Today's rant

There is plenty to complain about.

The world is a mess! Now some would argue that it's always been this way; and others will point out the the world has overcome great trials such as Nazi Germany of the 1930s and /40s,but it doesn't discount that the world today in is deep shit!

I am in the moment particularly affected by the situation in Darfur, a region of Western Sudan, that has suffered unimaginable hardship and cruelty. I am outraged, disappointed and astonished that the rest of the world has stood by and witnessed the amazing cruelty meted by authorities under the guise of Islam!

 

In 1989, Mr. al-Bashir extended Islamic rule and introduced public order laws that criminalized a wide array of activities and behaviors, including drinking alcohol and wearing revealing clothes for women. Those who contravened the rules faced prison sentences, fines and public lashing. PUBIC LASHING!

And the world stood by and abetted the oppression under the excuse of religious freedom. The apostasy rules in particular drew worldwide condemnation after a heavily pregnant woman was sentenced to death in 2014 for renouncing Islam. I denounce Christianity daily and suffer (as it should be) no more than the prayers of my Christian siblings. The poor souls living in Iran, The Sudan, and so many other so called "Islamic" countries can be punished, incarcerated or even killed for the same.

I celebrate the 1st amendment to the the US constitution that grants a separation of church and state, the lack of which has been the been the downfall of so many failed states including Iran and The Sudan. The United States is a VERY fucked up country at present, but at least I still have the right to show up in a public demonstration promoting the limitation of police power, or shout my condemnation of the absurdities of Christianity without the legal oppression of the state.

Black Lives Matter!

" 

Eulogy - Daniel Jay Howard, 1959-2004

May 15th, 2004 -
Daniel Jay Howard

Eulogy

Daniel Jay Howard was born on May 14th, 1959; the 6th child and 5th son of Edwin and Sara Howard of south Phoenix.

He began his life on a sparse acre of desert from which the South Mountains made up his back yard.  In his early years he was raised equally by his older siblings and his middle-aged parents. 

The rural peacefulness of his desert youth was disrupted and left behind to teen years marked by departure of his adult siblings, his father’s career change, his mother’s increasing illness, and at age 15, the untimely death of his father.  He finished high school looking into an uncertain future, but took immediately to the opportunity to learn locksmithing from our eldest brother who was working in a tiny lock shop on the northwest corner of Cave Creek Road and Cactus.  He stayed on working for Accurate Lock Service after his brother left the shop, and just a few years later, at only 20 years old, with another youthful and inexperienced partner, facilitated the proprietor’s retirement by purchasing the business.

Dan learned to run the business by the seat of his pants, with a combination of good luck, good advice, good decisions, a lot of hard work, a curious mind and most of all, a personality which drew people to him and brought out the best of from everybody he met.  He openly gave the best of himself to his friends, family, his customers and employees, never expecting anything in return.

As the business grew and prospered, he increasingly took on various forms of outdoor recreation.  By his mechanical skills and eye for a good deal, he scrapped together the toys to facilitate his own brand of outdoor thrill recreation.  Off-road four-wheeling Jimmy, trail climbing dirt bikes, and eventually a jet boat for exploring Arizona’s great canyon reservoirs and the thrill of skiing on water.  Soon enough he was skiing on snow, and as he did with all these preoccupations, he undertook it with passion, aplomb, skill, grace and a pinch of wild abandon. 

He made new friends with each new recreation, and turned his old friends on to his passions, teaching all of us he touched, a bit of riding technique, a ski turn, or new nurf board trick, and a passion for fun and the unabashed pursuit of happiness.  Skis evolved into snow board, and to dirt bikes he added street and touring motorcycles.

Dan had two sons, Jason, now 22, and Jeremy 15.  He was committed to these boys and always held their well being foremost in his life.  He taught his boys how to fix locks, build a house, rebuild an automobile or motorcycle engine, to ski, to ride, but especially self confidence -- that they have it within themselves to do anything they want to do.  He led by example, showing them how to honestly love and live life to the fullest.  Dan was never limited by anything more than not having enough time to do everything he could imagine.  If he had lived to be 80 he probably would still have never gotten it all done.

