Night Shift @ the Air B & B

Beliefs...

Believing something is not an accomplishment. Set beliefs are really nothing more than opinions one refuses to reconsider. Early childhood indoctrination locks us into beliefs that mirror the family and culture we're born into. Most of us never grow beyond that most basic, unquestioned, programming.

In this country, many people are born into a Christian family and culture. They take that on without question. If we were born in Japan, we would be Shinto. Both groups believe they are "right." Most wars are fought over this stuff.

Beliefs are easy. The stronger your beliefs are, the less open you become to growth and wisdom. “Strength of belief” is only the intensity with which you resist questioning yourself. It's very gratifying to believe something and be done with it. As soon as you are proud of a belief, as soon as you think it adds something to who you are; you’ve made it a part of your ego. Listen to any “die-hard” conservative or liberal talk about their deepest beliefs and you are listening to somebody who will never hear alternate opinions on any matter that they care deeply about— unless you express the same opinions. 

When someone waves a Bible or Koran in the air to demonstrate the depth of their fervor, they are in essence saying: "Here is my handbook for life. This is what I believe. All the answers I need are right here and I don't need to question beyond these pages." With that mindset, they absolve themselves from the hard work, privilege and even the responsibility, of independent thought.

It is gratifying to speak forcefully, from a perceived position of stregnth when we have the backing of our political party or bible of choice. Church service or political rally, we seek out the like minded to solidify our resolve. 

Wherever there is a belief that doesn't come with the disclaimer: "This is what I believe right now but I'm open to change if presented with more compelling evidence"...there is a closed door. 

Embrace the beliefs that stand up to your most honest, humble scrutiny and that make sense to you right now, but always be open to change. Hopefully, we evolve. Try as we may, it is impossible to remain static.


Change is the one absolute truth that unquestioningly presides over everything that ever was or ever will be.  


Float with it peacefully as it takes you somewhere you've never been before.

Hopefully, we do the stretching exercises necessary throughout life. We challenge the person in the mirror to more readily question and adapt along the way. Nothing is set in stone.

Things turn out best for those who make the best of the way things turn out.

Let change be more like river than rock.



  

Homeless Santa and his Elf...

The bright color of Santa’s scarlet coat and his snowy beard stood out from the hazy blur of the distant buildings on Christmas morning, coming into sharp focus by the time I stopped at the traffic light.

My thoughts were with the freshly brined turkey sitting on the floor of the passenger side in what would become its roasting pan.

But there he was. Santa and his elf, both sitting cross-legged on the concrete, leaning up against the abandoned building that had once been a very active Blockbuster store. They were warming themselves, soaking up the bright sunshine as I passed.

Turning off at the next entrance, I circled the store, parked on one side, and approached the pair on foot.

They were lost in conversation, only looking up when I intentionally scraped my feet against the rough cement to announce my presence. Obviously homeless, the elf surreptitiously hiding something behind his back when he spotted me heading their way.

“Good morning guys, you look so comfortable there in the sunshine, I just wanted to stop and say Merry Christmas!”

We shook hands, did the introductions. Phil and Blondie, both veterans with multiple health issues that the VA won’t cover. Blondie was the talker, open, friendly. Phil was quiet, stoic in his silence, wary of my presence.

Blondies hands and face were covered with open blisters. “Ichthyosis” he explained, waving his damaged hands in my direction, inviting inspection. “It’s caused by sunlight. I have to stay in the shade.” he said as he sat there in the hot sun and boasted of his sun bleached hair from all the surfing he does. I doubted he could stand without support, much less surf.

We spoke of common experiences while in service. They claimed to have been Green Berets and Navy SEALS. I assumed they tell the same stories over and over among themselves, their fellow homeless and the passing crowd. I wondered if they believed their own stories after years of repetition.

Both guys had been in town a long time. When I asked him directly, Phil murmured, head down staring at his feet. “I’ve lived here all my life.” I think he resented my questions, resented me being there, resented all of “straight” society that so rarely treats him as an equal.

Blondie was bubbling and ready to talk all day.

I asked them for their opinion about gift bags that many groups hand out to the homeless.

“What should people put in them, toothpaste? soap? a poncho? antibacterial cream? Cans of tuna with crackers?”

“Nah, you can get that shit anywhere.” Goldie responded with an expansive sweep of his blistered hands.”

“OK, so people should just give money?”

Goldie was on a roll, eager to talk. “Nah, you know what 99% of homeless are going to do with that? Go right over to that store there and buy beer.” He said, pointing to the Gas-N-Go across the street. “Not us, but 99% are like that!”

He reeked of booze and I could hear the bottle he had tucked behind him scrape the concrete as he shifted his weight.

Knowing that I had to wrap it up and get home to put the turkey in the oven, I said “Well, I’ve got a present for you anyway.”

Before I had gotten out of my truck, I removed the folded $100. bill I keep in my wallet for emergencies.

When I first spotted the guys, I knew they were my Christmas Morning emergency.

Pulling the bill from my pocket, I carefully ripped it in half, one half for Goldie, one for Phil.

“You guys have to work together to buy what you need today. But let me ask you this. If cash isn’t the answer, and you don’t want personal care stuff like toothpaste, what do you want?”

Phil looked up for the first time and glared, hot-red into my eyes. “It’s not about what we want. It’s about what we need.” he said contemptuously.

“OK, so what do you need?” I asked
.
“A place to go.” answered Phil.

“Yes! A place to go!” Goldie exclaimed dramatically.

I had no answer for that. It’s a complex problem that most towns try to ignore with hopes that it will just go away. The cops chase them off but it’s like the stoned kids that communities hire to blow leaves off of their sidewalks, the leaves scatter one way and then simply blow right back with the next gust of wind. It’s no solution at all.

