house in Wichita.  We took off one morning and enjoyed the wind in our face as we breezed along on our trip to the dam.  When we turned around, we struggled.  We were peddling as hard and fast as we could and did not seem to be making any progress.  When we finally made it home, I checked the weather app on my phone and found out why.  We had a steady wind of 35 miles per hour with gusts up to 50.

It turns out it was a good thing I was concerned enough to recheck my plants.  When I walked onto the porch, I noticed water pooling by the door.  As I went outside, I quickly knew why.  I had forgot and left the hose on after I had watered.  We have a self-winding hose caddy, but it only works if the water is on.  I had earlier replaced the fixture but the hose itself has a small hole in it which creates a small but steady stream of water that points toward the screened in porch.  As I shut the water off, I thought I should check again later to see how things are going.

THOUGHTS:  Wind can be both good and bad.  The sheer winds that come down the canyons in Utah can reach over 100 miles per hour and literally rip the roofs off of houses.  Wind is the power that moved ships and commerce across the seas and around the world prior to the invention of the steam engine.  The unrest we now face can be understood in a similar light.  America was born amid the riots and insurrection of the Revolution and the Constitution was written by the founding leaders demanding that right whenever injustice occurs.  We are in a different time, but the wind still blows.  If you venture out, stay safe.

June 10, 2020

We finally got the paperwork for Melissa’s car over the weekend and time was running short to get it registered.  No problem. I could do it Monday.  First, I went to the online registration site.  I worked through the forms until I was asked for the temporary tag number.  I do not know about you, but I do not even know my permanent tag numbers, let alone the temporary one.  I waited until Melissa got home with the car, checked the tag, and made a copy of the insurance and our licenses.  I got back online and hit another snag.  It seems I needed to mail my information and they would get back to me.  Since I only had a week to register, I decided it was better to go to the office.

Today I gathered all my information and headed to the Assessor.  Registering last year, I learned I needed proof I had paid my taxes before the Revenue Office would deal with me.  As I came through the Courthouse door an officer stopped me and asked where I was going.  He asked me to step back outside and told me the building was closed.  I got a paper with the Assessor’s contact and was told I had to go online or call.  I checked online and ran into similar snags, and then called.  The woman who answered was polite and quickly assessed my vehicle.  She said she would fax it to the Tag Office, and I could complete my registration today.

I had gone home to contact the Assessor online so now I had to get back out.  This seems like a bigger hassle now since I have been confined to the house for the last eight weeks.  I collected all my insurance cards and car registrations and went to the office.  I had been warned by the officer at the courthouse that they were only allowing four people at a time in the building.  When I arrived, there were ten people standing in line outside, plus the four inside.  I waited for a while and then decided to go home.  I chanced it again this afternoon and the line was clear.  Now I am legal.

THOUGHTS:  It seems everything is a little different now than it used to be.  I wondered why since the courthouse is closed, they kept the door open?  Two women who worked in the building walked past the masked officer and myself as I stood in the door.  Neither had a mask.  The Tag Office only allowed four people at a time in the building and had placed a plastic sheet across the bay of windows to protect the workers.  Neither of the three women working behind this sheet were masked and their conversation made it clear they were not worried.  When we get so many mixed messages it is hard to know what is best to do.  I will continue to be one of the fewer people still wearing their mask.  It is not about me.  It is to protect you.  If you venture out, stay safe.