Crosswalk America

Counting beans, staking out territory and providing lip service

Once upon a time, there was Mare Island Naval Shipyard,  MINS. It was founded, if that word can be used for a navy base, in 1853. It was, in fact, the very first US Navy base on the Pacific coast. Mostly, they built submarines there. During WWII 50,000 civilians worked at  MINS building and fixing ships. Mare Island, where the the Navy Base and MINS was located, is separated from Vallejo, CA, by the Napa River. During WWII and for a few years after, there was a hospital and a Marine Corps barracks located there. By 1963 the old hospital building housed a computer school and the Marine barracks housed the students.

I was eating lunch and playing Double Deck Pinochle on a balcony of the old hospital building when the news of Kennedy’s assignation reached us. It’s funny how I can remember what I was having for lunch that day, (PBJ sandwich), but can’t recall if it was before or after THE day when Robert McNamara made a visit to the school and shipyard. The Department of Defense, DOD, had made a short list of bases up for closure, and as Secretary of Defense, McNamara was making the rounds. Why he was making the rounds, I don’t know. You see, McNamara had made his name and fortune doing statistical control. First he did this in the US Army Air Corps, then later at Ford Motor. He was, then, a bean counter. Why he couldn’t count beans, make decisions, and determine the value of the shipyard from the Pentagon, isn’t clear.

At any rate, he came to MINS. Bear in mind here, it was the shipyard that was under threat of closure. The school was just something that needed a building for school and a barracks for the sailors going to school there. The huge closed hospital building and WWII barracks were empty after WWII, and were just begging for tenants. So the chain of command looked something like, a Captain or Rear Admiral as Commander of the Naval base, (and shipyard) and an Officer In Charge, OIC, maybe a Commander, one rank below Captain, for the school. The OIC had an executive officer, XO, always a hatchet man who does the dirty work. Below that are lower ranks taking care of business with the bottom layers, the students and the instructors.

So, the Admiral tells the OIC in charge of the school, the OIC in charge of the shipyard civilians, and whatever other minions he has running things, “...the Secretary of Defense is coming. Make things neat, look busy and find reasons why the Navy can’t do without us.” This is the Admiral's territory, and if this territory isn’t here, he might have to go to sea and not be able to use the golf course or the tennis courts. They don’t have such facilities available at sea. Lost to history is the reaction of everyone but the OIC of the computer school. This is 1963 and computers are on the upswing.  The school OIC isn’t worried that they will close the school. Computers are becoming necessary to the modern Navy. But, they would have to move the school and Mare Island is conveniently close to such weekend destinations as Napa Valley and San Francisco. He also plays golf with the admiral which he thinks is good for his career.

So, the OIC dreams up a demonstration of how computers will solve many of the Navy’s problems with handling data in air and sea battles. That of course does not involve any personnel below the rank of Chief Petty Officer. In order that things look tidy and to make it look like the lower ranks are busy he tells his XO to get ready for an inspection.

Normally, the school and the barracks are cleaned daily by the duty section of students. The school has six section duty which means 1/6 of the students have duty each day and one out of six weekends. Ordinarily, an inspection might mean an extra couple of hours work by the duty section. Because this was the Secretary of Defense, it meant more hours by the entire school, staff and students. I was assigned to the head, Navy talk for restroom. Urinals, toilets and sinks, with no showers, thank God. Showers were in the barracks. I think we started after lunch, around 11:30 am. We finally left after eight pm. The mental image of the Secretary of Defense running a white glove under a toilet rim and saying “It’s clean; we don’t have to close the base.”, is imprinted in my mind to this day.

My experience of that day demonstrates an absurdity of the military. Nearly everyone has an example of the civilian government bureaucracy being dysfunctional. I’ll mention only one, the congress of the United States today. The worst half of the Congress seems to be the Senate.

These days we have the Veterans Administration, VA, more properly United States Department of Veterans Affairs. Actually, it existed then, in 1963, as a slightly less dysfunctional organization. The VA is a civilian organization run by civilians under the Secretary of the department who is a member of the president’s cabinet. Its sole purpose is to serve military veterans of the United States. Because of its purpose, the department seems to have inherited most of the flaws of military organizations, and civilian governmental organizations, with few if any, of the redeeming qualities of either.

I am not one to dismiss bureaucracies as bloated, inefficient entities that need to be pared down to a manageable size, say three or four people, as most politicians do. We have bureaucracies because they are the most efficient means we have of making a government work. Kind of depressing, that definition. The problem is that we have to have large organizations with myriads of rules to cover every eventuality. The United States had 21.5 million military veterans in 2011, and so, we need a very large organization to serve them. We need a lot of different rules because each veteran has different needs, different situations, and different entitlements as veterans. Veterans that served in war zones generally have the more programs and benefits available. 7.5 million Served during the Vietnam era, and 5.1 million in the Gulf War era, 1990 to present. Of course not all of them served in the actual war zones. The rules are different for each. The reason for the difference is that the rules are set by Congress. In short, it is complicated.

Then, there are different forms of benefits. The GI Bill, schooling benefits, is probably the best known. But, there are health benefits, administered by VA Healthcare, and housing benefits, such as GI loan programs. Those are just the largest; there are others. They are each administered by separate organizations within the VA. Every organization has its own rules, responsibilities and turf. And, so do the individuals that comprise each organization.

Merrill’s law for organizations: Rules increase as a power of e to the number of choices.

