Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Travelogue - Next 25 Photos

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The Eastern Sierras from Highway 395
Hi everyone! We're home after traveling over 2300 miles, mostly on empty two-lane highways, through relatively unspoiled natural beauty.
Our trip was about as relaxing as car travel can be and we were rejuvenated in passing through so much open uncluttered space.
There were many sights to see and many people to visit, some of whom I haven't seen in over 25 years.
We took over 500 photos along the way but I've limited myself to posting 25 here for a little travelogue.
As much as I enjoyed visiting my family and seeing so much natural beauty, I'm really glad to be home, and free again from the automobile.
We traveled at a relaxing pace but I'm still feeling some road-speed withdrawal.
I wanted to get these pictures all posted yesterday but there was much to do around here so I'm posting them now and will add comments as I find the time.

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Jamie & Adam - Her 22nd Birthday

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We arrived at Jamie & Adam's place about 9:30 Saturday night in time to celebrate Jamie's 22nd Birthday. As you can see, they are both looking great and enjoying the big old house they just rented for the winter. That's Jamie's affectionate cat Ralph and Piper (the dog with the missing nose) is Adam's faithful fishing companion. He and Dallas made fast friends.

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Jamie & Adam's Lake Tahoe Home

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Jamie's Beau

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The Loneliest Highway In America

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Local Color - Austin, Nevada

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We stopped at this old saloon in Austin, Nevada for a bit of local color and to wet my dusty whistle with a cold beer. Our 70 some year-old bartender, Curly 1 (a nickname taken from her license plate), has lived in this tiny mountain town for 34 years and told us the population was 800 when she first came here, but the Austin of today has just 140 residents.

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Morning Soak At Spencer Hot Springs

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Peggy enjoys a morning soak in a remote tub at Spencer Hot Springs a few miles off Highway 50 east of Austin. We camped here Monday night and spent several hours in the tub sipping Margaritas under a blanket of stars. This was a favorite spot for Dallas too, who had hundreds of jackrabbits to chase.

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The Hickison Petroglyphs

The Hickison Petroglyphs Loop Trail

Can I Take Your Order Please?

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This is an old 1800s sheepherders cabin a bit west of Ely, Nevada.
Peggy will take your order for a mutton burger now.

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Railroad Museum - Ealy, Nevada

Nevada's Steptoe Valley From Hwy 93

Welcome To Utah...

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A Nevada Sunset Viewed From Utah

Monday, October 30, 2006

Mom's 'Little' House On The Prairie

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At 81, my mother is still doing things in a big way.
She sold her house in the San Fernando Valley last year and bought this 5 bedroom house (I lost count of the bathrooms) on two acres in the Bear River Valley of Utah.
When I asked her at the time, if maybe at her age, she might consider downsizing a bit, she snapped back, "Hell no, I'm finally going to have a place to put all my stuff!". Mom used to own an antique store and she does have lots of stuff...
...and now she has an orchard, a donkey, a goat, and a new John Deere lawn tractor so she can mow that big lawn. With all this stuff to keep her busy I think she'll probably outlive me.
The Bear River Valley is beautiful farm country where mom has dozens of kind and caring relatives within a few mile radius, including her sister Mary, and my uncle Chuck, who has done a good deal of remodeling and repairs to the house.

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The Bear River Gang

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Peggy, mom, cousin Sheri, and her husband Randy by a pond above the Bear River a few hundred yards from mom's house.
Randy & Sheri are staying at mom's and I'm glad she's got them closeby to help out with the place.

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Ring-Necked Pheasant

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This beautiful Ring-Necked Pheasant is part of a large flock being raised at a game ranch down the road from mom's place.


Pajama Peg & Dallas Meet Donkey Shane

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Peggy tries to introduce Dallas to mom's miniature donkey, Donkey Shane, but Dallas is much more interested in the pygmy goat.
See below...

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Mom's pygmy goat


Mom At 81

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Mom, uncle Chuck (aunt Mary's husband), Peggy, aunt Mary (mom's younger sister), cousin Sheri (Mary & Chuck's second oldest daughter) and her husband Randy, at Mary & Chuck's home, where we had dinner on Thursday night.

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Heading Home On Highway 30, Utah

Southwest Bound - Highway 233, Nevada

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End Of Travelogue - The Road To Nowhere...

