it was a spontaneous excursion – an unexpected morning a bit ago with no obligation. we got in the car early and drove down to the botanic garden.
as we came around the corner, d stopped and asked me to take a picture. the tree – shaped like a square – was something out of cartoonland. a filled-with-wonder dr. seuss and winnie the pooh mashup. this morning at the garden was definitely what we needed.
every step got slower. we paused and lingered over blooms; we drank in the quiet. this time of day in the garden was divine. we vowed to go more often, to soak up this place – so much beauty, such intention to sustaining it.
it’s really what i cannot fathom: the idea of not working to sustain the beauty of this country, instead, working to destroy it.
the list of places we’d love to go is lengthy. they are not shopping malls or shipping warehouses or land massacred for its resources. the list is the quiet places. the places of grandeur. the places that are understatedly glorious. the places that are wild, that are wide-open, that embrace all who step there.
sustaining the beauty of this country is not just about the environmental legacy of its sea-to-shining-sea. it is about its history – the good, the bad, the ugly. it is about the learnings, the coming-of-age into democracy – rights and privileges deemed law for the populace. it is about the diversity of its people, the gifts that we each bring – spokes in the wheel. it is about the sustaining of care and concern for each other, empathy as a moral code, compassion as a north star. the list of places of integrity within the hearts and minds of those in positions of leadership.
for those who do not wish to perpetuate goodness, who wish to forward messages of hatred and cruelty, who have no intention of sustaining beauty of any sort – these are people i cannot grok. it is impossible to wrap my head around the embrace of such immorality. it is impossible for me to understand such a disregard for decorum, for human dignity, for the wonder of living in the universe, for peaceful coexistence.
“unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. it’s not.” (dr. seuss)
dogga wakes us up quite early these days, so we generally see the sun rise out the east windows of our bedroom as we sip coffee. the other day it was fuchsia.
on the way out of the marina south of us a bit we drove west into the setting sun. the sky was copper and the sun was ringed with vermillion, countless other oranges on the spectrum striated in. it was like sherbet or hubbabubba, a rainbow-infused sky. each night and morning now it’s like fanta orange soda has come alive. it is quite the show.
but it shouldn’t be this way. it represents so much destruction by wildfire in our northern neighbor and it presents so much danger for anyone breathing this smoke-laden air.
we are watching the ever-growing effects of climate change – fires that are starting earlier, extending longer, more challenging, destroying millions of acres…this is “an objective truth“…higher temperatures, drier conditions are ripe for lightning strikes or human intention or error. the images of fires ravaging our own country are terrifying and the effects on wildlife and people are devastating.
so it is vivid. both the color spectrum of this threat and the threat itself.
it is distressing beyond belief and i agree with greta thunberg’s plea to mitigate this crisis: “panic, feel fear, and act!” i agree with leonardo dicaprio: “i believe humankind has looked at climate change … as if it were a fiction, happening to someone else’s planet, as if pretending that climate change wasn’t real would somehow make it go away. climate change is not hysteria – it’s a fact.”
in our little way we try to do our part. we don’t overbuy. we shop to a list and a menu and use it all. we purchase vintage often, rather than newly-produced products. we recycle and reuse and repurpose as is possible. we are currently in the over-a-thousand-dollar mark – and still rising – of ensuring that littlebabyscion is emission-safe. we pay attention to our energy consumption and to the footprint we are leaving behind.
i would be perfectly happy with the “normal” sunrise, the “normal” sunset. the colors of those are exquisite and hard to wrap words around, the air of those easier to breathe, the colors of the wind less caustic. certainly less urgent, less critical, less of a tipping-tipping point.
the objective truths are all around us. we need pay heed.
