Some Times

I wrote a post for Juneteenth. Worked on for a few days prior. Deleted it. I just wasn't saying anything useful or interesting.
I wrote a post for my birthday. Worked on it for a few days prior. Deleted it.
Father's day is always hard for me. Long story. Actually more than one story. I didn't even try to write about it. I mean. I wrote a whole book about it. It's in a box in my closet.
I knew going into my birthday that I wasn't up for it. There's just too much going on in the world. Too many nooses. Too much hate. Too much nonsense about mask wearing. Too many numbers.
Since I've been in the Hood I've had nicer birthdays than I usually do. I swim. Get a massage. Eat at a specific restaurant. There's no swimming now. My massage guy has been out of commission since even before the pandemic. My restaurant wasn't open and I would not have wanted to go anyway.
My birthday and its proximity to Father's day is problematic. It's a day that jams me into my psychological structures. All of which I have thought deeply about and feel like I understand. I even have a sense of humor about it all some times. But there are other times ...

There are wounds that stir up the force of gravity. 
A cold that will wipe the hope from your eyes.  -Rickie Lee Jones.

We are all living through multiple traumas. It's hard to even know how these things are impacting us. We might need to unpack it later. I think I will. At random moments I find myself overwhelmed with fear. Not because of something I'm watching or hearing or reading. Random. My eyes fill with tears. My heart pounds.
I've been reading James Baldwin. Library of America has put together three compilations, two fiction and one non fiction. I have two of them and have been bouncing back and forth. I just finished Giovanni's Room, which I read a long time ago. I remember that it confused me. I was younger and thought complexity was confusion. I was frustrated by stories that didn't resolve. It is such a beautiful and heart breaking book. Reading Baldwin now is wrenching. Some of this writing was done in the fifties and sixties. All of it could have been written yesterday. Reading Giovanni's Room during a Pride month somewhat overshadowed by ... everything else ... was wrenching. I'm not even sure why.
I just scratched my arm. Not that hard. It started to bleed. It happens all the time. I've talked to my doctor. She says my skin is old.
My skin is old.

7 Years In

Isn't seven supposed to be a lucky number? I feel lucky. At least in terms of the nest. I still love it and enjoy it and appreciate it. Which is good because I've been spending a lot of time here lately.
I am still ambivalent about Hood River but watching all the little shops on Oak street work hard to survive Covid shut downs has had an impact on me. I'm not likely to shop in them. There is a really expensive clothing shop that doesn't have my size. It was interesting to see people come and go to pick up things. Not trying anything on. Not hanging out. The flower shop on Mother's day. Meeting people at the curb with masks on. The Italian place making a take out window and coming up with special dinners. It felt like a community. I may not be a complete part of it but I live here.
It doesn't really matter how I feel about the Hood. I didn't go out much before the virus.
After a month or so of not swimming my right knee, the more painful of the two, started locking up. It was extremely painful. Is extremely painful. I think it might be pain from a pinched nerve in my back. I think that because the pain starts in my hip and goes through my knee and down the front of my calf. Something similar happened last year in my left knee and after a lot of rest it settled down. I'm laying around with a heating pad on my back. An ice pad on my knee. Getting old ain't for sissies.
Last year was the year I began using my dishwasher. I had used it from time to time but never regularly. I don't really use a lot of dishes. I'm not even sure what started it. I think it was one time when I used a lot of pots, pans and dishes for a meal. And then it just became a habit. It takes me a week to fill it up. It's not that big.
I haven't been to the grocery store in months. My friends bring me food. I can't do a lot of food prep because of the knee but it works out.
It doesn't feel like seven years. It feels like much less but also much more. The mommie time was a lifetime. I remember the first year. The mommie had come to visit and then I went back to NC to spend a few months with her. When I came back the nest didn't smell like me. It didn't smell like anything. Now it smells like me. Some times it smells like her. So much of her stuff is here. When I open her jewelry box I smell her. It smells like detergent and candles and what ever is in the fruit bowl.
These days I'm just looking up from my book, out the window. The view is summer green. This is where I live. My little nest.

