QUAIL MUTTERINGS #45. To Each and Every One (February 2017)

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The creeks are running, wildflowers are beginning to bloom, frogs perform their nightly symphony, and the birds are already courting. The essence of spring is hovering all around, teasing us, as another big rainstorm threatens. Nature is a powerful force, one which is most beneficial to all when we work with it rather than against it.

We are so fortunate for all the caring individuals who’ve continued to spend so much of their time and effort to ensure that large swaths of our natural environment are set aside for preservation. Without the forests we couldn’t breathe. When a species goes extinct there’s no getting it back and we shouldn’t pretend to know the consequences of that. Everything on earth is interconnected in ways that our poor, miniscule brains cannot even fathom. And to pretend to know what we cannot possibly understand can create catastrophic and torturous results. Life is too precious to let short-sightedness guide us.

I was fortunate, last summer, to visit Costa Rica and stay for a week in my cousin’s house. In order to get there we had to put the car in four-wheel-drive to make it up the side of the mountain on their two mile long dirt road. Howler monkeys screamed all around us and toucans perched in nearby trees. The surrounding jungle had its own fantastic and unfamiliar sounds. We kayaked through muddy waters and watched spider monkeys clamor out on the branches above us. Sloths were difficult to spot since they slept high in the trees, remaining very still. Iguanas crawled everywhere and brightly colored, poisonous lizards attempted to camouflage themselves on leaves and rocks. As protected habitat, much of this natural world remains.

Having the freedom to travel to other countries is indeed important. It allows us to experience how others live. Otherwise, we can lead ourselves to believe that our own perspective is the one true vision. What feels like fact actually turns out to be opinion. But we can be so easily swayed by someone who sounds more sure of himself than we are. I was substituting at the local high school last week and overheard a group of boys talking about our changing immigration policies. One of them said, “Only the bad ones are being deported, not the good ones. It’ll be alright.”

I was horrified. But, being a lowly sub and having the charge of thirty or so boisterous teenagers, I didn’t step in. Maintaining some form of control and having a list of things to accomplish that hour, didn’t give me much time to spare. I now wonder what I could have said that would have made a difference. I might have asked, “So, who makes the decision regarding the good ones versus bad ones? You? Me?” Our opinions might vastly differ.

I’ve already noticed a shift in how some people view us women. We have come a long way in regards to personal freedoms including the right to vote, own land, wear pants, and make our own decisions about reproducing. Can’t we all, as a caring and supposedly big-brained species, take a step back and look at the broad view? I think we must in order to stop pointing fingers and getting into the “us versus them” mentality. It’s a no-win situation.

We all want a choice. What to eat, how to live, who to marry or not, how to raise our children… We are all created equal. We’re all immigrants in one way or another. We all want our civil liberties and social justices. Let’s take care of one another and not judge someone just because they may seem different. Instead of contributing to the polarization of people, why not embrace each other and work together in order to help our entire planet survive in as healthy a state as possible – for our children and grandchildren, ad infinitum? I think it’s a worthy goal. Don’t you?

 

Peace is elusive

Flitting as moths to the light

Searching to find

Chasing to catch

It will certainly escape us

Unless we just be it.

 

Chi Varnado’s memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com

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QUAIL MUTTERINGS #44. The Digital Age (January 2017)

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QUAIL MUTTERINGS #44. The Digital Age (January 2017)

We all have our strong suits. For me, it’s definitely NOT technology. Sometimes I feel as though I’ve been born into the wrong era. I like Model-As. The engine design is straightforward and strictly mechanical. If something fails it does not have to be hooked up to a computer for analysis. Usually, the repairs could be made with what the owner had stashed in the shed: baling wire, nuts and bolts, gasoline for cleaning parts. I also prefer windows that open to air conditioning; book research as opposed to surfing the web; and not being available 24/7 for countless, often unnecessary interruptions.

I prefer to live my life as real experiences, things I can sink my teeth into, rather than vicariously participating in random, unchosen forays. I realize in my wording of this that my biases come through, and it’s a little sad. Sometimes I feel like I’m left farther and farther behind in a culture that spends so much time transfixed to a device.

“Hello! Is there anybody REALLY out there?” At times it’s a little lonely.

Unfortunately, for folks like me, writing in this day and age absolutely requires an online presence. I’m alright spending “some” of my time on a device making that happen, but not as much as necessary to reach an audience. My computer skills are gradually improving, as is increasingly mandatory, but not adequately. I’m realizing that my happiness diminishes the more time I spend attempting to promote myself online. Therefore, I have decided to invest a little money to have someone else help out. The younger generation doesn’t seem to mind these tasks as much as I do and they possess a faster learning curve in this field than me. It was a long time in coming, but it feels like the right decision for me.

