Trying to get back in the saddle...

So to speak, anyway. July was not a great month for me. Shortly after getting home from my short Alaska trip I came down with a really bad case of what I call "allergy eyes." That is a drippy, gooey, itchy, burning mess where sometimes my vision is so clouded with the junk that I could not safely drive or even focus on the computer screen. That being the case, a lot of planned things did not get done, at least not yet.

I've had the full bank of allergy tests and found some of the culprits--to include two dogs on my bed which I am not sure I can do a lot about at this point--but I will start antigen injection treatments soon and also visit my ophthalmologist to see if we can find a short term fix to keep me functional until the slow desensitizing process kicks in. I'm a lot better due to some homeopathic treatments and experimenting with various drops, salves etc. but still not good. However I can use the computer, sew and most days drive. Properly thankful for that I assure you!

So now it is August and I'm plowing along through the 'dog days' of summer. It has been unusually wet this year which is a blessing as the fire danger and the drought are both greatly eased here in New Mexico and mostly in Arizona as well. Not good for weeds and grass and pollen though. California is still in dire straits and Alaska has had a  lot of fires but no more that burned out any mushers. The dozen or so impacted at Willow by the Sockeye Fire was more than enough of that though. Fire is a very scary thing.

Deirdre O'Dare has two new stories coming out. You can visit her blog, deirdredares.blogspot.com to learn more about them. Gwynn is kind of marching in place, still struggling with Jessie's Legacy--I swear, I promise that story WILL be done someday but I would not dare to guess when! And me, I'm still doing some memoir stuff and an occasional verse. I keep finding cool old pictures, really a blast from the past, and will share a couple here in a minute. It is good to be back among the seeing--sans aid of a dog--and I hope to stay that way!
More on quilts, Farmers' Market and other things shortly!

Here are some pix of that tomboy girl who grew up to be me--in all  my hats!

In Jerome at about age five; my
favorite climbing tree.

I shinnied up to the top of
the clothesline pole!

For Independence Day

A dear friend of mine has sent this out on her lists. I found it beautiful and moving and wanted to share. July 4 is a very special holiday to me, one that is dear to my heart and not just for the fireworks which I so enjoy and love! Even more precious is the history and symbolism of the day and our beautiful flag that means so much to me. My dad, husband, son and many friends have fought under it. God bless America. Although I do not support the government in all that they do, I am unabashedly patriotic. So is Julie, the author of this powerful essay. She is also a sincere animal lover and adopts Australian Cattle Dogs (Queensland Heelers) that often have health or other issues and gives them a wonderful home for however long they live. Thank you Julie for all you do!!

Our Flag and We Weep, But are Not Weak

 July 4, 2015

Our stars and stripes are an integral part of this United States of America. Their colors have meaning that has taken me more than sixty years to be inspired to explain.

Blood, sweat and tears -- both from battlefields in our own land to those far away (I think of Vietnam) -- have all been shed in defense of this land in which I was born, this land that I love.

These same vital fluids have been shed by those in combat, hand to hand or weapon to weapon, but they have also been shed by those making Victory Gardens, by those keeping the home fires burning by working in factories historically staffed by men, while men were away at war. They've been shed by the children, too, as the innocence of childhood vanished in the mists of time when peace may have kept fathers and mothers home, but would have taken the liberties so many take for granted.

I can never look upon our flag without tears stinging my eyes and a lump rising in my throat, because ... my heart can see that our flag, too, has bled, sweat and cried from the cost of freedom to which so many are oblivious. The young men that left my high school, most in the late 1960s, to 'suck it up' and put on a brave outside face (while the inside were quavering in abject terror, knowing the chances were high that a return to this beloved land might not happen), did not fathom the changes that were happening as television put a face to the "conflict in the Middle East" and watchers shrank back from their TV sets in horror. These American youth that became men overnight and lost their ideals in swamps on the other side of the world, prayed they'd make it home, little knowing that home would be unrecognizable, because there would be no ticker tape parades, no welcomes, no kindness shown. Suicides and decades of pent-up pain became the lot of many, while others that seemed to have survived and thrived, still hurt a pain on the inside that no one but a combat vet can ever know.

This flag -- that represents all Americans -- has a special significance to those that fought for us under its waving field of white stars in a blue field, and red and white stripes. Those of us that were protected can never know the costs that have been paid in order that we might breathe free air here in a country that still holds out hope for oppressed peoples worldwide.

