Morning Donut

It's baseball time again!

2009-06-25T08:02:00.000-07:00

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“Baseball is a game where a curve is an optical illusion, a screwball can be a pitch or a person, stealing is legal and you can spit anywhere you like except in the umpire's eye or on the ball.”

- Jim Murray
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For 3 months of the year I get to be part of professional baseball. I am the photographer for the Eugene Emeralds here in Eugene. The Ems are the minor league single A short season affiliate for the San Diego Padres.

Photographically it's a pure joy. Socially... I get to hang out with jocks. And I'm grinning as I say that. I play sports (or at least used to) - softball, football and basketball. I ran track and cross-country in High School. Not well, but I liked running and what better way than competing at it and working out on a regular schedule to get to do it. I know my competitive lack of success came not from lack of ability but from lack of application. I didn't take it serious and I didn't care that I didn't take it serious. My gawd! I was a teenager in southern California, there were girls, beer and rock and roll. And tackle football on the weekends...

But these guys... this is serious stuff for them. With enough hustle, skill and a few strokes of luck any one of 'em could make millions of dollars a year and have a place in the limelight.

And really, seriously... as political as I am, as much as I dislike pro sports and the overpriced entertainment industry sports has become, at the pro level these guys are still just playing ball. I'd sure play a game with a stick and a ball and lots (sometimes) of running, for money. Besides, the game may be played by them, but they are watched by us. Because we want to. We like going out to an evening baseball game, sitting in the stands and watching not just the game, but each other. And the kids?

It's magic for them... it's peanuts and hot dogs and crowd roars and the beer guy "COLD beeeer herE! Getcher cold beer!" It's action, it's other kids, pennants and ice cream and color. It's autographs and uniforms and the cracking of bats... and lots of people. It's bugs lit up up as they fly under the stadium lights and foul balls and bigger kids with mitts running to get a ball hit into the parking lot...

For me, as the Ems' photographer, it is a pallette of color and motion and emotion. It's focused intensity...

and occasionally there is a visual twist

And there is always the ongoing teaching. The young guys listening to their manager and coaches. And if they listen well, they will learn what they need to know. This is no different than any aspect of society... the handing off of information, the sharing of knowledge because certainly, this is a game of skill. And those who demonstrate the best skills, will be rewarded.

I'm a fan of the Ems. I'm a part of the Ems and images like these are what they have me there to do. How cool is that? If you like baseball please visit my Emeralds' blog:

Eugene Emeralds - baseball photography

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“Baseball is almost the only orderly thing in a very unorderly world. If you get three strikes, even the best lawyer in the world can't get you off.”

- Bill Veeck

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Wordless Wednesday... on Tuesday... las flores...

2009-06-08T22:36:00.000-07:00

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“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in all of us. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

Maryanne Williamson
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Ok... I'm a day off. Maybe...

Tuesday, Wednesday... who knows? And does it really matter? The world goes on, calendar or no...

All photos are of flowers from here at the farm, taken in the last week. Enjoy...

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“The artist is the confidant of nature, flowers carry on dialogues with him through the graceful bending of their stems and the harmoniously tinted nuances of their blossoms. Every flower has a cordial word which nature directs towards him.”

- Auguste Rodin

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Torturing Democracy...

2009-06-01T22:06:00.000-07:00

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"Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent.”

- Isaac Asimov
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Sometimes...

I was sitting here at the qwerty last Friday night. I usually have the TV or radio on and depending what is on determines how much I listen. Well, this night the TV was on and it had been turned to PBS. Bill Moyers show is on at 9 and I really like Bill Moyers. Moyers is one of my favorite journalists.

The sound was down low and I was involved in whatever I was reading. But then a few words caught my ear... Bush, Cheney, torture...

The program that was on was Torturing Democracy.

I was never a fan of the Bush/Cheney/Rumsfeld cabal (cartel?). In fact, now that they are no longer in office I can flat out say I despise them. My general lack of harsh criticism of the Bush administration was tempered by the office of President itself. In spite of an election system that has grown inefficient (corrupt, many would say), I still believe our founders left us with a system meant to be a thing of near beauty. But the previous administration was despicable. And the issue of torture is the issue that tips me to the word "despicable."

The program, Torturing Democracy, reinforced all that I had previously heard and learned about Bush and Co.... lies, propagandist manipulation of media and actions that served only to paint our country in a light that allowed those within whom an anti-American passion already burned to hate us even more.

George Bush will not go down in history as a great man and his administration - secretive, arrogant and mean spirited (the Cheney influence) - will undoubtedly have many skeletons emerge from the closet...

But please, go and view that documentary. Powerful stuff. Angering stuff...

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My son Alex is in a band - Naked In Alaska - and they have been playing around town here in Eugene, down in Grants Pass, over on the coast in Coos Bay... well they've been passing out flyers for an upcoming show that will be over in the Bethel neighborhood's Bethesda Church Garage (June 11th if you can make it)(and if you do make it? be ready for loud). The show is a fundraiser and NIA is the headliner. The boys have been going around town posting flyers and talking up their show. I saw one of their handbills and saw that the benefit is for a definitely worthwhile cause - the Invisible Children.

The Invisible Children are the child soldiers in Uganda's extended crisis of violence. Here is Wikipedia's breakdown on the story:

Invisible Children: The Rough Cut is a film about the plight of child soldiers and night commuters in northern Uganda. The documentary was filmed in 2003 when three young men from Southern California—Jason Russell, Bobby Bailey and Laren Poole (then 24, 21, and 20, respectively)—traveled to Sudan "to find a story".

Instead, their adventure took them into the depths of northern Uganda where they discovered thousands of people affected by the brutality and attacks of a rebel group known as the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA). The documentary chronicles their experience as young Americans learning firsthand about a conflict largely unknown to the international community, while also informing audiences about the great humanitarian crisis of child soldiers.

I haven't seen the film, but when I can I will. I may have to buy a copy. And of course I'm glad to see my son and his friends dealing with issues like this one. Surely the plight of children forced to fight as soldiers is a wrong in need of correction.

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Anyone who clings to the historically untrue -- and -- thoroughly immoral doctrine that violence never solves anything I would advise to conjure up the ghosts of Napoleon Bonaparte and the Duke of Wellington and let them debate it. The ghost of Hitler would referee. Violence, naked force, has settled more issues in history than has any other factor; and the contrary opinion is wishful thinking at its worst. Breeds that forget this basic truth have always paid for it with their lives and their freedoms.”

- Robert A. Heinlein

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Franti! W/ Spearhead, in Eugene, May 24, 2009

2009-05-25T11:09:00.000-07:00

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Humanity has advanced...not because it has been sober, responsible, and cautious, but because it has been playful, rebellious, and immature.

-Tom Robbins
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I love Michael Franti & Spearhead. They're probably my favorite current band. I was at their show last night at Eugene's Cuthbert Amphitheater. (Here's a video if you haven't seen this band before: Time To Go Home)

The Cuthbert is a very nice, outdoor venue, located just east of downtown Eugene in the broad expanse of Alton Baker Park. Near the Willamette River and next door to the University of Oregon's Autzen Stadium, the amphitheater (which sits amidst open fields and large trees) was made better this year by the recent removal of the old, uncomfortable wooden benches and having those benches replaced with more grass (festival seating) and fixed, comfortable chairs. It is already a beautiful venue but the new changes enhanced it that much more. For music venues, creating an atmosphere that enhances their concert experience is as important as the quality of the music. Which is why Horning's Hideout makes for such pleasant shows.

The Cuthbert is used no more than 5 months of the year. So in those 5 months... it gets used frequently. For years tho' it went under utilized. Concert management from my eyewitness experience is not an easy business and plenty of folks lose their... shirts. But the Keseys keep bringing in quality acts and I'm sure they really appreciate bands like Franti's, which bring a large, money-spending crowd.

The nice thing about Spearhead is that their message is so community oriented. Family friendly and peace oriented these are folks who come to experience the Spearhead vibe. And it is an infectious vibration. Hippies, yuppies and just plain folks - folks from all walks of life - become like one, moving to Spearhead's driving rhythms and playing off of Franti's intense energy. Few shows' audiences are so animated as a Spearhead crowd. These folks dance, sing along and when Michael says to "PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR," everybody puts their hands in the air.

Because I work as part of Harmony Event Medicine's crew, an audience's vibe can be the difference between day and night for us. With a Franti crowd, there will be no fights. Someone may (did) get too drunk but they don't make waves. Unlike some shows we work... for us, a show like this is fun. Way fun.

So more pics, less words. Here's Michael Franti and Spearhead:

As I was taking these I kept noticing the light changes on the raised arms and hands of crowd and I saw them how I wanted to see them in an image... and heck, I was pushing my ISO to 1600 (ISO is the same as ASA for film) and even then it's just my years and years of shooting that allows me to shoot hand-held at slow speeds with confidence. And with a digital that confidence is boosted knowing I can shoot my ass off and I'm not spending anything other than time so... I shoot and shoot and shoot... and all that shooting allows me to come away with a select few better-than-good images. So I wanted to capture those waving limbs, those dancing digits and celphone cameras in motion. Pretty cool what I ended up with...

And I know I'm just putting these out here to the wwwonderful wwworld of the wwweb, but folks, please, if you use my images, give me photo credit whn you can, please. I appreciate Spearhead allowing people to shoot photos and I'm a promoter of their music so... as they share their music, I share my images.

Oh... one last thing. Michael was talking about our troubled times and he acknowledged those of us out here who are un-employed or under-employed. Well Michael, ummm... you know you guys should have a photographer... (nudge nudge, wink wink, know what I mean?)...

(Michael brought this young lady up fom the crowd near the stage. She was sooo jazzed, grinning from ear to ear and she got a kiss. If anybody in Eugene knows her, here's her pic)

Many thanks to the many good folks who work hard making sure shows are safe, friendly experiences for concert-goers. I've grown so used to working shows I can hardly go to a show just to go and hear the music. Thats just... boring. I like knowing what happens behind the scenes. The perspective is so much different between patrons and staff.

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And today is Memorial Day. Remember the vets and let's bring the soldiers home. A shout to my daughter's friend Ryan Fling serving with the U.S. Army in Iraq (a likewise greeting to all of Ryan's peers - all you GIs - no matter in/on which particular swamp, desert or iceberg you've been stationed, they're all great places!).

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“Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul”

- Plato

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some more o' this, some more o' that...

2009-05-22T19:36:00.000-07:00

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“Anarchism has but one infallible, unchangeable motto, 'Freedom.' Freedom to discover any truth, freedom to develop, to live naturally and fully.”

- Lucy Parsons
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OK, bare with me here... I have absolutely no idea where this is heading. But I suppose we should find out, eh? (Do you like the way I can type with a Canadian accent, eh?)

And why not start with Lucy Parsons. Imagine... a black woman (woman!) standing up for what is right, standing up against what is wrong. In the late 1800s no less.

The word anarchy...

Pronunciation: \ˈa-nər-kē, -ˌnär-\
Function: noun
Etymology:
Medieval Latin anarchia, from Greek, from anarchos having no ruler, from an- + archos ruler

... gets a lot of abuse these days. People confuse chaos with anarchy. They are distinctly different and not interchangeable. Even with the growing understanding of chaos theory in nature (a butterfly farts in Belize and it snows in Minnesota, or something like that) we still confuse some basic things... but then, we're a pretty confused specie aren't we? Anyway... I make no claim to any deep understanding of science and the theories scientists arrive at by whatever means they do. What I do claim is a very basic, natural perception of the world around me. To me nature makes sense. And the chaos theory does too... kinda.

Arie Uittenbogaard does a fair job of giving a comprehendable explanation in his Chaos Theory for Beginners:

"Nature is highly complex, and the only prediction you can make is that she is unpredictable. The amazing unpredictability of nature is what Chaos Theory looks at. Why? Because in stead of being boring and translucent, nature is marvelous and mysterious. And Chaos Theory has managed to somewhat capture the beauty of the unpredictable and display it in the most awesome patterns. Nature, when looked upon with the right kind of eyes, presents herself as one of the most fabulous works of art ever wrought."

Amen to that! I like it when I find smart people who are good explainerers. If you're interested I'd also recommend a look at Chaos Theory and Fractals (by Jonathan Mendelson and Elana Blumenthal).

In a sense (and keep that fractal art image above in mind) I kind of think it a bit... mmm... interesting... that chaos theory when presented in fractal art is very much like the visions one experiences under certain entheogenic experiences. Nature is finally being understood by the western mind in a way similar (but using a far longer and more complicated route to get there) to indigenous people. Which of course is where we all came from. Except, of course, those who are descendants of those who star seeded the planets.
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My daughter Robin had her first solo with her high school choir the other night. Gads that girl can sing:

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And of course... more pics, all shot close to the farm here:

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“There are many examples of old, incorrect theories that stubbornly persisted, sustained only by the prestige of foolish but well-connected scientists. Many of these theories have been killed off only when some decisive experiment exposed their incorrectness.”

- Michio Kaku

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well, who coulda known?

2009-05-11T07:30:00.000-07:00

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"I can assure you that, given they exist, these flying saucers are made by no power on this Earth."

- President Harry S. Truman, 4 April 1950
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[ae note to readers: none of these photos are mine... the milky way shot is from Astronomy Picture of the Day, taken - and copyrighted! - by Larry Landolfi. The photo is a composite... but very, very nicely done...]

I mean seriously... I've been a pretty pragmatic fella throughout my life. I'm hard to convince but I'm easy to get to listen to ideas because I am continuously curious. It's the cat in me...

