Kinda Coffee & Travel

A Different World

2022-01-18T04:21:00.002-08:00

Hello Peeps!

Lions and Tigers and Bears OH MY! On the road without my wheels! Said goodbye to PDX with mixed feelings. Big Blue has a new road partner now. This is one trip we can't share. Kieran my son, inherited the Big Blue saga. Those two will have their own stories to tell. Time to see how the rest of the world is faring.

Portland, Oregon has been home longer than any other place. Roots were tentatively dug into the damp, mossy ground. 10 years. A record for this wanderer! Made a promise. Promise kept. Dusting off old dreams. A little bit of tweaking to current times and off we go.- They can be fecking elusive at times. Hard core chasing required with a certain debit in the sanity column.

Doing this in a pandemic has pushed my brain cells to explosion. Shipping chaos and delayed logistics stretched my nerves and pocket. If not now, then when.. But, finally, the miracle day came. A truck, driver and container arrived. All in the same day. After 4 tries. Damn. Stupid Stubborn is my middle name.

Not enough words to express my thanks to my Personal Peeps who helped out and support me even as they scratch their heads at The Plan. Won't deny the wrench at leaving all of you guys. This pandemic world holds no promises. Each day is a gift. Each moment together precious.

Y'all know my door, has a permanent "welcome" matt out for you. And damn it- you had better visit! ( I know where y'all live!) 😎

Loved walking and biking along miles of beautiful paths, chasing rainbows, the fantastic street music, the Saturday Market, coffee shops and, yep the cannabis. Nobody does weed like the City of Roses. Nobody! It's an experience that popped my brain and eyes to a kinder world. Science combined with a true boutique shopping experience. I will miss my PDX cannabis peeps. Yep. There are some big heartaches attached to major life decisions. Nights are the hardest. In the quiet darkness, beyond busy distractions comes the Question. Did I do the right thing?..

Portland is/ was village-city. Everyone rubbed along together. People said "good morning" and meant it. Bought an extra coffee for the homeless guy on the corner and stayed for a quick chat. Portlanders liked each other. Things change. Honestly, not missing the mess my little city had become over the last 2 years. Damn effing shame is what it is. But, Portlanders are resilient. The City of Roses will bloom again.

In the meantime, the road calls. Out here, looking around and checking in with the world. Laptop, camera and crazy, high hopes. Call it an adventure or blame my wandering soul. It's time to check out and check back in with the world. In a pandemic. Again. Silver linings in dark skies.

First stop. New York. New York! Wow! What a place. Honestly, I avoided the place like the plague for years. Sucked in by the historical reputation it dragged around. Damn. It was worth the side-trip. Ground my shoes into the cement and loved every New York minute of it. The energy buzzes.

Got a crick in my neck from staring up so much! New York, sorry to bust your reputation, but - I tried, I REALLY tried to find a rude, obnoxious New Yorker. Like Don Quixote, I stopped people on the street , demanding they tell me where all the Real New Yorkers were. They laughed and offered to buy me a coffee. I traveled on the subway and didn't get mugged. I crossed Central Park, unaccosted and wandered endless streets with a growing sense of ease and confidence. Either New York has pandemically changed or, it's the best kept secret - New York ain't so bad.

Museums, art, vibrant energies, cutting conversations. This city is so far from "over" or "dead" it's a mischievous toddler. The ground here seeps resilience and a fighting spirit. Take a wander through Central Park, grab a coffee at the French Cafe. Broadway lights are lit and our melting pot history slips around every corner.

New York literally throbs. Street music, food and art. So much to see and feel. Two weeks was not enough. Damn Omicron parsed my visit to the basics of what the city had to offer. Think I may have to come back again.. Have to trash that New York reputation again.

Next is chase around for a Covid test station that doesn't have a line around two blocks. There is a plane in my future.The Plan demands going forward.

Dear America, you may be politically fucked, but we, your people love you. Where ever we wander, our hearts are always with you. In strange lands, we gather together, missing you. You are home.

Stars and Stripes forever.

Good-Bye Portland

2021-12-06T12:41:00.005-08:00

Another round of autumn has drifted into winter. Only memories now, the multi-colored clouds of trees and that special musty, spicy scent that rises up from wind fluttered leaves. Always my favorite time of the year. Briefly sweet, layered in summer memories and wrapped in holidays lights. Soup by a crackling fire with a new pile of books to read. Natures' space of transition and reflection. Sitting here at the Human Bean on Sandy in Portland, Oregon, I am preparing to say good-bye. New tastes and sights will stretch my coffee adventure wings. First stop, New York...

My last eclectic wanderings in search of unusual, original coffee shops here in Portland stalled last week. Had I found all The City of Roses had to offer? Big Blue cruised slowly, eating city miles even as gas prices rise daily. My bike is in storage, caught in a saga of shipping chaos. The nomad life has challenges that seem to change by the day. Pandemic 2021 flowing into 2022. One can only pivot so much before falling over.

I love how old words are branded up for new sales. Think about it. "Pivoting" is now a LinkedIn job skill. How that works I have no idea. When I pivot, am I at the center holding it all together or, running in circles to keep up with it all? And, if I fall over, am I still resilient? How does one actually measure a persons resilience?

Today, I feel as if I have dipped into all the mom-and-pop coffee-shops and hit the dregs at last. Searching "coffee shop" on my app brings up a cold list. I am feeling a shade of blue as the rain stutters against the windshield wipers. Winter is a mixed bag of feelings.

In the grey frame of my window, a line of motorcycles catches my attention. Layered together like dominoes. Huddled in all their glory against the rain. I like motorcycles, so slow to admire their powerful beauty and promise of freedom. Big Blue's engine grumbles. She is a highway cruiser, her weight powered by speed. Slow is not her pace. But, she bears with me in my endless searches.

A sign glows in the window behind the motorcycles. Yes, a coffee shop! Comment on life, slow can bring unexpected perks. With a feeling of pride, Big Blue rumbles to a space at the end of the line. A solid car stop to the bike parade. I grab the camera and bag, stepping out to a new coffee experience in my old city.

Am I alone in my desire for new sights, smells, and voices, Is my blood tainted by a distant wandering ancestor? Much as I love my homely comforts, the world beyond the doorstep is forever a siren song I cannot resist. Leading beyond the set boundaries to poke down crooked alleys. To wander the world guided merely by the scent of coffee or a fragment of music drifting in the air.

What makes one into a wanderer? Is it an inquisitive spirit or, a lost soul? We used to be natural nomads, in the ancient days. When did our worlds become set and smaller? Maybe, our sense of humanity is born in these wandering moments. In seeing and experiencing new feelings, sharing with strangers. Being a part of the bigger world. For me, coffee is a gateway to new ideas. An elusive search for the vibrating soul of the world. Each cup is a shared story with strangers. Strangers with the potential to become new friends, A new taste of life on my tongue.

I am saying goodbye to Portland, Oregon, and, my beloved "Big Blue". So many adventures together. I will miss you. I will miss the music and eclectic neighborhoods. The beautiful moss-covered trees and flowing, sparkling rivers. Summer blue skies and street festivals. My two amazing sons.. But, I am a wanderer and, the siren song of the world calls me again. I must see it all, record the moments as they pass.

There will be more coffee shops and more stories. Laughter and tears and strange adventures. So much I don't know, much more to discover. Celebrate our beautiful planet. Reach out and touch rainbows in distant cities. Come, wander with me. Light up your soul.

Afghanistan: Howling At The Moon

2021-08-16T21:52:00.023-07:00

I am a journalist. We are supposed to be neutral. But, this feels personal. Journalists are fast becoming a species on the endangered list.

Sometimes, the world demands we howl at the moon. Hearts screaming out to breach the distance of miles and trivial priorities. A cry seeking to engage in the night. Souls searching for light and truth in blanketed, darkening skies.

Kabul has fallen. It is not the first time, it may not be the last..

This time, we will all carry the burden of new blood spilled on its streets and fields. The stones thrown will be from our own distant hands. We fed the wolves.

August 19th is Independence Day in Afghanistan. What meaning will it have in two days for this nation and its people? Today, we are focused on the horror. Tomorrow, will we forget when our Amazon package arrives at the door? Generations of Afghans have been born and died under the sound of gunfire.

A country that has struggled for an independent identity after defeating the British in the Third British Afghan war in 1921. In 1934, the US officially recognized Afghanistan as an independent nation, creating the first official embassy in 1942. We gave it our blessing to exist. We gave it the blood of our children and a fragile promise of hope.

In 1973, Pro-Soviet General Mohammed Daoud Khan, led the People’s Democratic Party into power aligning the country closely with the USSR. This did not sit well with us. We, as a country are forever haunted by the ghosts of McCarthyism. Our own unresolved nightmare that creeps twisted through our political lens and policies.

Over the years, we have closed our embassy (1989) re-opened it (2002) and used the country as grey ground in an advertised, ideological battle against our own personal demon we named "Communism".

Despite varied political support platforms, reforms for human rights, education programs and injections of foreign monies, Afghans have felt, with good reason, uncertainty in their independent status.

In the 1978 coup, Nur Mohammed Taraki, one of the original founding members of the Afghan Communist Party, wrested control of the government and declared independence from the Soviet partnership.

A bid again, for the mirage of independence and self-rule. A rivalry of ideologies boiled over. The new government aligned it’s policies with more Islamic principles, nationalism and a home-branding of socio-economic justice. An internal quest for the native soul of their country.

The stressed, patchy externally directed social agendas and agreements between the conservative Islamic leaders, communist ideologies, and rapid social change cracked and broke. Revolt erupted across the country, new alliances were drawn that divided the heart of the country. From this chaos, the Mujahadeen was born. A guerrilla movement initially aiming to free the country from a Soviet backed government. Seeking, independence. Again.

Afghans have been embroiled in a Western cross-fire of philosophies and their own, personal beliefs for over 100 years. Democracy. Islam. Communism. There is no space left for neutrality. On August 24th, 1979 the USSR invaded Afghanistan to allegedly support the faltering government. They left in 1989. They will be back... The wolves are circling. Again.

By 1982, over 2.9 million Afghans have fled their homeland as fighting escalated between the Mujahedeen and Soviet troops. The US supported the Mujahadeen with weapons ferried across the Pakistani border. A whispered promise of freedom. Of, independence. Again.

There is no safe space left for hope. Women and children, civilians, remain unprotected, abused on both sides. The UN investigated and reported on human rights violations. There are piles of reports gathering dust as the battles rage on. Afghans against Afghans. A country and people shredded by external interests and greed. Again.

The internal war of Afghanistan may have been, initially for the heart of the people. Maybe, it still is. However, countries rich in natural resources, bordered by hungry giants, will always be gambits in the global, political chess game.

Afghanistan is no exception. Fertile lands blooming with almonds, apricots and walnuts. Fresh water rivers snow-fed from the Pamir and Hindukush mountains. A land abundant with natural gas, uranium, coal, copper, chromite, zinc, sulfur. And, lithium deposits. These are, to name just a few, the enticements for war.

Lithium may not be a rare earth mineral, but currently, it is a major element used for electric vehicles, laptops and mobile phones. Our tech world demands to be fed. The excuse of invaders and environmental destructors. We want it more than peace. These common aspects of our modern world.

Afghans may be battling for the heart and soul of their country, but the outside world has different interests. Afghanistan’s struggling cry for independence has been drowned in the historical blood arena of the philosophies and needs of outsiders.

Which begs the question, why shouldn’t US troops leave? Is it, as President Biden stated, an end to America’s longest war? Are we bringing our own children home? A departure, finally, after 20 years of direct military involvement for the 911 attack that focused on Osama Bin Laden and the Taliban?

That is now a moot question. In the face of events, are bigger questions. With all the information and intelligence at the governments literal fingertips, how could this debacle happen? It reeks now more of surrender than, withdrawal. Shadowed under previous US failures across the world.

We, the US insisted we were fighting a legitimate “war on terrorism”. Operation Enduring Freedom. Helping our friends. Laying the proverbial ground for freedom and justice, in our own godlike image.

