Animal friends

Click thumbnails to view each photo.

The calendars are ready!

T

2010 Golden RAG AZ calendar

The Rescue-A-Golden 2010 calendar is now available for sale just in time for the peak gift-giving season.

My photos are featured in February , March, April, May, June, July, August, September, November, and December.

Each page measures 8.5 by 11 inches, and they are printed on heavy paper.

In addition to the pictures of gorgeous dogs, the calendar includes a lot of information about specific dogs. It will give you a deeper appreciation of “a dog’s life.” In too many cases a dog’s life is not about comfort and being loved. That’s where the RAG organization plays such an important role.

The things you will learn about rescuing Goldens by reading the text included in the calendar will touch your heart. That alone, as I like to say, is worth the price of admission.

How much is the price of admission? It’s a tiered system. RAG is selling the calendars for $10. I’m offering them for $15 because I have such generous friends. There is also a sweetener for Tucson-area buyers. For $35 you get a calendar and a portrait sitting with you and your pet—or just your pet, if you prefer. For $50 I’ll add an 8 by 10 print of my favorite gorilla. He has seen Rodin’s “The Thinker,” and this is his homage to that classic piece. These prices all include applicable sales tax.

The things you will learn about rescuing Goldens by reading the text included in the calendar will touch your heart. That alone, as I like to say, is worth the price of admission.

All proceeds go to to RAG, and they use the money to rescue more dogs. You can’t beat that!

Let me know if you want a calendar and how much you want to pay! To order, send me an e-mail by clicking HERE. If you place an order, please leave a comment too to encourage others.

Getting sentimental about cold weather

Nostalgia

 

I got feeling sentimental about cold weather today, so I plunged into E. B. White’s essay titled, appropriately enough, Cold Weather.

Mr. White is famous for noticing little things that matter. He wrote, “It is rather soothing when existence is reduced to the level of a woodbox that needs filling, a chink that needs plugging, a rug that needs pushing against a door.”

He writes about how the mail carrier’s car won’t start, and can Mr. White give the fellow a lift? Mr. White had the foresight to leave a fire burning in a barrel in his garage, so his car starts just fine. And, while he’s out, can he pick up Mrs. Dow? She usually walks to the store, but it’s much too cold today.

I have the urge to go visit some cold weather. I would like to hear the crunch of snow under my hiking boots. I would like to feel the embrace of warm air after a brisk walk down an icy street to a local café where the coffee is hot and rich. I would like to hear a wood fire crackle and pop.

I miss cold weather.

I appreciate people who write about simple stuff that matters, like Mr. White did.

What to write about

My friends who blog, or who are thinking about it, or who need to but aren’t thinking about it, tell me they wonder what they should write about—were they to write something.

I have it on good authority that you should write about what you care about. That is not exactly the same as the old advice to write about what you know. You may know very little about something you care about deeply. Authenticity comes to mind, for example. I know little about my own authenticity, but I have a ferocious desire to write about it as a means of coaxing it out into the open.

There is so much outrageous behavior in the world that it is tempting to write about it frequently, and maybe at the expense of better topics.  Deep in wonder about this, I consulted my friend E. B. White. He said, “Even in evil times, a writer should cultivate only what naturally absorbs his fancy, whether it be freedom or chinch bugs, and should write in the way that comes easy.”

These are evil times, but we can’t let that fact fully occupy our consciousness. We have to fight the bad guys with the sword in our non-dominant hand so that we can continue to write with the other one. We put the truth on paper (figuratively speaking) in order to give strength to those who share our love of truth.

When I tell the truth, it is not for the sake of convincing those who do not know it, but for the sake of defending those that do. –William Blake

The decision about what to write about is therefore a matter of choosing the point of truth that wants to push and claw its way out of the writer. As Mr. Blake implies, it might be in response to someone who needs to hear you say it. It might also be a garden variety expression of joy and celebration. Every so often it will be a bit of sword play to deflate the overinflated.

In any case, we ought to write about what we care about, and take care that we are not being too cooperative in the process. Mr. White told us, “In a free country it is the duty of writers to pay no attention to duty.” Obedience is a dangerous thing if you are a writer.

I drew these quotes from his essay, Salt Water Farm. You can read the whole essay in a few minutes.  Who knows, you might want to write about it.

Yvette flew to LA this morning

Yvonne

Yvette took a Southwest flight to Los Angeles this morning to visit her cousin Yvonne. I took this photo in June 2009. At the time Yvonne was going through an experimental treatment in hopes of putting her cancer into remission. You wouldn’t know that from looking at her.

In spite of everyone’s best efforts her condition has deteriorated.

