Survival Tips [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

MM asked if we had any snow yet. He lives in California but entered the earth in Iowa so he knows snow. We swapped tales of cars sliding on ice and other seasonably appropriate tips for survival.

As I write this it’s in the single digits outside. We have more than our feet under a quilt. Consider “write while buried in blankets” a winter survival tip.

Our ice-damming issue is not yet resolved but it’s so cold outside that the water is not flowing. The heat of the house is no match for the polar freeze so nothing is melting. Here’s another survival tip: When there’s nothing to be done about the problem then it’s a good idea to do nothing. Get under the quilt and write. If writing is not your thing then just get under the quilt.

We are fans of Life Below Zero. All too often the people in the episodes ride their snowmobiles down frozen rivers or across the icy tundra when the temperatures are minus-fifty-degrees. It never fails, at the same moment we say, “I couldn’t do that.” Which, as it turns out, is another survival tip: know your limits.

We discovered our ice-damming issue in the middle of the night which meant I was climbing a ladder in the cold-dark-night with pitchers of boiling water to open the gutters and downspout and give the water a path that did not include the inside of the house. After a few hours the aluminum ladder was covered with ice (former boiling water that splashed); my gloves – also wet – were sticking to the ladder. Sometimes it is not enough to know your limits; you must act on what you know. Consider this an important survival tip.

If you know your limits and honor the limit you know, then your chances of living another day are greatly increased. Here is perhaps my best survival tip: when you find the limit but are tempted to cross it with delusions of grandeur or inflated feelings of importance, imagine a mug of hot coffee, pumpkin pie and warm quilts – the simplest joys of survival, the epicenter of thriving. When standing at the bottom of a frozen ladder at 2am with yet another pot of boiling water, it will help put things into perspective.

Having some perspective is, perhaps, the most awesome survival tip of all.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SNOW

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The Ace [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Twice in the past few months we’ve made a pilgrimage to the local Ace Hardware to seek the wise counsel of Kevin. He is not in a hurry. He listens. He commiserates with the odd issues that arise in a house built nearly 100 years ago. He invokes laughter and settles nerves. He doesn’t view his job as selling stuff. He views his job as helping people like us who come through the door with anxious faces betraying a single truth: we have a pressing problem and don’t know what to do or where to begin.

We returned from both pilgrimages with the magic solution: Backer Rod.

I did not know about Backer Rod prior to our sessions with Kevin. At first glance I doubted Kevin’s guidance, however, after following his instructions, our seeming impossible problem met a very worthy solution.

Our latest pressing problem was the new water feature in our sitting room. There’s a strange phenomenon in the midwest called “ice damming.” Ice overwhelms a gutter while the heat of the house simultaneously melts the underlayer, transforming the ice back into water that has nowhere to flow but inside the house. We first heard the drip, drip, drip at 11:39pm and worked through the night to melt the ice, clear the frozen gutters and popsicle downspout.

And still the water came.

Kerri and I are master improvisers, our solutions are often temporary, triage solutions, that work until the real fix-it-masters can come. In the case of our water feature, the fix-it-master, the gutter man and the electrician (a failed outlet is the real source of our pain, rendering the heating cable in the gutter useless), cannot come until the current ice age retreats and the ice encasing our house melts. Keep in mind that the ice melting is the source of our troubles since it has nowhere to go but into our sitting room.

So we ran to Kevin. He sent us home with Backer Rod, some words of wisdom, and some borrowed confidence that our band-aid solution would get us to the warmer weather while minimizing the river running into our home.

I’m heading out to follow his instructions. If this works, if Backer Rod stems the flow, then I fully intend to elevate Backer Rod to the high status of duct tape, baling wire and hot glue. I will elevate Kevin even higher.

We’ll keep you posted.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BACKER ROD

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Listen To The Plumes [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

The plumes came early this year. The tall grasses are signaling to us that winter is coming sooner rather than later. 20 concurs. He insists that the almanac foretells of a long winter. I’ve not checked out the almanac for myself but am sufficiently satisfied to listen to the plumes.

Our cities are filling up with the military and ICE. They are signaling to us that a fascist winter is coming sooner rather than later. As Steve said, “Most people I talk to are now in agreement: there may not be another election, at least not one that’s legitimate.” I’ve not seen the masked militiamen myself but I recognize what they bode.

