Wednesday, September 18, 2019

In these days of seasonal change what’s most interesting to me are dawns and twilights, the times that I’m out feeding horses. These mornings still dawn early and with enough light to show me where to step while going to the barn. The evening light is about the same. The day’s last horse feeding is timed so that, when it’s time to release animals from their stalls, it’s possible to see around without assistance from a headlight.

I’ve nothing against using a headlight, except that carrying one symbolizes real winter, and right now, I’m wishing hard for this pretty fall weather to hang on. It’s cool and damp, and great for weed-pulling, which I do on my way up to the house after leaving the barn.

Often after starting to write, I wonder what’s making me choose and develop my themes. Today, it’s about dawns and twilights. Yesterday, it was about how life evolves and teaches. All these likely are related to thinking about my elderly sister. She seems close to passing away. Well, some days she seems to be failing, but on others, like yesterday, she’s more sharp-minded and ready to challenge my comments. I try to keep them casual and non-confrontational, but my mind keeps replaying the person to whom I’m speaking.

She’s a significant part of my life, this older sister, who guided me toward many of the things that I enjoy, like music, film, and dance, that have helped to define who I am. She also was dramatic, decisive, and unyielding in her opinions, which turned me away once I matured enough to make decisions on my own. My sister wanted to remain possessive while I was finding that talking to others could provide different ways to view information and ideas. Eventually, my big sister and I went our own ways, except for our telephone conversations.

I couldn’t imagine her needing my help, until she did. And oh, how she resisted. These days, I sit with her and remember. I wish I could have been a wiser, better little sister, who could have done both–keep closer to her while finding my own way.

Dear Friends: This season of change also is a time of sadness. Diana

Tuesday, September 16, 2019

I drove across town to meet my friend Buzz for coffee and to return a couple items of ham radio equipment he had loaned me. A couple years ago, I became licensed as a ham radio operator by passing three very difficult paper tests and achieving the FCC’s highest-level ham license. Knowing little about ham, I acquired a used radio set and joined the two local ham clubs. Members were very supportive, and one of them, Buzz, loaned me a handheld radio unit and a Morse Code tapping device (yes, I intended to learn!).

I had searched for an inside project to take me through a very cold and snowy winter, which by the way had terminated at last a huge destructive wildfire west of town. That fire’s threats had made me interested in emergency communications. Knowing about ham radio only that users must be licensed, I found that one can study online for the tests. During those cold winter nights, I studied sample tests and memorized bunches about electronics. Each study level consisted of 500-600 multiple-choice sample questions, from which 30-50 randomly selected would comprise the real test.

I studied and managed to pass all three tests for top licensing, which allows access to all FCC’s ham air waves. The ham community was as shocked by my success as me. I joined the two local clubs, but never was “able to get it, being on air”. Hams speak in short, rapid, symbol-laden and technical, often mumbled language, and experienced hams understand and enjoy it all. Most hams learned radio basics while young, usually from their active-ham dads, and most are men with a few women in the mix.

Anyway, that’s a background to my connection with Buzz. After dismantling my unused radio set, I wanted to return borrowed equipment to a kind and generous friend. We did discuss radio briefly, and when I asked Buzz about himself personally, he sighed and said he’d recently been diagnosed with early symptoms of Parkinson’s Disease. He was articulate while describing having noticed his hands occasionally shaking, and sometimes other differences, too, related to eyesight and physical balance. He’s very proactive, is practicing for the future–like hiking uphill and using poles which he’ll eventually need for all walking. And, as a ham, he’s beefing up radio equipment for future hours of indoor activity.

We shared views of how “life happens”, the differences between what we perceived while young about the future, and what possibilities actually become real experiences. I considered my gratefulness for being physically and mentally able to play with horses. But as Buzz is experiencing, living circumstances can change to alter one’s life.

My takeaway is huge admiration for his openess–and proactiveness, his pursuing knowledge from disease experts and survivors of Parkinson’s. He’s participating in a group and learning about others experiences with the disease. He’s identifying and practicing the use of eventually-needed tools.

Another takeaway is a renewed recognition of what must be the “human spirit”–an innate drive to avoid adversary, but when confronted with the inescapable, a courageous ability to interact with fate.

And I’m thinking about my elderly sister, whose once gradual decline appears to have become more rapid. I consider the “younger her”–a lifelong ferociously independent individual. It seemed impossible, after being diagnosed with the onset of dementia, that against her every impulse, ego-need, and screams about my having brought her to Bend, she has managed to adjust to a group environment, assisted by caretakers. Finally now, she appreciates all that her living arrangement offers a weakened geriatric.

