Poof! Environmental Protections Gone!
From this mornings 1440.com:
| Pollution Limits Lifted |
| The US Environmental Protection Agency yesterday said it is repealing limits on planet-warming pollution from coal- and natural gas-fired power plants, a sector that generates about 25% of all US climate pollution. The rollback follows previous moves by the Trump administration to eliminate or weaken policies aimed at restricting planet-warming chemicals and gases. The EPA says revoking the power plant regulations will save the industry over $300B and lower Americans’ energy bills. Environmental groups contend that rolling back the pollution limits could threaten tens of thousands of lives and exacerbate the impacts of climate-related natural disasters. The proposal is expected to face legal challenges, but if upheld in court, the rule could prevent future administrations from regulating power plants’ greenhouse gas emissions. If the US power sector were a country, its pollution production would rank fifth globally—behind only China, the entire US, India, and Russia (see greenhouse gas emissions on this globe). |
Greed wins. Science loses.
All the years of careful bi-partisan crafting of legislation to protect our air, protect our water, protect our medical advances, protect our food supply destroyed by this wrecking ball of an administration.
September 11; A Day of Infamy
I was in Seattle for a wedding, staying with my sister. My nephew and I were up early, and he called to me, “Come see something! This is so weird. A plane just flew into the World Trade Center!”
I didn’t believe him, but I went to his room across the hall to see. As we watched, the second plane flew into the second tower.
“That wasn’t an accident,” I said. “It’s not that easy to fly straight into a building.”
But mostly, I was thinking “Will I ever see my husband again?”
We were living in Germany. The phone lines were blocked. I couldn’t hear his voice.
My sister got a call, and she left for work. My nephew left for work. I had a coffee date with one of my former professors; she never showed up. She called me later to say she was stuck in the ferry line; the ferries weren’t operating, and neither was her phone until now.
So I hit the quilt shop. I knew I would spend the rest of the day rivited to the television screen, trying to learn what had just happened. We had seen it, we kept seeing it, over and over, but none of us could understand what we were seeing.
The New Yorker cover, above, captures it perfectly – we were all in the dark.
I was scared, and I felt angry. I wanted to DO something. I wanted to have something positive to come out of this horror. I designed a quilt. I cut out the pieces. I hand stitched all the pieces. It got me through.
Maybe late that night, AdventureMan was able to call me. We still didn’t know exactly what was going on or if the planes would ever fly again. I held my breath in the coming days, as my flight reservation day approached.
I was on one of the first planes out. I remember the pilot coming on as we were departing, and telling us to introduce ourselves to each other, to be neighbors on our flight, that we would help one another if anything went wrong. It was greatly moving, unexpectedly emotional.
September 11 is one of those days when everyone knows where he or she was when the planes hit. Everyone has a story. On our first safari to Botswana, we met a New Yorker who had been working in downtown New York and who had to walk miles to get home and somehow ended up barefoot. She said the walk was the best part, being alive was the best part, and that the streets, on that day of horror, were filled with people who were kind and helpful to one another.
Intlxpatr Turns Twenty Years!
Welcome to our virtual celebration, old friends and new.
Twenty years ago on this very day, newly arrived in Kuwait, I joined a very lively, edgy and welcoming blogging scene. It was frightening to me, but I had my reasons. There were bloggers I loved reading – I started by commenting on their posts. It was like a salon, topics and views and opinions everywhere, and also some facts.
There is an old story about Martin Luther, the priest who nailed his ideas for a better church on the door, and while the church didn’t change, the community in which he lived was willing to entertain his thoughts, and slowly, things DID change. When asked why he would take the risk – being called heritical could end to death – he said (in German), “I cannot other.”
Stepping into the blogworld was stepping outside a comfort zone and expressing thoughts some might think better left unspoken.
C’mon in. Here There and Everywhere has always worked to be a safe place for exploring new ideas, disruptive thoughts and how to make things better. We’ve got great virtual refreshments and a safe place to vent 😊.
There’s a little bit of Soused Apple Cake left over from yesterday’s Fish Fry.
For those who, like me, have to be careful, we also have some relatively healthy finger foods:
Grab something to drink 😊
I miss our great discussions, and I miss the liveliness of the old blogging scene. I’m not so comfortable with the arguments and name-calling I find in other outlets, nor the need to be wary of those who are monitoring – and who are they, anyway?
Meanwhile, a good friend mentioned recently how political I have gone.
Honestly, in these times, even the apolitical are speaking out. I heard a priest today talk about his anger at the hijacking of the gospel, used for vengence and not for love. I found it very brave, those strong words. If we don’t speak out bravely now, the crushing forces seeking vengence and control create a world most of us won’t want to live in.
