Another trip

My car trip post reminded me of one of my dad's stories.

When he was about five years old my dad was in the back seat of his father's Ford. A friend was with them and my grandfather had his window down, making it rather hard for my father to hear the conversation taking place in the front seat. Not being satisfied left out of the conversation he decided he wanted to sit up front with the men but he wasn't allowed to climb over the seat.

He was very resourceful and decided that what he would do is open his door, walk along the running board and knock on the passenger window. His father's friend would open the door, certainly, for such a clever five year old and he could slide in up front, problem solved.

My father opened his door, eased out and the next thing he knew he woke up on his parent's couch with a doctor leaning over him! His father, his mother, his grandmother, everyone wanted to know why he had leapt from a moving car! A car moving rather fast! My grandfather hadn't even heard the door open and close it had happened so fast, he and his companion were talking so much and so loudly to make up for the wind rushing in (I think the window was broken) so it is unknown how long my father laid in the ditch but it could have been as long as 20 minutes before it was noticed that there was no talking coming from the backseat! Can you imagine the consternation as the two men tried to figure out what had happened to the little boy who had just been sitting there when they knew they had not made any stops? An alien abduction? That wasn't much of a theory yet back then!

It was weeks before my father remembered why he ended up outside of the vehicle! When I was little I wondered why he hadn't been anxious for his parents to understand his intention wasn't to jump out of the car but what his plan really had been. He wasn't concerned about that. Either his parent's knew him or they soon would, either way it was their loss or gain. And that, pretty much, has been the both of my parents. Neither one of them have ever and will never explain themselves to anyone.

One time we got an anonymous letter to our home signed by a "good christian" and addressed to my eight or nine year-old little brother, who has the same name as my father. The letter was extremely crude and whispered rather nasty gossip about family! When we asked if it was true, after my brother read it aloud to us girls and we brought it to our parents, we were told we shouldn't believe anything about someone else, especially what didn't directly affect us and that we didn't see with our own eyes. This letter was an example of both. Didn't affect us? Good grief, what more evidence did we need? Good christians were telling us, after all, and in very graphic language that, somehow, it did affect us!

About ten years later we found out our parents were divorced. Yes, found out. When we asked when the divorce had happened we, their children, were told it was none of our business. Laughter! Extremely private people, our parents. Owing no one an explanation of their lives. Aggravating! My children say, "your just like grandma," "your just like papa." I love it!

A car trip

Walter commented that he thought, by the title of my last post, I was going to describe a car trip. HAHA! I don't know why I picked that title. Thinking up titles for the posts can sometimes consume more time than writing it, other times it just comes to me. Like that one, and today's. So original, today's title.

A car trip with Carrie. Yesterday I had to take my mother, who is disabled because of losing almost all of her peripheral vision (I think that's laymanese, but not SSI correct) due to a tumor, to the train station in Kelso. It is cheaper because of gas prices for her to take the train to my sister's in Seattle than for me to drive her and she enjoys it. On this trip I am bringing my 2.5 year old grandson because his mom is at work and I am primary babysitter and with us is my father who has Parkinson's. Due to the fact that we are working frantically on this house and I have a torqued back that Builder's Supply's insurance has said they are going to fight me to pay for anything!

Now, this is a car trip. We have pills for Parkinsons, for hay fever,  and for general pain in the front seat! All four people whining about the stage of life they are in. In the back seat: oragel and Shrek on the portable DVD. After the fun of the train we headed to Home Depot to compare frigs. My father goes in one direction and my grandson goes in the other. My father is trucking fast because he's got his new pneumatic walker and my grandson is going fast because I forgot his harness, like I always do, and he's two and a half. Of course, I am the only one with a cell because my father always leaves his in the car.

I chase down my grandson and he lets out an earsplitting scream as I scoop him up and run down rows looking for my father. He had wanted this to be a "quick" trip because we are checking this price and then going to Lowells to which one is cheaper. Costco's and Freddy's have already been checked.

He isn't down any row! Yikes, where could he have gone, out to the car? If I go out I'm not going to come back in because the grandson's angry he had to interrupt his movie to come in here. Sigh. I don't remember there ever being just one baby and having to entertain with a movie, ever. There were always buckets of KIDS.

