Content

      Pre-COVID at this time of year I would be teaching at Noble Academy, which brought me great satisfaction. With that commitment my time at The Little House was more limited. Those years and hours with the students brought me much joy and I miss them. Realistically my time there was winding down because of my hearing loss. The Hmong students are very soft spoken and even with my good hearing aids I struggled to understand them. Seriously facing this handicap it was clear that I would soon have to give it up. 

     Life in The Little House has settled into a comfortable routine. Trygve and I walk one field each day on the pretext of pheasant hunting.  Occasionally we get one but that matters little. The joy is in the walk and made more pleasurable by seeing pheasants, which we have with one exception. That exception was when we were on public land.  Hunting hours begin at ten a.m. so we usually start about then. We're back in the house about noon. The afternoon and evening are for reading and telephone chats. The hearing aids that the V.A. provided sync with my phone so the sound transmits directly to my aids. Consequently, phone conversations are easy for me to hear...as are podcasts, etc., accessed by phone. It is very difficult for me to understand persons speaking when they are masked because I can't read their lips.

    Solitude is not oppressive for me and my need for human contact is met by phone, email and snail mail. This current lifestyle finds me very content and profoundly grateful.

Takk for alt,

Al

                                         Five Hmong and one African student(s).

Pandora's Box...which was actually a jar in mythology.

       So, Pandora opens the jar and evil is released into the world but left behind in the jar is hope. All the hate that's been released politically in the united United States, like Pandora's evil, takes on a life of its own. Hatred begets violence which spawns more violence and hatred. The floor of my machine shop is concrete. My tractors are all antique so when they are parked in the shop they drip oil on the floor. From time to time I also spill oil. Using some crushed absorbent from a bag I scatter the adsorbent material on the spilled oil and soak it up. Then I am able to sweep up the oil soaked absorbent and dispose of it. Though the spill is gone the stain remains. For me this serves as a metaphor for solving the problem of hatred and violence. It must be absorbed, as is spilled oil, however that does not mean that no effects remain. But returning violence with violence or hatred with hatred only intensifies the evil.

     That is the challenge for us as we move into the future. How can we be the absorbers of  hatred and violence?  "You have heard it said, "An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth." But I say do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek turn the other also... Mt. 5:33-34 NRSV

Takk for alt,

Al

"Millions long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a rainy Sunday afternoon." Susan Ertz

Death Abounds!

   As we aged I once remarked to Joanne "We know more people who are dead than are living." That's a feature of long life. American COVID deaths exceed two hundred and sixty five thousand, more than the 2010 population of Buffalo, NY. Almost certainly that's a significant undercount. Why are we so blase' about this catastrophe? Compare the reaction to COVID  deaths with the reaction to the deaths at the attack on the World Trade Center. Is it becasue we lack a Walter Cronkite to give us the news? News has become fractured, distorted, propagandized so people don't know what to believe.

    Close to my home in The Little House three persons of my childhood recently died. Yesterday I blogged about Duane Engelsgaard. On the same day he died his older sister, Mildred, also died. About the same time Curtis Halvorson died. Curtis' family were also pioneers here and, like the Engelsgaards, were a large presence in my formative years. I even rented an apartment in Sioux Falls, from Victor and Emma Halvorson, Curtis' parents, my first year out of the Marines and back at Augustana College.

    The COVID deaths, as well as the death of the three Sinai expats, brought to mind John Donne's poem.

Takk for alt,

Al

For Whom the Bell Tolls by John Donne   No man is an island, Entire of itself. Each is a piece of the continent, A part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less. As well as if a promontory were. As well as if a manor of thine own Or of thine friend's were. Each man's death diminishes me, For I am involved in mankind. Therefore, send not to know For whom the bell tolls, It tolls for thee.

Unique

      Many years ago the Engelsgaard's lived next to the Negstads.  Erik Englesgaard and my Dad, Albert, were good friends as were Grandma Negstad and Grandma Englesgaard. In fact when Grandma Negstad had diphtheria Grandma Englesgaard cared for her. In 1939 Erik died leaving his wife, Julia, to care for six children and her mother-in-law. Three of those children were in Sinai High School with me. Those children were loved and well cared for even as they lacked for financial resources.

     Recently Duane, the second to the youngest, died at his home in California. Our paths parted after high school and I only saw him a few times since he graduated in 1955. His obituary revealed a long and fruitful life professionally, personally and as an active volunteer. Likely, Duane is the only graduate of Sinai High to get his bachelor's degree at The University of Guam, with honors no less! For five years he worked on Guam for AT&T.  My cousin's husband, Jasper Dahl, was a Navy barber on Guam during WW II and he, too, was a graduate of Sinai High.

     Duane's death reminds me of John Donne's For Whom The Bell Tolls and Robert Frost, see below. Rest in peace Duane!  Duane Englesgaard February 6, 1937 to November 14, 2020.

