Treason and Sedition

Do you remember back when (2 days ago), you were horrified by Trump’s threatening phone call to Georgia’s Secretary of State? 

Yesterday, Trump effectively said: “You think that’s bad?  Hold my beer.”

I woke up early today, and unfortunately, he is still in office, still tweeting (via a staffer’s account), saying that there will be a “peaceful transition”.  Too late. Four people are dead, many wounded, (including our republic).  Hundreds of people were allowed to breach the Capitol, the temple of Democracy. Hundreds of MAGA-hat wearing, fur-bearing, Confederate flag-waving, cloven-hooved non-patriots were allowed to literally smash the windows and doors of the most sacred symbol of our country and ransack its rooms.

You can’t look at images of BLM protestors being met with tear gas and rubber bullets, with violence and bloodshed and arrest juxtaposed with those of Capitol police opening the gates and allowing domestic terrorists to break into the building and tell me that systemic racism doesn’t exist. If it had been another demonstration (say, in a park across from where the President wanted to hold up a Bible), it would have been an entirely different outcome. Nobody tweeted to the BLM protestors that they were “very special” or “we know how you feel” or “we love you”. No, they were treated very differently.

Law enforcement in DC should have seen this coming.  Trump knew exactly what he was doing. He’s been working his base up into a frenzy since the election. Yesterday, he commanded his supporters to storm the Capitol.

I’m disgusted. And disappointed. And sickened that he is still in office after the tragic and terrifying events of yesterday. He did a tremendous amount of damage to our country in less than twenty-four hours. Imagine how much he can still do between now and January 20.

Family Is Everything

I went on a walk today with Phoebe and baby Rally. Not a long walk; just up St. Ann’s Avenue, up the hill to Fifth Street and down again to C Street and home. Phoebe had Rally in the backpack and she fell asleep, but not before watching Niyaa chase a little squirrel up a tree and admiring the geese our neighbors have in a pond.

Phoebe and I ran into friends and chatted a bit. And she and I talked about nothing in particular, but it was so nice to just be together.  I’ve appreciated this time of family togetherness so much.

Odin left to go back to work this morning, flying to Anchorage and then driving to his job in Glenallen. Phoebe and Rally are staying until Thursday. 

We’ve had almost a month of pandemonium, lots of cooking of family meals, fish catching and processing, unsuccessful hunting trips, socially distanced visits with friends, poker games, Scrabble, inevitable squabbles and lots of laughs.

I’m going to miss them when they return to Fairbanks. 

What Now?

How many of you remember the avalanche in April 2008 that took out the Snettisham power supply? Juneau and Douglas residents had to drastically reduce their power consumption.

I was thinking today about that time. Everyone, private citizens, government offices, churches, private companies, all worked together to drop the amount of electricity we used. The power company had to raise their rates to pay for the diesel that was fueling the generators that we’re providing our power.

This time we’re living in, this pandemic,  is similar in that we are expected to work together to flatten the curve and reduce the spread of the virus.

Unfortunately, it has become an opportunity for people to become even more polarized than we were before the pandemic (if you can believe that it is possible).

Wearing a mask or refusing to has become a political statement. Insisting that things go back to normal or that we continue the measures that helped prevent further infection, illness and death have resulted in protests and civil unrest, arguments and ad hominem attacks against those with whom we disagree on social media.

There are very few people left (if any) who remember the Influenza epidemic of 1918. I remember my mother, who was 7 years old during the epidemic, describing the impact it had on her town and nearby towns in northern New Mexico.  I remember her talking about a diphtheria outbreak that took the life of her baby brother. And finally, I remember her talking about her terror every summer when polio would break out when my older brothers and sisters were young.

Thankfully, we have vaccines against diphtheria, polio, and most strains of influenza.

COVID-19 is a brand new disease. There is no vaccine, and no cure. The only thing that medical providers can do is treat the symptoms and hope the people who are afflicted recover.

When the Snettisham avalanche took out the power lines, we had a tentative date when they would be repaired.  In our current situation, there doesn’t appear to be an end in sight. In fact, there are predictions that things could get even worse.

