Life of Wry

Mom (82), me and three little brothers.  L to R: Jay, me, mom, Chris and Matty.   Great breakfast and some rousing political discussion (one even called me a socialist… and my only correction to that would be the word proud).  I may be left of the group, but still, two of them, at least, have abandoned their parties and are now registered independents.  Not naming names. Made for fun conversation.  See? Everyone’s still smiling.

…. and dinner at home in Davis.

Ahhhh..

Jay.  Brother #1 of 3.  Hung out today.  Way fun.

He was even a good sport when I asked to take his picture with my phone, and make it my picture-of-the-day.  The blue shirt should have brought out his blue eyes, but, instead, his eyes came out red, as they do when taking flash photos, and when I applied the red-eye feature in iPhoto, they turned black.. so he has black eyes here with a hint of red.  But, know they’re blue.

So, we’re down in the Riviera Village section of Redondo Beach this afternoon (in the olden days, it was called Hollywood Riviera)… and along about Avenue H, we come across this:

Isn’t it lovely?  It’s a poster, hung from a card table, around which an over zealous knot of people was waving signs at passing cars and handing leaflets to passers by.  These angry people, we deduced, were LaRouchers, who I gather think President Obama should be impeached for his unforgivable atrocities…. yeah, right, like giving the Tea Party more than it ever deserved to get in the train wreck that was the debt ceiling debate, or for thinking that compromise is the way to get things done, or believing that everyone deserves health care and even the rich should pay their fair share of taxes. Or perhaps they’re just fed up with all his dang social programs.  Whatevs.  It appears Mr. Obama’s just pissed off the LaRouche gang something awful by screwing humanity, and has somehow, apparently, in their eyes, committed the equivalent of genocide (they’re making their point by drawing a little Hitleresque mustache across his face, see?) and, well, it’s time to call for his impeachment.

Because that’s just so constructive.  And grown up.

From their website:

Good effing lord.

So, I don’t know, H is for hate?  Or maybe Hitler?  How about [un]hinged, hostile, harmful, or .. hilarious?

Spent a good bit of time here today with my mom. An interesting place that is pioneering a number of treatments for an eye disease that is increasingly common in older adults (especially blue-eyed white women) and can lead to blindness if ignored, and sometimes does, anyway, even if not ignored.  I learned about dry macular degeneration (the “good” kind; blurry vision is the first sign), wet macular degeneration (the one you don’t want; straight lines that appear wavy is a sure sign that you have it), drusen and amsler grids.  I’ve got a handy sheet of dietary guidelines and supplements for slowing or preventing the disease.  Good thing to have if you’re hereditarily downstream of someone with macular degeneration (which I am, and it’s the wet kind).

Anyway… the doctor was very cool and is on the forefront of treatment strategies.  He’s apparently a leading authority on effective supplements, which seemed corroborated on a number of websites I checked out later.  He runs an impressive facility.  And has a lot of surfer art by a guy named Fred hanging on all the walls…. like this one:

* Also, drink a glass of red wine daily, eat two servings of fish (the oily ones) a week, and avoid red meat and processed snack foods.  You might also want to get your hands on some bilberry extract and grape seed oil.  And lots of other stuff.  Look it up!

I hear it was foggy along the beach all morning, but by the time I got to southern California, the light was shining bright.

Drove through Redondo Beach and visited my nephew’s new place (that’s his red garage, and blooming flowers out front).  Also got this drive-by surfer shot as we drove along the Esplanade.

Dang.

Just when you thought maybe things were opening up and simplifying and you might have a little space to pursue a few carefully chosen, priority activities, and just when you thought your focus was clear and your time reasonably alloted …

Along comes a truly embarrassing, shameful republican primary filled with unhinged, whackadoodle extremist candidates who say impossibly ignorant, hurtful, dangerous things… and try as you might to sort of ignore the drama–which feels mortifying and surreal, and it doesn’t deserve the coverage it gets or our time to understand it–it creeps into the news stream, and, in fact, is a huge part of the news stream, and in order to stay informed and conversant in matters of the day (because, actually, that was one of my priority activities, having found myself in recent years way lost and disconnected when we stopped getting several newspapers and magazines delivered to our doorstep because, obviously, the internet (duh) is where information resides, but for years have not given the internet (and really, who calls it “the internet” anymore anyway, it’s just simply today’s information source, period) its due attention (for news) because it felt like it was just time spent online and not time spent intentionally keeping up with current events, and as such, seemed a frivolous and illegitimate use of time, so felt guilty for spending too much time online and in social media sites, but now I don’t because it’s where the I get my news, but I spend a LOT of time online reading, more than I’d ever imagined I’d need to allow) you have to pay attention to what these people are saying.