“Well, I hope that money can help to make your day a little better, although sitting here in this sunshine is pretty damn nice right now.”

“It sure is!” Goldie agreed enthusiastically.

Phil emitted a low growl.

We said our goodbyes as I headed back to my truck.

Leaving the empty Blockbuster parking lot and turning onto the main road again, I passed the guys, honking my horn as Goldie waved both hands wildly at me.

Phil sat motionless, looking down.

I knew that $100. was like giving a cookie to a starving child. The problems are way too big to be solved with just one cookie.

I wish it were that simple.

Lighthouse Park

The lights were out in Lighthouse Park last night.

 Dogs and children chased each other in the dark, circling and dodging randomly under the windswept cedar canopy, like leaves in gusty winds.

Parents walked slowly, with intent, lost in conversation. Kids we watched grow into fine adults, now with children of their own.

Overhead the Fresnel lens of Florida’s first lighthouse circled methodically over trees and houses like a Star Wars Ogre, dutifully wielding his light saber, as he has done for 145 years. 

I remembered when we lived under that light, racing my three wheeled recumbent under those same trees, exploding with laughter as exhilaration pushed me too fast and too close in those tight spaces, circling and dodging randomly, like leaves blown in gusty winds.

That was a long time ago.

Be The Change...

 

 

It’s a marvelous thing, when the student becomes the teacher. As parents, we learn from our kids every day, but when they are grown and walking their own path in this world and we watch them metamorphose over time into something much better than the sum of both parents, it’s gratifying as hell.

The first time I ever heard the phrase “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” Was from my daughter. It really made me stop and think. But this isn’t about her, it’s about all of us. About you, about me. I’m the worst when it comes to bitching about Trump or our lack of compassion as a country. It’s easy to complain. Every time I do it, I become less as a person. Bitter doses that pollute the stream.

So I remind myself that I need to shut out the static, focus inward more, embrace politics and the flood of negative that is the stock and trade of the media, less.

I need to ask the man in the mirror: “What can I do?”

Reading Ruth’s posts helps me have a better idea how to do that.
________________________________________________

Ruth posted:

Today I attended parent-teacher conferences for some of the kids I tutor. There are issues, but they are trying so, so hard.

Every single teacher highlighted that.

From there I swung by my Syrian friends new house. They just moved into a real house with a front and back yard and no paper-thin shared walls (a huge upgrade), a garage to put their bikes in so they don’t keep getting stolen. A place to call their own. The kids are thriving, the parents have jobs, and they showed me around with a quiet pride, speaking of plans for gardens and swing sets.

Afterwards, I picked up my foster kid, more a young woman, less a kid. To be honest I was trepidatious in taking on an older kid, but she’s blown me away. Charming, smart, open and loving, we ate Cinnabons as she asked me for advice on everything from school to her new boyfriend. In and out of foster care since the age of 10, no one checks on her but a social worker, but she’s making it. She’s incredible. Kids are incredible. I am humbled and forever grateful to share time with them. We are so bombarded with all the bad news of the world, but there’s also so much good. ❤️

Dichotomy...

Christine Denise‎

  A dichotomy as transient as the race of man. Structures built by human hands, beautiful even in decay, unable to escape their own impermanence. Immersed in the natural order of the universe, sand and sea, earth and sky, always changing, always the same. 

Forever perfect. 

Bascule Dreaming...

Gusting winds made 44 degrees at the beach feel a lot colder this morning, but it kept everyone else away. I like that, even if it means that I have to wear a hat and jacket to breathe deeply of such vibrant solitude.

Nalu chased a stick, in and out of the wind-whipped surf. Chica ran crazy speeds at a few Sandpipers until they took to the air, pulling a “U” turn and circling her back North. Nine feet above the intersection of water and sand, three fliers, one sprinter below, looking up, a black shadow.  17 pounds of rabid determination.

Rufus poked around up by the dunes, smelling and lifting his leg to anoint every trash can. Obviously the scent of the can itself made no difference. Guess he just wanted to know who he was about to pee on.

A mile South, a great little park offered distant views of Fort Matanzas, the 1740 Spanish fort & monument nestled in about 100 acres of salt marsh and barrier islands along the Matanzas River. A trail there was perfect for the dogs to explore freely, and a warm windbreak for us as we rambled along a sun-mottled path, flanked by walls of thick Florida scrub.

Leaving Crescent Beach, the 206 bridge opened its maw, allowing a tall mast to cut across our path, floating over the tops of cars stopped in front of us. A red herring of sorts that I was happy to follow until movement of the bascule put me back in my car, to continue our ride back home.

Chasing the Sun...

Hannah came over for coffee early Wednesday morning, just back from her sunrise run with Nalu.

 “It’s really cold out there, we were freezing at the beach!” 

Our temperatures had dipped to 42 degrees.

She and Pablo are wintering here in St Auggie right now. They’re the first renters to live in the new efficiency Mason built behind his and Amy’s house in lighthouse Park. Those guys have all been friends since they were young. That little house is just a few blocks from our old house, where she grew up. It’s all very familiar territory that she hasn’t seen in over 13 years.  Now she’s back, able to visit with another old friend too: that intense beam of light that sweeps over the oak canopy each night like a laser sword.

A warm weather girl, Hannah said that maybe she, Pablo and Nalu would make a run South for a bit. The next day I got these pictures. Looks like they made it.

Her first stop would have been our first stop too. Once we were full of delicious stuff, the “Southernmost Point” would have been second.

 Great priorities; we raised that girl right…