This weekend, do you know where your memories are?

It's Memorial Day Weekend. The remembrance boards for my father and father-in-law are hung. Today is also Bob Dylan's 85th birthday. Here's a link to his Nobel Prize section. Dylan was highly motivated by the works of Woody Guthrie, who was noted for being, among other things, strongly anti fascist, for example, in this song he wrote: Tear the Fascists Down. I started to fuss about "where's our Woody Guthrie?" when I remembered the recent work of Bruce Springsteen: Streets of Minneapolis... not precisely on target, but close enough to satisfy me and shut down my fussing.

In memory of my father and father-in law

Photo by J. Harrington

As I think about it, these days we're still fighting much the same battles, against the same kinds of ideologies and idiots, that Guthrie and Dylan were singing about and my father and father-in-law fought against in WW II; and the North fought the South about in our "Civil War." Pete Seeger has observed the dismaying circularity of these battles in his hauntingly beautiful Where Have All the Flowers Gone?

I grew up during the Cold War period when "duck and cover" was supposed to protect US school kids from nuclear blasts. These days, in this country, we lose more kids to mass shootings than we've lost to nuclear weapons, at least as of the moment I'm writing this. If so many of US want to return to an era past, perhaps we could consider returning to the days of Lyndon B. Johnson and the Great Society. In fact, such an effort might even help unite the Democratic Party and provide respite to a perpetual rehash of what went wrong during 2024, demonstrating for the rest of US that, indeed, some wars don't have to be fought.

Masters of War

Written by: Bob Dylan

Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin’
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it’s your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people’s blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

You’ve thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain’t worth the blood
That runs in your veins

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I’m young
You might say I’m unlearned
But there’s one thing I know
Though I’m younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die
And your death’ll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I’ll watch while you’re lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I’ll stand o’er your grave
’Til I’m sure that you’re dead          

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Reading into the season

Winter is approaching, a time for slowing down and storytelling. For some of us that also means more reading, although I suspect the Better Half is dubious that, for me, more reading is possible. She may have a point but I'm now working hard to limit doomscrolling and reading more positive content. You'll see what I mean below when you get to the cluster of links.

some years the deer don't wait 'til after Halloween

Photo by J. Harrington

The pumpkins and jack-o'-lantern have been put in the field behind the house so deer can feed on them. The local firearms season ends today so no one is likely to be accused of hunting over bait. I didn't hunt this year (again) and the Son-In-Law only hunted here one day after we saw a wonderful buck just before dusk one afternoon this past week.

This year I've done a much better job of managing and mulching leaves than I have in years past. We've got lots of bare ground that needs reseeding with shade-tolerant grass. Maybe next year I'll look for shade-tolerant sod. Is there such a thing?

The replacement serviceberry bushes seem to be surviving. Their leaves changed color this past week. I may try to water them once more before the snow sets in. The local weather forecasts have been including showers that never arrive so I've been holding off watering in hope that....

There is a wonderful, thoughtful "featured essay" in The Guardian. I urge you to take some time to read Megan Mayhew Bergman's The last frontier of empathy: why we still struggle to see ourselves as animals. I particularly enjoyed it since I've recently started reading David R. Boyd's The Rights of Nature. I suspect there's a number of folks who might be more comfortable if such themes were reframed as the responsibilities of humans. A long time ago I was taught that having rights incurs corresponding responsibilities, a lesson that seems to have been lost on all too many of our "leaders."

Ada Limón captures many themes related to nature and rights in her wonderful poem Startlement, from her new collection of the same title. See what you think as you read the version printed in a recent interview with her.

Startlement. It is a forgotten pleasure. The pleasure of the unexpected blue-bellied lizard skittering off his sunspot rock, the flicker of an unknown bird by the bus stop. To think, perhaps we are not distinguishable, and therefore, no loneliness can exist here. Species to species in the same blue air, smoke, wing flutter buzzing, a car horn coming, so many unknown languages to think we have only honored this strange human tongue. If you sit by the riverside, you see a culmination of all things upstream. We know now we were never at the circle's center. Instead, all around us, something is living or trying to live. The world says what we are becoming, we are becoming together. The world says one type of dream has ended, and another has just begun. The world says once we were separate, and now we must move in unison.

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More love for prisoners than for students?

Stone Walls do not a Prison make, 

Nor Iron bars a Cage;

school? prison? other?

Photo by J. Harrington

Unless the Minnesota legislature loves prisoners more than students, or believes that school resource officers have better judgement than prison guards, I don’t understand why they’re considering changing last year’s legislation prohibiting certain holds in schools, that have been and are still banned in prisons.