Whether we’re Baby Boomers, Millennials, X-Gens, or whatever, we learn through many years of trials and tribulations what living is about. When we’re finally able to assess our lifelong acquisitions of knowledge and skills, increasingly we begin to appreciate our fundamentally shared and individually unique humanity.

Dear Friends: It’s about knowing to embrace aging by planning ahead and well. Diana

Monday, September 16, 2019

Moisture overnight and now colder without any sight of a setting moon. There are blurry outlines of some peaks comprising the nearby Cascade Range. It’s time to pull heated blankets out of storage. I’ve casually worked my way through a stack of wearables, kept handy on bathroom shelves, allowing me to dress quickly before stepping outside and heading down the hill to feed large animals.

Right now, I’m glad to have said bye-bye to most of the lightweight summer stuff and to find the ready wardrobe consisting of warmer items and underlayers. I wonder if I should wear a head-light outside this early morning, but by the time I walk out the door, the natural light is adequate to see my way.

Louie and Ranger, the dogs who stay closest and most quiet, accompany me. They’re eagerly sniffing at a space among a pile of rocks. Ranger is a great mouser, he catches and ends the critters more efficiently than our cat, Maxwell, who’s often a casual and sloppy mouser. The dogs, leaving the rocks, follow me into the barn, and now, search for gelatinous hoof pieces that our farrier left behind.

As usual, the horses are eager to eat. Especially Rosie who’s pawing at a hole that she forces me to step into and preventing me from haltering her quickly. I hate that hole and try to keep it filled, but she insists on reversing my efforts. It happens that I’m a short person and the step downwards makes Rosie too tall to reach. On command, she backs up, while I’m stepping up to slip her halter on. Our deal is that she must be led toward the barn and walk with her shoulder absolutely-not-a-smidge ahead of mine. I hold her lead, pausing while she gets into position, and we walk. Rosie’s all but prancing, but absolutely not moving herself even a squinch beyond my shoulder. Good girl!

The dogs and I find our way around to the goats and chickens. It’s particularly satisfying to know that the goats’ hooves were trimmed by our farrier. There’s no way I could hold onto one of my little dwarf goats while trimming its hoof, and it takes all of me to help a trimmer. My three goats each weighs about 75 lbs., they’re cute as can be. But holding one against its will is like holding a buffalo. These little guys are surprisingly strong with sharp hooves that kick out and can hurt. Actually, since goats are members of the deer family, I estimate that trying to hold still a resisting deer would be similar.

Now that my work is done, it’s time to go uphill to the house. Ranger is beside me and a quick whistle brings Louie from wherever he’s sniffing around. “Up to the house,” I say, and the dogs race in the correct direction, except that both pause momentarily to stick their noses into that tantalizing hole in the rock pile.

Dear Readers: Early dawns, after forcing oneself up and out, are the best! Diana

Sunday, September 15, 2019

One reason this is my favorite time of year is because gorgeous Harvest Moons hang in nighttime skies and light up the evenings. The moons feel very near and illuminate my downhill trips to the barn to take care of large animals and my returns to the house.

This is a photograph of a Harvest Moon setting in yesterday’s early morning. I was out feeding horses and on glancing up felt struck by the moon’s silent, still, and to my eyes, perfect position over the Cascades Range. Now that it’s fall, the moon has moved south. Instead of setting over the Three Sisters Mountains, as it does for most of the summer, it’s drawn closer to Mt. Bachelor, our popular ski slope and most-southern local peak.

The visual was almost too-perfect, but my cell phone camera was greatly too-imperfect. In that spectacular opportunity to capture the mountains, moon, and a slightly subdued sky, I kicked myself mentally (again!) for not having a better camera while down at the barn. The truth is, I’ve carried cameras capable of recording in a fine state whatever is worthy, but after long periods when nothing visual seems particularly engaging, I leave behind better equipment–and get stuck using my old cell phone.

Early today, I went outside with a good camera hoping for another opportunity to shoot that setting moon, but this morning is a cloudy one with rain anticipated later. At least, this one image I have of the event does return the original vision to my mind. If only it were possible to create a share for others that thrills as did that real moment of perfect moon, mountains, and weather.

Dear Readers: Please give me an E, for effort. Diana

Saturday, September 14, 2019

While having lunch with my long-time friend, Linda, we began discussing how differently the genders tend to process information. In short, men prefer thinking in a linear fashion and women in more circular ways. While we talked, I recalled these phenomena from my career in large corporations as a “communications specialist”. My role was to achieve consensus among groups of people who had to achieve a common goal, and most of all, collaboratively. I learned that men were more highly solutions-oriented than women. The gals typically asked bunches of “what if” questions which stalled the process, and usually, to the group’s common advantage.