Now I don't know if you've ever seen things in the sky you couldn't identify or that you identified as a flying saucer (or a UFO). I've had 3 encounters (and a few outstanding dreams) with unidentified moving objects in the sky. I'm also a big fan of science fiction and speculative fiction. So, while I'm very earthbound I also keep an eye on the sky.

Grampa Semu used to talk about the star people. He said they were regular visitors and that the old ones could call them...

When we lived at The Nature Conservancy's Crump Lake Preserve in southern Oregon I discovered Art Bell. And say what you will about his show but Art had many outstanding guests. I'm a fan of Michio Kaku from my hearing his interviews with Art. Living out in the middle of that vast high desert with its starry night-time vistas made it interesting hearing the Art Bell show, because I'd sit in the truck and fiddle with the AM dial at night, picking up stations from all across the country while above me, in a desert sky, clear and free from light pollution, the Milky Way blazes and can be seen as 3 dimensional...

That night-time AM listening started when I was a kid and got my first portable(!) transistor(!) radio. I would keep it under my pillow and listen to the Lakers' games broadcast by Chick Hearn or surf the music stations when I should be sleeping. Sometimes I could pick up Wolfman Jack on "the BIG X E R B baby!" It was Wolfman who turned me on to James Brown and a lot of soul and R&B music never heard on big-hit, popular radio.

But... there was a night when my little sister, Lori, and I were home alone. There was a high window that faced south. And this particluar night we looked up and through that window we could see a light travelling amazingly fast over the L.A. harbor, heading east. We ran outside and the light suddenly stopped, took a right turn, sped forward, made another 90º right turn and flew back out over the Pacific. I think I was probably about 11.

When I returned to the states from Thailand in 1974 (that's another story... and it has all the critical elements to a good tale - sex, drugs and Rock&Roll) I bought a VW van (yep). A buddy of mine that came back from the same base close to the same time flew into L.A. and travelled east to Denver with me on my roundabout journey to my next duty station down in Texas. When we got to the west face of the Rocky Mountains in Utah and headed over them towards Denver, we stopped and picked up a hitchhiker at about sunset. Well, this hitchhiker proceeded to tell us how he had been watching a light moving up and down the face of this mountain off to the southeast. Well, we could see the light, but... you know... anyway we drove on into the dark, up the face of the Rockies, with me behind the wheel.

I came to a place that I could see the hitchhiker's light. My friend Jeff and the hitchhiker were now asleep. I saw a turnout and pulled over and parked so I could see the light over on the other mountain out my windshield. I flashed my headlights (headlights! headLIGHTS! not head lice...) and not noticing any change in the light I pulled back onto the highway.

It was cold and dark outside and not much traffic. My passengers asleep, my instrument lights bright and reflecting in my windshield... I noticed a light out the driver's side window. And the light was travelling at a speed that kept it even with me. I thought there was a light in the cab reflecting off the window. But no... this light disappeared when we'd pass through a cut in in the hillside only to appear once we passed that highway cut. It would flicker as it passed behind trees. I had to wake my guests for this!

So I turned to them and yelled "Wake up! You gotta see this." When I turned back, no light... so...? What was it?

There is another UFO encounter that I'll share sometime, but right now it will detract from this tale.

Because... I'm moving on to another aspect of flying saucers that shocked me! Aghast I was! Simply stated... I witnessed a program that proved once and for all that flying saucers are real. And I know it is true because I saw it on PBS! Are you ready for this shocking revelation?

Flying saucers are real and they were developed by the Nazis:

I didn't know? Did you? If you did... why the heck didn't any of you tell me? All those hours listening to Art Bell and never once did I hear flying saucers were a Nazi product... but what about Area 51? And Roswell? Well... consider that our government has been known to lie to us. You know, nothing big... just little white lies.

Of course... and neither do they ever use us for guinea pigs (never mind the Tuskegee Airmen), or operate hypocritically like they are (and have been for decades) with the drug war and medical cannabis.

So here is the only PBS link on the Nazi flying saucer story:

History Project: UFOs: The Real History

But it was popular enough that you can view it from several sources, via a streaming torrent (whatever that is) from several links on Google

Aye lads and lassies, we don't get the real scoop often enough. And when a government (not just on UFOs and flying saucers) deliberately lies, obfuscates and acts to deceive those from which it derives its power... surely we must take that as a sign that an overhaul is required...

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After I give lectures—on almost any subject—I am often asked, "Do you believe in UFOs?". I'm always struck by how the question is phrased, the suggestion that this is a matter of belief and not evidence. I'm almost never asked, "How good is the evidence that UFOs are alien spaceships?"

- Carl Sagan, 'The Demon Haunted World,' 1996.

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Wild Kingdom

2009-04-29T07:26:00.000-07:00

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“From the oyster to the eagle, from the swine to the tiger, all animals are to be found in men and each of them exists in some man, sometimes several at the time. Animals are nothing but the portrayal of our virtues and vices made manifest to our eyes, the visible reflections of our souls. God displays them to us to give us food for thought.”

- Victor Hugo
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This past weekend I was sitting here at my qwerty working on the last blog post and a movement out the window caught my eye. Bald Eagle was on the ground out in the grass field right in front of the house, maybe 100 yards away. And he was tearing at something with his beak. I grabbed my camera, put on the telephoto and opened the front door...

... knowing I should have gone out the back door and used the house and the trees for cover. But I didn't.

As soon as I opened it, the front door squeaked and the eagle alerted. As soon as I stepped out the door the eagle took off, its' prey dangling from those huge talons.

But so heavy was whatever it had that Eagle couldn't get but a few feet off the ground. It landed maybe a quarter mile away out in the rye grass (the seed farm around me has rye to my east and fescue on the south and north fields). As I watched through my camera I saw that it had a goose. And the goose wasn't dead...

When I moved to get closer Eagle flew away from his prey.

I stopped and waited. Soon enough Eagle took off, flying back to the meal he was determined to eat.

Then he dove and came in at the goose skimming the top of the grass...

Goose was loose! Goose was still alive. But Eagle wanted Goose.

The end result of this pursuit, of course, was never in doubt...

And to get himself alone with Goose, Eagle flew off, across the road and away from the pesky yahoo with the camera.

I can only offer up a "thank you" to Marlin Perkins, host of the old Wild Kingdom TV show. It was nature programs like his and those to follow - the National Geographic specials, Jacques Cousteau and the many others - that influenced in no small part my love for nature's ways.

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“What fates impose, that men must needs abide; It boots not to resist both wind and tide”

- William Shakespeare

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Not me, or...

2009-04-26T16:20:00.000-07:00

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“Herb is the healing of a nation, alcohol is the destruction.”

~ Bob Marley
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I know, I know... but I can't stay off the "drugs" topic. Actually I can but there is so much about life today that involves drugs. Legal drugs and illegal drugs.

Let me explain...

Today is April 20th. 4/20, or 420. You know, the unofficial stoner holiday. Today is also the anniversary of the Columbine mess. It's also Adolph Hitler's birthday. Now if that isn't a mix that deserves to have their strings intertwined...

Oh yeah... I'm going to throw random urinalysis into this mix. I hope nobody minds.

So... how does cannabis, Hitler, the Columbine massacre and random drug testing tie together?

For me it was a matter of watching the evening news, listening to my son talk about his day and how all that ties into my work history.

Hitler we all know. Columbine, most folks know about. Pot? Yeah, we all know at least something about that (even if if what we know is wrong). And drug testing? Hang on, I'll get there.

The Rise of Adolph Hitler

I'm not a big Hitler fan, so if you want to know more than what is common knowledge, do your research. There is a lot out there... Google shows almost 6 million hits. What we do know that I need to mention is that Hitler was a master manipulator of fact and the media. He gained his power through a tactical campaign of manipulating public opinion. A lot like the campaign against cannabis.

"OK, Allan", you say, "how does Columbine tie into this, other than it happened on April 20th?"

Oh c'mon. Give me a hard question.

We don't really know what triggered seniors Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold to commit such an horrendous act against truly innocent kids. Kind of like we're not sure what exactly triggers kids into doing drugs. But we have some ideas. Chief among them is that kids need recognition. They need to be noticed and paid attention to. They need the parents around them to take their lives seriously and work with all the hormones, growth and childhood angst that the kids are dealing with. But we adults too often don't do these things. And subsequently we miss a lot. We miss the signals that kids send.

Lord knows I do. I'm a single dad w/ two teenagers... a broke single dad with two teens. And thus I've just tied random drug testing into this. When I was fired last summer I wasn't fired for bad work habits or being inefficient. It was just the opposite. I hadn't been fired from a job for 25 years. In fact I have been fired twice in my life. The job I lost was a retail position. I worked in hardware. As a retail salesman, I shine. I'm helpful, intelligent, friendly, even indulgent when that is what is needed.

Which is easy to do... within limits. Some folks just can't be pleased, but after over 40 years of being involved with the public on a business level I have to admit 98% of us just want honest, helpful assistance when we have questions. Kind of like kids...

Now here is where drug testing comes in. I'm not just pissed about losing my job, I'm beyond incensed -- but no worries about going postal, I use cannabis and engage in stress relieving activities - like writing this blog - and working on my photography. Speaking of which... a photo break:

And I guess I've got a case of the mung sai because that firing is not right. Don't get me wrong, I'm not whining, I've learned to roll with the punches... but that failed drug test ties right into students. I think the figure is now 15% of our school kids are drug tested.

So, let me ask: do you approve of drug testing our school kids for drugs?

And let me ask that question again: do you approve of drug testing our school kids without a warrant?

See... for me the crux of the matter is what it says in the Bill of Rights

Amendment IV

The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

What does that say again?

"no warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized"

A search without a warrant is unConstitutional. It is fairly plainly written, even a forklift driver/window cleaner can understand that. So what is the problem with the Supreme Court? They may be scholars of law but they don't know shit about common sense, apparently:

Supreme Court hears arguments in school strip-search case

Supreme Court justices on Tuesday revealed sharp differences over whether Arizona school officials acted properly in strip-searching a 13-year-old girl.

Conservative justices stressed schools' need to combat drug abuse. Other justices suggested that the specific search, involving ibuprofen, might have gone too far. The court's final answer will guide educators nationwide, as the justices determine when standard constitutional protections give way to school safety.

"Having an aspirin tablet does not present a health or safety risk," Justice David Souter said.

Justice Stephen Breyer added that the strip-search of eighth-grader Savana Redding may have been "a little extreme," and Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg conveyed dismay at the search's intrusiveness.

See... no one asking "were the parents present?"

C'mon, what are we teaching our kids? Big Bro' knows best? And of course all this discussion of teens, school and drugs brings me me to this little nauseating tale:

Goose Creek Raid

I'm not even going to say much about that... I try real hard not to swear in my writing.

For me, having been fairly intensely involved in drug policy reform for over a decade now I've got my school of hard knocks degree in drug policy. And what I've learned makes me sick. Really. A lot of what I know seems like it should be common knowledge. But I watch mainstream (network) news and I know it is more a case of what we aren't told than us not wanting to know. Things that you have to dig a bit to find. Regional happenings that don't move past the national filters.

There are way too many stories to tell 'em all here, but a couple have gnawed at me and won't let go, so I will use tham as prime examples of why I fight this Prohibitionist scourge. I believe drug Prohibition to be a real debacle, man made. And man can end it. But here, meet Donald Scott:

ARMED AND DANGEROUS
Ranch-coveting officials settle for killing owner

Early on the morning of Oct. 2, 1992, 31 officers from the Los Angeles Sheriff's Department, Drug Enforcement Administration, Border Patrol, National Guard and Park Service came roaring down the narrow dirt road to Scott's rustic 200-acre ranch. They planned to arrest Scott, the wealthy, eccentric, hard-drinking heir to a Europe-based chemicals fortune, for allegedly running a 4,000-plant marijuana plantation. When deputies broke down the door to Scott's house, Scott's wife would later tell reporters, she screamed, "Don't shoot me. Don't kill me." That brought Scott staggering out of the bedroom, hung-over and bleary-eyed -- he'd just had a cataract operation -- holding a .38 caliber Colt snub-nosed revolver over his head. When he pointed it in the direction of the deputies, they killed him.

-snip-

Despite a subsequent search of Scott's ranch using helicopters, dogs, searchers on foot, and a high-tech Jet Propulsion Laboratory device for detecting trace amounts of sinsemilla, no marijuana --or any other illegal drug -- was ever found.

And even more than my own calamitous direct contacts with the drug war the case of Zeke Hernandez just continues to act as a catalyst to maintaining a voice on the topic of our drug policies.

CASUALTIES OF THE DRUG WAR

Zeke's story was one of the first I had heard about innocent civilians directly killed by our drug war (Prohibition 2.0). Equally as sad... Kathryn Johnston in Atlanta. Kathryn was a near 90 year old black grandmother shot by police who broke down her door on a drug raid based on a perjured warrant and rubber stumped by a judge. She had no drugs. She did have a pistol...

But she lost the gun battle, the police planted drugs and... well, here, you read it:

Kathryn Johnston: A Year Later
92-year-old woman's death has done little to curb the use of paramilitary police tactics around the country.

[...] everything about the Kathryn Johnston murder was corrupt. The initial arrest of the ex-con came via trumped-up charges. The police then invented an informant for the search warrant, and lied about overseeing a drug buy from Johnston's home.