Responding to a post about my confusion, Linda recently wrote, “These are actual Nazis now, David. You have not been wrong…” She thanked me for speaking up. I remember in 2016, sitting at her kitchen island, she warned that this man in the White House was a fascist. “He’s no different than Hitler,” she said. At the time I wondered if she was being too extreme. I thought our democracy was strong. I had faith that, if pushed, the republicans would side with the Constitution. Now I know that she was like a plume, she saw the signals and was warning of the coming storm.

Our challenge now: how to meet this storm and keep our humanity intact? How do we combat this level of abhorrence, this degree of corruption – and not become the thing we hate?

read Kerri’s blog about THE PLUMES

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The Point [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

As we write this, an airplane has been circling overhead for hours. While staring at the sky a few moments ago, we saw a large drone. ICE is in Chicago, an hour and a half away. So is our son. And now, against all constitutional and legal authority, so is the Texas National Guard. In Illinois.

ICE is terrorizing Waukegan, a 25 minute drive from here. They are a masked cancer on decent society. Unleashed by an ignoble administration. As Thom Hartmann suggests, ICE is the modern KKK. Here to terrorize.

Yeats comes to mind: “The best lack all conviction while the worst are full of passionate intensity…” ~ W.B. Yeats, The Second Coming

Yes. Overwhelmed. And isn’t that the point of these brutal theatrics?

read Kerri’s blogpost about OVERWHELMED

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Sharp Love [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Someone once told me that love need not be a soft thing; it can be a sword that cuts or a flower with thorns. In fact, sometimes love needs to be sharp to cut through the noise.

Recently I’ve recognized outrage as a form of sharp love. We are now, each day, inundated with images that outrage us. If you are like me, you were outraged when you saw the photograph from Chicago: a burly ICE agent zip-tying the hands of a crying toddler.

Our outrage is not only warranted, it is deeply human. Our outrage is sharp love cutting through.

Now, when I see people protesting these outrages, gathering in the streets, showing up at immigration courts to bear witness, when I see independent media calling out the falsehoods and refusing to normalize the atrocities… I see people who love the promise of democracy, people who love others – strangers – enough to show up, to stand up and to call out the disgraceful action of authority run amok.

It is the same kind of sharp love that sends firefighters running into burning buildings. It is the same fiery love that makes a soldier fight for an abstract idea, like democracy, like freedom for all. It is the same sharp love that requires us to step away from those we know and love who continue to champion the outrageous.

Speaking about the recent cowardice of corporate law firms, media organizations and universities in the face of governmental pressure, Mark Elias said that “Courage begets courage. Capitulation begets capitulation.” In the courage of ordinary citizens, people taking to the streets, people showing up for their neighbors, people who are demanding decency of their government, I am seeing sharp love. Love begets love even when – especially when – it looks like people outraged at the treatment of other people, people standing up for the rights of their fellow human beings.

read Kerri’s blogpost about ROSES

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Suspicious Sugar Sipping [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Breaking news! It was just discovered that most hummingbirds winter in Mexico and Central America. They are, in fact, migrants and not the benign sugar-sipping citizens of the USA as previously believed.

Rest assured, roving bands of ICE are on it. Luckily, the Supreme Court just dismantled constitutional protections against racial profiling. Hummingbirds join Latinos as groups who can be detained without cause. Any bird perceived to be a hummingbird is now subject to arrest and subsequent deportation without due process.

The court’s ruling clears the way for ICE to detain and disappear any bird, migrating or non-migratory residents, without cause or due process, based on looks (asian, caucasian, african american, latino, indigenous*…), occupation (chef, construction worker, professor, lawyer, artist, economist, democratic politician…) or language (truth, fact, data, wisdom, knowledge) spoken in Spanish, English or any of the other approximately 7,100 languages spoken on earth.

Residents are encouraged to immediately report any suspicious sugar-sipping-behavior – or anyone who espouses moral clarity – to your neighborhood roving ICE band.

(Dear maga reader: In case you missed it, this post is purposely facetious. Facetious is an adjective and means to treat serious issues with deliberately inappropriate humor; flippant.)