“each and every one of us can make changes in the way we live our lives and become part of the solution [to climate change]. “ (al gore)
“the greatest danger to our future is apathy.” (jane goodall)
“the environmental protection agency (EPA) said this week it would revoke its own ability to fight climate change. it’s the latest move in an extraordinary pivot away from science-based protections.” (inside the ‘radical transformation’ of america’s environmental role – david gelles & maxine joselow – the new york times – august 3, 2025)
and here we are, short-term residents of planet earth, inhabiting relatively tiny spaces of dirt for relatively tiny spaces of time. it seems absolutely paramount to be considerate of this most-amazing place – to nurture it, protect it, sustain it – while we are here before we move on to whatever other dimension to which we pass.
it was in the most basic of childhood lessons i learned to clean up after myself. i learned not to be wasteful or disrespectful to the environment. i learned to be mindful of good practices of ecology, of thrifty reuse, of repurposing, recycling, of proper disposal. my sweet momma always taught me the importance of leaving a place better than i found it, a lesson of stewardship with a quote commonly attributed to robert baden-powell (of mount baden-powell fame), the founder of the scouting movement.
and here we are. it would seem to be our deigned responsibility to be adamantly, vociferously, actively committed to leaving this home place of ours – this community, this state, this nation, this earth – better than we found it.
we need wrap our time here in conscience, in honesty, in compassionate dedication to virtue, to morality, to the upholding of equality and the rights of people to live free of prejudice and abuse, to truth, to accountability.
we need commit to the acknowledgement of empirical evidence of human-based climate change, to intelligent, scientific efforts of atmospheric correction, to alternative ways of meeting present needs without compromise of the future, to preservation and sustainability, to a rabid promise for a clean earth.
it would seem we must leave behind us all the best we can – a place of peace and respect for all, a place that will meet the needs of, nurture and not harm our descendants – physically, psychologically, spiritually. we must safeguard a place that will selflessly forward goodness for all mother earth and its creatures, for all humanity, for all time.
to place feet on the ground, to dig in the dirt, to gaze at the sky, to breathe the air, to drink the water – it is all interconnected. we all share in its enduring legacy.
“leave it better than you found it.”
please.
anything less is shameful.
and here we are.
*****
(in significantly relevant-to-the-moment news, it is more than unfortunate – quite stunningly devastating – that it is apparent – with the advent of tens of thousands of sexual abuse cases against the boy scouts of america – that actual boy scouts have not been left better than thousands of scouting leaders found them. indeed, baden-powell would likely be horrified at this tragic twist in the organization he created, necessitating a $2.46 billion settlement for sexual abuse victims left worse than before their time in the boy scouts. and here we are.)
i didn’t pick up the feather. i have many feathers, so this is rather unusual, but i left it there. i wanted others to see it as well. one lone crow feather, standing in the grass.
and when all evidence is but one feather, what does it say about this crow?
what evidence are we leaving as we fly through this world?
are we complacent, inattentive, unmoved by all the chaos of the current climate in these un-united united states? are we merely living superficially, going about our days normally, with nary a nod to the cruelty and vileness of what this administration is wreaking, what this administration is intending? are we ignoring the descent of this country from the cherished democracy it had been? are we shushing each other, refusing to partake in conversation, stating that we “just don’t talk about it”?
or do we care about the fast and vast changes that are taking place? do we feel the pain of others, do we try to put ourselves in their shoes? do we try to ease the burden of people who are affected by the policies based in homophobia, xenophobia, racism, extreme nationalistic, misogynistic, patriarchal, antiquated horror? do we speak up, is there an inflection point when we are no longer silent?
I didn’t pick up the feather. i left it there because i felt like it was evidence that we all leave evidence for others to witness.
thirteen years ago my sweet poppo died on memorial day. his very last day on earth, it was during the wee hours of the night into the very early morning that he changed planes of existence, devastating those of us left behind.
my dad – at that time – was 91, with baggage he had dragged behind him for over sixty years since his time in the army air corps, shot down during the ploesti oil field raids in romania, taken prisoner-of-war in bulgaria.
he had been a somewhat quiet man during much of his life. he didn’t share – in detail – of his time missing-in-action or as a prisoner in a dank cell – until i was in high school. it was a lot to carry and, once home from the war, the post-traumatic stress was impactful on the rest of his life. post-traumatic stress is like that. it takes a toll in so many ways.