Independence backed by bullets. Our official calling card at diplomatic parties. We laid more than 2,500 American soldiers under burial flags and are currently caring for more than 20,500 returned wounded veterans. We lay claim to improving the literacy rate by 31.4% for those aged 15 and older. We gave books, pencils and chocolate to children. To girls. We invested. We trained. We promised.

Kabul has fallen.

American troops struggle to defend the airport in a desperate attempt to give swarmed evacuation flights a chance to escape. We watch as helicopters and troops are sent back in to save our embassy people.

Today, Afghan civilians are dying as they desperately seek to escape their own country. The "lucky" ones who leave behind their country, families, homes. Everything. What fate have we created for those left behind?

We have failed them and, ourselves. Again. Today, those who supported and broke bread with us, believed in us, spoke for us; those who have been loyal to us, have all been betrayed.

What next for those "lucky ones" who have escaped to foreign lands? Will they languish in refugee camps, censored as potential terrorists? Or, simply be forgotten. Our consumerist masses beguiled to forget inconvenient truths by endless, regurgitated lists of junk to buy on Amazon.

The wolves are at the door. Again.

Kabul has fallen.

Bullets With My Coffee

2021-08-10T12:10:00.002-07:00

The walls have rainbows and unicorns prance across the penny plastered floors. A flower floats in my spiced Mexican mocha. Outside, bright colors slash the graffitied buildings as rainbow flags flutter from broken windows. Eclectic escapism in a world teetering on the cliff edge.

I breath in aromas and scenarios. I breath out words. Secluded in my corner, people don't see me. I watch them. Each a variegated bubble unto themselves. At the register, momentary encounters between passing worlds. Bumping uncomfortably. Mask muffled again. Coffee is the brief connector.

We need magical unicorns. The Delta variant pandemic is crushing us with another wave and Lambda floats in on the crest. As Lord Stark would say; "winter is coming". Dragons are breathing fire across the world. The UN Climate Report gave humanity a Code Red as our politicians golf.

My coffee is pretty. It tastes of the past normal. A sign on the door lists menu items no longer available due to shortages. Normal left the building weeks ago. We are all struggling with a reality to stark to bear. We need rainbows.

Greta Thunberg is on the cover of Vogue denouncing the fashion world for "greenwashing". She voices a truth that is drowned by the sound of cash registers. " The fashion industry is a huge contributor to the climate-and-ecological emergency". Our global politicians and billionaires are bunging jumping into space and chasing golfballs on water greedy courses as people are made homeless by climate catastrophes. Corporate CEO's are buying golden passports to escape the US. They bring their destruction with them. There is no escape. We need magicians.

From Paradise, our greed and selfishness created Hell. As the world burns from the American West Coast to the suburbs of Athens, Greece we grasp at a world that has ceased to exist. There is no more time for the luxury of fantasy. Retribution is upon us. I stop people and ask, what is your future? What is the future of your children? If we do nothing, now, IS there a future?

Sirens are sounding outside, people running from the side street. The crack of bullets hitting- something. Hollywood is off the screen and outside the door. I wait. No point in leaving my corner. I write, seeking with my words for connection. Cassandra at the Temple watching the fall of Troy.

I am a journalist. I have witnessed the darkest depths where evil exists and those moments of shining courageous perfection that we, as humans are capable of. I observe and breathe out the words. Journalists and journalism are under attack. Why? We are placed to write the truths we see. Uncomfortable. Stark. Revealing. Products that are hard to "sell" in a world demanding instant coffee solutions and temporary happiness. I am a journalist. I won't sell you happiness here. I won't sell you false, instant solutions. I Will show you uncomfortable truths and offer you the choice to make a difference now, for our disappearing future. There is no more time left. We don't need broken shop windows or self-serving political dividers grasping for the mirage of power. The unicorns are gone. Winter is here.

Spring will come again. Flowers will blossom with the warmth of sunshine. It's a new world. Let's make it a better one. For everyone. Together, we can.

The Refuge Of Coffee

2021-07-30T12:33:00.004-07:00

Feeling various shades of blue. These days may be the end again, of summers' brief foray into pre-pandemic normality. Fortunately, I didn't toss my collection of face masks. Am I alone in my general confusion? Do I, don't I? Right vs wrong. Currently,. with Delta closely hounded by Lambda, how does my vaccination stack up against this damned, very determined virus? I savor each steaming mug of coffee shop coffee as if it may be a last social event for 2021.

The CDC is vague. Governments are hesitant to even whisper of lockdowns lest entire countries erupt. Social media, powered by distractive political agendas, is addicted to regurgitated and pointless lists of "best companies to work for". This is in the midst of the Great Resignation. Despite despotic corporations howling to end extended unemployment benefits, workers steadfastly refuse to return to abusive jobs and environments. With an average CEO age upwards of 62, maybe it's a generational thing. Can't teach old dogs new tricks.

We seem to be in some kind of warped version of disconnected worlds where reality is banned. Anybody else getting freaked out by the growing empty spaces on grocery shelves and stores? Feels like being in a bad zombie movie. San Francisco, LA, and Portland no longer even bother to stop blatant shoplifters. WTF?! It makes one question the point of even trying to be a "good citizen" anymore. Law and order is fast dimming into a figment of the imagination.

Every week I have a literal screaming match with @BankofAmerica as they steadfastly (despite website BS) refuse to negotiate any level of pandemic financial help. We bailed them out in 2008 with the Emergency Economic Stabilization Act under Secretary Henry Paulson and they have been partying at our expense ever since.

Housing has become another banking investment portfolio leaving the next generation stranded in the streets or crammed in 300 ft studios that echo a terrifying resemblance to prison cells only with brighter colors. Homeless people surge in the city streets and once vibrant inner cities are now ghosted with graffiti.

It's hard not to be scared. It's hard not to be angry. It's getting harder by the day to pretend everything is going to be ok. My brain is in a perpetual state of WTF??! The whole world is literally in chaos with fires, floods and famine. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are tromping in over everything. What comes next?

My coffee cup is empty. Am, like so many others, hanging on to hope. Pigs flying type hope. Forget the polka dots, one set of wings will do.

Change is in the air. What kind? That is up to us. Now. If not us, then who?

Bezos can bungee into space, but even he has to return to a rumbling earth and face the music. This is our world, now. Time to smell the coffee and wake up. Being woke is not enough.

Going Home

2021-07-22T13:24:00.004-07:00

They say you can't go back home. It's never quite how you remember it. These days nothing really is but, I thought I would give it a shot. Challenge a few memories with reality. A lot of my life catapulted into action from my days at University of Montana.

Radical mind-shifts that birthed MTV, Apple and the Logitech mouse. The average cost of a new house was $92,000. We bitched when a gallon of gas crept to $1.00. An IBM 30Mb hard-disk, mono-monitor with a whopping 512k of memory sold for $1249.00. The Iran-Contra Affair hogged the news and the "USSR" withdrew from Afghanistan. Things have changed.

Coffee has changed! Don't know about you all, but I can get overwhelmed with coffee menu options. Nobody just orders coffee anymore. Now it's a "Reserve Hazelnut Bianco Latte", with additional shots and options. Uhhh...Give me a minute to think. It takes longer to say it than drink it. In Missoula, there were two major student hang-outs offering endless refills of harsh, dripping black caffeination. The AppleTree for all-night exam cramming and Butterfly Herbs on Higgins, for debating the world's problems. If I remember right, back then, we had solutions for everything. The AppleTree is gone. Felled by time. No more midnight coffee-cup pyramid challenges and textbook flirting.

But, Lo and Behold! Butterfly Herbs is still here. Freakishly enough, it hasn't changed. From the squeeze-in wooden booths to the wall of loose leaf teas. I can hear the past whispering around me. Forgotten names and faces float back from memory. The coffee shop is still here, but they are gone.

Driving around Missoula I am caught between confusion and, recognition. A cityscape that has morphed. Unfamiliar, even as I turn corners finding spaces that echo in my heart. A mental jigsaw of pieces that don't quite fit this new puzzle.

Going "home" is a journey of the heart. Ghosts only we know, follow us. We explore, seeking something beyond the brick and mortar. The intangible spirit of our past.

A sense of our evolving past self that formed who we are today. Questing to find answers in a world that has changed so radically. Who were we? Who are we now? My second cup of coffee brings warm comfort but no answers. I am alone in this idealist past. A clutch of students crowd in armed with IPhones and laptops. It has been good to be back. Home has changed and, so have I. That is how it should be.

Thanks Montana. You are beautiful.

A State of Be-ing

2021-07-05T18:02:00.003-07:00

Pandemic restrictions are dropping like flies near vinegar. Which, for this coffeeshop writer is a blessing. We can all do with a little mental break after sloughing through 2020. Simply breathing in unfiltered, mask-less air is amazing. Appreciating so many little things taken for granted before.

Interesting peeps to chat with and fresh coffee aromas tickling my nose. Life is seeking a resemblance to some form of "normal'. Working on my Project-ASK.org website is a new social media learning curve for me. Writing and tackling the Herculean task of organising my photos is easier. I pass a few hours here nicely feeling a sense of public belonging again. My latest discovery is Refuge Coffee Shop in Portland, Oregon. Am addicted to their spicy mocha- and it IS spicy! A swift wake-up kick in the morning.

Not being British, am not usually enthralled with weather conversations. BUT. The recent weather has been - to put it mildly, menopausal. Unpredictable and somewhat dangerous. Hunkering down in a coffee shop with air conditioning vs heating is a new experience in the Northwest. This is the land of summer hoodies, mud slides and endless grey misted days. 125 F and buckling pavements is Not normal. We may still be better off than Arizona and California, but not by much. Some days it seems all very biblical, including the locusts. If I have to pivot any faster, I might fall over and stay down until it all moves on.

Back in 2020, before my monumental cross-country journey in Big Blue, I wrote about Arnold the Magic Man. Sitting in Powells Bookshop, he was casually weaving flowers out of napkins while floating delicate strands in the air. It felt as if a Harry Potter book had come to life. We all need a little magic in our lives. Now more than ever. I look up from my GoDaddy website frustration and presto, mesmerising magic is across the room. Can it be? Yes, it IS. Of all the coffee joints in all the city, he is here, again today.

A gentle reminder that every day needs space for some alternate reality. Moments to reflect on the wonder of our world beyond the hype of sales and business. A break from social media that pounds us mercilessly with its need for attention. What wonders we can see if we simply look up, away from the addictive call of our glaring tech.

I walk over and am invited to sit down. I marvel at how this simple exchange of talking to a stranger in a coffeeshop has become an "event". Something pandemically "un-normal" with shades of 2020 taboo. We end up talking all morning. No longer strangers but two people with stories to share. In sharing, we are given the gift of learning and the opportunity to strive toward a greater understanding our neighborhood, country and, world. To reach out and connect again to our shared humanity.

I love being a coffeeshop writer. It is a journey full of surprises and amazing people. Some, I will never see again. Others, become friends. We are all "in this together" and sharing our individual magic is like adding sprinkles on a donut. It makes life just a bit little sweeter.

Missing Miss Manners

2021-06-17T10:18:00.000-07:00

The world is in flux. If that sounds like another virus, it certainly feels like it on some days. Most of us have been pivoting so fast to adjust we are simply falling over from dizziness. Are we still resilient if we refuse to get back on a twirling carousel? Sometimes it feels like we are moving too fast to even see the brass ring, let along grab it. Rubbing a Buddah belly is a calmer alternative. No pivoting needed. A friendly little rub, smile and breathe..

Peace is not a commodity for politicians. Despite past and current events, it's not an item up for sale. Media rushes us from one regurgitated opinion to the next, parading it as news. Things to "like" or "follow" directed by Google algorithms and data mining. Our worlds narrowed through complex AI that doesn't yet understand the randomness of human thought. The internet that previously opened the world, has become a political and marketing tool making our personal worlds smaller and smaller. The informational windows to other worlds, ideas and ways of living get lost in advert hit scores.

Believing "our" world is the whole world is a slippery slide into the mud of bigotry and intolerance. And, rudeness! I for one, am missing Miss Manners. Poor thing crashed off stage faster than she could run out with her walker. Slander and Libel grabbed their wigs running for the exit without waiting for Justice to keep up. Nobody was holding the door open for anyone.

