July 17, 2014

Between the turnoff to Rock Point and the turnoff to Rough Rock.

Today was the first time since I broke my ankle that I got up, took my camera bag and went for a drive.  Not a long drive and not to anyplace I haven't been before, but still, a drive.  I drove from Rough Rock to Lukachukai and back past Rock Point before returning to  Rough Rock.  Didn't get many pictures, too hazy.  But, considering where I was this time last year it was a blessed day.  Believe me.

I converted to Judaism in October of 1969 and, though, only sporadically observant, the teachings are meaningful and valuable to me.  However, on those days when I want to feel close to my Turley roots, I find that if I turn the radio up full blast and play Tom T.  Hall's 'Me and Jesus Got a Good Thing Going', I can, seriously, feel my Grandmother Baker's spirit sitting beside me in the car with her hand on my shoulder.  When I really want to enhance the 'Turley experience', it helps to turn off the air conditioner, roll the windows down and do a slow bake.

Daddy  wanted Grandmother on the road as little as possible, and once I got my license he would send me to drive her anywhere she wanted to go.  Grandmother and her sister, my Aunt Georgia, both lived fairly long lives.  Which is, when you think about it, a minor miracle  because they  were both ridiculous drivers. Grandmother would let my brother, Johnny, and my cousin, Greg, sit in her lap and steer that old Plymouth Hydramatic up the back roads of Turley--Quincy to Sixty Sixth Street North , all the way to her house.  If they begged, she'd go the long way around, up Sixty-third over to Trenton  She was so short she could barely see around them.  Thank God, they never wrecked.

  I still remember the time Aunt Georgia hit our yard gate with her 1950 Dodge, or was it a Plymouth, too? Can't remember,  I was standing on the porch and saw her back  into that gate in such a way that the entire thing  flew up and froze in midair.  It remained  attached to the fence at  forty-five degree angle.  And did not come down.  Right hand up to God , my Aunt Georgia looked at that gate, locked in that position and asked me, WITH A STRAIGHT FACE, if I thought Daddy would notice.  I didn't laugh out loud.  I knew my dad was going to be aggravated when he got a look at that whopper jawed gate.  However, if I had laughed at my aunt, and he had found out about it, the word 'aggravated' would not be the word I'd have picked to describe his attitude towards me.  He could gripe about them , but no child of Russell and Alene Baker would dare to voice any such thing.  There would have been nothing left of me except for the greasy spot where I had been standing.

He didn't have that much regard for my driving ability either.  Not that he didn't have his reasons.  Once,  I had driven home from Oklahoma City for the weekend, and he decided he wanted to keep my fifty-five Ford Fairlane with him to do some work on it.  For my return trip, he let me take a station wagon that he used for a fishing car. About the second day I had it, it stopped running.   I called home and told Mother the car was broken.  As it happened, Daddy had a friend who was going to Oklahoma City on a business trip so Daddy asked him to stop by and take a look at the station wagon.  Dan Scott , the friend, came by OCU just as requested.  He left me a note taped on my dorm door.  'Sally! It'll run better if you put gas in it!'

I can remember more times that my driving antics put gray hairs on my Dad's head, but that's another post.

July 4, 2014

Been thinking about the recent Supreme Court decision a lot lately.  I have come to feel that, merely, voting is not enough. Probably never was, but certainly, as things are now, it isn't.   Once the elections are over and the government has been installed, the elected officials  begin to serve their true constituents...big business, conservative religious groups and wealthy contributors.

So, how do we influence policy, take back our government and force it to be responsive to the will of the majority of the populace?    There are a few ways, but I think the most effective is always through the dollar bill.  If we disagree with the current Supreme Court decision, we can refuse to shop at businesses which choose the benefits they will provide based on their religious beliefs.  When it comes to Hobby Lobby, boycotting them should be relatively easy.  Every town I drive through has, at least, one craft shop that sells knitting, quilting and scrap book supplies and is owned by a local individual who will take the money you give her (or him, don't mean to be sexist) and spend it locally.

 If we feel that the factory farms are selling us tainted foods and contaminating our planet, we can begin to grow our own food from heirloom and non-hybridized seeds.  What we cannot grow, we can purchase at independently owned organic groceries.  Even if all you have is a window sill or a balcony, you can grow salad greens.   If enough of us quit eating out and began packing our lunches, we would impact the fast food industry.   They'd quit serving us food made out of petrolueum products and pesticides.  Not to mention the money we'd save.

When we do eat out, we can eat at small, locally owned cafes and restaurants.  Had I not eaten at a nice little cafe in West Memphis, I would never have known there was such a thing as fried dill pickles.  Think of it, in one snack, it is possible to eat dreadful amounts of both salt AND fat.  Tell me that's not worth doing.

Although we make these resolutions, are we ,as a populace, able to hold to them long enough to make an impact?  Or, do we take our anger, spread it all over social media, and then, return to our lives?

When I was in AmeriCorps, I served  at a half way house where I provided instruction on how to re-enter society and the job market.  I taught a little course that addressed ethics.....what is ethical as opposed to what is legal. My students had lived their lives , for the most part, on the wrong side of the law.  As they  were making an attempt to join society,  too many times, they would voice the opinion that as long as they were staying within the letter of the law, their behavior was acceptable.  I wanted them to understand there was a  distinction.  