The Road Not Taken 

BY ROBERT FROST

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Takk for alt,

Al

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

      Being alone on Thanksgiving is a a first for me. Reflecting back on past Thanksgivings they tend to blur together. There were three when I was in the Marines. The first of those was when I was in Boot Camp, the second while I was stationed at Camp Pendleton, California and the third I was living in tent in Japan. The second one I as able to spend with my cousin Marjorie Dahl and her family in Lakewood, CA.

     This Thanksgiving finds me profoundly grateful for good health and safety in the midst of the pandemic. Reflecting on 54 years of marriage to Joanne always fills me with gratitude and I visited her grave this morning. My family, both immediate and other, makes me glad and thankful. Friends around the world are a source of joy and gratitude. YES, YES, so much and so many for which to be thankful!

Takk for alt,

Al

                           

                              The pond across the street at sunrise this morning.

More from Thailand

 The anger of this young generation, which grew up under the stranglehold of a military government, was initially directed against Prayuth. His government came to power through a coup d’état in 2014, won an election of questionable legitimacy in 2019, and failed to respond to an economic crisis that only worsened when the coronavirus pandemic hit.

Largely ignored by the authorities, the movement evolved and its demands began to change in August, when Panusaya Sithijirawattanakul, a 21-year-old student, read in front of a crowded square a document destined to make history.

“There was fear lurking inside me, deep fear of the consequences,” Panusaya told BBC News Thai, thinking back to the moments before going on stage. “I knew my life would never be the same again.”

Panusaya read a series of unprecedented demands: to take away the monarch’s legal immunity, to eliminate the lese-majeste law (which punishes any criticism of the monarchy with imprisonment), to cut the monarchy’s funds, to make its investments transparent and taxable, to prohibit members of the royal family from expressing political opinions, to suspend all forms of monarchic propaganda, to investigate the disappearance in recent years of various critics of the monarchy and to make it illegal for the monarch to support a coup d’état.

A public statement of this magnitude questioning the monarchy had not been heard in Thailand since the 1930s, when a group of young bureaucrats, who the young protesters today see as an inspiration, put an end to the absolute monarchy, with the support of large portions of the military forces. Today, instead, the military leadership are perched around the monarchy and see the preservation of its power as indispensable for the maintenance of their own. Based on this transformation and the legal consequences of any criticism of the monarchy, Panusaya’s fear was more than legitimate. Yet, it proved to be unfounded.

The 10 demands, instead of alienating supporters from the movement, galvanised it and broadened its base far beyond the students, attracting blue-collar workers, white-collar workers, people of various generations and social classes, including some former activists in the red shirts, a popular movement that had filled the streets of Bangkok in 2010 but remained largely dormant after the coup in 2014.

As a sign of this expansion, on October 14, tens of thousands of people stood in front of the government building asking for Prayuth’s resignation. The general, determined to let the protesters run out of steam without accepting their demands, responded the next day by declaring a state of emergency prohibiting any gathering of more than five people, arresting the leaders of the protest, including Panusaya, and threatening violent repression.

Today the protests continue, both in Bangkok and around the county, despite the emergency decree, the arrests, and the authorities’ intimidation techniques, which include reminding the protesters that anybody can die at any moment, discouraging them from trifling with Matjurat, the local deity of death, and attacking them with water cannon and tear gas.

Day by day, the protests are becoming more radical and direct in attacks against the monarch, who has now become, together with Prayuth, the main target of the mobilisation. Seen from abroad, this could seem like an obvious, and almost natural, conclusion of the last two decades of political struggle in Thailand in which the Thai monarchy has always taken the military’s side in the struggle between democratic and authoritarian forces. Yet, in the Thai context, this is an epochal change, a sudden and profound transformation that many people find hard to grasp.

During the demonstrations on October 14, seemingly as a provocation, the royal family drove through the protest and, for the first time in Thai history, their yellow Rolls-Royce was surrounded not by a cheering crowd but by hundreds of people shouting, insulting and reminding the royals that their car is paid for with people’s taxes.

The next day, during another protest in violation of the state of emergency imposed by Prayuth, thousands of people shouted insults out loud against the king, words that embarrassed local journalists who were forced to interrupt their live broadcast, record the same segments multiple times, or mute the background audio, in an awkward attempt not to broadcast them, due to the risk of being accused themselves of sedition or inciting unrest.

After a week of daily protests springing up across Bangkok and the rest of the country, what happens next is uncertain. Regardless of what the short-term consequences of these mobilisations will be, those verbal attacks against the monarch, which have become the new normal, represent an epochal shift for the country. It entails the surprising and sudden disintegration of monarchic hegemony, a political ideology that has dominated Thailand since the Cold War.