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"That road looks like the road to nowhere and the road to everywhere all at the same time. I love how it looks like the entire world is spread out before you, beckoning you to enter...if you dare..."
The above comment is what blogfriend Vivacious Vegan saw in the photograph. Thanks V. V. , I couldn't have said it any better!

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Friday, October 20, 2006

A Very Rare Road Trip...

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6 A.M. tomorrow morning Peggy and I are leaving on one of our very rare road trips.
My 81 year-old mother recently moved to a little town in northern Utah, near the Idaho border, and I'm feeling very obligated to go visit her while I can.
Our daughter Jamie lives in the Lake Tahoe area and her brother left an old car around here that I put in running order for her, and we are delivering it on Saturday, which is her 22nd birthday.
As much as I personally dislike using cars, and infernal combustion engines, these obligations seem unavoidable, so we are combining them into one trip. We rented our friend and neighbor Cheri's car (she's disabled and rarely drives), and Peggy will follow me in that to Lake Tahoe, where we'll drop Jamie's car off (she hasn't been able to get away from her job to come pick it up), and then Peggy and I will drive on to Utah and visit with my mother for a few days.
In these serious times of global warming, climate change and resource wars, I don't take driving an automobile lightly, and the last time we took a road trip was in the summer of 2004, for a much needed music festival and visit to my other daughter in the Bay Area (although we did have to make many car trips to the hospital after Jimmy's accident).
Still, we don't own a car, and we don't drive in our daily lives, shunning automobiles as if they were some kind of fatal disease.
However, when we do find it unavoidable to drive, we make the most of it, and this time will be no exception.
I dislike freeways as much as cars, so we've mapped out a route for our trip that is, you might say, freeway-phobic, as if those damned superhighways carried the bubonic plague, or something worse.
Consequently, if you are looking for us in the next week or so, we'll be spending much of it exploring 'The Loneliest Highway In America', Highway 50 across Nevada, exploring geological formations, ghost towns, hot springs, bee-hive charcoal ovens, sand dunes, and much breathtaking scenery, flora, fauna and history, so I certainly hope this lonesome road lives up to its reputation (see photo below).
I'll get back to blogging around Monday, October 30th, and in the meantime please pardon my exhaust, I sincerely apologize.
But I do hope to have some nice pictures to share when we get home.

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Friday, October 13, 2006

Ward Valley Nuclear Waste Protest - 1998

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In the Mojave Desert, some 180 miles east of here, is a place known as Ward Valley, sacred land (isn’t all land sacred?) to the five tribes of American Indians that formed the Colorado River Native Nations Alliance. In the early 1990s Ward Valley (Silyaye Aheace) was chosen by the Bureau Of Land Management as the site for a low-level nuclear waste dump to be operated by U.S. Ecology, a waste management company. Because of Ward Valley’s close proximity to the Colorado River, a source of drinking water and irrigation for millions of people, and U.S. Ecology’s already poor track record at another waste facility, in Beatty, Nevada, that was leaking tritium into the ground, this was obviously a very bad idea.

Determined to stop the project, members of the Colorado River Native Nations Alliance set up an encampment at the site in late 1995, and had a presence of 50 to 200 activists there for the next 3 years. In 1998 the BLM attempted to close the land to the public and remove the activists. Through the efforts of the CRNNA, and the ‘Save Ward Valley Committee’, based in Needles, hundreds of environmental activists from all over the country, including our family, showed up to give their support in forming a human blockade to stop the BLM.

Peggy and I were still working for the Post Office but we rented a car for the weekend (deciding this was urgent enough to justify using a vehicle for a couple of days) and headed for Ward Valley. We had all stayed up late the night before making the 4 signs you see us holding in the newspaper photo from a 1998 issue of the 'Earth First! Journal' pictured above. Peggy, on the left, is holding the stop-sign shaped ‘STOP THE DUMP’ sign, Jamie is holding the sign with the heart-shaped cracked-earth, reading ‘BREAK MY EARTH, BREAK MY HEART’, and I don’t know who the gentleman is that borrowed Jimmy’s skull & crossbones ‘NUKE DUMPS SUCK’ sign, but Jimmy is standing directly behind him, and yes, that’s a thinner me on the right with the blood-dripping earth that reads ‘WOULD YOU RAPE YOUR MOTHER??’.

The people on the ground in front of us are Earth First! members, chained together, and blocking the driveway that the BLM would have to use to storm the encampment, and, in my mind, they are truly heroic putting their bodies so vulnerably in harms way like that.

