Good Samaritans

       Oh America.  I’ve never in my life hated the mix of people here.

Here’s an odd and funny 9-11-2013 experience I had. . .

I think I mentioned that the Miata’s front bumper had popped loose and was kind of dangling, and I went into the shop down the block and asked them to look and the mechanic, one of two brothers who run the place, fixed it with a twistie baggie tie.  It’s held good as new for months! I was delighted, they wouldn’t take a cent.  I have to get the Miata smogged this month and was thinking well I’ll go back in there for it and give them some proper business.

Barbara’s Miata

[after being vandalized w/ a rock]

Over the past couple of days they’ve had a cyclone fence with signs erected around their gas station. They only do mechanic work and they never sold gas.  However, the gas tanks are being dug out of the ground. I suspect there’s some idiot California law that you can’t have an empty tank or hazard hysteria something. 

Well I saw them out this morning when I drove by, putting up tiny signs every couple of feet that declared, OPEN!! and you could hardly read them. I drove in and said, Hey…you need a sign! Give me a couple of hours. So I went to the gallery and made them one, painted a big piece of wood I had white, and blue letters, OPEN FOR BUSINESS, then AUTO. REPAIR. SMOG. and painted a nice picture of a pick-up truck on the bottom. I’d been working all morning on the blog and swept up in 9-11 reports and feelings. I brought the sign over to them. They loved it, they were so pleased and excited, I found the brother who fixed my bumper and put out my hand and shook his and said, Now we’re even.  It was lovely.  Happy moment.

Here’s the interesting thing, they’re a family of Sikhs. Turbans, beards and all. But flying a good-sized American flag on the wall outside their bays. Sweet guys.

Oh America.  I’ve never in my life hated the mix of people here, it was always what totally thrilled me about New York.  I’ve loved that exposure to a zillion cultures, food and smells and styles so different from my own experience.  I figure if you’ve lived any length of life or been anywhere or seen anything else you get an idea of how precious if imperfect this country is.  People hating America bothers me. I find it beyond understanding.

I’m really glad I told you about the experience I had with the Sikh garage mechanics, because Chapter Two unfolded today.

From the easel in the back of my gallery I saw one of the Sikhs walk by and halooed.  I went out, he had come to see Moses next door, who’s his friend; Moses was closed today. 

He said it’s slow, he’s been walking around the neighborhood visiting his neighbors. The Pizza guy, the restaurant guy.

I invited him in to see my work.  He thanked me again for the sign and said it was unusual for people to do things like that for each other. And that it had helped to bring him business. And could he have cards from me because people ask about the sign and really like the truck I painted on it.

I said, Well you fixed my bumper! and it was a great opportunity that I could repay you with the sign.

In fact another (professional) local sign maker did a big Open For Business sign for them too! What a neighborhood.  They’re having the old gas tanks removed from the ground, major dig, because California charges them $7,000 a year just to have them unused in the ground!!

I said, I have to get the car smogged later this month and I’ll come to your place and give you some real business.

Oh, I’ll do that now.  No charge.

Well, I looked at him: No you can’t do that.

Yes, I can.

No, it’s too much.

No, it’s not.  You brought us business.

I was almost in tears by now because this and the coming registration due in a week were weighing heavily on me.  I mean it has been slow. But I got him the paperwork and handed him the key and thanked him profusely and off he drove.

My God.  Imagine.

He drove back a bit later and said the car passed smog but it was close because it was a little smoky but it’s okay, and handed me the paperwork marked N/C.

Then he said, And by the way your rear brakes are shot but I didn’t know if you needed the car right away, if you have time I’ll do the brakes.

You can’t do that!

Yes, I can. No trouble no charge, don’t worry.  I want to do it.

That’s too much.

No no you brought us business.

But then tell me how much it costs so I can at least repay you at the end of the month.

Well it’s about 89 dollars for parts, but don’t worry, it’s not a problem.

(He was very firm and serious about this, that it really was okay by him.)

Would you like a painting? Is there a painting here you’d like?

I’m really floored by what’s been said, had no idea the brakes weren’t good but suspected so, and just so touched by all this and he’d admired my art work.

I’ll bring my wife back, she will pick a painting.

I don’t know if there’s enough gas in the car to even get you back! (I’m driving on fumes and a prayer.)

It’s okay, he said. I put gas in the tank. (Me–near a faint!).