Now, much like the Berlin wall which once symbolised that cold conflict, the whole edifice of monarchical authority is coming down, reminding us that even a seemingly stable political structure can collapse at any moment.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

---

• 
  Claudio Sopranzetti

  Claudio Sopranzetti is an Assistant Professor in Anthropology at the Central European University.

---

This book..........

       Alesa Lightbourne's The Kurdish Bike, not surprisingly is set in Kurdistan, where Lightbourne taught in 2010. It's protagonist is an American woman who teaches in Kurdistan so likely much of the book is based on the author's experience there. This is another book MJV sent me and she writes about it: 

'The San Francisco Book Review notes the wide range of this initial writing effort:  “The Kurdish Bike is a gripping story of one woman’s immersion into a not-so-comfortable world, where she struggles to make sense of critical issues, like violence, lack of respect for women, poverty, and the general sense of the absurd characteristic of war-ridden areas. But it is more than that. When Theresa answers the ad to teach at a Kurdish school, she has no idea of the challenges that lie ahead. Now, thrown in an unknown world, she has to reconcile with new cultural values and witness the aftermath of war and its implications on culture and lifestyle. Can her voice be heard? What does it take to replace structures of oppression? What hope do the marginalized have vis-à-vis the cultural divide and the harsh political landscape? Alesa Lightbourne’s debut explores such critical issues and a lot, lot more.”  Clearly, this is not just a fairytale, it is written “based loosely” on the “author’s experiences in northern Iraq in 2010.” 

    Having a family member who worked in international development I have absorbed some of the protocols for helpfully engaging in a foreign culture. Theresa, the protagonist in the story, violated the most basic guidelines for helpful engagement. Consequently it made it difficult for me to fully appreciate the story as the this American woman quickly attempted to force her American values on her new found Kurdish friends with disastrous results, though there is no hint in the book that she recognized her role in the tragedy that unfolds. 

    It is helpful to read a book set in Kurdistan, of which most of us know little. Some history and cultural learnings are a by product.

Takk for alt,

al

Senseless Tragedy!

        It happened on November 17, 1973 in Gitchie Manitou State Park in the far northwest corner of Iowa, only a few miles from Sioux Falls, S.D. Five teenagers from Sioux Falls were hanging out in the park, two were brothers, two other boys one of whom was with his 13 year old girlfriend, Sandra. Three brothers discovered the teenagers, shot and killed the four boys, abducted and raped Sandra but then, inexplicably, dropped her off at her home.  While she is riding with the sheriff, seeking to identify the farm where her abductor stopped for gas, they meet him and she is able to identify him so he is arrested. Through countless interrogations and testifying at the trials she gives amazing and consistent accounting of that terrible night. The three brothers, in separate trials, are all found guilty, sentenced to life in prison where they remain to this day.

      The story is told by Phil Hamman and Sandy Hamman in Gitche Girl Uncovered: The True Story of a Night of Mass Murder and the Hunt for the Deranged Killers, published in 2019. Forty years after the terrible night and its aftermath Sandra forged a new and meaningful life.

  On a more cheerful note this poem captures the reality of a long, healthy relationship.



Long Term
by Stephen Dunn

On this they were in agreement:
everything that can happen between two people
happens after a while

or has been thought about so hard
there's almost no difference
between desire and deed.

Each day they stayed together, therefore,
was a day of forgiveness, tacit,
no reason to say the words.

It was easy to forgive, so much harder
to be forgiven. The forgiven had to agree
to eat dust in the house of the noble

and both knew this couldn't go on for long.
The forgiven would need to rise;
the forgiver need to remember the cruelty

in being correct.
Which is why, except in crises,
they spoke about the garden,

what happened at work,
the little ailments and aches
their familiar bodies separately felt.

Takk for alt,

Al

Protests in Thailand.

 Subscribing to a Google news feed keeps me informed about happenings in Thailand. In some recent conversations it's become apparent that not everyone is aware of the ongoing protests there. This reprint from The Guardian is a good introduction to those protests.

"A student-led protest movement has shaken Thailand over the past five months. Young people have taken to the streets to call for a true democracy, and have risked jail to shatter a taboo that has long prevented frank, public discussion of the monarchy. Their protests, attended by tens of thousands, present one of the boldest challenges that the Thai royal family has faced in living memory.

Demonstrators say they are not calling for the monarchy to be abolished, but for it to be reformed, accountable to the people and not above the law. They have also called for the prime minister, Prayuth Chan-ocha, a former army general who came to power in a 2014 coup, to stand down, and for changes to the constitution to make the political system more democratic.

Few topics have been left untouched by the movement. At Saturday’s rally, organised by Bad Student, a group that represents school pupils, protesters called not only for monarchy and government reform, but also an overhaul of the education system.

