More babble about Priorities

  Although Beth and I spent last weekend visiting family in the east and attending the wedding of an 'old' good friend in Prallsville, N.J. I shall not comment much on friends and grandchildren and other relations in this blog, not wishing it to become a Facebook like exposure of other peoples private affairs. There is more than enough of that on the web and the world does not need another Kim Kardashian clone. ( .... Forbes claims she is worth some 45 million and Wikipedia reports that she writes 'sponsored Instagram and Twitter posts which are collectively worth $10,000-25,000 per post")... for doing what exactly? Apparently fame itself can be very profitable and that is a sad state of America when there is so much real need. Care to help build a new water system in Flint, Michigan Kim? They need clean water a lot more than a new lip gloss product. Which is not to pick on her rather the 'establishment' which so obscenely corrupts priorities. As always it comes down to individuals making good or bad decisions and the Flint city officials who lied about lead levels are no different than the local CEO of the Corry, PA teachers credit union who embezzled over $700,000 for personal gain. Just more morally challenged people in positions of power, and they were the few who got caught. What a superior world we could inhabit if people more often considered the greater good rather than narrow personal interests. For perspective:

     According to Forbes these two individuals have this amount of wealth-

• #1 Bill Gates, worth $75 Billion
• #2 Amancio Ortega, worth $67 Billion ...totaling 142 billion... The cost to rebuild New Orleans after hurricane Katrina is estimated to be 92 to 125 billion. So these two people could repair all the damage with money to spare. How did we create such as distorted distribution of wealth? I am not disparaging capitalism, or Mr. Gates, who actually seems to have a conscience, but am distressed that we are dependent on the whims of individuals....on human nature.. to decide what is just and fair and where all the money is spent.  Recall that many of these power brokers are fighting a living wage for the average worker.

     But I digress and am certainly no saint, and regret the mindless killing of insects and birds and frogs I did with my BB gun as a kid. It was not maliciousness, but true thoughtlessness without real consideration of them as living things that motivated me, and I wonder if it is sometimes a similar lack of self awareness that causes people to do immoral things. As they ( we ) mature we become more conscious of the effects of our actions and hopefully behave more wisely.
   -4pm. The dog and I walk along Big Four road near the Conewango River. The stream at this time of year runs high and dark, and pushes against ice encrusted logs that in warmer seasons sit atop exposed sandbars. Because melting has left a film of water atop the ice, we are forced to hug the plowed piles at the edge of the road, so it is slow going. One half mile along the road a gas company has bulldozed a new road up the mountain to the east, which offers us a new place to explore. I welcome these new roads and trails and do not worry about their long term impact, for it is apparent to me that a century of drilling and logging has not left any permanent scars on the landscape. Fracking may spoil a few water wells, and logging roads may linger for a few decades, but eventually erosion smooths away the cut and shrubs and trees obscure the land until it is difficult to discern where the original damage had been inflicted. Because of that long term perspective, neither do I worry about climate change, for it is not humanity that concerns me so much as the fate of the planet, and I know that nature will heal without us. Which means that I mourn for all the innocent people and other organisms that have been and will be killed by our abuses, but I am assured that Creation will endure. Nature has caused mass extinctions in the past and we are one more meteorite in a long history of destruction. Besides, with a president elect who denies scientific evidence and a general populace who refuse to live efficiently, there seems to be a ball rolling comprised of overpopulation and consumerism and resource depletion that is unstoppable. I do not believe that we are powerless to change, only that we will not do so, and so our children will reap the consequence of how we are living. Humanity needs a crisis to act, and even then can act only to the best of its ignorance.

December

12/15- Tis the season to clear an inch or more of snow from the car and sidewalk every morning, or at least five mornings out of seven, as lake effect snow drops daily squalls like frozen summer showers. So there was an inch this morning, two and a half yesterday and another nine inches over the past week. Overall it has been much colder and snowier than last December.