Sometime later, when the above issue of the 'Earth First! Journal' came out, I was greatly surprised, proud, and humbled, to see a photograph of my entire family on the front lines at Ward Valley, on the opposite page of an extensive article about Julia Butterfly Hill, who was in the midst of her incredible 2-year tree-sit atop the ancient redwood, 'Luna', in The Headwaters Forest of Northern California. Our daughter Jamie, then 13, would soon write to Julia, and, as you can see above, we still have her warm, gently instructive thank you note, scribbled on recycled scrap paper from Julia's tiny platform at the top of Luna.

Although you could feel the tension building, there was no confrontation at Ward Valley that weekend, and we couldn’t stay longer because we had to go back to work, and the kids had school, so we drove back to Big Bear.

But I couldn’t get those folks in the middle of the desert, and the confrontation they faced, off my mind. So, on Monday morning, I talked with my Postmaster, who is Native American (Nez Perce), and he gave me the week off to go back and lend my support. In the absence of a car, I hitch-hiked the 45 miles to Victorville, where I caught a Greyhound Bus to Needles, and walked over to the ‘Save Ward Valley’ office, where I then caught a ride to Ward Valley in a beat up van with a bunch of jovial hispanic ‘United Farm Workers’ members whom had also come to lend their support. Many of these guys had demonstrated alongside Cesar Chavez before his death and our 22 mile ride together was a celebration of brotherhood with much camaraderie, goodwill and singing along the way.

The next week was just incredible as droves of people poured in from all over.
I was given a two-way radio, and, with another guy, assigned to overnight guard duty at the front gate half a mile from the encampment. Suddenly, there I was, midnight to sunup, on the front lines, ready to face off with the United States Government (my employers), whose lit-up fenced-in portable compound of motor homes, government cars, police cars, and tractor-trailers---full of who knows what---could be plainly seen just across the highway.
While, back in camp, so much was going on all the time. There was group training in non-violence and passive resistance, we met attorneys to contact (free of charge) if we were arrested, attended talking circles conducted by Native Elders, and participated in Native drumming, dancing, and singing.
The snake dance of the final night was my favorite, where everyone held hands and formed a long line of people who snaked randomly through the crowd to the hypnotic pulse of drums and chanting.
Great fun, especially for me, because a big Native American woman I had befriended (who spent most of her days preparing & serving food to the throngs from the hot kitchen tent) came running out of the kitchen grinning and yelling "where is that guy with the long white beard? I've been waiting all week to dance the snake dance with him". Spotting me, she grabbed my hand and pulled me into the snaking chain of people weaving wildly through the camp, it made my day!

Through blind luck, or providence perhaps, my tent was pitched right next to the tent of 1998 Green Party candidate for California Governor,
Dan Hamburg, who spent a good part of his time at Ward Valley washing dishes (and not one minute of it campaigning), while his wife, Carrie, helped out in the kitchen (I never would've known he was running for Governor if someone else hadn't told me). Dan is a former U.S. Congressman from California’s 1st District. After being elected in 1992 he authored the Headwaters Forest Act (an old-growth Redwood Forest protection initiative), which was overwhelmingly approved by the House of Representatives (because of backlash from the logging community, he lost his re-election bid in 1994).
Dan and I had a mutual friend, photographer Doug Thron, whose powerful 'Headwaters Forest' slideshow presentation was an inspiration for Dan's 'Headwaters Forest Act'. Doug had tirelessly presented his slideshow in dozens of cities across America, and, I met him during one of those presentations at a bookstore in Santa Monica, where an old friend of mine, the late Randy California, of the '60s band, 'Spirit', opened the evening for Doug with a solo acoustic performance of his classic hit song, 'Nature's Way'. Doug's slideshow was a devastating indictment of the Pacific Lumber Company's destructive practices, and I asked Doug if he'd be interested in bringing it to a Sierra Club meeting in Big Bear, which he generously did just a few weeks later. So, Dan and I shared some good stories & conversation, and I came to believe that, if Washington was populated with leaders of his caliber, America would truly be a country to be proud of. However, as a politically aware recent insider, Dan didn’t see much hope for any real governmental reform under our present two-party system. At Ward Valley he simply set a great example in humility & volunteerism, and I was soon washing dishes right alongside him.
On my second day at Ward Valley, I had an adrenalin-charged little adventure when a group of Earth Firsters!, who I was assisting in the dismantling of a large canvas tent, enlisted me to drive their decrepit old flatbed truck full of subversive activist equipment---chains, pipes, bolt-cutters, lock-down devices (and all sorts of other associated paraphernalia of Monkeywrenching), back to their "safe house" in Needles (the Native Council had requested that no man-made devices be used in our blockade, so the Earth Firsters! respectully dismantled that part of their action). I suspected that their regular driver may have had warrants for his arrest because of previous actions he'd been involved in, or maybe they were just testing me as a possible recruit.
So, off I went, bouncing across the desert with my newfound EF brothers & sisters, wanting to raise my fist in the air and shout "NO COMPROMISE IN THE DEFENSE OF MOTHER EARTH"! To my surprise (and my relief), a few relatively uneventful hours later, we were back at camp, and not in the Needles City Jail.