I have them announce over the intercom that my father's "party" will be waiting for him out in his vehicle. I have them pronounce the name twice, to make sure they have it correct. Then just as we are headed out the door I see him and we all go out together and load back into the vehicle. He has a price and we are off to Lowells. At Lowells the price is over $70 more so we head back to Home Depot. I had tried to do this by phone, before, but one time over the phone Home Depot even told them they didn't sell spa supplies when I have bought them at that store for four years! So, we go in person to all of the stores. Grandpa, I and grandson. And as hard as it is, and sometimes as aggravating as it is, on all of us I am sure, I am grateful for these moments and times. I know it is not often in this time, age and country where four generations attempt to live together, to bend our wills to one another's needs, to listen when we want to talk and be the ones to give when we want to take. It will be our turn soon enough, so now is a time to treasure.

Are we there yet?

"You have to read Smoking Gun so you know what to expect," I was recently emailed. "Have you heard what Michele Longo says about Marquis?" I am asked. "You know what Gerry Spence said, don't you?" "Wow, your getting slapped in the forums!" "You know who smacked you on NCO and now is after you anonymously at KAST, or Rust or was it CCM?!?"

Similar to when I found out that I had Hodgkins Disease I am reluctant to read too much. It seems to me that there is only a certain amount of things you can do when you find yourself caught up in a "situation". If you read too much you find yourself overwhelmed and too cautious to take any step. If you don't read or research anything you might try a procedure that has been proven ineffectual, expecting it to have miraculous results and dismayed to find out different.

I reluctantly read the way Marquis has treated those he feels has "stabbed him in back". Yikes! I thought backstabbing meant that the person was acting like a friend while doing some behind the scenes maneuvering. Apparently backstabbing means anyone who does anything without Marquis' permission or approval. 1) He only invited those who supported him to write in to the paper and 2) only invited those who supported him to the budget meeting. Yet, behind his back, I did both and I wasn't one of his supporters. Stab I did, I suppose?

It is funny how people think. I am truly baffled and irritated by how the Daily Astorian operates. It has a comment box at the bottom of each of their webpages. On May 22nd my cousin-in-law wrote a letter to the editor and I posted a reply in the comment section at the bottom of that page using my married name, which I sometimes write under but usually reserve for serious articles on NCO. I don't get the paper and can only read current info or selected pages w/o a subscription. The paper called to verify that I did post the comment and I said yes. The week before I had written a reply to the Daily Astorian's May 17th editorial, What's in the Water at the Courthouse? using my maiden name, the one I most often use when writing to the Daily Astorian or on this blog.

In a small area like ours neither your married nor maiden name hides you (especially when you marry someone you went through school with), but using one or the other recalls a link that is often helpful to the reader. It is laughable that I am being accused of hiding or of trying to "re-invent" myself. I like that one. Yes, if I were going to re-invent myself it would be into a family with, literally, 21 people of my peer group in which I could just blend in. One of the cousins in that group does have cancer, and I wish her all of the best.

It is this constant sense of being harassed that when some say, "whats to be afraid of, why not use your name?" that I think, those must deliberately choose to be ignorant of real life. They also ask, why didn't Scott Reuter's wife use her name when he wrote a letter of support for Josh? I think it is wisdom. If you don't NEED to express yourself that way, why do it? Why take that chance? Reuter's wife's priority is her clients, not Marquis, he is a big boy and I honestly mean that with total frankness. Scott was writing and there was no reason to add her voice to that letter and potentially cause damage or limit her ability to help someone or somewhere else, so why do it? And that is what many, many people think. They've elected a commissioner that they trusted to work for them. They are going to trust that commissioner to do a good job. Most people don't feel an urgency to write any more. They don't feel the need for their letters to be criticized, their motives analyzed, their characters idealized, their feelings minimalized.

So, they contact their commissioners by phone or email, or text message: shs fha oys thx (strip his stipend. fire his ass. on your side. thanks), take care of this, bring it home, put it to bed.

Fun Day at the circus

Today was a funnnnn day!

Had a bad night with a back ache. I have to get to the doctor but am too busy and never remember until two in the morning when I can't sleep because my back hurts too much but hate taking anything for it because of medicine head or oversleeping but then 4 am hits and I think what can one pill hurt? One midol, one tylenol pm, ahhhh and BOOM! Sleep through the alarm clock and its 9:15 AAAACK!