This flag we love and honor, that is so much more than just a flag, has been folded and presented to many a grieving spouse, mother, father, or child. No, its colors don't run, but they do mean more than my puny words can convey: to me, they mean God blessed America with something that still is worth the price we yet pay to be free. Our hallowed lands -- where souls long laid to rest in graveyards or in places no one ever found -- have quiet, but soul-stirring truth to tell, about how living long in freedom may mean living short in service.

To every man and woman that ever joined the service, donned a uniform, and stepped out with brave eyes fixed on our flag, praying to him or herself that another day would come in the future when he or she would return home to enjoy the freedom that only they know the cost -- this fourth of July is Independence Day. It is, in a different way, as important as Memorial/Decoration Day and Veterans/Armistice Day. Thank you for the blood, sweat and tears you shed without shame for a land without peer anywhere else. I'm so glad you love our land this much!

Julie Kay Smithson

North to Alaska

I'll be in the air between Phoenix and Anchorage this time tomorrow. I hope to have some more news and information to share in a few days.At the least I will be home on the 30th and ready to upload pix and share whatever I have learned and experienced. This is a short planning and organizing trip only so there will not be too much relative to the book and mushers but I will get to meet with the Inditarod Trail Committee at their annual meeting on June 27th. This is exciting and a wonderful happenstance as I did not know the date when I booked my flights over a month ago. I think this may be very helpful for my project!!

I'll be in touch!

Our K9 Vets Need Our Help!!!

This came to my attention and is something I expect all of us have strong feelings about. Things have improved some but there are still a lot of military working dogs being left behind like a piece of broken gear when units move, they age out and are retired and so on. IMHO this is so totally wrong and disgusting! There are now bills in both the US Senate and House that will require all military working dogs to be brought back and retired with honor just like the men and women in our services who work with them. Let’s give our representatives a big loud shout out that this needs to be passed ASAP!! Call your congressional folks and spread the word far and wide on your blogs, tweets, FB page and every other venue you use!

Here below you can learn further info via the links to both bills. If you do not know your senators and representatives, shame on you!! This is a good time to find out and reach out to them!! Bring ALL our courageous vets home!!!

  

A bill has been introduced in the senate that would require our 4-legged warriors to be returned to the United States at their retirement time.  The

This is LOYALTY;
don't they deserve as much? 

link to the bill is here:   https://www.congress.gov/bill/114th-congress/senate-bill/1498/text  According to the Govtrack web site this bill currently has no co-sponsors and no chance of being passed.  IMHO, that is due to the lack of interest on the part of our senators or the public, or both.  That is pathetic.  I see daily, on social media and in e-mails the supposed support for our military and the terrible things regarding animal cruelty.  Nothing, in my opinion, can be more cruel than leaving these service dogs behind.  Service dogs should not be treated as equipment but as warriors just as are their 2-legged handlers.  I urge you to call your senators and demand they support this bill.  Senators' names and phone numbers can be found here.  https://www.congress.gov/members  .

Here is the link to the House companion bill to have our working dogs retire in the USA.  Call your reps and pass this on.  Let's get our 4-legged warriors home where they belong.
https://www.congress.gov/bill/114th-congress/house-bill/2742

Terrible Wildfire near Willow, AK

I just learned of this today and am praying hard for all in the area, those who reside there, the firefighters and especially a number of mushers who live in that area and have been displaced, several losing everything except their own lives and their dogs and a vehicle or two they drove out.

I will probably have more news in a day or two but I do know other mushers such as Martin Buser who is about forty miles to the south have opened kennels and property for evacuees to camp, temporarily care for their dogs and wait out this devastating fire. I am not sure but heard a rumor that Deedee Jonrowe and her husband just got out with her dogs and have lost almost everything. Also Lisbet Norris and her grandmother are in like situation. Lisbet's parents are sheltering and offering camp space around their feed store just north of Wasilla which I visited last year. Here's a shot from the Norris store and Buser Kennel  during my August 2014 visit

The musher community is close knit despite the intense competition and will rally around those who are hurt by this destructive wildfire. But should I hear of any efforts to raise funds to assist these people, some of which I suspect may not have insurance on their homes and kennel buildings and other property, I will post it here and on my other blogs as well. I feel as close friends are at hazard here! if On the 27th when I attend the Iditarod Committee Meeting I may also learn more on what is happening in that area. I'll try to keep yuo informed. Please join in my prayers!

For the cat lovers among us!