Property

In the movie Reds John Reed has a sign on his door saying - property is theft. It's a famous Marxist saying. His door is unlocked.
My doors have almost always been unlocked but really ... there was not much to take.
We had a little incident here in the Hood. One night a message went out - mostly through social media but through the sheriff and police departments. There was a "credible" threat. People were coming here to loot and set fires. My first reaction was ... loot Hood River? Why?
On Oak Street there are a lot of little shops selling very expensive jewelry and clothes and what not. I mean. I guess they're loot-able but looters usually go for televisions and tennis shoes. They were (maybe) going to target the Walmart. Which would make more sense but you would probably drive past a few big box stores before you got here. That's the thing. We are way down the Gorge. You have to drive to get here.
But. We live in uncertain times. I was alone. I felt a little nervous. My building is brick and glass and metal. It would be hard to start a fire. Possible I suppose but not easy. And we have alarms and sprinklers everywhere.
I imagined losing all my stuff. None of which is worth much. It's all worth a lot to me but on the open market ... not so much. For years I moved from place to place with one box. Partly full of books. Any furniture I had was old. I either gave it all away or tried to sell it. Now I have furniture. Some of which was the mommie's and my grandma's. I have dishes and salt and pepper shakers and art. I have things. I love my things. It would hurt if I lost them.
The night went by. There was a nice sized demo. Very peaceful. There were vigilantes WITH GUNS hanging around. One old guy was stopping people and demanding IDs. With full knowledge of the police and sheriff. All that was scarier than buses full of looters.
I've been thinking about my stuff. I was always so ready to let it all go. I'm older now. I guess.
Life is a bit of a shell game. I try to pay attention.
There's a Buddhist version of property is theft. It begins with the first noble truth. Life is suffering.  The next three noble truths talk about why we suffer. We suffer because we want stuff. I'm paraphrasing here.
I don't actually want stuff. Well. More books. Always. But I don't suffer from want. I am lucky.
I have to ask myself if I could lose it all and ... not suffer. I know (from experience) that my stuff doesn't make me who I am. Could I find a cell in a convent or a monastery and live out my life?
Maybe.
If there was a pool and a library.
Heh.
Kind hope I don't even find out.

Orders

A few weeks ago, when all I had to think and write about was a pandemic, I wrote about some people I saw on Oak Street. There was a couple walking down the hill and a woman walking up the hill. The woman veered to the side trying to not be too close to the couple. I don't know if she was trying to be socially distant because of the pandemic or just trying to avoid bumping into strangers. The couple didn't move at all. None of them had on masks.
My first thought was - why don't you have on masks? It's what I do now. Sit in my window and think hateful things about people with no masks. My second thought was about how quickly you get too close to others in public. Which is why masks are good. My third thought was that the couple was just rude. They could have easily tucked slightly to one side.
When I was living in NYC I marveled at how it was possible to walk down crowded streets and not bump into anyone. In SF if there was one other person on the street you could not avoid them. I have no idea why that was true but it was true for me. It wasn't that people in NYC were more polite. They just seemed focused. Intent. And maybe hyper vigilant.
On the weekend I saw a video in which a cop knocked down an older man with a cane. There were two cops, neither of which made a move to help the guy but there were two more cops from the same unit who did. A friend posted that video cut at the point the cops knocked the guy down. She didn't cut it. She just re-posted it. As I was messaging with her I looked over at the TV and saw the same video cut the same way. I wanted the whole story to be told. I want the two cops who went straight to the guy to help him to be acknowledged.
Last night two cops shoved down an older man. There is video. He clearly hits his head when he falls and there is blood. One cops moved toward him to help and another cop grabs him and doesn't let him help. That second cop had a gold badge, which distinguished him as being in leadership.
Leadership.
Even more shocking was the crowd of cops who walked past and barley glanced over at the man. The two cops who shoved him down were suspended and today 57 cops resigned from the unit in support of the two because - they were just following orders. I think they should all be suspended for walking past the guy. They have become a hive. They've lost track of a basic human reaction when you see an older person laying on the ground bleeding. Nothing explains that. If those are your orders you need to quit your job.
Last week (or was it the week before) a journalist was arrested and asked why. The cop arresting him said - I don't know man, I'm just following orders.
Ezra Klein talked with Ta-Nehisi Coates today. I've been wanting to hear from Ta-Nehisi. They talked about MLK. Ezra asked -What would it mean to build the state around principles of nonviolence?
I saw a picture of National Guard who had laid down their shields in Tennessee. 
I saw a crowd of people shouting - peaceful - over and over at a very tall man who was shouting, swearing and threatening them all. Including a priest.
I see protesters laying down on bridges and streets for hours.
Ezra- What would it mean for the powerful to practice that philosophy? 

