If it’s August, it Must be . . . Halloween??
In the olden days, when we were Cold Warriors, guarding European borders from the evils of the Soviet Union, smart military wives started Christmas shopping in August. We knew we were up against deadlines; any gifts going surface mail needed to be mailed by mid-November. “Last minute” would need to be sent by Thanksgiving, or, horrors, the first week in December, but that is cutting it very close if you want your gifts to actually arrive in time.
You get so you start your shopping in January. We didn’t earn buckets of money, and we could do well by dollar-cost-averaging over the ten months leading up to Christmas. The bases all encouraged us to plan ahead, put things on layaway, make wise decisions – all year round. Knowing the barriers, the custom is to help the service people deal with the challenges of a life of – you know – service.
Finding Halloween had come to our Base commissary the second week in August, just as school is starting, was new to me. We are in the United States! We shouldn’t need to be thinking two months ahead for Halloween!
Pensacola is a Navy-centric community. We have Navy bases here, a solid community of Navy families and Navy retirees, and of course, the beloved Blue Angels. So I am wondering, too – where is the outrage? Where is the pushback when the leader of our nation tells the sailors and their families that they haven’t been in the Straits of Hormuz long enough? Where is the outrage when he dismisses complaints about food shortages, supply shortages, and mental health problems from being at sea for such a long time with no respite?
There are traditions against complaining, so if the grumblings are being heard, there is a real problem. Our military is used to self-sacrifice. It’s the nature of the service. If they are complaining, we can’t tell our military people to just suck it up. We have to listen.
This war has been going on for months, with countless declarations that the war is over and the Strait of Hormuz is open, only to discover, again and again, that it is not true. Over and over, it is another big fat lie.
Wrap it up, guys.
Everyday Heroes Teach Our Children
I live in a state with one of the worst education systems in the country. I live in a county in that state that has one of the highest proportions of children under the poverty line in our schools. I work in one of the poorest schools in the county as a volunteer. With great pride, I say, “I am a laminator.”
With great laughter, my grandchildren call out, “See you later, laminator!”
I LOVE laminating. I get to operate this hot shot machine, and I get to see materials our teachers are using to teach our children. With my graduate degrees, I still have a lot to learn. Last year, laminating, I learned the properties of minerals. Yesterday, I was reminded of the critical components of fiction.
I love the school, which this past year earned an award for its test score improvements. I love the children, so fresh, so adorable, so full of energy. The librarian sings “Bye Bye Butterfly” waving her arms, and all the eager kindergarteners sing loudly and wave their arms, too. “See you soon, big baboon” makes them laugh their heads off. They are fully engaged. They are learning what a baboon looks like. With any luck at all, this year they will get a field trip to the nearby zoo.
Most of all, I love these brave heroes who work in our schools. Our state has policies which seem anti-public education. The state supports vouchers for private schools that show no accountability, and the state is proposing we lower or eliminate property taxes, further indenturing our local governments to the poohbahs in control of our state house of representatives, the state senate, and the state governor. The state has placed on the ballot a proposition to make the school superintendent of schools an elected office, not an office selected by the Board of Education, not going through any vetting process, but making the Superintendent of Education a popularity contest.
In a county known for banning more books in the schools than any other county in the United States, we NEED professionals at the highest levels.
By the grace of God, we already have them in the classrooms at the school where I volunteer. Our teachers are educated, trained, and mentor one another. They are busy at the beginning of the year laying out strict boundaries to keep the education process flowing productively. They are gathering our youngsters, corralling them, teaching them civil behavior, and best practices to achieve the standards which will propel them upwards through the system.
These teachers and administrators are planners, and their good planning gives daily examples to the students of how to succeed – in school, and in life. They live their truth. They demonstrate self-restraint, humility, humor, and toughness. They give their students the tools to succeed. They give them the basics; the ABC’s, the maths, and they polish the rough edges and develop their social skills.
With little thanks, they get up early to be at school to greet the students with a smile, even joy, so early in the morning.
These are my heroes. Their reward is touching and changing lives.
These heroes are in every school in our county, educating our citizens of tomorrow.