as i think about him today – and honor his dedicated service to this nation and the lives of those who died in service – i know – without even a singular doubt – that he would be horrified at the present state of affairs here and now.
his commitment to bettering others’ lives – fighting fascism – preventing human misery – was steadfast…enough so that he folded himself into the engineer gunner position of b-24 boomerang betsy and fought against all that was trying to destroy that which he believed in – the values of democracy. he would not align himself with anything that would not defend or advance these ideals. he would push back against any and all attempting to subjugate dominion over the freedoms for which he had fought.
my sweet poppo – were he to be here – would be sickened to watch cowardly leaders capitulate to the corrupt agenda to dismantle democracy. he would be heartbroken to watch people he loved abdicate all decency and conscience to a singular man whose grandiose narcissism seeks to vindictively avenge his enemies and instill an autocratic state.
my dad – even from wherever he is – would never tolerate such vileness. he had seen enough suffering to last him forever. he would be disgusted by an administration that is glorifying the richest – lining their pockets with the needs of the poor. he would remind, “you can’t take it with you.”
no. you can’t take it with you. power and control and ultra-wealth and digital coinage and oil and mining fields and real estate and gold-gilded accoutrements and fancy cars and 747s – the stuff of cold-hearted greed doesn’t make the cut from grandiose living to that other dimension.
but legacy follows you everywhere.
eleanor roosevelt asks, “when will our consciences grow so tender that we will act to prevent human misery rather than avenge it?”
now is the time.
and my dad? well, he reminds us all. “remember the little engine that could?” his words inscribed in a copy of the book, “you can too.”
there is something deeply rewarding about hiking on a snow-covered trail.
at any moment, you can turn around and see evidence of your having been there, evidence of your passing-through. there is no question. you have been there.
for us, the imprint of our hiking shoes meshed with a couple other boots, hoof prints of deer, tiny handprints of raccoons, the triangular prints of bunnies, the familiar prints of squirrels with a few dog paw prints and horseshoes. we had all passed by. separately. together. in community.
in the quietude of the snowscape, we pushed on a bit further. it had been a bit since we had been hiking outside – the weather was frigid and there were other things on our plate. but the peacefulness of the woods, the partially-frozen river, the familiar wind of the trail kept us going on this day.
though there is less variation in color on this winter’s day, there are innumerable textures and the fine differences in muted tones are peaceful, surrounding us in hushed comfort – like an old quilt – despite the cold wind.
this particular trail is an out-and-back. and so, we encountered our own footprints in every turn of the path on our way back. anyone hiking after us would wonder who had walked before, just as we wondered the same.
arriving at the trailhead and then littlebabyscion we were tired. but ever reminded that we each choose our path. we choose what to leave behind – our prints on the world – our existing – from the boots we wear to the care we have for all else on our path. we are cohabitants on this good earth. it is up to each of us us to sustain mutual respect in the all-too-finite.
there will be some evidence of our passing-through. it is my hope that what we leave – in the snow, in the dirt, in any wake we leave from our time here – will be as peaceful as this muted winter day on our trail.
the kohls department store shopping bag reads, “your community is our community.”
you would think that would be a great motto for the “leadership” of the united states government.
yeah. one big happy community. supporting the needs and challenges of each other, working for each other – leaning on how we are all more alike than different, lifting each other up – together. it isn’t a difficult concept.
a good leader – for a community – a tapestry of different people woven together – empowers others, stands in humility and with courageous and ethical vision, leads by example…there are too many virtuous characteristics to list, none of which are embodied by the current leadership of this country.
their community is not our community. and that could not be more clear.
i’m pretty sure that when my grandfather arrived at ellis island, his cautious expectation was that of optimism. he had landed in a place of new promise, a place of new opportunity, a place of new community.
the current administration of the same country my grandfather chose is swiftly undermining every bit of promise, opportunity and community. my grandpa would be horrified.
