This I believe...

This week ended the 4 year run of the modern series "This I believe" which aired on Sunday mornings on National Public Radio. Like many of you, I was fascinated by the reflective quality of the writings selected for the program. They were penned by ordinary people from all walks of life, writing clearly about the things in life the held on to as beliefs. It got me thinking about an essay I wrote a few months ago of a similar theme. I originally wrote my piece as a personal journal exercise as I tried to discover my foundations, make sense of my current midlife transition and the lessons 40 years have gathered. Here is a portion of what I wrote that day as my contribution to the "This I believe" series:

The opportunity to travel, has been a base from which I have formed many of my current beliefs. Roaming the world, its variety of cultures, the customs and habits of people with diverse values, has brought me to an awareness of the variation in our beliefs. I have gained an appreciation for what it takes from the personal spirit to solve basic yet complex questions of what we believe, in order to survive as unbroken.

I was fortunate to be born into a strongly middle class Ghanaian family that valued discovery, education and exploration. I was encouraged in my youth to wonder about and discover what was around the bend. At the age of 5, my mother placed me on an airplane to go from Accra to London for a school shopping trip. Upon arriving, I recall my wonderment at the different sounds of foreign voices I had never heard. The strongest impression I had on that first significant excursion was that my fears where separated from the uncertainty around me. I had a core sense that if I stayed determined, I would find my way through what I did not understand in that large airport to make my way towards my purpose. I recall the sense of certainty I got within myself as I focused on my mothers parting words to me, spoken in Twe and translated as “you are my greatest expectation”. Those words, drove me on. Her voice lent to me courage to focus on my path and to seek out my purpose for being so far away from home.

At the age of 11 y.o., I left home for good as the family struggled to fight against the military coups and political strife of that era in Ghana. I found my foundations jolted and tested. Overnight, my reality had been turned upside down. I ended up in America by my fathers efforts, living with strangers, akin to foster care. I became a servant boy, taking care of chores and the needs of the families I was placed with. All the while I searched inside for who I was and how I ended up so far away the life I new. I spent many years looking for a way to go back home. To go back to the life I had left behind, to the family that loved me, to the family I loved and laughed with.

As I settled into a reluctant life here in the United States late into my teenage years, I began to gain an awareness that it was truly too late to go back to my family. They had adjusted without me and moved on. This country would be my home. I somehow understood that I need to find a way to embrace the culture and manner of this great and diverse nation. I came to a realization then, that I would for the most part encounter Americans on their terms. In a manner of speaking, I will always be meeting others on their home turf. As that reality became part of my sense of the world, I became aware of the parts of me that I needed to maintain to survive in a fast moving complex world of interactions. Growing up alone, I took for granted those principles which had guided me out of Accra and into America.

I have traveled a great deal since then. I have made four major relocation's as well, each has brought a significant shift into a different phase of my life. Accepting these shifts have not been easy, yet they have shared consistent threads of my awareness of my core beliefs. The value of honesty and integrity in who I am, openness about my deeper purpose towards others, and a willingness to offer others a basic level of trust as a way of connecting our shared humanity.


In my travels and experiences encountering those who have not been so fortunate to have found a way to solve life's challenges, I realized the importance of knowing who you are at your core. Knowing what you believe in as a foundation of strength. Those core values have served me well. They have allowed me to discover within myself that I am not alone and that my journey, although without a family along the way to lean on, is not much different from what we all share.

It has been my experience that others, regardless of background respond to an honest expression of who you are. It becomes a base of finding out who they are. The people I have met in life thus far, tend for the most part to appreciate the open expression of ones purpose towards them. I have found that this has a way of drawing to you those that share a similar path and sending off those that don't share a path. I believe people, even the worst amongst us, respond well to being offered a clear level of basic trust when encountered. This core value of offering trust has protected me from harm in many dangerous places and in situations where focusing on my fears may have ended my life.

My sense of what I believe in is rooted simply in what feels comfortable to my being, what feels right when I spend time with a person, whether they are familiar to me or not. My beliefs are always guided by honesty, purpose and trust. My childhood instinct of determination grounds these beliefs in a base. Encountering others of varied cultures and customs through my travels have affirmed these ways to me. They may occasionally, require some variation in how they are expressed, yet these are my core foundations. I will venture to say they were in me at birth. Perhaps, someday soon, I will travel to a place where I will encounter my mother. I will ask her for myself if she saw these core beliefs in me in the years before I left home that fateful time.

Self-control

Can one learn self-control obtain better life balance?


In conversations with individuals from different walks of life, I hear expressed a personal frustration from many with the inability to carry through the deeply held intentions of their core selves towards others. These core intentions for this essay are foundations such as listening, hearing, witnessing and seeing others with a minimum of our own inner bias or self-interruption. I acknowledge this is a complicated subject, rooted in the different psychological and sociological make up of each of us along with our unique circumstances. In short, everyone grows up differently. That said, in exploring some of these conversations, I have been pondering the role self-control plays in sabotaging our finest and best deserved lives.


As a comparison, I have been thinking about the people I meet in life who appear to have emotionally balanced lives and do well demonstrating their best interpersonal intentions towards others. What I have come to synthesis as the basic difference that seems to influence the path of the later group’s lives versus those of their counterparts, who are challenged appears to dwell in the concept of self-control.


Self-control is something we hear about often yet most of us take it for granted in how much it plays a roll in how we live our lives, emotional or logical. Personal patterns we demonstrate such as patience, consideration, and understanding expressed towards those we care about can be a challenge for many for different reasons rooted around the concept of self-control. Obtaining long-term goals for ourselves, growing our core self esteem, and the fundamental way in which we chose to live our daily lives are other things that are rooted in our individual self control. They all seem to have so much to do with our ability the quality of lives we live and yet how much focus do we place on developing our skills of self control as individuals, let alone as a society. We struggle with many things, yet I see few people working on self control as a root to many of the challenges of life.


I heard from a friend recently, of his struggles to truly hear his wife when she expressed deeply felt concerns about their relationship. He explained that he often felt defensive and vulnerable at the start of these talks with her first few statements of fact. Even though he new in his heart of hearts that what she was expressing was true, and he knew he wanted to witness fully what she was expressing as a way of validating her, his desire to defend himself overwhelmed his sense of give her the space to express herself. He went on to say he wish he wouldn’t do that, it gave her the impression that he was not on the same page, that they were different types of people. I asked him what about defending himself was that urgent that it could not wait for her to finish, knowing very well that I was guilty of that same misdeed with my dear one often. He gave a very simple and honest answer. He said “look at my life, I lack self control.”


This got me thinking about many aspects of our lives and the roll self-control plays. I thought about people with life long habits and patterns such as those with who succeed in school, those who achieve the highest levels of their lives pursuits, those with good solid families, friends and those with seemingly are organized in how they live their lives. What I came up with was that they all shared an ability to control their impulses at a level that smoothed out their inner process. It seemed that those that achieved success in areas of their lives had developed inner habits that helped them calm the inner urges to leap at a preserved situation that caused insecurity and often could disrupt a more appropriate inner process that served them well in the long run.