You have to pay attention.  And that takes time.

So… the republican candidates…the extreme sensationalist aspirants who are dominating the presidential race on the right side of the house.  Or right of the right side of the house.  But really, where have all the reasonable republicans gone?  Can’t we really just have a civil, honest debate with legitimate differences of opinion, and then can’t we make grown up concessions when we find ourselves in the minority, and can’t we be willing to find some win-win things to work with?  Where’d those people go?  We were those people when we were on the minority side.

We can’t run a country on ideology, people.

Until the race started heating up, I’d had just enough time to take care of my own personal projects –mothering my teenager and managing his summer schedule, daily writing, gardening, processing my trip to Nepal (and writing about it), healing a broken pair of achilles, following my curiosity about buddhism–thinking and being inspired about what I’ve been reading (and writing about it), spending more time with Jim this summer than in the last fifteen years combined (it seems) (and writing about it), making monthly visits to Southern California to visit my mom (which, yeah, I definitely gotta write about that)… it seems full but manageable, like I’ve had the focus to choose these pursuits and give of myself fully, even between vacations and baseball tournaments.. it was fine and it’s been a satisfying, thoughtful, stimulating summer.  Good priorities.  All good.

But then it also has to be a presidential pre-election season, one that happens to be populated with people even weirder than the last go-round, people who possess the weirdest damn religio-political views, views that have no business creeping into a mainstream conversation about the running of our country.  And to keep up and stay knowledgeable and responsible–because, as I said, staying politically current is now back on one of my front burners, and we have to pay attention to what they’re saying, because the flock is lining up behind this fringe and I’m not sure the majority of them realize what’s being said here–takes a little time.  Time I didn’t really have much more of.  I do read the news, online, mostly as it appears as links in my Facebook stream (talk about adapting social media..) from favorite sources (mainstream  and non-mainstream newspapers and magazines, Jon Stewart (but of course), political blogs and friends who find even better stuff), but now it feels like a full time job just keeping up with all I want to read.  And.. uh.. I don’t really have that kind of time.

That’s all I’m saying.  I’m fascinated, mostly because I care about the future of the country.  And, I’m in chronic despair over its future, the future of our democracy, the legitimacy (or illegitimacy) of this experiment in democracy, its failures to protect the interests of our human population, to protect our resources, its crumbling at the hands of corporate interests…  Despair.  Where are all the smart people and why aren’t they 1) being listened to by the most people and 2) running our country?  No, we do have smart people in charge, but they’re not taking that charge.  No, he’s trying to do the right thing, doing what he said he’d do–finding the center, compromising–but the other guys aren’t playing along.  And their only objective is seeing Obama and his administration fail, and they’re holding unreasonable lines at the expense of the public interest.

Anyway, this isn’t a rant on what’s wrong with our political system.. which is a lot…. can rant on that later…it’s a rant on what it takes to keep up.

I’m just saying that it’s taking more time to take an interest and that that time comes at the expense of other real life priorities.  Priorities I’d been thoughtful in selecting.  But this is important, too.

Sigh.

Oh..  picture of the day..  I’ll use a nice one from a couple days ago.  No relation to this post, but a picture that says expand, breathe, relax, broaden perspective, open up, peace… all that.

Not a fan of these lips.  Not really a fan of this piece at all, except that I prefer some art to no art in public places.  Subjective that it is, art will never appeal universally, so we’ll just have to put this one in the doesn’t-work-for-me column and move on.

Sunday morning on Echo Lake.

Here’s Daniel wondering if Peter’s ever going to get up:

He tried this:

But it didn’t work.. Peter didn’t make it in time for breakfast, and missed Susan’s Dutch Babies:

It was actually too windy for kayaking and there wasn’t enough time for hiking, so Peter and Daniel played catch in the meadow and we packed things up.

Then it was time to head out.

So long Ricker cabin:

So long quiet time:

So long wildlife…

…. and gorgeous views right out the window:

See ya next year.

The day started like this…early morning, breathless, quiet.