In addition to the threat of disease hanging over our heads, we are also experiencing a cataclysmic economic downturn. Juneau will lose millions of dollars in revenue due to the cancellation of the tourist season.

So, how do we cope? What do we do?

I wish I had an answer, but I don’t.

But, maybe, if we really try to pull together like we did in 2008, that would help. I see individuals helping by sewing masks. I see breweries and distilleries making hand sanitizer. I see businesses completely changing their business models and switching to manufacturing personal protective equipment. I see folks taking food to health care providers and making donations to local nonprofit agencies.

Maybe, curbing our anger against those who disagree with us might help? I’m as guilty as anyone of name calling and blaming.

Eventually, this crisis will end. Until that time, maybe we can try to (as author Heather Lende says) find the good.

Points North: Bethel, Anchorage and Fairbanks

On  September 25, Charles and I flew to Bethel, Alaska to facilitate a retreat for the Yup’ik deacons and their wives. Bethel is a really different place from any other place in Alaska where I’ve traveled. Nine years ago Charles and I went to St. Mary’s, Alaska to facilitate a retreat for this same group. 

The diocese of Fairbanks has a program where they train and ordain Yup’ik deacons to serve in the villages in Western Alaska. These men are dedicated to providing pastoral counseling, the sacraments of Baptism and Marriage and Services of the Word and Eucharist to the the Catholic people in their villages.  Bethel is located in the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta (the delta at the mouth of the Yukon and Kuskokwim Rivers) so therefore it’s a very flat and interlaced with ponds, lakes and tributaries. There used to be very little vegetation and no trees in Bethel in the past, so much so that the one tree had a sign next to it that said “Bethel National Forest”! However we found that a lot of willow and alder have grown up quite a bit, which has really changed the the area. It has affected the permafrost and actually is starting to attract more caribou and larger animals to the area. 

The retreat that we facilitated was a study using Lectio Divina, a meditation on the words and rituals of the rites of marriage, baptism and the funeral rites and prayers for the dying and Viaticum (Eucharist before dying). 

Charles and I took turns reflecting all these various rites and rituals with the deacons and their wives and asked
them to share their own personal experiences of serving 
in their individual villages. 

I had the opportunity to get together with the wives separately at the end of the retreat and we were able to discuss the difficulties and challenges of being the wife of a deacon in a small Western Alaska village, where everybody knows your family, your history, and your children. We talked about how difficult it is to to be such a public person in such a small place and that everyone in the village knows your business. We also talked about the joys in being the wife of a deacon and being part of a couple that is so public and that ministers to the people and participating in the lives of the people of the village and in both their joys and sorrows. We had an opportunity to sit together and to work on a craft while we talked.  We made wire beaded barrettes for them to take home with them.  We all found that it’s easier to talk about difficult 

subjects when you are you sitting around the kitchen table with other women working with your hands. 

While we didn’t have time to see much of the town,  we did meet some wonderful people! Jesuit Fr. Mark lives in Bethel and ministers to the villages in the Delta, and his housemate Fr. Rich is the pastor of the parish in Bethel. Sister Kathy  flew in from Saint Mary’s along with her assistant Marian to help coordinate and to provide meals.

We had a wonderful time and I really enjoyed getting to know the retreatants!

On the evening of September 29th we flew to Anchorage, spent the night, and spent Monday visiting with friends in Anchorage. That evening we flew to Fairbanks to visit Phoebe and Odin. We were very fortunate to be able to stay at Odin’s mom’s house and to borrow her car, since she was out of town.