It also occurred to me that by our 30’s, most of us innately know the difference between what serves us well and what gets us into difficulty. Some of us struggle with our urges to hold back those impulses that sabotage our inner most held values and intentions towards others and we recognize this in small things we do. We often classify these things with terms and words like self-discipline, laziness, poor character, etc. I heard a speaker on interpersonal skills once say “if we keep doing what we are doing, we keep getting what we get”. This quote is something I have repeated many times to people in my life. I have not always been the best at taking that advise however.


How do we gain control of the self and do a better job of managing those predictable impulses? What is self-control anyway? Is it something we can learn with all other things being balanced? Are some of us destined to miss our fullest potential because we never learned self-control? That seems a high price to pay for life. Many of us do not consider self-control a prison of sorts we make for ourselves. Many of us think of our circumstances as the reason we do what we do. Perhaps they are all related, but as adults can we work on and improve our self control? Is it possible to isolate and improve the habits we evolved when we were younger to dealing with uncomfortable situations? Are some of us destined to put our heads in the sand when life’s heart felt situations call for having self-control?


I will like to offer a notion for thought in this modern world. We can learn self-control no matter what age, we have to come to a place of recognition where we begin that learning from where we are. Like learning to meditate, we must begin with something small like our breathing, we must learn to think of ourselves as worthy of the good rewards we often forgo when we sabotage our needs and those of our loved once through poor self control. Our intentions towards others are indeed our intentions for ourselves. The reflection of ourselves we see in the responses of others to our actions can be extremely painful when its not congruent with our core. Finding a way to hear ourselves inside can be a less threatening inner practiced path to heal and learn how to have better self-control.


I share with those I have spoken to over the years that difficult with self control. I can admit to having lost some of the best relationships in my life because I could not control my emotional impulses to defend what I heard as painful reflections of myself vastly different in my instant mind from what my core intentions were. I discovered along the way after a few lost relationships that I had never learned how to control my self. I discovered along the way that the root of many of my lives challenges were squarely placed in my self-control. Hearing this similar expression from others makes me realize the journey I am still on. We all struggle self-control and it is sad that we spend so little time improving this keep element to being happier people.

Early Spring Renewal

Spring is the air. April is upon us. The passing winter came and visited upon us many interesting experiences. Coming out of winter with a renewed sense of what is appreciated deeply, the people, the places and the situations, is good. We can encounter many circumstances that challenge us to seek balance and a steady way forward. Spring tends to be a good time for each of us to ask ourselves what serves us in our lives and what requires adjustment.

As we begin to tend our gardens from the difficult winters they have had. As we begin to stack the stone walls that fell over under the weight of the deep snow. Let us allow the sensibilities of this time to penetrate our better selves. Let us find what serves us well and know without doubt that it is for us. The garden seems a good place to do that, while weeding and planting, perhaps adding compost to the beds for the seedlings that will grow into the season.

We hopefully are open to those things that may seem a little awkward, but like weeks old kittens finding their legs; to see their play as part of their joy and realization they are alive, may require a different prospective. It seems okay to be excited by life's gifts as a young kitten in spring. Let us make small incursions into the rest of the garden, we will perhaps appreciate the garden more as Spring warms on.

Jill...thank you!

It has been six weeks since I last updated this blog. My intention was never to be away for such n extended period of time. For those of you that read my January 29th post, you know that I featured my own life situation as an example of one of the many people who has been affected by the down turn in the economy. I was looking to write a piece on the experience of those in my McKinley Hill neighborhood who are suffering the effects of joblessness and losing there homes. It occurred to me that the the best piece I could write was the one I knew the most about, My own personal situation. Thus the post of that date was made and the difficulties following that post resulted in my six week absence.

I am happy to inform all of you who sent me so many kind and thoughtful emails expressing best wishes while I tried to find work to save my home, that I am on better ground. I am still in my home and although still recovering, the unexpected generosity of family members in England and Ghana and friends here in the Pacific northwest who helped connect me to part time work have helped me earn some income to bring me out of the uncomfortable. I am still looking for the market to improve and for my woodworking venture to become profitable, but I have managed to restructure my life over the last six weeks, catching up on bills to maintain the core and shell of my life and identity.

My focus this week, is to express deep gratitude for all of you who were thinking about me and for all who gave me information and ideas about how to get out of the situation I was in. Most of all I will like to thank my girlfriend Jill for the person she has been and the role she has played in my life over the last few months.

Jill showed me over the last 90 days what it is to be committed and loyal, while allowing me to never feel I was less than the man she met on November 22nd, 2008. She taught me many lessons about life and has been my steady guide and confidant through this transition I have come to embrace. She has allowed me to solve the challenges on my own and never thought to rescue me. She respected my need to maintain my dignity when unexpected circumstances presented themselves. She is there for every job interview with a phone call wishing me luck before hand and a phone call after to find out how it went.

Jill, had no reason to stand by my side, we only met just before Thanksgiving. She saw something in me that made her want to make me a part of her life. She saw my gifts and my talents and offered me hope that this too was a phase in life. We write each other old fashioned letters often, sometimes I recall the experiences of our grandparents during the depression of the 1930's. As a fellow creative soul and artist, she keeps tabs on our local Tacoma list serve (an arts daily email posting service of happenings) and has found many free events, talks, shows and entertainment for us to attend and appreciate some of lifes offerings. She has been wonderful in not putting pressure on me to take her out for dates or to buy her things like flowers I so much wanted to get for her to express my appreciation.

Jill's unwavering support, her unselfishness, the love and class that she has shown has solidified for me my sense of her and the love I feel for her grows everyday as we continue to witness each other and develop our relationship one day at a time. Never once did she allow me to doubt who I am. When I was at my lowest and in tears, my self-esteem none existent, she chose her words carefully during fights and arguments. I often say to friends, you never know who you have in your life until you go through something difficult with them. Well, I know the quality person I have in Jill. We still have some growing to do. We still need to make room for one another's voices as we continue to grow and discover each other away from from the struggles of the recession.

It is my turn to turn my attention to supporting her. I hope she will allow me to be there for here as she embarks on a life discovery of her own. She is very special to me and I hope she knows how much this man loves and respects her.

Some in the situation I have found myself in have not been as fortunate to have the support of someone like Jill. I have expressed my appreciation to her personally, yet I feel the need to publicly acknowledge the role a partner like Jill plays in the life of so many individuals facing the realities of this recession.

Next week, I will return to writing about the topics I observe around me that move me to comment.

Jobless and counting the days...

This week, I have decided to make myself the subject of my own blog. My concern is joblessness. I am an example of the people I go out and meet and like to give voice to. I am one of the functioning poor. In my case, I have had time to accumulate a few assets, which I have sold or exhausted in the last few months to keep the mortgage paid and food on the table. I have discovered in these times what it is to slide slowly into poverty and be close to losing your modest home.

Mine is an immigrants story. I started with nothing worked hard to find something and as quickly I am losing it all. I have sold almost all I have including my car and my truck in order to pay a few months mortgage. My personal humility and awareness of the suffering around me keeps me grounded regardless of my situation. I still smile to everyone I see and I still never miss my Wednesday's volunteering to cook at the Rescue mission in town. I watch those in the kitchen with me and realize that they are worse of than I. At least I still have my home.