That’s Rick sittin’ on the dock of the lake, sun just up, about 6:30.  I was awake, too, but still lying in my bag.  Later, Rick told me he was thinking about fishing and wondering why he’d not fished in so many years, when he’d enjoyed it so much as a kid.  We talked a lot this weekend about our lives, how much life we have left, how we wanted to live, what matters.  I felt pretty comfortable with it all.  It complements what I’ve been reading and thinking about recently… recently being the last couple years, but especially the last few months.  Good and fine.

Very nice day, too.

Jim and I were the breakfast cooks and served pancakes with orange zest and some good peaches and kiwi.  Then, the hikers hiked, up to Haypress Meadow, via Triangle Lake, and back.  Jim decided to continue and ended up climbing Ralston (9300′, about an 1800′ elevation gain from the cabin) and said he got a great view of Desolation Wilderness, Echo and dozens of others lakes, Tahoe, its surrounding peaks.. and loved it.

Susan and I were the non-hikers and ambled around in the forest taking pictures of wildflowers.  About half my flower pictures came out.  About half of those I could identify.  Here are a couple of no-name posies:

Loved the photography expedition, but I don’t like being a non-hiker.  That’s all I’m going to say about that.

The afternoon was more reading.  I finished a truly inspiring book by my friend Toni.. which I may write about at another time, but I will say it was a perfect read for this kind of weekend.

Then, more talking and deckside aps for us; the boys went off in their kayaks with rocks and a bunch of line to do some sounding experiments and island exploration.

Jim and I were on for dinner and made a big pot of stir-fry, with brownies for dessert.

Then.  THEN… since it was a full moon and the lake was still as night, we headed out in a pair of canoes and the boys’ kayaks to watch the moon rise over the mountains to the east.

It was about the coolest thing ever.  The lake was liquid black, there were silvery reflections of the moon on the water, and the trees and beautiful Sierra were in silhouette all around.  It was eerily quiet; you could hear the sound of paddles muscling through water, even the delicate sound of drops falling off our blades.  The moon, of course, was really bright and lit up the lake, but not enough to give you a sense of where the shoreline was, exactly, or where shallow rocks might pop up.  Later, I found out the others were apprehensive about this.  But I was blissfully not.

We rowed around the whole upper lake.. maybe about 30-40 minutes.  I felt thrilled, like I’d just pulled something off, and I think I was smiling the whole time.  I was also reciting this to myself, the parts that I could remember, anyway:

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
‘O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!’

Pussy said to the Owl, ‘You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?’
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

‘Dear pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?’ Said the Piggy, ‘I will.’
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

That is beautiful Echo Lake. Upper Echo, specifically–the smaller and more intimate lake on the western side of the  narrow, winding channel that separates upper from lower.  Lower Echo is also gorgeous, but is bigger, deeper, colder, windier and wavier.

We arrived by 11:30am at the Ricker dock. I motored in with Peter, his friend Daniel, and all the stuff, aboard the Chalet boat, and Jim hiked the 2.5 miles. While the cabins along both lakes are inaccessible by car, the trail–actually the famed Pacific Crest Trail–is well-marked and easily traveled.  It takes 45 minutes to get to the Ricker cabin.

Our time was brief this year–only two days–so there was no time to waste if relaxing and kayaking and reading and dozing and cooking and talking and eating and hiking and drinking and laughing and political discoursing were to be had.

Susan and I immediately toasted with a glass of it’s-not-too-early-in-the-day chardonnay.  Wheee!  The boys went right for the kayaks–yellow boat and life vest for Daniel, red boat and life vest for Peter.  Both easy to see on the blue water with the dark green shoreline.

We tried to restrain ourselves from political conversation because Rick had not yet arrived (we were not successful). Finally, around 4:00, the taxi dropped him off…

… and it was then time for some of this (note, Susan’s unparalleled guacamole, something I look forward to every year):

Even more colorful conversation ensued.

Susan and Ricker had dinner duty this first night–here’s Jim flipping burgers on the deck.. shot from inside the kitchen:

and here’s Susan’s amazing peach cobbler:

Peter and Daniel even cleaned up–a first for Peter, who I don’t believe has ever washed dishes (or been out by himself on a lake in a kayak, either… such the privileges of turning thirteen).  This time, I’m on the outside, looking in.

Peter and Daniel then went back out on the lake for a sunset kayak:

But returned before this:

They played some kind of card game up in the loft, while we talked (but didn’t solve our country’s problems), then set up the bags on the deck and everyone went to sleep pretty early.