Oklahoma

The images coming out of tornado torn Oklahoma are powerful. They affect us all.

Along with the strune debris of homes, crumbled buildings, schools, and bodies, come the tears and fears of the living. Sometimes the emotions come in sobs, sometimes in wails of disbelief and sometimes in silence. The old cry for the loss of place and memories hoping for the strength to start again. The very young cry reliving the fear they just went through.

It is the children that get the most worry. Their security of a familiar bed or toy vanished with an ill wind that claimed so many lives. Parents do what they can to comfort the little ones, to reassure them, but the eyes always mirror a fearful heart.

Right now Oklahoma screams, you can feel it. The victims search for their lives in the puzzle of rubble and find yesterday's peace is tomorrow's uncertainty.

As we hear the stories of those in need, as we become numbed by the statistics of loss, we cannot feel secure because we have normalcy, because we have shelter or we have food, or because it didn't happen where we are at the moment. It could, for nature does not discriminate in her distribution of sporadic wrath.

Despite the difficulties, the victims in Oklahoma must know the collective healing spirit of prayer does not forget them.

The Kinship of Nature

I am thinking this morning of the simple spiritual things I often experienced.

I recently mowed the lower meadow where the grasses had grown to twelve or more inches. I’d cut it once already this spring, but its growth exceeded my human schedule what with recent spring rains and warming sunlight. It’s just another reminder that nature does not attune to me, but I must bow to it.

Mowing is a task many of us do in the maintenance of our homes and homesteads. As my machine cut the living grasses and weeds I noticed tiny clumps of Bluets and Lilly Of The Valley flowers. These magnificent clusters of delicate blossoms beautify the meadow with minute flashes of white bell flowers and four blue petals with a yellow stamen on the Bluets. They are so tiny and so beautiful. I had my blade set to four and a half inches so the flowers missed the cut.

I took my time to thank the flowers, grasses and weeds for the grace they give the greening meadow both in their long form and when I cut them short. Every once in awhile I’d get a whiff of an onion aroma as my blade sliced a patch of wild chives; there is nothing like it.

Later as I trimmed some Wisteria vines and pulled some ambient seedlings from the various house gardens, I again thought of man’s proximity and connection to nature’s constant birth and how we attempt to manipulate the natural beauty of spontaneous chaos into the patterned form of our symmetry and color.

I am reminded again and again, as I am so often, of Shakespeare’s line. “One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.” I hope your days are just as profound

From the Train

Some observations from the train. I'm on a Metro North train going into New York City. It is an hour and forty minute pleasant journey along the Hudson River. The foliage is out now so you don't get a full view of the river all the time, but there are long clear spaces to take in the river and it's life.

The river itself is 315 miles long and is not really a river below Troy, New York. It is an estuary and very tidal. The Lenape Indians called it Muhheakantuck which means the river that runs both ways.

Someone just got on the train at Beacon with an aromatic toasted onion bagel; the aroma is wonderful.

Question: Why do those who have a bad connection on a cell phone shout to see if they hear you? Loudly, “CAN YOU HEAR ME?” The entire car turned to look at this idiot.

West Point is coming up across the river. It is the oldest of the military service academies and still a magnificent fortress. It has been an army-post since 1778.

Just across the river from West Point is Constitution Marsh, a massive marshland and breeding ground for both flora and fauna of water and land. At one time it was one of the most polluted bodies of water in the world. During the Korean War there was a cadmium battery plant nearby and it discharged its toxic waste into the marsh. No modern era cleanup was even planned thinking it is better to leave the waste undisturbed and covered with a half century of silt.

There are five bridges crossing the river heading southbound into NYC from where I get on the train. The last bridge is the George Washington that connects New Jersey to Manhattan. When I first comuted into Manhattan the toll was fifty cents one way. Now it's $13.00 round trip. Now you know why I'm on the train.

The Bear Mountain Bridge has an interesting history. It was built privately by the Harriman family in 1922 under a bond issue through the Harriman banking and brokerage firm. At that time the Harriman family owned land on both sides of the river and a bridge was needed for access. Eventually it was deeded over to New York State in 1940. When it was opened in 1924 it was the longest suspension bridge span in the world.

Heading into Peekskill you can see the Indian Point nuclear power plant in Buchanan, New York. It's one of the oldest nuclear power generating stations in the country; operating since 1962 and there are continuous efforts from various groups to have it closed down.

The train is fairly full now. Lots of kids, teenagers mostly heading into the city for some experience. It's near the end of the school year and many class outings visit the United Nations as part of their educational curriculum. Their dress, for me at least was suspect; Short shorts, grubby jeans, tee shirts and halter-tops. That wasn't the way I was allowed to travel way back when.

There are patches of lingering late morning fog in the wider expanses of the Hudson. This morning it gives the river a mystical character, but boat and barge traffic brings it back to reality.

In a few moments we'll stop at Ossining, New York. It's home of the famous Sing Sing prison and the genesis of the prison phrase getting sent up the river.

As a pilot I have flown the Hudson corridor many times. Granted I was concentrating on my approach to Teterboro Airport, but I do remember the expanse of the Hudson and its service to the people of the region.

Some more observation in the future.

Republican Duplicity

I must complement my former professional Alma Mater for their professional journalism.

CBS News reported last week that republicans misquoted or significantly embellished the emails Susan Rice used on the Sunday morning talk shows following the Benghazi, Libya consulate attack.

GOP lawmakers continue to insist that the Obama administration engaged in a cover-up to insure the President’s chances of re-election.

I’ll get into a specific in a moment, but the arrogance of the alteration should offend all American citizens who value truth and fair play. It is blatantly obvious that some members of the Republican Party will lie and cheat in order to discredit anything connected to President Obama. No wonder they have a disconnect to a majority of the American people.

The GOP is so intent on winning the presidency in 2016 that they will do anything to create an anti Obama climate.

One of the leaked documents shows how the GOP added new language to include a specific reference to al-Qaeda.

The actual email read:

“The penultimate point could be abused by members to beat the State Department for not paying attention to Agency warnings.”

The GOP altered email read:

“The penultimate point is a paragraph talking about all the previous warnings provided by the Agency (CIA) about al-Qaeda’s presence and activities of al-Qaeda.”

Be the way, CBS New Major Garrett confirmed that it was a GOP source that leaked the altered emails.

This is just one example, along with the others that should undermine the weak cover-up allegations from a GOP Congress.

Shame on the Congressional GOP and congratulations to CBS News.

Voyeurism

There are many things we don’t understand, and then there are some things that belie common sense and common decency. Why, for instance, do we seem to have an endless need to be voyeurs into other people lives, and sometimes even after they are dead.

All too often the tabloids get a hold of a sordid story and publish the alleged assignations and private life of some celebrity. Love affairs, romantic trysts, who loved whom. Who cares. Voyeur is a French name for a Peeping Tom. Can writing about it or reading about it in tabloid or book be less perverse than peeping?

It is the memory of personal good and public grace left behind by the icons of society that should be remembered, not their private choices that may be altered by gossip or greed.

Do we see ourselves as better by peering into the prurient human failings of those we celebrate? Shakespeare was right. Let the sins or faults, endemic to all of us, be forever buried with our bones. Remember only the good someone does for that will honor life, not defile it.

May the understanding of personal choices be acknowledged by the eternal Source of unconditional love and not vilified by those who are rudely nosy.