I have been amazed to see and hear from the mainstream media for months very little comparative voice given to the real issue of losing your home because you can't find a job to pay the mortgage. Not all defaulting home owners as an example bought too much house. Some, as myself, who worked for 22 years in the construction industry as a construction manager, have been out of work since Aug. 2008 with no real prospects of going back into building condos or anything else for a while.

As I look for any work (cooking, book stores, etc.), It is painful to hear those who just don't get it, or those who are settled in safe jobs, speculate on what is going on in America. Please don't get me wrong, this is not an angry rant. It is a thoughtful heart felt open question to are better selves across the board.

What happens when an otherwise responsible, capable and gifted person finds themselves in a failed industry with few good prospects of returning to that industry any time soon? If you are me, you look at your other interests and take what you can get to survive. Day laborer work, cleaning after storms, anything that pays. Pride does not enter into the picture. What I am able to make from odd jobs goes towards keeping the heat on in the house, the electricity on so I can stay looking for work on the computer, and keeping the internet access going one month to the next for the same reason.

Joblessness is painful indeed. The lose of dignity and the seemingly odd assessment of the national conversation on every issue but the real cause, confidence, destroys one's moral further. Perhaps I have been under a rock, but convincing an employer to give you a shot at working seems to be the new rage in my mid sized City.

The number of interviews I have gone on are too many to count here. Leaning back on my woodworking skills to build furniture and make a few dollars has met up against a lake of spending in the stores. Of the 14 pieces I built for the holidays, only 2 sold. Being a life long cook, I have applied at every restaurant in town that will look at me. i am not that bad looking either.

I hear encouragement from people who say to me...let them spend 15 minutes with you and they will want your kind of quality and dedication on there team...well, it has not happened yet. This week I experienced another such disappointment after 4 interviews and a neglectful "you are over qualified in past salary, and we want someone with more cooking experience on the line." Okay, I can take rejection of this type. But how do you make the case to a prospective employer about the hunger in your heart, the desire and shear effort you bring to even cleaning the toilets for a shot at moving up the ladder. Perhaps I could wash dishes for the next three months and see what you think. Can i volunteer with you and prove myself worthy of a paid job when one opens up?

I walk across a bridge that was built in Jan. 1942 when I leave my house each day to go look for work. In Feb. of that year President Roosevelt signed the order to intern Japanese Americans across the country. It occurred to me this morning as I was walking across that bridge, that the Japanese Americans who lived in the neighborhood back then had to come across that bridge. It also occurred to me that February is here and if i don't find a job, the Sheriffs Department will be sending me across that same bridge never to return to the first home I so proudly purchased some five years ago.

Maybe I will learn about what life was like in the Hooverville's of the depression era. Maybe I will find work enough to stay ahead of my mortgage company's demands. How ever it turns out, I came to this country with nothing but the cloths on my back in 1981. I will find a way as so many others are to make it until work comes available again. I know I am done with construction, but at 40 years of age, I have so much life experience and promise. Surely, I can find something to do, this is what I tell myself as I plan for the worst.

Part 4 - Mandy...my street corner girl...

A few steps from my new Army soldier acquaintance was Mandy. Mandy looked about 17 and she was quick. I don't think it was the camera, but she seemed to walk ahead of me with a slow provocative walk and a turn just as I reached a few feet from her. How the heck did she know where i was in proximity to her turn...That was a good trick. Anyway, she asked me if i wanted some company, i asked her for what (I suspected she was hooking), "for a date" she said "I've been trying to get a place to stay out of this weather or make enough money to get a place for Christmas." I asked here where she was from and she played it off and changed the subject, choosing instead to flirt and see if she could get me teased into opening my wallet. I did get out of her that she was from the Midwest, she had left home because it was "lame back there". She was underage, but she never said how old. Feeling a little nervous by then (guilt by association and all), I said my good byes and moved on down the road on Commerce. I did think as i walked away how sad it was that this young woman had a family back somewhere and yet circumstances had come to pass that she was walking the streets of Tacoma. WA willing to sell her body for cash or a place to stay for the next few days.

I use to see this stuff when i lived in Los Angeles, CA. I left LA because it was way too much of that type of stuff. I hope we don't forget our young as we see our way through these troubled financial times. The Mandy's of the world will become tomorrows law enforcement customers and the tip of the spear of the next crime wave if we don't pay attention.

Part 3 - Private Gibson

My next encounter a few blocks down was not a homeless guy, but it was Private Gibson. Fresh off the boat from Iraq. He was catching the greyhound bus to head up to visit the girlfriend and family he left behind for the Holidays. I took a picture of this stocky Normal Rockwell looking GI from across the street. I was thinking as I took the picture that he reminded me on Pat Tilman in his build, with a shy boyish grin as he noticed me photographing him. I figured it was his first tour and his first homecoming, that smile was the kind of first timers nervous smile I would have if I was just getting of a transport and someone I did not know was taking my picture. I call it that sense of pride and glory every young man gets the first time he accomplishes something he knows and you know is note worthy.

I went across the street to saw hello and welcome home as i watched him nervously adjusted his very heavy looking gear bag. He was a good kid, you could tell by his personal style. He had done his country proud and he deserved a random handshake and a Merry Christmas. Welcome Home Pvt. Gibson, good luck to you and all your fellow soldiers in this new year. Thanks for holding down the fort.

Part 2 - Ken on the rails

Next, I boarded the rail car and met Ken. Ken had a long salt and pepper beard, wore glasses with warm looking yet well worn clothing of the salt of the earth variety. He wore a neck brace which drew my attention to him as I scanned from the rail platform trying to decide which door to enter the couch from in the first place. He was speaking in a very familiar manner to a rough looking man who I assumed to be a friend of his. They sat across the aisle from one another so I squeezed into the seat behind Ken and we all sat up at the front in the north bound direction.

To make myself interesting, I begun to take pictures out the window at the crowed lined up to catch the Sounder train up to Seattle for the Seahawk's game. Sure enough, Ken turned sideways and asked me what I was doing? I struck up a conversation and told him I was taking pictures for my blog journal. I asked him if I could take a picture of him and he willingly obliged and posed a great smile.

We started talking in earnest and I asked him how he had spent the last week out in this weather. He shared much. He said he was getting tired of the cold, but having a few beers every few hours and riding the light rail all day was keeping him "warm and comfy". I asked what happened to his neck. He said he had a sprained neck and contusions over 65 percent of his body. Apparently the previous day, he had been challenged by a group of 18 - 23 year olds to go inner tubing down one of our very steep snowy hills we have around here. Know Ken looks like he is deep into his 50's and not a specimen of fitness either.

He had taken them up on the dare and found his way down a steep road, spinning out of control with feet dangling at a high rate of speed as he described the experience. He eventually was bounced up into the air and was stopped by the grill of an oncoming truck trying to make it up that Hill. The driver of the truck stopped to check on him and well, Ken earned a trip to the emergency room. As he put it, the nurses were nice and the doctor was pretty funny. He got a warm bed and a good meal out f it he said. He would be riding the rails for the rest of the day however since his camp and tent had been snowed in when he went to go check on it after he was discharged.