i’m pretty sure that when my father enlisted in the army air corps to fight in World War II – and was subsequently shot down, missing in action, taken prisoner of war – he did so with democracy in his heart, placing his own life on the line in order to push back against fascism and authoritarianism, to fight for community, for freedom.
the current administration of the same country for which my father sacrificed is swiftly beating back every iota of democracy, of the constitution, shielding itself from checks and balances, blatantly aligning itself with authoritarians of the world, deliberately going rapid-speed down the road of dismantling the very principles for which my dad fought. my father would be horrified.
but as we travel down this road, oligarchs leading the worshiping lemmings over the cliff, it appears that there is no one in the parade paying attention to the demise. the madmen are gleefully creating their own community bubble – dollar bills by the billions the membrane that separates them from the rest of the sea of America’s humanity. the parade of sycophants is too busy saving their own political and financial agenda to concern themselves with their actual constituents. the supporters of this administration are complicit in the cruelty of what they are witnessing, schadenfreude taking over their minds and hearts, cheering from the sidelines, immersed in misinformation and the negligence of refusing to fact-check, the turning of their backs on their very communities.
it’s all vile.
and my grandfather and father are staring from another dimension, wide-eyed and fearful at the demolition of promise and opportunity for all, freedom for all, the obliteration of any ‘yours is ours’ in these un-united states, the dismantling of their own hard-won legacy and the annihilation of the legacy of america.
like you, maybe, i woke up on tuesday, sickened. the scourge has impaled the nation and i am stunned beyond belief. though i know we – personally – will be working at keeping on keeping on, the fallout of less than 24 hours was mind-blowing. which i know was the point. shock and awe, as they say.
in the tracks of our future we need to decide just exactly what we wish there. the present tense cannot be that which we leave in our wake, for this twisted leadership’s twisted governing will – most definitely – be the end of humanity as we know it. it is hard to grok this kind of cruelty.
in this time of grieving for our country, our democratic ideals, rights and freedoms on the chopping block to be desecrated, a moral center devoid of morality, the heaviness of depression and dread move in like a thick fog – difficult to see through to the other side. this is stifling, intense, horrible.
and so, maybe, i know how you feel. and sitting in this “collective depression” (john pavlovitz) is necessary – for the moment. we need spend time looking back, looking at now, looking down the road. we need spend time in the middle of it all. there are no easy solutions, i suspect. but each inch of the road forward counts and the tracks we leave will tell the story of our attempt to find balance and peace and goodness. it is the fundamental one-foot-after-another.
even as i write this i know that i don’t know what i’m talking about. not really. i have not lived through such a time. i am – like you – newly embarking on a trek heavy with the baggage of an administration steeped in hatred, retaliation, corruption. to think i know anything about such things is overstating, hyperbole. i – like you – have been mostly fortunate to live – most of my life – in a country with laws, checks and balances, at least a few grains of fairness mixed in. but here we are. and, though 77 million people voted for this maniacal cadre, more did not – through their vote or their silence.
anne frank embraced hope, “i don’t think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains.”
ralph waldo emerson’s words remind, “life is a journey, not a destination.”
when i come out from under the quilt, reopen the blinds and step out, i know that we will consider carefully our path as we go. we will step lightly and intentionally. we’ll not carry the fancy luggage with leather-edged nasty executive orders and gleeful manifestations of greed and malfeasance with us.
we will carry the scroll of our constitution and its good will from here and now to next days and the days after – our tracks will not be shameful indicators of the worst of us nor will they embarrass us. instead, they will be steady and strong and will tell the story of this journey for “whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly” (martin luther king, jr.) and we have a legacy to choose.
it was almost like a reverse-print. the trail revealed only the snow-footprints left behind.
i studied photography a bit in college. this trail was like the negative of the positive. in darkroom speak, a “negative” is a reversed image – the dark is light and vice versa – when you shine light through the negative onto the paper upon which you’re printing, the tones revert back to their correct appearance, to that which is Real.
the snow of the trail had blown off, save for the footprints. as people used to seeing footprints stamped in the snow, it is somewhat odd to see just the snowprints on a dirt trail.
i couldn’t help but ponder the parallel.
what will we leave behind as our footprints in 2025? what impression will we make? what impact will we have? what will people see on the path after we have walked on?
when we shine light through all we are, all we do, all we say in 2025, what will be the Real printed for all time?