One day the conversation turned toward the sixties, the  Civil Rights and Anti-War movements. The Memphis Bus strike came up , and many of them had not realized how long that strike had lasted.  I pointed out to them that the strike had lasted for a little over a year.  During that time, people walked many miles every day.  And, one of my students asked, 'Do you think we could carry that momentum today?'

I had to say then, and I have to say, now....I just don't know.

Men and women have given their lives and health so we can live as we do.  If we don't stand up and do our part, we are letting them down and will, in all probability, continue to have our freedoms eroded.

April 13, 2014

NOT Church Rock, This formation is
between Tsaile and Window Rock

Thursday was the first time since I came back that, after school, I pulled out of the parking lot, turned the radio up to the point that the doors of the truck shook, and left.  All by myself....well, to be scrupulously honest... I had my walker.  I can get by with just the cane as long as the footing is good, and there is no wind, but 'no wind' isn't likely in this part of the country in April.  I didn't want to wind up  rolling along the desert like a chubby , white ball of cotton.  The phrase 'Tumbling Along With the Tumbling Tumble Weed', in my case, brings to mind more than a great Western song by the Sons of the Pioneers.

Monument Valley 

So, I pulled out to the main road, turned left and headed towards Kayenta.  Since I came back, I've gone into Chinle   many times and have felt pretty safe doing that.  I know that if anything happens, my cell phone works up there, and besides, if I had a problem,  sooner than later, someone who knows me will drive by.  The drive to Kayenta is another thing, though. It's a lot less travelled and even with my local phone, there are dead zones in coverage.  But, it's a very restful drive.  The rocks that are in that direction are just  gorgeous, with the striations of color , dark red to a paler off-white.  As you get closer to Monument Valley, they become even more striking, mystical even.  Just sitting there and looking at them calms me, and I do not know why.

As I got to the T-where you can turn left and go to Kayenta or turn right and head towards Shiprock, I , as always, have to stop and marvel at Church Rock.  No matter how many times I see it, depending on the light, it looks different.  I, most especially,  love it when the sun is setting .  With he rock jutting up against the blue sky,  the clouds behind it,  it never fails to take my breath away.  I pulled off the side of the road and sat, listening to the radio.  Queen was singing.  Queen?  In Kayenta?  Whatever....at least it wasn't that vanilla nonsense  that passes for country music today.  Deciding it was too late. by then, to drive up to Shiprock and see if my hairdresser was working, I started the truck, headed towards Kayenta and the Sonic.  An I-40 sized unsweet tea, and I'd head back.

I'm , definitely, not a hundred percent.  For one thing, my weight loss has slowed, and I''m at exactly the point where, at all times before, I have given  up.  I'm struggling because I know that I , this time, I simply cannot. Work environment is , quite simply, gaga.   However, all in all, I'm so much better.  Feeling grateful. Not to feel grateful would be just so wrong.

uld just be so wrong. 

March 24, 2014

This weekend our extended family lost a member.  My son-in-law lost his brother.  I didn't know Tootsie that well, didn't know him at all, actually.  I met him a total of, maybe, three times.  But, I know this about him:  He was very  much loved, and that, alone, is quite a legacy.

  Also, today is my Dad's birthday.  To be honest, my father wasn't the easiest man to know. Quiet, didn't talk a lot.  Of course, when he did talk, you really needed to listen , because he didn't tend to say things twice.    He was a good family man, as he understood the job.  Not a 'buddy', most definitely not that.   He was a father...he provided us shelter, food , support and love.  He kept a watchful eye on our doings, and if he thought we were going astray, he'd , well, he'd tell Mother to handle it. Except for the time, that is, when he and Mother came home early from a weekend trip and found me cozied up in the back seat of a boyfriend's Pontiac  GTO.  THAT, he handled himself.  He didn't strike me.  He  didn't strike his daughters. However,  I didn't get out of that house for what seemed like years.  Looking back, it was  probably only a couple of  months.

These two occurrences, the passing of Oliver's beloved brother, and the birthday of my beloved Daddy, have caused me to think about re-thinking things.  It is a reminder that we are not promised tomorrow, not promised five minutes from now.

 I don't want to wash family laundry here, but I spent a lot of years with an individual who lived for tomorrow, who sacrificed time with his family for the  job and money that he thought would bring him happiness.  He thought he'd have time, I guess, but that's not the way it turned out.  His time on earth ended before he had a chance to see what terrific adults his children became and before he saw the gorgeous and sweet grandchildren he had. .

So, as the day comes to a close, I am thinking:  If we are not doing what we want to do, why not?  If our work takes us away from our loved ones, then it darned well better be good and valued work.  Otherwise, why do it?   Happy Birthday, Daddy.  Safe passage,Tootsie.  To have been loved as much as you both were, you had to have given  a lot of love.  And, that is, as they say, every thing.

 And, Daddy, I'm sorry about that GTO thing, but Daddy? !  It was red, black interior and four on the floor!  He let me drive it  around Mohawk Park!  Still no slack, huh?