Fitting in

This editorial appeared in the Issaquah Press. The story about Nome was modified for a family paper in case you heard it another way.

 

Being new to the community, I wonder how to blend in and be thought an old timer or at least a regular. I have discovered that how one does this varies among geographic areas of the country.

In Alaska, you were either a chechako (newcomer)or a sourdough (old timer). How you made the transition depended on who you asked. Most of the explanations are rooted in old Alaska before the advent of modern roads and air travel. Some say you had to have missed the last boat out at least once, which meant you had been there through at least one winter. Others say you had to have relieved yourself in the Yukon River.

And then there was the fellow who walked into a bar in Nome, located in treeless, tundra and asked how to become a sourdough. He was told he had to drink a fifth of whisky, hug a tree and kill a polar bear.

He unwisely drank the fifth of whisky first and headed out the door. He stumbled back into the bar a couple of hours later all bloody and torn up and asked, “now where is that tree I’m supposed to shoot?”

I related this story to an old timer in Mt. View, Arkansas, which is so deep in the Ozarks they don’t get Grand Ole Opry until Wednesday night.  We were listening to mountain music in the courthouse square. Every evening, the hill folk come to town with their guitars, auto harps, bass fiddles, mandolins, or dulcimers, form little musical groups around the square and entertain the folks. I asked the old timer how I could become the Ozark equivalent of a sourdough.

“Well,” he drawled, “you could live here 80 years and you’d still be an outsider, though it might help a little if you were a 33^rd degree Mason.”

So, what does it take to become the Issaquah equivalent of a sourdough?

You might be an Issaquah old timer if you can order at Starbucks without the barista saying “what!”

You might be an Issaquah old timer if you have renewed your Costco card at least once.

You might be an Issaquah old timer if you no longer use an umbrella.

You might be an Issaquah old timer if you prefer roundabouts to four-way stops.

You might be an Issaquah old timer if you no longer stop before entering a roundabout.

You might be an Issaquah old timer if you leave your GPS at home.

You might be an Issaquah old timer if you go on more than six hikes a year.

You are an Issaquah old timer if you went to school with Rob Pickering.

Raod less travelled

This editorial was published in the Issaquah Press

 

 

I wonder where that road goes? With that question, I am off on another of Robert Frost’s roads less taken, as I explore Issaquah, my new home. With the scarcity of streets laid out in grids, discovery is the best way to learn my way around, especially being map challenged.

Sometimes, I leave the house on my motorcycle with my only intent being to take the next right turn or the next left turn.  The most amazing find on these serendipitous trips has been the frequency with which roads lead to a trailhead or series of trailheads.

Too many years too late, I realize I am in a hiker’s paradise.

Shall I park the bike and see where that trail goes? There is a pull to do it, but having had both legs run over by a car a few years back and an aging hip declaring it is time for a replacement, I turn the bike around and look for new roads to explore.

While I ride, I think. I see Issaquah as the antidote to a serious issue raised by the naturalist and author Richard Louv in his book “Last Child in the Woods.” Louv coins a phrase he calls “nature deficit disorder.”  He claims that in a high tech environment, kids need exposure to nature if they are going to develop normally.

When I think about this, I think about the many boyhood hours I whiled away playing in the woods of Roslyn.  Our house was on the edge of town, and it was out the back door, across and alley, and into the woods. It was my brothers’ and my unrestricted playground. I followed it with 30 years of Alaskan out-of-doors and 20 years of Arkansas, the self-proclaimed “natural state.”

At the age of 70, I still like to pitch a tent in the woods around Salmon La Sac, sit in a chair, watch the night sky chase the daylight away and marvel at the “starry, starry sky.” In early morning, I brew a cup of coffee, heat up a Cup-O-Noodles for breakfast and watch the daylight now dispatch the darkness. It is an experience every child should have occasionally, as it is a terrific balance to the touch screen existence they live.

You may not be able to take the kids on an overnighter, but many trails around Issaquah provide a great way to let the kids experience the work of a Creator rather than always the work of the creature. So, pack a lunch, load the kids in the car, find a trailhead, and don’t forget the Discover Pass, a real bargain at $30.

Go for the gun

 

     The policy of the National Rifle Association to oppose all gun legislation, even legislation that seems to just be common sense, such as a restriction on the number of bullets a clip can hold, baffles some people and makes the NRA appear unreasonably recalcitrant.

    I am not an NRA member or a big gun enthusiast, though I do own a single shot 20 gauge shot gun and an antique, pump action .22 rifle, neither of which I have shot in years.