Rules = e ^{number of choices}

e = approx 2.71828...

so, for 2 choices we need e² or at least 7.389046 rules

and for 10 choices we need e¹⁰ or at least 1096.628 rules

Note: this formula gives a minimum number of rules.

You do the math for millions of choices.

The VA has special benefits and services for homeless veterans. On a given night, between 65,000 and 130,000 veterans are homeless. There is uncertainty about the actual number – both of those figures come from the Veterans Administration. One of every seven homeless is a vet. 50% of the homeless veterans are from the Vietnam era. Regardless of the actual numbers, there are way too many.

The sad truth, according to the U.S. Department affairs, is: “The number of homeless Vietnam-era veterans, male and female, is greater than the number of soldiers who died during the war.”

A couple more facts and then I will be done. The number of Vietnam Veterans is decreasing, but their health needs, (and hence number of new claims), is increasing. The number of Gulf War veterans is increasing (and number of claims for all services). This is a perfect storm of new claims for the VA. Each new claim must be tested against the millions, (billions), of rules. Takes time, don’t you know.

According to the VA there are 953,000 claims in process at present. Claims are handled by humans – mostly. Humans make mistakes, are territorial, have personalities, like some people, and dislike other people on sight or sight unseen. Unfairness is built in. Each decision made can be appealed.

I wonder what the number of appeals is.

The homeless veterans submit many claims. Most don’t have a mail address; those that do often don’t inform the VA what the current one is. Mail or in person is the only way to learn if a claim is approved or disapproved.

Every year, in Phoenix, there is a “stand down”. In military talk a stand down is when a unit is pulled from the combat zone for R & R. The VA participates and vows to end homelessness among veterans. The VA also vows to eliminate the backlog of 953,000.

It could happen.

Not with the present set of rules and organization. I have not heard of any changes being made.

If nothing changes, nothing changes. This includes the backlog and number of homeless.

Is it possible the system is broken?

I just hope they don’t try to fix things by getting a McNamara clone to run his finger under toilet rims.

You may remember a story from the New Testament about a bureaucracy in turmoil and the head of the bureaucracy trying to change a bad decision by other members of the bureaucracy.

Pilate eventually washed his hands of it.

Change for 50 years

@ Duck and Decanter in Phoenix, AZ

Back in the fifties, America was a White Anglo Saxon Protestant, WASP for short, nation. Most of us growing up, then, believed it always would be. Manufacturing employed the majority of people. It was unimaginable that our way of life could be based on anything else. Akron, Ohio, where I spent most of the fifties, was a shining example of the modern American city where things were made. In Akron’s case, the things were tires. The economy of Akron revolved, (pun intended), around tires. Black people lived on Howard Street. Various ethnic groups lived peacefully out of sight in other parts of town. There were a lot of small communities of people from Eastern Europe, Italy, wherever. It wasn’t exactly all protestant. Hoban High, a Catholic school, was a perennial football power house. If you looked, there were blemishes on the WASP, blue collar worker, cityscape.

But, for the most part, the non-wasps were only accepted because they acknowledged the WASP’s dominance. Looking back, I see signs that changes were beginning. Main Street was becoming a little seedy down town with small shops starting to mingle with large department stores. The people on the sidewalks were mostly white but, Bar B Q restaurants were opening around Main and Market with a mixed clientele of black and white. I marveled at them and wondered what the pans of cooked meat tasted like while we stayed at the Portage Hotel on the Northwest corner shortly after arrival in Akron. The Portage was once one of Akron’s finest hotels, but was in obvious decline by the early fifties. Negroes, as we called black people then, were more common on this part of Main.

It’s all different now. I read that the last tire shop moved out of Akron sometime ago. The population is about half of what it was in the fifties. Akron is a model of the rust belt. The change isn’t all bad. In the fifties, women were careful not to hang wash on the lines when the wind was blowing. Soot from the tire shops would dirty it. Now of course, no one hangs laundry on the line to dry. Since the wind blew from the West most of the time, the rich lived in West Akron. They moved to the suburbs or out of state and the less well to do moved in. Mostly they were black. Living in Akron isn’t worse today than it was then, it is just different.

Like Akron, America has also changed. We elected Kennedy, a Roman Catholic of Irish descent, President. I should say you elected him; I voted for Barry Goldwater. Just as Akron and America changed, so did I. The seventy one year old that I am now would not vote for Barry today like the twenty-one year old did. The reason my vote would be different is not because of religious or ethnicity reasons. It is because Barry held on to outdated values that needed changing. Kennedy recognized that America was not living up to the ideals that we preached and that our society needed to change in the modern world. Kennedy’s words “Ask not what your country can do for you but rather what you can do for your country.” are well remembered. Less well remembered is his alluding to the Mexican-American war as an imperialist war. A war we fought for less than idealistic reasons if not outright nefarious designs on Mexican territory. I don’t know for sure, but I suspect that Barry would never have thought that the Mexican American War was anything less than America fulfilling its destiny. The reason I don’t know for sure is because I never heard or read of anyone asking him that question.

When I voted for Barry, I would have said that the Mexican American War was a “good” war and we, America, was justified in fighting the war. The war and the reasons for it haven’t changed but my understanding about it has. The change in my thinking started when I read of Kennedy’s view and started thinking about such things. Just as his words about doing something for my country stirred me into a different way of thinking about service, his view of imperialism, (by the US), moved me to view history differently. Together, the ideas he gave voice to, enable me to see my country in a different light. Not always right, not always good, but able to change for the better.