All of Yvonne’s friends applaud her courage and spirit during this ordeal.

I posted recently about wondering how to reach out to a friend in distress. I know showing up for them, as Yvette is doing, is one way to reach out.

Blessings on you, Yvonne.

Namaste.

Should we “home school” college kids?

My nephew, David, at his graduation from Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo

The University of California system is hammering students with massive increases in tuition and fees. Since California is going broke, this is understandable. For many students these increases are likely to be prohibitive, however. Thus the increases will shrink the student population, and that will mean layoffs for faculty and staff. It’s a vicious cycle.

It gives one pause to ask what people are getting for the money they spend on college and how this money might be better spent.

There are two attractive—in my view—alternatives. One is to mobilize our two-year community colleges to grant full bachelor’s degrees. The other is to launch “home school” college programs.

You really get two things from college. You learn something. The amount varies, of course, based on the subject, the school, and the student.

If we home-schooled college kids, they could likely get at least as good a mastery of the subject matter as they would at a state school. Laboratory-intensive subjects such a medicine might not translate well, but for the majority of academic areas a classroom is a classroom.

I took 12 courses in graduate school, and I considered four of my teachers sub-par, and only a couple were what I considered outstanding. There are gobs of underemployed Ph.D.s out there looking for side money, and many of them were moonlighting at my school. Before long, the very best professors will be looking for side money.

The other thing one gets from a university is a diploma and whatever amount of status it confers upon a person. There are valid uses for status, but status isn’t required by everyone. Some people just want to master the subject matter. Those folks are, in my opinion, the vast majority of students.

This is a business opportunity for somebody. The ivy-covered universities will probably rent out the space they can’t fill, so people should be able to get a good deal on the facilities they need. What I have in mind is granola-and-sprouts alternative to the University of Phoenix. With a bit of imagination and enterprise, I think it could work. If today’s batch of students and aspiring students can’t invent a home-school concept suitable for our times I, for one, will be disappointed.

This sort of project is certainly a lot more promising that waving placards and shouting at people who can’t give you what you want even if they tried.

What can I give thee?

Yvette has always referred to Yvonne as her cousin, though they are not actually related.  Tonight, after a long and intense battle with cancer, Yvonne struggles with pneumonia in a hospital room in California. The pneumonia is the result of a chronic decline in her powers.

Dear Yvette sheds tears several times a day over this.

Yvette’s sister, Jeanne, is spending the night at the hospital in order to relieve Yvonne’s sister, Janelle, who needs to go home. Yvonne’s 14-year-old daughter worries and wonders too.

I can try to comfort Yvette. I can offer a prayer in support of Yvonne. Both efforts seem frail to me.

Yvonne, what can I offer you?

I offer the illustration of this little fellow as an image of earnest caring. What’s in the package? Sadness, a tiny little laugh, a faint smile, a hope, a prayer.

Rest will come to Yvonne. There is no question about her deserving it. What can I give her? I just have this little box of prayers.

Namaste, to Yvonne, and to all who need comfort this day.

Permission to speak

I have had a considerable amount of experience lately inviting people to speak out. I’ve learned a few things by doing this, and they might be of interest to you.

I won’t name names in deference to people who are searching for their own permission to speak.

One fellow told me that he hesitates even to comment on my posts for fear of saying something wrong. His deepest desire? To be a writer. He would write novels, he told me. Novels are the hardest thing to write, in my opinion. He would aim high, and he hesitates. I honor his conflict. He is on the path.

A friend I admire greatly has an active e-mail campaign through which he quotes others frequently.  I suggested to him that it might be time to quote himself.  He has a cluster of fears associated with speaking his own words. He might alienate people, is one of them. He might reveal some hollowness that has escaped detection, is another. Using his voice might bring about the end of the world as he knows it. That is the very reason I recommend that he do it. His new world will be bigger, more colorful, and more exciting.

The horse is an iconic symbol of freedom and intelligence. I once saw a video tape of a horse doing the equivalent of ballet, and the rider used no saddle and no reins. Horses have an Other World quality that is symbolic of true freedom. Giving one’s self permission to speak is a ride on that horse.

I have made a study of the fear of writing—of using one’s voice. The books about facing the fear of being a writer are some of the most nourishing and insightful books I’ve read. They provide great therapy, some of the best that is available.

Stephen King said many brilliant things about writing, which is to say, about the permission to speak. To wit:

He corrects the assumption that “the writer controls the material instead of the other way around.”

And, “Only under dire circumstances do I allow myself to shut down before I get my 2,000 [daily] words.”