The students want investment in schools, and an end to the military influence and rigid hierarchies that continue to dominate classrooms, stifling freedom of expression. Bad Students has shone a spotlight on abusive behaviour by teachers – from the use of humiliating punishments such as cutting students’ hair if it is considered inappropriate, to the continued use of corporal punishment, despite it being banned. The group has also campaigned for greater protections for female and LGBT students. Yesterday, one student, dressed in school uniform and her mouth taped shut, held a sign that read: “I have been sexually abused by teachers. School is not a safe place I have been sexually assaulted by teachers. “Authoritarianism doesn’t only manifest through the manipulation of elections, it is exercised in everyday life,” said Janjira Sombatpoonsiri, assistant professor of political science at Thammasat University. Students say they want room for freedom of thought, and a curriculum that allows for different interpretations of Thailand’s past. “History always mentions the good side of Thailand – changing the story, framing others, admiring someone in the sky,” said a speaker at yesterday’s rally, referring to the king."

Takk for alt,

Al

Not my experience!

 Solitude

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you; Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.

   Perhaps you wondered where that line "Laugh, and the world laughs with you;" came from. Give Ella Wheeler Wilcox credit. Certainly is a lot of truth in this poem. Reading it makes me grateful for all those who travelled with me when I entered the land of grief.  Further proof of how blessed I am. My experience of solitude is mostly positive. Of course I experience the presence of absence but I know I'm not alone nor fortotten. So, as always, I remain grateful!

Takk for alt,

Al

Uffda!

     COVID runs rampant in America. Thailand has one of the world's best efforts to control the virus. That's a bit ironic becasue I left Thailand two weeks early to avoid it and came back to America where it spreads unchecked. Though it should be said that when I returned in February it wasn't yet rampant in America. that came later. Now Thailand would prohibit me from entering because of American COVID.

    One of the oddest things I've read about COVID was from a nurse in South Dakota. She wrote that some of her patients dying from COVID refused to believe they had it. Even on their deathbed they were convinced it was a hoax. Further proof, as if any more were needed, that we are governed more by opinion and prejudice than logic. It's a great tragedy that response to the virus became politicized which has added to the death toll. 

    Certainly I'm one of the fortunate ones and I remain deeply grateful!

Takk for alt,

Al

PS A bit of IT logic: In the process of updating my email addresses with businesses since being hacked I'm informed that, for security purposes, a verification will be sent to my email account. Well, that's the one that was hacked and therefore inoperative for me!  Go figure!

"One of the little joys of life!"

       My Dad had a wry sense of humor. Facing an unpleasant medical procedure he was known to refer to it as "One of the little joys of life."  That phrase pretty well summarizes my feeling about the hassle of recovering from a hacked email account. The one that was hacked was the primary one for use with business so I need to systematically work through my files and change account email addresses. For some accounts it's very simple and others I find myself thinking Marine Boot Camp was easier than this. But, what else do I have to do? 😄 

     Soooooooooo, if I'm in your contact list the user name remains the same but the end is @gmail.com   If you ever want to reach me by email be sure to use that account or it will not reach me.

     On to better things.

Takk for alt,

Al

Wow, that was good!

     MJV sends me books and becasue they are from her I know they will be good.  Needing to finish the Pacific War and Lakota books it had to wait. Once begun it was finished in less than a day! By the author of A Man Called Ove. Fredrik Backman, Anxious People is at least as good as Ove.

     " I read this book because it was a Backman book and I knew I would enjoy it.  I did.  It is not as predictable as I thought, partly because it is framed as a mystery but it still becomes a Backman personality study of quirky people, and don’t we all have quirks?   Kirkus pretty well summarized it by saying: A story with both comedy and heartbreak sure to please Backman fans.  It was.  Amazon says:  This is a poignant comedy about a crime that never took place, a would-be bank robber who disappears into thin air, and eight extremely anxious strangers who find they have more in common than they ever imagined.  Poignant is such a good word to use in relation to any Backman story, and this is no exception." So writes MJV. 

       Written in a way that compels page turning it's filled with pithy insights about people and relationships. Laughing out loud also accompanies its reading. Here's an example of Backman's wisdom. "They say that a person's personality is the sum of their experiences. But that isn't true, at least not entirely, becasue if our past was all that defined us, we'd never be able to put up with ourselves. We need to be allowed to convince ourselves that we're more than the mistakes we made yesterday. That we are all our next choices, too, all of our tomorrows."  P. 324

     In the book a therapist is asked to define a panic attack. At the end of the book there are three pages of "Author's Thanks.  Included in the thanks is this "The psychologists and therapists who have worked with me in recent years. In particular, Bengt, who helped me get to grips with my panic attacks."  P. 341  Apparently the author's keen perceptions and observations have come at a personal price.

      This comes highly recommended by me, but it is a bit of a slow starter so don't give up too early. (Thanks, MJV!)

Takk for alt,

Al

                                                             This mornings view.