What do we need manners or etiquette for anymore? Maybe being our "true and transparent" selves needs a few hard check stops. A different kind of "wokeness" that embraces the idea of getting along for the benefit of everyone in society. Why do manners matter in our changing world? Nobody cares if the fork is different for salad or meat, when you're hungry, it's just a damn fork getting food in your mouth.

Manners and civility need a comeback. For all our sakes. If someone holds the door open, it doesn't matter whether the door-holder is a man or, woman. I don't feel my ability to open a door is in question. It's just a nice gesture. Manners are a code of actions for consideration, respect and, grace. An acknowledgment of another, human. It is the foundation for a functioning society, of being -humane.

No need to spout false positive "thank-you's" or to pretend you like something you don't. We can still be transparent and true to ourselves while respecting the space and ideas of others.

Corporate America, is having a hard time in the pandemic as workers are quitting their jobs in droves. Walking resolutely away from environments that are now recognised as "toxic". Previously "normal" work environments that lacked basic respect for employees. This attitude caused a historical business losses of over $250 billion dollars per year. Which begs the question, how much can companies afford to lose, before it is hurts enough to change? Giants like Amazon and TJX have been churning people for years without regard for basic human dignity or, respect. Dudes have no manners.

25 states have officially cut the extra $300 of Federal unemployment aid. In a sad display of very bad manners and name-calling, they claim a mere $300 is stopping people from working. With a Federal minimum wage of $7.25 per hour, people can't Afford to work. Not only is this 100% below what is needed today for a living wage, but in addition employees are treated like disposable trash as companies rake in billions of dollars in clear profit.

Yes, corporate America, backed by an embedded political system, is screaming. They are furious that the pandemic has shown them with their pants down. The "you can't live without us" myth has been broken. The truth is, corporate America can't work without employees. And, workers are now "woke" and demanding what they deserve. Respect, a living wage and more importantly, as 3 in 5 refuse to return to the "office", an environment that is not toxic. Where humanity is not just displayed as a pretty mission statement but transparently practiced with good manners.

My Mexican mocha coffee at Kaflex Roasters came with heart layered in. This small business survived the 2020 pandemic devastation. Why? Customers and employees agreed; it's a pleasure to be here. It feels "real". Kindness and respect mix with the smell of ground coffee beans, people smile at each other. "Good morning" and "thank-you" are genuine, not HR directed practices. Good manners spread, a virus of consideration and kindness toward the stranger next to you in line. Everything seems to work better and the day is a little brighter.

It's time for corporate and political America to wake up and "smell the coffee". We, The People want a Better America. One based in good manners. Humane, inclusive and transparent practices for the good of everyone in our society. We want a clear agenda of change that includes workers' rights and protections. A legal system that has equality and justice directed enforcements. Affordable education. Respect.

America is barely 246 years old. Our version of democracy is an evolving experiment. It's time for the system to pivot again. Time for both politicians and corporations to say "thank-you" and hold the door open for its workers. It's time. Make America Better.

Bridging The Gaps

2021-06-07T10:49:00.003-07:00

Yesterday, my week swerved one way. Today, it took a switch and changed direction. Pretty much standard state of play for life these days. We have added resilience and pivoting to our pandemic vocabulary. Sounds very cool and vaguely athletic.

Personally, if I keep pivoting at this rate, I will just get dizzy and fall over. As for "grit", I used to get that in my skinned knees as a kid and, it hurt. Gritty was not crying when the iodine was poured on. Is there a Ted Talk about that? The Iodine Experience. Pour in on, slap it with a band-aid and keep moving. Vintage kids were "resilient" we just didn't know it. Social media was not our teacher and Google was still clueless. We figured it out on our own.

In the US, vaccinations are currently rippling at 51.5% of people with one shot, and 49.9% with two jabs. The pandemic is easing and for some, summer dreams of vacations are simmering. Confusion on where on can actually go, holds a few cautious peeps from booking the dream. The US is not officially on the EU Green List and Asia is dying under the new Covid "double mutant" strain aka "B.1.617". (This is a little misleading as the little bugger actually carries 13 mutations). The whole global situation is surreal and nobody has a handle on any of it. Suffice to say, the world is still in a pandemic and nobody knows what tomorrow will bring. Hence that whole "pivoting" thing.

Happily for me, cafes are fully open again. The bliss of tables, wifi and Coffee! Whew, last year was not good for this wandering writer. So many coffee shops I would curb crawl up to. Looking for lights. Hoping for that "open" sign that wasn't just pick-up or drive-through. A place to sit and observe the world. To be. A part of the human social experience. Driving across America in 2020 broke my heart. So many places forever closed, people gone, music silenced. Entire small town Main Streets boarded up, ghost windows reflecting nothing. The road-trip experience of America is forever changed.

Meantime, the news is blasting out about a labor shortage. Cutting unemployment to "force" workers back to low wage jobs. What kind of attitude is that? Slavery is still slavery if you get paid a dollar and milk costs $5.00. Massive evictions are coming as the Cares Act fades out with no government policies or mechanism to bridge the gap. Rents continue to rise as entire apartment buildings stand empty. Silent grey giants skirted with blue and green homeless tents. Students debt still unresolved and painful. In India they are cutting down all the trees to burn the bodies. The impact of all of this is horrific on so many levels..The dominoes will keep falling. We need a better word than "surreal".

I love bridges. To my they symbolise, hope. Concrete, wood or metal, they create a path for two sides to find each other. Bridge builders have a courageous vision of a world that is connected. That shares. No wonder they are primary targets in wars.

We build bridges in our hearts and minds too. This is how we refuse to be divided by neighborhood, State, race, gender or anything else someone comes up with. We find our courage to stand in the middle of a bridge and, wait. Wait for someone to come and meet us in the middle. To share.

What if, we stop allowing ourselves to be divided, labelled and bullied and find our common ground of humanity? If the pandemic taught us anything it is this. We have one planet, and we are all here together. What happens in India or Africa or, the US ripples around the world and touches all of us.

Summer is here. Winter is still coming. Let's use these sunny days to build bridges that will sustain us and, the world. I am going to find another bridge and cross it. I want to see who is on the other side and talk to them. Maybe they like coffee too...

Bring On The Bling

2021-05-27T12:15:00.004-07:00

Summer will be soon push through the rain that mists the streets outside. Storms slash across the country, but the ice is melting and the birds are singing. Nature is perfectly beautiful.

Sitting indoors with a steaming coffee again feels so, decadent. Un-mittened fingers on the keyboard and music floating below live human conversations. Nostalgic memories of a pre-covid world. No zoom fatigue here. Pure, vibrating life energies.

Vaccinated or not, masks are off. We are sucking in the fresh air of liberation. For a breath, we can ignore the incoming wave of chaos coming due to lack of a unified Federal platform for validation and records of real vaccinations. Needless to say, the touted "honor system" is just plain stupid. Makes one wonder how our hard earned tax dollars are being spent.

Americans love a challenge and this one is proving less than usual. Anyone with laptop and printer can pop these out in a New York minute. It will be interesting to watch how summer travel outside the US balances economy vs lives and a new spread of Covid. Make sure those tickets are refundable, just in case.

How quickly we return to "normal". The workers of America are again cloaked in invisibility. "Heroes of 2020" are now "lazy scoundrels" with outlandish demands for living wages and environments not toxic to the soul. The audacity! We do not clap for them at night anymore.

Capitalist America is heroically fighting back in defence of profit margins. Like Exxon, they may be a bit slow on the up-take. Oil and employee abuse are so "pre-pandemic". The desire for a sustainable planet and human dignity have been unmasked by the virus that continues to plague our planet. Gen Z is not willing to pay the price of the old "normal" and damn right too. Go Gen Z! As I sit here, basking in the joy of sitting in a coffee shop again, I feel a shade of sadness. Is empathy so hard?

Is that $1.oo dirty piece of paper worth more than a life? Money is only as powerful as our belief in it. BitCoiners know this and banks tremble lest we, as The People understand and act on this. Convenience can be so soothing and, distracting. Amazon, our new world government, is built on this concept. Hmmmm.

If there is a He/She God in play, He/She just sent me an Angel disguised as the Bling Fairy. His halo is a yellow cap. I am blind-sided again by the erratic nature of human goodness. Myron Boyer is 72 years old and has brooches pinned all across his tee-shirt. I am distracted from the virtual world to the current reality. I am curious. Ha! What IS his story? He asks me to pick a favorite from his shirt display. A pin of a lady painting stands out to me. Smiling he plucks it off his shirt and hands it to me. I have been spontaneously "gifted". It seems Myron Boyer, aka The "Bling Fairy" has spent over 6 years giving away sparkly pins to strangers. Not only does he give them away to anyone he feels "needs a little sparkle in their day", but he spends his own money buying them. Turning dirty dollars into moments of happiness to strangers. Myron began his sparkling after the death of a close friend from leukemia and never stopped. He found giving happiness was addictive.

As we dash to the exit signs and embrace being "outside" again let us not forget the lessons of 2020. All people deserve kindness. Human dignity is Not for sale for the lowest wages. A smile costs nothing but brings enormous profit. If we are to survive on our lovely planet, we truly are, all in this together. Bring some bling into a strangers life today. Humanity requires it. 💜

Coffee Can't "Woke" Me

2021-04-02T12:59:00.005-07:00

Being a journalist has always been a hazardous occupation. The act of being a writer remains viewed by many more as a hobby than a "real job". It's "lovely dear, but how are you going to pay your bills" attitude that many artists face.

It's as hard to put a dollar price on a mere word as it is a dance move, painting or a song. Ours is a primary platform of pure audience validation. You love us or walk away. We generally don't get bought on a whim like a chocolate bar.

As artists of various genres, we struggle. We can struggle internally, physically and fiscally in striving to communicate the depths of our visions. It's what we do. For you. Because in every artists soul is a desire to tell a story,. To communicate something so tied into the human experience we are willing to sacrifice daily meals and more regulated life to "get it out there". It's as much a "calling" as the Church, military or politics.

I sit here, today, writing in a friends garden. Thanks to a few pandemic twists of fate, I am houseless. That basically means my suitcases are always packed and ready to go. In social media terms, I am a Digital Nomad. That sounds much more impressive. It's all in the -words. Nowadays, it seems you are only homeless if you live in a tent under the freeway. For some reason, the locality of being near major roads and intersections colors the perception. If you're in a forest, in the same tent, you're officially camping. Alternatives are clamping, boondocking or caravaning. Thanks to the pandemic suddenly the nomadic or gypsy life is a cool and acceptable Thing. Who's laughing now? It's a new world.

Being a writer these day has acquired a recent aura of freewheeling, rebel freedom! Yes, some of us love it for the inspirational banquet that is. That being said, like everyone else, the bills still need to be paid. Gas, repairs, general "stuff" and, sometimes those pricey electronics. Laptops, cameras, internet etc. Our vagabond life comes with unusual price-tags.

Which begs the question, what is the fiscal worth of a word? Generally it writes out between .10 to $1.00 per word. Photos extra, hence the cameras. To this point, I have written 362 words. That equals out to anything from $36. -$362. Sounds great? Average cup of coffee (with a shot of something) $4.50. Gas coming in at $3.99 per gallon, etc etc. It takes a lot of paid words to keep a writer alive. Hence the whole it's a "calling" thingy. Even Hemingway had his Hunger Years. "Words don't come easy" as F.R.David sings.

Which brings us to being "woked" and "cancelled". Verbs versus adjectives. I personally don't wake up properly without my cuppa. Sweet with cream, thank you. Cancelling my Premium LinkedIn account is due to value perception. I feel I get more from my morning coffee. But being Woked before my coffee is enough to cancel out the rest of my day.

As I look out at our post-pandemic New World, I wonder is it the shiny and new as we strived for in the protests? As a writer, I hear the wolves howling outside the proverbial tent. Content may be king in the marketing world, but the current Cancel Culture movement has deep and dark implications for any and all writers, journalists and marketeers. Our Freedom of Speech amendment is being scarred and slashed with a perceived "good for all" approach that has echoes of the Spanish Inquisition and other equally dark historical moments.