Ms. Johnston didn't actually wound any of the officers. They were wounded by fragments of ricochet from their own storm of bullets. And there was no marijuana. Once they realized their mistake, the officers handcuffed Ms. Johnston and left her to bleed and die on the floor of her own home while they planted marijuana in her basement.

And the names of those with similar stories just gets longer and has become a litany...

Drug War Victims

It is not just what we are teaching our kids but what we are passing on to them. Do we really want to hand them a system that we've forgotten to stand up for? A system with laws based on lies? A system that says "even though you haven't done anything wrong we need to make sure, so just pee in this cup." A funny thing here is how those who have been heavily involved in setting up the system that seeks mandatory drug testing are also those who are the captains of the drug testing corporate world.

DRUG TESTING.
IS IT WORTH IT ?

Carlton Turner was once the United States' drug czar (under Reagan.) After this, he became a very rich man as an advisor for drug testing companies. His partner, Peter Bensinger is a former head of the National Institute on Drug Awareness. Another partner was Robert Dupont, also a former NIDA director. Former White House drug advisor Donald MacDonald now owns Employee Health Programs, which contracts MROs to drug testing programs.

Start a war and then sell the tools of that war. Wow, now there is a story we've never heard before...

And I could go on... about how the early "teen camps" were abusive failures that ended badly for too many and those who were profiting from those "camps" are also *cough* leaders *cough* in the anti-drug movement.

I could talk about a young missionary mother - Veronica Bowers - and her infant daughter Charity, were shot out of the skies over Peru

Or I might mention U.S. Army pilot, Captain Jennifer Odom and her crew and how they were shot down over Colombia and how her Commander, "Col. James Hiett, the top U.S. counter-narcotics official in Colombia, [...] was helping his wife launder the proceeeds of her cocaine smuggling through the U.S. embassy with the help of his chauffeur."

But I won't... I have to go wash my hands. Happy 420... sigh...

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“I've tried everything. I can say to you with confidence, I know a fair amount about LSD. I've never been a social user of any of these things, but my curiosity has carried me into a lot of interesting areas.”

~ Dan Rather

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No pelabra Wednesday...

2009-04-15T04:11:00.000-07:00

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When even one American - who has done nothing wrong - is forced by fear to shut his mind and close his mouth, then all Americans are in peril.

- Harry S. Truman

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Wordless Wednesday?

2009-04-08T05:38:00.000-07:00

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“Politics has become so expensive that it takes a lot of money even to be defeated.”

- Will Rogers
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I've seen this elsewwweb and thought "heck yeah." Mid-week... work, kids to school... it is a day when we are in the week's mid-stride, momentum maintained and life is rolling. Why stop, except for a breather maybe? I've seen the "Wordless Wednesday" blogposts where the author(s) post only photos. Sounds like a good idea. And now that spring has finally sprung I'm taking more photographs.

I think I'll be joining the "Wordless Wednesday" movement. Any complaints?

Here then from this week - just shooting around the house - a few images of flowers, harbingers of the summer to come.

Enjoy.

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While I have yet to read a novel typed by a monkey I have read things on the internet that show me that jack-asses can type.

- me

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Stuff...

2009-04-05T06:43:00.000-07:00

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Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience."

- C.S. Lewis
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My daughter Robin has submitted her short story "The Blue Swing" (posted here last year) to Teen Ink magazine. She wants me to mention it because visits and votes are what will get her from online to actually being published in the print edition. So... if you are so inclined, go visit and give her a boost. Here is Robin, in full writing mode:

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And while I'm at it, better get this one out of the way. This is another road trip photo. When I take these, I'm driving... but don't worry! I'm not looking through my viewfinder, I just point the camera in the general direction and shoot. Alex and Kita in the back seat:

(Alex is the one on the left)
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On one of my drives in the coast range, at Alsea Falls, I stopped at this private roadside picnic area. It is a pretty nice spot along the river. I got out and was checking it out... but then I noticed the picnic table. I mean really noticed:

... and I remembered a story I had heard about one of Oregon's old family timber mills having cut a single board for a picnic table. Hull-Oakes Lumber cut this table in 1986 (and the picnic area is their company picnic site). Nothing exciting about that you say? What if the board -- that is one, single board, almost 1,000 board feet -- is 85 feet long, 34 inches wide and 4 inches thick. Now that's a slab! There are not many mills that can cut such a massive board... Hull-Oakes is a steam driven mill tucked back into the end of a valley leading up into the east side of the coast range, a real nice place.
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I have found a larger venue for some of my writing. I've already posted here a bit on the drug war, but this isn't where I want to talk about that topic.

Sooo... I was talking with Tim King, editor of Salem-News.com and they will be publishing my work there. And as drug policy is my political focus these days that provides me a great outlet with a far bigger readership. Here at Morning Donut, since I installed the ClustrMap, I've had just over 11,000 page views in 2 years or so. In the first 3 days of the article being posted at Salem-News there were 15,000 page views. (And to you folks coming here from there, welcome to my humble little corner of the wwworldwwwide wwweb).

I also received over 40 comments. Here is that article: President Used Marijuana but Mocks & Dismisses Legalization

I mean I'm not shy about being an activist. I prefer to do it privately but that defeats the whole point of being politically active, so... but it is a nice non-paying pat on the back to draw so many people (it was a record setter at Salem-News). I'm still looking for that paying gig though. sigh...
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And here is a mish-mash of images, most of them I don't think I've posted before. And please remember... I am a poor and struggling single dad and I just love selling my photos. So any image (pretty much) you see here is for sale as a framed print. Just contact me.

Enjoy!

(man... I've got coffee cake baking in the oven... mmmm... smells so good. I'll let you know how it turned out... )

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"The smoking of the leaves, flowers and seeds of Cannabis sativa is no more harmful than the smoking of tobacco... It is hoped that no witch hunt will be instituted in the military service over a problem that does not exist."

-- "The Marijuana Bugaboo,"

editorial in the Military Surgeon, by Col. JM Phalen, 1943

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Under gray skies...

2009-03-24T08:07:00.000-07:00

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“If humanity does not opt for integrity we are through completely. It is absolutely touch and go. Each one of us could make the difference.”

~ Richard Buckminster Fuller

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I sure hope Barack Obama is as real as he comes off. I’ve just watched his interview on CBS' 60 Minutes. He definitely is smart and for sure has a sense of the everyman about him. But the weight of his responsibilities, man, he has far more than a full plate, I sure wish him well... and his obvious disdain for Dick Cheney is heartening! I see nothing I like when I see Dick on TV. But it was so very refreshing to see a real smile and hear intelligent speech coming from the mouth of our President - for a change.

I’ve often thought that what we needed as a President was an everyman... a practical, smart, open hearted man. Being able to throw a football, shoot hoops or even to get an opening pitch to the catcher without bouncing it... would be a sign for me. Well here he is.

Brother Marty actually alluded to the proposition that I’d probably lose a one-on-one basketball game with Mr. Obama. I don’t know... sure, he’s younger, taller, played college ball... plus he’s black... Me? I’m a short longhaired Scandinavian who wonders what the best route back to the old country is. With a pretty good 3 point shot.

Really tho’, is Barack Obama a common man’s man or is he another corporate shill? A lot of voices out there are saying that the megacorporate banking/financial industry has just screwed us big time. I’m inclined to agree, from my blue-collar, forklift driving, busted and broke perspective.

Which is a point Obama made that I liked. He said that a worker in (he named several states) would be glad to make $75,000 a year - without a bonus. Amen to that Mr. President, amen to that...

I swear, our obsession with stuff... with plastic googaws and shitty fast food and big fancy houses... I don’t get it. Comfortable I understand. But there is a facade we construct that allows us to fool ourselves into believing that we are it. That we are the be all and end all of life in the universe and lordy we’ve reached the pinnacle, look at us we’re just hot! But that’s my cynical view.

My real view is that mostly we are just folks. It is unfortunate that in but a few short generations we have become so dependent upon the sysyem for all our needs. From a country that for 150 years had a population that was in majority rural and lived on a subsistence lifestyle. But family farms have gone the way of the dinosaur. And it is too bad. One of the nice things about living in Oregon is that we have such a large rural population and there are a lot of small farms and ranches. This - in my mind at least - is the level of living that is sustainable.

I mean really... rich is ok. I spend a lot of my working hours these days in the homes and businesses of folks making far more than $75,000 a year. And I say thanks. I appreciate rich folks. They keep a lot of us in the service industry working. And they have lots of windows... (I clean windows, really...) and some mighty nice views!

But there comes a point with wealth. I just can’t believe that executives in a failing industry can justify million dollar bonuses. But this is an old rant (which I know I will return to) and I actually had started out just intending to post some more photos. So, without further ado...

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Wayne Eastburn

I've seen Wayne around Eugene for years. When I started shooting for the Eugene Emeralds he was a fixture and knew all the sweet spots in Civic Stadium. I always defered to Wayne... if he was in a spot that I wanted, I waited until he had moved. Standing down near third base, over the Visitors' dugout, I stopped one day to say Hi to Wayne and a fan sitting there noticed the size differential between Wayne's huge telephoto lens and mine. Wayne is of course using the Register-Guard's top dollar cameras and I'm using my affordable camera gear. Anyway... that led to a bit of guffawing as "lens envy" became the topic for some barbs directed my way. I've snuck in a couple of shots of Wayne here and there (one of those things that seems to be common among photographers is that we like being behind the camera, not in front of it). This is one shot last summer at an Emeralds' game. Wayne retired in 2008 and I've run into him a cuppla times since at the local Fred Meyer store (now owned by Kroegers). Just a real nice, old guy, with a great eye and a lifetime of experience behind the lens.

For the birds:

This isn't a photoshopped image, it is as it was. Several options for titles come to mind...

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I went for a drive a couple of weeks ago, with the sole intent of shooting some pictures. I went west out of Junction City on High Pass Road, then doubled back and went north on Peoria Rd (which cuts from Hwy 99E in Harrisburg, over to Corvallis. A real nice - but short - drive. Anyway, here are three of the images from that day:

As always, photos are © Allan Erickson, use with permission only.
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“Find your place on the planet. Dig in, and take responsibility from there.”

- Gary Snyder

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AIG? AARGH...

2009-03-19T08:37:00.000-07:00

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“This is an impressive crowd: the Have's and Have-more's. Some people call you the elites. I call you my base.”

- George W. Bush
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Ok... I'm not anti-capitalist, I don't disagree with people amassing wealth. What I do disagree with is amassing wealth while others go hungry, cold and unsheltered. The recent bonus fiasco at AIG is a prime example. Personally I think Steven Colbert has the right idea... an angry mob with torches and pitchforks.

There is something very mockish about the state of our economy. Millions are unemployed and financial folks at AIG and Merrill-Lynch (right before it was sucked up by the B of A mothership) are getting bonuses larger than my total lifetime's gross earnings? Please... knowing how hard I've worked throughout my adult life it rankles just a tad that my tax money is going to reward failure. I mean it is certainly not unusual. After all we've been paying for a drug war that now costs around $70 billion a year and the only success that Prohibition II has created has been for the drug cartels and the drugwar-prison-industrial-complex.

Sure, sure... had I not dinked around in High School and ended up ith a decent grade point average and then gone on to college and studied business instead of liberal arts... I may have ended up receiving my own million dollar bonus for failure. Sigh...

But isn't it a tad disgusting that some folks own multiple homes (mansions to me), some *cough-John-McCain-cough* not even aware of how many homes they own? Is it narcissism that drives people to live lifestyles that are beyond extravagant? Or is it as normal for them to be super-rich as it is for me to be super poor? Are the labor and efforts of some people really thousands of times more valuable than the efforts of blue-collar employees? And what about the 30,000 people that die from starvation and malnutrition every day around the planet? Surely... surely there is something very unhealthy in our collective (un)consciousness that has gotten us to this point where we celebrate while innocents suffer and die? Perhaps when we spend as much feeding the hungry as we do waging war and creating weapons of mass destruction... perhaps then... sigh...

And don't dare call me a bleedingheart liberal. It is just who I am that makes me ask these questions... I have a strong sense of empathy (and fortunately an equally strong sense of humor) and ever since I was a kid and would get teary-eyed watching Lassie I've never been able to avoid that compassionate sorrow that feeling others' distress brings. And thats funny in a way.

When I was working for Western Building Maintenance in Boise I was one of the few who was willing to work cleaning up after suicides and homicides. It didn't affect me in a negative way seeing the gore, the blood and brains... but a movie or story intended to tug at heart-strings and I'm teary again.

These days I am more than a tad worried. Employment is hard to find, money is losing value, my kids eat more and just keep growing... and the government seems to be stuck on stupid.

What part of broke don't they understand? In providing these bailouts they are spending money we don't have. And where will the money be coming from? Hmmm... you and me maybe? Ya think? Government wants to tax everything they can get their grubby, greedy, overfed fingers on. What they aren't saying is where they plan to cut their own fat. Our government is hardly trim and fit. Neither are we rolling in dough. In fact we're beyond broke, we're in hock up to our ears. What? $10 trillion? Without work I can't dig out of the hole I'm in. And if I take a $9/hour job? The hole just gets deeper.

I know it'll work out. It always does. One way or another...
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“Dante once said that the hottest places in hell are reserved for those who in a period of moral crisis maintain their neutrality”

- John Fitzgerald Kennedy

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Tibet, Darfur, and me...

2009-03-10T06:28:00.000-07:00

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“This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness.”