The language protecting prisoners is found in HF 63   2nd Engrossment - 92nd Legislature, 2021 1st Special Session (2021 - 2021):

243.52 DISCIPLINE; PREVENTION OF ESCAPE; DUTY TO REPORT.
Subdivision 1.

Discipline and prevention of escape

If any inmate of person confined or incarcerated in any adult correctional facility either under the control of the commissioner of corrections or licensed by the commissioner of corrections under section 241.021 assaults any correctional officer or any other person or inmate, the assaulted person may use force 
in defense of the assault, except as limited in this section. If any inmate confined or incarcerated person attempts to damage the buildings or appurtenances, resists the lawful authority of any correctional officer, refuses to obey the correctional officer's reasonable demands, or attempts to escape, the correctional officer may enforce obedience and discipline or prevent escape by the use of force. If any inmate confined or incarcerated person resisting lawful authority is wounded or killed by the use of force by the correctional officer or assistants, that conduct is authorized under this section.

Subd. 2.

Use of force.

(a) Use of force must not be applied maliciously or sadistically 
for the purpose of causing harm to a confined or incarcerated person.

(b) Unless the use of deadly force is justified in this section, a correctional officer working in an adult correctional facility either under the control of the commissioner of corrections or licensed by the commissioner under section 241.021 may not use any of the following restraints:

(1) a choke hold;

(2) a prone restraint;

(3) tying all of a person's limbs together behind the person's back to render the person immobile; or

(4) securing a person in any way that results in transporting the person face down in a vehicle, except as directed by a medical professional.

The legislative session that started yesterday has, as a priority, responding to the kinds of issues raised in this article: Prone restraint is banned in Minnesota prisons, yet controversy continues about a ban in schools. Perhaps the issue could be resolved by taking the language relative to prisons and adding school resource officers and including commissioner of education in addition to corrections. For the life of me I don’t understand the furor. Maybe an even better solution would be to prohibit licensed police from serving as school resource officers and using the money saved to add teachers and mental health professionals?

School-to-Prison Pants

By Clemonce Heard

After Laurie Thomas

They had to be Dickies®, not Dockers®.

They had to include a cellphone pocket

on the right leg, & feign a faint hanging

off our tails in spite of a belt’s strangling

support. They had to scream prison, jail,

scream water’s rising, scream help-p-p-p

from the lowest floor. But unlike water

they couldn’t rise, couldn’t obey a warden

lest they risk being jive. They had to be

spread wider than bars. They couldn’t be

starched or pressed, but steamed via dryer.

They had to be creaseless, but crisp, khaki

as a waterline staining crest-white Nikes®;

Forces. Lord forbid they be high waters.

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Facing the music

As some of you may have noticed, I’ve long been a fan of Donella (Dana) Meadows. She is the author of, among many things, one of my favorite essays, Dancing with Systems. Despite the truth of that sentence, it has recently occurred to me that I’ve not been following the guidance contained in that piece. So, today I’m going to refresh my familiarity with the steps in the dance and commit to taking dancing lessons at least once a week from now through the end of the year in hopes it will help me keep my foot out  of my mouth and llimit the number of times I trip over my own two feet.

The Dance

1. Get the beat.
2. Listen to the wisdom of the system.
3. Expose your mental models to the open air.
4. Stay humble. Stay a learner.
5. Honor and protect information.
6. Locate responsibility in the system.
7. Make feedback policies for feedback systems.
8. Pay attention to what is important, not just what is quantifiable.
9. Go for the good of the whole.
10. Expand time horizons.
11. Expand thought horizons.
12. Expand the boundary of caring.
13. Celebrate complexity.
14. Hold fast to the goal of goodness.

Today’s theme has been prompted by my increasing frustration with our political “system” and its growing number of failures. I’ve reached a point where I’m inclined to discard the idea that there’s any wisdom worth listening to in that system. But then I remember that we’ve come aways from a foundation in which women and persons of color weren’t allowed to vote. Democracy, I believe, has to be based on a balancing of rights and responsibilities. Too many of US appear to have lost track of the second part of that balancing act. One of the most fundamental responsibilities of congress is to fund the government. We’ll know in a few days how well that responsibility has been fulfilled. (When and if congress again meets its obligations to the American people, I’ll return to capitalizing the institution. Right now, I’m in contempt of congress.)

even bees and butterflies dance

Photo by J. Harrington

It looks to me as though many of our national problems can be attributed to our failure to get the beat and follow steps 9, the good of the whole; 12, expanded boundary of caring; 13, celebrate complexity; and, 14, the goal of goodness. I wouldn’t be shocked to find that my personal failure to perform those steps on a regular basis helps explain some of my own frustrations and dissatisfactions.

Although I never personally knew Donella Meadows, everything I’ve read by and about her makes me believe I would have enjoyed having her as a friend who was often ready with good advice. As long as it’s still warm enough to expose our mental models to the open air without freezing them, let’s try it and see if we can get our systems working better than they have for awhile.