Censorship historically has a very bad effect on artists. The more recent MaCarthyism movement in 1954 decimated Hollywood and many other genre artist voices. Any voiced alternative to the new social opinion was silenced. Books banned. Movies banned. People banned. Notice a trend here? We might feel like jumping in our vans heading for the safety of that forest soon.

The struggle for artistic freedom and "voice" is embedded across the world and throughout our history. Artists were in the thick of it as early as 480 BC with the playwright Euripides. Nor was he the first. Artists and writers have been on the run for centuries. Every time the Dragon named Censorship crawls out of its cave. Good ole St. George may have taken one down, but there is a nest of them somewhere always ready to come flying out.

We are in Dragon Days again. Dr. Seuss may not be your cup of tea but someone else likes his brand. Safe to say, millions of children have loved him. And, that is what this is all about. Love and hate. Opinions. Freedom of Speech is a Constitutionally embedded right to express how you feel. Without worrying about having your head chopped off. Censorship has created some very imaginative "corrective" measures throughout history. Freedom of Speech/ Expression includes not being "cancelled" for religious, racial, political, cultural, artistic or any other differences. Sounds a little like diversity acceptance right?

Inclusive is not exclusive. It's time to slay that dragon for good. It's time for artists and writers to have an un-censored seat at the table and a full plate without checking for Damocles and his damn sword swinging over our heads. It's a real job.

Cancelling Culture- Here We Go Again

It's A Brave New World

2021-03-15T16:41:00.005-07:00

Stating the obvious, pandemics are hard. And, as we have a very short memory for previous ones, the whole thought process is challenging. Just for comparison though, the Spanish Flu of 1918 killed over 50 million. Horrible as our numbers are, they are still better than that.

I know, WTF! Vaccine aside, we are still in a pandemic with creepy new Covid strains popping up in strange places. Can imagine the epidemiologists playing Whack-A-Mole on their petri dishes.

I like to call myself an "optimistic realist". Which means appreciating we humans screw up, but hopefully we learn from our mistakes. History seems against my optimism on this. We seem to like repetition. I persist.

Everybody has a particular and personal issue with this pandemic. The list is as endless as it is varied. Just thinking about it all is too much on some days. My grudge against it, as a writer, is two-fold. As am an ambivert, I prefer indirect exchanges with the public. An occasional dash of presence peppered with questions, then a quick revert to my observer corner. I work best as an island with a varied stream of people flowing around. Partner that with a steady supply of coffee, music and access to wi-fi. My fingers start clicking on the keyboard to the beat.

I have spent the last several years travelling the world, deliberately seeking and stumbling into the eclectic, un-franchised world of alternative coffee shops. I have choked down some weird and wonderful oddities ranging from chilli coffee and chocolate coffee to Unicorns with avocadoes and dusted charcoal. It's an adventure, all creatures of caffeinated imaginations are welcome at my table at least once. Some, only once.

It's a road of caffeinated exploration, observation and writing. The odd pothole adds to the adrenaline rush. My perfect world.

Until - the pandemic. It spread itself over the country, its shadow swallowing jobs, people, restaurants and, coffee shops. Neighbourhood nooks held on with local support, out-door seating and employee prayers. I stripped down to a t-shirt or bundled up with a ski jacket as our social life courageously staggered on. Until the day it didn't.

Americana is built around our need to be "free". We embraced Road Tripping in our cars as our symbol of this spirit. A crazy American version of the European backpacker movement. Let's face it, public transport and train systems here suck, hence our twisted love affair with our cars. Just say "Road Trip" out loud and everybody gets happy and starts packing.

2020, in the face of howling protests and death, Big Blue and I partnered to observe and immerse ourselves in this chaotic and newly emerging world. To observe and record where and how, we as a country were changing. A full tank of gas and a some old fashioned paper maps. Why maps you ask? (Does she not know about those cool GPS apps?) Yes, she does. However, dear readers, in ALL the zombie apocalypse movies maps matter. Preparation is everything. That and, aim for the head. Not the heart. Still working on processing that one...

Onward Ho. Road Trip! Except. Miles eaten by hours demand, caffeine. It's a foundational brick in the Travellers Maslow Hierarchy. Cruising into dusk and dawn, the neon bright lights lied. They flashed across the velvet skies, beckoning with promise. Sliding in, shifting down to find on arrival, doors slashed with ragged, lopsided CLOSED signs. Coffee/ wi-fi stops were suddenly part of a past world. Normal was- gone. Without coffee it IS a zombie world.

I hear my techie friends shouting on my side bar. Yes, I do know about Hot-Spots, tethering etc. Yep, I gotcha. You guys are awesome. Kudos etc. Pyjama writing is cool too. Unless, you're actually writing about, travelling. Us travel writers like to "check shit out" to save you the trouble. When there is noting to check-out but the same view of our kitchen kettle, creativity dives deep into showmanship vs reality. It's been a tough road, in more ways than one.

But! Life is almost reaching a terrifying copy of pre-pandemic "normal". Things are getting shiny again. Little gold sparkling lights. Is it pyrite (a Fools Gold) or, the real bean. We are hopeful. But we have been deceived before. We ease up to it. Slowly, move in. Peek in the window....EUREKA!! Coffee, a place to sit and, Wifi. OMG. Do we shout for joy or act "normal". My fingers are itching.

The WiFi is doing an on-off jig thing, but the heart on my cuppa makes up for it. Am In A Coffee Shop. Period. OMG. Just drink it in. Breath it in. Embrace the moment. At last, in a cobbled and vaguely remembered "normal" way, coffee shops are back on the table and yours truly is sticking her nose out to sniff around for caffeine related adventures on your behalf.

Life today is a wall of roses. Very pretty and loving the butterfly. Coffee makes life better. Love in a cup. Welcome to our new vaccinated world. Ahhhhhhhhhh. It's good to be back in a world with coffee and strangers.

😀😎

Ducks vs Saints

2021-01-08T16:09:00.008-08:00

2021. An OMG run off from 2020. Wednesdays mobbing of the Capitol was equally idiotic and sad. Seems some thought it was a costume party and came decked out as Vikings, Captain America and, ducks. Yes, ducks... Am going to be generous minded and lay the blame on a generationally broken education system. I have no other explanation for the ducks. Another memorable, "unprecedented" moment for us. We seem to be amassing these the way others collect comic books. It would be funny if it wasn't so serious. Well, the ducks Are funny..

This little fiasco in D.C. will go down as yet another "protest". After a year, we were getting blase about them. Hence, the ducks? Scrabbling here for Some explanation for Ducks! In any other country this would have been stamped as an attempted "coup". But, we are special. We are the Greatest Country in the World. We don't do third world coups.

The one thing that has been clarified by the pandemic is how utterly disorganized, disconnected and divided this "united" country is. Three "D's". On the positive side, rest assured that any form of revolution or civil war is totally not happening. We can't even agree that all lives matter.

I will be watching the incoming vs the outgoing administration. In 9 days the Duck is out anyway. Meantime, the US is racking up new highs of Covid at 4000 deaths per day. We are Number 1 in the world these days. Of how not to do things. Even India and Africa are doing better. I know, right?! No ducks perhaps?

Maybe our government reckons being Number 1 at anything is better than being Number 2 or 3 at something. The continuing failed rollout of the vaccine will be impacting the economy deep into 2021 even as other countries begin to claw their way out of it. We do not have our ducks in a row.

Our undaunted scientists, and doctors (not quacks) having to shout over the Anti-Vaxxers and ducks are going hoarse. To be fully effective, we need a double shot of the vaccine. And remember, it's not a cure. It is for temporary immunity of an unknown time frame. Wondering, how the hell any administration in this country is going to corral these ducks without an efficient tracking and distribution system? By the seat of our shredded feathers of course. Flo..cking absurd. Quack!!

The new administration will have their divided hands full. A crashed economy, hungry hordes, ducks and internal party snipping. Divided has become the new, united. Behind the waving flags and political distraction, day by day businesses are shutting, forever. Help was too little too late.

Per usual, in politics, debts are called in as soon as the swinging door between presidents stops. Let us hope this time, the American people will finally be on the list of debts to be paid. We have given our lives, literally to this. Maybe not the ducks. It's hard to do a head count on ducks.

On the bright side of the pandemic, I am still on my coffee journey. In case you forgot. I run on the stuff. Even more amazing, I have found a coffee shop that is open with well spread, outside tables. With wi-fi. Damn. That's like finding a pot of gold these days. An escape from the Darkness. Heartfelt thanks my newly discovered Saint of Coffee; St Drogo.

Drogo sounds more like a cohort of Count Dracula than a fan of coffee, but these days, we take what we can get.

St Drogo, allegedly, was born a Flemish nobleman in 1186. He is the patron saint of; sick people, hernias, insanity and coffeeshop workers. We are mystified by the coffee. After all there Should be a saint for hernias, right?

Rumor has it he traveled to Rome from Flanders where he took up a career as a shepherd and then was promoted to a monk. He spent years contemplating the walls of a cell before dying in Sebourg, France. Details on how he came to his coffee career are vague at best. Some say it was due to his excess of energy. Still doesn't explain the coffee...

I am sitting here, in the sun, contemplating my on-going pandemic world. My pre-pandemic ducks have waddled off in annoying directions. So am trying to herd a few cats in the meantime. But, I have a website! That duck has finally paddled in. kvkrenner.com About bloody time, right?

As for now, if anyone mentions the words; "resilience" or "unprecedented" again, I will be tempted to punch them. Of course, with a very positive and helpful attitude. They are free to duck. Am taking those repetitive, positive social media postings to heart. Aiming to do everything with a positive and happy attitude. Life changing directives. It's all just -ducky.

Check out and follow my slightly more serious side on the Medium platform at: https://kkrennerwriter.medium.com/

A Great Conjunction

2020-12-20T18:16:00.003-08:00

It's that magical, tinny music time of the year. The Western version of a festival of lights. Christmas. A baby was born, back in the day. Personally, I am stilll waiting for someone to say it was a twin birth and there is a forgotten twin sister out there somewhere. Jesuita. Ever since Jesus came around with his own personal "star" it's been a bitch being a girl. It's high time for a change.

2020 is going out with a cymballic crash and a notable astronomical event. Scientists call this planetary alignment a "great conjunction". Astrologists declare it's a powerful" planetary meeting in Aquarius". Perspectives.

The awesomeness is not just in the event itself. It is in the proximity of the two planets as they line up. That, and how you view it. Figuratively and literally. Saturn and Jupiter do this cool dance every 20 years or so, but the last time they waltzed this close together was about 800 years ago. Hence all the trumpet blowing. This particular dance peaks on Dec 21 aka the Winter Solstice. Hence it's nickname, the "Christmas star". Keep your eyes peeled for 3 "wise" people who might be following it. NASA suggests getting your butt off the couch to check it out. Better than a Netflix re-run.

If Jupiter is the "luck " planet and Saturn the "authority" perhaps things are lining up to get a little better for us at last. We can all agree 2020 has been a non stop series of ass kicks. Even the wealthy, despite newly accumulated billions had to stay at home (or, at least domestically rotate) and be "good". No running off to other countries or luxury bunkers in New Zealand. 2021 is going to slam us with a few more hard shocks but maybe Jupiter is big enough to balance that. The US is going to need an entire planet of luck. We need to balance those still stupidly distracted by race-track carrots and a kindergarten miscomprehension of political models. One day, they will get out a dictionary and realize socialism is not communism and it's all just a bloody experiment anyway. Including, "democracy".

Anyhoo, according to some leading astrologists, this recurring 20 year romance has, over the last 200 years, been hosted by Earth signs. Which supposedly translates into a rather banal obsession with all things material and money. For this year's party the Earthies' have been booted out and Aquarius is taking charge of the music. A more humanistic, techonolical and inclusive beat is supposed to take over the band stand.

Being an Earth bound Capricorn myself, I must object first to the "tyrannical era" reference. It's only been four years.. and then the subtle poke about evolving to our "better selves". We Earth types have feelings too. And, damn it, stop tramping on the Cappys. We do so have hearts!