My experiences with life have taught me that things will change. Change in itself is neither good nor bad. Change can be good, it can be bad; change will happen. I might as well get used to it. I might as well try to influence the change for the better. I can do that be asking: ...what can I do for my country...

What can you do?

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Irish soldiers fought for Mexico during Mexican-American War

Connected or why bad things happen to good people as well as bad people.

@ Duck and Decanter in Phoenix, AZ

Ezekiel cried, "Dem dry bones!"
Ezekiel cried, "Dem dry bones!"
Ezekiel cried, "Dem dry bones!"
"Oh, hear the word of the Lord."

The foot bone connected to the leg bone,
The leg bone connected to the knee bone,
The knee bone connected to the thigh bone,
The thigh bone connected to the back bone,
The back bone connected to the neck bone,
The neck bone connected to the head bone,
Oh, hear the word of the Lord!

Dem bones, dem bones gonna walk aroun',
Dem bones, dem bones, gonna walk aroun'
Dem bones, dem bones, gonna walk aroun'
Oh, hear the word of the Lord.

The head bone connected to the neck bone,
The neck bone connected to the back bone,
The back bone connected to the thigh bone,
The thigh bone connected to the knee bone,
The knee bone connected to the leg bone,
The leg bone connected to the foot bone,
Oh, hear the word of the Lord!

 

It’s a song written meant to bring life to Ezekiel for children. Often, I have heard the vision found in Ezekiel 37 used as an example of the power of God. His power is so great that life can be given to a jumble of dry bones and an army raised from the dead. Seldom is it used as Ezekiel intended. Ezekiel used the vision of life being breathed into the bones as a metaphor for purpose being injected into the Israelites. Ezekiel says so.

Ezekiel 37:11 “Son of man, these bones are the people of Israel.

How often is the point of a biblical illustration lost because we, the readers, focus on the vividness of an image?

I thought of the song and then the vision last night as I watched the Nova episode, “The earth from Space”. In “The earth from Space” the interconnectedness of the Earth is made quite clear. For instance, the wonder of the Amazon Basin is in part due to phosphorus being blown across the South Atlantic from the Sahara Desert in North Africa. The phosphorus was laid down in an ancient sea bed and is now exposed on the surface. The phosphorus came from algae that lived in ancient seas. The same algae thrive off the South American coast today. The algae use the phosphorus from dead plants and animals washed into the sea. That is just one example of how process is connected to process to process on the Earth, and each is a part of the whole, just as the head bone is ultimately connected to the feet bone in Ezekiel’s vision.

Scientists are beginning to observe how molecules are affected by quantum processes. Molecules, of course are composed of atoms. The previous view, current in the 19^th century was that atoms and their constituent parts, electrons, neutrons and protons were mostly stable enduring unchanged for eons. The twentieth century brought knowledge of quantum physics and how the parts that make up atoms are composed of quantum particles. That doesn’t seem too bad.

But it is. Quantum particles are random. They can wink in and out of the universe. Things at the quantum level are often described as froth with particles popping into existence and then disappearing just as randomly. If you observe a quantum particle, you will affect it. The problem is you won’t know how you affected it because the effect is completely random. In baseball, a batter measures the speed and position of the ball and predicts where it would be at some time in the future. He swings the bat accordingly. If the baseball behaved as a quantum particle does, the batter could know only the position or the velocity and direction. The very act of measuring its position would randomly change the speed or direction. Try plying with those rules!

The only thing that makes baseball playable is that the ball, (and bat), are composed of zillions of atoms made of these quantum particles. In the aggregate, most of them are stuck together so that we can measure speed, (with a radar gun or light reflecting from the mass of particles), and position, (in relation to the end of the bat). Then the batters marvelous computer in his head can compute hot to intersect the bat with the baseball. Did I mention that the batters brain is made of the same indeterminate particles? So is the electrical portion of his thoughts. The electrical pulse of thoughts is composed of fewer of these particles, so it is much easier for the quantum randomness to affect the thoughts. I don’t know if quantum process ever does affect a thought. It would certainly be more likely for a particular thought to be affected than something like a baseball.

The basic idea is that the universe at the smallest size is completely random. Like the bones, everything in the universe is connected. We live in a random universe even at the macro level. The largest structures in the universe are filaments composed of galaxies. The galaxies and the shapes they from are a result of the random imperfections that existed in the baby universe of 14 billion years ago.

It is possible for macro beings, such as humans, to die from a virus. Some viruses are mere strings of DNA and RNA. DNA and RNA are large molecules. Here we are getting to the size where quantum randomness is beginning to play a part of the molecules operations. Any particular human being’s chance of getting infected by a particular virus is not too likely, and it is random. But, it does happen.

Consider the following random events.

A young Army MP is directing traffic. It is freezing cold. She stands for so long in one position that her boots freeze to the road surface.

She goes to turn. Her knee pops. Ligaments are torn. Several operations latter she is discharged. A partial disability is paid. Time goes on. She finds love, lives with a partner. Partner dies thirty years after her knee pops. Property is in partner’s name. No home. Then she has a hip replacement. Medical bills no problem. The VA pays. But, she is in a wheelchair, can’t work, no income, no home.

Pretty random. From ice freezing her boots to the ground to coming to the Justa Center where I hear her story.

Bad things happen to good people randomly. Bad things also happen to bad people randomly. Hitler is a bad as they come, I think. He is destitute in Austria. He joins the German Army in WW1. Gets shot. You know the rest of the story.