Dancers Exercising

By Amy Clampitt

Frame within frame, the evolving conversation   

is dancelike, as though two could play   

at improvising snowflakes’

six-feather-vaned evanescence,

no two ever alike. All process

and no arrival: the happier we are,

the less there is for memory to take hold of,   

or—memory being so largely a predilection   

for the exceptional—come to a halt   

in front of. But finding, one evening   

on a street not quite familiar,

inside a gated

November-sodden garden, a building   

of uncertain provenance,

peering into whose vestibule we were   

arrested—a frame within a frame,   

a lozenge of impeccable clarity—

by the reflection, no, not

of our two selves, but of

dancers exercising in a mirror,

at the center

of that clarity, what we saw

was not stillness

but movement: the perfection

of memory consisting, it would seem,   

in the never-to-be-completed.

We saw them mirroring themselves,   

never guessing the vestibule

that defined them, frame within frame,   

contained two other mirrors.

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Time to head upstream!!

I’ve been struggling about what to post today. Cloudy weather, noxious headlines almost everywhere, disinformation and misinformation battling for market share, you get the picture. There are some folks offering helpful perspectives but I wonder if there are enough of them/US. I mean, I never would have imagined that I’d live in a world where I agreed with Liz Cheney about anything.

• Liz Cheney Urges Voters to Stop 'Electing Idiots'

 Her advice preceded the following announcements and articles:

• The case for a second look at Mike Pence
• White House condemns Robert Kennedy Jr’s Covid claims as ‘vile’
• Author of spoof story shared by Greg Abbott calls him one of ‘dumbest people in the country’
• Manchin stokes Democratic speculation for 2024 with No Labels event

where are these river babies coming from?

Photo by J. Harrington

Clearly, not enough of US are familiar with the parable of the River Babies:

“Once upon a time, there was a small village on the edge of a river. Life in the village was busy. There were people growing food and people teaching the children to make blankets and people cooking meals.

One day as a villager took a break from harvesting, he noticed a baby floating down the river toward the village. She couldn’t believe her eyes! Almost immediately, she heard more crying in the distance. She looked further downstream to see that two babies had already floated by the village. She looked around at the other villagers working nearby.

“Does anyone else see this baby?” she asked.

One villager heard the woman, but continued working. “Yes!” yelled a man who had been making soup. “Oh, this is terrible!” A woman who had been building a campfire shouted, “Look, there are even more upstream!” Indeed, there were three more babies coming around the river bend.

“How long have these babies been floating by?” asked a villager. No one knew for sure, but some people thought they might have seen something in the river earlier. They were busy at the time and did not have time to investigate.

They quickly organized themselves to rescue the babies. Watchtowers were built on both sides of the shore and swimmers were coordinated to maintain shifts of rescue teams that maintained 24-hour surveillance of the river. Ziplines with baskets attached were stretched across the river to get even more babies to safety quickly.

The number of babies floating down the river only seemed to increase. The villagers built orphanages. They had their children make more blankets. They increased the amount of food they grew to keep the babies housed, warm and fed. Life in the village carried on.

One day, a villager continued to walk by, despite observing the rescue efforts going on. Those who had been working in the system to rescue the babies called to that villager and asked him to join their ranks. He declined.

One of the rescuers yelled, “Where are you going? There are so many people that need help here.” To which the man replied, “I’m going upstream to find out why so many babies are falling into the river.”

Bless Their Hearts

By Richard Newman

At Steak ‘n Shake I learned that if you add

“Bless their hearts” after their names, you can say

whatever you want about them and it’s OK.

My son, bless his heart, is an idiot, 

she said. He rents storage space for his kids’

toys—they’re only one and three years old! 

I said, my father, bless his heart, has turned

into a sentimental old fool. He gets

weepy when he hears my daughter’s greeting

on our voice mail. Before our Steakburgers came

someone else blessed her office mate’s heart,

then, as an afterthought, the jealous hearts

of the entire anthropology department.

We bestowed blessings on many a heart

that day. I even blessed my ex-wife’s heart.

Our waiter, bless his heart, would not be getting

much tip, for which, no doubt, he’d bless our hearts.

In a week it would be Thanksgiving,

and we would each sit with our respective

families, counting our blessings and blessing

the hearts of family members as only family

does best. Oh, bless us all, yes, bless us, please

bless us and bless our crummy little hearts. 

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Between anarchy and autocracy

Let’s see: past the Summer solstice; temperatures again exceeding 90℉; thunderstorms in the forecast for the evening hours; seems like Summertime! I’ve been observing that, just as one of the problems with being more than school age is one doesn’t get the summer off, one of the problems of having reached retirement age is that retirees don’t get holidays or vacations. The laws of nature and the laws of humans are far from immutable but we keep acting as if we all know what’s best and what those laws are, or should be. Should everyone get to vote on everything all the time? Would that work? Here’s an item we’ve been back and forth on depending on who’s been elected: mining near the Boundary Waters..

In case any of you want to read the Environmental Assessment report supporting the withdrawal of the Rainy River watershed from potential federal mining leases, here’s the link, courtesy of the Star Tribune’s Jennifer Bjorhus. I’m looking forward to reading the whole thing myself.

