Two Steps Back

Well, I caved and returned to Facebook.  Lots going on with my children that I was out of the loop on. Why? Because Facebook has replaced other forms of communication. I learned that solidly in my year and a half hiatus from it. People just don't take the time to stay in touch any other way anymore. So much easier to  "see" what people have been up to, and one can be completely covert and voyeuristic in doing so. No need to say or do anything-just peek right into someone's life. Do I sound sarcastic? I hope so. 

Although it's a relief to be more closely connected to a couple of my children who eschew old school communication, I regret the fact that I am back in the muck and mire and general nonsense that's involved. My friends list is trimmed down, and I do so love many of them. But the fact remains- a growing number of people don't care about maintaining contact unless it's through Facebook. Emailing is a thing of the past for many, and forget about phone calls. Texts suit most people just fine. We are becoming watchers, not participants. I find it all a bit creepy, but then I am of another era. I still write cards, and love handwritten communication. I'm no Luddite, either. I've been communicating via computer since the early 90's, and my last job on the mainland was at an ISP.

My cave-in occurred about a week ago. Many days had passed since I'd had an update from my eldest child, my son. His life has been a lot like a meat grinder lately, and I get concerned, especially being across the sea. All I had to do was get back onto Facebook, and voila-conversation was immediately possible. This is a must, since we've been planning his escape from the Bay Area for a while. After 7 years of working and living there, he is about to jump ship. 7 years have brought a lot of change to that region, and most of it is negative. Especially if you're not a real estate magnate, start-up entrepreneur, or vapid techie. It's all over for the regular folks like me, who just happened to be born and raised there. Older daughter wants out as well, though not to Hawaii, yet. Probably to Santa Cruz county initially. But I digress... My son will be here soon. We both are thrilled and look forward to helping him decompress, wind down, regroup and rethink his life. We truly welcome the chance to have this time with him. He needs us, even though he is 32 years old. So what? He is my own flesh and blood until I breathe my last breath. Nobody is done growing and learning at 32, no matter what they say. Hopefully, one is growing and learning all of their lives. They should be! 

This opportunity for my son would never, ever have been an option with my own parents. Not when I wanted to get away from the Tahoe party life and go to college, or when I had my face pummeled by someone who claimed to love me, never did my family open their arms or their home to the younger me. Sometimes our children need a little emotional support in this life, and I haven't lost sight of that.

Do you ever wonder why some people had children in the first place? I do. I mean, I know why it happens... But why bother, if all you do is make them feel like they are burdensome disappointments throughout? My kids are this life's one true gift, and the primary reason I climb out of bed every day. They will never be made to feel otherwise, as I was.

I'll even put up with Facebook, if it means staying connected to my beloved family.

Flower Power

Hmmm, maybe whining publicly about the painful loss of family connection is  tedious and trite.  My specialty!

I could carry on about how shell shocked I feel about more war, and the bastards who lead us into endless conflicts because...???  I am quietly disgusted, since nobody cares what we the people want.  

Or maybe the fires that are burning up my poor, over-populated, former home state this year.  How careless our leaders have become, in terms of preparing for such things. For decades now, they've been neglecting the infrastructure and gutting resources that protect California's populous.  And really, was the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir ever a wise plan?

Or these latest depressing statistics about a new breed of drug addiction.

http://america.aljazeera.com/articles/2013/8/29/painkiller-kill-morepeoplethanmarijuanause.html

Completely legal.  Shockingly prevailant   Just "ask your doctor..."  Meanwhile, people are still being incarcerated for cultivating cannabis.

Who cares about my tiresome rants?  I'm not nearly clever enough to make them interesting or engaging.  So I shall stick to flora and fauna photos, at least for today.

I've been helping my friend Sheryl tend to a greenhouse filled with orchids.  We are 

separating and repotting many varieties of  Oncidium sphacelatum

 http://faculty.ucc.edu/biology-ombrello/pow/Oncidium_Orchids.htmand organizing the greenhouse for commercial use in the near future.  I'm learning so much, and it's a beautiful distraction from all the ugly out there.

Now and Zen

Blogging feels different now. One reason could be that I started into it almost 8 years ago. Shit happens in 8 years.

Back then, I lived in a tiny homesteader's cabin surrounded by a ring of redwoods and Monterey pines in Mendocino. It was a funky little place, but the setting was serene and lovely. We made it our own and called it the cozy shack. Hence the name.

I worked full-time as a receptionist and administrative assistant at Thanksgiving Coffee Company. Older daughter was just finishing her freshman year at Sonoma State. Younger daughter was in middle school. My son had been living and working in Santa Cruz, but came to stay with us for a few months that summer, pulling espresso shots at the local bakery. The man was head bottler at North Coast Brewing Company back then, home of Rasputin and Red Seal ales. We worked hard to keep our little family going. We were blue collar workers with decent vocabularies.


I sometimes wrote about crazy stuff. It was an intense time and there was plenty of intensity at home then, too. My seemingly-angelic youngest child became an adolescent and did some serious boundary-pushing, which coincided perfectly with that magical time we call menopause. I lucked into a much improved job with the school district. Which was good, since it had been a very long 5 years with the coffee people. The man stopped bottling beer and began making gorgeous handmade doors at Mendocino Doors. Older daughter decided she would not return to college after her second year. Younger daughter was floundering at high school. Neither of which we could have predicted. So much for predictions/expectations.