~ Dalai Lama
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The Dalai Lama and Tibet are back in the news:

Dalai Lama: Tibet in 'constant fear' under China (Wash Post)

This piece from the New York Times' The Lede blog:

The Dalai Lama’s ‘Hell on Earth’ Speech

provides several links worth following. The Dalai Lama's words:

We Tibetans are looking for a legitimate and meaningful autonomy, an arrangement that would enable Tibetans to live within the framework of the People’s Republic of China. Fulfilling the aspirations of the Tibetan people will enable China to achieve stability and unity. From our side, we are not making any demands based on history. Looking back at history, there is no country in the world today, including China, whose territorial status has remained forever unchanged, nor can it remain unchanged.

China's response was surprising:

"Fuggedaboutit!"

Surprising only for being so east coast like. And that is a direct quote, I swear...

Seriously... Robert Mackey's NYT blogpost is full of links to follow. And I know, I know... if we don't know about a situation, we don't need to worry about it or feel guilty because we aren't doing anything because, well, "I didn't know" always plays better than "the dog ate my homework." Well, dammit, tough. Get educated. I don't know if you've noticed but there is a whole lotta shakin' going on out in the world these days. And I know, I know... its so much easier not paying attention. Well folks, I suspect not paying attention isn't going to work too well for us.

In pictures: Free Tibet rallies

Nothing will change for the Tibetans until the demand on China to give the Tibetans a great measure of autonomy comes from a collective clamor of world governments and an even louder exclamation from the citizens of the world.

Of course there are those who don't agree at all. On CNN's opinion pages comes this piece from Victor Zhikai Gao (Victor doesn't agree with me at all): Opinion: Tibet, the true and the false

"No single country or government in the world recognizes Tibetan independence. All the countries and governments in the world and all the international organizations recognize Tibet as part of China. Therefore, if anyone wants to achieve Tibetan independence, or use religion as an excuse to achieve such independence, he will challenge the collective wisdom of mankind."

Wow. The end of the world must be nigh...
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Of course Tibet is almost a romp in the park compared to what is going on in Africa, particularly in Darfur:

`Millions of lives at stake' in Darfur - Aid agencies warn of starvation, disease after Sudan's president expels 13 relief groups

During a catastrophic six-year war, more than 100,000 people in Sudan's Darfur region have lost their lives to violence.

But humanitarian agencies say more are now at risk of a silent death from deprivation and disease, after the expulsion of international aid groups that supply half the region's needs.

-snip-

"Millions of lives are at stake and this is no time to play political games," said Tawanda Hondora of Amnesty International's Africa Program. "By expelling humanitarian agencies, the Sudanese government is effectively holding the entire civilian population of Darfur hostage."

Amnesty warns that some 2.2 million people are at risk without adequate aid. The United Nations says the figure is up to 1.5 million – the number of Darfur people dependent on aid for basic health care, food and drinking water.

THE CRIMINOLOGY OF GENOCIDE: THE DEATH AND RAPE OF DARFUR (abstract)

Nearly 400,000 Africans may have been killed in racially motivated, lethally destructive, state supported, and militarily unjustified attacks on the farms and villages of the Darfur region of Sudan. Using victimization survey data collected from Darfurian survivors living in refugee camps in Chad, and drawing on conflict theory, we present evidence that the Sudanese government has directly supported violent killings and rapes in a lethally destructive exercise of power and control. In the language of the Geneva Genocide Convention, these attacks have inflicted on African tribal groups "conditions of life calculated to bring about their physical destruction in whole or in part." The data include explicit evidence of the central mediating role played by racism in the attacks. There is little or no evidence from the surveys to support the claim of the Sudanese government that the attacks have been aimed at rebel groups as a counter-insurgency strategy. The Sudanese government claims are by this analysis not credible as self-defense arguments, but rather of the exercise of power and control through denial.

How do we manage to go forth each day as individuals, communities and nations and conduct our lives as if it is just business as usual? I swear we were more civilized when we lived in caves and painted ourselves blue.
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“Science may have found a cure for most evils, but it has found no remedy for the worst of them all--the apathy of human beings.”

~ Helen Keller

“The price of apathy towards public affairs is to be ruled by evil men”

~ Plato

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Yep, more pics...

2009-03-03T17:52:00.000-08:00

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“I now have absolute proof that smoking even one marijuana cigarette is equal in brain damage to being on Bikini Island during an H-bomb blast.”

~ Ronald Reagan
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Still a bit tongue tied... although it is nice when I see others thinking like me. My fellow western Oregon rural blogger, Rain, over at Rainy Day Thoughts posted a nice bit on Sex and Old Age. Youngsters may not want to know that mom and dad -- or grampa and gramma -- are still... ummm... doing it, but Rain's is a thoughtful, musing post.

Anyway, nothing today but a few more photos. Again, just a random collection from my files. I hope you like them.

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“Humanity needs practical men, who get the most out of their work, and, without forgetting the general good, safeguard their own interests. But humanity also needs dreamers, for whom the disinterested development of an enterprise is so captivating that it becomes impossible for them to devote their care to their own material profit.”

~ Marie Curie

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Boycott Kelloggs...

2009-02-24T08:13:00.000-08:00

~~~

"Hemp is one of the oldest fiber–producing crops and was formerly the most important. Hemp was cultivated for fiber in very early times in China. The history of the distribution of hemp from Asia to other continents indicates its relationships and the development of the best fiber –producing types. Hempseed oil is used to a considerable extent in the preparation of paints and varnishes. In the Old World it enters largely in the composition of soaps, an illuminate and food.
There is a reasonable prospect of establishing an extensive hemp industry in the United States on new lines. Hemp improves the physical condition of the soil, destroys weeds, and when retted on the ground, as is the common practice, does not exhaust fertility. Fertilizers are not generally used in growing hemp, but barnyard manure applied to previous crops is recommended. Insects or fungous diseases rarely injure hemp. The price of hemp has been generally increasing over the last 30 years. The market would expand if manufacturers could be assured of larger supplies. The value of hemp for fiber, birdseed and oil would seem to make its cultivation a very profitable one."

- from The 1900 Report of the Secretary of the Department of Agriculture and the USDA Yearbooks 1896-1914
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You know... some people are just never satisfied. Michael Phelps I'm sure is very satisfied. After all winning a record 8 Olympic Gold Medals is not the accomplishment of a slacker and Phelps was justifiably rewarded with lucrative endorsement contracts. But when Michael was shown smoking a bong, oh-my-god... some folks reacted in shock. Most folks just said "so?" Others however reacted in strange yet predictable ways: "just think how many medals he could have won if he weren't a pot head." Say what? Suddenly the greatest swimmer ever isn't good enough? Hellooo... anybody home?

And Phelps isn't in the company of just couch-sitting-stoners. The myth of the stoner slacker has been basically blown away. I mean when the President of the United States is an unapologetic former toker... the slacker portrayal just doesn't work anymore. It matters as much as whether it matters that President Obama is black.

Phelps has endorsement contracts with Speedo swimsuits, Omega watches, Subway and Kelloggs (and more). The kid is a millionaire. But Kelloggs' dropped Phelps after the bonghit heard round the world. Oops...

Pat Rogers (aahpat) offered up this observation:

"At the beginning of the month Kellogg was recalling peanut butter products and announcing significantly higher earnings. Their stock price went from $44.15 close on Feb.4 to 44.93 on Feb. 5. Then it announced that it was dropping Michael Phelps. Since then its price has dropped to a Feb 12 close of $41.31. An 8% decline. And this is on heavy stock volume implying that institutional investors disapprove of Kellogg's dropping Phelps.

"Investors seem able to accept a contaminated food recall but don't seem to like antagonizing consumers. Especially tens of millions of consumers in the U.S., Central and South America and Europe who enjoy smoking a substance that significantly increases their appetite for convenience and snack foods. The kinds of foods that Kellogg makes. Consumers who have since taken the stupid action of Kellogg and turned it into a boycott of the Kellogg company.

"Today Kellogg is trading at $39.52. Down 12% since dropping Michael Phelps."

Well, I'm encouraging you all to stick with your occasional Morning Donut but drop the Rice Krispies. No more PopTarts... I ask you to join the wave of folks telling Kelloggs that we support Michael and for now will find our munchies elsewhere.

Contact Kellogg's and tell them you support Michael Phelps!

Kellogg’s main telephone number: 1-800-962-1413 or (269) 961-2000.

Kellogg's contact page: http://www2.kelloggs.com/ContactUs.aspx

Kellogg's Consumer Affairs: kellogg@casupport.com

Kellogg’s corporate responsibility department: corporateresponsibility@kellogg.com

Kellogg’s investor relations department: investor.relations@kellogg.com

Kellogg’s media relation department: (269) 961-3799 or media.hotline@kellogg.com

Or write to Kellogg Company at:

One Kellogg Square
P.O. Box 3599
Battle Creek, MI 49016-3599

If the subject of Phelps, Kelloggs, boycotts, cannabis/pot/hemp/ganja interests you, there is plenty offered up on a google search of kelloggs boycott Phelps

OK... what about sports professionals (and major amateurs) and pot? Years back allegations flew and were flung far and wide about National Basketball Association players smoking pot. There is an excellent piece from 2001 at Common Dreams by Dennis Hans, Reefer Madness strikes NBA:

The latest round of NBA Reefer Madness was sparked when Oakley told the New York Post (February 22), "You got guys out there playing high every night.... You got 60 percent of your league on marijuana. What can you do?"

NBA commissioner David Stern responded, "If Charles has any facts to back up these very serious allegations, he should turn them over to the league as well as to Billy Hunter and the executive council of the union."

-snip-

[...] Clinton's drug czar, Barry McCaffrey, used the Times report as the basis for a Washington Post column. In an essay ironically titled "A Clean and Sober NBA" (Sept. 30, 1998), McCaffrey never once allows the word "alcohol" to parse his lips. He ignored the Times' allegations of rampant abuse of the drug alcohol and chose instead to focus on allegations of widespread use of the drug marijuana -- allegations which he then exaggerated and distorted to reach this baseless conclusion: It is "routine for players to build an addiction [to marijuana] bad enough to run afoul of the law before their problem receives attention."

In fact, none of the players in question had ever acknowledged a problem with pot, let alone an "addiction." McCaffrey knew he could smear black professional athletes as drug addicts -- based on no evidence whatsoever -- and not be challenged by any Post editor. Now that's power.

And therein lies the rub. While our nation's top anti-drug bureaucrats have carte blanche with avoiding the truth and manipulating facts, the simple truth is that cannabis is far, far safer than alcohol. A couple of examples:

- the latest report from the Oregon Occupational Injury and Illness Survey states:

"Oregon workers employed in the private sector during calendar year 2007 suffered work-related injuries and illnesses at a rate of 5.1 for every 100 full-time employees, the lowest ever recorded."

(ten years ago Oregon passed our landmark Oregon Medical Marijuana Act. There are now almost 25,000 patients enrolled in the Oregon Medical Marijuana Program, with about 3,000 doctors signing recommendations for patients' use of cannabis. Therefore there is at minimum a statistical connection between increasing enrolle numbers and workplace safety)

- Study: Marijuana Users Less Likely to Get Injured Than Non-Users (follow thru to the BioMed Central link for the actual report)

Conversely, cannabis use was associated with significantly lowered risk of injury. Whereas the risk for injuries associated with the use of less than a pipe or joint’s worth were not significantly different from the on associated with no use, relative risks decreased with increasing levels of use [...]

OK, that returns me to the question I asked above - "what about sports professionals (and major amateurs) and pot?"

Here is an exceptionally well done piece from Rob Van Dam. Van Dam "has fought in over 1,000 events at Extreme Championship Wrestling (ECW) and World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE), earning 19 championship belts and an array of accolades from 1997 to 2007." My grandfather Anderson was a wrestling fan but I never caught the bug. This article is informative and Van Dam knows his stuff.

Weed, Wrestling, and Athletic Enhancement

I believe cannabis improves performance in athletic and contact sports (such as wrestling, power-lifting, football), co-ordination sports (snowboarding, surfing, basketball), and finesse sports (golf, bowling) by providing a relaxed state of mind and agile body. I’ve wrestled professionally for about 18 years, won more championships than any WWE wrestler in history, traveled the world more times than I can recall – and cannabis has been a big part of it all.

-snip-

To be at its best, the body needs to be as stress free as possible. Pain from old injuries, swollen joints, and tired muscles are anchors that weigh down athletes. I’ve had my share of prescription painkillers, such as the common Vicodin, and it is helpful in dealing with pain. Many people have a hard time swallowing pills, get upset stomachs or feel woozy, and fear addiction. Vicodin is one of many painkillers such as Percocet and Oxycodone that are popular in and outside of sports, and is often abused. I personally know some wrestlers who take over fifty 10-milligram Vicodin pills a day. To put that in perspective, doctors often recommend two a day – so the ridiculously abusive daily amount of 500mg equals a month’s supply. No doubt, those wrestlers face serious liver damage as well as physical dependency. I’ve lost many friends and associates to fatal drug abuse over the years, and have even been an abuser myself. I’m thankful I survived that destructive part of my life when many others did not. You don’t have to be a disciplined athlete to understand the importance and validity of marijuana as medicine – science has shown that marijuana can replace or drastically decrease the required amount of prescription drugs and still deliver almost the same effect or better. The fact that it is impossible to overdose on cannabis is enough reason for many athletes to give it a try, and when they realize how safe it is compared to pills and chemicals, they can feel good about what they’re putting into their bodies.

There is a lot of quality information in Rob's article. And getting back to Michael Phelps, here are a couple of top quality posts on Phelps' predicament. The first from Reason Magazine's Jacob Sullum: A Letter I’d Like To See (But Won’t)

Dear America,

I take it back. I don’t apologize.

Because you know what? It’s none of your goddamned business. I work my ass off 10 months per year. It’s that hard work that gave you all those gooey feelings of patriotism last summer. If during my brief window of down time I want to relax, enjoy myself, and partake of a substance that’s a hell of a lot less bad for me than alcohol, tobacco, or, frankly, most of the prescription drugs most of you are taking, well, you can spare me the lecture.

I put myself through hell. I make my body do things nature never really intended us to endure. All world-class athletes do. We do it because you love to watch us push ourselves as far as we can possibly go. Some of us get hurt. Sometimes permanently. You’re watching the Super Bowl tonight. You’re watching 300 pound men smash each while running at full speed, in full pads. You know what the average life expectancy of an NFL player is? Fifty-five. That’s about 20 years shorter than your average non-NFL player. Yet you watch. And cheer. And you jump up spill your beer when a linebacker lays out a wide receiver on a crossing route across the middle. The harder he gets hit, the louder and more enthusiastically you scream.

Yet you all get bent out of shape when Ricky Williams, or I, or Josh Howard smoke a little dope to relax. Why? Because the idiots you’ve elected to make your laws have have without a shred of evidence beat it into your head that smoking marijuana is something akin to drinking antifreeze, and done only by dirty hippies and sex offenders.

You’ll have to pardon my cynicism. But I call bullshit. [...]

And I have to tell ya, hands down this next post from Joe Rogan is my favorite on the Phelps/Kelloggs tussle. You may know Joe from his hosting of "Fear Factor" or as an announcer on UFC fighting matches.

An open letter to Kellogg’s re: Michael Phelps

I have to say, this whole thing saddens me, because I personally would like to think that as Americans we’re better than this. These television news anchors will shake their heads at the thoughtless mistake Mr. Phelps had made by “smoking dope,” and then without even the tiniest sense of irony they will cut to a beer commercial.

This is supposed to be the land of the free and the home of the brave, right? We’re not supposed to be a nation of little bitches giving in to the whims of corrupt politicians and the pharmaceutical companies whose interests they’re representing.
It’s 2009, and in this day and age with the incredible access to information that we have available there’s no fucking way that we should be allowing human beings to tell other human beings that they can’t do something that they enjoy that hurts no one including themselves.

THAT is madness. THAT is ignorant, and THAT is completely fucking un-American.

I don’t want to hear any of that, “he’s setting a bad example with the children” nonsense either, because we all know if he had a gin and tonic in his hand instead of a bong this would never have been an issue, even though every single study ever done has shown that marijuana is FAR less dangerous than alcohol.
Marijuana laws are a horrible waste of resources and law enforcement, and especially in this day and age with our economy in such horrible shape I believe the last thing we need to be doing is wasting tax payers’ money on any of this victimless bullshit.

I find your reactions to Mr. Phelps situation both ignorant and short sighted.
I think what would have been a far better response from Kellogg’s would be to support Mr. Phelps, and perhaps point out that maybe we as a society should take a closer look at the evidence and possibly reconsider our position on this misunderstood plant that so many of our productive citizens find useful.

Now, I’m sure if you really were running Kellogg’s and you were still reading my bullshit all the way down to this, you must be thinking, “Why the hell would we stick our necks out like that for pot smokers?”

And of course the answer to that question would be, because we buy your shit [...]

Give 'em hell, Joe...