By this time I had reached the Convention Center Station said my good byes and Merry Christmas and prepared to hoped off. Ken and his buddy wished me well and told me to keep it real... I sure hope I can Ken old buddy, but please, stay off the inner tubes, that's like me going skiing.

The Poor At Christmas... A Series Of Short Essays - Part 1

During the depth of the Holidays, a little over two weeks ago on the winter solstice (December 21, 2008), I decided to expand my monthly walking excursions around town and spend some time in some of the areas I don't often get to. Namely I was thinking, the back alleys and hidden areas of our City. This walk was also unusual from the walks I normally take around town in that it was during the height of our recent snow storms. A week before this day on December 14th, Jill and I had rescued our now named new addition to the family, Lucy the Cat out of the beginnings of the snow event when the temperature dropped from the high 20's into the low teens in about an hour. The weather that week got me thinking about the poor and the homeless.

Its nice thought to think that most of the homeless use shelters during these extreme weather events, but as i discovered, not everyone follows conventional wisdom. It also depends on how you see that trade for a bed for the night. Needless to say, I got my boots on, put on some extra layers and got out in the weather to slog it for part of the day. I wanted to see what those of us that were down on our luck (i.e. the poor and homeless) were doing as they waited for the holidays to arrive. It was an interesting walk, which I documented in digital photographs.

I started from my home on McKinley Hill, walked past McKinley Park, past the Tacoma Dome and down to the Freighthouse Square Light Rail Station. I took the light rail down past the UW Tacoma campus, got off at the convention center stop and walked up to Commerce and 7th at the bottom of the stairs of the old lodge building.

Along the way, I met a few interesting people. The fellow in the sleeping bag pictured above is Sonny. Sonny is a member of the first nations peoples. He decided that his sleeping bag would do just fine in this weather. Up in the north country, he had camped in worse. He told me about his 'old lady' who had gone to jail last night in a neighboring City for trying to get a date so they could have some money to get a motel. He offered to hook me up when she got out, but I politely turned him down. He was a funny fellow. He laughed a lot for a guy who had been woken up suddenly by the sounds of boots compacting the airy cold snow feet from his sleeping place under a balcony. I asked if if he planned to get something to each later, he looked looked away for a second and then looked at me and said "I'll find me something, but first i got to go see about my old lady". That man sonny had his priorities straight as he say it. Who cares about food when your other half is in the tank.

Part 5 - The Club

My final essay I care to share in this post thread of Essays is not about a person (although I met five additional interesting people on this walk), it is all about a place one of the other five i met tipped me off to. It was a place I named 'A TWO VIEW STUDIO WITH A STOOP', to do it justice, I wrote a poem about. Before i share it however, let me give you some background on this place.

Before, the City of Tacoma decided to clean up and reclaim the downtown area and Theatre District around Commerce and 9th, it was one overrun place. The homeless, street sugar and the basic street life common to any major to midsized blighted downtown area of a reasonably popular American City ruled the roast. This time period found the old guard homeless with prized and choice hangouts. Places like the old Bridge Clinic building on Market Street which I will write about one of these days and others like the small little covered back doorway where today the Light rail line comes to its end just feet away.

As Checo, my impromptu tour guide described it with deep passion and a certain excited nostalgia "It was ours for years. Only the birds shared that roost". To me looking at the place with 2008 eyes and having known a dive or two in my 40 years, it looked gray, a color that took in the rain with a sour mood. Checo went on to say to me..."Bennie bit it there, Chucky shaved his head for the first time since Nam right in there, with a bottle". I could see its strategic value. It deepened my sense of affection for the homeless. Sure, I remain detached in so many ways, acting just as an observer, but when a man of unknown experience tells you a story with that much nostalgia, it takes you back to the stories of Army's who invaded far away places. It gives provides you a third person witness to a battle that was waged on an urban battle field. These guys were fighting for their lives as they saw it. The livelihoods they new. It was a strategic effort with look outs and raids, with casualties and enemies, with profound sadness and a sense of victory when they succeeded in protecting their home out posts on the street.

The sense of the best history these people made was right there in front of me. For Checo, it was the best of times and the worst of times...


A TWO VIEW STUDIO WITH A STOOP by Rohn T. Amegatcher

A two view studio with a stoop.
A two step walk up open to the air.
Cardboard floors over plywood backer.
A planter, scalloped views at the top.
Stair stepped views at waist height.
For charm, please appreciate tubular handrail.

It rents out by the night
To the first come or the first to fight.
Its got sweet sounds of the light rail,
A freezer shelf but without the rack.
Your beer will stay cold thou, up against that wall.
We just call it pad the club
It even has its own stamp.

Vinnie and Jonny, Candice and Doris,
Four in the sack, til Mattie ratted us out.
5-0 , I know, I owe 'em my last dough.
They chased us out many times, but we came back.
Its still the site, It gets jumping way late at nite.
Believe me bro', the block still has flow.

Happy New Year A few thoughts ago...

Like the beignet pictured to the left here... 2009 is fresh and new to us all. It is fresh to us all and as such, it is best consumed exactly that way. Let us not wait for it to get old and stale, for the heat to melt the powdered coating, lets sit a while and take this in ahead of all else this day. As a wise man who has passed (Alex) once new said, "Call me...let us get together and talk of the things that deserve reasonable consideration". Taking your advice Alex, I will like to speak briefly about those things I will like us all to ponder more clearly this year.

2009 for me holds with its promise of clarity, opportunities and tasty possibilities to reinvent my life with my new partner Jill as a pillar in this new life, with hopefully a cooking/kitchen station job in a local restaurant to help pay down my old bills, inspiration to expand my woodworking into a business, and the good fortune to writing to my hearts content on my various projects. My personal hopes aside, I am especially thinking about community and the world beyond us here on McKinley Hill.

I brought in the New Year in Yelm, WA at my partners eldest brother Mark and his partner Ella's home. They live on seven acres, off the grid, acquired not too long ago. It is a nice home comfortable to the feel, with good familiar neighbors down the way and one good feeling in the country air of constant renewal and blue herons that watch over the silence. We were joined by other gentle souls for a total of nine on this eve. The irony of that number to the date was not lost on Jill and I the next morning. We all held hands a few minutes before the anticipated strike of the clock at midnight and we each brought forward our voice on the hopes and wishes for ought nine. World peace, humility for all, food, clothing, shelter, health and strength for the less fortunate, wisdom and blessings to our new President for all he will be taking on, blessings to those who could not be with us and those who have gone ahead of us, and the wishes and hopes went around that humble circle until we sought our glasses to toast in the New Year.

I suspect the people there, those I new better and those new to me, saw the world much as I did. Yet, I said something during well wishes toast that I want to expand on here as my public new years wish. As i spoke it to the gathered then, I qualified it first by excusing the political nature of the comment, and then I said "May George W. Bush have a wonderful retirement". That in it self is not an unusual sentiment these days, even from his fans, yet what I was getting at was something more important to our humanity than either the humor or the statement of exhaustion in which it was disguised.