I think the key to understanding the NRA’s policy is found in the ancient fable of the camel’s nose under the tent. Google it and you will find several versions of the story. It is one I often read to my son when he was a little boy.

    It seems Abdul was crossing the dessert, had pitched his tent and was settled in for the night, Abdul in his tent and the camel outside.

    Soon he heard the camel complain of the chilly night wind and ask if he couldn’t just stick his nose in the tent. Permission was granted, and soon the camel complained that the wind was blowing sand in his eyes and couldn’t he just stick his whole head in the tent.

    By the time the night had passed, the whole camel was in the tent and Abdul was outside shivering in the chilly wind.

    The NRA is afraid the antigun lobby has an agenda that will lead to outlawing private gun ownership, and the way they intend to get there is incrementally, one small piece of legislation at a time, just as the camel got into the tent.

    The truth of this was born out in a recent piece of antigun legislation introduce in the current session of the Washington State legislature. A part of the legislation would allow law enforcement officers to come into every house once a year without a warrant to ensure that all guns were properly secured.

    When this came to light, the three legislators who had introduced the bill claimed they had no idea that that element was there. It appears their claim was probably true. Apparently, many bills are written by lobbyists and think tanks and sent to legislators as boiler plate bills which they in turn submit because they favor the subject of the bill. That doesn’t mean they have read the details.

    This bill was written by an antigun lobby and they, like the camel, were asking for more than just putting a head into the tent. By including the part about law enforcement entering a private residence annually without a warrant, they revealed more of their ultimate intentions than they should have this early in the game. Since this is boilerplate material going to politicians across the nation, it could be coming to your state legislature too.

    The NRA is justified in their policy to oppose any gun legislation, especially since there is no evidence that any antigun legislation has ever had any real effect in reducing gun violence. Such legislation simply allows politicians to appear like they are doing something and makes some of their constituents feel good because “something” is being done. And it allows the antigun crowd to incrementally move toward their ultimate goal of outlawing private ownership of guns.

 

I'm Not Guilty This Time

               There seems to be an effort among some of the politically correct crowd to make those of us who are white feel guilty about having stolen this country from the American Indians and for having prospered on the backs of black slaves.  In that I did not have much choice over where I was born or the race of the womb from which I came, I refuse to feel guilty.  
              World history teaches that when people cannot defend their territory against invaders, they lose it.  When we don’t defend our territory against invaders, we too will lose it. The invasion does not have to always be military. The Western Europeans who established themselves in this country could well lose their territory to immigrants of color, without a shot being fired.  However, the peoples of color coming into this country come from many backgrounds and have no unifying culture: they are extremely diverse.  Each group has its own prejudices and racist tendencies (racism is not solely the property of white Anglo Saxons).  Because of this, minority rule, be it of one minority or a coalition of minorities, will bring with it a time of chaos and strife.
             Over the years, liberal journalists Juan Williams and Leonard Pitts, along with the many injustices reported in the news, have awakened in me an empathy for the prejudices blacks have to deal with in this country.  However, all prejudices are not race related and lucky is the person who never encounters any.  
            When I decided to leave the pastorate and return to secular work, I went to see my friend who owned a large, successful Alaskan employment agency. He told me when he would tell a prospective employers I was a clergyman, they wouldn’t even grant me an interview. Another friend who was an executive head hunter told me the two hardest people to place were ex-preachers and ex-school teachers.  This would seem a little strange to my friends in Arkansas, where ministers are respected, but not to my friends in Alaska or Washington.  I also lost out on a very desirable job once because of my lack of interest in sports.  And, we all know there is a prejudice against older people when it comes to employment. 

