George Floyd or Black Lives Matter (6/1/2020)

I am upset. This country is being torn apart, hijacked by certain people, a noble cause is being drug through the mud, allowing dog whistles to fly.

Let me explain, I am white or Caucasian if you have not figured that one out yet. I was born in the darkest of Africa, the Congo. I often joke that this makes me an African American, although I have a distinct advantage of having a white skin color. I can only imagine what real African Americans go through.  I have actually been subject of reverse discrimination of which I write about here.  I grew up in the Caribbean and had white, brown and black friends. We did not see the difference (and this was in the 1960s). In my adult life, I worked in Africa, the Middle East, Asia, and on a Native American Reservation. Again, it acknowledged to me that we are all the same. We all put on our pants in the morning, one leg at a time. Currently, in front of our home we have a sign that reads “Black Lives Matter.” 

The sign in our front yard.  We got this at our church and we proudly show this in our front yard.  We get people stopping by, who tell us how much they like it.

I have not been blogging much lately, this Covid-19 business has gotten me down, but as you can probable surmise, the George Floyd murder and what is currently happening to this country is really upsetting me. Yes, I am as upset about it as everyone else. While I am against the death penalty, I almost wish the police officer would face a similar penalty: “death by knee strangulation.” What upset me almost as much was the video of one of the police officers quickly looking at the scene and then looking away.

What also upsets me is what followed. I really liked the nationwide demonstrations. They are needed to focus attention on what is happening to the black community and they are needed to bring social and political change. Boy, do we need social and political change (I might write about it later). However, I do not like the looting and the burning of buildings that accompanied it all.

Our church is on the border of a black, somewhat poor neighborhood, and since the outbreak of Covid-19 I think it was burglarized 3 times. In my mind and I have explained it to my wife by telling her that probably these folks cannot or have a hard time getting unemployment or even the stimulus check. To be able to survive they have to go to food pantries, food kitchens or rely on burglary. Case-in-point, the food was stolen out of the fridge at church, in addition to the laptop. So the looting of grocery stores maybe, but fancy sneaker stores, not really. In addition, it seems that there are right-wing agitators in the crowd that maybe egging them on or are really the Molotov cocktail throwers and fire starters. 

It was Dillan Root the white-supremacist Charleston Church killer, who hoped that his killing would “start the revolution.” Other white-supremacists were hoping their action would do the same thing. I am afraid that this is what the agitators are trying to do, assisted by Trump, who is sending dog whistle after dog whistle to his troops and supporters, and the failing Republican Party. We need to go back to peaceful protest and do the following things:

1. Elect Biden as our next president
2. When we do that, make sure that Biden selects a young, dynamic person as vice-president. Because, we all know that Biden will serve for one term and this person will be next. We need a new generation of leaders and thinkers in this country. I am a 66-year-old baby boomer and I realize it is time for new thinkers. Mayor Pete or a younger white or black male or female would be a good choice.  (I used to be a Klobuchar fan, but it seems that she did not prosecute the cop that killed George Floyd for a previous violation when she was the District Attorney).
3. Trow the republicans out of congress and the senate, they are obstructionists and cling to the old ideas of yesterday that don't work and have caused the situation we are in now (the riots and the Corona pandemic).
4. All these protesters should understand what Trump is doing, keep up the demonstrations (peacefully) and they should use the power of their vote to force social and political change. Get people registered and get people to the poles in November. Yes, Trump and his cronies are going to call them socialists or worse communist. Remember, he is in bed with Putin, the real communist dictator.

Welcome to my brain, or on mortality (7/1/2019)

I sometimes feel the pressure of having to write and keeping my readers somehow updated with my thinking and my feelings. The problem is that at times, I just sit there and have very little to say. But then I am reminded of that article or blog I read once that said, even if you do not have to say anything keep writing, because practice makes perfect; moreover, who knows, something profound may come pouring out (so there may be hope). I wrote about that or about writing in general before <here>, <here>, <here> and <here>.

I have been in a funk since all the things that happened in May. Yes, I am slowly digging myself out of the hole, but hitting another landmark birthday recently (on that same day, my birthday, my father-in-law had a heart attack, he is OK), and now having a horrible backache with the pain shooting down my legs and actually numbing my toes does not really help either. You heard the saying “two steps forward, one step back,” or is it “one step forward, two steps back?” I just hope it is the former, not the latter. Interesting fact here the “f” in former stands for first (now get your mind out of the gutter) and the “l” in latter stands for last of the two choices. I had to look this up and here I learned something today.

However, the pain in my back was so bad that I actually begged my wife to kill me. Thank goodness, we do not own a weapon that could easily accomplish such a task. Moreover, while I would be out of my misery, her misery would just begin after a mercy killing like that. But all the sudden I realize that here we have hit a number of issues in this short essay including euthanasia, writing, gun control, sickness, depression; I could really be off to the races with any of these subjects. I could even combine them. I guess that is why the advice was to just start writing and see where you end up.

Sitting at the doctor’s office with this wonderful back of mine, I was confronted with my mortality. There were only three other folks in the waiting room. On one side of me was a young woman, who I overheard, thanks to my newly acquired hearing aids (a sign of old age and lots of rock music), was telling the receptionist that she was born in 1997. A quick calculation told me that she must be 22 or 23, a fresh young green leaf (she did not look ill). Across from me was an older couple, much older than I am, the woman of the couple could hardly walk in, complaining that she was burning up and very sick. She looked like a leaf ready to fall off the tree. This past week I am not sure where I was in the season of leaf development.