“we can disagree and still love each other unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity and right to exist.” (james baldwin)
i would add – or unless your disagreement is rooted in the oppression and denial of the humanity and right to exist of people you purport to care about – people in your beloved family, in your cherished community.
growing up, there were straw placemats in a circle around the perimeter of our kitchen table. each one had inked initials in the bottom corner – to designate whose placemat it was. ba, ea, wa, ka, sha, they read. in some moment, a guest circled around the table, reading them aloud, in order. “sha-ba-ea-wa-ka,” he read. and then, more quickly, “shabaeawaka!”
shabaeawaka became our family’s shortcut of the combination of our names – my mom always lovingly referring to the moniker and telling the story of its origin.
shabaeawaka – in all the ups and downs of a regular family – became a synonym for invincible ties, for family-sticking-together.
my sweet momma, even in the last moments i saw her, believed with her whole heart in the devotion of this family to each other. she believed in kindness and generosity, in acceptance and goodness, in joy and positivity, in love no-matter-what.
my sweet poppo – a mostly quiet man – died three years before my momma. he wasn’t one of those dads who would sit you down and bestow wisdoms upon you. but i could feel his staunch support of me throughout my life…as a child, as a young adult, as i finally made my way into my artistry, as a parent.
my momma stayed in their house in florida on the little lake as long as she physically could. she surrounded herself with the familiar of their lives together, always missing the actual presence of my dad, lonely for him. the empty vase – the one my poppo kept filled with grocery store flowers – stood in the foyer, an acknowledgment of unwelcome change.
but my sweet momma – well – she kept on. and as it became obvious she would need to leave her home and move into assisted living she chose to give away things from her home. the dining room table went to a family of immigrants who didn’t have a table at which to eat. her blue leather sofa went to a family across the street. my momma was not discerning. people in need of something were precisely the people to whom she wanted to give those things. even in her grief of moving, her generosity and love of others prevailed.
i did not feel the need – nor did i have the logistical ability – to fill rooms with items of my parents after my momma’s move or even after she died. but i do have remembrances of them. and i have their dna.
mostly, i have the ideal they taught me – that no matter what, you stick by your family, you uphold each other, you protect each other, you love each other. in no uncertain terms, my mom and my dad would stand tall next to each of us, buoying us and believing in us – the lesson of acceptance – no matter what – of the right to exist, to sustain, to thrive.
i know – without a doubt – they have cheered on my life – in all its phases, in its ups and downs. i know – without a doubt – they have cheered on my daughter’s courageous and adventurous spirit finding home in the mountains, my son and his incredible and cherished LGBTQ community in the city, around the world. i know – without a doubt – they would support them to the mat, thwarting anything that might come between them and their freedoms as americans, as human beings. i know this not only because it was how i was raised, but this is what shabaeawaka is. it is the legacy of shabaeawaka.
and so i wonder what they are thinking now.
i suspect they are on board with james baldwin.
there were times of disagreement, yes. my quiet dad could get rather loud in moments. my sweet momma could push back on inequality, on the crushing of human rights, on evil.
but all was ok if the basics were still in place, if the disagreement – in the words of james baldwin – was not rooted in the oppression of them or their loved one, if it did not deny their humanity or the humanity of their loved one, if it did not undermine their right to exist or their loved one’s right to exist. those were the basics and the basics of any faith i ever learned from them.
I wonder what they are thinking now as they – from a plane of existence far away – watch this election, as they watch the unthinkable, as they watch oppression and the denial of humanity and right to exist on the up-close-and-personal do-we-love-each-other line, as they witness the undermining – the throwing away – of the tenets of their precious shabaeawaka.
i don’t know where the placemats went.
i just know i don’t need the actual placemats to remember what they meant.
reverse threading 