Laurentian Divide, Birch Lake

Photo by J. Harrington

As I’ve noted from time to time in these postings, I am not a lawyer but I spent many of my younger years hanging around with some. It didn’t come up at the time, but I’ve read and observed that laws are not sacred, not even sacred laws. Laws are what those in power state and interpret them to be. There’s what the law says, what proponents and opponents claim the intent of the law was or is (have you ever read a “legislative intent?”), what many police and prosecutors and plaintiffs claim the law means, and often what a jury of peers or a judge or judges assert the law means as applied to a particular set of facts. Plus, at a minimum, there’s also what happens when one law conflicts with another.

One of the better rules of thumb I ever learned was: “If the law is against you, argue the facts. If the facts are against you, argue the law. If both the law and the facts are against you, pound on the table and yell like hell.” I believe the Republicans invented the last part of that tactic.

Many people react as though they have studied law, practiced law, understand legal processes, when, in fact, listening to or reading their opinions makes one question if the person exponding is functionally literate. [Have you noticed I’m back in a “why do I spend so much time on social media?” mode?]

All of the preceding happens in ways that we as citizens rarely get to directly affect. Our voters turned down an amendment to the constitution that would have allowed Initiative and Referendum. We do have the ability to recall elected state officers. We still are struggling to find the balance between anarchy and autocracy. The best way we can do that is to vote, but before we vote we should really spend more time talking to those with opinions that differ from ours. That would, I believe, be a healthier approach than paying attention to the stupid, misleading, attack adds that too often sway our perceptions. Remember, if we give up on voting, “They” win.

Self-portrait

By Edward Hirsch

I lived between my heart and my head,

like a married couple who can't get along.

I lived between my left arm, which is swift

and sinister, and my right, which is righteous.

I lived between a laugh and a scowl,

and voted against myself, a two-party system.

My left leg dawdled or danced along,

my right cleaved to the straight and narrow.

My left shoulder was like a stripper on vacation,

my right stood upright as a Roman soldier.

Let's just say that my left side was the organ

donor and leave my private parts alone,

but as for my eyes, which are two shades

of brown, well, Dionysus, meet Apollo.

Look at Eve raising her left eyebrow

while Adam puts his right foot down.

No one expected it to survive,

but divorce seemed out of the question.

I suppose my left hand and my right hand

will be clasped over my chest in the coffin 

and I'll be reconciled at last,

I'll be whole again.

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Maintaining a perimeter

Yesterday I discovered a bird’s nest built on top of the motion-activated lights on the south corner of our garage. If there are eggs or hatchlings, it can stay. Otherwise, we’ll be doing an eviction and demolition and the squatters can find another locale. I’m not comfortable with the prospect of the lights/wiring getting shorted. Such an event probably wouldn’t do the birds much good either.

The north side of the foundation got sprayed for ants today. The little insects keep appearing around the kitchen sink from time to time and that’s not ok. I’ll be curious to see if spraying the foundation results in a noticeable diminishment in ant numbers.

The garage mousetraps did in one mouse (two traps triggered) yesterday or the day before. The pocket gopher traps we set over the weekend were successful and we now have one less gopher eating tree roots and mounding dirt to wreck the mower deck.

a preferred rodent controller

Photo by J. Harrington

As much as I like the idea of live and let live, I’m against unhygienic conditions and/or wrecking expensive equipment or twisting ankles due to underground rodents. If it weren’t for the enjoyment the birds at the feeders bring, we’d seriously consider adding a barn cat to our menagerie, even though we don’t have a barn. But unless I’m willing to give up feeding the birds, an outdoor cat feels too much like police entrapment for me to be comfortable. I’d actually prefer it if we had more bull and hognosed snakes around here to tend to the rodents, but snakes are about as common as drivers for yard waste trucks these days.

Trout are noted for eating bugs. Birds, bats and dragonflies consume mosquitos and other flying pests like horseflies. Hawks eat birds. There’s a fascinating array of bat predators. We live on a world where life feeds upon life. The COVID-19 virus, among others, uses us “important” humans as little more than an incubator or nursery. The longer I live and the more I read, I believe more and more that we’ve misperceived large parts of our role on earth. More on that some day in the future.

To Vermin

By Lêdo Ivo
Translated by Andrew Gebhardt

This morning I salute

the weevil, who ruins

the most precious grain.

I reserve my compliments

for the sober larva that does not rest

even in the most crystalline waters.

And spare no applause

for the silverfish, taking their time

in books, without ever learning the Latin for life.

I honor the cockroach

who, in the dim night, gnashes

at the old clothes of ordinary people.

And before the rat

who gnaws at the feet of the people’s table,

I bow, respectfully:

this resembles the passage

of the king who chews up even the dreams

and tears of citizens.

Woodworm and white ant,

to you, vassals of an obscure realm,

my congratulations.

To rapacious insects,

to the plagues that lay waste to crops and livestock,

a word of solidarity.