~~~

“Even if one takes every reefer madness allegation of the prohibitionists at face value, marijuana prohibition has done far more harm to far more people than marijuana ever could.”

~ William F. Buckley

~~~

More photos, few words...

2009-02-21T11:11:00.000-08:00

~~~

“If you succumb to the temptation of using violence in the struggle, unborn generations will be the recipients of a long and desolate night of bitterness, and your chief legacy to the future will be an endless reign of meaningless chaos.”

~ Martin Luther King, Jr.
~~~

I've posted some images of my daughter's recent concert at her High School. A joint band and choir concert, it really was most excellent and I was pleasantly surprised. Photographically speaking it was great. Good lighting, dark background, colorful... thanks to the good folks at Willamette HS for a show well done. Here is the link to that concert gallery over at my photographer's blog:

Event Coverage: Willamette HS Concert - Band & Choir

~~~

I know it has been a month since my last post... sometimes life sucks and gets in the way of doing things we like to do. And that is what this blog is, something I like doing. Anyway, I'm here now and I'll start w/ some pics from my last trip to the coast (Heceta Head, north side, down the Hobbit Trail) that I've had ready to post. Enjoy:

~~~

Because I've been in a funk, my writing urge is really not motivated yet and I'm just posting pics. There is plenty that I have to say (Michael Phelps, Darfur, U.S. economy... and on and on and on...) I'm just not ready to talk much. But I have been working my photography a bit as of late. This next chunk of photos is just a few of what I think are some of my best, a miscellaneous set:

This one is from the Eugene Emeralds 4th of July game last year:

Last year's Michael Franti and Spearhead concert at the Cuthbert Amphitheater (in Eugene):

My friend Bekah's Birthday Bash and benefit for Autistic kids at Diablo's in Eugene featured a firedancer, something I hadn't shot but almost always enjoy:

This one is a manipulated image from the trip I took up Hwy 99, featured in my last blogpost

Golden Garden Park at sunrise:

And this one is a portrait done for my friends, John and Rochelle. I've done their portraits for 3 years now and I always enjoy shooting for them. John is a local deck builder I have known for a few years, an old customer (John's not old, I've just been selling him lumber for years... well, I used to sell him lumber but now that I'm not selling dead trees anymore...):

~~~

I've featured a couple of my daughter's fiction stories and posted pics of her choir, but my son hasn't been on here for awhile. He is in a band -- he's the bass player -- strangely named Naked in Alaska (but when haven't rock bands had funny names?) and they have had a couple of gigs recently and here are a few images from their performances:

~~~

“I always felt rock and roll was very, very wholesome music.”

~ Aretha Franklin

~~~

another Sunday...

2009-01-21T05:46:00.000-08:00

~~~

“The ultimate tragedy is not the oppression and cruelty by the bad people but the silence over that by the good people.”

- Martin Luther King, Jr.
~~~

aaah... sunshine. It has been a rare commodity these days. Foggy and cold is what it has been. Up in the hills and over on the coast the weather has been sunny and (winter)warm. Some days it is like living in the San Joaquin Valley again. If you have never experienced the Valley's tule fog... well... you are only missing impenetrable gray. In fact I remember days when the temperature would get below 32º and the fog would be a frozen mist. When you step outside on the worst of those days it is essential to carry an ice-pick just so you can chisel a tunnel through the fog. I swear...
~~~

I took the kids up to their mom's place in Portland last weekend. When I went back on Sunday to pick them up I took my camera and drove up Hiway 99E which , when heading north from Eugene goes through Junction City, Harrisburg, Halsey, Shedd and Tangent before getting to Albany (which is where I jump over to I-5). I love the drive. It is a 55 MPH speed limit and runs through the rural part of the Willamette (Will-am-ette dammit) Valley.

So as I was driving I would come to spots I've noted before and just aim my camera out the window and shoot. Here are a few of those photos:

~~~

BTW... I've added a link to my friend Bill Moore's blog on my list in the left hand column. Bill and I are political opposites but we find common ground in our photography. Check it out: Looking through my eyes ~ ~ photos by Bmoore3

~~~

And speaking of photography...

I went over to the coast Monday. I responded to a Craig'sList ad looking for folks to display their photography in a new restaurant in Mapleton. I didn't get the first shot at displaying but I am #2! My photos will be there until about the middle of March. Stop in, say "hi" to Jesse and Marcy, and buy a cup of coffee. Oh yeah... and buy a photo.

So... if you happen to be in Oregon, along the coast anywhere near Florence or Mapleton stop in and see what I do in a larger format than I display here. Framed and matted even!

The photos are hanging in the Mapleton Caffeination Station, located in Mapleton, along Hwy 126 and sits between Frank's and the Alpha Bit Restaurant. The owners, Jesse and Marcy serve Cafe Mam, an organic, fair trade, shade grown coffee from Chiapas, Mexico. They serve fresh homemade baked goods, have comfortable seating and a deck out back. Tell 'em Allan sent you!

Caffeination Station

Jesse (the owner) and Marty

inside

and the back deck

~~~

“Photography records the gamut of feelings written on the human face, the beauty of the earth and skies that man has inherited, and the wealth and confusion man has created. It is a major force in explaining man to man.”

~ Edward Steichen

~~~

Dear President-elect Obama...

2009-01-11T09:16:00.000-08:00

~~~

“We always want the best man to win an election. Unfortunately, he never runs.”

~ Will Rogers
~~~

Dear President-elect Obama...

Congratulations. You have accomplished a milestone that is among the most significant in our nation's history. Becoming the first black male to be elected to the office of President of the United States is not something I thought I would ever see in my lifetime. I am sure Martin Luther King was doing beyond-the-grave handstands and backflips. He probably also smiled a whole bunch...

I thought I might see a woman President but dude, you turned the world on its ear.

Now understand, please, that I am a cynic when it comes to politics. With all my heart I hope you are that person so many of us are hoping you are... a free man, beholding to no man or group of men. My cynicism is no rarity these days. There are plenty like me. But on election night when that point was reached where it was certain you were our next President and TV news cameras turned to the faces of black America... I loved our country and our citizens like I never had. The tears and smiles, the pride... which was the point of Rev Wright's much maligned sermon... well, sir, you have inherited a heavy load with a lot of people counting on you. You also received a great gift in the opportunity to be in a position where you not only can make a difference but will -- for good or bad -- make a difference. At this point in humanity's existence we truly need for the difference you make to be for good and what is right for the people...

... not for the corporations...

... not for the lords of war...

... but for the billions of human beings teeming our world who see their leaders squandering the finite resources of a planet that is held in common by us all. We can no longer allow tens of thousands of human beings anywhere in the world to die each day from starvation and malnutrition. There is no excuse for there to be any community, anywhere, that does not have access to potable water. In an age when we can send vehicles to Mars and are a culture that worships and flaunts opulence, how do we allow children to die slow, painful deaths for lack of even minimal nutrition? Certainly sir, if we can afford to manufacture weapons that are great destroyers of life, we can afford to feed a hungry babe and save a life? Feed all the hungry babes? Perhaps the time has come when we shall spend as much on food as we do for bombs and bullets?

Even here in the United States we allow too many to do with too little. While we don't have starvation we do have too many who are hungry, who are cold, who live with no roof, no medical services...

There is a need for not just retooling the automakers and "bailing out" the self-anointed lords of finance, but for refitting our thinking. It is inexcusable that the people living in the areas of the south so ravaged by Hurricane Katrina's destruction still have not seen the assistance and comprehensive rebuilding necessary for them to resume life as whole and vital communities. When nature breaks our communities down, we need to rebuild them better than they were. Surely Mr. Obama, a mobile home venting formaldehyde gas and poisoning its inhabitants is not a suitable substitute for the solid, earth-as-foundation, framed homes with yards and gardens and neighbors that so many of our fellow Gulf Coast citizens had to flee because of Hurricane Katrina? Surely sir, when fires scorch the arid west, when floods inundate low lying communities along our great rivers in the Midwest, our National Guard citizen-soldiers should be home defending against flood, fire and then aiding those in need after disaster's devastation?

In fact sir, many of us here on the streets, here in our communities, believe - and rightly so - that our government representatives have become part of our collective woes! With billion dollar earmarks attached like blowflies to essential legislation and elected representatives voting themselves a raise when so many of us here on the streets are losing jobs and homes, how can those we elect be so stupidly greedy? We have eyes! We know many among the elected are good people eager to serve effectively and efficiently and whose time in government is marked by honesty and integrity. But we are so very aware that Mammon has far too many followers in the halls of Congress directing the disbursements from our collective purse.

Mr. Obama, yours is an unique opportunity. Your election has drawn on not just loyal Democrats, but has also drawn greatly from that 15 - 20% of us who are staunch independents. Making you our choice was a cooperative plea for a real man, not a politician, but someone who has grown up without a silver spoon, to represent us.

Please, Mr. Obama, listen to those working class citizens around you who worked with you in Illinois. Listen to our voices. Voices like that of our dear and late mutual friend, nurse, mother, wife and grandmother, Beth Wehrman, who are desperately seeking an ear that will hear our pleas for an end to the drug wars -- Prohibition II -- which do nothing to solve the crisis Prohibition is wreaking a second time upon our cities. None of us who advocate for drug legalization and (or at least) a critical investigation of our failing drug policies denies drugs can and do cause harm. What we are saying (and it is a point supported by history's examples) is that Prohibition ends none of those woes, but makes them all exponentially worse.

Please, Mr. Obama, hear us when we say our children need quality education. Education that prepares them with the skills they will need when they are ready to set out upon their own adult lives. We cannot recover from our current plight with a population increasingly illiterate. If we can read with comprehension our understanding of any field we study grows. If we can read with understanding all other skills follow.

I too shed tears that evening of your election. Knowing that Black America's head now rose proudly, saying to all "yes, by god, we can, we now have" gained an equal seat at the table, was a crowning moment for us as a nation.

Please sir, be real. Of all the elements that make a man a leader, the one that now matters most is that you be real. A real human being, being human.

Thank you, Mr. President-elect.

Respectfully,

Allan Erickson
Eugene, Oregon

Winter...

2008-12-21T22:44:00.000-08:00

~~~

~~~

“Look round and round upon this bare bleak plain, and see even here, upon a winter's day, how beautiful the shadows are! Alas! it is the nature of their kind to be so. The loveliest things in life, Tom, are but shadows; and they come and go, and change and fade away, as rapidly as these!”

~ Charles Dickens

~~~

I've mentioned many times my love for sitting here at my qwerty in the early mornings and watching through the windows the morning's dawning. With the big sky we have here at the farm, sitting in the middle of the valley as we are, we witness some awe inspiring sunrises and sunsets. But for me it is the sunrises... I'm a morning person and I can think of no better way to start my day than waking with my part of the planet. Living out in the desert in southern Oregon had to be my favorite place for day after day sunrise greetings. The quiet in such a broad expanse suits me.

