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.

INDD

My friend Pattie wrote a Facebook post for INDD (International No Diet Day) in which she very kindly mentioned me as someone who was part of her process as she moved away from dieting. Pattie is one of those people. I feel like she's an old friend and a close friend but we've only actually been in "person" for a short time in SF once. I feel like my blogging friends are proof that you can have deep and significant relationships that are build through communication.
I forgot about INDD. Pattie's post sent me into a deep reverie about my fat life.
I stopped dieting to lose weight when I was 16 or 17. There were a lot of influences in that decision not the least of which was my (fat) maternal grandma who thought dieting was idiotic and never let anyone disparage my body. Also (and maybe just a bit more fun) was Frank Zappa. He sang: there will come a time when you won't even be ashamed if you are fat.
What?
Seriously?
Nah.
Really?
The choice to quit trying to lose weight was a choice to not be ashamed of my body. They were two roots that wound together in my identity.
That choice was made at a time when I was also a hippie chick. I was making granola and brown rice and baking whole wheat everything. And I was also wanting to have a restaurant. Because Alice (Alice's Restaurant) did. I had her cook book. I made manicotti  following her recipe, including the sauce. The kitchen was a mess.
I believed in real food. Real. Food.
My first jobs in restaurants weren't high end. I worked at a counter in a drug store. A chain (mostly) hamburger place. A small (French) cafe in a hotel. A diner. A cafe in an old house. I began to learn about cooking and what made a plate of food good. I continued to push my self to work in higher end places. I didn't really have the skills but I worked hard.
I have really strong feelings about what makes food good and what's crap. Domino's. Crap. The pub down the street where they make the dough and the toppings are all fresh. Good. I'd eat  Domino's. But not if I have a choice.
My ideas about food are my ideas. They aren't universal truths. After all these years and the evolution of all my ideas the thing I feel is close to a universal truth is that people should eat the food that makes them happy. David Chang, famous chef, cook books, television, awards. He likes Domino's.
Diet mentality is pernicious because it makes some foods the enemy. It's just not a useful way to think.
I was talking to a friend the other day about knowing that I can't digest food like I did when I was younger. If I eat a large quantity I suffer. For hours. The next day I ate too much pizza. It was fresh. It was there. It was good. I was full but I kept eating. And I was so miserable the rest of the night. In pain. When I was younger I could eat an entire large pizza and feel fine. At one I time I ate a lot of Domino's.
I have two thoughts. Seemingly opposite. (Happens all the time.)
How we eat is a diet. We are all on a diet.
Fat people can't really think about it like that.
How we eat and what ever shame we may feel about our bodies are wound together. Deeply rooted in our history.
So we have a no diet day. We ask for a break from food panic. We try to take a break from the constant yammering about the new best way to live happily ever after as soon as you lose weight. Fuck that shit.
I want to write about how deadly the bad ideas about fat bodies are. I wrote about it a few weeks ago. I'm still hearing about the Covid 15. I'm still read my friend's joke about how much they're going to weigh when they are able to go out side again. I'm still hearing health experts say that obesity is a factor in Covid. I'm in a constant state of hurt, frustration and rage. I feel like nothing I have ever said or written has made a difference. My feelings are too muddled to write clearly.
But then Pattie acknowledged me. I remembered that there are other warriors in the cause of owning our right to not feel shame. To eat food. To unwind those roots. I had a hard time taking it in. And then I smiled.

The Day

Some times in the evening I sort of forget about what's happening. Chris and Rachel are over at 7PM. I am usually in the front of the nest. I head back to my little library and read or watch (not news)TV. I'm in the world of another story. I am comfortable. Fed. Not terribly worried about money. I let the story suck me in and I sort of forget. It's the way I've spent evenings before the virus.
Even when I first wake up I'm not quite aware. I struggle to remember what day it is. I remember that I don't need to get ready to swim. I remember why. I listen to NPR while I'm eating breakfast. Do a quick check in with Facebook and Twitter. Listen to a Podcast while I do the yoga/bikewheel/shower/dress thing. Make coffee and settle in to read for awhile If I'm in a book I'm back to the shelter of the story. Yesterday I was catching up on New Yorkers. I read about a much loved door man now dead. He was coughing and a little tired when he went to the hospital, joking with everyone.
I never had a door man in NYC but there was a guy who sat in a room near the entrance of my building. You could pick up your mail there. I never got much. When I passed him in the evening I'd smile and nod. He was a surly guy. Very rarely I'd get a tiny nod.
One night I was being followed. I picked up my pace, blasted through the door and headed to the elevator. The guy following me came in behind me. My not-a-door-man came out of the little room and when I turned around in the elevator, just before the door closed, I saw him sending my stalker out the front door. He probably saved me from some kind of unpleasantness. The guys at the door are a big deal in New York.
There was a story about a doctor in an ER. It ended with him holding a cell phone so that his patient's family could say goodbye.
There was a story about a guy who is making a profit during this time of need.
It was not a restful out of touch reading time. My eyes tightened.
Around 11 or noon I turn on MSNBC and the computer. Some times I turn it all off quickly, or mute the TV. I write email and sometimes a blog post. (Hi!) I make note of the numbers, which seem to be higher and higher faster and faster. Cable news is insanely repetitive and these days it's like getting hit by a hammer over and over. My heart starts to ache. My brow knits. There are days when I just hear it and don't react. I wonder if those are days when I am deeply checked out, numb but don't quite know it.
My right knee has been hurting little more than usual. I think it's because I'm not swimming. All the active things I would do (water plants, clean, cook) aren't getting done. More reading. Some times a not-news TV show. Get a meal together. Watch Chris and Rachel. And then I'm back to my little room of books.
It's always been a thing. Balancing wanting to stay informed and needing to have some peace. It serves no one for me to be overwhelmed by the overwhelming situation in which we are all living. It is essential that know the stories of doormen and doctors and allow the tears that fall from tense eyes. I find the times when I forget what's happening troubling. I'm confused by my comfort. I'm grateful for it but it does confuse me. Red alert has been called and I'm drifting through the day with no organizing demands.