And I congratulate the squirrels

that nibble the nuts of poetry

on the moist ground of Washington,

and the hare hidden in the hedge

which, sniffed out by hunting dogs,

breaks open what autumn conceals.

And I offer my respects

to the engineer of decay,

the earthworm, who swallows man.

We must devour the wind and the palace,

demolish the structures of rot,

change the face of the world.

And may the admirable termite,

in the sack of corn or among the eaves,

correct for the error of men.

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Lessons from Nature?

Today was our first hailstorm of the season, although not the first thunderstorm. Yesterday we discovered some marsh marigolds in bloom. Goldfinch males are turning bright, chrome yellow. In a single day budbursts went from being promised to being accomplished. The countryside is greening.

yesterday’s marsh marigolds in bloom

Photo by J. Harrington

Meanwhile, we’re in a time of year when the outside temperatures aren’t cool enough to make the furnace run very much while the inside temperatures are too cool for optimal sourdough rise. We’ll learn later today if our high hydration, very sticky dough produces a decent loaf or not.

this morning’s thunderstorm

Photo by J. Harrington

We’re beginning to ponder if there’s a relationship between our disrupted climate and our disrupted social and political atmospheres and whether we’ll be any more successful at reconciling our warring factions than we have been at reducing our greenhouse gas emissions. When I look around, I readily see parallels between the citizens of Ukraine and many Democrats of the progressive wing versus the Russians and the Republican party. I see fewer and fewer indications issues will be resolved through a civil, political measures. Perhaps we all need to spend more time (re)reading the stories of Persephone, Ziigwan and Minookimi  and other stories of the annual battles of seasonal change. It is unlikely all humans will ever become liberal or conservative. It is also probably just as well if we are to learn lessons from nature, since nature thrives in and on diversity. So, doesn’t that make the key question: How can we all benefit from our differences instead of who’s winning this battle or election or issue?

Praise the Rain

By Joy Harjo

Praise the rain; the seagull dive

The curl of plant, the raven talk—

Praise the hurt, the house slack

The stand of trees, the dignity—

Praise the dark, the moon cradle

The sky fall, the bear sleep—

Praise the mist, the warrior name

The earth eclipse, the fired leap—

Praise the backwards, upward sky

The baby cry, the spirit food—

Praise canoe, the fish rush

The hole for frog, the upside-down—

Praise the day, the cloud cup

The mind flat, forget it all—

Praise crazy. Praise sad.

Praise the path on which we're led.

Praise the roads on earth and water.

Praise the eater and the eaten.

Praise beginnings; praise the end.

Praise the song and praise the singer.

Praise the rain; it brings more rain.

Praise the rain; it brings more rain.

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It’s the time of year for...

Cleaning the gutters today was complicated because the gunk was frozen in some places. The bird bath was also frozen although, until late yesterday, the overnight temperatures weren’t forecast to drop below freezing. The bird bath heater is now plugged in. Gutters and roof are cleared of gunk, pine needles, acorns, and leaves. More leaves and needles will fall this year, but next spring’s snow melt should flow reasonably well. At least that’s the hope.

ice covered bird bath

Photo by J. Harrington

Before his arrival, I climbed a ladder repeatedly to clean the gutter-gunk. The Son-In-Law then did the part that involved walking around on the roofs with an electric leaf blower. As an element of my mostly unsuccessful attempts to age gracefully, I had acceded to the wishes of the Better Half and the Daughter Person to "stay off the roof and act my age," although their concepts of age-appropriate behavior don’t match mine. In any event, everyone  is safely back on the ground. Tomorrow, weather permitting, I’ll bag and mulch the leaves covering the front and back yards and then debate whether to celebrate Halloween with a fire in the fire pit, again, weather permitting.

fitting for All Hallow’s Eve?

Photo by J. Harrington

In case you missed the announcement, Folk Alley has a Scream Stream playlist for your listening pleasure this weekend. I offer the link as further evidence of my contention that one is only as old as one acts. See what I mean about a lack of success at aging gracefully?

Written in a Carefree Mood

- Lu Yu

Old man pushing seventy,
in truth he acts like a little boy,
whooping with delight when he spies some mountain fruits,
laughing with joy, tagging after village mummers;
with the others having fun stacking tiles to make a pagoda,
standing alone staring at his image in a jardiniere pool.
Tucked under his arm, a battered book to read,
just like the time he first set off for school.

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Since it’s Samhain / Halloween week...

Have you noticed that lots of organizations and individuals seem to think that keeping us in a constant state of crisis avoidance is to their benefit. I’m getting particularly annoyed by the invitations to ensure or secure my legacy by making provision in my will to continue donations after my demise. I think I understand why that’s important to some folks but my legacy is mostly walking around on two legs and I plan to let my living legacy decide how to use whatever I leave behind. In fact, on my more cranky days, I’m reminded of the old four-wheeler admonition to “leave no trace.”