No time for any last minute look at the notes or anything! Jump into shower, clothes, car and make-up. And barely make it to the meeting at 10 am. Yes, 10 am. It is a looooong meeting and it is probably going to go all day. I stayed for the first budget items which included the DA's budget. I am just not going into what I said again here. See Dried Salmon or NCO or Daily Astorian's forums for my opinion. Needless to say, after the way I have personally seen how Mr. Marquis treats children and women my feeling is he only is in it for the media.

I appreciate that people see different sides of one another and I think that is great. Very few are pure evil or pure predators. I only knew the Domineys of the 20 something who spoke for the Commissioners to ignore their budget committee's recommendation. Only two others spoke in agreement with the budget committee's recommendation.

Bob Green and Joe Bakinen talked to me after the meeting. Bob told me some good stories. Very funny guy, he is!

I left my notes on what I wanted to say on the kitchen table but did have a notepad in the car so was able to grab it to jot down some figures that I remembered and points I wanted to make which got garbled with some rebuttals to what the 12 or so pros had said who went before me. It was lopsided and hard. I understand what that these meetings are long so have to be conducted when they are but so many people can't just come. Only one person mentioned how they took time out of their work day to be there. Everyone else that wasn't a volunteer mentioned they were a retired this or that. A couple of people, especially the Domineys, mentioned that they were grateful for the raging crime spree that Marquis has somehow managed to stem. !?!?! I have no idea what that even means. Where was I during the crime
spree?

You listen to Marquis and these people and you wonder how our county gets voted the in the top 10 to live in the United States by any standards if it all hinges on one elected official.
Sigh!

This tearing down process is draining. I much rather build a community than be a part of it disintegrating. It really made me sick to my stomach to watch Jeff Hazen's face change color as comments were made. Yes, he's an adult and of course he knew what he was in for. It still doesn't make it easy to watch. Ann Samuleson and Patricia Roberts were very delightful to watch in action. They really like people and take care to acknowledge each person's efforts. I was most surprised by Richard Lee. I really liked Margaret, and who doesn't like Sally, really? But Richard? Will, he is his own person, that is for sure. But he was a very good chairperson, very courteous. A nice group of people. I wish them well.

Another Day, another heart aches

The House of the Bab, Shiraz, Iran, before its destruction in 1979.

Reports are intensifying from Iran regarding the persecutions of Baha’is’. It is frightening to know that you are being persecuted solely for your religion, beliefs, race, creed, philosophies, gender, etc. when the person persecuting knows little about you as a human being but is using people as chess pieces, while trying to create a climate of fear based solely on their own vain imaginings.

Recent news tells us:

These acts appear to be provoked and often methodically planned by the Ministry of Information to create fear; to make the Baha’is physically vulnerable; and to instill in them social and occupational insecurity. The actions also appear intended to disengage them from their friends and fellow citizens; to generate suspicion and mistrust--even hatred--in the hearts of their fellow citizens against them and their religion; to impede critically the Baha’is’ social, economic, and cultural progress; to destabilize their community; and to block its growth.

Can this happen anywhere? One would hope that we are progressing forward and not backward in our freedom to share and express our thoughts, experiences and dreams for a brighter future. We pray that our friends, brothers and sisters, in Iran do not suffer in vain.

The future is not a sure thing no matter where we live. Our civil liberties, freedom, justice are all words with little meaning when they are not accompanied with actions. While we in the United States stand strong today we must continue to remember how and why we are strong. We must continue to fight for those voices that cannot be heard, that are being silenced, that have become weak through pain, suffering and fatigue.

Often an opportunity lost is never regained. Guard your moments well, live each to the fullest, live not only for yourself but for those whose opportunities have been stolen.

The House of the Bab in Shiraz, Iran, one of the holiest sites in the Baha'i world, being destroyed by revolutionary guardsmen in 1979. It was later razed by the Government.

Looking for a Barry Scheck

While some do think I have been lolligagging about with my new BFF, I have actually been getting myself, probably, knee deep into trouble.