Native American History

       Paul L. tipped me off to Pekka Hamalainen's book Lakota America. It's not the easiest read on Kindle because Hamalainen will introduce an Indian name or phrase and then use it repeatedly rather than the familiar English name. With Paul's encouragement 'nevertheless I persisted'. The reward was an educational experience teaching about Native American, and especially, Lakota history.

      The Lakota tribe once ruled an immense empire covering thousands of miles. They dominated the trade that came up the Missouri River from St. Louis trading furs for steel, guns. powder and other goods. This, coupled with their mastery of horses, their political organization and fighting prowess rendered many other tribes impotent against them. They were much more powerful than their kin, the Dakotas. At one point they even acquired vaccine for smallpox.

      This receives a qualified recommendation. For those wanting to understand Native American history I highly recommend it. The first section of the book details Native American history leading up to the ascendency of the Lakotas in the western part of the continent.

Takk for alt,

Al

So much I don't know!

       The United States won and Japan lost. The Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor in 1941. Japan lost the battle of Midway. China seldom gets credit for the role it played in the defeat of Japan. The dropping of two atomic bombs on Japan caused Japan to surrender. The broad outlines of  WW II in the Pacific are familiar to me. But many of the details I never knew.

       My reading of The Pacific War Trilogy, Ian W. Toll, began with the second volume because that became available from the library first. Now I've finished the second volume Pacific Crucible: War at Sea in the Pacific, 1941-1942. It's compellingly told.

      "I've been there!" "I saw that." "I was aboard that."  Experiences from my year as a Marine in Asia and aboard ships gave me those moments as I read.  Okinawa was our home away from home. We visited and did cold weather training in Japan, stopped in Hawaii and Hong Kong, and stayed for awhile in Subic Bay in the Philippines. On board the USS Princeton, an aircraft carrier retrofitted to carry helicopters we cruised the south seas. Refueling ships at sea, which was a struggle for Americans early in the war, looked quite simple as I watched. With an oiler in the middle the Princeton took fuel on the left side while a destroyed was fueled on the right while the ships moved forward at about twenty knots. The chaplain was transferred from one ship to another via bosun's chair.  A cable was attached to the top of a tall pole, shot across 30 yards to the other ship an attached to the top of a pole. The bosun's chair hung beneath the cable and ran on a pulley and was pulled to the other ship with the chaplain strapped into it. On Easter Sunday somewhere in the South Pacific we had a sunrise worship service on the flight deck as the sun rose on cloudless skies. The ocean was calm with gentle swells rocking the ship.

      Toll's Trilogy is much more than a recitation of the battles that are fought. Each volume, about 600 pages, contains significant information about Japanese and American conditions, politics, economy, etc., contemporaneous with the battles being fought. Key players are fully introduced, both Japanese and Americans. Many eyewitness accounts of the situations described are included from both Japanese and Americans. It's all well told and often very hard to put down.

     Yes, I recommend it.

Takk for alt

Al

.

Interesting Reads

         In 1885 Lars & Sigrid Negstad, accompanied by one year old Albert moved from Lac Qui Parle County, MN to take a homestead in western Brookings County, Dakota Territory. They travelled by a wagon carrying their earthly goods, pulled by oxen with a milk cow tied behind the wagon. The ox yoke used on that trip hung in the granary on the farm as I grew up. Now I'm filled with questions I wish I would have asked before my father, Albert, died in 1969.

      Reading two books by local author Chuck Cecil, A Pictorial Journey with Grandpa's Horses and the Machines They Powered, and Bull Trains to Deadwood, by Chuck Cecil awakened those unasked questions. As white settlement came to Dakota Territory steamboats would climb the Missouri River from St. Louis, MO, to Fort Pierre, Dakota. With the discovery of gold in the Black Hills development there expanded necessitating the movement of freight from Ft. Pierre to The Hills. 

     From the time gold was discovered in The Hills in 1874 until the railroad  reached there in 1885, bull trains pulling heavily laden wagons moved the freight. Many of these bull trains had 20 oxen yoked to do the pulling. Bull trains is a misnomer as the oxen were in fact former bulls. They were attached to the wagons by chains which meant that they could pull but not stop the wagons. A variety of brake systems were employed to handle the wagons down hills. Typically there were three wagons linked together, the lead wagon might carry 8,500 pounds, the center one 5,500 pounds and the last wagon 3,500 pounds. It is 200 miles from Ft. Pierre to The Hills and teams tried to make 15 miles a day. Oxen could feed off the land and did not need to be fed grain as did horses and mules making them suitable for these long treks.

  Grandpa's Horses, is filled with pictures of horses and the machines they pulled. Some of the machines pictured I have seen in use. Others answered questions for me like "O that's how that worked." It's an important pictorial history.  (Thanks, Mark, for lending them to me.)