What I Saw

Sunday I ate my fruit and yogurt. Did my yoga. Made my coffee, which I enjoyed with a cardamon roll. Checked in on Facebook and Twitter. Tried to read. Could not concentrate. Checked in again. I try not to watch the news on the weekends but I had to turn it on. I spent the rest of the day immersed. Watching, listening, reading.
I saw police officers pulling down the mask of a young man and shooting him with pepper spray.
I saw police officers taking a knee.
I saw police officers arresting media.
I saw police officers walking with the protesters.
I saw police officers kicking, shoving and punching. 
I saw police officers hugging.
I saw police officers shoot rubber bullets at people standing on their porch.
I saw police officers shove down an old man with a cane.
I saw police officers from the same unit help that old man up.
I saw police making things much worse.
There are good cops and bad cops. That is true.  I'm not trying to imply there is any kind of balance. The problem is in the system. Black people. All people. Cannot rely on whether or not a person is good or bad. We have to have systems of accountability.
I saw protesters.
I saw looters.
Two separate groups. 
I saw how the police were so well protected. Bullet proof vests, helmets with face shields, shields, batons, tear gas, mace, tasers, guns. Ready for battle.
I saw pictures of nurses and doctors with limited personal protective equipment in another kind of battle.
I saw white people standing between black people and the police.
I saw black men stand between the crowd and a police officer who had been separated from other officers.
I saw two white girls, dressed in black with black masks (and what looked like a white leather back pack) spraying graffiti. I saw a young black woman begging them to stop. Telling them they would not be blamed - black people would be.
I saw them ignore her. 
I saw people telling black people how to feel and act and express themselves.
I saw people telling white people how to feel and act and express themselves.
I saw a group of mostly young people walking down my Oak Street carrying signs.
I have all the feelings. And I'm worried about the seemingly inevitable Covid surge.
The media only seems to be able to do one thing at a time and they are (rightly) focused on the protests. Not much talk about the other crisis we are living in. Not much talk about unemployment.
People don't like complexity. People like simplicity. I like simplicity. But things aren't always simple. and we are shattering.
I don't have advice.
I don't have perspective.
All of the things I saw and heard and read are spinning in me. I'm writing to process it all. I'm writing because I need to write.
Today started out much the same in my bubble. Cereal. Yoga. Coffee. English muffin.
I was able to read a little bit but the news is back on.
Because I need it to be.

Names

George Floyd  - Killed by a police officer with his knee on George's neck.
Ahmaud Abery - Killed by vigilante.
Tamir Rice - Shot by a police officer.
Sandra Bland - Found hanging in a jail cell.
Freddie Gray - Died while being transported in a police van  after having been beaten by police.
Atatiana Jefferson - Shot by a police officer.
Breonna Taylor - Shot by a police officer.
Eric Garner - Died from a police choke hold.
Michael Brown - Shot by a police officer.
Philando Castile - Shot by a police officer.
Alton Sterling - Shot by two police officers
Oscar Grant - Shot by a BART police officer.
John Crawford - Shot by a police officer
Sean Bell - Shot by multiple police officers.
Amadou Diallo - Shot by multiple police officers.
Trayvon Martin - Shot by a vigilante.
Rodney King - Violently beaten by LA police.
Addie Mae Clark
Cynthia Wesley
Carole Robertson
Carol Denise MeNair - all killed by a bombing of a church by the KKK.
Rayshard Brooks - Shot in the back by police.



I have added to the list a few times.

One of the aspects of ageing for me is forgetting people's names. It is endlessly frustrating to me. I forget the name of people I love. I forget the name of people standing right in front of me. I forget names two minutes after I've said them in a conversation. My memory isn't bad otherwise. I forget numbers but that's always been true.
Last night a friend was watching demonstrations in Denver and wondered why the protesters were holding up their arms. I said - oh that might be hands up don't shoot - and I couldn't remember Michael Brown's name. It bothered me. I want to remember these names.
When I was writing this post I thought maybe I'd add ages and circumstance. In the end I wanted to focus on the names. My brain is failing and I probably won't remember but I want to remind myself. Again and again.
This isn't even a complete list.
It has to stop.