Most of the preceding is my way of grumping about the very limited “green” options available in Minnesota for “environmentally friendly burials.” An organization we’ve supported for some years is offering an upcoming class in Death, Dying and Green Burials

In this workshop we will collaboratively examine the growing trend of reclaiming the naturalness of our death processes including embracing the dying journey, home vigils, family directed rituals and funerals, and options for green/environmentally friendly burials.

Having done some preliminary research on the limited options available, I’m waffling on whether there’s actual value in attending the workshop. But the resource listing is only part of the content.

The Minnesota Pollution Control Agency has a web page entitled “Grave Matters” that has some useful information and links. According to the Green Burial Council, there are only two GBC-certified cemeteries in Minnesota and only one funeral home. I think I’ve just convinced myself to sign up for the workshop to confirm the listing of resources is really as limited as it appears to be.

a reminder of remains to be disposed of

Photo by J. Harrington

All of the preceding has been triggered by the demise a little more than a week ago of the Better Half’s dog, Franco, plus someone recently posting on my Nextdoor timeline about the cost of cremation, and my recent efforts to donate three float tubes the Better Half and I haven’t used for years. There were no bids for them and I have my doubts about how quickly they might move in an estate sale. Without getting too anxious about it, I’d like to reduce the size of the headaches left behind for my descendants to tidy up. As with too many things in life, it appears that we’ve regulated and priced the hell out of departing it with few environmentally benign options affordable to most folks.

Haunted Houses

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - 1807-1882

All houses wherein men have lived and died
Are haunted houses. Through the open doors
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,
With feet that make no sound upon the floors.

We meet them at the door-way, on the stair,
Along the passages they come and go,
Impalpable impressions on the air,
A sense of something moving to and fro.

There are more guests at table than the hosts
Invited; the illuminated hall
Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts,
As silent as the pictures on the wall.

The stranger at my fireside cannot see
The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear;
He but perceives what is; while unto me
All that has been is visible and clear.

We have no title-deeds to house or lands;
Owners and occupants of earlier dates
From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands,
And hold in mortmain still their old estates.

The spirit-world around this world of sense
Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere
Wafts through these earthly mists and vapoursdense
A vital breath of more ethereal air.

Our little lives are kept in equipoise
By opposite attractions and desires;
The struggle of the instinct that enjoys,
And the more noble instinct that aspires.

These perturbations, this perpetual jar
Of earthly wants and aspirations high,
Come from the influence of an unseen star
An undiscovered planet in our sky.

And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud
Throws o'er the sea a floating bridge of light,
Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd
Into the realm of mystery and night,—

So from the world of spirits there descends
A bridge of light, connecting it with this,
O'er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends,
Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss.

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Consent of the governed?

Today’s posting is short and not so sweet. I’m finding it more and more difficult to reconcile a couple of key concepts supposedly underlying our democracy. On the one hand, in the Declaration of Independence, 2nd paragraph, we have

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.

On another hand (I suspect this may  involve more than two hands), there’s the legal definition of insurrection (remember January 6, 2021?)

A rising or rebellion of citizens against their government, usually manifested by acts of violence.

Under federal law, it is a crime to incite, assist, or engage in such conduct against the United States.

use your voice: VOTE

Photo by J. Harrington

Here comes that third hand (or maybe a third rail):    

 4.-2 That, whenever the laws of the United States shall be opposed, or the execution thereof obstructed, in any state, by combinations too powerful to be suppressed by the ordinary course of judicial proceedings, or by the powers vested in the marshals by this act, it shall be lawful for the president of the United States to call forth the militia of such state, or of any other state or states, as may be necessary to suppress such combinations, and to cause the laws to be duly executed; and the use of militia so to be called forth may be continued, if necessary, until the expiration of thirty days after the commencement of the then next session of congress.

Probably it’s just as well I never went to law school because, for the life of me, I can’t reconcile the language of the Declaration with current federal law, with the fact that the president hasn’t decided that the Texas abortion legislation doesn’t constitute the "execution of the laws of the United States being obstructed." I do, however, remember federal troops being sent to visit Governor Wallace to enforce school desegregation. Are children, and their education, more important than the women who bore them? Does a child’s right to education supercede a woman’s right to health care? Can anyone explain to me how this (these?) particular balancing act(s) is/are supposed to work?

A Language

By Susan Stewart

I had heard the story before 

about the two prisoners, alone 

in the same cell, and one 

gives the other lessons in a language. 

Day after day, the pupil studies hard—

what else does he have to do?—and year 

after year they practice, 

waiting for the hour of release. 

They tackle the nouns, the cases, and genders, 

the rules for imperatives and conjugations, 

but near the end of his sentence, the teacher 

suddenly dies and only the pupil 

goes back through the gate and into the open 

world. He travels to the country of his new 

language, fluent, and full of hope. 

Yet when he arrives he finds 

that the language he speaks is not 

the language that is spoken. He has learned 

a language one other person knew—its inventor, 

his cell-mate and teacher.