I want a government who subsidizes health care for ALL. I want science to recommend vaccines which improve our quality of life and save lives. I want corporations that have standards to meet for air and water and environmental protection. I want our police to protect the weak against the bullying and violence of those who think might makes right. I want to welcome the stranger, creating new textures and patterns in the fabric of our nation. I want every person’s vote to count. I want responsible, accountable, educated leadership, and congressional decisions created by working together to achieve doable compromises.
“Ich kann nicht anders.”
As a post script – this is my 5,900 published post 😊.
The End of an Era
“Mr. Adventureman, the papers you have ordered have come!” the manager of the Sultan Center would say, exultantly, to my clueless husband.
“I ordered papers?” he might croak.
“Sir! It is the coated paper for you to use in the microwave!”
“Aha! ” AdventureMan thinks, “my wife has ordered this.”
“Thank you so much!” he responds brightly to the store manager. “We will pick it up shortly!”
Raised with Alaskan frugality, storing for the future, letting nothing go to waste, never knowing when we will ever see (fill in the blank) again, I store my treasures, using them sparingly. Today, I smile ruefully as I use the last of the last roll of waxed paper from Kuwait.
I think microwave technology has improved. I don’t seem to use waxed paper to defend against food explosions as I once did. Or maybe I’ve just gotten smarter?
I’m not buying waxed paper – or a lot of things – the way I once did. I’ve never lived in one place for this long – a place where, if something runs out, I can get a replacement within an hour, or at worst, a couple days. It’s not like when taco chips completely disappeared from every restaurant in Doha for a month, or cream sold out in Tunis as the big Eid approached. The closest we’ve come to a shortage is during COVID, when people hoarded toilet paper for a short time. The lasting result is that my friends discovered the blessing of bidets.
Last month, I actually came close to running out of dish detergent. I have to laugh at myself; in my own funny way, I’m making progress.
One Compassionate Captain Changed Lives
From today’s Lectionary readings:
DAVID PENDLETON OAKERHATER
DEACON AND MISSIONARY (1 SEP 1931)
David P. Oakerhater (born around 1850) was a warrior and leader of the Cheyenne Indians of Oklahoma, and led a corps of fighters against the United States government in a dispute over Indian land rights. In 1875 he and 27 other military leaders were taken prisoner by the U S Army and sent to a military post in Florida. There, thanks to the efforts of a concerned Army captain, they learned English, were encouraged to earn money by giving art and archery lessons to visitors, and encountered the Christian faith. David and three others were moved to become Christians and to go north to study for the ministry. David was baptized in Syracuse, New York, in 1878, and ordained to the diaconate in 1881. He returned to Oklahoma and there founded schools and missions, and continued to work among his people until his death on 31 August 1931. When he first returned to Oklahoma in 1881, he said:
You all know me. You remember when I led you out to war I went first, and what I told you was true. Now I have been away to the East and I have learned about another captain, the Lord Jesus Christ, and he is my leader. He goes first, and all He tells me is true. I come back to my people to tell you to go with me now in this new road, a war that makes all for peace.
by James Kiefer
Note: the “military post in Florida” is Castillo de San Marcos in St. Augustine, now a National Monument. Should you visit, you can learn more about his imprisonment there.
Intlxpatr: One brave captain, unnamed, had compassion on a group of indigenous Americans and encouraged them to earn with their skills. He treated them with respect and won their respect in return. Such gentility influenced them to adopt and spread the Christian faith to others. One unnamed captain, reaching out his hand in loving charity, produced more influence than government policies.
Friday Date at Joe Patti’s
Joe Patti’s is a gem, but not an undiscovered gem. We like Joe Patti’s for a lot of reasons, not least because of their great variety of seafood. It is also our go-to for a quiet Friday evening supper of clam chowder or gumbo, fresh-baked sourdough bread, a smoky tuna dip, and assorted gourmet items we love.
Joe Patti’s has been around for a long time, with a prime location on the Pensacola Bay waterfront, a huge pirate ship and a huge-er American flag facing Main Street road, and a genuine Joe Patti-made fishing boat parked next to the store, great for photos. I’ve never seen that ship leave the dock.
It isn’t just tourists and out-of-town guests who get a kick out of Joe Patti’s. I learned on my first Christmas Eve in Pensacola that getting there at 6:30 a.m. was not early enough; most of Pensacola had representatives already in line to pick up seafood they had pre-ordered for Christmas weeks ago. I knew another Patti outlet, which saved my Christmas. The lesson stuck. I order ahead and pick up before Christmas Eve day.