It seems infinelty more sensible to hide them under the mountains we climb. Avoid rock slides. Have you ever tried climbing a mountain with your heart on your sleeve? Ha, damn thing could fall off into dark crevice never to be seen again. Better to keep it buried and hidden.

As the planets come out to play, in Washington DC, the politicians are chasing each other around the room throwing sand and darts. They did manage to find enough money to keep the government from shutting down, at the last minute, again. Anybody else notice a pattern here? They can't however seem to scrounge up more than $600 for starving, unemployed Americans. Must be that Christmas spirit.

Am guessing Saturn is to blame for some of this. Materialism slash consumerism slash capitalism. Maybe. But, the wrangling over the stimulus package and the liability shield, have nothing to do with any planet or star. It does have something to do with not giving a damn about employee lives. It is being wrapped up like a deceptive Christmas package based on "at-will" employment policy attitudes. Employees, even the "essential" ones, are disposable. How anyone bought into the "at-will" sales pitch just proves nobody looks past the pretty wrapping. In America, if you're an employee, expect to be shafted regularly by the entire system. This time is no different. Red or Blue. The new boss is the same as the old boss. It's politics. You don't get to the top by being Santa Claus.

In the spring of the pandemic, in Seattle, New York and other cities, people were dying at an average of 1200 per day. Everybody was talking about it! We saw the photos and cried...Now, Today- we are dying at an average of 3,100 a day. Like student debt, nobody is talking about it anymore. The "over-there" syndrome has a new name. It's called "pandemic fatigue". Does that mean we are too tired to care? Our Senators and Congress members are cooking our goose as they stuff their turkeys and pile presents under their flocked Christmas trees. Across the rest of America, is a single payment of $600 really going to make up for a year of dying, unemployment, hunger and historically over-priced rents? I don't hear any silver bells ringing this year, and the economic weather outside is certainly frightful.

As for 2021, Jupiter get your gaseous ass into gear! I, for one, am just trying to get through this year, like so many others.

We need some Aquarius humanity and a few whale songs. If the planets can shed some bright light on us, all hail astronomy and astrology!

Happy Whatever. May the Force Be With You!

Pit Stops For The Heart

2020-12-05T12:20:00.006-08:00

Whohoo. Word is out, a vaccine is in. The irony of course is that the pandemic is hitting everywhere harder than it did in spring. Deaths are over 1250 per day. We are numb to it. People flock to do holiday shopping. The drug of distraction.Sometimes sharing is not caring, no matter how prettily we wrap it. But, we Will survive. Maybe even become a better world. It's a season of hope. A year of hard lessons.

On the brighter side, chatter about travel is back on the conversational table. Even as we envision great escapes, scammers are all bright-eyed at the possibility of side-gigs in fake travel vaccine docs and anything else that makes a buck and fucks people over. Capitalism, a cornocopiea of amazing possibilities. Money and toilet paper stories.

As a pandemic traveler, I beat out against my own fears and gave myself to open roads, empty airports and short, snappy lines. I looked around and hoped this year has given the environment a brief break and chance to breath. She needed it. We all needed it.

Big Blue and I have taken a brief respite of our own. Five months solo on the road is an adventure that craves the odd "stop" to take in all in and reflect on what direction to take next. To review, life. What is it that makes it matter? Ancient thoughts. Thoughts that require a pit stop for both Big Blue and, me.

San Diego, California. Not a bad place to reflect on life. A city and people in a permanent love affair with the sea. From Coronado jets to the surfers of Pacific Beach, the ocean kisses the air with salt as the waves embrace the warm, sandy shores and rocks. It's "chill".

There is something eternal and elemental about the sea. A sharing place. Unknowingly, we crave it. We embrace it with body and soul. In our deepest sadness it offers a rebirth of hope and comfort.We feel it as the waves wrap themselves around our feet. As we sink into the sand, our toes curling and digging into our primordial past. I am reminded of an old poem by John Masefield; "Sea Fever". "I must go down to the sea again.. to the lonely sea and sky..." The sea-shore. That magical place where earth meets the sea and they chase each other like children. They clash together and are unified. No matter our age, here touched by a prehistoric dream, we are young again.

So, Big Blue and I have taken this pit stop in our travels. Time to do an mental and physcial "oil change" and briefly re-join a sedentary world before we roll on. Do some writing! Drag elusive thoughts to concrete elements. All puns intended! Get back to that "Book". Throw my net out into the technolgical sea, baiting for an elusive publisher.

A little sparrow has joined me this morning to share my croissant. He cocks his head at me, unafraid of the clacking of my keyboard. They say birds are the messengers of the Gods. So many gods.. How we decipher the message is always left to us. Gods are always cryptic and vague. Keeps them amused and us guessing...

Where will Big Blue and I go next? Today, just to the sea. Is is possible to still go forward while circling? Somedays I feel as if my travels have taken me through my life. Re-visiting places I have been as a child. Closure. If all the doors close, then the one that opens should be amazing. It's a matter of finding it or, accepting it.

Big Blue needs a good wash and a full tank of gas again. We are not done yet, though it feels close. She is ready, soon, to take us to the next stage of the pandemic journy. Sometimes, travel is about following your heart. Believing in life, against all logic and obstacles. That driving into the sunset will bring a brighter sunrise. Somedays are hard and night seems to last forever. But. I am still driving. I still believe...

The Day After

2020-11-08T17:01:00.016-08:00

It's Sunday and also The Day After. The day after Biden is officially the President Elect. The Day After we all finally get to say, "at least that is over". The mental and emotional exhaustion of this election has taken its toll no matter which side of the divide you stand on. So, that's over. A record breaking number of voters from both sides. One could almost hear the colossal crash between the parties. Each side waving their flag of righteousness.

Meantime, the US is breaking yet another record. Setting in at 126,742 new Covid cases and deaths rivaling early spring stats. The election may be Blue, but the US is mired deep in the red of the pandemic. Again.

The President Elect; Joe Biden does not seem to be wasting time waiting in the hallway. He already has his new coronvirus taskforce head; Vivek Murthy along with Yale University Dr Marcella Nunez-Smith. Former Food and Drug Administration David Kessler (previously with the Bush and Clinton administration) is also part of the team.

Now, I want to be positive. At least it "looks" like we might have a Team. It looks like there may be a shift in policy to accept the nature of this Covid beast. It looks like our lives might have some of that Federal value slapped back on them. (The VSL equation) Check back on my article "The Economy vs The People for a recap. The Economy Vs The People

Our lives do have value. However old or young we may be. Not just because life is intrinsically valuable. But, because each life is an infinite cosmos of possibilities and ideas. In the quantum world that equates to an infinity of options and worlds. We create our world and, together, the world around us.

The election has, if nothing else, shown us the possibilites of mass mind thoughts directed at a particular goal. Whether it is voting, meditative focus or prayer, the result of people working toward a common goal is exponetially accelerated by the numbers of people involved.

So, what now? Very urgent and important question. This is not the time to rest on any percieved laurels or waste time in a tit-for-tat political wrangle. Wake up, smell the coffee, and let's get all of our asses in gear. Why? Well, we still have a planet to save. We still have a pandemic, housing crisis, health crisis and a whole damn list of additional crises that were simmering on the back-burner of our political distraction.

In December, the pandemic protections elapse and, let's get real, can anybody afford to pay back rent of over 6 months? We were already struggling in "normal" times to put food on the table and keep a roof over our heads. And landlords, marking their calendars, itching to toss those tenants are wondering if the whole game was worth it in the first place. There will be a wave of red and blue bankruptcies and re-possesions flowing into 2021. All that green will be looking for a new home..

Today, however,we do need to stop and breathe. To take this very brief moment and gather what we need to face tomorrow. To reach across the divide and understand, like it or not, we are in this together. We don't have another planet to run to yet. We don't have a cure for the pandemic yet.

What we do have is, hope.

What we do have is vibrant smart young people like Gen Z leading the way. What we do have is not "normal". What we do have is a Brave New World that it is our power to create and make better.

What we do have is, each other.

"Nuff" said.

Don't Drink The "Normal" Cool-Aid.

2020-11-02T14:38:00.007-08:00

Coffee. It's mid-afternoon and I am on my third cup. It is one day until "the election". One day to, well, nothing. Will the world change tomorrow? Or will the "status quo" plod on? The fact is, "election day" will be "election week" or even month. Then, we have all winter to wait around for an official government to declare itself and actually get into the White House. Then we get to wait around some more as they "talk" about what they are "going" to do. Meanwhile, nothing actually gets done. Reality check.

The fear mongering social media trolls are gleefully spreading the swill for fanatic hogs to gobble at the trough. Walmart gave itself some free publicity by taking guns and ammo off the shelves then putting them right back. Oregon's govenor is declaring an "emergency" and lining up the National Guard, with a directive allowing for the use of tear gas. Governor Brown says this is "to keep the peace". In what universe is lining up robo-cops with tear gas and guns "keeping the peace"? In what world are citizens lives worth less than a damn building?

The ACLED ( Armed Conflict and Event Data Project) has listed Pennsylvania, Oregon, Georgia, Michigan and Wisconsin as being the five states at the highest risk of "increased civilan militia activity". It's a media bandwagon of violence. That's Not journalism.

Where are the rational voices? Where are our "leaders"? As Boomers hide in their suburban bubbles and Millennials blast their apps with happy selfies, Gen Z is dealing with the real world that has been dumped on their doorstep.

Theirs is the voice that needs to be heard. They are the truth of 2020. With lives carved from the 2008 world economic crash (remember that one?) they are bearing the burden of all our mistakes. Student debt, joblessness, environmental disaster and political corruption. They don't get to wear rosy glasses or worry about damn 401k's. They want answers and need action.

They know we don't have time for sub-committees and political pandering. They know there is NO TIME left. Not two weeks, not four years, not a day.

There is no return to "normal". Normal is good and dead. It should be. It was a broken, messed up and corrupt money grubbing 'Normal" that has brought this country and the world to it's knees. Amazon, Google, Apple and Facebook aptly named the "FANG" companies have eaten up global resources and are growing from global monopolies to private, corporate governments.

Gen Z is facing all of this. Smart, educated realists, they have not been sucked into the instant gratification trance of consumerism. They can't afford it. Not fiscally, not socially, not environmentally.

So, Govenors, presidential candidates, city mayors, you many line up your defenses and retreat to your suburbs, but you are forgetting one thing. Your time is over. This new generation is not "normal". And, they will not go back to your broken "normal".

If we are to have any chance at surviving in our New World, we need action Now. We need to accelerate impact on urgent concerns. Now. Address inter-generational equity. Now. Initiate economic and political systems for the future. Now. Turn anger into forward, focused postive actions. Now.

We have to break free of the controlling "old nomal" that divides and sub-divides us. Resist the corruption of politics that only panders for election votes. Black Lives Matter. Yes. Native American Lives Matter. Yes. Asian Lives Matter.Yes. White Lives Matter. Yes. We all damn well matter. And there is NO MORE TIME left to keep arguing about it. Our planet matters.

It't time, Now for a New World. Not an Old Normal. For Gen Z to lead the way. It's their future. It's their planet. It's All of their lives. It's all of our lives. I am Generation X. I don't want to go back to "normal".

Govenors, Presidents, Mayors, Robo cops, politicians and corporations. For the sake of all our lives. STAND DOWN. NOW.

Big Blue And Coyotes

2020-10-25T09:17:00.001-07:00

Pandemic travel is, as noted previously, no longer for the faint of heart or simplistic tourism. Every time I reach for a fistful of those tempting tourist brochures, I quickly put my hand back in my pocket.

Don't Touch is becoming second nature, quickly followed by a pandemic realised sigh of, they are all closed or some, destroyed. I am a fan of historical monuments. They give me pause for thought, questions and, meaningful conversations with strangers. I know I can't change the past, but remembering and acknowledging it gives me hope for future change. I pour an instant coffee, cap it and walk out to Big Blue.

Driving across America is a symbiotic relationship between road, car and, driver. The miles take care of themselves. They roll out under humming wheels and tick up the odometer. They can pass in a blur of thoughts. For many car owners, the 100,000 mile moment adds the idea it's time to "trade up" the old model for a newer version. America is not keen on perceived "old age" value. It has a determined attraction to a contemporary world with all the shiny new 'bells and whistles". Classics are for downtown parades. I might window shop a Mustang or Subaru, but, you don't turn your back on old friends.

