Memorial..Community Remembrance

I mostly remember dad in his greens going to march instead of work, the Cuban Missile crisis and almost stories of the korean conflict. But then my generation's war took over and friends did not come home and poet friends brought the power of the Vietnam Memorial on the MALL in DC to life. I had to see it in person. Not many things get such a definitive must do in my heart and mind as I no longer have enough focus to create poems.

While in Boulder City we stopped at several artisan shops. I saw the miniature cast of this memorial and had to find it. It is a powerful reflection and symbol of remembrance for sacrifices. It is the image in this spot.

But in all of the near sobs the strongest gulp is why are we again at war? I focus on the artists responses to find some meaning. And I am please to share my findings with my community this day away from work. A video with permission will play on public access station and pictures.

Siloing by Design

A silo is a place where fodder is preserved and stored to provide nutritious feedstuff for livestock. A silo is also where guided missiles are stored. As such siloing appears to be an apt description of how some communities restrict valuable resources. For example having funding and functionality for Public Education and Government Access TV distinctly restricted versus treated as Community Access resources is siloing. Since some believe the content of community access is ‘food for thought’ and others consider it an ‘ever present danger’ it seemed to me to be a fit usage of the term.

Where should I be, where is my mind?

My spiritual mentor would always correspond to me on a transformed scrap of paper. A sample of such a transformation circa 1993 is shown here. I found it difficult to throw away even with its tea stains.

I am at my work table where I access work from home and do community tasks via computer. The presumption is that on occasion I collect my thoughts here via this blog which is concurrently a collection of past and future memories. This process is expressed via a Maxim which is keeping a diary supports personal development.

So I am here but I just drove some distance. Driving is now a rare occurrence given I have one eye tracking left. This makes the passenger more aware of my vulnerability than myself. Dad was my passenger today. We arrived late to the commitment to heaven ceremony (which requires either faith or imagination) held by the family of Rosalie Catherine Cook (his sister, my aunt and mentor). Gathered were unfamiliar faces that were connected through Rosalie. The gathering was small and polite. Charlie broke the ceremonial sounds with a how do you do to the person to his right. This fella married into the family via the youngest daughter of Bill, niece to Charlie and Rosalie. Yes there were cousins in the room. People who once participated in games of tag, kick-the-can, hide & seek all cousins from the occasional family picnic of decades ago.

Rosalie had been a beacon of family connected-ness in a older sister fashion while she lived in CT. That changed more than several years ago. Family distances were not bridged – hearing impairment and other aging issues taking the reigns of daily life when she retired to Florida. The rest of us entered lives after teen years. Her recent return home was brief. It allowed for one visit which included the expected squeeze of the hand…the ‘good to see you my dear' whisper in the ear, the 'what can I feed you discourse. Odd disconnected memories of Rice Pudding made me bring her some. She just smiled. Maybe it should have been Tapioca. (The absence of cigarettes was very pronounced. She had been the embodiment of the meaning of Virginia Slims for me even as the cancer sticks poured from the pack of Camels or Marlboro.)

But the mind has no focus as the heart tries to reflect: cousins, pieces of art and some craft pull me in several directions. I do not turn on the radio in near fear of more connections that I cannot trace.

My sister has Dad now. They were part of the procession to the burial site along with another aunt and cousins. I returned to my table with a promise to myself to visit here before attending to the external loci of control. Upon returning, I did walk myself and the dog first because it is at this too that I fail daily.

Back to the main event: Dad did not recognize his daughter. She resides on the other ocean’s side. Many years have passed. Today as most days she embodies confidence. She was simply and smartly dressed with color accents. I immediately considered how “Rosalie would have just loved how she looks”. I did the basic black attire. it fit and the random thought for what stylish colorful item in my closet would Rosalie like, passed into nothing she would like would fit today – so the 'do not go there’ voices in my head won and I wondered in thought too much more pressing tasks at hand feeling I would be lucky to be dressed and on time. Not lucky.

Rosalie. You grace every room in my home. There is no more to write.

the Landscape_degrees of separation

Separation can be an act or a state of being. Yesterday in Biosphere2 I quietly marveled at the how the states of environmental change had nearly no transition and that a range of some 20 degrees in temperature supported different life zones. This was science and something I very much hoped others were fascinated enough by to continue exploring.
I realized that very few things about science were made exciting to me as a child and I did not grow interested in things that had practical application. I often regret this.

[A strong memory is that Mr. Afragola, my HS Science Teacher, was fascinated by insects and held a belief that the would inherit the earth. With 300,000 species of beetles and the crazy ant story from the biosphere yesterday --- it is more understandable – his fascination and belief.

The crazy ant story should go here. It does not travel in straight lines. It took over the insect word of Biosphere2. It was a native. It was a subplot. ]

Respite is to be my goal as I have had non-stop task overload for employer and community for 5,500 days. In this attempt I find myself with working in my sleep. It appears very difficult to refocus on different self-fulfilling leisurely activities. The undone tasks surface in sleep. They are the minor ‘nice to have’ tasks that I do not seem to have time for that seem to being saying – you have time now – do me now. I have attempted to address the community related nighttime reminders with daily e-mail correspondence. In 8 days I will know if the interruption of my vacation was as important as it seemed.

This morning I made a connection in thought between the scrubby landscape of my Arizona vacation and my sense of less than well-being. The blackish brown mountain is set far off (and I would not choose it as a view) and the dusty stretch in immediate and constant travel view is full of prickly growth. Some cactus looms tall (with my years or more of uninterrupted growth), some are flowering and nearly all are fortified with thorns. It is a dustbowl with scattered, but connected, activity. I cannot put words to the relationship of what my eyes see, my head connected but somehow I feel this is a representation of my intellect and imagination.

It is time to move along so I will close here. I have a vacation wait for me to engage in it and the driver is preparing for my departure…