Pray for them, my friends, that their burden be light and that the Spirit refreshes them as they face their daily teaching responsibilities and challenges. They do the Lord’s work, welcoming the stranger, teaching the children to be kind to one another, helping them treat one another with respect and civility, how to take turns, how to make room for differences, and the fundamentals of democratic society. God bless the work of their hands!
Finally, A Quiet Moment
We’ve had a rough couple of weeks, starting with an emergency visit to a local vet clinic on a Sunday, then two weeks of constantly surveilling our sick cat. In the greater scheme of things, it’s not such a big deal, we say “it’s a first world problem,” but it creates a whirlwind of extra activity and extra work. We have three cats, and now, three separate places for them. We have our normal activities, and daily requirements. It all adds up.
Two of the cats, including the sick cat, are used to hanging out together, so they don’t understand why they have to be separated. Most of the time, things have been OK. Except at night. No sooner are we all settled, maybe even drifting into sleep, when one or another will start yowling, and scratching at a door, and you’d think it can only go on so long, but no, it keeps going on until we re-arrange things, and it’s good for thirty five minutes or mabe even an hour and then it all starts again.
So we’ve not been getting much sleep, and all this is exacerbated by the worries we have that our sick cat is not getting better. Today is a good day, but we are still worried not everything has resolved, and we have not gotten to the root of the problem.
But today IS a good day. One cat is at my feet, the sick cat, snuggled up and relaxed, which is a really good sign. The other cat, the one that joined our family at the same time as the sick cat is just feet away, on a stand looking out across the Bayou. Or, more likely, he is watching a lizard. He is crazy for lizards.
Most of the time, AdventureMan and I are pretty chipper. This cat illness, and the amount of time it is taking to resolve, and the amount of work involved in keeping cats all separated, and three litter boxes, and cleaning and all the laundry, and lugging the sick cat to the vet for x-rays and treatments, begins to wear on us. We aren’t so patient, with ourselves, with each other. We are tired. We take turns grabbing naps during the day, during cat quiet times, like right after feeding.
I barely know what is going on in the world, except that the Strait of Hormuz is not open, and our allies continue to grow in mistrust of our leadership and our lack of serious purpose. I’m too tired to get roused up as I believe the same insanity is likely to be reigning tomorrow.
I’m just thankful for these minutes of peace, that the sick cat is relaxed and sometimes you have to take what IS and say that this very minute is good enough.
Sunday at the Veterinary Emergency Clinic
My normal Sunday morning is quiet and contemplative. I get up early, whisper a quick “I’m going to church now” to Adventure Man and head out to what we jokingly call The Express Service. It’s for the quiet people who want to worship without a lot of embellishments and move on. Our priests are very good at respecting people’s time and creating a serene atmosphere for worship.
On my bathroom mirror is an ominous yellow sticky that says “wake me when you get up to talk about Uhtred.”
Uhtred is seeping blood and pus on his left flank. We know there are no options, we dress quickly to get to the Vet Emergency Care before the rest of the world awakes – we’ve been there before. It’s the only game in town, and weekends are busy.
We sign in. As they take Uhtred to the back to give him a superficial exam, a man comes in carrying a huge dog – maybe 80 pounds – who does not look like he is breathing.
We are updated on Uhtred’s condition and moved to a small room. A tech came by with water and an update – due to an all-hands-on-deck emergency, less urgent cases are on hold, Uhtred being a less urgent case.
We wait six hours. During these six hours, I take a break to go outside and walk; walking helps me calm my anxiety and keeps me sane. As I walk, I see another prostate dog come in on a stretcher, and desperate people with cages arriving. We’re under a high heat warning. It’s affecting our animals, too. We’re all desperate. We love our animals, and this is the only emergency treatment center open on Sunday in town. The wait seems endless.
A very competent doctor comes in and gives us two options: a stabilization one where we get him to our own vet the next day, and a complete treatment one, where they get to him when they can, but there are higher priority cases, and they just keep arriving, and they won’t get to him until late in the day. We opt for stabilization; we’d actually prefer Uhtred be treated by our own somewhat eccentric vet who has known us for years, and has treated all our cats.