Here in the south Willamette Valley we get our share of fog. Especially as autumn moves into winter we see more and more fog. There are different fogs that form... and I'm a sucker for those low, thick, drifting fogs that ebb and shift and only get 3 feet or so deep, hugging the ground. The next photo is from a couple of weeks ago:

Back in early October we had our first snow in the Cascades.

It surprised me a little... Oct 9 is way early. But our weather here in Oregon can be pretty diverse from year to year. I've lived here long enough to know the stories of the "big snow" back in the '60s (I'll follow up on this with some more specifics). Here in the valley we apparently had 5' - 6' of snow and the storm shut life down for a few days. As I heard the stories (and you'll hear 'em hanging around old farts) it dawned on me that that storm was the one that dumped 20' on Opal Creek when Indian Billy was the only person in camp. 20'!

My first ever snow camping trip was in the Sierras, led by my friend Greg Burke (his photo galleries are linked over in the left column), when we went into the backcountry skiing on a base of about 25'. Phenomenal skiing and fabulous views. With 25' of snow under us there were no rocks, no brush, just big, big trees, snow and sky. Aaah, such good stuff. Of course I'm less a fan of snow now. Its cold, creates extra work and takes more money out of my pocket...

... anyway... that snow in October kind of told me that we were going to have some real winter storms. Then came the rest of October and such great weather! Then came November. One of the warmest and mildest Novembers I remember. There were a couple of good freezes and the cold snaps really made the autumn leaves put on a great show that lasted way longer than normal because the weather was so cooperative.

But now we've had some real winter. Down to 10º here early last week. Snow and ice. The weather almost shut Portland down earlier this week.

Our last good snow storm came overnight and the morning was gorgeous... here are some photos from that morning:

I hope everyone stays safe this winter in the cold climes of the northern hemisphere. Those of you in the southern hemisphere... you're on your own with that warm weather stuff...

~~~

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”

~ Theodore Roosevelt

~~~

The West... women... war... and just random thinking...

2008-12-06T07:23:00.000-08:00

~~~

"Kids. They're not easy. But there has to be some penalty for sex."

~ Bill Maher
~~~

I'm so proud... I received my first official rejection for a story idea submitted to a national, popular publication! Gosh...

But that step of submitting a pitch is exhilirating. And I'm going to have to do it again. The challenge has been made.

I mean I was thinking about it last night. About my life here in the west. I truly love the west, I believe I live and have grown up in what is still a truly wild wild west.

We still have cowboys (buckaroos!), Indians and struggles over land, water and law. And I thought about those people I have met, the people who represent so many different aspects of belief, of profession and outspoken passionate activism that have inspired so much in me, for me. People whose touch upon my life has brought personal change and growth. People who are public figures, and people who remain very private citizens, yet have definite effect upon this wide open landscape that I see as the place "where I'm from."

I've roamed a lot of this vast expanse, from oceanside to the Rocky Mountains and meandered through many parts of the broad western desert. I've roamed from the southern border to the northern, from Texas to Idaho, California to Colorado...

I've found myself in the midst of battles both epic and insignificant. And to experience them, not just as events to view, but in which I participate as an active advocate for one side or the other, is for me a treasure. I would not exchange any of my adventures for a life of middle class, suburban comfort. I cringe at the thought of myself as someone who did the family, 9 to 5 job, TV watching middle-American thing. While I find nothing wrong with that -- heaven forbid! some of my best friends have spent their lives doing just that -- I know for me it would have been a kind of submission and rejection of spirit. And submissive I'm not. I'm Scandinavian. Hard-headed. Sometimes I feel like the descendant of a long line of Vikings and nomadic Reindeer herders who is just trying to get back home after a long, long journey to a strange, faraway land. I love my freedom and room to roam...

I give thanks to the gods that be for a rich lifetime, even tho' I've been a poor man monetarily most of that time. I've been able to love (and be loved by) beautiful, wild women. I've been friend with cowboy, Indian, cop and robber. I've broken bread with Muslim and Jew, Buddhist, Christian and Pagan. And (to paraphrase Edward Abbey) while I've never been lost, I've sure been a mite confused at times. I've failed and succeeded and have grown as a man. I know where I live and have a pretty good idea about those with whom I share this earth. Sometimes I can easily curse humanity and wish a pox upon its collective head and sometimes... sometimes we are as regal as any life form in the universe and I am so glad to have this form and this life. Sometimes we radiate in truly vibrant glory and sometimes we grovel in depths dark and dismal. I suppose therein lies one of the great gifts of friendship, the necessity and the reward of being loved, and loving...

I've come a long way... and find, still, my life is just beginning.
~~~

OK... I'm going to venture onto dangerous ground here. In a move that endangers the very fabric of reality I havta speak out on a subject that has affected me every day of my life. I'm going to talk a bit about women.

.
.
.
.
.

... no bolts of lightning...

.
.
.
.
.

... no bricks thru my window...

.
.
.
.
.

Ok... I think its safe. But I'm not actually worried, I like women. My mother was one. My sister too.

Every girlfriend I have had has been one. My ex-wife is one. Heck, I'll bet Santa's wife is one...

Besides the obviousness of being born from woman I'm sure glad for all the good women I've known. Kinda fond of some of the bad women I've known too... but seriously...

As I think about this I'm not really sure where to start. I guess a big "Thanks!" would be appropriate about now, so ladies, "Thanks!" I know you have collectively put up with a lot of shit from a lot of men for a lot of years. See... this is what an education gets me. I know that hundreds of thousands if not millions of women in Europe died during that continent's "rise to civilization." That is the cost of to a matrilineal, agricultural collective type society when it runs into a patriarchy willing to rule by extremely heavy hand. Violence is the hallmark of such men. But truly? Those who would (and have, and do) rule by brutal decree, are a pox among men. There are those among us who have no problem beating women and children. There are those of us men who are terrible, terrible people. And in that regard, we men have failed to control and remove this particular vermon from our communities. But I do believe that -- if it is not too late already -- there may be that pivotal shift in men's collective thinking that says we have reached that point of "enough."

I know how women's history has gone and it is a sad legacy that says far more about men than it does women. But the heroic woman archetype is as real as that of man's. We share that legacy... that both our genders have produced true heroes and too often made the ultimate sacrifice putting forth the proposition that life is sacred and that we will stand up to anyone in defense of home, family and community.

to be continued...
~~~

My nomination for picture of the millenium:

That image just blows my mind. Thanks to brother Marty for showing me the Nat'l Geographic magazine that had the story. From Mexico's Cave of Crystal Giants...

In the same edition is this great shot of the Tarahumara in Mexico:

A People Apart
~~~

According to a new survey, women say they feel more comfortable undressing in front of men than they do undressing in front of other women. They say that women are too judgmental, where, of course, men are just grateful.

~ Robert De Niro

~~~

Thanks...

2008-11-26T17:38:00.001-08:00

To those of you who continue to stop by... and from looking at the visitors' map y'all continue to drop in from many places around the globe. Which is pretty darn cool for this old blue collar, forklift driving lumberflinger.

This blogpost is another story by my daughter, Robin. The girl has talent I tell ya. Of course, she grew up w/ books and loves a good story. Books books and more books and what does she do in her spare time? Write... go figure.

Robin submitted this as an assignment in her creative writing class... not bad for a junior in High School (and a blonde junior at that...).

Let me -- and her -- know what you think. Her previous story "The Blue Swing" was published here on the Donut a while back:

The Blue Swing

This story is called "Feathers."