All of this was pretty transporting and I’m not sure what happened next but I guess I gave him the key back again and off he went.  He returned at ten after 5 with everything fixed.

Promised to come back with his wife for a painting.

Oh John.  Such goodness in people.  All started with a baggie tie on my bumper, no charge.  A sign to help their business, no charge. The rest is history.

What a day.

Rescue Dogs of 9-11 (Updated)

We recently observed yet another anniversary of the September 11^th terrorist attacks, and a previous post by Barbara on 9-11 rescue dogs received a spike of over 200 views.

Barbara knew one of the handlers, and it seems appropriate now, five years later, to re-post her blog.

Lest we forget ~~  THE RESCUE DOGS of 9-11

A rescue dog is transported out of the debris of the World Trade Center, September 15, 2001.  (REUTERS/HO/U.S. Navy Photo by Journalist 1st Class Preston Keres)

“The last surviving 9/11 Search & Rescue Dog has died. Porkchop was only one year old when he heroically aided the search at Ground Zero. After the World Trade Center attacks, 13 Search Dog Foundation teams were deployed by the Federal Emergency Management Agency to help search for survivors. These teams offered hope in a world that felt somber and hopeless.  Over the intervening dozen years, the dogs have passed away from old age.  Porkchop was the last.”

I got to meet Erick and Porkchop when I lived in Yosemite in 20002-3.

RIP Splendid hero, all the heroes, the dear departed innocent Americans.

__________

ORIGINAL COMMENT

This made me weepy. The look of tragedy in Porkchop’s eyes is almost unbearable.

BARBARA’S RESPONSE

I think it’s a kind of overwhelm and exhaustion, too, the same their humans felt. Erick said they’d rushed there like so many to rescue, and it turned out to be something very different. There were vets on hand, masseuses for animal and people, and so much love extended, endless abundant caring for precious life. Erick told me a fireman got very angry at him, and Porkchop for a lack of expertise in an arduous search for a fireman in an area they were sure he’d be found. Porkchop fixed on what looked to everyone like nothingness. Erick trusted Porkchop and insisted. The fireman (his frustration understandable) shouted at the “stupid dog”….until they realized the confusing mass of steel and cloth had indeed contained the twisted body of their friend. The emotional toll on the rescuers, and their ability to come through it years later, is heroic in itself. And the dogs were fearless and always ready. Darling Porkchop, yes, what a face, what a look, saying everything.

ORIGINAL COMMENT

I managed to get thru the whole day without crying … Until I read this.

BARBARA’S RESPONSE

I cried through the entire posting, I had to force myself to stop so I understand. I didn’t know until this morning that Porkchop was gone, fabulous doggie, and more about their story another time. But briefly, Erick had just gotten him, started Yosemite EMT, trained Porkchop for search and rescue in Yosemite for its lost hikers, and 9-11 happened. When Erick heard they were in his car headed for NYC in 24 hours, people buying his gas on the way, paying for his meals the minute they knew…what a country united. The handlers were all so worried about the health of the search dogs but none were affected. Erick stopped at Cabella’s along the way. First they said, Sorry mister no dogs allowed. Then he told them his destination, the owner appeared, he GAVE Erick and Porkchop 300 pair of doggy booties for the 9-11 dogs, which they needed badly. God Bless America that today we passed unscathed by hateful savages.

 

 

Neil Armstrong’s Second Welcome

One small step for a man, One giant leap for mankind

Thanks, Neil Armstrong, for the thrill to our hearts that will never end. You’ve changed the look of the moon in every living creature for eternity. Nice job.

From Joel Shurkin, The Slate,

“Armstrong died last week at 82. Buzz Aldrin, who went with him to the surface, and Michael Collins, who circled above them in the Apollo command module, are still alive. We sent a total of 24 men to the moon, and 12 of them walked on the surface. One of them, Alan Shepard, even played golf up there. All the other living moon-walkers are now in their 70s or 80s. If anyone ever goes back, I’ll be long gone. Ten years from now there likely will be no one alive who walked on another world. I find that lamentable.”

Lights are on but nobody’s in the House

I just misread a headline on the Drudge Report. It looked as if, first glance, someone managed to get legislation before congress in a brand new way.