Big Blue is not a classic in years, but sh has piled on the miles for me. We have a "thing going on". A kind of loyal pandemic kinship. She is rolling in at 165,000 with plenty of highway and shared experiences still ahead. The desert is blowing away in our rear view mirror and the rocky hills grown taller around each curve.

I tell her not to worry as she drags her weight up another mountain. She pulls her own 3,643 pounds plus me and my stuff in a determined climb, leaving others groaning in her wake.. Blue and I have gotten good at playing with downhill speed to get uphill momentum. She shifts in, shoulders hunched and makes her 203 horsepower work like 300. She doesn't like being judged on her age.

These days, in "abundance of caution" - (love that phrase, a verbal band-aid you can slap on any topic) my pandemic traveling has stuck itself to the main highways. The "sensible, safe" route. And yes, a bit boring. Highways left rural Americas charms to distant byways and faded exit signs. We exchanged small town restaurants for fast food pit stops. Social exchanges morphed into instant commercial transactions at the gas stations.

The endless tarmac starts glazing my eyes. The mirages shimmering ahead seem oddly restful. The coffee bought hours ago is an empty cup of forgotten promise. I know I need to stay awake for a few more hours. My fingers play across the controls. Music is a must.

The one grumbly, grudge I bear Big Blue comes in here. Not really her fault, but in 2005 when they gave her a 6 cd disc player, it wasn't up to mega road tripping 15 years later. After a nice, rollicking hour or so, it heats up and the music skips to a permanent stop. Which leaves me at the mercy of the local radio stations.

Playing "seek' with the radio between vast nothingness and hills is an exercise in patience and an education on the invisible people living out beyond highway sight. Luck is a spasmodic few miles of cowboy music that turns a corner into mariachi exuberance and then fizzes into some heavy handed preaching. Just when I am about to pray for forgiveness from unknown sins, the cowboys step back up to save me. It's nothing if not interesting. With enough miles ahead, any voice can be better than the voices in my head.

But now, I need more than crooning cowboys and ranting preachers to keep me awake. Blue and I started, as usual, at sunrise. It's past lunchtime now. I contemplate a respite from Texas 10 to check out some Caverns along the way. There are only so many massive signposts of promise in the endless mileage of scrub-brush I can take before falling prey to hope. The fragmented sign offer a scenic change from the dusted emptiness. Maybe a walk would kick me out of my auto-pilot zombie groove.

A last second decision slammed Big Blue from a cruising 90mph to an offramp curve of 35. With a heavy ass, packed with my 2 suitcases, she is not happy when I do this. Her brakes squeal as she is vaguely offended. I open the window to breath the sage smells. Tumbleweeds edge the ramp backed by a single Saguaro cactus. It stands against the horizon, arms extended. A lone, exit sentinel. The pavement abruptly ends in a scrabble of gravel and dirt. Our back dust raises a cloud that can be seen for miles. Is there anyone except the circling buzzards to see it?

Travelling across the country alone, in a pandemic, has weird and sometimes erie moments. Here, stopping in the desert I suddenly remember myCarlos Casteneda books. My internalised "what the hell am I doing and where Am I now" questions merge between the philosophical or, are impacted by my immediate environment. They come at unexpected intervals that my GPS fails to map. The highway hum does not always have answers to these questions.

Blue and I bump our way down a dirt road that is suddenly devoid of directions to the promised Cavern. Rusty, twisted barbed wire lines the road edge. The only indication that people have been here. It's already been 5 miles and I don't seen anything that looks even vaguely "touristy". I wonder how close I am now to the Border. I start wondering other things...

Cruising the highway, this close to the border between Texas and Mexico already had me previously passing through Two internal border checks..

Yes, Internal border checks . Big gates, cameras , guards. The whole rodeo. Had a flash thought of "did my erratic GPS just send me into Mexico" when I saw the first one looming ahead. Would my Florida orchid plant be considered contraband? I shoved between the trucks into the car lane and inched toward the patrol.

In my general experience, border checks imply crossing borders. International borders. Last I heard, inter-state doesn't count. But here I was facing Full blown camera clicking, border patrol, big gates to drive through border controls. WTF?! Turns out, I was not crossing into another country, not even crossing a state line yet. Go figure... I tossed my camera to the floor just in case and rolled down my window with a big smile and was waved through. Weird.

So, now, here I was in the middle of nowhere, on a dirt road. Miles off the main highway. Looking for some caverns that faded bill posts had been advertising for over 50 miles. Looking around me as we crawled along at 25mph assured me that the only social distancing issues would be with possible coyotes. Coyote. The minute that word lodged in my head, I said out loud ,"Big Blue, we are turning around and getting the hell out of here". There are more kinds of coyotes than the four legged version.

Even miles of highway nothingness seemed suddenly more attractive and, safer than continuing on this road to some "maybe" caverns. Sometimes a girl just needs to listen to her gut instinct and go with it. Big Blue grunted as we hit another pothole. She seemed to say, "now you think of this?" Reversing her in one move, pretty smooth for a big lady, we squealed back onto the highway leaving the tumbleweeds to their rambling. And any coyotes, to their - well, whatever coyotes do...

Texas faded away into the dust of New Mexico. No border checks, just a "Welcome to The Land of Enchantment" and a few strips of orchard green that gave my eyes a needed break. Some neatly lined canals sparkled with water and I could see oranges hanging heavy from the trees. Onward. We kept going. There were miles and hours to go until the next stop.

With dust painting both Big Blue and me a dim shade of tired, we finally pulled into Phoenix, Arizona for the night. The sun was rapidly being eaten by the desert horizon. 11 hours on the road. Big Blue rumbled down to cool off for the night and I dragged my bag and camera up to my hotel room. Shower, bed and up with the sun to do it all again tomorrow. Good night Big Blue and, thank you...

A Girl, A Pandemic and A Ford

2020-10-14T10:40:00.012-07:00

So, here we are 6+ months into a global pandemic. It's almost "normal', to wrap a mask around our wrist and queue in line hopping from one 6ft circle to the next. Remember when we didn't do that? Remember when we sighed with relief as we kicked 2019 to the curb? Yep, it was another world.

We are all adapting to how our lives have changed and the levels of impact on us and the world.. Yes, life is not what it was. A mere 6 months in calendar time and we are embedded in a sci-fi novel.

On the scary side, people are still getting sick and jobs are ghosting. Political posturing can't distract from empty store windows and closed restaurants. I became one of those pandemic unemployment"statistics". One day I had a job, the next, I didn't. Gotta love "at will" work policies. Here today, gone tomorrow. When did loyalty become a commodity? Nobody talks about that in the debates. Curious minds are, well, curious..

On the bright side, the pandemic kicked our asses to figure out what really mattered to us. Dragged us without mercy, from our ruts into deep and personal values re-evaluation. Who mattered to us and, why it all mattered to us. An Age of Epiphanies. My own epiphany, morphed, after the initial shock, into a journey toward re-discovering my soul. Finding that previous self I was pretty sure the 9-5 "normal" had crushed out of me.

Epiphany One was, my 9-5 job was Not my identity. And, working for a pay check to pay the bills was Not the meaning of life. Now, suddenly, I had a blank page in front of me. In losing my job and house, I found what I had been missing. Writing. When had I stopped? Why had I stopped? These questions started to bug me in the day, and haunt me through the night. Call it a mid-life crisis but, I needed a change. A reason to get up in the morning.

When I was a kid, I knew who and what I was. I was a "writer". I loved playing with words, spinning them out like cotton candy, tasting them, holding them up to the light.. I was published by the time I was 12. I babysat endless nights for money to buy my first electric typewriter at 14. I had dreams that smelled of ink. I was not afraid to follow those dreams. Eventually, defined by what society expected of me, I "grew up." Settled down and got a "real" job. I joined the Rat Race.

Facing the nightmare of the pandemic has given all of us a more "mortal" view of our lives. Time is precious and must no longer to be taken for granted. Friends die.

I looked out of my window at this new world. My gaze dropped to the street below. There she was. Sitting in the rain, waiting. I knew she was tired of the 9-5 grind too. She was built for more than city traffic and stoplights. She was "Big Blue". My 2005 SLE 500 Ford. She was 4 wheels of American history that meant, Freedom. She was the promise of an old dream.

That was two months ago. I packed my life into a storage POD, threw 2 suitcases in the ample trunk of my old Ford and drove through the pandemic to see America. To see what was really happening and try to understand these strange times we were living in. Just me. Me and Big Blue.

Big Blue didn't let me down. Her age didn't stop her. We drove up Montana mountains, through Wyoming and S.Dakota. Gaped at the Mt. Rushmore Monument, contemplated the unfinished symbolism of Crazy Horse and flew across the plains with the wind. We blasted Bonnie Rait music and cruised through cities in turmoil. We hummed through Georgia and Tennessee. From the West Coast of Portland, Oregon to Naples, Florida she ate up the miles. Over hundreds of miles, I found the courage to remember my old dreams. Big Blue gave me that. Then, I left her.

For over a month Big Blue was parked under a palm tree. Left, burning under the Florida sun, untouched. Empty. Silent.

Coming back, I thought, "no way, she's done for now. I was lucky she came this far". I opened the door and sent spiders scurrying under the hood. Little webs were strung across the windows. Not a good sign. I turned the key in the ignition. With a slight, reproachful rumble, the engine turned over and Big Blue growled back to life.

"I'm sorry I left you" I murmured. Was I talking to my car or, to myself? I drove Big Blue to a carwash, sprayed her with WD-40, checked in at a Firestone service, threw my suitcase in the trunk and said,

"Let's hit the road again." This time we would go a different route. See other "worlds". Test our resolve across the hot, dusty desert states. A long distance love affair.

From Florida to San Diego, California. Hightailing it behind Hurricane Delta. Would we make it? Only one way to find out. Pedal to the metal and a full load of road music lined up. Against the odds. Against the pandemic. On the road to dreams. A girl and her Ford.

Strict Originalis? Amy Coney Barrett

Spinning Out of Control

2020-10-07T12:33:00.000-07:00

10 doctors today stood outside of Walter Reed Hospital on October 3rd to say, well, nothing regarding President Trumps current health status. They did confirm he Has the virus.... Four days later, after a very British hand waving road tour, he is back at the White House, because the hospital was "boring". We can agree with that sentiment. Hospitals and their food are boring as hell. But, as institutions, they do serve a general public service. To make the sick, well.

While at Walter Reed, we were blessed with a 4 minute video clip as “proof of life”. Meanwhile, after the doctors finished spinning in silence, Martha Raddatz stepped up to the plate and

blithely compared the US to N Korea. She kept us riveted after that one with her deep insight and generous delivery of “we don’t knows” flung out like sprinkles on a Dunkin Donut. We know it's bad for us, but distracted by the pretty colors, we swallow it anyway.

Mary Bruce stayed beige and neutral on how this would effect the current Trump election campaign. She did have opinions disguised as facts regarding a possible postponement of the Supreme Court Amy Berett nomination. In the virtual world background I can almost hear the Democrats cheering their temporary reprieve even as negotiations on the current stimulus bill come again to a screeching halt. Anybody else get the feeling nobody gives a shit about the pandemic plight of the American people? Not the Democrats and not the Republicans. Might be time to spread out and throw a new Party or two into the political mix. These two can't tango and they have stopped the dance for Average Joe and Jane.

This journalist is taking bets on Trump rising again like Jesus to lead his Flock to the polls. As conspiracy lovers dispute the validity of Trump actually having the virus, we can look forward tonight to the debate between Kamala Harris and Mike Pence. Am sure Trump will be watching, surrounded in his "quarantine" by both staff and family. I guess being President also entitles you to be a Super Spreader of Covid. Perks of the job?

With a Covid debate taking top news, and we all tingle in anticipation, the Democratic party has demanded 12 feet of distance between the two rather than the new “safe” 7 suggested. Let's see what the scorecard on masks is. Dems v Reps. Covid v Denial. Nobody is talking about official "guidelines" for the level of acceptable insults before the microphones get shut off. I suggest both parties get some Greek or Italian speech advisors. Take those insults to a real art form and level we can enjoy. American insults and swearing as a pastime is sooo boring.

