Small Heroes

 We are used to hearing about Heroes: first responders who rush into burning buildings or to an accident or more recently who don haz-mat suits and nurse folks with COVID or fly over huge fires doing their best to bring them under control.They are heroes indeed and we should be grateful for them everyday.

Today I want to remind you of other heroes, heroes with a small “h” who have probably never heard themselves referred to in that way. They are out there, day in and day out, and especially during these massive fires that are burning in the west. Our family has been directly touched by the Alameda fire that practically destroyed the towns of Talent and Phoenix, Oregon. And so I give you my list of small heroes.

Daughter Michelle who gathered her family and a cat and drove them to safety ~ a 3 1/2 hour convoluted drive that normally takes her 20 minutes. 

Grandson Akira’s friend who said, “we have a guest house. You can stay there tonight.”

The hotel who gave them the lower weekly rate and the school’s union who gave $200 toward that hotel bill and a $200 gift certificate to Fred Myers. 

The friend who, when Michelle’s battery went out, drove back to Medford to pick up Marc from the airport. He had been being a terrific dad and helping his son move to Des Moines. 

Whoever drove Michelle and family to the evacuation donation center where they were able to get a few extra clothes and some food supplies.

Everyone working the evacuation donation center and Harry & David, the food company, who donated some of their wonderful pears. 

One of Trinity’s teachers from middle school who has given them her studio apartment for the duration. Although Michelle’s apartment is still standing, there is no electricity and no water and until those are restored no one returns to Talent.

A God-mother and a cousin both of whom have sent money to help with expenses. 

Marc, who even as I write, is in line waiting to be escorted back into Talent where he will have five minutes to gather whatever necessities were left behind. And the people who organized this escort service so people can return briefly. 

You’ve heard it before and it is so true: heroes do not always wear capes and angels do not always have wings. Prayers of blessings and gratitude for all of these small heroes who are pitching in to help where they can in the midst of a fiery crisis. 

Bears in the Yard

This afternoon Oso and I were sitting on the deck. It was late so I had left my phone inside charging because nothing ever happens around here that time of day. Suddenly Oso is barking his bear bark and running across to our neighbor's yard. By the time I had looked, he was face to face, literally, with a medium size bear. I called to him - hollered at him actually - and he came back to the deck. Then I looked at the bear, who was peeking out from behind a tree. Coming up to her on the other side of the tree were her two cubs. Oops.

Oso heading back toward her. I'm hollering, "Oso, No. Come back. That's a mom with cubs. Oso, come here, now!!" One baby was up the tree. The other was hanging around curious. Oso comes back. Then he starts back for her again. This time when he comes back on the deck, I grab his collar and force him into the house, closing the door on him. I race to the other door, close it, grab my phone, and head back to the deck to take the pictures. These were all I got as she led both cubs up the hill and off into the forest.

Mama poised to defend cubs from Oso.

Cub up the tree out of harms way. 

Life in our forest is never dull. 

What's New?

I love thinking about words and their origins. Having done no research on this particular word, I have always assumed that the "news", that general word for everything brought to us by the media, came from being told what was new in the world, starting back when information was passed from person to person in the great oral tradition that preceded the printed word.

The word was even added to other words as a descriptive: news print (the paper on which the news was printed), newspaper (the package of news print delivered  to the world),  news reporter (the person who searched out the story and wrote it so it could be printed in the newspaper), news boy or newsies (the young person who at first stood on the corner and shouted the headlines so people would buy the newspaper and later who, by foot and by bicycle,  delivered the newspaper to homes).

The word was used in many ways because it was important, it meant something new was happening and we needed to know what that new thing was. Even today, in the age of the internet and 24/7 coverage, we expect the news to bring us something new, or at least a new twist on the story.

Given that background, I had to laugh at the subject matter from the New York Times California Today email I received this morning.

"California Today: Wildfires, a Heat Wave, Power Outages and a Pandemic"

So? What else is new? Tell us something we don't know. heheheheheh

Seriously, everyone of these stories did add something new to my understanding of each of those events which are all too present in California lives right now. It was just funny when I read our old lives laid out so very clearly as if they were new news. Ah well, there's this pandemic and I guess we find our distractions where we can.

Ulu

 

This is an Ulu. It is a very sharp knife, native to the Inuit of Alaska.