I couldn’t have imagined my recent surprise and delight while watching an episode of Anderson Cooper on CNN. During his long interview with Jon Stewart, the two mostly discussed the current political situation, until suddenly, there was a shift.

Cooper’s mother died a few months ago, and though still working effectively, he feels the pain and loss. He mentioned having received a note of condolence from Stewart and asked a question about it. This led to Stewart’s experience of losing his father and two brothers in an airplane crash when he was only nine years old. The two men began discussing how they’ve process feelings of loss and moving toward recovery.

I mean, they really talked! Nothing linear, all circular.

This came toward the end of that interview, lasting some 10 or 15 minutes: two grown men really talking to one another, about feelings and humanity, and in public!

I texted everybody I knew who’d understand and suggested they watch the episode. After my lunch with Linda, as we discussed linear and circular thinking, I thought about inviting others to experience that discussion. Remember, the first portion is about general politics, but als0, worth sitting through.

Here’s the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YB46h1koicQ

Dear Friends: Regardless of gender, really talking is very special. Diana

Friday, September 13, 2019

Today, this is brief. Our farrier is coming early enough to interrupt the horses during their morning feed. The farrier spends his time working in Bishop, CA, and in Bend. This time, he’s nearly two weeks late because his transmission broke down. He had to wait someplace in CA for it to be rebuilt.

Meanwhile, Rosie has thrown a shoe while being driven and as a result is grounded from activities other than standing around. I also worry about Sunni’s shoes, now too old and the metal too thin but still attached. It’ll be a relief this morning when he arrives.

This guy’s an artist. He’s so experienced that by watching a horse move, he can gather how each hoof lands and understand what corrections are necessary. He works the old fashioned way by heating up metal and pounding it, creating custom shoes for individual hooves. For example, if a horse’s raised hind hoof tends to land on ground on its outside, he will build up that shoe’s outside rim to let the hoof land evenly.

My horses are driven on paved roads in this quiet neighborhood. For this reason, our farrier adds, between the hooves and shoes, special pads. These pads are designed to absorb landing shocks, and hopefully, cushion the horse’s joints.

I never dreamed there would be a necessity for this sort of expertise in my life with horses, but if one expects a horse to be athletic and perform optimally, a capable farrier is a critical need on the road toward success. Not to mention how much money for stocking in an amount of hay the working horse must consume, but that’s another story.

Dear Readers: Hooves are very complex structures and must be kept healthy. Diana

Thursday, September 12, 2019

For a couple of days, I found myself astonished while watching activities in the state of North Carolina. First was the voting for a State House Representative, between a Republican and Democrat. In that heavily Republican state, the Republican won by a very narrow margin.

The very next day, while lots of state representatives were off attending 9/11 events and the State House nearly was empty, the House Republicans delivered a coup. After announcing there wouldn’t be any voting because too few members would show up, and after dis-inviting the press, the House Chair announced a sudden voting intended to overturn the state budget. Enough Republicans were present to pass the bill, with too few Democrats there to save the budget.

An outraged Democrat, State Representative, Deb Butler grabbed her mic and began screaming at the Chair. He turned off her mic and she turned it on again (and again!), refusing to become silent. When her mic went really dead, she grabbed mics from other Democrats and continued her tirade. A fellow House Democrat used his cellphone to record the event, which otherwise, without the press present to cover it would have become a challengeable story outside the State House. That video of the confrontation went viral making Deb Butler an instant heroine of all who recognized that voting coup as terribly unfair, if not illegal.

According to Butler, the overturned budget would have helped to address (among other things) North Carolina’s deteriorating schools, its teachers’ salaries, and it attempts to expand the statewide Medicaid program. Those promises disappeared on this year’s anniversary of 9/11.

Most of us don’t know enough about what actually happens among negotiators of state governments. We know popular versions of “I like this guy” or “I don’t like that guy”, but lack adequate insight into too many details that lead to and finally resolve large-scale disputes and decisions. Somehow or other, these do affect us all.

North Carolina is a tip of the iceberg. All states are juggling options to avoid or support the obscene scrambling for power among America’s leaders, and the great impact on American norms and legalities. Among citizens, the bottom line is cash for our wallets. Folks who don’t have enough cash are invested in a philosophy of shared wealth. Folks with enough cash have as their goal accumulating greater wealth, which also accumulates greater power.

Dear Friends: I promise to quit soap-boxing. It’s that NC caught my attention. Diana

Wednesday, September 11, 2019

To me, there are three dates that “live in infamy,” one I personally didn’t experience and two that are vivid in my memory. The first was the attack on Pearl Harbor by Japanese Aircraft, which Roosevelt addressed in his famous speech and which I grew up hearing about. The other two, occurring decades later, were the assassination of JFK in Dallas, and the event that many Americans today personally remember, the destinies and disasters associated to American Airlines Flights 11, 77, and 93.