***

*The U.S. federal government’s race categories include American Indian or Alaska Native, Asian, Black or African American, Native Hawaiian or Other Pacific Islander, and White, with an option to select two or more races. In addition, these categories are often paired with Hispanic or Latino and Middle Eastern or North African to form a comprehensive list of seven co-equal categories for data collection on race and ethnicity.

Once racial profiling is legal for one group, it applies to all groups. The Supreme Court is sworn to uphold the Constitution, not to dismantle it as the six conservative justices are now doing.

read Kerri’s blogpost about HUMMINGBIRDS

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Definitions [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

I’m a big fan of secondary definitions. Not only does the word addle mean to confuse, it also means to make an egg rotten. In my mind the two definitions are connected: addle a brain too long and it will rot.

A case in point: while forwarding our smack-dab cartoon on Saturday I happened upon a disturbing comment thread. Members of the maga-cult were abusing a woman who dared to defend the plight of immigrants.

2. Abuse (verb): treat (a person) with cruelty or violence.

The harangue included demands that the woman “get her facts” straight, which I found particularly obscene since the maga-abusers were astonishingly-fact-free while the woman was rooted in reality. The maga-big sticks included two easily debunked claims: 1) The Biden administration paid millions of social security dollars to “illegals*”, and 2) the “illegals” were bleeding the system without paying into the system.

This took less than a minute to fact check: Can undocumented immigrants collect social security? No.

Are undocumented immigrants eligible for Medicaid? No. (bonus fact: Is misinformation rampant? Yes).

And, here’s the kicker for anyone who cares to live in a world of easily checked facts: Undocumented immigrants paid more in taxes than Amazon, GM, IBM, and Netflix combined.

I recognize – as I believe we are all coming to recognize – that the maga-mind is particularly resistant to any bit of data or fact that contradicts their fever-fantasy. Their adamant defense of the indefensible has little to do with truth or fact or historical accuracy or hard science – they hold fast to their absolute right to muddled minds because it gives them license to abuse. They mimic their dear leader. The bully-impulse is the bond that unites them.

*Take, for instance, the fox-generated-and-now-widely-maga-touted-term “illegals”:

Illegals (plural noun. derogatory. north american): a person present in a country without official authorization.

In the fascist handbook it is a hard and fast rule to first dehumanize a group of people before subjecting them to inhumane abuse. For instance, making people wear yellow stars before herding them into train cars and disappearing them into concentration camps or – as is currently happening – calling people illegals en route to suspending their (and our) constitutionally protected right to due process – so that masked agents of the government can pluck people off the streets and disappear them into…concentration camps.

inhumane (adjective): without compassion for misery or suffering; cruel.

I hope we can all agree that the sadistic treatment of other people is barbaric. Well…if you are maga, your mind is so addled that your moral compass no longer functions, as is evidenced in daily celebrating ruthless savagery – like ICE – while claiming to be ethical, christian, and upstanding.

Addle a brain too long and more than the mind will rot.

read Kerri’s blogpost about ADDLE

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Show Up! [David’s blog on KS Friday]

They young reveler looked at me and shouted over the music, “It’s great seeing you here!” He offered a fist bump and guided me through the secret handshake that followed the bump. We laughed.

At first I was puzzled. I didn’t know him at all yet he was genuinely delighted to see me. And then it occurred to me. In his eyes I am old. My beard is gray. He was happily surprised to find an old guy dancing in the raucous sweaty crowd at Chicago PRIDE.

Kerri leaned forward and told him – well, shouted over the throbbing thunderous music – that the performer on the stage was our son. The young reveler looked like she just slapped him. “WHAT?!” he exclaimed. He turned and told his friends. They looked at us as if hell had just frozen over – a remarkable metaphor since it was 105 degrees at 7:30 pm. Parents at PRIDE! Parents celebrating and supporting their son! Impossible! Unimaginable! Fist bumps, high-fives! The young reveler shook my hand enthusiastically saying, “No Way!! No Way!!”

Their dancing resumed, more enthusiastic, more joyful, in a world made new with wondrous possibility. The word spread. Proud parents were at PRIDE, dancing! Hunky boys fanned Kerri to keep her cool. She stood on the curb so she could take pictures of the stage above the festive crowd. “You’re Craig’s Mom!” I heard declared again and again. More hugs and introductions.

