Letter to the editor

This is my letter in response to the LA Times article ~~>Two sides to Sonia Sotomayor

It sounds to me like you’re asking the question: Will judge Sotomayor’s college experience, advocating greater Latino representation, weigh more than 30 years of unbiased decision-making as a prosecutor and federal judge. It seems to me as though she has experience enough to know that the US Supreme Court is not Princeton University. However, she also has the experience and empathy required to be human as well as Supreme Court Judge. They're inseparable.

Fully alive

All around me

Lacey Mosley

NinJa

My neighbor is pointing at a group of trees and saying “..they just gotta’ go!” It feels like another part of me is about to be yanked out. I also found out Dez and Anastasia are moving back to LA. Boy, I sure hate seeing them go ..how sad. A principle of zen pops into my head .. ‘notice change’ ..followed by another ..‘notice reactions’. I decide to go for a walk and try to shake-off these feelings. The atmosphere on the street is festive ..lawn parties and beer kegs ..and the weekend isn’t quite upon us yet. It’s because Nine Inch Nails and Jane’s Addiction are playing at the Bowl. I can sense the energy ..makes me feel like a teenager again. The street is filled with kids dressed in black and white .. and splattered with orange and red. “Dazzling” says Señor Jim as he walks up from behind ..startling me ..and disappears down the street. I see one group weaving through the crowd .. hoping to get free tickets to see the show (the way I used to). Others are just looking for a free high (the way I used to). I’m getting high just standing here. A young couple tells me, in a serious manner, that they’re here mainly to see NIN. Jane’s Addiction is like, so old school, they say. Uh-huh (?) Some people don’t know who’s playing ..or what’s going on even ..but it doesn’t seem to matter much to them. They’re like “Where’s the party ..bro!”

Birdsongs

It’s like an aviary out here this morning. Guess the fire flushed the birds out of the hills. There are so many different singing groups ..it sounds like pandemonium. I can’t tell whether those are fighting words, mating calls or territorial disputes. I’m sure they can tell tho. I know birds have a highly developed system for bird songs. It helps them recognize members of their own species .. estimate the suitability of prospective mates ..and figure out when they’ve crossed territorial boundaries. They can even follow the beat of the music coming out of my speakers. I know my dog Andy can’t do that ..he doesn’t hear so well. But, he sure has a keen sense of smell. I have to break the smell barrier in order to get him to listen.

Drifters

I work for student services at a local college. Most of the kids that come in here have legitimate learning problems. However, we frequently get kids with problems that lay elsewhere. Those are the ones I see. For some of them, it may be their last contact with mainstream society. They talk about life on the road as if it were religion ..and then disappear. I understand the appeal ..I love the outdoors too ..but sleeping on solid ground for too many days can be rough ..not to mention city streets can be dangerous. However, talking to them, I get the impression that life on the road feels less threatening than an adult-life filled with obligations, sadistic bosses and debt-collectors. Periodically they try re-entry. Haley’s father wired her money so she could enroll in college courses. She tells me her problems started in high school. She felt so angry that she’d cut herself .. medicate herself ..and lash out at practically everyone in sight. She wasn’t making friends. At age 16, they diagnosed her with ‘borderline personality disorder’ ..whatever the fuck that means. However, she found a cure of her own: drop out of a school ..run away from home ..leave the pills behind ..hop a train for the west coast ..and don’t stop moving. She’s been riding trains since 2006. Now, I have a theory. We’re all born with a mixture of genes from our ancestral past (if you believe in that sort of thing). Some may get more genes from our ‘rooted’ ancestors (like farming tribes) while others get a higher proportion from our nomadic ancestors ..those whose survival depended on moving from place to place. For these kids, stability is threatening ..home feels like a cage ..and city streets make them feel claustrophobic. I’ve learned that there is no ‘talking cure’ ..no amount of reasoned-speech will overcome it and I cannot offer any recommendations for it. I think there will always be a segment of humanity that prefers a nomadic lifestyle. Some may work out an accommodation (like foreign service reps, traveling salesmen or covert polygamists) while others remain in perpetual orbit.

Noblesse Oblige Award

The recipient of this award is recognized for the following:

• The Blogger manifests exemplary attitude, respecting the nuances that pervade amongst different cultures and beliefs.
• Their Blog contents inspire; strives to encourage, and offers solutions.
• There is a clear purpose at the Blog; one that fosters a better understanding on Social, Political, Economic, the Arts, Cultures, Sciences and Beliefs.
• The Blog is refreshing and creative.
• The Blogger promotes friendship and positive thinking.

Bill Quinn presented me with the Noblesse Oblige award for journal writing. It’s an honor for me because I value Bill’s journal writing very highly. He writes from a place in his heart that resonates with the rest of us. Bill’s journal ~> Thought Sketches is like a book of poems that I keep by my bedside at night.

My own blog, Observation Deck, is a journal of ordinary events ..sometimes followed by my own half-baked ideas. What am I trying to achieve ..? A writing practice that will allow me to catch a glimpse of my own internal dialogue every once in a while. Hopefully others will hear something familiar.

In turn, I am passing this award to Amy Spain for her blog Cookiewonton. Amy can turn everyday occurrences into literature. Her style sounds natural ..like Faulkner. I especially enjoy reading stories about her children Noah and France. They are written with such clarity and humanity that I feel like I just spent a delightful afternoon with them ..makes me want to return as often as I can.

Thank you Amy ..!

Jesusita fire

In Santa Barbara we have what’s called a ‘sundowner wind’. It’s the same as a ‘Santa Ana wind’ in Orange County. However here, it’s a particularly loathsome creature. It only comes out at night, after a cool day, and howls through the canyons and passes, without warning, baking the shore in 100 degree heat until about one or two in the morning. Now, ordinarily, I like this cagey beast ..it allows me to lie on the deck in the evening, or go for a swim in the ocean at midnight. However, it also has the power to take a stray ember from a campfire and turn it into a blazing wildfire that blasts out of the mountains, and tears through town like a blowtorch without stopping until it reaches the shore. And then, just before dawn; it retreats back up into the mountains ..like the nocturnal predator that it is. Morning comes and everything is fine ..except for a few hundred acres of scorched earth and homes. No one knows when it’s coming and no one can stop it when it arrives. It’s like living next to a dragon. This afternoon is perfectly calm ..except for a high-voltage current circulating through my system. I tell my neighbor I think it’s coming back again tonight. He nods and looks up the canyon. Overhead, hawks are circling. “They’re looking for barbecued rats” he says. My nerves fray. We’ve been under evacuation orders for four days. This means that my car is packed and sitting outside the canyon. I defy the order and sit at home awake all night, listening to the drone of water-dropping helicopters rumbling overhead ..and waiting for either smoke ..sirens ..or flames ..to tell me when it’s time to leave ..or else hang around and risk being served as breakfast for hawks at sunrise.