       The dog and I walked Hatch Run on the 13th for the first time in weeks since deer season had ended, and she boldly scratched to remark her territory not realizing the folly of her claim. I imagined the fox and coyote who passed that way afterward wondered where their potential meal had wandered off to. Someone had blazed the trail with snowshoes which made walking easier for both of us, and the abundant hemlock trees lessened the accumulation which reached the ground.
        For as complaining as I become about winter sometimes, there is always a part of me that admonishes myself for my poor attitude, and the enthusiasm of the dog as she runs and jumps through the snow, oblivious to the challenge with her short legs, reminds me of my good fortune.
        -   Reading about the human brain, or rather, about the injuries and illnesses that inflict some people makes me question the reality of any perceptions and beliefs I hold dear. As J. Browne writes " If I'm truthful, I'll say that I was blind to everything about this life but what I had in mind".
  According to neuroscience, there are people whose brain afflictions cause them to believe with all conviction that they are dead, or that imposters have taken the place of  people they have known all their lives, or that their own limbs are attached to other people- and no amount of logic can persuade them otherwise. Neuroscientists make the analogy to how optical illusions fool the healthy mind; our brains have trouble believing the truth despite the false witness of our eyes. I have always suspected that consciousness is what I call a 'constructed illusion', but the narrowness of some of our perceptions and exactly how angles and lines and smells and textures are arranged and retrieved from specific groups of neurons to form "reality" makes me wonder if such a thing as reality exists. If  memory can be destroyed with a few excisions to the hippo campus, what is that which we call our past? So a crucial question is whether some sense of reality/consciousness exists independent of the brain, perhaps in what science calls a 'collapsing of the quantum wave function' that is unrelated to human beings? Science believes in a reality independent of us, but is there anyway to prove it, or at least, to ascribe any meaning to it without our consciousness to measure and describe it? Of course to think the moon disappears when we are not looking at it is the height of egoism, and we see evidence of a reality that preceded us in fossils, but still it is this collection of neurons in our heads interpreting those things with our senses. I have no answers, except to assume that it is this enduring mystery which inspires religion and science and all of human striving.

Journal

12/7-Several hours of the sun, the most in two weeks.35F The dog and I walk the roads near Hearts Content in morning.The notable silence in this part of the state is due to the low population and the lack of air traffic. I sometimes hear the low rumble of a commercial jet far overhead but their flight paths are generally too high to be heard and local aircraft are almost non existent. Occasionally the emergency helicopter from Erie lands at the hospital to transport a patient, and in spring and summer there is pesticide spraying to control black flies, but those few flights are rare. The silence here reminds me of those days immediately following the 9-11 attack in New York, when all flights were cancelled and which for that short time period offered the only silence I had heard in decades living near the eastern cities. Today I hear the yelping of wild turkeys in the distance; they sound somewhat like wild dogs when far off, and call to reassemble the flock if they are scattered. It reminds me of Joe Huttos film "My Life As a Turkey"  in which he discovered their aversion to sawed off tree trunks as well as other sensitivities in the turkey mind that humans were unaware of. Such knowledge of course requires tremendous patience and commitment, which even he admits he did not know he would need before beginning his study. Will researchers like Jane Goodall and Hutto become more rare as the attention span of humanity shortens?
12/8-To post office and bank in morning, then walk four miles in Russell with Beth. Very cold wind today, with flurries until dusk, when snow becomes steady.
12/11- About nine inches total accumulation this morning, with more predicted. The persistent lake effect of clouds and snow showers has settled onto the county, so a white Christmas is assured this year. B. and I shop Jamestown then I walk the dog near the Conewango, where I discover a small 'dogleg' tributary that flows inland and parallels the main flow for a quarter mile before emptying back into the river near 5th street bridge. I had never noticed this ten yard wide flow because it is hidden behind woods and houses some 200 yards off the sidewalk, and I had never occasioned myself to trespass. Yet there is a well trodden path here easily followed once one know it is there, and the dog and I scamper through the snow in the woods just minutes from the road. No doubt the local children and fishermen use this path in the spring.