Good things happening are just as random. Think lottery tickets here.

Story about a man and me

@ Duck and Decanter in Phoenix, AZ

I know a man. I will describe him with the same words that another friend of mine used to describe me: He is a very private person. He is also a veteran and was homeless when I first met him. An ex-marine, he carries himself with an erect posture as becomes a former marine. He is on the lean side, somewhat less than six feet in height. He moves deliberately, always sure of his destination. Polite and soft spoken, he speaks intelligently. I assumed that he was well educated although I don’t really know what education he has received. He is a black man, and when I knew him wore a well trimmed salt and pepper beard. He always dresses neatly in clean, tidy clothes. He has a quiet dignity. None of the facts I have related here gives him that dignity but I am certain that his appearance and manner stem from it.

 

I learned of his dignity in several conversations I had with him. He had been attending the Justa Center for about six months when I first spoke with him. I was a volunteer when I first noticed him. Almost always he sat quietly reading in the library at the Justa center. I only have knowledge of his morning routine because I am rarely there in the afternoons. The Justa Center is a resource center and not a day center and it is expected that our members actively work to remove themselves from homelessness. Since he had been a member for more than six months and a vet, Scott, our Executive Director, asked me to talk with him about his game plan to better his situation.

In our first conversation, I asked him what we, The Justa Center, could do for him. His reply was that we could help with knowledge. He had a folder of apartment leads in the Phoenix area and we talked about that. We talked about benefits he could receive from the VA and also of some housing choices that were available to him through the VA and the Justa Center. One choice, I mentioned was that he could speak with Sherman, our housing specialist.

Our next conversation was an unplanned encounter at the water fountain. He was reading a flyer about a stand-down that was posted next to the fountain when I went to get a drink. He asked me if I had been there – I had not. He wanted to know if it was worth his time to go to. I told him I didn’t know, but there was a free BBQ lunch. I will never forget his reply.

“I do not chase food. There are those [homeless] that do, but I do not. I eat everyday and have plenty.”

Unsaid was the fact the he could and did provide for himself what he needed. Unspoken also was that there was nothing wrong in seeking a free meal but the food in itself was not reason enough to waste time and effort for. If there were other benefits, he would accept the food with gratitude. It was if he, a mature man, was explaining to a boy, that did not know, how to be an adult.

 

I didn’t sleep well that night. I kept hearing his words, spoken to me with his patient, quiet, dignity.

 

A couple of days later, when I saw him again, I made an apology to him for having assumed that: of course, any one in his situation would leap at an opportunity to have lunch.

 

It wasn’t long after that when Scott told me that he and Sherman had helped my friend to find a home. I don’t know if our conversations had helped in that process. I would like to think so, but just as with the example of his dignity, I don’t really know if his decision to trust Sherman and Scott was a result of our talking or if it is just a manifestation of the deliberateness of action that exists inside my friend’s being. Those us, who treasure our privacy, find it difficult to trust others.

 

Jesus commanded us, Christians, to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty... Too often, we do it in barter for the recipient’s dignity.

 

Could you ask someone for help with employment, housing, filling out paperwork for the VA, Social Security, food stamps?  How about socks, undergarments or adult diapers?  How would your dignity fare? It happens every day at the Justa Center.

Can you give what Jesus commanded us to give with dignity for you and the person asking? That too happens every day at the Justa Center.

 

I can, because Jesus taught me how when I met him at the Justa Center.

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Work

@ Duck and Decanter in Phoenix, AZ

I was surprised to find that there are 11 major definitions of “work” with many of the definitions having flavors of slightly nuanced meanings. I was also surprised to find that according to Miriam-Webster Online that “work” is in the top 10% of lookups this week. It is not very often that I find myself on a cresting edge of mass doings. After basking in the good feeling of being with the in crowd, I got down to “work” and selected the meaning that best fit today’s post.

I looked the meaning up because I now “work” for the Justa Center. In this instance I mean that I am paid for my labor. That is the usual sense that I think of first when I talk of “work”. Usually I connect “work” with livelihood. In my situation, my livelihood is the 42 years I spent being a cube dweller. Because I was well paid, (some would say overpaid), I have adequate shelter, food with enough left over for sufficient diversions. After I retired from the world of military electronics, I thought all I had to do would be to hike, travel and loaf around all day when I wasn’t hiking. That did not “work” well. I am by nature rather indolent (to use a son’s, of mine, term for it).

 

I was single at the time which meant that most of that quality time was with me. Without significant human contact, my thinking wanders off track and distorts. I get grumpy. My indolence turns to downright laziness. I wind up a mess and don’t cook, clean, take care of myself and sleep much too much. Not to mention, watch too much television. As a way out of that state, I took on learning as much as I could about the world. I made myself leave the house early in at “oh dark thirty”, (I never heard anyone say “zero dark thirty” when I was in the navy); after hiking, I went someplace that had coffee and free WIFI. I was still not spending enough time with people and I still had no sense of accomplishment.

I volunteered at Asbury UMC. Ultimately that failed too.

So, then I walked from Phoenix to Washington, (CrossWalk America). That lasted five months. After I returned, I became a paid office manager for a twelve step office. That worked better. But, I still needed something. Then I started volunteering four hours a week at the Justa Center. Ay the Justa Center, I met people that needed help. I found the Justa Center immensely satisfying. Especially after, I was told that if I was going to volunteer that I needed to show up on a regular basis and on time! Apparently, I need a framework. Eventually, a friend of mine that had worked for the VA recommended me for the position of Veterans Advocate. Somewhat surprisingly, I was hired. Actually, two of us were hired to “work” eight hours each a week. Now, it’s more. It hasn’t been decided yet how much more but we are both doing about 20 hours a week. And, we are busy, too busy. Unfortunately, the old homeless veteran business is very good.