Meredith and David gave it to Dean for Christmas a number of  years ago 

when they spent the winter in Alaska for David's work. Dean likes it

and has used it often. For some reason I have just discovered it.

This is the Ulu at work. The blade rocks back and forth across what you are

cutting. It cuts simply and easily and with no effort. 

So far so good. Chicken chopped for chicken salad. So much easier than slicing

all those little pieces with a straight knife. Yes, there are some things a knife cuts

better. My chicken salad has celery and I cut the stalks long with a knife. Then I

chopped them fine with the Ulu. The Ulu can chop straight down as well as cut

with the rolling slice. 

I have to wonder why it took my family living in Alaska for a year for us to discover

this delightfully easy to use knife. Why don't all knife sets have an Ulu included? It

makes me smile when I use it and it certainly makes certain chopping easier. 

Relax!

Years ago when I was a stage manager, I had a lot of these and would give them to my crews on opening night with words of appreciation on the back. We had this show and all would be well no matter what happened.

Once I retired, I kept one ~ and carried it with me as you can tell.

Today I wish I had them again. I would hand them to people wearing masks to say Thank You! And I would hand them to people without masks with the written message ~ "As long as you wear your mask and keep your face covered!"

Hang in there, folks. Wash you hands, stay over there, and Wear Your Masks! We've got this show if we all work together. All will be well. 

A Woman, A Dog, A Man, and A ?????

It was shortly after three and I had been to the bathroom and was almost back asleep when I heard a noise. I rose up and as everything was quiet, I lay back down and Oso woofed. Oh. Maybe all was not well. He continued to woof and be restless. I got up and went to the back door where although dark, I could tell there was nothing there. We both headed back to bed and he barked, tail up, looking out the front window. I go into the living room planning on looking out the front windows when the bark became more frantic and he headed to the living room. In the light coming from the condo parking lot and the little night lights we have around, I saw nothing  About to return to bed, I looked down the stairs toward the front door just in time to see it swing open on its own.

Without even thinking I was jumping up and down, banging me hands on the rail and yelling. “NO, NO. GO AWAY!! DEAN!! GO AWAY, WHOEVER YOU ARE, GO AWAY!!! DEAN!!” As I continued to bang and yell, he who can sleep through anything came out of the bedroom. What’s going on? Something opened the front door. Somewhere in all of that, I had turned on lights enough to see that although the door was open, there was nothing there. Dean heads down the stairs with Oso right behind him. He turns on another light by which we could see that the door to the office level below was also open. Down he goes with Oso standing at the top of the stairs watching him. Nothing on that level. He comes back up and searches the lower house level. Nothing there. As he comes back up, I ask him to lock 

the front door which he does. 

Our best guess? A raccoon. The noise? The raccoon jumping against the door to reach the door handle to open it.

Once the excitement died down, I did realize that had it been a bear or a human, once the door opened I would have seen a larger darkness against the already dark doorway. Oso’s bark was not his bear bark. He did not chase whatever it was ~ another clue to its being other than a bear. Give me a big ole, lumbering, scared of loud noises bear any day (or night).

I realized I was scared. It was watching the door open on its own that scared me. Got back in bed, cried a little while Dean held me, and as I turned on my side, I noticed that Oso was on the floor on my side of the bed in protective posture. I guess I slept again at some point because I was dreaming when I woke again at 5:45 and got up. That was enough adventure for one night and I needed an ordinary day to begin. I’ll nap later.

You Decide

I have thought about the following quote over and over since I read it. I have tried to write about it and what it means to me. So far I am unable to do that even though I know how I feel and how it relates to my life. Therefore, my friends, I offer it to you with no commentary to let you decide for yourselves. Whatever you feel, it will be worth them time it takes to read and absorb the message.

In an article entitled "The Role of Cognitive Dissonance in the Pandemic" (The Atlantic, 7/12/2020), authors Elliot Aronson and Carol Tavris tell this wonderful story. 

Shimon Peres, Israel’s former prime minister, was angered by his friend Ronald Reagan’s disastrous official visit to a cemetery in Bitburg, Germany, where members of the Waffen SS were buried. When asked how he felt about Reagan’s decision to go there, Peres could have reduced dissonance in one of the two most common ways: thrown out the friendship or minimized the seriousness of the friend’s action. He did neither. “When a friend makes a mistake,” he said, “the friend remains a friend, and the mistake remains a mistake."