George W. Bush to me represents a certain way of seeing our world and our communities that has been proven to be contrary to the direction our world and our communities energy needs to be directed for the most to prosper into the future. He represents a way of thinking that comes forth with relevant life experience, tools and skills that are valuable to humanity, a love of the land and wide open spaces, a sense of family and tender moments around the fire with friends and those who have guided and advocated that way for ages. He also represents to me a large segment of America, most recently exemplified by the ascendancy of one Gov. Sarah Palin into the national and world spot light. This segment of America and off the world is not going to retire, they will have to be partners with the rest of us in our communities, in our country, and across the world to make things work out for all of us.

I was remarking to a friend shortly after the elections in November 2008, that the country needs Sarah Palin. I was saying then, that she represents a way of life and an identity for over 40 percent of our kin folk. I went on to say that we needed to embrace her, expose her to the things she does not know about and support her efforts to lead her faithful she has so clearly energized. I for one will rather have here accompany our new president on foreign trips and gain a new prospective of our world and local communities not native to her and have her come back as a challenger in 4 years influenced by an alternative prospective than the counterpoint. Imagine Sarah Palin that's been filled with only the views of the extremes and without the tools to tamper down those dangerous hate filled rallies we saw and heard from the republicans towards the end of their campaign last year.

I sometimes wonder if others like myself who lean progressive, think deep and hard enough about the world outside our viewpoint. I wonder sometimes if we realize more than they do that the world is not all about the needy images we have in our minds of developing countries, the European social model or the green movement and its early adopters we hear about across the world. There are many more George Bush haberdashers and Sarah Palin milliners out there, to use those old world metaphors, who will not be retiring any time soon. They have coats to cut and hats to make. They have ideas of there own and they have strong ambitions to make them happen as we did in electing Barack. They will have to be brought to a place where if they don't already see it, they can be intellectually or emotionally convinced by making a practical case for why our collective ways need to change for us to be prosperous and be better off in this new year.

I have been thinking about the recent presidential runoff elections in my birth country Ghana. I am aware my country men have been held up in the popular news, as models for how African elections should be conducted. With several fair and peaceful elections under our belts and forward looking prosperity with the recent discovery of oil of Ghana's shores, I hope those that did well all across our world in the last year, do not forget the lot that did not fair as well. Let us not just wish those that are handing over power a good retirement, but lets us all engage them in being part of the solution, whatever the task may be. Let us reach to our coworkers who have been laid off and find ways to engage them. Let us plant a community garden, work the land together, to feed everyone at least one good meal from our own warm but bare hands. Let us all be kinder and value the longview and realize in bouts of exhaustion, that we are not in this alone.

My father used to love to say (roughly translated from our native language of Twi), "some live well, and some do not live so well at all". He was usually making a statement of surprise, when he encounter someone enjoying themselves in some a way that seemed exclusive and not available to all. With that in mind in 2009, I wish that we all try and make sure our neighbors are enjoying life in someway. Let us not just hold all the cards to ourselves, and then wonder why the natives are restless. For the world and our communities to be a better place, we need to ponder the way we think about sending people off into retirement.

Watching An Ink Pen Run Dry

The last six weeks have found me writing profusely in long hand. Writing long hand is my preferred method and style. It has a romantic feel to it and is the closest I come as a writer to the experience a reader has with a page turner of a book. Long hand is also my prefered method of penning the many letters I will write to friends and loved one's alike over the path of the year instead of email. November and December are the times when I like to write letters to people, with the book ends of Thanksgiving and New Years holding up Christmas, there is much to reflect on and yet still much more to write about in journals, note books and the odd collection of ideas and topics to explore when i have time that gather atop tables and in draws all around the house and the studio.

Recently, however, I have been going through pens at an alarming rate. I seem to be running out of ink in my favorite pens and ink wells all at once. I have had to dip into my back stock of pens, pencils and ink I stockpiled from the closing of my office unlike at any other time in my professional life that I can recall. It got me thinking about the scarcity of ink in other times and in previous generations and what we can learn from it. How can we, in these times, the age of the internet and email, the computer and electronic documents, cell phones and text messages, Blackberry's and television, relate to how it must have impacted the lives of our fore bearers across the globe to have a scarcity of ink.

The purpose of all these mediums I mentioned, including pen and ink, is simple to communicate. It is to facilitate the exchange and transfer of ideas and content. In our times, the cell phone and the scarcity of minutes is probably what compares best for me to the scarcity our fore bearers must have experienced when they ran out of ink as a scarce and costly resource that was necessary to transact all aspects of life. I can imagine how the common professional, such as an Student, a young architect or an aspiring writer had to be resourceful to keep themselves in ink. I imagine, unless you were of some means, ink was a luxury many could do with out and thus it stifled the growth of ideas from odd corners of society. Where there vendors capable of securing for a paying customer sufficient quantities of ink to keep a manuscript going? What type of ingenious methods were people forced to innovate and invent to cultivate a good constant supply of ink?

Since I recently restructured my life and curtailed back my expenditures, my 5000 minute luxury cell phone plan has had to be paired down to a reasonable level that I can afford on my very limited income these days. It has maid for minute counting like never before. I watch every minute, I talk try to save my phone conversations for those off peak hours and weekends when I can communicate with the outside world at a reasonable cost. Instead, I prefer to write and communicate by mail where I can write quite a bit for the cost of a 42 cent first class stamp.

In thinking back to my life in Ghana in the 1970's (where I was born and raised until the age of 11), it was customary to send letters with people who were traveling overseas to post for you when they arrived at their foreign destination. The thought process was that the postal system elsewhere was far more dependable that the local Ghanaian postal system. I wrote back then with inexpensive pens and pencils. I recall writing letters to pen pals that took took weeks and even months to get to them. It was a struggle back then in the heat and humidity of the Acccra region climate, to keep the ink in the inexpensive ball point pens we purchased from the road side vendors around the City and at market. I recall receiving letters from friends posted two to three months earlier according to the originating postmark, with beatiful penmanship in ink that looked bleautiful and luxurious. Many of the street boys I played and ran around with (against my mothers wishes), could not read or write. Some did not even go to school. The concept of using an ink pen or pencil was a far fetched concept for many. I saw first hand the stifled ideas of many smart young boys. Destined to lives as laborers because of the scarcity of writing materials and especially ink.

Looking back a little further to the turn of the nineteenth century through the great depression and the second world war era when cell phones did not exist, writing in the west was deeply important to the life blood of the growing industrialization of the world. Typing was still a luxury and ink was the primary method of recording all types of information. I am currently researching the life of a prominent citizen and business in the Tacoma area. In reviewing some of his business records, it is clear how important ink was to his operations. His records show significant orders of ink being placed above many other consumables. I read somewhere that inflation overtime can be pegged to the cost of a mans suit ensemble over time. I wonder if the same assessment can be made for ink?

I recently had to switch pens in mid letter to my partner Jill. I proudly informed her in the letter, after switching over to a new ink pen that I was one of the few people I knew, who new from actual use how many words you can actually get from the average modern pen. Whether its 6,000 or 20,000 words or some other number depending on your preferred brand, whether you are a heavy writer or a lighter scribe, it is humbling to me consider how we take ink and pen for granted as we do in this time.