See, this week I have been looking for a Barry Scheck lawyer. It has to do with a video tape. A video tape illegally confiscated during an illegal search and seizure during an illegal stop at an alleged fish and wildlife check point which was vacated because it wasn't posted properly and no other fishermen were stopped, and then it illegally turned up as discovery in an unrelated case one state away. One could call this video tape a smoking gun, at least that's what the deputy district attorney is calling it. I'm trying to figure out how she, a deputy district attorney for Josh Marquis in Clatsop County, legally obtained it from the Washington Fish and Wildlife agent in Wahkiakum County who stole it (and viewed it) out of a kid's backpack, which in no way could be construed as a fish holding tote.

But I can't see how she got it. Legally, that is. It looks like behind the door shenanigans, which appalled the Clatsop County District Attorney when he alleged it happened in the Astoria Municipal Court. It looks like fruit from a tainted search. And it does look like a smoking gun ... but for whom remains to be seen.

Friendship

It amazes me how kind people are. Really. Sure there are crappy people out there, disgusting people, aggravating people, and pukes but usually it seems I find those people when I am in a real mood myself. I don't know why I come upon the real good people but I do and for that I am grateful.

When one lives here "forever" one just gets into a mode with blinders not realizing how many more people there are than just the same old that were there from school days. Mind you, nothing wrong with that crowd in the least however we just don't seem to see them around anymore. It seems funny to fall in with people that we have just met as if we have known them forever.

I think that is what blogging does, though. You read someone for so long you feel like you know them. People are sharing their "journals" with one another, sometimes writing what they wouldn't dare even say outloud, and it is a form of trust and a baring of soul which sometimes takes quite a while to take place in the "real" world seems to go faster in the blogsphere. There is an intimacy here which lends itself to coziness.

Sometimes, it seems, it can also lend itself to craziness. On some of the forums and message boards behaviors that you would rarely see and never excuse occurs on a regular basis. Name calling and the blame game, back and forth, back and forth. Who's fault is it now, who's fault could it be, should it be? Arg! So on and so forth until you grow bored with th whole topic.

My new bff is a delightful blogger who's daughter promptly sobbed because she thought she was being replaced! When I was meeting my bgf with my bff (okay, I borrowed that one!) my own twenty-somethings kept circling the building to make sure we weren't having too much "fun"! Too funny.

Friends are those people in your life that you choose. They are people who help you scratch those itchy places. You scratch theirs, they scratch yours and you all scratch together! Although forwards are not my favorite brand of communication one that made the rounds a while back I did appreciate and it went something like: A good friend is there to bail you out of jail, a best friend is sitting there next to you. I think everyone needs both kinds. I hope I learn how to be a better friend. I hope I am the kind of friend that if I'm not close enough to be sitting there next to my friend in jail at least I am the kind of friend who can raise the bail!

Gesundheit!

Ahhhhh-ahhhh-ahhh-ahhhhhhhhh-ahchooo! And so it goes on. My eyes itch, the back of my tongue itches. I play the rotating pill game because my body becomes immune to whatever it is I am currently taking if I am on it too long, or some nonsense. I hate anti-histamines because they make me have medicine head. I loathe medicine head!

My grandma name is Babika. 'Nother story, 'nother day. My 28 month old grandson is learning manners and spends his afternoons saying, "Bless you, 'bika! Bless you, 'bika! You want me blow your nose, 'bika? You be all better soon, 'bika! Mama says you not rub your eyes, 'bika, I telling!" Ah, yes, a two year old tattling on me! The wonders of living in a multi-generational family.

Today, not many families live with one another unless in dire straights. And, although there are days I want to pull out hair (and most of it not mine) I am intrigued with this process and in love with my family, which is quite ironic. We have four generations under one roof right now. The other day my daughter said, in a bit of a pique, "I'm twenty-five, I don't think I'm obligated to report to you where I'm going or when I'll be back!" My reply, I am sure, was kind and filled with the sage wisdom of an elder.

I remember the last time I felt as if I was not answerable to anyone and I remember distinctly what I was doing. When I am only accountable to myself, I don't know that I like myself. When I don't think about the ripple effect, when I just scratch whatever itches whenever it itches wherever it itches without scratching for someone else, I just end up feeling disgust. You only go around once, I sincerely believe. You meet people and the moments that occur with them once. There might be 525600 minutes in each year but they are each, distinctly, different minutes. We shouldn't waste them.

While none of those moments are anything to sneeze at, I wouldn't trade a single one of them away and miss the chance on hearing a tiny, voice clearly sing out with love, "Bless you, 'Bika!"