 

Back to me. Why is “working” at this particular job so good for me? I could say: I “...do this because our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, commanded...” me to do this. The quote is from John Flowers who started me on this path. That would be true. I could say: because our members are me – alternately, I could be among our members. That is also true. I could say:

I would go nuts if I didn’t.

I am, (surprisingly), an extrovert (according to Myers-Briggs.

It is needed.

I have a deep seated need to help others.

I am codependent.

I need the discipline.

To hear someone say: “...just knowing somebody care...”.

All true to varying degrees.

Work: (1) activity in which one exerts strength or faculties to do or perform something:

a : sustained physical or mental effort to overcome obstacles and achieve an objective or result

b : the labor, task, or duty that is one's accustomed means of livelihood

c : a specific task, duty, function, or assignment often being a part or phase of some larger activity

From Miriam Webster Online Dictionary 1/24/2013

For me, it’s a and c. The objective is eradication of homeless seniors in general and homeless vets in particular. The larger activity is life.

 

This is, for now, my life’s “work”.

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The big freeze

The big freeze

@ Duck and Decanter in Phoenix, AZ

It has been coolish the last few days in Phoenix. We are actually having water pipes burst from the water freezing. Water expands as it freezes which is unlike most substances. Mine haven’t and with only one more night forecast to be below the magic point at which water turns to ice, water probably will not freeze in my pipes. I hope it doesn’t. Having a shower that drips may help. I do have one of those. It takes moving water longer to freeze. If your shower doesn’t drip, let a faucet run.

I mention all of these facts because; it helps me remember what a well designed universe we live in. The fact the water, H²O, does expand as it freezes makes life, both ours and most living things, ever so much better. If water did not expand, when the top layer of lakes, oceans and rivers froze, the ice would sink to the bottom in the winter and much of it would not melt in the summer. Eventually the oceans would all be frozen with only a small layer of liquid water on top. The top layer would be water in the summer and ice in the winter. That would effectively rule out tuna fish sandwiches, one of my favorite lunches. It would rule out the possibility of a lot of other things also. I rather doubt that we humans would have managed to come into existence in a universe where water shrank in size as it froze.

Many plants in Phoenix have been damaged by the cold. Plants in colder climes have adapted to water turning to ice. Sap stops running in most trees that exist where it freezes every year. Grasses and other plants also go dormant and drain themselves of water. In Phoenix we have plants that don’t have that ability and so when the water expands as it freezes, the plants cells are burst. Other stuff also takes place but the most permanent damage is done by the cells being burst. Citrus is a good example of damage being done by freezing temperatures. The fruit is more sensitive that the trees and leaves but if it is cold enough long enough the health of the entire plant can be affected.

I believe the physics of water and life’s adaptations to the peculiarities of water is a wonder. Another marvel of water is how drops of it acts as a prism. We see a rainbow when we observe a rain storm from afar. The sun, the rain and us, the observers, all have to be in the correct geometry for us to see a rainbow. Read here if you want the details. My point is that rainbows are a product of the laws of physics. Prisms have to be able to break “white” light into in its constituent parts, water droplets have to form in the correct shape while suspended in the atmosphere and the boundaries between water in the droplet and the atmosphere have to be able to reflect light. Change the physical properties of water and you probably change these effects as well as the water expanding when it freezes; the properties are interrelated. Water comes as a package deal.

This begs a question. If there were no rainbows before Noah’s flood, what was water like before the flood? What physical laws existed before God hung his war bow in the sky to promise that he would never flood the whole earth again?

The story of Noah has a theme meant to comfort humans in a strange and frightening universe. But I am more comforted by the fact that we humans are capable of observing rainbows and appreciating them and the laws of physics that make them possible. Here we are, a part of creation, observing another portion of creation and finding it beautiful. Molecules of water are very tiny objects. Rainbows are much larger parts of an unimaginable immense creation. Yet they are tied together by the same laws. We too, are linked to and obey those physical laws.

How strange. We find beauty in the very same laws that bind us to the rest of creation.

 

These thoughts help me with having to cover my plants and accept the adverse effects of the plants that are damaged.

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After the Freeze in Phoenix

A modern Revelation

 

@Duck and Decanter, Phoenix Az.

I am exhausted from reading the news from Washington. The fiscal cliff and what was going to happen was right up to Jan 2 (2013), and then it was about what did happen. Mingled with what did happen, was what passage of new tax code meant to the taxpayers, the economy, political parties (including the tea party, AKA extreme Republicans), the President and the future. It was cut, diced, pureed and mixed in 50 dishes. I bet if I tried, I could find a new article written this am. The only news I read this morning (Friday, 1/4/2013) was BBC online, and if there was any mention of it, I passed it up in favor of more interesting fare, such as Hugo Chavez having a lung infection.

My sense of the whole affair was that nothing really happened. The credit rating outfit, Moody’s, says that the credit rating is still in question. This is because of the debt problem. Frankly, it doesn’t feel as if anything really happened. The big deal is yet to come. So, I am going to write a book about what is to come. Because congress doesn’t act all that fast, I am thinking I will have a enough time to complete a longish book.