                          And then the other 

evening, I heard the story again. 

This time the teacher was Gombrowicz, the pupil 

was his wife. She had dreamed of learning 

Polish and, hour after hour, for years 

on end, Gombrowicz had been willing to teach 

her a Polish that does not and never 

did exist. The man who told 

the story would like to marry his girlfriend. 

They love to read in bed and between

them speak three languages. 

They laughed—at the wife, at Gombrowicz, it wasn’t

clear, and I wasn’t sure that they 

themselves knew what was funny. 

I wondered why the man had told 

the story, and thought of the tricks 

enclosure can play. A nod, or silence, 

another nod, consent—or not, as a cloud 

drifts beyond the scene and the two 

stand pointing in different directions 

at the very same empty sky.

                           Even so, there was something 

else about the story, like teaching 

a stunt to an animal—a four-legged 

creature might prance on two legs 

or a two-legged creature might 

fall onto four.

                           I remembered, 

then, the miscarriage, and before that 

the months of waiting: like baskets filled 

with bright shapes, the imagination 

run wild. And then what arrived:

the event that was nothing, a mistaken idea, 

a scrap of charred cloth, the enormous 

present folding over the future, 

like a wave overtaking 

a grain of sand. 

                           There was a myth 

I once knew about twins who spoke 

a private language, though one 

spoke only the truth and the other 

only lies. The savior gets mixed 

up with the traitor, but the traitor 

stays as true to himself as a god. 

All night the rain falls here, falls there,

and the creatures dream, or drown, in the lair.

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Been there? Done that? A response to climate breakdown

The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change recently released the latest in their series of reports on its assessment of climate change.

The report shows that emissions of greenhouse gases from human activities are responsible for approximately 1.1°C of warming since 1850-1900, and finds that averaged over the next 20 years, global temperature is expected to reach or exceed 1.5°C of warming.

There are really few, if any, surprises in the report. In fact, the entire IPCC series has been foreshadowed by work done with support by the Club of Rome and first published in 1972, The Limits to Growth [available as download]. The report’s authors found that

The earth’s interlocking resources – the global system of nature in which we all live – probably cannot support present rates of economic and population growth much beyond the year 2100, if that long, even with advanced technology. In the summer of 1970, an international team of researchers at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology began a study of the implications of continued worldwide growth. They examined the five basic factors that determine and, in their interactions, ultimately limit growth on this planet-population increase, agricultural production, nonrenewable resource depletion, industrial output, and pollution generation. 

In 1992 there was an update to The Limits to Growth, titled, appropriately, Beyond the Limits to Growth. It reinforced, with some revisions, the original report’s conclusions:

1. Human use of many essential resources and generation of many kinds of pollutants have already surpassed rates that are physically sustainable. Without significant reductions in material and energy flows, there will be in the coming decades an uncontrolled decline in per capita food output, energy use, and industrial production.

2. This decline is not inevitable. To avoid it two changes are necessary. The first is a comprehensive revision of policies and practices that perpetuate growth in material consumption and in population. The second is a rapid, drastic increase in the efficiency with which materials and energy are used.

3. A sustainable society is still technically and economically possible. It could be much more desirable than a society that tries to solve its problems by constant expansion. The transition to a sustainable society requires a careful balance between long-term and short-term goals and an emphasis on sufficiency, equity, and quality of life rather than on quantity of output. It requires more than productivity and more than technology; it also requires maturity, compassion, and wisdom.

Twelve years later, in 2004, Chelsea Green Publishing Company published Limitsa to Growth: The Thirty Year Update. It included a chapter on “Tools for the Transition to Sustainability.” This latter piece has not been prominent in any of the IPCC’s work. The essence of Chapter 8 is available online at the Donella Meadow’s Project web site. One of the critical tools cited is a shared vision such as the following:

A sustainable world can never be fully realized until it is widely envi­sioned. The vision must be built up by many people before it is complete and compelling. As a way of encour­aging others to join in the process, we’ll list here some of what we see when we let ourselves imagine a sus­tainable society we would like to live in–as opposed to one we would be willing to settle for. This is by no means a definitive list. We include it here only to invite you to develop and enlarge it.