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In the short time she’s been involved, Mercy has rebuilt my website, created a business Facebook page, and coached me, tiny step by tiny step, dragging me kicking and screaming, into the modern age. I’m in over my head, concerning the technical details of “existing online.” Being such a troglodyte, I’m not even fully aware of everything she’s doing on my behalf. That is partly the beauty of it. I learn this stuff on an “as needed” basis. Perhaps, as intended, I can now spend more of my quality time actually writing instead of telling everybody about my writing and tweeting about myself. Moving on…

I sit here today in an elementary school library at a table with three children who are typing vigorously into their Chromebooks and two who are working independently on worksheets. They will tell me when they need help on their work that they’ve been sent out of their classroom to do. I’m finishing up a half-day substitute job, staying for my required number of hours, supervising their independent study time. So I write, modeling constructive behavior while making it clear that I am available to them.

These kids have been born into a new age where they must be willing and able to spend their life-blood researching, reporting, and staying connected on their digital devices. I’m glad that my time began earlier, in the last century. A lot of my writing begins free-hand, pen on paper, sitting outside or in the car waiting or here at school in-between tutoring sessions. Sometimes, I now type my ideas directly into the computer. I’ve learned to do it both ways. I have at least three or four literary projects going at a time which keeps my interest alive. But now, it’s nearing the end of my sub-job day and I can’t wait to go home and take a hike. Time to go outside and play!

 

 

Chi Varnado is a contributing writer for The San Diego Reader. Her memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com.

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #43. The Ants Go Marching (December 2016)

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QUAIL MUTTERINGS #43. The Ants Go Marching (December 2016)

I think we humans are a lot like ants. Like them, we all spend an awful lot of time moving stuff from one place to another. In fact, this activity seems to occupy most of our waking hours. Mail is sorted into various piles or the recycling bin. Food gets pulled out of the refrigerator or cupboards and combined into meals. The act of shopping transports items from the store to home to the appropriate storage areas. On a different scale, yard work just moves bigger things. We rake leaves into mini mountains and cart them somewhere else. No longer needed or wanted items are carried off to pawn them onto someone else or donate to a charity. Remodel, add-on, spruce it up. As a lot, we big-brained, bipedal, opposable thumbed primates are not satisfied unless we are shifting stuff around.
When we travel we take our stuff with us. At least the things we think we might need. Earlier this month Kent and I went to Florida for ten days. And yes, we took our fair share of stuff with us. Being cheap, and frugal, we each only took one small, free, carry-on suitcase and a backpack. It’s enough. In fact, I’m sure we could whittle it down even more, but we don’t travel enough to not have to reinvent the wheel every time we pack. It doesn’t seem to matter if the getaway is a month, a week, or a few days. We each still pack the same small suitcase and backpack. Like the ants, we are creatures of habit.
Neither of us had ever been to Florida before. Kent was interested in running in the USATF National Club Cross Country Championships and had, by the way, talked me into racing there also. Unfortunately, I had a migraine that day and therefore did not run. His team ran quite well with the older men placing second for their seventy and up age division. That weekend was at the tail-end of our trip.
The first weekend we visited Key West, a beautiful tropical island located at the most southerly tip of the United States. The lush green landscape was not as bug-infested as I expected. Yes, I had toted a semi-natural bug spray all the way from California, but had used very little of it. Our son-in-law’s parents own a house there and we were fortunate to spend a couple of days with them. One morning, we ran a few miles barefoot in the deep sand on the beach since we couldn’t find any long dirt roads. Perhaps this is due to the development of marsh areas into people-friendly, non-muddy spaces. I was not interested in running on any more pavement.
Our next stop was the Everglades where we took a small boat and explored the mangroves getting up close and personal with alligators, crabs and tropical flora. A highlight was watching a mother alligator doze in the sun, half in the swamp water and half out. She was surrounded by a dozen or so squeaking little baby alligators who were swimming or crawling on the bank. When we were boating around the Ten Thousand Island area dolphins played in the craft’s wake, following us for several miles.
Cruising along the interstate, heading northward in our little rental car, I was again reminded how much like ants we really are. At least they all seem to follow a similar path. While we humans travel along all scattered-like, when viewed from an airplane, we appear to be marching along the well-worn ant highways.
A stop in Gainesville to visit my aunt was our next destination. It felt good to visit. I suppose it was the last time I’ll ever see her. The impermanence of everything strikes me every so often and pulls me down. Then it’s time to resume ant-like activity. Get up. Take an apple from the refrigerator and eat it with almond butter. Go outside and move firewood from one of the heaps in the yard and pile it on the front porch. Keep marching!

Chi Varnado is a contributing writer for The San Diego Reader. Her memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com.

 

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