Joe Patti’s has a lot of touristic memorabilia, a deli, a great selection of spices, herbs, condiments. charduterie items, a dessert section, all kinds of frozen delicacies and – an ice cream and coffee bar. And that is where Adventureman and I head after we pick up our chowder and sourdough bread for supper. My first time at the ice cream bar, several years ago, I tried the raspberry sorbet, and was blown away. It was so tasty. I did not let the taste blind me to the sweetness; I watch my sugar intake. I ordered a small cup, and only one scoop. It’s enough. Joe Patti’s charges for ice cream by the weight – Adventureman and I each get a cup of ice cream and we never spend more than $5. What a deal.
Joe Patti’s also has small sample sizes of ice cream free for children – this isn’t just a spoonful; it’s maybe a couple of ounces of ice cream.
You can pay for your ice cream right at the coffee/ice cream counter, and not have to wait in the lines waiting to pay for fresh fish on ice.
We take our ice cream out to the car, which we park on the dock, and eat it as we look out over the inlet, the fishing boat, and the new land fill being created just a short distance across the water from Joe Patti’s.
Friday, we watched an oil services boat come in – holding our breath that a storm wouldn’t blow up suddenly; the circular thing towers over the boat, making for a top-heavy load. Someone knows how that circular wheel functions, but not us. It’s just a novelty, scrolling across our view, entertaining us as we finish our ice cream. Normally, we only see herons and egrets and assorted small water birds flying in and out.
Always worth a trip:
“The Cruelty is the Point”
I was singing to the choir, complaining to my old high school friend about the tactics and strategies employed by the Trump administration, against immigrants, against the press, and against any citizen disagreeing with this administration’s viewpoint. “It all seems so intentional, so cruel,” I said.
“The cruelty is the point,” he responded. It was short, pithy, but that was weeks ago and I continue to ponder the phrase. I wondered why it sounds familiar – my friend used quote marks – so this morning, I googled it and got this very thorough AI response:
“The cruelty is the point” is a political phrase coined by The Atlantic staff writer Adam Serwer in a prominent 2018 essay. [1, 2]
Origin and Meaning
- Coinage: Adam Serwer used the phrase in his October 2018 essay, “The Cruelty Is the Point”. [1, 2, 3]
- Core Argument: Serwer argued that the policies and public behavior of the Trump administration and its supporters were not accidentally harsh or crude, but intentionally designed to cause pain to marginalized groups. [1, 2]
- The Bond: He wrote that inflicting this pain creates a powerful sense of unity, pride, and shared identity among political supporters, binding them together through common opposition to outsiders, immigrants, and minority groups. [1]
Book Adaptation
- Publication: Serwer expanded his essays into a book titled The Cruelty Is the Point: The Past, Present, and Future of Trump’s America, published in June 2021. [1, 2]
- Themes: The book examines how modern political conflicts connect to deeper historical currents in the United States, including white supremacy, migration debates, police unions, and the legacy of the Lost Cause. [1, 2]
Usage and Legacy
- Political Lexicon: The phrase became a widely adopted descriptor in political commentary to characterize populist movements, harsh immigration rules (such as family separations), and rhetoric directed at political opponents. [1, 2, 3]
- Broader Application: Analysts and commentators frequently invoke the phrase outside the Trump administration to describe political strategies that rely on outraging rivals and signaling hostility toward specific demographic or social groups. [1, 2]
The original article in The Atlantic states:
“It is not just that the perpetrators of this cruelty enjoy it; it is that they enjoy it with one another. Their shared laughter at the suffering of others is an adhesive that binds them to one another, and to Trump.”
I urge you to read the October 2018 essay, and the book. From the beginning of the second Trump term, from the the very first day with the horrifying Presidential Edicts, the cruelty has been increasingly woven into public policy. The policies are Anti-American, anti-immigrant, anti-women and anti-everything I was taught to believe as I grew up – That we are created and born with equal rights, male and female, black, white, yellow, red and all the glorious colors in between. “Red and yellow, black and white, we are precious in His sight.”
Our priest told us from the pulpit this week that we are “to carry the light.” Each one of us, individually and together, carries the light. We can choose to be kind. We can reflect “the light that shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
GROUNDED: Behr’s Color of the Year
This is what Behr has to say: Today, Behr Paint Company revealed its 2027 Color of the Year—a calming neutral that falls somewhere between moss and olive, with brown undertones, fittingly named Grounded. “Grounded is a reminder that the most meaningful spaces are the ones that help us connect with the rhythms of everyday life,” said Kayla Kratz, head of color at Behr. “The shade’s organic warmth creates a sense of calm and renewal, making every room feel inviting and effortlessly livable.”
This is what it looks like:
I love color. I hate this color. If I had to walk into a house painted this color, it would feel like walking into a cave. I could not live with “grounded.” For me, it is depressing!
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!
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