My initial planning is for 22 or so chapters. The subject is kind of boring, (have you ever watched c-span?); so, I plan to juice up the plot a tad. The numbers are intimidating, so I plan to simplify as much as possible.  Seven is a good number, so I will include it for the good things that may happen (a week has seven days), and six a pretty bad number (at six days the week is not complete – we’re not talking the modern week here, but the Old Testament week where the seventh day was the Sabbath when God rested). Six is perfect for representing the bad stuff. If God had not rested, things would not be finished and hence time would not have began, and we humans would not have had time to reproduce. Six days is not enough time for even one generation to be born. Since I want to make sure that everyone gets the contrast, I will use 777 and 666 in the book.

As a start, I’ll write a letter to the seven organizations that are influential in getting things done, or not. That would be: The House of Representatives, The Senate, the Supreme Court, The President, The GOP, The Democrats and the Tea Party. I will have to leave out some, but if I generalize, as yet unknown organizations will be able to see themselves in the mirror.

As part of the jazzing up the story, I will have everything that is to happen occur in 7’s and I will organize them in groups of sevens. In addition, I will throw a few other auspicious numbers. Like 12, for an example. Better yet, I’ll make it 144, 12 times 12. You know that there are 12 months to a year, twelve steps and of course there were the twelve tribes of Israel – even if there is some confusion over exactly what they were named in the Old Testament.

Things will end with a bang when the United States defaults on all the money it owes. After that, a champion will arrive to make everything OK. I’m not sure how that will happen, or how things will look afterwards, except everyone that invests in the correct stocks will have wealth untold and will stand around praising God for all eternity. Just so the future doesn’t have one look for all eternity, I’ll predict a thousand year era, (not at all like Hitler who used a thousand years as an adjective for his Reich), of happiness on Earth after which humanity will relocate after a future evil time. Would a large meteor striking the earth work?

 

All of these thoughts came to me last night in a dream. I would like to say that the Spirit of the Lord was upon me, but I rather suspect that I went to sleep too soon after an overly large dinner. It wasn’t the Lord’s Day either, but rather Thursday.

 

By now, you will have recognized the plot and form as that of the Book of Revelation. Personally, I have always wondered if John, (whoever John was, the experts consider at least three possible), had taken a few too many tokes. You know, similar to Coleridge before he wrote Kubla Khan. Different substance but you get the idea. If you don’t get it, read this.

In my case, it wasn’t anyone from Porlock, but my appointment for the barber shop that interrupted completing the tale. In any case, I don’t think I could make it as poetic as either Revelation or Kubla Khan.

My bet is that even though all the signs for immediate disaster are here, nothing will happen for awhile. Just as the end times promised in Revelation haven’t happened after two millennia.

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Horrors, now and to come

@ Starlight Diner in Glendale Az.

 It has been a frantic couple of weeks for me personally and the world. The biggest real deal was the school massacre in Newtown. The biggest not real deal is the end of the world on Friday, 21 Dec. 2012. I am writing as fast as I can, just in case. Neither of the events in themselves need nor deserve any comments from me. The fallout from them both deserves mention.

The NRA commented as follows:

"The National Rifle Association of America is made up of four million moms and dads, sons and daughters – and we were shocked, saddened and heartbroken by the news of the horrific and senseless murders in Newtown.

Out of respect for the families, and as a matter of common decency, we have given time for mourning, prayer and a full investigation of the facts before commenting.

The NRA is prepared to offer meaningful contributions to help make sure this never happens again.

The NRA is planning to hold a major news conference in the Washington, DC area on Friday, December 21."

The 21^st is also the alleged end of the world. I wonder if there is a connection.

I suspect that again the NRA will say “Guns don’t kill people; people do.” I agree with that statement. So, how do we keep guns out of the hands of people that kill people? As far as I can tell, efforts to keep guns out of the hands of people that kill rob and steal, are not working. How many felons do you read about that are found to posses firearms when they run afoul of the law? Guns kill over 10,000 people every year in the United States. Didn’t we just record 2,000 deaths in Afghanistan from the time it began? Those that died there were professionals that knew their lives were at risk. Since we no longer have a draft, I assume that they volunteered to join our military. Six and seven year olds don’t know enough to volunteer. Bystanders at a drive by shooting haven’t volunteered either.

Those innocents have been denied what our Declaration of Independence declares is an inalienable right. We are deserving of:”... life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” Driving a car is not a “right”; it is a privilege, (according to the last Arizona drivers manual I read). Why, should owning a firearm be any different? I agree with our President; now is the time to do something about this problem. Let’s do it!

I was in my dentist’s office for an extended visit this am, and one of the topics was the imagined end of the world by any of several different means. Fire, volcanoes, floods and violence are the most popular. There is a guy in China building an ark for his family.  At least two entrepreneurs are selling survival pods for whatever takes place. If this had happened in 1952, nuclear war would have topped the list. Maybe, this is progress? My dentist wondered about the intelligence of people that believe that because the ancient Mayan calendar is ticking over, the end is here. It bothers him that, the same people that believe this, vote for president. (I added: and also the same people that voted for Jan Brewer for Governor of Arizona.) This thought popped into my head because in his waiting room, I read an article in Phoenix Living. It was complaining about the low ranking for intelligence that Phoenix/Scottsdale received by a poll in Travel and Leisure magazine. 35^th I believe, but could be wrong. The main point of that article was that we have a high percentage of college grads and people in Mensa in the area. (26% college grads, but again I am not sure.) My point is that college doesn’t necessarily make anyone more intelligent. Mensa members are a very small percentage of the population. Arizona is either last or next to last on per pupil spending for schools.  To prove the low ability to think I offer:

Arizona elected Even Mecham, Fife Symington and Jan Brewer as Governor.