Phoebe was working on Tuesday, Wednesday and 

Thursday, so we had the opportunity to drive around 
Fairbanks and get more of a sense of the area, which is 
VERY spread out! Phoebe and Odin live in a dry cabin 
(no bathroom or laundry), except they do have running 
water in the kitchen.  On Friday, Phoebe had the day off, so we drove (and drove, and drove) way far away to the farm of her friends Anni and Justin to pick up nine (!) bags of baby clothes for Phoebe and Odin’s baby, which is due November 27!  The farm is up a very long, very steep, very dark, very muddy road, and my heart was in my throat the whole time driving up (and down), especially because the car we were in was missing a headlight. But we had a lovely visit and a great dinner of ground pork sliders (from their own pigs), carrot slaw and stir fried vegetables. On the way back, we encountered dense fog (not fun with only one headlight!) for which you can’t use your high beams. Needless to 
say, by the time we got back to town I was an anxious wreck (the problem with having an anxiety disorder and 
a being a control freak is that I can’t control everything, 
including the weather)!

The next evening we had dinner with Phoebe and Odin
 and their (and our) lovely friends Dave and Norma. Salmon, halibut, chicken, pasta and salad made a great meal! We also feasted on dried smoked salmon from Bethel, given to us by Helena, one of the deacon’s wives. 

The next morning we left for home, sad to say goodbye to Phoebe and Odin, but looking forward to our next trip to meet our new grandchild!

Here are some photos from our trip.

The parish church in Bethel



Me and Jane

Me and Winnie

Bethel

Beautiful Downtown Fairbanks

 

Phoebe showed us the work of her artists at the FRA

Several of her artists won awards at a juried show that weekend!

De-icing the wings before we depart

Screen Time

Facebook has been both a blessing and a curse for me. The downside is that I spend an inordinate amount of time on my phone, reading others’ post and comments on their posts and comments on their comments, etc, ad nauseum.  So much so that I will find myself, hours later, still on the couch, dog draped around me, surrounded by empty coffee cups and Diet Coke cans, blinkingly awakening as from some sort of self created vegetative state with the dishes undone, pansies still unplanted, walks untaken, and real life unlived.

On the upside, Facebook has also brought me new friends, renewed relationships, new ideas, new resources and lots of laughter.

For example: I now have two new in-real-life friends, heart sisters that I never would have known otherwise if it hadn’t been for social media. 

One, Allison, came to visit me, sight unseen, with her son Lucas a couple of summers ago. We immediately clicked. She returned last summer with her family to attend my son’s wedding. Another, Fran, came up at my invitation to facilitate a retreat for our parish women’s group. Again, as with Allison, there was an instant rapport and a feeling that we had known each other for years.

That being said, however, I know that I need to find a balance between my on-line life and the life around me.

I plan to attempt to accomplish this by limiting my screen time and increasing my here and now time, in small but increasing increments, one hour at a time. Before checking Facebook, I’ll take a walk around the block, for example. Before looking at Instagram, I’ll do the dishes, etc.

Those who know me are aware that self-discipline is not one of my strengths, but I can only try.

By the way: If you do see me on social media, please don’t reprimand me. It only makes me cranky (like when I’m trying to watch my carb intake and someone asks me if I really NEED that donut). 

Humility

I used to have a beautiful singing voice. I performed at the Alaska Folk Festival many times, with different bands, and as a solo act. Over the years I was in the chorus of several musical theatre productions, and have participated in many choral performances. I led the music at Mass for over twenty-five years at the Cathedral and at other parishes before I moved to Juneau.

I was proud of my voice, proud of my talent. I could hit the high notes and really belt out a song in my youth and up until a few years ago, thought that I would never lose my ability to sing.

But, then, it became more difficult to hit even moderately high pitches. My voice began to give out and I now find myself dropping an octave when singing in the congregation at Mass.

This week, I have been participating in a Gospel workshop (as an alto, not a soprano!) where the choir, led the the amazing Rev. Bobby Lewis,  learns several beautiful songs in preparation for a concert this weekend. Rev. Bobby held auditions for solos in the performance tonight. We sat and listened to many singers, some nervous, some self assured, sing a variety of songs, some well, some not so good, but all of them were applauded for trying. I decided to try. I sang the chorus of a song I must have sung at least 100 times: “Alleluia, Give The Glory”. I remember singing that song at a Diocesan Institute many years ago and blowing the roof off the place. Tonight, while it wasn’t exactly horrible, it wasn’t very good, either.