By the time my weeklong stay was over, the BLM had backed off its threats, and the immediate crisis was averted. I caught a bus back to Victorville, and hitch-hiked home to Big Bear.
I was deeply moved by the instant community of caring and involved activists I had been part of. In a matter of days we had become family and I went home with one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. But, the battle was not over, so I kept in close contact with the Save Ward Valley Committee, donating a little money and offering my services if they were needed again, until, on April 2, 1999, victory was declared. The Ward Valley Waste Dump project was defeated.

If you haven’t been involved in something like this, you don’t know what you’re missing. The entire week I felt completely whole in knowing I was in exactly the right place.

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Thursday, October 12, 2006

Artist's Peace Tower War Protest - 1966

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I recently found a 40 year-old black & white snapshot of my first assemblage piece, constructed for the 1966 Artist’s Peace Tower in Hollywood, California. The Peace Tower was an early Viet Nam War protest 'happening' installed in a vacant lot on Sunset Boulevard. With overwhelming support, from well-known artists all over the world, the tower drew large crowds who came to view the 418 anti-war themed works. Susan Sontag spoke at the opening ceremony.

My contribution, an untitled assemblage (top photo), was made mostly of scrap cardboard, paper towel tubes, toilet paper tubes, a couple of Kleenex boxes, two burnt out camera flash bulbs, some molded styrofoam packing material, a tray from a box of chocolates, and an old piece of chain with a hook on the end. It also included a weird sort of starfish shaped plastic wig from a monster figure included with and old Revell 'Big Daddy Roth' 1/25 scale car model kit (The Gasser) from the early ‘60s (something left over from my model-building early teens). This was all glued to a piece of approximately 2X2 foot plywood (the size requested by the tower committee), but I think mine was shy a couple of inches, top to bottom, because it was the only piece of plywood I could find lying around. Everything was scrap, all I bought was glue and paint.

The piece was supposed to suggest a scorched earth scenario, with the constructions of man, and the surrounding fields, laid to waste after some nuclear calamity. The entire assemblage was painted a lovely flat black except for one spark of hope, a fluorescent green chain (anything left alive would be glowing, of course), which symbolized the eternal chain of life that might, hopefully one day, regenerate a diverse living world. Otherwise, the piece was bleak, even the sun had gone black.

The large collapsed round tubes were meant to depict a destroyed city, and the linear cardboard strips above and to the right were the farm fields. The plastic wig (lower left) from the model kit was supposed to symbolize some melted core of something or other, and the sun is sending out black rays from one of the places where the chain is anchored. You can barely make out the fried flash-bulbs above the top of the chain, and below the hook.

Not very pretty or hopeful art, but we were at war, and I had grown up under a constant cloud of nuclear uncertainty, so I think it was appropriate for the time & place, and sadly, maybe even more so for our time & place today.

The old b&w photo was taken with a ‘50s Kodak Brownie, and shot in my buddy Charlie Melton’s mother’s house, where I constructed the piece. The assemblage was hanging on their living room wall, above the T.V. set, and the wallpaper was so bright that the flash over-exposed that part of the picture. So, in the touched-up photo above, I blacked out the background in Photoshop and rendered the scan of the faded 3 1/2 x 5 print with some brush tools to bring out form and detail, then colorized the chain to very near it’s actual color. The resolution is poor, but the original piece is long gone, and it’s nice to have even a rough likeness of it after all these years.