In "unprecedented times" (we keep forgetting the Spanish Flu predated Covid) How many insults does each side get? Who decides what is an insult vs a legitimate observation..

In an “abundance of caution” as we get closer to our upcoming "non-election" perhaps we could recommend full body armour?

Hey, anybody besides the market notice the stimulus conversation is now dead in the water, until After the elections?

Was wondering how close to the elections the vote bribing was going to cruise. This is a whole new approach. Trump is promising us money. He has our best interests at heart. After the election.

The same "non-election' referred to in the Biden-Trump infamous debate. That interesting fact that was lost in the racist furor. That casual comment that seemed to say, November 3rd will Not be giving us a new or, used President. In fact, we might not know for "weeks or months" due to issues of counting the votes.

So, where does that leave the stimulus package? Where does that leave the American people. These days, at the back of the line. And it is a very long line...

Rolling Along 2020

2020-09-15T06:41:00.002-07:00

Ok, so this pandemic has put a spoke in many of our travelling wheels. My cross country road adventure went smoother than expected. Those inter-active online maps gave the impression of road-blocks along the way. Ignore them. The Tribes did have reservations closed and damn right too.

But, otherwise, nobody stopped me from travelling and the only slow downs were endless miles of road construction that slammed the brakes from 90 to 25mph. That and being squeezed between truck convoys playing "5 miles faster"between three lanes. Nerve racking. They hate each other and they All hate cars.

Florida, as a state is, interesting. People in the hundreds move there all the time. Seems tax breaks balance out living in 24/7 aircon. Being perverse, I wonder how much 24/7 aircon costs, And, what happens when the hurricanes knock out the power. As noted, am perverse.

Anyhoo, everywhere you go are these rubber stamped communities with "lakes" and standard water geysers. Lakes nobody can swim in. Read, possible alligators in the sub-text here. So lots of picture pretty things that nobody uses or touches. I Like to touch shit. And swim. In Australia, which has great white sharks, crocodiles, water vipers and who knows what else, we went swimming. All the time. Just saying. In the scheme of HOT places, you want to swim! What's a few teeth trying to chomp on you..

From Africa, and Asia to the Middle East, hot as hell, but you can swim! Not in Florida lakes. You sit there looking at them and sweat. You have to drive to the beach. Which, thanks to the pandemic, may or, may not, be "open" or, it might be "private". Surreal.

Politically speaking, Florida is pretty much flooded with red paint on all the maps. Big Blue and our Oregon plates got us some attention, but, fortunately, being confused by the audacity of our presence they just kept walking.

As noted, I love my Big Blue. Ford did her right. No idea why they morphed her into a Taurus at a later model. Not the same baby. I digress.

Suffice to say, the next stage of my pandemic travel involved leaving Big Blue behind. In Florida. For now. Temporary foster care.

A fast cruise out to Sarasota ( I got this Florida 20 miles Over the speed limit thing down) to see the Ringling museum and get a preview to the next stage of my plan. The grounds and house of this place looks like they raided and re-created Italy. Impressive, but, I personally like originals vs copies. Naples is another one of those great American reproductions. Just doesn't feel like the real thing. Weird, I know.

Flying in the pandemic. Yep, she is going to Europe. I know, how the hell is that going to happen. I have a few aces up my sleeve, but, yes this was a new challenge. First, tickets. With airplanes going into mothball storage, like my winter sweaters, routes are being cut by the day. Then of course, there is our friend Covid busy doing his thing. The US ( not to mention Florida) is NOT high on the popularity list of the world. Can't imagine why....

They say the "internet is your friend". I totally Disagree. The Internet is Out to Get me when it comes to booking travel online. It's like a nasty game of Whack-a-mole as prices keep hopping around and just as you hit the key, they vanish. Bastards. To hell with that. I call the airlines direct. Beep, beep, beep....."American Airlines" "HELLO, can I, uh...?" " We are sorry, due to the pandemic the expected wait time is 2 hours".. Bugger that. Back to my laptop and Whack-a-mole.

Am finding that, like the hotels, prices are not going down (entice us to travel?) instead, they seem to bouncing up by the hour even as the pandemic closes borders by the day. That does, it WHACK. Ladies and gentlemen, we hit the mole and are booked out on Turkish Airlines. Hurrah!

But wait, what is the red flashing ALERT suddenly appearing after my payment receipt. Covid-19 pre-testing on some flights may be required. Say What? Back to our Not-Friend, the internet. Several hours, platforms and smoke signals later only reveals one thing. Everyone is clueless and there are No Federal standardized guidelines for flying in the pandemic.

Why am I not surprised.. FB is filled with laments and horror stories of booked passengers turned away at boarding. Because; 1) you can't get tested at an airport 2) you can't get the test results back in time to fly 3) you can't Find a test site and finally, 4) test sites are charging all different prices... Go figure. Death is a growing business. The joys of rampant capitalism.

I am an "old style" journalist. Pre internet and pre covid. Our antiquated lot has never doubted how inherently messed up bureaucracy is. Wherever it is. First world to third world. All the same. Scrambled red tape.We grew up with music on cassette tapes. This gave us practical skills on unwinding twisted tape and saving the song. So, we tend to approach these things with a gin and tonic attitude. If you look hard enough, you can find a lemon, even in the desert.

My lemon, in this case, turned out to be my airline. Turkish Airways.

They even answered their phone. All the way in Istanbul. They were happy to take my money, no questions/tests asked. A very helpful guy over there informed me, that they, as an airline, would fly anywhere I wanted. Test-less, but exiting the airport was my own problem. Works for me, I think and start to pack my bags. Again.

Turkey, next stop.

Traveling Through The Pandemic - Stage 1

2020-08-13T05:34:00.003-07:00

They say genius is akin to madness. In all fairness, even my Besties debate on which side of the spectrum I fall on any particular day. I am here to tell you that travel, during a pandemic and national crisis IS indeed possible. Mad Hatter days and down the Rabbit Hole we go.

I felt like Alice, curious to eschew the media"news" and see for myself what is really going on in this Wonderland version of the US of A. The "U" being severely tested and openly debatable.

Stage 1: Drive across America, alone. Transport of choice; Ford car. Tough, powerful, reliable and parts obtainable. Logic laced into the madcap. I would be in control of my immediate environment. Avoid any Queen of Hearts along the way. Keeping my head in more ways than one.

Armed with hand sanitizers, disposable gloves, masks and inspiring road music I was ready to "rock-n-roll". And, yes, because it Is "Murica and proverbial shit is hitting the fan Everywhere, saved a seat space for my friend, Glock. With very mixed emotions, I left Portland, Oregon and seven years of my life in the rear view mirror. Bye bye previous, predictable life and hello to whatever this "new" normal was. I hit the gas pedal with a desire to face it "head on"and define my own freedom.

I mapped my way across the upper states of Montana, Wyoming and S. Dakota avoiding the virus clusters of the coastal, lower states. There seems to be some kind of correlations between beaches and the virus. Go figure... My goal, cross from the relative"safety" of Oregon to a state dripping on the map in coronavirus Red. Florida. The wide open spaces offered temporary virus-less zones.

To keep it interesting, virus aside, I was also traveling with now famous/infamous Oregon plates through some of the most conservative and politically Red states in America. Virus Red, Political Red. Weird...Portland, Oregon was not only on the national conservative target list but now the world no longer needs Seattle as a reference point to find it. From PotLand to ProtestLand. Portland is a "love it" or "leave it"kind of place. I mostly loved it even as I left it. Very Left-ist. All puns intended.

When traveling through a pandemic and a national uprising, don't plan a holiday road trip. Call it, "educational". Many highway rest stops were closed. Tragically, coffee was NOT to be found after Montana (that is a Real crisis in my world) and the gas stations became a game of "where's Wally" and a lot of Universe begging with"Oh, Shit PLEASSSE" on finding the next one.. I found the lack of coffee harder on my soul than the thought of an empty gas tank. Personal priorities..

One can sit by the road with a good cup of coffee and contemplate the silent life of no petrol. I had even brought my own favorite cup. :( But NO Coffee, unbearable!) Dudes, in charge of the highways, you need to fix this asap! Slipping into Montana was a brief flashback to University days. 20 years later, the same Missoula exit was still recognizable while the city itself had a facelift. The Top Hat and Rumour were no longer student dives but parading as trendy and gentrified. I felt like muttering "I knew you when!" Sawdust and cigarette butts remnants of a dodgy past.

Over the hump to Rapid City, South Dakota was a pleasant surprise. At some stage I whizzed in and out of Wyoming. I know there were cows...Lots of cows.. South Dakota was my first tourist stop.The Black Hills were gorgeous and I made it to Mt. Rushmore before the politically Mad Hatter history censors had a chance to try and destroy it. The effort might have been amusing. Nah. Crazy Horse has a more ephemeral feeling. It speaks for the Native Americans through it's unfinished, sharp edges. This is the story we are not hearing amidst the blaring "Black Lives Matter". Bluntly put, what happened to their story? Like it or not, ALL lives matter here. Especially the Native Americans. Simply put, they came first and as usual, seem to coming last in any social injustice movements. Oooooh. Am going to say it again- All Lives Matter. To hell with political correctness. Am going with social justice inclusivity instead. Let's all play together.

Driving into the eruptions of Kansas City, Atlanta and Louisville showed me one thing. This was out of control and destructive and increasingly- exclusive. Racism is racism and violence is Never a solution. Destroying cities is not solving anything. Tearing down statues prevents historical conversations and art. What is next? Book burning and torching the museums? Don't like it, destroy it. Dear Children, that is Censorship in any color. Where does it stop? Inner cities once teeming with cafe life and businesses are resembling third world country war zones. Can they be restored? At what cost? Logic has done a White Rabbit runner and is Very Late to the party.

Driving across America, I saw a nation failing and imploding without the voice of reason. Tennessee gave me a 60 mile police car escort. Noting his presence, I put Big Blue on auto-control, just 5 miles over the speed limit. Yep, sure enough he pulled me over. Sigh, Oregon plates. I smiled and opened my window. " Hello Officer, what's up?" A growled "license and registration" before marching off to his car, documents in hand. Anybody else wonder why they sit there for an average of 15 minutes when we all know it takes less than 5 for the computers to spit out all our private information? Keeping a smile plastered on as he returned, he informed me I was "driving too slow" and he was giving me a "warning". LOL, No comment. Onward Ho.

Hotels were a bit of a questionable agenda item. Camp in the car ( Hurrah SLE Ford with Plenty of room) or, hotel room (with Shower and Bed). Any long distance traveler knows the answer to that one. SHOWER and Beeeeedddddd. Picked the Hampton Inn Suites as my chain of choice. Except for one, was not too bad on virus precautions. Wiped everything down with my own wipes anyway. Car to room, back to car. Good ole Big Blue. I LOVE that car and that car Loved the viral road. Cruising and eating up the miles like a hungry wolf.

Cities aside, the trip was a blur of endless and boring highway miles. My fellow road travelers were endless convoys of trucks and motorhomes, very few cars. With the crash of petrol prices and Covid, I could see that the hotels would suffer even as Americans took to the summer roads. Foolishly, room prices are going Up vs down with amenities cut to the bone. Wrong business approach Peeps. You can't make up for lost revenue by becoming pirates. That just chases away the passing ships.

6 days of traveling and I was looking forward to a coffee at last.. Big Blue and I had made it through protests, 3209 miles and our first goal was in sight. Break time before Stage 2. Stay tuned and keep breathing... Put the damn mask on, pretend it's Halloween and have some fun.

The "Over There" Syndrome

2020-06-26T14:01:00.006-07:00

Markets are as thrilling as a Six Flags roller coaster these days. Our new “normal” as states swing between staying “open” vs “partial opening” or even back to “partial closing”. Basically, the only thing in charge of anything is that pesky bugger; Covid. It is a time when we are questioning the very foundations our society has been built on. Our values and beliefs are so tightly knotted with capitalism that pulling one thread threatens to unravels the entire tapestry.