• Sustainability, efficiency, sufficiency, equity, beauty, and community as the highest social values.
• Material sufficiency and security for all. Therefore, by individual choice as well as communal norms, low birth rates and stable populations.
• Work that dignifies people instead of demeaning them. Some way of providing incentives for people to give their best to society and to be rewarded for doing so, while ensuring that everyone will be provided for sufficiently under any circumstances.
• Leaders who are honest, respectful, intelligent, humble, and more inter­ested in doing their jobs than in keeping their jobs, more inrerested in serving society than in winning elections.
• An economy that is a means, not an end, one that serves the welfare of the environment, rather than vice versa.
• Efficient, renewable energy systems.
• Efficient, closed-loop materials systems.
• Technical design that reduces emis­sions and waste to a minimum, and social agreement not to produce emissions or waste that technology and nature can’t handle.
• Regenerative agriculture that builds soils, uses natural mechanisms to restore nutrients and control pests, and produces abundant, un­contaminated food.
• The preservation of ecosystems in their variety, with human cultures liv­ing in harmony with those ecosys­tems; therefore, high diversity of both nature and culture, and human appre­ciation for that diversity.
• Flexibility, innovation (social as well as technical), and intellectual chal­lenge. A flourishing of science, a con­tinuous enlargement of human knowledge.
• Greater understanding of whole systems as an essential part of each person’s education.
• Decentralization of economic power, political influence, and scien­tific expertise.
• Political structures that permit a balance between short-term and long-term considerations; some way of exerting political pressure now on behalf of our grandchildren.
• High-level skills on the part of citi­zens and governments in the arts of nonviolent conflict resolution.
• Media that reflect the world’s diver­sity and at the same time unite cultures with relevant, accurate, timely, unbiased, and intelligent information, presented in its historic and whole­ system context.
• Reasons for living and for thinking well of ourselves that do not involve the accumulation of material things.

The challenges we face are not new, although the need for promptly implementing successful solutions grows more urgent by the day. Many wise and intelligent people have been trying to get our attention for generations. Slowly, they’ve been succeeding. There are many who are creating the alternatives we need to today’s mainstream systems. In future postings, we’ll devote more space to sharing those we know about. For example, most of today’s posting is based on the work of Donella Meadows, being continued posthumously at The Donella Meadow’s Project. So, in addition to a poem today, we close with one of her observations.

A History of Kindness

By Linda Hogan

When a child becomes an animal in clouds
changing forms to other creatures,
our grief becomes a kindness to the sky.

When the hay is baled and you worry
if a mouse or snake was inside,
that is a gentleness.

When the horses are fed and all that's left is a withered apple
for a woman to eat, and she is grateful
for the life of all things and so feeds it to the horse,
that is a good heart.

When you are gentle to the s kin of others,
touching them softly, speaking with gentle words
that is compassion.

When there is agreement among those
who might have argued instead,
it is a gift to all.

When skin is the first organ to form in the body of a woman,
skin, the largest organ we have,
that is a mother's first protection.

If you still love the invisible place where a child once stood,
the heart recalling her long dark legs, her soft wind-blown hair,
that is the spaciousness of memory.

And when you pick up the old woman on the worn road
to help her home and you see that she has nothing, 
you give the food you have.

You give the only can of coffee, then start her woodstove
you leave your coat behind on purpose.
What else would a real human do?

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This is progress?

It's been awhile since I posted a full-scale rant here. In the interest of full disclosure, I'm thoroughly fed up with the elimination of CD players from the dashboards of vehicles. (And I still have mixed feelings about not installing my old CB radio, but there's essentially no knee room in my Jeep.) Having  to use a "smart phone" to play music would be more tolerable except my iPhone and my Jeep don't always agree with each other and I'm the one that ends up with the figurative black eye. And let's not begin to get into whether the current situation gives cops too many pretexts, other than expired tabs, to pull drivers over for texting while driving and similar activities.

Now, today I learned about two or three other pain in the patoot developments that need to be brought to a screeching halt. First, from this report that I saw on Slashdot: Apple Plans To Scan US iPhones for Child Abuse Imagery. It would appear that our friends in Cupertino have a very different concept of innocent until proven guilty and unreasonable search and seizure than did the founders of the country. In addition to Apple's planned further intrusion (invasion?) into our  privacy, today I came across an article in The Nation: Corporate publishing wants to turn all readers into renters. We’re trying to stop them. I get heartburn often enough reading about right to repair limitations on things like cell phones (Apple) and tractors (John Deere). The Better Half seems to enjoy her ebook reader. I wouldn't own one for reasons including those flagged in the article.

It seems to me, what with the frequent adjustments from our federal government in guidance on how to stay safe during our pandemic, the mess federal Democrats have made with the expiration of eviction protection (why didn't Congress enact legislation?), the constant gridlock by Republicans and frequent timidity from Democrats, it's time for the occupy movement to recruit some more luddites and activists, bring Ed Abbey back from wherever he's been hid in the desert, and organize a general strike. Our leaders need to be much more responsive to existential threats like climate breakdown, political breakdown (remember January 6, 2021? why's the former guy  still walking around?) and levels of inequity that have grown to massive proportions, else why have we elected them to lead what once was known as a democracy?

As for me, since I recently learned that Your Computer Isn't Yours, I'm going to learn Linux and start shopping for a small aftermarket CD player that might fit in the Jeep, plus I'll remember to turn off the cellular data option on my phone.

The Second Coming

By William Butler Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre   

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere   

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst   

Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.   

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out   

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert   

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,   

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,   

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it   

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.   

The darkness drops again; but now I know   

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,   

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,   

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

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