Above, I've attached a 2003 retrospective article, 'A Tower Of Peace On Sunset Boulevard', from the magazine Arthur (middle photo), which includes a picture of the 1966 tower, where I’ve red-circled a work that I’m sure is mine because when I brought the assemblage to the tower, the surrounding fence was already covered, so mine was one of the first pieces to actually hang from the sculpture. Eventually the tower was completely covered in scores of hanging artworks. At the closing of the protest, when I went down to pick up my assemblage, one of the organizers said he really liked the piece and wanted to include it with selected works they were planning on sending on a world tour. Of course I was excited to have my little cardboard piece selected, and agreed, but I don’t know if the tour ever happened, or what became of the assemblage.

Many respected, successful, and quite famous artists contributed works to the tower and I’m very honored to have been among them.

Much drama, including violence & police action, surrounded the Peace Tower event when overzealous patriotic hecklers, some of them veterans, became confrontational and tried to damage the installation, which resulted in the tower being shut down by the landowner just a few months after it opened. It was kind of a prelude to the reactionary violence that would mark Viet Nam War protests for years to come.

This year, the Whitney Museum in NYC commemorated the 40th anniversary of the Peace Tower by having the sculptor (Mark di Suvero) who conceived the original tower build a replica, and soliciting 200 artists to submit works for it. You can view the 2006 version of the Peace Tower, and the art that was created for it, by clicking HERE. I also posted the photo of the assemblage to the Whitney's 2006 Virtual Peace Tower page.

The bottom photo shows the 1966 and 2006 towers side by side.

Hopefully, I haven’t bored you too much with my---more than you ever needed to know---description of this old high-schoolish pile of cardboard & glue, as if it were somehow important today. But, I was just a kid then, and like I said yesterday, I'm proud that I’ve been consistantly speaking out in peaceful dissent, and trying to effect change, since my teens. It’s a big part of who I am and why Earth Home Garden came to be.

I'm still that kid, at heart, and the possibility of great change is everpresent, as are the wonders of Nature. Hope is much more powerful than despair...

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Wednesday, October 11, 2006

The Fool On The Hill...

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In 1964, when I was 18 years old, Bob Dylan recorded a delightfully silly song called ‘I Shall Be Free No. 10’. Toward the end of the song he sings, “I’m going to grow my hair down to my feet, so strange I’ll look like a walking mountain range”. Those words resonated in me for reasons I didn’t yet fully understand, but my own hair was already well on its way to mountain range status.

The senseless war in Viet Nam was raging into a full blown holocaust and Dylan had already written the timeless ‘Masters Of War’, ‘Blowin’ In The Wind’, ‘With God On Our Side’, and ‘The Times They Are A-Changin’.

Those were ominous days to be coming of age---air raid sirens blasted through our communities every month to test the Civil Defense system, while in school we practiced weekly drills in readiness for a nuclear attack, the threat of which was very nearly realized during the Cuban Missile Crisis. But, my generation was still full of hope and optimism, because the times were a-changin’ as the youth of a nation---founded upon dissent and protest---rose up to speak truth to power, exercising their rights to free speech and freedom of assembly.

After years of highly visible protest and strife, with the police and the National Guard battering and brutalizing thousands of their own citizens, public sentiment finally forced our withdrawal from Viet Nam. And later, when our once earth-shattering Peace and Love counter-culture proved to be less than durable, some of us, refusing to abandon what we felt were our civil obligations, tried to concentrate our efforts on the ever more obvious environmental problems the world was facing.

Millions of ordinary people, after reading Rachel Carson’s ‘Silent Spring’, also rose up in protest, and DDT was soon banned in the U.S. Only through outspoken public activism was our government pushed to create the ‘Environmental Protection Agency’, write the ‘Endangered Species Act’, and declare an ‘Earth Day’.

Again, the times were a-changin’, and people could hear their own voices ringing within their democracy.

I’ve heard it said many times that protest and dissent don’t accomplish anything, but in truth, throughout history, protest, dissent, war, and collapse are the only things that have ever brought about societal change. I’ll take protest and dissent over war or collapse any time.

Just a few examples of dissent that bore rewarding fruit: The Boston Tea Party; Women’s Suffrage; The Labor Movement; The Civil Rights Movement; Viet Nam War Protests; Environmental Activism, and even more recently; protests against The World Trade Organization and The World Bank (which brought the economically and socially discriminatory, and environmentally destructive tactics of these institutions of globalization into public light, forcing them to re-evaluate at least some of their policies).