(©Robin Erickson, 2008)
~~~

Feathers

Beep, beep, beep. The monotonous tone of the checkout scanner was putting me to sleep. I looked up vaguely from my register to ask just one more shopper if they would prefer paper or plastic. Paper. Cans of soup, a loaf of bread, various lunch meats and a carton of eggs went into the bag. Thank you for shopping at Save-Way, have a nice day, I parroted over and over to what seemed like the same person, over and over.

There was the perfect way to describe this day: over and over. I’d been lost in my head all day, or, if we were to be honest, all month. Ever since my parents dragged me to this lame town. I missed my city, with its small dramas and big buildings, and people dressed to make you look. I sighed. Break time. I sat on a wall outside, unscrewing my thermos and sniffing the soup inside. Still hot, thank God. The steam rose and drifted out into the parking lot, making a catching swirly pattern against the stillness of the dark clouds. My mind was going into overdrive. There was no sound here. I gazed around; my outward appearance would’ve never given away what was in my mind. I matched this place perfectly. My plain brown hair was pulled into a lopsided pony tail today, and too lazy to put on my contacts, I had on my wire framed glasses. The black pants and shoes required for my job stood out from the white snow, and my blue button up shirt plainly said ‘boring nobody, please ignore’. Well, in reality it said ‘Chloe Mitchelson, welcome to Save-Way!’, but that was beside the point.

“Hey, you!” I nearly jumped out of my skin. I twisted around, with barely enough curiosity to see who was shouting at me. There was an old, bent over man standing outside his car staring directly at me. I gave him a blank look. “Do you work here? Hmm?” He didn’t pause for an answer. “Well get over here and help me unload these groceries!” I didn’t move.

“I’m sorry sir, I’m on my break. Someone inside would be glad to help you.” Ugh, my voice irritated me. It came out so soft and meek sounding. He shrugged at me, and headed back into the store. I looked back at my soup; my interest in the situation had been lost immediately. Finishing my lunch and storing the thermos in my bag, I hopped off the wall and trudged my way back through the cold snow and inside for another three hours of work. Sigh.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Shh. She’ll hear you.” Trin whispered to me, just outside of Chloe’s window.

“I was just saying!” I frowned. Trin was still young, much younger than me, and had been appointed my companion for experience points. Having Trin around was not the most helpful thing for my task, but it was alright. It was at least entertaining. And entertainment was not something that came around very often in our world.

“Hmmph, ‘just saying’. This whole speaking thing is soo irritating.” Trin complained.

“I know, just let it be. You’ll get used to it.” We fell silent. I had to admit, this world was beautiful. The snowfall made everything glow, especially in the night, with a piercing cleanliness and silence that almost physically pressed on your mind. “Ready?” I whispered absentmindedly.

“Let’s do it.” Trin spoke with a bit more effort.

And we both faded. In the same instant that we had been standing outside, we were now standing in Chloe’s bedroom, an arms length away from her sleeping body. I blinked. “Let me concentrate now,” I thought to Trin. Half a second later I was in Chloe’s mind, seeing what she was seeing. Basically, I had entered her dreams.

We were in a small room from her childhood, maybe inside a grandmother’s house. In a corner there was a small rocking chair, child size, facing the door. Chloe sat in it, but was only partway visible since she was the dreamer, and not completely aware of herself. I, on the other hand, would appear fairly solid. Actually, I was curious to see what form her mind would turn me into. Frightening or welcome? I turned towards a mirror on the wall which appeared for my use. Interesting, she had put me in a female form. Striking red hair and green eyes rested on my pale face, Chloe had made me beautiful. My curiosity satisfied, I spun on my heel and faced the girl. She seemed to notice me for the first time, and looked up, childish eyes wide.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I blinked, “who are you?”

The gorgeous red haired woman spoke. “I am whoever you chose to make me, child. Perhaps a girl from school? I would not know.” She sat down on a chair that had not been there a second before. “Look at your hands.”

I looked down, saw nothing at first, and suddenly seemed to be more aware of myself. I saw my hands, with my familiar row of rings and dirty nails. With my sudden consciousness of myself, the strangeness of this situation seemed to clarify itself. I was unexpectedly afraid. I didn’t know where I was, or who this person speaking to me was, or how I came to be here, but I wanted to find out. “What’s going on?”

The woman smiled at me. “You are in a dream, I am merely your guest, although I admit I’ve come uninvited.” I was still confused. She seemed to sense that, “My name is Felix and I am an Angel.”

“Oh. I’m dreaming.” I looked around the room with a new understanding. “Cool.”

“You must wake up.” She said it bluntly, “we must speak with you.”

And she took my hand.

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I blinked my eyes open, and stretched. A glance at my alarm clock told me it was 1:23 in the morning. Rolling over to fall back asleep, I heard a whisper behind me. I tensed; there was somebody in my room. Very slowly, I turned my head to see if it was a family member, but I couldn’t see a thing. My hand found a light switch and I switched it on; my eyes saw someone in the corner, a stranger. I screamed, but not a sound came out, someone had stuck out their arm from behind and put their hand over my mouth. I struggled away, but soon there were another pair of hands holding my arms. I kicked and tried to bite or scream, get my arms away, something, but the grip on my arms was strong, and I could not break it. Finally, I collapsed, breathing hard. They seemed to sense that I was done resisting, and slowly let go, letting me fall into the fetal position on my bed, receding into myself.

“Chloe,” two voices said in unison; whether they were male or female, I could not say. I raised my head. My voice didn’t seem to want to form any words, so I just looked. They didn’t seem threatening, so I uncurled myself and took a more defensive sitting position, waiting for an explanation.

Finally, I seemed to find words. “What the hell are you doing in my room? Who are you?” I managed to sound angry.

“As I stated in your dream, I am an angel,” the form on the left spoke. He, she, it, whatever seemed to sense my disbelief. “My name, once again, is Felix. My companion,” and here he gestured to the figure on his right, “is Trin.” They waited, looking at me. Or I assumed they were looking at me. The more I watched, the more I realized that they didn’t quite seem to be there. Or they seemed more there than anything I’d seen before. Or... Oh, this was confusing. They had a solid shape, I could see defined limbs and torsos and heads, but all at the same time, if felt as if they weren’t there, like it wasn’t all of them. It was almost like looking at the footprint of a cat instead of the whole cat; but as if you knew the cat was there, you just couldn’t see him. You could only see the print.

“I don’t understand.” Was I hallucinating? This couldn’t be right, “what do you mean you’re an angel?” I was hesitant.

“Mm. Watch,” and Felix spread his wings. “I do not like to use many words. Perhaps I can show you.” He glanced at his partner, and she in turn spread her wings. They were like shadows, but not shadows in the sense of darkness, shadows in the sense that I felt these wings must be much bigger, much more intricate, and this was their base form. Then, the two angels exploded with light. Light filled every part of everything I could see, filled the corners, chased away every piece of darkness, and not only that, but the light was piercing solid objects. My walls appeared to glow, filled with light, I could feel it on my skin, in the air entering my lungs. And the two beings creating this light looked as if they were holes in the very solidity of the universe, repelling any bit of matter that was earthly and solid. I could only stare, my mouth open.

But then it ended, the light was sucked in, the wings disappeared, and all that was left were two indistinct human forms at the end of my bed.

“We need your help,” Trin stated, and as she said it, a strong feeling of acceptance filled me. My whole world had turned on its head in that moment and it seemed as if there was only one option for me. A few seconds later I was standing between the two angels, the three of us hand in hand, and we vanished.

And where did we appear, but in my small town’s library! I still wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or not, so I shook my head, trying to rid my eyes of sleep. “What are we doing here?” I directed the question at Felix, who seemed much more comfortable with speaking. Trin had the look of a High School student visiting their dream college for the first time. Half awe, half excitement, and half timid. Yeah.. Three halves; but angels had to made from more than we were, so I thought it would work.

Felix looked at me, or so I assumed, and said, “I think the easiest way to explain things is if I use my usual form of communication.. It is much faster. To you it will seem much like a dream.” I nodded. Felix walked up and placed his dim hands on top of my head, gently, as if he were feeling for something. He muttered a small ‘ahh’, as if he had found what he was looking for, and I felt my eyes close. Suddenly images were pouring into my head, quickly, all of them jumbled in no particular order; but soon I could sense them organizing themselves into a pattern. A story, maybe. Then the ground lurched, and I was no longer a physical thing, I was immerged completely and totally in my thoughts.

First I saw a world that was beyond description, so much so that my mind seemed to reject the impossible images, turning it into a mess of every color and shape and sense I had ever experienced, but within that mess I could see the blurry shapes of Felix and Trin. They were with another Angel, Zachary, and they looked on guard. Then, in an instant so immediate I felt something close to vertigo, they were surrounded by many more Angels.. And yet, these weren’t Angels. They didn’t give off the same feeling; they felt darker, more tangled, not as complete as the other three. I was shocked as I realized these darker beings were people mimicking the form of Angels, making a mess of the beautiful structure with their incomplete ‘costumes’. One of these counterfeit angels seemed to give a signal, and they all fell in on Zachary, catching him, controlling him, making escape impossible; and in another second, they were gone.

The next story of memories I saw were those dark angels restraining Zachary in a dark room, every way in or out was guarded carefully by a man. And I recognized these men. Each and every one of them lived in my town, they were my neighbors, or my teachers, even a bus driver or two. The weapons they were holding looked as nothing I had ever seen and I didn’t even want to guess at what they could do. My vision seemed to expand as images of that room grew smaller and I saw that it was the basement of the town’s library.

And then my eyes opened, and my own flood of memories and thoughts reentered my head. Questions began to push through my mind, each one wanting to be immediately answered, but I chose the most obvious one. “How do we rescue him?”

This is when Trin spoke, “that is why we need you. They took Zachary,” she seemed to stumble over speaking the name aloud, “they took him to find out the secrets of life. They want to be rich, to be powerful; they want to know the thoughts of all their enemies so they can overthrow them. They want to be unstoppable.”

“But what do you need me for?” I questioned them.

“Because they are waiting.” Felix spoke now, “they are expecting a daughter to bring them the final tool needed to retrieve the information from Zachary.” Here he shuddered, and I realized he was keeping from me the way he expected them to do that. I didn’t ask. “We need you to pretend. You are a daughter they will not expect, and they will not question you because of that. We need you to get in that room, because we cannot go in ourselves.”

I stood for a minute absorbing that information. Then I asked my final question, “What do I need to do?”

“You must go cloaked in the darkness their costumes are made of, which we will provide you. But this darkness will press on your thoughts, and make it difficult for you to keep on track. That is partially the reason we chose you, we can sense the strength in your mind.” Felix paused, then continued, “Trin will give you, for lack of anything better to call it, one feather from her wing. Keep it inside your jacket. They will see the energy it gives off and think it is the tool they need. If you are confident, they won’t question your entry. Tell them you must speak to Zachary. When you approach him, expect a struggle. He is a powerful being. Just tell him acceptance is key. He will understand.”

I was confused, but I didn’t question him. “What do I do with the feather?”

“The stuff our wings are made of is the most powerful substance you can imagine. They will have Zachary’s under control with a mind drug, otherwise he would have been able to escape immediately. The feather will cut through anything like butter, and it will allow you to create hallucinations in these men’s minds, once you gain their trust.”

With that, Trin plucked a feather from her wing with a slight pained expression, and gave it to me. I stuck it in one of my inner pockets. Anticipation seemed to fill the Angels as they each walked up to me, and spread their wings. This time, no light filled the room; I felt no power, only a cloud of something dark forming inside me. Or around me; or maybe both, I couldn’t particularly tell. And then the two Angels stood back, examining me, obviously keeping a little distance. They didn’t like the darkness. Neither did I, actually, it was pressing on my heart with an odd feeling. There was no more speaking between us, only a nod from Felix, and a wistful look from Trin, before I made my way for the dark staircase. I had to breathe carefully to keep my concentration, whatever darkness that was clouded around me seemed to be trying to pull me into a form that I absolutely was not. Whether it be angel or villain, I didn’t like it. It was too much. I stopped and closed my eyes firmly, trying not to think of the dark, my feet finding their own way down the stairs. Once I was at the bottom, I opened my eyes and found myself in an eerie state of calm. Fear was building in my chest… What was I doing? I should be in bed, I shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t right. I was just the checkout girl in a small forgotten town! I had no part in this; it was too big for me. I turned halfway around, finding myself heading back up the stairs, when I broke.

I slumped down against the wall, a sob barely concealed in my throat. I couldn’t do this. How could I, when these men had already captured one being so much stronger than me, and the other two couldn’t get him back? I would be killed, I was sure of it. Who would believe I was here to destroy a beautiful Angel? Even I couldn’t fathom it. I was beginning to give in to the hopelessness, when I heard footsteps coming towards me. I straightened up immediately, something inside of me corrected itself, and I felt confident again. I could do this.

Standing up, I spoke before the advancing man could fully see me. “Hello? I am here, by the staircase.” I found myself sounding slightly arrogant and proud. Well, that would work, I supposed.

The man stood before me now, leering, big and powerful. I tried my hardest not to shrink back into the shadows. “And what’re you here for, darling?”

“I am the daughter you are expecting. I must see…” I realized they probably would not know the Angel’s name, and it would seem odd for me to, “I must see the Angel.” I looked at him defiantly, almost daring him to say no.

He just looked at me, probably measuring me up, deciding if I was fooling him or not. He seemed to come to the conclusion that I must be the right girl, and at least if I wasn’t, I seemed harmless. “Come with me,” he turned and stomped down the hall.

I followed with as much strength as I could manage, not looking anywhere but straight ahead. After a few seconds, we reached a door with two more men standing by. “Derek, Thomas, this is the girl.” He nodded his head in my direction. “She says she needs to see the Angel. Was that part of the plan?”

The two guards, Derek and Thomas, just looked at each other with blank expressions. Apparently they weren’t too involved in the whole arrangement. Just doormen. “I don’t see the harm,” the guard on the left said, “She can’t make a mess of things, even if she’s not supposed to be here.” He smiled at me, and then looked meaningfully down at his weapon; he was sending me a strong signal there. I just blinked, an unimpressed expression on my face. Inside, of course, every instinct was screaming at me to turn and run. This was a bad situation; but instead of listening to sense, I followed the first man through the door, and into a dimly lit room.

Inside was a strange arrangement. Zachary sat, slumped, in the middle of the room; his head was down, his wings folded sloppily. Around him were men arranged in a circle, keeping a careful distance between them and the Angel, all of them holding the strange looking guns. I took three seconds in my head to collect myself, took a deep breath, and started walking towards Zachary. Immediately his head whipped up, and he snarled, staring straight at me. My hope dwindled a bit then. How was I supposed to get anywhere near him to tell him the safe words? I couldn’t say them from here, the men would hear me. Silently I stared into the Angel’s beaten eyes, begging with all the feeling I could muster, for him to trust me. I held images of Felix and Trin in my head, trying to throw them into the air for him to catch, if it was possible to do such a thing with thoughts. It didn’t seem to be working. Zachary slowly stood up, strength in every controlled movement of his body, and stared straight at me with an obvious meaning. Move any closer, and you die, the look said. A chill passed through my whole body, from head to toe, as I did something I never meant to do. Almost involuntarily, I took a step towards him. Zachary lunged immediately, the men surrounding us all gasped and stumbled backwards, unsure of what to do. I shut my eyes tight, and braced myself for whatever impact was coming, ready for the pain I was certain was just seconds away. And then I heard a ripping sound; ripping, tearing, urgently, and I felt warmth. Warmth at my chest, and slowly surrounding my entire self.

I opened my eyes to find Zachary smiling at me, “acceptance is key?” he guessed gaily. I looked down to find the source of the ripping noises, my jacket was torn to pieces; and the warmth was coming from Trin’s exposed feather. I almost laughed with the relief that was washing through me, and with wide eyes looked into Zachary’s face. He almost seemed familiar to me, not in appearance, but as if he was a personality I had known my whole life; it was like staring at my own soul. I was in awe. He cocked his head to the side, indicating that I should look around the room, which I did. The men with the guns were all just standing, staring at nothing in particular, as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening. I looked at Zachary with curiosity. “I am making them forget you ever came. They think it is still as it was five minutes ago, when I was sitting alone. May I see the feather?”

“Yes, of course. I don’t know what I was supposed to do with it anyhow.” I looked as he took it, and cut through some invisible binding around his wings. He shook them out, looking relieved and delighted, and then he did an odd thing. He plucked one of his own wing feathers, and pressed it together with Trin’s, whispering at it, making it glow. Then he took my hand, pushed up my sleeve, and pressed the combined feathers into my exposed wrist. I gasped with the strangeness of it. It wasn’t pain, it was definitely a good feeling, but it was almost as unbearable as pain has a habit to be. “What did you do?” I was staring at my wrist. There seemed to be a faint outline of a feather, and the two from his and Trin’s wings had disappeared.

“I’ve given you a gift. You now have the power to shift atmospheres. Not as strong as ours, you cannot change someone’s whole view of reality, but you may change the feeling of a room, or a situation. You can make someplace happier, or someone see you as frightening, or beautiful. It’s a great gift to have.” I gaped at him. I could feel the power of the gift in my veins, and I could feel how to use it. It was an amazing sensation. He smiled at me again, “let us return to my companions.”

And we were again standing in the library, this time on the upper floor, with Trin and Felix next to us. They leapt up immediately, overjoyed, pressing themselves into Zachary, making sure he was not harmed in any way. Then, they turned to me with the happiest, most thankful and polite expressions I had ever been given. “Thank you,” they seemed to say it a million times in one. I nodded, suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion, ready to collapse back into sleep any minute.

“I’m glad I could help,” I stifled a yawn. It seemed my adrenaline had worn off, leaving me worn out and barely awake. They took notice to this immediately, and rushed to touch my shoulders, taking me back to my room. I blinked, no longer surprised at this mode of transportation, and sat on my bed. “Well…” I said, not knowing how to finish my sentence.

All three of them looked at me, but Felix was the first to speak, “thank you Chloe. We are indebted to you now, more than you could know.” And Trin hugged me. After one more curious look at me, those two disappeared, which left me and Zachary alone in my room.

He had an intent look on his face, staring out my window. Turning, he looked at me intensely, “aren’t you going to go to bed?” he questioned. “You must be half asleep already.”

Surprised that this is what he had to say, I blinked. “Well… I mean… I suppose I am. Aren’t you leaving though? To join Trin and Felix?”

Oddly, Zachary laughed. “Oh, they didn’t tell you, did they?”

I shook my head, “tell me what?”

“I’m not leaving. They must be getting back to their usual jobs, but mine is here. I am your guardian Angel. That is probably why you felt I was so familiar when you saw me back in the library. It’s also partially the reason you were the one to rescue me. An odd switch of events,” he mused, “the guardian Angel being guarded in turn by his human. I’ve rarely heard of such a thing.”

I looked at him. “My guardian Angel? For my whole life?”

Zachary seemed to be in a very pleasant mood, for he laughed again, “yes, Chloe, your whole life.”

“Oh. Well what will happen to you when I die then?”

He looked amused to be explaining these things. “Ah now. I will find another human to guard. And so will you, as when you die you will become an Angel in your own right. Perhaps not a guardian though, we all have different jobs to do.”

I just kept staring. I was almost too tired to be having this conversation.

“Felix used to be Trin’s guardian angel. And before that, he was mine. That is why we have such a strong bond. But enough of this, you do need to be going to bed,” he said, almost parent-like, as he saw me yawn.

“Yes, I suppose I should…” My eyes were half open now. I fell back on my pillow, feeling content, involuntarily rubbing my new feather tattoo. I think I must have muttered goodnight to Zachary, but I fell asleep almost immediately, and when I woke up, my Angel was invisible again.

more pictures, less words #2...

2008-11-16T12:10:00.000-08:00

~~~

“There are three kinds of men. The one that learns by reading. The few who learn by observation. The rest of them have to pee on the electric fence for themselves.”