Always wanting to share his passion with others, he worked to become a trip captain for the Alpine Ski Club.  It was on one of those tours, in which he was always sharing his skill and enjoyment of the sport with others, so that all might have the best possible experience, that he met the love of his life in Penny Archdale.  It was in 1989 he met this gentle woman powerhouse who would encourage him and work with him, ever raising their sights, goals and accomplishments together.

After a 4-year courtship the two of them became engaged to marry on a starry night on the southern Italian coast, and after a short additional 4-year engagement, they were married on their forested property in Durango, Colorado.  Appropriate to their beliefs, their passion for the sport, and their uniquely home brewed lifestyle, they were married among the aspens and freshly fallen snow, in their beloved southwestern Colorado mountains.

With Penny he became conversant in Italian, improved his Spanish, and traveled in Europe.  He took classes in business and ever undertook an effort to become a better person.

Dan was not a religious man, but certainly had a spiritual side.  He celebrated the creation of the earth and the miracle of life.  He worshiped in the church of Glen Canyon, the temple of the Bradshaw Mountains, in the chapel of the Amalfi coast.  He celebrated the freedom of the human spirit and the fantastic capabilities of the human body.

Dan was a special friend to all those whose lives he touched.  His generosity, his innate trust of his fellow humans, his insatiable appetite for fun, his consistent honesty, his continual efforts to help others, made an indelible impression on those of us who had the honor of knowing him.

Dan’s life ended in the early morning hours of May 13th, 2004, surrounded by friends and family, as injuries suffered in a motorcycle accident the previous evening took their toll.  He died the day before what would have been his 45th birthday.  He is survived by his wife Penny, his two sons Jason and Jeremy, five siblings, a small handful of cousins, and numerous 1st and 2nd nieces and nephews.  His companionship will be missed by all.


Paul Howard
15 May 2004

Thinking of Faith

Feb 2004 - 

Thinking of Faith

I saw a woman of your likeness on the street this evening which reminded me of you. Reminded me that another valentine's day passed and though I thought of you often and I tended to acknowledge the occasion, I again failed to take appropriate action. This reminded me of the humor and irony of our demise, from which I have derived many hours of stories, humor and lessons learned.

I can't count the times I have recounted my fateful answer to the "sexy" question, as a lesson, and illustration, and as a joke.

I had a light "happy hour" dinner at Jake's tonight, having stayed downtown after work to see a film brought here by the Portland International Film Festival. Of course, being there reminded me of that fateful night waiting for you, while you waited for me. I still laugh at the absurdity of it all, but am far beyond being perturbed by your anger.

I do hope that you will grant your new valentine two things that I didn't get. When you've argued about something for a few hours, and find yourselves making no discernible progress toward a solution, 1) realize and admit that there is a possibility that you might have drifted out into the cloudy fringes of rationality, and 2) grant that the whole situation might not look so bad and hopeless after a good night's sleep.

On to Albuquerque

All of us signed up to walk across the country to raise awareness and promote action on climate change. None of us knew what would come along with the package.  We all knew we'd have to make specific sacrifices, such as giving up the comforts of our familiar homes, friends, routines and decent coffee, but few if any of us would have anticipated the full package of sacrifice, obligation and chaos that comes with the deal.  I, being of rather impatient and perfectionist bent, haven't adapted to this ever moving dust bowl community as well as others.  My posts have been largely about my discontent and the problems I and the community have encountered.  However, looking at some of my fellow marchers' blogs, one can get a very different picture.  Please visit my good friend Steve Martin's blog, at: http://7millionsteps.com  Steve generally tends to look at the brighter side.

You can find a list of other marchers' blogs at: http://wagn.climatemarch.org/Our_media

For the moment I am at the Route 66 Casino Hotel, about 20 miles west of Albuquerque.  We were to camp in a vacant graveled field on the other side of Interstate 40 last night, but when we arrived the wind was blowing a consistent 30+ MPH with gusts up to 75 MPH.  We all crossed over the overpass and sought shelter in the Dairy Queen or some part of the casino complex.  I met up with friends at the bar, and after a short conference decided to get a room.  Our program coordinator made a deal with the hotel to give us a banquet room, where we could put on the scheduled program (an introduction to the Beehive Design Collective) and the marchers could sleep on the floor, a real treat given the wind and blowing dust outside.  I'll depart soon to intercept the marchers about 6 miles east of here with the break truck.

