Thursday, October 03, 2019

I live in a relatively small community with an average “permanent population” of under 100,000. True, the large amounts of tourists and family visitors make this place feel much larger than it is, especially when one tries to drive through heavy traffic across town. The last few years have brought vehicles lined at stoplights and crowded shops and restaurants. It’s the opposite to my earliest days here when one zipped across town in a few minutes, parked anyplace, wandered through well-stocked, uncrowded stores with quick check-out cashiers.

This community primarily draws a sports- and retirement-oriented population. So, there’s young and old with reasonably good medical options for a middle Oregon outpost. For hoards of retiring baby boomers wishing to remain active, this place has become a draw. There’s construction everywhere and of every kind from the most expensive to whatever passes as “affordable housing” (surely an oxymoron if ever there was one).

Besides traffic and crowds, my main problem is the construction, which consumes so many skilled crafts persons. It’s become nearly impossible for a not very handy or well connected homeowner to find help. Those tradespersons capable of repairs and services are for weeks-out busy.

The last big rainstorm impacted my gutters which need fixing before real winter sets in. Several weeks ago, I began calling for help, but you know, all over town gutters had been impacted, and I landed on waiting lists. Help never materialized and meanwhile winter has begun “springing up”. This week, I began looking up handyman services, took a chance, and called a guy with a couple of good reviews. He has a nice voice, says he can repair gutters and could be here early next week.

What’s a person to do?

I’ve been a victim of handymen who couldn’t or didn’t deliver what they promised and overcharged as well. Some have performed work well-enough that it passes as good on a first glance, with only later me discovering the errors, omissions, and needs for rework. I kick myself for not being able to assess better new repair work. Sure, I’ve learned and am maybe a little smarter, but still, today’s circumstances force me to trust another unknown.

Anyway, he’ll be here and we’ll move on. The acid test of his repair (if even he can do the job) will be our next big rain, or heaven forbid a big snow storm. When moisture loads weight on the gutters, here’s hoping they will be able handle it and remain fastened.

Dear Friends: A friend’s guy declares, “If you’re not handsome, be handy!” Diana

Tuesday, October 02, 2019

I’ve thought lots about Nancy Pelosi’s comment that, “The times have found us.” It makes sense as I think back over what I know about human social history. This morning, it made more sense. In the wee small hours and sleepless, I began reading a book that for awhile has been at the top of my reading list, entitled, S.P.Q.R.: A History of Ancient Rome, by Mary Beard (2015).

What drew me to this book is a whole story itself, so I’ll cut directly to the chase and explain what about the story of Rome isn’t new or surprising. Actually, it’s fascinating in light of what we’re trying grasp, the nonstop changes occurring in the world’s current societies and in political leadership.

Instead of reaching way back into antiquity and explaining the slow growth of the Roman nation, Beard examines Rome beginning in the year 63 BCE, or about 600 years after the city’s founding. She writes that by 63 BCE, Rome had a million inhabitants. It was a dirty, sloppy city, most residents were very poor, living in filth (sanitation didn’t exist), and paying high rents to a few wealthy residents. The minority who were wealthy owned most of Rome’s properties. They personally lived in relative splendor owning large homes and slaves.

Beard details the social perspectives and political differences between Marcus Tullius Cicero and and Lucius Sergius Catilina. Both men were wealthy, but Catilina had come from a family with more money than Cicero who was self-made. Catilina matured with a passion to liberate Rome’s poor and give them more rights and opportunities. Cicero had become a member of the Senate (the city’s most wealthy and influential men); he was a fabulous orator able to communicate his passion effectively. Catilina lost most of his personal wealth over years because of his combative nature and conflicts to prove his points. The two men fought through conflicts both oratory and physical. Cicero’s ability to communicate won the day, and Rome’s social status quo remaining unchanged.

This 2000-year-old story reads like a modern crime novel. It’s full of courtroom skills and each side’s passions. The winner had the oratory skills to convince a majority of decision makers. While reading, I couldn’t help considering our own 2016 election, the unusual claims, behaviors, and finally, vision-shaking results. Much of what happened then, and is happening since isn’t new. Looking back into human social history can help us conjure up shapes for the future.

Dear Readers: Social dynamics through history teach us that, “then is now”. Diana

Tuesday, October 01, 2019

Yesterday, after work, I popped into the nursing home where she resides to visit my ailing sister, Elaine. I found her propped up in her hospital bed and watching television, this time not a classic movie, but instead, an old game show that she knew well. Elaine appeared comfortable, in a good mood. She was highly alert without being combative as she is at times. We chatted awhile before I had to hurry home and feed the horses.