We have a legislature that passed a law allowing guns in bars.

People that want to allow guns on state university campuses.

Arizona kicked patients with mental illness out of state care – most of them wander the streets now. The latest round is of those with schizophrenia. I don’t know of any restriction on those people’s “right” to have guns or even a concealed carry permit.

 

OK, there are more but I am already becoming depressed.

 

It is much too nice a day to be depressed. Instead of meditating about the end of the world, lack of intelligence in the electorate and other distressing problems, I will concentrate on the mild sunny weather (temps high 50’s and 60’s), and the joys of the Advent Season.

Advent is a time when we Christians look to the birth of Jesus. I have long since given up thinking that the First coming of Jesus was meant to save mankind from the effects of His second coming with its terrible events. But, I do believe that for those who believe in his teachings, a better time is here. If enough of us follow those teachings a better time will come for the whole Earth. Even in Arizona.

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@ Duck and Decanter in Phoenix, AZ

Here it is December. Already? I see that I posted only once in November. It wasn’t that I didn’t try, I did. One post I wrote twice and tried to post twice and in the end didn’t manage to get it done. I could bore you and myself to death trying to explain but let’s just accept it. I can’t bring November back to redo. It is somewhat scary to me that I didn’t manage to post the twice written blog. It’s scary because I am old enough to have my thinking and memory processes affected by aging – minor cognitive impairment in medical speak.

The post I didn’t manage to put on line is about some troubling myths that are popular in the United States at present. There are also similarities between the United States in 2012 and Germany in 1932. 1932 was the final year of German democracy before Hitler consumed it. I listed the similarities online here. One of the most troubling of the myths current in both Germany from before WWI through WWII and the United States since 1900, (roughly). That myth is that God is on our side. In German that would be Gott mit uns.

   
     WWI German army belt buckle.

WWII (Nazi) German army belt buckle.

A Nazi belt buckle inscribed God is with us? How can that be? It can be because Nazi Germany was a Christian nation. The same as it was under the Kaiser. Just as the United State has been since circa 1900.

OK, to salve my fears about my mind, here is the post as written in November with a few minor corrections.

 @ Duck and Decanter in Phoenix, AZ

Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.

Vol. I, Reason in Common Sense, George Santayana

My connections with history started in the sixth grade. Mrs. Frye somehow motivated me to enjoy history. I went to school in an old brick building that had been built in something like 1905. Originally, it had been the township high and junior high, but a new building had been built for the high school shortly before I arrived in Mrs. Frye’s sixth grade class. In that school, the sixth grade was part of junior high and the ninth grade was part of high school. The sixth was the last class where one teacher taught all subjects. To prepare students for the next grade, the day was broken into periods, signaled by the ringing of bells, actually a buzzer. The only subjects that were not taught by her were phys. ed and music.

It was in this setting that Mrs. Frye conducted a reading contest. I won hands down and received the grand prize of a Reader’s Digest condensed book which had four novels within its covers. I read not only fiction, but books on history and science. Many of the novels I read were historical in nature such as Joseph A. Altsheler’s  Young Trailers series. The series, depicting events around the French and Indian Wars, was written shortly after my school building had been erected. It was filtered through the eyes of an author infected with misconceptions common in the United States just prior to WWI. Manifest Destiny, good always triumphs, those that opposed the Anglo-American dream for what would become the United States could only be villains of the deepest hue, were the most obvious. Even in the fifties, the rose colored lenses were apparent to an immature preteen. Not so obvious, was the myth that war, although brutal, was glorious when fought for noble causes. Later readings have disabused me of most such notions.

From early on, I had a sense that history was important, should be respected and studied for the insight and guidance it can provide for the future. Myths and distortions about historical events should be avoided at all costs because if acted upon, they lead to bad decisions affecting the future. All Quiet on the Western Front was a book that I read sometime in high school that gave me insight into what war was really like. 40 years later at the college level, American History textbooks began to fill me in with a more realistic history of the United States. It is notable that the history texts I read in the sixties (both High School and College) retained many of the views and myths of the school texts I read in the fifties. I am sure that there were historians in those times that had a more accurate picture of our history; I just never read them.  WWI is a great example of how the misreading of history led to disaster. The ‘doughboys’ paid the price for those myths in WWI.

The soldiers they fought, the Germans, paid an even higher price. Not only were they destroyed as individuals by the war – read All Quiet on the Western Front, but the society to which they returned was in shambles. From an empire to a republic, the Weimar, from a prosperous country to one destitute, from stability to almost anarchy, the entire German society was inverted. A revolution, fostered by the victorious enemies, England, France, Italy and the United States, had taken place. It was a revolution that came with all the baggage of the old regime. Debt was a large portion of that baggage. Not only did Germany have immense debt from its own cost of the war, but the allies imposed an even greater amount to cover their costs of the war on Germany in the form of reparations. The debt proved overwhelming. Other heavy baggage, the new republic carried around its neck, was the attitudes and myths of the past. These, even more than the debt, proved too much for the democracy. It eventually succumbed to Herr Hitler.

I am fearful that the modern United States, like Germany before WWII, has so distorted history that we have lost many of the lessons. Many societies have forgotten or distorted history. Modern China, the old Soviet Union and present day North Korea are some of the more notorious examples. Motives are often political in the rewriting of history. I see political motives spinning history just as much in the United States as in Germany, China, North Korea and the former Soviet Union.