There is also a strong wind blowing within the marcher community.  There is a group of marchers who are stirred by our dwindling bank balance (which at the current $28,000 will barely get us to the Colorado border) and what they perceive as social inequity within the community. These folks have drafted a proclamation which I hope you can view at: https://docs.google.com/a/cornell.edu/document/d/1ZEkga4yu4FKmJC4bnnRrcWpgVkbRYm2xEOL4VjJ01Cs/
There is a link to the proclamation on our Facebook page at: https://www.facebook.com/ClimateMarch and a growing body of comments about it.  Of course, a few members of the community are freaking out much more about the proclamation than the financial or social crises.  Our director has been hoping the whole discontent would blow over if he just walks 2 or 3 miles ahead of the main body of marchers and walks away whenever anybody suggests that there is a problem.  "Trust me" he says, "Everything will be OK."

Today the march will arrive in the western extreme of Albuquerque, and camp in a dingy vacant lot.  However, there will be some sort of house party fund raiser this evening, a rally tomorrow, and we have been welcomed and acknowledged by several organizations there.  Friday, Saturday an Sunday nights we will be hosted by a school with an environmentally focused curriculum.  Also, we'll be able to do laundry.

New Mexico has been very welcoming to us, and we have been generously hosted and provided for by all the Native American tribes whose land we have crossed.  The Indians of New Mexico have welcomed us very generously in comparison to the cowboys of Arizona.

Emptying the EcoCommodes in the forest at Ancient Way, El Moro, NM

The march is grueling. The walking is easy.

The march is grueling. The walking is easy.  Walking is relief from the march.  Oh precious relief.

It was just announced that breakfast will be from 5:30 to 6:00.  If I don't get breakfast and make a sandwich by 6:00 AM, I'm out of luck.  Why so early?  This means that the earliest marchers want to be on the road by 6:30?  Why? The low tonight will be 35 degrees.  The morning will be miserable.

We ran out of water this evening.  We had no warning. We have no ice in any of our ice chests, and the refrigerator, which we've had since Parker, Arizona, has never been plugged into the electricity it requires. Monitoring quantities of food, propane, gasoline, water and ice are explicitly the responsibilities of the Logistics Coordinator, one of our paid staff persons.  I have been an advocate for her and her position.  I wrote her job description and advocated for hiring a person to carry these responsibilities, and now she is falling down on the job.

I'm going to take over some of her responsibilities, make them my own job, and remove those elements from her job description.

We are hosted last night and tonight by a generous couple who have a beautiful home and giant shop on a few acres of land between Snowflake and Concho, AZ.  They are completely off grid, using two wind generators and a solar array to charge a giant battery bank to power their place.  They've asked us to minimize power and water use, but we ran the batteries so low they had to run their gasoline burning generator to recharge the batteries, and then we have to ask them if we can run their pump long enough to pull 380 gallons of water.  They're generous.  They tell us to go ahead, and if necessary they'll fire up the generator again.

We ate dinner with our hands tonight, because the chef decided we should eat with tiny pieces of pita bread rather than with spoons and forks.  We don't have any means of easily washing our hands, so we all dove into the food with whatever we might have handled today in the mix.  I like forks.

There are 40 more issues that frustrate me and drive me up the wall.  There is only one urge more powerful than wanting to disconnect the eco-commode trailer from my truck and drive back to Oregon; that is to walk with Steve tomorrow - the full 21 miles.

Gotta gather up electrical equipment and load my truck tonight so I can start walking at a ridiculously early hour tomorrow.

...but I could be back in Oregon before you read this.

Sycamore Creek

Phoenix to Payson

Tuesday, Apr 8 (5 days ago)
       
Bummer of an evening. Deb left for her home in Silver City, NM. I have a seriously bruised thigh, my truck's tailgate having fallen open smashing the corner into my leg; I've misplaced my clear lens glasses so am walking around in the dark wearing my sunglasses, I'm on dinner cleanup and there is not yet any water heated for washing dishes which means the dirty dishes will be piled mile high before I can begin washing; the prospect of washing dishes in the dark wearing my sunglasses, and the campsite snafu, Ed having changed the rendezvous time, the route disagreement, etc.