Now, back to the long hair thing…

To have long hair in the early 1960s made a person different looking, and many of us soon realized that most people didn’t like those who were different. Overnight we became part of a persecuted minority group and gained great insight into prejudice, bigotry and racism.

I also found that I relished being different from people who preferred a neat and orderly world, where nature was groomed, trimmed and manicured into little squares to satisfy some arrogant need for control.

Over many years, through the writings of Alexander von Humboldt, Charles Darwin, Henry David Thoreau, John Muir, Aldo Leopold, Rachel Carson, Edward Abbey, and so many others, I’ve rediscovered that we’re not separate from Nature, and that in us, also resides wilderness, partly organized and partly chaos.
I’ve found my humble place in nature and I’m comforted in life, knowing that in death also, will I remain always among the ever-evolving diversity of species and elements that comprise the whole of life, not only on earth, but all throughout the dynamic rocks, magnetism, and dust of the cosmos. Quite something to be part of I’d say.

I cherish wild nature, ragged, unkempt, and “red of tooth and claw”, and fully realize that only in wilderness and diversity is there any hope for much of a human future.

Yet we humans continue in our ignorance and greed to appropriate, transform, and homogenize the wild and natural world to accommodate the orderly systems required by Empire and global commerce.

I too am caught up in this destruction, dependent upon the underpinnings of an unsustainable yet unrepentant society, but I can still protest, with my words, my actions and my appearance. So, I choose to more resemble an old growth forest than a clear-cut wasteland.

Most of the people running the world today look completely unnatural to me, especially the men, with their faces scraped bald and their ties cinched up around their necks like the yoke of a beast of burden. But what can we expect? These people were all 'educated' in our public school system, which was adopted from the Prussian system designed to train soldiers and factory workers. It's a short leap from school to the shaved and shorn regimen of the military. Our people do what they've been taught to believe is right, but, as Buffy Saint Marie said in her classic anti-war song, ‘Universal Soldier’, “He’s the one who gives his body as a weapon of the war and without him all this killin’ can’t go on”.
Fortunately, I was incompatible with school and the military, and, unsurprisingly, I also look quite different from the acceptable norm.

A beardless man that I do admire, Aldo Leopold, the so-called 'father of modern conservation' (modern conservation has actually had many fathers, and mothers), said we should “think like a mountain”, which, in my opinion, requires being just what you are, and, like a mountain, I’m simply what I am. This hair grows here and it’s staying as long as it wants to. Much of my life I’ve resembled Bob Dylan’s wild & woolly “walking mountain range”, which suits me just fine.

During the 43 years that I’ve had hair on my face, imagine the number of mined and manufactured razor blades I haven’t consumed and sent to landfills, the pile of shaving cream cans, the bottles of after-shave lotion, or the electric razors, and the electricity, or batteries, required by those contraptions.

Moreover, long beards do seem to have a function beyond ones preference of fashion, naturalism, or political statement. When working in the hot sun, as sweat runs down your face into the beard, any slight breeze will cool you down under the same evaporative principle as a swamp cooler works.
By the way, I also find women more attractive when they, like my beautiful wife Peggy, have all their lovely body hair in place.

While I’m comfortable with my place in nature, I haven't often been comfortable with the direction of my species and our 'culture'. My long-haired Hippie friends and I rejected the homogenized white-bread subdivided tract-house culture we were raised in, finding refuge in sleepy canyons on the outskirts, switching to natural whole-grains and organically grown foods, much of it from our own gardens. We had our babies by natural childbirth, breast-feeding them in stark contrast to the saddle-blocks, forceps, latex nipples and bottle-fed formulas of our own infancies. And we took to the streets in protest of war, racism and environmental destruction. Many of us still do.

I’m proud of those achievements, and yes, I do revel in my unconventional, obstinate eccentricity, but I don’t often walk around quite so fanciful. My daughter Jamie fixed me up for that photo a couple of years ago.

So, there you have it, my post-peace-blackout rant!
But I’m not through with you yet...

In the days to come I plan on posting pictures and articles from long past, and quite current, protests and actions I’ve been involved with, and if you want me to shut up, then use your own voice and actions to stop this war, rescue democracy, and effect change toward environmental sustainability.

Or this old fool may post even uglier pictures!!!

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