“Oh, well,” I thought, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

The last time I sang at a big Diocesan event was at our current Bishop’s ordination. Later, when I watched the video, and listened to my brief solo, I was horrified. I was off-key and strained and it sounded terrible. That’s when I decided that I would never lead the music at Mass again. Then, our regular guitarist/cantor left for awhile to go to school and I was needed to fill in at Mass. I reluctantly agreed, crossing my fingers.  It was really hard. I couldn’t sing well enough to lead, and sometimes was the only cantor. I was ashamed and embarrassed that my voice was so bad.

But our song leader came back and I was again off the hook. Breathing a huge sigh of relief, I went back to being a part of the congregation.

Now, I find myself needing to fill in again during Lent. Again, I am finding myself reluctant to do so, knowing that my voice is not good. However, I have decided to turn this into a Lenten observance. I’m going to try to be prayerful about choosing the music and leading the assembly during Lent.

Because, I have discovered that it can be just as distracting to the assembly to be too good a singer as it can be to be too bad of one.

Because all those years of singing so beautifully gave me a bit of a big head.

Because it’s not supposed to be about me.

It never was.

Always With Us

For the past year, our parish has been participating in a ministry that provides temporary housing to homeless families.  Through this program, 13 Juneau families have found permanent housing and employment. The families stay in our parish center three times a year for a week. Volunteer parishioners provide meals and host in the evenings and also provide overnight supervision. Recently Charles and I volunteered to prepare a meal of hot soup, bread and cookies.

We showed up with the food at 5:30. Charles had to preach at Mass, so I set up the tables with the dishes and the serving area, put the soup in the stove to heat up, sliced the bread and got ready for the family to arrive.  When they saw what we had made, they didn’t like it and asked for something else instead.  

This hurt my feelings and made me a little angry because we had prepared this meal especially for them.  

I have to admit this was not the most fulfilling experience of volunteering that I had ever had.

On the way home, Charles  noticed that I was out of sorts. I told him it just really hadn’t gone like I thought it was supposed to. The first couple of times that we had participated in cooking for families, while they weren’t effusive in their thanks, they did seem to appreciate what we had done in cooking a meal for them. 

I told him that  it was frustrating to have prepared this  meal and have my offering looked as “second skimmings”  and to have them turn up their noses at this good food that we are prepared. 

Charles said  that Dorothy Day, famous advocate of the poor (and soon to be a saint) had written about this.  She said that often times, the poor, being powerless will, when confronted with a choice will sometimes exercise their small amount of power by choosing not to accept what is offered with gratitude.  She also said that often times being with the people that she was helping in her House of Hospitality, where she lived with the poor, serving them meals, cleaning up after them and helping them in any way that she could, all the while trying to preserve their dignity, was very difficult. They were dirty, sometimes they were rude, sometimes  they were exhibiting symptoms of mental illness or alcohol addiction or drug abuse. And sometimes they just were people with unpleasant personalities. In my previous job working at a homeless clinic, I dealt with the homeless poor (mostly men) every single day and they were (with a few exceptions) always very grateful for everything that we did for them and were often effusive in their thanks. And of course that made me feel good knowing that I was doing something to help them. 

Jesus taught us that the poor will always be with us and that our job is to help them. Dorothy Day said that we must see the poor as Christ, in his most distressing disguise. Jesus didn’t say when you do something for the poor they will be grateful for your help. Sometimes they will be smelly,  dirty, obstreperous and obnoxious. But as we were instructed by Mother Teresa, we are to love them anyway. 

This was a difficult lesson for me to hear from Charles, Dorothy Day and  Mother Teresa,  and come to think of it, Jesus. But someone once said that we don’t help the poor because they are Christians, we help the poor because WE are Christians. And we should do it unconditionally without expectation of any thanks, acknowledgement or gratitude. This was  Very Hard Lesson indeed.  

Poverty is ugly, but my attitude was uglier.

“It is only for your love alone that the poor will forgive you the bread you give to them.”

St. Vincent de Paul