The rendezvous:
April 7th was a "Marcher in the Home" night.  Locals organize a group of volunteers to take one or more marchers home for the night.  They have agreed to take somebody home, provide them opportunity for a shower, feed them dinner, provide a place to sleep, a bite of breakfast, and bring them back to rendezvous with the group at 8:30 AM the next morning.  On the evening of the 7th, Ed, with little or no consultation with the group, decided that these families should bring their guest marchers back downtown Phoenix at 06:30, two hours earlier than their original contract.  Of course not all got the word, so we have marchers scattered over two hours of downtown Phoenix. I'm irritated that he should make such a decision without the consensus of the group, for the benefit of who? or what?  This sort of thing is NOT his call, and he seriously impacted the generous host families.

The route:
Our state coordinator and her husband (a marcher) proposed a route from Margaret Hance Park in downtown Phoenix out to the Pima Reservation east of Scottsdale via VanBuren Street, through a run down, dilapidated strip of meth hotels, so that we could march through a bit of Papago Park to get back to McDowell Rd.  Sarah, our Logistics Coordinator suggested we simply take McDowell Rd. (closer to our beginning at Margaret Hance Park and leading directly to our destination).  Brandon, the Arizona State Coordinator's husband threw a fit and insisted on his VanBuren route, thinking it very important to walk a mile through Papago Park.  Sarah compromised with a McDowell route for 5 miles, down to VanBuren and back to McDowell through the Park. Brandon took this to be a personal affront to him and his wife, and continued to make a huge fuss about it.  In the end, the detour to VanBuren was a total waste of time and mileage.  Straight down McDowell would have been the smarter route for several reasons (visibility being one).  Lots of hurt feelings about this.

The no campsite SNAFU
So, we walked out East McDowell Rd. to 92nd St. as prescribed by our Arizona State Coordinator and parked our fleet on an ugly patch of bulldozed desert with no shade or services. Before all the marchers had even joined us we were visited by the Tribal Police and told we were trespassing and would have to move immediately.  After a few moments of pleading, the impolite, aggressive, Marine-like skinhead cops decided to allow us 30-40 minutes to vacate before they would arrest us all and impound our vehicles.  They called their supervisor, a lieutenant, who quickly arrived.  At the same moment Brandon managed to get the Tribal President, or her representative on the phone, who asked to talk with the Lieutenant.  The lieutenant showed us why he is a lieutenant and not the skinhead Marine.  He said to his superior, something akin to "We've got to find somewhere for these people to spend the night."  After a short negotiation, the Tribe invited us to stay at the soccer field a few blocks away.  Two top Tribal officials showed up to welcome us, and offer us use of showers at the school adjacent to the soccer field.
Erica, the Arizona State Coordinator, apologized for the misunderstanding.  She had failed to realize that there are two adjacent reservations and multiple tribes and she had negotiated a site with the McDowell Tribe which she had thought covered two sites on two different nights.

   
Wednesday, Apr 9 (4 days ago)
       
Settled in the shade of a verdant mesquite a few hundred metres from the Verde River, at the Ft. McDowell Res. rodeo grounds, having polished off a couple of Negra Modelos and thrown my Thermarest & sleeping bag on the carpeted floor of the press box adjacent to Kathe. After dinner we'll clink our cups of wine in memory of our departed friend Deb, and celebrate our upcoming reunion with her in northern Arizona or New Mexico.
Good day today, in high 80s w/ nice breeze and slight overcast. Not being ready to walk on my bruised thigh, I chose to drive my newly re-tired truck all 15.5 mi. Unhooked the commode trailer & headed back to Fountain Hills w/ Steve & Lala for essential supplies: beer, wine, ice, chips, salsa, yogurt & sundry items.
Marie cooks, the new doc (Bruce) looks at Miriam's feet, Steve naps, Branden counsels Liz, Luke & NewMary read, Michael wanders around the sun-drenched lot talking to somebody on his phone in Spanish, Ken rakes a tent site, while Lala prepares an agenda on the easel for tonight's meeting and I peck out an inadequate expression of my love for a woman with whom I have shared recent history.
   
- o - o - o - o - o - o -
   
Friday, Apr 11 (2 days ago)
       
Moved the commode trailer to the first break point as soon as the first marchers hit the road, then drove back to a café in Fountain Hills.  Joined Jimmy, Kathe & Rosa sipping a mocha and typing for the first time in too many days on a full size keyboard.  The conversation is top quality; Rosa is excellent, skilled in Dynamic Facilitation and other skills, and I think will be key in bringing some resolution to our leadership crisis.