The man's father died rather suddenly in 2009. And less than a year later, we were pursuing this place. It has now been 2 years since we left the mainland.

We make less money, but have far more satisfaction in our life here than we have known in our 50-plus years. The kids are resilient and self-sufficient, despite the fact that they live where life is ridiculously overpriced. When they grow weary of struggling in Babylon, we'll be here. Plenty of room for expansion on this property.

I'm not writing as much as I'd like, but will persevere. I feel braver about sharing the stories and observations I once considered cringe-worthy. There is something freeing about losing one's second parent, when it comes to the telling of tales.

Some of my recent posts may come off as melancholy or too personal. Not trying to bum anyone out, nor do I seek sympathy or commiseration. Just attempting to shed light on some of my dark corners.


I have noticed, this time around, that blogging is still prone to the same sort of thing that plagues Facebook and the Internet in general. Herd mentality and all of that rot. I admit to appreciating interaction here, but am not courting followers as I did when as a newbie.. Expectation and attachment are a couple of things I am forever working on.

Things have quieted down in blog land over the last 8 years. Many former readers have moved along. A few from the early days are still around. And some readers are actual friends I know and in some cases love. I find that comforting, in a world where cyber friends often outnumber the flesh and blood variety. I've always been tactile.

I do enjoy visiting blogs, but will admit that I don't always comment if it is too much work signing in, using Captcha, etc. Especially on this damn cell phone. I do understand why bloggers use these safeguards. Just keepin' it real.

By George

"I'm an outsider by choice, but not truly. It's the unpleasantness of the system that keeps me out. I'd rather be in, in a good system. That's where my discontent comes from: being forced to choose to stay outside.
My advice: Just keep movin' straight ahead. Every now and then you find yourself in a different place"

Finally reading this gem. Gave it to my son as a gift when it first came out... Some of my readers may or may not recall that I saw Carlin's last gig with the man. That was in Santa Rosa, California on March 1, 2008. It was taped for HBO, and we jumped at the chance see one of our heroes. Three months later, George was gone. His wit and his wisdom live on!

Peacemongering

The Iraq War turns ten today. The heaviness of that sentence does not escape me. I never supported it.

Ten years ago, I lived on the Mendocino Coast with the man and my two then school-age daughters. My memories of that phase of our lives are fairly bleak. The man was struggling with some mid-life issues, mostly with his family of origin. He was depressed and I felt helpless to help him. I wondered whether our relationship would survive those harsh days. Thankfully, it did. He went through his own personal hell, and came out of it stronger and much wiser. His issues with his family were worked out, and he enjoyed a renewed relationship with his dad. Which I am so grateful for, since his father died just six years or so later.

We both worked full-time--he at the local brewery, me at the local coffee company. We lived next to the harbor, where we could smell the sea and hear sea lions barking. That region is one of the last bastions of raw, rugged beauty left in California, and we were thrilled to have moved there from the central Sierras about a year and a half earlier. My daughters were 10 and 16, had good friends, and a supportive, loving family.

The man and I were still disgusted that Bush II had slithered into office, and was now beating the drums of war. Because, he told us, we had to keep America safe from more attacks like on 9/11.
Even though Saddam and Iraq were not responsible for that day, nor did they possess the capability to manufacture weapons of mass destruction, which we were led to believe. And which many DID believe, blindly.

The mood at home during that period was increasingly somber,
and we adults felt voiceless and powerless as we continued to express our disagreement with the now inevitable invasion of Iraq. At work, we were both surprisingly outnumbered by those who thought we had no other alternative, and the anti-war protests in our town were matched by very vocal, very redneck-ish groups of war supporters. Even my own father, a lifelong progressive democrat and pacifist, was reluctant to voice any dissent. He just wasn't sure it was wrong. Yet.

But it was wrong, and it is still wrong. Millions of people's lives have been and will continue to be impacted in countless ways, mostly of the horrific variety. We apparently have learned nothing from the Vietnam war... Which my hero, Rachel Maddow
reported on last night. It seems that some L.B.J. audio tapes have surfaced, from the Thursday before the 1968 presidential election. The year that Dick Nixon beat Hubert Humphrey by a narrow margin. President Johnson was very close to a peace treaty with Vietnam. In fact, he even made a speech to the American public that an end to the war was within reach. Days within reach, even. Tricky Dick managed to back burner the democrats plan to end the war, since that would have almost certainly spelled defeat for republicans, if the democrats stopped the war. He said that we should hold off and let him take office first, and then he could stop the Vietnam war in a more practical manner. Nixon won that year, and the war we could have ended went on for five more years. All in the name of political victory.. How many additional lives were lost or otherwise decimated during that five year span?


I'm tired of war, and war profiteering, and increasing numbers of young people coming home destroyed by this illegal war. Even if they were lucky enough to come home alive, and not lose limbs, they are too often seriously damaged... With not enough support here to recover from all manner of PTSD. These soldiers will be our police, firefighters, and school bus drivers in the near future.
Even though they could have unchecked serious emotional and mental health issues. I find that worrisome-and tragic.


So, forgive me for not patting myself on the back today. I never wanted this war or the war in Afghanistan to begin with. I believe strongly in the power of peace, still. And always will.

Some Sentimentality on a Saturday

My funny, funny Father.
I have not felt loss on this level before.
It's alright, though.
I know that's just how it goes and goes and goes.