Tag: Off The Wall

Howl louder. In grief.

Wolf was smart, but Fox was smarter. They lived in the same deep forest and chased the same animals for food. Fox and Wolf would nod as they passed each other on the animal paths but they stayed out of each other’s hunting grounds. Fox and Wolf were good neighbors but not good friends.

One winter the cold moved in like an enemy. Wind beat against the tree trunks, and snow swirled around the bare branches.

It was hard for Fox and Wolf to walk to their hunting grounds as the animal paths were filled with deep snow. The cold wind stung stung their eyes and made their noses ache. Fox and Wolf were hungry; all their usual food slept in the earth, warm and snug in mouse holes or chipmunk nests.

One dark, cold day Fox saw a Mohawk Indian man trudging through the forest pulling a sled behind him. The sled held two long strings of fish.

meh. I have much to say but my meatworld self and my family have other ideas and demands on my time today.  I pretty much said it, most of it, yesterday with my ironically titled essay No Strings Attached. So I’ll just take a little time to embellish this one little thing from there. A postscript, if you will.

This is all such soul sapping stuff. It can drown you but there are ways… in the ocean, you dive under the wave…. under, then wait, swim out some, then surface. Breathe.

Can we, as a nation, make the transformational conversion to New Clean Renewable Energy, with a goal of eliminating those energy monsters sources that foul our oceans, gulfs, lakes, waters, mountains, valleys, and  planet? Can we as communal inhabitants of this great earth, the only one we have, choose to nurture and honor her in our global decisions to milk her energies?

Yes. We Can. But only if our leaders will.

NOTE to admins/editors: I could probably use a little help with the pics formatting! 6PM: thanks ek! 😉

OTW = Off The Wall, is my Thursday ongoing series

Davidseth’s essay last night made me cry: “But BP’s not pouring oil directly on me, or my family, or my house, or my land.” (excellent essay, & he says it much better than me… my sentiments)

Yes, yes they are. They are pouring oil on us… My house, my beach, my land, my Gulf, my ocean, my planet. And yours too.

“We came to the beach just in case we can’t come next week or in the next 20 years…”

{Dad, family of 4}

The winds Sunday gusted to 25 mph, blowing from the Gulf toward the coast, but coming a bit from the east. That helped keep the huge oil slick from coming closer to Florida.

“Currently, there are no impacts to the state projected through Wednesday,” said Florida Department of Environmental Protection spokeswoman Amy Graham. “Florida continues to make preparations to safeguard the state’s shoreline.”  

“We wait for summer so we can go to the beach,” {16 year old boy, Pensacola Florida}.

“This could ruin our summer.”

source

Ya think…?

On? or Off? the Island. Who decides?

San Nicolas Island, off the coast of California

“According to an 1850 report by the U.S. Coastal and Geodetic Survey, San Nicolas Island “is slightly the farthest from the mainland, and is the driest and most sterile. It is 890 feet high, with bold, precipitous sides of coarse sandstone on 3 sides … Two thirds of the surface of the island is covered with sand and the remainder with coarse grass.” The report also said it was nicknamed “Otter Island” due to the large numbers of sea otters on its beaches, and the “Indian name was said to be Ghaiashat.” An 1899 L.A. Times article says San Nicolas Island is a flat island, “almost as bare as a floor,” with 500 foot jagged rock canyons leading down to its beaches, which are covered with sea lions and seals. The article goes on to say the island is approximately 8 miles long, and 4 miles wide, it sits in the middle of the Pacific Ocean west of Los Angeles, CA, and the island is known for its heavy winds, “surrounded on all sides by ocean waves, sometimes 30 feet high,” so powerful they shake the ground. source

It was her island. Her home. This woman.

She had a name.

A name given to her in youth by her family, a mother and father who loved her, surely.

It was not “Juana Maria”. They decided to call her that … because they couldn’t pronounce hers. They. They decided.

Earth Day… see also… Robyn, AndyS, Jamess and Eddie C. (so far!)