Soon headed back north to move the commode trailer from 1st break to lunch stop.  Later I will move it to tonight's camp, where we will be trespassing on gawd only knows whose property.  It's not clear why we didn't have a pre-arranged site for us to camp tonight, but Ed, Sarah and I scouted the route yesterday and didn't find a decent place for us to camp.  We picked a sadly deficient site along side a frontage road leading to a number of millionaire estates, where we would park the trucks on highway right-of-way, and camp along side a dry creek bed across a fence.

I will then leave the commode trailer and head back to Phoenix in my truck, to Jim & Kathy's to pick up my package from the Camp Chef stove people.  I hope to stay another night there, so I'm not present if/when the sheriff shows up to throw us out of camp.

I'll also stop at REI in hopes of purchasing a tiny backpack like the one I asked Juliet to send.  I've talked w/ Kathe about the possibility of taking a short break (3 days - 1 week) in the near future, and heading down to Silver City for a few days.  No conclusion.  No plan. yet.

Kelsey and Michael went off-route to hike in the stunning chaparral hills.  A boulder rolled under Kelsey's feet, she fell, the boulder smashed and skinned up her leg.  Her pants were torn, and she suffered various abrasions. I was ready to pack up the break truck and head for the lunch spot when she came limping in w/ Michael.  She insisted on continuing to walk after a brief break, against advice of Michael and me.  However, after getting the trailer turned around and driving out to the highway shoulder, Michael, 100 metres up the road, waved me down with our crossed arms code for "stop I need help."  I called him and he said they were on the way back to the truck.  Michael then continued to walk and Kelsey accepted a ride in the truck.
A few minutes later we were at a shady, cold pool on Sycamore Creek with Doc Bruce administering aid.  She stripped and sat in the cold water.  She rode the remainder of the day, and today is walking with a bicycle as a crutch, her thigh wrapped in an Ace bandage.

Then I discover that because I listed the turn to our dreadful campsite as being at MP216 when it was actually following MP218, the lead marchers took a wrong turn and ended up at a far better site on Forest Service land.  Some mistakes are meant to happen.  After arriving at our new campsite, I unhitched the commode trailer and headed back to Scottsdale. 

Reunion dinner at April's
Went directly to REI, purchased a small backpack, and headed for my niece April's house in Mesa, where I had dinner with my sister & her husband, her daughter and her husband and three daughters, and my sister-in-law Penny.  A spontaneous family reunion.  What a hoot!

Then back to Margaret's, margaritas and a long conversation w/ Penny.  Concluded that driving over to Jim & Kathy's in Phoenix wasn't practical after the first margarita, so settled down in Margaret's living room for a comfortable night's sleep, knowing the house will explode in kid energy way too early in the morning. Penny & I concluded a wonderful reunion and love fest in memory of our favorite deceased human. She is definitely ready to leave her high status w/ Motorola to embrace the next phase of her life.  Nice connection w/ sister Margaret, as well as her only remaining "local" daughter April.  I will run over to Jim & Kathy's, or meet them early for coffee, in the morning, but won't likely make it back to camp before the early marchers depart. I'm so happy that the march has allowed the connections between me & my friends & family, and between Deb and Jim & Kathy

- o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o -

Saturday, Apr 12 (1 day ago)
       
Breakfast w/ Jim & Kathy in Phoenix, my Camp Chef package, fuel, Home Depot, back to Margaret's for water, and off toward Payson before noon.

Missed the entire march.  Caught up with marchers at tonight's camp, somewhere about 8 miles south of Rye. Decent campsite.  2-hour discussion of little or no value (to me), and then after dinner, while I was washing dishes, two boring stories by a "professional storyteller."  Quite a cold night!

- o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o -

Sunday, Apr 13 (today)

Walked 8 miles to Rye.  Marchers shuttled to Payson in various vehicles.  Those who want to walk that stretch, will be shuttled back to Rye in the morning.  The rest of us will hang out in Payson.  Payson is a very changed place since I was last here in the late 1960s or early 1970s.  Very sad to see a Walmart.  Very nice coffee shop and café in the Dimi Espresso