Can we stop, for a moment, in the midst of madness and consider what it would really mean, to society as a whole, to have no police? Will crime vanish overnight? I don’t think so. Yes, our justice system is rigged and badly needs an update. Justice has been stumbling around blind for years. But. Some system is infinitely better than No system. Anarchy sounds great in philosophy class but the reality gets messy. Taking down our House of Cards leaves us with no cards left to play with. The “red” virus dots and economy crashes are all “over there”in Florida or New York or Arizona, until it’s here.

This is a big country. Space makes us feel isolated in our own bubbles. Safe. We can almost forget we are one country. Over there, is just a moment away from being here.

Mixed news, if you sifting for some, is the Federal government has finally acknowledged that practical “skills” might be a good thing to have. Even for them! A moment of levity. A pandemic laugh.

After a generation of “de-funding” technical colleges creating a crisis for the manufacturing sector (hence shipping jobs overseas) it’s kind of a “duh” moment. Of course, this begs the question, what happens next for those students burdened by debt? They face the broken promises of a degree and associated future jobs. Forget the “booga-looers” . In this case, it’s time for a “Jubilee” and economic re-set.

The Jubilee is not a new concept. Historically, some scriptures even indicate a Babylonion practice of every 50 years, blowing the rams horn to “proclaim liberty throughout the land to all its inhabitants” (Leviticus 25:10). A practice of debt cancellation known as “andurarum” was issued, under law, by a newly crowned King. Now that made for some instant popularity and economic recovery.

Liberty as a concept has not changed. It is still wrapped up with the economy and primarily the labor force. Think of the word “bondage” which comes from being “in bond” to work off your debt. Sound familiar? Now we just call it “9–5”. Forget the distraction of a possible-maybe second stimulus cheque. That one is aimed to play the elections game for votes. It will drag on until November with the carrots getting more rotten by the day.

If we want to protest, then let’s really be in it “together”. All together. Not Black vs White vs whoever. Protest for a Jubilee and economic re-set with a new foundation for stability. Take away the crushing debt of students and Average Americans who have been good citizens working hard all these years paying their tax and bills as best they can.

Come July, as back rents are due, un-employment runs out and jobs continue to vanish, people will start getting very scared. We don’t have time for Democrats and Republicans to keep fighting over our pennies. Without money and growing debt, not even Amazon and Netflix can halt the chaos. Those two are living on “borrowed” time even as credit card companies are cancelling their clients and dropping credit lines. They know it’s coming and are cutting their losses.

We can all agree, we are living in un-precedented times due to the global impact of the Covid virus. Back “in the day” people held on to the hope of immigration and an escape to a better life “over there”. This time, we are “in it together”, everywhere. And, if we are in it “together” we had better start acting like it- fast. This is Not the time to start a race war or start scapegoating. History does not need to be repeated yet again.

If history was God, by now “it/he/she/they” would be damned annoyed by our constant repetition. In 1347 the Black Death unleashed a fury of hatred against the Catalans and Jews. The second round blamed low level health workers. The Plague targeted gypsies and immigrant communities and the list continues on to; 2020 with the Chinese and Asian populations. Does it matter at this point where it all started? It is here now, not just “over there”.

Yes. History can be boring, especially when we don’t study it and learn from our mistakes. The Spanish flu was the latest example we should review and not repeat. Wear the mask, if not for yourself, then out of basic consideration for everyone else. Freedom is a privilege based on mutual respect of others in a society. You don’t have to agree with them, but you do have to consider them. Society vs anarchy. Take your pick.

As we question the continuing value of the US dollar in the global market, we need to consider the next wave of economic hits. It doesn’t matter who wins the elections in November. Thanks to Covid, the proverbial dominoes will continue to fall, even if we find a vaccine this year. (Don’t forget the Anti-Vaxxers). Recovery from this scale of economic fallout takes time. A lot of time. Next will be from Third World countries exporting their raw materials. Without tourism and collapsing prices, many governments owing their debts in dollars will be unable to pay.

This is the back story to the real economic battle that is going on today behind closed doors. It’s not about “The People” . Who takes the hit and who gets to keep walking. In 2008, it was the People vs the Banks. In this round, Covid seems to be siding with The People. Keeping it simple, without workers or money, there is No economy. Without pay-checks or, unemployment payments there is no consumer spending and those bills start stacking up. As noted, credit card companies have already started panicked credit cuts. Reality, it’s here, not “over there”.

This is not an “Us vs Them” situation, whoever “them” is this time. This is truly “all of us together” to survive. If you need to choose a color scheme, choose “red, white and blue”, not Blue vs Red. Black vs White. Tearing apart society solves nothing for, anyone. Destroying our cities is not producing jobs or equality. It’s simply, destruction. Destruction we can’t afford. This pandemic is Not Black or White, or Asian or, or or…It’s as blind as Justice. Get off the damn carousel of political hate and let’s all figure it out, together. Let’s Jubilee before it’s too late and It comes for all of us. Here.

The New "Exclusive Diversity"

2020-06-20T11:15:00.003-07:00

Am scrolling my news feed and muttering a perpetual refrain of "WTF". From an occasional expletive, it is now a repetative observation of the on-going "cluster-fuck". That Peeps, is an actual military term. Unlike "Boo-ga- loo" (That's hypenated for the perpetual censors crawling around.) This lot identify as "libertarian citizen militia" and run around playing soldiers inciting civil war and over-throwing the government. (Refer to my article about what a "Militia" really is- getting tired of repeating myself. https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/give-me-liberty-fallacy-opening-america-karin-von-krenner )

Let's talk. Not current, fear-based political correctness. That's just another BS term for preventing productive conversations. Revert to old fashioned basic respect and real free speech might help this mess become a productive debate vs phrase chanting. Yes, we hear you. Question is, can you hear anybody else?

Exclusive diversity. (As noted, am copywriting and claiming this phrase and idea. Mine dudes.) Regurgitate only if you understand what it means. Comes from years of experience and doing shit. If that makes me "old" deal with it, I earned my badges and scars.

Black Lives Matter. I really don't know anyone with a modicum of intelligence arguing the point. We agree. So let's move on. Starting to feel like an only record with a scratch. The song was great until it got stuck.

Where we are today is not because of a single event, person or, culture. Check out history Peeps. Research to ensure it's not a re-written, politically directed version. I know, we love all our 2 second thumb scroll. Who has time for the truth?! Yoda would say "Inconvenient Very". Let the Force be with you! Lets be rebels and defy Google analytics and targeting algorithms and dig out that nugget of truth.

Back on topic. Exclusive Diversity. Society is not a singular event or, culture. That is simplistic. Every country today has at its foundation, "core populations" . This is where the trauma begins. Then, it layers. In the US, we have two core traumatized populations. The Native Americans and the black Americans. TWO. Then we have add the layers. Chinese railroad workers, Irish immigrants fleeing famine, Japanese WWII internment camps, continental African immigrants, Muslims, LGBT, Hispanic workers.. the list is well, long.

But, all we are hearing in our current record, is a single refrain. Black Lives Matter. As noted, we are not debating this. What we are saying is, where are other voices? Are you talking Inclusive Diversity or an exclusive rejection of all other foundational trauma? Society is built on inter-connected layers. A woven tapesty of entwined events. If we want to really change it, we must recognize and address core trauma issues and work up. We must work together and talk about what we really want to change and achieve as an inclusive society. Achievable targets. Lay down stepping stones as we walk toward a new future.

Portland, you are making me sad. I loved you. Your beautiful parks, old gargoyled buildings, quirks. Tearing down George Washington! Really?! WTF... You can't rewrite history. Peeps, you are now officially censoring shit. Like it or not, he was the first President. In his day he was a rebel working for social change. A 1787 Founding Father who drafted Your Constitution and helped write those"rights" You now using to protest in the streets.

Every statue you tear down takes away a conversation. A chance to stop, reflect on history and turn to someone and talk about it. What you hate, what you like, what you feel. To say, maybe I will google this guy/gal and learn some more about this. To exclaim "damn, I didn't know that!" To learn and grow. Erasing history is CENSORSHIP and certainly not supporting free speech.

And, if your getting ready to marching again tonight- put that damn statue back with an apology.

'Nuff said.

The Old Is Again New

2020-06-18T08:39:00.001-07:00

Sometimes, when the world turns upside down and is literally fighting for its life, the old is new again.

After shifting off my website, wrangling it to the floor and back, I will revert to a tried and true. For the interim, in this world of madness, I will reside here. A little "easy" is a valuable resource at the moment.

Another horizon of adventure. A solo traveler this time. For the first time. Grown though they may be, leaving my sons is one of the hardest things I have ever done. Not just because I am their mom. That just goes with the territory. But this is a bloody, fucking PANDEMIC. And, I don't care if this part of the world is blithly pretending it no longer exisits- it Does. The first wave is still hitting the proverbial shores, and the second is going to be a tsunami...

Yep, here I am doing some yelling on the pulpit. Oddly, via my "legit" published articles, seems some folks are actually listening.. That's a new one. Anyhoo. Peeps, the shit is about to get even more "real" as July creeps in. Those listening folks have realized that when the money runs out, those protesters in the streets won't have homes to go to when they get evicted. You think they're pissed now? Wait until 5 months past rents are due, unemployment stops and bills are no longer being paid. Might be some karma time for those credit card people and their endless "miscellaneous" charges. Either way, the ecomomy will tank. Badly.

Oh I forogot, one of those "carrots" is the possibility (note everything is really nothing- just carrots until the elections) of a one shot "bonus" to return to work. As if $450.oo is going to change the world.

It solves nothing. Not the wage issue, not the student debt issue, not the housing issue... I can keep going, For now, that much debated unemployment money has been paying for food, transport and bills. Look how damned responsible The People have been! Damn huge kudos on that one everyone. You kept the economy ticking as you streamed your Netflix. Now, The People will get kicked in the teeth big time as the Donkeys and Elephants stomp around parading their idiot schemes of the moment. The shit will hit the proverbial fan and cover them all before the elections. Carrots you can't eat get rotten fast.

Since I am already on my streak, I will bring up an interesting observation. Exclusive diversity. And, before some regurgitating content writer starts steals it, you heard it here first.. The streets surge against police brutality against a core traumatized population, I have to wonder- what about the Native Americans? They have had just as much shit for even longer. Add in the Pandemic and they have been left, again, to die. So WTF peeps? If your going to talk "diversity" how about walking the walk. Yes, you have been abused and targeted. But you are only One of the TWO core populations here in the US who has been traumatized. After that, add the layers of generations added to those two core populations. The Chinese rail-road workers, Japanese internment camps, Mexican immigrants... The list is sadly long. And, Inclusive... This is the history of violence that has been the foundation of police brutality and many other social issues. Exclusion is just another form of racism and social brutality.

Not a popular sentiment right now, but somebody has to state the obvious. Tearing down history doesn't change it. Being inclusive and thoughtful about change for everyone in society Does.

DeFund the Police. Ok, all levels of government could do with a hard lesson in managing their budgets and money. We, as private citizens have to. There are some nasty and fast repercussions if we don't. Yes, goverment, the police, social welfare, universities, etc need to get some transparency in their spending. The police is Not the military and should not look or act like it. Agreed. They are a public service that we, as citizens pay for. So, let's talk corruption.

Oh yes, the USA has it. At all levels. Let's address that one. Let's define our terms. What does "transparency" really mean? HOW do we achieve it. How does All of society benefit from changes? Because if we are only targeting One issue, we forget, everthing is tied together and related. We are a society of diversity, not a singularity of race or issues.

Yes, I am back. With a vengence perhaps. Have been working in human rights for over 25 years around the world, and this is an opportunity for real base social change. For everyoene. And the only way it will work is to be Inclusive, not, Exclusive, on all levels.

And, just an annoying reminder, the pandemic is Not over. Just because, today, it's "over there" doesn't mean tomorrow it wont be "right here". If you really do give a shit about human rights and your fellow human, then prove it by showing some basic respect and human decency.

You don't have to agree with me, or me you, but "Freedom of Speech" is based on mutual respect, not mindless violence.

Yep, I'm back...