Takk for alt,

Al

Prairie Wind

     Joanne grew up in the St. Anthony Park neighborhood of St. Paul, MN. It's a hilly, lovely, heavily wooded area of winding streets, on the east border of Minneapolis. She chose Concordia College, Moorhead, MN., across the Red River from Fargo, ND. It was her first exposure to wind from Dakota and she often remarked about how windy it was.  It wasn't like St. Anthony Park.

    Shortly after she moved to Canton, SD., to teach at Augustana Academy, she went to the local Ben Franklin Store, remember them?, and asked a clerk where she could find a certain item. The clerk replied "It's on the west end of the south aisle."  Joanne said "Huh?"  West and south weren't in her frame of reference from life in St. Anthony Park where only left and right were helpful.

   These stories came to mind today when Trygve and I ventured out into a prairie wind of 25mph. Is this fall unusually windy?  Having not spent so much time here since the early 60s I'm not a good judge. There have been many windy days but the days it has snowed were almost windless. My childhood memory of snow is that it always came sideways and pictures of snow on New England fence posts seemed unreal.

Takk for alt,

Al

Traveling....

"In Travels With a Donkey in the Cevennes, he wrote: '"I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move; to feel the needs and hitches of our life more nearly; to come down off this feather-bed of civilization, and to find the globe granite underfoot and strewn with cutting flints. [...] To hold a pack upon a pack-saddle against a gale out of the freezing north is no high industry, but it is one that serves to occupy and compose the mind. And when the present is so exacting, who can annoy himself about the future?"' Robert Louis Stevenson.

     Stevenson was peripatetic traveler. Since 2002 The Art Of Travel, Alain De Botton, has a had a place on the book shelves. In the book De Botton advocates from travel over tourism. In his perception tourists often look for places and persons like home when they travel while travelers revel in the novel. He writes "Journeys are the midwives of thought."

    For many years I've travelled to Thailand to teach school. Thailand is just now reopening to foreigners after locking down because of COVID. A sixty day visa is available, only in advance of travel, with proof of $17,500. in a bank account for a minimum of six months and proof of medical insurance. No Thailand this year. The teachers at "my" school stay in touch with me via Facebook and I will miss being with them in person. Compared to the sacrifice many have made this is a small price to pay.

Takk for alt,

Al

                                                    The new building is now in use.

Lemonade from a lemon!

In Travels With a Donkey in the Cevennes, he wrote: "I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move; to feel the needs and hitches of our life more nearly; to come down off this feather-bed of civilization, and to find the globe granite underfoot and strewn with cutting flints. [...] To hold a pack upon a pack-saddle against a gale out of the freezing north is no high industry, but it is one that serves to occupy and compose the mind. And when the present is so exacting, who can annoy himself about the future?"

"Crown him with many crowns..."

      That hymn about many crowns came to mind today when I was sitting in the dentist chair getting a tooth crowned. Having experienced some sensitivity in that tooth for months I decided to keep a routine dental appointment. The tooth was cracked and I got it crowned in one sitting. The dentist pulled his computer next to me and I watched the screen as he designed the crown. When he'd finished the design he pressed 'send' and said it would be ready in 14 minutes. It was, he inserted it, and two and a half hours I was done with no need to return. What will they think of next?

“Life seems sometimes like nothing more than a series of losses, from beginning to end. That’s the given. How you respond to those losses, what you make of what’s left, that’s the part you have to make up as you go.” Katherine Weber

   When I read this quote from author Katherine Weber I had two reactions. My first reaction was that it's a negative view of life. Sure there are losses in life but certainly there is more to life than that. But, second, "...How you respond to those losses, what you make of what’s left, that’s the part you have to make up as you go." resonates. Perhaps another way of speaking of this is that grief can make you either better or bitter.  I don't know if I am better but I have tried to eschew bitterness.

    You may have guessed by the dental reference that I'm in Minneapolis. In conversation with a friend I found myself saying "I'll go home Saturday."  The Little House feels like home now. The condo is very familiar but, for now, I'm emotionally fixed there in The Little House.

Takk for alt,

Al

Veteran' Day!

      Armistice Day, that's what my parents always called this day. "Every veteran is a patriot" I heard at Veteran's Day program. When I heard that I thought back to my days in the Marines. There was Rocky Slater who was given a choice "enlist or go to jail" how patriotic was that? There was Sgt. Madison who got busted to PFC for cheating the government by saying he was living off base while he wasn't. When we pulled anchor in Hong Kong there were Marine's who went AWOL and the ship left with out them. In reality veterans are a mixed lot.

     It's become the fad now to say "thank you for your service." Much more helpful would be the re-installation of the draft. The all-volunteer military service falls too heavily on one cohort. A draft would spread that responsibility more equitably. The draft is also a good brake on military adventures if decision makers have offspring serving in the military.