Well it set me thinking. We are living in a particularly peculiar twilight zone of governing bodies in which bills are passed before they’re read because they’re too confusing to read…and it’s bragged about. At the very same time the treasury is declared empty, billions are spent on unauthorized wars, bailouts continue fast and furious, contracts for American goods handed to foreign manufacturers further drain an unemployed nation, and gifts out the wazoo continue for political allies, for Michelle’s shopping sprees, entourage-rich vacations, and french fries. The lights are on but nobody’s in the House.

Then there’s the cyberworld, replete with geniuses who manage the mystical. It’s been decades since Spielberg got Forrest Gump chatting up LBJ and JFK, anything’s possible.

Suppose someone made a virtual politician, let’s call him Congressman F.S. Foggybottom. (The initials are for Free Spender to make him universally adorable). Clearly you don’t have to be in Washington to conduct business and FSF is a conscientious homebody. Let’s locate him in, oh I don’t know, North Dakota. Except for the Coen Brother’s Fargo, I don’t think about North Dakota much, do you? So it’s remote and who knows whether the state’s blue or red. FS Foggybottom will be famous for his non-allegiance and zero party affiliation.

Let’s have FS Foggybottom write some really interesting bills, in the right format of course, and plop them by emails, deliver by page, or fly via carrier pigeon to his colleagues in D.C. and get them voted on and passed. Congressman FSB will start at the gate producing fine dramatic change on behalf of the American people. And as per normal all FS Foggybottom’s laws would be passed without being read first.

The first ones, maybe called NEW LAWS FOR THE NEW AMERICA I’d hope to see constructed would apply to all political office holders, and be this:

1. term limits 6 months;

2. no salary (any income earned by virtue of holding office is converted to cash and dropped by low flying planes over the entire USA, wind currents providing the only favoritism);

3. no office space (turn the House into a museum and put the politicians in Airstreams along Pennsylvania Avenue with PortaPotties), and

4. the only single requirement for elective office is that you ran a company anywhere for four years and didn’t run it into the ground, period, and who cares where you were born.

We could expand from there. And by the way, this is a winning platform for anyone running for any office.

To make it work…..Suppose all you mad scientists out there who are wasting everybody’s time creating really annoying viruses put your fine brains to use on something that will constructively create the government (here there and anywhere) without actually being in it. Just like the present government except powers will be used for good, not evil.

We’re paying dearly for incompetence so it’s time to start a new world order that will actually benefit the hosting body, i.e., the electorate. Let’s work on making ourselves happy since nobody else is up for it. We’ve been miserable long enough.

America the Beautiful, long may she reinvent herself. Hoorah!

©BD Sparhawk, aka Holycowgirl of Big Sur

Happy Birthday America

The Hawks Perch, Big Sur

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMERICA     We’re 235 years old today. The spirit of revolution is never far from our hearts. Nor should the men who were the first American politicians be who pledged their “lives, their liberty, and their sacred honor” on that declaration of independence from European tyrants. We need a long hard look for a single politician today with any honor much less sacred. Americans are good in a crisis and excellent at accomplishing the impossible. In due course we’ll throw the scoundrels out, drain the DC swamp, and continue changing the world for the better by example. The past decade has been an educational intro to cultures which need getting up to speed, discovering the enlightenment of human potential, individualism, and independence. We’re still a beacon. Happy Birthday sweet land of liberty, shine on.

BIG SUR SUMMER      We really are in the most spectacular Big Sur summer, enveloped in gorgeous sunny blue-skied air. The recent short rain set all the aromas loose again, the potent bay, sweet fern and jasmine, sharp acacia, and dark rich riverbank earth. There’s a waft of salt mixed in from the ocean.

Big Sur is in a sweet pocket of sun with fog and cloud banks just to the north and the south of us.

Sold a large painting yesterday,  “Wild Bearded Iris by Riverbank”, (shown), it’s headed north above San Francisco with a wonderful couple. They didn’t say a word for a good ten minutes, walking around the gallery, looking, looking in silence, then the woman stopped in front of a painting she’d kept returning to and out of dead quiet said, “It’s beautiful! It’s so beautiful!” and I swear I saw her heart leap.

There are more pleasures with my gallery than I can sometimes count and sometimes am barely aware of. One is the joy of connecting work I’ve done with a stranger. Good day. Business coming back, roads open, campers and thrilled travelers, and the air rife with the happiness of being alive.