           In spite of all this, I have managed always to find employment when I wanted to, including a major career shift at the age of 50 and new jobs even at the age of 70.  To be sure, they weren’t the same jobs I might have been able to land when I was young and had no history as a pastor or school teacher, but they were there to be found in spite of prevailing prejudices, and there are no affirmative action programs for these prejudices.
              Knowing we live in a world of prejudices, we have to be smarter than those who would victimize us. My son told me of a black co-worker whose father made it a point to name his kids common names such as John or James and taught them to speak standard, unaccented American English.  He said his father did not want his children ruled out by prejudice before they even had a chance to meet a future employer and speak for themselves in person.  It makes sense.
              A friend who was a building contractor back in the 70s when long hair on men was not acceptable, told how a young man with long hair came on his job site looking for work. He didn’t have any work for the young man but took a few minutes to talk to him. The fellow had a wife and baby and needed work badly.  He said he knew why no one would hire him. “It’s because of my long hair,” he said. We live in a prejudicial world, so don’t’ add prejudices which you can avoid to those you can’t do much about.  This includes visible tattoos, random body piercing and many of the other things young people seem so fascinated with.  If you are going to look like Dennis Rodman, you had better be a real good basketball player, but don’t expect to avoid prevailing prejudices when it comes to your own employment.
              I grew up in a poor family, like many blacks, Hispanics, etc.  To my knowledge, my ancestors did not own slaves, and this is the best any of us can say, since the institution of slavery spans all nationalities, civilizations, races and times.  Any of our ancestors could have owned slaves, though they probably didn’t.  Even if they did, we don’t hold children responsible for the sins of their fathers. The economic wealth of this country was also built on the backs of underpaid coal miners, of which my father was one.  That does not mean the grandchildren of the owners of Northwest Mining Company owe me anything.
               I see no reason why I should expect anything from people of other races or that they should expect anything from me, other than good will.  Those blacks who are living today were not slaves, nor was I a slave owner.  The poor black and I both started poor.  We owe each other nothing except to be fair one with the other.
                As to the American Indians, they can rise up and reclaim their territory, or they can study history to find out what others did when they lost their territory.  Yes, in some ways, we have grossly abused the American Indians.  I still remember how mad and ashamed I got when reading Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, because of the injustices dealt native Americans.  However, compared to what happened to most captive peoples throughout history, the European invaders have treated them quite well and continue to do so.
                Recently I saw one of those bumper stickers which said, “Free Tibet.”  Lots of luck. The Tibetans could not hold their territory against the invading Chinese. They can either attempt to reclaim it, learn to get along with the invaders, or wait for some super power to run the Chinese out and return their territory to them. The Dali Lama can meditate until he dies or try to channel Crazy Horse for advice, but the invaders are there to stay. 
               The Mexicans have a better chance of retaking California and parts of Texas than either the American Indians or the Tibetans have of retaking their territory, and the Mexicans’ chances aren’t very good.  Take Israel for example: Even with pressure from the United Nations and the international community, the West Bank is still occupied by Israel and has been since they took it in the Six Day War in 1967.  World bullies might force Israel’s hand someday to give the land back, but it won’t be because the native inhabitants retook the territory.
                Even if the United States were forced to cede its territory to some superpower, the invaders would not give it back to the American Indians nor would they grant reparations to the heirs of black slaves.
                When you cede your territory to the invaders, you lose control of it until the invaders become too weak to maintain it, as in the recent history of Russia and its satellite nations, which comprised the former Soviet Union.

Road Less Travelled

I wonder where that road goes? With that question, I am off on another of Robert Frost’s roads less taken, as I explore Issaquah, my new home. With the scarcity of streets laid out in grids, discovery is the best way to learn my way around, especially being map challenged.

Sometimes, I leave the house on my motorcycle with my only intent being to take the next right turn or the next left turn.  The most amazing find on these serendipitous trips has been the frequency with which roads lead to a trailhead or series of trailheads.

Too many years too late, I realize I am in a hiker’s paradise.

Shall I park the bike and see where that trail goes? There is a pull to do it, but having had both legs run over by a car a few years back and an aging hip declaring it is time for a replacement, I turn the bike around and look for new roads to explore.

While I ride, I think. I see Issaquah as the antidote to a serious issue raised by the naturalist and author Richard Louv in his book “Last Child in the Woods.” Louv coins a phrase he calls “nature deficit disorder.”  He claims that in a high tech environment, kids need exposure to nature if they are going to develop normally.

When I think about this, I think about the many boyhood hours I whiled away playing in the woods of Roslyn.  Our house was on the edge of town, and it was out the back door, across and alley, and into the woods. It was my brothers’ and my unrestricted playground. I followed it with 30 years of Alaskan out-of-doors and 20 years of Arkansas, the self-proclaimed “natural state.”

At the age of 70, I still like to pitch a tent in the woods around Salmon La Sac, sit in a chair, watch the night sky chase the daylight away and marvel at the “starry, starry sky.” In early morning, I brew a cup of coffee, heat up a Cup Noodles for breakfast and watch the daylight now dispatch the darkness. It is an experience every child should have occasionally, as it is a terrific balance to the touch screen existence they live.

You may not be able to take the kids on an overnighter, but many trails around Issaquah provide a great way to let the kids experience the work of a Creator rather than always the work of the creature. So, pack a lunch, load the kids in the car, find a trailhead, and don’t forget the Discover Pass, a real bargain at $30.