Hate (again)

This shit is on my mind all the time.
So I'm writing about it again.
In the last post I mentioned a story I've heard about a monk coming out of the mountains having meditated for a long time. He is full of peace and love and believes he is enlightened. As he walks into town he stubs his toe on a beggars bowl and becomes enraged. I like that story because it demonstrates how easy it is to feel peace and love when you're alone and how hard it is to keep feeling that way in the presence of others.
I saw Fran Lebowitz in conversation once. The other woman in the conversation was a very nice woman in pastel colors and sandals. Fran was in her cowboy boots, suit and tortoise shell glasses. Fran smokes. She wasn't smoking at the time but she smokes. The woman asked her if she wasn't worried about smoking in public. Wasn't she worried about annoying someone. Fran said - I don't think people understand the use of the word public. To be in public is to be annoyed.
I love Fran.
In that answer she demonstrated that her smoking may be annoying and it's very likely she is also being annoyed by something. In public we are in each others shit. The beggar wasn't trying to annoy the monk. He was just being a beggar. He had his bowl in place in hopes of a contribution. The monk stubbed his toe as a result of his own lack of awareness. So much for enlightenment.
I haven't smoked for almost twenty years. But I loved smoking. I miss smoking. I never mind walking through smoke on the street. I get that for non smokers it might be annoying. I don't really feel like the smoke in a public place is terribly dangerous for a non smoker. You're past the smoke quickly, generally speaking. It's just unpleasant. Non smokers (particularly ex-smokers) are infuriated by people smoking in public.
To be in public is to be annoyed.
Covid is different.
In Oregon we are in a phase one opening. What ever that means. There hasn't been a lot of enforcement of the rules before this. A friend reposted a post from a woman who owns a shop here. She said not many of the people who were in her shop yesterday had on masks. Most of the shops down town are small spaces. I think there's supposed to be a limit to how many people are in a shop but how are owners enforcing that? I'm not sure what that woman did about the people and the masks but it's ridiculous that she has to even think about it.
As I look out my window I don't see many masks. If people are walking down Oak street right now they are probably alone. They are in an open space. Does it matter that they don't have a mask?
This morning I looked out the window and saw a couple walking down the hill and a woman walking up. No masks. The woman appeared to be trying to walk around them. She was almost off the curb. The people made no effort to move. I don't know if she was trying to maintain distance but even if there was no epidemic wouldn't it have been polite to yield a little space?
I have often said - I hate people. Every time I have said it it was because of a lack of consideration or just bad faith behavior. This morning watching these people - no masks - no distance - no awareness - I felt angry. I felt hate. I turned back to my book and tried to let it go.
There are probably a lot of those moments happening. All over the place. In some percentage of them a person gets sick. In some percentage of them a person dies.
The governor when announcing the phase one said she was asking for people to be considerate. Has she been in public? The mayor of Hood River said this opening was for locals and not for people from out side. Is there anyone carding people? I don't see them.These "careful" openings are going to cause more spread because people are not considerate. And they are not paying any kind of price. Yet.
I feel a need to qualify and talk about the stories I've heard about people being kind and generous. I just don't have the energy for that right now. I've looked out my window too many times today.
A year (or much more) from now if we have more available and better tests, better ways to treat people who get sick, lots of PPE for the doctors and nurses and janitors and maybe even a vaccine will this anger and hatred go away? I'm not sure.
Maybe I should have taken second hand smoke in public spaces more seriously. I've just felt that we need to be have some tolerance and patience in public space. We need to know that we might accidentally kick someone's bowl and we need to have a ready sense of humor. We need to understand that we all have semipermeable boundaries and we may be a bit damaged being in the world with other people.
Now. I'm not sure.
There's a difference between being annoyed and being threatened. 
At the moment I don't feel threatened. I'm in my nest with a bird's eye view. Oak street on a Saturday in May would usually be more crowded. I would glance out now and then and see people walking around. I wouldn't have many thoughts about them. Now I stew.