Journal

12/4- Sunday-Walk the woods atop Mohawk Avenue. Clouds, 40F It is more pleasant air today than yesterday, although in Warren in December such changes are subtle and only by small accounts more agreeable. No hunting on Sundays in Pennsylvania allows the dog and I to move freely. As we exit the car we hear the whirring thump of a natural gas engine pushing the natural gas through underground pipes. These pumps are relatively quiet-unlike the large diesel engines that push oil within similar pipes-and they burn the same gas which they help to extract to power their own existence. Sometimes I am startled by the starting of a jack pump miles from civilization when a sensor trips the pump, but generally the oil and gas extraction is unobtrusive to a hiker-except during the initial drilling and bulldozing of access roads.

       Otherwise the woods is unusually still this afternoon, silent of even a slight breeze, and we are too far from town to hear the noise. A few juncos and chickadees trill and chatter from the hemlocks, and a solitary goldfinch passes in the distance- unusually late for this time of year. The dog enjoys running during autumn for it is cool and the ground is not yet covered with snow. She explores every smell unnoticed by me and sometimes dashes into the woods after a chipmunk or squirrel, following the scents for hundreds of yards then rejoining me further down the trail. Despite her age she is still able to run ten miles and remains wholly acclimated to the woods. No doubt her small size would make her vulnerable to coyotes were she alone, but I suspect she would not yield easily.

      The ground is a spongy brown mass of fallen leaves showing scarcely an inch of open soil. It is mostly oaks here so the pattern is angular, crisscrossing shapes flattened by the rain. Here and there a twig with three or four leaves has been blown down, and those leaves show hints of green where the chlorophyll had not receded. Now they appear youthful among the other leaves as they take that much longer to decay. I notice that fallen logs retain a trace of snow and I assume that that is because they are raised higher than the warmer ground. The tops of rock and a few leaves that are not touching the earth also show some snow, but not all of them and not in every direction. Probably there was a heavy squall in this small area yesterday that did not touch further on. A single crow calls out as we approach, warning whatever animals are within earshot; it is the alarmist of the woods, like a siren in town calling us to a fire. 

    12/5-  Clouds, some drizzle 38F. Do charts at the office then walk Betts Park.11:30. Walk two more miles with Beth at 1:30 We experience a few precious minutes of sunlight and snap a quick photograph of our shadows,  possibly the last time we shall see them for another week or more. 

    12/6- Clouds, hazy sun then rain by 2:30. I walk a circular route through town to the office in morning. It is an unexpected sound to hear water gurgling beneath the road near sewer drains, for I forget that they are there and that the streams are underground in town. Even this small city has a thousand miles of unseen pipes. I once asked retired workers from the refinery whether anyone there knew the purpose and connection of the thousands of pipes in that facility, and both immediately named one supervisor whom they suspected did. Probably such knowledge is accumulated over years like that of a surgeon or lawyer who learns the intricacies of the profession through long experience. On Irvinedale road I pass a road killed doe, but they are uncommon in town considering that there are woods on every side. Some hunters complain that regulations have decimated the deer population, yet I hear enough success stories to know that luck and skill have influential roles. Probably patience is also lacking in the former. One house in town shows a sign reading "It's About Jesus" which of course is only partially true. Rather, "It's About Love" would be a more accurate statement regardless of where one finds the inspiration. At another house the homeowner is collecting leaves for what will probably be the last time before winter. He pushes them to the road where the city vacuums them up for disposal.