~ Will Rogers
~~~

Another Sunday morn. Foggy at first, but now that it is afternoon the fog is lifting and it looks to be another nice day.

The elections are calming down. Many folks are flush with excitement, some filled with dread. And my mind moves on to other things. Time and money have pretty much kept me close to home. Creative thinking and my camera haven't connected lately. Which is ok... having a lover fills part of that void. And what a good lover I've found. Way smart (the word geek comes up often), absolutely gorgeous, a sense of humor that compliments mine... and a physical match that is, well, ecstatic. Electric... zzzt!

I have several photos not shared from a few outings so I'll maybe comment as I post (I'm cooking breakfast) and load photos.

I'll start off w/ some people pics, from the recent Eugene Celebration Parade:

Euegene Mayor Kitty Piercy. She won her re-election in a squeeker...

Congressman Peter DeFazio. He won his race with over 80% support. And a few faces from the parade...

This next one is a self portrait. I shot this one day in my kitchen when I was deep-thinking about losing my job. Does it show?

~~~
This post is taking a few days... sorry about that. Such is life when things get hectic and there is an economic crisis looming nationally and personally.

This next pic is from Pablo's wake, held up at Jawbone Flats that sad fall of 2004 (Paul died in September, my mom died in October and Grampa Semu passed in November... sigh...). There is more coming on Pablo and when this September rolled by I thought of my old buddy a lot. With the elections and the climate of the country, Paul would have been thrilled with all the action. Plus... I've been out to a couple of bars and I can't go to a bar or tavern where I don't see that ubiquitous sign:

Many times when we came down off the mountain (and yes, there are at least a couple of ways to take that...) and we'd stop for a beer there would be that sign, No Minors. Which of course would launch Paul and I into a whole lamentation... a stand-up comedic dirge on the woes faced by a couple of guys, fresh out of the mines and come-to-town. Gravelly voices and all, the miner's gruff voice being pretty close to that of a pirate but without the aarrrrs thrown in. We were ready to launch into our bits almost instantly... about stuffing George Atiyeh and putting him and Cody (the Dobie wonderdog) in the lodge... on how a miner is like a miner's donkey. I'm not sure how many hikers ever returned to their cars thinking that their packs had gotten heavier along the way only to discover that someone (or someones had placed a few rocks in those packs. That one cracked us up the most. We never took things out of packs, we put things in! Jawbone's miners weren't thieves. Comedians maybe... cranky for sure... but folks were mostly in a state of shock and we were just part of the Opal Creek experience. Those miners at Jawbone... a fine legacy we were handed and a fine one we passed on.

This pic is of (l to r) Julio, Hoos and Ken, sitting on the Bunkhouse steps:

~~~
This next set of images comes from Oregon's arid east side. Most folks (even some Oregonians) think of Oregon and think of mountains and forests but most of the state is dry. The largest portion of these are from a 3 day trip I took this summer over that-a-ways:

looking northeast from Painted Rock pass on Hwy 31 travelling between LaPine and Lakeview

Hwy 31 south of Summer Lake, looking east at sunset

Coglan Buttes southeast of Paisley, Hwy 31

Deep Creek

Deep Creek canyon, west of Adel on the south side of Hwy 140

the view north (towards Hart Mountain) from Fisher Hot Springs (Lane family property) on the east side of Crump Lake

the view from the "hot tub" (some years the cattle graze these grasses down and the view is of the whole valley)

local petroglyph, Crump Lake

the view north towards Hart Mtn from The Nature Conservancy's now abandoned Crump Lake Preserve

self portrait, Crump Lake Preserve

Canada Geese and Sandhill Cranes north of Valley Falls (the intersection of Hwy 395 and Hwy 31)

Davis Lake and Davis Mountain
~~~

“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.”

~ John Muir

... a baker's dozen... more or less...

2008-11-08T08:06:00.000-08:00

~~~

"I am free, no matter what rules surround me. If I find them tolerable, I tolerate them; if I find them too obnoxious, I break them. I am free because I know that I alone am morally responsible for everything I do."

~ Robert A. Heinlein, The Moon is a Harsh Mistress
~~~

What a beautiful fall... November so far is a mix of wet and dry, nice and not-so-nice but with snow falling in the Cascades this weekend its all pretty normal. When Halloween comes up at Jawbone Flats, odds are in favor of at least a modest dusting of snow. Some years tho'... the first snow may be a few days late, but generally... within 2 - 3 days of Halloween.

I love my Oregon...

Here at the farm the rain has turned the browned pastures back to green... trees in the copses and yards and streets have been ablaze in color for the last few weeks, the autumn sun is lowering to the south and the light and clean air make for beautiful days and give some great sunsets. Sunrises can be pretty cool too, especially when the fog lies low at dawn:

~~~

And in about 2 months and 2 weeks the US will have a new President. I'll have much more to say about Mr Obama as we get closer to coronation day. ... rrrr... I mean the inauguration. One of the strongest sets of images from the hours and days after Obama's win has been those of our nation's black citizens. There is such a visible shine of pride, of relief... at last, at last...

And while I remain a doubter, I sincerely hope that President-elect Obama is at least part that which so many hope him to be... because it was not just the blacks that celebrated what is truly, truly an historic moment in our nation's history. Obama created a voting coalition that covered the spectrum. Looking at the voter percentages it is interesting to note that all the independent candidates combined garnered only about 2% of the vote. Ross Perot, when he ran as an independent garnered what, about 15% of the popular vote? There is quite a mandate on our next President's plate. Not to mention a major quagmire (and no, not Family Guy's Glenn Quagmire) or two. A couple of wars (I can count a handful without any effort) and an economy that oughta wake everybody up... if he shows himself to be some of what many hope him to be we may find a way to solve many problems. If he conducts business like just another Party shill... I see not much good ahead in these next four years.

But for our nation to actually elect a black man as Prez... wow. I'm proud of my country. To think that it has been but a mere 2 generations since our nation's black citizens were treated like this:

And all in a struggle waged over and over and over throughout human history. But these days are different. No longer are we a world of distant and relatively isolated societies. We are truly at a critical pivoting point in mankind's time here on earth.
~~~

Because I am out of the closet -- so to speak -- about my cannabis use I thought I'd share this picture of the truck I used to drive when I worked for Bill Conde at his Redwood Lumberyard outside of Harrisburg, OR.

I put tens of thousands of miles on this truck, delivering redwood lumber throughout the western half of Oregon. And even tho' the truck is quite obviously covered in cannabis leaves I never was pulled over. In fact in all those miles I received one negative response. Driving north on I-5 one day I actually got flipped off... but that was the only time. Usually it was honks and waves, peace signs and lots of gaping. And the occasional offer to stop for a smoke (which I politely always declined). Even had folks asking to take a picture of the truck.

For such a benign and multi-faceted plant cannabis sure receives its share of grief. And of course I must note that President-elect Obama admits that when he was a young man he actually inhaled. A black man and a cannabis consumer... but ya know... he never would have gotten here if he had been arrested for possession of pot, back in da day... so, while smoking pot doesn't disqualify him for our nation's highest office it is important to make that connection that a conviction would have. And these days? We arrest almost 100 people every hour for pot here in the US. Isn't it time to drop that charade? Is it any of our business what our neighbors smoke? Pot has never killed anybody on its own while tobacco deaths (just in the US) number about 400,000 a year. Isn't that a bit incongruous? How many hours of police time do that many arrests take? How much court time? And the occasional jail time? Aren't there better allocations of our police and criminal justice system's resources?

Prohibition II will become an issue that garners this nation's attention as we look at ways and places where we can start not-spending money. The White House Office of National Drug Control Policy directs most drug policy moves and comes up for reauthorization in 2010. I say axe it completely. How does a free nation -- a democratic republic -- even think that naming a bureaucrat a czar (as in Drug Czar) is acceptable? Especially when he directs and advocates policies that are repressive and grow ever more intrusive of Constitutional protections. We cannot protect our precious liberties by allowing the government to declare a "drugs exception" to the Constitution...

Law Enforcement Against Prohibition (LEAP) head guy Jack Cole estimates that we now spend roughly $70 billion a year on Prohibition II. Well... in 10 years we would get back the initial $700 billion we (our government) just threw at this "bailout" of our financial institutions. And that $70 billion a year is just the basics of enforcing Prohibition...

A point my friend Kirk often makes -- quite concisely -- is that it was not the efforts of G-Man Elliot Ness and his Untouchables that took away Al Capone's power in the booze trade. It was the ending of Prohibition, the re-legalizing of alcohol that in one fell swoop put booze back in the hands of legitimate tax-paying companies and their tax-paying employees... and eliminated the very rampant corruption and public violence of the syndicates who ran the booze trade.
~~~

“Of liberty I would say that, in the whole plenitude of its extent, it is unobstructed action according to our will. But rightful liberty is unobstructed action according to our will within limits drawn around us by the equal rights of others. I do not add 'within the limits of the law,' because law is often but the tyrant's will, and always so when it violates the right of an individual.”

~ Thomas Jefferson

~~~

circular thinking... or how I came to hate the bomb...

2008-11-02T09:09:00.000-08:00

~~~

“A human being is part of a whole, called by us the Universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings, as something separated from the rest a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circles of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.”

~ Albert Einstein
~~~

I spent an evening last week listening to young voices. Voices singing in harmony... and my daughter was one of those voices as Willamette HS hosted the 2008 Metropolitan Choral Festival on Tuesday, October 28th.

What a treat. I had forgotten the power singing presented in the form of choir...

I had the rare opportunity when I was going to college to travel with the Allan Hancock College Acapella Choir on a tour that took us from Central California to British Columbia with stops at high schools, state capitol buildings and churches throughout California, Oregon, Washington and ending up in Vancouver, BC. My musical experience up until that time had centered around popular music. Rock and Roll. I was after all a child of the '60s.

But that trip (I travelled as the group's photographer, documenting their performances and life on a long bus trip) opened my eyes to worlds I never knew existed. But it was the choir that blew my mind. I had never had music bring me to tears. And some nights those voices were so in tune, so vibrant and emotionally poignant that tears came, drawn out only by the magic that such harmonious vibrations can create. Surely our voices were our first music, our first expression and sensing of the harmony of life, the vibrations that all of life is tuned to...

Both my kids are into music, my daughter Robin plays piano and my son Alex plays guitar and electric bass.

But I didn't know Robin had kept at her singing. She always sang as a litle girl, a sweet lilting sing-song that was, I believe, her joy bubbling out... raised as she was her first 2 years in some of Oregon's most beautiful landscapes, surrounded by people who loved her. That and she was born under a full moon, along a river that was that morning covered in mist, surrounded by her aunties and then taken and raised in seclusion in the beauty of Opal Creek's rainforest by cranky miners. So when she and her piano moved back in to my house I found out she was playing piano and singing. And I found she has a beautiful, husky voice that can hold a tune and stay in pitch. And this... she has done all on her own. Her only voice training coming when she sang last year with the Cleveland HS (in Portland, OR) choir (where she had a couple of solos that went well, according to an objective observer, her mother).

So I was forced by the sheer weight of parental duty to attend this concert of area high school choirs (Junction City HS, Creswell HS, Pleasant Hill HS, Sheldon HS, Thurston HS, Churchhill HS, South Eugene HS, Springfield HS and two songs with Mass Choir).

It was my pleasure to be there and a thanks to WHS choir director Mike McCornack, the kids in the WHS choir (and all the other HS as well!) and to the local Kiwanis and the Springfield Utility Board (SUB) for their sponsoring of this event.

The Mass choir (the evening's last two songs) was conducted by Dr. Wallace Long, the Director of Choral Activities at Willamette University (in Salem):

~~~

Only 3 days left to cancel the election!

~~~

And speaking of voices...

Studs Terkel's will no longer be with us. A writer for the reg'lar folks, I was introduced to Studs back in college. RIP Studs...

“Perhaps it is this specter that most haunts working men and women: the planned obsolescence of people that is of a piece with the planned obsolescence of the things they make. Or sell.”

~ Studs Terkel

~~~