“Off The Wall” (OTW) is my ongoing Thursday Series about life, cultures, and random stuff that preoccupies my mind. (NOTE: today is Thursday on Wednesday… I’ll be out of pocket for much of tomorrow morning, so publishing early, as per the muse.)

meta, mega meta, and nina, emo’s emu’s and empaths…

I know, I know. Enough with the meta. Enough with blathering on about That Other Place and all that.  I’m not actually going to get deep into the GOS meta.mud here. At least, not right outta the gate. lol. Let’s have a little Nina:

What I have churning in my head, in response to all the meta, is more…. a stepping back. A looking inward. And an effort to try to look at The Big Picture.  Keep perspective. Gain perspectives.

There are struggles and then there are struggles.

OTW = Off The Wall, is my Thursday semi-regular series in which I try to talk about culture, anthro, or whatever else happens to be bouncing around in my head. h/t this week to Ria who got me goin’ on this one! ~LL

The field of Anthropology basically has four sub-fields or disciplines: Archeology, Physical APY, Cultural APY, and Linguistics. As an under-grad majoring in Cultural, I was required to take a basic course in each sub-field. Much to my relief, I was excused from having to take Statistics or any other mathy stuff. Don’t tell anybody this, but that’s half the reason I chose it. heh.

It was a long time ago, and I’m terrible at remembering all this, but I’m often amazed at the things that stand out, the things I do recall. There are few things I can think of that might bore me more than bones, skulls, and arrowheads. Sorry, but especially at the ripe young age of 19, I really could’ve cared less.

My Prof for Archeology, the class I dreaded the most, turned to be the inimitable Charles H. Fairbanks. Thank you God.

Well, when I started this series, I promised little more than that I’d share whatever was rolling around my brain at the time. I make good on my promises whenever possible! ha! I’ve got something else on a back burner, but when I saw this U.S. News item  pop up in my newsy yahoo spot, I decided to share. Because… my response is basically: w.t.f.

Assessing Your Middle-Class Status

Despite the so-called recovery, many families continue to struggle, with income and other living standards slipping below thresholds that typically represent middle-class quality of life. We’ve assembled a variety of metrics to help determine whether you’re getting ahead, holding steady, or slipping further than most.  more>>>

It’s a quick read, you can just go look at it. Well, I don’t know about you, but… the champagne ain’t exactly flowin’ at my house.

These children: Granted.

These children: Pending? Limbo? Repatriated?.

Every Tuesday morning, I drive my daughter all the way to school, instead of just to the bus stop, for Band Sectionals at the ungodly hour of 6:30a.m. So I have a good sit in the car. On the return trip, I am all alone and get to choose the station! I listen to my local hippie station which has, in that weekly time slot, a Pacifica show called “People of the Earth”. Very cool. They talk about various native and indigenous peoples and related issues. Like this one:

With numerous errands to do yesterday and today, I’ve been driving and listening more than usual. Its their pledge drive now. “CALL! and let us know you’re there.” I really want to contribute to this station, maybe I make it another birthday present to myself (this could go on all month, if I had $).

So. What stations do you like and listen to? Links welcome!

now cross posted at Wild Wild Left (warts and all…lol)

OTW =  Off the Wall .. my series, the first of which is here, having to do with multi-cultural and diversity topics.

NOTE: I decided to make this Part One because I had entirely too much fun googling related topics & pics, and I got a little lost sidetracked. Lol. I have a certain direction I want to take this, but it may take me another week to actually get there! So there will be a Part Two (at least). Thanks for your patience. Heh.

In 1960, when the first wave of Cuban refugees arrived in droves in Miami Florida, I was about 4 years old. So were a number of Cuban children who would become my classmates, age-mates, rivals and friends. I was just a regular ol’, you know, American. My WASP Dad was from Ohio and my Irish Mom, western Massachusetts. Miami was, at the time, a blend of New England transplants, retired New York Jews (Miami Beach), and more. I was considered a bit of a rarity in that I was actually born there, a “native”. The huge intake of hundreds of thousands of Cubans in such a short period of time had quite an impact on the city. Since I was only 4 at the time, what do I know? But trust me, it did.