I have my own GoFundMe (GFM) site as y'all know for my Alaska project (link on my gwynnmorganalaska.blogspot.com page) but I am a sucker for animal help efforts. There are some national 'charities' that I will not support such as HSUS because I have good intelligence that they are a front for some of the activist extremists like ELF & PETA whose ultimate goal is to completely "liberate" all animals from the "slavery" of being companion animals much less doing anything resembling work or being used in any way. They have freed zoo animals to run amok and be subject to terrible harm and similar horrible and irresponsible things. That I do not support!! But all who seek to care for and cut down on the number of strays and abandoned pets and cases of real bonafide abuse will have my support any day. This lady on GFM has a good cause and is not collecting very much so far so I hope some of you will join me in kicking in what you can afford to help her cause. I put it on my Facebook page too and hope I can get some more support for Cat Haven!!
 A big thank you with a meow!!
 http://www.gofundme.com/cathaven_Logan

Paying It Back a Little

My feng shui  tip for today said: In a sense, your father and mother are just people, but they also greatly influence your perception of the world throughout life. To honor them is not just superstition - it also changes the way that you look at the entirety of your reality. Even if you don't get along or your parents are estranged or deceased, find some small way to give them thanks for bringing you into the world.

There are definitely times it is right to look back and be grateful for what you were given, to focus on the good and not the negative things. I have hinted that my dad and I had a rocky relationship from my early teens on and that is definitely true. However, when I look at the influences that caused me to become a writer, I have to put his name at the top of the list. He wrote for as long as I could remember and he did encourage me, often seeking to direct me into certain themes, genres or styles but at least constant encouragement. He might be proud of some of my work and very much distressed by other things I've created but that is not the point.

Monday would have been his 103rd birthday since he came into the world on May 11, 1912, just weeks after New Mexico and Arizona became the 47th and 48th states. I wrote a short essay on Monday in commemoration. Here it is.

Counting Crows

            Today, May 11, 2015, would have been my Dad’s one hundred third birthday.  Of course he has been gone a long time since he passed away in a freakish traffic accident in March 1989, a few weeks short of seventy seven. Do I miss him? Yes and no.

            This morning, I was sitting on the patio around ten o’clock enjoying a bit of sunshine and quiet. Then a big black bird flew by, squawking loudly. It was followed by two more and than yet another. They flew on south for a short while but then circled back and began to soar and spiral over my back yard for several minutes, perhaps a hundred feet in the air or bit more. They ‘talked’ as they do –they have quite a range of sounds, if one listens--and finally all flew away.

            I remembered then how I learned to count crows. Of course these, like the ones I used to watch in Arizona, are actually ravens. The two species are related but ravens are considerably larger. Still we called them all crows. I think most folks do.

            Dad was Irish, perhaps not one hundred percent by blood but completely in his personality. He had all the stereotypical traits: volatile, voluble, charming when he chose to be, fiercely loyal, moody, superstitious and given to drama. About the only one he missed was in not being a drunkard. For the first twelve or so years of my life, he was my hero. Driving, riding or working with him, as I did a great deal since I was the eldest child, we often saw crows.

            I was very young when I learned from him the little fortune-telling rhyme which I expect came down from old Celtic folklore. “One is unlucky, two is lucky, three is health, four is wealth, five is sickness and six is quickness.” I guess you were not supposed to see more than that at once!

            Of course you did not want to admit to seeing five or only one. I can remember Dad looking away for a few seconds and then back again to alter the count. Decades later, I still count crows and always try to get a fortunate number.  But to see two, three and then four? Well, there was one at first, but still, what a collection of favorable omens!

            But perhaps more important, I was given a chance to reconnect with my Dad in this odd way. We did not always get along and he could be difficult and sometimes downright mean, but I never doubt that he loved me, even on the very worst days. So, on this anniversary of his birth, did he send those birds to remind me and offer a positive oracle for me, or was it just happenstance?

            There is no way to know. Still, I can believe what I wish and I can go on counting crows until the end of my days. I do not doubt that I will. And just maybe, luck, health and wealth are on the way to me soon.

                                             ***

This is a shot of Dad in Kansas City at the family home (his parents') in the mid 1940s when I was either not yet born or quite small. He always loved the outdoors and worked off and on in free lance writing and as a photojournalist in his younger years. In all of these traits, he certainly did influence me a great deal. Not only genetics but nurture and environment shapes what we become and who we are.