We leave the clinic in relief after six hours with a cleaned-up, medicated cat in an “E” collar (for Elizabethan) to keep him from licking his wound.
As we leave, something extraordinary happens, something we have never seen before. The clinic closes its doors to incoming patients. There is one doctor, and 40+ situations awaiting her attention. Until they can bring in more emergency staff, they cannot deal with more. My heart goes out to them all, those who are trying to triage and treat these desperate cases, and those who are turned away when there are no other options.
We have a family dinner later in the day, this one an adult-only dinner where we discuss family situations and discuss options. We love these dinners, meeting with our son and his wife quietly, relaxed and open. We make a great team.
My daughter-in-law tells me there IS another option, further north, where we can take our animals under emergency conditions, a place they really like. Another resource! I am so thankful; I’ve never heard of this place, and it relieves my future anxieties about our animal emergencies.
CrisisGroup.Org
Because I follow – or try to follow – piracy in Somalia, I go down rabbit holes. Some rabbit holes lead you to the most amazing places, including a comprehensive update on an upsurge in Somalian piracy and root causes.
The rabbit holes led me to this fascinating group, Crisisgroup.org. I’m always curious who is behind these organizations – this organization, out of Brussels, seems to keep watch on some far-flung and, to U.S. readers, sometimes obscure potential events, which, when they explode, we wonder why we never heard of these fomenting conflicts.
And Then – A Miracle Happened
In the middle of the night, with no crowd to celebrate, with no acclaim, The Affordable Housing Bill became law.
During a time when Democrats and Republicans can hardly talk to one another without spitting, 85 Senators, Democrat and Republican, joined 358 Democrat and Republican Representatives to pass a bill to help strapped young Americans get back into the housing market.
The President refused to sign the bill. He called it a “Yawn.” He said he wouldn’t sign it until the Senate and House agreed to institute the SAVE Act. He is attempting to create issues in American elections that don’t exist, to limit voting, to limit who can vote, and to make it harder for American citizens to vote. To emphasize his point, he fired the last two remaining watchdogs on the Election Assistance Commission. He FIRED the people who are in place to make sure our elections are fair and ACCURATE.
I guess he hoped nobody was looking, and that no one would care.
The President did not, however, veto the bill. My guess is that he was facing a revolution in his own party if he vetoed Affordable Housing. So he just let it slide.
He let it slide, and this adorable little bill, The 21st Century ROAD to Housing, supported by members of both parties (who, admittedly, want to get re-elected) quietly became law because it was not vetoed.
In truth, if the president had vetoed, the bill, the numbers are so solid that it would have passed again and become law anyway, but to have foregone that extra struggle, where anything can happen, another distraction, another unnecessary way, it is a small, very welcome, miracle.
Didn’t you learn in your high school classes that laws are made by clasping hands across the aisle? There is so much we all have in common. I believe that most of us have intentions for the common good.
This is a small step in that direction, clearing a small path forward of create common solutions by joining together. Get out the brooms! Clear these cobwebs of hate and chaos! Bring back civility!
Celebrate small miracles!
Celebrate the 21st Century ROAD to Housing Act.
Here There and Insanity
I have a group of buddies who gather early in the morning to swim. Everyone needs a group that can help keep them sane, and this is the group for me. We share news updates. We share reactions. We share our own ups and downs. Some of us are elders; we share our aches and pains. And at all of this – we laugh. Thanks be to God; we help each other keep things in perspective and keep a sense of humor about ourselves.
AdventureMan tells me I have a special smile for when I am in Alaska, or when I am on a boat. Both sing to my soul. It’s hard coming off a great vacation, and even harder when a heat dome covers Pensacola and there is barely a whiff of fresh breeze, even by the shore.
I thank God, too, for the life I was given, my time in Alaska, and my time with my husband living in so many different countries in service to our own country. You know, old fashioned things like building alliances, learning foreign cultures and languages, building relationships.
