The World Turns.

Yes, Christmas Eve was fun. The whole family together, laughing, eating, goofing off. A night of a dinner, and a couple early gifts: The camera that took the pictures. The new French press to make coffee with. And plans to gather Christmas morning to open gifts before my son and his sweetie headed off to the other side of the family.

In the midst of our Christmas day joviality, my pager went off, and the reality of my life as an emergency responder interrupted. The wind had been blowing here, and a tree top snapped off and fell on a traveling vehicle, injuring one of the children. I was out the door. My wife Jody knew right then and there that if this call was a bad one, how I would be affected, and told the kids. Unfortunately it was.

I am lying in bed the day after Christmas, computer on lap. The distractions I wanted, some wine last night, television, surfing the net, the drums, reading; nothing is making the tears stop or the pain go away. It's not just the image of a child getting CPR. It's going deeper than that for me. It's the cascading effect of being out of work, no solid prospects of any yet, no health insurance, my wife and our son being rear ended on the mainland, that car being partially unusable now, and then going to a call to help what turned out to be people I know. People who lost a daughter. The father with a broken neck. Their lives are altered far more than mine.

Part of it is the helpless feeling. Yes, I can treat the mother, as I did. I can help the oldest daughter retain some semblance of sanity, as I did. But it's the incredibly helpless feeling of knowing that a hurt child is not doing well, having a mother ask how her daughter is, wanting to be with her, and I have no words to speak other than to ask this woman to focus on herself for now.

Having pieced together the need for CPR and a falling tree, a responder knows there is a head injury that had immediate traumatic effects. The odds aren't good. Nobody called for air lift, or put it on standby, that I heard, because the ambulance never moved. They were still trying to get a heart rate. Really not good. All this info is on my mind while I move between mom and dad, trying to assure them, to help them in any way I can.

Finally the ambulances all leave for the hospital. The family will stay together, despite the upcoming final news. I finally put my head down on the hood of the chief's truck and begin to cry.

My day turned when the wind began to blow. Actually before that. The tree had some weakness, and when that weakness started, my day was altered. That weakness grew until Christmas, 2011, until that day, when just minutes before, my friends and their children got into their vehicle to go spend Christmas with their relatives on the mainland. They likely never saw the tree break, or heard it. Suddenly, it crashed into their lives, not out of malice, but as a necessary response of nature to the strong but not really bad wind that day. We've had worse. At that moment their day turned, and someone called 911.

Then my day turned. The lives of my family turned, and that of our community. The ripples will roll out for a while. As I sit here crying, typing these words, depressed, shut in, eating stale popcorn for breakfast because I can't motivate for anything else right now, I know this won't last. I will heal, and the community will heal. This couple and their family perhaps slower. Losing a child and sibling cannot be easy. None of us ever saw the moment that culminated in that tree breaking, and yet because of the interdependence of things, on Christmas Day, 2011, our lives were woven traumatically together.

I certainly can't blame the tree, or the victims. There isn't anywhere to put it, and realistically, no reason to blame. I just need to feel the pain and anger, cry the tears, and get on with helping this family recover from their more immediate experience. This is the stuff of life. As a responder, I get to see the ugly side of it. I think that's the lesson. When my pager goes off, I get to be intimately connected with the ugly suffering of others. I get to help, and indirectly so does my family. We are all in this together: the wind, the tree, the patients, the responders, the community, all of us. Knowing our community they way I do, I think we will successfully navigate this turn in our world.

A Brief History of Our Christmas Trees

Last night we celebrated Jody's birthday by putting up the Christmas Tree. It's an annual event, an event she cherishes. Miles, Claire, and Taylor came over. Jode and I had spent the afternoon cleaning and re-arranging so we could make room for the tree, even though this years is smaller than recent trees. Which partly meant that some of the ornaments didn't make it to display this year. Oh well. And I see this morning one of them was batted off by the cats, and another completely shredded. 

The first hiccup was the lights. Jody had some strings of the older style bulbs, meaning bigger, not the little pencil point style. And every time she plugged one in, the fuse would blow. So off to the store to score some LEDs. And then another store, while the rest of us watched Family Guy and Simpsons. Eventually she came back, the lights went on, and the decorating started, among the chuckles, a little beer, and delicious cupcakes Claire had baked that we turned into a version of Suzy Qs. Claire's cupcakes are to die for. Especially the Chocolate/Peanut Butter. 

And then it was done. At least for the most part. The four of us just hung stuff where there was an empty place on the tree. Jody however will now spend the next couple weeks tweaking this arrangement. She has favorites, so she might move them to the front of the tree from where I might have hung it. And as the tree fills more of her vision and imagination, she'll balance it so to speak. Me? I sit back at the end of the night, and marvel at this occasion. There are papers, metal, glass, ceramic, feathers, ribbons, all congregated together in various shapes and colors, and while I bask in this visionary delight, the smell of the tree wafts over me as it warms up and falls open.

Jode finally sat down to check her e-mail, and opened the computer to find a birthday card. We never did crack open the bubbly which I had bought her. I suppose maybe Christmas day. Or not. She relaxes in the glow of the tree to answer Facebook birthday blessings from her friends, while I go to bed. I like this part of year, as her birthday really melds together a time where we spend more time together as a family, as human beings celebrating the turning of the time and by honoring one another by giving gifts. In our house it starts on the 7th, when the tree goes up, a new display of colors, sounds, and fragrances fill the air at our house.

More Bard!

Another season of acting has begun for Island Shakespeare Fest here on Whidbey Island. This year we are doing The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet. It is going quite well. So let me share with you three particular reasons this has become my only acting venue.