I can't imagine what would happen to all my ideas and yours if we could not write them down. I think of the impact that ink has had on the passing of knowledge from the past on to us today. I think of the lost knowledge and the lost concepts and ideas, that hove been lost because of convenient access to ink. Whether made of mineral pigments or of plant extracts, I can very easily imagine an absent minded scholar of a different era, locked away for weeks and days, penning way at a manuscript in his studio, a seminal work that would lead humankind to a formula that could be the missing link of understanding some plague, he has a "eureka" moment, envisions the formula for an instant, goes to dip his quill in the ink well to record it, and discovers...it is empty.

Making the case for a neighborhood garden...

Recently, I had an exchange with the Public works department of my dear City. It started with a mild request to have a community garden across the street from my house. My original request was turned down with out any real inquiry as t the possibilities. Since these communications with City officials are a matter of public record, I have decided to post it myself on Facebaook and also on my blog at http://piratesandlullabies.blogspot.com/ it pains me to see how those of us small fish get treated by the system. my point in this post is to highlight the larger impact that a small neighborhood garden can have on the hopes and sense of belonging of the people that live there. If we don't stand up for the neighborhoods we currently live in, how will they ever become places of pride and prosperity.
You read and decide for yourselves...may you be inspired to take care of your own neighborhoods.

Conversation Thread...Dates and smaller none relevant emails are omitted to keep it brief...but the point is still made.

Hello My dear City of Tacoma:

I will like to speak to someone about doing a small community (neighborhood) garden on a City owned piece of land in our neighborhood. I have been doing some research over the last few months and have some pretty good support up and down the street from a majority of the neighbors. Before I take the time to role out the specifics, I will like to connect with you and have an initial get to know you conversation. The site is a green belt wedge located between E. Division Lane and E. Morton at F street. You can map my address and its just across the street you can’t miss it (520 E. Division Lane, Tac. 98404)

My contact information is as follows:

Rohn Amegatcher

Response i received back:

I believe you need to check with Metro Parks 305-1000
Madeline
Streets and Grounds

My Response:

Hello again:

That's funny because they sent me to you. City of Tacoma owns the property.
Can we try again...I really would like to connect with someone about doing a
garden on that small plot. Perhaps I should talk to public works???

Thx,

Rohn Amegatcher

Next Response:

Dear Rohn,

Thank you for your inquiry. I apologize for the run-around you have been given. I am checking into your questions and should be able to get you an answer by the end of this week. I appreciate your enthusiasm for gardening and wanting to make Tacoma more “green!”

In the meantime, if you have any other questions, please feel free to contact me.

Cheers,

Ramie Pierce
Urban Forester
ISA Certified Arborist
PN-6334A

My response:

Thank you for looking into it. We have about 9 neighbors and 12 kids that are up for doing this. I say that’s a good thing for the east side and specifically McKinley Hill.

Thank you again for looking into it.

Rohn

City Response:

Just one quick question, how do you plan to get water to the right-of-way (the small plot)?

Ramie Pierce
Urban Forester
ISA Certified Arborist
PN-6334A

My response:

We will fill water barrels once a week from my domestic hose bib once a week which is just across the street (Division). We will install 10 – 12 barrels (interlinked / daisy chained) together. We will use drip irrigation to irrigate the crops in raised beds. We will buy Tacgro for the planting beds/boxes. One of the things we want to do is install safety barriers along the boarders with a minimum 4’ set back from the streets (Morton and Division). We will like City input on this element.

I actually have a fairly detailed plan I will be happy to share as a straw plan. You folks can put holes in it and we can then refine it before spring gets here

Rohn

City Response:

Actually, I would love to see a plan-the more organized you are the easier it is for me to make an argument for you! You may not need to buy TAGRO, as TAGRO is interested in supporting community gardens-details still being worked out of course. Stay tuned though. Trust me, you don’t need to convince me of this good idea, just need to make sure we can get the City’s legal department happy in the process.

Ramie Pierce
Urban Forester
ISA Certified Arborist
PN-6334A


Further City Response:

Rohn,

I made contact with Mike Teskey, Tacoma Cares and this does not fall under what he does. I also made contact with Elton Gatewood who works with the Neighborhood Counsel. The problem is that the patch on ground in question does in fact belong to the City of Tacoma, is a right of way with a street on both sides. This brings up safety concerns,also who maintains it if the person decides they no longer want to work the garden. There is no water on site. So with all of this in mind I would say that the answer is no, at this time. It's a good idea, but Metro Parks offers garden plots around town that have water and are secure.

Tom Slagle
Grounds Supervisor
Public Works

My response to Tom:

Tom

Thanks for your response. I appreciate your research and follow up. The thing is we will have to find some way to make it work on our end (Division and Morton residents). It does not make sense to go out of the area to try to do it. We live here, we know the area we know the hazards of the area, we would not have proposed the idea unless we could see a safe way forward. We have options and we will get back to you. With all due respect to you and the City, its this way of thinking that keeps the east side and this area an after thought in everyone’s mind. The neighborhood never improves and we only get service when its criminal activity. I mean no disrespect in the least bit, I am simple making a point and giving you a context with which to try to think creatively. There are ways to get water to the site, and there are barriers and set backs that are reasonable that can be brought to bear. We can actually develop good solutions here, it is an opportunity for us to think a little harder. I have seen this done for pocket parks and green belts with this type of profile over my 22 year career as a construction manager and as an urban planner. I can’t just roll over and go to our little group and tell them the answer is no because of safety, ownership restrictions and water access.

This does not have to cost any money to the City. Times are hard for everyone. Houses are being foreclosed in the area; this is a way to lift the spirits of those in this neighborhood. To give people some pride in where we live. To give the kids some hope that this place is worth hanging on to. It is more than just water rights. This is about the people who took the risk in the last 5 years to buy in this community, to set up businesses here, to give something back to them so they don’t feel like, no one cares about the neighborhood. Please try to understand that I am not grinding at you, I just see a larger process at work here in this community. The kids will be losing Gualt middle school. The police 4th precinct and animal control will be relocating soon, the road sides have open gutters which get muddy when it rains, people are trying to feel good about the neighborhood and the street and we can’t just tell them “NO”.

I will pay for it if I have to, I just need to know what the set backs need to be a modest community garden. It would be helpful if someone will at least meet with us and look at our well designed concept and garden schematics and see how we have collectively solved the elements you have introduced. I think you may and the department may learn a thing about good solutions. We can’t help what the urban planners did 100 years ago when these areas were platted, but we live here and own here today, and we have pride of ownership. We cannot be poor forever, and we can’t show our children the bear ground because mom and dad could not afford to buy on the north side of town. We also can’t tell them to take the bus to a better part of town with water and safety. This is what we have here, and we want to make the best of it. Again, I assure you I am not trying to be disrespectful in anyway, but I need to make my point very firmly and perhaps provide you and the department with an alternative view of how we that live here see our reality.