Stephen King, by the way, is the paragon of the public confession of personal frailties. If you feel BAD, and you want the Prince of Bad to guide your march from humiliation back to standing tall, read his On Writing, A memoir of the craft. It’s real good therapy. He is a really fine man.

People who are tempted to use their voice are on the path. Their hesitation reminds me of my own. To even find the fear that intimidates would-be writers is a great victory. To all of you who would like to speak, but fear doing so, be of good cheer. The desire itself is a divine gift. The fear does not mean you have strayed from your path, it means you have found it. Praise God.

Know that many have preceeded us on the path. Stephen King, Natalie Goldberg, and Anne Lamott are just a few. You have friends out there.  Be of good cheer.

Now, what is it you were about to say?

What the Great Depression can teach us

Are we in a Depression? For those who are out of work, we are. For those who are not out of work, we aren’t.  But it’s a thin line. All of us ought to be ready to face the Depression if it visits our house. The late, great Peter Drucker has some good advice for us.

Peter Drucker is one of my greatest intellectual heroes. He inspires me daily. Sixty years after he boldly announced that management is an ability that can be taught and learned, people in high places who manage badly still say, “Peter who?”  No matter about that. I’m going to share the best thing he ever said right here in this post. You don’t have to read his 29 books if you don’t want to.

In his book, Adventures of a Bystander, he wrote about being a young man during the Great Depression. One of his observations is about the current of helpfulness that ran through American society at the time. He shared an anecdote about an immigration clerk who impulsively offered him a job during the Great Depression. Drucker didn’t need the job because he was doing fine in spite of the times. He said, “But that the clerk wasted his pity on me is beside the point. What made him the very embodiment of Depression America was his concern, his eagerness to help, his focus on direct action.”

He added, “Depression America encouraged, cheered on, helped.” He praised the “willingness to take a chance on a person” that characterized those grim times.

He said, “The commitment to mutual help and the willingness to take chances on a person were peculiar to Depression American.” He notes that the Roaring Twenties were not like this. “The commitment to mutual help was a response to the Depression. Indeed it was the specifically American response to the Depression. There was nothing like it on the other side [of the Atlantic], where the Depression evoked only suspicion, surliness, fear, and envy.”

What the good professor is saying to us is that we are our brother’s keeper, and that it is easy to overlook that fact. Let’s not overlook it. Let’s show a bias for concern, eagerness to help, and a focus on direct action. It will do us all good. Let’s acquire those virtues now. Who knows what lies ahead?

Reliving some teenage angst

I recently bought a big coffee table book that summarizes 50 years of Playboy magazine. I bought it used for four dollars.

Playboy magazine was a big part of my self-discovery experience when I hit puberty. Playboy and I basically grew up together. Those were the days when Sports Illustrated concentrated entirely on sports. I was curious what some of those old pictures would look like from my current perspective and what emotional charge they might still contain.

First, a little background. Puberty, in a family that fights about the meaning of “naughty,” is an adventure.  We had purists who were pretty much afraid of everything related to feeling good. They viewed life as a cosmic minefield, and they were in constant fear of offending a deity who would afflict them with dire consequences just for enjoying themselves. There were no rules posted, you just had to be darned careful.

Others in the family rejected this kind of obsessive piety with a reactionary sort of defiance that led to some strange behaviors. If you are twelve years old, sorting through those polarized attitudes and values in search of something coherent is a challenge.

In the midst of all this was Playboy magazine. The magazine appointed itself the arbiter of cool. The implied message was that if you could find the key that they found, you too could live like Hef.

As I looked through the book, my first impression was how unimaginative the photographs are. Any element that might distinguish a photo has always been airbrushed away by their editors, of course. I suppose they want to make sure that the least literate person can find something in the pictures that they can relate to. The images are about as obvious and uncomplicated as a bacon-cheeseburger.

Puberty today has got to be a really different experience than it was in my time. The Internet brought a revolution in terms what what is available to the adolescent. I used to sneak into Dad’s closet to get the magazines. I took great care to stack them in exactly the same order as I found them once I was done. With the on-line content, Dad will never know.

What did I learn from my tour of the book? The girls in the magazine these days still say with their eyes, “You’ll never be good enough for me,” just as they did from day one.  Real artistry on the part of the photographer is still taboo, and the photos all have to fit a formula. All imperfections are still denied through the miracles of computerized special effects.

Revisiting the magazine was similar to a fairly recent visit to the house I lived in when I was in first grade. My impression was, “Wow. It’s so tiny!” Things that once towered in importance can melt away. I do take some comfort in recognizing that Playboy is basically a bacon-cheeseburger. It once looked like steak to me.