      At the office a 'drug rep' as they are called buys access to 20 minutes of the doctors time by purchasing lunch for the staff. So twice a week the pharmaceutical companies spend some $70-$80 per meal to try to influence the physician to prescribe their latest medicine. In some offices-and there are thousands across the country- that would be five days a week for smaller or larger staffs contributing to the 'hidden' cost of healthcare. Until a few years ago the companies spent more millions on pens and magnets and other trinkets, but laws were passed to limit that form of bribery, so now television and magazine ads have prevailed.

Journal

     12/3/16
                 Clouds and intermittent drizzle and snow showers. 38F Walk 5 miles near Frewsburg. Hunting season and a quagmire of mud on the dirt roads confines the dog and I to macadam. Beth is babysitting today for a friend. After leaving the bank two years ago she has been much happier care taking the elderly and cleaning houses part time. Presently she is replacing the kitchen cupboard doors- all of it hands-on labor that she loves.
                  The higher elevations show light accumulation this afternoon, but two weeks ago I yet saw an occasional red legged grasshopper or sulfur butterfly, so Autumn has been mostly clear and pleasant. There are a few fresh dandelions in the yard and a rare goldenrod or yellow vetch plant shows color despite the snow. The latter are beacons within the drab landscape and had likely been late bloomers. I pass an old bulldozer parked on someone property that appears to be at least 50 years old yet looks as if it is used occasionally. Old weather beaten equipment like this appeals to me because it shows a long history and obviously has seen good care to have lasted so long. In truth I do not know if such things were better built decades ago or simply have been well maintained, but in this disposable age of disposable attitudes these old machines are a treasure. On that account is refreshing to see video from Cuba where the people have been forced to preserve their cars, which over time have become valuable antiques to the rest of the world.

Writing

(I have decided to resume my journal after years of neglect, and shall present it here when inspiration permits. Methinks I have been intellectually stagnant of late, and the thought of winter depresses me, so writing regularly helps clarify my thinking.)

    12-2-2016- Clouds, intermittent drizzle. 40F.   Walk Warren at noon. I have not walked though town in months, preferring nature and solitude generally, but there is something new and fresh after such a long absence, and the less traveled roads offer a relaxed, familiar place- and pace- by which to reconnect with my pen. I notice immediately that both time and distance are shortened by the wonderful, distracted immersion that creative thought demands, and I am already less troubled by the winter skies. Perhaps that is the best advice for anyone looking to find a sincere occupation: do that which engages you so completely that time flies.

      As I look out over the town after living here for ten years, I realize that I cannot fairly judge it without first admitting and dismissing my own moods and biases about life in general. That is, town is not responsible for what I bring to it, and to call it poor, or conservative, or wealthy, or liberal, or friendly or unfriendly, would demand that I first define those things in myself. The Allegheny River that divides this town is a better measure of my shifting opinions. The river at least reflects my human frailties from an ageless direction.

       As towns go it is less than 10,000 persons by last census, and traffic rarely backs up at the stoplights. People who have passed their lives here tell me that it is a small town in the sense that people know one another, which from my perspective of one who has lived most of his life near the eastern cities, both encourages concern for ones neighbors and inhibits people from addressing the potential problems of nepotism. Despite the impersonal alienation of a metropolitan area, there is a greater opportunity in a larger city to embrace ideas of truth and justice independent of personal feelings. In that regard impartiality is easier when one does not personally know ones neighbor. Of course as I write that statement I realize that there are good, noble people in both places and also the corrupt and unprincipled, and when there is a critical mass of either persuasion social history is determined.

       As I cross back over the river at the end of four miles I pause to watch the pigeons fly over the buildings and circle back to a wire near the bridge. None of them are the same individuals I had watched ten years ago, although in truth I feel mostly unchanged in this sacred, mysterious place from which my words arise. In this place I am an observer of my own life passing by, independent of the outside world, where writing remains a stable force springing from a realm I have sometimes called heaven. Regardless of how dry and lifeless words can be sometimes, at their best they have cajoled and inspired and angered and frustrated me, and made me laugh and cry and feel wholly alive. For those reasons I have resumed my journal today.