Sunday, October 14, 2018

Eleven Six

The Democratic party needs new blood.  
Trump's win has ushered in a new generation of candidates
who are committed to representing the issues impacting their constituents.
I had the pleasure to hear these energetic candidates speak at a recent fundraiser.
Their passion was the inspiration I needed,
 especially after the Kavanaugh confirmation,
to keep fighting the fight.
Change is coming.
November Sixth. 

Lucy McBath (Georgia)

Ken Harbaugh (Ohio)

Dean Phillips (Minnesota)

Haley Stevens (Michigan)

Thursday, September 27, 2018

Dr. Christine Blasey Ford

"It is not my responsibility to determine
whether Mr. Kavanaugh deserves to sit on the Supreme Court.
My responsibility is to tell you

Dr. Ford

 I believe you Christine Ford.
I'm deeply saddened the vote is still scheduled for tomorrow
and like Anita Hill
your testimony won't matter.
I don't care that the event occurred 36 years ago.
A boy who is capable of such acts and a man
who can not own his conduct is not fit
to sit on the highest court in the country.
Yep, the rules are different for Supreme Court Justices.
You need to be of the highest moral caliber.
You need a clean past.

Why is okay for actions that occurred decades ago to be dismissed,
as being irrelevant, and not a true indicator of character
when those same actions destroyed the mental health of another individual?
The same act can not be both life changing for one and inconsequential for another.
I have to wonder if Mark Judge, Kavanaugh's high school buddy who was present during the assault
but absent from the hearing,
slipped into a life of drugs and alcohol as a way to cope with years of bad boy behavior.

He said, she said.
Sadly, his voice remains louder and more powerful in our country.
The sun sets on another dark day in American political history.
I fear this one will reverberate for the rest of my days.

Wednesday, August 22, 2018

The Open Road

Sleepy Morro Bay
stuck somewhere between forgotten and quaint
is my chosen pit stop en route to Big Sur.
I first explored it several years ago when I was stuck on a notes call 
and had to pull off the highway to retain cell service.  
As luck would have it I found a delicious old school health food restaurant, The Shine Cafe
I have a hunch nothing has changed since it opened it's doors in 1973,
and I hope it never does.

I drive the extra two blocks to the water and park so I can admire the majestic volcanic rock. 
The abandoned smokestacks from a shuttered power plant are still a blight on the landscape
giving the town another dubious distinction.

I wonder what it would be like to be on the run and hide out in Morro Bay for a week.
At least I'd have a good place to eat and get my daily kombucha fix.

Beyond Morro Bay some of the west coast's most majestic landscape awaits.
I plan to stop an hour and half before my destination at the southern end of Big Sur
for a much more active stretch -  a 3 mile hike.

The precipitous curves have begun
and my heart swells at the sight of a windswept cypress springing forth from the earth.
The car in front of me suddenly stops and I realize on coming traffic has ceased. 
Minutes pass with no movement.  A few vehicles U-turn.
A message is relayed via highway telephone —
a tractor trailer is hanging from a cliff.
We can expect up to a two hour delay.
Cars and RVs stack up behind me.
The highway has been transformed into a stadium parking lot after a rock concert.
I am fortunate to be close to the Ragged Point rest stop and a bathroom.
The grassy lawn looks like a college campus on the first warm spring afternoon.
An impromptu picnic, a guy with a guitar, a couple doing yoga.
The pacific is our backdrop and there is a calmness as people wait in the splendor.

I decide to pass the time hiking down to the sandy crescent moon below.  
A steep and slippery 400 foot drop is not for tourists wearing keds.
I chat with a woman from La Jolla, also stranded, 
as she lends me her arm during a particularly slippery patch.

The view is spectacular. 
I work up an appetite and enjoy part of my meal from The Shine Cafe.
I read, wander a nature trail and read some more.
I'm antsy.  It's been close to 3 hours and I wonder if I need a back up plan.
Will I get to my hotel?
Before I further contemplate my situation, 
a cop on a bullhorn tells everyone to get back in their cars.
Plan A it is.

Tuesday, August 21, 2018

Coastal Road Trip

My vacation state of mind has slipped into work mode.
I don't recommend interrupting a holiday with a week in the office.
Lesson learned.
Yosemite, I will still see your majestic dome, it just won't be this week.
Although the fires are out, the air is crappy.
And I want my lungs to take long deep breathes on heart pumping hikes.
Hopefully, you are still in my near future.
I have rerouted to Ojai.
A mellow two days --
hiking, reading, sleeping, trying new restaurants, and more sleeping.

The dry scorched earth does not go unnoticed.
May a season of rain follow this hot hazy summer.
May Mother Nature be forgiving.

Sunday, August 19, 2018

Georgia on my Mind

Whether you succeed or not is irrelevant,
there is no such thing.
Making your unknown known is the important thing —
and keeping the unknown always beyond you.


Saturday, August 11, 2018


Give me a farmer's' fresh haul or the bounty from a local lavender field 
and my happiness meter soars.
The revitalized Railyards hosts a thriving Farmers Market on Saturdays.
Away from the tourists I got a truer sense of the pulsing Santa Fe community --
a younger, hipper Southwestern crunchy vibe. 

Directions from Above

An early morning hike in the slot canyons of Tent Rocks was on the agenda for today,
but we were halted near the trail head by a rude pueblo sheriff.
Flash flood warnings had closed the National Monument for at least a week.
Disappointed, I whisked my first thoughts of "I could have slept in" away and moved on to Plan B. 
A meandering drive to The Railyards and a walk through the farmers market
still left us with a substantial part of the day to fill with exploration.
Google searches left us uninspired and thunderheads thwarted plans for an afternoon hike.
Killing time we walked the paths of a bucolic urban park.
A discarded map for the Turquoise Trail,
abandoned on a bench, gave us the direction we were seeking.
The drive matched the early vision I had when we were planning the trip.
Over hyped Madrid paled in comparison to Cerrillos,
a ghost town with signs of revitalization. 
Booming thunder gave way to a pounding hail storm.
In Golden, the eaves of late 1880s general store provided shelter.
A handful of bikers joined us as we watched sheets of cold precipitation soak the dry earth.