First, acting is time consuming. And I do have other interests. I began drum lessons the other day with a local teacher here whom I met because I helped build his studio. We closed our lesson with a drum jam, which I have never done before, and it was very cool. So I have new directions there. I also am studying Emergency Management through FEMA, and I need to finish those courses and then move on to enrolling in a history program. Right now the one at Arizona State is top contender. All this dove tails together in new opportunities and post-retirement age occupations. I also have aspirations in my meditation practices, which happen to have a higher priority. And most of this couldn't happen if I dove into acting. That sort of activity sucks up all time, it is a siren call. And non-paying. Let alone getting back to firefighter/EMT duties. So it's a matter of keeping it in balance.

Second, I like the vision of our director. Well, she's actually more than just that for now, but she has ideas for our company, and that is for us to be recognized as a professional company. What that means is two fold. One, we get paid. Now, given that our shows are free, that might seems a tad difficult. But getting paid to do a show, regardless of how much, carries with it certain expectations. She knows it won't be a sole source of income for us. But the expectation is that we present a quality show, which is the other fold. To me being a professional is about the quality of work I present. It's true in my occupation as well. I should be able to demonstrate that I can meet quality standards, a knowledge of the use and care of tools, and an organization of my work so that I can meet a dead line if need be. And in acting it's no different. So if I put it all together, the props and voice and story and emotion and blocking,  by opening date, and she can put beer or gas money, (or in my case a bottle of Irish Cream), in my hand, then I ands we can claim to be professional actors. There are other aspects to what it means to move towards recognition of being a top notch company, but I'll post them as they happen.

Which brings me to my third reason for confining myself to Bard acting. It's the process of this director that I have never experienced before last year. When you have a professional level director that knows how to bring out the professional level in the actors, it's worth the time investment. It has developed a camaraderie that carries over into the year, a level of intimacy that is binding, and particularly important when on-stage one needs to be trying to kill your comrade! Another part of this process is what she emphasizes from the first day of each season: "Why these words?" Shakespeare is a grand story writer, and we tell that story in the English he wrote. Which includes a syntax and words uncommon to current ears. And if we don't know what the man was saying, then neither (neye-ther) will the audience. And one comment we got consistently last year during our performance of As You Like It, is that we made Shakespeare understandable. Quite a compliment for a first year company! Quite the achievement for our director as well.

This years performance is all the more enjoyable as I have almost my entire family involved. Taylor was in as Abraham, but had to bow out. Miles is "Romeo's man" Balthazar. Jody is working on the costumes, and I am Escalus, Prince of Verona. This year we have a longer run than last year (a sell-out if you will. Our top show had 300 attendees, our in-the-rain show had 80, and we topped over 1000 for our five shows.), and next year we do two plays in repertory. The baby steps are adding up. So maybe when I retire I can have a host of part time gigs, teaching history, playing the drums, Emergency Management writing and consulting, and once a year acting Shakespeare.

All In, the Family

"Rebellious subjects. Enemies to peace..." So begins the lines of the Prince of Verona (aka PoV, or Prince E) in the Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet. And we are all in.

Taylor is playing Balthazzar, Miles I recall is playing Abram, Jode will help with costumes, and I'm PoV. Actually, it's a split part, so you'll have to come and see it to see how it works out. Prince and Princess in some regards. Sam Cass and I in the role. So yesterday I started memorizing the lines, although rehearsal is months away. I'm looking forward to the exercises that the director puts us through before rehearsals. It's a great bonding time with the stage, our space, and mostly each other. I'm so excited about this!

Read any good books lately? I have. Just finished Simon Winchester's book about the earthquake in San Francisco in 1906, titled A Crack In The Edge Of The World. It's a brief geology education meshed with history of when geology and San Francisco met. Very well done. I liken Winchester to Bryson, except not as funny. They both do marvelous jobs of weaving together what seem like disparate strands of thought into a picture that both entertains and educates. Bryson just has more humor to add to it, and when I saw Bryson in Seattle last year, he sounds just like he writes. I wondered if Bryson morphed into the way he writes. I'm also reading Jefferson's writings, at least the Library of America's collection of them. He's got some rather forward looking ideas. I also notice that some issues, like global commercial trade, is rather old. And the protection of said industries from other countries, through tariffs and duties and regulations. The more things change....

Taylor is still gardening, and I really like the work he does. I spent a day working with him last year, in the rain. He's got great ideas and he's he a hard worker. Gardening is not unlike building a house, or remodeling one. One has to do a little demo at times to make way for new construction, be they walls or planting sites, or decorations for the garden. Taylor is reading Romeo and Juliet.

Miles is on his way home from Thailand this week. He lands here in Seattle Friday morning. Then he gets to discover a new direction in life, that so far as I know, is unknown at this time. His time there was mostly incommunicado as they are rather remote where he is. Since he's volunteering, he had to find a cafe that had pay-as-you-go WIFI to be able to communicate, at least for the first month. Then it was the time difference. He gets on-line when we're asleep. I don't think Miles is reading anything right now, but that's a guess.

Jode is still running the retail shop at Bayview Farm & Garden, as they expand their operation. They will be moving toward more of a beginning to end place, meaning they will be starting their own plants, rather than counting on wholesalers to do that for them. She also house sits a bit, as she is now, and still is re-adjusting our domicile for the return of Miles. Between her own gardens, and work, she's a busy gal. I don't remember what she's reading at the moment. She's like me in that she has a lot of books around her. I usually have two or more going at the same time, and although Jode has a lot of them nearby, I don't think she reads more than one at a time.

I'm still bending nails for now. Or tearing them apart, as of late. A little demo to make way. Still writing, still practicing the drums, and although things seem the same, they are changing more and more....