So forgive me if I rant now and then about the craziness I see in our current situation. Sometimes I feel like the blog name should be Here There and Insanity; as Paul says to the Romans, we are doing the things we ought not to do and not doing the good we ought to be doing.
What to do?
Here is what I wish for you – a strong partner, and a loving family. A group, or two or three, of buddies who can help you laugh when insanity happens in the world, and a belief system that can keep you grounded when moral values are topsy-turvy, shaken and tossed out.
“There are places I’ll remember all my life – though some have changed . . . Some forever, not for better, some have gone, and some remained . . . All these places have their moments with lovers and friends I still can recall, Some are dead and some are living – in my life, I’ve loved them all.”
Alaska 2026: A Bonus Day at the Alaska Native Heritage Center
This was an odd day, as we packed out of the Alaskan Jade B&B. Our flight wasn’t leaving Anchorage until 8 that night, so we had time to visit the Alaskan Native Heritage Museum.
As we arrived, a demonstration of traditional games had just begun, and following that, a dance demonstration, with descriptions of the costumes, how they were made and how they were used.
All this was done by a group of young people who were having great fun as they shared their culture and heritage.
We spent an hour watching the games and dances, then toured the museum, and did the walk among the tribal dwellings. I’d forgotten, it was raining lightly. We don’t remember rain on this trip. The photos remind us.
Leaving the Alaskan Native Heritage Museum we headed downtown, looking for the historical museum and for a place to eat lunch.
We walked to the Snow City Cafe, which we had spotted earlier, and were in for one last very Alaskan experience. The place was packed, and we sat at the bar.
Almost all the customers were young people eating breakfast foods (at noon) so we did, too. There was this great party vibe, great coffee, good food in generous portions, and a lot of energy. We were out in our allotted hour, picked up our car and headed south, to find a filling station and head to the airport.
Alaska 2026: Turnagain, Again
More about what True Love looks like. For fourteen years, I have talked about a blueberry pancake I ate in Homer, and how I wanted to eat there again. I couldn’t find it. AdventureMan didn’t give up, he followed all the clues, and he found it. We packed up and as we were leaving, he suggested we stop at this place, Duncan House, for breakfast.
It was in the right location. It had the right feel. AdventureMan found the exact place, and I was able to order the exact pancake, an order known as Bear 1-1-1 because it has one piece of bacon, one egg and one bear pancake with blueberries or chocolate chips. Again, I chose blueberries.
In the Duncan House lot, a new customer drives up . . .
The four-hour trip to Anchorage was all on roads we’ve traveled before, but it didn’t lessen their impact – Alaska is full of stunning beauty. A new perspective, different weather, we see different things.
We had leftover pizza from last night’s dinner at Fat Olive’s, so we stopped along Turnagain Sound for a small picnic en route to Anchorage.
We arrived a little ahead of schedule, but our room at the Alaska House of Jade, an independent B&B, was ready for us, and our welcome was warm and gracious. It is another beautiful, clean, very quiet, and private place to stay. The hosts, Linda and Greg, keep it spotless and in good repair, and have fresh cookies ready on arrival.
Tonight is a special night. We are invited for dinner at the home of a pair of Alaskan doctors, one of whom I graduated high school with 60 years ago. (How can that be??)
We found their house easily, following their instructions. While my friend poached a fresh salmon, his wife showed us her show-stopper garden, full of a huge variety of edible berries and fruits and beautiful flowers.
with the salmon, we had special coated potatos and a Caesar salad. For dessert, his wife made persimmons in yoghurt with a sprinkle of brown sugar. The dinner was delicious, and the conversation was even better. When the evening ended, we had trouble saying goodbye; there was still too much to learn about one another’s lives. The conversation was as delicious as the dinner.
We left with three jars of Alaskan-made jam, made by our friends; we can’t wait to try them and to share them with our family.
These heroes, Bill and Jane, spent their careers in Bethel, Alaska, running a hospital treating mainly indigenous Alaskans, far from anywhere. These are people who believe in public service and have lived their beliefs, serving others.
This is a perfect photo of Mt. Denali which Bill took during one of the rare days when the mountain was not shrouded in clouds.
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