They were waiting for the sounds of my vehicle nearing the barn area. The horses cantered and bucked alongside the fence, Rosie blaring her hungry impatience. In that late afternoon–frigid frosty, overcast–and still wearing my Costco garb, with only a light jacket, no gloves, I hurriedly fed the horses and goats. My hands and fingers began stinging and seemed nearly numb before I could return to my car and its welcoming heater.

Up at the house, the dogs chimed in with a welcoming chorus that echoed the horses’ hunger and adding a group insistence to be allowed inside. I entered the house to Peaches’ welcoming, “Hello Hello Hello”, and handed him an unshelled pecan. Next, the four dogs came inside–well, more like “fell inside”–with the whole pack attempting to scramble as one through the sliding door.

And what all day I had looked forward to, the piece de resistance, in that crock pot on my countertop, a warm pot roast. The kitchen smelled wonderful, and dinner was a cinch. There was plenty of roast to share with all the dogs and Peaches. None for my cat, Max, who prefers Fancy Feast, or Gilbert, the rescued racing pigeon, always glued to his usual food (chicken feed and small parrot kibble).

The last day of that invasive early winter ended well at my house with everybody warm and fed. Starting today, our area is supposed to enjoy a string of days that will be more normally fall-like with higher temps and dryer weather. That’ll invite me into action again with the horses.

Dear Friends: A preview of colder weather ahead is a grounding experience. Diana

Monday, September 30, 2019

Really, how can it be, that even before getting into October we’re already having snowfalls? Could it be so, that the coming winter will turn out to be colder and snowier than last year’s? Yesterday, why didn’t I mind hurrying through a dawning light to feed the horses while bundled in ski pants and Irish wool? And what about yesterday’s freezing rain, you know, that all-day drizzle?

Already, the house thermostat’s automatic workings have activated the heat pump. It seemed awfully early to go find heated blankets and include them in the bedding. I suppose it’s appropriate to shift into the right frame of mind to deal with a significant seasonal change. Just think, over in Wyoming they’re already having to cope with at least two feet of deep new snow. Last evening, while feeding horses, I looked into the readiness of a snow blower that waits in the barn for the kind of winter that forces it to blow pathways to and from the horses. Today, I’ll check the readiness of another snowblower parked in the garage, for demolishing snow piled around the house and easing navigation, by vehicle or on foot, of my steep driveway.

In the last several weeks, the horses have turned fuzzier. In fact, these days after being driven, their sweating patterns aren’t from overwork, but clearly caused by their much heavier coats. Horse folks in winter’s depth can push bare cold hands deep into a horse’s coat and feel warmth emanating from the animal’s body. Observing my dogs, it’s evident that they, too, have shed themselves of summer hairs, their coats now appearing fluffier and thicker. My Border Collie, Miles, who’s big coat (full of knots and tangles early in the summer) got shaved finally is regrowing. His new coat looks weird but will keep him warm, and once fully reestablished should return him to his handsome self.

Right now, it’s very early as I write. While pausing to let the dogs outside, I see brand new snow shallowly covering, that quickly will melt away. But there’s something disconcerting about facing the white stuff right now, and technically, while it’s still what we know as early fall.

Anyway now, it’s time to stop wondering. I must hurry to climb into those ski pants and button up that great wool sweater. It’s time for my early morning downhill trek to feed the waiting horses.

Dear Friends: Winter generates mixed feelings, but it’s arrival also is exciting. Diana

Sunday, September 29, 2019

It’s a jumble of feelings when house guests depart for home. A renewed emptiness that gets filled by keeping oneself busy. So, I stayed busy all day.

First, off to visit my elderly sister, Elaine, who’s in a care facility. I was relieved to see that she’s not as close to departing from this world as the hospice social worker had me thinking during our phone discussion the night before. Sure, Elaine is skinny as a rail, her stomach tumor apparent, but she holds to an ever-long habit of watching television and frequently making acerbic comments. Her mind still is sharp, her attention span varies, and she does speak of “going home to Nevada,” which I agree with the social worker alludes to another sort of going home. I left there knowing now that I must monitor Elaine’s condition on my own and not become shaken by telephone reports from well-meaning caretakers.

Something got into me about a week ago when I was expecting company, and I began tossing out stuff that’s useful but hasn’t been used, or even searched for, in years. Clothes that I save for various weights as I escalate up and down, and that I don’t want to continue saving. Plastic boxes of various sizes for storage, that I don’t use because stuff in boxes with lids don’t get opened, so the stacked unused boxes take up valuable space. Off to the dump, all of it.