    Of course many have nobly served and great numbers have given their lives, bodies and minds. These should be honored and remembered with our gratitude.Some make call them foolish or suckers but we owe them our place in the world.

Takk for alt,

Al

                                                                Semper Fidelis. (Somewhere on Okinawa.)
                                                             The Little House this morning.

Two birthdays to celebrate!

     This date would have slipped by me if Ed hadn't called to say "Happy Birthday!"  Tracking the days of the week in one thing but keeping track of the days of the month is another...I pay little attention. So let's begin with the older birthday.

     On this day in 1843, Martin Luther was born in Eisleben, Saxony. Today's Writer's Almanac noted his birthday and the following quotes are excerpted from that article.

"In addition to his own writing, Luther spent much of his late-life working on a translation of the Bible into German. There had been a few German translations before his, but they were purely literal translations. He wanted to appeal to average people, and he tried to use words that would be understood by common Germans. He said, "[The translator] must ask the mother at home, children in the street, the common man in the marketplace, and look them in the mouth, and listen to how they speak, then translate accordingly....Today, most of Luther's writings are only read by theologians, but his words survive in his popular hymns. He knew that many people couldn't read, and he believed hymns could communicate ideas more broadly. He also just loved music. He said, "My heart, which is so full to overflowing, has often been solaced and refreshed by music when sick and weary." His hymns are sung in churches throughout the world."

    Luther's Bible translation set the standard for German language for years to come, perhaps even until today.

     On this date in 1775, 245 years ago, The United States Marine Corps was founded. When Ed and I were in the Marines we always got a big birthday dinner on November 10, but no mention was made of Martine Luther! Go figure.

Takk for alt,

Al

PS It's been snowing for six hours and is forecast to continue for two more. "I'm dreaming of a white Thanksgiving."

     

September direct to November!

      The fierce south wind died down yesterday about sunset. A low pressure cell moved and the wind switched to the north. In the process we received about .70" of rain which is very welcome. The trees and grasses could be heard whispering their thanks. Freezing temperatures are to be expected at this time of the year and they are here. The warm weather last week was received with gratitude...a brief Indian Summer respite after unseasonal snow.

      With all the anxiety around the elections and the worsening pandemic some Mary Oliver poetry may bring some comfort.

“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.”
― Mary Oliver

Takk for alt,

Al

"Smoke gets in your..." air!

   The 35 mph south wind has brought smoky air, smoke heavy enough to see in a couple of blocks distance. An adventure outside didn't last long, about an hour was all I could take. The weather forecast is indicating a 100% chance of rain. That would be very welcome now as there has been a prolonged dry spell. Rain would be good for grass, trees and fields going into winter. This week's weather has been "September like" and a nice respite after the early snow.

Dorothy Day's life and work have long been a source of inspiration. The Writer's Almanac noted that today is her birthday and in an article about her included this quote from her. 

About her life’s work serving the poor, Dorothy Day once said: “What we would like to do is change the world — make it a little simpler for people to feed, clothe, and shelter themselves as God intended them to do. And, by fighting for better conditions, by crying out unceasingly for the rights of the workers, the poor, of the destitute — the rights of the worthy and the unworthy poor, in other words — we can, to a certain extent, change the world; we can work for the oasis, the little cell of joy and peace in a harried world. We can throw our pebble in the pond and be confident that its ever-widening circle will reach around the world. We repeat, there is nothing we can do but love, and, dear God, please enlarge our hearts to love each other, to love our neighbor, to love our enemy as our friend.”

Takk for alt,

Al

One Hundred Years Later!

      It was 1920 when women, some at least in some places, got the right to vote in America. Now, one hundred years later a woman has been elected Vice President of America. O I wish Joanne was here to celebrate this historic moment. Had she been around for this election she'd have been phone banking steadily as she did 4 years ago for Hillary. If one studies Jesus' relationship with women, against the norms of his day, a strong argument can be made that Jesus was a feminist. Joanne was a pace setter who didn't get angry but just kept being effective. 

     Unfortunately Kamala Harris will be the subject of vicious attacks both because she's a woman and also because she's Black/Indian. As Isabel Wilkerson so eloquently writes in Caste, the success of members of the subordinate caste threaten insecure members of the dominant caste. In their fear they will attack, demean, obstruct and attempt to neutralize Harris for "rising above her station."

     Let's celebrate this historic moment and wish Harris well as she assumes her new role!

Takk for alt

Al

A sign has been erected on the Volga Road pointing to the cemetery where Grandpa Bergh's church stood and where he and others of his family are buried. The trees in the background are on the homesite where Grandpa lived.

Recommended Reading.

         While I wish every American adult would read Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents, Isabel Wilkerson, be forewarned that it's not easy reading. Wilkerson generously supplies the text with powerful illustrations and examples of mind numbing cruelty to the subordinate castes. This is painful to read.

