Road Trip

8/31/2011, Cody, Wyoming

One of my greatest and most exhausting pleasures is driving from Georgia to Wyoming and Montana. A little more than half way across Missouri, the land begins to look more western. The population is less dense. The rivers appear less tamed, with high limestone bluffs and wilder currents bordered by cottonwoods. Place and stream names may be  American, Indian, or French, from the days before the Purchase. The sky grows larger and when I top a rise on the highway I feel as though there is no higher elevation on earth.
Radio stations play country music, grain and hog prices, concerns about neighbors and various versions of Tell and Sell, featuring hunting dogs and John Deere equipment. Rough looking characters hold the door open and service station attendants are well spoken and polite.
The far mountains beckon. The beauty is indescribable and vistas are endless.

Just a Sick Baby

  I was teaching on a US base in Okinawa when our first daughter was born. Gale was and is a natural with all children, but I didn't have a clue about relating to this new person, so small and delicate, suddenly in my care. When the baby was about four months old, she suddenly learned to smile and stole my heart. Soon we were on a plane to Taipei for a vacation. Her first plane ride.
  We transferred to Germany and more flights would follow. She would fly across the Pacific and then the Atlantic before her first birthday.
  In our German apartment it was Gale, me, and this magical little elf who kept us laughing. She was the center of our lives. When she was sick, we had no grandparents to give advice and take night shift watch. When she ran a fever she would move all over the bed, probably dreaming her baby dreams. We would make a pallet on the floor so she wouldn't fall off her bed. One of us would stay with her.
  One really bad night as she and I slept on the floor, I heard her whimper. She had crawled into the drapes and was lost. I called her name and said, "Come to Daddy," and she crawled as fast as her chubby legs would carry her and curled up beside me.
  I've been to quite a few places and had some wonderful  experiences, but one of the most memorable, one which I keep in my heart is a night in Germany when my baby slept nestled under my arm.

An Elitist Prayer

Our Father, and we call you that simply out of habit,

We thank you for all that is Buddhist, Celtic,  or Native American.

Bless those that make hybrid cars, new age music, presumptive little wines, movies based on Jane Austen books, and sensitive poetry.

Forgive us our little no- nos, such as looking down on those less fortunates who drive American made sedans, Elvis fans, and especially those who listen to country music.

Protect us from our enemies, heterosexual Caucasian southern males, who hunt deer.

Give us our daily brie.

Please help us to keep in mind that whatever other countries or individuals do, it is our fault.

We ask in the name of Maya Angelou.

Amen

A Parable

A certain man went out of Cartersvile and fell among a gang of orthodox Jews and Catholics who proceeded to guilt him severely.

" How long since you've called your mother?"

"You probably used the solicitation from Mothers Against Drunk Driving for a coaster for your martini."

" I bet you snicker at Neil Boortz jokes."

And he fell in the gutter and rolled into a fetal position.

By chance there came a socker Mom, who swerved her SUV to avoid him, but still ran over his foot. She didn't stop because she was late to pick up the kids, having been at a Sarah Palin rally.

Next came a feminist, who ran over his other foot, being late for a NOW meeting, (and after all he was a man), and she had been at an anti Sarah Palin meeting.

A Democrat came by, asked him what the trouble was, then explained that Obama's healthcare plan included treatment for depression brought on by drive by guiltings. He then gave him an Obama sticker and left.

As you may have guessed, a Republican came by, suggested that there was no real problem that he could see, and he just needed to keep on doing what he had always done before. He did admit a possible government bail out of the victim's company.

Luckily, an Episcopalian came by and gave him wine. (The Episcopalian's name was Luckily)

Unfortunately, a Baptist came by, took the wine away and gave him grape juice. (The Baptist's name was Kevin)

As it came to pass....the dude died.

When I Thought Myself a Rebel, 3/1/2011

I was at the University of Georgia in 1967, when I participated in my first sit in. Under Students for a Democratic Society leadership, we took over the administration building. We didn't know what to do with it, but that was beside the point. I participated for somewhat conflicting reasons. I believed that female students should have the same rights as male students and the SDS women did not wear bras. I was 18.
Later that year I roomed with Babs and Mike, an absolutely wonderful hippy couple. We all went to Atlanta to protest the pararde for the premiere of John Wayne's "Green Beret." It was mild pandemonium with much repetitious rhetoric, the main point being made that war is bad.
In retrospect, that was a time for all night talks about the things we believed in. A time for dramatic gestures to let other people know, and to assure ourselves, that our opinions were important. We went through a slow change from the Supremes and the Beachboys to Dylan and Baez. Later, we would find there was a time for all of them.

Jewels for Gale

Your friends say that I've not given you diamonds,
But they didn't see the fog freeze, delicate lace in the plain trees by the Rein.
Trees jeweled with lovely impermanence that disappeared with the sun.
Their house is so small, they say,
But we often set our tent in the  Rockies, the Tetons, the high desert.
The stars shown in their millions, layer on layer, infinite. 
Some mornings the sun painted the mountains red.
We drank our coffee in silence and beauty.

First Assignment, Japan

We taught for a year on Misawa Airbase, northern Honshu, Japan. It was our first overseas assignment, and in many ways , our best. We lived in a very small house on a one lane dirt road, just outside of the base. We had no phone and an old salvaged drip oil stove for heat. The winter was bitter cold. Gale wore two sets of thermals and a robe to bed. Snow fell October through May. The "garrison under siege" attitude made for much partying and close friends.
The Japanese were wonderful. Misawa was rather isolated and  relatively poor. Across our one lane road was a small nursery. When I shoveled snow from our walk I would also shovel their porch and walk. The teachers would line up those beautiful children, with their black eyes and hair, most dressed in vivid red coats, and they would bow and thank me. I would also bow and tell them they were welcome. Those days were special.
Our garbage man was intrigued by Gale. When he came by to collect his fee, he would wait in the mud room while Gale walked down the hall to get money. On more than one occasion we caught him length ways in the hall, but with his feet still in the mud room, watching Gale walk down the hall. I would shake my finger at him and he would grin.
On the evening of October 30, a Japanese boy, perhaps 13, came to our door in his school uniform. He kept repeating "gandy, gandy." Gale finally figured out that he was trying to say candy and that he had some way found out that Americans would give kids candy on Halloween. We brought him in and showed him the calendar, indicating for him to return the next night, which he did, and we bestowed him with much "gandy."
We left transferred to Okinawa the next year, where our daughter, London, was born. She was a blue eyed, blond baby who smiled at everyone. Older Japanese or Okinawan women would often ask if she was a boy, and when told that she was a girl, would tell us they were sorry, and maybe next time we would have a boy. 
That always confused us, as we thought we had done quite well.