AdventureMan Resists
AdventureMan is hollering from his office to mine “Can I read you something?”
We all find ways to express our indignation. He writes directly to our president, our representative (he calls him Trump’s butt-boy, to me, not to him), to Pruitt. He tells them, in acceptable language, exactly what he thinks.
“I’d say ( . . . . ), but as a retired army officer, I think I am still subject to the UCMJ (Uniform Code of Military Justice),” he says, and censors himself so that he is within civil boundaries.
How did we come to this, when our own national leader lies, again and again, even in the same day, and we have come to accept this as “normal?” How can we accept his calling people who are brown, and seeking a safer, better way of life “vermin” and their countries as “s-tholes?” The unthinkable has become our daily reality. It is not only the children, separated from their parents, who are becoming traumatized, it is also normal every-day Americans who believe that the American Dream is for everyone.
I think the American president is afraid of a world in which our nation is more brown than white, which it is well on it’s way to becoming. I think the thought of losing power terrifies him. I can’t imagine any other rational reason for his behavior towards the “other,” the stranger, those he labels as enemies.
So while I am startled when AdventureMan tells me he self-censors, I also understand. The unimaginable had manifested itself daily since this man was elected, and he will stop at no ends to complete his agenda. His cronies and fellow thugs will thrive, while we drink polluted water, and watch oil seep on to our shores from the off-shore drilling. We will watch our public schools fail, and our jails overflow. My heart breaks on a daily basis, watching what we, as a nation, are becoming.
I used to think the ACLU were a bunch of wackos. When the first travel ban went into effect, and we watched the stunned travelers arrive only to be told they must go back, the ACLU had tables in the airports offering free legal services. I sent my first check that night. I DO protest, via RESISTBOT (text Resist to 50409) wondering if my voice even matters. Sending checks to those who are resisting successfully gives me greater satisfaction. Reaching out my hands to “the other” gives me greater satisfaction. Building bridges and connections feeds my feelings of resistance, that together we can make a difference.
Bless the Children
From today’s Lectionary readings, the Gospel reading fits the daily news. The other readings deal with obeying God and the fate of the arrogant, those who would quote God but live corrupt and vile lives. I know the current times will not go on for long; the cycle will shift and we will try to undo the evil that is being done.
All I can think of is that this is the way terrorists are created – traumatize them early. Separate families, send them in different directions. Many will never recover, many will feel insecure and unstable for the rest of their lives, and be vulnerable. Take away their hope. God forgive us. God have mercy on these families. God have mercy on these little children.
Matthew 18:1-9
18At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, ‘Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?’ 2He called a child, whom he put among them, 3and said, ‘Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.4Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. 5Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.
6 ‘If any of you put a stumbling-block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were fastened around your neck and you were drowned in the depth of the sea. 7Woe to the world because of stumbling-blocks! Occasions for stumbling are bound to come, but woe to the one by whom the stumbling-block comes!
8 ‘If your hand or your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to enter life maimed or lame than to have two hands or two feet and to be thrown into the eternal fire. 9And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to enter life with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into the hell* of fire.
From Ecclesiastes 9
From a reading in the Old Testament in today’s Lectionary readings:
17 The quiet words of the wise are more to be heeded
than the shouting of a ruler among fools.
18 Wisdom is better than weapons of war,
but one bungler destroys much good.
In a bright red spot in our country, I have found a sea of purple, we meet together and console one another in the current culture of madness and malevolence. Black and white and brown, rich and poor, we gather and laugh, so that we don’t cry, and we encourage one another to keep the faith. We share our small ways of resisting and our hopes for a brighter tomorrow.
Doha, Qatar, in Transition
I didn’t start shooting digital until 2005, so there are two years of Doha documentation I only have in prints; I was shooting film, taking it down to the shop on old Electricity Street, Karabah. I came across these tonight . . . just wish I had been able to find some shots of the old Bandar restaurants, taken down with the modernization of Doha.
What a breathtaking transition. Doha, when we arrived, was still sleepy. There were a few tall buildings in the little capitol, mostly public utilities. The airport parking was free, and the airport itself was tiny. Most people knew one another, and the expat community was small. We were in Doha from 2003 – 2006, and again from 2009 – 2010.
When camels still had real riders at the weekly races:
Souq al Waqaf
Parachute Roundabout Comes Down:
Making way for the new connector street from old Karaba to Souq al Waqaf:
Ramadan finery:
Dinner at The Majlis
Karabaa Mosque, now gone
FitBit: Does it Count?
My sister introduced me to FitBit several years ago, and I’ve had several. From time to time I lose one and have to replace it; it’s not a big deal. I don’t have any FitBit friends, to tell you the truth, I’m a private person and I don’t want to compete with anyone for the most steps or whatever. I do it for myself, and for the sleep record.
The sleep record is interesting. The major item of interest is how distorted my own perception of my sleep is. I can think I have had a really bad night, and the sleep chart shows me that I had an hour of restlessness, but I slept soundly both before and after. Conversely, I can think I’ve slept really well, and the record shows it took me a long time to get to sleep, and I was frequently restless. To me, discovering how poorly I estimate my own sleep has been eye-opening.
Today is a day I don’t go to water aerobics, but I can feel the need for exercise. Exercise helps keep my demons at bay, keeps me from getting depressed or anxious or wrapped up in a problem. I don’t even need to do a lot, even twenty or thirty minutes of running on the trampoline sets me up well for the rest of the day.
It has always bugged me that my aqua aerobics doesn’t get counted; I don’t wear a wrist bit, I wear a clip and it isn’t water proof. But today, after running on the trampoline, I went to check my steps only to discover I had not changed the FitBit to my running clothes, so . . . my steps didn’t count.