        Framing the discrimination and persecution of minorities as victims of subjugation based on their caste is a helpful perspective in dealing with race relations. White persons on the lower economic rungs of the caste system often buy the dominant narrative about other races: i.e., that they are inferior. So, if these minorities, think Black Americans, do well and better than white people the only logical explanation is that they have gamed the system to their advantage. Thus comes white resentment and assumptions that they have been victimized. Trump's appeal to white supremacists fit in with their feelings of victimhood. 

      Wilkerson compares the caste systems of Nazi Germany and India with that in America. As the Nazis were coming to power in Germany they travelled to America to study Jim Crow laws in the South. They then used what they learned to oppress Jews, Gypsies, gays and others. However, there were some facets of Jim Crow they thought to extreme to use in Germany! When Martin Luther King, Jr., travelled to India he was welcomed by the Untouchables (Dalits) as one of them.

      Of the eight pillars of the American caste system that Wilkerson identifies, the second pillar was the most disturbing to me: heritability. In 1662 the Virginia General Assembly decreed "'be it therefore enacted and declared by this present Grand Assembly, that all children borne in this country shall  be held bond or free only according to the condition of the mother."' P. 105 So if a slave owner has a child by a slave not only is that child a slave but the owner has increased his property value! This was a break from English legal precedent which gave children the status of the father. "Tied conveniently as it was to what one looked like, membership in either the upper or lower caste was deemed immutable. primordial, fixed from birth to death, and thus regarded as inescapable." P. 106

      It is my opinion that Caste is one of the most important books of the decade. Oprah says it's the most important book she's read in her book club. She sent 500 copies to various leaders because she thinks it's that good. Some of you have already read it and I hope the rest of you soon will.

Takk for alt,

Al

Caste Postponed.

      My day began with an early trip to the grocery store in Arlington. When it opens at 7:00 a.m., I enter and typically am the only customer in the store. Next up was a trip to the recycling yard better known as the junkyard. Keith's butcher shop is next to my garage. Last night we loaded scrap metal behind his shop unto my trailer and this morning I hauled it to the junkyard. (See photos and on my way home I saw camel corn.)

    Having finished Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents, Isabel Wilkerson, I'd intended to review it today. When I read about Eugene Debs in Today's Writer's Almanac (see below) I thought it was worth reprinting and decided to delay the book report. 

 Today is the birthday of the man who said: “While there is a lower class, I am in it. While there is a criminal class, I am of it. While there is a soul in prison, I am not free.” That’s the speaker and labor organizer Eugene Debs, born to poor Alsatian immigrants in Terre Haute, Indiana (1855). At the age of 14, Debs left high school to work as a paint scraper on the railroad. He soon joined the Brotherhood of Locomotive Firemen, became an influential member of the union, and went on to become editor of their national magazine. He first went to prison for support of the Pullman Strike of 1894. He emerged six months later a committed socialist, a charismatic speaker, and in 1900, ran for president on the Socialist ticket. He also co-founded the Industrial Workers of the World (the Wobblies) alongside Bill Haywood and Mother Jones.

A tall lanky man with piercing blue eyes, Debs was an animated speaker, often bending far over the podium to look into the faces of the crowd. He disliked the label of leader, saying: “Too long have the workers [...] waited for some Moses to lead them out of bondage. I would not lead you out if I could; for if you could be led out, you could be led back again. I would have you make up your minds that there is nothing you cannot do for yourselves.”

In 1912, Debs campaigned for president on “The Red Special” locomotive, traveling to the farthest corners of the country. He lost yet again, but this time he received more than a million votes. Five years later, he was sentenced to 10 years in prison for a speech in which he said, “The rich start the wars; the poor fight them.” The Espionage Act had recently passed, making it a crime to publicly oppose the American involvement in World War I. Debs represented himself, called no witnesses, and his statement before the court is regarded as a masterpiece of American oratory.

He continued to speak out from an Atlanta penitentiary on labor issues, and ran yet another popular presidential campaign from behind bars. Now in his early 60s, he refused any special treatment in jail and won over his fellow inmates by constantly fighting on their behalf. When he was pardoned on Christmas Day in 1921, the warden opened every cellblock and allowed more than 2,000 inmates to gather at the gates and bid farewell to Debs. As he turned the corner and began to walk the gauntlet of prisoners, Debs opened his arms to the men and began to weep as the crowd roared. Some 50,000 people greeted him upon his return to Terre Haute.

His book on the prison industry, Walls and Bars, was published after his death from heart failure in 1926.

Eugene Debs, who said, “When we are in partnership and have stopped clutching each other’s throats; when we’ve stopped enslaving each other, we will stand together, hands clasped, and be friends."

Takk for alt,

Al

                                                                  Unloading was easy.

                                                                  Camel corn.