Later, exhausted, on the train ride home, Kerri said, “I think it was really important that we showed up.” I knew what she meant. We unintentionally showed up for more than Craig’s performance.

I thought of something the MC said to crowd after Craig’s set, “Are you going to take care of your trans brothers and sisters? Are you going to take care of each other?” he asked. The crowd cheered and he added, “Remember, if one of us is marginalized, all of us are marginalized.” Words of caution made more relevant – and poignant – by the manufactured hatred of our times. The demonization of “the other” marginalizes all of us.

Now, more than ever, it matters that we show up for each other. I was heartened by the No Kings protests. I am heartened each time a community shines a light on masked ICE agents and shames them away from brutalizing yet another human being. Our presence – our witness – in this moment matters more than we will ever understand.

CONNECTED on the album RELEASED FROM THE HEART © 1995 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora

read Kerri’s blogpost about PRIDE

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Meet Guttah [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Meet Guttah. He is no ordinary snowman. He is made from snow scooped off of the roof.

A snow-rake and a wobbly ladder were necessary to acquire the makings of Guttah.

I did not climb a ladder on a bitter cold day with a snow-rake in hand in order to make Guttah. Had Guttah been on my mind, had Guttah been the original mission, I would have used the snow on the ground. There was – and is still – plenty of snowman fodder in the backyard. No. The conditions were perfect for ice-damming. A wet snow followed by a sunny day. And then a freeze. We jumped into prevention-mode since historically an ice dam on the roof is capable of channeling water into our house. “Is that a waterfall…on the wall?” I asked the first time I experienced it.

“Damn it!” Kerri exclaimed, jumping into action.

You might say that Guttah is a side-effect of ice-dam-prevention. With plenty of snow on the roof, standing on the icy rungs of an old wooden ladder, with every pull of my snow-rake cascading snow and ice onto the deck far below, rather than think, “I could die,” I chose to ask a question of distraction: “What will I do with all of this snow piling up on the deck?”

Like much of the art created across time, Guttah was borne as a distraction from death-fear. Not that I consider Guttah art (he certainly does not view himself with such hubris) but thoughts of a snowman sculpture kept me scooping and gave me the necessary focus to stay safely perched upon my shaky rung.

My favorite part is his hair. It is how I imagined my hair under my hat while scooping snow from the roof. Guttah, after all, is my doppelganger, my double-walker, the outer-snow-image of my inner-snow-scooping-self.

latest detail of a painting-in-progress

read Kerri’s blogpost about GUTTAH

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A Pretty Good List [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Two years ago the ice-maker in our fridge stopped working. Our informal poll of fellow fridge owners has confirmed what we suspected: the ice-maker is always the first thing to go. And, since a repair of the ice-maker would actually cost more than the original price of the refrigerator, we have gone old-school and make our ice in trays. Sometimes, when we’re feeling really outlandish, we buy our ice in bags.

This is not a terrible inconvenience. I do not have to go down to the lake in winter and saw out blocks of ice nor do I have to haul the blocks uphill to the ice house and cover them with sawdust. The refrigerator is still capable of making ice; it just requires some participation on our part. And, it couldn’t be easier since we have running water piped directly into the house! From the magic spigot at the sink, I pour the water into the plastic tray and work on my balancing skills as I carry the water-filled tray to the freezer. In about an hour the water is transformed. Ice!

On a recent foray into an antique store we came across the metal ice-cube-trays used by our parents from the time prior to plastics. Kerri chimed, “I remember those from when I was growing up!” and, always the musician, starting making the symphony of sounds produced when the metal handle lifts, cracks and separates the cubes before dumping them into the bowl. She spun her musical rendition into a rhythmic wonder complete with an ice-tray dance. I know deep inside she was working on the lyrics and, had we not been in public, I would have been audience to a completely imagined, fully composed ice-cube-tray-song.

So, topping my list of gratitudes for the day: I saw the inception of an ice-cube song borne of a childhood memory. There was also an enthusiastic spontaneous ice-tray-dance that made me laugh out loud . I have water that comes directly into my house, and a cold box that is capable of making ice if I want it. I do not have to go down to the lake to cut and haul ice as my ancestors did. All-in-all, it’s a pretty good list!

read Kerri’s blogpost about ICE CUBE TRAYS

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