Well, of course they count, in the greater scheme of things, but I just hate it that I would have had a good high count for today with the trampoline run, and I don’t get the credit.
And then I think of all the times that the FitBit gave me credit for steps I didn’t take – especially on trips, like in Monument Valley, when we were in a very bumpy Land Rover and somehow each bump counted as a step and I ended up with almost 30,000 steps and from climbing up on all the rocks, I had like 56 sets of stairs. 🙂 I even got badges on that day, LOL.
Pilgrimage to Powell’s World of Books
It’s the last day of the trip, and we are back in Portland. In a day when Amazon reigns supreme, Powell’s still stands tall, a bookstore that is a legend, taking up city blocks in Portland in its multi level building, all sectioned off with a mix of new and gently used books in every subject.
Powell’s World of Books is overwhelming. If you love books, if you love all things related to reading, you must at some point in your life make the pilgrimage to Powell’s.
When you’ve got your fill of books, they also have a wonderful coffee shop.
Multnomah Falls and the Multnomah Falls Lodge
The theme of this trip was Mountains, Sea and Lodges, and, too, I guess Museums and restaurant meals, but mostly the lodges. Multnomah Lodge is another lodge from my childhood, visiting Oregon with my mother, an Oregonian, and Multnomah Falls was often a day trip on our agenda.
It’s fun going back as an adult. A lot has changed, and because a fire took out a bridge, we were unable to walk up to the closer view point for the falls. We still had a great time, and enjoyed our lunch at Multnomah Falls Lodge.
Albacore Tuna Salad sandwich – tuna taken to the top!
Salmon broccolini, fabulous!
Vista House
You have to really want to find Vista House these days, but it is worth the effort. Two roads up there say “closed” but there is a third road, narrow and winding and seeming like you will never get there, but you do, and when you do you have a panoramic view up and down the Columbia River.
This was built to last. The ladies room is entirely marble!
Clocktower Ales, The Dalles, Oregon
OK, OK, here is the truth. Sometimes I am just wrong. Sometimes I have a prejudice, and I am proven wrong. This was the case in The Dalles, Oregon.
I have a prejudice against brew-pub food. I have the sense that it is meaty, burger and fries or fish and chip kind of food, heavy on fat and calories and low on anything fresh. We looked around The Dalles for something, but kept coming back to the Clocktower Ales.
The building is a lot of fun. It is a big old building, an old County Courthouse, where decades ago hangings regularly took place.
So yes, AdventureMan had a burger and onion rings, which he claimed were awesome, but it might have been the beer talking, it was a really good beer.
I had Thai Noodles. It was light, and full of vegetables, and VERY spicy, in fact, the waitress warned me that many people find it too spicy. It did pack a wallop, and I loved it. So I was really wrong, I never would have thought I would have a dish this truly delicious and memorable in a brew pub.
Columbia Gorge Discovery Center and Museum
“She shows us the same things,” you might complain, and again I say “I write this blog for myself and for the love of writing about the things I love. You are welcome, all are welcome, and if you are not happy, you are welcome to go elsewhere!”
I’ve lived an odd life, a life I would’t trade with anyone. I grew up in Alaska, on an island with a lot of native Americans as my fellow students in my little elementary school. I grew up with Alaskan art, Indian artifacts, masks, baskets, and the hand made costumes, red and black images, sparked with trimming of white shirt buttons. I went to high school in Germany, traveling far and wide with my family or with friends through that continent, visiting more than a few churches and museums, even making special trips to see an exhibit or two.
Then a big change, life in the Middle East and Africa, where I learned to see things through a very different set of eyes and experiences, but something strange started happening, as I noted the differences, I could also see amazing similarities.
I love women’s handwork. I love the nomadic textiles, often made on very narrow looms that could be mostly a couple sticks and yarn from sheep or goats you’ve raised and slaughtered, died with whatever you could get your hands on. And, oddly, the weavings and patterns from Native American baskets and weavings have a lot in common with weavings from the Middle East, West Asia (the ‘Stans) and Africa. There is a love of working with black, white and red, for example, and a similarity to the structure of the animals, even when the animals themselves differ.
If you are interested in the work women do with their hands, you never lack for conversation wherever you go. There are always groups where women are teaching one another new techniques. I’ve met wonderful, creative women in Germany and in Kuwait and in Tunisia, all finding new and innovative ways to create, and also exploring preservation of early and ancient techniques.
So this Museum, the Columbia Gorge Discovery Center and Museum was richly rewarding for both AdventureMan and myself; it was rich in history, in interviews and movies showing early salmon runs, for example, and interviews with early Native Oregonians. It was also rich in exploring the techniques of early basket making and cooking techniques, preservation of salmon by drying and salting, etc. We spent hours in this museum, and we heartily recommend that you do, too 🙂 It is also a very gorgeous museum, rich in sensory impact, unforgettable.
I will show you pictures, and every now and then I will put in a little explanation.
Below is a dugout canoe, created from one very large cedar tree trunk, carved out by hand
There were really Direwolfs? GOT didn’t make them up?
Look at the motifs on these baskets! African? Azerbaijani? Kazakh? Kuwaiti?
For grinding chestnuts into paste, then the paste is cooked into a kind of meal like oatmeal. The morter and pestle is the same in so many places.
The round cooking stones, heated in fires, dropped into the meal, fished out once they start losing their heat, washed, reheated and put in again until the meal reaches a boil, all in this tightly woven basket.
Activity in the Children’s exploration area
We love the creativity and persistence of humans who preserve our heritage and traditions for future generations. It is particularly delightful when the preservation is in a museum conceived and manifested with beautiful elements and natural materials.
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