This trip to the dump was easier because Elaine (one of my visitors from Eastern Oregon) demonstrated how to release, for reuse, those tie-down ratchet straps that men invented and ever so easily use often. Elaine pressed a ratchet’s release levers and used a trick to handle the part that stumped me. She simply stood on the ribbon footage, using her weight for leverage, while pulling up on the ratchet to clear it. If you’ve never used this device, be grateful and don’t bother trying to visualize Elaine’s method. But if, like me, you do use them and find yourself unsnarling tangled long ribbons, shoot me a note for details of the “fix procedure”. Anyway, I covered the trailer’s trash for going to the dump with a tarp that I strapped tightly, and later, smoothly emptied the used ratchet tie-downs for another day.

Dear Friends: Now, back to normal, off to my part-time job today. Diana

Saturday, September 28, 2019

My elderly sister’s condition is deteriorating. Her hospice social worker alerted me yesterday by phone. Last week, when I visited my sister, I found her alert and very thin. She had a highly visible stomach tumor and insisted it neither bothered nor pained her. The social worker, in our conversation, advised me to self-prepare, and expect to see significant changes that rapidly have occurred.

I’ll visit Elaine today and try to be prepared for the update. It’s not that what’s new hasn’t been anticipated, the problem is that ahead is a new reality. I really cannot imagine being without her totally, not having her somewhere around, arguing and giving me a hard time about almost everything.

That’s the story of our sisterhood. She, the big sister who wanted to be a mother, and me, the little sister trying to escape her idiosyncratic viewpoints and beliefs. Wanting to escape her swings into highs and lows that came and went quicker than many brief summer showers.

I’ll say this, while on highs, Elaine’s belief in herself was outstanding, and she could do (and did!) almost anything she set her mind to. Her lows were bummers, with calls to me always moaning and groaning about the winds that blew consistently and making her feel incredibly sad and unhappy.

All relationships have positives and negatives, and another side is that Elaine had positive influences on me. She was a role model for independence and can-do, and I adopted lots of those. She was ferociously independent, until she couldn’t be, and finally four years ago, allowed herself to accompany me to Oregon. These last four years of her life have created their own story.

I love you, Elaine, and will visit you today.

Dear Readers: My emotions are complex, maybe soon they can become clearer. Diana

Friday, September 27, 2019

While preparing to load the driving cart and then travel to a trainer’s facility, I discovered that my truck battery was dead, so completely that a starter battery couldn’t kick it back into action. Off went my truck for mechanical diagnosis, while I watched from behind with a phone and apologizing profusely to the driving trainer.

My visitor Jean and I had plenty to do anyway. We worked with the horses. She showed me how to use a length of rope to create a training halter and demonstrated ways to use it appropriately. My horses were responsive, so much so they nearly were unrecognizable. Jean long ago had raised Sunni from a little filly, had trained her, and the mare fell right into step. Rosie, often the resistor, became instant putty in Jean’s hands, looking lots like Sunni and unquestionably responding to the rope and to verbal commands.

Neither of my horses had been driven for about three days. They needed to be hitched and working. I worry about a possibility that Rosie’s excess energy might interfere with the need to keep her focused while working. But yesterday, handling her was easy and we had a good drive. The same, of course, with my dependable Sunni.

All the photos (except the one of my truck) today are from Elaine’s iPhone. She has an excellent camera eye, and upon arriving here grabbed a beer and walked through the neighborhood, capturing random local fine points.

Jean and I will use much of this day to work on horse training–her particular art. She’ll show me more about using that magic rope. There’s so much knowledge stored in her brain, it’s a mitzvah to to take advantage of what she offers.

Dear Friends: Enjoy this wonderful fall day as it closes in toward October. Diana

Thursday, September 26, 2019

It’s fun having company, at least perhaps for me. Last night as usual, it was necessary to get out of bed a couple of times to let the dogs outside. This means a trip through the house to the living room’s sliding doors, which it happens is next to Peach’s cage. We do this quietly night after night, but this wasn’t so last night.

The dogs fought to get out my bedroom door (normally never closed) and then barked their way through the house. The activity awakened something primitive in Peaches, his screams began before we were halfway toward the sliding door. As the dogs piled against the slider, I tried to open it while the reverberating of that bird’s screams against my ears sent my head into shock.

I could not imagine how my poor visitors might have tried to deal with this racket. Certainly as a guest myself, I’d have been tossed into sleeplessness for the remainder of that night. Perhaps that would have been the best thing, for the dogs and I were destined once-again to get up and out before the ordeal of trying to sleep through that night ended.

Otherwise, things are well. Everybody arrived in Bend safe and sound. Elaine and I managed to heft an item that she wishes to take home loaded onto her trailer. Meanwhile, Jean went to work re-training my horses, they need better ground manners. She also tampered with Pimmy and even made a little training progress.