A community garden here is more than a P-Patch. It is a community-building venture for us like the Glass museum was to the water front or Triangle Town homes was to the St. Helen's area. We may not be grand, but we like our area quaint. We will like to add features to it that creates pride and makes people want to send out that extra resume each day to see if they can find a job to make the mortgage because there kids love it here so much, instead of giving up and thinking, this place is a dump anyway. I will offer my home for a meeting, come meet with us after the holidays are over and see what we are trying to do around here. We don’t ask for much, just reasonable guide lines that are not unduly restrictive and we will do the rest.

To respond to one of your points in your email, I don’t know about you, but at the end of every season, I put away all my tools and leave my gardens in such a condition that if I did not come back the next year, it would not be an eye sour. Currently, we maintain that area. The City cuts the grass once a year and we are the once who keep the place maintained, pick up the trash, and keep the fire danger down for the remaining 51 weeks of the year. No one pays us for that. Until we wanted permission to do a garden, you never would have even known we were here.

Last year, we worked very hard to get the University of Idaho to do a concept for the McKinley Business district. We lobbied for this small opportunity because we believed then and still do that little things are the way we can bring up the community and give it a positive profile. The neighborhood is full of backyard wood workers and craftsmen, of people like who are potters and master gardeners, people who take old discarded wood furniture restore them or find second uses for the material. of back yard artisans of all types who silently do there thing and wish the neighborhood would just look better so they can feel that much better about the place. We have stair climbs around here that are crumbling, wonderful links to our past as a street car community which we can’t get anyone from the City to help us power wash and maintain (hand rails, lights, etc.). These are the things we have. It seems when ever we make an effort to lift our selves up, someone we have never met down in the valley of downtown says “NO”. We are the once who live up on the hill, we will like to feel like we have something going over here that’s fairly special. We can’t do that if our vision and ideas are not truly heard. The other possibility is to have a neighborhood where no one cares, creative solutions don’t get employed and the roughnecks around the corners think they own the neighborhood.

I am sure at this point I sound like I am venting, but rest assured there This is not a vent. There is a visionary prospective to this rant and a method to my madness and our neighborhood. I am no elected official, but I talk to everyone around here and I hear them grumble and complain. Please give this a meeting or two with us, and preferable if you delegate this to someone else, please make sure it is someone who has a Long view. I would hate to have a conversation with anyone who shows up with a predetermined response. These people here have dignity and deserve a reasonable review of our
request.

By the way…so we all can laugh and keep it real…I bet you did not expect this response back did you…it gets funnier from here if we don’t make any progress with public works…lol. All with good will, we just love our community. Please understand, otherwise the criminals and dividers have won…think about it.

Be well and happy holidays,

Rohn Amegatcher

Toms Response to me and other City people:

Elton,
What about a neighborhood grant for developing a pocket park, or roadside landscape. We could install drought resistant plants that we get from the WDOT, in which are free. Could one grant be used to install rolled asphalt curbs to keep the soil where its suppose to stay? Sort of like what was done on N26th St. Islands?
Tom

Elton's Response to Tom and myself:

Yes, it is possible that a grant can be used for roadside landscape. The applicant must apply for an Innovative Grant when they are available (Feb.- Mar.) if the Neighborhood Council approve it. Before they apply for a grant, they need to do some homework. First of all, will the City permit them to landscape on this public property; secondly, who will be responsible for maintaining it (adopt a spot), and where is it located?

Elton

My response to Tom & Elton:

Tom:

I will get it to you towards the end of the week. I need to get it scanned down to size. Also, I am spending the next few days working on a project in Woodinville. I will like to take some time to annotate it properly before sending it over…best foot forward so to speak.

Rohn


So the process goes on...I will meet with them and share our plan. I had it scanned earlier today and we will see where it all goes...

Stay Tuned...

Appreciating the one you are with...

Today, I spent some time on the phone with an old friend Brenda. We have recently rekindled our friendship after some time going about our lives. We are both in a different place know, she has bought a home and is experiencing the pleasures and pitfalls of a 1920’s home, the poor insulation, the truncated electrical panel and all the limited space bathroom and kitchen counter space that comes with an old home.

Never fear Brenda, we have all made it through our first winters in older homes and happen to enjoy our lives in these wonderful homes especially because of all the character they offer. Mine is vintage 1927, well built, under-insulated especially in the floors. This makes for some drafts around the ankles in certain areas of the living room. I avoid seating guests in those cold spots, unless, I have a fire going. The fire place is a different issue all together, but that’s not today’s burning topic.

Brenda and I got onto the subject of a friends life. He and his partner have recently had a child (two months ago), and he has decided to take some time of to be with her and their new daughter. Originally, he wanted to keep working given the economic times, but after mom expressed a concern that she felt as though he was not involved and as excited about the new arrival as she expected, he decided to stop forking for the winter and take care of the emotion and caring needs of his family.

Brenda’s comment was that during her marriage, her ex-husband had always said that her gaining weight (becoming fat…this is subjective to me), was grounds for a divorce. She was 120 lbs and 5’7. She got pregnant and got to 170lbs at the time of delivery. She was at 150 after the birth and stayed there for several years. Eventually, they did divorce for this and other reasons. Her point was that after birth, some woman’s emotions can be all over the place and could result in different types of insecurities. She noted that she was happy to hear our friend had made that decision and accordingly, good for them.

My response was also supportive of his decision; any one that knows me knows that I am the “house husband” type anyway. I did have a general observation about relationships in these times that got us both laughing hard.

Here is the general thought:

My take is that Moms and Dads of today from all walks of life, whether hockey, Wal-Mart, NASCAR, Greener, or East Coast should all by know just stick with what they have got, take good care of each other and follow the example of our friend. If you really think about it, most people today have dated every variation of mom or dad (woman or man) within there preferred subgroup that they are going to find. Smoker moms looking for smoker dads who live a certain life, have pretty much covered the spectrum. I do not really think Smoker Mom is going to find a better brand of Smoker Dad than the one she has. It is also not like Wal-Mart Dad is going to go out and find a better brand of Wal-Mart Mom. Okay so maybe some Wal-Mart moms like to shop at the green Wal-Mart just outside of Sevierville, but for the most part, a Wal-Mart is a Wal-Mart is a Wal-Mart. I say, as the song says, ‘love the one you are with, get over the little things, realize that it’s a waste of time to continue to look around the corner for a better bargain with higher return should a recall be invoked.

Sustain your own efforts in your relationships and that of your partner. It is more important than ever that we turn inward and nurture what we have. Live within your means, love your NASCAR Dad with the tummy, his appeal comes full circle at the holidays, free Santa for the kids. Appreciate your Greener Mon with the Saddle bags, they are her chapters in the book of life.

I don’t suggest anyone put up with inappropriate behavior or abuse (had to include that in here…sorry for the commercial). What I am suggesting is that within the bandwidth of what we are attracted to and what is reasonable to you, cherish the one that loves you, find interesting ways to be compassionate, discover a talent you once explored and share it. If your partner comes up with something that seems intriguing, fight the urge to dismiss it in your old self-affirming way. Be vulnerable for a little while and see where it gets you. Be humble as you used to be with your dinner reservations when you were only 18 years young and made $3.35 an hour (adjust to be age appropriate), and take her out for coffee, tea or cocoa (guys). Be brave, do something self-deprecating and enjoy the laugh (this really gets a good laugh if you have a cape to go with the batman boxers).