Today, America’s place in the world has changed. Our country might be a superpower, but it’s no longer decidedly the most super. Many nations have nuclear weapons and their strong-minded leaders actively are testing them. On one hand, it’s sobering to think about the tragedy of the twin towers, and that awful attack by men on a suicide mission who used box-cutters to control passengers in a third airplane headed toward the Pentagon. On the other hand, with all due credit to America’s posture in 1941, that was long ago. Today, nations can’t think in terms of absolute victories.

The events of 9/11 are grim reminders of America’s, and indeed worldwide, the vulnerabilities of nations. The current grim worries aren’t related only to warlike events, but also to environmental and technological concerns. Today, the smart thinking is directed toward absolute survival. This requires better international political cooperation and collaboration, attention to saving large and small rain forests, and the granting of protections for all species.

I could go on, but my drift is clear. Today, let’s all spend some time thinking about how to protect the future health and well-being of our planet for humans and animals alike.

Dear Readers: This historical day begs soap boxes for thinking, caring citizens. Diana

Tuesday, September 10, 2019

Rosie is wonderful to drive, an energetic mover, alert and willing. Unfortunately, she has a few games up her proverbial sleeve, mostly she performs little faux-spooks at silly, inconsequential things along our route. These spooks are interesting, because she used to do them while trotting and being ridden, especially when she first came to me. Eventually, she quit that behavior and I forgot about it until this year. During the several months she’s been driven, it’s arisen, and for awhile she faux-spooked quite a bit. That behavior now is less but still enough consistent to keep me at the ready to remind her of our task.

I wonder why she does this. If it’s an eyesight problem, there aren’t signs of this at any time other than when she’s asked to work. My thought is that in her early life, this behavior might have got her out of having to work. She’s a horse with a mind of her own and as I think back, from the beginning of our time together, she’s clearly wanted to make all the decisions. I had to learn how to overcome her resistance in order to get her into a horse trailer, how to lead her without finding, instead, that she was leading me.

Somewhere along the line, I learned to grab opportunities to train Rosie. One of the first was taking advantage of feeding times. Instead of following the horses into the barn, I made it a point to halter Rosie and lead her inside. The others followed, as she’s the lead mare and no one dares get ahead of Rosie. She must pause before entering her stall until I give her an okay. It’s similar when letting the horses out, for Rosie gets haltered and leads the others out. These episodes gave me short but effective opportunities to make her listen, walk with her shoulder alongside mine, and whoa when asked. She knows all this stuff well, has to be reminded.

Driving took our working together to a new level. It’s a big jump, to where a rider in a cart behind the horse is dependent on the animal’s good behavior. Interestingly, Rosie behaves except for those small “tests?” to her handler. If it’s not about eyesight problems, then she’s exploring whether she can get out of working–as if hoping I’ll throw up my hands and give in. I’m counting on that same as in the days when she was trail ridden, this unwanted behavior will disappear and she’ll become enough dependable that my mind can drift a bit, much as like when I’m driving her nearly-perfect little sister.

Dear Friends: Someday, maybe these two can be harnessed and driven as a pair. Diana

Monday, September 09, 2019

Rain last night sounded friendly through a door left open to the small deck off my bedroom. I was cozy under lots of covers, off and on listening to rain. Early today, dressed in a winter jacket, and holding between my bare hands a mug with coffee, I went downhill to the barn. The large animals know exactly when they’re to be fed, and as usual, Rosie screamed greetings. She pawed the ground, as usual, deepening the ditch that I must step into in order to get to and halter her.

Once the horses were stalled and eating, I turned to the goats. Like the horses, they know when they’re to be fed, and like Rosie, keep me apprised with constant bleats. Happily, the goats don’t create ditches. Once they and their four companion hens were eating, I turned to the weeds.

Early moring ground damp is a good time to carve out a few minutes and pull the most offensive weeds, Russian Thistle. A very long-time friend says it’s a waste to write about pulling weeds, just not interesting. Another friend, living in my neighborhood who also has to pull Russian Thistle, disagrees. We locals are of a mind, focused on keeping the noxious weed from taking over. Anyway, with apologies to one friend who doesn’t pull weeds and in tribute to another who does, I’ll just note on the topic that this morning a half-hour went to weed-pulling.

It’s fall! Adjusting to the changing weather and diminishing light, and thinking about what’s changing and what must change, I remind myself that adjustments occur annually and step-by-step all will fall into place. Yes, despite anything unexpected because of global warming.

Dear Friends: September through mid-November are lovely in Central Oregon! Diana