I’m reminded of how well Jean knows and handles horses, something she’s done lovingly and effecrively all her life. Watching her cut off a piece of rope and fashion a quick halter and put my girls to work was watching capability in action. Jean spoke to Sunni and used her hands to get the horse backing up or walking forward, to voice and touch, helped by that little spontaneous halter Jean had created. Same with Rosie, the princess, who fell right into submission to voice and hands and behaved as asked. Oh, I can learn so much more about my equines during the few days that this wonderful horsewoman is visiting.

For Elaine, this is a working trip and she’ll go to meetings. So today for Jean and me, it’ll mostly be about driving. This morning, we’ll trailer Sunni out for a session of training with a driving expert, and this afternoon we will hitch Rosie and drive in the neighborhood. In between and afterwards, Jean will show me more about working efficiently with equines to improve their ground manners.

Dear Readers: Regardless of how much one knows, there’s always more to learn. Diana

Wednesday, September 25, 2019

I learned yesterday that my once-neighbor and good friend, Raiko Hartman, recently passed away. It’s been a long time since the Hartman family and I were in touch, but they’re fond memories and I’ve always missed them. Especially Raiko, who took the time to be a mentor to me back when I used all my courage to start my own business.

He was a professional photographer and in those days specialized in photos of Harley Davidson Motorcycles, pictures that often included proud owners. His studio was the go-to-place for folks having customized gorgeous Harleys. Many of Raiko’s photos were published in motorcycle magazines. He was well-known enough that a book of his motorcycle images was published.

When first I knew Raiko, he insisted that nothing–certainly not digital photography–could match the results of good old film. And he was an expert, sharing a huge studio in Hollywood. There he photographed me, to help create a folder about my new corporate training business. He spoke lots about his attentiveness to customer service, about product accuracy and production speed, reminding me to pay as much attention to this element as to my ability to describe technical skills.

Somewhere along the way, Raiko decided that, although famous in certain niches, he needed to expand his skills and returned to college for a Masters in fine arts. The schooling forced him to play with digital photography and this became a sea change for him. The world and possibilities of digital excited Raiko, extending his imagination and encouraging a whole new avenue for his art.

In those days, nearly 20 years ago, I felt fortunate to know Raiko and to learn some of his artistic vision. His explanations expanded my sense of photography as an art form and I never forgot.

Raiko had a fascinating personal story. An immigrant child, he was adopted by an American family and grew up in the Los Angeles area. He always was attracted to form and light, and even once (in a very funny story) blew an opportunity to meet his hero, the great Federico Fellini. A devoted family man, with a wonderful wife and two children, Raiko absolutely blew away images of “the lost, wild, artist”–staying true to those he loved and to his sense of how to compose visual excitement.

My friend, Raiko, who was the nicest guy, passed away last Sunday of pancreatic cancer. As he wanted, quickly.

Dear Friends: Whenever I aim a camera, Raiko’s views help to guide mine. Diana

Tuesday, September 24, 2019

I have on my mind that we (the dogs, birds, cat and me) will have company for a few days this week. It’s a challenge to do ordinary stuff, like my usual time-consuming activities with horses, while there’s a disorganized house to put into better order. This happens whenever something offers to alter my routines, and somehow in the end, everything works out okay.

Honestly, I enjoy having company. It’s a wonderful thing to have my routines broken up and folks around to talk with, to replace an ongoing muttering to myself. This is a chronic habit, even as I stand in a grocery store aisle. I find myself debating aloud whether to or not to select a product. The grocery story blathering used to disturb me (after all, isn’t it that folks who talk aloud to themselves are a little crazy?), but in discussing this habit with other folks, I discovered many admitting to doing the same self-talking. Now, I don’t worry and talk-on-to-myself whenever I feel like it.

The nice thing about having the company of friends is that we’re okay with being idiosyncratic. This week, with guests here I’ll stick to most of my routines. We’ll all be horse-folks anyway who tend to be at least a little nutty. Let’s be honest, one has to be slightly off to keep large animals and shell out, paying for never-ending training, feeding, and care needs. If I think back over my years of horse ownership (few as they’ve been compared to other horse-folks), I could have, maybe should have used my resources in better ways. But there, I stop. “What better ways?”. I can’t conjure up more substantial types of goals I might have wished to pursue–and so, my investment has been good. The ROIs from my animals have been emotional, and overall more pleasurable than not, so these years have suited me well.

My visiting friends and I will have much in common, including our emotional connections to my horses. (Sunni and Rosie came to me after having flowed through my visitors’ lives). It’ll be fun to welcome these friends. But now, gotta go. Just spotted a cobweb!

Dear Friends: Thanks for staying with me, nothing beats having friends. Diana