Its time we looked at the divorce rate and realized that there is not going to be that much variation between the one you have now and the partner you hope to trade for. Divorce is overrated…take it from me, I have never been married, but everyone who has been married and divorced that I know look like hyenas on the delta before or after a scavenge…believe me, it is not a good look… (See picture above).

So I said a little more here than I shared with Brenda on the phone, yet the point is still there, what exactly are you thinking you will find that is better than the one who loves you today? Security, money (way overrated…see financial system), looks, what?

In addition to wishing for prosperity in the New Year, let us all also resolve to renew our sense of appreciation for the Mom or Dad we are fortunate enough to be partnered with today. They have some great qualities, and they give something back to us each day. Moms…you may have to work on some of us Dads a little harder, but believe me, we will get it, the times are with you. Dads, write her a letter this year, in your own handwriting and remind her of the quality she represents to your life. If you have kids, include the kids, you are a family after all. Enough out of me…I have to go curl up with Jill, and read her my poetry…with any luck she will feel like reading some of hers, if not I will just appreciate her, right where she sits…she deserves the very best and I am to be that best.

Happy Holidays…Moms and Dads…

Hyena Image is courtesy of: www.news.nationalgeographic.com/news/bigphotos/

Our two boys life...

I recently finished reading Abigail Thomas's book My Three Dog Life. It's a wonderful book, I highly recommend it for anyone who has had to make unexpected adjustments to their lives as a result of a lose of some kind. She writes beautifully well, speaks gently and simple, and gathers you in with her as she journeys along an unfamiliar path.

It got me thinking about the two new additions to the lives that Thadd and I live. It is probably the other way around, they are folding us in. Jill and Lil to be exact. Jill rescued me at an all day poetry marathon we both attended back in November. Up until that point, I had spent the last 6 months basically on a sabbatical to readjust my life. I sat a couple of rows behind her and noticed how much she just altered the feeling in the room. We both read and shared that day and she decided to take a big risk and converse with me about what we had discovered in each others poems. She said in our first letter exchanges that it was fresh and not at all trite of a first meeting, I agreed. Its was filled with possibility and intrigue. Time has passed and its only getting better.

Jill and I went for a walk less than a week ago (Dec 14th), we came across a little precious stray cat I named Little Jill, or Lil for short (Jill is very patient and I can imagine she is tolerating the whole name thing just to humor me...). The weather had changed suddenly, It had started to snow as dusk approached and we, meandered through the streets and enjoyed our walk. Out of no where it seemed came a little darling, running up to us in the middle of the street where we had stopped to look back at the City view, Lil came running up to Jill and I and just rubbed up all over us as if to say...I need a home, things are not so good. We did the natural thing and knocked on doors, we asked around and found no takers. Eventually we decided, as the storm blow in, we could not leave Lil out there to work her way back home. We bundled her up and walked her home to my place a few blocks away. Upon arriving, we proceeded to introduce Lil to Thadd, the resident Cat of our humble abode.

Lets just say it has been a few tense days, I send Jill daily updates of their antics and ways. The other day, I put them up in the attic with instructions to work it out or else I would step in. Yesterday, while sitting in bed writing away, Thadd walked up to a sleeping Lil and begun to groom and wash her neck. What was amazing about it was that, half asleep, Lil reached out and licked Thadd's paw. It lasted a few minutes, but the bond was made and I thrilled like a child to tell this to Jill. The three of us spend our days in tow, moving from room to room wondering why we don't have our Jill. Thadd and Lil are adjusting well and we are all growing very attached to Li, even Jill.

Jill is also a wonderful addition to our lives. She is gentle and sweet and writes us beautiful letters. She is a lady in the classic sense, she is delicate, but oh so passionate. She is definitely her mothers daughter, she writes us wonderful poems about daughters who have kitten soft dreams. We enjoy having her come over on occasion and spend precious times with us. I wonder often if Thadd and I needed Jill and Lil. My house mate Renee remarked the other day about how wonderful it was that Jill and I found and rescued a pregnant cat just before Christmas. She likened it to the nativity story in the bible. I never thought about it that way, but I shared the remark with Jill the next day and she had the same reaction as i did. We both could see the irony in the timing of it all.

In this season of Christmas and Hanukkah , the times we live in, and the confused ways of our world. It has been going through my mind that perhaps we are all fortunate to have come together at this time. All four of us have experienced loss in this last year. We all have amazing hearts and care deeply for our fellows and friends. Despite our individual hardships we all four have an amazing capacity to love, be compassionate and exercise the true spirit of forgiveness. We are all humble and share what we have willingly with those who have a need. We tend to reject greed and have stopped asking why not us. We instead have looked inward and found a joy in those near us that nourishes and nurtures us one day to the next. As Jill says we leave room to have our toes tingle from the little joys we experience each day.

I for one on behalf of Thadd will like to say a heart felt thank you to Jill and Lil, The two of you have been exceptionally generous with your love and acceptance of us. We were just two boys, hold up in our little urban village home, writing away at our manuscripts, trying to find a publisher to take us seriously, taking walks and learning to live on less, when the two of you walked in and lifted us to our best. Thadd and I are the better for it all. We are hopeful. We have learned much from the risk you ladies took. You did not let us retreat into our shells, you would not hear of it. You stopped us cold in our tracks with those eyes so direct. Jill, those blues, and Lil those golds. If this is all we will have of you two, please know that we are thankful for what we have had. I think I speak for Thadd when I say, its all been one big winter "GULP" and we didn't even get brain freeze.

An evening for a fire...

Its Sunday... I took a break from all the political coverage and worked around the house today. We are finally experiencing fall weather. It drizzled all day and reminded me again of why I came to the northwest. I built a gate at the end of the walk way from the street. I must say it turned out well. It has changed the look, curb appeal of the house. I also took the sledge hammer to the two brick planters that had been installed on the front patio. It opens up the entire area. The next step is to build a rail that fits the style of the house.

I have so much I want to write about. I an at a lose of were to start.

My new office...the attic.

I closed my main street store front office at the begining of August. The concept was to create a productive and creative space in the attic. A space to focus my new awakened creative juices as I embark on this new chapter of my life. The attic is the length of my two bedroom one bath home, it has sloping side walls I affectionatelly refer to as the wife walls on account of how many times i have bumped my head. Its exactly six feet from the finished floor to where the sidewalls meet to form the ridge spine. I am 5' 11 3/4".

I moved all my office files and boxes into the attic and have managed to pile most of it against the 4' high base walls. I have set up Ikea butcher block counter tops as desk tops and made it functional and some what comfortable to begin working.

The thing is I can't seem to get inspired and get up here to do all the creative things I wanted to plan from here. Its been 6 weeks since i did anything I will call work. I have been living off my savings and working on the house so I excuse myself a little.

I suppose the excitement I first had for working up here is still there. The transition to a different career path has me adjusting slowly. I will keep this blog updated to track how i am doing. Who knows, I might get some ideas on experiences similar to mine. For know i need to take a break from this and do some other work.