For example, there is the myth that the Civil War was fought because the federal government was trying to control the southern states. Not so. The South, led by South Carolina, succeeded because Lincoln was elected. Lincoln was anti slavery and they were afraid that he would abolish slavery. In fact, succession took place before Lincoln took office and no federal action had occurred. The Civil War was started only out of FEAR that slavery would be abolished. Would Lincoln and the anti slavery north have abolished slavery? We will never know. The Union without the South  did during the war. “States Rights” was a slogan then and now. Those that utter it have forgotten that in between the Revolutionary War and the adoption of the Constitutions, there was The Articles of Confederation. The Articles were not good enough because they did not grant enough power to the federal government. So, “... in order to form a more perfect Union,...”, the Constitution with the Bill of Rights was adopted. Apparently, “States Rights” is shorthand for “if someone that holds views I don’t like” is elected President, I will take my ball and go home”. Just as the Confederate States of America forgot the reasons for the Constitution, so the signers of petitions for succession in 2012 have forgotten the lessons of the Civil War.

Then there is the myth, Gott mitt uns, the United States. Where does it say that in the Bible? It doesn’t, of course. Today, if anyone would say that God was with the Nazis, we would laugh at them and think they were insane. Yet, the Nazis and many people in Germany believed "Gott mit un" in WWII, just as Germans and the British believed it in WWI. Even with the defeat in WWI, they never stopped believing it. So why should we in the United States, believe it? Was God with us in Vietnam at My Lai? The only reason for thinking that was true about our wars in Iraq is that we won. Napoleon Bonaparte said “God is on the side of big guns.” Not always, but arguably more true than God is on our side. Whoever “us” is. Maybe, the Germans forgot that because they didn’t like or appreciate Napoleon.

Maybe, we should stop forgetting history because we don’t like the lessons it holds for us.

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@ Duck and Decanter in Phoenix, AZ

Thank God, it’s over. The election lasted much too long for my tastes. Now, I hope I can accept the results.

I worked 12 hours knocking on doors, talking and leaving literature on doorsteps, this year. That took quite a bite out of my time this past week. I was also busy doing other stuff so the past week is somewhat of a blur in my memory. Being seventy, I don’t need that as an excuse for not having a sharp recall of events, but I do find when I am busy the details slip from memory easier than I like. I would like to use that as an excuse for not posting a blog last week, but the truth is I started a post that I just could not finish. I thought, that with a new week and the rush of the election, memorial services, (one on the anniversary of my mother’s and Barb’s mother), bible studies, church ushering and a plethora of schedule changes over, I might be able to concentrate enough to do the post right.

Before I start, I would like to mention another death that has touched my spirit.

My friend, Mary, died in a motorcycle accident. She was younger than I am by about 10 or 15 years. Our relationship was a casual one that spanned a decade or so. Despite the casualness of it, we learned that we had both been abused as children and this served to give us an intimacy that we might not otherwise have had. We both loved to ride motorcycles. We were both involved in our separate churches and had a similar spiritual outlook on life. She was on her way to church to ring hand bells when the accident happened. Even though we did not see each other a lot, I miss her joyful presence in life. RIP, Mary.

Back the post I could not finish.

I wrote about a woman that I met. She has a rather disagreeable personality, and I am afraid I made fun of her in what I wrote. The thing is, she is homeless. She was born in 1933, so I came to think that maybe she has a right to be disagreeable. She is also a lifelong vegan. As a vegan she sometimes finds it difficult to find food that meets her requirements. Now, her back is humped in much the same manner that my father’s was. She carries her things on the seat of a walker.

In one of several conversations I had with her last week, she told me that her mother had started her on the vegan path. She also has never had coffee. I don’t know what set of events has brought her to her present circumstances; I never ask such questions. It doesn’t really make any difference. She is homeless. She is frail and in not good health. She doesn’t use drugs or alcohol, and never has. She does have a borderline personality disorder which makes it difficult to deal with her. One minute, she thought I was so helpful and loved me. The next, she was totally disgusted with me, becoming so agitated that her lunch slid off her lap and onto the floor. As I left the Justa Center, the counselor ran out to the door and gave me a word of wisdom.

It’s not your fault, he said.

No, it’s not mine. I am sure it’s not hers either.

I don’t know if I can ‘blame’ society for this. I do know that it could be fixed. This year the US will spend approximately $6 Billion on the presidential and congressional elections. That figure does not take in to consideration all the state and local races. My 12 hours of volunteer time and the millions of other volunteer hours is likewise not counted. The amount of money that it would take to house, feed - with even a vegan diet and treat - with talk therapy, a 79 year old pales in comparison. The fact that a lot of the $6 Billion went to spin and distort the truth makes it all the more unpalatable.

Maybe, it’s God will. I am fond of saying that God’s will is what is.

Is it society’s fault, God’s will, or her fault?

Maybe it was an unnamed adversary as in Job.

In the Epilog to Job, Job 42, Job’s so called friends are taken to task - for lying and saying it was God’s or Job’s fault, and not being true friends during Job’s distress. That leaves only society. Jesus taught us to love our neighbors, disagreeable or not.

As Pogo once said, society is us. You and Me. I think we should stop wasting our money on crap and do something useful with it. I think we should love by spending it on disagreeable 79 year olds living in shelters and on the street.