One wonders so now and then: at what stage of life are you, and from what angle will the wind blow and how hard will it blow and can you hang on?

Also in the waiting room, I was threatened with a 2013 article in BizNews that had the following headline: “Retire at 55 and live to 80; work till you’re 65 and die at 67. Startling new data shows how work pounds older bodies.” I guess, I already (for the first time in all these years) admitted to being old in this post. Actually, I just turned 66 and if you are a regular reader, you know that I am not retired. Does this mean I have less than a year to live? I hope not. However, if these posts stop all the sudden, you know what happened to me: my time was up. 

Honestly, my mortality does not keep me awake at night. What keeps me up lately are my back and things I am working on at work, like course design. But, death is not one of them. I know it is going to end one of these days, and hopefully I have at least 20 more years. I would like to leave a legacy, with my teaching, my thinking, my writing, and maybe with some of my photographs (sorry, I am not wealthy). I know that I cannot take anything with me; moreover, when I am dead, I am dead. I do not believe in an afterlife, a heaven or a hell. I believe that we better create our heaven here on earth, and leave a livable heavenly earth behind for our children and grandchildren, something a lot of folks seem to forget. One thing is for sure, the earth's environment might be ruined if we don't do anything about it quickly. We cannot just sit, lean back any longer, take a wait and see attitude, wondering what will happen.

Reading the book "Braiding Sweetgrass" by Robin Wall Kimmerer, I came to an interesting passage comparing the Judeo-Christian "Eve" and the Native American "Skywoman." Both are seen as the founding mothers of their respective religions. While Skywoman was sent to plant it and tend to it, creating a wonderful environment for her descendants. Eve, on the other hand, was sent in exile from the Garden of Eden for eating from the forbidden fruit, the fruit of knowledge. I never looked at it that way, I always thought of it more like the attitude of Francis Bacon and man's dominance over the natural world. Instead, according to Kimmerer, for Judeo-Christians it is more like who gives a crap about this world, I want to go back to the Garden of Eden or maybe that's called heaven. Who cares if we fuck up this world, this is exile country, we don’t belong here. An interesting view on religion and environmentalism, isn’t it?

Oh well, here we are back to one of the subjects dear to my heart: protecting the world, the environment, for that 22 or 23 year old "green leaf" in the doctor's office, so she can enjoy it for another 60 years, and for her children after that. But at times it is so hard to see that we are making any headway (two steps back). Having a president who claims we have the best climate and best environment in the world, knowing all too well that the air quality has deteriorated over the past two years thanks to his policies and the EPA turning back environmental regulations.

All I can say my friends is: welcome to my brain (if you ever want to send me a hat to protect it: size extra-large) and my often non-linear way of thinking. This is how I sometimes connect the dots, especially when it is somewhat clouded by muscle relaxants, my mortality and the mortality of others around me.  If you wonder about the time you wasted on reading this blog, don't worry, the next one will be more on subject.

Yorktown (4/13/2014)

It was absolutely beautiful on Sunday, and we decided to go for a walk with the dogs in Yorktown proper.  We parked up in the higher part and already when we opened the car door we were welcomed by the sound of bells ringing from the Baptist Church.  I assume it’s a large speaker system that puts the sound out over the village, but still it set a good atmosphere for Sunday morning.  When we got to the river (around 9:30), people were already staking their claim on the beach.  Also there were the guys with their metal detectors, looking for the things yesterday’s crowds had lost in the sand.  We had a great walk along the water and back up to the car.  In all we walked more than 7000 steps according to the fitbit that I wear, which is pretty darn good since my goal is 10,000 steps.  As I tell people, I am trying to get my girlish figure back, but it is a struggle, especially after a weekend of gluttony and wine tasting.

Yorktown is full with older buildings some of which are owned by the park service and others by individual.  There are also not so old homes, and even some older apartment buildings.  It is a nice combination, and a pleasure to walk.   The photo here is from the Nelson House, which dates from 1730 (here is another reference for the Nelson House).  It is a nice historic building that gives you a flavor of the importance of Yorktown in its hay days.  It’s amazing how fleeting some of these things such as fame and fortune can be, and only some will be kept in our memories forever.  People build monuments to themselves, such as ex-governor Nelson who seems to have built the largest house on Yorktown, or maybe the largest surviving house in Yorktown.  Guess we still do this in modern time, but I assume that most of the McMansions here in the US that are stick built, will eventually deteriorate, and few will remain as monument to their owners.  This is so very unlike the Europeans who built with brick and stones and where you still see many old buildings.

Now in modern time we have other means of leaving a legacy or our own monuments.  Some do it with the (non-biodegradable) trash they throw out of their car or fill the landfills with (my wife and I generate less than 2 bags of trash each week and compost all our food waste).  Others do it by writing, blogging or maybe even through things like facebook, twitter, or any other electronic way.  It should be interesting to see what will remain 100 or more years from now.  I personally hope that some of my writing (a few book chapters on scientific items), this blog, my photos on flickr or even facebook will give me some form of immortality.

Oh well, enough rambling.  We walked back by the beach an hour later, we were tired; the dogs had been swimming in the river and were wet.  Metal detector guys were gone and there was nothing left for future archeologists.  A lot more people were on the beach, ready to enjoy our first really warm day in the sun.